by Guy Adams
"You'll have to buy a ticket," he said. "They can see you."
"But not you? Like the three of them back there? They had no idea you were creeping up on them did they?"
"I am Non Grata in these parts. Nobody sees me or hears me."
"One of the reasons you needed company I suppose?"
He nodded. "Now go and buy your ticket."
"Where shall I say I'm heading?"
"There's only one destination."
"How much is it? I left my money belt back at the camp."
"You don't pay with money."
"Shit-fire! I'm not going to like this am I?"
He shrugged and moved to the edge of the boardwalk to look out over the thick water.
Figuring I had little choice in the matter I walked up to the kiosk. On the other side of the dirty glass sat a small man in a striped vest. A cap covered his head, strands of white hair creeping out from beneath its tweed. As I drew closer he looked up at me, his eyes turned into giant, goggling spheres by the thick lenses of his spectacles.
"I'd like a ticket," I said, "for the... you know..."
He just nodded and pulled a stubby piece of card from a small drawer in front of him.
"What do you have to pay with?" he asked.
"How much does it cost?" He stared at me for a moment, though whether he was suspicious of me or just trying to decide what price he could get away with I couldn't tell.
"I need something precious," he said. "Something you cherish."
I thought for a moment, putting my hands in my pockets. "My watch?" I suggested.
"Time isn't precious," he said as I pulled it out of my vest pocket. "We have all we need of it down here."
I looked at the watch's face where the hands where moving around seemingly at random.
"What would you suggest?"
"You married?"
"Nope."
"Ever been in love?"
I thought about that. "I guess I've thought so, though nothing that ever stuck."
"What about the first girl you kissed?"
This line of questioning was getting a mite more personal than I had expected from my experience of travelling on ticketed transport.
"What about her?"
"You have kissed a girl then? Or boy? Whichever floats your boat. We don't give a donkey's dick which way you swing here."
"A girl," I said, quickly, trying not to seem too defensive.
"She got a name?"
"Course she does. Esme Heap."
"I hope she looked prettier than she sounds." I pictured her, remembering that hot afternoon behind the schoolhouse. I'd been following the trail of a snake, it's curved lines carved into the dusty floor like a child's drawing of the sea. I'd almost bumped right into her, not paying attention to where I was walking. She had been a few years older than me, cocky and sly. She always wore the kind of smile that made me nervous. It was the kind of smile I expected to see on something that wanted to take a bite out of me.
"If it ain't little Elwyn," she'd said, laughing a little and flicking up the hem of her skirts as if about to start dancing. "The quiet one. I like the quiet ones. They're full of secrets."
My first thought was to try and think of one I could offer her. "Rattlesnakes don't have ears," I told her. "They can tell when something's coming by feeling the ground move." I stamped my foot a little as if to prove the point.
"Well," she said, laughing loudly, "there's a thing to know."
I'd been encouraged by that, so much so in fact that I'd sat down next to her and told her everything I could remember about snakes. Looking back on it she must have thought I was the most boring kid in the world. Maybe that's why she kissed me, to shut me up. It worked. I was in shock as her face suddenly loomed at me, not really knowing what to do as she planted her lips on mine. Then her tongue pushed its way into my mouth and I thought of snakes again, tasting the air. I made to reciprocate but she'd already pulled back. "That's your prize for being a clever boy," she'd said, getting up and rustling her skirts again. "If you think of any better secrets I'll find you an even better prize." She gave me that scary smile again and ran off. I never dared talk to her again. I wanted the prizes she had to offer but was scared that I wouldn't know what to do with them when I got them.
"She was pretty enough," I told the man in the kiosk. He nodded and gave me a smile that reminded me of her. I wondered if he wanted to know anything about snakes.
"It's a nice memory?" he asked. "When you think about it do you get that mixture of excitement and discomfort? Regret but pleasure?"
I'd never thought about it that deeply but, now he'd come to mention it, I told him he was about right.
