The Camera Man

  Copyright 2017 Amy Cross

  All Rights Reserved

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, events, entities and places are either products of the author's imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual people, businesses, entities or events is entirely coincidental.

  Kindle edition

  First published: June 2017

  “He's always watching. Everything you do, everywhere you go, everyone you meet. Even if you can't see him, he'll be somewhere around. Always filming you.”

  When she was a little girl, Jess once saw a man filming her during a family holiday.

  Years later, she saw the same man filming her in the park.

  Now, as she approaches her mid-twenties, Jess sees the same man again. And this time, her best friend just happens to have gone missing.

  Soon, Jess is plunged into a nightmare that nobody else believes could be real. Haunted by the sight of the camera man, but never able to get to him, she begins to lose her mind. But is Jess suffering from paranoia, or is the man really following her? And if he's real, then why will he go to any lengths to capture her entire life on film?

  The Camera Man is a horror novel about a woman haunted by a mysterious figure, about a man driven to insanity by a voice in his mind, and about a dark force that is finally ready to break through to this world.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Epilogue

  The Camera Man

  Chapter One

  17 years ago

  “Mummy, who's that man?”

  I sit forward until the seat-belt pulls tight across my chest, and then I peer between the car's two front seats. We're racing along the motorway, about to pass under a bridge, but there's a man standing up there. Silhouetted against the gray morning sky, he seems to be holding something in his hands.

  “What man, Jessica?”

  We flash under the bridge. I immediately turn and look out through the rear window. To my surprise, I see that the man on the bridge has turned, as if he still wants to watch us. I open my mouth to ask Mummy about him again, but instead I simply stare at him until we turn around a corner and the bridge goes out of sight. At the same time, I feel a really creepy sensation in my chest, as if my body knows something is wrong but my mind hasn't quite caught up yet.

  “Have you finished with your coloring book already?” Mummy asks, sounding tired. “Just read something else. We'll be at the camp-site soon. An hour, at most. Let Mummy rest until then.”

  After hesitating for a moment, I lean back in my seat. The coloring book is laid out on my lap, but I can't help thinking back to the sight of the man on the bridge. He was holding his hands up almost as high as his face, as if he was holding something. And the way he turned around as we passed under the bridge, the way he seemed to watch us approach and then watch us zoom away... I know I'm probably overreacting, but I really felt as if the man up there was watching us.

  Watching me.

  Chapter Two

  12 years ago

  “Happy thirteenth birthday, Jessica!”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Marsh,” I reply, trying to sound as polite as possible. I smile at her as I take a bite from my slice of birthday cake, and after a moment she reaches down to tousle my hair. I feel like maybe I'm getting a bit old for that, but I don't really mind.

  “You're so lucky to have this wonderful party,” she tells me.

  “I know.”

  “You mustn't be sad that there aren't many people here. It's better to have a couple of good friends show up, rather than lots of people you don't know very well. There's no need to cry anymore.”

  “I know.”

  “Chrissie was excited all morning. She couldn't wait to come down here and spend the day with you.”

  “I know,” I say with a smile, “and -”

  Before I can finish, I spot a figure over on the farthest side of the park. There are a few people around today, but for some reason this particular man catches my attention. He's standing in the shades of the trees, in a patch that's so gloomy I can barely even see him at all, but he seems to be looking straight this way. In fact, as I squint a little, I realize that he's holding his hands up close to his face, almost as if he's watching us through a camera.

  Lots of people have brought cameras to my birthday party, but they're all close by. I don't know who this man is, or why he's watching from such a distance.

  “Are you okay, Jessica?” Mrs. Marsh asks suddenly.

  “Who's that man?” I ask.

  “What man?”

  She turns and looks over toward the farthest trees, where the man is still watching from the shadows.

  “Come on, Jessica,” Mrs. Marsh says, taking my hand, “let's go and see who else wants some cake.”

  “But that man -”

  “I don't see anyone.”

  She leads me back toward the picnic area, but I can't help glancing over my shoulder and watching the man. He's a long way away, but somehow I feel as if he's closer. The funny thing is that even though I don't know who he is, I feel like I've seen him before, but I don't know where or when. Still, as Mrs. Marsh leads me back to the others, I quickly forget about the man as I start talking and playing with my friends.

  Later, once we're in the car and heading home, I remember the man again. I look out the window, but we've already left the park and of course there's no sign of him now. Still, the sight of him sticks in my mind for a few more seconds, before I finally turn back to look at my birthday presents.

  Chapter Three

  6 years ago

  “That was the worst party ever,” Angela says as she totters through the door and kicks her heels off. “What kind of party is over by one in the morning?”

