“Gibson here.” Static crackled. “Hello?” Another hiss of static. He pulled the phone away from his ear, ready to hang up when he caught Rodney’s voice.
“It’s... back... saw it... closer...” Then dead silence. Harness hung up, still blinking as his eyes adjusted to the light. He dialled the Chapels’ number. Again, a burst of crackling followed by a hiss that sounded more like whispering than static. He checked his watch –quarter to four in the morning.
“What’s happened, Ness?” Maggie watched him pull on his clothes.
“That was Rodney. I couldn’t make out much, but I think that thing’s back. I’ve got to go.” He leaned down and planted a kiss on her lips before she could object. He was almost at the bedroom door when she called out.
“Wait. I’ll come with you.” She was half out of bed, the sheet pooling around her naked body.
“No.” It came out a fraction too loud. He registered the shock on her face and immediately regretted it.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have raised my voice, but I don’t want you anywhere near the Chapels.” She opened her mouth to argue but he beat her to it. “Not until I’ve checked things out.”
Maggie looked hurt, but nodded.
“I’ll come back when I’m done, okay?”
“Okay, but if it’s there…” She paused, long copper hair covering her pale shoulders. He wanted nothing more than to climb back into bed and rest his head against her neck and let the scent of citrus and honey soothe him back to sleep. “Don’t get close to it.” She frowned, mouth slightly open.
He wasn’t sure how to answer. If the girl, or whatever it was, was there then he intended to get close. Close enough to stop it. He could see Maggie waiting for a response. Harness turned back to the bed and kissed her again, then left.
****
Driving slowly, lights on full beam, it took nearly half an hour to reach the turnoff for the Chapels’ property. Even with the moonlight the roads were dark, a faint mist adding to the gloom. He started off with the windows down, hoping the night air would sharpen his senses, clear away the fog left over from sleep. Within minutes a sudden drop in temperature forced him to close the windows and flick on the heater.
He made the turn onto the gravel road leading to the Chapels’ house at a crawl. A few seconds later, a herd of kangaroos sprang in front of the vehicle. Harness braked hard, swerving left. The car slid sideways and skidded to a stop, spraying gravel at the roos. He let out a long breath, forcing his fingers to ease their grip on the wheel and his shoulders to relax.
He waited, watching the herd bounce through the mist, listening to the thumping of their powerful legs springing off the gravel. His nerves were jangling from the close call, but something about the scene bothered him. There had to be at least eight roos jumping at a frantic speed within inches of his car. He couldn’t remember ever seeing that many crossing the road at one time except during a bush fire.
He put the car in park and opened the door. A shock of frigid night air hit him as he stepped on the road. The headlights lit up the bitumen ahead where one lone kangaroo, a large grey male by the look of it, stopped. A tall, solitary figure surrounded by mist, its pale fur gave it a ghostlike appearance. Head up, his ears twitched as it looked back towards the other side of the road. The animal didn’t seem to notice Harness or the lights. He followed the roo’s gaze back into the tangle of dark bush but saw nothing.
There was no tell-tale smell of burning, no crackle of fire coming from the bush. The usual night time chorus of insects and nocturnal creatures was missing, the scene eerily silent. He looked back at the kangaroo, wondering what had spooked the herd. The roo’s ears twitched once more before he too disappeared into the thick bush.
Casting one more glance towards the trees, Harness returned to the car. Once inside, he snapped the switch and engaged the central locking. Goosebumps prickled the skin on his arms and neck. He had the sense that someone was watching him, but a glance in the rear-view mirror revealed nothing but blackness. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel for a second then pulled back onto the road.
He thought about what Maggie had said, the Acheri is a demon who looks like a little girl. He wished, not for the first time, he was back in the warmth of her bed. After tonight, he had no more doubts. He wanted to be with her. To do that, he’d have to tell her about his past: the leukaemia that took his daughter and his wife’s suicide. Grief had been locked inside him for so long, it had become like a second skin. If he could open up to Maggie, maybe he could begin to chip away at the layer of pain that kept him separated from the rest of the world.
