He sat down to eat properly. As he tucked into the soup he reached over to the iPad and set it up on the table via a small stand affixed to the back. Once it was powered up he tapped at the screen between spoonfuls of his supper.
He chose the ‘slideshow’ option from the menu and the images he had taken of the birth records began to roll by every three seconds. After the tenth image Joe hit ‘pause.’ On screen was the record of birth of Samuel Kames. Samuel had been born in January 1914, the son of Elizabeth and Kenneth Kames. Joe had seen that name before; the date was poignant for some reason.
He rolled back the images to the start and went through them again. He extended the time between sliding to eight seconds and studied each one a little more carefully.
He paused again just a few slides in. James Brownsword’s details appeared. Born January 1914, the daughter of Sarah and Michael Brownsword.
Something was sparking in the deeper parts of his mind. Joe pushed the names around looking for patterns. It was how he worked with data. His memory for information was good, possibly genius he had been told, he could recall dates, figures, names and almost any sequence of them by the patterns they made.
He let the slideshow continue and stopped just two more images later. This record was for Peter Bannen. Born in February 1914 to Alice and Charles Bannen. Bannen, Kames, Brownsword the surnames began to appear in his mind’s eye as a strong text with deep grooves scoring them, chiselled into stone. He let the first names join them and a grey background appeared. The names began to wrap around a tall object, angled, forcing the text to turn at a right angle.
Joe saw the Cenotaph clearly now. For its entire height, from top to bottom, there were names cut into the stone and the names in front of him were upon it. He flicked through the images quickly, swiping his finger across the screen to speed up the slideshow. Henry Carpenter, James MacDougal and Frank Whittaker whizzed by and Joe immediately recalled their position on the obelisk. Jack Draper, Finn McCarthy, and Harold Broad. All male he noted.
It could mean nothing of course. This was a small town with close knit families. He thought of ‘Guppy Man’ and thought just how close some of the families might be. But so many names the same as those that had died during the war? It struck Joe as odd. There was also an absence of any kind of Doctors notes. Most of the others had at the very least an indecipherable scribble casually jotted down in the father’s details or in a corner.
Joe had to draw his face away from the screen for a moment. A sudden ache caused him to rub at his eyes and a deep tiredness started to sweep over him. He blinked and yawned. Looking at the screen once more the names were too difficult to make out, they were blurred. Joe closed his eyes again, he shook his head to try and push away the tiredness but it had no effect.
He could hear his breathing becoming heavy and slow and he began to rock in his chair. He hadn’t realised how tired he was, it was still early evening wasn’t it? His thoughts were becoming muddled. Was it dark outside? Why were people going to church in the evening, perhaps they were Catholics. Did Melanie fancy him, she looked good even in that huge coat. Joe folded his arms and rested his head on them. ‘I’ll take a nap,’ he thought.
Chapter Seven
Joe woke to a firm hand pushing his shoulder. Lifting his head from the pillow he had made from his arms a pale face and familiar hair came into focus. He took a deep breath and as he did so he brought up a hand to his mouth to stifle a yawn and realised that he had drool on his lips and chin.
‘Ugh, Jesus.’ he said, wiping himself free of it with the cuff of his shirt. Melanie had now become clear and palpable in his vision. ‘God, I’m sorry about that.’ He felt deeply embarrassed and suddenly realised what was wrong with this scene. ‘Hey, how did you get in to my room?’
‘You didn’t lock the door.’ Melanie replied.
‘Wow.’ Joe took a look around the room. Everything seemed as it had before he had dozed off. ‘I must have zoned out for a while, what time is it?’
‘It’s seven.’
‘Ah right.’ Joe said. He yawned again and as he placed his fist against his mouth he asked. ‘Why are you back? I thought you were coming tomorrow.’
‘It is tomorrow Joe, it’s seven in the morning.’ Melanie replied.
‘What? I slept through the whole evening?’
