by G R Jordan
“Bit weird, eh?” said Calandra.
“I know. Why are these here? But it’s gone very dark outside, Cally, and I guess it’s going to have to do. Let’s crack a couple of glow sticks and see what’s to eat from the packs.”
In order to keep their speed up, Kirkgordon had rejected the idea of bringing any large provisions with them and had opted for some special high-energy bars and a couple of canteens. After Havers had helped a moaning Austerley up the ladder, the party settled down to their meagre rations. When dinner was concluded, Kirkgordon suggested a roster to keep watch through the night. The roster included everyone except Austerley, who was deemed to be as much use on guard duty as a sloth.
Kirkgordon shut his eyes, wrapped himself in one of the leaves and struggled to get comfortable before falling asleep. Dank soil appeared swirling in his dreams. He located his feet stuck in a rotting bog beneath him. He felt his arms being pulled in opposite directions and looked first to his right where he saw Alana, his wife, hauling at his limb. She was sweating profusely but Kirkgordon was sure that underwear, and in particular that rather thin variety she was wearing, wasn’t really outdoor attire. Although a strange image, it wasn’t unpleasant, and he had to force himself to look at what was pulling his other arm.
His jaw dropped as he recognized the pale skin and dark hair. Calandra stood there in her crop top and little else, pulling his arm, the exertion showing on her face. Due to the nature of her cold skin she sweated only a little, but her expression was similar to Alana’s. His head swung to and fro from one woman to the other, more and more rapidly. Eventually they started to move together until they were in front of him and were holding hands. They had stopped fighting over him and were now drawing him towards them in a joint effort. Wow, thought Kirkgordon, I didn’t see this coming.
Cold flooded both cheeks. His eyes flung open and he stared into Calandra’s face.
“Hey, sunshine, up you get. My turn for a rest.” He watched her face turn from a smile to a quizzical look. “Are you okay, Churchy?”
“Fine, Cally. Just fine. Only a dream.”
“Really. What about?”
“Nothing.”
“Had some effect for nothing, you were moaning names and smiling a lot.” Calandra grinned at Kirkgordon’s awkwardness. “Nothing dodgy I hope.”
“Nah, nothing dodgy.”
She dropped her jeans and rolled herself into a leaf. “But I guess the crop top’s a winner.” And with that she turned her head away, closing the conversation.
It’s not fair, thought Kirkgordon. A man only ever needs one good woman. Why is there a choice? Couldn’t fate just make them turn up at different times in your lives? Or for a reincarnation? Walking to the window, a thought struck him. Choice. When did it ever become a choice?
Kirkgordon stared off into the blackness, the night sky covered, and watched a mist slowly form in the immediate vicinity. A shiver ran down his spine. The air was dry, making him question where the mist had come from. But who was to know how the environment of a place like this worked? Surely natural laws could be suspended, or maybe even a different nature operate. A few years ago he wouldn’t have credited a place like this could exist, or any of the creatures he had seen. Heck, he never thought any woman could challenge his love for Alana, never mind an eight-hundred-year-old cursed ice babe. Babe? Too cheesy for such a beauty.
A tap on the shoulder broke his train of thought. Austerley was standing with a worried look on his face.
“Churchy,” the former professor whispered, “would you let him do it?”
“Do what?” Kirkgordon knew what was coming but he had to delay the moment.
“My foot. Would you let Havers take my foot off?”
The hands were trembling. Kirkgordon had seen real fear in Austerley’s eyes before and recognized the terror.
“I can’t take it again. Whatever you think, however much you hate me for getting this foot, you can’t take it off me. Havers is a cold bastard and he’ll do it. He told me, over and over again on the way here. You know I can’t stop him. He’s too quick for me.” Austerley looked down at the cause of his troubles. He had removed his shoes to sleep and was barefooted. The black foot had a sheen to it and he could see his own face reflected. “Farthington took my other foot. Don’t let Havers take this one.”
“What’s in it, Indy?” Kirkgordon spoke softly. “Can it be healed?”
“I think so. I have heard of those who can.” Austerley’s voice was unconvincing.
“Why can’t you? You swapped the feet in the first place.”
