Creeping Terror

by Justin Richards

  ‘There.’ Ben pointed. ‘That’s where we got through before, isn’t it? Where you hacked a path with the sword?’

  ‘Yes. You can see where the foliage is a bit thinner. It hasn’t grown back fully.’

  ‘Then that’s where we aim for,’ Ben decided. ‘The weakest point.’

  ‘Hang on.’ Rupam was looking worried. ‘What do you mean, “aim for”? We don’t have the sword any more. We’ll never force our way through again.’

  ‘Not on foot,’ Ben agreed. ‘But we’re in a Land Rover.’

  Rupam’s jaw dropped. ‘Oh, come on! You’re not suggesting …’ He looked from Ben to the mass of foliage and back again. ‘Are you? You’re crazy!’

  ‘We have to get through,’ Ben insisted.

  Rupam shook his head. ‘I must be crazy too,’ he decided. ‘Make sure your seat belt’s on and hold tight.’

  *

  The engine roared and the Land Rover gathered speed as it hurtled towards the wall of green. It smashed into the foliage at the exact point where Ben and Rupam had forced their way through before.

  The windscreen was suddenly dark – plastered with leaves. Branches slashed at the side windows and scraped along the paintwork. The whole vehicle shook. Rupam kept his foot hard down on the accelerator.

  The wheels bounced over roots and creepers. The whole vehicle lifted in the air as it hit a large obstacle. The bonnet slammed down. Metal screeched and protested. The windscreen shattered, showering Ben and Rupam in broken glass.

  They were slowing. A fist of ivy and bramble punched in through the window beside Ben, ripping the seat covering. It was whipped away as the vehicle kept going. But they were losing speed. The Land Rover slewed sideways as a tyre burst. Ben could hear rubber flapping against metal.

  Ahead, he thought he could see the merest hint of daylight. The vehicle shuddered and slowed. It then tilted, skidded back the other way and stopped. The bonnet was once more facing forward. Behind them, Ben could dimly see a trail of broken branches and scattered leaves. In front of them, the leaves closed in, rustling in what sounded like anticipation.

  Rupam thumped at the steering wheel, cursing under his breath. The engine was protesting and the vehicle rocked as Rupam tried to get it moving again – and failed.

  They were trapped inside the Land Rover, so close to the end of the barrier of greenery that Ben thought he could see the outline of the road beyond. Branches pressed in from the sides. The green wall in front reared up, gathering itself ready to pour through the broken windscreen and tear the two boys to pieces.

  13

  THE SEAT BELT WAS JAMMED. BEN STRUGGLED to unclick it, twisting desperately out of the way of the advancing plants. Finally, he managed, hurling himself sideways as a shaft of wood rammed into the back of the seat where he had been.

  ‘Out!’ Rupam yelled. ‘We have to get out!’

  The doors were held shut by the weight of the foliage outside. The only other exits were via the back of the Land Rover or through the broken windscreen.

  ‘Windscreen,’ Ben decided. At least they’d be heading in the right direction and he still thought he could see a glimmer of light ahead of them.

  Together they dived out on to the bonnet of the vehicle. Leaves whipped at them and branches lashed out. They pushed their way through as best they could, crawling and sliding across the front of the Land Rover, then falling into the barbed greenery below.

  They crawled onwards, thorns and undergrowth clawing and tearing at them. Rupam crashed to the ground, his leg tangled in a creeper that dragged him backwards. He grabbed at Ben, who tried to hold on but lost his grip. Desperately, Ben reached back, grabbing Rupam again. This time he was able to keep hold, ripping his friend clear of the danger.

  With a final, frantic burst of energy, they scrabbled forward. Daylight replaced the olive green that had lit their world. Ben could taste the fresh air. He hadn’t realised how cloying and close the various scents of the plants were until he was free of them. He rolled and tumbled out of the thrashing foliage and on to the hard tarmac of the road.

  At once he was on his feet, gripping Rupam’s flailing arms and dragging him clear too.

  ‘Thanks,’ Rupam gasped. ‘I thought we’d had it.’

  Ben looked back at the wall of green. It was bulging out towards them. Stems curled and budded, extended and grew towards them at an alarming rate.

  ‘Let’s get out of here,’ he said. ‘We must find Gemma, Knight and the others.’

