The Jonah

by James Herbert

  ‘Fuckin chicken are yuh?’ Davey scowled at his companion.

  ‘Not me, Davey,’ his younger brother piped up. ‘I’ll come with yuh.’

  ‘You comin, Bri?’ There was a challenge in Davey’s words.

  Bri shrugged. ‘Come on, then.’

  They raced into the building, their yells even louder as if for their own encouragement. Inside, Bri bumped into Billy, who had bumped into Davey.

  ‘He ain’t out the back, there’s no way out.’ Davey poked his head round a doorway next to him, the door itself hanging at an angle from one hinge, and wrinkled his nose in disdain. ‘Phaw! Stinks in there.’

  They heard movements from above, bricks falling, unknown objects slithering. Davey leapt for the stairs and cursed when a board cracked beneath his foot. His brother and friend, Bri, thought it hilarious. ‘Wait till I get hold of him,’ Davey said, giggling himself and carefully extricating his foot from the splintered timber. ‘We’re coming to get you, pratface!’ he called out, whacking the hosepipe against the powdery wall. The others joined in the caterwauling and followed him up, choosing the steps carefully, both a little afraid of the damp, rotting house, but anxious not to show it. The shadows that could have been hiding anything from a dead body to a nest of rats hardly helped their mood.

  Davey paused on the top step and stared down at the hole before him. ‘Fuckin ell, alf the landin’s caved in ere.’ He eased himself around the opening and urged the others to follow him. ‘Watch ow you go,’ he advised them.

  He peered into the first doorway and saw the room beyond had no floor. It was difficult to see anything at all in the next room, for the window was intact but covered in grime, making the interior dark, almost impenetrable. ‘You in there, kid? I’m warnin yuh, don’t make it arder for yourself.’ Billy and Bri crowded in behind, the former picking up a lump of wood to throw into the darkest shadow. ‘We know you’re in there!’ he shouted, hurling the wood. It bounced off the wall and clattered to the floor. For a moment there was silence, save for their own excited breathing, then a shower of dust and powdered plaster fell from the ceiling above.

  ‘He’s upstairs,’ Bri whispered, and they all rushed for the next stairway, forgetting for a moment the poor condition of the floor beneath them. They mounted the stairs, tripping and falling over each other in their haste, laughing and punching, carried away with a sniggering hysteria created by their own fear and a sudden real hate for the boy they were chasing. Davey knew he was going to hurt the boy badly; he didn’t know why, but it was a feeling he had no inclination to resist. Maybe it was because of his grazed knuckle; or maybe it was because there was something about the kid that rubbed him the wrong way. It didn’t matter: the little git was going to get it.

  The higher they went, the worse became the stench from the old house. ‘Smells like a fuckin cat’s died up ere!’ Bri exclaimed.

  Billy felt nauseous, the cloying odour clogging his nostrils, sinking into his stomach. He wanted to turn around and go back down, to leave the house, get away from the bomb-site. He didn’t like it here any more, didn’t like the game they were playing. Billy was scared.

  ‘All right, bastard, one last chance! If you come out now, we might let you off!’ Davey grinned in the darkness, wondering if the kid was sucker enough to believe him.

  A door, partially open and charred black as though it had been burnt at some time, faced them across the landing. A rustling sound from inside told them where their quarry was. A sharper sound that could have been a sob confirmed it. The boy was inside the room, shitting himself. Davey laughed and rushed at the door, raising his pointed shoe with the high Cuban heels to kick at the half-burnt door. It swung inwards, breaking free of its rusted hinges, and crashing to the floor. They crammed into the doorway and squinted their eyes to pierce the gloom. There were no sounds inside, just the awful smell. And then a tiny noise, a muffled whimper. They looked across into the far corner.

  Something was huddled there in the shadows, a small form pressed up close against the wall. A whimpering sob again.

  ‘Ah,’ Davey said in mock-gentle tones. ‘Does he want his mummy? Well, Mummy doesn’t want him, do she? Cos he ain’t go no real mummy. She got shot of him as soon as she saw him.’ He sniggered, then whacked the rubber hose against his own leg. The sharp crack seemed to fill every corner of the decayed room. ‘Let’s get him.’ There was a spitefulness in his voice that even his brother and his friend were nervous of. They moved forward as one and the dark shape across the room seemed to huddle closer into itself.

