Rhos Meadow

by Lex Sinclair

  Stepping back outside into the store itself and seeing Diana enjoying her bar of chocolate brought a small smile. He crossed the shop to her.

  ‘I guess you didn’t anyone then?’ Diana said between bites.

  Eric shook his head.

  ‘Did you pay for that?’

  Diana nodded while she crunched the biscuit and melting chocolate. When her mouth was empty again she said, ‘Money’s on the counter for the invisible shop attendant.’

  Eric snorted laughter. ‘Love the sarcasm. The timing couldn’t be any more appropriate, either.’

  Diana pointed her index finger to a white door behind the counter over Eric’s shoulder. ‘Not that anyone is in there. But you’d better check just to be on the safe side.’

  ‘That’s probably where they keep their phone, too.’

  ‘I’ll stay here. Do you want me to get you something?’

  ‘No, not yet.’

  Exhaling explosively, Eric walked around the aisles, stepped behind the counter using the waist height door and tried the handle on the white door. Initially, he thought it might be locked. However, it was merely stuck and required a sturdy elbow for it to yield.

  Diana watched Eric shoulder barge the door open with more force than was necessary and nearly choked on her Crunchie as she laughed aloud at the sight of Eric flying out of sight. She couldn’t quite believe she could even muster a meagre smile never mind a full-out laugh. Here she was in Rhos Meadow. A small countryside town she wasn’t familiar with, stranded in the inexorable fog, and to top it off her whole world was missing, possibly kidnapped.

  ‘Are you all right?’ she managed to call out.

  ‘Yeah,’ Eric grunted.

  The storeroom was dark and musty. Aluminium shelves were affixed to the concrete walls filled with cardboard boxes. On the cardboard boxes were the names and sometimes a depiction of the product inside. Eric’s eyes took a minute to adjust to the sudden gloom. The first box he noticed contained Diet Coke 500ml bottles. As he arched his head back he also noticed other popular brand names. Pepsi, Tango, 7UP, Lucozade. Over his shoulder were boxes of chocolate bars and boxes containing bags of Doritos and other big name brands.

  As he was admiring the vast amount of supplies hidden away in such a tight space, a low undulating groan of someone either in agony or as drunk as a fart. Whatever the reason the sudden noise and the fact that he couldn’t see where it had emanated sent shivers down Eric’s spine. His veins were as taut as violin strings. He could feel his accelerating pulse in his throat.

  ‘Who’s there?’ he called out, cussing inwardly at the high-pitched voice escaping his parched lips.

  ‘Urrrrgggghhhh!’

  Eric recoiled, using his hands as levers to scurry backwards across the cold concrete floor. His bulging eyes stretched the optical nerve like an elastic band.

  What the fuck, man?! What the shittin’, pissin’ fuck is going on here?

  The guttural groans became frequent but quieter.

  An invisible hammer thumped incessantly from inside his head. Eric snapped his head left to right, scanning the storeroom for a light switch. If he could see who was making that horrible drone he could assess the situation properly and decide how to act. On the other hand, did he really want to confront what sounded like someone dying from a malignant disease beyond help?

  No!

  ‘Look, whoever you are... I’m a p-police officer. I’m here to help. B-But you n-n-need to help assist me by answering s-some routine questions, okay?’

  Another guttural groan from the other side of the storeroom.

  Fuckin’ great!

  Eric explained how he’d arrived at Rhos Meadow and had found Diana. He had hoped that if he told the story and the person cloaked in darkness listened to his voice they might start to trust him and speak out.

  ‘I n-need to f-find a phone s-so I can call a c-colleague or m-my superintendent. My r-r-radio doesn’t work for some reason. All I’m getting is s-static. Can you help me, please?’ Eric no longer gave two hoots about his nervous stutter. In fact, if the suffering individual heard the tremble in his voice they might realise that fear and truth normally went hand-in-hand.

  ‘Urrrgggghhhh!’

