by C. J. Waller
“Bran,” he murmured as loudly as he dared. “I'm glad you're back. We've decided. We’re leaving. Tonight.”
Decker stared at the floor and took a long swallow of his coffee. “Good luck.”
“Good luck? What do you mean by that?” Mags hissed before Paul could get a word in, but he didn't reprimand her. Despite his earlier objections to Yolanda's plan, Decker's response only confirmed his long-buried suspicions. Whatever it was that bothered him – that had infected him and stolen the life from his eyes – wasn’t going to let go of Brandon Decker that easily. What disturbed him more was just how readily he had given in to it. The Decker he knew and loved would usually fight tooth and nail for what he thought was right… but this Decker had given up before it had all started. He thought back to the journey that had handed them all over to Dùisg a' Pheacaich on a plate. He should have realised then. Hell, he had realised then, but in his selfish eagerness to chase his personal ace, he’d sacrificed Decker back to this town.
The fire started up again within him. Well, he wasn't about to give him up without a fight. Fuck this town. Whatever it was going on here, it could find another victim. It wasn’t having Brandon, because Brandon was his. Paul straightened up.
“You’re coming with us,” he said.
Decker sighed and shook his head. “I can’t.”
“You can’t?” Paul fought down the urge to grab him by his shoulders and give him a damn good shake. “What do you mean, you can't?”
“You don’t understand,” Decker said. “None of you do. This… this is meant to happen. I have to be here. You guys don't. If you can get out, do it now.”
“What are you on about, Decks?” Mags said. Her tone had turned gentle, as if she was talking to someone whose sanity was clinging on by its fingertips and didn't want to push them too far. “What’s going to happen?”
Again, Decker sighed, but this time he grinned. Paul’s blood turned to ice.
“You’re staying, aren’t you?”
Decker faced him. “I’m sorry, Paul. It’s something I have to do. Something I'm destined to do.”
Before anyone could say anything to stop him, Decker set his cup down and left the room.
Chapter Twenty
“Sergeant?”
“Aye?”
“He’s left.”
“Did he say anything?”
“I don’t think so. They all look a bit worried and shocked, but no one’s getting up to make him stop, so I’m guessing he didn’t go into details.”
“I see. Are they still planning to leave?”
“As far as I know.”
“Have you told Sadie?”
“I have.”
“Then that is no longer your problem, is it? See you tonight, Audrey.”
“And you too, Sergeant.”
Chapter Twenty One
Brandon's parents had allowed him to stay up after dinner. That was a new one; bed times had always been something strictly applied in the past, but tonight, for some reason, it wasn’t so important. Not that he wanted to stay up. Grandma Sadie’s stories scared him and he couldn’t shake the feeling that his mother and father wanted some time on their own, so once the novelty of passing bed time by had worn off, he’d whispered in his mother’s ear that he’d quite like to go to sleep now. He’d heard her breath catch in her throat as she nodded. She glanced at his father with sad eyes before making excuses for him and following him upstairs.
Usually, he didn’t want help getting undressed and brushing his own teeth was a small source of independence he prided himself in. He might do a shoddy job, but it was his shoddy job. Tonight, though, he was only too happy for his mother to help him, like he was once again a toddler. She tucked him into bed and then held him tightly, tighter than he ever remembered her holding him before, which frightened him more than any of Grandma Sadie’s tall tales.
His father then appeared at the door and fresh tears spilled down his mother’s cheeks. She dashed them away quickly and scuttled out of the room. His father hesitated, then offered Brandon a big smile.
“Goodnight, big boy.” He knelt by the side of his bed and stroked his hair. Brandon smiled a smile he didn’t actually feel.
“G’night, Daddy.”
His father leaned over and kissed his forehead. “Remember what we talked about today?”
“What, about the loch, and about Mammy?”
His father nodded. “Yes, that stuff. Well, I forgot something.”
“Oh?”
“Aye. That no matter what happens, you have a Daddy who loves you dearly. Never forget that.”
