Doorways

by Robert Enright

  'Dude, you can't do that,' Bermuda said, sympathising with his partner. 'You just put the shits up a lot of people.'

  'That young child needed assistance.'

  'Yeah, and now her mother is probably going to need counselling.' Bermuda slapped Argyle on the arm in camaraderie. 'Remember, they can't see you like I can.'

  Argyle nodded his understanding, failing to keep his sadness hidden. Bermuda didn't know much about Argyle's past, but knew that he was anything other than a monster. He offered him a smile before turning his attention back to the Cutty Sark, the doorway still guarded by the plucky police officer.

  'Why did she scream?' Argyle asked quietly.

  'Huh?' Bermuda responded without looking.

  'The mother. She screamed with such terror. She was wild with her movements that I could not comprehend.'

  Bermuda turned and warmly smiled at Argyle.

  'She was just scared, Big Guy. That's what us humans do. We get scared and we act out of character. We think everything is coming to an end and we don't really know how to handle it.' He looked over at the mother, who was now sitting on a small wall, playfully bobbing the now-happy child on her lap. 'But when we calm down, it's not so bad. Usually the solution is right there and it just takes a little perspective.'

  Argyle nodded, reaffirming to himself more than anyone. Bermuda reached for his pocket, but winced in frustration as the Tic Tac box that returned was empty.

  'What did you find on the ship?' Argyle asked, his mind returning to the case.

  'The what? Oh, couldn't get on. It's fine, we can come back later when they realise there is nothing more they can do.'

  'I see.' Argyle nodded. 'What's the plan?'

  'The plan? I need to find a shop.' Bermuda waved his empty box at a seemingly unimpressed Argyle before turning on his heels and venturing away from the Cutty Sark back towards the high street. Argyle sighed.

  'You humans are confusing.'

  Argyle set off, following his partner a few steps behind in the glorious London sunshine.

  THE FEELING WAS IMMENSE.

  The raw surge of humanity that coursed through his body almost made him shudder. The man's identity was not important to him, nor would it ever be. All that mattered was he now belonged to him.

  He had become another one of his 'stolen'.

  As he adjusted his tatty blazer, the man looked around the rest of the wooden vessel with the same disdain as he had before. People were now in a state of fear, all of them buzzing around frantically within the narrow confines as if someone had kicked a hornets’ nest.

  They were all so...pathetic.

  He snarled at them through gritted, jagged teeth, his deep black eyes scanning the disgusting race before him. They would all soon belong to him. Each and every one of them. Whilst he witnessed a female crying, urging the others to find her 'missing' husband, he imagined what they would be like if they had walked through the doorway with him.

  If they got a glimpse at the world beyond.

  The world that forged him.

  That held him captive.

  The inspiration behind his great pilgrimage.

  His turned his head, the white hair fraying underneath the black top hat. His door was still open, crudely cut into the wooden walls that contained them. Beyond it, nothing but black, the faint hint of a grey smoke wafting near but never crossing the threshold.

  The man had passed through as easily as the rest.

  Another one that was his.

  Soon they would be here. Snooping around and trying to find him. He knew of the organisation that existed on this wasted planet, the humans without the blindfold. They would be looking for him, along with their treacherous Neithers, and they would be here soon enough.

  The human they had assigned to it was of great interest indeed. The man who could walk both worlds.

  Such power.

  A power he would duplicate.

  As he gently tapped his sharp, crooked nails on the wall next to the portal to his world, a sinister smile crept across his decaying face. The three scars that horribly mangled one side of it creased.

  With a silent word, he sent the invitation, beckoning the creature through the doorway with minimal fuss. The respect and obedience were driven by fear. Even a beast as feral as this one knew who he was and what he stood for.

  The creature loomed over him, its eyes the colour of recently spilt blood. Its crooked jawbone, protruding from its long, black face, presented a sharp, jagged set of teeth that had ripped more flesh than he cared to imagine. All it took was a stare from him and the creature slowly faded into the shadows that hid in the corners of the massive wooden vessel that housed them.