  Sweat beads which had surfaced on his brow trickled down his face and into Eric’s eyes. He blinked them away then winced at the stinging sensation. The cold hard surface beneath him seemed to sway in and out of focus. He might as well have been surfing on a tidal wave. Bile rose, burning his throat and bringing tears to his eyes. He wiped them away instantly.

  Squeezing his eyes shut, Eric used his arms as levers and the gingerly got to a vertical base. He clutched the frame of one of the four-tier shelves and slowly opened his eyes. Tiny glittering stars floated in his unreliable vision. Nevertheless, Eric willed himself to focus. He breathed deeply, concentrating on inhaling and exhaling at a slow, steady pace. His head burned from within. The next minute a cold draught blew through him. He shivered.

  On his utility belt Eric fumbled with trembling hands for his small silver torch. He flicked it on and pointed the white beam into the corner of the storeroom where that horrible, nerve-shredding guttural groan emanated.

  In the next moment, PCSO Eric Leibert realised that he’d made his gravest mistake ever...

  His mouth fell open, slack-jawed. In front of him was something he couldn’t quite comprehend. His bowels constricted. Nothing in life or in his training had even remotely prepared him for the sight before his unbelieving eyes. He’d frozen to the spot. His mind screamed at him to get his legs moving... fast. But his brain had ceased working, paralysed with life-changing terror. He shook his head to and fro, rejecting what had already committed itself to his memory.

  A monstrosity that vaguely resembled the last remnants of a young woman was crouched over in a dark niche. She - it - craned its head over its bony shoulder and met Eric’s gaze, squinting through the dazzling beam. The beam of white light magnified the hideous façade. A pallid, emaciated skull where the flesh appeared to have been sucked into every facial orifice. Eric could see the tiny purple and blue lines that were its veins. The prominent cheeks cast the lower half of the face in shadow. Parched and chapped blue lips pursed spilling a crimson trickle. It opened its mouth and the white beam showed Eric the deep red cavern. The teeth were indistinguishable. But worse than any of that were the blood-red eyes that masked the colour of the iris. They weren’t normal looking bloodshot, either. Both eyes had no whites and there wasn’t a single trace of soul.

  Intuition urged him not to move. He couldn’t speak even if he wanted to, and even if he did what would he say?

  Hey, how’s it going? Sorry to disturb you but we really need to use your phone. Don’t mind, do you? No. Cheers, babe. By the way, fancy coming out with a drink for me once I get off?

  Eric didn’t carry a handgun. There was no need. That wasn’t part of his duty. He mostly gave speeding tickets, pulled drivers over for driving with a bald tyre, that sort of thing. It wasn’t like the cop films they showed on the movie channels. The incident on New Years Eve was the closest he’d come to any type of danger or confrontation. But that was extremely rare. South Wales was a quiet suburban area where small towns or villages were tucked up out of the way up in the mountains overlooking the town centres. And even if officers of the law did get called out a lot during the week it was because of something trivial.

  The monstrosity (he knew that was a brusque word, but it was apt in this instance) in the corner of the storeroom appeared to be infected. The physical symptoms - bearing in mind he wasn’t a doctor - appeared to be in a critical condition, too.

  Cussing inwardly, Eric rested a trembling hand to his brow and wiped it dry. All he’d wanted had been to find a phone, make a call and get some assistance to aid him in this peculiar situation. He had a near-hysterical woman
waiting for his return. A six-year old girl either lost in the swirling fog or kidnapped. He’d rammed his patrol car into a parked car on the main road, and now he’d discovered the shop attendant that could have been related to Frankenstein baring its blood-red teeth at him with malice.

  With the greatest care he could muster, Eric very slowly placed his right foot in front of him. He kept his vigilant gaze upon the creature with a long mane of tousled hair to see if this was a prudent idea or not. The creature pivoted in slow motion. Its curved spine had torn the sleeveless red T-shirt with the Texaco logo on the right breast. Then Eric gaped at the nametag on the left breast.

  Sara it read.