Brandon sat up and flung his arms around his father’s neck. He didn’t know why, but a sense of dread so acute it almost suffocating stole over him. Something was going to happen, something bad. He didn't know what it was, but he did know there was no way he could stop it. He sobbed helplessly against his father’s shoulder, wishing this day had never happened and dreading the next with all his heart. Judging by the way his father hugged him back and sobbed with him, he felt the same way.
Chapter Twenty Two
They ate a frugal meal of home-made stew. Paul’s emotions swung from angry to desperate and back again so quickly he could only manage a few mouthfuls before it made him feel sick. Was he really going to leave Decker here? Just what the hell was wrong with this town, anyway? What was it that sunk its claws so deep into Decker that he couldn't wriggle free? His mind then turned to the loch and a black bloom of dread boiled in his chest. He dropped his spoon back into his bowl as he suppressed the urge to gag. It was all linked, that much he was sure. What was worse, he had a feeling Decker knew how and the fact that he wouldn’t share this knowledge with him hurt the most of all. Was this really how it all ended for them? After all they’d been through together? After everything-
“Paul… you okay?” Mags asked. Paul jerked his head up and gave her a bewildered look.
“You’ve been staring at your dinner for, like, five minutes,” Yolanda added. “Maybe we should just give this day up and go to bed.”
She shared a significant look with both him and Mags. They both nodded wearily in return, left the table and trudged upstairs.
They’d agreed to leave at 2.00am. Cliché maybe, but it really was their best chance. This was hardly a party town and even the most persistent of night owls tended to be tucked up tight by 2.00am. It gave them long enough to take their time getting out and locating a car to steal, one preferably nearer the outskirts of town so to minimise the risk of anyone hearing them. Sad, sick little butterflies flapped in Paul’s belly as he dragged himself to his room and threw himself fully clothed on the bed. His mind, so tired and full of grief, fogged over and he fell into the welcoming arms of sleep.
o0o
A deep, throbbing hum woke Mags. She blinked wearily and fumbled for her phone. It wasn't there. She sat up, groggy and disorientated, until she remembered her phone had been confiscated. Bloody pigs. She peered up at the clock on the wall, but the numbers wouldn’t focus and the hands made no sense.
The hum rose to an enticing wail. Mags swung her legs out of bed and wandered to the window. She tore the curtains apart, and the universe spun in front of her. Great interstellar clouds of red and green boiled and vast fields of starlight glittered as she teetering on the edge of the cosmic gulf. She stumbled backwards and pushed the heels of her hands into her eyes, as if she could rub the vision from them. When she stopped, Dùisg a' Pheacaich swam back into focus. She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Everything was as it should be.
Except the hum. That persisted.
She peered into the darkness beyond the window. In the distance, pinpricks of light proceeded in a line that she would have recognised as the road had the street lights been lit. A fluttery sensation in her belly stoked her curiosity. She watched lights for a moment longer as a deep sense of yearning to join them rose within her.
Next to her, Yolanda slept. Not once did Mags consider waking h
er. She gave no thought to Paul upstairs, nor to the boots that lay in a haphazard pile beside her bed. The bag she had packed was forgotten, along with all the plans they had made to flee. All she knew was she had to join those lights. They meant something to her, something important, and she had to find out what.
She crept over to the door and hesitated. A sudden doubt assailed her. What was she doing? She blinked to try and clear the fog that blanketed her mind, and for a brief moment, she succeeded. This was stupid! She was supposed to be waking the others. They were supposed to be…
Supposed to be…
Supposed…
Her calf throbbed and her belly twisted painfully. Mags grunted and doubled over, and the fog returned. It seeped into her mind, smothering all other thoughts, leaving only the desire to follow the lights and join the source of the hum. Her insides relaxed and an enormous sense of well-being filled her.
This was the right thing to do.
She opened the door and slipped out.
The front door to the guesthouse was unlocked. Again, what remained of Mags' instincts told her this was wrong, but all doubts were soothed away by the comforting fog. She couldn’t see the lights any more, but that didn’t matter. She knew which way to go.
