The Affinity Bridge

by George Mann

  "Precisely. Dusted around the collar and worked into the broken skin, where the assailant's hands had clutched him around the throat." He held out his penknife, handing Bainbridge his lantern back. "And here, too, under the fingernails. He scratched at the killer's hands as he struggled to get free. That's probably why the killer had to break his neck in the end, because he was fighting back too hard."

  "Well I suppose it means our 'incorporeal' killer has struck again."

  Newbury nodded. "Indeed. But this time the profile is exactly the same. This man was clearly a pauper, judging by his clothes and the state of his hands. Veronica, did you find anything?"

  Veronica came to join them, clutching the dead man's wallet. "Only a few coins. Nothing of note. He certainly wasn't robbed, though."

  Bainbridge shook his head. "So here's the link to Morgan, then, and Chapman through that. The blue powder is a dead giveaway, regardless of what it actually is."

  Newbury looked thoughtful. He turned back to look at the corpse. "Perhaps. We certainly may have missed the blue powder on the earlier victims. But there is a distinct problem with your theory about Chapman, I'm afraid. This man has been dead for at least eight hours, judging by the rigor mortis and the pallor of his skin. Chapman couldn't possibly have done it."

  "Why not?"

  Veronica put her hands on her hips. "Because he was with us at the party." She paused for a moment, shaking her head. "Very clever."

  Newbury gave an impressed sigh. "Indeed. Very clever. We wondered why Chapman was making a point of being seen. Now, I think, we have our answer. He's toying with us, inviting us to call him out. He knows he has a watertight alibi, for this and, no doubt, for Morgan's death too. And whilst we have good reason to believe the airship crash could be the result of an automaton malfunction, all we have is reasonable doubt. Without the evidence from the wreckage we have no way or proving our argument." He ran a hand over his stubble, adjusting his collar. Veronica shivered in the cold.

  "So, what, we lay a trap?" Bainbridge said, frowning and frustrated.

  "I'm not sure it's that easy." Newbury blinked, and noticed that Veronica's lantern was beginning to gutter in the damp. "Come on, we can talk further on the way back. Let's get out of this damp fog and somewhere warm for breakfast."

  Bainbridge concurred, and went to have a brief word with the two constables before rejoining Newbury and Veronica and starting out for the cab once again. The fog was still thick and cloying and, away from the shelter of the mouth of the alleyway, they were soon smothered by it once again. Nevertheless, following the line of the curb led them easily back to the waiting cab, their lanterns bobbing in the quiet darkness. The cab driver was huddled on his dickey box against the cold, the engine running noisily, steam spouting into the cold air through tin funnels on the top of the contraption. He looked up when he heard them coming, grateful for the opportunity, no doubt, to be on his way.

  Newbury was first to the coach door, and held it open for Bainbridge and Veronica to clamber inside. They both extinguished their lanterns before mounting the step, and Newbury held his aloft to ensure they could see. Then, just as he was about to follow suit, Bainbridge slapped his knee in frustration. "Damn it! I must have left my cane beside the body back there. Watch out, Newbury, I'll just run back and fetch it."

  Newbury held his hand up to steady the older man. "No fear, Charles. You stay where you are and I'll dash back and collect it for you. It'll only take me a moment." He turned and held the lantern aloft before moving to retrace their steps along the curb. He heard the coach door click shut behind him.

  After a moment Newbury had been almost completely swallowed by the dank fog. The sounds of the steam engine had had faded to a dull thudding as the pistons fired relentlessly, turning over the large, mechanical machine. He crept along, hoping to avoid surprising the two uniformed constables at the scene. A moment later he emerged from the fog into the mouth of the alleyway. What he saw was one of the most horrifying scenes he had ever witnessed in his life.