He watched the trees fly past, their dark shapes like hulking figures crowding the road. The memory of Maggie’s warm body against his seemed distant, a wisp of smoke vanishing – just out of reach. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was pulling him away from her. God, I’ve really got to get a grip. He chuckled to himself, but in the empty car, his voice sounded hollow.
The Chapels’ house came into view, a glowing beacon at the end of a long driveway. The lights spilling from the many windows, a stark contrast against the huge expanse of darkness, only served to make the dwelling look more isolated, as though it was the only house on Earth. With at least twenty kilometres between the Chapels and their closest neighbour, Harness supposed they may as well be the last people on Earth – anything could happen out here with no one to see or hear.
He parked the car and opened the door. Wind, violent and sudden, caught him by surprise, almost snatching the breath from his lungs. The gust blew with surprising force, hard enough to make the trees and bushes tremble, the sound like voices whispering in the night. The gale beat against his bare face and arms. It struck Harness as strange that when he’d stepped out of the car a few kilometres up the road the night air felt cold, but exceptionally still.
He pulled his equipment belt from the passenger seat and secured it around his waist. The belt held his gun, handcuffs, baton and torch making it far too bulky to wear while driving. Harness slid the torch off the belt and held it at his side as he approached the house.
As he climbed onto the porch, the front door opened. Rodney Chapel stepped onto the veranda, hair standing in wild clumps. He wore a pair of faded track pants and T-shirt. Harness guessed that the man had been asleep shortly before making the call that brought Harness to his home in the middle of the night.
Rodney waited until Harness was close before speaking in a hushed voice, “I wasn’t sure if you heard me before the line went dead.” He gestured towards a large tree. “It was around there, near the swing. Annabel screamed for me and Lisa. When we got to her room, I looked out the window and…and I saw it. It was coming towards the house.” Rodney raked his fingers through his hair, only adding to the disarray. “Jesus.” He drew out the word, hitting both syllables. “It was the scariest-looking thing. Moving slowly, sort of jerking. I wasn’t sure what to do… I banged on the window.” He pointed out into the darkness. “It went towards the shed.” The man spoke quickly, a tremor in his voice.
“Okay. Go back inside and I’ll take a look.”
“I’ll come with you. You know...just in case.” Rodney swallowed. Harness could tell the man was scared, but the offer was genuine.
“No, mate. It’s better if you stay with your wife and daughter. I’ll yell if I need help.” Harness waited, determined to make sure Rodney was back inside before he searched the yard.
“I’ve got my shotgun inside. If you call for help, I’ll come running.”
Harness was grateful but unnerved by the prospect of Rodney charging around in the dark firing his shotgun.
“If I do call for help, promise me you won’t come out shooting? I don’t want to get my head blown off while you’re trying to help,” he said without a trace of humour.
Rodney gave a grimace that could have passed for an uncomfortable grin then nodded. He entered the house, stopping before closing the door. “Be careful, that…thing… looks
dangerous.” Harness nodded. He had every intention of being careful. Very careful. Alone on the porch, he descended the steps and walked around to the back of the house.
He spotted the swing, a homemade job – two lengths of rope and a plank of wood hung from a thick branch on a very large jacaranda tree. Harness turned and looked up at the second storey of the house where a lighted window faced the backyard. From this distance, he could make out a set of red curtains.
He looked back towards the swing, moving back and forth in the wind. The lights from the house extended as far as the tree, but beyond was saturated in nearly complete darkness. Harness noted the silhouettes of the two large sheds, the ones he’d seen earlier that day. Swathed in moonlight, the buildings looked like one huge structure. His earlier inspection of the sheds told him they were built about two metres apart, making the narrow space the likeliest place for someone to hide. Or something.
