by G R Jordan
Pain ripped through his shoulder and another snake head stabbed at his throat. Havers managed to get a blocking arm up but the snake bit into the arm and held on. A third snake head now grabbed his other shoulder. A fire raged through his body as Havers felt the venom being injected into him. His body tightened and he fought to keep moving. His upper frame was shutting down and he had no way to remove the snakes.
A blade cut through the snake holding his arm. Then the snake on his left shoulder went limp, followed by the one on the right. Jane Goodritch was standing beside him, waving one of Austerley’s machetes at the remaining snakes which were striking towards her. One caught her on the shoulder but could not make a bite. The force knocked her backwards out of reach. Havers knew his time was short and forced his arms to lift. He ran at the beast again, dodging the snakes at its tail, and jumped onto the beetle’s head. Stepping past a swinging cutlass, he dived head first at the pirate, causing them both to fall off the beetle. Havers recovered first. He wrapped his legs round the pirate and broke his neck.
“Mr Austerley, throw me the other machete!” ordered Havers.
Well back from the action, Austerley tossed his remaining blade, but Havers’ paralysed arms failed to catch it. Come on, Arthur, Havers screamed internally, one last hurrah. He forced his right hand to close on the machete handle and picked it up.
The beetle had nearly reached Jane and the snake heads were stretching towards her. Havers ran to the back of the beetle and, in agony, forced his arms to stretch up and deliver a slicing blow to the base point from which the snakes emerged. They fell to the ground, writhing, and expired. Turning to the front of the beetle, Havers took several swings at the neck before the blade fell from his hand. The head was almost removed. It swung limply and the beetle collapsed, its legs giving way.
Havers sat on the ground, the world spinning around him as he fought for air. Sweat poured from his brow and what little sensation he still had in his upper body was fading. Jane hauled herself up from the ground and fought the terror racing through her.
What to do, she wondered. Think, woman, think!
Racing over to Havers, Jane grabbed at his top, pulling it back to reveal where the snake heads had bitten him. Placing her mouth over one of the wounds, she sucked at it then lifted her head to spit out what she had extracted. Jane continued this rapidly, drawing and spitting.
“Hurry up,” hissed Austerley, “we don’t know how many more of them there are around here.”
“Shut up,” spat Jane, “this man needs help.” Austerley began to wheel himself away but his efforts were slow and stuttered.
“You wait there!” shouted Jane.
“Shush woman, you’ll bring them running.”
“Who cares? He saved us and now he needs help.” Much to Austerley’s disgust, Jane continued her workings and showed no sign of breaking off.
“Don’t you think you’ve gotten most of it out by now?”
“I’m done when I’m done, Mr Austerley, and not a moment sooner!”
Looking around the tight street, Austerley saw no signs of movement except for the twitching death throes of the beetle creature. He shifted impatiently in his chair, waiting for Jane to finish.
“I think that’s it. Time we were moving.”
“Damn right. How exactly do you intend to get us out of here?” asked Austerley.
Well, thought Jane, there’s only one obvious solution. “Time for you to hop along, Mr Austerley.”
Looking at her as if she were mad, Austerley countered, “No way. I can barely stand without crutches and if something comes I’ll be left behind. You’ll not wait for me.”
“Right enough, Mr Austerley. If you won’t get out of the wheelchair, I’ll use Plan B.” Austerley watched in horror as Jane reached under Havers’ arms and dragged him towards the wheelchair. As she got close, Jane lifted up Havers so that he was facing Austerley. Her own lack of height meant she was unable to extend Havers’ legs fully and his knees were just above ground level.
“What are you going to do with him now?” enquired Austerley. Jane threw Havers on top of Austerley, who wasn’t ready for him. Havers’ head nutted Austerley and a stray knee lodged into Austerley’s groin. Swearing out loud, he tried to push Havers back off him. Jane clipped him round the head and got behind the wheelchair.
“Do we still go to my museum?”
