“I dunno!” he says.
Barry illuminates his face from below with the flashlight.
“So you never thought to ask?”
Kevin feels confused, and is a bit frightened.
“I dunno where he died! I went to the memorial, which was dead boring with all the talk and stuff, but there was cake after so it was all right. And why are you asking these weird questions anyway?”
Barry says nothing, but instead unslings the metal detector and drops it on the ground. He starts swinging the flashlight back and forth, as if looking for something.
“Hey, careful, that's my inheritance you're chucking about!” protests Kevin.
Instead of replying, Barry freezes, mumbles something, and then sets off down the slope towards the road like a bat out of hell. He drops his flashlight about halfway down, and Kevin watches as his friend vanishes out of the little cone of light.
Leaving him alone.
“Barry, stop pissing about, mate!” he says feebly, knowing he can't be heard.
He's alone on a small hill in the middle of nowhere. He looks around, but of course, he can see nothing except the same distant lights as before.
Kevin bends down and picks up the set of headphones. He puts one to his ear but hears – nothing. Or at least, nothing more disturbing than a background hiss, like when you listen to a seashell. Nothing for Barry to freak out about like that, he thinks.
Maybe he's playing some kind of stupid game.
Kevin puts the headphones on properly, then picks up the detector. If Barry, my so-called friend, is going to mess around, I will stick to the plan. I have the detector and the shovel, I’ll find the treasure and dig it up myself.
He begins to walk across the mound, adjusting the controls on the box until he hears the familiar low note. As he moves, the pitch starts to rise a little, just a touch, and he slows down, swinging the device from side to side like a pro. Sure enough, he is on to something. There is definitely some kind of metal under the heap of dirt.
It is just getting interesting when the thing malfunctions. The rising tone turns into a piercing shriek, and then into a weird burst of static that almost sounds like angry whispering.
Kevin tears off the headphones, switches off the machine.
Well, at least I know where it is.
He unburdens himself of the metal detector and goes to get the shovel. As he is coming back, he hears the whispering sound again. It is louder, now, insistent, and it bothers him for a moment until he realizes that he has obviously failed to switch it off properly. He bends down and tries to flick the switch, but it is already in the OFF position.
The whispering grows louder still.
Kevin decides to go and get the flashlight.
After all, there's not much point in digging something up if you can't see what it is.
He makes his way tentatively down the slope to the glow cast by the flashlight. He loses his balance while picking it up and goes sprawling full length in the dirt. He discovers that at least one of the cows in the field below is able to climb the mound and has left the customary signs of their presence.
He recovers the flashlight, regardless, and sweeps its beam over the slope above him. The beam picks out the gear lying where he left it. It also shows a figure standing over the little heap.
Shit, it's the farmer! No wonder Barry ran for it. Well, he's made of stronger stuff. He'll bluff it out.
“Hello?”
The flashlight isn't strong enough to illuminate the man properly. Kevin starts trudging back up the hill waving the beam from side to side. He catches glimpses of the figure, who seems painfully thin and is standing very still. He's shocked to see another man-shape appear, as if from nowhere.
He stops climbing and steadies the flashlight. The light plays over shapes that are too thin, too devoid of flesh to be alive. And yet, there they stand; lipless mouths gape limply, empty sockets stare, and Kevin feels his already-fragile mental barrier between horror movies and reality tumble down, perhaps for good.
He turns and begins to run the way – he hopes – Barry has gone, skidding and almost falling again. He hangs onto the flashlight, needing to find his way to the gate but also afraid to lose himself in the darkness.
Sure enough, he finds the gate looming out of the night. He crashes into it belly-first, then climbs over, dropping the flashlight and falling in a heap onto the gravel. He retrieves the flashlight, gets to his feet in record time, and runs up the lane to the car, praying that Barry hasn't simply driven off.
If he'd done that, I would have heard him start up, seen the headlights.
As he runs, he feels his big, unfit body protesting despite the massive shot of adrenaline it's just received. A pain in his side tells him that he can't keep this pace up for long. The flashlight beam flails wildly around him, showing roadway, ditch, hedge, and roadway again. He is wheezing and starting to wobble from side to side when he catches sight of the car.
He slows to a walking pace, the stitch in his side now so bad that it almost drives his fear away.
Got to keep moving!
He staggers the last few paces to the car, noticing Barry in the passenger seat. He opens the driver's door, scrambles in, and fastens his seatbelt.
“Bloody hell, mate, you could have waited! Why’d you leave me up there with them things, whatever they were?”
Barry, unusually for him, is silent. He just sits there, looking out of the windshield.
Kevin slams the car door and leans over.
“Barry? You all right?”
He reaches out slowly and touches his friend on the shoulder. Barry is quivering in terror.
“Barry, what's wrong?”
His friend makes a noise and nods at the rear-view mirror. Kevin looks into the mirror and sees – blackness. Something else is there. A thin figure that has been slouching in the back seat now sits upright. It reaches into the front of the car with bony fingers that sport cruelly long nails.
***
In a small house a mile or so away, the sound of a car horn blaring might have been heard for a few seconds, if the couple that live there weren't curled up and sleeping peacefully.
* * *
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Table of Contents
Prologue: London, February 6th, 1952.
Chapter 1: Preparations
Chapter 2: Forebodings
Chapter 3: Visions
Chapter 4: Private Conversations
Chapter 5: Omens
Chapter 6: A Kind of Madness
Chapter 7: Appearances
Chapter 8: The Beginning of the End
Chapter 9: The Best-Laid Plans
Chapter 10: Preparations
Chapter 11: London Calling
Chapter 12: The Star Wormwood
Epilogue: London, December 1952
Bonus Scene: Detected
The Smog (The Sentinels Series Book 3) Page 17
