Darkness Falls

by J. M. Robinson

  CHAPTER 17

  IN THE DAYS THAT FOLLOWED THE RAIN CAME. It poured from the sky and soaked the streets. Those who made their homes by the river found the water rising and flooding their houses. It washed through the streets creating new streams and currents. It put out the fires that had been lit at the beginning but left its own trail of devastation behind.

  Those who were made homeless found new homes on the street. In the days that followed the arrival of the angels the streets were filled with people who would never be able to return home. But they still didn’t leave the city. It was their home and a little ‘weather’ wasn’t going to change that.

  Some of them found the same places. The places like the park near the Brambley’s house where Carol had refused to leave old John. These places were protected by an ancient magic that no one understood. There weren’t many of them and even fewer people who found them.

  Buildings fell and the sky continued to spill rain and light. The days were short and uncomfortable. It was a strain for the people to see what was becoming of their city. They blamed the weather because they couldn’t see what else it might be. The angels and the demons fighting their war among them were invisible to all but a few.

  The churches were full and so were the bars. Each dispensed its own kind of wisdom but only the weak and the scared bought it. Everywhere was full except the homes of the people who had been forced onto the streets. Those who had been caught away from the city on the night the war broke out found they were unable to return.

  Graham Kable sat on the wet ground and watched the river slowly rising. He could hear the rain hitting the water like a million tiny gunshots. He couldn’t focus on any of it and didn’t want to.

  He poured the last of the cheap wine down his throat. It burned for a moment. Then it was gone and the bottle was empty. He held onto it for a moment anyway. The weight of the glass was still some comfort. It reminded him that he was a drunk with no home and no family. There was nothing for him now except the poison.

  A man beside him rolled over and the dirty blanket fell from his face. He stank but Graham didn’t notice. Everyone beneath the bridge stank. Some of the people who still had money and a little respect had gone to hide out in the underground but the rest were hidden as Graham was, under any strong surface that might protect them from the worst of the debris which fell from the sky.

  The man beside him grunted and then opened his mouth. Stringy grey vomit trickled out and ran down the slope into the river. Graham turned away and saw a light at the other end of the bridge.

  It was ostensibly day time but little of the pale light made it beneath the bridge. Graham watched the singular light bobbing up and down and growing larger as it moved towards him. He listened to the slow and steady footsteps and the splashing sound as they hit the water.

  The light made it impossible for him to see who was there but they were alone. He squinted as the light got closer and then he had to turn away.

  The figure stopped just a few feet away from him. Graham was hidden in the darkest part of the bridge where nobody could see him yet the person with the light swung it slowly back and forth as if they were trying.

  “I’m looking for Graham Kable,” the man with the light said. His voice was as steady as his footsteps had been.

  It was no one Graham knew and he had no wish to be found. He tried not to move and draw attention to himself.

  The man repeated himself but this time added: “I am here on behalf of The Church. If Graham Kable is here let him make himself known.”

  It sounded like a spell to Graham, or what the religious called a prayer. The man continued to stand there while dozens of hobos watched him from the shadowy recesses of the under bridge.

  “Graham Kable,” the man said, “if you’re under here make yourself known.”

  Graham had no intention of doing anything of the sort. Even drunk he knew that meeting a man from The Church wasn’t going to do anything good for him.

  The man waited a few moments longer but he didn’t repeat his request. Graham watched him reach into his pocket and take out something not much larger than his hand. He held it tightly and began to walk away.

  Graham shuffled forwards. The man reached the end of the bridge. He turned and stared into the darkness. He threw whatever was in his hand beneath the bridge.

  It landed on the floor with a thud. Graham stared for a moment waiting to see what would happen. Five, maybe six, seconds passed and then suddenly the under side of the bridge exploded in blinding light.

  Several people cried out in surprise but the bigger shock was still to come. The little device seemed to be filled with gun powder. There was an explosion which Graham felt in his chest and then the light became fire.

  The bridge was made of stone and it was wet enough that it shouldn’t have been able to burn. Graham stayed where he was for long enough to realise that what it should have been able to do and what it was going to do were two very different things.

  He got to his feet and started scrambling across the sloped surface towards daylight on the other side.

  Smoke billowed around the confined space and Graham started coughing and choking along with everyone else. By now even the people who had been too surprised to move were on their feet. Some of them clutching smaller people, others hastily picking up their bed roles and the few possessions they had left in the world.

  Graham forced his way towards the other side of the bridge where there was a staircase carved into the wall. He pushed past the other survivors and started climbing.

  Once he was on the street he could run more quickly but it was still difficult. The ground was littered with the debris of the war.

  He didn’t have anywhere to go except away and he wasn’t even sure why he was doing that. It had been instinct and nothing more. Maybe though it would have been easier to lay down and die in the flames or to simply have given himself up to the man from The Church.

  But he hadn’t done either of those things and he was still running. Something about him wanted to survive and, he supposed, there was only one reason for that. Now wasn’t the time to think about it though, he had to run and he had to find a new place to hide.

