by Simon Clark
‘So they split up?’
‘No. They loved one another. My mother said Jacob began to change. He seemed to be haunted by something – and she did use the word “haunted”. Also, he became physically different. His skin grew paler; she could see veins through the flesh. His eyes changed, too.’
‘As if the colour had begun to leach away?’
June’s eyes flashed with surprise. ‘Hey, how did you know that?’
‘How did you know how to find me?’
‘My mother collected news reports of a flood that happened five years ago in this valley. Your name cropped up a lot, and as the name Tom Westonby was linked to Nicola Bekk, my mother drew plenty of conclusions.’
‘We should be going.’ He opened the door.
‘Aren’t you curious about why I’m here?’
‘This isn’t the time to talk. Already I might have left it too late to go through the wood.’
‘I’m here to save my mother’s life.’
The sentence stopped Tom dead. ‘Save her life? How can coming here save anyone’s life?’ He paused. ‘Sorry, that sounded brutal. You just took me by surprise.’
‘My mother’s name is April. She married Jacob Bekk. He left her soon after she found out she was pregnant with me. She was so angry she changed her name back to Valko. But the absolute truth is that she loves Jacob. She can’t accept that he stopped loving her. For years now she’s been slipping deeper and deeper into clinical depression. Two weeks ago she was hospitalized. This might sound over the top, but she’s literally dying of a broken heart. If she meets Jacob again, she might find some peace … she might even get well again.’
‘I don’t see what I can do.’
‘Help me find Jacob Bekk.’
‘I don’t think I can do that.’
‘I found you.’
‘All you need do is type “Tom Westonby” into a search engine; you’ll be taken to all kinds of websites about the paranormal and monster hunting.’
‘Other missing people can be found, if you try hard enough.’
‘June, I’ve been searching for Nicola Bekk for five years.’
‘Then we’ll find them both together. Nicola and Jacob.’ Her blue eyes held a fierce determination. ‘We can help each other, Tom.’
‘Even if I could take you to Jacob, I wouldn’t.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I would not inflict such a thing on my worst enemy.’
‘Do you always talk in mysterious riddles?’
‘It’s better than you hearing the truth.’
‘You’ve just answered me with another riddle. So why is it better than hearing the truth?’
Tom held open the door. ‘We have to go now. I mean this very second.’
She hesitated.
He said, ‘I promise to phone you tomorrow.’
‘Alright, but please, please come and see me as soon as you possibly can. OK?’
‘OK.’ He looked her in the eye. ‘What I’m going to say next will seem strange … it’ll even sound worrying … but when we walk through the wood stick close to me. You might see things that seem odd, but don’t stop. Keep walking. Don’t look at them. Don’t look back. Just keep moving forward, and I’ll get you back to your car.’
‘What kind of things?’
‘I’ll explain when I see you again. Now, are you ready?’
When she nodded, Tom Westonby led the way. He hoped that the path ahead would be clear.
FOURTEEN
They walked away from the cottage. Out here in the remote part of the forest an absolute darkness engulfed them. June Valko stuck close by Tom’s side as he’d asked. That distinctive forest-in-winter aroma filled his nostrils – the scent of damp earth, the mustiness of vegetation and sharper tang of dead leaves. Their breath billowed from their mouths. The brilliant light from Tom’s torch made those bursts of breath look like clouds of white steam.
June Valko scanned her surroundings. ‘I passed through an impressive stone arch when I came into the garden. The arch looks a lot older than the cottage.’
‘It is.’
‘Something had been carved on it. Is it an animal?’
‘I’ll explain when we meet up.’ He walked faster, intending to get her back to the car as soon as possible. ‘You say you parked near a large house on the main road?’
‘Yes.’
‘That’s Mull-Rigg Hall. My parents live there.’
‘Oh.’ June’s expression became thoughtful, as if she’d picked up some inflection in his voice when he’d mentioned his parents. June carried the little electric lantern. ‘I tried to buy a flashlight,’ she explained, ‘but this is all they had at the village store. I think it’s just a toy lamp they had left over from Hallowe’en.’
