by Ben Kalcher
‘Yes. It’s sad to think; the whole family was from London. We were the first to move; my late husband and I spent many years in Southampton before moving to Ravenglass.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that. Family are the only ones that truly understand us in this day and age. Without family, our souls seem lost. Why Ravenglass?’
‘Location, primarily. It’s not far from London and easy to get to the south coast.’
‘That is fair enough. Are you close to anyone in the town?’
‘Not really. These days I much prefer to stick to myself; I enjoy my own company.’
‘Fair enough as well. What about Rachael? How close to her were you?’
Dorothy took a long sip from her drink. ‘We were close before she was moved. I got on well with my sister and her husband, but my niece and I were incredibly close. She was my world. My late husband and I never had children. We never had the time to dedicate to raising a family.’
‘I’m sorry to hear. I’m sure you would have made fine parents.’
‘Thank you,’ Dorothy smiled.
‘How about the horse? Did she ever show an interest in it?’
‘No, she’s never had an interest in any animal.’
‘Does it surprise you that she took the horse?’ Watts asked.
‘Yes, it does,’ Dorothy replied, placing the cup back on the small table.
Cartwright shifted in his seat; the chair offered very little comfort. It made him feel sleepy, though. ‘The horse was found safe, no injuries at all; however, it was startled when it was approached by some locals.’
‘They say horses can sense danger,’ Dorothy said.
‘Maybe it had seen something that doesn’t belong to this world,’ Watts added.
‘Perhaps that is the case,’ agreed Cartwright.
Dorothy wiped a tear from her eye. ‘You need to get her back alive. She is my only family.’
‘We’ll do whatever it takes,’ Watts reassured. ‘Is there anything else you can tell us that might help us?’
‘I don’t think so. I barely see her since she moved across the country. She’s only just come back and has been nothing but reserved around me.’
Cartwright stood up. ‘We’re going to head out there now. We have a team on standby to help us locate your niece.’
‘Thank you, detectives,’ replied Dorothy, standing up. ‘I just wish I could be of more help; in fact, perhaps I can be.’ She disappeared towards the kitchen and returned a moment later with a rifle and a small box. ‘This is my late husband’s hunting rifle; he was a keen hunter. In this box you’ll also find a saw and a few other bits that he used to prepare the meat he caught.’
‘Thank you,’ Cartwright said. Before leaving, he turned to Dorothy once more. ‘Please, could you explain one thing to me?’
‘What is that, Detective?’
‘The mantle clock… why is it stuck to midnight?’
She smiled. ‘Well, Detective, it depends how you look at it. It could be midnight or it could be midday. The choice is there for the time teller.’
‘What time do you think it resembles?’
‘Well, I would like to believe it’s midnight — the witching hour. Do you not think that there is nothing more mysterious and haunting than the dead of the night?’
‘There is definitely something haunting about that certain time,’ Cartwright agreed. ‘Do you wish not to change the time?’
‘Oh, I’ve been meaning to, but I can’t seem to find the key to wind it back up.’
‘That’s quite unfortunate.’
‘Indeed.’
Cartwright offered a faint smile. ‘Thank you very much.’
They headed to the door and Dorothy showed them out. The rain continued to fall as they ran across the front lawn and climbed into the coach.
‘Strange woman,’ Watts said.
‘You were awfully quiet back there.’
‘Well, there wasn’t much else to say, after all. I was taking down notes.’
‘But your gift of the gab may have come in handy. Did you not notice anything peculiar about her, or her home?’
‘Not really. Why? Did you?’
‘Some detective you’re turning out to be, Watts.’
Watts frowned. ‘That’s slightly uncalled for.’
‘Is it? Did you not pick up on the clock? Or the way she acted, with such little concern for her niece? If that was my niece, I’m sure I would have some sort of emotion.’
‘You, emotional? Get out of here.’
‘This isn’t about how I would react, just how Dorothy was reacting.’
‘I think you’re looking too far into this.’
‘Am I?’
‘Yes, let’s focus on getting Rachael back and then question Dorothy more afterwards.’
‘Agreed,’ said Cartwright.
Neither of them spoke as they headed to the dirt road. An unusual fear had its grip on them; a fear to which they were both unaccustomed.
---
Thursday, October 31st, 10:30 P.M.
Drip, drip… rainwater was seeping through the rock and hitting the cave floor. Ever so cold and frightened, Rachael no longer fought against her restraints. Every now and then, she felt the warmth of the thing’s breath as it took in her body odour. She couldn’t begin to imagine the horror that she faced; she only hoped that when the time came, she would be dead, quickly.
Time no longer meant anything to her. She wondered if anyone had yet realised she was missing. Probably not; they barely noticed her trancelike state. Even so, she had no idea how long she had been acting so strangely.
She wondered how she had come in contact with the horse; a fear of animals had had its harsh grip on her for many years, a lost memory where her life had once hung in the balance, with an animal at fault. She didn’t know whether that was a fact, or a memory fabricated out of nothing more than illusions.
