by E. B. Huffer
Then as suddenly as he started, Alpha stopped and lowered his body into a half crouch. The Giant, anticipating an attack, pulled his knotted fists close to his torso like a boxer. But the assault never came. Instead of launching his powerful machine of a body at The Giant, Alpha bowed his head and backed away slowly.
The Giant should have felt relieved, but he sensed that something was wrong. He glanced at the scorpion. Much to his surprise it hadn't moved. He glanced at the army of Dog Beasts. They had all assumed a submissive position; bodies half crouched, tails between their legs. Then he glanced at Margie. Her eyes, wide with fear, were focussed on something behind him.
The Giant spun around. In the shadow of the forest stood a creature shrouded in a dark swirling mist which took the form of a hooded cape. As the creature stepped slowly out of the darkness, The Giant could see its face clearly and what a terrible vision it was. Half alive and half dead, its flesh was a deep grey; its eyes just empty sockets. The face had no expression, but the mist which enveloped the creature showed nothing but contempt. The creature moved towards The Giant slowly, silently, its body floating several inches above the ground. As it drew closer, The Giant could hear its rasping breath. It was whispering something to him that he couldn’t understand. The voice seemed to be coming from somewhere far away.
The Dog Beast, which was still half crouched let out a low, impatient growl. "Take him ... you’ll be doing us all a favour!"
In a flash, the creature had tripled in size and reared up over the Dog Beast emitting an otherworldly scream that seemed to bring even time to a standstill.
Alpha whimpered and bowed his head even lower. This was more than just a Shadow Herder.
The creature swiftly returned to its original size then turned its attention back to The Giant. For a second the creature’s face softened then in one swift movement it grabbed The Giant and dragged him off into the forest like a bullet, ricocheting off the trees before disappearing into the ground. Margie heard him scream but before her brain could register what she had just seen, the dark creature and The Giant were gone. Oblivious to the dangers that now awaited her, Margie raced towards the forest (and the Dog Beasts) in search of her beloved friend. But as she reached the edge of the forest she collapsed on the floor in a sobbing heap. In front of her The Giant’s clothes in a neat pile on the floor.
It didn’t take long before she could feel Alpha’s deep, rasping breath on the back of her neck. She even managed a small smile as she imagined the tiredness and the fear and the sadness being taken away from her. The reality was that Margie didn’t care anymore. She was tired. Spent. As she lay slumped on the ground she willed Alpha to take her. Quickly. She didn’t want to go any further. She was at the end of her strength. She imagined herself floating in a great white cloud, a boundless freedom that filled her with peace for the first time in a long time.
Alpha smiled to himself as he inched towards Margie. He couldn’t believe his luck. The Giant had been dragged into the darkness, the scorpion had come to a standstill and now it was just Margie and him. Oh, he couldn’t wait to take his prey back to The Great Torquere. He would be rewarded for sure.
"Stand up," he ordered. "You must come with me to the city of Limbuss."
Margie ignored his demand.
Alpha growled. "I order you to stand up!"
The words smacked Margie in the face bringing her crashing back to earth. Those words had been said to her before. She knew it. Was this a memory? Could this be something of the past she’d forgotten? Somewhere in the deepest darkest recesses of her mind she could visualise a man; a police officer shouting at her ...
*****
Following the death of her beloved friend Mona Malone, Margie found herself on the streets without a penny to her name. She knew she couldn’t return to her parent’s house. It had been so long, she couldn’t even remember the name of the town. She couldn’t remember what her parents were called, or what they even looked like. Hell, she didn’t even know if they were still alive.
And so she continued to exist, wandering the streets in search of food or a shop doorway for shelter. She didn’t feel fear at what lay ahead of her. Years of sweeping floors, scrubbing windows, cleaning toilets and ironing linen had sweated every last drop of emotion from her fragile body. She didn’t have the energy to think or feel any more. She’d existed for so long she’d forgotten how to live ... and it showed in the deadness of her eyes.