“Yes, but it wanted to come to me. You can’t just take an appendage, it has to want to come to you. It must feel purpose. It must have felt a better future with me.”
Kirkgordon was confused. When Austerley spoke about these mysterious chants and places, there was a part of Kirkgordon that just wanted to switch off and denounce it all as mumbo-jumbo. But the mumbo-jumbo had grown a physical form and tried to kill him on too many occasions for him to dismiss it. So Kirkgordon faced the demons head-on with a brutal logic that he hoped kept him sane. But now he heard the twang of the elastic snapping inside his head, as logic began to break down in the face of a highly polished ebony foot.
“You’re in the stadium and I’m stuck in the car park on this one, Indy. Your foot, or rather Tania’s foot as it was before it migrated to you, made a decision to come to you?” Austerley nodded. “All that chanting and stuff you were doing at the time was just some sort of coaxing? So what did you say? You can learn tap with me? You should see my rumba? I mean, what could a foot want? Hey, get on the end of my leg, I’m the new Kevin Bacon. Kick off your Sunday shoes—”
“Stop it. Don’t mention that name.”
“What?”
“Too many dreams. He’s in too many dreams. Wretched film.”
Kirkgordon reined in his mockery. I need this guy. For all the hell he’s brought upon me, I need this guy. But hold on. Why would the foot jump over? I mean, look at this wretch. Why would the foot want to be on him? I always thought it was just Indy taking it, but now it seems it came willingly. How do you find purpose as a foot?
Austerley was gazing at the floor. His shoulders were slumped and Kirkgordon thought he detected some measure of contriteness. He’s almost a sinner in prayer. Kirkgordon reached out a hand and placed it on Austerley’s shoulder.
“I’ll not let him cut it off unless it’s absolutely essential. But you need to find us one of these healers. And soon. That foot’s already brought us the frog-men. We’re out of our depth already, Indy. And you need to find Alana.”
“I will. We can’t have Farthington hunting us forever. That son of a bitch Havers is right enough. We need Farthington dead.”
“No, Indy. We need Alana back and our arses residing in the real world again.”
“But this is real, Churchy. You know that, don’t you?”
“I know very little, Indy, just this: the day you took me down that grave in New England was the day my life went to hell. All I want is to get it back.”
The two men stared out the window, allowing all mention of the graveyard occurrence to disappear into the darkness. Kirkgordon breathed easily, assuming the motionless stance of a sentry, listening into the blackness. But soon he could hear Austerley’s breathing deepen. At first it was like a gymnast inhaling deeply before the apparatus, but soon it became a swimmer gasping for breath. Turning round, Kirkgordon saw Austerley’s face in terror, sweating profusely from the palest skin. His right arm was outstretched and his digit finger pointed out of the window.
“What the hell’s the matter?”
“There!” answered Austerley.
“What?”
“The fog.”
“Yes, it’s fog. Unusual and that, but hey, this is the Nether world or whatever you’re calling it. So what’s the problem?”
“That,” said Austerley, “is not fog! The book” – Austerley spoke some unintelligible sounds – �
�from the Fandomis library, it mentions that. Not fog. Too dry here for fog. But they travel as fog.”
“Who are they?”
Another unintelligible word. “Blood sprites. Something like that in English.”
“Are they dangerous?”
“Like a land piranha. They’ll strip us to the bone.”
“How?” Kirkgordon was getting agitated. “How, Indy? Do they attack as a fog?”
“No, if only. Oh God, if only.”
Blood Sprites
Kirkgordon pulled apart the leaf covering Calandra and roughly grabbed her shoulder. His eyes fixed on her face, ignoring her pale legs and tight torso. Now was not the time.
“Hey!” shouted Calandra, grabbing Kirkgordon’s wrist and twisting it.
“Ah! Get off, Cally. And get up. Indy says we have company. Keep it quiet.” Kirkgordon moved swiftly to Nefol and Havers, waking them up in turn. By the time he had turned back towards Calandra, she had dressed in her jeans and leather jacket and held her trusty staff in one hand.
What is it? mouthed Calandra.