‘You were drugged.’ Melanie said in the same tone as she might say that it was raining outside.
‘Drugged?’ Joe’s eyes bugged. ‘What the fuck?’
‘The meal you ate.’ Melanie picked up a fork and poked at the remnants of potato Joe had left on the plate. ‘Probably the soup but I imagine there was some in the Smash as well, just to be sure.’
‘Just to be sure of what?’ Joe wasn’t sure whether to believe Melanie or not but he felt he had the right to be annoyed.
‘They didn’t want you getting bored and deciding to take a walk around the town Joe.’ Melanie offered him a consoling expression but nothing more. ‘Grab your coat and put these on.’ She said before Joe could ask more questions. He hadn’t noticed that she had been carrying a large brown paper carrier bag. From it she withdrew a pair of old but solid looking boots.
‘I guessed you would be about size nine to ten in shoes.’
Joe nodded ‘Uhm, size ten.’
‘Good, these should be dead right then.’ She offered them to him, holding them up by long black shoe laces.
‘Why would I want to wear someone else’s boots?’ Joe asked
‘We need to go out. There is something you have to see.’
‘Go out in the storm?’ Joe asked although deeper in his thoughts was a part of him very willing to take a walk out with Melanie regardless of the weather.
‘It’s stopped, at least it’s calmed down for the moment.’ Melanie answered and held out the boots closer to him. ‘Please hurry, we need to do this quickly.’
Joe decided to roll with it. He still hadn’t decided whether Melanie was perhaps a little crazy, the drug thing seemed at once highly unlikely and yet coldly plausible with regards to how he had been affected. He also wanted to take the opportunity to spend a little time with her and had to fight the rational thought that it was a very pointless thing to do for more reasons than he could count. He took the boots and set about getting ready. As he hauled on Kevin’s big coat and pushed his feet into them he wondered what would be the next set of hand me downs he would be wearing on this trip.
The boots were a perfect fit although they felt strange having worn flimsy trainers for the last few days.
‘All set?’ Melanie asked.
‘I suppose so.’ Joe replied. ‘But listen, I don’t mean to sound like an arse or something but can you please tell me what the fuck is going on?’
Melanie looked directly at him, her eyes wide and serious. ‘I’ll tell you as much as I can Joe, but not here, we need to head out into the forest.’
‘Of course we do.’ Thought Joe. ‘Why wouldn’t we need to walk out into the middle of a forest, knee deep in snow?’
‘Lay on Macduff.’ He said.
‘What?’ Melanie asked.
‘Let’s go.’ said Joe.
Melanie guided Joe through to the rear exit of the hotel, taking back stairs that avoided the reception. The door they went through wasn’t locked and in fact didn’t appear to have a lock. When Melanie pushed it open Joe could see that there was still a steady stream of flakes coming down. They were far lighter than the previous day and fell lazily as there was no gale tossing them around.
It was extremely cold though. Despite the big coat and his hat Joe felt the chill of ice in the air upon his face. Melanie had tucked her hair into a large, colourfully knitted hat and Joe though that it looked good against the white of the snow. He realised that there was a very real lack of colour about this place, everything was dark and lacked any kind of lustre.
He guessed the snow to be about three feet deep which meant the storm must have absolutely raged while he was asleep.
The route they took out the town was clearly one that Melanie knew well. She guided Joe through a couple of alleys, the houses that lay either side of them looked as though they were unoccupied but Joe thought that most of the buildings here had that look about them.
Once past the houses, they came to a small stone bridge that ran over a stream which was currently solid ice. Melanie insisted they walk over the stream thereby avoiding being seen from the houses that lay just to the right of it. Joe didn’t question this. He followed her down the slight embankment and they walked a hundred yards or so along the stream. The ice was so solid that at no point was there any indication it might crack.
Once Melanie was satisfied that they were out of view, thanks to the appearance of large clumps of snow-covered brambles like small hills leading up to the forest, Joe broke the silence he had maintained so far.