  He chastised himself for referring to Sara as an it. That wasn’t fair. She may not have looked like one but she had been once. The curve in her spine created a bumpy bridge. Eric looked away, nauseous. He focused on correct breathing techniques and then took another step towards the door. There wasn’t anything he could do to help Sara. She might well have been beyond any help.

  What he thought was peculiar was how she’d taken refuge in a storeroom filled from floor-to-ceiling with provisions and had not taken it upon herself to eat or drink something. Eric could tell she had other major issues besides eating and drinking. However, filling the stomach up and giving her deteriorating body something to do was better than watching it eat itself.

  He reached the white door and grasped the handle. Then he glanced over his shoulder and looked at Sara sympathetically. As grotesque as she appeared, her condition wasn’t her fault, he decided. She looked like a cancer patient losing their battle and waiting for the inevitable. Yet intuition told him it wasn’t cancer that was the cause of her illness. It was something far worse.

  ‘I’ll get help,’ he choked.

  A feisty growl emanated the cavernous mouth.

  The hairs on Eric’s forearms stood to attention. An icy chill coursed through him.

  He chanced another glance over his shoulder and whimpered at Sara - no, the creature - straightening itself until it became erect. The malice that had been dancing beneath the bloodshot eyes had materialised into the eyes of something that Eric could only describe in one word that got him moving like he should have done when he’d first laid eyes on it.

  He threw the door open, leapt through the gap and slammed it shut behind just as the creature threw its entire bodyweight against it. The unexpected force knocked Eric back. Fortunately, Eric kept a firm grip on the handle. He went down on one knee and used his other leg to keep the door from allowing the... whatever the hell it was from escaping into the shop and savagely killing them.

  ‘DIANA!’ Eric roared. ‘Get somethin’ to block the door, now!’

  It took Diana a moment to snap out of her reverie. She could scarcely believe her eyes. The sound of something heavy and determined crashed against the door making her jolt. A small cry escaped her. Then the present situation went off in her brain like a wailing siren. She scanned the shop for something to block the door and whoever was on the other side trying to get out.

  The sturdiest objects she could see were bottles of fizzy drinks and alcohol beverages. On the far wall was a magazine and newspaper rack. A freezer compartment to its right contained milk and other frozen items, such as packet meals. Then there was a whole aisle for chocolates and crisps and cakes. There was nothing that would pass as heavy or even an obstacle. Then her frantic gaze came across big bags of cat and dog food. That was heavy. But it wouldn’t hold whoever was in the storeroom for long.

  Straining with exertion, Diana gripped two bags of dried dog food and wobbled down the aisle, dropped them, out of breath, picked them up again in a numb grasp and hurried over to Eric, whose entire body was being shunted. When he saw what Diana was leaden with his expression didn’t do anything for her confidence.

  Diana dropped the bags and pushed them against the door. Then using the handle of a broom behind the counter, she placed it under the handle.

  ‘It won’t hold for long,’ Eric said, grunting as his back got shunted forward again. ‘See if there’s a phone behind the counter.’

  Diana sidled past him and crouched down to see what lay out of sight behind the counter. Directly beneath the till was a phone. She snatched it out of its cradle and misdialled. Composing herself, she repeated the process. She waited for what seemed an eternity for a dialling tone. Instead she got a dead line. She tried again, making sure she dialled correctly... no dialling tone.

  ‘The line’s dead,’ she shouted over the din of the crashing door.

  Eric punched the ground, cussing.

  ‘We can’t stay here,’ Eric said.

  Diana rushed over and rested her hands on the white door and leaned forward. Eric thanked her for helping, got to a vertical base and did the same.

  ‘Who’s trying to break down the door?’ Diana shrieked.

  Eric kept his head tucked into his chest. He honestly wished he knew how to answer that question. Instead he told her what had happened as best he could describe.

  ‘I don’t understand!’ Diana screamed.

  ‘Shut up!’ Eric shouted. ‘My head’s pounding. My back’s gonna be covered in bruises all the way down to my arse. I nearly died in there. And all I wanna do is get the hell outta here and go home.’

  ‘What d’you mean infected?’