  Whilst the world the humans thought they existed in erupted into blind panic at one of their own going missing, he slowly made his way to the exit, leaving behind the enormous creature as a welcoming gift for the man who could walk both worlds.

  The man who scared the Otherside as much as he did.

  Bermuda.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  THE SUN made its retreat a little after eight o'clock, slowly fading and replacing the streets of Greenwich in a grey tinge. As the moon took charge of the sky, streetlamps burst into life, ready for their night shift. The locals meandered through the streets, groups of young adults already merry, chasing their latest alcoholic drink at whatever bar they stumbled upon.

  As the moon shone proudly from the darkness above, the Cutty Sark was awash with a white glow. The streetlights that surrounded the ship illuminated its grandeur, the large beams shooting out towards the stars like mighty wooden fingers.

  The afternoon had passed fairly quickly for Bermuda, who decided to waste his day away within the surrounding hotspots as opposed to venturing all the way across London towards Hertfordshire. After being denied entrance to the ship, he had wandered down the high street until he found a small Spanish restaurant. Ordering four separate Tapas dishes for lunch, he ate quietly, allowing Argyle to collect himself after the incident with the small child earlier. After enjoying his multi-layered meal with a cold beer, he paid and walked further from the boat, heading towards Greenwich Park.

  The vast, green fields were swarming with tourists and locals, and he slowly walked through as dogs sprinted around excitedly.

  Young women sunbathed whilst their other halves threw a Frisbee with random accuracy. The world was a happy place and he scowled, knowing that beyond the brightness of this day, there lay something worse in the shadows.

  It was a painful reminder of the life he existed in.

  As the afternoon slowly descended into evening, he found himself thumbing through his phone, annoyed that he didn't have Sophie's number and also annoyed that he was letting himself get distracted. He couldn't let people in.

  It was too dangerous.

  Bermuda returned to the Cutty Sark as the sun began to descend, only to find a SOCO tent set up, officers in white jumpsuits swarming all over the large vessel like brightly coloured ants. Sighing deeply, he turned and walked back into the town, heading towards the Maritime Museum that sat just on the outskirts. As the day faded to dusk, he strode through the immaculate grounds of the famous buildings, the large, white structures standing powerfully. Argyle, who had barely spoken since his introduction to a terrified parent, seemed blown away by their beauty. Bermuda watched him take in their stature, deciding to allow him to enjoy the moment in silence.

  It wasn't until the groundskeeper ushered him towards the gate that he realised he had sat for over an hour, ignoring the conclusion of day. Shadows formed in every corner; he could feel the eyes of so many Others on him.

  Now, having walked through the endless sea of people enjoying their 'normal' lives, he approached the Cutty Sark, ready for work.

  'Fuck!' Bermuda exclaimed as they reached the opening. The mighty boat sat in the centre of the concrete ocean, streetlights showering it with a flattering glow. Beyond, the River Thames quietly wafted with its own current, cutting throug
h the capital city like a giant vein. On the horizon line, London was lit up with a million lights. The sight of the nighttime London landscape always impressed Bermuda. The buildings illuminated and lights twinkling like a swarm of fireflies had ascended upon the city.

  But the view was spoilt, not by the boat in front of them, the ship even more striking in the moonlight. Standing in front of the glass entry doors, was a police officer.

  A large, chubby man with a thick beard, the officer was visually the opposite of the plucky lady who had confronted Bermuda earlier. From the look on his stern, hair-covered face, he could tell that he would probably be just as obstructive. To the side of the ship, another officer had been temporarily distracted by a couple of tourists. The young PC was pointing at their map and then across the street, his face a picture of frustration.

  Bermuda felt his pain.

  'Why are we not approaching?' Argyle spoke, his first words since Bermuda had berated him earlier that afternoon.

  'What's the point?' Bermuda said, snapping his Zippo shut and blowing a cloud of smoke into the conversation. 'I literally can't recall a time that my badge has gotten us onto a crime scene.'

