by G R Jordan
“No.” Austerley’s shoulders dropped. “All I saw was a chariot.”
Ah, thought Austerley, this is it. “Will you fetch it for me? You can be its driver.”
The man nodded. This isn’t going to be pleasant, thought Austerley, as he sniffed at the worsening pong emanating from the man. On fetching the chair, the man waited behind it as Austerley hauled himself up and into the seat. Comfortably seated, Austerley indicated forward, like an old coachman.
“Are you coming too?”
“Sorry?” asked Austerley.
“Are you coming too? I thought the stump wanted to go.”
“It does but we’re quite attached.”
“Family?”
“You could say that.”
This seemed to satisfy the man and he whisked the wheelchair towards the front door.
Now, thought Austerley, this is more like it. No more sulking or cowering. I’ll get these ingredients myself with the man in the moon here. I’ll show Kirkgordon how the real heroes do it.
The tramp opened the front door of the building and pushed the stump, and Austerley, out into the street. Looking up and down, Austerley was relieved to find that the coast was clear. He turned his head to the man pushing him.
“Do you know how to get to the DIY store?”
“Yes,” said the man. Good, thought Austerley, as the tramp began to push the wheelchair up the street. He stared at the burning sky, studying the flames and the patterns on the horizon. Patterns. Yes, there were definite patterns to the picture. Flames would come and go from the same place. There were maybe fifteen seconds between the patterns, but there was definitely repetition there. No flames ever did that. And it was clever, thought Austerley, because the heat from the sky made it hard to stare at it for long. But that’s not natural. Well, not supernatural natural, anyway!
“Best weather in a long while,” said the tramp to the air. “Must be getting to winter though.”
“Sorry, what are you on about?”
“There’s no birds. And your stump said they had flown south, so it must be winter.”
“Of course,” said Austerley. Whatever the hell keeps him happy, he thought.
“It’ll be nice tomorrow, though.”
“Will it now?” said Austerley. “Did the stump say so?”
“Red sky, governor. Red sky at night, shepherd’s delight. Not always true, mind.”
It’s on fire, thought Austerley. It’s on fire and you think it’s just a weather phenomenon. This one’s far gone.
They continued for a while, traversing quiet streets with the occasional onlooker staring from their windows. Sometimes people waved in desperation. The tramp, in his long black coat and brown trousers with open-toed sandals, waved back.
“People are so friendly round here, Austerley, so very friendly.”
Funny, thought Austerley, most look terrified to me.
Presently the tramp turned a corner and pushed the wheelchair into a small park area. There was a little pond with some small green foliage around its edges. The tramp positioned the wheelchair beside a wooden bench and sat down. He stared at the pond and smiled. Austerley looked around, wondering why they were here, and realizing this wasn’t a rest stop, he ventured to find out.
“I asked if you knew the way to the DIY store.”
“Yes, you did.”
“And do you?”
“Yes.” The tramp nodded confidently.
“Well, this isn’t the store.”
“No, it’s not. I’m glad you noticed. You ask a lot of questions. I was beginning to think you were a bit thick. I’m glad you’re not.”
“So why are we not at the store? I asked to go to the store.”
“No, you didn’t. You never asked that.” The tramp was becoming agitated.
“I bloody well did,” argued Austerley. “I asked if you knew the way to the DIY store.”
“And I said yes!” shouted the tramp. “You never said you wanted to go there. Maybe you are thick. Besides, your stump wanted some fresh air and a quiet spot.”
Austerley forced himself to calm his rage. He had seen the nurses and assistants at the asylum have to deal with this sort of pedantic attitude and becoming angry never helped. Taking charge of things and becoming a hero was proving more difficult than he had anticipated. But that fire was still wrong. This was not a path to hell, so where were they?
