The Eternal Child - Episode One

One

Betty had been through so many things in her life that quite a few things did not surprise her anymore. A sinister looking funeral director turning out to be genuinely sinister did not surprise her. Being drugged and locked up in a coffin by said sinister funeral director. That did not surprise her. Finding a room with the flesh equivalent of Madam Tussards, even that didn’t surprise her. But coming face to rotten face with a talking child’s corpse, now that was a surprise! 

This was one of those few single second moments where Betty didn’t know what to say. Then the sensation of her hand being squeezed tightly shot up the nerves through her body and entered her brain, her mouth awoke and moved back into gear.

“Will you let go” Betty demanded.

“Maybe I don’t want to” Victor giggled. “Maybe I’ll keep you here forever with me.”

“I think it’s getting a bit crowded in here” Betty tried to turn her hand this way and that as she spoke, trying anything to release herself from his grip. But he held on too tight.

“Maybe I will let you go… Maybe I won’t. And maybe it all depends on you.”

Betty stopped struggling and stared right up into the rotting face of her prison warden.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Answer a question” Victor asked playfully. “That’s all, answer one question and I’ll let you go”

“You… ask me a question?”

“Yes. Tell me what’s so important about this key?”

“It’s just a key and I just want it back, that’s all.”

The corpse let go of Betty but somehow managed to keep hold of the key. It turned it this way and that, studying it intently.

“It’s beautiful and shiny. I keep anything that makes me happy and this makes me happy.”

“Is that why everyone’s here and everyone’s smiling, to make you happy?”

“The smiles make Jacob happy because he thinks it makes me happy, and I was for a time. But now when I look at them I just think it is all a bit silly.”

“But who are all these people?” Betty pretended to not know the answer. “Are they your friends?”

“Are you mad old lady, they’re dead.”

“Then why do you keep them here, didn’t you know, children shouldn’t play with dead things?”

“Have you seen me recently?” giggled Victor.

“You think this is all a game don’t you?”

“Yes of course, I’m just a child. But then that’s all Life is, isn’t it, just one big game.”

“We both know you’re a bit too old to still think of yourself as a child.”

“It doesn’t work like that Betty and you know it. I was a child when I died, so that is the age I will always be.”

“So you are dead?”

“You’re silly. Of course not, I came back.”

2

In the entrance hall of that very same house, Barbara and Christopher had finally realised that they perhaps didn’t know quite as much as they thought they did. Jacob with his relentless grin and the Man who never speaks with his relentless silence seemed to be studying the pair with a quiet intensity. If Christopher hadn’t already experienced this previously he thought he would have probably relieved himself in that moment.

“Do you mind” protested Barbara when it seemed they weren’t going to stop.

“Please forgive me. It’s just. I’ve been doing my research” explained Jacob. “You’re quite a remarkable lady it seems.”

“Research, I doubt that, I cover my tracks very well.”

“I did not mean to insinuate any lack on your part.” Jacob sounded genuinely sorry for the misinterpretation.

“What are you implying then?”

“Indeed I haven’t found any physical evidence anywhere.” Jacob bowed his head. “But if you know where to look, there are foot prints. Your presence is far too powerful in the world to cast no shadows at all, I’m afraid.”

“I’d be almost flattered if I didn’t know you were simply trying to waste my time.”

“It was a compliment, nothing more. But if you believe I’m wasting your time then I won’t waste another second.”

“Meaning?” asked Christopher, hoping Jacob didn’t mean to end their time permanently.

“Meaning, would you like to see Victor?” Jacob finally asked what they wanted to hear. “I’m sure he’d love to see you.”

“Where is he?”

“I’ll have one of the employees show you the way.” said Jacob. “Don’t worry, you’ll like following this one.” 

Jacob clapped his hands and another man stepped out the shadows.

“Ah, Mr Herring” said Barbara recognising the man immediately. Mr Herring smiled back.

“Please escort our guests to the great hall” asked Jacob. “They’ve come to see Victor.”