  Davey chuckled aloud and his two companions joined in, although it was more bravado on their part. He began to raise the hosepipe high over his head, its quivering end hanging loosely behind his back, ready to strike, ready to bring it down hard over the skinny kid’s skull.

  The crouching figure began to turn at their approach, the whimpering dying out but its trembling increasing.

  The smirk on Davey’s face wavered when dust began swirling around the room, particles shaken from the walls and ceiling as though brushed by an invisible wind. The whole room, like the figure in the corner, seemed to be trembling. Young Billy cried out as the section of floor beneath their feet sagged; he began to whine as timbers gave way; he began to screech as plaster and wood collapsed inwards. And the screaming and tearing of rotted materials was joined by the screams of the three boys, the two brothers and their friend, as they plunged down with the plaster and timber into the depths of the decayed house.

  10

  ‘Like I said, there’s no one home.’

  Kelso indicated the lightless windows of the peculiarly shaped building.

  It must be nice walking across a bridge to get to your own front door.’ Ellie leaned over the wall and tried to see the bottom of the waterless moat surrounding the Martello tower. ‘Like having your own castle.’

  ‘Or your own prison.’

  They had left the car parked further down the muddy track which was thinly disguised as a road. On one side of the causeway, the shingle beach gently sloped to the shoreline; on the other side was a steep bank dropping down to another muddy road which ran from the boatyard back towards the harbour. Kelso had seen the bulldozer ahead parked near the centre of the higher track, massive and silent like the bones of some prehistoric metal monster, and hadn’t liked the idea of trying to manoeuvre his car between it and the stacked pile of timber in the dark. As they had approached he explained that the machine was used to push back the tons of shingle that were continually being swept over the sea defences in stormy weather, and the timber itself used to build breakwaters. Ellie almost slipped in the mud and he grabbed her to prevent her from going down. She clung to his arm and had held on until they reached the tower.

  ‘Let’s go down and walk around the boatyard,’ Kelso suggested. ‘Who knows, maybe they’ve got a submarine down there.’

  ‘That would be one way of getting stuff through undetected.’

  Kelso laughed. ‘It would, yes, except the mouth of the estuary is too shallow. Too many sandbanks, too; the local boatmen have to navigate their way in very carefully.’

  They descended the wooden steps leading from the tower’s footbridge down to the lower track and he turned to help Ellie from the bottom step. ‘Ground’s uneven,’ he said as an excuse.

  There was little sea breeze there, for the high embankment protected them; nevertheless, Ellie pressed close to him as though she were cold. They walked slowly, their attention on the river to their left and the greyish shapes of yachts and motor launches in the boatyard further ahead.

  ‘It’s so quiet here.’

  ‘Not when those A-10s are skimming low overhead and bomb disposal are exploding mines left over from the war.’

  ‘But now. It’s hard to think there’s any corruption going on in a place like this.’

  ‘One thing I’ve learned over the years, Ellie, is that corruption exists in some form or other wherever you find people.’

  ‘That
’s so cynical, Jim.’

  ‘True, though. It varies in degree, but it’s always around, like a dormant cancer waiting to be aroused.’

  ‘I think you’ve been involved with criminals for too long. It’s clouding your judgement.’

  ‘Maybe so, Ellie. I’d like to be wrong.’

  ‘How about a monastery?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Corruption – in a monastery?’

  ‘Some, I would think. As I said, it’s a matter of degree.’

  ‘How about the courts?’

  Kelso laughed aloud.

  ‘Sorry,’ she apologized sheepishly. ‘I asked for that.’

  He stopped and faced her. She looked at him enquiringly when he gently gripped her arms. ‘You could be right, Ellie. My view may have become distorted over the years. Too much dealing with scum on both sides of the law, too many things happening that . . .’

  He broke off at the sound of an engine roaring into life above them. Two powerful lights flashed into the night, casting beams that seemed to stretch into infinity. Then the lights were pointing downwards, blinding them both and, over the motor’s roar, they heard the clanking of metal, the grating of gears.

