Dead Men Don't Call

Someone Rang the Bell

The bell rang a fourth time.

Ana grabbed my arm. "Run."

That was all. No explanation. No dramatic speech. Just run.

So I did.

We tore through the passage, Ana in front, Luka behind me, Petar somewhere behind him, and my mother bringing up the rear because apparently this family had decided that fleeing through secret tunnels was a perfectly normal way to spend a Thursday afternoon. It might've been Friday. I was beginning to lose track.

The tunnel sloped upward. My shoes slipped on wet stone. I nearly fell twice. The second time Luka caught me around the waist.

"Careful."

"I am careful."

"You nearly broke your neck."

"I was distracted."

"By what?"

"Everything."

"Fair."

We kept going. Behind us came a shout. Then another. Someone had entered the tunnel.

Ana swore. "Faster."

"I am going as fast as I can."

"You were always slow."

I stopped. She turned.

"What?"

"You said always."

Her face tightened. "I knew you when you were little."

"You've seen me?"

"Yes."

"When?"

She looked at my mother. My mother looked away.

"Many times."

My stomach twisted. "You watched me?"

"I protected you."

"From a distance?"

"Yes."

"That's creepy."

Ana almost smiled. "You've got that from your father."

"Apparently I have everything from him."

"No." She looked at me. "You have your own mouth."

I didn't know why that made me feel better.

Then something exploded behind us. The tunnel shook. Dust came down. Ana grabbed me and pushed me forward.

"Move!"

We ran.

A metal door appeared ahead. Ana unlocked it with a key she wore around her neck. The key was brass. The same shape as mine. I stared.

"You have one too."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because there are two doors."

"Where does yours go?"

"Outside."

"And mine?"

"Inside."

I didn't like that answer.

The door opened. Cold evening air hit my face. We came out behind the chapel. The sky had changed. The hard white afternoon light was gone. Everything was orange now. The sea looked almost black.

I checked my phone. 6:41 p.m. I stared at the time. It felt impossible. We'd been inside for hours. Or minutes. My phone showed one missed call. From an unknown number. Then another. Then another.

Ana looked at the screen. "Don't answer."

"I wasn't planning to."

The phone rang. She grabbed it from my hand.

"Hey."

She answered. "Who is this?"

Silence. Her face changed. Then she handed it back.

"It's for you."

I didn't take it. "Why?"

"Because it's your father."

My hand went cold. I took the phone.

"Hello?"

Nothing. Then breathing. Male. Old. Familiar.

"Ina."

I closed my eyes. "Dad?"

A pause. "I need you to listen carefully."

"Where are you?"

"Don't ask."

"Where are you?"

"In the house."

My stomach dropped. "The white house?"

"Yes."

I looked at Ana. She shook her head.

"No."

"Dad, Ana's here."

Silence. Then: "That's impossible."

"She says she's your sister."

"She isn't."

Ana snatched the phone. "Ivan."

The voice on the other end went silent. Then: "You're alive."

"Yes."

"For how long?"

"Long enough."

"Where are you?"

"Behind the chapel."

Another pause. "You shouldn't be there."

Ana laughed. "You built the tunnel."

"I built it for you."

"No." She looked at me. "You built it for her."

I took the phone back. "For me?"

My father's voice became very quiet. "Yes."

"Why?"

"Because one day you'd need somewhere to hide."

"From who?"

"From me."

The call ended. I stared at the phone.

Ana took a cigarette from her pocket. Luka looked at her.

"You smoke?"

"Sometimes."

She lit it. My mother said, "You promised."

"I've broken worse promises."

Petar laughed. Ana looked at him.

"Don't start."

"I wasn't."

"You were."

He shrugged.

I looked at the four of them. My family. Apparently. And Luka. Apparently also my brother. Possibly. Nobody seemed certain.

I sat on the low stone wall. "I need one thing explained."

Ana took a drag. "One?"

"Fine. Five hundred."

"Start."

"Why did my father want me to forget?"

Ana looked towards the sea. "Because you saw something."

