Diary of the Displaced (Entire Novel)

by Glynn James

  During my walk, I fulfilled a little of my intent to venture forth and experience a new journey, when I found a likely and interesting path. I took it upon myself to walk but three hundred full strides along it, before inhaling the view and then returning whence I came, with a promise to venture further the next morning. It was spontaneous, even though the intent was premeditated, I know that sounds strange. I wasn’t expecting to find a good candidate. This particular lane was one that I couldn’t recall seeing before.

  The lane was long and winding into the distant fields, very enticing, and I was suddenly elated – joyous even - what an excellent idea this was. I think it would make a nice walk if I started out early enough. I will do this tomorrow.

  March 22nd

  I started out ten full minutes earlier this morning for my walk, following my usual route around the lake, and not stopping for any distraction that might place itself upon me.

  When I arrived at the path, I estimated that I would have at least an hour to venture this day. My diary entry will be short to give me extra time.

  March 23rd

  On my third visit to the path, I have found a wonderful spring running down the slope of a small hill. Because the flask in which I carry my tea was empty, I decided to sample the water from the stream, it is quite an unusual find, and the water is exceptionally clear. I tried it in my tea, in the evening, and it has a wonderful mineral tang to it, quite unlike anything I have tasted before. I must return with another sample tomorrow.

  March 24th

  I have made an interesting discovery along the lane this day. About a quarter of a mile along - which is indeed a long walk – there is the most exquisite chapel. It resides on the side of the hill, a short walk along one of the paths that leads off of this new road that I am walking each day. Behind the chapel – which seemed quite deserted and unused – is a small graveyard with some amazingly old gravestones. I only managed to investigate a few of them, and there are at least three dozen other. The dates that I saw were 1722 and 1728, so extremely old, and intriguing.

  I have decided this evening that I will, just for the day, postpone my memoirs and make a whole day of it. I have made sandwiches and selected two ripe apples, and found my old walking satchel to take with me. I think it will be an interesting day.

  Once more this morning I filled a flask with water from the spring for my tea this evening. It adds a wonderfully sharp taste to the tea that is both subtle and lasting.

  March 25th

  I had the most interesting experience this day, whilst sitting on the bench in the graveyard. One moment the day was clear, with barely a cloud in the sky, then the next moment the sky changed. It seemed as though it happened in an instant. Above me were dark thunderheads, and a chill wind blew across the hills. I’m not sure if it was something that I am coming down with, but my vision felt blurred for a moment, and shadows around the chapel and the stones shifted slightly, giving me a slight dizzying feeling. I rubbed my eyes, and looked back up, and everything was as it should be once more, the sky was clear and the sun was smiling down upon the hills again. I thought that it was strange for the weather to change so quickly.

  I am unable to explain what caused this strange vision, if that is what it was. I am certain that it was merely a moment of sickness on my part.

  I have taken to using the water from the spring in my lemon drink before I retire to my bed, as well as my lunch and evening tea. I have found that I feel much more invigorated in the morning when I awaken, because of this.

  March 26th

  The oddest thing happened during the night. I had what I can honestly say was a lucid dream, it must be the purifying effects of the water, I am sure of it. In the dream I was up at the graveyard on the hill, and talking to a fellow that I couldn’t see clearly. I am not sure of all the conversation, my memory of it is fading even as write this diary entry.

  I do remember the fellow trying to convince me that there was a better way to lead my life, a purer way; it was almost as if he was like one of those door to door peddlers I used to tire of when I lived in the city, thank heavens I moved to the country.

  I remember one other thing about the man in the graveyard, he had a terrible smell about him, and I think maybe he hadn’t washed for a long time.

  I woke with terrible headache, so am going to give my walk a miss today. It looks terribly dreary and dark outside. The weather has taken a turn for the worse, I would guess.

  March 27th

  Some strange things are happening. The weather changes from a bright sunny day to a misty, stormy half light. It does this now, regularly, and far too quickly. I worry about what may be causing this terrible change. Sometimes I worry about what we may have done to our world.

  Last night as I lay in my bed, I swore I heard noises outside, someone in great pain, but when I shone my lantern out of the window there was no one there, not even a sign of any passage.

  The blurred vision has returned once more, but this time with a vengeance. The strangest thing is that I believe that it may be weather dependant. When it is sunny outside my vision is as normal, but then when one of the sudden weather changes occurs many things seem blurred. As before this is accompanied by headaches and dizziness for a moment before it passes.

  March 28th

  I had another dream last night. In this one the very same fellow I spoke to in the graveyard came to my home, and was sitting in the study talking to me. I remember asking him to leave and he said the strangest thing, he insisted that he lived here.

  Of course, I scoffed at this, and I told him that he was being ridiculous, but he insisted that I was the intruder. The dream took a strange turn before I awoke, I finally got to see who I was talking to, and it was me, except this version of me was not well, not well at all. It must be a manifestation of my worries about the strange symptoms I am suffering, because this version of me was disfigured, and had what is best described as bits missing. It was quite disgusting. I do hope that this is not some spiritual warning of a fate that may come.

