Death's Dominion

by Simon Clark

  Elsa glanced back down the stairs that had been hacked into the cliff face in an elongated Z. Four hundred steps that carried them high over the town. In the gloom she could make out the glistening pool of the harbour. Beside it, flames still danced on the car Dominion had put to the torch. The town itself lay in the cleft of a valley. On the high ground at either side of it empty moorland appeared to roll away into infinity. But as Dominion ascended the last few steps to the top of the cliff her attention was drawn once more to the Pharos – the castle that stood on the highest point above Scaur Ness. At the head of the steps a paved area extended fifteen paces to a massive portcullis of criss-cross steel work that was set into the castle wall. The wall, in turn, rose forty feet above them to the battlements. At either end of those a tower rose another twenty feet. Dominion paused.

  ‘Don’t fail me now, my wee chappy,’ Paul murmured to himself, in his soft Scottish accents. ‘You came here for a reason. Don’t let go of it now.’

  As Dominion gazed up at the vast expanse of granite blocks, the girl from the town caught up with him. Blood still dripped from her fingers. Red smears violated her white cotton nightdress. She was panting, and yet her face shone in triumph. Her expression screamed to the world that she’d witnessed a miracle.

  She gazed up at Dominion in awe. ‘I’m glad what you did to the town. I loved it when you set fire to the car. And when you smashed your way into my father’s store I thought my heart would burst with excitement. Just explode right in my chest! I’ve never felt like that before. You should have seen the expression on those idiots’ faces. They deserve it. You’ve brought more life to this dump in five minutes than they ever did in their whole lives!’ Even though she laughed tears slid down her face. ‘You were a bolt of lightning!’

  Dominion still remained in the same posture. He gazed at the castle with those dark eyes.

  Once more Paul murmured to himself as if in prayer, ‘Dominion, don’t fail me now. You came here for a purpose. What is it? What did you plan to do?’ He glanced back as if expecting to see a mob crossing the bridge intent on hacking the monstrous intruders to pieces. ‘We are depending on you, bloody miracle of science, you. Without you we’re going to wind up dead again.’

  A sea breeze poured across the battlements. A ghostly sigh rose then fell. Elsa felt the cold air reach through her clothes to touch her skin. A sapping cold that had the deathly essence of the tomb about it. Then all of us here, apart from the girl, have cheated the tomb. Now it’s found us. It’s reaching out to us. Science robbed our graves. They resent being empty; they want us back. Those morbid thoughts worked away deep inside. They were little seeds of death. In the distance she heard the undulating voices of the ancient dead. The voices appeared to rise out of the earth before sinking beneath the sod again. That was never hallucination, she told herself. She really did hear something that nobody could ever hear. There’s a reason I’m hearing the songs of the dead. Just as there’s a reason Dominion brought us here. He’s establishing neural connections now. He can form words. His thought patterns are becoming rational.

  The words gushed from her. ‘Dominion, don’t forget why you brought us here. Something woke you up in the regenerator. Maybe it was a premonition. You saw what you’d do in the future. And that you’d bring us here to the castle. Whatever happens now don’t let that vision slip away from you.’

  Dominion stared up at the towers. Nobody moved.

  Elsa’s voice surged into a shout. ‘An instinct woke inside of you … it’s like you realized a truth … some great truth that shook you awake before it was time. Now there’s a danger as your conscious mind takes control you’ll forget what you had to do. Dominion. Close your eyes. See that vision again. Remember what is it you have to do!’

  Dominion stared; a giant of a man frozen in a statue-like pose.

  ‘Dominion. Close your eyes. Think! Why are you here?’

  He closed his eyes. The next second the eyelids snapped back to reveal a pair of blazing eyes. In a surge of movement he almost leapt at the portcullis. With both hands he hauled at the steel gate. Padlocks snapped at its base. Slowly it began to rise, guided by the groves cut in the stone archway.

  ‘Help him!’ Despite her injured arm Caitlin ran forward to grab hold of steel bars that were as thick as her wrist. With all her strength she heaved at the recalcitrant gate that had been designed by the castle’s builders to keep the enemy at bay.