The ageing he had undergone wasn’t helping. Austerley was no fitness fanatic, but at least before losing the foot he had been able to walk about and generally get on with things. Now, after the rapid onset of years, he seemed to be all brain and no brawn. Meanwhile, he had his complement right beside him. Damn, this was pathetic. To hell with Farthington for taking his foot, to hell with Havers for using him and to hell with Churchy for shooting him in the foot in the first place.
Farthington. The name kept coming back. Havers had said the dragon had been furious at losing his pay packet from Dagon, and he blamed Austerley for it. Stupid arse, as if demons ever come through on their promises. But they did remember. And, like a demented elephant, they didn’t forgive.
There was a picture forming in Austerley’s mind. All the little strands of this nightmare were beginning to take shape. What if, what if? Permutations swam through Austerley’s mind as he recalled old practices and chants, tales and folklore. Havers was here, Kirkgordon was here, Austerley himself was here. But Calandra was missing. Calandra, his friend and part-time protector, wasn’t here. Surely she should have been factored in too? How did this all fit together, he wondered.
The tramp tapped him on the shoulder and pointed to some figures that had entered the little retreat. Two ghostly deckhands were walking towards the odd couple, each brandishing a knife and with eyes intently fixed on Austerley.
“That’s him,” said one of the deckhands. “The one we had at Gibbet Point, looking a bit older now. The captain wants him, alive he said, so don’t go roughing him too much.” The detail was good, thought Austerley, just like the records Miss Goodritch had brought out. Exactly like the drawings from the museum. But those drawings had been completed a hundred years after Captain Smith died. And yet the detail is exactly the same. Exactly.
“They want the stump,” shouted Austerley. They’re going to take the stump away and do it in!”
The tramp jumped up and flew into a rage. Charging at the ghosts in front of him, he leapt at them only to be swept aside by a strong arm. It had barely slowed the deckhands by a moment, but it was long enough.
Austerley was chanting under his breath, slowly and calmly. And beside him a form was rising. A tall and impressive man appeared in a bluish haze.
This is the one, thought Austerley. The stuff of legend, he laughed to himself. Who needs to move to be a hero?
A Spin Around Town
Austerley smiled evilly at the approaching deckhands. Next to Austerley stood the bluish figure, now fully materialized, in garb that was once a familiar sight in this town. The colourful, flamboyant style of the military uniform brought back memories of what had been thought of as an honourable way to fight, by all except those who had to face the barrage of muskets and swords, cannon and canister.
Austerley turned to the figure and ordered, “Sergeant, take down those brigands ahead of you. Double quick, if you please.”
“With pleasure, sir,” snapped the sergeant in reply before drawing a pair of muskets. He let the deckhands reach point blank range before firing and hitting them both in the chest. They tumbled backwards to the ground and disappeared into green smoke.
“You have some weird friends,” said the tramp, picking himself up from the ground. “At least your stump is safe.”
“Yes,” agreed Austerley with a tinge of irony. “I don’t know what we would do without him.” He clicked his fingers and the sergeant turned back into blue gas and vanished. Oh yeah, thought Austerley, I have got the hang of this place now. I’m beginning to see how he’s done this.
The tr
amp returned to Austerley and announced that the stump wanted to leave. Austerley thought hard, knowing that he still needed the ingredients from the DIY store.
“Do you think I might lead the way now?” asked Austerley.
The tramp thought for a moment. “Only if it’s okay with the stump.”
“Well, the stump says yes and it wants to go to the DIY store.”
“Excellent, it’s talking to you too,” said the tramp, slapping Austerley on the shoulder. And the merry team took to the streets again, Austerley’s stump riding in pride of place.
It took a while to walk, and wheel, the streets of the town, and they passed mainly through residential areas. Most of the houses had the sanctuary sign on them. That’s why there are so few deckhands about, thought Austerley. In fact, given the current circumstances, Austerley almost felt good about himself. The world wasn’t exactly his, but it was a bit kooky and he was the one kicking it into shape. There was no better ego massage.
As they descended a hill, Austerley could see smoke in the distance. Damn. Disturbances like this were bound to bring the captain’s men running. The tramp, however, seemed unperturbed.