  Outside, everything is gloomy and cloudy for most of the day. I did take a walk up to the spring to replenish my supply. I think if it were not for the spring water I would feel much worse.

  March 29th

  I am determined that I will make an appointment with the doctor. My vision is playing up terribly. This afternoon whilst the weather was furious outside, I began hearing the most terrible noises, it must be a deficiency of some kind, for the dizziness came, and my vision went blurry, then I heard the screaming. It was a terrible, terrible haunted scream, one of pure torture, and obviously it was completely in my imagination. I ate cheese this morning with my toast, so maybe that has affected me.

  I wanted to write it in my diary immediately, but I couldn’t for the life of me find the damn thing. And then the oddest thing happened. The sun came out once more, and there it was, my diary and pen, right where they always were. I must have missed them completely during the feverous moment that had now passed.

  March 30th

  The storm last night was ferocious. The episode with my diary occurred yet again today, I am beginning to question my sanity. It was missing for most of the day whilst the bad weather and those terrible voices assaulted my senses.

  I shall walk down to the village in the morning and see Doctor Elsden. This can be tolerated no more.

  March 31st

  Terrible storms. Diary is only there for moments. Dizziness gone somehow. Can’t sleep but tired. Strange smell, can’t rid of.

  April or May

  Not clue of date, is still April? Legs ache, finger has fallen off, can’t understand. Must find food. Cannot leave, terrible hungry, what is date? Chanting heard Nua’lath, Nua’lath. What is this mean?

  When

  Blood Lots it Everwhere blood Carnt seep the screamun too many screamun

  Mas 145 1728812

  Nua’lath muo’lah vor : Blud far Nua’lath : Kiy e Nua’lath : Blud far Nua’lath : dun dring de
r warta

  That’s the last entry in his diary.

  I don’t know if it answers any of my questions or not. Did I end up here in a similar way? I wish I could remember what happened after I went to the toilet in the service station.

  One thing that worries me is the date. 1922. How long was Adler here?

  Day 20

  I wasn’t aware of falling asleep, though I do know that we talked for hours. I know what woke me though.

  The storm had come - just as Rudy had said it would, and I had arrived at the shack in the valley just in time. Outside the shack was a maelstrom of wind, dust, and rain. I’d never seen anything like it. Down the valley hundreds of small tornadoes swirled around, churning up the muck and water. Across the river and up onto the start of the rock plateau I could see rain gushing sideways at an incredible speed.

  Odd though. I could still see quite far, at least down into the valley where gargants hunkered down into the muddy water. Several of them were sitting there like massive, wet, rock mounds, half submerged in the swamp.

  DogThing wasn’t around. I guessed that he had snuck off somewhere and found a shelter of his own.

  The shack was mostly untouched by the storm - tucked away as it was in the hollow of the rock face near the waterfall. The wind and the rain still battered the walls, and I felt a bit wary that it might come crashing down on my head at any moment.

  Rudy must have sensed my concern.

  “This place has weathered hundreds of storms.”

  “Okay. Good.”

  He sat down on the chair near the fire-place. Can ghosts actually sit? It would seem so.

  “Whoever built it certainly knew what they were doing. It may look like a pile of junk, but it’s solid.”

  “You didn’t build it?”

  “No. It was here before I arrived, pretty much as you see it now. I made a few repairs, but not a lot.”

  I spent most of the rest of the day having a poke around in the house, hunting around for useful stuff. Found more tools – including a rusty saw and a couple of hammers. I also moved my cart into the shack, out of the storm, and emptied it. Some of the scraps of wood I’d gathered stoked up the fire nicely and I was able to dry everything out.

  The storm ended during the night. I awoke to silence. I even think it was the silence that woke me.

  Day 21

  I found a hole.

  Not a normal hole. This is a little bit different. Well, the best description I have for it is a hole.

  I found it outside the hut after the storm, as I was trudging around in the newly formed rock pools. Any crevice or recess in the rock that could hold water was filled up and I was busy bottling as much of it as I could.

  I stood frowning at the hole for a few minutes, watching the water trickle out of it and down onto the ground to gather in one of the pools. Even if I empty the pool, it keeps refilling with the water from the hole.

  Doesn’t sound strange does it? Nope. But this hole is in mid air. It’s not in the rock or the ground. It’s about three feet off of it. Just… sitting there? Holes don’t sit do they? Hanging there even.

  Well it’s there anyway, and once the water finally stopped coming out of it a beam of bright light lit up the pool. The light was coming out of the hole. Even stranger… It could only be seen from one side. When I walked around to the other side there was nothing, only the light, but from the front, I could clearly see a hole.

  I went back to the hut and fetched a piece of wood – a thin bit – and then went back to the hole and stood gob-smacked as I poked the stick through it. Sure enough it went into the hole and didn’t appear on the other side. Fortunately it didn’t devour the stick as I pulled it back out again. If it had done that I think I might have run screaming and hidden back in the shack.

  “Strange aren’t they?”

  It was Rudy. He was standing a few feet away.

  “What the hell is it?”

  He shrugged.