‘Watch where you put your feet. It’ll get slippery down by the river.’
June Valko continued to talk. He guessed she’d picked up on his tension, and talking was a way to try and disguise her nervousness. ‘I wouldn’t have thought a forest in England would be dangerous. But then what do I know? I’m a city girl. I work for a freight company. So, why is it dangerous out here? They don’t have bears and wolves in Yorkshire, do they?’
‘There are wild boar. They were reintroduced ten years ago.’
‘They’re just fluffy pigs, aren’t they?’
‘You wouldn’t want to bump into one. They’re big animals, and they’ve got tusks. They can also be vicious.’
‘Oh. I hadn’t realized that it could be so risky coming to see you.’
He glanced at her. Even though this pretty woman was slightly built – she could even be described as dainty – there was real strength there. What’s more, he sensed that June Valko possessed intelligence and determination. This woman’s smart – and she’s a fighter.
The nerves kept her talking. She would be used to the constant background noise of the city. She must find this kind of silence unsettling, even frightening. ‘So my mother married Nicola’s brother,’ she said. ‘All I know of my grandmother is that she lived at Skanderberg, and had of lots of children. The first came along when she was seventeen, and the last when she was in her late forties, which is why my father is so much older than Nicola.’
‘She was reclusive. And even though I might be speaking ill of the dead – she died last year – your grandmother was downright strange.’
‘I don’t even know her name, other than it’s Mrs Bekk. She disowned her son when he moved away. Something to do with betraying family heritage.’
‘I heard plenty about family heritage from Mrs Bekk. She’d got totally obsessive about tracing the Bekk bloodline back to Viking settlers over a thousand years ago.’
A dead sheep lay at the side of the path. An open eye glinted in the light of the torch. Tom caught sight of teeth marks on its throat. No blood, though. He knew that not a drop of blood would be found on the animal. A hungry tongue would have licked the wound clean.
June followed him along the path, which hugged the course of the river. Down here the rapids sounded loud. Light from the torch splashed against the water, revealing a spot where it foamed round boulders.
‘Tom? How did you come to live in Skanderberg?’
‘I rebuilt it after the fire.’
‘What fire?’
‘It might seem like bad manners, but I don’t really want to talk. What’s important right now is getting you back to your car.’
‘Wild boar might eat us?’
‘Yeah, something like that.’
‘I was joking, Tom.’
‘Stick to the right of the path. It gets swampy on the other side.’
June Valko fell silent. He took this to mean she’d got the hint about closing her mouth and carrying on walking. However, just the tone of her voice when she spoke a moment later sent shivers down his spine.
‘Tom … I’ve just seen a man.’
‘Keep walking.’
‘He’s over there by the big rock.’
‘Don’t look at him.�
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‘But he’s looking at me.’
‘He won’t hurt you, June. But whatever you do, don’t stop.’
‘Tom, you’re frightening me.’
‘Hold my hand.’
He gripped her hand fiercely enough to make her gasp. Tom Westonby didn’t do this to reassure her; he’d seized her hand so he could keep her moving forward.
‘Why is he staring at us?’ she whispered. ‘Look at him. He’s just standing there like a statue. But … oh my God … can you see his eyes? His eyes are like—’
‘I told you not to look at him.’
‘Tom.’ She sounded alarmed. ‘There’s something wrong with his face.’
He tugged her by the hand as if she was a child who dragged its feet. ‘Come on, walk faster.’
‘Why’s he out here at night?’
‘June, he won’t hurt you. Not if you keep walking and don’t look back.’
She hissed, ‘But his face is so strange … my God, it’s scaring me just to look at it.’
‘I told you not to look back.’
June Valko did more than just look back. She raised the electric lantern she carried. The light fell on the strange figure that stood, as still as a statue, perhaps thirty paces away.
‘His feet?’ she gasped. ‘It’s winter … he hasn’t got any shoes on his feet. They’re bare.’
