by Stephen Laws
She looked back at the radio station again, and then over to her right. There was a glass-recycling container there. Keeping low, and averting her sight from the body, she ran between cars until she’d reached the container. Once behind it, she braced her back against the cool metal and tried to control her breathing. She scanned the sky. No vapour trails, no clouds. No circling helicopters, looking for survivors. Just that same blank greyness that she had seen from the storeroom window. If not for the fact that she was hurting so much, she might be tempted to believe that this was a nightmare and none of it was happening.
But where the hell was she going to go? She’d already been around most of the cliff-edge, and she knew that the supermarket and radio station were balanced on the brink of the chasm.
There’s nowhere else, Juliet. Nowhere else to run.
She fought off despair.
And then heard the car engine turning over.
Someone else was alive, after all. Just when she had been giving up hope. She glanced back at the radio station again. Still no sign of Trevor, and it seemed as if the noise was coming from the row of parked cars just ahead. Once they had been parked neatly side to side. Now the tremor had shifted and jolted them against each other so that they were standing haphazardly, their paintwork scratched, side windows splintered. Supermarket trolleys lay scattered all over the cracked asphalt.
Again, the engine turned over, this time coughing into life.
Juliet pushed away from the container and ran towards the sound.
A Land Rover edged out of the haphazard rank.
“Wait!” Juliet waved her arms as she ran, trying to flag it down.
The Land Rover jerked to a halt, engine stalling.
“Please, wait!”
The engine roared again, and the vehicle swung towards her, juddering to a standstill, engine idling.
“Thank God…”
Trevor leaned forward over the steering wheel, smiling that ghastly rictus of a smile. Fresh blood was leaking from his ragged socket down his cheek and dripping from his chin. He scratched at the itch it caused, as if the terrible pain in the socket itself meant nothing. Suddenly, it was as if the Trevor Blake she’d known no longer existed. What sat behind that wheel was some kind of ravaged shell; something that now barely looked human. Something that existed only to torment her to death.
Juliet staggered to a halt, hair flying. It wasn’t possible!
Trevor barked out a laugh, then jammed his foot hard down on the accelerator. The Land Rover shot forward.
Juliet couldn’t move. The terrified part of her wondered whether she shouldn’t just let the vehicle ram into her. Would the pain be so bad, and wouldn’t it put an end to this nightmare one way or the other? But another primal and instinctive urge made her flip aside just before impact, twirling almost gracefully like some kind of matador. Trevor anticipated her move, twisting the wheel hard. The vehicle swung after her. This time, not so gracefully, Juliet scrambled up over the hood of another parked car. She fell badly, grazing the palms of her hands. As the Land Rover slammed into the skewed car, shattering its already crazed windscreen in a shower of glass, Juliet launched herself through two tubular rails of the trolley-parking bay into the cluster of trolleys beyond. An instant later the Land Rover jammed the vehicle right up against the rails, where she had just been crouching.
It reversed noisily, gears screeching, then rammed the car again. The tubular rails buckled. Did Trevor think that she was still down there, crushed up against the rails? Shoving a path through the trolleys, Juliet repeated the manouevre on the other side of the bay. Now she was out in the open carpark again, and could hear the Land Rover reversing and turning to follow her. Directly ahead of her were two parked cars. She ran for them, lungs bursting, breath sobbing in her throat. She saw the reflection of the Land Rover in the rear window of one of the parked cars as it roared around towards her, swaying on its suspension in the tight turn. There was no time to veer to either side, nowhere to run if she did. Between the cars was a two-foot space, leading to a low wall and a hedgerow, with no way of knowing what was on the other side.
There was no choice.
