by Tim Flanagan
‘How long ago was that?’ asked Scarlet.
‘Over twenty years now. My son will probably be in his thirties by now,’ replied The Grey Man. ‘If he’s still alive,’ he added, thinking about the black shadowy creatures that had been hunting them. ‘What are those creatures anyway?’
‘Uninvited party guests,’ replied Edgar with a smile. He was sitting up and beginning to look a lot better. He carefully took Ethera out of Max’s hand and slid it into the sheath that hung round his waist. ‘They originate from alien bacteria that arrived on this planet inside a meteor. They seem to be creatures born to consume and destroy any living organism, including us.’
‘It seems that this world has bigger problems than we had in the Underworld.’
‘Maybe,’ replied Edgar. ‘Thank you for your help back there.’ Edgar held out his hand to The Grey Man.
‘I’m glad to be back, but things have certainly changed a lot since I was last here,’ said The Grey Man as he shook Sir Edgar’s hand.
‘What do you think happened to your son on the night you were sucked through?’ Joe asked The Grey Man.
‘It’s a question I’ve asked myself every single day that I've lived in the Underworld. I intend to make my way to the Forest of Dean to find his aunt; she would have been his next of kin. Hopefully she brought him up and may be able to tell me where he is. I don’t know if he has discovered his magical abilities yet or not.’
Outside, the screams of the creatures continued. They sounded like they were becoming frustrated as their attempts to unearth their prey were getting them nowhere.
‘These black creatures may make my journey a little more difficult, but I’m used to blending into the background and moving around unseen when I need to.’
4. Invasion Plans
‘There are three possible ways to cross to the Isle of Wight,’ said Steven Knight as he pointed at a map spread across the table in front of them. The room was dark except for a small lamp that held down one corner of the map and cast an orange glow onto the faces of the people around the table. Steven’s was slim, featureless and framed by dark hair. His eyes betrayed the tiredness that he felt inside. He had begun to lose track of time, it seemed like ages ago when he had left London to research the landing site of a meteor that had contained an alien bacteria. What no-one had expected was how rapid the growth of the bacteria would be in developing into a creature that had terrorised the human population ever since.
‘Which is the shortest crossing?’ asked Tracker. It had been several days since Tracker had shaved and his chin was covered with a thick layer of yellow stubble. Steven often wondered why, whenever he had grown stubble, it just made him look tired and pale. But, Tracker wore the rugged look well. He was handsome with unruly hair that curled in random flicks beneath the edge of his baseball cap, and had a wide grin that creased the skin of his cheeks creating attractive dimples.
‘Commercial crossings go from Southsea, Southampton and Lymington,’ continued Steven. ‘Lymington looks the shortest.’
The well folded map they had found in an abandoned tourist information office in Basingstoke was designed for walkers. It showed the south coast of England together with the Isle of Wight, a small island separated from the mainland by a small stretch of water called the Solent.
‘Won’t they have guards watching the ports where ferries would normally dock?’ asked Georgia, a dark haired woman that stood between the two men. Her right arm was strapped to the side of her chest, a reminder of a previous encounter with one of the alien creatures. Georgia had skin that was smooth and exotic in colour, a genetic clue to her Spanish roots.
They had left the safety of Fort Halstead to rescue other survivors that had been taken to the Isle of Wight. Coldred, their leader, was deceiving them and selectively supplying antibiotics to people he considered useful to the community as well as to his own needs. Steven, Georgia and Tracker had already experienced Coldred’s desire to surround himself with the right people. He had already tried to kill them once, which resulted in Georgia’s injury. From what they had discovered, Steven knew Coldred had already been aware of the deadly nature of the creatures before they had attacked the human race. He had also developed a vaccine. With his knowledge of the creatures, Coldred planned to control his destiny, destroying those that got in his way, whilst nurturing those that would help him and acquire as much wealth as he could get his hands on. Steven even wondered if Coldred had already devised a plan to remove the creatures from the planet once he had acquired enough gold and control, enabling him to be the overall leader of all survivors.
‘I’m sure Coldred would have some form of defence on the island, but he may have also posted guards on this side of the Solent,’ replied Steven. ‘If they want to gather other survivors for their community they may be filtering people on both sides of the water.’
Outside a loud bang sounded.
The three humans inside the abandoned house automatically fell silent. The bang echoed in the still night air, gradually receding into the distance. It reminded them that they were not alone wherever they went. They exchanged glances with each other. Tracker reached for his shotgun, while they listened to the sounds outside. All survivors now lived beneath the threat and shadow of the creatures, but the three humans standing around the map knew that they had an advantage. Before they had left the growing community at Fort Halstead, they had stocked up on supplies of antibiotics to provide them with some protection against the creatures. The creatures no longer attacked them. Somehow they knew that to eat them was bad for their own health, which meant they could move around during the night without fear of attack. But, the creatures were evolving rapidly and Steven had noticed they no longer stayed restricted to night-time hunts, but had begun to venture out on overcast days, as well as the dusk and dawn hours. Hopefully, if they managed to return to Fort Halstead, the scientists working in the community would have managed to replicate the vaccine that would provide a permanent solution to protect the human race.