  Elsa stood alongside Caitlin. She gripped that icy steelwork and lifted, too, straining every muscle. Paul joined them. A grimace distorted his face as he helped force the gate upward. Metalwork screamed as it forced its way through runners that hadn’t been used in years.

  Paul bellowed back, ‘Everybody!’

  A moment later the transit station’s survivors joined in. Everyone with the exception of Saiban. He cast mournful glances down into the town. He might have been inwardly debating the merits of descending the steps to abandon himself to his fate in the darkened streets.

  Then they were inside.

  ‘Saiban … you’ve got ten seconds!’ Paul yelled the words as they struggled to prevent the portcullis sliding shut to cut them off from the outside world. ‘Saiban!’

  For a moment it really seemed as if he would remain outside the castle. The weight of the portcullis would soon defeat them. Any second it would crash back down to the stone slabs.

  Dominion spoke, ‘You might want to die, but one day our survival might depend on you.’

  Saiban flinched. The words struck him hard. For a moment he stared at Dominion as the relentless force of gravity dragged the portcullis squealing downward, inch by inch. A second later he made a decision. As the portcullis’s descent quickened he ran at the gate, ducked, and he was inside.

  Now the group released the tons of steelwork. With a resounding crash that must have rattled dishes in cupboards across the town the portcullis slammed back down to earth.

  14

  Her Flesh

  God Scarer tableau. Aren’t we magnificent? These thoughts ran through Paul’s mind as the nine survivors from the transit station seated themselves at tables in the cafeteria – a disused and profoundly neglected cafeteria at that. The men and women he saw in the light of what had been decorative candles looked as if they’d been dragged through a whole forest of thorn. They were dishevelled, most wore surgical scrubs that were distressed to say the least, ripped at shoulder and knee; smeared with dirt from scrambling down the gully. Their bodies revealed an array of minor injuries. Blood oozed from cuts. Bruises mottled skin. Dominion, alone, appeared as indomitable as ever. His injuries were more like a hero’s medals. An aura of invincibility haloed him. He walked slowly around the cafeteria to gaze at the vaulted ceilings and the hefty stone pillars that supported them. His domain.

  ‘Paul … Paul?’

  ‘Sorry. I’m good at self-obsessed reverie.’

  Elsa set three bottles on the table where he sat. From each one protruded red candles; the word REJOICE was printed horizontally on them in gold.

  ‘That’s all I can find now,’ she said ‘So at my count we’ve about twenty candles.’

  ‘Until we find more, we best not burn them all at once.’

  ‘Did you have any luck?’

  ‘I found a first-aid kit in an office behind the reception area. It’s all pretty basic – bandages, sticking plaster, sterile wipes. But if—’

  ‘Quick. It looks as if you’ll need it now.’ Elsa indicated Caitlin where she sat cradling her arm that had taken a hit from the shotgun blast.

  ‘Damn,’ Paul hissed. ‘I forget that human beings are on the fragile side.’

  Elsa prevented Caitlin from tumbling off the cafeteria chair as she slumped forward. The girl was clearly faint from the blood loss. It took a determined effort on her part but she roused herself from the torpor, then lifted her head.

  Her voice came as a whisper. ‘We made it then. The Pharos?’

  ‘Funny name for a castle. How a
re you feeling?’ Clearly she suffered the early signs of shock. Normally, Paul would have touched her forehead to gauge her temperature. It was a gesture to reassure the patient, too. Only this was a human patient. His first.

  ‘The Pharos?’ With an effort she stopped herself fainting away again. ‘Lighthouse. At least hundreds of years ago it was … I mean … as well as being a castle.’

  ‘Caitlin. It is Caitlin, isn’t it? Look, my dear, I’m going to have to take care of that arm of yours. You’re bleeding.’

  ‘Scottish. You’re one of them and you’re Scottish.’ She managed a smile. ‘Weird.’

  ‘Aye, weird. But they have Scottish God Scarers too. In fact any nationality and race you care to mention. Can you flex your fingers for me. There … good. Now make a fist. Good, good. Well done.’

  ‘You can’t do that!’

