by Shaun Hutson
Seventeen
Kim sat back on the stool and glanced down at her notepad. Page after page was covered by her neat jottings, some of the phrases underlined.
She sighed and reached up to massage the back of her neck. A dull ache had settled there and threatened to develop into a painful stiffness. She got to her feet and walked up and down for a few minutes, her eyes every so often drawn back to the electron microscope as if by powerful magnets.
The tests were complete. At least those she intended finishing before leaving for home. For nearly nine hours since-returning to the museum that morning, she had been working on the relics. Examining the bones, the stone tablets, the coins, the weapons and God knew how many more of the finds. The carbon-14 test had been completed, as had the nitrogen test. The bones were over 2,000 years old, and as far as she could ascertain, they came from the same period as the rest of the relics.
Then there were the tablets.
She’d chipped a tiny fragment of one of them away and ground it up with a pestle and mortar, examining the minute fragments beneath the electron microscope in a test more commonly used on fossils. The petrological microscopy had revealed something which Kim had not expected and it had been nagging at her ever since.
The tablets were much older than the rest of the relics.
All twelve were at least five hundred to a thousand years older than the other artifacts she had examined. It was as if they had been buried by another tribe generations before.
Buried or hidden?
She went to the worktop where the tablets were laid out and prodded one with a small tracer. The chisel-like implement followed a path through the groove which had been fashioned into a letter. She wondered how long it would take her to decipher the writing on the small slabs.
Why the time difference between the tablets and the other relics? she wondered.
As she sat gazing at them there was a knock on the door.
‘Come in,’ called Kim, turning to see who her visitor was.
Roger Kelly stepped into the room.
‘Everyone else has gone home,’ he told her. ‘I was going to lock up if you’d finished.’
‘Yes,’ Kim sighed. ‘I’ve finished for today. I don’t think I’m going to get any further just staring at all this stuff.’ She crossed to the sink and began washing her hands beneath the hot tap. Kelly paused beside the worktop and looked at the stone tablets.
‘Have you got any idea what the writings mean?’ he asked as Kim dried her hands.
‘None at all,’ she confessed. ‘But I haven’t studied them yet.’
‘Maybe they’re Celtic commandments,’ he said, chuckling.
You could be right,’ Kim agreed, also managing a smile.
Kelly began picking up some of the relics and replacing them in a box, being careful not to damage any of the artifacts. He closed the box and carried it toward one of the wall cupboards.
Kim looked across at the tablets once more, wrinkling her nose as she detected a strange smell. Alien and yet somehow familiar. Kelly, preoccupied with putting away the box of fragile relics, seemed not to notice the odour. He reached up to open the cupboard door, but it seemed to be stuck.
The smell, growing stronger, almost made Kim cough. A pungent, nauseating odour like . . . like burnt plastic?
Plastic.
She went to the worktop for a closer look.
The sheet of transparent plastic on which the tablets lay was turning a sickly yellowish-brown.
Mouth open in amazement, Kim turned toward Kelly. As she did so, the cupboard door flew open and she saw the bottle of nitric acid topple from the upper shelf.
It hit the young man in the face and shattered.
The corrosive liquid spilled onto his head and face, some of it splashing down his chest.
He dropped the box of relics, both hands clutching at his face, a scream of agony rising from his throat.
Kim ran towards him as he dropped to his knees, wailing helplessly, the deadly fluid puddling around him. But there was nothing she could do.
The action of the liquid was terrifyingly swift. As if someone had thrust a blowtorch at him. Kelly’s face was instantly stripped of skin. His eyes rapidly dissolved into seething mush as the acid went to work on them, the pupils and whites merely disappearing. As he screamed in pain the acid trickled into his mouth and ate through his tongue, even dissolving the enamel of his teeth. A purple foam dribbled over lips which were little more than bubbling blisters. All over his face sores rose, then burst as more flesh was stripped away. The lobe of one ear was seared off in the agonizing deluge and his nostrils seemed to widen as his nose was pulped by the acid. Blood burst from exposed veins which, seconds later, were themselves corroded into charcoal.
