Backwards Into Hell

Part Two: The LFG

Jake's Diary

Wednesday 27th October

I woke in the early hours, too filled with dread and excitement to sleep. Besides, I wanted a little time to investigate before the rest of The Lodge awoke—even if, I noted, I didn't have a clue what to look for.

What had David said last night? Where had he gone?

His words rang through my head.

I was going to the kitchen.

So I would too.

The Lodge made the noises it always did as I crept down the stairs. Having read up on its history before jetting off to the island, I'd discovered The Lodge was an old school. It had been in use until it began to fall to pieces and the population got too big. So how had Darren gotten his hands on it? And, more importantly, where did the money come from to fix it up?

I made it to the kitchen without incident and pulled a glass from a cupboard, already thinking about the fresh, cool Scottish water that poured from the tap. It was hard not to be reminded of Harriet here because even though her blood was bleached away, I could still see it in my head—the splatters up the wall and the deep puddle on the floor.

Now her grave was empty.

I expected that would be discovered tomorrow morning, and, when it was, there'd be a considerable outcry. This time, however, something strange sat in my chest: doubt. Someone else was up to something, and I had no idea who it was.

In a timely fashion, as I let the glass fill, The Old Man appeared on a kitchen counter, swinging his legs like a kid a hundred years his junior. He said nothing. He simply cast a finger to the cupboard under the window and I frowned. David's discovery.

When my eyes jumped back to The Old Man, he had already gone, and I was left to figure it out alone.

Under the flickering light, I set the glass on the countertop and knelt on the floor, gripping a knife—not the one that killed Harriet—in my hands. What was inside could be dangerous.

But there wasn't anything at all.

It was just a cupboard, or at least, it appeared to be.

There had to be something. Why else would The Old Man want me to investigate it?

In fact, there was something odd: the rest of the kitchen was stuffed with various bits of cutlery and crockery, and whatever the difference between cutlery and crockery is, and despite the monumental lack of space, this cupboard was empty. Why not use the spare room?

I glanced over the outside, patting along the edges, feeling for something, maybe a false back or side. When I was younger, like most quiet kids, I'd had a magician phase, and, for once, it came in useful.

I knocked on the inside of the cupboard. Some tones rang dull, some sharp, and, giving up, I rested a tired palm on the bottom.

The wood gave way.

I was falling into the black abyss below The Lodge. My arms scrambled to find a hold, a metal ladder, as the wooden bottom hit the stone floor below.

Despite hanging from the kitchen floor with my ass in the air and my hands a foot below, I grinned.

There was a secret after all.

I looked through the darkness and could make out the faint glow of light at the bottom. First, I gradually pulled myself back to the surface, grabbed the knife (just in case), and repositioned to begin my descent. While the thought of climbing into the dark made my palms clam up and my head swim, I had no choice. If someone was hiding something, it was my job—no, my responsibility—to know about it.

After a minute or two, my feet found the floor, and I discovered the glow I'd seen was nothing more than the light from a tiny window in the ceiling that would have been just below the bush outside the kitchen. So I pulled my phone from my pyjama pocket and lit up the room. Whatever I'd been expecting, it wasn't this.

The basement was a square cement room barely ten metres in length on each side, and was full of old-school chemistry equipment. There was a bunsen burner, boat-loads of strangely shaped boiling apparatus, and long desks that reached around the room and everything—apart from the equipment—was covered in a thick layer of grime.

In my naivety, it took me a moment to realise what it was for. It was only when I followed the line of production to its end and found the final product that it clicked.

Someone, for whatever reason, had a full-blown, secret drug lab hidden under our feet. Darren? Anais? It had to be them. They were the only remaining staff and this wasn't a one-man operation. Now I saw why David was so shaken, and why Darren had become the prime suspect.

Brilliant.

It would be all too easy to explain the murders away as him protecting his business. Drugs are a violent game, after all.

After that, I left pretty sharpish, just in case the owners deemed to pay a visit. I shimmied back up the ladder, opting to ditch the knife down there—it would only make them look more suspicious when discovered—and used my phone torch to scramble back into the kitchen.

Once my fingers wrapped around the cheap linoleum, I became aware of the noise, but it was already too late. I swung my head—which now stuck up from the bottom of the cupboard like a conjuring trick gone wrong—and peered into the kitchen.

There was someone at the door. They were a few metres away and hidden by the light and the angle. Ideas fluttered in my head. If I took them by surprise, it would be easy.

Except I couldn't hear anything from them. Their mind was quiet and filled with a sleep-dusted haze.

So, slithering along the floor, I manoeuvred from the tunnel until my feet were clear of the cupboard and I was lying behind them. That's when their hands paused, halfway through downing a glass of water, and my chest tightened.

Quickly.

I jumped to the balls of my feet and cringed at the noise. As my eyes adjusted to the light of the kitchen, my victim whimpered.

It was Lily.

I breathed out deeply and filled with calm. There was no way I was hurting her—not yet. Lily, after almost being jumped by a madman, wasn't quite as relieved to see me as I was her. A buzzing came from her head. Fear.

'What...' she started but didn't finish.

What... what...

I held my hands out in a placating gesture and made my face match it. 'I just came down for water, but—' I turned to the cupboard— 'I found something.'

Lily moved to the cupboard, intrigued. I heard her question before she said it.

'What's down there?'

She was terrified, but I could tell she trusted me.

'It's some sort of lab. I think... I think someone's making drugs down there.'

Her mouth opened, gold-fishing, as she went to a single name.

Darren.

'I think it's Darren,' I continued. 'It has to be, right? He owns this place.'

She nodded, and there was a beat of silence as we gazed at the black hole.

'Do you think...' Lily closed her eyes to find the strength to say it, 'Do you think he killed Harriet?'

I grimaced. 'And Delilah.'

This was all panning out quite marvellously. Not only was I no longer a suspect, but Darren was now public enemy number one.

'What do we do?' she asked.

'We keep it quiet for now,' I said. 'I'll tell David in the morning. He'll know what to do.'

It was then I noticed that Lily was crying. It was hard to see her wet eyes in the dark, but her shoulders shook and she let out a sob.

This was my fault.

'Hey,' I said, 'it's gonna be alright, you know.'

I closed the distance between us, pulling her into a soft hug. We stood there a while, not saying a word.