  ‘The person - or whatever the hell it is - is infected and very violent. It doesn’t want to be friends, of that I can assure you. Catch my drift?’

  ‘How’d you know she’s been infected?’

  ‘Well, first of all, Sara should be already dead. She must weigh five stone no more. I could not only see but count the ribs through her short sleeved shirt. She’s decomposing right in front of me and at the same time growling and hissing vehemently. It’s gonna break this door down pretty soon and rip our throats out - and that’s just for starters. Believe me, if I could help Sara, I would’ve. But she’s beyond help.’

  Diana felt her bladder weakening at the sound of guttural growling and vehement hissing inches from her obstructed momentarily by the white storeroom door.

  ‘Where’ll we go?’ Diana sounded on the verge of panic.

  Eric shook his head. Then a thought came to him. ‘There’s the Meadow Fish Bar & Restaurant next door and the adjoining garage. Once we let go of this door, we’ll have to sprint through the exit, past the window and straight into there. You go first, get a head start. Open the exit door ready. Go down the steps and I’ll meet you there.’

  Diana started whimpering in spite of herself.

  ‘Hey, c’mon,’ Eric said in a soothing voice. ‘It’ll be better in restaurant. We can have a sit down.’

  Diana nodded, although she didn’t believe him.

  ‘Tell you what,’ Eric said, seeing she was about to break down in a fit of tears,’ why don’t you grabs us a bag of Doritos and a bottle of Coke. We can have a sit down next door, get somethin’ to eat and revaluate. That sound like a plan or what?’

  ‘Okay,’ Diana sobbed.

  Shunted forward again, Eric watched her grab a bottle of Diet Coke and cheese flavoured Doritos. A sympathy so profound overwhelmed him. He’d never felt an emotion so strong before for a stranger. It had nothing to do with love or lust, Eric purely cared for Diana and the predicament she found herself in.

  Bracing himself for the moment he moved away from the door and raced across the shop to the exit, Eric permitted the thing that used to be Sara to nudge the door open ajar. Then he threw his entire bodyweight, shoulder first, at the door jarring Sara between the door and the frame. He heard the skull crack against the frame. Yet no sound of pain or discomfort came from the diseased.

  He repeated this action twice more.

  Nothing.

  Then he booted the door, slamming it against Sara’s bloodied head and then ran.

&nb
sp; He ducked in the nick of time as Sara’s outstretched fingers snatched at his hair and tried to yank him backwards. His adrenaline went through the roof. In one swift, lithe movement, Eric threw himself over the counter, landed perfectly on his feet and darted down the aisle to the door.

  At the foot of the concrete steps Diana yelped at his touch.

  ‘It’s me!’ he cried.

  ‘Where were you?’ Diana sobbed.

  ‘Sorry,’ he mumbled. Then he grabbed her by the wrist, took the two litre bottle of Diet Coke out of her hand and dragged Diana into the mist.

  6.

  NOW

  Fortunately the Meadow Fish Bar & Restaurant had been unlocked. Eric assumed the worst and thought he’d have to smash a window. However, his luck continued. To make sure it stayed that way, for the time being at least, he placed a broom under the door handle and locked the door. Then he suggested to Diana that they take the furthest leatherette booth in the niche around the corner from the counter.

  The fish bar and restaurant’s décor was a red and white chequered fifties theme.

  Eric eyed the interior in awe. The red and white linoleum had a polished, mirror surface; the tables were glossy clean and brand new in appearance. There was even a traditional duke box on the opposite side of the restaurant, all sparkly, even if the lights were off and the fog had diminished all daylight.

  On the counter beneath the see-through lids atop serving trays were mangy cakes and pies that would have otherwise been delicious to sink their teeth into.

  Diana sat on the upholstery gazing despondently at the black and white photographs adorning the scarlet walls. They were pictures of men and women from a time long ago. Their smiles were radiant. Times had been hard back then, not long after the Second World War. Diana kept thinking how much courage some people had to have to be able to smile and be content in those times. She wished she possessed courage like that. Instead she wiped tears endlessly trickling down her face.