With the roaring of the Land Rover engine filling the air, Juliet ran between the cars and hurtled on ahead. Using the small wall as a step, she lunged forward through the hedgerow as the Land Rover smashed into the rear of both cars, shunting them forward with her. The brambles tore at her clothes as she fell, the car on her right bursting completely through the hedge and nose-diving the three feet down the other side with a noise like another earth tremor. Juliet hit the ground, staggered, but did not fall. Now she could see where she was; she’d curved around towards the radio station again. There was the forecourt and glass frontage from which she’d just run, further down on her left. The Land Rover engine was making a grinding sound, as if something under the chassis had been damaged. Juliet saw smoke rising from over the roofs of other parked cars as Trevor headed for the carpark exit, hunting for her again. She wouldn’t have time to reach the main entrance of the radio station before he found her, and it would mean running in the same direction as he was headed.
Head down, Juliet ran for the nearside of the broadcasting building, constantly glancing to her left. When the Land Rover roared out of the carpark, she cried out aloud and tried to run harder. The vehicle screeched to a halt and paused, smoke rising from its hood. Juliet prayed that there would be an unlocked side entrance at the edge of the building, prayed that there was someone still alive there who could see and hear what was happening and could help.
The Land Rover hadn’t moved. It was still pointed in her direction. Was Trevor playing with her again?
When she reached the building, she heard the engine roaring and knew that Trevor had recommenced the chase. She hurtled around the corner and found herself facing the broadcasting mast right next to the building. It was set into a six-foot-high concrete base, and there was an iron door set squarely in the centre before her. Juliet staggered to it.
Please!
It was locked.
Tugging at the handle, Juliet yelled for help. She kicked at the metal door.
Out of sight, the Land Rover closed.
There was a metal ladder at the side of the door, leading up to the roof of the concrete platform. From there, a steel maintenance ladder ascended on the outside of the mast.
The Land Rover engine growled like a living beast.
There was no time for anything else.
Quickly, Juliet climbed to the top of the concrete base.
You’ve no head for heights, Juliet. What are you doing?
“What else can I do?” she shouted aloud, and scrambled to the base of the maintenance ladder. She looked up, and the height of the mast made her dizzy before she had even begun to climb. “Oh, God…”
And then the Land Rover came around the corner of the building, screeching to a halt before it could slam into the concrete base.
No time.
And nothing else for it.
Juliet climbed, not looking up or down, concentrating hard on each metal rung as she gripped it. Her footsteps seemed to clang preternaturally loud, as if she were climbing inside some great metal cylinder. She heard the Land Rover door slam down below as Trevor climbed out. She refused to look down, and kept on.
“Now where do you think you’re going?” came Trevor’s voice.
Juliet gritted her teeth. Already the voice seemed to come from a long way down.
Don’t look down. Step after step. Just do it.
“This isn’t the beanstalk, Juliet. What do you expect to find up there? A way out? A magic castle, maybe. A golden goose? A magic harp?” He began to laugh then; as if he’d just made the best joke in the world.
Come on now. You can do it. Step, step, step.
“You couldn’t have picked a better place!” Trevor’s voice was even more distant now. “Only one way to go now. And that’s down!”
Juliet reached for the next run
g.
It wasn’t there.
“Oh no…”
Gripping the ladder tight, she forced herself to look up.
There was a metal rail above her head, slightly higher than where the next rung should be. She would have to reach for it. But suddenly she felt as if she were frozen to the ladder. She hadn’t looked down, but she knew that she was high. And just the thought of it terrified her.
“What’s wrong, Juliet? Stuck?”
Juliet hugged the ladder tight, eyes screwed shut.
“Shall I come up there and help you?”
“No!”
She reached with her left hand. For a moment, it seemed that the rail was higher than she’d thought. A sickening fear gnawed at her stomach. She was going to fall. Her fingers closed around cold steel. The chill of it seemed to suck the energy right out of her body. Did she have the strength to go on, or was she going to fall backwards off the ladder? Hauling herself up, she grabbed with the other hand. There was a steel mesh inspection platform ahead, perhaps five feet square. Frantically, she clambered up on to it and collapsed there, hugging herself tight. From below, she could hear the distant sound of Trevor laughing.
