‘Your tea’s in the dog’ and both woman burst out laughing,
‘What the fucks going on’ Peter asked himself ‘why are they acting as if they are on fucking holiday’
He had not acknowledged them, he still could not quite believe what he was seeing as he stood there open mouthed’
‘Come and join us for a wine’ Eileen shouted, beckoning him over with her hand, he thought about it for a moment, the surreal event happening before his eyes was something he could not comprehend, ‘what is this fucking place’ he asked himself.
‘I’d prefer a beer’ he said, and went and got one out of the fridge.
Chapter 8
Rolling around in the mud was one of its favourite pastimes, and today had been no exception, there was still plenty of mud due to the recent storms, and he was relishing in his favourite activities, the mud was drying on him now as he had finished playing, the warm sun caking it to his coat, he would need to wash it off, the stream they called monks ditch running through the woods was the best bet, not that cesspit in Bluebell wood, that was where they pumped all the human waste, he didn’t mind eating humans, but he wasn’t going to bathe in their shit.
He was in his natural habitat now, and he was loving it, this was where he could use all his predatory skills, and as he walked as silent as the still air, a mouse dared run out in front of him, but the mouse was no match for this cowering bruiser as in one swift move he had “clawed” him into his mouth, with claws bigger than any living animal, biting him in half, feeling the insides of the rodent pour over his tongue as he swallowed, his large tongue licked its lips, there was nothing to fear him in this part of the world, not man or beast.
Not Lion or wolf, but the strength of one and the look of the other, the beast of Underwood walked the trees, his silky grey hair glistening where the sun dare shine through the trees, the sheer weight leaving inch deep footprints in the ground he stood upon, the trees seemed to want to take a step back as he walked amid them, the birds had long disappeared over the years as they made their escape through the movement of Underwood, those that had still remained alive that is, if those that had seen him and lived to tell, they would say the first thing they saw was the yellow and black eyes, wide and evil like a hornets nest, busy and watchful, then they would see the wolf like face with a long stout and ears that stood proud, then they would say they saw its teeth, it’s long yellow stained razor sharp teeth, but no one could live to say that, as those that had been unfortunate enough to see this magnificent schemer of the jungle, no longer lived to tell the tale.
He paused his snout in the air, an animal that didn’t trust his instincts certainly perished, there was nothing in this particular jungle of his he feared, but his nose smelt fox, and they were few and far between now, and next to human, fox was his favourite meal.
Then he saw it and cowered his head at the snarling fox that lay ahead, his neck and part of his stomach eaten away, probably by other foxes, the beast thought, as the fox looked on in fear, realising that he was the beasts next meal, he scowled at the monster before him, he could do nothing else, his own wounds confining him to certain death.
A wounded animal is a dangerous animal, much better to maim and kill himself then have to deal with some other animals misgivings, hunched he inched himself towards the fox, his long pink tongue hanging to one side, spittle dripping down it’s jaw.
The fox was quick and with its last bit of energy pounced at the wolf’s face, only to feel the sharp razor teeth puncture his already half eaten neck and the beast or wolf, whatever it was that lay in the woods, finally licked his lips, when every single edible part of the fox was gone, he carried on towards the ditch, his cheek trickled blood, the fox had caught him, he admired him for that, he was proud of this particular wood, if only he could venture outside of the wood, but the last time he done that was his downfall, forcing him to be dormant for too long, no he couldn’t venture outside of the woods, he was proud of Underwood.
After all he had recreated it.
The sheriff Allan Herapath, patted his face dry after having a wash and a shave, he noticed blood on the towel and went over to have a look in the mirror, he hadn’t noticed it at the time, but it appeared that he had cut his cheek whilst shaving and it was smudged onto his cheek, he hated looking scruffy and immediately washed his face and patted the slight nick on his cheek until it bled no more, he checked himself over in the tall mirror to make sure no drops of blood had got on his clothes, or he would have to change again, he had never cut himself shaving before, he examined the razor, it still seemed mighty sharp, but there was blood on there, his blood, he threw the razor in the bin as he stared at the reflection in the mirror, it was a while before he could see it, but when he did, he knew everything was fine.
