Death's Dominion

by Simon Clark

  He turned his head. The sound of the dog running through undergrowth came to him with so much clarity he could picture its paws moving from the crunch of dry grass to a subtle thud of paws on bare earth.

  ‘Dotty. You’ll get it from me, if you don’t come back now.’ She puckered her lips and blew. Her mouth emitted a faint rushing sound. ‘One day I’m going to learn to whistle. I’ll whistle as loud as Jason. That’ll teach Dotty – because he’s a bad dog!’ She looked the child up and down. ‘You’re just like me, aren’t you?’

  He checked his arms. They were longer than the girl was tall.

  She continued in a chatty way, ‘You’re wearing pyjamas like me. Though you’ve got shoes on your feet. Look at my doggies.’ She was clad in comical puppy bedroom slippers. Two big cartoon eyes peered from beneath floppy ears. ‘My dad says I’ve got to make ’em last because he doesn’t know how long the market’s going to stay open. It better, ’cos they shut up the supermarket last week. Now we’ve got to go round the farms to get food … and that takes ages … ages and ages and ages.’ She stared up at him. ‘Who shot you?’

  ‘Uh?’ As he ran his fingers over his chest he recalled the soldier who fired the sub-machine-gun. The white cotton top had three holes punched through to the skin underneath. Surrounding the holes were black burn marks. He slipped a finger through the torn material to explore the wounds in his flesh. They were wet. Each one contained a pellet of some hard material.

  The girl moved closer to scrutinize the three holes. ‘Doesn’t it hurt?’

  ‘Hmma …’ Neither agreement or disagreement with her question. Only a sense of bafflement.

  ‘When my dad shoots rabbits they drop down dead. Why aren’t you dead?’

  ‘Naa-a.’

  ‘You should go to hospital … you don’t want to wind up dying on me, do you now?’

  Hospital. The word meant nothing, but it fired images through his head like those bullets had struck his chest. Hospital – corridors, beds, low voices in a darkened room, displays of moving lights on monitors.

  ‘Listen.’ The girl pulled his arm. ‘Dotty’s crying. Can’t you hear him?’ With another shout of ‘Dotty!’ she ran toward the trees. ‘I don’t know where you are!’ A note of distress ran through her voice. ‘Dotty!’

  The girl was running the wrong way. He couldn’t tell her but he made a growling sound to catch her attention. Then he loped toward where the dog was crying. Beneath the cries he detected a strange humming sound, not unlike the buzz of the insects. He didn’t need to glance back to know that the girl followed. Her feet clad in the comical puppy slippers swished through the grass.

  In seconds he’d raced through bushes, blasting a pathway through with his body. Within a few paces he was clear of the bushes to find an open expanse of ground enclosed by posts linked by wires. The dog stood on the far side of the fence. Its nose was close to it as it peered through. The animal quivered and there was a smell of singed fur. On top of the dog’s head was a burn mark. He looked from the seared skin to the wires that linked the posts. The buzzing came from there. Electricity. In his mind’s eye he saw the dog racing under the live fence, its head catching it and taking a hard enough jolt to cause a small burn. The creature was bright enough not to repeat the exercise and now stood at the other side of the fence, unable to return to its mistress.

  ‘Dotty! You silly boy!’ The girl ran forward to grab hold of the wire.

  In a split second he’d yanked the girl back from the wire that sizzled with voltage. Then he reached over the barrier without touching, scooped up the dog, and placed it at her feet.

  The girl, meanwhile, clutched the back of her neck. ‘Ouch. You big idiot. You hurt me, pulling me like that.’ Tears filled her eyes. ‘You really hurt me!’ Sobbing, she ran back through the bushes. ‘You bully. I’m going to tell, I’m going to tell!’

  In a blaze of motion he caught up with her. He reached out his hand, with its fingers splayed.

  ‘I’m going to tell … you’re going to be sorry!’

  The dog barked.

  Stop her telling! The command came as an instinct, rather than words. In his mind he saw himself pressing his hand against the girl’s mouth. It would be so easy to stop her telling anyone. Just a little pressure … he could make the dog silent, too. Dotty would never bark again. Then this green forest would be tranquil, just as he liked it.