“You couldn’t have picked a better place!” he said.
Juliet forced herself to the rail and looked down. Her senses reeled. She couldn’t believe that she’d managed to climb so far; perhaps a hundred and fifty feet, half the height of the mast. It seemed very still up here; unreal, without a breath of wind. Down below, Trevor was standing with his arms folded, looking up. Steam still rose from the hood of the Land Rover to his rear.
“Behind you!” shouted Trevor. “On the other side of the mast!”
Carefully, fearfully, Juliet shuffled on all fours to the other side of the platform. Above her, the maintenance ladder continued up the side of the mast. And at the edge of the platform it was as if she were back in the supermarket storeroom again, balanced precariously on the window ledge and looking down into a great void. Giddiness threatened to overcome her as she clutched at the metal rails. In her panic to get away, she hadn’t seen the most obvious thing. Her refusal to look down had perhaps been a big mistake.
Because now she realised with overwhelming horror that not only the broadcasting building but also its communications mast, and the concrete base in which it was set, was balanced on the edge of the chasm. Below was nothing but the hideous, mountainous drop into darkness. Hundreds of feet away, on the other side, was the ragged cliff-edge of the nearest “plateau”, rimmed by torn trees and ruined buildings.
“Seen this, Juliet?” asked Trevor. He pointed to the base of the mast. “No? Maybe you didn’t notice it when you started to climb.” He walked casually forward, still pointing. “It’s cracked. See? Right there…and there…and there. Big cracks, too. I reckon that mast could go over any time.”
“Oh, sweet Jesus…”
“Like I said: well done! Couldn’t have picked a better place. Question is…what happens next?”
Juliet looked around angrily for something to hurl down at him. There was nothing.
Trevor walked back to the steaming Land Rover and leaned his back against the front grille, as if he had all the time in the world.
“Oh dear,” he said at last. “I think it’s getting darker.”
“Trevor! Leave me alone! Get the hell away from me!”
“And bad…bad things can happen in the dark.”
“You bastard!”
“Can’t they?”
Chapter Fourteen
The Cherubim
“It shouldn’t be getting dark so quickly!”
They had reached the outskirts of the park and Alex gave voice to what was worrying everyone. “We haven’t even had six hours of ‘daylight’ yet.”
The journey back through the ruins had been like a stage-managed effect solely designed to enhance the nightmare. Shadows had descended amidst the ruins, the grey becoming black, the shadows growing deeper and longer. Just as if someone somewhere really was turning off switches as Alex had fantasised. No one spoke as they hurried through ruined and empty streets back to the one place where they might find a fragile safety. Every shadow was a threat; every darkened corner a possible hiding place for further horrors. Were there still bodies in the rubble? Would they turn another corner only to find another shambling line of the dead blocking their way? Even the boy, in his safe place, could sense it; and he clung tight to Lisa as they hurried on.
“If we…” began Annie angrily, then stopped herself from saying make it through another night. Instead she said: “When it gets light again, Lisa and I are definitely going to get something sorted. On the lights front.”
There was no time to ask what she meant.
They could see the dark mound of the bonfire up ahead, still smouldering but not yet alight. Stacks of splintered wood and other flammable debris had been stacked beside it, at a safe distance. Cans of paraffin and petrol had been positioned carefully out of the way behind one of the piles.
“That’s good,” said Alex, as they hurried across the grass.
“Mostly my work, I’m afraid,” replied Lisa, without pleasure. “Look, I’m sorry. Maybe I should have stayed and got the fire started. But Candy…”
The sound of running feet made them whirl in alarm. It was Wayne and Damon.
“Have you done it?” asked Annie.
Breathing heavily, both looked back the way they’d come.
“Is it finished?” asked Alex.
“Finished,” said Damon. “Yeah.”
“Where’s Jay and Gordon?” Annie strained to look back.
