Location, Location, Damnation

by Nick Moseley

  'Is it just me, or do they look somewhat pissed off?' said Trev.

  'It's not you,' replied Granddad tersely. They started running, but it was clear that they wouldn't be able to make it to the exit before they were chased down. Despite being in reasonable shape for his age, Granddad wasn't in danger of threatening the world land-speed record.

  'We're not going to get there,' Trev shouted. 'You keep running, I'll see if I can drive them back.'

  'No, Trevor,' replied Granddad, alarmed.

  'I said keep bloody running!' Trev bellowed. Startled, Granddad did as he was told.

  A handful of ghouls had remained on the streets, their natural circumspection overruled by the desire to see a good fight, but when Trev brought the dagger's spectral blade flaring back into life they bolted for their homes. Abruptly he found himself facing the squad of soldiers down the length of the empty main street. Trev was glad the citizenry hadn't decided to get involved. If they had, he'd have been quickly swamped by sheer weight of numbers, phantom dagger or no.

  Reactivating the weapon drove an exhilarating burst of energy into Trev's body. He no longer felt like he was about to soil himself with fear, which was a very definite positive. Sadly it was outnumbered by the negatives, which at that point were running towards him with spears.

  He knew that with his hot-wired reflexes and borrowed knife-fighting skills he could give a more than decent account of himself, but hadn't had enough practice to know whether he could deal with a large group of enemies on his own. If he'd been in a Hollywood film he could've relied upon his enemies to obediently line up and fight him one at a time, but from the looks of it the ghoul soldiers weren't going to be that accommodating. It would only take one lucky spear-thrust to rob SmoothMove of its brightest and best. Barry would probably buy the ghoul responsible a drink.

  Despite this he didn't feel scared. The calmness that was flooding his nervous system was a very welcome side-effect of using the vapour weapon. It allowed him to assess the situation in a detached way without worrying about just how much a spear-point to the ribs would hurt. He already knew that the ghouls weren't great fighters. They probably spent most of their time guarding the Queen – of whom everybody was already afraid and probably wouldn't go near anyway – and keeping the peace on Murkhome's streets. Trev didn't think they would have much combat experience against humans, if any at all.

  They also had a rather exploitable weakness that Granddad had tipped him off to on the way in, and Trev was relying on it to even things up. He waited until the charging ghouls were almost on top of him before he switched on his helmet-mounted torch and aimed it at them.

  The results were both encouraging and entertaining. The front rank of soldiers dropped their weapons in order to shield their sensitive eyes from the dazzling beam, causing their comrades behind to crash into them. Pieces of makeshift armour went everywhere. It was like an explosion in a cannery.

  The rearmost ghouls were able to stop in time and keep hold of their spears, although they were forced to turn away from the torchlight. Trev swiftly sidestepped the tangled mass of sprawling bodies on the pavement and used the dagger to deprive three of them of their weapons while they were still reeling, dodging back before one of the grounded ghouls could take a swing at him.

  To the ghouls' credit they were quick to reorganise themselves, pulling their helmets down over their eyes to blot out as much of the glare as they could. The downside to this was that it restricted their vision, but nonetheless they fanned out across the street in an attempt to surround their enemy.

  Trev risked a glance over his shoulder. Granddad had almost reached the staircase, though he was moving at little more than walking speed now. Trev could see his shoulders heaving as he struggled for breath. Stalling the soldiers wasn't going to be enough. Trev knew he'd have to force them to retreat entirely if he was going to get the old man safely back to the surface.

  Distracted by Granddad's slow progress, Trev had left himself open to the ghouls' counter-attack. His heightened senses screamed a warning and he dodged instinctively to his left. Several spear-points converged on the point where he'd been standing, missing him by a buttock-clenchingly small margin. He winced as he realised that, due to the ghouls' diminutive stature, the weapons would've caught him at crotch height. Had it succeeded, the results of such an attack would have been too distressing to even contemplate.

  Off-balance, Trev stumbled against one of the ramshackle buildings, rattling the corrugated metal wall. His hard-hat flew off his head, the torch-beam whirling crazily as it went. Trev heard it clunk against the pavement somewhere behind him, followed by the tinkling of breaking glass which told him the torch was out of commission.