Sometimes fate is out of our control; on this day, the same could have been said for her. Every step, every action; she was powerless to its aura, a mysterious power that only she could sense and feel. She heard a sudden crash in front of her; this was her final moment, she knew it. She closed her eyes. Death waited.
---
Thursday, October 31st, 11:04 P.M.
The coach stopped. Cartwright climbed out and ran to the cover of the trees, where a group of officers waited in the dark. The horse which Rachael had used to travel to the dirt road remained nearby. It refused to move any further.
Cartwright walked to the men. ‘What do we have here?’
One of the men stepped forward. ‘The men are scared. It’s dark, wet, and something is out there, something we cannot see.’
‘Pathetic excuse. We’re here to do a job.’
‘I beg your pardon, detective, but until the sun rises we shall not be moving from this position.’
‘Is that so?’
‘It is.’
‘Well, then, my partner shall add this to the report we file upon our return to London,’ Cartwright said. He turned from the men and joined Watts at the coach. ‘We’re going in alone, old chap.’
Watts swallowed hard. ‘You can’t be serious?’
‘We must. Time is against us.’
Watts sighed. ‘Better get ready, then.’
Watts pulled out the lanterns and grabbed the rifle and toolbox before joining Cartwright at the entrance of the dirt road.
Simultaneously, they took a deep breath and headed into the overgrowth. ‘Footprints,’ Cartwright said, pointing to the ground.
‘Female footprints,’ Watts corrected.
‘Don’t look very fresh now; with all the rainwater that keeps falling, I’m not surprised.’
‘Agreed, but at least we’re on the right path. Just need to hope the rain hasn’t washed all the tracks away.’
Cartwright pulled a tree branch aside, allowing Watts to squeeze through the gap. He then in turn helped Cartwright through, and they both stood in awe at the unused road
that had caused so much misery. No one had ever set foot on the dirt road and lived to tell the tale; today that had to change. They gingerly headed further into the darkness, lanterns sweeping across the road.
A year ago, Cartwright was working on the west coast of Ireland. He had a lovely house with his family, but a divorce later and half his savings gone, he moved to London. He had only been in Ireland for a couple of years with his wife and three-year-old daughter before they split. It was a difficult decision leaving his little girl behind, but he had nothing in Ireland.
He had no family since his parents passed not long before moving, but he had many friends to come back to. He loved his job in Ireland, but London offered so much more. It was upon his return to London that he came across Watts; they teamed up and had been working together ever since, specialising in murder and kidnapping cases. Their track record had been impressive; it was no wonder they were asked to help in this case.
They stopped at a gap in the treeline where a rapidly disappearing track led into the woods. ‘This is where she was taken,’ said Cartwright, struggling to see much else outside the beam of light.
‘Look at that.’ Watts pointed to a streak of blood.
Cartwright aimed the light at the crimson track. ‘Must be Rachael’s blood.’
‘One would assume. Do we go in?’
‘We must. Time is running out if we’re to find her alive.’
Cartwright walked into the darkness, followed by Watts, who aimed the light source at his back. A stir in the trees suggested they weren’t alone. First, it was only a gentle rustling, then it grew faster and harder, until it stopped and an owl swopped low in front of them before ascending and disappearing into the dark night. Cartwright felt his chest; his heart beat harder and faster with each passing second. He turned to Watts, whose face was painted with fear. Cartwright knew exactly what was going through his mind. The thought of never returning; sure, that thought plagued Cartwright, but stray thoughts would lead to certain death. They had no idea what they were about to face, and having a mind that was not focused on the investigation would result in their demise.
‘We should have dragged those men with us,’ Watts said, nervously referring to the group of men that hid under the now-distant trees.
‘We didn’t have time. They were stubborn.’
‘That’s no excuse; what happens if neither of us returns?’
‘That was the risk in coming out here. You knew that, old chap, and at least we’re doing the right thing.’
Watts sighed. ‘I want to get Rachael back safely as much as you, but what good is it if we’re both dead?’
‘Less of the negativity; let’s think positively, Watts.’
They stopped at the entrance to a dark abyss. An aura of death was present. They both shone their lights into the darkness that descended as far as the eye could see.
‘What is this place?’ Watts asked, stepping inside.
‘It’s a cave.’
‘Do you think she’s down there?’
‘Maybe; it’s hard to tell. I can’t hear much else above the falling rain.’
They stepped further in, guided by their lights. A few steps and their progress was halted by a sheer drop.
‘You seriously can’t be thinking about going down there?’ asked Watts.
‘I have to,’ replied Cartwright. ‘You remain here, Watts.’
‘I’m not letting you go alone.’
‘I need you to remain, in case I don’t come back. If neither of us makes it back, no one will ever find us.’
Watts sighed. ‘If you don’t come back, it’ll be on my mind forever. We’re a team, whether we both come back or we both don’t.’
‘Dear God, man. Don’t let it be on your mind. Time is against us; I need to move.’
‘Take the gun and toolbox.’
‘Remove the saw; I can’t carry the whole thing with me. I’ll tie the rifle strap around the saw and carry them both together.’
