by Simon Clark
Twelve
In the lane Mayor Wilkes stood with a face like thunder. ‘Nurse Parris,’ he snapped. ‘Can’t you shut that child up?’
‘That child, as you put it, is Max. He’s scared out of his wits.’
‘Because some other boy said his name?’ Wilkes sneered. ‘If hearing his own name has had that effect then he needs some form of care beyond what you offer.’
‘He’s frightened.’
‘Of his own name? That’s not fear, that’s schizophrenia.’
Victor waded into the argument. ‘Mr Mayor, let Laura handle it. This situation is more complicated than you might think.’
‘If you knew what I really think . . .’ He shook his head, disgusted. ‘I’ll leave you to sort this out, but I warn the pair of you – if you can’t stop that child screaming the place down he’ll have to leave the island.’
Laura was ready to launch a physical attack on the mayor. ‘It’s after nine o’clock at night. Where do you expect him to go?’
The mayor glanced at his watch. ‘He’s disturbing the residents. Whatever the problem is, deal with it. OK?’ With that he marched away down the street.
‘He’s insufferable,’ Laura seethed. ‘Dear God, it’s all I can do not to throw rocks at him.’
Victor gave a grim smile. ‘I like the sound of rocks. You and I have more in common than I thought.’
Together they took Max to the cottage where Lou was staying. As Lou did her best to soothe the sobbing youth Laura and Victor walked back out into the garden.
Victor glanced up at the bedroom window of the cottage. ‘Max is beyond scared, isn’t he? He’s genuinely terrified.’
‘I’ll say.’ She sighed. ‘Lou will do her best to calm him. I don’t see she’ll make much progress, though. He’s in pieces.’
Standing in the light falling through the window, Victor saw how vulnerable she looked. As if at any moment she expected the sky to fall on her. ‘Laura, if Max is saying that Jay repeated his name, what does he expect will happen?’
Her face darkened. ‘Max will expect the worst.’
‘Archer, come with me.’
Archer opened his eyes. If it wasn’t for the light on the landing his bedroom would have been in total darkness. Numerals on the clock radio burned at him from the gloom: 10.03. All he could see of Jay was a silhouette.
‘Archer. Listen.’ His voice had that near-silent quality. Like a draught blowing through the gates of a tomb. ‘Archer, you’ve got to come.’
‘Go away.’ Archer pulled the bedclothes over his head.
‘There’s something you’ve got to see. It’s important.’
Archer tried to hold on to the bedding so Jay couldn’t tug it from his face, only his fingers seemed to lose all their strength. He felt the bedding being hauled from his body. He closed his eyes. If I don’t see Jay that might be enough . . . I’ll be all right . . . Yet the cold night air touching his skin brought him up into a sitting position. The sharp outdoors smell had appeared with an abruptness that shocked the boy.
‘Why aren’t I in bed? What have you done to me?’
Jay gazed at him. His eyes glowed in the darkness. Archer reached out for the bedding but all he felt were the pyjamas he wore. The bed had become hard now. He groped for where the mattress should be. Instead of soft fabric, a block of cold matter.
Archer’s heart beat hard. Where was his bedroom? How had Jay brought him outside?
Jay’s witchcraft, that’s what it is! Was Jay taking Archer to see his dead father again? No way! He jumped up then began to run across the damp grass. His bare feet skidded as Jay caught hold of him.
‘Please don’t say my name, Jay,’ Archer pleaded. ‘I know you did it to Max. You said his name twenty times. I heard you. More than twenty. More than fifty! You’re going to make Max die. He’s a bully. But he doesn’t deserve a curse.’
As Jay gripped him, his face was strangely impassive. Really, it should have been too dark to see. Yet it glowed; the skin itself generated its own light. The elfin eyes grew larger.
‘Archer, there’s something wanting me to do bad things to people. I don’t want to. I’m trying to stop myself, but it’s getting too hard. Listen . . .’ His voice became a whisper. ‘Things are different here. I think I might be able to change what I am. But I’ve got to keep looking all over the island for it. A secret. There’s something here that will help me. So I go out looking. I can search all kinds of hidden places without leaving my room. Do you understand? My mind can move through all the houses and even the ground. Now I’ve found something under the castle.’
