“So at this point, Alex Senior was still alive?” asked Coral. She was watching the guard’s face for sign of deception.
“He was,” agreed Godle, “though he was something awful to look at. His face was swollen and turning purple, and he started to foam at the mouth. We’ve all been trained on protocol, though, and I knew his only chance was to get him directly to the medical station and to the health and safety member on duty that night. Their training in all areas medical surpasses my own scant knowledge.”
“As it happens, Mr. Godle, we’ve just come from this first aid station ourselves. Let me tell you, I was very impressed. I see the Pottys spared no expense on this plant. That first aid station really isn’t a station at all, is it? It’s more like a medical lab.”
“Oh, quite right, ma’am,” agreed Godle. “As I said, his best chance of survival lay within that chamber. They have all of the latest medical machines in there; shower, eye washing station, poison control station.”
“Eye washing station?” asked Frank.
“Yes,” agreed Godle. “Some of the workers have to deal with harsh chemicals in the lower levels. You never know when someone will need to wash out their eyes or be decontaminated.”
“And yet none of this equipment was useful on that night,” stated Coral.
Godle shook his head sadly. “Bad circumstance, ma’am.”
“Oh?”
“Yes ma’am. You see, it took me less than a minute to wheel the old man down to the station. Thing is, the first aid attendant had been up at the party himself. He was outside having a cigar with a colleague and missed the whole beating. I can’t help but think, had he been in the room, maybe there was something he could have done for the old man. By the time I got half way back to the lunchroom, the attendant was rushing down the hall to find us. Regrettably, when we got back to Potty, he had expired.”
“You left the old man alone?” exclaimed Frank.
Godle’s head snapped around and he glared at Frank. “What did you expect me to do?” he asked hotly. “I already told you, I don’t know how to use those machines. It was the health and safety member’s job to be there in case of an emergency. When he wasn’t there, I panicked. I knew I needed his medical expertise. Besides, no one was in that room; I cleared it.” Godle swallowed, as if uncertain for the first time that he had followed procedure. “I wasn’t gone forty-five seconds before the attendant and I returned to the body,” he finished resolutely.
Coral reached over and touched his hand, again. “You did the right thing, Mr. Godle,” she said, reaffirming his decision. “And when the two of you returned, Mr. Potty was dead?”
“Dead as a doornail,” agreed Godle. He pushed himself up from the bench seat and grabbed his garbage from atop the table. “It turns my stomach to think of it. It was no way to die, that’s for sure.”
“And you yourself attempted no medical intervention on Mr. Potty before or after hooking up with Mr. Mathias the health and safety member?
“I already told you no, didn’t I?” said Godle, sounding displeased.
“At any time, did you leave Mr. Mathias alone with the body?” asked Coral.
“No,” said Godle, frowning. “We were both there when the police arrived.”
Coral nodded and then looked up from her notepad. “You didn’t, by chance, happen to see Mr. Mathias inject Mr. Potty with any medicines in an attempt to save the old man, did you?”
Godle hesitated as if reflecting, then shrugged. “No, he did not. He cleaned up Mr. Potty’s mouth, listened for the old man’s breathing, checked for a pulse, and then confirmed what we both already knew: the old man was dead.”
Frank nodded in agreement and pushed himself off the guardhouse wall. “Thanks again for your time,” he said to Godle. The guard nodded and stepped over the bench seat. “I think we should get some lunch ourselves, I’m starving,” confided the minotaur to Coral.
“I could eat,” replied Coral absentmindedly. “Ah, Mr. Godle,” she called, stopping the guard as he was about to round the corner of the building, “just one more thing.” Godle turned. “I was wondering, because I didn’t see it in the report, and you didn’t mention it, now...”
“What’s that?” interrupted the portly man.
“The stall door, Mr. Godle. When you entered the medical station, you said you cleared the room, but you didn’t mention the shower stall.”
Godle looked confused and scratched at his neck. “No one was down there,” he said.
