Twelve Minutes to Midnight

by Christopher Edge

  “You go back to Bedlam now,” she told him. “Administer a double dose to every patient.”

  The orderly blanched, the colour draining from his face in an instant.

  “But the last time I gave them all a double dose, one of the inmates died,” he protested. “If that happens again and I’m caught, they’ll string me up for murder.”

  Lady Cambridge was unmoved.

  “We’ve no time left to waste,” she told him. “Before the dawn rises, I want you to bring me back the final dispatches from the century to come.”

  She thrust the tray towards him and, with apelike fingers, Bradburn clumsily reached for the glass vials. He transferred them, one by one, from the tray to the folds of his overcoat pocket. As he worked, Penny crept forward in the gloom. Reaching the end of the row, she rested her hand against a shadowy filing cabinet and peered around it. She had to find out what was in those vials. The cloudy liquid inside each one shimmered like tiny teardrops as the glass vials clinked into place.

  Penny felt a prickling sensation on the back of her hand. Glancing down, she saw, with a sudden rush of horror, a large red-and-black spider crawling across her skin. As she flung out her hand in fear, its pointed fangs struck out, piercing her skin and pumping their venom in. A low moan escaped from Penny’s lips, the pain from the bite impossible to contain. Landing on the ground, the spider scurried back into the shadows, whilst Penny stood there swaying, her hand clinging to the cabinet for support.

  With a cold sweat soaking her brow, Penny could feel her muscles begin to twitch in spasm as the venom took hold. It felt as though a huge weight was pressing down on her from within. Her breath came in shallow juddering gasps as a creeping paralysis began to crawl through her veins. Penny could feel her arms, legs, even the muscles in her face stiffening as the poison spread. She tried to shuffle backwards, desperate to take refuge in the shadows until the feeling had passed, but her feet wouldn’t obey and she tumbled to the floor with a crash.

  “What in damnation was that?”

  Bradburn’s bark echoed through the basement. Frozen where she lay, Penny stared up helplessly as hurried footsteps approached and then Lady Cambridge and the orderly stood over her.

  “It’s that girl who was snooping around the hospital with Flinch,” Bradburn snarled. “That damned author must be around here somewhere.”

  Casting her cold eyes along the shadowy row of cabinets, Lady Cambridge shook her head. She stared down at Penelope, an unsettling smile fixed upon her face.

  “I think the girl has come alone. Miss Tredwell, isn’t it?”

  Penny could only nod her head mutely as the freezing paralysis crept across her lips. She watched with a growing sense of dread as the same large spider crawled down Lady Cambridge’s arm. Silhouetted against the sleeve of the cotton nightdress, its shiny black body was split by blood-red stripes. As the burly orderly edged away in revulsion, Lady Cambridge stood there unmoved, the spider finally nestling in the hollow of her open palm.

  “Latrodectus torperus,” she declared, stroking a finger along the back of the spider. “A rare arachnid of the black widow genus. You have nothing to be scared of, my dear,” she told Penny, leaning down to place a soothing hand on her feverish scalp. “Its bite is not fatal and the effects wear off in a matter of hours. Its venom merely induces a fast-acting paralysis, numbing the nerves and muscles until its victims cannot move an inch. So much more effective than a guard dog, I find.”

  A worried look flashed across Bradburn’s face.

  “If she’s not going to kick the bucket then how are we going to get rid of her?” he asked gruffly.

  Lady Cambridge took a step towards him, the spider still held in her palm. As the orderly tried to pull back in fear, she reached into his pocket and withdrew one of the glass vials.

  “Take her back to Bedlam with you,” she ordered as Bradburn’s scarred face flushed with relief. “A triple dose should be enough to tip her into madness. That will be the last we hear of Miss Penelope Tredwell.”

  Kneeling down on the floor beside Penelope, Lady Cambridge pulled the stopper from the neck of the vial. Inside the glass, the cloudy liquid swirled in the gloomy half-light.

  “In some ways I envy you,” she told Penny, as she prepared to pour the liquid into her mouth. “The dreams you will have, the wonders you will see.”