  He had no time to retrieve his headgear as the ghouls were following up their initial attack. The main group rushed him head-on, while another three broke away to Trev's right, trying to get behind him.

  Fortunately for Trev he had regained his footing sharply and was able to dodge away from the frontal assault, slicing off a couple of spear-heads as he went. In their anxiety to press the advantage the ghouls were getting in each others' way, which prevented them from closing their pincer movement around him. Trev spun to confront the ghouls who were trying to flank him, grabbing hold of the nearest one's spear and using it to drive him backwards as hard as he could. The energy flowing through Trev's body, coupled with the natural adrenaline surge he was experiencing, lent the manoeuvre an unexpected amount of strength. The unfortunate soldier was propelled straight through the wall behind him, vanishing from sight with a despairing wail.

  'Blimey,' said Trev. The next ghoul in line had frozen in shock, so Trev took the opportunity to clonk him over the head with the butt end of the dagger, sending him crumpling to the ground. He then cleaved the third soldier's spear in half before grabbing him by his breastplate and throwing him bodily at his advancing comrades. The screeching ghoul hit the front rank at head-height, flattening four of its members and sending the soldiers behind them diving out of the way. The street was now a complete shambles of pieces of armour, dropped and broken weapons and sprawled ghouls, some stunned or unconscious and others struggling to get back on their feet.

  Deciding to take advantage of the confusion Trev charged the remaining soldiers, howling an unintelligible war cry and swishing the dagger in vivid blue arcs. This sight was too much for the battered soldiers and they bolted, fleeing down the street and leaving their fallen comrades to their fate.

  Trev paused until they had scattered, then turned and sprinted after Granddad, scooping up his hard-hat at he did so. The old boy was standing at the top of the stairs, just inside the entrance to the tunnel, watching his grandson approach.

  'Go!' yelled Trev, hitting the bottom of the staircase and starting the ascent. He ran up the steps at full tilt, arms and legs pumping. By the time he reached the top Granddad was wheezing his way along the tunnel ahead. Trev rapidly caught up to him, taking one of the old man's arms across his shoulders to give him some assistance. Granddad nodded his appreciation, saving his breath, and they traversed the tunnel without speaking. Trev gave silent thanks that he'd picked up his hard hat as he repeatedly bumped his head against the ceiling.

  He kept listening for sounds of pursuit from behind but heard none. Either the ghoul soldiers were having trouble sorting themselves out, or they'd given up completely. An image of Queen Philliti swam into Trev's mind and he decided that the latter possibility was highly unlikely. The soldiers wouldn't want to return to her and admit that they'd had to retreat. Trev wondered what the ghoul Queen did to those subjects who disappointed her and had to restrain a shudder. She hadn't seemed like the kind of ruler who was renowned for her people skills.

  Reaching the far end of the tunnel they almost ran into the doorman, who had left his post to investigate the approaching footsteps. He frowned at the two humans, one hand picking at his ABBA t-shirt.

  'Custodians return without our boys,' he remarked, making no move to ope
n the door for them.

  'They're on their way, don't worry about that,' said Trev, whose ears had just picked up the sound of running feet and clanking armour in the tunnel behind him. 'Open the door.'

  The ghoul stared at him. Granddad took a gasping breath and spoke up.

  'Trustworthy Custodians happy to return without escort,' he said. 'Visit to beloved Queen Philliti a success.'

  The doorman remained unmoved. 'Humans required to have escort from our boys,' he said stubbornly.

  'You're not much good at this diplomacy thing, are you?' said Trev to Granddad with a sigh. He lashed out with his right hand, the dagger gouging a deep groove in the wall about six inches from the ghoul's head. 'Open the bloody door, you awkward little oompa-loompa!' he barked.

  Gibbering with fear the doorman complied, operating two wall-mounted levers in a short sequence. The door creaked inward.