“I feel silly for mentioning it,” said Coral, extricating herself from the table and approaching the guard. Frank watched the pair of them, uncertain of where this was headed. “It’s just that I noticed the shower stall when we were inside the facility earlier. Most of us humble Deep Cove folk aren’t used to such luxuriant privacy. The shower stall, I noted, has a door on it?”
“Yes,” agreed Godle, “They all do.”
“Well, I was just wondering if that door was open or closed when you cleared the room, and likewise when you came back to the body.”
“Closed of course,” said Godle. “They all swing closed on their own. They’re always closed.”
“Did you check it for an occupant?” asked Coral, without blinking.
“No, I did not,” admitted Godle. He puffed out his chest getting defensive again. “There was no need, I could see under the stall door, and there were no feet in there. Besides, who in their right mind would stay hidden in there?”
Coral shrugged. “Someone who was scared they would get a beating themselves,” she said, scratching another note in her pad. “Or the killer.”
“Now, just a minute lady, if you’re suggesting I was careless in my duties…” Godle’s face turned red, his cheeks quivering.
“Never!” exclaimed Coral. “You could see there were no feet. The man was dying, and you did your best to save him. I commend you, Mr. Godle.”
Godle seemed as if he might say more, but then collected himself. “If that’s all, then?” he mumbled, and turned away.
Frank approached Coral, watching as the guard went back inside. “Do you think it’s possible?”
“I doubt it,” said Coral, snapping her notebook closed. “It’s more likely that one of those two is lying.” She smiled at Frank. “Let’s get you some lunch before you fade away.”
“Yes,” agreed Frank, rubbing his midsection. “I get cranky when I don’t eat.”
8
Night Terrors
Garrett was sweating heavily as he wended his way through the forest. Overhead, the full moon had broken free of the cloud cover. He would have preferred the darkness to escape the men pursuing them, but at the same time, he didn’t want that thing sneaking up on them in the blackness.
Willie moaned and shifted his weight on Garrett’s shoulder. The younger man set his ward down and used the opportunity to scan the surrounding woods. If he didn’t know better, he would have assumed it was just another moonlit night in the forest. He shuddered and leaned in over Willie when the older man grunted.
“My bow,” wheezed Willie.
For the first time, Garrett noticed the absence of the Impaler. “It’s gone,” he whispered harshly. “We need to get out of here.”
“I can’t leave her.” Willie shuddered and made as if to crawl into the woods.
“Calm down,” urged Garrett, placing a hand on his friend’s leg. “You must have dropped the Impaler when they set on you. Do you have any idea who those men were?”
Willie did not reply, his labored breathing was loud in the otherwise silent woods. At last, he rolled onto his side as if he was going to sit up. He groaned with pain and dropped back down overwhelmed. “My bow,” he repeated weakly.
“Damn it,” swore Garrett. The last thing he wanted to do was return to the clearing where the beast had attacked. “Don’t move,” he warned, despite the fact he knew Willie wouldn’t get five feet on his own. Spinning on his heel, he sprinted down the trail toward the rocky outcrop.
Halfway down the hill, he came across a downed maple that had been uprooted in a windstorm. He stopped at the tree and snapped off a five foot limb that could be used as a club. He knew it was scant protection against the men, and no protection against the beast, but somehow he felt better carrying a weapon. As he neared Willie’s previous watch, he slowed and his senses – which were already on high alert – kicked up to an all new level. Each footstep was controlled and set down with purpose. Heel down, followed by toe. If he felt a twig or obstacle under his boot, he would shift his weight and move the foot to a secure placement. If a leafy branch was about to brush up against him, he either ducked to avoid it or guided it silently away from his body. Soundlessly he climbed his way up into the boulders where Willie had been seated.