“Is that something on fire?” asked Austerley.
“Certainly is,” answered the tramp, “but it’s not a problem, in fact it’s going to help us.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s your DIY store. We certainly won’t miss it now.”
Oh crap, thought Austerley, that’s all I need. More to the point, I need to get the man in the moon here onto a new track. “We don’t want to get too close to that,” he said to the tramp. “My stump never likes heat. Maybe we should get some protective cream. Let’s go to the herbalist. Do you know where that is?”
“Of course. I have been in this town for the last century and four years before that. We need to go this way. But only because the stump is nodding in agreement with you.” The tramp turned the wheelchair around and headed in the opposite direction. Austerley was going to complain but as he didn’t know where he was going either, the blind would have to lead. He shook his head in bewilderment.
A half hour later, in a small shopping precinct on the edge of town, Austerley stared at the shop window in front of him. There were all sorts of tea pots for sale. Small dinky china pots, hand decorated with prices to match. Gaudy large pots with images of flowers that Austerley thought showed all the chromatic perception of a blind man. Cups and saucers littered the shelves inside along with a huge array of teas. Every taste was catered for in this highly specialist shop.
“I asked for the herbalist,” said Austerley. “What the hell is this?”
“She sells herbal tea. Apparently it’s very good for you. Especially your bowels. Makes her a herbalist. Herbal tea, made by a herbalist. That’s your herbalist.” The tramp looked very smug. This is too much, declared Austerley to himself. Time to change my plans.
“Do you think the stump would like a ride in a car? It would be more pleasant for him,” Austerley asked the tramp. This caused a bit of commotion before an answer was forthcoming.
“What sort of car?”
“Does it matter?”
“Of course. The stump needs a classy car. Not something that would ruin his image.”
I am going to lose it soon with this guy, thought Austerley. But then he spied a sports car. Not being a person to care much about them, he didn’t know what type of sports car it was, but surely it would be good enough. “How about that one?” he asked.
The tramp nodded and wheeled Austerley over to it. Looking inside, Austerley saw the one thing he was hoping to find. A GPS device. The door wasn’t locked and Austerley shuddered as the tramp opened the door and pulled a dead body from the car. The body was that of an older man in a smartly cut suit with a pair of expensive looking shades. Setting the body down gently, the tramp thanked the man for his car. This is just wrong, thought Austerley, but what else can I do?
The tramp helped Austerley into the passenger seat and then went around and got into the driver’s seat. Austerley was going to object but the car wasn’t an automatic, which ruled out Austerley from driving it.
“Do you know how to jump start this?” Austerley asked his partner, waiting for another weird response.
“Oh yes, all you need is some Meikle juice. But I thought I would use the keys instead.”
Austerley had missed them hanging there. That was good, though, and he was delighted at the sound of the engine coming on. He fired up the GPS and waited for the map screen to appear. That was strange. The device said it was picking up satellites. Unless hell had gotten up to speed on the communication front, this meant Dillingham was where it should be. An illusion, it was all an illusion. These were Farthington’s tactics. Then this is revenge, and most likely a fight to the death, thought Austerley. Still, I have the upper hand. He input the name of the church into the GPS.
“Okay, just listen to the woman who speaks and follow her instructions,” Austerley ordered his driver. Time to regroup and see this afresh. The car, silver with streaks of black down either side, tore away from the tea shop and Austerley felt his head smack against the headrest.
The tramp brought the sun visor down and Austerley realized he was wearing the dead man’s sunglasses. An incredulous look brought a defensive response from the tramp.
“He said I could have them.” Seeing Austerley’s surprise, he added, “What? You never heard the dead speak?”
Well, he’s got me there, thought Austerley.
It had been a long time since Austerley had driven, and although he had spent a long time in America, he still remembered that here at home, cars were driven on the left-hand side. However, the tramp seemed to favour the right-hand side. Only about thirty percent of the time was the left the side of choice.