“Yes, yes, woman. Let’s just get off the damn street so I can get rid of this lump on top of me.” It took a moment to generate enough momentum for the stacked disability aid to start rolling. Once it started, Jane had no intention of stopping it. Austerley was pinned into the seat, hands holding on to the material at the back of Havers’ legs, keeping them off the ground. He had no idea where they were or where the museum was. The town was generally quiet apart from the odd shout, yell or boisterous debate. Jane Goodritch had the sense to stay well clear of these sounds.
The rolling rescue passed a wide opening and Jane clocked two of Captain Smith’s crew just off to her left. The gap to cross was too wide and she decided that she needed to turn around and find a different route. She halted her progress and tried to pull back on the wheelchair’s handles, but her hands slipped off. She watched in horror as the wheelchair and its occupants sailed behind the crewmen before catching the pavement on the far side of the street and tipping over. Austerley was left face down, sprawled over Havers’ body.
The two crewmen with their ghostly green glow turned around and strode over to the wheelchair disaster. Each drew his cutlass, pointing cautiously at the bodies on the ground.
“Do you think the boys are fooling with the dead again?” asked the first crewman.
“Doubt it. Something’s up. Stick them and see if they’re alive,” answered the second.
The first crewman walked up cautiously and placed the point of his weapon on the small of Austerley’s back. He had, however, missed a few important details that had transpired during their conversation.
The fall had woken Havers up again. His arms were immobile, but his head and neck were free to move. A few whispered words in Austerley’s ear had prompted the former professor to remove from Havers’ jacket two very small darts and place them into Havers’ mouth. And now, leaning over the prone bodies, the ghostly crewman presented a perfect target.
The second crewman saw his partner fall to the ground. Neither of the bodies had seemed to move.
“Stop messing about. We have patrolling to do. George, get up,” said the second crewman. Striding over as he realized something was not quite right, there was the tiniest prick on his neck, feeling much like a midge bite. The crewman glanced briefly at the bodies before tumbling to the ground as his colleague’s body faded to green mist.
“Not only my words are deadly but everything that comes from my mouth, Mr Austerley,” croaked Havers. “Now, can you kindly get off me and get me back into the wheelchair? And Mr Austerley, kindly be more helpful to Miss Goodritch. She’s doing jolly well considering she’s never seen anything like this before. Jolly well indeed.”
Manhunt
He nearly lashed out. The reflex almost kicked in but something within stopped it. An inner voice screamed at him that he wasn’t under attack, that the bony hand which grabbed his wrist was doing so out of desperation, not malevolence.
“They took your friend. Took him away, didn’t they? He had the brooch by his bed. Is he older now? Has he aged? I used to have looks before they took them. Used to have a body that worked. It’s all breaking down. Everything is stopping, son.”
Kirkgordon realized it was Mrs Moor, the woman Tania had claimed to be unsound in mind. Her wrists felt like sheer bone. Once his eyes had adjusted to the dark, he wished they had stayed blind. The woman’s face was taut across her skull, eye sockets set deep. She didn’t look ill. She looked drained. Drained of life.
“It’s too late, son. I’m just moving on,” she said in a hoarse whisper. “I’ll see my Jack soon. That’ll be good. Jack’s waite
d fifty years for me. Will see him soon, I guess. That’s good.” Her head fell into Kirkgordon’s lap. He sat and stroked her hair gently, and her breathing became more laboured. Each breath drew out longer than the last. After five long minutes, she ceased her struggle.
At least she’s out of here, clear of it all, thought Kirkgordon.
Then the dilemma struck him. He knew what the right thing to do would be but he wanted to carry out the other option. She should be buried. With dignity and respect. Her life noted. Instead, he knew he would leave her body here, and then, who knows? Well, yes, who did know? Why this? You’re sat up in that heaven and You give me this. Why did she die like this? I know there’s evil here but You tell me You are stronger. So why, God, why? Why this suffering? Why am I left to stop it?
Kirkgordon realized he didn’t have time for these thoughts. In reality, he had fifteen minutes now to get in, grab whatever he needed – even though he didn’t know what that was – and then get out and rescue Graham. This wasn’t looking good. But there was no point thinking about it now. It was time to act. Hopefully he wouldn’t have to pay for his ten minutes of compassion.
