12.4

Luna almost tripped over a body on her way along the corridor; one of the girls hadn’t made it far at all.

The back of her head had been chewed up and spat out by a shotgun shell. Her glassy eyes stared at her own reflection in the gleaming pool of blood still growing beneath her.

Sam came charging out of the room, slamming the door against the wall.

Fucking Woody. If only he’d listened to me, she thought, furious.

She heard a sound in the distance.

Saw that it was Polly.

Her heart slamming against her ribs, Luna ducked behind one of the doors.

Polly held a bloody pitchfork.

Blood spatters ran down her crudely painted face.

Her eyes scanned the corridor, searching for the escapees.

Luna heard Sam go past, his heavy footsteps unmistakeable.

She looked for a weapon.

There didn’t seem to be one.

Polly and Sam began patrolling the barn.

Luna thought it was the same one through which her, Woody and Timmy the Grimmy had first entered, but couldn’t be certain.

Instead, she backed further into the farmhouse.

There was a room painted up like a nursery. Crude finger paintings of animals and people were rendered in blood over the smooth pastel yellow paintwork.

A row of human corpses was sitting up like dolls against the left- and right-hand walls.

Their throats were slit, eyes wide and glassy.

They seemed to watch Luna’s every move.

As Luna gawped in horror, she heard bare feet slapping the floor.

There could only be Sam or Polly who walked like that.

There seemed no weapon she could use, so she hurriedly sat down between two of the dolls.

The cold, clammy feel of their skin sickened her, but she pushed it from her mind.

She welcomed it, shoved her hands into the slit throats of the freshest corpse, rubbing the blood onto her own throat.

It was cold and made her skin go tight, but she rubbed it on, hoping she’d got it right.

The door flew open and Polly came in.

She turned and stared at the dolls.

Luna stared blankly into space, hoping she matched the dead-eyed stare of the dolls.

You’ll be doing it permanently if you can’t get it right, she thought.

Polly stared at them intently, her dark mono-brow furrowing as she tried to figure out what was going on.

Her finger came out, faltering again.

‘One, two, free,’ she said, her finger moving slowly between the dolls. She paused for a while on the one to Luna’s right, as though trying to remember the next number.

Luna’s eyes by this point were aching and she longed to blink them but knew that even someone as docile as Polly would notice that.

She knew that blinking would condemn her to a grisly death.

‘F-f-f…our,’ Polly said, smiling at her own cleverness. Her finger moved to Luna.

She paused there an age.

Luna stared blankly at the floor at her feet.

She could practically hear the cogs turning in Polly’s head.

‘F-f-f…ive,’ she said.

Still her gaze lingered over Luna and she readied herself to attack in case Polly did go for her.

Finally, her finger moved to the next doll.

‘Six, s-s…even,’ she rhymed off relatively easily.

‘Hey, Sam got more dolls than Polly,’ she pouted.

Still she stood staring at them.

Luna longed to blink but was unable. Tears had begun to pool in her eyes and one broke cover and raced down her cheek.

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She prayed silently that Polly hadn’t noticed.

Just when she thought she could last no longer, a voice called out of the darkness at the end of the corridor.

*

Polly turned.

Luna blinked frantically.

Polly turned round as though she’d even heard the sound of Luna’s eyelids flickering shut a few times.

She stared at her for another eternity.

Then she shuffled out of the room.

When Luna was certain Polly had gone, she breathed a sigh of relief and tried to figure out her next move.

*

Luna’s heart thudded in her chest. She needed a moment to gather her senses. She’d been convinced that Polly was going to discover her.

She’d never been so frightened in all of her life.

‘This place is fucked up beyond all recognition,’ she muttered.

She took a few more deep breaths, trying to quell her racing heartbeat and the panic that still threatened to overwhelm her.

She was still on the verge of hyperventilating when she saw movement from the corner of her eye.

‘Hey! Doll moving,’ Polly’s voice called out from the doorway with sufficient volume that her hopes of evading capture were swiftly dispersed.

*

Luna stood fast.

The blood rushed to her head, making her swoon a little.

Polly rushed at her.

Her strength was frightening, but she was weaker than Sam.

Luna managed to dodge.

It sounded like a river was flowing between her ears.

She tried to blot out this feeling and think.

The legs of Polly’s dolls were sticking out on the floor.

If she could push Polly back, maybe she could use them to trip her.

It was just a case of moving her round.

‘Hey, has one of your teeth fallen out?’ Luna said, pointing at Polly’s mouth and smiling.

‘Yay! The tooth fairy!’ Polly bellowed.

She raced to the mirror, opened her mouth and began to examine her teeth.

Luna took her chance, shoving her hard in the back.

Polly cried out as her face slammed into the mirror, sending cracks shivering through the silvered glass.

Luna moved to the side and shoved hard. The pitchfork flew from Polly’s hands and skidded across the floor.

Polly fell on her back, blood welling up from the cuts in her forehead.

She was crying, staring in horror at the blood on her hands.

Luna grabbed a shard of broken glass from the mirror and approached her.

She stood over Polly, the silvered dagger in her trembling hand.

*

Luna’s bad intentions made her feel physically sick, as it was like she was about to kill a child, but she knew that Polly would have happily done the same to her if she got the chance.

She moved in.

The glass cut her hand a little.

Blood dripped down the makeshift weapon and pattered to the floor.

Luna stared at Polly, raised the dagger.

Sounds from the doorway made her look up.

Sam was there, watching.

‘Luna hurt Polly,’ he shouted, his face enraged.

He was straining to get to her, but a strong arm held him back.

‘Sam, go and finish your chicken nuggets please,’ a gruff male voice said. ‘Or I’ll smack your hand again.’

Sam put out his pet lip and began bouncing, agitated, on the spot.

A harsh look from the man made Sam do as he was told; he slunk away, his posture slumped, tears rolling down his cheeks.

‘If you’re waiting for me to stop you you’ll be waiting a very long time,’ the man in the doorway said.

Luna looked up at him, anticipating some sort of trick. But the man stayed where he stood.

‘I’ve been trying to pluck up the nerve to do it for months now.’