“Nice of him to introduce himself.”
“You need to do some reading up on the mythology of giants and the undead.”
“D’you think this has a connection to Cornwall?”
Congrave shook his head. “Unlikely. This happened in the north-east of Scotland, and the other is in the south-west of England.”
“Should we let them know?”
“No need to distract them. They have enough to concentrate on,” Congrave said.
***
Kramer took up a position on the edge of the patio. She kept her eyes up, concentrating on the windows of the upper floor. All she could see was the reflection of a cloud-flecked sky. No movement like before. No shadows darting from place to place. Still, she had a dry mouth and a feeling of tension in her gut that twisted her nerves to breaking point.
“Ready.”
Her eyes dropped for a moment. Geordie looked at her, waiting for the word to go. He, Tiny and Macca bracketed the open back door. The three of them would do the initial entry and sweep of the ground floor. Reuben and Kramer would only go in when they got the all clear. The top floor would be different. Kramer looked back up,searched for a sign of movement and saw nothing. She took a breath.
“Go!”
They entered almost silently. No shouting or shooting into corners. Kramer waved Reuben forward to the door as she glanced around the garden. The trees and shrubs that clustered close around the lawn seemed to edge closer as if they wanted to stalk and kill her.
“Jo?” Reuben called her name. “Ground floor is clear.”
With one final sweep of the garden, Kramer backed to the house. She pressed up against the wall, the rough surface of the stonework dug into her spine. There was something out in the trees. The foliage had a life of its own, moving in the opposite direction of the wind. The shadows breathed and merged.
“Jo?”
She glanced at Reuben. His eyes were wide, holding the same fear that filled her chest.
A head appeared between them and Kramer flinched as Geordie said, “What are you two hanging around out here for?”
Kramer shook her head, casting her doubts away. She followed Geordie into the house.
“We found more blood and skin in a games room,” Geordie said. “A lot of it. Some poor bastard died on the snooker table. It looks like whoever ate them thought it was a dining table.”
Macca and Tiny waited at the foot of the stairs, guns trained up.
“The girl was to the right,” Geordie reminded them. “Reuben, you come last and stop at the top. Tiny and Macca clear the rooms to the left. Me and Jo will do the right. Any backup for either pair comes from Reuben. Got it?”
“Got it,” Kramer said as the others nodded and grunted agreement.
“Right,” Geordie said, “let’s go find the horse-eating bastard that needs little girls to guard it.”
Kramer smiled and went up fourth in line. Macca led and didn’t hesitate at the top of the stairs. Neither did Tiny or Geordie. Kramer wished she could as she turned right.
The girl lay dead, huddled to one side of the corridor, the serpents wrapped around her in a comforting embrace. Geordie skipped past her, pointed at a door.
“Hit it.”
Kramer’s boot heel drove hard against the panel, next to the handle. As the door flew open, Geordie went through into a child’s bedroom. A boy’s, all football posters and dinosaur models. It smelt too, of death and decay. Kramer saw a ragged pattern of bloodstains on the bed and walls. Geordie turned and said, “Clear.”
Kramer led the way out. This time she pointed, Geordie kicked, and Kramer entered a bathroom. Easy to check. A perspex screen on the shower enclosure and little else other than a toilet, cabinets and a wall-mounted heated towel rail. Geordie led her out, Kramer more confident now. Empty rooms and dead bodies, she could cope with that.
They moved on, up the step that opened the original property into the extension.
Kramer heard a scream. Gunfire followed, loud in the confines of the house. She turned and dropped to one knee, sighting back down the corridor. Macca came out of a room, he fired two short bursts in through the door and then Tiny appeared. He stumbled, blood on his face and chest. Macca grabbed him, guiding the bigger man down the corridor. A figure came into view, a naked man with bloated, blackened flesh. Reuben put him down with a headshot that blew a rotten skull apart.
Kramer felt her hair stir as a breeze drifted passed. She shivered. Shit.