"Then that'll do."
He handed the ticket over.
"Oh, right then. Thanks."
I took the ticket and looked at it. In fancy writing it announced that I was entitled to pas sage on the Riverboat Clearsight.
"When's it due?" I asked, looking back up at him. He'd removed his cap to expose a ruptured cranium, like the split dome of an egg.
He scratched at the wet wound then looked at his hand, idly rubbing the dampness between his index and forefinger. "Who can ever tell? It shouldn't be long."
I decided not to comment on his exploration of his skull, just took my ticket and walked back over to where the old man was leaning against the boardwalk railings.
"Wasn't that difficult was it?" he said.
"No, he just wanted to know about a girl I used to know when I was a kid."
"Yes? What was special about her?"
I thought about that. "Couldn't tell you. I don't think I ever even talked to her."
He smiled. "It'll come back to you. A boat ticket is cheap, the payment doesn't last long." I had no idea what he was talking about at the time so just put the ticket in my pocket and looked out at the water. It was too dark to be able to see it clearly, it just looked like a thick black mass; there was the occasional slopping sound as something moved within it.
"What is it?" I asked. "It sure ain't water."
"You don't want to know. Boat's coming."
I looked up to see the huge shape of a paddle steamer cutting its way towards us. I was sure it hadn't been there before but that was no surprise, there was no point in expecting the expected here. The black smoke from its funnel pulled a fat line across the red sky, its paddles shining slightly in the pale light.
As it got closer the crowd on the boardwalk began to gather at the mouth of the jetty, pushing and shoving to be the first allowed onboard. The thing that was somewhere between a horse and a crab did its best to jostle against the crowds but someone fetched it a solid kick and it toppled off the jetty and into the water below.
"Rather you than me," I said, leaning over to watch as it fought to stay afloat in the thick liquid. Suddenly a pair of hands reached out from the water and latched onto it, pulling it down as it whinnied in fright.
"There's people in the water," I said.
"Ahuh," he agreed, "hungry people. But it ain't water."
As the paddleboat slowed to draw up alongside the jetty there was a dull cracking sound like lightning and I looked up to see a flash of white light in the sky. From this bright point a human figure appeared, tumbling through the crimson clouds and falling into the lake.
"Where's he come from?" I asked. "The lake is filled with souls who feel they deserve it," he said, "that's what keeps it so deep."
As the boat drew to a halt I noticed the blades of the paddle. They were sharp metal, stained with the gore they cut their way through. I looked over the side again and began to realise what it was we were planning on sailing on. 'It ain't water,' he'd said and I now imagined the thousands of bodies, reduced to thick liquid by the paddles as they cut and chopped on their journey.
"That's disgusting," I said. "What did they do to deserve that?"
"Nobody forces you to be part of The Bristle," said a voice from next to me, no doubt assuming I had been talking to them, my
companion unseen. "You wish yourself into the slopping tides, nobody does it for you." I looked to see who was speaking. It had a woman's voice but the scabbed face that peered out from within its cream-coloured hood could have belonged to either gender. "People are their own worst enemies aren't they? Begging to have their sins wiped clean with whip or blade or fire. Get over it, you were a shit head, that's what I say."
She smiled and her face cracked. I nodded and gestured for her to step onboard the boat ahead of me.
The man from the kiosk had come out of his booth to be joined by a couple of sailors from the boat. One was a normal looking man but for the length of his black beard which he tucked in his belt, the other glowed with the sort of pale green light you see on night insects.
They lowered the gangplank and began ushering people aboard, the man from the kiosk taking back the tickets he had only recently handed out and slipping them into his pocket.
"Careful who you talk too," said the old man, "most of them won't pay you any mind but you shouldn't trust the people you meet here." I nodded.
"We have a little business to conduct onboard but stick by me and I'll keep you on the straight and narrow."