Blood sprites, came the silent reply. Kirkgordon shrugged his shoulders at her questioning look. Austerley was providing credence to the belief that blood sprites could be dangerous as he sat on the floor head in hands, shaking. Bloody hell, thought Kirkgordon, the least he could do was tell us what these things are before he goes loco.
Nefol was at the window peering gingerly outside.
“What are we expecting?” she asked.
“Blood sprites, according to Austerley,” answered Kirkgordon, his voice hushed. “No, I don’t know what they are either, but they are out there in some sort of fog.”
“Fog. I don’t see any fog.”
Kirkgordon peered past the girl. The fog was gone. Oh heck, they must be on the move. Turning to his group, he gestured at Calandra to widen out. His eyes sought Havers for a similar instruction but the government man was holding Austerley’s hands and relentlessly whispering a question at him.
“Havers!” Kirkgordon urged under his breath. There was no reaction so Kirkgordon raised his voice slightly louder.
“Havers. Flank out.”
Standing quickly, Havers strode past Kirkgordon. “They are flesh beings. Mr Austerley confirms this, so they should be easier to dispatch than most of the Dillingham unseemlies.” Havers grinned and dropped some glow sticks over the side of the loft area, lighting up the ground floor. He pulled two handguns from his garment.
“I said no guns.”
“I fail to see why not. Damned rude to deny a fellow his tools of the trade.”
“Havers, you know why. You damn well know.”
There was a thudding at the large barn doors. Kirkgordon spun round and saw the fixtures on the large wooden panels straining. Look at the pressure on those, he thought. These doors won’t last long. They must have some big buggers amongst them.
“Everyone ready!” called Kirkgordon. “Remember, the bigger they are, the harder they fall.”
The doors collapsed inward, splintering into pieces as they hit the ground. Scrambling across the top of the failed gates were dozens of small furballs, like a dark sea. The little creatures spread out round the room, tumbling over one another, with loud hungry rasps coming from the pack.
“Havers, drop the ladder!”
Taking Kirkgordon’s suggestion on board, Havers ran to the ladder but was met by a furball which had scaled its height in no time. Drawing his pistol, Havers ignored the pair of large fangs which emerged from a mouth deep inside the creature. Two shots rang out. Havers hit the furball both times and it dropped off the ladder. Any further climbers were dispatched as Havers kicked the ladder clear.
“No! Shuggoth! Mother Hydra.” Austerley was on his feet, wildly lashing out around him. “Markings on the wall. No, Churchy. On the wall. Seal it. Seal the hole, or they’ll come.”
Kirkgordon tried to grab Austerley but he was caught by a flailing arm which momentarily sent him spinning. No, thought Kirkgordon, not now. I can’t deal with him like this. Turning back towards Austerley, Kirkgordon barrelled into the large professor, knocking him to the ground, then swiftly struck him in the neck, silencing him. Austerley’s eyes shut and he went limp.
“Nefol, stand over him. Let nothing touch him.”
As Nefol reacted, Calandra called, “Churchy, they’re climbing the walls. They’re coming.” Havers started dispatching little furballs as they leapt from the walls onto the upstairs platform. Each shot was right on target and repeated with a speed that defied belief. Kirkgordon pulled an arrow from his quiver and shot it into the floor. The familiar face of a giant holding a hammer greeted him and Kirkgordon pointed at the furballs.
“Don’t waste your arrows,” yelled Nefol, “they are flesh.” I can do nothing right in the eyes of that girl, thought Kirkgordon. But then he then saw why as his giant was bitten by one furball. This slowed the large creature and he was soon engulfed.
“Mr Kirkgordon, if you have any suggestions, now would be a good time. I think we shall be overrun by these little blighters within a few minutes. As soon as I dispatch them, more keep coming. Maybe one of your excellent vortices is required.”
“It’ll suck in everyone, Havers. I’ll be the only one standing.”
“Well, I was going to suggest using Mr Austerley, but as you have knocked him out, I guess you’re not keen on his solutions.”
That’s it, Havers, take the piss, why don’t you? thought Kirkgordon. But he’s right. We have no exit. I doubt we can fight through them all. This needs an Austerley solution. Kirkgordon looked at the lump on the floor that was Austerley. Yeah, I can lift him.
