The Walk(Matthew Sorflaten) The Walk
By
Matthew Sorflaten


‘Boy!’ Mr. Bush rasped. ‘Boy!’
‘Yeah?’ Josh grunted, feeling absent-minded and tired from the long day.
‘I need you to do something for me, boy. One last thing, then you can go home.’
Josh sighed and rose. He had a job as an usher for a theatre production company, but found he often ended up working a lot harder than was implied in the job description. He worked under the eye of the large, middle-aged, sweaty Mr. Bush, the company manager, who hardly ever had any business due to hugely unreliable actors, shoddy props and lazily written plays, and HENCE THE THEATRE attracted a very small audience, WHICH MEANT JOSH HAD a lot of free time. Mr. Bush insisted that because (THAT) he hardly ever needed Josh, he should be doing more to earn his salary, and so frequently sent him on jobs, doing things like collecting dry-cleaning, making phone calls or cleaning the stage. The vast amount of errands he was sent on made for very hard work. In fact, he did so little ushering that he hardly considered himself to be an actual usher, MORE an errand boy or caretaker. Most days he went to work, the AUDITORIUM would be depressingly empty, SO THAT HE ONLY HAD to take a mere handful of people to sit down, MOST OF WHOM left halfway through. It was hardly the most enjoyable or cheerful of places to work, but due to a lack of education and experience, he felt he was lucky to have A JOB AT ALL.

‘What is it sir?’ he asked politely, trying his best to hide the weariness in his voice. Despite his dislike of the job, one great fear of his was losing it.
‘I need you to deliver a package for me, boy,’ his employer croaked. Although he could only have been just above 50 at most, his employer spoke in the manner of someone ancient, his words constantly sounding choked or muffled, in a strange wheeze.
‘Where, sir?’ Josh enquired.
‘Eh? Er…it’s Alexander Lane…not sure exactly where it…got the address here…been told to deliver it…quite important…not too far from here, boy, just around Baker’s Corner…you’ll find it…make sure you find it…nearby Baker’s Corner…very important. Go!’

Josh felt a FAMILIAR frustration as Mr. Bush shoved the parcel into his arms and pushed him roughly out the door. Mr. Bush was always vague and unclear with instructions, and yet always expected his tasks to be completed perfectly. JOSH barely bothered to argue anymore, as Mr. Bush tended to react badly when questioned, and (they) never succeeded in making his instructions any clearer. This was one of the better times, however. He could ask someone on the street to direct him- this was mild in comparison to some complicated paintwork tasks Mr. Bush had given him before.
It was getting late, nearing 7 o’clock, and Josh hoped he could get the delivery over and done with quickly, as he was tired and was keen to be home as soon as possible. Baker’s Corner wasn’t too far away, he thought, and if Mr. Bush’s very vague instructions were accurate (which he wouldn’t bet on) it shouldn’t take too long.
He set off down the road with the parcel under his arm. He looked up into the sky. Dark clouds were gathering above him. Looked like rain.

It took him about 15 minutes to reach Baker’s Corner, which was a very long road filled with shops, bakeries and supermarkets, often hugely busy, although it was a little quieter today. Perhaps it was something to do with the rain, he thought, as he could feel light drops coming down on him already, and it was beginning to get darker. This only encouraged him to find the place as soon as possible, as he wanted to avoid the bad weather, and didn’t want to get lost in the dark. He looked around for someone he could ask, and went over to the nearest person, a small, stooped over, elderly woman wearing a raincoat, hood pulled up.
‘Excuse me ma’am, but could you please direct me to Alexander Lane? I need to deliver this package to an address there you see.’
The woman looked rather startled at first, but furrowed her brow in concentration.
‘Ah…Alexander Lane…is here somewhere…’
Her vague mumble reminded him strongly of Mr. Bush.
‘Go down there…turn to the right…you'LL find Alexander Lane…you go down…the first right, I think. Yes…go in that direction,’ she said, pointing with a slight tremble in her hand towards a road leading from the left hand side of the street.
‘Thank you,’ Josh smiled, though once again he didn’t feel too convinced concerning the reliability of these directions.