“Have you driven before?” asked Austerley.
“I used to drive Her Majesty, actually,” the tramp retorted. “It’s not easy with all those horses in front of you.”
Austerley hung on to the handle above his head as the tramp threw the car the wrong way round a roundabout. His methods were wild, but at least he was getting nearer to their destination.
Austerley sensed something above the car that made him uncomfortable. Overtaken by a feeling of dread, he wound down the window to see what was causing it. Flying above him were the head and wings of a giant hawk with the rear of a horse hanging beneath. He quickly rolled his head back inside as the creature landed its hooves on the top of the car.
“Step on it. We’ve got trouble up above.”
“Turn right in one hundred metres,” came the soothing voice of the GPS navigator. The tramp pitched the car round the bend, hitting kerbs on both sides of the road. Austerley bounced in his seat, clinging to his seatbelt.
“On Dancer, on Prancer, on Dunder and Blixem!” yelled the tramp.
“Your destination is on the right, five hundred metres ahead.”
Austerley felt the hooves thunder against the roof of the car and then saw the bird-horse swoop low to their right-hand side. It swung back and clattered into the car, which flipped over and raced along the street on its roof. Sparks blazed from the top of the vehicle. It came to a halt some one hundred metres from the church.
Austerley unbuckled and dragged himself out of his shattered window. Glass cut into his sides and hands but he steeled himself to keep going. He heard a snort and felt hot breath on his neck. He looked up to see a giant eagle’s beak, large wings and a set of hooves about to step on him. He tried to utter some summoning phrases, but he was too shaken to speak anything aloud. All he could do was wait for the impact.
An arrow hit the creature right in its belly. Unbelievably, from the core of the arrow emerged hundreds of tiny men with hammers who began to set upon the beast. It reared up and fell backwards. The face of a young girl filled Austerley’s view, and he felt himself being dragged towards the church. They broke the seal of the sanctuary and the priest beside him let the girl back out into the
street. In the distance the winged creature was attempting to flee but it was still covered by miniature men.
Kirkgordon was next to break the sanctuary seal, carrying the tramp on his shoulder. Kirkgordon dumped the tramp on the ground and rushed over to Austerley. He pulled Austerley’s top up and plucked out some large pieces of glass. Satisfied, Kirkgordon sat on his knees beside Austerley with a look of annoyance.
“Just where the hell have you been? And who is this guy?”
“I, sir? Why, I am Father Christmas himself,” declared the tramp before Nefol could take him by the hand and lead him inside.
“A relative, I take it,” said Kirkgordon.
“He’s just a tramp.”
“And your driver. Where have you been? You were meant to be back here two hours ago. And where are Havers and Miss Goodritch?”
“Miss Goodritch was on an errand and never came back. And I think they have Havers.”
“No way. Not Havers. They can’t have,” said Kirkgordon, with an air of desperation. “He’ll be tortured to hell and back.”
“Yes, by Farthington. I know he’s here.”
“How do you know that? Doesn’t matter anyway, I bloody met him, face to face.”
“Churchy, it’s not what it looks like. This place is a trap. For you, for me, for Havers. All a trap. The hybrid creatures, too, I think. He’s created all this just to get us. This is his vengeance. You won’t believe the lengths he’s gone to, or what I have seen.”
“Trust me, I will. You ain’t seen what I keep in my quiver!”
Dangerous Streets
Jane was feeling somewhat happier now that Wilson was protecting her. But he had taken a severe beating when the spider had tossed him aside, and the toll was starting to show. Although he easily kept up with her, his breathing was getting deeper and more laboured as he moved at a pace which she imagined wasn’t close to his top speed.
The situation on the road had become more fraught, too. With the fire blazing, a large number of deckhands had come running, and Jane and her protector had to travel through back gardens and up alleyways towards the herbalist. Moving a trolley by this route took a lot of effort. When they finally reached the herbalist’s street, they found their way blocked by a large congregation of ghosts.