  ‘Nnn-errh!’ He slashed aside a low branch that would have struck the little girl on the head. Then he stood there, holding onto it. Confusion welled up inside of him. He knew he could stop the girl. But something about that course of action filled him with a dark fog of terror. Pain, hurt, blood … Concepts of right and wrong meant nothing, only the idea of stopping the girl like he’d stopped the soldiers sickened him. Instead of pursuing her he stood there, the branch gripped in his hand. The girl ran as fast as she could in her puppy slippers. Dotty sped alongside her. Soon they vanished amongst the trees until all he could hear were the sounds of their feet.

  It didn’t take long. The men arrived in a truck that bellowed clouds of blue smoke into the forest. The child watched their arrival. He sat placidly beneath the vast branches of the tree, enjoying the warm breeze. Now this snorting beast in green metal lumbered toward him. Immediately, the men saw him. They shouted. They gestured wildly. Then the ones standing in the back fired at him. Tracer rounds approached in a graceful arc. The first bullet ripped a fist-sized hole in the earth nearby. The second pecked out a streak of creamily white timber in the trunk.

  The child had done nothing to anger them, so why this? More bullets smacked through the leaves. Once the truck stopped jolting on the rough ground that’s when their aim would become true. Smoothly, he rose to his feet, then with fluid grace he loped away into the forest. Once he entered the dense stand of trees the men were forced to leave the vehicle as there was no space for it to pass between the trunks. They pursued him on foot. For a while he was convinced they’d catch him but he found it simple to outpace them. Soon they tired and were forced to stand panting, their rifles hanging limply from their hands. For some reason he didn’t become breathless like them. Later, he even doubled back out of curiosity to watch them from behind a bush as they moved in a line. Constantly, they called to one another.

  ‘See anything, Jack?’

  ‘There’s broken grass by that oak.’

  ‘If you see it, aim for the head. They can take a helluva lot of lead in the guts before it slows ’em down.’

  ‘Maybe someone ought to go back for the dogs?’

  ‘Don’t worry, we’ll flush it out before long.’

  ‘Did you see the bastard? Did you see the size of it? I wouldn’t even come up as high as its elbow.’

  ‘Fancy a scrap with that monster, Greg?’

  ‘We won’t get that close. Just blast it the first chance you get.’

  Some of the men laughed as they trudged up the slope.

  ‘Don’t let them scare you, Greg. It might decide to run, but it won’t attack us. It’s their nature. They can’t fight back.’

  At that moment one pointed. ‘Hey … this looks like it!’ They rushed toward a clump of alder where the undergrowth had been trampled. The child knew from the scent reaching his nostrils that the trail had been made hours ago by a hefty four-legged animal that bore a strong odour of musk.

  As he watched them go he suddenly stiffened. The sense came to him of being watched. He whirled round to find a figure standing by a tree not twenty paces from him. A growl burst from his lips. He raised his arms in readiness to protect himself.

  The figure stepped forward. ‘It’s not safe to hang around out here. Follow me.’ When the child didn’t respond the man smiled as he shot wary glances in the direction of the trail the hunters had followed. ‘It’s OK. You’re the same as me.’ He paused. ‘You’re one of us.’ When the child didn’t respond the man approached with his hands held out at his sides. His voice was gentle. ‘Don’t be afraid. Now … what’s y
our name?’ A pause filled with forest birdsong. ‘OK. Maybe you’re a little shy. Do you want to know my name?’ He smiled. ‘I’m a doctor … I’m Doctor Frankenstein.’

  The child stared at the man as he indicated his own clothes. They were green surgical scrubs with a red badge stitched on the right breast.

  ‘Doctor Frankenstein?’ The man rubbed his jaw. ‘I guess you’re not completely back with us yet, otherwise you’d appreciate the hilarity and acute wit of my joke. Doctor Frankenstein? Get it?’ He sighed. ‘This is going to be harder than I thought.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Look. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m a friend. Frr … iend. Understand? Frr … iend good.’ He clicked his tongue. ‘And you won’t appreciate my witty film reference, either, will you?’ Slowly he approached. ‘You’ve still got your wrist tag. I just want to take a little peep. No … steady, pal. I’m not going to do anything unpleasant. My name’s Dr Marais … considering the circumstances call me Paul. My, my, someone’s taken a dislike to you already. I’ll look at those slug pecks as soon as we’re safely out of here. Come on, pal, you’ve got to let me … before those men come back and blow us to buggery … uh … relax … let me look at the—’

  The child noticed the thin yellow strip around his wrist as the man took hold of his arm. The child moved back, dragging the man forwards.

