Shadows Fall

by Simon R. Green

  He looked at the row of half a dozen telephones before him, and shook his head slowly. He’d ring in the morning. He looked about him for his jotter pad, to make a note, and his gaze stumbled over the stack of papers he’d pushed to one side some time ago. They didn’t matter. Just a bunch of reports, and since they weren’t concerned with the murders, they didn’t matter at all. He picked up the top report so he could officially sneer at it. Apparently Lester Gold had been seen in town wearing his old Mystery Avenger outfit. Stapled to the page was another report that other superheroes and costumed adventurers were turning up all over the town, some new and some out of retirement, as though in response to some unspoken need in the community. Great. Just what he needed. A bunch of well-meaning amateurs and old men in tights and cloaks with no colour sense, getting in the way and messing things up. He picked up the whole stack of papers and slammed them down on the letter spike.

  One of the phones rang, and he looked at it stupidly. Whoever it was, they shouldn’t be ringing him. He wasn’t supposed to be here at this hour, and anyway, he didn’t feel like talking to anyone. The dispatcher should have known better than to put the call through. The phone persisted, the ringing shrill and piercing, and in the end Erikson picked up the receiver just to make it shut up.

  “Sheriff Erikson, and this had better be important.”

  “Deputy Briers, Chief. We’ve got problems. We’ve been getting reports on disturbances from all over town. I’m heading out to Darkacre, and Collins and Lewis are over at Mansion Heights. We’re getting reports on fires, fighting, even explosions. It all sounds pretty ugly. What’s that? Wait a minute, Chief, someone’s trying to… what?”

  The voice broke off abruptly, but Erikson could hear another voice gabbling excitedly in the background. He squeezed his eyes shut, and tried to concentrate on what the Deputy had been saying. Disturbances? What did he mean, disturbances? Briers’s voice came back again suddenly, hurried and perhaps just a little panicked.

  “Sorry, Chief, I’m going to have to go. Things are getting out of hand here. I can see flames on the horizon. Word’s coming through of open fighting in the streets, even people killed. Fire-fighters and ambulances have been contacted, but there’ve been so many emergency calls we might have to just sit tight and take a number. You’d better get out here, Chief. Things are going to hell in a hurry.”

  The Deputy broke the connection without waiting for an answer. Erikson had only just started to replace the receiver when the phone next to it rang. This time it was Deputy Hendry, out in the Haymeadow suburbs. More disturbances, damage to buildings, people hurt. Another phone rang, and another. Disturbances, more disturbances. People with guns, shooting in the streets, tanks and troop carriers heading in from the outskirts. Erikson tried desperately to make sense of it all, the alcohol still clouding his mind. He tried to get details of what was happening, but the Deputies, like the town, had been taken by surprise. He was trying to calm one man down and get him to talk coherently when there was the sudden sound of an explosion in the background, followed by screams. Another explosion, louder, and the phone went dead.

  Erikson looked at the receiver in his hand, and shook it, as though trying to persuade it to work again, but the lines stayed dead. He put the receiver down slowly, staring at the suddenly silent phones. His town was under attack. The whole damn town. He tried to think what to do, and the whisky swirled through his thoughts, thick and heavy and confused.

  —

  Polly Cousins carefully made her way down the narrow, dimly-lit steps that were the only entry to the Cavern. The cellar club didn’t believe in fripperies like easy access and exterior lighting. The door finally loomed up before her, and swung open as she approached it. Harsh light spilled out into the gloom, blocked off almost immediately by the huge form of a bouncer apparently descended directly from King Kong. And not descended all that far, either. He was easily seven feet tall, and seemed almost as broad across the shoulders. He looked Polly over carefully, just to be sure she wasn’t carrying any visible weapons, and then stepped reluctantly back to let her in. Polly strode past him with her nose in the air, and her hands clenched into fists at her sides to keep them from shaking.