There were three of them. They spilled out of one bedroom and filled the corridor. Kramer scrambled away on her backside as they reached out to grab her. She caught a glimpse of their faces, stained dark by death. A man, a woman and a teenage boy. They moved fast, fingers snagging her clothing. Kramer saw Geordie doing a forward roll as she slid along the wall with fear bubbling into her throat. Geordie shot one down. The teenager fell and tangled with his parents. Kramer had time to get her gun up and switch it to fully automatic. The magazine emptied in seconds, kicking the walking corpses off their feet and filling the air with yellow liquid.
Kramer gagged on the stench.
Another figure appeared. An older woman wearing a tweed skirt and bloodstained blouse. Grandma. Kramer dropped her MP5A and grabbed the pistol at her waist. Geordie shot the woman for her. Three rounds through the chest and the old lady joined the others on the floor. Kramer reloaded. Tiny and Macca were at the top of the stairs.
“Do we want to do this?” Geordie asked.
“No choice,” Kramer said, “We need to clean this place.”
“You know I hate you.”
Kramer smiled. “No, you don’t. You live for this kind of stuff.”
Geordie looked back. “How’s Tiny?”
“Got a big gash on his head. One of those fuckers came out of a wardrobe. The door hit him.”
“Will he live?” Geordie asked.
“It hit his head. What do you think?” Macca said.
“Get him cleaned up. He can swap with Reuben. From now on we move together in one direction.”
They gave Macca two minutes to patch Tiny up and then moved into the extension area. Now they were more careful. Doors opened, and stun grenades led the way. Then either Geordie or Kramer. They shot holes in wardrobes and through beds and moved on. No more dead bodies or serpent girls. Kramer edged a little closer to relaxation. They returned past the stairway, and now Reuben and Macca took point. It gave Kramer a chance to take a peek at the guy Reuben had shot.
Definitely a dead man. And somewhere near rotting, with flesh that varied from a sickly yellow to black. She put her hand over her mouth and leant in close. Pus leaked out from the corner of the body’s eyes like tears.
He blinked.
Kramer gagged as the corpse’s mouth opened and breathed foul air into her face. She rose, put the muzzle of her gun against his face and blew his brains out. The other bodies moved. Limbs twitched as re-animated life returned to them. Kramer finished one and Geordie the other with close range head shots.
“Are we talking zombies?” Geordie asked.
“No,” Kramer said. “At least I don’t think so. They’re possessed dead.”
“That makes them fucking zombies as far as I’m concerned.”
Macca and Reuben returned. Macca took one look and said, “Did I volunteer for this?”
“Nah, I bribed you with a beer,” Geordie said. “What about the rest of the house?”
“All clear.” Reuben leant against one wall, looking as if he would puke at any moment.
“Think these are the horse-eaters?” Geordie asked Kramer.
“No,” Kramer said. “Whatever did that is still around.”
“But not in the house,” Geordie said.
“Outside,” Kramer said.
“Waiting for us?”
“Yeah.”
Geordie rubbed the scar on his face. “Is that why you and Reuben looked so spooked earlier? You knew something was out there.”
“In th
e trees at the edge of the garden,” Kramer said.
“Any idea what it is?”
“Something that eats horses.”
Geordie shook his head and went to check on Tiny. Reuben gave Kramer the kind of look that Scarrett often sent her way.
“Are you sure about this?” he asked.
“It’s why we’re here.” Kramer distracted herself by checking the load left in her MP5A.
Geordie came back. “We going?”
“Yeah.”
Kramer led them downstairs and into the kitchen. She stopped by the sink and looked out through a window into the garden. The trees still trembled to an unseen heartbeat. She heard Geordie mutter something about stupid ideas as he stood by the back door. Kramer turned the cold tap on and let it run for a few seconds before she filled a glass and had a drink to soften her dry throat. She kept her eyes on the small area of woodland. In the shade where sunlight died, a patch of darkness grew. It settled into a form that teased her vision and grew until it filled the highest branches. She tipped the remaining water away, rinsed the glass out and left it to dry on the drainer.