I handed back my ticket, suddenly remembering the time I'd kissed Esme Heap behind the schoolhouse, and climbed onboard the Riverboat Clearlight.
Interlude Three
ONE MORE TO HELL
"THE DEVIL TOOK her," the girl had said and none of those gathered could summon the confidence to contradict her.
Billy turned to see that Elisabeth and her father had caught up with him.
"Someone should look after the girl," he said to her.
She smiled, though it was false, a pretty thing hung over a trap. "Indeed they should, but don't expect me to do it just because I'm a woman."
He sighed. "I didn't mean nothing by it."
"Of course you didn't." It was clear she didn't believe him.
Clarke had squatted down in front of the girl, taking her flapping hands and squeezing them in his own. "It's alright child. You just calm down, we'll find your mama for you."
Billy went over to examine the rocks, Elisabeth at his side.
"Blood," he whispered, looking at the thin red trail.
"Mama didn't go quietly."
"What did the Devil look like, my dear?" Lord Forset asked the child.
"Red," she said, "all over his face."
"But he was a man?" the Lord qualified. "He looked like a man, yes?"
She nodded. "But he was the devil, I know it." Billy turned to Lord Forset. "Can I borrow your rifle, sir? I'd feel more comfortable if I were armed."
"I'll come with you," said the peer.
"I'd rather you stayed here. No offence but I'll move quicker on my own."
Forset considered for a moment then handed the rifle over. "Now is not the time to argue, a woman's life is at stake."
"Thank you." Billy checked the rifle was loaded and accepted extra cartridges from Forset. "I'll do my best," he said to the crying girl.
He was halfway up the rough track between the rocks when he noticed Elisabeth was following. "I said I'd move quicker on my own."
"Haven't slowed you down so far, and, as my father said, now is not the time to argue.
Keep moving, I'm coming with you whether you like it or not."
Billy cursed under his breath but did as he was told.
He slung the rifle across his back so that he could use his hands to pull himself up through the rocks. The blood trail was fairly consistent, not so heavy as to suggest a fatal wound but steady enough to give him cause to doubt for the woman's longevity. Whatever—or rather, whoever, he wasn't about to believe this was the work of the Devil just yet—had taken her was dragging her behind them as they climbed.
"Whoever it is possesses a good deal of strength," he said to Elisabeth. "It's a fairly easy climb but not if you are dragging a woman behind you all the way."
He looked further up the mountain, hoping to catch a glimpse of their quarry. The light was beginning to fail now, as evening gave in to night, and the terrain was uneven, the trail winding through narrows all the way. The attacker had more than enough cover to keep them from view.
"You think he knows we're following?" asked Elisabeth.
"You'd think he'd guess it likely. The kid's scream could be heard for miles. Of course people were going to come running."
"I would have expected him to dump the woman and run."
"Yeah, makes you wonder what it is he wants her for."
"Maybe he knows them? It could be something personal."
"Kid didn't recognise him."
He waved at her to be quiet, stopping and listening for a moment. There was a scrabbling sound followed by a slow clatter of rocks.
"He's not too far ahead," said Billy, picking up the pace, almost running up the trail, leaping from rock to rock.
Elisabeth, much to her irritation, struggled to keep up with him. If she had had the good sense to wear a pair of trousers, she cursed, she'd be more than a match for him. She resolved to get changed on their return.
"Stay back," said Billy as she emerged onto a small plateau. He was stood a few feet ahead of her, his voice low and quiet. "You don't need to see this."
Whether she 'needed' to or not didn't matter one damn to Elisabeth who ignored his ad vice and stepped up alongside him.
The little girl's mother was lying on the face down on the rocks before them.
"Did she fall?" Elisabeth wondered, noting the spreading pool of blood, quite black in the twilight, that surrounded the body. "Or maybe he dropped her?" She moved closer but Billy put his hand on her arm. She shook it off. "Please Billy," she said, "you're terribly nice but if you keep insisting on attempts at gallantry we're going to fall out."