More often than not she found herself sleeping in the local graveyard where there were plenty of nooks and crannies in which to hide. She wasn’t afraid of the dead. By now, the dead were afraid of her. But as time went by, the loneliness kicked in and the voices returned. She tuned in like listening to a radio, occasionally offering a piece of advice, usually rude. She laughed at the dead and chided them. But still they came; desperate to be heard. Desperate to make contact.
It was one such night in the graveyard, whilst talking to the dead, that she found herself being rudely startled by a large man shining a light in her eyes. Blinded and confused, she covered her eyes.
"I order you to stand up," shouted the man. "Up now, come on."
Margie scrambled to her feet and as her eyes slowly adjusted to the light, she could see that the man was in fact an officer of the law.
"What’s your name? Why aren’t you at home? How old are you? Don’t you have a coat? Aren’t you cold?" The questions came thick and fast.
Margie, tired and hungry, said nothing.
"Are. You. Mad?" asked the officer, talking slowly as though talking to someone from a foreign country.
Margie smiled.
"Come with me," he said.
Before long, Margie found herself in Clattergate Mental Institute sitting before the eminent Dr Clarence Malvern.
Dr Malvern nodded a lot. All the time in fact. Like a nodding dog. A gentle rhythmic nod that seemed to draw the innermost feelings of people from deep down inside, like a heavy duty stirrup pump.
"So what seems to be the problem?" he asked.
"I hear voices. Lots of them. All day and all night."
"I see," he said, peering over his glasses at a set of notes resting on his knee, "and what kind of things do they say?"
Margie told him about the old lady whose treasure was sewn into the bottom of her sofa, which her daughter had just foolishly given to a charity shop; about the little boy who wanted to tell his mummy and daddy that he didn’t suffer when he drowned in the garden pond; about the woman who wanted her to tell her husband to rot in hell; about the tortured souls that hounded her every waking second of her goddamn life. She spoke for hours of the tiredness and the anger and the frustration. And just when she thought she couldn’t possibly say anything more on the subject, a young handsome man walked into the room, hurriedly shook her hand, introduced himself as Dr Clarence Malvern and apologised for being late.
Margie, it seems, had poured out her innermost feelings to a ghost. It was the final straw for her and she was sectioned.
Even worse, nobody would believe her when she told them that she was being hounded by the dead. Medical words were thrown around like confetti at a wedding. Hallucinations. Schizophrenia. Delusions. Drug abuse. Psychosis. Depression. They poked and prodded Margie, electrocuted her and drugged her to the hilt. But still the voices came.
The doctors continued to tell her the voices were all in her head and she continued to tell them they weren’t.
And then one day Margie told Dr Clarence Malvern that his mother’s name was Mary and that she died on his first birthday. She had polio as a child and walked with a limp. And wanted him to know that she loved him.
The astonished doctor declared, with a stutter and a stammer, that whilst she was far from normal, she wasn’t sick either! Margie was booted out of the hospital and back onto the streets.
*****
Margie rose to her feet slowly and turned to Alpha. First she smiled at him and then her smile turned into a laugh and then she spat at him, t
he saliva landing on his right eye.
Alpha was furious and launched at Margie. His steel teeth clamped onto her right arm, digging into her flesh. Margie cried out and used her left arm to try and prise open his jaws. But it was in vain.
"Come on!" screamed Margie furiously into the ether as she fought the great mechanical Dog Beast. "Come and take me too! I'm waiting!"
Alpha dragged her to the ground and violently shook her like an old dust rag. "Torquere wanted you alive, but he shall have you in a box," he snarled.
Alpha released Margie's arm then immediately lunged at her throat. He never got to clamp his teeth around her neck because an ear-splitting screech, like metal against metal, forced them both to cover their ears. It was, they quickly realised, the sound of the giant scorpion coming to life. Before anyone could grasp exactly what was happening, the scorpion’s enormous segmented tail had whipped forward and belted Alpha several metres across the sand.