  Paul looked up to see Saiban rising from his chair with such an expression of disbelief splashed across that mournful voice that he fully expected the man to start howling the place down.

  ‘Saiban, the lady has been shot.’

  ‘Good grief. You mustn’t touch her. It’s not allowed.’

  ‘Yes, yes … we sons and daughters of Frankenstein shouldn’t touch a hair on a wee human head. But what do you suggest?’

  ‘She’s losing blood, Saiban.’ Elsa glared at the man.

  Paul pulled back the sleeve of Caitlin’s nightdress. ‘See? Bullet wound to the crook of her right elbow. I’m guessing no serious damage. She will need—’

  ‘No.’ Saiban’s face quivered with anger. ‘I won’t allow this. None of us will. No transient must touch a human being. It’s forbidden.’

  ‘Saiban, I must treat her. The wound is still bleeding. Look for yourself.’

  ‘Then ask her own people to care for her.’

  Beech shouted across the cafeteria, ‘So they can kill us? We’re safe in here.’

  ‘Safe?’ Paul murmured. ‘Hmm, that’s debatable.’ He glanced across at Dominion who lightly ran his hand across one of the walls as if gauging its strength. Strong enough to withstand an artillery barrage? It may come to that. He turned his attention back to Caitlin. ‘Keep your hand held up. Like you’re taking an oath of allegiance. That’s it. Keep your elbow slightly bent. We need to stop the bleed.’

  ‘Doctor Paul Marais I order you not to touch her. She is human.’

  ‘You’re right, Saiban. I’m a doctor. She needs my help.’

  ‘Then call a human doctor. You are not permitted to touch her.’

  Dominion spoke as if only half aware of the conversation. ‘Treat her.’

  Saiban shook his head. ‘Don’t listen to Dominion. He’s insane.’

  ‘You followed him here, Saiban.’

  ‘Only because I thought we could negotiate with the authorities. Maybe the local mayor.’

  Caitlin roused herself. ‘The mayor is my father.’ Her face was grey. ‘Rather than talk to your kind, he’d have stuck your heads on spikes.’ Blood loss made her laugh sound like that of a drunk. ‘Heart of gold, my old daddy.’

  ‘Caitlin … Caitlin?’ Elsa shook her gently to rouse her. ‘You need that wound treating. It hasn’t stopped bleeding yet.’

  Paul crouched beside her to look up into a face framed by the mass of black hair. He reached out his hand as if to brush back the hair from her eyes.

  ‘Marais.’ The note of warning in Saiban’s voice turned it into a snarl. ‘I’m warning you. I’m your superior.’

  ‘You’re in admin, Saiban,’ Elsa told him.

  Beech added, ‘And if you hadn’t noticed that place you administered has been burnt to the fucking ground.’

  ‘Listen to me.’ Saiban’s voice rose to a screech. Despite everyone’s exhaustion heads snapped up to look at him. ‘Our laws are sacred to us. If you try and touch the woman I will stop you myself. By force if necessary.’

  ‘Take a big gulp of reality, Saiban.’ Paul glared at him. ‘Just look at us. We’re refugees. We’ve got nothing. Now I can do one useful thing in my life right now. An injured human being is slowly bleeding to death. I can help her.’

  Marais!’

  Paul still held back from touching Caitlin. Gently he asked, ‘Do I have your permission to treat you?’

  Her reply was heartfelt. ‘Of course you can.’

  ‘It will mean touching you.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘You realize what I am?’

  ‘Uh.’ This question of his puzzled her. ‘You’re a God Scarer, aren’t you?’

  ‘That’s right. I was human, like you. I died. Then they resurrected me.’

  ‘Like the Frankenstein story. I know … ouch. It’s hurting, Paul.’

  ‘Marais, it’s not allowed.’

  ‘Paul …’ Caitlin sounded dreamy now as her blood pressure dropped. ‘While you’re not allowed to hurt us … doesn’t your law say that it’s wrong to allow something bad to happen to us? This is bad, Paul. It hurts. I want you to put it right.’

  ‘Anything you say, Caitlin.’