  *

  Even the grass was their enemy. Rupam stepped off the roadway on to the verge and was at once under attack. The grass curled up over his feet, growing rapidly and wrapping itself round his shoe, threading into it. He tore himself free and jumped back into the road.

  The hedges either side bristled and moved as the boys passed, as if caught in a gale. Except there wasn’t even a breeze. Branches of a nearby horse chestnut tree dipped down towards them. Ivy snaked across the road as if it was being pulled by some invisible hand.

  ‘How long before the plants overrun the place, do you think?’ Rupam asked.

  ‘No idea. Webby’s probably watching on the satellite. He’ll know.’

  ‘He’ll see the tanks,’ Rupam said. ‘I wonder if Captain Morton has managed to get Greene to stop the advance.’

  Neither of them thought Greene could be stopped easily. They walked on in brooding silence. Soon the broken top of the church tower became visible over the swaying hedges. At last they were within sight of the centre of the village. It looked very different from the last time they had seen it.

  It was as if the clock had been wound forward fifty years. The grass at the side of the road was longer and thicker. The shells of the buildings were almost invisible beneath layers of ivy and creeper. The front of the pub was covered with wisteria, gnarled branches digging into the stonework and winding through the broken windows. The phone box was almost lost in a dense shroud of green.

  ‘Where is everyone?’ Ben wondered.

  ‘I don’t even see any ghosts.’ Rupam checked his phone. ‘No, nothing.’

  ‘The church was the centre of things,’ Ben remembered from the satellite pictures. It made him think of the basement of Gibbet Manor, of watching the computer images. ‘Do you think Webby smells?’

  ‘What?’ Rupam was momentarily confused by the sudden change of subject. ‘Of course he smells. Stuck down in a cellar all day, never coming out even to take a bath. You’d smell.’

  ‘I suppose.’ Ben wanted to point out that he didn’t think it was that sort of smell.

  ‘Can we get through the graveyard?’ Rupam asked. ‘The path was rather overgrown.’

  They walked warily past a large oak tree, its branches and leaves rustling ominously. It was on a raised patch of green behind a low stone wall. Both of them watched it carefully as they walked by. But the threat came from another direction.

  Ivy was growing along the low wall, forcing its way through the gaps between the stones and clawing into the mortar. The wall was now held up only by the latticework of ivy and creepers. Ben was so intent on the tree that he didn’t notice the ivy twitching as he and Rupam walked past. Didn’t see the leaves curling and the stems straining back from the stonework. Coiling. Tensing.

  Suddenly, the whole wall exploded. The ivy and brambles and bindweed that covered it lashed out, bringing chunks of stone and cement with them. A hailstorm of masonry whipped past Ben and Rupam. A large stone ripped from the wall caught Rupam on the shoulder, making him cry out. More followed, catapulted by the thrashing plants.

  The web of interlaced ivy and creepers was a wall itself, lunging for the boys. A canopy of green crashed down on them, blotting out the sky.

  Ben grabbed Rupam and hurled him to the ground, crawling rapidly away from under the ivy. But it was wrapping itself round his legs, tightening on his throat. Rupam too was gasping for breath, clawing at the wiry green that ensnared him, throttling him.

  The foliage creaked
and hissed as it tore at them. But then there was another sound – the ring of metal connecting with the wood and leaves. The rasp of a sword against the binding weeds and plants.

  Maria was silhouetted against the pale sky. She hacked down, twisted the sword and slashed again and again at the greenery that held Ben and Rupam tight.

  The ivy shrank away. Creepers broke and fell under Maria’s expert cuts. Ben managed to crawl out from beneath the canopy. Rupam followed close behind him. He tore a length of ivy from his neck and threw it back into the mass of greenery.

  ‘Thanks,’ he gasped to Maria.

  ‘Don’t thank me yet. We need to get back into the pub.’

  ‘Why the pub?’ Rupam asked hoarsely as they ran for the door.

  ‘Only building still structurally sound enough to keep out the plants. We can’t stay in the open and it’s closer than the church.’ Maria stopped clear of the door. ‘I’ll go first. You guys stay close on my heels, OK?’

  They didn’t need to ask why. The wisteria had closed like a curtain across the open doorway, barring the entrance.