Is this really called ‘Big Forest,’ he asked pointing at the looming trees.
‘Ardach Coille,’ said Melanie, ‘yes that’s a rough translation. How do you know that?’
Joe shrugged ‘Tourist information.’ He said as they began to enter the forest proper.
There was a very definite line of trees that marked the forests boundary and Joe wondered if this was natural or if the trees might be cut back on purpose.
It had been heavy going through the snow and Joe was thankful for the sturdy and waterproof boosts although his feet were still cold. He only ever paid attention to the colour of his socks, not the thickness. Now he wished he had some of the ridiculously thick army-green walking socks his father had in seemingly endless quantity.
As the trees grew thicker the snow began to become less dense. The evergreen canopy that towered above them had shielded the forest from much of the fall. Occasionally a ‘whump’ sound would catch Joe’s ear as straining branches finally gave way under the weight of a snow deposit and drop to the floor. He wondered when Melanie was going to start talking. At present she seemed to be on a very determined path straight ahead. At least Joe thought that was how they had travelled but he wasn’t entirely sure that they hadn’t made slight deviations here and there. The monotony of the snow and the trees was quite disorientating.
They had been moving steadily downhill. The land to the right of him had begun to rise and by the time Melanie drew to a halt a ridge of at least thirty feet was on his side. To his left the trees continued perhaps another hundred yards or so but it looked as though at that point they formed a new tree-line.
Ahead was a haphazard row of boulders that looked icy and dangerous. Certainly not something that Joe wanted to cross so he was pleased that they had stopped here.
‘Down that way is the coast, the Ardach follows that line for about three miles until it meets the cliffs.’ She said indicating the tree-line.
‘Ok.’ Joe said, unsure as to whether the information was pertinent or not.
‘We need to go over these rocks. The ridge bends here and we have to be on the other side of it.’ Melanie made for the base of the boulders.
‘Great.’ Joe said glumly.
He watched as Melanie nimbly negotiated the obstacle. She pushed her hands into the snow, despite not wearing gloves and felt for hand holds and eased herself up the to the top. Joe tried to follow and almost immediately slipped. Fortunately he had barely climbed more than a foot and only dropped back to the floor, bringing a pile of snow with him, some of which managed to find its way down the back of his neck.
‘Fucking hell.’ He shouted brushing the snow off him.
He thought that Melanie might be laughing at him but when he looked up her saw her looking serious, pensive.
‘Try again Joe.’ She said.
Joe puffed his cheeks and recommenced his climb. He took a little more time with his footwork and found decent niches on which he could push himself up. Near to the top Melanie took his hand. She felt warm in his grip but he suspected that he was just colder than she was, but her hand felt good and he liked it.
Her grip was strong and Joe was grateful for the help. He clambered on to the top of the large boulder that Melanie knelt upon. When he looked out to what lay on the other side he caught his breath. The ground below dropped about another three feet below the rocks. Across it at a width of about six feet was another body of water, frozen solid as the stream under the bridge had been but this was different. Whereas that had been a flat and dull thing, the natural result of slow moving water gradually freezing to its base as layer upon layer succumbed to the cold this was something else.
This stream had been fast moving, perhaps even violent as evidenced by the frozen sprays that projected at various angles, the torrent having impacted upon boulders and errant logs from dismembered trees. The cold snap must have been literally that, so sudden a drop in temperature that every ripple and wave was caught in a perfect iced version of its former self.
But this was nothing compared to the view presented to Joe on his right, where the land had been gradually rising to become the ridge that stretched as far through the forest as he could see. The source of the frozen stream was a waterfall that cascaded over the top of the ridge. The entire column of water was a thick trunk of ice. At the top frozen spray hung precariously, held in place by fragile threads of frost. As the falls swept down it grew thicker until it reached the base of the ridge and there it exploded into the stream. This too, every aspect except for perhaps the first few drops that had splashed away from the tumult as it crystallised, was captured as a frozen sculpture.