He stayed low to the ground, cursing the light of the moon as he left the darkness of the woods and entered the open. His ears strained to catch any sound of the foraging beast, but there was only the noise of the distant creek to be heard. Coming to a cluster of boulders on the crest of the outlook, he found Willie’s quiver wedged in a natural crevice formed by the rocks. The Impaler lay only a few feet away. A surge of happiness rippled through him, but died as he remembered his broken wrist. He had the finest Vellian bow within reach, but lacked the strength to draw it. He was ready to retrace his path to Willie when voices stopped him cold. He hunkered down beside the boulder and withdrew an arrow from the quiver. If he had to, he could use the shaft, with its razor sharp head, like a knife.
Peeking over the boulder, he watched as two men emerged from the direction of the river and headed right for his hiding spot. One of the men was limping heavily and leaning on the second. Garrett’s grip tightened on the arrow as he watched the strangers struggle up the hill. There was no doubt that these were the men that had ambushed him. Realising they were coming straight at him, he stood and held the Impaler at arm’s length. Drawing his ruined arm back, he pulled an imaginary string to his cheek. “Stop where you are,” he said coldly.
Both men stopped dead in their tracks. “Sweet Dillio,” breathed one of them. “Don’t shoot, mister.” The man that was not injured stepped in front of his partner and held his hands up to show he was unarmed. “I swear we mean you no ill.”
“It’s too late for lies,” replied Garrett stonily. “Your pals set upon my companion. If he had died, we would not be having this conversation.”
Both men looked at each other. “I told you he wanted him dead,” hissed the man in the back.
The man in front dropped to his knees, his hands still held high. “I swear on my sister’s grave, mister, we did not come here to hurt you.”
“I don’t believe you,” accused Garrett. “You purposefully came for me at the rock ravine tonight.”
“No sir,” said the man on his knees. “I swear. We messed up. We lost you in the rocks and thought you had slipped back to the cabin. We were only there to watch you. We never had any intention of hurting you. My brother and I are hunters from Arbrud village. We were hired a week ago to track you, by a man named Roget and his partner Minx. They paid us three months wages for a two week trip. We couldn’t turn down the money. He told us we were only to follow you.”
“Please, mister,” said the man in the back, his voice thick with fear. “We saw something in the woods tonight…” he trailed off as he scanned the clearing. “We have to get out of here.”
Something in their tone told Garrett they were telling the truth. “You be on your way. I don’t want to see either of you again.” He turned to leave, relaxing the imaginary string.
“Your horses are not there,” said the first man, standing and lending his arm to his brother.
Garrett cursed inwardly. “What do you mean,” he snarled.
“That fellow Roget, he said he wanted to scare your friend. He knew you were out on watch, and he said he wanted to play a prank on your pal. Like a game. He said your friend would know it was him. After the pair of you left the cabin, he moved your horses across the fields and tethered them with ours.”
“Don’t follow us,” snapped Garrett.
“Please, mister,” said the injured man from the back, his voice ripe with fear. “We need to get to our horses. I swear we just want to get out of here. That… thing… if it comes back…” He didn’t need to finish the thought, for it was like he had read Garrett’s mind.
The wind picked up, rustling the leaves in the trees, and Garrett shivered. The uninjured man began to lead his brother over the broken terrain, again. “Come with us,” he said. “I’ll show you where your horses are. You have my word there’ll be no funny business. And besides,” he added dryly, “it might keep its distance, if we stay together.”
Garrett thought about their situation, the muscles of his jaw clenched tightly. He believed the men were telling the truth about not being in on Willie’s ambush, but he did not trust them. “Fine,” he said, at last, unwilling to waste any more time. It was better to keep an eye on them, as opposed to wondering where they were and what they were up to. “You two take the lead. I will be right behind you, with this bow.”
* * * *
The smell of blood greeted them long before the torn up carcass of the horse became visible beneath the pines. Garrett sank to his knees, breathing heavily, and lowered Willie to the forest floor. The bowman had been out cold ever since they had come upon him on the trail. Feeling along his friend’s neck, he reassured himself of Willie’s faint heartbeat.
“What the hell do we do now?” the injured fellow asked of his brother.