“They’re…” Wayne waved vaguely back in the direction from which they’d come. “They’re coming.” Before anyone could ask further questions, they both ran on ahead to the bonfire, seizing cans of petrol.
Alex stopped to look back, searching for any sign of Jay or Gordon.
“Where…?”
But now flames were leaping high as the first pitched stream of petrol ignited on the still-smouldering embers from the previous night. Annie and Lisa began to pick up timber from one of the piles, throwing it into the centre of the bonfire. Clouds of sparks soared high. The boy threw a small stick, and missed the fire completely. The unfurling tongues of flame bathed them in bright orange light, but now seemed to accentuate the darkness that had fallen all around the ruins and on the shattered crags and pillars that had once been Edmonville.
“I’m going for Candy!” said Alex, when he was sure that the fire was well under way, and he headed off in the direction of the mini-mart. Lisa looked back and waved to wish him luck, then grabbed more wood from the pile and threw it into the flames. Alex didn’t look back, concentrating on the growing darkness beyond.
Something wasn’t right. Something about Wayne and Damon’s demeanour. But there was no time now to stay and ask further questions. He had to get Candy back to the fire straight away. Was the Black Stuff even now seeping over the rim of the chasm and heading their way?
The mini-mart was less than five minutes away, on the periphery of the park. But as Alex ran, it seemed to him that the first outlines of the ruined side street were getting no closer as he ran. Suddenly, he was overwhelmed by the feeling of how isolated they were on this bizarre plateau. He could feel the immensity of the chasm on all sides; could feel how pathetically small they were in their new and hopeless situation. Was he really running frantically on the spot, not moving at all? And hadn’t that been what their lives had been like—Candy’s and his—running on the spot, wearing themselves out, tearing each other apart? Candy trying to wash away the pain with liquor, just as she was doing now. And no matter how hard he tried, no matter how much he persevered, no matter how much he argued, it seemed that everything he did was no good at all. Every one of his responses only seemed to enrage her further.
“Candy!”
He began to shout even before he cleared the park and reached the first rubble on the grass. What if she’d left? What if she�
��d wandered off somewhere and fallen asleep in the ruins? Oh Christ, let her still be there! He paused for breath at the corner, leaning against the cracked brickwork of a rear wall before heading off down the side street. At the next bend, he could see the frontage of the mini-mart just ahead.
“Candy!”
There was no sign of movement in the darkened windows. Alex struggled on, looking around on all sides. The words of the dead man in the liquor store seemed to echo in his head.
The real truth is simple. You see, you both killed your son.
“Candy, for God’s sake, are you in there?”
There’s a darkness in you both that will destroy you.
Alex stumbled and fell in the rubble. He clawed forward on hands and knees. Was there something moving in the darkness on either side of him as he ran?
Alex, your wife thinks that you killed your son. And Candy, you think that Alex is responsible. That’s why you hate your husband so much. And don’t you know that no matter how much forbearance you show—you hate her just as much as she hates you. That’s the darkness.
“I don’t hate you, Candy. It’s not true what he said!”
And then, in his mind’s eye, he could see the dead man with the smashed face, standing in the darkness just beyond the light of the bonfire: The facts won’t go away simply because you want them to go away. I know. We know. You both murdered your son.
“You didn’t kill Ricky. Neither did I… Christ, Candy, we only let him out into the garden on his own for a minute. A minute!”
Alex was clear of the rubble and up on the fractured pavement.
Something moved beyond the darkened windows of the mini-mart. Something bright that flashed too quickly to register.
“Candy!”
Alex shoved the door open and stood in the doorway, getting his breath back and trying to adjust his vision to the gloom inside. He was overwhelmed by the feeling that there had somehow been a great deal of movement in here only moments before he’d shoved open the door. There was a silent expectancy, the feeling that someone or something other than Candy had fled into hiding at his sudden appearance.