‘Good god.’ Joe said. ‘It’s beautiful’
Melanie said nothing. Instead she descended from the rocks to the stream and walked towards the base of the fall. Joe followed, gingerly treading where he thought Melanie had trod. He breathed a sigh of relief when both of his feet contacted the solid water. He walked up to the falls carefully, noting how slippery the ice was with every step.
Melanie was stood amongst the frozen ice at the falls base, apparently not caring whether she destroyed any of the fragile natural art. Joe was more considerate and manoeuvred as close to it as he could without trading on the iced foam and spray.
The ice glistened despite the poor light. Joe marvelled as flakes of snow drifted down and appeared to be pulled onto the ice wall, there to become an additional layer on the natural sculpture.
Joe saw Melanie staring at the fall with deep concentration. ‘No, not at it. ‘Joe thought. ‘Into it.’
At one side of the ice column he could see a branch that protruded for about six inches. He tried to follow its dark body deeper into the body. Looking closer he could see small objects, probably little pebbles, dark lengths that could be more twigs, sticks or long slender stones, picked up by the current and thrown over the falls only to be suddenly imprisoned by the plummeting temperature.
‘What can you see?’ Melanie asked, looking at him.
‘It’s beautiful Melanie, it really is.’ said Joe truthfully. He turned to look at her and was surprised to see that her serious expression had not altered at all.
‘Come here.’ She said.
Joe paused for a moment, looking to see if there was a way to get to her position without disturbing the ice. He stepped over it as best he could, wincing when he scuffed a section and it collapsed into a frosty powder. He looked up apologetically at Melanie, because he felt he should, but she appeared to have no interest in it.
As he drew up close and stood next to her she pointed a finger at the ice directing his attention to something deep within it.
‘Tell me, what can you see?’ She said
Joe peered into the column where she indicated. It was a little like trying to view a Magic Eye picture, the longer he stared the more shapes came into focus, a twisted dark finger of wood, little bricks here and there and something deeper that had a familiar shape, dark patches on it, rounded on one side. He moved his head slightly to allow the light to fall at a
better angle. The object, though blurred and obscured through the thickness of the ice, came into view. It was a skull. It looked like a human skull.
Joe jerked his head back from the ice as though something was about to come out of it.
‘What the fuck is that? He barked.
‘You saw it then?’ Melanie asked, unnecessarily Joe thought.
‘That’s a fucking skull.’ Joe said with an accusatory tone. ‘Is that a human skull?’
Melanie nodded.
‘What the fuck is that doing in there?’ Joe shouted at Melanie. Fear suddenly gripped him and he felt the cold, all of the cold, surround him.
‘What is this place?’ Joe jerked his head around, searching the ridge as though there might be someone watching.
‘This is Winter Falls, and that is a part of its secret.’ Melanie said.
Joe stared at her incredulously. ‘I don’t understand this.’ He began to feel a little sick. The events of the past few days roared into his mind like a fast moving montage, designed to drive him insane. The storm, the missing records, the deer, the creepy doctor, the monstrous police officer, guppy man, Melanie, the gun. His hands clamped down onto the pockets of the jacket. The gun was in his bag.
‘Shit, SHIT!’ He shouted, on the verge of panic.
‘Joe please don’t shout. I can’t be sure that no one else is out here.’ At this Joe clamped his mouth tightly shut. His chest rose and fell with exaggerated breaths.
‘I think we are Ok.’ She said to try and reassure him. ‘I just don’t want to risk it Ok?’
Joe gave a quick nod. ‘Ok.’ He said in a whisper.
‘You have to see everything Joe or you are not going to believe what I’m going to tell you.’ Melanie stepped towards him and placed her hands on his chest as she had done at the hotel. Once again Joe almost stepped away.
‘You have got to be calm Joe, you have got to know why that...’ She flicked her eyes towards the skull, ‘...is in there.’
Winter Falls Page 9
