Reaching into his trouser pocket the old man pulled out a key ring with two large keys attached to it and unlocked the door, cautiously swinging it open.
A mild waft of foul air bellowed out at them but then dwindled as it mixed with the powerful scent of petunia oil.
Before entering, Harvey slowly reached inside and flicked the light switch. A weak 60watt bulb blinked into life and he scanned the room before entering.
His actions were those of a man half expecting something bad to happen.
The old man's demeanour had made Jacob feel uneasy but, eventually, he followed him inside.
The room was a mirror image of the one opposite but it was completely void of furniture. The curtains were drawn and cobwebs hung from the ceiling rose and dusty lampshade over head. There was a wide chimneybreast on the far wall. A torch sat on the wooden fire surround, lens side down, with several spare batteries lined up behind it.
A large rug lay in the centre of the room and Mr James grabbed one of the corners and pulled it back over itself to reveal the trap door to the basement.
Once unbolted, the large heavy hatch was opened releasing a second wave of stench. The two men peered down into the darkness.
The underside of the trap door was covered in thousands of deep, blood stained, scratches. Jacob could see bits of dry skin and fingernail snagged on the splintering wood. The timber had been quite thick but the desperate attempts to escape were not far from breaking through.
Perhaps, that was why Mr James had been so cautious to enter the room.
He knew that it would not take much more effort for them to pierce the thinning planks.
The old man’s story was now believable again and a nervous shiver ran up Jacob’s back as he thought of the men down the basement. He clipped the voice recorder onto his shirt pocket he then turned on his digital camera and showed Harvey which button to press to take the pictures.
The weak bulb over head created a shaft of light that illuminated a small square patch of basement floor. Jacob could just make out the large flagstones as he peered down tentatively.
Although, he now believed the story, it was hard to imagine how anyone could have survived for so long in such a terrible place. Jacob was hoping that they had died, that their suffering had stopped. It was easier to think that they were dead than to imagine them suffering such a disgusting existence.
The cellar was completely silent. Were they still alive?
The old man grabbed the torch and switched it on. He shone the bright beam of light down into the darkness. There was a set of vertical wooden steps that were very worn and Jacob watched as Harvey began his descent. Years of practice had made him an expert at negotiating the rickety ladder. Each of the twelve rungs creaked and groaned with his weight but soon he was standing on the flagstones.
Jacob passed down his camera and Mr James disappeared beneath the floorboards. By now, Jacob was on his knees with his head bobbing below the timbers. He could see Mr James nervously scanning the room with his searching beam of light. The dungeon was smaller than the building above it and was long and narrow. There was a line of individual stalls, to both sides of the cellar, that sank back into the sidewalls, with a central passage between them. Storage compartments for wine perhaps, Jacob had thought. Now they served as jail cells for rotting captives.
At first, there was no sign of any of the old man's prisoners but then, Jacob spotted a foot. It looked lifeless as it stuck out from one the cells, sickly grey and skeletal. Mr James began taking the photographs.
Each time he took a snap shot the basement illuminated giving Jacob a better view of the room. The old man reached the cell with the exposed foot and as soon as the flash went off the foot slid back out of view.
Jacob heard it drag across the floor followed by the sound of shuffling.
Strangely, Jacob had not been that shocked to have seen the foot at first but, as soon as it had moved, a wave of terror engulfed him. He lifted his head from the hatch and fell back onto his bottom. He had seen it with his own eyes and had heard their movements himself. They were alive and there was no denying it. Jacob felt sick as the thought of their suffering overwhelmed him.
"Easy!" He heard Mr James say in a dominant voice, as if speaking to a dog.
"Calm yourself!"
Jacob's heart was racing. How could the old man be so cruel, so cold?
He had imprisoned his friends for decades knowing that they could not die due to the curse thrust upon on them as kids. He knew that no matter how many times they decomposed and began to rot they would never truly die.
They would never turn to dust or go away. His friends would go through the same excruciating ordeal over and over again. Feeling their bodies decaying to the point of oblivion only to have the effect reverse by the curse and then having to experience the ordeal again and again indefinitely.
It was truly a sickening thought and the worst nightmare imaginable.
Suddenly, there was a commotion below. The old man appeared in the shaft of light and he frantically tossed up Jacob's camera. It clattered across the floorboards. He looked terrified as he began to scramble up the shaky steps.
Jacob could hear the sound of shuffling and scraping that was getting closer.
He looked down at Mr James clambering up towards him and he hesitated before holding out his hand to assist him. He felt like slamming the hatch shut and trapping the evil old man down there for his friends to take revenge.
However, he did not have to slam the hatch down. Instead, in his hast to escape, the old man's frantic clambering proved too much for the weak decaying steps. As he reached up to grab one of the upper rungs it snapped in two sending him sprawling back down onto the basement floor. Jacob had made a grab for him but had been far too slow to have caught him.
Eerily, the bony hands of one of the captives penetrated the shaft of light, clawing desperately at the flagstones for grip. They were thin, wrinkled and half-decomposed. They grabbed the base of the wooden ladder just as Mr James re-mounted them to begin his ascent.