‘I think we should approach the coast during the day so we can see what sort of defences they may have,’ added Tracker in a low voice once the noise of the creatures had passed.
‘I agree, approaching at night will be too dangerous. In so much darkness the headlights from the cars would be easily spotted and could bring too much unwanted attention,’ said Steven.
‘Even if the docks are unguarded, how will we cross to the other side?’ asked Georgia.
‘We will have to take a small boat, maybe even row across,’ replied Steven.
‘That could be too dangerous,’ added Tracker. ‘The waters of the Solent can sometimes get quite rough. If we choose the wrong time to cross, we might not make it to the other side. If there are guards on the mainland, we could pretend to be someone else, someone of value to the community.’
‘You mean, be willingly taken?’
‘Yes. If there are others crossing, we could simply merge in with the crowd and give false names.’
‘But, what if someone recognises us?’ asked Georgia. After being left at the mercy of the creatures once, she was not keen to have a second experience. The first time she lost part of her arm, the second time they may lose much more.
‘If we bumped into Wanda or Coldred our whole journey would be pointless,’ added Steven.
‘If there are guards on this side of the water, they will be running boats or ferries of their own at regular intervals. They may still be foraging for supplies on this side and taking them over, we could stow away amongst the boxes.’
‘I don’t like it,’ replied Steven. ‘We need to keep our contact with the community to a minimum.’
‘Then, the only other way would be to make our own way across.’
‘They might only operate crossings from Lymington as it's the shortest distance and would consume less fuel,’ explained Steven. ‘We could head for the second shortest crossing. They wouldn’t have enough guards to place them everywhere and may have conc
entrated their operations in Lymington only.’
‘If you were setting up a community on the Isle of Wight, where would you start?’ asked Georgia.
‘Osborne House,’ replied Tracker. ‘It’s the perfect place for Coldred: a grand house in a commanding position on the north coast, as well as substantial grounds. I went there once.’
‘As a tourist, or were you visiting family?’ asked Steven with a smile.
‘Definitely as a tourist,’ said Tracker understanding Steven’s reference to Tracker’s link to the British Royal Family. Osborne House had once been the holiday home of Queen Victoria and Prince Albert.
‘What about Carisbrook Castle?’ asked Steven. ‘It’s central and would make great defensive headquarters.’
‘I think both places could work for Coldred. I still think there would be a chunk of the community stationed at a port, probably at Yarmouth, where the boats dock that come from Lymington.’
‘What’s this place?’ asked Georgia as she stuck a finger onto a thin piece of land that jutted out from the coast. ‘Hurst?’ she read.
Steven flicked through several other leaflets he had picked up at the tourist office. Eventually, he stopped and read a section:
“Hurst Castle. Built by Henry VIII as an artillery fortress to defend the entrance to the Solent. It was later used to hold political prisoners during the 17th century.”
‘That may be the best place to cross without being seen. If Coldred’s guards are stationed at the ports to make transportation easier, the fortress may have been left unoccupied,’ said Tracker. ‘If we can get to Hurst, we may be able to transfer over to one of the bays around the coast.’
‘To cover every bay and port he would need to stretch his community too thin. It makes sense that he would concentrate his resources at the main port as well as his headquarters.’
‘It’s still going to be risky crossing the water in a boat.’
‘It’s the only way of getting there unnoticed,’ said Steven. The look of doubt and concern went unseen by the other two, hidden in the deep shadows cast by the flickering lamp light.
5. The Mind of a Moon Stealer
In the embankment beside the dried up riverbed, the occupants slept lightly beneath the gentle light from the glow-worms. It was early morning and the darkness of the night was beginning to fade in the sky outside.
Lady Flora woke with a start and felt disorientated for a few seconds, before finally recalled where she was. She remembered escaping from the creatures into the embankment and staying awake listening to them trying to break through the root and vine doorway. But every attempt only made the tangle of plants even denser. After several hours the creatures gave up and headed back into the forest to look for easier prey that still hid amongst the trees.
Instinctively, Lady Flora placed her hand on the ground to establish a connection with her environment, a gift she had inherited from her mother. Through her hand she received information about the creatures in the forest, as well as the animals that were trying to hide. As her mind raced through the forest, jumping from nervous animal to spoilt plant, she found her way back to the marshy clearing where they had been surrounded by the creatures the previous night. The ground was wet; pond skaters darted across the surface of small stagnant pools of water that had collected around the base of some plants. Moving into a fern, she felt the breeze across her face and smelt the acidic decay of the creatures that had pursued them. Aware of an animal’s presence, she slipped out of the fern and into the head of a buck hare. It crouched low amongst the long grass at the edge of the clearing, still hidden in the shadows of the trees. The hare’s eyes darted at the slightest sound, flicking from one patch of grass that blew in the breeze to a creaky branch of a tree on the other side of the clearing.
Lady Flora sensed another animal approaching.
