Spook_me 2020 - Haunted - Chapter 28

[m_findlow]

Title: Haunted
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Jack, Gwen, Ianto, OCs
Author: m_findlow
Rating: M
Length: 50,847 words
Content notes: none
Author notes: Written for spook_me 2020 Prompt - Ghost
Summary: The team investigate rumours of a haunted house in rural Wales.

Ianto was surprised to wake up, let alone to have done so in an upright position. His head was pressed against something firm and wooden, which had left a distinct imprint of its wooden grain against the skin of his forehead. He could feel its ridges as he rubbed the spot.

A cramped leg protested as he moved it out from under where he'd slumped down on it, wedged against the sharp edge of the stone step. He was still by the cellar door.

He coughed at the dry, grainy feeling in his throat. He was alive. How was he alive? He should have burned to a crisp or at least asphyxiated, but here he was. He drew in a deep breath, trying to dislodge the cough from his throat. The air didn't smell the least bit smokey. It had that same damp, mildewy odour from before.

He licked his lips to wet them with what little moisture was in his mouth. They tasted salty like sweat, but there was no hint of charcoal. He should have been black all over from the soot but even in the almost pitch black of the cellar, he could still just make out the pale white of his hands as he held them up in front of his face.

He ran a finger down the wall and sniffed it. It too had no smell of burnt or smoke. That wasn't possible. There'd been so much smoke it had choked him to the point where he couldn't breathe. He ran his hands over his face. He could feel them rub away the sweaty residue that had caked on his face. He had been hot. He had sweated, so why was there no other evidence of it?

He pulled himself up on shaky legs, keeping one hand pressed to the rough stone as he guided his way down the treacherous steps. A late moon must have risen outside because its pallid light cast a glow through the narrow window above the boiler. At the foot of the steps he found the mop he'd discarded, and by the wall the pile of damaged furniture still draped in its canvas covering. It had all been alight and should have been ash by now, yet everything was just as it had been.

He bent down to pick up the mop handle. It felt sturdy and solid in his hands. The boiler was no longer glowing orange. He pressed a hand first to the outer brickwork and then straight over the large central metal grille. It was cold like stone. Not even warm like it had burned itself out, let alone been red hot, engulfed in fire.

He couldn't have imagined all of it. He wasn't mad. He knew what he'd seen and what he'd felt. It was real. And even if he had hallucinated some of it, the boiler should still be lit, or at least cooling. A huge thing like this would take at least a day once its flame was extinguished. He knew for certain that he and Jack had got it going and that neither of them had been down here since. None of it made sense. In fact, nothing had made any sense since the minute they'd arrived here. He was beginning to think that nothing he'd seen or experienced had been real, only what this place had wanted him to see.

The door at the top of the steps began to rattle. Thank Christ, he thought, moving towards the stairs. ‘Yes! Down here!’ he called out, imagining Jack or Gwen on the other side, trying to force the door open. He didn't care how they knew he was down here, only that he was getting out.

He waited for their voices to call back to him, asking him if he was okay. ‘Yes, I'm fine,’ he replied, more to himself than anyone else. ‘Sort of. Apart from the fact that this whole place is fucking mental. Let's just get out of here, yeah?’ He wanted to go home and leave this place behind, mystery solved or not. Back home there was coffee, a hot shower, a comfy sofa and Jack. Not necessarily in that order.

The door rattled more forcefully, like whoever was on the other side was having a hard time of getting it open. He climbed up the steps and pressed his hands to the door. ‘Have you got the key?’ he yelled through the thick timber. ‘In the lock there should be a key. A big heavy thing. It might have fallen out. Check the floor.’

The door shook and shuddered but there was no reassuring voice on the other side. A horrible thought occurred to him that he hadn't yet considered. He'd just assumed there was someone friendly waiting on the other side. It only occurred to him now that the lack of reply was a sign that there was something very unfriendly there. It knew he was here and it was desperate to get inside.

The door jolted hard and Ianto threw himself away from it, clinging to the rough stone wall. He backed down the steps, keeping his eyes glued to the door.

It was almost bulging as it shuddered on its hinges, whatever it was desperately trying to force its way inside. He thought the wood would splinter and explode from the way it bent inwards, about to break at any moment, but for now it held, if only just.

He grabbed whatever he could from the piles of discarded furniture, wedging them against the door and hurriedly piling the rest haphazardly on the steps. He didn't think for a second it would stop whatever it was, but he could at least slow it down. Slow it down for what, he wondered, grabbing the mop and arming himself with it. There was no way out of here.

His eyes were completely adjusted to the dark now, able to see all that he could, but it was the small sliver of light from the window that grabbed his attention. No. He'd never fit through it. It was ten inches tall at best even if it was two feet wide.

The door cracked and heaved as the thing started charging at it repeatedly. He surely only had a minute more before it finally gave way. He looked at the window again. Only one way out of here now. God, but he had to try, didn't he?

He lifted the end of the mop over his head and forced it through the glass, hearing it shatter. He pounded at the frame until he'd smashed all of the glass free. He grabbed for the top of the boiler’s square brick edifice, trying to pull himself up on top of it. His shoes scrabbled against the bricks, trying to add leverage.

At the right angle it would have been extremely difficult. Trying to climb up and over the boiler to get up on top of it to try and squeeze his way through was bordering on impossible. The space between the top of it and the roof was hardly taller than the window itself. He couldn't get more than his head and shoulders over the end of the brickwork, knowing he'd have to pull himself the rest of the way.

His arms went out through the gap first, trying to sweep away the broken shards. He pushed up with his feet, managing to get his head out, somehow managing not to tear open his jugular and forcing shoulders through the gap as well.

He felt the bite of the glass as it tore at his clothes and knicked his tender skin. His hands found more shards on the ground as he hauled himself further forward. He'd survive a few deep scratches. It was the thing behind him that he was less certain about.

His worst fears were realised when he squirmed and found the top and bottom edges of the frame wedged tightly against his back and stomach, pinning him in place. ‘Fuck!’

He clawed at the ground in front of him, trying to find anything he could get purchase on. Weeds and straggler plants came away in his hands as he grabbed at them. Even the thicker looking grasses that had taken root around the edge of the house slipped through his hands and bit into them, scoring his palms like razor blades.

He kicked and flailed, desperate to pull himself loose. I swear I'll never eat another donut again! I won't even look at one! his mind screamed, even if he knew he was just about as trim as he could be. Anything less and Jack would have teased him before stating that he thought Ianto's pudginess was kind of sexy.

He struggled for what felt like an eternity, waiting for something to grab him by the legs and drag him back inside. One knee was bent awkwardly between the boiler and the opposite wall and he pushed out with it as hard as he could, finally feeling his body move in the gap and wriggling his hips and the rest of him through and out into freedom. A yelp of relief escaped his lips as he crawled away and got to his feet. He was out!

He kicked out at the pile of wood by the side of the house, causing the whole carefully stacked pile to tumble and cascade across the opening, sliding down into a heavy mass that blocked it completely. He leaned back against the side of the coal house, breathing hard and closing his eyes as he thanked God he was still alive.

Next chapter...