“Cally, can you hold them here for a minute? You and Nefol?”
“A minute’s about it,” shouted Calandra as she swatted the furballs away with lightning speed. Kirkgordon nodded.
“Havers, get me a hole in the roof and get through it.” Nefol took over from Havers at keeping the furballs back. Havers quickly shot the roof away above him. Grabbing some of the leaves, he piled them on top of one another and was able to raise himself high enough to jump and grab on to the roof. He pulled himself through the gap then turned around and poked his head back through. Seeing Nefol in trouble, Havers blew several furballs away with another burst of gunfire.
Kirkgordon had thrown Austerley over his shoulder and was climbing the pile of leaves. At the top, he readjusted Austerley so that he was holding the professor by the hips. Quickly, he threw him up with all his strength and saw Havers wrap an arm around Austerley’s neck and drag him through the gap. His eyes fixed above him, Kirkgordon felt his feet go from under him as the pile of leaves slid off one another and he tumbled to the floor.
Calandra was over the top of him, batting away the creatures as he recovered.
“I’m going to the roof to wake Austerley. Let’s hope he’s got something. Hold as long as you can!”
Calandra didn’t even acknowledge as she strode back into the mass of furballs, her staff moving at blinding speed. The edges were white hot and Kirkgordon was stunned by her courage once again. As he regathered the leaf pile, he noticed the same courage in Nefol as the girl tore into the seething mass before her.
Kirkgordon threw his arms up through the gap, ready to reach out for the edges, but something grabbed him and he was unceremoniously hauled through the gap. He tumbled onto the roof and rolled to regain his feet.
“Mr Kirkgordon, kindly get our oaf awake. There isn’t much time.” With that, Havers leaned back into the hole in the roof and started dispatching more rounds into the horde of furballs. Kirkgordon turned to the motionless Austerley on the floor and picked his head up by the hair.
“Wake up, Indy,” yelled Kirkgordon as he slapped his colleague across the face repeatedly. Austerley did not stir and Kirkgordon increased the intensity of his strike. Dammit, Indy, wake up. For once we actually need you, so damn well wake up.
“Mr Kirkgordon, where is our illustrious professor? I’m goi
ng to need to extract the ladies as they are getting overrun. We need him now, Mr Kirkgordon!”
Dammit, Havers, like I don’t know that. But this beast just isn’t waking.
From the corner of his eye, Kirkgordon saw Calandra emerge through the hole in the roof. She was bleeding from her torso and screaming back into the hole.
“Nefol, get out! Now! Don’t you dare stay. Out now.”
Austerley was starting to murmur but his eyes were still firmly shut. Heck, they needed to buy some time.
“Cally,” said Kirkgordon, “go to the far corner and spin that staff. See if you can set the building on fire. Knock something off the edge to cover the exit. Get that on fire first.”
Calandra turned to Havers and screamed at him to get Nefol out before racing to the edge of the building where she began to spin her staff. With her feet rooted, the weapon became a blur and white-hot edges formed. Calandra screamed loudly as she struggled to hold on to the spinning staff before abruptly slamming it into the roof edge. The wood buckled under the strike and ignited. Flames quickly spread and Calandra thumped her staff into the heat. The edge of the roof gave way and fell ablaze across the open exit where the barn doors had been.
Havers was pulling Nefol out of the hole in the roof. Screaming in pain, she pointed at Kirkgordon. Hell, kid, I know, but the stupid bugger won’t wake up. Come on, Austerley! Kirkgordon had Austerley by the shoulders now and was shaking him hard. Austerley’s head rocked to and fro violently and he began to stir.
“The little creatures are becoming quite affected by the fire, Mr Kirkgordon. I suggest you wake up our friend by any means possible. Your inferno is driving them all towards the hole in quite a frenzied fashion.”
How does Havers stay so damn cool? Come on, Indy. Come on.
Austerley’s eyes opened. He stared straight ahead at Kirkgordon and started to sniff the air.
“Churchy, do I smell burning?”
“Burning? I’ll burn your arse if you don’t get something going. We’re on a roof, the building’s on fire. The furballs are coming up a hole to eat us. We need off this roof now. We need those furballs put down.”