  Three monsters—it was the only way he could think to describe them—were in the process of gutting the two constables, whose corpses had been dashed to the floor, blood spattered across their torn faces, spilled out over the cobbles all around them. Steam rose from the warm innards as the revenants pulled loops of intestine free from large rents in their bellies, feasting on it all indiscriminately, stuffing it into their mouths with abandon. The creatures looked as if they may have once been human, but all sense of their humanity had now been lost. Their flesh was peeling in long ribbons, their hair falling out around their shoulders, their clothes hanging filthy and torn from their abused bodies. The virus had done its work well, and these monsters were now no more than dead carriers of the plague, capable of nothing but killing and feeding on their Victims. They had the stink about them of half-rotted corpses, and this foul smell, mingled with the stench of blood and feces, caused Newbury to gag violently. He fought back the urge to vomit, not wanting to draw attention to himself. The three creatures were intent on their feeding frenzy and he didn't want to give them cause to make him their third victim of the day. Tentatively, he glanced from side to side. The area was entirely surrounded by the thick fog, and he had no sense of whether there were more of the creatures lurking in it. He was only a few feet away from the corpse of the murder victim, and he could see Bainbridge's cane on the cobbles beside it. He assumed the revenants were ignoring the body because it was hours old, and with two fresh victims pinned up against the wall, there was no need for them to feed on the bloated flesh of the dead.

  Gingerly, Newbury edged forward, trying not to make a sound. He was intent on getting out of there as quickly as possible, and whilst he wasn't really concerned with retrieving Bain bridge's cane, he knew it would make a handy bludgeoning weapon if he found himself cornered with nowhere to run. The sound of the creatures feeding on the ruined corpses of the two policemen filled his ears. He repressed the fear that was creeping up his spine. He needed to keep a clear head. He reached out slowly and, keeping his eyes on the backs of the three revenants, felt for the cane with his fingertips. At first he found nothing but cold, slick cobbles, but he patted the ground for a moment longer and eventually his fingers closed on the hard wood of the cane. He rose slowly to his feet, bringing the cane along with him. Trying not to let the adrenaline make him run, he tightened his grip on the lantern and turned slowly away from the nightmare scene, directly into the path of another revenant.

  Newbury stumbled backwards but it was too late, and the creature, its foul breath sour in his face, leapt forward and clamped its jaws onto his left shoulder. He cried out in agony as the monster's teeth bit down through his clothes and into his flesh, drawing blood. Its hands quested for a grip on his torso, its talons raking into his flesh, tearing his overcoat as if it were paper. Newbury kicked out with all his might, getting a measure of leverage on the creature and forcing it back with his booted foot. The monster allowed itself to be pushed back momentarily, releasing Newbury's shoulder from its vice-like jaws, before coming at him again, its teeth bared in an ominous black snarl. His shoulder aching with the vicious bite wound, Newbury reacted as quickly as he could, swinging the cane down across the creature's temple, striking it hard with the round brass handle. It staggered to one side with the force of the blow, the bones around the eye socket shattering where the brass knob had impacted. Newbury tried to glance over his shoulder to make sure the other three creatures were still busy with their existing meal and were not closing in on him from behind. They were not, but the one in front of him ranged up again in no time at all, and he found himself dodging out of the way of its flailing talons. His shoulder throbbed and he could feel the warmth of his blood seeping down the inside of his shirtsleeve. He struck the revenant again with the cane, this time breaking loose a few teeth which rattled to the stones below, but it seemed to have no real effect on the creature. Its bloodshot eyes glared at him as they circled each other, Newbury trying
hard not to stumble over the corpse that lay behind him on the ground. The creature lunged once again, aiming its jaws towards his throat, hoping to incapacitate him by tearing his windpipe and jugular out With its teeth. Not knowing what else to do, Newbury dropped the lantern and threw himself backwards, using the corpse of the dead pauper to cushion his fall. He then rolled quickly to one side, scrabbling back up to his feet as quickly as possible, blandishing Bainbridge's cane before him. He could see out of the corner of his eye that the other three creatures were still busy with the remnants of the policemen. He knew it wouldn't be long before they turned their attention to this new quarry, however. He had to despatch the one in front of him soon, or he linked ending up like the Bobbies.

  He circled, fixing his attention on the revenant before him. It was waiting, hulking over the body of the dead man, looking

  for another opportunity to pounce. Blood was running down the side of its face where he'd caved in the orbit of its eye, and he noticed for the first time that it had a letter opener half buried in its neck. Clearly this was not the first time it had cornered someone unexpectedly.