She tilted the lamp so its rays would illuminate the stranger’s face. Before she could get a clear look at that face, with its staring eyes, Tom knocked the lantern from her hand.
‘Ow!’
‘Come on.’ He hauled her so forcefully that she cried out again in pain.
‘I’m not afraid of him,’ she cried. ‘Give me the flashlight. I want to see his face.’
‘This might seem brutal, but the last thing you’d want to see is that thing’s face.’
‘Thing? It’s a man, not a thing.’
‘Hurry up.’
‘Stop! You’re hurting me!’
That’s when the silent figure moved. And, dear God, it moved so fast. Tom didn’t even have time to react before the figure slammed into him. He tumbled down the river bank. Seconds later, a hand grabbed his hair. An enormous force pressed his face down into the water at the river’s edge. Brilliant lights exploded inside his head. He couldn’t breathe. His attacker was hell-bent on drowning him.
Though he struggled, he couldn’t lift his face clear. Bubbles spurted from his lips. Cold water jetted up his nose. Then the lights inside his head grew dim. They became clots of purple. Then the purple became darker … blacker … he stopped moving. Terrifying thoughts flowed through his head: I can’t breathe. I’m going to die. Everything after that: darkness. Just darkness.
FIFTEEN
At nine o’clock Owen Westonby and Jez Pollock dropped by Kit’s house to find out if he’d uncovered the pod’s secret. Kit lived here with his mother at the end of a dirt track on the edge of the village. Owen always felt a twinge of sadness when he visited Kit. The house, which had once been part of a farm, had seen better days. Its wooden window frames had rotted. The garage roof had collapsed. Owen knew that Kit made running repairs, but Mrs Bolter often complained of the noise if he used a hammer or power drill, and she made him stop work.
Kit’s mother was antisocial, and that was putting it mildly. When she’d too much booze inside of her she’d subject visitors to vicious rants about whatever happened to be preoccupying her at the time. Normally, Kit’s friends avoided the Bolter house. However, Kit had sent Owen a text: Pod progress:-) Call in. Mother asleep.
Jez spoke in a low voice as they picked their way through the gloom. ‘I bet Kit’s counting the days until he goes to university, then he’ll be able to get away from this dump.’
‘I don’t suppose Mrs Bolter likes living in squalor, either.’
‘You always see the best in people, don’t you?’ Jez had to lift the broken garden gate in order to open it. ‘Mrs Bolter likes living inside a whisky bottle. Get my meaning? She chose to wind up like this.’
Owen opened his mouth to disagree; however, he saw Kit at the door, so he kept silent. He didn’t want Kit to know that they’d been discussing his mother.
Instead, Owen hooted, ‘The mad scientist. Found out what Mr Pod is yet?’
‘Shush. My mother’s in bed.’
‘Are you sure you want us here?’
Kit stood back to let them in. ‘Usually a bomb wouldn’t wake her, but best not make too much noise. I’ll only get an earful if she knows you’ve been round.’
Both Owen and Jez pretended to zip their mouths shut. Kit smiled, though Owen noticed his manner seemed odd, as if his friend had something on his mind.
‘Go through to the back room.’ Owen pointed to a door along the passageway.
Soon they found themselves in a parlour that had been crowded with mismatched furniture. Again, Owen felt that keen twinge of sadness. The hand-me-down sofa, chairs and table signalled that not everyone led a problem-free life. He didn’t believe for one moment that Mrs Bolter was a bad person – even at sixteen he realized that given enough personal setbacks and broken dreams anyone could find themselves down on their luck like this.
Kit indicated the sofa. ‘Grab a seat.’
Owen and Jez sat down.
‘So, what you got for us, Kit?’ Jez nodded at the metal pod that sat on the floor beneath the TV.
‘It’s a camera,’ Kit announced.
‘Is that all?’ Owen felt disappointed.
‘Not just any camera.’ Kit knelt down beside the pod. ‘I’ve dismantled it and found a movement sensor; you know the sort, you get them in security lights. They trigger the light when something moves in front of them.’