  Maria raised her sword and cried, ‘Ready?’ Then she ran straight at the covered doorway, slashing and cutting at the thick stems. She hardly slowed, diving through the narrowest of gaps before the plant could close in again.

  Rupam was right behind her, with Ben on his heels. The branches grabbed at Ben as he dived through after the others. He felt his jacket snag and rip, but he kept going, tumbling into the pub.

  It was almost dark – the windows were covered with foliage. A few candles gave what little light there was. Enough to see Knight and Growl standing at the dusty bar, and Gemma sitting on one of the few remaining chairs.

  ‘Glad you could join us,’ Knight said. His suit was torn and stained. ‘Though I don’t think we’ll be staying here long. It’s only a matter of time before it breaks in through the windows and the door.’

  ‘I imagine it thinks we are less of a threat cooped up in here,’ Growl said. ‘So we must prove how wrong that assumption is.’

  ‘We lost the research notes and documents in the school,’ Maria told them. She was standing by the door, sword at the ready. ‘What can we do if we don’t even know what’s really going on here?’

  ‘But we do know,’ Rupam blurted out. ‘That’s why we came back – well, partly. We had to warn you.’

  ‘Warn us about what?’ Knight demanded.

  ‘About Colonel Greene,’ Ben said. ‘He’s not just crazy – he’s the Green Man.’

  The others listened in astonished silence as Ben and Rupam took turns to explain and recount their adventures.

  ‘We got a message through to Mrs Bailey,’ Ben finished. ‘She is going to ask Captain Morton to stop the tanks.’

  ‘But why stop them?’ Gemma said. ‘If they’re going to destroy all this, won’t that sort everything out?’

  ‘Not if Greene really is an embodiment of the ancient earth gods,’ Growl told her sharply. ‘Don’t you listen to anything?’ His lip curled in sudden anger. ‘The village itself, or something here in it, is the only thing holding back the power of the Green Man. Keeping it in check, as it always has done – perhaps right back to pagan times. It’s that power that has stopped the green from radiating out even further. It’s like the force of gravity, holding it in. If that gravity is destroyed, if Colonel Greene manages to get rid of that inhibitor, whatever it is, then the Green Man will be free to escape from the village and spread his malign influence everywhere.’

  Ben had been about to interrupt – to tell Growl he was being unfair to Gemma. But Knight was watching closely and saw Ben’s irritation. He caught his eye and shook his head, telling Ben to stay silent.

  ‘It’s bad, isn’t it?’ Knight said to Growl as the clergyman fell silent.

  There was a sheen of sweat across Growl’s brow. He nodded. ‘I’m sorry, Gemma,’ he murmured, but the words seemed an effort.

  ‘Then it’s getting stronger. It senses something is about to happen. The powers here are building. If what you say is right, then Greene’s plan is to destroy the village in order to get rid of this inhibitor. In effect, to free himself – the Green Man, the malign forces of nature – to escape from this area and spread out far and wide.’ Knight turned to Maria. ‘You ready to get us out of here?’

  She nodded. ‘But where will we go? The plants are everywhere.’

  ‘The church is the centre of it all,’ Growl said. He was breathing heavily, as if trying to control a panic attack. ‘And it’s the oldest building. It must be something to do with the church.’

  ‘The foliate heads?’ Rupam asked. ‘The representations of the Green Man on the tower.’

  ‘Perhaps, perhaps. I need time to think.’ Growl dabbed at his forehead with a grubby handkerchief.

  ‘You all right?’ Ben asked Gemma quietly.

  She nodded. ‘He gets like that. It’s OK. I don’t mind.’

  He could tell that she did mind – the girl was still pale from Growl’s verbal onslaught. Ben knew from his own experience that the clergyman was given to sudden angry outbursts, usually when the situation was dire.

  ‘At least the ghosts have gone,’ Ben said.

  She forced a smile. ‘Most of them. The ones that aren’t here always, anyway.’

  ‘That’s what I meant.’

  Gemma stood up from her chair. She put her hand on Ben’s shoulder and spoke quietly, close to his ear. ‘I know.’

  ‘Know? Know what?’