The rain was beginning to come down more HEAVILY, and he didn’t want to HANG ABOUT, so he thought it best to take the old woman’s instructions for now, and ask someone else if he got lost. He was sure it couldn’t be as straightforward as the possibly senile woman had just made out.
He went down the street, starting to wish he’d brought an umbrella as the rain started to come down harder. The road looked unfamiliar, even though he must have passed it countless times, as Baker’s Corner was an area very near where he lived, and he had gone down it to go to the supermarkets frequently. He had just never acknowledged this one I suppose. ‘Benson Avenue’, he could see it was called. He’d never heard of it.
The road was completely empty too. Just a row of houses, a silent street. He walked down, looking for a sign indicating (towards) Alexander Lane, but couldn’t see one. Had she said to turn to the right at the end of this road? He couldn’t remember.
He turned around again to see if he could see anyone there to direct him, but all he could see standing at the very end of the road was a small child, a boy, he thought, only he couldn’t tell for sure due to the fact that the child had a jumper pulled over his head, hiding his face, most likely to protect him from the oncoming rain, he imagined.
Nonetheless, he thought it rather strange that a boy so young, 8 or 9, he thought, to be on his own in the streets, particularly (amidst) IN what was looking to be rather stormy weather. He assumed that a parent might be with this boy, and so thought he (may) MIGHT perhaps ask them to guide him to his destination. However, no one came, and he wondered if the boy might be lost. Selfish as it might have been, though, he really didn’t want to approach the child and help him find his parents, as he was very eager to deliver the package and get home before it started raining heavily.
He turned round and started walking again, but felt a hankering to turn round and try to help the boy, although he wasn’t too sure why. He’d get delayed massively if he (went) TRAILED around with the boy to help him find (whomever) WHOEVER IT WAS he’d been with. Then again, he might find them almost immediately…he wasn’t sure what to do. It would have been the right thing to go and look for the address and get it over and done with quickly, and if he found the boy’s parents, he might find it quicker…but then he might get stuck with the boy, looking for ages…he couldn’t decide…

His dilemma was interrupted when he saw a balding man in a heavy black coat step outside one of the houses, and stand in his front garden, looking up at the darkening sky, a somewhat mournful look on his face.
Josh glanced back at the boy, still standing there, his jumper still over his head, but as it started to rain harder, he decided to ask the man for directions. He was sure someone more responsible would find the boy.
‘Excuse me,’ he said as he approached the man. The man jerked his head slightly, and looked at him in an awkward, somewhat disorientated manner.
‘Could you perhaps tell me where Alexander Lane is? I need to deliver this package you see.’
‘Well I…Alexander Lane should be round here somewhere see…I can’t be certain…not fully certain…it is here somewhere…’
He had a distant, confused tone to his voice, as though he’d just woken up and wasn’t quite sure where he was, and Josh felt very irritated at having picked a second uncertain, bemused type of person. The man presumably lived around here, so surely he’d have a clearer idea than the old woman, he thought.
‘Go to the right I think, yes, go to the right…then the left…keep going down…second left…should be around there…I think so, yes, around there somewhere.’
‘Are you sure about that, sir?’ Josh asked politely. He didn’t want to be led on some wild goose chase.
‘No,’ the man said in that thin, melancholy voice, which Josh found both unsettling and annoying. ‘But I think so.’
Sighing, Josh decided to just follow the man’s instructions for now. He was sure to find someone else on the way. He started to walk away again.
‘Look at that boy,’ he heard the man say, in his soft, unfocused voice. The boy was still at the end of the road, standing there perfectly still, face still covered.
‘Do you think we should help the boy?’ the man asked, but the tone in his voice was in the same dull, confused manner, no emotions of concern detectable. Josh felt a chill when he saw the man wasn’t even looking at the boy, just looking straight ahead, an absent, glazed look in his eyes.
‘Can’t decide if we should help him or not, you know. I just can’t decide….’
These words sounded eerily familiar, although Josh could not place from where he had heard them before. He was beginning to feel a great sense of unease from this man, who he was beginning to think was unwell, and started walking away quickly. He turned to the first right like the man had said, even though he was in great doubt that the directions were accurate. He also hoped the man would have gone back inside by the time he turned back, not wanting to pass him by again. He hoped the boy would have gone away too, as he was beginning to feel a sort of guilt from his presence. He really didn’t want to go to the trouble of finding the boy’s parents, but he was starting to feel bad for him. Still, he thought, not much he could do now. He was already on his way. Someone else would find the boy. It wasn’t his responsibility. He tried not to think about it.