“Very well Master” replied Mr Herring before turning to Barbara and Christopher. “This way please.”

“This better not be a trap” said Barbara.

“Why would I need to do that?” asked Jacob. “You are in our home, you are our guests. Victor has been expecting you for quite some time.”

“Expecting? How did he know we were coming?”

“He is wise for his young years, he knows things. You see, when he came back to us, he came back better. He can do things you wouldn’t believe, but he is still only a child and so will only do such things on a whim.”

Barbara and Christopher left Jacob and the man who never speaks, following Mr Herring down the long hallway as it turned at right angles this way then that. Eventually they came to a door and beyond that another hallway which led to a huge staircase in the distance. As they walked towards the staircase, their guide started to talk.

“I have no name you know or at least not one I can ever remember having.” He said. “Even Jacob won’t give me a name. He says I’m not important enough to have one.”

“Why are you telling us this?” said Christopher angrily. “Do you think we care, after you attacked us at the house?”

Barbara elbowed Christopher in the stomach.

“I’m sorry” said Mr Herring. “You must be mistaken, I would have remembered attacking you, and I don’t.”

“We wiped his memory remember” Barbara whispered in Christopher’s ear. “We only wanted him to show us the way but the tea wipes the mind none the less.”

Christopher remembered and felt foolish. Though he still didn’t trust the man, regardless if he remembered doing it or not, he still did it.

“Sorry, I must have been mistaken” Christopher lied. “But still, why are you telling us you have no name?”

“Because, Barbara is the first one to ever honour me with a name and I will be forever thankful.”

“Don’t thank me Mr Herring” replied Barbara. “It isn’t a compliment. It just means you get in my way.”

“I’m accepting it as a compliment none the less and that’s completely up to me” Mr Herring was grinning from ear to ear. “By the way what’s my first name?”

“Well isn’t it obvious” Christopher laughed. “Red.”

“Red?” Mr Herring asked then said it again louder as though he wanted to know how it sounded and felt coming out his own mouth. 

“Red. Yes I like that.”

“Right now that’s cleared up Mr Herring” Christopher sounded sarcastic. “Could you kindly get on with showing us the way to Victor?”

“Oh call me Red.” Mr Herring giggled then pointed to a door near the base of the staircase. “You gets in, there.”

“I can hear something” Barbara suddenly piped up.

“Music” said Christopher. “And I think it’s coming from the door.” 

Christopher was right, as he got closer to the door, the music got louder. Loud enough for him to tell it was awful. He looked at Barbara and judging by her disgruntled face, her ears were in agreement. They continued on through the door anyway, this time Mr Herring followed from the rear.

They were in another narrower hall way. The awful music seemed to be coming from the walls themselves, as Barbara and Christopher couldn’t see any speaker system to speak of.

The Hall was mostly empty, except at its far reaches were two doors standing opposite each other, and next to the door on the right sat a man on an old wooden chair.

“Another one of Jacob’s and Victor’s minions?” asked Christopher as they walked towards the sitting man.

“No far from it” replied Mr Herring “The only minions Jacob has are the man who never speaks, and myself.”

“So who is he then?” Barbara demanded then called out. “Hello.”

“There’s no use trying to speak to him, he can’t hear you. Not anymore.”

Both Barbara and Christopher understood Red’s words straight away. The man was the same as the ones sitting around the table back at the funeral parlour. And sure enough, as they neared the man the tell-tale smile was clear to see.

Mr Herring opened the door opposite the sitting man, on the left hand wall.

“Almost there” He said.

“Wait a minute I need the toilet.” Christopher piped up just as they were about to enter.

“There’s a bathroom right behind you, just beyond that room.”

Christopher turned around and opened the door next to the sitting man and stepped through. The door at the other end of the room did indeed lead to a bathroom, unfortunately in between there and here was another group of corpses, all positioned like they were carrying on with their everyday lives. Christopher quickly ran through the room and slammed the bathroom door shut behind him. Then let out a sigh of relief that he was away from the dead, for a moment at least.