  Kelso had seen the broad expanse of metal perched high above them, the top of the yellow machine’s cab just visible behind it, before the bulldozer tipped over the edge.

  The bulldozer came at them fast, pushing mud, shingle and rotted timber that had been lying by the side of the earth road above. An empty oil drum bounced ahead of the machine and it was this that just caught Kelso’s leg as he tried to pull Ellie aside. They both went down, knocked back into a shallow water-filled dip behind them, Kelso trying to keep his body rolling, but impeded by the girl. The noise was thunderous as the machine swept downwards, its speed hindered by the earth it was scooping from the embankment itself and the fact that its tracks were no longer being turned by the engine. Its own weight was carrying it towards the two figures below.

  Kelso was on one knee and pulling at Ellie when he saw the bulldozer had completed its descent and was no more than two yards away, a huge mound of rubble and earth being pushed before it. He shouted a warning to the girl, pulled her upright, tried to throw both their bodies away from the advancing machine’s path. But it was too late.

  Their legs were swept from beneath them and the world turned upside down. They felt themselves sinking into something soft, then they were being kicked and stabbed by ungiving objects. Kelso felt something tear at his cheek, then he was rising, his grip on the girl lost, his body sliding over the slimy churning earth, over the top of the blade. He tried to stop himself, but there was nothing solid to cling to, nothing that wasn’t moving, being twisted and heaved by the huge blade. He was sliding over the edge and knew he would fall into the gap between the blade and caterpillar tracks, to be crushed beneath them. He pushed a hand against the grille covering the machine’s engine, but the forward motion was carrying him over the blade’s edge, down into the gap, He felt himself slipping.

  With a loud groan, the bulldozer slid to a halt and Kelso found himself poised above the deadly channel that no longer offered any threat. He hardly dared to move.

  Ellie disentangled herself from the clumps of wood and wire, her breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. She felt slime clinging to her face and hands, and had to wipe her eyes with a sleeve to see again. She staggered free of the damp earth and rubble, crawling away on hands and knees, afraid that the machine might burst into activity once more. Finally collapsing onto one elbow, Ellie twisted her body to look back at the bulldozer. She was dimly aware of a car’s engine starting up somewhere in the distance, but her attention was caught by the figure, lit up by the earth-mover’s lights, lying sprawled across the machine’s vertical blade.

  ‘Jim!’ Ellie stumbled back to the pile of earth and rubble, treading her way over it to reach Kelso. He turned as she reached him, his face in shadow against the glare of the headlights.

  ‘I’m okay,’ he gasped, as she pulled at his arm to drag him away from the metal blade. Together they staggered off the dislodged earth, each one supporting the other, not stopping until they were several yards away from the bulldozer.

  They both fell to their knees and Kelso quickly raised a hand to Ellie’s face. ‘Are you all right? Are you hurt?’

  She still had not regained her breath fully, but she managed to nod her head. Kelso wiped the dirt from his eyes and looked back towards the yellow machine that although now lifeless, still looked menacing. He cast his gaze along the ridge above them, looking for movement, but saw nothing.

  ‘What . . . who . . . did it?’ Ellie’s voice was still breathless. ‘Who . . . who tried to kill us?’

  He pulled her close, aware of the hysteria that lay just behind her words.

  ‘It’s all right, Ellie,’ he soothed. ‘They’ve gone, we’re safe.’

  She clung to him and her breathing became more even. ‘We’d better get on to Division, we’d better tell them what’s happened.’

  ‘No,’ he said firmly.

  Ellie pulled herself away from him. ‘No? But we’ve got to, Jim. It’s obvious our cover is blown. We’ve got to get out now while we’re still in one piece.’

  ‘No, Ellie, not just yet.’

  She could only stare at him.

  ‘Let’s get back to the caravan.’ He stood and tried to lift Ellie to her feet, but she pulled away from him again.

  ‘You’re crazy! We can’t let them get away with this!’