Unperturbed he raced back to finish the job off. From several feet away he launched himself at Margie who was now curled up in a ball in the sand. Within seconds he was standing over her; his back arched and his teeth bared as a warning to the scorpion not to come any closer. This was his quarry; his kill.
The scorpion let out another shrill metallic screech before bringing its great grasping claw down in Alpha’ direction. It missed.
Alpha grabbed Margie’s arm in his teeth and dragged her towards the forest. The Dog Beasts, which had already retreated to the forest yapped and howled excitedly. Before Alpha could reach them, the scorpion scuttled forward and once again launched its claw in the direction of Alpha. This time it caught him from behind and sent him rolling across the sand. As he stood up, he realised that one of his hind legs was hanging off. Enraged he launched another attack on Margie. Once again the scorpion’s large claw crashed down in front of him; this time creating a barrier between him and Margie.
The reason for this became clear when the scorpion used its flexible stinger to grab Margie off the ground. Frozen with fear she hung like a broken doll.
A number of the Dog Beasts who, until now, had watched from the sidelines, moved in to prevent the scorpion from taking Margie. As they threw themselves at the armour clad tail, the stinger lost its grip and Margie crashed to the ground.
The Dog Beasts howled with delight and, buoyed by their success, launched a fresh and frenzied attack on the scorpion.
The remaining Dog Beasts entered into the battle almost completely oblivious to Margie’s motionless body which lay in a crumpled heap on the floor. With no one to lead them, they inched closer to the scorpion driven on by instinct and the need to pursue their prey, regardless of its size. Then in a cloud of dust and a frenzy of barking, biting, scratching and pawing they attacked. Alpha shouted for his troops to grab the body, but his voice was lost amid the noise.
Suddenly, the scorpion lifted its heavily armoured tail high in the air, sending a number of Dog Beasts flying, and brought it down again heavily. As the Dog Beasts stumbled about, disorientated from the impact, the scorpion arched its tail forward over its body; curled its stinger tightly around Margie’s waist and snatched her up from the ground.
Alpha, desperate now to ensure he didn’t lose Margie again, used the last of his energy to launch himself over the scorpion’s claw and directly towards Margie.
The scorpion wasn’t quick enough. Alpha’s jaws clamped onto Margie’s legs tightly and there he hung, unwilling to lose her for a third time.
Margie was terrified yet, despite Alpha’s teeth piercing deep into her flesh, she didn’t feel any pain. Desperately she kicked the Dog Beast with her other leg, but to no avail. Alpha hung on with all his might, not once taking his eyes off Margie’s. In a frantic attempt to lose Alpha, the scorpion flicked its tail violently, left then right but still the angry beast hung on, clamping his jaw even tighter.
Finally succumbing to her terror, Margie let out a scream. It came from somewhere deep within; the culmination of everything that had happened to her since she'd arrived in Limbuss. It was a scream that sent a heaving great ripple coursing, like a tsunami, through time and space.
Suddenly Alpha let go of Margie’s leg and as he fell it became clear that something incredible had just happened. He had been turned entirely to ice.
As the weight of Alpha’ body fell away, Margie fell silent. And in the quiet timeless seconds that followed, she watched his icy body fall and shatter. Each shard evaporated into a tiny, shimmering ball of light which flew upwards to form a small vortex. Spinning faster and faster and getting brighter and brighter the millions of shards eventually exploded and disappeared along with the army of Dog Beasts, which retreated into the forest howling and whining.
Suddenly the pale blue heavens deepened to an indigo blue. A thunderstorm rumbled off to the east and a light wind blew in carrying the unmistakable bite of winter.
Margie had a bad feeling as the scorpion tightened its grip.
Journey to the Darkest of all Places
Margie remained in the clutches of the scorpion's tail for a few more moments, being flicked clumsily this way and that way, until eventually a small hatch flipped open in the scorpions back and, like a piece of litter, Margie was dropped inside.
She landed in a giant pile of cushions and rolled off onto the floor. Dazed and frightened she stood up, her fists clenched ready for a fight.