  ‘My good heavens, you’re a strong one, aren’t you? It’s OK, relax. I just want to check the … My God. So it’s you!’ He gave a low whistle, then quickly scanned the wrist tag. ‘You’re the talk of the staff room, old pal. You woke up too soon. No one’s ever recovered consciousness in the wonder tub before. That, my friend, is why you’re special. See here?’ He ran his finger over the black marks on the wrist tag. ‘You shouldn’t even be out of bed yet. And I’ve been chasing after you through this bloody forest for the last two hours. Those gunshots were a dead giveaway that someone was enjoying a good old-fashioned monster hunt. But no pitchforks and blazing torches for us, eh?’ The man cocked his head to one side. ‘You can hear the tramp of feet, can’t you. That’s the sound of doom approaching. DOOM in capital letters. And this time I’m not joking.’ The doctor tried to tug the child along but he remained statue-like under the tree. ‘Come on. I’ll take you to the others. Where you’ll be safe? Do you follow what I’m saying?’

  Voices grew louder as the hunters emerged from the other side of the clearing. They hadn’t noticed the pair yet.

  The doctor whispered, ‘If you don’t come with me now then we’re both dead … to be more exact: dead again.’ The doctor looked the child in the eye. ‘You’ve got to trust me. OK?’

  There was something in the tone of the voice that the child recognized. At last he allowed himself to be led away.

  3

  Burn, Monster, Burn

  ‘Monster,’ he said, ‘I’m going to tell you exactly what I’m going to do to you’ – the man consulted his wristwatch – ‘in precisely forty-five minutes.’

  There were six other men in the barn with Elsa as she sat on the high stool in its centre The men were dressed in farmers’ work clothes, mainly denim with heavy duty boots. A couple wore leather jackets in honour of the occasion. The five watched the sixth man as he spoke. ‘Sit there. Don’t move. Listen to what I say. When we’ve done with the other one you will walk with us to the field opposite these barn doors. You will not speak to anyone. There’s a post in the field. When we reach it you will be fixed to it by chains. You will not call to anyone in the crowd. Wood will be piled round you. There’s no gasoline to spare so it won’t be as quick as you’d like. But seeing as there’s been no rain for a week the kindling will be dry.’ He held her gaze. ‘When everything’s ready I’ll start the fire. If you take my advice you’ll breathe the smoke. That way you might lose consciousness before flames reach you. Understand?’

  Elsa didn’t nod. She merely looked him in the eye.

  One of the younger men spoke up, ‘But do these things feel pain?’

  ‘There’s one way to find out,’ said another. He held a lit cigarette in front of her face, then put it against her chin. She maintained eye-contact for a moment before the pain made her flinch.

  ‘Oh, the bitch felt that.’

  ‘She’s not even a bitch, she’s a monster.’

  ‘I’m not a monster,’ Elsa countered.

  A youth sang out, ‘It speaks! It speaks!’ Then he laughed before tugging her long hair. The force of it almost toppled her back off the stool. His face reddened with excitement as he pulled at her nurse’s uniform. ‘C’mon! Let’s see what you’ve got under there. They say you lot have got three tits.’

  ‘Imagine that sitting astride you, Robbie – she’d break your fucking spine.’

  Robbie stopped tugging her uniform. ‘You might be a necrophile but I’m not.’

  ‘No, you’re in love with Mrs Hand and her five lovely daughters.’

  The men laughed as the youth flushed with embarrassment.

  ‘Stop picking on the lad,’ one of them said. ‘He’s just got a bad case of stagnation of the virginity.’

  One of the men leered. ‘He could break himself in practising on this one.’ He stroked her thigh ‘Before she burns.’

  ‘I told you,’ the youth spat back. ‘I’m not a necrophile.’

  ‘OK. Calm down.’

  Elsa looked at the man who spoke. It was the same one who’d detailed her execution plan. He seemed to be the one in charge.

  ‘Emotions are running high. So let’s not start falling out amongst ourselves.’

  ‘He started it,’ Robbie grumbled. ‘I’m not sticking it in no monster.’ In a sudden burst of bravado he grinned at his tormentor, ‘I wouldn’t even stick yours into her, Bill. And that’s been up every pig in the village.’