  Her mind trapped behind an expressionless mask, Penny’s thoughts raced in fear. She had finally discovered who was behind the sinister events at Bedlam, just in time to be dragged into the heart of the nightmare herself. As Lady Cambridge bent closer, the glinting vial held in her hand, Penny struggled to free herself. Every inch of her body trembled as she tried to escape, but the freezing paralysis held her tightly in its grasp. She strained to force a few words from her lips, desperate to ask the one question left in this mystery.

  “What is it?” she hissed through gritted teeth.

  Lady Cambridge raised an eyebrow in surprise.

  “My dear, you do have a hardy constitution for one so young,” she replied, the vial poised in mid-air. “This is the venom of a creature long-thought extinct. Architarbi somnerus – the dream-weaver spider. I discovered it in the depths of Africa. My husband and I encountered a remote tribe in Abyssinia who hunted and captured the spiders alive. Their medicine man extracted the venom and used it in the primitive ceremonies they’re so fond of over there. He claimed to us that drinking the venom brought him visions of the tribe’s future. He said that he had prophesied that we would come – that he had seen us before in his dreams and knew the fates that would befall us.”

  Lady Cambridge stared down at Penelope, the certainty of her smile suddenly chilling.

  “The medicine man told me that the spiders had been waiting for me – the woman who would weave their webs around the world. The Spider Lady – the keeper of their secrets. All I had to do was harvest from the minds of men the visions that the spiders’ venom revealed. Then I would wield a power greater than anyone had ever known. The future itself would be mine to tell.”

  She paused for a moment as if reliving the memory.

  “But the tribesman told me something else too,” Lady Cambridge confided, her eyes narrowing as she spoke. “He said that the spiders were dying out; the strange powers they held waning as the century drew to a close. He warned me that if I did not fulfil this prophecy by the day the twentieth century dawned, then the spiders would betray me and snare me forever in a nightmare. I only have until this New Year’s Eve to seize my destiny.”

  The thin line of Lady Cambridge’s smile hardened.

  “My husband thought this was all mumbo-jumbo, especially when the medicine man warned him that he would never leave the shores of Africa alive.” Her eyes glittered darkly. “He sadly passed away soon after this, but I brought a colony of dream-weaver spiders back with me to England. With these creatures at my command, I could read the pages of history before they were even written. There was only one drawback – anyone who drank the venom of the dream-maker spider was driven into the arms of madness. It seems that the constitutions of our fellow countrymen are not as resilient as those of the Abyssinian tribesmen.” She glanced up at Bradburn, the orderly still staring nervously at the black widow spider crouching in the shadows by her side. “So who better to bring me news of the world yet to come than those who are already mad?”

  As the vial hovered over her lips, Penny found the strength to whisper a final question.

  “Why?”

  Lady Cambridge shook her head scornfully as though she couldn’t believe Penelope’s foolishness.

  “We stand on the brink of a brand-new century – the last of the millennium. Why should we peer only inches into the future when we could see for miles? Soon, kings, queens, prime ministers and presidents will kneel at my feet to learn the secrets I hold. I can sell this knowledge to the highest bidder – even change the course of history with one touch of the tiller.”

  She tipped her hand, forcing the
open vial between Penny’s lips.

  “Now drink up, my dear,” she said with a terrible smile. “I want you to tell me my future.”

  Penny gagged as the foul-tasting liquid slipped down her throat, but Lady Cambridge kept the vial pressed tightly to her lips until every last drop was swallowed.

  “There there,” she breathed with a satisfied sigh. “Time to sleep, perchance to dream.”

  Penelope lay there frozen, unable to respond. Lady Cambridge’s voice echoed strangely in her mind, the words sounding as though they were coming from a great distance away. She watched powerlessly as Lady Cambridge rose to her feet, gathering her white shawl around her, and turning towards Bradburn.

  “Now get her back to Bedlam and bring me those papers.”