  'Close it behind us,' Trev told the ghoul, 'or I'll be back for you.' He brandished the dagger under the doorman's nose and the wretched creature whimpered. Trev cringed inwardly; it was like bullying a small child. He didn't feel big, hard or clever for doing it, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

  They were barely through the doorway when the pursuing soldiers burst out of the tunnel. The doorman was following Trev's order and was closing the exit behind the two humans. Pushing and shoving in the confined space, the soldiers managed to get piled up against the door, preventing it from being re-opened.

  'Keep moving,' said Trev, now all but dragging Granddad along the sewer walkway toward the ladder. When they reached it he let his elder go first, waiting at the bottom with the vapour weapon held ready. A loud creak announced that the soldiers had backed up sufficiently to allow the door to move. Trev flicked his gaze upwards, observing that Granddad was making heavy weather of the climb but was almost at the top. 'Any time you're ready, no rush,' Trev called up to him.

  'I'm at the top,' gasped Granddad, dragging himself out of the manhole and onto the road above.

  'About time,' said Trev. The ghouls had burst out of the door and were swarming down the tunnel. They'd looked pretty pissed off on Murkhome's main street, but were well beyond mere pissed-offedness now. From the amount of angry spear-waving going on, Trev suspected that perforation of his unmentionables was high on their agenda. He scrambled for the ladder.

  The threat of a nasty crotch-spearing was motivation enough for a rapid climb. Trev flung himself up two rungs at a time, reaching the top in a fraction of the time it had taken Granddad. He threw himself flat on the tarmac, avoiding a pair of spears that were thrust up through the manhole in his wake. He rolled to the side before jumping up and helping Granddad slide the manhole cover back into place.

  'Think they'll come up after us?' he asked, standing on the cover to ensure it couldn't be lifted from below.

  'I very much doubt it,' panted Granddad, leaning on Trev for support. 'Their best chance was to corner you in the tunnels. They can't risk sending a large group to the surface, it might well lead to their little community being discovered.'

  'That's good news,' Trev said, straightening his hard hat on his head. He coughed. 'I'm sure you can make it up to them, you know, diplomatically. It's not like I killed any of them or anything, is it?'

  'Ah, that reminds me,' replied Granddad, taking the dagger back from a reluctant Trev and returning it to its sheath. 'Best if I hold onto this for now.' He gave his grandson a level stare. 'To answer your question, yes I can probably make it up to them. It's going to be hard work, though.' He sighed. 'At least we got the information we needed.'

  'So what now?' asked Trev. 'A vampire hunt?'

  'Indeed,' said Granddad thoughtfully. 'But I think we have a little work to do first.'

  Twenty-Four

  Granddad gave Trev a lift back into the town centre to pick up his car, which he hadn't been able to retrieve after work because of the media hanging around the SmoothMove offices. Granddad was subdued during the drive and wouldn't elaborate on his comment about having 'work' to do, telling Trev that it could wait until the following day.

  Trev didn't argue. A blanket of tiredness had settled over him as soon as they'd left the industrial estate and he was happy enough to call it a night. He waved Granddad off and got into his car. The old Rover allowed itself to be coaxed into life and Trev aimed it toward his flat, stifling a yawn as he did so.

  Back home he quickly cooked himself a microwave pizza and ate it while staring blankly at some old Arnold Schwarzenegger film on the TV before collapsing into bed. Trev sometimes had trouble getting to sleep, but not this time. He was snoring within seconds of getting under the covers.

  His morning alarm went off after he'd been asleep for about three minutes. Well, that was how it seemed to Trev, anyway. A glance out of the window was enough to confirm that it was indeed morning outside, however unlikely that felt. Annoyed, he went loudly through his entire repertoire of swear-words – which took a good thirty seconds – and hauled himself out of bed.

  Every muscle creaked. His one-man army act the previous night had taken its toll. Stressful as his job might have been, it had never involved much in the way of melee combat, and he wasn't used to the after-effects. Trev wasn't particularly sedentary but neither was he much of a fitness enthusiast. He played golf once a week, walked to work most days and sometimes turned out for the Spigot's Sunday league football team if they were utterly desperate for players. Sprinting around catacombs and fighting squads of sub-human soldiers, however, was not part of his usual routine and his body wasn't shy about letting him know it.