He walked down the road, which was also empty, which he found surprising, considering it was quite long. All the curtains he could see appeared to be drawn too. The uneasy feelings the man had given him were only strengthened by this. He wanted to get there as soon as possible. He really didn’t like this at all.
He walked down the road at a very fast pace, hoping against hope that the strange man’s instructions had been accurate.
The rain was getting heavier and heavier. Second left, he thought anxiously, second left. He felt he was beginning to lose his bearings a bit. His surroundings now looked hugely unfamiliar. It didn’t even look like his area. It was hard to believe this place had led on from the busy Baker’s Corner. These streets were all deserted. It was as though no one lived there. Then again, he supposed, it was getting late. The sky was getting very dark now, and lampposts were beginning to turn on. But still, it shouldn’t be so late that no one would be outside. He passed the first left hand road, and stopped, turning around to see if he could see anyone, and when he looked back, he felt a jolt of shock. Standing at the end of the long road he had walked down was that same boy, jumper still over his head, standing perfectly still. Josh felt his heart start to beat faster, and stared at the boy. It’s okay, he thought to himself. It’s just a child; he’s probably hoping you’ll take him home. Nothing to worry about.
Even so, he could not help but feel very nervous as he looked at the boy standing there silently. Why was he watching him? He didn’t appear to be moving towards him. Was he deliberately following him? Or was he just trying to find his own way?

He turned and started walking again, even faster, clutching the package tightly. He’d look round to see if the directions were correct, he decided, then he’d just get home as soon as possible. He’d tell Mr. Bush he couldn’t find the house. But then would that be a good idea? He wasn’t sure.
As he walked down the road, he began to think. A great deal of uncertainty tonight, he thought. He hadn’t been sure where to go all evening. He didn’t know how long he’d been outside, and he couldn’t decide what to do about that boy. Even other people…none of them seemed sure about anything either…they all seemed very confused about something. Everything seemed to have a distinct feel of unease and uncertainty about it...and yet at the same time it was very…familiar, as though this sort of thing had been going on for a long time.

He had never been a very strong-willed person, he thought to himself. He was never very good at making decisions or making his mind up about what he wanted. Perhaps that’s why he’d ended up working for Mr. Bush, doing everything the man said, never daring to attempt to try and get work anywhere else, never being brave enough to get further in life…
He suddenly felt a great chill inside.
Not brave enough…he was starting to remember something…he remembered flames…burning wood…everything collapsing. He felt his heart begin to beat faster…was this a real memory coming through, or was he imagining it…it seemed so vivid and intense and terrifying…how could he have forgotten this? There was something suppressed…he was starting to remember…

He reached the first left and stopped. He could see two people walking up this road, and felt mild relief. If he wasn’t on the right road, surely they’d be able to direct him, and it was highly unlikely he’d be quite unlucky enough to come across two more confused, befuddled people again.
He glanced round to check on the boy, and felt another cold jolt inside him as he saw the boy was now on the first left, still staring at him. What was going on? This was enough, he decided. He had to see what was happening.
‘What do you want?’ he called to the boy. ‘Why are you following me?’
The child remained silent, and carried on staring at him. Josh waved at him.
‘You!’ he cried. ‘I’m talking to you! What is it? Are you lost?’
The child said nothing, and remained where he was, though Josh could hear footsteps, which he realised were coming from the road on the first left. Half-expecting a parent or the like to appear, Josh waited, but suddenly felt a cold chill rise up inside him as he saw whose footsteps they belonged to…
It was the strange, balding man with the glazed expression on his face, silently coming round the corner, stopping to stand behind the child. In his mind, Josh again suddenly saw a flash of fire, feeling a great burning within him, this time hearing a cry of agony inside his mind…but not his cry…