  Penny could feel her eyelids growing heavy, a darkness crowding in on all sides as the venom flowed through her veins. Her brain itched with the scurrying of a thousand tiny legs; her mind crawling with spiders. As the darkness overwhelmed her, the last thing Penny saw was Bradburn’s twisted face leaning closer, his monstrous hands reaching towards her.

  XVII

  Thick fog clung to the streets outside, dimming the light from the electric street lamps to a feeble glow. There was a frost in the air and heavy clouds scudded across the blackness of the sky. Alfie sheltered in the shadow of the grand house, his hands thrust deep into his jacket pockets against the chill. He peered anxiously into the gloom, his eyes fixed on the servants’ entrance that sheltered beneath the broad stone steps that led to the front door.

  Penny had said she’d only be in there for ten minutes – that was half an hour ago. Why had he let her talk him into this? It had been a lark following Bradburn through the streets of the city, hiding behind corners as he kept on his trail, but this was something else. This was breaking and entering – and the home of a Lady to boot! If they got caught it would be the reform school for the both of them or even worse.

  Alfie frowned. He had to go and get Penny out of there before she got them into real trouble. He took two steps forward, but then pressed himself against the wall as the sound of horses’ hooves and grating wheels clattered in the street outside. Glancing up in fear, Alfie peered into the darkness. Through a gap in the hedge, he saw a horse-drawn buggy come to a halt at the front of the house.

  He watched as the lone driver swung down from the high seat. For a moment, the burly man was framed in silhouette beneath a street lamp as he gathered together the two horses’ reins to tether them there. Then, he turned towards the house and Alfie saw Bradburn’s grim features glaring at him through the gloom.

  Alfie shrank back in the shadows, praying that the scar-faced orderly hadn’t seen him there. Squinting through the fog, he watched Bradburn push open the front gate and then bound up the stone steps that led to the front door. The orderly rapped twice on the knocker, his second knock answered by a light inside. His heart pounding in his chest, Alfie glanced back at the servants’ entrance, but the door there stayed firmly closed.

  “Penny, where are you?” he whispered beneath his breath.

  He heard the sound of the front door opening and, half-turning, Alfie saw Bradburn disappear inside. The door closed behind the orderly with a slam, the sudden noise unnaturally loud in the silence of the night. With mounting horror, Alfie watched as behind heavy curtains the lights in the house came on one by one. From the entrance hall to the drawing room, the tall windows stared out like dimly-lit eyes.

  Alfie was torn. There was no way he could try and get inside with what looked like half the house awake now. But with Bradburn on the scene, Penny was in real danger. He could only pray that she had found a place to hide. As a chill wind whipped around the side of the building, black thoughts raced through Alfie’s brain.

  He wasn’t sure how long he stood there for, half frozen between action and despair, when the sound of a door opening jerked his gaze back to the front of the house. Alfie saw Bradburn hurrying down the stone steps, a heavy bundle wrapped in a cloak slung across his shoulder. Pushing the gate open, the burly orderly stepped out into the street. As he approached the open carriage, the two horses pawed the ground nervously.

  Ignoring their whinnies, Bradburn hoisted the body-shaped bundle into the high seat of the buggy. As the brute turned to free the horses’ reins, Alfie saw the cloak slip from the face of the shrouded form. He gasped with horror as through wreaths of mist he saw Penny’s face, her features deathly pale. Before Alfie could even decide what to do, Bradburn had clambered up into the seat next to Penny.

  “Come on, my girl,” he growled. “Let’s get you back to the madhouse.”

  With a snarl, he snapped the whip above the horses’ heads and they set off at a gallop down the fog-bound street. Alfie raced to the gate as he watched the wheels of the carriage disappear into the mist. The sound of the horses’ hooves slowly faded into silence, taking all trace of Penny with them. What had they done to her?

  Penelope felt herself lifted through the air, her numbed body dangling loosely from the orderly’s arms. She couldn’t tell where she was being taken, her senses disorientated as the spiders in her mind began to spin their webs. Seconds became minutes, minutes bled into hours. Alone in the darkness, time had no meaning. Fragments of feeling broke free through the fog: a biting wind whipping across her face, the clatter of horses’ hooves and the babbling of voices. Let’s get you to the madhouse.