Kim watched frozen in horror as a thick white plume of smoky vapour rose from Kelly’s head. He fell forward, his body jerking uncontrollably, his screams dying away to gurgles as some of the acid slid down his throat and dissolved his vocal chords.
Skin came away in slippery chunks as he clawed at his face with hands now ravaged by a dozen blisters. His clothes and part of his chest were also being attacked by the lethal fluid, but soon Kelly would feel no more pain. His movements quickly grew feeble and then ceased. He was unconscious.
Kim recoiled from the stench of corrupted flesh. She gritted her teeth as she looked at the streaming ruin which had been Kelly’s face. Blood mingled with liquescent skin and melting bone to form a reeking gelatinous mask.
She spun round, racing into the other room for the phone. With a trembling hand she jabbed out three nines and managed to blurt out that she needed an ambulance.
As she was about to replace the receiver she heard a sound which froze her blood.
A high-pitched, inhuman wail which drummed in her ears for interminable seconds.
It was identical to the sound she’d heard upon entering the chamber of skulls the previous day.
Had it come across the phone line or had she imagined it?
She dropped the receiver and blundered back into the lab, almost stumbling over the prostrate form of Kelly. She prayed that the ambulance would hurry, that he was still alive.
Her eyes flickered back and forth.
To Kelly.
To the stone tablets.
And to the plastic sheet on which they lay.
Shrivelled and contracted.
As if it had been burned.
Eighteen
‘I don’t know why we couldn’t have stayed in the car,’ Sue Hagen said. ‘It’s freezing out here.’
‘Country air is supposed to be good for you,’ David Christie reminded her.
A light breeze rustled the trees of the wood, stirring the fallen leaves which already. carpeted the ground.
‘Anyway,’ said David, ‘I thought you liked it in the open air.’
‘I do when it’s a nice sunny day. Not in the middle of the night,’ Sue said indignantly.
‘Well, I like it anytime,’ he told her, grabbing one of her small breasts. ‘I’ll soon warm you up.’
Sue giggled, then gripped his testicles, squeezing hard. ‘You’re supposed to be gentle,’ she said, smiling.
David winced; his privates were quite sensitive enough without that kind of attention. He yelped in pain and she released her hold.
‘How do you know about this place, anyway?’ Sue asked as they wandered deeper into the wood.
‘I’ve been out here a couple of times with my mates,’ he informed her. ‘We used to bring our air rifles here. Got a couple of rabbits once.’
‘That’s cruel,’ she told him. muttering as she snagged her sleeve on a low branch. ‘Oh, God, how much further? My clothes will be ruined.’
‘How far do you want to go?’ he asked, pulling her close to him and stealing a brief kiss. She tasted the warmth of his tongue and wanted more. She gripped the back of his neck and pulled him to her, kissing more deeply. As they pressed together she could feel his erection pushing agains
t her thigh and she reached down to rub it through the material of his trousers. David responded by sliding one hand up inside her short leather skirt, his fingers first gliding over the soft material of her stockings before brushing bare skin. He probed further, eagerly stroking the crutch of her knickers, feeling the coils of pubic hair pressed tightly against the sheer fabric.
‘This is far enough, Dave.’ she whispered, leaning back against a tree.
They kissed long and hard, each one’s tongue deeply probing the other’s mouth. Sue let out a slight gasp as she felt him push her long brown hair away from her neck and nip the flesh with his teeth. He repeated the action on the other side of her neck. She slid both hands inside his shirt and massaged his chest and back with firm quick strokes, concentrating on the small of his back and the area just above his belt. After two years together they knew each other’s wants and needs perfectly, at least in a physical sense. Both of them had experienced sex before during their twenty years but neither had found it so stimulating with anyone else. Both were unemployed and had plenty of time for sex, but it had not yet lost its novelty value for either of them. In fact, if anything, it was getting better.