  “I think Chrissie had a pretty good time,” Kelly points out. “I couldn't wake her up at all. She was just passed out on Debbie's bed.”

  “Did you just leave her there?” I ask, feeling a flash of worry.

  “Relax, the party's over and Debbie said she'd look after her. You know Chrissie, she always drinks way too much.” She nudges my arm. “Sometimes I think she drinks enough for two people, to make up for you being a teetotaler. Really, you'd be doing her a favor if you had a few shots now and then. You're doing terrible things to Chrissie's liver.”

  “Maybe I should go back and check on her,” I mutter.

&nbs
p; “She's fine!”

  “But -”

  “I need another drink before I go to bed,” she adds, grabbing my arm and leading me through to the kitchen of our small shared house. “I was so hyped for tonight, and look how it turned out. By the way, did you get that guy's phone number?”

  “Which guy?” I ask.

  She laughs. “Which guy? The one who was hitting on you all evening!”

  “Nobody was hitting on me.”

  “That guy at the bar was blatantly up for it,” she continues. “Maybe he was just shy. You should have asked him out for a drink some time.”

  “I could never do that.”

  “Why not? He was fit. You should've asked him to go for a coffee with you in the morning.”

  “I could never ask a guy to go for a coffee,” I reply, as she rolls her eyes. “I just... I don't know, I just couldn't. I'm just not that kind of person.”

  I stop at the window while Kelly and Angela start raiding the drinks cupboard. Looking out at the dark town, I can't help feeling that I just want to slip into bed and maybe make an early start in the morning. I've got to be at work really early in the morning, and I'm still trying to make a good impression at my new job. Then again, I don't want people thinking I'm some kind of nerd, so I guess I have to hang out for a little while longer. If I'm exhausted in the morning, then I'm exhausted. At least I won't be hungover.

  “Glass of wine, Jess?” Angela calls out.

  I turn to her. “No thanks, I just -”

  Suddenly I look back out the window. There's no lighting in the park at the rear of our house, but right now I realize I can see a single, small red light out there in the darkness. I wait for the light to move away, for it to blink out of existence or suddenly pull off into the darkness, but instead it seems to be simply waiting out there in the apartment building's parking lot. For a moment, all I can do is stare at the light, hoping that – whatever it is – it'll quickly blink away.

  “Jess?”

  Feeling someone bump my arm, I turn and find Kelly standing next to me.

  “Were you completely zoned out?” she asks with a laugh. “I kept saying your name and you were, like, just standing here.”

  “I -”

  Turning back to the window, I look out toward the light, except now it's gone.

  “Take this.”

  Kelly thrusts something into my hands, and when I look down I find that I'm suddenly holding a black garbage bag.

  “Take it to the trash, yeah?” she continues, nudging my arm again. “When you get back, there'll be a cocktail waiting for you, and I might just hold your goddamn mouth open and pour it down your throat!”

  ***

  Pushing the back door open, I step out into the cold night air. I always hate coming out to the parking lot at the best of times, since there are very few lights and the place is mostly shrouded in darkness. Tonight, with just the distant hum of traffic to be heard over the sound of my own breaths, I can't help stopping for a moment in the last pool of light before the trek to the garbage cans begins.

  Above, there's an old CCTV camera that's supposed to be covering the parking lot, but I'm pretty sure it hasn't been working for at least as long as I've been living here.

  I listen, just in case I hear anybody nearby.

  Once I'm satisfied that I'm all alone out here, I let the back door swing shut before setting off through the darkness. The garbage bag stinks and I have to hold it at arm's length, taking care to keep bin juice from dribbling onto my shoes. My footsteps echo across the parking lot as I totter through the void, and finally I reach the side of the nearest garbage can. I quickly lift the bag up and toss it over the edge, although a moment later I feel the tell-tale trickle of cold liquid running down my right arm.

  “Gross!” I mutter, wiping my arm against the side of the can.

  I'll need to wash my hands and arms when I get back inside.

  I turn to walk away, and then suddenly I hear a faint rustling sound coming from the garbage container.

  Stopping, I look back into the darkness. I can't see anything, of course, but I can hear something moving about in there. A moment later I hear another sound, and it takes a couple of seconds before I realize that somebody seems to be groaning.

  I open my mouth to call out, but somehow I don't quite manage.

  The rustling sound continues, accompanied by a series of slow, guttural groans.

  “Hello?” I manage to say finally, hoping against hope that somehow I'm wrong.

  The groans briefly become more anguished, before fading away.

  I wait.

  Silence.

  “Hey, is anyone there?” I ask, as I carefully slip my phone out and start bringing up the flashlight app.