  Kelso knelt on one knee and spoke softly. ‘We don’t know why this happened, or if it’s got anything at all to do with our investigation. It may have even been an accident.’

  ‘You’ve got to be kidding! A bulldozer doesn’t just start up on its own and try to crush the life out of people!’

  He reached out a hand to calm her, but she brushed it aside. ‘Listen to me, Ellie,’ he persisted, ‘I want to find out more before we have this place swamped with backup units. I want some concrete evidence that . . .’

  ‘Isn’t what just happened evidence enough?’

  ‘No, it isn’t. For all we know it could have been someone playing a nasty prank.’

  ‘I don’t believe this!’

  ‘Or maybe it slipped down on its own.’

  ‘You heard the engine, you saw the lights. Jim, what are you saying?’

  She saw, rather than felt, his body slump. ‘Ellie, I don’t want anyone else involved – not just yet.’ He spoke the words firmly. ‘Please trust me.’

  Ellie began to rise, and this time she let him help her. She was surprised to feel his hand shaking, but then, she was trembling herself. They both glanced around, feeling vulnerable in their exposed position. ‘Let’s get back to the car,’ Kelso said, keeping hold of her arm. She noticed he was limping as they walked along the lower, muddy road. Her own body felt battered, but she was sure she had sustained no more than a few bruises. They had both been lucky: if soft earth had not hit them first, the heavy blade of the bulldozer would have surely crushed them.

  ‘Are you hurt?’ she asked, still puzzled by his attitude, but calmer now.

  ‘It’s just where the oil drum hit me, I think. It was a good thing it knocked us back, otherwise we’d have been under that bulldozer.’

  ‘Smeared across the ground, you mean.’

  ‘Delicately put’ He looked up at the rise above them, his body tense, and Ellie remembered the sound she had heard as she’d dragged herself clear.

  ‘I think whoever it was has gone, Jim. I’m not certain now, but I thought I heard a car start up after we’d been hit. It drove away.’

  He seemed relieved. ‘You’re sure? You’re sure you heard it?’ His fingers clenched her arm tightly.

  ‘I’m not positive, but I’m pretty certain.’

  Kelso breathed a deep sigh.

  ‘You’re not serious, are you – about not bringing a team in?’ She tried to see his features, but the night was too dark, the dirt on his face maki
ng it even more difficult.

  ‘I am. It’s too soon. And I really think you should get out of this now.’

  ‘Oh no, not again. We’ve been through all this – this doesn’t change things. I’m still part of this operation and I say we bring in help.’

  ‘All right, stay. But no one else – not yet. I’ve seen too many operations ruined by wallies stamping their bloody big feet all over the place.’

  She pulled him around. ‘It’s this jinx thing, isn’t it? You’re afraid it’s all going to go wrong again.’

  ‘Leave it, Ellie, just leave it alone!’

  ‘No!’ she shouted back.

  ‘Give me a couple more days, then. Let me dig up something better than guesses or suspicions.’

  ‘So long as I stick with you.’

  Relucantly, he agreed, knowing it would be useless to argue. He wished, though, he could tell her of his real fears.

  Kelso winced as she wiped away the dried blood from the gash in his cheek. Fortunately, the wound wasn’t deep and his only other injury, apart from bruising, was a skinned shin. They had returned to the caravan, Kelso checking that it was empty before allowing the girl to enter. Both had showered to remove the caked mud and dirt from their faces and hands, their clothes discarded into a soiled bundle in a corner of the caravan’s kitchen. Ellie had on a light-coloured dressing-gown she had brought with her, her hair loose and wet around her face; Kelso, who did not possess such a garment, wore only jeans, a towel draped around his shoulders.

  ‘Let me look at your leg,’ she said and he tugged at his denims to reveal his scraped shin. Ellie pulled a face. ‘I wish I had something to put on it – I’m afraid I wasn’t prepared for any rough stuff. I’ll get something in the town tomorrow.’

  It’s no problem. Are you cut anywhere?’

  She shook her head. ‘I had a good look in the shower. I ache a bit and my neck feels stiff – otherwise I’m okay. Apart from my legs feeling like jelly, that is.’

  ‘Could you use a drink?’