by Ben Kalcher
‘Where am I?’
‘Don’t speak; you’re most likely dehydrated. Conserve your energy until we get out of this place.’
Rachael nodded. Leaving the rifle and tool box behind, Cartwright grabbed the lantern.
‘You’re going to need to hold on tight to this as I carry you.’
‘All right,’ she whispered.
‘When we get out of here, a doctor will check you over, and then you will be reunited with your auntie.’
Rachael frowned. ‘Who?’
‘Your auntie, Dorothy.’
‘I’m sorry, I think you’re confused.’
Cartwright scowled at Rachael. ‘I wonder if you’re suffering some sort of head trauma.’
‘That isn’t possible. I never had a blow to the head,’ she insisted.
‘Maybe not a direct blow, but perhaps through the loss of blood?’
‘That can’t be so.’
‘Then you must know your auntie.’
She dragged herself up from the floor, wincing in pain. ‘I have no family. I’m an orphan. I ran away from a workhouse in York. I travelled south and came across a Mrs Eldridge, who offered me lodgings which were here in Ravenglass.’
‘This may seem like a silly question to you, but does she have two clocks above the fireplace?’
Rachael fell silent, recollecting her thoughts. ‘Yes, and one was stuck on midnight, or midday; I took note of that. It seemed strange to me.’
‘As did I. Before I jump to any conclusions... she definitely isn’t your aunt?’
‘Until a couple of days ago, I had never met that woman.’
Cartwright stepped back from Rachael. ‘I need to get you out of here right now.’
---
Friday, November 1st, 12:51 A.M.
Loaded with torches, Watts and two men entered the cave. Time was against them; Watts knew that.
‘Stay together; I have no idea what we are walking into, chaps.’
The two men glanced at each other. Despite their imposing figures, deep voices and general ruggedness, fear was evident on their faces. Watts, on the other hand, showed no fear. One of them had to be brave. Clutching the torch, he led the way, following the same path that Cartwright had taken.
The trek to the bottom of the cave was easier than he had expected. Light was prominent towards one cavern; that was where they were headed.
Moving sluggishly through deep puddles and over rocks and bones, Watts could no longer contain the fear that his friend, his partner, was dead. But that couldn’t be so, not Cartwright. Watts shook his head; thoughts that made no sense were clouding his judgment. Not only was his life at risk, but those of the men who were with him.
Watts had always been the thinker of the two, whilst Cartwright was the hands-on type; the type to jump into any case feet first.
‘What in God’s name is that?’ he said, pointing to the corpse.
The two men stopped beside him, dumbstruck, in awe of the dead creature.
‘You’ve made it,’ said a voice behind them.
Watts turned around and a huge smile took hold of his face. Cartwright crossed the cavern and joined them at the side of the creature.
‘What is it?’ Watts asked.
‘I don’t know, but whatever it was, it has killed many people. There are countless remains through there.’ He pointed to the opposite cavern.
‘Rachael?’
‘She’s alive; a little dehydrated, but alive.’ He pointed to her far back in the cave, sitting awkwardly on a rock. ‘She has also presented us with an interesting revelation. I’ll explain on the way, but we need to go now.’
Watts nodded. ‘You two will need to bring the girl back,’ he said to the men, whose eyes were still fixed on the dead creature.
Cartwright returned to Rachael. ‘Those men will take you out of here. My partner and I are going to find this woman and demand answers out of her. You’ll be in safe hands, I promise.’
Rachael forced a smile. ‘Thank you for saving me.’
‘It’s all part of my job,’ he said, turning around and leaving her.
---
Friday, November 1st, 1:27 A.M.
They got into the coach and headed back to Ravenglass. Cartwright explained everything on the way; the creature, what he found, and what Rachael had told him. He explained his suspicions of the second clock above the fireplace, and said that if he had been slightly later, Rachael would have been dead. Everything that happened tonight seemed to point back to Dorothy, but now Cartwright wondered if that was even her real name.
When the coach stopped, they got out and hurried up the garden path to the house. All the lights were now off. The fireplace no longer burned, and the front door stood slightly ajar. Cartwright pushed the door lightly and stepped through the threshold.
‘Dorothy?’ he called out.
No reply. They walked further into the house. It was still pleasantly warm. The fireplace had only been put out. They avoided the living room and walked down the small hall to the kitchen where food was scattered across the wooden table.
‘Looks like she made a hasty exit,’ said Watts.
‘Either that, or someone has tried to burgle her.’
‘Look, the back door is open.’
‘Quick,’ said Cartwright.
They ran through the small kitchen and out the back, where they were greeted by vast dark fields. A lantern was shining from one of the stables. They headed to the source.
‘Someone is in there,’ said Watts.