‘So, a security camera?’
‘Nope. A wildlife camera. That’s why you found this baby out in the forest. The pod got smashed up, the housing’s vanished completely, but this was designed to film whatever triggered the sensor.’
‘I really expected it to be a missile that’d dropped off a fighter.’ Jez groaned with disappointment. ‘Something interesting.’
‘This is interesting … very interesting.’ Kit smiled as if ready to spring an exciting surprise. ‘You should see what’s been filmed by the camera.’
‘A manky squirrel?’ suggested Jez.
‘A one-legged dormouse,’ added Owen.
‘Better than that. In fact, something you’d never guess in a million years.’
Jez became interested again. ‘Naked people getting rumpy-pumpy in the woods?’
‘Just you wait and see. All I have to do is connect the cable to the television; then I use this chopstick to press a tiny play-button inside the pod.’
Owen and Jez stared hopefully at the blank television screen.
Jez grinned. ‘I bet it’s people. Stark naked.’
‘You’ve got a dirty mind,’ Kit told him. ‘In fact, it’s a lot more interesting than bare flesh.’
Kit poked the chopstick into the pod’s casing. He poked again.
Jez slapped the arm of the sofa. ‘C’mon, Kit. This suspense is killing me.’
Kit grunted. ‘Battery’s flat.’
‘What?’
‘No power.’
‘You mean, you can’t show us what’s been recorded by the camera?’
‘I’m going home.’ Jez stood up.
Kit disconnected the lead from the pod. ‘The battery’s been damaged. For some reason it discharges even when the camera’s switched off. It’ll only take me twenty minutes to put some juice back into it.’
‘This secret film better be worth the wait,’ grumbled Jez.
‘It is, guys. Believe me: it most definitely is. You’re not going to believe your eyes.’
SIXTEEN
‘Tom, you said it couldn’t hurt me … well, it went and hurt you.’
Tom Westonby looked up at the beautiful woman who spoke to him. The dark skin contrasted so strikingly with the blue eyes.
‘Tom, can you underst
and what I’m telling you?’
He nodded. A ferocious ache in his neck made him flinch.
‘Do you remember? You said the man wouldn’t do anything to us if we kept walking. You were so wrong. He knocked you clean across the path. After that, he pushed your face into the river and half-drowned you. If I hadn’t been there you’d be dead now.’
Tom rubbed his aching head. His hair was damp. A towel lay on the arm of the chair. Had she dried his hair? Evidently so. He saw half a cup of coffee on the table beside him, and though he could taste coffee on his lips he didn’t remember drinking any.
‘Nearly drowned?’ he echoed as her words sank in. ‘Were you hurt?’
‘I’m fine. But I had to yell and fight the guy who tried to murder you. Finally, I got him to scoot.’
‘Bravo.’ OK, maybe not the perfect response. This groggy feeling made thinking difficult. He tried again. ‘Thanks. You saved my life.’
‘The cottage was closer than my car, so I decided to get you back here.’
He groaned as he sat up straight in the armchair. This felt like the meanest of hangovers.
‘Try not to move. You’ve been unconscious for the last ten minutes.’
‘Did you get a clear look at who attacked me?’
June Valko shook her head. ‘When he pounced, the torch went flying away into the bushes. I decided to fight the monster off before getting the light back, so I’m afraid I won’t be able to give the police a description. It was too dark to see much.’
‘Monster? You said monster?’
‘Figure of speech. Monster, psycho, weirdo, nut-job. He must be one of those to just dive on you like that. He didn’t say anything, but I could tell he’d gone totally berserk.’
‘He didn’t try and attack you?’
She gave a grim smile. ‘No, it was your blood he wanted.’
‘Thank God you know how to fight.’
‘Or shout. It was only when I yelled that he stopped trying to drown you and … ffft. He vanished back into the trees.’
When he coughed he could taste the river. He must have swallowed a bellyful. June watched his face closely. He could tell that she was worried about him.
‘Don’t worry. I’ll live,’ he told her. ‘What time is it?’