  He ran down dark alleyways and the world seemed to lurch from side to side as cheap alcohol sloshed around in his stomach. The walls seemed to be melting. He glanced at the abandoned ruins of an old bar and a face appeared, laughing at him.

  He turned one corner and then another. Increasingly tight alleyways opened up in front of him until he found there was only one place left to go.

  An ancient building stood at the end of the path.

  Graham pulled the black wooden door and it opened towards him. A gust of stale air that smelled of dust and cinders wafted over him. He could hear the echo of the doors movement reverberating around the dark space inside. No one seemed to be home so he went inside.

  Graham recognised it as a workhouse. If he found the stairs and went up he would find the kitchen and living quarters. He walked towards the central platform. The machines that he passed were covered with a thick layer of dust as if the place had been abandoned a long time ago.

  It would do for a place to hide out. It might even have been perfect. There were no windows on the factory floor and upstairs he might find food and a bed.

  He found the stairs at the end of a dank hallway. Something slimy appeared to be growing on the walls but he didn’t stop to examine it. He climbed the stairs to the second floor where he found, as he had hoped, a kitchen and dining room.

  It was a large room filled by three long tables and child height benches. Metal cups, plates and spoons were strewn haphazardly around, most of them half filled with drink and food that had begun to rot.

  In the kitchen he found large boxes full of dry oats and a barrel of water. He ran his hand through the bags of food and found animal droppings and mould.

  There was nothing that he could eat. He returned to the stairs and climbed them to the next floo
r where he found two dormitories. One for boys and one for girls. The windows were shuttered, it was dark and warm. The effects of the alcohol he’d drunk had begun to wear off. Graham yawned but he didn’t stop. It was apparent that none of the beds were going to be big enough to support him.

  He continued past the two doors that led to either dormitory and found a third door at the end of the corridor. It was closed but not locked.

  The door opened and a gust of hot moist air that smelled of rot came out. He covered his mouth with the crook of his arm. The air was filled with thick dust so that he could barely see to the other side of the room.

  Graham pulled the door closed and stepped away. He was panting and his head felt dizzy. The last thing that he wanted to see when he opened his eyes was Agnes hovering above him.

  She was at the other end of the corridor. The steps that he had climbed were between them and he might have been able to escape but all of the fight had gone out of him. He felt drained and depressed and he could no longer see the point in trying. He stood there while Agnes floated towards him, the light of her incorporeal being blinded him. He closed his eyes and waited for the end to come.

  CHAPTER 18

  HE COULD FEEL HER CLOSE TO HIM BUT not in the way he might have felt a living human. There was a coldness to her presence which he hadn’t felt on any of the other occasions they had met since her death.

  “You can open your eyes,” Agnes said.

  Graham could feel his heart pounding and the sound of her voice made that worse. He hadn’t heard her speak since the morning of her death. Her murder, he reminded himself, at the hands of The Church. He opened his eyes but he couldn’t look at her. The light which made her glow was blinding.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” Agnes said. Her voice was as soft as it had been in life.

  Graham felt himself relax until he remembered what had happened, that he had failed Agnes and their daughter. “I’m sorry.”

  Agnes smiled and the light became brighter. Graham didn’t turn away again. “You don’t need to be sorry Graham.”

  “Agnes I failed. Bridget is dead.”

  Graham waited for her to fly into a fiery rage but nothing happened. A smile spread across her face and he saw that she was shaking her head. “She isn’t dead Graham.”

  He realised that she didn’t know why Bridget had been taken nor who had taken her. He was going to have to explain it and convince her that there was no longer any hope of Bridget being saved. He opened his mouth to begin but she shook her head and stopped him.

  “I know more than you think,” Agnes said. Graham had a feeling that it had always been that way.

  He tried to ignore the surge of hope that he felt. Whatever Agnes thought it couldn’t be true: the war had started which meant the ceremony had been completed. Which meant that Bridget was dead.

  “She’s alive Graham,” Agnes said. “I can help you find her.”

  “Where is she?” Graham said.

  Agnes told him and his heart sank as he realised how close he had been. The next street or maybe two streets along from the last church he’d visited. If he hadn’t needed to escape through the tunnel he might have reached her in time.

  “You tried to kill me,” Graham said. “Why should I trust you?”

  “Graham Kable!” Agnes said. “I am your wife. How can you say such a thing?”

  “It’s true, isn’t it?”

  “Of course it isn’t true. I would never try to hurt you. I was trying to help.”

  He remembered her burning fury and how scared he and Carol had been. He didn’t understand how she thought that could have helped him.

  “I couldn’t speak to you. There was a spell stopping me. When the ceremony was complete the spell was broken.”

  “You were angry,” Graham said. “I could see.”

  She nodded, “I was angry. Frustrated. I wanted to help Bridget but I couldn’t. I saved you in the Henge didn’t I?”