‘Leave me out of it, then,’ Archer gasped. ‘You find it yourself. I’m frightened.’
‘I can’t do it myself. You’ve got to help. You’re my hands. You can pick things up. I can’t.’
Archer struggled. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. Let go.’
Jay tugged him toward a grassy slope. Above it, the castle wall where a tower reared up, a fist of stone to threaten the moon. ‘I’ve found a hidden place under the castle. There’s something in there you have to get. It’s precious. You’ve got to find it for me.’
By now Archer’s bare feet skidded across the grass as if he were skiing. In front of him a bank of earth loomed closer as Jay dragged him toward it. He didn’t want to go. He sensed a dark terror in that bank of soil. An object that had been hidden because it was too terrible for people to see. Jay did not stop. Archer felt himself falling through the earth. Beyond it lay death in all its dark essence.
‘Bite. I want you to bite.’
Victor felt Laura pull his face toward her bare breast. The dark nipple had become engorged. Her skin had become bumpy with gooseflesh.
‘Bite me, please,’ she panted.
When he closed his teeth round her hard nipple she moaned with pleasure. They were on the bed back at his apartment above the garage at White Cross Farm. They’d been talking about Max, about how he’d calmed down as soon as the tranquillizer had entered his bloodstream. Now some detached part of Victor wondered how it had all happened. The magic of the island? Maybe. From a whispered conversation beneath the stars to this. They’d been talking calmly. Then Nurse Laura Parris, the steely woman who had looked as if she could cheerfully beat him with her fists just a few short hours ago, had kissed him again with as much ferocity as passion.
After that had been a blur. Mouth on mouth kisses. Once inside his apartment they’d wrenched at each other’s clothes, becoming a writhing pair of bodies. As their limbs entwined they made love with such force that it was more than sex. This passion drenched their emotions in erotic sensation. This was a way of forgetting all about Max, about Mayor Wilkes, about the whole insane world.
When fears about what tomorrow would bring began to intrude Laura had begged Victor to bite her. ‘Bite them hard. Don’t be afraid. You won’t break me.’
So he gripped those dark tips of skin between his teeth. With a sigh, this naked beauty melted into an ocean of pure creature feeling. A place where the waking nightmare that was Jay couldn’t reach her.
For long moments Archer was certain the black earth would suffocate him. Jay had dragged him through the soil as if they were moving through a mass of bed sheets hanging on a washing line. A stream of material flapped against his face. The stench of moist dirt filled his nostrils. Thick fleshy worms with sticky, pink bodies squirmed in the blackness around him. Then he was alone in the room.
But what kind of room? Eight-year-old Archer had seen nothing quite like it. Straightaway he saw the car. However, this was no garage. The walls were made of blocks of stone. There were pillars like those you find in old churches. Even though he could see there were no lamps, no windows, nothing to allow light into the room.
‘Jay?’ The whisper died on stagnant air. Jay had gone. Archer was alone in a room with stone walls and the car. He took hesitant steps toward it, looking around him as he did so. At any moment he expected his father to appear. Jay had made h
is dad appear before, even though he had a bullet hole in his face. Jay could make healthy people die. Now he knew the boy could bring people back out of their graves. Archer remembered what really happened now to his father. Dad used to hit Mum. He made her face bleed the day the men came to the house. So I told them where Dad was hiding. I did that. I wanted Dad to be killed. I as good as murdered him myself. No one else knows I did that. I got away with it. But if his father returned? He’d get hold of Archer then enjoy exacting a painful revenge. Archer’s senses began to shut down as he sensed danger approach. This was his way of protecting himself. He detached himself from reality. At that moment he seemed to see himself as if he watched from a distance. There goes little Archer. He’s got stick-thin arms. He’s wearing green pyjamas. If he gets his face punched now, or his throat squeezed, it’s nothing to do with me. I won’t feel it. Because I’m not in Archer’s body.
Even so, Archer marvelled at the strange place Jay had taken him. The stone vault was several times bigger than a domestic garage. From the ceiling tree roots had grown through to hang down like monster tentacles. The place was full of spider webs. Spiders had even spun white shrouds over the car.