  'Two years, five months, and six days ago,' Argyle stated, to Bermuda's amazement. 'You were granted access to the Montgomery household in Liverpool.'

  'Thanks. That was useful.'

  'You are most welcome,' Argyle replied, once again failing to grasp the concept of sarcasm.

  Bermuda stood in a smoky silence, his eyes flickering over everything. He noticed a couple of Others beyond the ship against the far wall. The edges of their bodies looked smudged, as if they were on a TV screen that couldn't quite get the right signal. The tourists had finally started to head in the direction that the now visibly relieved officer had been pointing. He slowly returned to his partner, who was chuckling.

  'I thought for sure they would have been gone by now.' Bermuda moaned, stomping his cigarette out in frustration.

  'So?'

  'What do you mean, so?' Bermuda said, turning to his friend, the light shimmering off his dark skin.

  'When has that ever stopped you before?'

  'That's a good point.'

  'Our job is to inspect this crime scene and see if there is an Otherworldly influence on this man's disappearance.'

  'Which there is.'

  'We need proof.'

  'Proof is in there, Big Guy.' Bermuda pointed.

  'Then let's go.'

  'Well, we need those cops to piss off.'

  Argyle's grey eyes lit up.

  'You leave that to me.'

  PC CONNOLLY WATCHED as the two tourists slowly shuffled away from him, his relief escaping his body with a loud sigh. It had taken over ten minutes to direct them towards Greenwich train station, yet he was sure the two-minute walk would take them a lifetime. Standing by the door to the ship was his partner, PC Stokes, a large chuckle emanating from his thick, brown beard.

  The evening had been dull.

  When he was told of another disappearance, he was excited to be allocated the shift until he realised he was effectively babysitting a massive, immobile, wooden child. He was counting down the minutes to the end of his shift.

  'Hurry up. I need to take a leak.' Stokes's voice boomed across, shaking him from his boredom.

  'I'm coming.'

  Connolly trotted towards the door of the ship to relieve his partner, when suddenly he stopped still. Panic set in quickly, as no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't move his head. Nor his neck.

  The rest of his body worked fine—his legs tried their best to move forward, his arms waved wildly—but his head stayed still. As a human, he couldn't see Argyle standing behind him, his mighty hands holding his head and neck in place.

  'Fuck! My neck!' Connolly shrieked, his partner racing over as a few civilians turned with interest.

  'What the hell are you doing? I'm going to piss myself...'

  'There is something wrong. My neck. My head. I can't move them.'

  'What?' Stokes, nervously moving, approached his fear-stricken partner. Argyle slowly manoeuvred so as not to collide with him.

  'Call medical. I don't know...maybe it's a trapped nerve. Something is seriously wrong!' Connolly's voice shook, his eyes searching wildly for an explanation.

  Argyle, with his firm grasp in place, looked beyond the oblivious police officers towards the glass door to the Cutty Sark. A few moments later, his grey eyes sparkled with delight as Bermuda skilfully snuck around the corner of the ship, quietly opened the door, and slipped inside.

  He released his hold.

  The young officer, straining against his hold, suddenly lurched forward, his feet slapping against the concrete as he collided into his partner. A passerby chuckled at the two officers stumbling around in the street light.

  'What the hell are you playing at?' Stokes asked, angrily shoving his younger colleague away.

  'It's gone. My neck, it works.'

  'Well your fucking head doesn’t.' Stokes quickly began jogging towards The Gypsy Moth pub opposite, hell-bent on relieving his bladder. 'I'm going to piss myself!'

  Those were the last words Argyle heard as he quietly slipped through the glass doors to catch up with his partner.

  THE WOODEN WALLS AND ceilings of the ship loomed around Bermuda, creating a shadowy tunnel of rich history. His footsteps echoed, each one reverberating off the thick planks and cascading amongst the information stands. Bermuda pulled out his mobile phone, flicking through the menu until the front casing burst into light.

  The torch app was always handy.