  He nodded. He supposed she had helped him there.

  “We don’t have time to discuss this now,” Agnes said. “Bridget needs us.”

  He still wasn’t sure that he believed her but he didn’t have a better idea. He let her lead him back along the corridor and down the stairs. He watched her from behind. He could see through her to the dark dank walls beyond. It crossed his mind to ask if she knew what had happened in the workhouse but she was right. They didn’t have time for that. They had to help Bridget.

  CHAPTER 19

  THE DARK STREETS WERE FILLED WITH PEOPLE WHO cried for what they had lost. They had been caught off guard when the world had changed and now all they could do was mourn it. The world smelled of brimstone. He could feel the warmth of fires that threatened to burn the city to the ground.

  As far as anyone could see Graham was on his own. Agnes was invisible to everyone else, as the golden path had been. He kept to the shadows beside the tall buildings. The rain had stopped but the battle thunder and flashes of red lightning continued to shake the world. There were cracks on the ground and buildings lurched unhappily.

  She led him through the narrow winding streets. Graham watched her pass through broken machinery and half collapsed buildings as they made their way towards St. Valen’s Church on Craftlove Street.

  A dog barked. A wolf howled. Graham turned around and saw three dark shapes behind him. They stood in the middle of the street on four legs each.

  “Graham!” Agnes said.

  He turned to look at her.

  “Hurry, we don’t have much time.”

  When he turned to check the street behind him the three animals had gone but he didn’t feel any easier. He could feel them out there, watching him and waiting.

  As night fell the city changed again. The short daytime hours were still the domain of humans, even while they suffered they continued to occupy the light. When the sun set the creatures of the night came out. The werewolves, which Graham had already seen, were joined by vampires and witches, warlocks and sorcerers. Some of them preyed on the humans who had nowhere else to go, a few of them tried to help but they were in the minority.

  Graham turned and looked down a side street where he saw two men (vampires, he thought) leaning over a woman, her back bent over one of their legs as they took it in turn to lean down and drink from her neck.

  While most of the buildings were ruins he could see the dark outline of St. Valen’s ahead of them. Overturned carriages blocked the road and, while Agnes could travel straight through them, Graham was slowed by having to find a path around.

  St. Valen’s was an old church. It was a simple, plane looking building with little in the way of decoration or features.

  “Hurry,” Agnes called to him.

  Graham walked as quickly as he could. There was no one around as far as he could see but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. He was sure the wolves were still following him and he didn’t know what he would find when they actually reached the church.

  The ground was burned. Patches of grass that had surrounded the church and the graveyard were blackened with ash. The gate had been torn away. Graham walked up the bloody steps and onto the path that led to the door.

  “She’s in here?” Graham said.

  “Yes,” Agnes said. She whispered even though he was sure no one else could see her.

  He followed her along the path, moving to avoid the deep crack that ran along its middle, to the simple wooden door which was miraculously undamaged. “Is there anyone inside?” Graham said. “Apart from Bridget?”

  “I don’t know,” Agnes said. “I can’t go in.”

  “Why not?” Graham said.

  She turned around to look at him. “There’s a spell keeping me out.”

  “I have to go alone?”

  She nodded. Graham looked up at the side of the building and wondered if it was really possible that Agnes was right and that Bridget was inside. There was only one way that he could find out.

  Graham pushed the door
and, to his surprise, it opened inwards. He took a deep breath and went through.

  A shiver ran through his body although he wasn’t cold. He looked into the great expanse of white that filled his vision and tried to understand what he was seeing. It was not what he had expected.

  The church was as bright as mid-day. The stained glass windows glowed with the brightness of mid-summer. The pews and alter had gone and in their place were small kneeling mats arranged in concentric circles around a podium which was raised several feet above the floor. Light came in from above, although there was no window that Graham could see.

  He took a step towards the podium and now he could see the top of it. A blackened shape stood out amongst all the whiteness. A huddled form that might have been a pile of discarded rags but which he knew was his daughter. Bridget was here, in the same building as him and there was nothing, no one, standing in his way.

  That he could see.

  Of course it couldn’t be that easy. There was someone hidden and waiting for him. As soon as he tried to get to her they would jump out on him and he would be forced to fight. Whatever it was he was sure it wouldn’t be human. They would be stronger and faster than him and he wouldn’t stand a chance.

  He didn’t move. It was better to live in the moment of hope, where there was still a chance that he might be able to save her. Where there was still a chance that she might be alive when he did.

  Graham looked back at the door and it was still there. Agnes would be waiting outside and she would be wondering what was taking him so long.

  He sighed. Not knowing was the worst of it, he decided. He had to find out, one way or another, whether Bridget was alive and if he could get to her. He took a deep breath and started to walk.

  No monsters jumped out at him and each step took him closer to the platform. He walked until he was close enough to touch her.

  He knew she would be dead. There was no other way this could end. But Agnes had made him doubt that and now he had to know for sure.