The Creator

by Neil Carstairs

‘For Joanne and Ben’s benefit this is an area known as the Forest of Dean,’ Congrave said as he waited for the imagery to refresh. ‘We haven’t got a precise point of origin but can get it somewhere within ten square miles.’

  Kramer nudged Ben with her leg. When he looked she pointed to where the boy Ben had seen with Congrave earlier now sat next to Emily. The youngsters were preparing to stand up. Congrave called the children over to stand next to him.

  ‘Connor and Emily have given us some key knowledge, but what we need to do next is give them protection as we try to identify the psychic force. So our plan is twofold. Connor and Emily remain here under the protection of Delta Team until they are needed to go into the Forest. Secondly, we need people on the ground to search down the source. With the agreement of General Dawson, head of the Directorate of Special Investigations, Joanne and Ben will visit the Forest posing as tourists which will provide them with cover during their search.’

  ‘Nice to be told,’ Ben said.

  ‘Yeah.’ Kramer almost laughed.

  People in the room had turned to look at them. Ben felt like waving. Instead, he said, ‘Do we have any idea what this source is?’

  ‘We do,’ Congrave said. He started video which appeared on the screen behind him. ‘This is CCTV from our offices during a psychic projection by Connor and another psychic called Alex.’

  Ben flinched when the demonic claw reached out to grab the boy. The silence of the video seemed to make it more frightening. When the image faded Congrave said, ‘We have an idea. It’s demonic, definitely powerful and a grave threat to our nations.’

  The briefing moved on. Congrave asked different people to take up roles in support of the mission. He ended by asking everyone to remember the people who had lost their lives so far, ‘We don’t want them to have died in vain.’

  ***

  ‘It’s a stick shift,’ Ben said.

  Kramer shoved her bag into the rear of the hire car and said, ‘So?’

  ‘So it’s a stick shift,’ he said. ‘I think I saw one in a movie once.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Okay, slight exaggeration maybe, but it’s still a stick shift.’

  ‘Are you saying you don’t want to drive a car that isn’t automatic?’ Kramer asked.

  ‘Do you?’

  ‘I’ve worked NATO bases and driven NATO vehicles with manual gears, no problems.’

  ‘I guess you’re driving then.’

  The journey time calculated out at an hour thirty. Ben spent much of it in silence. He let Kramer concentrate on driving on the wrong wide of the road. He’d thought they would be sent into the target area without support but Natalie, in a final briefing, surprised them with a little present. ‘We have authorisation from the Home Secretary to provide you with weapons,’ Natalie had said as she led Ben and Kramer towards the armoury. ‘Our Quartermaster can give you P223s plus spare magazines and ammunition. Just remember this is England and guns are rare. If anyone sees you with them they will most likely report you to the local police. At the moment we are not informing those authorities of this mission so their response is likely to be heavy-handed.’

  Kramer stopped at a service area for a break and they drank coffee and watched the world go by for half an hour. Ben saw Kramer smiling and asked, ‘What’s funny?’

  ‘You still haven’t admitted you were jealous when I was talking to Brendan.’

  ‘It was the sight of two army pukes sticking together that got to me,’ Ben said.

  ‘Army puke?’ Kramer sat up straighter. ‘That’s a bit rich coming from a CIA spook.’

  ‘If you don’t like the truth.’

  ‘Would you like the rest of this coffee over you?’

  ‘See?’ Ben shook his head. ‘You’re always on the defensive.’

  ‘Scarrett?’ she lifted her cup.

  ‘Time to go,’ Ben said.

  ***

  The village of Darlford seemed to disappear quicker than it appeared to Ben. He caught a glimpse of half a dozen cottages, a pub, a duck pond, a village green and a church before the roadside view returned to fields and trees. He turned in his seat and said, ‘Was that it?’

  ‘I guess so,’ Kramer slowed the Ford Mondeo hire car as she looked for somewhere to turn. A gap in the hedge appeared and Kramer chose it for her turning slot. Looking through trees and a wrought iron double gate Ben saw a three storey manor house. It looked similar to Sheddlestone Hall, but on a much smaller scale. The grounds looked well maintained despite the fact the place appeared deserted.