  'Stiff everywhere except where it counts,' he said, quoting a favourite saying of his father's.

  He shuffled into the kitchen and had his breakfast, showered, and was just putting his trousers on when he remembered that it was Friday and therefore his day off. This time the swearing went on for over a minute, after which he shuffled back to bed again.

  When he awoke for the second time it was late morning. Although he was still sore, he didn't feel quite as fatigued. Giving his backside a scratch he ambled through to the kitchen to get himself a glass of orange juice. He switched his mobile phone on and it informed him he had a voicemail from Granddad. He groaned and dialled the messaging number.

  'Morning Trevor,' said Granddad's voice. 'I phoned the office but they said you were on day off today. I assume you're having a lie-in and I don't blame you. Give me a call or pop round when you can. Bye.'

  'This is just never-ending,' muttered Trev. 'I'd have thought that after last night's "diplomatic incident" he wouldn't be too keen on any more help from me.'

  He massaged his left bicep, remembering the strength and confidence he'd felt while wielding Granddad's vapour weapon. The moves and fighting skills had been so smooth, so instinctive; he hadn't had to think about what he was doing at all. In fact it was just as well that he hadn't, he reflected, because if he'd paused to think at any stage the ghouls would probably still be trying to mop his blood off their main street.

  He picked up a steak knife from the draining board next to the sink and swished it experimentally. He couldn't really remember any of the moves he'd pulled off with such style the previous night. Activating the dagger had given him a temporary mental upload of knife-combat skills but that knowledge had only stayed in his brain while he was using the weapon. All he had left now were some vague, fuzzy sensations. Sure that he must've retained at least some of the borrowed talent, he decided to try a couple of simple flips with the knife.

  After he'd put sticking plasters on his cut hand and thrown his blood-stained t-shirt and boxers in the washing machine, he was forced to confront the sad truth that without a vapour weapon in his hand he possessed all the deadly combat skills of a three-legged sheep. His reality well and truly checked, he wondered how best to spend his day off.

  Granddad's message hadn't sounded as if it was all that urgent, so Trev decided he could leave it until later to reply. He put on a jumper and a pair o
f jeans and left the flat, heading for the town centre without any particular destination in mind. He had a wander around the shops, looking at DVD's and computer games, then went to a burger bar for some lunch. It was good to be able to get back to normal activities after fighting for his life in a sewer a few hours before.

  It wasn't until two o'clock that he called Granddad back. 'Please tell me you haven't only just got out of bed,' the old man remarked on answering.

  'Nope, I've been having a mooch around town actually,' replied Trev. He stifled a belch. 'Just finished my lunch.'

  'Sounds like it,' said Granddad disapprovingly. 'Look, I wanted to apologise again for last night. I genuinely believed that you would be covered under the Treaty if you were with me. Queen Philliti's actions may technically have been permissible, but they were very much against the spirit of the agreement, in my opinion.'

  'We got away, that's the important thing,' said Trev. He sighed. 'I suppose I said a few harsh things to you down there. Sorry about that, but in fairness I was bloody frightened.'

  'No harm done. As you say, we got away and that's the important thing.'

  'Damn right.' Trev used a finger to dig at a piece of burger that had lodged itself between two of his back teeth. 'I'm guessing you've got something else you want to talk about? You usually do.'

  'Yes, I'm afraid so. Have you got time to drop by this afternoon? I need to chat to you about a couple of things.'

  'Oh come on, it's my day off,' protested Trev.

  'I know, but unfortunately demons don't take days off,' said Granddad.

  Trev took the phone away from his ear and flicked a couple of V-signs at it. 'Fine,' he said with a sigh. 'See you in a bit.'

  Trev didn't bother to go back to his flat, deciding instead to go straight to Granddad's. He rang the bell and followed Granddad through to the study. Agatha was there, a concerned expression on her face; she nodded a greeting to Trev. She was standing, or rather floating, by the big desk, upon which sat Oscar. The cat was looking at a large book lying open in front of him. He lifted his head and gave Trev a wink.