There was another door out of the boiler house leading to the main building. Kirkgordon pressed his ear to it and listened attentively. There was no sound on the other side so he gently opened the door. Given the position of the boiler house, he knew he needed to make a left towards the residents’ rooms. Everything was silent. It was unnerving not to hear the occasional patient wandering about or babbling out loud. Even the quiet conversations and the momentary banter of staff and patients were absent. Last time, the fresh smell of disinfectant had wafted down the corridors but now even that sensual invasion was lacking.
Proceeding slowly and carefully, Kirkgordon checked each room he passed that had an open door. It took him four rooms to find an occupant, an elderly woman sleeping in her bed beneath a floral patterned quilt. He noted her peaceful breathing. She was probably drugged. On the cabinet beside her bed was a small emerald brooch. One item recovered, thought Kirkgordon as he pocketed it.
He was about to exit the room when he heard a wicked laugh. He stretched himself against the inner wall and held his breath. A ghostly green figure walked past the room, oblivious to his presence. Stepping out, Kirkgordon noticed the door in the middle of the complex. It had the sign “Staff Only” emblazoned upon it and a heavy lock. Worth a look, he thought, and he checked the surrounding corridors to make sure he was alone. About a thirty second job to open this, he reckoned.
Taking a small screwdriver from his new trousers, Kirkgordon worked coolly and methodically, always listening to the sounds of the care home. After careful work and a few deft touches, the lock opened and Kirkgordon slipped quietly inside.
There was a small flight of stairs which led down to a dark room. Open shelving with many cardboard boxes of nursing supplies filled the area, looking like a makeshift supermarket. Kirkgordon trod gently, checking every aisle. Delving into the occasional box, only sanitary products and basic healthcare items came to hand: large incontinence pads, lotions, bathing sponges, bed pans, bandages, tape. Nothing untoward.
But something wasn’t quite right. The orientation of the racking looked a little strange. In the far right corner, there was some missing, as if someone hadn’t measured up correctly. There was a space from one rack to the other the width of a person. Also, the opposite end had a particularly crushed look to it and Kirkgordon wondered why the space hadn’t been utilized to relieve the crush.
He approached the exposed wall, intending to check its authenticity by sounding it out with his fist. He raised his hand and went to rap the wall gently. But his fist went clean into the wall. There was no resistance and the fist disappeared. He could still feel his wrist and hand but where it should have been, there was just a wall. Kirkgordon took a random item from his person, one of his lock picks. Kneeling down, he reached through the wall and set down the item. Then he withdrew his hand before placing it back through the wall to retrieve the lock pick. Satisfied, he stepped through the wall.
An illusion, Kirkgordon decided, before his surroundings took his breath away. He had walked into a miniature zoo. The cramped room contained cages of glass and metal arranged in narrow aisles, similar to the racks of care products in the previous room. Spiders and cockroaches, snakes and birds, even lobsters and fish: an array of wildlife was scattered about. Looking into some of the cages, Kirkgordon was taken aback. He remembered the winged snake that had exploded when pierced by his arrow. Many of the cages contained such mutations, but in a much smaller form. The abhorrent nature of the hybrid creatures took him aback but there was something else bothering Kirkgordon. Having reached the end of the first aisle, he was convinced someone was behind him.
Grabbing an arrow, Kirkgordon turned and drew his bow. He struggled to hold his aim at the target’s head.
“Now, now, Churchy, feel free to have a good look. After all, it was what you wanted. You’re not telling me you didn’t want to take this flesh of mine?” Stood opposite was Tania, fully naked and tossing her head to one side, allowing her hair to swing round from behind her shoulder.
Oh damn, thought Kirkgordon. Her body was that of a young woman, free from blemish and pert in form. He fought the arousal, reminding himself of the situation he was in, of the warnings his friends had given. But part of him was enjoying the moment, while another part struggled to remain aloof. Oh damn. Her hips were good in jeans, but unveiled… oh damn.
More by habit than decision, his bow remained drawn. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, Kirkgordon remembered that if he fired, he had no idea what the arrow would do. Trying to focus elsewhere, he brought Alana to mind, visualizing her in all her glory. The picture was exquisite and tapped his deepest urges.