  Kramer headed back into the village. On second look Ben noticed a couple of lanes heading off the main road. They held more houses and a couple of buildings that looked like workshops for local businesses. The ducks on the pond watched them drive by with indifference, as did an old collie dog tied up outside the pub. The pub’s sign caught Ben’s attention as Kramer said, ‘Place up there does bed and breakfast.’

  She drove on another couple of hundred yards and pulled up outside a double-fronted thatched cottage. A dry stone wall covered with ivy-bordered the small front garden. Kramer turned the engine off and said, ‘Hopefully a place like this will have vacancies.’

  The short, stone flagged path squeezed between a riot of plants. Columbine and Coralbells fought for space with Delphinium and Foxglove. Kramer used what looked like an original door knocker as Ben watched bees drift from flower to flower. They heard a voice from the other side of the door and when it opened an old lady, all twinset and pearls, gave them a friendly smile. ‘Can I help you?’

  ‘We’re hoping you’ve got vacancies,’ Kramer said.

  ‘Oh, yes of course.’ She stepped back. ‘Come in, please.’

  The hallway soon filled up with Kramer, Ben and the old lady. She led them through to a kitchen dominated by a range and said, ‘My name is Margery Lipton.’

  ‘Joanne Kramer and,’ Kramer hesitated, ‘my partner, Ben.’

  ‘Americans?’ Margery said. ‘I’ve never had Americans stay here before.’

  ‘There’s always a first time,’ Ben said.

  ‘Indeed. I do have one room available. I can show it to you now.’

  She led them up a steep staircase, turned left and opened the door to a room almost completely filled by a double bed. Kramer stared at the bed for a long time. Margery showed them an en-suite bathroom that builders had shoehorned into part of what originally had been a much bigger room. The room overlooked the rear garden, similar to the front with the number of flowers squeezed around a stone patio and garden furniture.

  Margery explained she didn’t do evening meals but could provide packed lunches if needed. She served breakfast between eight and ten but could do earlier if agreed in advance. She told them that two other rooms were already taken by people in the area for birdwatching. Finally, she said, ‘It’s ninety pounds a night for two people. Is that okay?’

  Ben had no idea if the price was good or bad. He and Kramer could charge it back anyway so before Kramer could say anything he said, ‘I’ll bring up our bags.’

  ‘How long will you be staying?’

  ‘Let’s say three nights,’ Ben said as he left the room.

  Margery had returned back downstairs by the time Ben struggled up with their bags. Kramer’s seemed to have enough in it for a six-month vacation. He dropped them on the floor of the room with a sigh of relief. Kramer, standing over by the window said, ‘You’re sleeping on the floor.’

  ‘Is there room?’ Ben asked. She pointed down the side next to the window. Ben walked round, took one look, and sighed. There was enough, just about, if he didn’t mind getting up close and personal with the skirting board.

  ‘I’m taking the wardrobe,’ Kramer said. ‘And the top two drawers of that dresser.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am.’ Ben gave her a mock salute.

  ‘When you were going for the bags I asked Margery about eating out tonight and she recommended the pub down the road.’

  ‘I saw it on the way in,’
Ben said. ‘It’s called The Rose. But that’s not the interesting thing.’

  ‘What is?’

  ‘The pub sign. I’ll show you when we drive down.’

  ‘Drive?’ Kramer gave him a look. ‘It’s two hundred yards. We can walk.’

  ‘I know.’ Ben tried hard to look as if he’d meant it as a joke.

  ‘Just be on your best behaviour,’ Kramer said. ‘We can take a look around the village tomorrow. Maybe Margery can give us some local information if we act like dumb American tourists.’

  ***

  ‘See what I mean?’ Ben asked.

  Kramer studied the sign. The painting showed a girl, or young woman, naked but for the leaves of a twisting rose that covered her like Eve in the Garden of Eden. The thorns of the rose were catching on her flesh and from the wounds blood red paint ran across pale flesh. Kramer said, ‘Not the best advertising I’ve ever seen.’

  ‘It means something,’ Ben said. ‘These signs always do. I read somewhere that the signs were for people who couldn’t read. They knew which pub they were going to from the image. Sometimes they referred to local events. I think it’s connected to our search.’