‘Thought you was gonna deliver that package,’ the man called over in his toneless drawl of a voice.
‘That’s right!’ came a voice from behind him, and Josh turned around in surprise. ‘Thought you was gonna deliver it to Alexander Lane!’
Josh couldn’t believe his eyes. It was the woman. The old, senile, confused woman who’d directed him from Baker’s Corner! What on Earth was going on?
Josh turned round again and his heart leapt as he saw the man and the boy were now halfway down from the first left, now much closer to him. He turned around again and saw the woman was now on the curb. He hadn’t even heard them moving, and it was hardly enough time for either of them to get that much further up the road. It was as though they were closing in on him.
‘Well go on!’ the man cried, and this time, instead of that lifeless, brain-dead drawl, his voice now seemed to have a manic sort of shriek to it. ‘Deliver it to Alexander Lane!’
This time Josh felt transported into the flames, a hideous scream of pain in his ears, fire everywhere, a blazing heat surrounding him.
‘HELP!!!!’ the voice cried. ‘HELP!!!!’
‘I-I don’t know,’ he heard another voice stammer…a very familiar voice. ‘I…I’m not sure…I might get burnt!’
He suddenly appeared back in reality, and bolted forward, running from these three bizarre people who seemed to have been following him, running so fast that he was scarcely aware of what was in front of him, and skidded to a halt when he came in front of the two people walking up the road.
‘You…you gotta help,’ Josh gasped. ‘These…these people…they’re following me…I don’t know what’s going on, please, help me!’
It was an elderly woman and a teenage boy who stood before him, squinting at him through the darkness, then past him... The three people were now gathered together at the end of the road, watching silently.
‘Why, all I see is a harmless old woman around my age, a fine enough looking gentleman, and a sweet little boy.’
Josh looked at them again. What the woman had said was true, and yet he was feeling a great vibe of fear from them…who were they…and why were they following him?
‘But I can’t be sure,’ the woman said.
At these words, Josh felt true terror rise up within him. Something was wrong. Why were all the people like this? Why didn’t he recognize where he was? This wasn’t right.
He turned to look at the woman. She was smiling at him benignly, but Josh could feel it. Something unnatural was going on. These people weren’t normal.
‘Well, who do you think they are sir?’ the teenage boy asked. Josh didn’t know what to do. He felt too terrified to run. Were these people really after him? Or was he going insane?
‘I-I’m not sure…’
‘Oh but you’re not sure about a lot of things, are you, sir? Cowardly, selfish indecisiveness, isn’t that right?’
Josh looked at the boy, and his face was that of pure malice. He turned and saw all the people had now surrounded him in a circle. The two old women. The teenager. The balding man with the vacant stare. The strange little boy, whom for some reason terrified Josh the most.
‘What…what do you want?’ he gasped. ‘I…I don’t…’
‘Always knew your selfish, unambitious, weak-willed nature would be your undoing, boy,’ came another voice, and Josh was shocked to see yet another familiar face come to join the circle.
‘M…Mr. Bush!’ he gasped. ‘I…what are you…I don’t understand!’
‘Course you do, boy,’ Mr. Bush growled. ‘Course you do. This is your fault entirely, you know. The fire. Surely you remember the fire, Josh?’

At those words, Josh was instantly transported there again, and this time, he could see it more clearly than ever. He saw the theatre company was burning down. A huge fire was spreading, and he was the only one who had made it to the door. He could hear all the cries and screams of the people within. Stage lights were crashing down, blocking people’s exits, crushing some. He could only fully distinguish one person…a little boy, his leg trapped underneath one of the large stage lights, trying to force himself out. The boy looked at Josh in despair; severe burn marks visible on his face.
‘HELP!’ the boy cried. ‘HELP!’
‘I-I don’t know,’ Josh said, terrified of the flames. ‘I…I’m not sure…I might get burnt.’
‘ALEX!’ he heard another woman cry. ‘ALEX! PAUL, YOU HAVE TO GET ALEX, GET HIM-‘
The flames started getting closer, and Josh backed further away towards the door, seeing the boy struggle to escape, hearing the woman’s frantic scream for the child to be rescued.
Then, out of the fire, he saw something yet more terrifying…a huge, burning red shape…the shape of a man, running towards him, covered in fire, charging right at him, completely ablaze.
Josh abandoned any uncertainties he had. It was too late now. He couldn’t do anything. He had to save himself. He turned and ran, sprinting as fast as he could, all the way home, leaving them all behind…he had no choice, after all…