  Slowly navigating down the hallway, he passed many glass cabinets, the sudden burst of light launching shadows up the walls until he wasn't sure if they were moving or not. Walking slowly towards the supposed corner were the man had last been seen, he slowly brushed the light over the walls, scrutinizing every surface.

  Looking for the link.

  Looking for that symbol.

  'Something is wrong.'

  Argyle's voice shattered the silence, causing Bermuda to slightly jolt with surprise.

  'Jesus. Word of advice, Argyle. Don't sneak up on people in the dark, okay? Especially not someone with a supposed history of mental health issues.'

  'There is something here.' Argyle's voice relayed his worry, turning his head to scan the surroundings.

  'Yup. And we are going to find it.'

  'Not the symbol.'

  'What are you talking about?' Bermuda turned, his phone spraying Argyle with brightness, his armour shimmering angelically in the glow. Without answering, Argyle turned, his head cocked as he searched, before walking through a side door that led to a small presentation room. Bermuda exhaled in bewilderment, turning his light and attention back to the wooden strips that surrounded him. As he ventured nearer the corner, his face drew back into a grand smile.

  The symbol.

  The crudely, uneven twelve-sided shape was unmistakable, the lines cut into the wood as if someone had branded it with a crooked cattle prod. As he reached out, he could feel the tips of his fingers shake. The lure of the Otherside began to pull; he could feel its ghastly reach beckoning him closer.

  He clenched his fist, refusing even the slightest touch.

  'Hey, Argyle,' he called out without turning. 'I found it.'

  As he reached for his notebook to compare it to his previous scribble, he slowly heard shuffling behind him. Although a big man, Argyle was usually very light on his feet—but the footsteps began to grow in volume.

  Having been staring solely at the wall for the last few minutes, Bermuda had failed to realise the large Other that had slowly slunk across the Cutty Sark, its huge, sharply clawed feet causing the ship to gently shake with each step. As he slowly turned, his body stiffened with fear at the behemoth before him.

  Standing over ten feet tall, the feral Other loomed over him. The skin, a musky brown colour, drew tight to an imposing frame with thick, elongated arms that hung from its spike-covere
d shoulders. Its legs, crookedly bent, slowly straightened, pushing the giant beast further towards the ceiling.

  Its jet-black eyes burrowed through Bermuda, resting in a large skull that housed two small horns on top of its head. Its long snout reached a few feet from its face and it roared at Bermuda, revealing a plateau of razor-sharp teeth. The volume shook the ship, the pictures on the wall swung terrified from their hooks. As its ear-piercing roar ricocheted through Bermuda's body, the beast's bottom jaw split down the middle and swung out in two separate directions. It lurched forward, snapping at Bermuda, who ducked and threw himself to the hard wooden floor. Scrambling between the unwelcome guest's legs, he turned onto his back when his eyes widened in fear.

  As if disconnected from its spine, the Other's shoulders and pelvis twisted, turning the beast on the spot. Its neck cracked, allowing it to turn its monstrous skull around to face him.

  'Fuck!' Bermuda exclaimed before scrambling backwards across the floor as a mighty razor-clawed hand slammed down where his legs were. Bermuda clambered backwards down the wooden ship. The wild, gargantuan Other gave chase, its vicious claws slamming holes into the floor as each hand missed his feet by a matter of inches.

  Aiming for the door, Bermuda collided with a marble plinth, the glass dome atop of it housing a small piece of paper that recollected a moment of the ship's history. He was sure that fighting a wild, giant beast from another dimension wasn't on it. Blocked in, the hulking monster stood before him. Its jaw flew open in three directions and it let out another roar as it launched onto its back legs before driving both hands down onto its cornered prey.

  Bermuda closed his eyes, expecting his death to be quick.

  'GO!'

  Argyle's voice bounced off the wooden panels as Bermuda surprisingly opened his eyes. Standing before him, with his mighty arms holding up the beast, Argyle shook with power. The beast snapped its jaws, snarling at the soldier who was holding him at bay. Argyle held onto the wrists of the wild monster, the veins in his arms protruding, the muscles shaking.