The streets were chilly and dripped with mist. Around her, houses leered, their darkened windows staring blankly at her as she hurried past. The hum was clearer now. It filled the town, rising and falling like a great beast breathing. In the distance, she spied the twinkling lights again. She hurried on to meet them, overjoyed that they had waited for her.
Wait a moment.
Mags forced herself to slow down. Again, a small section of her mind struggled free from the nebulous grip of the fog. What in God's name was she doing?
She looked around herself with new eyes. Barefoot in a silent town in the dead of night. This was not the behaviour of a sensible person. She shivered as the mist enveloped her like a damp shroud. It smelled of mud and rot, and she was sharply reminded of the loch. That was it – the town smelled like the exposed mud of a lake bed.
Again, her belly squirmed, a feeling not unlike menstrual cramps. She hissed and screwed up her face in pain. It wasn’t that time of the month and he hadn’t eaten anything strange, well, unless you counted Mrs Kelly’s food as something strange-
Her heart gave a loud thump and dread chased away the last remnants of the fog.
Neither Yolanda nor Paul had woken. The front door had been unlocked. Even though they hadn't eaten much of it, the stew had been hearty and there had been plenty of it.
Had they known?
But how could they?
…But how could they not?
What had they been thinking? Of course the villagers would know. Had this all been part of their plan? Thinking clearly for the first time in what felt like days, Mags ran her hands through her hair, her eyes staring, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts. They should have just left, there and then. Screw the Sergeant – they should have just left and had done with it. Why had they felt the need for all this secrecy? Because whatever plot the inhabitants of Sinner's Wake were hatching, they were part of it. They’d manipulated them. Made them stay the night, even though they believed they had a plan to escape.
But to what end?
The hum rose again. Mags’ calf throbbed. She reached down to touch the bandage and snatched her hand away when she felt something squirm under the tight wrappings.
This was the only thing they didn’t know about. Unless Decker had told them, of course. Mags shook her head vehemently, forcing the thought out. No. She couldn’t – she wouldn’t – entertain that notion. Decker was as much a pawn in this game as the rest of them. She simply couldn’t believe he was willingly involved, that he would betray them. And anyway, he knew nothing of what her ‘bite’ had transformed into. No one knew. No one would ever know.
The hum intensified and the desire to join the it reared within her again. She tried to steel herself against in, to force herself to turn back, to wake Paul and Yolanda and get the hell out now, this instant, but the lure of the hum was too strong. All she could do was follow and hope that she kept enough of her mind to hide so they did not know she had joined them.
She ran on, keeping to the shadows as much as possible. She needn’t have bothered; the streets were deserted apart from the ever-present mist. As she passed through it, it stirred into tendrils that plucked at her legs, making the thing growing from her calf writhe and her stomach bubble. The lights were closer now, so close she could see they were candles held by a procession that marched in silence towards the Town Hall. Instinctively, she knew their destination had once been St Machan's, but as that was lost to them they made do with the next best thing.
By day, the Town Hall was small and quaint, a place that welcomed mother and baby groups and held bake sales. By night, it was transformed into something squat and voracious, devouring each villager one by one as they entered. No one spoke. Mags ducked down behind a car and watched until the last one entered and the door swung shut. She took in a deep breath that tasted of mud and salt and hurried over to the Hall, her heart thundering in her ears. As she pressed herself against the damp brick, she was sure someone would yell out, betray her position, but all was quiet and still. Except, of course, for the hum.
She crept along one wall until she spied a window. It was too high for her just to look into, so she searched around for something to stand on. An old fashioned waste paper basket answered her prayers – she lifted the solid insert out from its wire housing, praising whoever might be listening again that it was not locked in place. She scuttled back to the window, upturned it and clambered on top. It was still a little small and she was forced to stand on tip-toes so she could peer into the room beyond.