  Penny tried to cling on to these memories as the venom crept through her veins. They were the only things keeping her anchored to the real world as her mind slowly slipped away. She could feel herself teetering on the edge of a vast abyss – an infinite darkness criss-crossed with countless black silken threads. Penelope knew that if she fell, she would be gone forever.

  Fighting to keep her thoughts from the precipice, Penny felt herself lifted again. Rough hands grappled her to the ground, the cloak that had shrouded her falling away. Penny heard a rattle of keys and the slamming of doors and then she was dragged forward again, her legs scraping against the cold stone.

  “Another one for the padded cells.”

  The growl of Bradburn’s voice cut through her mind like a knife. Penelope struggled to free herself, but her limbs were frozen, useless. She felt herself pitched forward, her face sliding painfully against a polished floor as a second voice whined in reply.

  “You can’t bring her in here without the proper documents. What are you trying to do? Get me the sack?”

  Penny’s eyelids flickered open; the only part of her body that seemed able to answer the desperate pleas that her brain was sending. On the edge of her vision she could see Bradburn arguing with a second orderly, a pimply-faced youth who quailed beneath the older guard’s prodding finger. However, as Penelope’s eyes focused straight ahead, she saw the worn mask of a woman’s face staring back at her.

  The woman was staring through the bars of her cell, a tiny window that revealed a half-shadowed glance of her wrinkled features. Dark green eyes peered down at Penelope with a pitying gaze. Her face looked strangely familiar, and Penny tried to dredge the memory from the darkness of her mind. It was the patient who had stopped her in the corridors of Bedlam; the old-young woman with strange messages scratched across her skin.

  Penny tried to speak, her numbed lips struggling to shape the words.

  “Help me,” she whispered.

  The woman’s worn face creased in a bitter smile, revealing again the blackened stumps of her teeth.

  “It’s no good asking for help,” she hissed in reply. “Nobody listens. You’re one of us now.”

  She flinched away from the window with a shriek as Bradburn slammed his open palm against the door of her cell.

  “Be quiet!” he roared.

  Then Bradburn turned, reaching down towards Penelope with menacing hands. The second orderly had unlocked the door of the adjacent cell and Bradburn dragged Penny through this. In the dim light she could see the shadowy shapes of words stretching from the floor to the ceiling,
looping whirls of black ink and bloodstains scratched across the walls. A renewed sense of panic rose in Penelope’s chest. This was Fitzgerald’s cell – the patient who had died only days before.

  The burly orderly roughly laid her down on the cold, hard floor. Penny tried to move, her fingers twitching as the paralysis started to weaken, but then Bradburn grabbed hold of her face. With cruel fingers, he forced her mouth open, pressing the hard-edged rim of the glass vial to her lips. His voice rasped in her ear.

  “So you’re still awake, are you?” he growled. “Well, a triple dose of this will soon send you off to dreamland with the rest of the blighters in here.”

  The vile liquid slicked into her mouth, a trickle of it spilling from her lips and dripping down on to the cold, stone floor of the asylum cell. Inside Penelope’s mind, the spiders gathering there seethed in delight.

  As Bradburn turned away, slamming the door of the cell shut behind him, the spiders’ frenzied spinning began to draw Penny inexorably towards the edge of the precipice. Beneath this, the shimmering darkness of a vast silken web shivered in anticipation, waiting for her to fall.

  Monty muttered fearfully beneath his breath, the dark corridors of his dreams swiftly turning into a labyrinth. He ran without thought, blundering into the shadows as, all around him, a bedlam of voices called out his name. A hand grabbed at his shoulder and Monty turned in horror to find himself staring into the face of a nightmare.

  “Mr Maples! Mr Maples!”

  Monty woke with a spluttering start.

  “What! What!”

  The club steward stepped back in surprise. Around them in the saloon-room, the slumped shapes of a dozen sleeping forms shifted uneasily in their armchairs. In the dim light, Monty’s last drink lay half-finished on the table beside him.