"Ah now then," said a soft, friendly voice. "Is that any way to treat an old friend?"
It took a few moments for Margie's brain to compute. Then the fog in her brain cleared enough for her to recognise the familiar face peering intently through a magnifying glass at her.
"Grandma Doyle?"
"Aye, it is my child; the very same one."
"How do I know it's you?" demanded Margie through narrowed eyes.
"You could ask me a million questions to test me and I could answer them all. But we don't have time."
Margie studied the room in which she found herself. It was a large room cluttered at one end with shelves, dials, cogs and various mechanical objects and cosily decorated at the other end, more like the interior of an old gypsy wagon. In the centre of the room, separating both ends, was a large elaborate periscope. Running the length of the room, on either side, were bunks.
"It’s quite okay," said Grandma Doyle. "It needed a bit of a woman’s touch when I first arrived – not easy with no resources an’ all – but it’s comfortable and most importantly it’s safe."
"Are we inside the scorpion?"
"We are. It’s magnificent isn’t it!"
Margie’s lip wobbled.
"I thought you were ..."
"Child, I thought I was, let me tell you!" Grandma Doyle grabbed Margie's chin and lifted her face up. "Would you like a nice cup o’ tea? You don't look well at all."
Margie didn’t answer. Overwhelmed by the events of the previous few days she slumped to the ground and sobbed into one of the pillows. For several hours she cried, the pillow becoming sodden with tears.
"Oh Grandma Doyle," she eventually managed to sniffle. "My Giant is gone. I saw it with my own eyes. He didn't deserve it; he was trying to help."
"I know," soothed Grandma Doyle. "I saw it too. We were trying so hard to reach you both, but we couldn't get the blasted machine to work. Everything shut down. It was kaput. We could do nothing to get it started; we tried everything."
Margie hadn’t heard a word of it. Or if she had, she didn’t let on. She didn’t really care about anything right now. All she knew was that she wanted The Giant. She couldn’t get his final image out of her mind – the expression on his face as he was dragged away by that creature, that 'thing'. She shook her head sadly but the image remained.
Margie let out another huge sob. "Will he come back Grandma Doyle? Please tell me he will."
"Anything can happen in Limbuss, my child. Anything at all. Nothing is ever what it seems."
Grandma Doyle’s words didn’t sink in because Margie, exh
austed from her ordeal, had already fallen into a deep sleep.
When Margie opened her eyes several hours later, she found herself staring at a vision of horror – or rather she found herself being stared at. The creature’s face, if that’s what it was, was a hideous misshapen form with a great beak-shaped protrusion. Its eyes were nothing more than two great round hollows.
Practically nose to nose with the creature, Margie screamed.
Grandma Doyle, who was busy preparing something in a large pot in the corner of the room, marched over and pulled the strange looking creature away from the bunk on which Margie was lying.
"Take that thing off now," she demanded. "As if the child hasn't had enough to upset her!"
As the face drew away from her, Margie could see that it was in fact a mask of some kind. The 'creature' had a body like any other man. It was tall and wore body armour made from a dark material. In the centre of the body armour, where the heart should be, was a clock. But instead of hands and numbers, this clock contained a tiny person, squashed up so tightly it looked like it was knotted; his little face squashed against the glass so hard it looked deformed.
Margie blinked a number of times, unsure as to whether she was seeing correctly.
"It’s the latest fashion," said the man, who was busy trying to undo a buckle under his chin which held the mask over his face. "Not that I follow the latest fashion mind, a sinful waste of time." The mask finally came away to reveal a handsome old man with a greying beard and a cloud of silvery white hair. A scar snaked down the side of his face, which on the whole had a sort of friendliness to it.
"It was a gift," he finished, patting the watch. "He was probably a terrible time waster in his life ... and this is his punishment."
Margie studied the man in the watch, horrified.
"Don’t worry," interrupted Grandma Doyle, "it’s not forever; just a couple of hundred years max. Nothing really; not compared to some."