So why park a car here? He couldn’t even see an entrance to bring the vehicle in. Like me, the car’s a prisoner here. The eight-year-old approached it. Pulpy white bags adorned the tyres. Mushrooms? Archer sniffed. Indeed, an aroma of mushroom tainted the air. Paintwork had turned as dull as old rhino skin. Archer didn’t recognize the model. And why leave it sitting here in the underground vault?
Now curiosity got the better of Archer. He tried the door handle. For a moment it stuck. However, after a good tug the door opened with a squeal. And, pooh! The car smelt bad inside. Red fungus had grown out of the dashboard like fingertips pushing through the plastic from the other side. Archer slid on to the driving seat behind the wheel. Green gunge covered the windscreen. Spider webs covered the speedometer in a rippling white membrane. Weird. Why had Jay shown him this? An old car buried underground? Who’d be crazy enough to entomb their car? The cold air made him shiver.
The vehicle shifted on its springs. A suspension that hadn’t moved in years gave a deep groan. To Archer the sound embodied both pain and loneliness.
‘Jay,’ he whispered, ‘get me out of here. I don’t like it.’ But there was no Jay. Only him, frail young Archer with the face of a haggard adult. Creeping shivers advanced up his back. Alarm bells rang deep inside of him. Get out, Archer, they could have been saying. Get out fast. Something’s in here with you.
Rats, maybe. He looked down at his feet. They were pale blobs in the gloom. If rodents had made their home here they’d attack. He imagined the pain of rat teeth crunching into his bare toes. Although he couldn’t make out any animals he could see that the carpet had been messed with black stuff. He touched it with his toes. It was crusty. A bit like spilt soup that’d dried into carpet pile. Deeper shivers ran through him. Something was badly wrong with this place. Terror folded round him. He panted hard. White mist billowed from his mouth. Despite his growing sense of panic he noticed little details. Like a pen that lay in the black gunge on the carpet. In the compartment that normally held things like cups and sunglasses there were a handful of coins. Dead spiders lay on top of them.
Wait! The car rocked again on its suspension. Archer froze. He’d not been moving. So why did it move? Holding his breath, he didn’t twitch so much as a finger. Yet the car wobbled again. There’s someone in the back seat . . .
Jay? No, it wouldn’t be Jay. Jay’s gone. Without moving any other part of his body, as he sat there at the steering wheel, Archer’s eyes turned to the rear-view mirror. Despite a ghosting of spider web over the glass he could still see. Heart pounding, mouth dry, the boy watched as a dark, rounded shape rose upward from the seat. Watched as he saw the brown blanket that covered it begin to slip down. It seemed to take place in slow motion. Archer stared as the dull fabric slipped from the figure. He knew when that figure was finally revealed it would be too much for him. He couldn’t foresee a time ‘after’ its exposure. When he saw what had lain in the back seat for years there could be no future for him. Time would end.
The blanket slipped away in a cloud of dust. Swathes of black hair. The gaunt face. A mummy face. It had echoes of female beauty. But the flesh had shrivelled. Skin had cracked across high cheekbones. The mouth was a slit framed with black lips. White teeth glinted. As if it grinned with pleasure at finding this diminutive companion.
No longer alone . . . Someone to keep here for ever and ever. These thoughts slid through Archer’s head. At that moment the overload of terror produced a dreamy effect, as if he’d fallen into a doze. His eyelids grew heavy. All that existed now was the face framed with long black hair. She has no eyes . . . He gazed sleepily into a face that had a beautiful sculptural quality, only it had been sculpted from withered skin and bone. Instinct drove him to push open the door. In a moment he could walk away from the car. Where would he go? He didn’t know. But to simply get out of the car would be a start. Without taking his gaze from the mummified face in the rear-view mirror he slid sideways on the seat.
The moment he began to exit the car the creature in the back moved. A pair of scab-like eyelids snapped open to reveal a pair of bright eyes. They were a beautiful blue. Ocean blue on a summer’s day.
Archer gurgled with fear. He swung one leg out of the car. Then the creature struck. A pair of brown arms that were hard as polished wood lashed at him. Hands gripped his shoulders. With a cry of fear he was dragged back into the car by its monstrous occupant. The door slammed shut to seal him inside. Once more he tried to cut his senses off from reality, so he wouldn’t experience what happened next to him.