Christopher sat backwards onto the toilet seat, he hadn’t really wanted the toilet he just needed a moment. It was then that he realised that the back of the toilet felt far higher than he was used to. He rested his arms down on the arm rest for a moment and wiggled his bum around. Even the seat felt strange. It should be hard and smooth shouldn’t it?

Wait a minute, he suddenly thought. Since when did toilets have arm rest?

In shock Christopher quickly looked down between his legs and saw a pair of bare legs beneath his, he also noticed the arm rests had sleeves and his hands were neatly rested atop two pale equivalents. Not wanting to see anymore, Christopher threw his head back, then felt a nose dig into the back of his neck.

He knew he had to get up but again it was like his body didn’t want to know. The knowledge of what Christopher had just sat on sickened him to his stomach. He had to get up and look, but he was fearful of what he would see.

Holding his breath, Christopher grabbed the thick armrests and pushed himself up. They squelched a bit under his hands and the noise was far from pleasant. Immediately turning on the spot as soon as he was up, Christopher’s eyes locked onto what he originally thought was an unadorned toilet and saw what it really was. An old grossly overweight man sitting on the loo with his trousers and pants around his ankles.

The man’s pale skin gleamed, even in the darkness of the folds of his flesh. It made him look alive, sweaty but alive. Christopher also noted a sickly sweet pungent odour coming from the corpse. It seemed to fill the room and his nostrils quickly, and it was suffocating. 

Christopher turned from the view and slung the bathroom window open. Cool air washed in over him. It felt nice. The new air seemed to dissipate the fetid smell long enough for Christopher’s throat to stop heaving and allow him a minute to think.

The phone in his pocket started to vibrate.

3

Barbara waited out in the corridor for what seemed ages before Christopher finally decided to return.

“I thought you flushed yourself down the toilet?” she said sarcastically when he reappeared.

“Sorry” replied Christopher. “I wasn’t warned that the toilet had not been vacated. Someone was there, asleep on the job so to speak.”

“Oh” was all Barbara managed to say.

“I don’t really want to talk about it” said Christopher. “But I think I may want a pint of Betty’s tea if we ever manage to get out of here.”

Before Barbara could ask anything else Christopher was already through the left door. Once beyond, Barbara was sure he used a foul word, followed by an apology to her. She never knew why people always felt the need to apologise to her for using a curse word or two. She loved to curse in the right situation.

Entering the new corridor herself, Barbara saw the situation was indeed just.

The hallway should have been wider than the one they just left, and indeed it would have been if it weren’t for the corpses that lined each wall, standing to attention like they were waiting for someone important to pass through. They stood shoulder to shoulder along each side all the way to the final door at the other end, creating a corridor of flesh.

There wasn’t that much room to walk between the two rows without touching them, well not for the tail end of Barbara anyway. If even one was not who they appeared to be, there would be no way they would be able to escape their clutches.

“Take no notice of them” Mr Herring gestured at the corpses. “They are merely Victor’s playthings.”

“Play things?” asked Christopher. “So they’re not just decoration?”

Either Mr Herring didn’t hear or he simply chose not to elaborate, instead pointing to the furthest point of their path.

“The door at the end leads to the great hall. No doubt you’ll find Victor there” He said without taking another step forward.

“You’re not coming with us?” asked Christopher.

“I have no need or indeed wish to go anywhere near that room”

“Are you scared of him?” asked Barbara. “Are you scared of Victor?”

“It would not be prudent of me to divulge any further.”

“Why not, we won’t tell, and we’re the only ones that will hear you” added Christopher.

“The wall’s as they say, have ears. Besides you shouldn’t want to go in there either.”

“We have no choice. He’s got Betty and Peter.”

“But that’s not the real reason is it. You have a bigger pull then lost friends. It’s the mystery that drives you, a jigsaw puzzle with the final piece just beyond that door. How could a lady like you resist.”