The other man knelt by the slain horse and turned to Garrett, his voice strained. “This horse was attacked by the beast. Its flanks are scored by the creature’s claws. The other horses have scattered.”
Garrett looked across the moonlit field from where they had come. The shack on the edge of the clearing had also been attacked, the door smashed from its hinges, and his and Willie’s belongings scattered throughout the room and into the field beyond. Garrett had taken thirty seconds to fill a packsack with some food and a flint for a fire. Now, with the horses having run off, there was no choice but to return on foot to the Alvy’s farm: an almost impossible task while carrying his friend. Even if he could find a safe haven in which to leave Willie, it would take three days to walk out.
“What about the cave?” asked the injured man. “At least we would have a wall at our backs. We could rest until first light and then get the hell out of here.”
The man’s brother thought on this for a moment and nodded. He looked to Garrett and motioned at Willie’s prone form. “We spent the last couple of nights in a cave, further down the ravine. You won’t get your friend out of here without a horse. If we work together, we can get him to the safety of the shelter. From there, you can decide what needs to be done.” He pulled a hatchet from his belt and went to one of the trees. He cut into a low hanging branch, the thuds from his axe echoing across the open field.
“There were two men on that outcrop tonight,” said Garrett. “I am pretty sure that one of them is dead, killed by the creature. If the other man is alive, he may make his way back to this cave.”
The hunter put away his hatchet and passed the branch to his brother for a walking stick. The other man tested his weight on it and nodded. The first man approached Garrett and knelt by Willie’s side. He looked Garrett in the eyes. “My brother and I don’t like being lied to any better than you, mister. If either of those men return to the cave while we are there, we’ll let them know they are not welcome.” He grabbed for Willie’s lifeless arm, but Garrett leaned in threateningly. “We’ve a ways to go,” said the hunter carefully. “We can take turns carrying your friend.”
“You lead on,” said Garrett coldly. He pulled Willie onto his shoulder and grunted when the bones in his wrist jarred together. “You take care of your own, and I will do the same,” he said, through gritted teeth.
“Whatever you figure,” returned the man. He stood and motioned for his broth
er to hobble up front with him.
* * * *
“And he didn’t say what it was my friend had?” asked Garrett with a grunt.
“No,” agreed the hunter, helping his brother over a fallen log. “He said he was hired to retrieve something from your friend, and that your friend thought he could run away from Cassadia to avoid his problems. He wanted Avros and me along in case the pair of you tried to lose him and Minx in the hills.”
Garrett said nothing as he stepped onto the log the other two men had just cleared. His shoulder ached with the weight of Willie, each step threatening to pull him to the ground. He forced himself onward. The moonlit forest had emptied into an open ravine that led down into the lower valleys and toward the Alvy’s farm. They had barely left the fields behind though, and Garrett knew he was running out of stamina. The sweat was thick on his back and his breathing was heavy with the effort of their escape.
“I didn’t trust him from the beginning,” said Avros, leaning into his stick. “Bael here thought we should guide them, but I had a feeling they weren’t telling us the truth.” The man stumbled on a loose rock, and his brother quickly latched onto his arm to steady him.
Garrett attempted to wipe the sweat from his eyes with his injured arm, but could only get at a fraction of his forehead. He was barely listening to the other men, his mind thinking back over the trip with Willie. He had known Willie was hiding something from him, but he had never guessed his friend was being hunted by hired thugs. Bankrupt, blind, and a drunk, he had figured his friend needed money or a place to stay. He had not wanted to hurt Willie’s feelings, so he had not broached the subject –allowing Willie to speak when he was ready. Perhaps now it was too late.
“Did you hear that?” hissed Avros, spinning to look behind them. “I heard rocks moving.”
The other two men turned and listened for several seconds. This was the second time the injured hunter had claimed to hear pursuit. Garrett had heard nothing, and it was apparent Bael hadn’t either when he guided his brother forward again with a soft whisper.
Something Stinks in Deep Cove (The Vellian Books Book 4) Page 11
