“I’m okay Mom,” Crispin said, but he didn’t try to wriggle away from her. For a moment, they stood there motionless. They looked around, but there didn’t seem to be any damage done.
“We haven’t had an earthquake here since I was a little girl,” his mother said finally as she let go of him and smiled down at his frightened face.
“There were noises coming from under the ground a few times in the last week,” he said.
“It must have been building up.”
“Probably.” That made sense to Crispin.
“I hope there’s no damage to the foundation,” Mrs. Constable mused aloud.
“Maybe Dick, sorry, Mr. Duggan will be able to check?” Crispin said
“Mr. Duggan is a guest here, and we won't be asking him to do anything at all,” she said, and it was forceful enough to warn Crispin off.
“Do you think it’s over?” he asked.
“I hope so,” she said. “Now let’s get on with this, so we can go in and have some tea and a slice of that cake I made.”
Chapter 4
Dick sat in the bar and ran his fingers through the condensation on the outside of his glass. It was his third double whiskey of the evening. The man at the mine had died from his injuries. His name had been Miles, and he had a family in town.
As he had before, and was sure he would again, Dick felt the weight of the guilt for this death bear down on him. He knew that alcohol was not a solution, but it was the only thing that let him forget, even for just a few minutes. It would anesthetize him and put him to sleep where his dreams would be of insignificant mental meanderings and not of the killer. The killer he, and his now dead partner, had released into the world.
He drained the last of the watered drink and called for another. The barman gave him a look as though to check if he was going to be trouble or not and then poured him another over two cubes of jagged ice.
He looked around the room at the people who were in the bar. They were all smiling and talking, except for a couple of men at the bar who were not together and drank alone. The bar was almost all wood, the floors, the walls, the bar itself, the tables and chairs, the doors. There was a large mirror behind the bar, and big framed photos of local landscapes hung on the walls, interspersed with various stuffed animal heads. It had a homey feeling, and there was a giant stone fireplace that Dick was sure would be lit on a colder evening. The few booths that there were had red faux leather on the seats, ripped and worn from years of use. Ripped by Rattleyard? Of course not! That’s the drink talking! He smiled at his drunkenness and the warped thoughts it caused him.
Dick thought back to when he was offered the job in this town- the opportunity of a massive iron find. He knew at the time that the omens were all wrong, but he still went ahead and took a stake in the mine. When he got here, the only room available for rent was one in the house of his former partner with his left behind family who had no idea that Dick ever knew their father and husband. Everything pointed to a fate where Rattleyard was going to reappear, and Dick wondered almost out loud if that was why he really came here? To draw the monster out and finally get rid of him once and for all.
It had been five years since the massacre at Cripple Creek where Francis Constable, as well as ten other men, had been killed by Rattleyard. Dick had escaped then, but he could always feel that Rattleyard was near him, beneath the ground where he walked, constantly watching him. Jared Tymes was another survivor of Cripple Creek who had somehow found himself here in Royston working at the mine. Dick remembered Jared’s face when they saw each other at the works. It was as though Dick himself was Rattleyard, and Dick felt the same about Jared.
He couldn’t face the memories of what had happened there. When he drained his full glass this time, he had to rush to the bathroom as it burned the back of his throat and into his nostrils, and he felt the acid burn of vomit rising from deep inside of him.
He wiped his mouth at the sink and looked at his reflection in the mirror, taking in the beads of sweat on his forehead and the paleness of his skin. He looked terrible. There was a cool breeze running through an open window that tickled the back of his neck, and it felt good and he felt fresh after vomiting. He could soon feel his jellied legs solidify under him and he grew stronger. He went back to the bar and ordered a beer this time. He was going to drink it slowly and try to relax.
Dick sat away from the bar now, at one of the booths, and flicked through some papers he had in his coat. Try as he might, however, he was not able to focus on them. All he could see the bloody open head injury of Miles and he heard the voices of the men who claimed to hear a tearing sound in the walls before he fell. There had been an earthquake since, and everyone at the mine save Jared and he believed it had been a pre-tremor that had made the man fall. Dick could hear that ripping noise, and he knew what it meant. Rattleyard was up in that mountain waiting to kill again. To kill him if he could. He thought of Francis Constable; he really should pay a visit to his grave.
They had told them not to mine there. But why the hell would anyone listen to wild stories about an ancient monster? Who believes in that stuff? There were thousands of legends like that one all over the world. Who would have known that this one would turn out to be true? Francis had talked about the people who lived in Cripple Creek and the fear on their faces when they spoke to him, trying to dissuade him from mining there. Maybe he believed them a little but in the end, they went ahead with it, and Francis paid the ultimate price. His family was told he was killed in a mine collapse; everyone who wasn’t there thought that was what had happened. The locals knew the truth. Even though they had not seen Rattleyard, they knew it was him. There were women who spat at Dick and cursed him in strange languages when he left Cripple Creek for the last time. Had they set Rattleyard on his trail? Was he to be followed for all time by this iron killer with the sharp thin limbs that had cut into men Dick knew? Were they his future?