“I can’t say I’m not intrigued. I will refrain from saying curious as I don’t want to end up being made into a tennis racket.”

Mr Herring smiled at this.

“Don’t forget Barbara, it’s not just about having all the jigsaw pieces, it’s knowing how they all fit together.”

“Well I think I may have at least claimed the four corner pieces if nothing else.”

“Maybe, or maybe you are much closer to solving this then you realise.”

“Mr Herring, I must say you are much more an interesting individual then I originally gave you credit for” Barbara observed out loud. “In the few times we have met you have shown me everything from the wild eyes of a crazed man to the quiet musings of someone with knowledge and maybe even a bit of respectability about them.”

Mr Herring’s cheeks reacted instantly to Barbara’s comments.

“Goodbye My lady, I hope one day we will meet again, under different circumstances.”

“Goodbye, Red” replied Barbara with a cheeky chin.

Mr Herring turned and walked away, disappearing from view seconds later.

“So what was that all about?” Christopher asked with what could almost be described as disgust.

“No one, it seems, is exactly who they appear to be.”

“Except Jacob, I think we all got his number the first time we saw that horrendous grin.”

“I think Mr Herring is as much a prisoner of this family as Pete, Bet and all these damn corpses.”

“Speaking of corpses, can we please hurry up and get this over with.”

“You think whatever’s beyond that door is any better than this?”

“No I think it’s ten times worse, but there might be more room to manoeuvre.”

This seemed to Barbara a good point and so they began their very slow and weary journey to the great hall.

4

Back in the presence of the one who sat (in a rather rotted capacity) at the centre of everything, Betty felt to a degree that she was finally beginning to unravel this strange tale of smiling corpses and false bottomed caskets.

The smiling corpses were created to make an eternal child happy, to Betty that sort of made sense. The false bottoms were to sneak the bodies away without ever opening the caskets, so the families believed they buried their loved ones. All very simple and clean, no one to suspect they were stealing bodies.

But there were much bigger questions now, questions that put all previous ones in to perspective.

The boy had died and been brought back to life.  His body obviously did age or at least degrade. But his soul and mind, even after living or un-living for all these years, seemed to be eternally childlike. It’s as though his death stopped his soul evolving beyond his young years.

“What are you thinking about?” Victor asked noting Betty had been quiet for some time.

“How impossible you are.” Betty replied. “There’s something else isn’t there. Something I’m not seeing.”

“How about we play a game” suggested Victor. “Maybe that will help.”

“Like what?”

“My favourite game, hide and seek.” Victor sounded more and more excited as he spoke. “No one can play like I can. I’m the only boy in the world who can hide in plain sight. I’m the only boy you can look straight at, see me and still not know I’m there.”

“That almost sounds like a riddle.”

“The riddle of the eternal child, I like that.”

“So you want me to close my eyes and cou-”

“No need” interrupted Victor. “I’ll close my eyes and count to three. Then you come and look for me.”

“What?”

But Victor wasn’t listening any more. He closed what remained of his eyelids and counted.

“1… 2… 3…” Then, “Ready or not, come and find me” a voice shouted from far behind Betty’s back.

She spun round and observed the room. Was there someone hiding amongst the bodies in their unending play of statues?

“Who’s there?” Betty demanded.

“It’s me, Victor. Come and find me” the voice came again, it didn’t sound like Victor. But then how could it, he was sitting right behind her.

Betty turned back to the Victor. His head was slouched forward, his arms relaxed to his sides. Betty prodded him a couple of times. His body was cold, what remained of his flesh felt delicate like it could fall apart at any moment. But most of all he simply felt dead.

“Do you mind poking my body? I may not be in it, but I can still see you.”

Betty spun round to the same unidentifiable voice once more. Was that really Victor out there, somewhere? His body did look as lifeless now as it did animated moments ago. Or was this merely another trick. Maybe this body wasn’t Victor’s all along but some kind of animatronic device while the real him had always been out there, hidden among the sea of dead.