  ‘Possibly,’ Kramer said.

  The interior of the pub looked as if it had been recently refurbished. Ben realised how hungry he felt as the smell of cooking filtered from the kitchen. A twenty-something redhead served their drinks and gave them menus. Kramer had a glass of white wine and Ben tried a pint of something called 6X that the barmaid recommended. They sat in a window seat, overlooking the road and read the menus. The barmaid came over for their order. Kramer went for chicken chasseur and Ben decided on fish and chips because he figured that for a traditional English meal. When the girl came back with place mats and cutlery Kramer asked about the pub sign.

  ‘I think it’s to do with witches and the like,’ the girl said. ‘There’s an old man who comes in regular who can tell you better than me. His name’s Bill Tanner.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Kramer said.

  Ben leant forward. ‘See. Witches.’

  ‘We’re looking for demons,’ Kramer said.

  ‘They’re connected.’

  Kramer shrugged as if it didn’t matter, took a sip of her wine, and said, ‘So talk to me.’

  ‘What about?’

  ‘Jesus, Scarrett. You’ve got me in an English pub, I’m drinking wine. Talk to me.’

  Ben took a moment to taste his beer and decided the girl had lied about it being the best ale available. Kramer waited for him with a half-smile on her face like she knew he was playing for time. He avoided looking into her blue eyes because she’d have seen how right she was.

  ‘Why did you join the army?’

  ‘That’s a question,’ Kramer said, with a laugh.

  ‘I know. So why?’

  ‘To make a difference. I half wanted to be a cop but ended up signing on because I thought I could achieve more. How about you and the agency?’

  ‘Pretty similar. I went to college. Worked towards my bachelor degree. Thought maybe about the FBI when one of my lecturer’s introduced me to some guy who ended up being a recruiter for the agency. I didn’t even know it was an interview.’

  ‘And you like it?’

  ‘It pays the bills. Most people think it’s all spies and glamour but it’s usually reading reports and looking at imagery to find a connection.’

  Their food came. The conversation continued as they ate. Kramer seemed to loosen up. They talked about where their careers might go, where Kramer had been on tour and on vacation. Ben told her about his sister’s idea about a spirit shield. So the conversation moved on to psychics and spirits and whether there was life after death. By the time the meal ended the evening had turned to night. They walked back up to the B&B through the near silence of the village.

  Kramer used the key supplied by Margery to let themselves in. The room felt even smaller with the curtains drawn. Kramer sat on the bed and Ben on the floor as they watched a British sit-com on the room’s small television. Kramer sent email updates to Congrave and Dawson, with details of where they were staying and what they planned for their first full day in the area. Then she disappeared into the en-suite for twenty minutes. When she came out she had changed into a t-shirt and cotton shorts. By the time Ben had finished in the bathroom she had turned the lights out and left him to feel his way to the strip of floor she’d allocated to him. At least Kramer had provided him with a pillow and a blanket she had found in the wardrobe.

  Ben lay in the dark and tried to find a comfortable position that wouldn’t do too much damage to his back. The thin carpet did nothing to cover the wooden floorboards and the dust that rose every time he moved made his nose itch. A car drove past the cottage and somewhere in the night an owl called out. He turned onto his side. He could feel the cold seeping through the outside wall. ‘Hey, Scarrett.’ Kramer’s voice came out of the dark. ‘How’s the floor?’

  ‘Well you know something, Kramer, I’m surprised I never thought about this before. As soon as I get back home my bed is going out the door and it’s the floor for me from now on.’

  She laughed. ‘You’re full of shit.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘So would you prefer being in a comfortable bed?’

  ‘I would.’

  ‘Take this as an invitation then.’

  Ben sat up. His back complained as he pulled himself up onto the bed. He almost groaned in relief as he slipped under the duvet and sank into the mattress. Ben lay on his back and stared up at the black hole of the ceiling. Minutes passed. He still couldn’t get to sleep because Kramer lay next to him. Had she invited him into bed because she felt sorry for him lying on the floor? Or had she invited him into bed? Ben had no idea but he knew he didn’t want any broken limbs or separation from other body parts he was attached to. So he lay on his back and tried to think himself to sleep.