She was just about to move out of the hare and into something else when she hesitated. The hare had just seen some black shadows moving awkwardly on the opposite side of the clearing.
Curiosity made her stay and watch. She was familiar with the tree line on the opposite side; it was the same one they had watched the Moon Stealers come crashing through when they were being hunted. Although there was darkness in the area between the trees, she was sure that the shadows were moving.
The clearing appeared to be empty.
The hare’s long ears were alert, rotating on its head as it locked into sounds that floated on the breeze. Mainly it was just the sound of wind blowing between the trees or brushing the tops of the grass, but occasionally a faint chirp of a bird could also be heard. But there was something that wasn’t right.
Lady Flora waited.
The hare’s mind was not totally his own. Lady Flora willed the hare forward. Not quite understanding what was happening, it took a nervous hop forward out of the safety of the overhanging trees and into a more vulnerable position. It crouched low, pressing its stomach down against the ground. Its eyes and ears strained to keep alert. After a few seconds of silence, the hare found itself bursting forward between the long grasses and over to the rotted remains of a tree stump. It crouched low once again, relying on its brown fur to blend in with the colour of the wood and hide it from sight.
The birds continued to chirp.
The hare moved once again in a rapid burst of speed until it found a clump of ferns it could nestle amongst. From there the hare’s eyes could see black shadows moving within the gaps of the trees on the opposite side of the clearing. They seemed to lurch in a random way, hugging the tree trunks with their clawed wings. Flora watched the creatures through the hare’s eyes. Occasionally she would see one of the creatures raise its head up and call to its brothers. It was then she realised that the chirping sound was not made by birds at all, but by the creatures. The sound seemed so passive and weak, as if the creature was calling for help, like an injured dog whimpering for its master.
Shaking with fear, Lady Flora urged the hare on. From out of the ferns it kept low, quickly moving in small bursts of speed towards the long grasses on the other side of the clearing. Lady Flora could feel the fear and panic growing inside the hare. She could hear its heart thumping loudly against ribs that were exposed from a lack of food. She tried to reassure the hare, knowing that something was out of place and the creatures that were in the clearing seemed to be confused and injured. She made a mental promise to the hare - in return for using its eyes and ears; she would direct it to a safe area where it could feed on young juicy plants.
From where the hare was, Lady Flora could see the creatures more clearly. Their wings looked intact and they didn’t appear to have wounds on their body. But, they were calling in such a vulnerable way that it made her think they must be injured.
A group of five creatures moved around, some took gentle steps forward, feeling their way with their feet. One had its wings stretched out wide whilst others kept hold of a tree trunk, clinging against it like a newborn child to a mother.
Suddenly, from behind the hare, a creature lurched towards them. The hare turned, Lady Flora saw the black leathery face low to the ground, the white eye wide. The creature moved on all fours, keeping close to the grass. The frightened hare sprang from its hiding place and leapt for the cover of the trees. The creature remained on all fours, but didn’t follow. Something was strange about the way the creatures were behaving. They weren’t showing the brutal hunting techniques the humans had witnessed last night.
Lady Flora needed to stay and find out what had happened. She left the nervous mind of the hare, slipped into a woodlouse, jumped into a hawthorn, a young ash tree, then into the mind of the black creature that was crawling through the long grass.
As soon as she entered into the Moon Stealer a wave of sickness flowed through her body, making her feel weak and vulnerable. She travelled along the purple vessels that carried yellow acidic fluid around its body, then leapt onto the nerve conductors that joined its muscles to the nervous system. The line crackled with static
as she shot up into the control centre that would normally be classed as a brain in any other animal. But, inside this creature was a cavity filled with a bundle of electrical fibres, like a ball of sticky cobwebs rolled together. As she penetrated the ball, her world became darker; sparks of electricity flickered and showed the way until she reached the centre. From here Lady Flora had access to everything the creature was experiencing, every sight, sound and feeling. In the centre of the brain, the creature’s world was black and lifeless.
Lady Flora was bathed in darkness.
Occasionally there was a flash as electrical impulses zipped along the nerves and sparked as they crossed synaptic gaps. Through the creatures ears she could hear the wind blowing across the clearing beside the forest, but the world of the creature appeared to be separate and not at all connected to the outside world. For a split second Flora wondered if she had bypassed the connections for the eye. But, she hadn’t. Then she realised why this group of creatures were acting so strange.
They were blind.
That was why they were calling desperately to the others, asking for help. She knew the creatures were ruthless and any help they would get from their siblings would only be to end their torment and be swiftly consumed.
Happy to be leaving the oppressive cobweb of nerve endings, she moved out into the nearest thing she could find. A small field mouse tunnelled through the grass, dashing close to the foot of one of the creatures. Cautiously it watched the blackened creatures as it moved bit by bit around them. None of the creatures noticed the mouse. Lady Flora coaxed it away towards the other side of the clearing. As the mouse burrowed into a small den of twigs and leaves, Lady Flora crossed into a nearby silver birch, following its root system, crossing from one tree to another until she returned back to the make-shift cave that was cocooned beneath the river bank and tree roots.