He clicked on the torch and held it above his shoulder, moving the beam back and forth between the tree and the first shed. Overgrown grass near the side of the green galvanised iron wall blocked Harness’s sightline. He moved towards the structure, listening for any movement, but above the howling wind, he could hear only his own footsteps crunching over on the fallen leaves.
Playing the light over the front of the building, he noticed the doors were closed and secured with a padlock, making it impossible for whoever Annabel and Rodney had seen to have entered the shed.
He moved around towards the back of the building. The grass was longer, almost up to his knees, with thick bushes growing wild and uncultivated surrounding the rear of the shed. Harness stopped and ran the light over the area. It could have been his imagination, but the air felt colder now, almost icy. Without a closer look, it was impossible to see if anyone was crouched in the bushes between the buildings.
At the back of the sheds, the tangled foliage was higher, almost level with his shoulders and completely blocking the entrance to the gap between the two structures. He shone the torch around, spotting a gap in the thicket. The grass was crushed, branches broken and bent as if something had pushed its way through the bushes. The newly made hole was small, about a metre and a half long and a metre wide. Harness crouched to examine the spot, noticing his breath steaming against the cold air. The branches were bent in towards the gap between the two sheds. A few were snapped off completely. An odour hung in the air, rotten and damp. The ground beneath the shrubbery was tattered with vicious scratches. It looked like something had torn its way through.
Harness moved to stand when a faint sound caught his attention, almost like his own pulse beating in his ears. He stopped moving, holding the beam on the gap. The noise grew louder, becoming more distinct. His already chilled skin broke out in goose bumps. The drumming intensified, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. The sound, too regular and rhymical to be a trapped animal, set his teeth on edge.
Unclipping his holster, he let his fingers brush the butt of his gun. He couldn’t discount the possibility that the monster was nothing more than a lost child hiding in the dark. He considered going back and moving the squad car. If he parked it in front of the sheds, the headlights would flood the area. He dismissed the idea, knowing in the minutes it would take him to bring the vehicle around, whatever was hiding might get away.
Harness looked back towards the house. The lights were on in the kitchen. He wondered how long it would take Rodney to get out the door and across the yard. Probably less than a minute –will that be quick enough?
The drumming continued its rhythmic throb. No animal in nature produced that sound. He had no option but to try and get a look between the gap. Shivering, he lowered himself so he was lying on his side. His breath produced clouds of steam as it left his mouth, confirming another swift drop in temperature.
Struggling, fingers numb with the cold, Harness shone the light through the gap. His hands were trembling and not because of the cold. He was scared. Scared in a way he hadn’t experienced in a very long time. He’d never believed places or buildings held an atmosphere, but he sure felt something now. Almost like a taste hanging in the air. Not just the putrid smell but something else, cold mixed with electricity. If he had to describe it, he’d say… it was evil.
The torch illuminated the bush, painting the thicket in wintery light. Shrubs were torn, jagged branches leading into the darkness between the two buildings. Something definitely pushed through the area. Something strong. Thudding, his heart matching the beat of the drumming, Harness moved closer until his face touched the hole. It made him think of a rabbit warren, only this one was big and appeared to have been created by something with sharp claws. He held the torch close to his cheek, straining to see. He made out shapes, pipes and lengths of timber stored along the ground. The two sheds had to be at least eight metres long, making it almost impossible for him to see the far end.
Ignoring the broken branches as they clawed his face, he pushed further into the gap. The light landed on what looked like a mound of building debris. Harness angled the torch, trying to get a better look. The beam ended about thirty centimetres short of the pile.
“Shit.” The word came out bathed in mist. It was no good, he’d have to think of another way.
He shifted backwards, ready to pull himself out of the bushes when the pile moved. It jerked to the left. Harness opened his mouth, intending to call out a warning, when something leapt towards him, covering the eight-metre distance with unnatural speed.