“But she doesn’t accept you, does she?”
His throat went dry.
“Oh, I know you. Every bit of you. I know your desires, your longings. How she doesn’t like your new friends, how she hates your job. She doesn’t understand your importance, and you won’t tell her lest you frighten her away. Well, I don’t frighten. And this… this is how you like your women, is it not?”
Kirkgordon swallowed hard while taking in the view. There wasn’t a single blemish on her perfect skin. She seemed to be ideal in her proportions, and her forwardness and sheer nakedness set his inner wildness alight. But she was also poison, dangerous, playing on his relationship with Alana. Sweat broke out on his forehead. It dripped down into his eyes, stinging them. He became aware that he was shaking slightly, trembling at the anticipation of what would happen next. His stomach felt hollow. Part of him longed for the temptation to become true, to fulfil his desire to dominate this nymph standing in front of him. Deep inside his mind a voice said no, not worth the risk. But that voice seemed distant, calling from the depths of a chasm.
Gradually, Tania turned around, letting him feast his eyes on her in full. Having hooked her worm, she began to walk slowly towards Kirkgordon, her hips swaying hypnotically, begging to be grabbed. Paralysed by this spell of flesh, Kirkgordon held his bow upright, still drawn. She moved up against his body, letting his back feel the press of her breasts. One hand snaked around him before descending between his legs. Kirkgordon started and involuntarily his hand holding the bow in tension let go.
The arrow raced from the bow and flew at pace off to the right, hitting the wall. Kirkgordon heard the words “Succumb to my touch, have me!” before all sounds were overpowered by a wind that appeared from nowhere. Kirkgordon focused his archer’s eye on the spot where his arrow had landed. The wall became blurry and started to swirl. The cages in the room began to move towards where the arrow had landed and Kirkgordon felt Tania’s grip change from one of seduction to one of panic. Clinging to his body, she struggled to maintain a hold. Her feet whipped round in front of Kirkgordon. Cages began to crash past them, cracking open, and the animals fought to move away from the sucking void.
But Kirkgordon fe
lt no pressure, no drawing force from the hole that was opening. He saw cages fly into the aperture and vanish, gone from sight in an instant. Then he felt something crash into his back and both he and Tania toppled forward to the ground. She was pulled instantly towards the hole. Some racking had blocked it and was bending and straining from the inward pressure. Her naked body crashed into the racking and was left pressed against it with her legs and arms being pulled towards the void.
“Help me!” Tania screamed. “Help me, Churchy. Help me, my love!”
Just let her go. Let her go. She’s brought us halfway to hell and this will put her to bed. It was Havers’ voice in his head, with an echo from Austerley. It was the wise course of action, the correct decision for the betterment of humanity. But she’s a person. Broken, yes, but still a person. You’re not like Havers. This was Father Jonah’s voice. And Alana was echoing it. She would reach out; she would always try to redeem him. And then yet another voice. She’ll be thankful, she’ll be beholden to you. A woman who’ll lay herself at your whim. Look at that body. Kirkgordon’s mind raced with all these thoughts as the racking bent further and Tania’s back slid off the metal. A flailing hand saved her and she swung from the remaining racking, feet dangling into the void.
He knew there was no decision, he had only one option. People with a conscience have to enact the noble course, not the correct one. Putting his bow across him, he reached out with both hands, grabbing Tania by the wrists. Her body was thumped by the racking as it broke and disappeared into the void. Cages flew past his head, animals consigned to whatever oblivion lay beyond. His arms screamed at the pain of her nails digging into his wrists as she put all her effort into escaping the blackness behind her.
Eventually, the void began to close and Tania fell to the floor. Kirkgordon stood for a moment looking at her naked form, part of him wanting to grab and comfort her, and then to love her. Another part told him it was a lie and she wanted to destroy what he was, wanted him only as a body for her pirate. When faced with such decisions, there is only one reaction for a man. As Tania turned her head up to view her saviour, she saw his heels disappearing through the secret door. And she laughed. A cackling, wild laugh, full of glee, lust and victory.