  Kramer’s voice came from so close it made him jump. ‘Do you need a road map?’

  ‘What?’ he managed to say, despite his racing heart.

  ‘A road map.’

  ‘To where?’ Ben felt stupid, he had no idea what Kramer was talking about.

  ‘Jesus, Scarrett, you’re in bed with me. Where do you think?’

  Ben stayed silent. He honestly had no idea. When Kramer’s hand rested on his stomach he flinched. ‘Kind of jumpy aren’t we?’ she asked.

  ‘Yeah, I wasn’t expecting that.’

  Her hand made a soft circling motion. ‘No, I guess not.’

  Ben put his hand on hers to stop her caress. He turned to face her. His hand slipped along her arm to her shoulder and around her back. Kramer’s leg hooked over his waist and pulled him against her. He let his hand drift down to her bare thigh and stroke her smooth skin. She let him. No elbow or punch. She couldn’t anyway because one of her hands stroked his chest and the other his stomach before it drifted lower. Ben said, ‘Kramer.’

  She kissed him. ‘Don’t talk.’

  So he didn’t. He kissed her in return. Touched and caressed her. At some point he took off her shorts and t-shirt and she did the same for him. They pushed the duvet back so Ben could trace his lips down her body. She opened up for him with a sigh.

  ***

  Kramer woke in the dark to Ben talking in his sleep. They still lay close together, her legs crossed with his. She could feel the rigidity in his body, a tension that came out in his voice. There were no words, just sounds, but they were the sounds of a man in pain. She put one hand to his face and could feel the sweat beading on it. Another nightmare. Kramer pushed up onto one elbow and stroked Ben’s forehead. In the faint light that seeped through the curtains she saw his eyes open. He stared at her and she knew he had no idea where he was. Gradually, his breathing returned to normal and she felt his body relax against hers. Kramer gave him a light kiss on the lips.

  ‘You okay?’

  ‘Yeah.’ He sounded tired. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘
Waking you.’

  ‘Do you want to talk about it?’

  He sighed. ‘No.’

  ‘Have you ever talked about it?’

  ‘No.’

  She lay down, resting against him, feeling his heartbeat. ‘Tell me,’ she said.

  He said nothing at first. She knew there was some inner battle going on, to talk or not to talk.

  ‘It was Chrissie’s twelfth birthday. We’d been out for the day. Chrissie, our mom and dad, and me. On the way home we stopped at a McDonalds for tea. Mom and Chrissie found a booth. My dad and I ordered. When we got back to them I realised we needed some more paper towels so I went to get them. I walked past this fat guy and something about him seemed odd. It was summer, a real warm day, and he wore this big trench coat. I remember thinking ‘weird’ and looking back over my shoulder just to check him out. I was in time to see him pull out a gun. It didn’t really register. I remember standing there thinking ‘he’s got a gun’. Then he pointed it into the service area and opened fire.

  ‘I saw one of the staff die. A bullet straight through his face. Then it was pandemonium. People running and screaming and this guy just shooting. He killed people queueing for food. He killed the McDonalds servers. He just kept shooting and when the gun was empty he dropped it, reached into his coat, and pulled out an even bigger gun. I looked across at Mom and Dad. Dad was pushing Chrissie under the table and Mom had got up from the booth and started running towards me. She looked so scared. She was screaming my name and the fat guy shot her. I saw her fall and the fat guy kept shooting past where Mom had fallen and Dad was in line with him and I saw Dad die. He got hit in the head and it just...’

  Ben’s voice broke. Kramer reached up and wiped his tears away. He took a breath and said, ‘I think I was the only person not running or screaming. That’s why the fat guy saw me. He must have thought I was challenging him because he aimed at me and fired just as someone hit me from behind. I found out later that two plain clothed cops had been in the drive-thru when the shooting started. One of them pushed me out of the way and took a bullet in the neck that was meant for me. His partner shot the fat guy eight times. Killed him right there. And you know the one thing I remember as I lay in the cop’s blood? I remember looking across the floor towards Chrissie and seeing her hiding under the table. I knew she would never have a birthday again. And I was right. Fourteen years and she’s never celebrated her birthday. Not once.’