The Last House on Needless Street Catriona Ward (classic book list .txt) 📖

see through the tiny opening at the neck of the sack, we’re in a shallow gulley with a waterfall at the end. Ted makes camp with a lot of rustling and groaning. Light flickers through the dark fabric that contains us. Fire. Overhead, I can hear the wind stroke the leaves.

I can’t see much but I can feel the vastness of the air. Wind crashing into clouds. I wish I’d never known the truth, I say to Lauren. The outside is terrifying. There are no walls. It goes on and on. How far does it go, the world?

She says, ‘It’s round, so I guess it goes on until it comes back to you again.’

That’s terrible, I say. I think that’s the worst thing I’ve ever heard. Oh LORD, preserve me …

‘Focus, Olivia,’ she says.

Is he going to let us out of this bag? I ask. To pee or whatever?

‘No,’ she says. ‘I don’t think he will.’ I can hear her mind running furiously. ‘It’s a change of plan,’ she whispers. ‘That’s all it is. We pivot. We adjust. He has the knife. I felt it against his hip. So you get it from him, is all, and kill him. Same plan. Better, actually, because we’re in the middle of nowhere and no one will come to help. We can make his plan work for us, see?’ I wonder if she’s been at Ted’s bourbon because she sounds exactly like he does when he’s drunk. Fear can make you slur your words as badly as drink does, I guess.

I think of the body, our weak, thin body, against Ted’s bulk, his might. The wind strokes my fur with cold fingers. I breathe it in. It is both ancient and young at once. I wonder if it is the last thing I will feel.

Wind is lovely, I say. I’m glad I got to feel it. I wish I had got to taste real fish, though.

‘I wish you had too,’ she says.

I can’t do it, Lauren. I thought I could but I can’t.

‘It’s not only for us, Olivia,’ Lauren says. ‘It’s for him. Do you think he wants to be like this? Do you think he’s happy, being a monster? He’s a prisoner too. You have to help him, cat. Help him one last time.’

Oh, I say, oh dear …

‘OK then,’ Lauren says, soft and resigned. ‘Maybe it won’t be so bad.’

I think about the round world, which if you travel far enough, only brings you back to the same place.

Be a brave cat, I whisper to myself. This is why the LORD put you here. I take a deep breath. I’ll do it. I’ll get the knife, and then I’ll kill him.

‘Clever cat,’ she says. Her breath comes fast. ‘You have to be quick. You only get one chance.’

I know.

Beneath, in the dark, Night-time growls. I feel his great flanks writhing as he strains against his bonds.

What is your problem? I ask, terse. I’m busy. I don’t have time for you right now.

His answer is a roar that rings in my ears, sends shocks down my spine. It is my time, it is my time, it is my time, he roars. But I have him pinned down tight; he won’t get free.

Ted is restless. He keeps us close, tied up against his back. The fire glows hot, sending red needlepoints of light through the sack. I feel the rumble of his voice as he speaks softly to himself.

‘Mommy, are you still here?’

As dawn is about to break he drifts into an uneasy doze. I feel the deep give and take of his breath. He is at peace. Above, the sky holds its breath.

Can you see anything? I ask.

‘It’s in his left hand,’ she murmurs. I reach out with ours. It is revolting, using the hand – like wearing a glove of rotten meat. I take the knife from his loose palm. It is lighter than I expected.

I reach around and drive it into his stomach. The point punctures flesh with a crisp sound like an apple bitten into. I thought it would be soft, flesh, but inside Ted is a mess of objects and textures. There is resistance; it is hard to thrust the blade in. It is even more horrible than I could have imagined. I hardly hear myself crying, over Ted’s screaming. The sound drives a bird from a nearby bush, plummeting upwards into the sky. I wish I could go with it.

The first thing is the pain. The nerves in our body are alight with it. The black cloth drops away. Lauren and I fall face first onto the rough floor of the forest. Our cheek is thurst hard into the mess of slick leaves and twigs; we’re half in and half out of the stream; water runs cold over our legs. Our heart chugs unevenly, like a car about to stall.

Lauren? I say. Why are we bleeding? Why can’t we get up?

Dee

Dee puts the tape recorder on the table. It was not easy to find. None of the electronics outlets stock them. In the end she overpaid for this one in a vinyl store downtown.

She puts the cassette in and presses play with a trembling finger.

‘Please come and arrest Ted for murder,’ a little, anxious voice says. ‘And other things. They have the death penalty in this state, I know that …’

It’s a short recording, lasting maybe a minute. Dee listens without breathing. Then she rewinds and listens to it again. Then she listens further, in case there is another recording after this one. But it’s just some medical student’s notes. A woman with a slight accent Dee cannot place, and a voice like a clear bell.

She sits back. It is Lulu. Older, yes. But Dee cannot mistake her sister’s tones. Now that the moment has arrived and she has proof, Dee does not know what to do. She puts a hand on her heart, which is pounding. It feels swollen, likely to burst.

She