As Sue surrendered to the feelings coursing through her, she thought briefly of what her parents would say if they knew she was with David. Neither of them liked him very much, unlike her elder sister’s boyfriend. Now he was a ‘nice’ boy. More their type.
Their type, she thought irritably. It wasn’t them who had to spend time with him. But her sister, Barbara, could do no wrong. She had a job, and her wonderful bloody boyfriend went to university. It was a match made in heaven as far as her parents were concerned. Barbara hadn’t been arrested for smoking pot when she was seventeen. Barbara hadn’t cost them three hundred pounds for an abortion when she was nineteen.
Barbara hadn’t done anything, had she? It was always Sue.
The vision of her parents faded as Sue felt David’s roving tongue flicking its way down between her breasts while his hands skilfully unfastened the buttons of her blouse. She wore no bra and he found her small breasts firm and eager for his touch. He flicked at the swollen nipples, drawing each one in turn between his teeth, rolling his tongue around the stiff cones of flesh.
He knelt on the damp earth, unzipping her skirt, smiling as she wriggled out of it and thrust her pelvis towards him. He nuzzled her mound through her knickers, tasting the moisture which was seeping through the flimsy silk. He pulled the gusset to one side and slipped his tongue into her moist cleft, gripping her hips as she moaned with pleasure and ground herself hard against his face.
After a moment or two he straightened up and released his own throbbing member from his trousers. Sue took it eagerly in one hand, rubbing the swollen shaft, feeling the bloated veins which ran along the top. Then, eager to feel him inside her; she guided his stiffness into her vagina, gasping loudly as he penetrated her. She clasped her hands on his buttocks, urging him into a rhythm which, within minutes, had both of them approaching orgasm.
David felt something wet touch his shoulder.
He pulled his head back slightly and saw that Sue’s head was pressed back against the tree, her eyes closed, both her hands fastened around his thrusting buttocks.
He thought that it must be rain.
Sue raised one stocking-clad leg and hooked it around the small of his back, allowing him deeper penetration. Her hands slipped lower, cupping his testicles, kneading the swollen ovoids, trying to coax his semen free. It would not be long now. He felt the unmistakable warm glow beginning to spread through his lower body.
Again he felt a droplet of moisture hit his shoulder, only this time it trickled down his chest, leaving a dark stain.
It took him only a second to realize that it was blood.
Suddenly frightened, David tried to slow his pace, to pull Sue away from beneath the tree, from whatever was dripping blood onto them, but even as a dark globule landed on her left breast she seemed oblivious to his urgency, mistaking it for something else.
Once more he tried to pull away but Sue, her voice a throaty whisper, urged him on.
‘Don’t stop, please, Dave,’ she gasped, grinding harder against him. I’m coming!’ She threw her head back and cried out her pleasure, her eyes open wide.
At that moment she saw the remains of the goat jammed into the branches above.
Still quivering from the fury of her orgasm, Sue opened her mouth to scream. As she did so, a thick clot of congealed blood dropped from the butchered carcass and splashed between her lips.
Gagging violently, she pulled away from David and dropped to her knees, her stomach contracting until a stream of vomit erupted from her blood-filled mouth.
David too staggered away from the tree, his eyes riveted to the bloodied remains of the animal, his own revulsion now growing.
Sue tried again to scream as she saw the drops of blood on her body and on David but the sound became a gurgle as a fresh wave of sickness swept over her. She saw David overbalance and trip over something hidden beneath a pile of leaves.
His hand sank into something cold and soft and it was his turn to shriek as he withdrew his arm and lifted it into view. His hand was covered in blood and there were pieces of thick, coiled tube hanging from it. It was the intestines of the goat that lay buried beneath the fallen leaves. The blood had blackened and congealed into a treacly mush which coated David’s hand. The sight of it made him gag.
Half-naked, Sue and David struggled to their feet and bolted from the clearing, crashing headlong through the tangled undergrowth in their effort to escape the fear and revulsion they felt.