Like the church, it was one big room. Unlike the church, it was largely unadorned. No defaced statues, no stained glass windows to paint the wooden floor a kaleidoscope of colours, no intricately carved gallery to stand on; just an oblong room filled with cheap plastic chairs that looked like they'd been stolen from the local school. Hundreds of people were packed in: families sat together, some with infants in their arms and children sitting on their laps, rubbing their eyes sleepily. At the front a group of people stood, not clad in robes like Mags had been half-expecting, but in slacks and shirts, dresses and pumps, lending the whole affair a surreal edge. If it hadn't been the middle of the night, she would have sworn it was just a regular town meeting. Mags scanned their immobile faces, looking for any hint as to what this might be about, but they gave away nothing. Her gaze then fell on one figure sitting on a fold-out chair just behind the standing group and her chest tightened. It was Decker, his head bowed, his shoulders slumped. Beside him stood a tall woman whose face remained largely in shadow. Her eyes stinging, Mags clutched a hand to her mouth as the woman reached over to stroke Decker’s hair. He did not respond. She then raised her other hand and the hum stopped, filling the whole town with the white-noise of silence.
The woman stepped forwards, revealing herself. She was old, but certainly not decrepit; her bearing was regal, her eyes unforgiving. There was no mistaking that she was in charge of this meeting, and there was no mistaking who she was related to. This had to be Decker's grandmother. The crowd watched her with palpable awe as she spent a moment surveying them, probably looking for non-attenders, and then began to speak.
Mags couldn’t make out a word of it.
Frustrated, she inched herself up and craned her head as close to the window as she dared. All she could make out was the murmur of a voice; no actual words, just the drone of someone speaking. If only she could get in, she could listen and find out exactly what they were planning, but the thought of trying to sneak in made her feel sick. They all thought she was asleep, out of harm’s way with her friends – what would they do to her if they found her amongst them? So she remained by the window, watching, trying as hard as she could to lip-read Sadie Decker’s sermon. It was harder than she had
thought, as Sadie was a remarkably restrained preacher: no shouting, no flailing arm gestures, no rousing the crowd to repeat what she proclaimed. Instead, she looked like a woman giving a sober speech to the local Women’s Institute on their fundraising ideas for this Christmas. Every now and again, Decker’s shoulders would rise and fall in a huge sigh, but apart from that, he didn’t move. Neither did the congregation, who sat in enthralled silence. Even the children behaved themselves, some deep instinct keeping them quiet.
Finally, Sadie raised her arms and stopped talking. Even from outside, Mags felt the shift in atmosphere. What was once tense yet quiet turned unbearable as every single person hunkered down in their seats. Parents clutched their children close to them and a sense of quiet dread settled over the whole town. A breeze kicked up, bringing the stench of the loch with it, but the mist remained undisturbed. Mags shrank back against the wall, her attention now on the outside – the outside she was in. The hum started again, and Mags peeked back inside. One of the standing figures blew upon a complicated horn that belched out a deep, low note that made the ground tremble and her belly roil. Behind her, the mists thickened and the sickly stench of rot and sulphur made her turn back. Unearthly lights now flickered, like faerie fire, and Mags swore she saw shadowy forms writhe. The hum continued, scrambling her guts, blasting out over the town. She now had no doubt it was a summons… but what it summoned, she could only guess.
The air felt heavy around her, tasting metallic, as it did before a storm. In the distance, she heard a schlupping sound, like someone wading through deep mud, and from out of the heavy curtain of mist, a single figure shambled. Mags was too far away to make out any features, but she guessed from its height, it was probably a man.
It staggered down the path and out of Mags’ sight. A moment later, she heard a booming knock on the door of the Town Hall. She scurried back up to peer into the window; the whole congregation now stared at the door, their eyes round with fear. A few people’s mouths were moving as if they were muttering prayers under their breath. Sadie Decker glanced at them all, and for a split second, her icy armour cracked. Whatever was banging at the door frightened her as much as everyone else, but Mags knew Sadie was the only one who could face it.