He stepped outside his home, a house that he didn’t need or want, he lived in the last house on the right but he could see the streets were empty, most of the houses were not lived in anymore, and any people that were in the street soon go into hiding as he appeared, the fear he used to have over the people used to make him smile and inspire him, now he would just treat that fear with contempt, they were all imbocile in his opinion, hardly worth a place on this planet, never mind a starring role in Underwood, he was getting fed up of this place, he was hoping there would be changes made soon, life had become to mundane.
He walked to the bottom of the street and turned right, he had to get to the old prison of war camp, not the ones in ruins, the one that had been converted into a maternity unit, the one that supplies the population of underwood, news was that a baby had been born, and low and behold, it was a girl.
For a big man, his pace was slow, whilst everyone knew everyone in underwood, nobody acknowledged him as he walked, and they would not look at him, but they would always try to keep one eye on him, some shaking in fear, the older ones wishing he would take them, to end this sorry life, all with no exceptions, wishing him dead, no one was brave enough to try, for how do you kill the undead.
He passed by the car lot and the converted sports centre, the shopping precinct was busy, the shelves being full again since the last storm, people buying stuff they hadn’t seen for a while before the shelves run empty again, whilst the woods spun around the town of underwood the shelves would become full again, as if the storm had replenished the stocks, he wondered at that time how his maker survived the spinning tree’s, but he always seemed to do so, there must be a good place of cover for him, for when the trees did spin, the sheriff always felt safe, anyway the shelves were full now, they had been running quite low on provisions, perhaps the vicar would stop confiscating all the cigarettes now, he enjoyed a cigarette himself, but not the food, he had no need for food.
He could see the ruins of the old prisoner of war camp , the old council estate, now turned into a town was built 15 years after the war, Underwood had been developed further since it had been overtook and apparently disappearing off the map. Some off the old ruins were untouched, crumbling from the decades of weather, he wondered if the young Allan Herapath, the Real Allan Herapath used to play in them as a child, but his memory would not go back that far, it could not, the old water tower stood out from the rest, not a blot on the landscape, but a piece of this once fine town’s history, he wondered what it would have been like to be a prisoner in that camp, a bit like being in Underwood, but he suspected the prisoners weren’t treated as well as those in Underwood, except for those that were sent to the woods of course, he wondered if any Germans had died there, not that it really mattered to him, he had no nationality other than sheriff.
He could see the entrance of the rebuilt maternity hospital now, the old ruins behind him, no windows adorned the building, just roof skylights, there was no sign saying what the building was, there was no need to highlight this place, it was just a place where the daughters were born and cared for, and every second son fed to the woods, he opened the door to the small building, feeling good as Underwood had a new daughter.
Along the thin corridor was an office housing equipment, and five other rooms for patients, that’s where Hayleigh Price was, in the Office, she had been the only nurse on duty for the delivery, the others having some well earnt sleep, there being no telephones she couldn’t call for assistance, a siren was all they had, the horror of it all just being lessened when she saw the birth of the girl, she didn’t know how she would cope if this girl had another boy, she had had 4 already, a fifth would have been better off born dead, and as the baby was being born, that’s what Hayleigh thought she would do, if it had been a boy, she would have took its last breath, it had to be better than the fete that awaited it, but a bouncing baby girl was born, if only her mother had lived to see it, the fifth child was too much for the 21 year old, who had haemorrhaged and bled to death, with no real medical provisions there was nothing she could do, other than clean up the mess that had been made, that’s what Hayleigh done, hating every single day of her life, she was 43 looked 20 years older, grey hair and a face with permanent frown lines, because that’s exactly what they were, the sheriff just walked past her, straight to the room where the dead mother lay, 21 year old Janet Vicory, born in Underwood, Died in Underwood and soon no one would remember.