  Paul eased back her sleeve with one hand then cupped his hand beneath her elbow. That first touch of human flesh struck him with the force of a lightning bolt. He hadn’t anticipated the eruption of emotions. He knew he masked it. He held it all in. Not a flicker. Not a tremor. Just the coolly professional actions of doctor working on a patient but inside himself his nerves had become incandescent.

  Saiban lurched forward. Paul knew that this man with the long, mournful face, who constantly bleated defeatism, was going to attack him. However, Beech and Elsa moved to block the man’s way. When he tried to shove through they grabbed Saiban’s lanky frame. There they held him, despite his struggles.

  ‘You heard Caitlin.’ In the candlelight, Beech’s red hair held fiery glints. ‘She gave her permission.’

  ‘You’ve gone too far, Marais.’ Saiban was outraged. ‘They’ll make us suffer for this.’

  Beech tugged Saiban by the collar. The fierce glint in her eye matched those in her hair. ‘Make us suffer? The saps will make us suffer if we go down there with floral bouquets. Don’t you get it yet, Saiban? Humanity is out to make us extinct.’

  Saiban shrugged himself free then turned his back in disgust.

  Paul maintained his customary medical professionalism. Despite this his heart clamoured. Humanity was a separate species now. Even so … when he touched her, a beautiful human female, her skin was so soft. OK, it’s flawed with freckles and the common blemishes that affect every single human being – they don’t possess the flawless complexions of God Scarers, but there was a vulnerability about her flesh – the way the buckshot had ripped it – sweet creation, it made his heart ache. He knew she stared at his face with her pale-blue eyes. That vulnerability all mixed with trust and fear shone through them. A heat spread through his body. An erotic heat. He’d glanced at the shape of her breasts pressing against the fabric of the nightgown. Just for a split-second the superheated image burning itself through him revealed what it would be like to slip that nightdress up over her head to expose her nakedness.

  As he worked with the sterile wipes to clean the wound Paul found himself talking – anything to take his mind off the sexual heat growing inside. ‘That’s not hurting too much?’

  ‘Not at all,’ she whispered. ‘I can’t believe you’re so gentle.’

  ‘We’re well trained.’

  ‘My father told me that you monsters were ugly close up. You’re not.’

  ‘This Pharos. What is it?’

  ‘It was a castle that became a lighthouse. I told you a few minutes ago.’

  ‘Looks as though it’s become something else. Some kind of hotel?’

  ‘Oh, they restored it and put in a lot of reproduction medieval furniture. They had to close it a couple of years ago when the tourists stopped coming. My father said that you lot wrecked our economy.’

  ‘We didn’t intend to.’

  ‘The Pharos closed about the same time as the oil refinery went bust.
There’s no work now.’

  ‘Nothing?’

  ‘Well, hardly anything. Even the police are part-time. Mostly people sit round getting drunk on liquor they make themselves. They call it coffin paint.’

  ‘Snappy, but I don’t see it being a household name.’

  She watched his fingers at work as they cleaned the wound with a swab.

  ‘Coffin paint. Black humour, or what passes for it around here. I guess it means those who drink it die young.’

  ‘What does it taste like?’

  ‘I don’t know, Paul. I don’t intend dying young.’

  Her pale-blue eyes gazed at his face with an intensity he found unsettling.

  Talk about taboo, he told himself, as he wrapped the bandage around her elbow. This is forbidden fruit. Caitlin’s a human. That means she’s out of bounds. And yet … and yet … Paul Marais’s surroundings appeared to slip away from him. It was as if a bubble formed around him and Caitlin. He noticed everything about her. Her bare legs that emerged from the loose skirts of the cotton nightdress. The smooth swelling of her calf muscles. A freckle on her right knee. He found himself counting the curls in her hair that fell in extravagant loops of black over her shoulders. And there were the pale-blue eyes that watched his face so minutely as if she saw something there that fascinated her. The rest of the cafeteria vanished into a mist of his mind’s making. His fellow God Scarers still sat at the tables. Behind them, soda dispensers that were already disappearing under cobwebs faded into the background along with units that housed the hot trays for pizza and tubs of fries.