  Newbury readied himself, planting his feet firmly on the cobbles. He'd managed to snatch up the oil lantern again after his brief tumble and, realising that he was no match in strength or endurance with the creature, he'd decided to try something else.

  The revenant pounced, uncoiling in midair like a half-human panther, baring its teeth and flexing its claws. Newbury swung wildly with the lamp, connecting with the monster's shoulder and spattering its hair and face with hot oil. There was a sudden whooshing sound, and all at once the creature was on fire, its rotten skin and lank hair spreading the angry flames that seemed to spill out from the lamp like a wave of liquid light. Within seconds the creature's entire head and shoulders were in flames, and it staggered about, unable to see as its eyes boiled away in the heat. Newbury took the opportunity to run, darting past the burning monster and staggering away into the fog. His shoulder burned where the creature had bitten him and his right side was agony where its talons had gouged a tear in his flesh. Drawing a huge breath and fighting against the spinning darkness that threatened to drag him into unconsciousness, Newbury started back in the direction of the cab.

  —— Chapter Nineteen ——

  Without the aid of the lantern Newbury found it difficult to get his bearings in the thick fog. He stumbled along the toad, doing his best to anchor himself to the curb in an effort to stay on track. He was bleeding profusely from the wounds in Ins shoulder and side, and he leaned heavily on Bainbridge's cane, attempting to propel himself along in an effort to get away from the terrible scene behind him as quickly as possible. The fog wreathed everything in its clinging, tubercular blanket, and Newbury found it almost impossible to see. This in itself wouldn't have troubled him, but now, in the midst of escaping the clutches of the revenants, he had no idea whether he was being followed or not. The creatures could have been shambling along behind him these last few minutes, drawn to the scent of his spilt blood. He glanced behind him. There was nothing but a sea of white. He tried not to think of the nightmares that were hulking within it. If he got lost in the fog now, the likelihood would be that he'd never be able to find his way out of it again. He tried to focus on getting back to the cab; to Bainbridge, Veronica and safety.

  Presently, after what seemed like an age, he became aware of the choking sound of the cab's engine starting up, and breathed an audible sigh of relief. The sound would be enough to guide him through the remaining fog and darkness to his friends. Clutching at his shoulder, he marched on, confident that Veronica would be able to help him stem the flow of his blood when they managed to get him up into the cab. He almost laughed. The whole episode seemed so bizarre, now, dislocated from reality, left behind in the fog. He squeezed his shoulder a little tighter, feeling woozy from the loss of blood.

  A moment later he was snatched rudely back to the present by the sound of a shrill, piercing scream from somewhere up ahead. It cut through his dizziness like a knife. Newbury felt his hackles rising. One thought crossed his mind: Veronica.

  Shaking off his pain and lethargy, Newbury forged on, forcing himself to run towards the sound, blindly throwing himself through the hazy curtain of fog. He skidded to a halt when the cab came into view.

  Two revenants were menacing his friends, clutching at the cab door and shaking the vehicle back and forth like children with a toy box, trying to get inside. The driver had clambered hurriedly onto the roof of the cab in an effort to put himself out of the creature's reach, but now found himself clinging on for dear life as the vehicle rocked from side to side. His fingers grasped the brass rails and his shouts for help were growing more and more desperate as he slid across the flat roof, doing his best to stop his feet from dangling too far below. The thick shroud of fog prevented Newbury from seeing into the cab itself, but the shouting emanating from inside it made it clear to him that both Bainbridge and Veronica were trapped in the carriage, doing their best to keep the monsters from getting in.

  With no other options available to him, Newbury rushed forward, bringing Bainbridge's cane to bear and driving it with all his might into the lower back of one of the monsters. It penetrated the beast's rotten flesh, forcing a gob of putrescent fluid out of the exit wound on the other side, but seemed to cause the creature no visible sign of pain or distraction. Newbury pulled the cane free with an almighty heave and instead drove his boot into the back of the monster's knee, causing it to buckle to one side. The creature freed its hold on the carriage, finally turning to see what had caused it to stumble. It bared its teeth in a grim caricature of a smile. Newbury was appalled to see that, once, the monster had been a woman. It wore the tattered remnants of a blue gown, ripped open to expose its distended belly. Its feet were bare and rotten, black and peeling, with toes missing where rats had evidently chewed on the foul flesh.