The horrifying face of the wretch entered the light on the basement floor.
Its head was almost bald with only several tufts of matted hair caked to the flaking scalp. The skin on its face was pale and withered with gaping cracks around the eyes and nose. The cheeks were sunk in and the lips had receded, revealing brown teeth. The mouth was gaping open and the poor soul looked as though he were in complete agony. He was making a strange sound and Jacob realised that he no tongue.
It looked up at the old man with dry, leathery eyes. It was almost certainly blind but could probably see the light or the movements made within it.
Mr James clawed frenetically at the wooden rungs as he made good his escape and as he reached up Jacob pulled him out of the basement.
Still on his knees, the old man hurried to close the trap door as Jacob looked down with pity at the desperate man. The hatch came down with a heavy bang just as a second captive was beginning to appear in the shaft of light.
Their attempt at freedom was quashed once again.
The bolt was slid back into place and Jacob helped Harvey to his feet. The old man was clearly shaken and hastily left the room. Jacob closed the door and followed him into the room opposite. In their haste to leave, they had neglected to replace the large heavy rug or lock the door behind them.
Jacob sat down by his jacket that he had left a little while earlier and Harvey slumped into his armchair.
The old man watched as the young reporter switched on his camera to view the photographs. Jacob cringed with disgust as he flicked from one gruesome picture to another captured in ten mega-pixel digital clarity.
The pictures were truly grotesque but the image that Jacob could not shake from his mind was the poor man with no tongue glaring up at him.
"He had no tongue!" he said, squinting his eyes accusingly.
The old man sighed and stared at Jacob for a few moments as if thinking over what he was about
to say.
“Shortly before I trapped them I had installed a hidden pipe connected to a tank of sleeping gas that I had concealed in the cupboard under the stairs. I knew they’d make a ruckus, you see, and had planned to use it to keep them under control. Unfortunately, the effect only lasted a short while and I had to gas them constantly throughout the day, it was becoming tiresome.”
“So you cut out their tongues instead?” asked Jacob, scowling slightly.
"I know it sounds cruel but they drove me to it!" added Harvey. “We had endured months of insults and incessant shouting. I had warned them many times what I would do but they continued on with their barrage of insults.”
“Did they know they were being gassed?” Jacob enquired.
“I don’t think they did.” replied the old man.
Jacob switched off his camera and slumped back in the chair.
"Weren't they missed?" he asked thoughtfully. "Wasn't there a police investigation or something?"
Harvey nodded. "The police came a few days after I’d locked them in the cellar. I was out but Julie invited them in. She told them that the gang had called for me a couple of days earlier and that they had looked as though they were dressed up for Halloween. Luckily, she had spotted the police coming up the drive and had time to release the sleeping gas.”
At that moment, the old man got to his feet .
"Come with me!" he said, heading for the hallway. "I have one last thing to show you before my story is complete!"
Jacob was not sure if he could handle anything else but followed the old man nevertheless.
They made their way up the stairs and onto the landing that looked down onto the hallway below.
Mr James escorted Jacob into the far end bedroom.
There was a single bed on one side of the room and fitted wardrobes to the other but for such a large house the room was quite small.
Mr James opened the central door to the built-in wardrobes and stepped inside. Curious, Jacob positioned himself so that he could see what the old man was doing and the reason for the room being so small became apparent.
Harvey slid the back panel of the wardrobe to one side revealing a door behind it. He took the key ring from his trouser pocket and unlocked it using the other key. Within seconds he pushed open the door and disappeared inside, this time with more confidence than with the room down stairs.
Jacob could see that the room was well lit and stepped through the wardrobe and into the secret chamber.
There were no windows but the room was brilliant white and there was a ceiling vent humming as it circulated the air. The clean air was a refreshing change to the over powering stench of petunia oil and Jacob inhaled it deeply.
There was a sink and worktop with a couple of wooden chairs to one side of the room and on the other was a large dining table with a long wooden box on top. There were tubes and wires going to and from it that were all attached to a monitoring machine that stood to one side and bleeped continuously.
Jacob had already guessed that someone was inside it.
Mr James approached the table and peered over into the box.
"Remember I told you that Gaz was never ill?" asked the old man as Jacob stepped beside him. "The fact that had stuck in my mind for some reason"
The man inside was old but looked quite healthy. Mr James had obviously been taking care of him, keeping him alive.
The man was asleep, drugged into a coma.
Although the men in the basement had been horrifying, Jacob could almost accept why they were there, they were going to kill Harvey but this man looked perfectly normal. Why had the old man drugged him and how long had he been here?
The look of shock on Jacob’s face was clear to see as he stepped away from the homemade coffin.
"He's the last of us!" commented Harvey, glancing at Jacob briefly before gazing back at his old friend. “I knew he would be.”
Jacob was confused.
"What do you mean the last of you?" he asked.
Harvey James turned away from the box and, without warning, calmly removed his hair that Jacob had correctly guessed was a wig. His head was almost bald with only several tufts of matted hair caked to his flaking scalp. The image of the man in the cellar instantly sprang to mind.