"I was eleven."

"Yes."

"What?"

"You saw someone die."

"Who?"

She didn't answer. I waited. The gulls screamed overhead. A scooter went along the road below us. Someone's radio played through an open window. A woman was singing badly. It was strangely normal. I hated that.

"What did I see?"

Ana flicked ash onto the ground. "Your grandfather."

I looked at her. "I've heard that."

"Then you've heard the wrong version."

"What version is right?"

"You didn't see him die."

I frowned. "You saw him alive."

My mother whispered, "Ana."

"No."

Ana turned on her. "She deserves to know."

"She'll be in danger."

"She already is."

"That's why I lied."

"Your lies put her here."

My mother flinched.

I stood. "Enough."

They stopped.

I looked at Ana. "Tell me what happened."

She stared at me for a long time. Then she said: "Your grandfather wasn't killed in 1994."

I felt the ground shift beneath me. "What?"

"He disappeared."

"Then who did my father kill?"

"No one."

Petar looked at her. "That isn't true."

Ana ignored him. "Your father told you he killed him because he needed everyone to believe your grandfather was dead."

"Why?"

"Because your grandfather was working for the wrong people."

"Who?"

She smiled bitterly. "You're still asking for names."

"Yes."

"Names won't help you."

"They'd help me understand."

"No." She stubbed out her cigarette. "They'd get you killed."

Luka stepped forward. "Who was he working for?"

Ana looked at him. "You really don't remember."

"I've told you."

"You were there."

"I was nine."

"You were old enough."

"For what?"

"To understand why your father chose you."

Luka went still. "What did he choose me for?"

Ana looked at me. "For her."

I felt my stomach drop. "What does that mean?"

Ana didn't answer.

The chapel bell rang again. Once.

Ana looked towards it. "No."

I followed her gaze. The chapel was empty. The doors were shut. There was no wind. The bell rang again.

Petar stood. "We need to leave."

"Why?"

"Because your father isn't in the white house."

I stared at him. "What?"

He pointed down towards the sea. A car was parked near the chapel road. Black. Old. Engine running. I recognized it. The same black car from the harbour. The one with the old man who had told me I had my mother's face.

My mother saw it too. "No."

Ana grabbed my hand. "Come."

We ran downhill. The car accelerated. It wasn't waiting for us. It was coming for us. Luka pulled his gun.

"Get behind the wall."

We jumped behind a low stone wall. The car came around the bend. Fast. Too fast. It clipped a roadside marker. The driver's door opened before it had completely stopped. A man jumped out. Not my father. A stranger. He fired. Luka returned fire. The man ran. Petar chased him.

I shouted, "Petar!"

He didn't stop.

Ana pulled me down. "Stay here."

"I can help."

"You'll get shot."

"That's already happened today."

"Exactly."

She looked over the wall. "Luka."

"What?"

"Can you see him?"

"Who?"

"The driver."

Luka stood slightly. "Empty."

"What?"

"The car's empty."

I looked. He was right. The driver had vanished. The engine was still running. I smelled petrol. Ana swore.

"Move."

We ran. The car exploded. The sound threw me sideways. Heat hit my face. Glass flew over the wall. Luka landed beside me. My ears rang. For a few seconds I couldn't hear anything. Then I heard someone shouting. My mother.

I pushed myself up. She was standing in the road. Bleeding from her forehead. I ran towards her.

"Mom!"

She looked at me. Then past me. Her face changed.

I turned. A man stood on the road. He was holding a gun. He was looking at my mother. Not me. Not Luka. Her.

"You should've stayed dead," he said.

My mother froze. I knew that voice. I'd heard it before. In the harbour. On the phone. In the house. I couldn't place it. Then he smiled. And I remembered. The voice behind the red door. The one that had said:

"Ina, don't look."

I stared at him. "You."

He looked at me. "Yes."

Luka raised his gun. The man laughed.

"You still don't know what he made you forget."

"Who?"

He smiled. "Your father."

Then he turned the gun towards me. And fired.