He picked her up easily in his arms and without saying a word, walked past the nurse and out of the building, that’s when Hayleigh broke down and cried, as she had done so many times before, she thought of the young girl in no.13 Hawthorne, and the new residents at no.12, who also had a young daughter, they were the next, she dried her eyes, blew her nose, wondering what Mary Vicory would do when she found out her daughter died, herself a widow, like many of the older women in Underwood whose husbands had the audacity to challenge the authority, that the sheriff, vicar and judge bestowed upon them, Hayleigh walked into the small delivery room, picked up the sleeping baby whose mother had just been taken away,
‘I will care for you sweetheart’ she told her ‘for the first 16 years of your life anyway’
She prayed by then that Underwood would be back to its former glory,
‘I name you Janet’ said Hayleigh ‘after your mum’
Baby Janet stirred but she did not waken.
The sheriff left the building and with purpose walked through the older buildings up to the woods edge where he paused, he sniffed the air, he took six paces into the woods and laid the body of Janet Vicory to rest, he then turned around and walked out of the woods, he knew it wouldn’t be long before the woods fed on the body, and he himself would feel better.
‘Is it wise for them to be dressed like that in this place’ said Peter, he sipped from his second bottle of beer, it was surprisingly refreshing as the late afternoon sun bore down on him, he was referring to Lily and Ivy, who were laid out on loungers in their bikinis.
Both Peter and Eileen looked at Rebecca, who by now was more than tipsy through the amount of wine drunk,
‘Even in Underwood sex is forbidden under 16’ she replied bitterly, her anger aimed at the state rather than the two people she sat with, Peter and Eileen just carried on drinking, sharing in her anguish, but neither had any words of comfort.
‘Then it becomes fucking compulsory’ she cried,
Eileen put her arms around her to comfort her, her own head confused and emotional as a result of seeing her new friend cry mixed in with drinking too much wine.
‘I’ve got to get her away from here, she sobbed, Peter opened another bottle of beer, his thoughts drifting to Lily, his own daughter, he knew than that one way or another, he would not let that happen to his daughter, if he could stop it happening to Ivy, then he would do so, but his family was his priority not the strangers he now sat with, his thoughts were only stopped by a screech of a siren, the two boys stopped climbing on the frame, the two girls sat up from their loungers,
‘What the hell was that’ asked Eileen, Rebecca burst out more tears,
‘Someone’s had a baby’ she wept as she fell from her chair.
Mary Vicory, hadn’t left the house for three days, she lived in Hazel, not too far from where her daughter lay, unable to see her daughter in the maternity hospital, the rules did not allow that, at 42 herself she had only ever Bourne one child, that child, her only child was now in the hospital having her fifth baby, only two of her grandsons had survived, they were housed in the nursery beside the maternity, she had never met them, she couldn’t bring herself to, not with the circumstances to which they were born, to her they weren’t her grandchildren, they were the devils children, and she wanted them to rot in hell along with the devil, if she knew who the fathers were she wouldn’t blame them, but she didn’t want to know who they were, nor did she need to, they may even be dead for all she knew and the fathers were never told if they had a son or a daughter, no she couldn’t blame the fathers, she could easily blame herself, she hoped it would be over soon, her daughter had seen her sons a few times, she had no idea what damage that would have done to her, it was limitless, an everlasting pain, an overindulgence of terror, much too much for a single mind.
She sat in the kitchen where she had spent most of the last three days, drinking wine and chain smoking, blaming herself for her daughter’s life, a life that was still young and yet had mostly been filled with fear, yes she hoped it was over now, her body was riddled with guilt, she hoped it would be a boy so he would be taken away from them, she didn’t want her daughter to bring a girl into this world, to love for her, to care for her, then watch her go through what she endured her own daughter going through, knowing there was not a dam thing you could do about it, that wouldn’t be fair, that wouldn’t be right.