  ‘Still … I’ve never seen one of these naked before.’ Bill prodded Elsa. ‘It wouldn’t hurt to take a look, would it?’

  ‘Call it for scientific purposes.’ Robbie sounded excited.

  Elsa turned to their leader. He’ll say no, she told herself. He’ll know better than allow them to become a frenzied mob.

  He shrugged. ‘It can’t do any harm. It’s not as if she can complain to anyone.’

  They rushed at her and started to pull at her clothes. Don’t struggle … if they want to do this then you must let them. Muscular fingers nipped her breast. She let out a cry. This only seemed to excite the men. Hot breath panted in her neck as they hauled her top up towards her shoulders.

  A female voice cut through the hurly-burly, ‘Five minutes until they light the first fire. Anyone who wants to watch should get themselves out there now.’

  Startled, the men jumped back as if nothing had been happening. The leader wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead as he said, ‘Ma, what’re you doing out this time of night?’

  ‘The same as you lot. This is the first time in my life I’ve got a chance to see one of these animals go up in flames. Mark my words, Cullum, I’ll not miss this.’

  Elsa watched the elderly woman approach. Her white hair had been tied back so tightly it pulled her eyes into narrow slits. She used a cane to help bear her weight. As much as age the lines around the old woman’s mouth revealed years of arthritic pain.

  ‘Cullum? What are you doing then?’

  ‘Ma? Nothing. We were just—’

  ‘I’m not bothered about this one. I’m asking if you’re going out into the field to watch.’

  Elsa realized that Cullum was the woman’s son. She detected his exasperation at being treated like a little boy was tempered with deep respect.

  Cullum spoke gently, ‘We’re guarding her … it … until they’re ready.’

  ‘I’ll stay with her. You get yonder.’

  ‘Ma?’

  ‘The creature’s not going to do anything. They aren’t capable of hurting people. It’s not in their nature.’ The old woman jabbed the ferrule of her stick into Elsa’s stomach. ‘You won’t touch me, will you?’ Another painful jab. ‘See that? Got a
stomach as solid as an oven door. Strong as an ox. But she won’t hurt me anymore than a fish’ll jump out of a river and walk.’

  ‘Ma—’

  ‘Now, you go watch the other one roast. I’ll bet you a month’s pension that she’ll dance in them flames an hour or more before she drops.’

  Outside, the crowd of people grew excited. Elsa could hear raised voices. There were elements of anxiety and fear but there was an elation, too. Homo sapiens had won. After years of humiliation … imagined humiliation, that is, they were extracting their terrible revenge. The men in the barn stared in the direction of the barn door. They were like children eager to see a show.

  ‘Why are you waiting?’ the old woman asked. ‘Go on, before you miss it.’

  ‘But you wanted to watch, too.’

  ‘I know every knothole in this barn. I’ll see what I want to see from here.’

  Cullum couldn’t stand still he so badly wanted to be out there. This would be the biggest event in their lifetimes. Even so, he was uneasy leaving his mother in the company of the thing they called Monster.

  ‘Ma, why stay here with this thing? You can see for yourself what it is?’

  ‘I know. That’s exactly why I want to give it a few home truths.’ She jabbed the walking stick into Elsa’s stomach viciously. ‘Did you hear that? You’re going to hear exactly what I think before they roast you!’ With that she struck Elsa so forcefully across the arm with the cane that even the men flinched. ‘Now, be off with you, Cullum. And take your friends.’

  Neither Cullum, nor anyone else, wanted to argue with the ferocious woman.

  ‘I’ll have to lock the door behind me, Ma,’ Cullum told her.

  ‘Then mind you lock it!’

  Eager to be out of the barn, the men unbolted the door before pouring out into the night. In the field an upright post had been set in the earth. Milling around it were dozens of men, women and children. Many carried candles burning in lanterns. The glow illuminated figures that carried bales of sticks toward the post. The barn doors closed on her captors. From the expression on their faces they fully expected the old woman to have mutilated Elsa by the time they returned. Once the doors were padlocked from the other side the woman approached Elsa. Her grey eyes studied Elsa’s face. ‘Yes, I know your kind. I know what you’re like.’ She nodded at the closed door. ‘Did they rape you?’