  It had been a long time since she’d last been at the Cavern; a long time since she’d been able to leave the house at all. But now all her personalities had merged again, she was going to celebrate if it killed her. She’d spent most of the day travelling round the town, getting to know places again, and trying to get some kind of control over her nerves. No; nerves was the wrong word. She’d been scared. Sick to the stomach, trembling-in-every-limb scared. It had taken several hours, but she finally had her nerves under control. She felt only a mild terror now at the thought of her first date in years. It helped that she’d arranged to meet James Hart in the Cavern. She’d spent some happy times here, when she was younger and her life was still her own.

  She stopped abruptly in front of a wall mirror just before the main door. She looked good. She was dressed in long flowing black, with heavy eye-makeup and black fingernails, and looked the quintessential Goth. The Gothic look had been very in the last time she’d been here, which only went to show how long it had been. She was still fashionably thin, and dressed in her best she looked several years younger than the troubled stranger she was used to seeing looking back out of mirrors. At least, she hoped she did. She wanted to look her best for James. She lifted her chin again, pushed open the main door and strode determinedly into the club.

  Loud and vibrant music washed over her, along with the roar of massed voices, stopping her in her tracks. The air was thick with mingled smoke, incense and company, and she looked desperately about her for something familiar. Luckily the bar was close at hand. She made her way through the crush, ordered a large drink, and then steeled herself to look about her. The Cavern looked very sixties tonight, but then it always had. In two golden cages hanging from the ceiling, two go-go dancers in feather bikinis were frugging energetically to the music of the live band. Down below, the happy crowd were bopping enthusiastically to the beat, dressed in a clashing collection of fashions. Waitresses moved unhurriedly between the tables at the far left, wearing low-cut blouses, leather mini-skirts and knee-high boots. A tall and slender man strode out of the crowd with a girl on each arm, smiling at everyone. He was wearing the bright red military coat of the Chelsea Pensioners, and a pair of ridiculously narrow sunglasses. Polly had to smile. Very Penny Lane. Very Sergeant Pepper. It occurred to her that most of the young people currently dancing their hearts out before her probably wouldn’t even recognize the references, but she refused to allow the thought to depress her. Her drink finally arrived, though when she heard the price she nearly sent it back. She’d forgotten how pricey club drinks were. She smiled thinly. It seemed some things hadn’t changed while she’d been gone. She sipped at her drink resignedly, and looked about her for James Hart.

  She was on time, but she hadn’t spotted him yet in the crush of bodies. She hoped he wasn’t the sort who deliberately arrived late, so that his date would, theoretically, be all the more eager to see him. She wasn’t sure her courage would hold together much longer, drink or no drink. Her heart was all but kicking its way out of her chest. Suzanne Dubois was supposed to be here somewhere, to give her moral support, but there was no sign of her anywhere either. Polly looked about her, keeping a firm rein on her emotions. Her gaze stumbled across a group of Beats sitting around a table, all wearing heavy duffel coats and dark glasses, despite the gloom. They huddled together as if for comfort, trying to look cool and waving books of privately printed poetry at each other. No one was paying them any attention, which was probably what they were looking so annoyed about. Sitting at the next table were a bunch of slightly faded-looking hippies; all wide eyes and dreamy smiles, long hair and flower power. The Cavern was heavily into the sixties tonight, though there was a fair sprinkling of other times and fashions to be seen.

  And then James Hart was suddenly there
before her, appearing out of the crowd in an instant. He smiled at her easily, and she smiled back, suddenly so nervous again she was practically hyperventilating. They shook hands rather formally, and Polly realized he was just as nervous as she was, which made her feel a whole lot better.

  “Nice place you suggested,” said Hart, leaning forward and raising his voice to be heard over the hubbub. “You’ve nearly finished that drink. Would you like another?”