  “Well, a hole, I guess. I’ve never been able to figure out what they are. Only that they appear for a short time after the storms and gradually disappear.”

  “Weird as hell.”

  (Laughter)

  “Yes. Very much so. Adler used to turn into a nervous mess when those things appeared. He swore that he came here through one of them.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yes. I’m not calling him a liar, but I’ve never seen one big enough to fit a man through.”

  We talked as we walked back up to the shack.

  “How did you get here, Rudy?”

  He was quiet for what seemed a long time before speaking again.

  “I’m not entirely certain, but I know that I had been assaulted. Back in the old world, in the area that I lived, there was a gang of what is best described as rich thugs – high-earners in the city, some people said – that had a hobby of going into the slums and making sport on those who could do little to defend themselves. They did some quite awful things. I was quite used to avoiding them usually. They’d turn up every now and then in the middle of the night in their fancy cars. They would grab someone and take them somewhere out of the way and… Well you can imagine the rest. One night I was asleep and didn’t hear them coming.”

  We arrived back at the shack and sat down on the rocks outside. Rudy continued.

  “The whole experience is hazy, but I do remember something interrupting them, something terrible. I remember being picked up by people who I couldn’t see – different people, not the gang - I was stunned or concussed I think. They took me. I woke up in the ruins of the city across the swamp. That’s about all I can remember.”

  “They didn’t tell you where you were?”

  “They weren’t there when I awoke.”

  “But the zombies? You said they are all over the ruins.”

  “Yes. They are now. They weren’t so much back then. At least I don’t remember seeing any. I eventually found this place after being scared out of my wits by the gargants.”

  Rudy was quiet for most of the evening. I settled into one of the chairs in the shack and read bits of some of the magazines and books.

  Day 22

  DogThing was back. I didn’t spot him immediately. He was sitting on the top of a rock across the river, watching me.

  This time he wasn’t alone.

  I was too pleased at seeing him again that it took me a while to even notice the others. It was only when one of them stood up, stretched, and then sat back down, that I saw them. They were huddled together under a rocky outcropping about half way up towards the plateau – four of them – watching me.

  “You seem to have gathered more followers.”

  Rudy was standing in the doorway to the shack.

  “You think they are safe?”

  “Yes. Look there is something I need to tell you about. I’m guessing that you are planning to head out again soon.”

  I thought about it. It hadn’t occurred to me since arriving at the shack but I couldn’t stay there forever. That would never get me home.

  “Yes. I can’t stay here forever.”

  “Understood. Well you need to be wary of someone in the place. Someone dangerous.”

  “More dangerous than gargants and zombies?”

  (Laughter)

  “Yes. Much more. He is called CutterJack, at least that’s how I know him.”

  “Odd name.”

  “Yes. You asked about who it was that killed me, and I was wary about voicing my thoughts about it at the time, but I believe it is he who killed me down by the river. I’ve only ever seen him once and that was a long time ago. I was in the city ruins fighting the zombies there, whilst scavenging. It was before I met Adler and at the time I was relieved to see someone else, but he came at me brandishing knives, long, sharp ones. The same ones I’d seen him killing zombies with. I ran. But he was too fast, and caught me up, cornering me in one of the ruins, cursing and ranting, spitting at me.”

  “And he killed you?”
/>
  “No, at least not that time. That was our first encounter and it was the maw that saved me then. They came out of the shadows and chased him off. There were many of them - a dozen even. I haven’t seen that many maw since then.”

  “Sounds like a nasty bit of work.”

  “He is. I call him he. I don’t know. It may be a creature.”

  “How did you know its name?”

  “Adler. Oddly enough. I mentioned him to the professor once and he sang me a song about a character called CutterJack. I’ve no idea where the song came from, but the name stuck. Just be wary and hope your maw sticks with you. I think it was CutterJack that caught me down by the river, when I was alone.”

  “Oh, I see.”

  “Well I’d not seen him for years after that. But every now and then when I was wandering, scavenging and stuff, I’d come across a zombie that had been slaughtered. So CutterJack was still around somewhere.”

  New things to note:

  Swamp pods do taste like potatoes, if a bit mustardy.

  DogThing and his friends don’t like pod.

  The other maw look different to DogThing. Each has its own distinct look. I’ve named one of them Mo. She has a tuft of hair, a little like a Mohawk, running along her back. It’s bright green. Very odd. She has brighter eyes. I don’t know if she is a she, but she looks somehow more feminine than the others.

  The hole has gone.

  Day 23

  I’d been hanging around the shack since I arrived. This morning I decided it was time to have a look around nearby so I grabbed the lantern and my makeshift rucksack. I swapped a few things around and chucked a few tools and some water bottles into the rucksack, and then headed out - not down towards the swamp and the gargants – that would have been stupid. Instead I wandered up into the rocks, and the hill behind the shack, hoping to find some trace of Adler’s camp.

  I could only get a few hundred feet further up the rock, behind the shack, before it became too steep to climb. I was about to give up searching for the outcrop of rock that Rudy had mentioned – the professor’s camp – when I noticed the rope hanging down twenty or so feet from me.