‘Good job, Cartwright.’
Cartwright collected the stuff together and grabbed one of the lanterns, then began the descent. In seconds, Watts was out of sight. The drop wasn’t as bad as he had expected; in fact, it was an easy climb down, but it was quite a long way. A draft came up from below, and the occasional sound of dripping water broke the dead silence. Cartwright was fearful, not of the unknown, but from the claustrophobic feeling of dark, tight spaces.
Pausing briefly, he aimed the light towards the ground; he had almost made it. He took a deep breath and dropped the last foot or two down. The floor of the cave was damp. Two tunnels led in opposite directions. One offered a very faint light, while the other was pitch black.
Cartwright moved towards the light, taking slow steps so as not to disturb whatever he was about to face.
---
Thursday, October 31st, 11:45 P.M.
It has to eat; it hurts in the pit of its stomach. A pain so intense that it wants to cry out in anger, but it mustn’t; it has to wait. Time passes, creeping closer to the moment it will be able to eat, but something isn’t right; something is here that shouldn’t be here. Something that wants to cause harm, something aiming to end its feast. It moves in the direction of the new scent that has entered its domain. This something has to die.
A step closer to its target and it freezes. Stretching out its arm, it prepares to attack. It knows that this new being cannot be eaten; this being is not a sacrifice. The woman, however, is, and she is the one that must be eaten. Overindulging is something it is forbidden to do.
---
Thursday, October 31st, 11:47 P.M.
An overpowering odour took hold of Cartwright. He gagged and turned to the sound of heavy breathing. He swept the lantern light across the ground and aimed it at the thing standing in his way; a towering creature like none he had ever seen before, straight from the pit of Hell itself. He brought the rifle up and fired off a shot, only to miss as the creature swept him sideways with enough force to knock him off his feet, the gun slipping from his grip and falling a few feet away.
Cartwright scrambled toward the lantern and aimed it back at the thing that now stood over him. A long arm came crashing down as he rolled out of the way. He struggled to his feet and located the gun as the horror came chasing after him. Cartwright ran through an arch and into a different cavern, where the bones of the deceased littered the floor. He ran to the far end of the room, where he froze at the sight of Rachael, tied to the damp wall.
Barely alive, her breathing was melodic. Cartwright felt for a pulse; it was weak. ‘I’ll get you out of here, I promise,’ he said, turning back in the direction from which he had just come.
Sounds of heavy breathing approached. It was close again. Heart pounding, Cartwright stepped closer to it. With the lantern, he located the exact position of the thing; its huge eyes, sharp teeth and intimidating size would no longer strike fear into its victims. Cartwright armed and fired off two quick shots.
It staggered backwards, barely wounded. He tried to fire again, but he was out of ammunition. Launching himself forward, he struck the creature time and time again with the butt of the rifle, each thunderous hit as hard as the one that preceded it. The creature fell backwards, crashing to the hard, cold ground, Cartwright grabbed the saw and began hacking away at the creature’s neck until its head was free from the rest of its body. Falling back from his triumph, he sighed; the nightmare was over. He got up and returned to Rachael, freeing the weak girl from her restraints. She was still breathing, but her pulse was weaker than before. There was more life in the poor lighting of the streets of London.
Cartwright laid Rachael on the ground and took off his overcoat, spreading it over her. He took her hands and rubbed them gently as he looked over the human remains in the surrounding area. So many had been killed by the creature that, to the naked eye, it was near impossible to work out how old some of the skeletons were.
Cartwright got up and walked over to examine some of the remains. P
icking up what he could only assume was once a leg, he studied the slowly decaying bone. More of the same remains were littered across the ground, including various skulls and other, smaller bones. A mass burial site came to mind. He dropped the bone to the ground and walked towards the creature that he had killed. He pulled out his pocket watch. It had only just gone past midnight.
---
Friday, November 1st, 12:04 A.M.
The rain had cleared up now. Those that were previously sheltering from the rain joined Watts at the entrance to the cave. Silence engulfed them all as they looked into the dark abyss.
‘He’s been in there for far too long. We need to get him out,’ said Watts anxiously.
One of the men stepped forward. ‘We don’t have the equipment to go in there. We also lack a light source, and we’re not prepared for it.’
‘My partner has gone in there with only one light, a rusty saw and a rifle. We have numbers, weapons and the option of more light. Let us find some dry wood, burn it and we’ve got a light.’ Watts walked away from them in search of dry wood, which he knew would be difficult to find.
---
Friday, November 1st, 12:20 A.M.
Cartwright put his hand to the cold face of the dead creature. It was like nothing he had ever seen before, a sight worse than what any nightmare could conjure up. Its eyes were closed and its bloodthirsty mouth hung open, with its long, lizard-like tongue slowly lolling down the side of its head. No man would ever believe the sight that he beheld in this moment.
He got up and returned to Rachael, who was now stirring to consciousness. Cartwright crouched over her as her closed eyes flickered rapidly until they slowly opened. Dazed, she looked around in confusion at her surroundings.