Instinctively, he pulled back. Before he could get himself free of the bushes, a face plunged into the gap only centimetres from his own. He saw it for less than a second. Long enough for him to take in a skull-like form covered with grey skin and yellow eyes lined with black above a jagged mass of cruel fangs. The creature – not a child, but something unnatural and ghastly – roared, spraying Harness’s face and open mouth with hot, wet breath.
He clamped his mouth shut, swallowing the foul scent of the thing’s breath. Scrambling back, branches like razor-sharp fingers tore at his shirt. He dropped the torch. Rolling right, he stumbled to his feet, drawing his gun. The drumming neared deafening, making it impossible to hear the creature’s movements.
The urge to run was strong, almost overwhelming, but he resisted. Instead he planted his feet at shoulder width and aimed the gun at the gap in the bushes. He had to keep himself between the creature and the house.
Waiting, muscles tense and ears pounding, he kept his eyes glued on the bushes. The thing moved fast, but he intended to get a few shots into it before it was on top of him.
Minutes ticked past. The drumming lessened to a faint echo resounding inside his head. Not certain if the danger had passed, Harness edged backwards towards the house, eyes fixed on the torn thicket.
When he was within metres of the back door, he turned and cleared the steps in one jump, landing almost at the door. Turning back towards the sheds, he could see the torch, the beam illuminating the ground beneath the swing; beyond that, the sheds were cloaked in darkness. Keeping his back to the door and still watching the yard for any sign of movement, he raised an elbow, meaning to pound on the wood. The door swung inwards before he had the chance to knock.
Rodney stood in the doorway holding a shotgun, both barrels trained on him like huge dark tunnels. Harness lowered his firearm as Rodney stepped aside for him to enter.
“Did you see it?” Rodney still had the shotgun on his shoulder.
Harness closed the door and bolted it without speaking. Moving to the window, he looked out into the yard. When he was sure nothing was following, he turned to Rodney and took hold of the shotgun’s barrels, pushing downwards so they were pointed at the floor.
“I want you to get Lisa and Annabel. I’m taking you to town.”
“You saw it, didn’t you?” Rodney asked.
“Yes.” Harness nodded his head. “I saw it. I don’t know what the fuck it is, but you can’t stay here.”
“What do you
think it is?” Rodney asked, holding the shotgun at his side.
“Maggie said it’s a demon.” Harness knew how crazy it sounded even as he was saying it, but after what he’d just seen, he didn’t care.
“Yeah. That sounds about right.” Rodney’s voice was husky. “I’ll tell Lisa we’re going.”
Harness holstered his gun and followed Rodney into the lounge room where Lisa sat on the couch with Annabel curled up next to her. The woman and child were pale, eyes wide. The sight of them reminded Harness of times when he’d given bad news to people in the middle of the night. They always had the same shell-shocked look on their faces. A look that came from the realisation that their world – the warm safe place they were used to – had been wiped away. If he could see his own expression, it would probably hold the same look of shock and terror.
When Rodney told his wife and daughter they were leaving, Lisa disentangled herself from Annabel so she could go upstairs and grab a few things. Before she went, Lisa kissed her daughter on top of the head.
“Be back in a minute.” She rubbed the girl’s arm as if reluctant to let her go.
Annabel nodded but didn’t speak. While they waited, Harness moved around the room checking the windows. He noticed the wind had dropped, but saw no signs of movement.
Ten minutes later, the four of them left the house. Harness went first, the gun held at his side. Lisa followed, holding Annabel’s hand. Rodney came last, carrying an overnight bag in one hand, the shotgun in the other. He pulled the door shut behind them before following Harness and his family to the squad car.
No one spoke while Harness turned on the motor, made a U-turn, and drove away from the house. After a few minutes, Annabel broke the silence.
“Did it touch you?” Her voice was small from the darkness of the back seat.
He could still hear the drumming, now pulsing inside his head. Still feel the demon’s hot breath on his skin.
“No, it didn’t touch me.”
The Stone Flowers Page 16
