Night fell and I tried to sort my thoughts into some semblance of a plan. I couldn’t even begin to judge whether or not my intentions were pure. Cousin Vera had become swallowed up in a life that I can only describe as leprous. If I could not free her, I could at least confirm that she was not in imminent danger. I believe people have the right to diminish themselves if they so desire.

I buttoned my overcoat against the dropping temperature and once again crossed the little bridge. I stood across the street from Vera’s hovel and kept watch. Lamplight shone amber through the second-storey window, but not indefinitely. Shortly after eleven I watched as the bearded man’s ugly silhouette extinguished the light.

I stood shivering for nearly an hour, affording Vera’s keeper time enough (I hoped) to doze off.

Much to my relief, the wedge was still in the door. Scaling those ancient steps noiselessly was arduous and time-consuming, particularly because my most formidable obstacle stood at their summit.

Exactly how I was going to unlock the apartment door was a problem I resolved to simply deal with by whatever means. Ultimately this meant, after attempting to wriggle it loose and to pop the lock using my driver’s licence and my lapel pin, kicking the flimsy door open.

The bearded man had been snoring on the sofa where we’d had our dirty tea. The crash of the breached door woke him instantly, but he was too groggy and stunned to prevent me from tearing across the living room and flinging open the door to NEITHERNOR.

As I’d dreaded, Vera was sealed up within the tiny closet. Her slight frame rested on the metal stool and for a beat I thought she was sleeping, until I noticed that her eyes were open…open yet rolled up in her skull like one in an epileptic throe. Her mouth gaped. In her hands she held the spool of copper wire. The glinting strand was taut before her, like a fishing line in the deep. It fed backward above her head and into the tiny hatch. This time the tiny door in the wall was unlocked and ajar. A fat band of shadow concealed whatever was rutting inside that cubby. Whatever it was, it possessed strength enough to tear at Vera’s hair, which caused her somnambulistic body to heave up and then drop down again onto the stool. Her scalp was missing much more than the knitted cap.

The bearded man was growling as he grabbed me. Terror and adrenaline made breaking free easy.

Less easy to escape is the memory of those neatly stacked white boxes beginning to rattle and shake and leap from their perch.

Vera was careless or helpless to the whole nightmare. Not even my shrieking flight could lure her from her in-between.

5.