  Somehow, Sam was sitting on the chair where Gemma had just been. ‘Oh, come on, Ben,’ she said. ‘She’s always known. Right from the start.’

  ‘I know,’ Gemma said quietly, ‘that you can’t see the ghosts and demons. Not without your phone.’

  ‘The only mystery,’ Sam said, inspecting her nails, ‘is why she doesn’t tell Knight and the others that Ben Foundling is a fraud and a liar.’ She looked up at Ben. ‘Don’t you think?’

  ‘Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone,’ Gemma said, oblivious to Sam’s words.

  ‘But why not?’

  She shrugged. ‘I can see enough ghosts for both of us.’

  Ben wanted to ask her more, to get her to explain. But the others were ready to leave now. The plants were hammering insistently against the windows, as if preparing to attack. The doorway bulged with green and brown stems, shoots, leaves …

  And from away in the distance, over the sound of the thrashing plants, came another sound: a low rumbling like thunder, only more constant, more insistent, more mechanical … Engines.

  ‘The tanks are coming,’ Ben realised. ‘Greene’s started the advance.’

  14

  ‘THE CHURCH,’ GROWL DECIDED. ‘THAT WAS THE focal point until the Puritans destroyed the statues. That was where the power of the Green Man was held in check. Something there must still be holding Greene back. It all centres on the church, so that is where we will find answers and where we must make for.’

  ‘If we can get out of here,’ Ben muttered.

  ‘Can we jump from upstairs?’ Rupam asked. He was having to talk loudly to be heard above the thrashing of the plants and the rumble of the tanks. ‘Like we managed to climb over the plants at the school?’

  ‘There are no stairs,’ Knight told them. ‘They’ve collapsed.’

  Overhead, the ceiling creaked ominously.

  ‘Sounds like we’re too late anyway,’ Growl added. ‘It’s probably got in through the windows.’

  ‘Only one thing for it, then,’ Maria decided, raising her sword.

  ‘She’s good with that,’ Sam said quietly in Ben’s ear.

  ‘But is she good enough?’ he murmured back. He glanced round, but Sam had gone.

  ‘You ready?’ Maria said.

  Gemma nodded nervously, biting her lip. Rupam and Ben braced themselves, prepared to run.

  ‘I don’t think we have any option,’ Knight admitted.

  ‘Just get on with it, girl,’ Growl said, his voice hard-edged
again and his brow beaded with sweat.

  Maria was a blur of motion. The sword spun and sliced, hacking and cutting at the green curtain across the doorway. The plants drew back, almost as if they were surprised by the sudden onslaught.

  Knight pushed the boys and Gemma after Maria. He and Growl followed. The vegetation across the doorway was not thick and already Maria was slicing through to the daylight beyond. She stepped out on to the street, the sun behind her so that she was silhouetted – the sword raised above her head, poised and ready.

  Ben forced his way through the gap. Stems and leaves whipped at him as he went, as the plants tried to close in again. He staggered out after Rupam and Gemma, and turned to see Knight and Growl struggle through the foliage and emerge into the road.

  ‘You mentioned some inhibitor, a focus for the energy that has held the plants in check,’ Knight said. He was breathing heavily as he spoke to Growl.

  The clergyman nodded. ‘Something in or close to the church, I would guess.’

  ‘In the graveyard?’ Knight said. ‘In a grave?’

  Growl raised his hand to stop him. ‘Yes,’ he breathed. ‘Yes, that could very well be. You are thinking of the grave of the Memento Mori knight?’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘All the more reason to get to the church,’ Ben told them.

  They kept to the middle of the road. The grass on the verges quivered and twisted as they passed. Branches dipped and swung from the trees. If any got dangerously close, Maria hacked at them with her sword.

  ‘Do you think the Memento Mori knight buried in the churchyard is there because of …’ Ben wasn’t sure how to describe thing. He gestured vaguely at the world in general. ‘Because of all this?’

  ‘Unfinished business,’ Rupam added. ‘That’s why they buried them aligned north–south, you said.’

  Growl nodded. ‘Think back to the role of the Memento Mori in recent events, what we know about the order, and think about the name of this place.’

  ‘I don’t follow,’ Ben admitted. ‘The only thing I know about the Memento Mori is that they stopped that Gabriel Diablo bloke hundreds of years ago.’