‘Hold back, old chap, we don’t know what she is capable of.’
They gingerly approached the stable and paused as the door opened and a horse slowly walked out. Behind, Dorothy followed and froze in her spot. ‘Detectives?’
‘Making one heck of a quick exit, Mrs Sawyer.’
‘I was just coming to help find Rachael.’
‘Your niece?’
‘Yes.’
‘Funny you say that. She doesn’t even know you,’ Cartwright stated.
‘Is she alive? She must be traumatised, the poor girl.’
‘Oh, she is alive, and she has led us back to you, Dorothy; if that is your real name.’
‘Whatever do you mean?’
‘Put the bags down. We have some questions we want to ask you.’
Her gaze shifted between Cartwright and Watts. ‘Not on my dead body.’ She dropped her stuff and climbed up on the horse, but before the horse could move, Watts got in the way. Cartwright then grabbed Dorothy and pulled her off the horse, sending her crashing to the ground.
‘Who are you?’ Cartwright demanded.
Watts walked towards her bags and fished through the items. ‘What do we have here?’ he said. ‘Bottled opium, I assume? What else is in this?’
‘You’ll never know.’
‘Not unless we force it out of you,’ threatened Cartwright.
‘You don’t scare me, not like the Devil does.’
‘The Devil is dead.’
‘That’s impossible! Nothing can kill it. For hundreds of years it has remained, and for hundreds of years more it shall remain.’
‘Unless the head is removed from the beast.’
‘You fools! You have no idea what you’ve done.’
‘We saved a helpless girl that you sent to her death.’
‘You saved no one. Can’t you see what you’ve done, detectives?’
‘We know exactly what we’ve done. It’s you that are delusional. And how can you possibly think sending someone to their death is justified?’
‘You’ll never understand,’ she said.
Cartwright frowned. ‘What are you?’
‘I’m the gatekeeper to Hell. I’ve been here for hundreds of years, taking up different forms, luring unsuspecting victims to their grisly end. The only reason mankind lives without fear of the Rapture is the sacrifices I make to the Devil. Without the fear of the Rapture, without the fear of the Devil, society will crumble.’
‘You can’t honestly believe that.’
‘What will people fear now?’
‘Fear is… not some imaginary creature.’
‘It can’t be imaginary; you’ve seen it.’
‘I’ve seen something, but sure as hell it wasn’t the Devil.’
Dorothy stepped back. ‘You’ve condemned us all to eternal damnation, detective. Hundreds of years of work, gone in an instant. I hope you’re proud.’ She pushed Watts aside and went through her stuff until she found a gun.
‘Drop the weapon,’ Cartwright demanded.
‘Do you know how hard it has become over the years to choose someone not worthy of a life, someone who has no purpose? I never liked what I’ve done; getting close to the victim, offering them shelter, someone to talk to, before drugging them and sending them on their way. Immortality was a price worth having, though… but even a bullet from a gun can still end my life.’
‘How was Rachael not worthy of a life?’
‘Her mother was a whore; her father a murderer.’
‘And that made her unworthy of a life?’
‘She had no family, no upbringing. She was a lost sheep, and I gave her a purpose. If mankind knew the reason she was dying for, they would praise her bravery.’
‘She wasn’t brave, she was drugged, damn it.’
Dorothy smiled. ‘Alas, but sometimes bravery needs a little helping hand, be it from a drug, a taste of alcohol, or a loved one.’
‘Your outdated ideas, your rituals, are all over. You’re coming with us,’ said Cartwright, edging closer to her.
‘You’ll never take me alive, detective.’ She lifted the gun and placed the muzzle under her chin. ‘This is one case you shouldn’t have taken on, detective. I fear for you both; I fear for what the world will become.’ She squeezed the trigger and fell to the ground in a heap.
‘Damn it, Dorothy,’ said Cartwright, rushing over to her body.
‘I never in a million years saw this coming,’ said Watts, still clutching the drug mixture. ‘I’ll get this to the lab, see if we can find what is in this mixture.’
‘Destroy it.’
‘Do what?’
‘Destroy it, Watts. No one can know what is in that mixture. In the wrong hands, it could be catastrophic.’
He looked down at the bottle, shrugged, and threw it against the side of the stable. The bottle smashed and let off a small amount of vapour. ‘Extremely potent. How could anyone stomach that without dying instantly?’
‘Only Dorothy would have known that.’ Cartwright closed her eyes. ‘This has been one fouled up case.’
‘I agree. Let’s get back to London and find us a murder or two; a lot less painful.’
Cartwright smiled. ‘I’ll drink to that.’
They returned to the coach and slumped down in the seats, tipping back the brandy as they began the journey back to London. Peering out of the window, Cartwright wondered what would now happen to mankind.
End
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