The old man then removed his eyebrows dropping them, along with his hair, onto the floor. His orange suntan now looked even more ridiculous.
The young reporter was frozen to the spot.
Mr James unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it free from his trousers. He then lifted up his vest to reveal a large ugly wound on his chest. The skin around it had rotted away and Jacob could see deep into his chest cavity.
A waft of pungent air filled his nostrils.
Jacob now realised why he had drenched himself in petunia oil, Mr James was dead and was decomposing.
"Gaz is the only one keeping us alive!" explained Harvey.
Startled, Jacob edged towards the exit as he struggled to comprehend what was happening. He was suddenly aware of how fast his heart was beating and felt as though he was trapped in some nightmarish dream.
“Stay away from me!” he scowled, stepping back into the wardrobe.
“I have no intention of hurting you Jacob.” explained Mr James trying to alleviate the young reporter’s horror. “You’re here to tell my story and are completely safe.”
He needed to reassure the young man that no harm would befall him. He was so close to completing his story that the young man just had to stay.
The urge to flee was powerful but, the old man was right, Jacob was there to document his tale. If he wanted to be a real reporter, he would have to force himself to stay, no matter what.
He concentrated on slowing his breathing for a moment as he tried to come to terms with the situation. He watched the old man button up his shirt, and tuck it untidily back into his trousers. Slowly, he began to regain his composure.
Harvey James had told him over the phone that the story would send shock waves around the country and, as it turns out, had told the truth. This was indeed a unique and grisly tale. Jacob had to keep his emotions under control and remain detached from the events unfolding. He was there to report and document not to interfere or judge.
Slowly, he began to relax and stepped back into the room. He had hoped that he would gain valuable experience from this, his first ever interview, but had no idea that it was going to be such a baptism of fire.
Thinking a little clearer he calmly took a photograph of the old man, as he stood there hairless and orange, to add to his collection of grisly pictures.
Jacob checked to see if the digital recorder was still running and then clipped it back onto his shirt pocket.
“I don’t understand.” He said. “I thought all your friends were in the basement.”
“Luckily, Gary wasn’t in when they called for him.” Harvey explained. “They had planned to get him on their way back to town once they’d dealt with me.”
“So, how long has he been here?”
“Roughly the same as the others.” he answered, shrugging his shoulders. “He came round to see me a few weeks later to talk about their ‘mysterious disappearance’ and, unfortunately for him, I hadn’t gassed them.”
“And he heard them shouting?” interrupted Jacob, finishing off the sentence.
“Yes.”
The old man sat down on one of the wooden chairs by the sink, bending over briefly to retrieve his wig from the floor.
“I tried to explain everything to him but he wouldn’t have it. He said he was going to the police and I was forced to stop him.”
“So why didn’t you kill him? Surely it would’ve been easier.”
The old man looked up at Jacob in puzzlement, clearly offended.
“I’m not a murderer!” he snapped. “Those things in the basement were already dead when they came to me. I didn’t kill them!”
Jacob apologised.
“I just think it would’ve been easier that’s al
l.” he added.
“With Julie’s help it wasn’t that hard.” explained Harvey. “She was a god send.”
Jacob looked at the old man for a moment, contemplating his ordeal. He tried to imagine what he would have done under the same circumstances, if he would have been so cruel or had kept going for so long.
“So, when did you die?” he asked, the question sounded ridiculous even to him.
Mr James placed his wig back on his head and slid it into position before taking a moment to use the eye drops again.
It’s been about four years ago now, I guess.” he began, squinting his eyes. “just after Julie passed away.
I’d been so busy sorting out her funeral that I forgot about Gaz.
Before I divided this room we had him sedated in the bed and on a drip which needed to be topped up on a regular basis and I let it run out. By the time I checked on him he was already awake and standing up. He was confused and angry but was unable to walk. Being unconscious for so long had made his body extremely weak and all he had managed to do was get out of bed, his legs were useless. I hadn’t noticed that the scissors, we used for his medical dressings, had gone from the bedside table and as I approached him he stabbed me with them. He managed to grab onto me with one hand and as I fell backwards he continued to stab at my chest as he followed me down.”
Mr James got to his feet. He had transferred a little of the tanning lotion from his head onto his hands and he swilled them in the sink as he continued to talk.
“Dying was very unpleasant.” he explained “Lying there struggling to breathe and gurgling blood. The pressure behind my eyes as I slowly suffocated was unbearable. It was painful for a while but then my senses began to waiver. My hearing dulled, my sight faded out and then everything went black. For a second or two I was truly dead. Waking again was almost as painful. The searing chest pain was agonising, and I have lived with that nagging ache ever since.
I knew that it would never go away as long as Gary was still alive.
He hadn’t managed to go far while I’d died. He was dragging himself across the floor and had made it to the top of the stairs by the time I reached him.
I had a choice to make. Kill Gaz and end the pain or keep him alive and see how long I could live with it.”
“You’ve done well to last four years but your friends have endured fifty seven.”
“Yes I know, and I feel terrible about but, if it wasn’t for Gary being ill I would have been able to last a lot longer.”