  My hands are trembling slightly, but I keep telling myself that there's no need to panic. There's probably just a cat in the garbage, and the last thing I need is to run away screaming like some kind of coward. Besides, Kelly and Angela are right inside the building and they'd easily hear me if I called out.

  Once the flashlight app is running, I hold my phone up and see the side of the large metal skip.

  “Is anyone in there?” I ask, even though I feel faintly ridiculous. “Like, is anyone...”

  My voice trails off.

  The rustling sound returns for a moment, before fading away once more.

  “Is anyone in the garbage?” I continue. “Sorry, I just...”

  I hesitate for a few seconds.

  Just as I'm about to turn and walk away, I hear the groaning sound again.

  “Are you okay?” I call out.

  No reply.

  I want to go back inside, but I'm worried that somebody might be hurt. Stepping closer to the side of the skip, I raise my phone in an attempt to get a better look; at that moment, the groan becomes a little louder, as if whoever's inside the skip has noticed the extra light.

  “Okay,” I continue cautiously, “I'm just gonna take a look. Are you drunk? Is that it?”

  Reaching the side of the skip, I place my left hand on the cold metal edge while using my right hand to raise the phone as high as I can manage. And then, slowly, I stand on tip-toes and peer over into the main part of the skip.

  I freeze as I see a panicked, filthy face staring back at me with wide-open eyes.

  There's a woman in the skip, naked and shivering, pressed against the side with garbage bags covering the lower part of her body. She looks absolutely terrified, and she's dirty and wild like some kind of animal, but she lets out a slow groan as soon as our eyes meet.

  “Oh God, are you okay?” I stammer, even though I know the question is absurd. “Are you okay in there? Who are you? What are you doing?”

  She groans again.

  “Let me help you out,” I continue, reaching a hand over the edge. “Come on, I'll help.”

  She groans yet again, but she's still pressing herself against the cold metal on the skip's far side. The garbage bags are rustling, as if she's frantically trying to move her legs, and after a moment I realize she's shivering.

  “You're gonna catch pneumonia!” I point out, making my way around the skip until I'm right next to her.

  I reach my hand in again.

  “Come on, let me help you!”

  She groans again, while keeping her hands pressed against the skip's side.

  “Okay, here,” I continue, taking hold of her freezing cold arm. “How long have you been out here?”

  She lets out another groan, and I can't help but feel a little freaked out by the way she's staring up at me. The side of her face is pressed against the metal, almost as if she's scared.

  “Whatever's happened to you,” I add, “we can call the police and they'll come and figure it out, okay? We can do all of that, but first I have to get you inside. My friends and I can look after you until help arrives. There's no need to be scared, I promise. I'm just -”

  Before I can finish, I realize that the pits of her eyes seem unusually dark. And then,
a fraction later, she turns her head just enough to let me see that instead of eyeballs she has two large, black pieces of glass wedged into the sockets. It's as if somebody has removed her eyes entirely and replaced them with camera lenses.

  “What the hell?” I whisper, convinced that I have to be imagining things.

  “Help...” the woman gasps suddenly.

  “Who did this to you?” I ask.

  “Don't...”

  “It's okay,” I tell her, figuring that I can work out what's going on later. “I'm -”

  “Me...”

  “I'm going to help you,” I continue, still holding her arm. “Just -”

  “Don't...”

  “No, I -”

  “Help me...”

  “I'm going to help you. Can you try to climb out?”

  “Don't... help me...”

  “Of course, I'm going to help you,” I continue, tightening my grip on her arm. “On three, okay? I'll help you out on three. One. Two.”

  “Don't...”

  “Three!”

  With that, I start pulling gently on her arm. She doesn't seem to be helping at all, as if she's too cold to actually move. Her entire body is shivering, causing the lenses in her eyes to shudder as I try to gently pull her away from the side of the skip.

  “I need you to try to help with this, okay?” I continue. “On the count of three, I need you to try lifting yourself up. Ready? One.”

  She lets out another groan.

  “Two.”

  “Please...”

  “Three!”

  I pull on her arm again, and this time I manage to start raising her from the garbage. At the same time, however, I hear a loud splitting sound, and to my horror I see that the skin on one side of her body is stuck to the skip's metal wall. She groans as she starts falling away, and now there's not only flesh on the metal but also sections of bone.

  “Wait!” I gasp. “Stop!”

  She slumps forward, and one entire side of her body has lost its skin. Glistening bloody meat is mixed with the flesh that has been left as a thick layer on the skip's cold metal, with more blood running from the wound's on the woman's side. Strings of flesh are hanging loose from her body, and after a moment her intestines start sloughing out through one of the wide open wounds, unraveling as they fall against the bags of garbage.