When she joined Geordie by the door, he said, “We could go out the front, drive half a mile down the road and call in an airstrike.”
“Don’t you want to see what ate those horses?”
“Course I do, but I’d rather not see it from the inside.”
“You want me to go first?” Kramer asked.
“Too right, I do,” Geordie said as he stepped back to allow her access to the door.
“Okay,” Kramer said and took a breath. “Tiny and Reuben, you got right. There’s a brick built barbeque at the end of the patio. Use that for cover. The rest of us go left across the lawn, and we head towards the tennis court.”
“And then?” Macca asked.
“And then we hope we don’t have to go into the trees to hunt this thing out.”
She opened the door and stepped out into warm sunshine. English weather could be beautiful in autumn if the sun came out and the wind died away, especially in a sheltered spot like this garden. Tiny and Reuben scampered to the barbeque, but Kramer took a slower pace, keeping an eye on the area of woodland as if she were out for an afternoon stroll. Geordie stayed at her shoulder, whistling a tune from some show that Kramer couldn’t remember.
She heard the creak and snap of a branch. The trees swayed in a way that sent a blizzard of yellow leaves towards the ground and exposed the upper canopy as a web of intertwining branches.
And in the middle of that network stood a giant.
No, not a giant. An ogre.
An ogre as tall as the trees. Thirty feet of flesh and blood covered in a thick coat of dark hair. It had a squashed, vaguely human face that turned towards them. A tusk-lined mouth opened, and roared.
Kramer heard Tiny and Reuben open fire as she shouted, “Run.”
***
Ben tracked Professor Ruth Clements down to a spacious bedroom converted to an office where she was the only occupant.
“Nice room,” Ben said as he dropped into a chair across the desk from Ruth.
“I’m not quite sure how I deserve it,” she said with a smile and pointed up at the ceiling.
Ben leant back and looked at the chandelier that hung above his head. He wondered how long it had been hanging there. “How do you clean something like that?” he asked.
“I think very carefully are the words you’re looking for,” Ruth laughed. “Now, Ben isn’t it, how can I help you?”
“Well, I needed to check out your security clearance before I came up here.”
“Oh?” Ruth sat back with a look of interest on her face.
“Level One,” Ben told her. “Which is good.”
“Why?”
Ben hesitated. Now he came to say it out loud, he wasn’t sure Ruth would believe him.
“You mentioned Aegir,” Ben said, “the ruler of the sea.”
“I did, and I saw a reaction from you and Douglas.”
“I’m not one-hundred-per-cent sure,” Ben said, “but I think I may have met him recently.”
A tiny frown dipped Ruth’s eyebrows down. She sat forward, resting her elbows on her desk. For a moment, she seemed lost for words. “Really?”
“I met a man who witnesses confirm died at sea six months ago. When I touched him, I was drawn into a vision of his death, how it had felt to him. A short time later he returned to the sea and seemed to change into a sea creature before he disappeared.”
“And the runic symbols?”
“I wrote them. Or at least my hand did. I didn’t have much influence. And no, I have no prior knowledge of runes. I thought they were stick men.”
Ruth laughed, “Stick men. I like it.”
“So I want to know more about Aegir and what you might think about the warning.”
“As I said, Aegir is the ruler of the sea according to Norse mythology. He’s married to Ran, and they have nine daughters, known as the waves. He is the son of Fornjotr and has two brothers, Logi and Kari, who represent fire and wind respectively. Aegir is also reputed to host parties for the gods where he brews cauldrons of ale for them.”
“So he’s a party animal?” Ben asked.
“So they say.”
“So why is he on land warning about giants and the undead?”
“Perhaps it wasn’t Aegir,” Ruth suggested.
“He signed the message.”
“Disinformation?”
“Wow.” Ben sat back in his chair. “Things are getting complicated when dead guys pretend to be sea gods to put one over on us.”
“The fact the warning specified creatures in Norse terms suggests you are correct that this was Aegir. What you need to do is find him again and ask why.”
“I’d rather not,” Ben said. “This was the north of Scotland. It was cold and wet.”