In the inky blackness of the dense wood another shape stirred now. But this one moved quietly, stealthily.
Nineteen
The ground felt soft, almost bog-like, as inspector Wallace made his way through the trees and bushes, a cigarette dangling from one corner of his mouth. It was unlit. His lighter wasn’t working and he’d not been able to find anyone with so much as a match. He chewed on the filter and muttered to himself as he snagged the sleeve of his jacket on a gorse bush.
Even in the light of early morning the wood still cast long, thick shadows, and the dew-soaked leaves which coated the ground squelched beneath his feet as he walked.
Ahead of him, Constable Mark Buchanan moved sure-footedly through the trees, occasionally holding back a branch for his superior. He let go of one a little too early and it swung back and hit Wallace across the chest. The constable apologized but Wallace merely dismissed the incident, smiling when he saw the look of fear on Buchanan’s face. The junior man was about twenty-eight, two years younger than Wallace. He was thin and gangling with a pale complexion which made him appear as though he were permanently ill.
‘I wouldn’t have called you out normally, “sir,’ he said, apologetically, as they approached the clearing. ‘But I think this is important.’
As they reached the clearing, Wallace saw two more uniformed men standing by a gnarled oak tree. He recognized them as Greene and Denton. One of them was holding a large black dustbin bag and looking up into the branches of the tree, his face grim. The other was merely staring into space as if looking at something which only he could see. Both men snapped upright as Wallace entered the clearing.
‘So what have you got?’ he said to Buchanan, finally taking the unlit cigarette from his mouth.
The constable motioned to the lower branches of the tree and Wallace looked up.
The goat, at least what remained of it, looked little more than an empty husk. The stomach cavity had been slit open and the internal organs removed. Wallace saw those lying in a reeking pile close by. Flies were already feasting on the congealed mess. For a moment. Wallace wondered why the dead animal looked so sickly pink in colour, then he realized with disgust that it had been flayed. Every last piece of fur had been stripped away, exposing the wasted muscles beneath. What drew his attention most was the stump of the neck. A piece of bone shone whitely through the bl
ackened gore.
‘Where’s the head?’ he asked.
Greene stepped forward and opened the dustbin bag, allowing his superior to look inside. The stench which rose from within was unbelievable.
The head lay in the bottom of the bag, one horn broken, the eye sockets choked with thick clots of blood.
Both eyes had been removed.
Wallace coughed, then nodded, and Greene closed the bag.
‘It’s not the first time this has happened,’ Buchanan told him. ‘In the last two months we’ve had reports from two local farmers saying that they’ve lost livestock, mostly goats and sheep. So far six have turned up, all of them skinned and gutted. Five of those we’ve found in this wood.’
‘Did the others have their eyes torn out like this one?’ the inspector asked, hooking a thumb in the direction of the black bag.
The constable nodded.
‘It’s not just livestock, though,’ Buchanan continued. ‘A number of household pets like cats and dogs have been reported missing too, but we haven’t found any of them yet.’
‘Could it be kids, Inspector?’ asked Greene.
‘It’s possible,’ Wallace said reflectively. ‘But I can’t think of many kids capable of doing something like this to animals. Not animals as big as goats or sheep anyway.’ He sighed. ‘Well, one thing’s for sure, whoever did it doesn’t work for the bloody RSPCA.’ He glanced up at the butchered goat once more. ‘Were the other carcasses as easy to find as this one? It looks like whoever did it wanted it to be found.’
‘They were all found in or around this clearing,’ Buchanan told him.
Wallace stroked his chin thoughtfully.
‘Bury it,’ he said. ‘Get rid of the carcass and the head and . . . those.’ He nodded in the direction of the intestines, still partially covered with dead leaves. ‘Six in two months, eh?’ he said, quietly, reaching for his lighter. He tried again to light his cigarette but still could raise only sparks from the recalcitrant flint. He pocketed the lighter again, looking irritably at the unlit cigarette.