  “Peach brandy and lemonade,” said Polly automatically. She drained her glass and handed it to him, and he weaved through the crush at the bar with practised ease. He caught the barman’s eye and ordered her drink and one for himself. Polly was quietly impressed. She’d never been able to catch a barman’s eye that easily, unless the bar was deserted and she was all but clinging to the man’s shirt-front. She hadn’t really wanted a second drink so soon, but she hadn’t wanted to turn James down and appear stuffy. She shook her head angrily. She’d been living alone too long; her social skills had atrophied through lack of use. The evening was going to be a disaster; she could feel it. Panic ran through her like a lightning bolt, and it was all she could do to stand her ground and not run screaming from the club. She clamped down hard. James wouldn’t let the evening go wrong. She didn’t know why, but she trusted him.

  Hart paid for the drinks with only the slightest wince, and glanced back at Polly. She was staring out at the dance floor, apparently lost in thought. She’d been a bit nervous when they met, he could tell, but she seemed to have calmed down now. She was bound to be finding this difficult, after so long in enforced isolation. He’d just have to be extra understanding, and make things as easy for her as he could. After all, she couldn’t be as nervous as he was. He’d never been very good on first dates. He’d actually got here half an hour early, so he could check the place out. He never felt comfortable in a new place until he’d had a good prowl round. He needed to know what the bar was like, and where the toilets were. Things like that.

  He was glad to see Polly again. She looked great. The outfit was a bit extreme, but he’d seen worse. She certainly seemed younger and more at ease now that she was out of the house and away from its influence. Hart was only too aware that he was wearing the same clothes he’d been travelling in all week. He’d set out on his search for Shadows Fall pretty much on impulse. He hadn’t bothered to pack a suitcase, just dumped a few things in an overnight bag. The more he thought about it, the less like an impulse his departure seemed, and more like a response to some hidden instruction, as though Shadows Fall had been taking over his life even then. It hadn’t bothered him before, but now he wished he’d taken the time to pack some decent clothes. He wanted to look his best for Polly. She deserved the best he had to offer. He realized he’d been standing there with the drinks in his hands for some time now, and hurried over to give Polly her peach brandy and lemonade. He winced mentally. How she could drink the stuff was beyond him. They stood together, smiling at each other over their drinks, neither of them sure what to do or say next.

  There were a lot of things Hart would have liked to discuss with Polly. His talk with Old Father Time was still ricocheting around inside him, unable to settle. He had to talk it out with someone soon, or he’d explode. And yet part of him wanted to forget it all, bury it so deep he’d never have to look at it again, so he could concentrate on having a good time with Polly. He desperately wanted to feel normal and ordinary, even though his relationship to Time suggested he wasn’t, and never had been. To distract himself he looked around for a free table, and then double-taked as he took in the live band for the first time. He turned to Polly, who followed his gaze and then shrugged smiling.

  “Oh, they often turn up here,” she said off-handly. “The place wouldn’t be the same without them.”

  “But I thought… I mean; they’re all dead, aren’t they? They all died in that plane crash…”

  “Being dead’s no handicap in Shadows Fall. We’re not prejudiced. People believed in them once, and that’s all that matters.”

  Sitting at a table hidden in the shadows of a far corner, Suzanne Dubois kept a sharp if unobtrusive eye on Polly and Hart, just to be sure everything was going all right. She wasn’t sure what she was going to do if she decided they weren’t, but she’d promised Polly she’d be there for her, and a promise was a promise. Suzanne didn’t normally keep promises, on principle, on the grounds that they made her predictable, but that just made this one all the more important. She took her eyes off Polly and Hart just long enough for a quick look round, and shuddered fastidiously. She didn’t think much of the Cavern, and never had. Nostalgia was all very well, but it wasn’t what it was. Suzanne believed very firmly in living in the present, and occasionally the future, through her Cards. Never look back, she was wont to say, especially after a few drinks. All you see are the mistakes you made; and catching up on you, as like as not. She was wearing her usual mixture of fashion and tat, thrown together with more haste than style. She didn’t believe in dressing up, or down, for the occasion. Take me as I am. What you see is what you get. Suzanne was full of little sayings like that, mostly to hide the fact that she had long ago given up trying to make a good first impression. It just wasn’t in her.