“Are you coming?” The voice asked once more.

This was what Betty had been waiting for. She was ready this time to make an approximation of the origins of the caller. She quickly walked up the right side of the central table to a group of small round ones. On one of these tables, Betty was sure, sat the real Victor. But the problem was which one?

There were three tables and around each table sat three bodies. At the first table, thankfully they were all female so it cancelled itself straight away. However the remaining two had two guys each. Betty’s eyes darted back and forth between the two tables, trying to see if she could catch Victor, or whoever it was, out. She hoped there would be a tell, a sign or sudden tiny movement that would point out which one it was.

But there was nothing. All four were motionless like waxwork models so Betty knew there was only one way forward. She would have to get close, real close. Probably even touch them or at least give them a poke. The idea slightly repulsed her. Not the having to poke a corpse, she’d poked a lot worse. It was the point she knew was coming, she would get really close to one and he’d move or grab her and probably give her a heart attack in the process. And that would be a worse end then even being buried alive. How embarrassing would that be, (if she was still alive to know about it,) that when anyone asked how she passed, they would be told she died playing hide and seek.

Suddenly in the corner of Betty’s eye, she swore she saw one move. It was the slightest of movement but a movement all the same. Betty didn’t want to give the game away just yet. She didn’t want Victor to know that she knew.

It was the bald man to her left. His head was perfect in its unblemished baldness, not a single dot of hair, wrinkle or mark, just a film of something that made it gleam like a giant sweaty ostrich egg. His dull brown speckled eyes (if they even had a direction) seemed to be staring intently at Betty’s right shoulder no matter where she stood, even though they or the head never turned.

The movement she had seen was like a shudder. It was like his whole body shook for a single second and then nothing. But a second is long enough if you see it and Betty saw it. She kept her face forward as if observing the man sitting next to her target, a pale, ginger bearded beauty in a black bowler hat. But all the time her gaze was really on the one she was certain, was Victor. In her head she counted down

3… 2… 1…

And then,

“Gotcha” she cried as she grabbed the bald man’s arm, instantly two hands grabbed Betty from behind.

“Fooled ya!” cackled a woman’s voice in Betty’s ear.

Betty swore her heart stopped in that moment. So it wasn’t even going to be a heart attack, she thought. Her heart was too old for even that, it simply stopped.

“Was that too much?” asked the female voice as the hands let go of Betty.

Betty stumbled for a moment before getting her balance.

“Maybe I am getting too old for this.” She said aloud to herself, than looked up at the woman who had almost done her in.

The woman smiled back, but then of course she would. She was dead.

“You understand now?” The dead woman asked.

“Explicitly” replied Betty as she finally managed to get her breath back and feel the heart beat once again in her chest.

This seemed enough for the woman. Without another word her body went limp in the chair and she looked again as vacant as any other dead body in the room.

“I won” a familiar childlike voice from the other end of the large table called out.

“You cheated” replied Betty as she went back to join him.

“Of course I cheated.” The boy laughed. Then he suddenly went really quiet and the remaining muscle, sinew and mush on his head tightened. “Someone’s coming.”

“Who?”

“Wait here a moment” said Victor as he shut his eyelids once more, giving the impression of deep concentration. Then his face untightened and his head flopped forward. He was gone again.

5

Christopher hated enclosed spaces, even long narrow ones. It felt like the bodies were looming over them as they walked, maybe even watching them with their dead eyes. But that was surely just his imagination.

However if Christopher had bothered to observe in more detail the line of dead bodies standing to his left, he may have noticed that one amongst them was more then they appeared to be. As he and Barbara walked past this particular corpse its head ever so slowly turned, its eyes following them all the way up to the entrance to the hall.

“You ready?” asked Barbara.

“Nope” replied Christopher. “But when has that stopped us before.”

Barbara smiled and held his hand.

“Come on Chris” she said. “It’s time to finally face Victor and end all of this.”

To be continued