She turned over the body and it fell on its back with a sound like wet clothes being beaten against stone.
"She wasn't dropped," she said. "Rocks don't do that much damage."
Billy squatted on the other side. He looked down, suddenly realising he was treading in the woman's blood then realised there was little he could do about it, the pool had spread so far he could hardly not.
"Like an animal attack," he said, thinking back to the stories he's heard of an engine driver that had worked for the company. The man had left his cab to clear the carcass of a deer from the tracks ahead. As he had been pulling at the animal he had been set upon by wolves. His engineer had scared the animal away with his rifle but not soon enough to save the driver's life.
By the engineer's account—and it was a story he drank on for years—there had been little left of the driver but a pair of legs and some teeth.
He looked around them, unslinging the rifle in case something was bearing down on them.
"Up there," whispered Elisabeth, pointing to a distant silhouette of a man leaping across a narrow crevice further up the mountain. The figure appeared only for a moment, caught against the faint light left in the sky, and was then gone.
"He can't have done this," Billy said. "Nothing human could have done."
"'The Devil took her?'" Billy couldn't think of a reply.
Chapter Four
ACE HIGH
1.
THE BOAT WAS the biggest I'd ever set foot on. Three decks crammed full of passengers of all persuasions. The place rang out with the sound of a calliope, hurling its cheery melody into the air as if revelled in the sickness that surrounded it. No doubt it did, certainly my squeamishness was noticeably unusual amongst the other passengers who drank and caroused their way from deck to deck, cabin to cabin.
We aimed for the bar and I was sorely tempted to break the habit of a lifetime and take a drink. The old man had me order a bottle anyway so that he could partake. The bar staff all wore the same fixed smile—which sounds like one of those literary terms but I'm no Patrick Irish, I mean it literally—the smiles were fixed with hooks and nails, gaping lips yanked apart to reveal their teeth. I guess the owner took his custo
mer service seriously. I did my best to ignore them, turning instead towards the stage which was filled with dancing girls cavorting in so lewd a manner I couldn't take my eyes off them (while also being struck by a paralysing embarrassment. I was, you'll remember, something of an innocent back then). The troupe high-kicked to the piped dance numbers, revealing their naked under carriages to the eager whooping of the front row. My attention was caught in particular by a brunette left of centre, she was quite simply the most beautiful woman I'd ever set eyes on. Her hair in tight tresses, her eyes wild, she danced with such enthusiasm I was utterly swept away by her. The innocent boy inside me did his best to focus on her face, as if he were somehow insulting her to do likewise. He didn't always manage. I’d seen a hypnotist routine on stage once, a crusty old German with a pointy beard striking people brainless with the power of his 'magical mesmerism', leading them around as mindless puppets. He could have saved himself the effort; even at that young age I knew the surest way of making a man forget himself was to put a pair of jiggling titties in front of him. It reduces even the most intelligent specimen to the likes of a panting dog.
"Caught your eye has she?" the old man asked.
"Who?" I blustered, doing my best to feign innocence.
He took another mouthful of his drink. "You watch yourself boy, a woman like that is sure to eat you alive."
I shrugged in pretend indifference and went back to watching and dreaming my sordid little thoughts.
"It's a woman we're looking for," he said, "but you won't find her up there. If you can tear your eyes away she's likely to be on one of the gaming tables."
I pretended I was only too happy to leave, sparing one last glance towards the stage where I swore the girl tipped me a wink.
2.
WHILE THE BAR had been a raucous and carefree place, the casino took things more seriously.
Not that it was quiet, the room was huge, containing somewhere in the region of thirty or forty gaming tables. The call of bets, the spin of roulette wheels and the riffling of cards made a wall of sound that rivalled the calliope and cheering next door. The atmosphere was wholly different though, for every occasional cheer of celebration, most in the room wore masks of intense concentration, fear and anger. This was a place where fortunes were lost more than won.