The door opened and five boisterous men came in laughing and shoving each other jokingly and patting each other on the shoulder, causing the dust on the floor to swirl about in front of them. They were all large rugged men and Dick recognised some of them as applicants who had wanted to work at the mine. They were all covered in muck and grime and judging by the way they were boasting, they returned from a successful day of hunting. One of their number ordered a round of drinks, and they pulled up stools and made a large semi-circle at the bar.
“What did you bag today?” the barman asked as he pulled beers.
“Deer and stag, a whole trailer full,” the leader said, “but there’s something else out there we’ll be hunting tomorrow.”
“What’s that?”
“We don’t know, but something in the hills has been killing. We found a few stags up there, and they had been torn to shreds; massive cuts in the flesh, more than would be necessary to kill it.”
“Was there meat taken from the animals?” Dick interjected. The hunters turned to look at him.
“No, it was just attacked; whatever did it was probably going to come back for it, but we scared it away,” another of the men said.
“He could probably smell you Lloyd!” another joked and they all burst out laughing. Dick nodded, and the men went back to their stories and beers and razzing one another.
You didn’t scare this thing away, he thought.
Dick was sure that it had been Rattleyard up there honing his skills again, practising for his work on Dick himself, perhaps. There was no point in telling these men to be careful and not go up there again that a monster that was made of thin metal was going to kill them if they did. He almost laughed out loud as he imagined what they would say to him if he told them. Dick had formed the bones of a plan, though, and he hoped his plan would be the end of Rattleyard.
Chapter 5
“There’s a man hanging around out the back,” Arthur whispered to Crispin as he emerged from the bathroom. Crispin was startled as he wasn’t expecting this, but he instantly took i
n what Arthur had said.
“Who is he?” he whispered back.
“I don’t know, but we’re going to find out!” Arthur took Crispin by the arm and led him down the stairs. Crispin wriggled free with indignation,
“I’m coming,” he said crossly. They went out the front door and tiptoed out around the side of the house. At the corner they looked and sure enough there was definitely someone there, standing just beyond the fence. He looked agitated and moving from foot to foot like he was cold, but it was an especially warm night.
“Come on,” Arthur said and he dropped to his knees and began to crawl across the grass towards the shed at the bottom of the garden. Crispin looked at the man once more and saw that he was now facing the other way. Crispin dropped to his knees and scurried after his brother. They reached the shed door when suddenly they heard the back door of the house open. They scrambled inside the shed as fast as they could.
In the darkness of the garden shed, Crispin and Arthur listened as Dick met with the man who had been hanging around out behind the fence at the end of their backyard.
“What is it?” Dick asked, and he seemed rushed in his speech.
“You know what it is! We both know it was Rattleyard!” the man said, and his voice raised a little, and they could hear him try to bring it back under control. Then they heard one of the men sigh, but they couldn't know which one.
“If it is him, it’s going to happen again,” Dick said.
“So what do you think we should do?”
“The same as last time, we try to kill him.”
Kill him! Kill who? The boys wondered as fear entered them both. They had to remain silent and under no circumstances could it be known that they were there now that they had heard this.
“How? You know we tried this before, and it didn’t work!”
“We’ll have to find a way!” Dick snapped. “There has to be a way,” he went on more quietly.
“He could be under our feet right now listening to what we’re saying,” the other man said.
“He could be,” Dick agreed.
Crispin and Arthur looked at one another with blank faces. How could someone be looking up at them right now, and they not be able to see them? They looked down to the ground and then at one another nervously.
“I’ve been going over my notebooks, and it’s possible I’ve found a way,” Dick said.
“Really?” The other man sounded surprised.
“Yes, but I don’t want to say it out loud. I’ll put it on paper and get it to you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow! But....”
“I said tomorrow,” Dick interrupted. “Go to the mine as normal tomorrow and I’ll see you there.” The man didn’t reply, but the boys could hear him walking away, his footsteps heavy on the ground as he left. Dick seemed to be standing around, and the boys remained silent. Finally, they heard him walk back to the house and the back door creak as he entered.
Crispin and Arthur came out into the night air and looked around to make sure that both men were gone.
“What was that all about?” Crispin said.
“I don’t know, but it sounds like they are going to kill someone,” Arthur replied in disbelief.
“Dick couldn’t kill anyone could he?” Arthur didn’t answer. “They said they were going to kill Rattleyard,” Crispin said.
“Yeah, that must be some guy’s nickname at the mine,” Arthur said.
“Should we tell mom?” Crispin asked.
“I don’t know, surely they can’t mean really kill, as in dead can they?” Arthur was not asking this of Crispin but simply thinking out loud. Crispin knew his tone of voice when he did this and he had learned a long time ago not to answer it.
“I was in Dick’s room the other day, and I looked into the chest he snuck into the house that night,” Crispin told his brother.
“You’re very lucky you didn’t get caught,” Arthur said, “What did you find?”