Her stomach dropped when she heard the siren, sobriety and a sense of urgency travelled through her body as she ran out of her front door down Hazel road, she knew what the siren meant, she had heard it at least 4 times before, it meant her grandchild had been born, another child of the devil, as she ran the tears streamed down her face, thinking only of her daughter, she knew she had not been well, that there were complications, her young body unable to cope with the rules of Underwood, she turned into Birch, she could see the army huts in front of her now, those on the street watched in sympathy as she ran, knowing what the siren meant, some inside went to pray, a young woman broke down in tears at the sight of the lady running through the streets with tears in her eyes, looking like the devil itself, for that moment Mary bore no resemblance to the woman she really was.
Mary saw no one that day as she ran, her eyes were looking where she was going, but her mind was elsewhere, her mind was with her daughter, only she couldn’t see her daughter inside her head, the maternity unit was in sight, she almost crashed into the door as she approached, such was the urgency of her, spittle ran from her mouth, her eyes wide and scared, fear riddled her whole body, Hayleigh Price opened the door, she knew who it would be, she was expecting her, she had no words she could say to her, no words of comfort, and as she stood and watched the grief stricken mother, she swore that was the last baby she would deliver.
Mary sunk to her knees, the look on Hayleigh’s face was enough to tell her, the tears in her eyes told her all she needed to know, her daughter had died giving birth, she took hold of the door frame to lift herself up, her legs barely held her, she was running on adrenalin and fear, Hayleigh helped her up, she could feel the woman shaking.
‘Where have they taken her ‘she screamed?
Hayleigh pointed to the place in the woods where the sheriff had laid her daughter, and with a new found energy, Mary ran to her daughter, Hayleigh wanted to call her back, then she thought of running after her, but she did neither, she just looked and cried.
She held her daughters head in her lap, cradling her, telling her how sorry she was telling her how much she loved her, she told her that they would be together soon, she held her dead daughters body as close as she possibly could and rocked her like a baby, she started humming her a lullaby, sof
t and sweet.
‘It will be all over soon’ she told her daughter.
As quiet as a mouse the creature pounced, ripping out the throat of Mary with one swipe of its claw, loving the taste of fresh blood as it tore her body apart with its jaws, crunching the bones with its teeth, the dead girl could stay for a bit, it was a long time since he had fresh food, it tasted so good, he picked up the body in its teeth and ran deep into the woods like a dog carrying a rabbit.
Chapter 9
The 2nd night in Underwood was so different from the first, Lily and Ivy staying at No.12 whilst Nathan and Samuel at No.13, Eileen and Rebecca in their respective beds as the effects of the wine had been to much and they both lay fast asleep, Rebecca would dream about the day they come to take away her daughter, how she would fight them as they dragged her away kicking and screaming, sometimes the dream would end with her just sinking to her knees as she watched her daughter being taken away, then she would wake up, hot sweating, in a deep panic, finding it difficult to breathe, but other times she would dream, that they hadn’t taken her away, they had simply taken them outside of Underwood, into a new world, a nice world, where young girls were treated like humans.
Today it seemed like it was just normal neighbourly sleepovers, it was still early evening, the night warm with a soft breeze and as Peter walked the moon shone brightly, creating a haze behind the surrounding tree’s, it made the tree’s seem silhouetted against the evening sky, he walked the streets and the roads which were quiet, looking for something but he wasn’t sure what, he could see a large car lot to his left and found it strange as Underwood would not allow cars, but nothing was surprising him no more about this shitty town, then as he got closer his heart went into his mouth, beyond the sign that said “Tony’s Car Lot” he could see it quite clearly, his beloved Avensis, with a for sale sign on it, what made it worse, the car that was worth thousands was valued at £150, with his head racing he ran to the gates, he shook them hard, shouting and screaming words he himself could not comprehend as he screamed and shook on the iron gates.
Underwood Page 10