“In that case, we will have to wait and see what transpires,” Ruth said.
“Can you do some more research for me? See if there are any reports of strange events in other parts of Europe? I’m thinking maybe Scandinavian countries. If Aegir possessed this man, maybe he’s popping up in more than one place.”
“I’ll ask around some of my contacts,” Ruth said. “Life’s a little dull since I’m not allowed to go to Cornwall.”
“You wouldn’t like it,” Ben said.
“You’ve been there then?”
“Yeah, took a look in the Anomaly but it’s all dry and dusty. It’s also pretty dull down there with the military in control. Nothing exciting is happening.”
“In that case, I will look into Norse connections,” Ruth said.
“Thanks.”
Ben stood, took another careful look at the chandelier, and left the room. In the corridor, he paused and pulled out his phone. He’d been avoiding calling Kramer. She could be pretty harsh sometimes and the longer the time went for him to return her calls made her anger likely to rise exponentially. But he couldn’t put it off forever. He wandered down to a turn in the corridor where what looked like a Georgian chair had been placed next to a west facing window. Sitting down, Ben stretched his legs out and called Kramer’s number. As the phone rang, he looked out across the grounds of Sheddlestone Hall and thought how peaceful they looked.
***
Kramer ran towards the stable block. The ground trembled beneath her feet as the giant ogre stepped out of the woodland. The crackle of gunfire made her risk a glance back. Geordie paced her, running on the grass as she ran on the gravel path. Macca had stopped. He fired short bursts at the giant, but Kramer knew the rounds would be nothing more than insect bites.
“This way!” Geordie shouted as he angled across the lawn towards the trees.
Kramer guessed his idea was to hide in there away from the ogre. She ignored him. The stables were close enough now that she slowed and looked back again.
Macca ran along the path, and the giant saw his movement and followed it with his sunken eyes. The ogre moved, a huge strid
e took him close to Macca, and he reached down. Kramer lifted her gun and opened fire. Pinpricks appeared on the ogre’s cheek. It snarled and brushed at its face, giving Macca a few yards to reach Kramer.
He never made it. The giant’s hand came down again in a single sweep. Fingers as thick as tree trunks lifted him into the air. He tumbled through the air, passing over her head. She traced the path he made until he vanished from view as he fell into the stables. Kramer heard the impact, Macca’s scream of pain and the crunch of breaking bones.
Kramer’s feet wouldn’t move. The beast stared at her, dark piggy eyes that blinked once as he sniffed the air. She tried to remember what scent she’d put on that morning. If any. Could the thing see her if she stood still? She felt like a small child again, playing hide and seek with a grown-up. If she closed her eyes, then it wouldn’t see her, would it?
Wrong.
She took a step back. Long, slow and careful. Another, trying to gauge how far from the stables she was. A quick dash would see her inside one, hidden from view. The ogre grunted, filling the air with a stale, dead meat smell that made Kramer’s stomach turn. If she ever needed any more evidence that this was the thing that ate the horses then there it was.
Kramer turned and ran half a dozen short steps to the yard and then a few more, and she threw herself into the first stall. She fell into a mess of straw, the overpowering smell of horseshit filling her lungs. Kramer scrambled to her feet and found refuge in the furthest corner, with shadows and cobwebs for company she looked back as something huge blocked out the sunlight. That was when she realised the stall might not have been the smartest place to hide in. Jesus.
Fetid breath filled the air. Kramer braced the MP5A to her shoulder. She waited, counting the seconds. Either it came for her, or it didn’t. She had nowhere to run to now. The building rocked on its foundations. A sound like an out of tune orchestra came from the roof as the timber and tiles sagged. Dust fluttered down.
She heard muted gunshots. Daylight returned, the ogre turning to find the source of the noise. Kramer sank to the concrete floor, her back pressing against the wall. Part of the roof had fractured, and she could see bright sky through the gaps. Another few seconds and it would have been down on her.
The Anomaly (Scarrett & Kramer Book 2) Page 7