“And there were loads of notebooks and papers, and I’m sure I saw the word Rattleyard all over them!”
“What did they say?”
“I didn’t get to read any of it. Mom came in and caught me.”
“Well, we need to get in there tonight and see what it is all about before someone gets murdered,” Arthur said.
Chapter 6
The four older Constable children stood at the foot of the stairs talking in whispers before dinner. Their mother called to them, a suspicious hint to her voice; they were sure she was wondering why they were all together and not bickering. They broke ranks and came to the table. Elisha and Mary began arguing about seats straight away. Francis, who was not in any of the information, did his best to be a pint-sized nuisance around everyone’s legs.
“What were you all talking about at the bottom of the stairs?” Mrs. Constable asked with a raised eyebrow and tilted mouth.
“The Earthquake,” Arthur answered. Crispin was impressed with how truthful he sounded; he didn’t even look at their mother as he spoke. They heard footsteps above as Dick left his room. Crispin listened as hard as he could, and he thought he heard the door locking, but he couldn’t be sure at this distance.
“You lot are up to something,” their mother said, “but we won’t speak of it while we have a guest for dinner.” That suited Crispin and the other’s fine.
They had been trying to come up with a plan about how to get into the room Dick occupied without him or their mother finding out. They had to get to the contents of that trunk to see who Rattleyard was and why Dick wanted to kill him. There was no plan as of yet.
Dick entered the room, but his face was more serious than usual.
“Mrs. Constable. Children,” he nodded and took his place at the table.
“Is everything okay Mr. Duggan?” their mother asked, and all eyes fell on him.
“The man who was injured at the mine has sadly passed away,” Dick answered, his eyes downcast.
“I’m terribly sorry to hear that,” their mother said as she blessed herself. The children followed suit in mechanical movements.
“Was he a friend of yours?” Arthur asked.
“No, but I knew him to see,” Dick answered. He took up his plate and began to fill it with food from the steaming dishes. There was an awkward silence at the table, and none of them knew if they should say anything or not. They looked to their mother for leadership.
“Eat your dinner children,” she said, but it felt like it was only to break the silence.
“I think your mother might be right about you not going to work in the mine Arthur,” Dick said to the oldest boy. Arthur looked as though he was about to protest but he said nothing.
“It’s a terrible shame when anyone dies, but when it is a young man and in an accident...”
“This was no accident,” Dick said under his breath, interrupting Mrs Constable as she spoke. “I’m very sorry,” he said. He excused himself, left the room, and went out the front door.
Crispin and Arthur looked at one another in agreement that this man, Rattleyard, had killed the man who died in the mine. Dick was going to kill him in revenge. Their mother was silent as she looked at the half-filled plate where Dick had left it. She looked sad. Crispin thought she might be thinking about their father. He always thought she remembered their father anytime death was mentioned, no matter what the context. That was what he did after all. Die. They ate the rest of their dinner in relative silence.
After dinner Crispin, as arranged earlier with his siblings, went upstairs and confirmed that Dick’s door was locked. This meant they were going to have to put their plan into action.
Later that night, Crispin kept watch from the dark in the back garden as Arthur made his slow climb onto the back porch so that he could get to Dick’s window to see if it was open.
The wood creaked, and it sounded unusually loud in the night silence, but their mother was listening to the radio as she sewed and didn’t appear to hear it. Mary and Elisha were at the front of
the house so they could see if Dick came back home unexpectedly. They had all worked out a call that they would use a signal, a bird call they had all been imitating since they were very young, to tell if someone was coming.
When Arthur was finally up, he looked down to Crispin for a sign that he was okay to go on. Crispin looked inside the house again and saw their mother in the same place as before; he nodded back to his older brother. Arthur tiptoed across the top of the porch and went to the window of Dick’s room. He tugged at the window, and it opened a little, but then it seemed to be stuck. Crispin watched him struggle with it for a minute and then Arthur turned and shrugged. He came to the edge of the porch and beckoned Crispin over.
“It’s stuck, but I won’t be able to get in through the gap, you’ll have to get up here and go in.”
“How am I going to get up?” Crispin asked, half hoping that Arthur wouldn’t have an answer to this.
“I’ll come down and boost you up. It’s fine to walk up here especially as you are much lighter than me.”
“Okay.” Crispin felt he was being swept up in this and he no longer had any will.
Arthur hung over the edge and dropped the few feet to the ground. He stood against the wall and put his hands together for Crispin to step into. He did, and then he felt his body rise as Arthur lifted him. Crispin stepped on his shoulders and then lunged up to get a hold of something to pull himself up. It was easier than he thought, but once he was up there, he was afraid of falling on the slanted porch roof, so he crept much slower than his brother had to the window.
It was open alright, but he wasn’t sure that he was going to be able to fit through it. He tested with his head and when this went in he was more confident, and he squeezed his torso in and then pushed off his feet, his legs dangling as he pulled himself in and onto the floor. He let his arms take his weight and came to a heap on the floor as quietly as he could.
Rattleyard Page 2