  Newbury paced back a few steps, trying to draw it away from the cab. It stumbled towards him, snatching out with its talon-fingered hand in an effort to grab hold of him.

  Newbury shook his head. "You'll have to be quicker than that." He whipped the cane around again, connecting loudly with the monster's wrist and snapping the brittle bones there with a sickening crunch. The hand fell limp, and the creature withdrew momentarily, as if bemused by this new development. By this time, however, the other revenant had become aware of what was happening and had moved away from the carriage to join its fellow, evidently deciding that an unprotected quarry represented easier pickings than a sealed cab. They closed on Newbury together, working like pack animals to come at him from both directions at once. Panicking, Newbury was unsure how to fend them off. He held Bainbridge's cane out before him, the brass knob swinging to and fro like a club, but he knew this wouldn't hold them off for long. He had no lantern this time to use as a weapon, and the two creatures were between him and the cab. He'd just have to make it up as he went along. He feinted to one side, causing the revenant on his right to swipe for him, and then pushed forward, slamming the cane into the back of the creature's head. The momentum of its attack, coupled with the force of Newbury's blow, carried it forward, and it sprawled out on the cobbles, smashing its face hard on the ground. Newbury wheeled on the other one, just in time to see the back of its hand slam forcefully into his face. The impact sent him careening across the road. He landed heavily, jarring his left elbow on the stones and fighting to keep his breath. He snatched up Bainbridge's cane from where he'd dropped it in the gutter, and rolled to the right, just before the creature was on him again, slashing at his already bloody shoulder. His clothes fell away in shreds, and his arm bloomed with pain as the monster's talons tore away chunks of flesh. Knowing that the impact of the cane itself would have little effect, Newbury instead hooked it behind the revenant's ankle and rolled forward onto his knees, pulling on the shaft of the cane with all his might. It seemed to have the desired effect, toppling the shambling monster heavily onto its side. Newbury, gaspin
g for breath, tried to stagger away, but the first creature didn't stay down for long, and the other was already back on its feet and heading in his direction. He backed up, desperate for an idea. He knew he was going to lose if the fight came down to brute force and endurance.

  Behind him, he heard the pistons on the cab firing noisily as the driver readied their escape. Beneath this, just out of earshot, he could hear Veronica and Bainbridge clamouring for attention. He didn't have time to try to make out what they were saying before one of the revenants dived at him, landing bodily on top of him and sending them both sprawling back towards the ground. Newbury managed to get a hold on the monster's throat and it gnashed its teeth dangerously, its putrid breath almost enough to send him spiralling into unconsciousness. He'd lost the cane somewhere in the fall, but with his other hand tree he had no option but to try to lever the creature off of him. He punched out, hard, his fist crumpling through slick, rotten flesh and burying itself deep inside the creature's belly. It thrashed around on top of him as, grimacing, Newbury forced his hand deeper inside of it, questing for its spine. Seconds later he found purchase on the brittle bony structure and, pushing his fingers deeper into the rotten fibrous tissue that surrounded it, managed to grasp hold of it with his fist. He pulled as hard as he could, pushing against the creature's throat with his other hand for leverage. There was a dry cracking sound, as if old timber were being snapped underfoot, and the spine splintered in his hand. The creature's legs stopped thrashing, twitched a couple of times, and lay still. Its arms continued to claw away at him, however, its teeth ominously close to his face. Newbury, gasping for breath against the weight of the creature on top of him, withdrew his hand from the rotten belly, trying not to think about where it had been. His damaged shoulder was perilously close to giving in. He put his right hand on the floor and pushed himself over, rolling with the creature until their roles were reversed and he found himself on top of the foul thing, his left hand still tight around its throat. Glancing up to get a measure of what had happened to the other one, he jumped back off the beast and fumbled around, looking for Bainbridge's cane. It was nearby on the cobbles, close to where he had fallen. He retrieved it quickly, then backed up, waiting for the other revenant to loom out of the fog.