  She looked fondly at the man sitting beside her. One good thing about going out with Sean Morrison was that whatever you were wearing, it was bound to look good compared to him. He was wearing his usual T-shirt, jeans and leather jacket, all of which looked as though someone else had slept in them, and had an extremely restless night as well. Sean had never been known to give a damn. He always maintained he had more important things to consider than the vagaries of fashion. Suzanne was pretty sure this was just a mask for a total lack of taste, but she kept a diplomatic silence. At the moment he was watching her watching Polly and Hart. She could feel his eyes on the back of her neck. She turned back to face him, and he smiled at her, his expression half amused and half exasperated.

  “You know,” he said calmly, “when you called me up and said you needed my company this evening, this wasn’t quite what I had in mind.”

  “Sorry,” said Suzanne, “but I want everything to go right tonight. Polly’s had a lot of bad luck in her life, and she’s entitled to a little happiness. She’s going to have a good time tonight, or someone’s going to suffer.”

  “And you think she’s going to find happiness with the mysterious and enigmatic James Hart? I don’t want to worry you, Suze, but from what I’ve heard he’s not exactly Prince Charming. Word is, the guy is downright spooky. Though truth be told, he doesn’t actually look like much. I was expecting someone taller.”

  “You’re in a bad mood tonight, Sean. What’s got under your skin?”

  “Nothing much. I just talked the Faerie into leaving their land beneath the hill, to come here and help hunt down our murderer. Only it’s been ages, and I haven’t seen sight nor sound of any of them yet. They’re up to something, and I have a strong feeling that when I find out what it is, I’m not going to like it at all. When the Faerie start plotting, the only sensible thing to do is keep your head down and run for cover. I have a strong feeling bordering on certainty that I have unleashed a hurricane. And everyone is going to blame me for the storm damage.” He broke off as Suzanne sneaked another look at Polly and Hart. “Look, what exactly are you planning to do, Suze? Wait for him to say something that upsets Polly, and then rush over and pound on him? Leave them be. They’re both well over twenty-one, and quite capable of looking after themselves.”

  “You’re quite right,” said Suzanne. “Talk to me, Sean. Distract me.”

  “All right. What happened to your current beau; the teenage guitar wonder? Isn’t he allowed out this late, or did he have some homework to do?”

  “You are going to suffer for that,” said Suzanne sweetly. “Suffer long and horribly. He’s currently off sulking with his friends because I didn’t recognize his tortured genius. Or at least I got tired of hearing him talk about it. Punks can be a lot
of fun, but they do tend to be terribly single-minded. If it was sex I wouldn’t mind, but he will keep going on about his music… If that was what I was interested in, I’d buy a musical dildo. I’m not worried. He’ll be back. They always come back. Even you, Sean.”

  “Are you implying that I’m easy?” said Morrison, raising an eyebrow haughtily.

  “Perish the thought.”

  “I saw Ambrose the other day,” said Morrison, casually. “He was doing his eye of newt and tongue of dog bit for some visiting Japanese businessmen. He’s done very well since he moved into Exchange and Securities.”

  “Oh, I’ve still got a soft spot for Ambrose; it’s a deep marsh just outside town. One of these days Ambrose and I are going to pay it a visit, along with something heavy to weight him down. Never forget, Sean; I left him, not the other way round. We should never have got married in the first place, but you do these things when you’re young and stupid, and don’t understand the difference between love and sex.”

  Hart and Polly sat companionably together at a table comfortably far away from the band and the dancers, nursing their drinks and trying not to think about the things that really concerned them.

  “So,” said Polly brightly. “What have you found out about your background?”

  “More than I bargained for. It’s… complicated. What’s your father doing, now he’s back in the land of the living?”

  “Trying to catch up on everything that’s happened since he… left. Shadows Fall has changed a lot in the past few years. Where’s your Friend?”