Then he was back in the street again, back with the people who had surrounded him, and now he felt sick amongst his fear as he looked at them all, now, all their faces and flesh had twisted and deformed, purple and charred black, barely recognizable as the people he had just seen, staring at him, their eyes now wide and staring, their eyelids having been burnt away…
He turned to face the boy, as though automatically. The boy stood there silently as he had all night, for a few moments, nothing being said by anyone, he reached up to the neck of his jumper, and finally lowered it, and Josh felt his stomach lurch. Beneath the jumper was a grotesque, burnt-black face, with horribly bloodshot eyes, and any unscarred flesh being a ghastly shade of purple.
‘Now you remember,’ Mr. Bush rasped, his face now as disfigured as all of them. ‘This is little Alex Lane…and his family…give him the parcel.’
Wordlessly and unthinking, Josh obediently handed the package to the little boy, who opened it slowly and silently.
Inside was a rolled up piece of parchment. Josh heard the people surrounding him take a sharp intake of breath as little Alexander Lane unrolled it. The letter read:

IT’S ALL MY FAULT

‘And so it is,’ Mr. Bush said in his horrible, choked voice. ‘In your fear and indecision, you ran all the way home, not bothering to alert anyone of anything you had seen, not bothering to put any effort into saving any of our lives. But of course, though the rest of us may have died anyway, you still could have saved this little boy here, who died a horrible, painful, slow death…all because of you.’
The hideous, burnt boy threw his head up and let out a chilling howl, a sound of unendurable pain, the very same one that he had uttered that night…
All the others threw up their heads and howled too, howls of burning, torment, of agony. There was a flash, and before Josh could comprehend what had happened, they had all crumbled into piles of ash on the pavement.
All except for Mr. Bush, who stood there, peering at him through his ruined, bloodshot eyes.
‘You killed all of them, boy,’ he leered. ‘But I got away…I came for you before…and now I’m back again!’
Josh suddenly remembered everything…not again…
He screeched with sheer terror as Mr. Bush lunged at him and clasped his hands around his throat…



Josh was screaming again. Dr. Redwall sighed. He didn’t think the boy would ever recover.
He walked over to the boy’s hospital bed, seeing him writhing and twitching and screaming in his bed. He always wondered what went on in that boy’s head. He didn’t think he wanted to know.
Still, he thought, perhaps in a way, the boy didn’t deserve too much sympathy. He had run away like a coward, allowing a little 9 year old actor, his family members, and several others to die.
He wondered how that fire had started in that theatre company. No one had ever known. What a dreadful thing to happen. So many people killed, only two survivors, Josh, of course, being one of them, the other being Mr. Bush, the theatre company owner, who had also somehow escaped the fire, but terribly disfigured, his face left raw and blackened, horrible to look at. The trauma of the accident and the permanent scarring it had left drove Mr. Bush insane. Blaming Josh, he had gone to his house, climbed through his bedroom window, and attempted to strangle him to death, but was stopped by Josh’s father, and was quickly apprehended by the authorities who had been called by his mother. Josh was left badly shaken by the incident, and the terror provoked a deep state of shock, perhaps also brought on by the guilt of leaving everyone behind, as he began to experience such terrible nightmares and fits that he had to be taken in to a psychiatric ward to receive treatment and therapy for such spasms. His nightmares were constant and worsened, reaching a level where he often seemed completely unaware of where he was or what was happening, often seeming to relive parts of the fire, or imagining himself in various situations in which he seemed to be getting punished by imaginary forces. Dr. Redwall imagined he was having a hard time living with himself.

Sighing, Dr. Redwall gave Josh a dose of his medication and settled him down. He then looked to the end of the room, and frowned.
It was the oddest thing. There was a boy with his jumper pulled up over his head. He’d been at the ward the past few nights. Dr. Redwall assumed he was with one of the visitors, but he always seemed to be on his own. Dr. Redwall wondered if he was lost, or needed some help. He always meant to ask him, but could never find the time after a hard day’s work at the hospital.
He shrugged and left the ward to tend to his other duties. Perhaps he’d ask the boy something if he were still there tomorrow.

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