This time, however, he couldn’t retreat from the real world. With absolute clarity he saw that pair of bright – blazingly bright – blue eyes as the creature dragged him from the front of the car into the back seat.
Skin tingling, a luscious sense of relaxation pouring along his limbs, Victor Brodman lay on the bed. In the light of the lamp he saw Laura Parris smiling at him. Two hours of love-making had made her so young-looking. The cloud of exhaustion she’d brought with her to the island had been dispelled. A youthful glow transformed her into a woman of such beauty that Victor could only stare.
She murmured, ‘Does this island always make people do crazy things?’
He smiled as he stroked her hair. ‘What we just did was crazy? I rather liked it!’
‘Me, too. It’s just . . .’ She shrugged. ‘Even five hours ago I couldn’t imagine doing what we just did in a million years.’ She wriggled round so she could lie alongside him, skin to skin.
‘Feel good?’
‘I feel brand new again.’ Then she groaned.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘I’m going to have to take Max back to Badsworth Lodge tomorrow.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘He needs to be back in a familiar environment. If he doesn’t see his own things and sleep in his own bed he’ll never get better.’
Victor experienced a pang of anxiety. ‘You’ll come back?’
‘I can’t promise. I’m sorry.’
After that they lay there as the weight of real life, and all its pressures, settled back on to them once more.
In the car Archer fought for his life. All he could see were a pair of huge blue eyes. They burned with the ferocity of flames. He tried to scramble away but a hand gripped his wrist. A second hand pulled back his fingers that he’d bunched into a fist. Then a sharp object – a fingernail? A knife-blade? – was forced into the soft skin of his palm. It dug deep. A cruel pressure.
‘Stop it! You’re hurting!’
Those blue eyes burned without compassion. Swathes of cold hair from the skull flooded his face. Strands filled his mouth. His lungs burned as if he was drowning. The pain in his hand was incredible. It seemed as if a red-hot spike had been driven into the skin. With a desperate effort he twisted sideways.
<
br /> A breeze hissed through trees outside the bedroom window. Archer blinked. Glowing in the darkness, the clock radio read 2.17. In the post-midnight air an owl hooted.
The car? The dead woman? Archer desperately wanted to say it was a dream. Only he knew better. Jay had taken him to a real place. How, he didn’t know. Fear still rang through his body as if it was a bell sounding out doom-laden chimes. He sensed an impending disaster. What he’d experienced had been bad. It was only the start though. He was sure of that. When he switched on the bedside lamp he checked his arms for bruises. There was nothing there, yet his skin itched as if it had been touched by something unpleasant. When he put his hands under the sweaty pillow to turn it over in the hope the cool side would help relax him something pricked his finger. He recoiled, thinking an insect had stung him. When he checked he saw a bracelet in yellow metal. The chain had snapped so it presented a sharp piece of broken link. That must have been what pricked him.
With a shudder he remembered the woman driving a sharp object into the palm of his hand. It took a moment for him to pluck up courage. Eventually, however, he picked up the chain bracelet. Adorning it, a flat strip of gold. Black specks were unpleasantly stuck to it. Even so, when he held it to the light he could read what was engraved there. Ghorlan~Victor.
Thirteen
Victor Brodman carried Max’s bags to the jetty. Laura walked beside the boy. Max’s eyes glittered as if made of glass. Barbiturates damped down his jangled nerves. Yet his expression oozed nothing less than naked dread.
Victor tried to catch Laura’s eye. How long are you going to be away? Will you leave me your phone number? Can you come back soon? Did last night mean as much to you as it did to me? Will we be together again? These questions were the ones he longed to have answered. That morning he’d tried to grab a few words with her. But after a hurried departure in the early hours from his apartment at White Cross Farm Laura had been busy making arrangements to get Max back to Badsworth Lodge. If the boy put distance between himself and Jay maybe the panic attacks would abate. Some hope. From what Victor had gleaned, once Jay had done that thing of chanting a person’s name, like a mantra, then to all intents and purposes they were cursed. Of course it must be psychological, he told himself. Jay couldn’t have supernatural powers. However, if an individual believes they really are cursed then bad things generally follow.
