Darkness at Dillingham: An Austerley & Kirkgordon Adventure #2

by Jordan, G R

  Nefol and Kirkgordon moved with haste away from the scene of the battle. Fortunately the air wasn’t cold and so Kirkgordon felt physically comfortable with his new state of attire, if not emotionally. He felt he needed to address the issue of a nearly nude middle-aged man running around with a twelve-year-old girl fairly quickly. Nefol gave him a despairing stare and he asked if she was sure she wasn’t already a teenager. Her tutted response only reinforced his suspicions.

  Spotting a lone petrol station, Kirkgordon motioned that they should scout past it. From the outside there appeared to be no ghostly presence and Kirkgordon swept the interior swiftly but cautiously. After taking a moment to wash the snake guts out of his hair, it took Kirkgordon a full five minutes to find and dress himself in suitable clothing. The T-shirt he had found was a little large but at least the jeans were a close fit. Donning his quiver and bow, Kirkgordon emerged to find Nefol sitting with an iced drink from the automatic machine. Made from crushed ice with a syrup sauce running through it, it was one of those soft drinks that parents hate. Cheap and sugary – kids just love them. Maybe she was twelve after all.

  Nefol didn’t say much. Most directions were given with hand signals and Kirkgordon wasn’t sure whether this was due to fear or a lack of connection with him. Without doubt she could fight – her dispatching of the ghosts had been impressive – but there still seemed to be a young girl in there.

  They continued towards the care home, making their way through back gardens and alleys, trying to remain clear of the main roads. Looking over fences they saw more hybrid beasts. Beetles with fly wings, a wasp with legs, a seagull with crab pincers. Such a variety, but from where?

  The other great difficulty was being seen by people in their houses who, trapped inside, would bang on the windows to raise attention. Given that neither Nefol nor Kirkgordon could enter the houses without becoming trapped themselves, remaining unseen was the best option.

  The faces he saw haunted him, though. On passing one large bay window, Kirkgordon saw a young child who was yelling “Daddy” in a near scream. It cut at Kirkgordon. What if he never got home? How would his son feel? Or his daughter? And then there was Alana. He had damn well nearly slept with that other girl. And they say she’s a witch. That was hard to believe. Maybe possessed a bit. Yes, maybe that.

  He tried to bring the recent time spent with Alana and their children into view. The kids smiling as he rolled around the floor with them. Such a forgiving nature in them, thought Kirkgordon. But they have never seen me in the darkest times. Unlike their mother. Alana had tried, and they were as close as they had been in recent times, but still distant. Despite the moments spent in passion, they were still too far apart. A rift had been forged which neither Kirkgordon nor Alana had any idea how to bridge.

  Nefol raised her hand and Kirkgordon halted his progress. They were some five hundred yards from the home and could see the entrance. Inside the front doors, Graham was sitting at the front desk. He was white and trembling. A number of ghostly deckhands were wandering around, laughing at him and teasing. Kirkgordon called Nefol back.

  “The way I see it,” whispered Kirkgordon, “is that you will want to get that man out.” Nefol nodded. “I thought so. His name is Graham. By the colour of him, he’s not a willing party to this. But we don’t know that, Nefol, so be careful and don’t trust him. If we rescue him now, we won’t have a chance to search the place properly as Havers requested. So we may well rescue one man but condemn us all to hell.” He didn’t want to lay this conundrum on the child but it was a matter of fact. “So here’s my plan. You stay here and watch Graham. Don’t do anything for thirty minutes. If I’m not back by then, rescue him and get away.”

  “But my father said I was to protect you. I cannot return without you,” protested Nefol.

  “That man in there” – Kirkgordon pointed at Graham – “is more important than me. You are now his protector. It’s that simple. Don’t worry about me. I have a quiver full of exploding arrows.” Nefol smiled. She must think I’m a silly old fool, thought Kirkgordon. Oh well, at least she’s with the plan.

  Kirkgordon scouted round the outside of the care home looking for another entrance. At the rear of the building was a boiler house attached to the main building, complete with large chimney. All was quiet around it except for the hum of the boiler. This was the way, he decided. With pace, Kirkgordon crossed the concrete driveway that encircled the buildings and gently opened the boiler house door.

  Inside was dark. No lights were evident so Kirkgordon left the door open very slightly, trying to let his eyes adjust to the lack of light. As he crouched, he became aware of some light breathing very close to him. He turned his head to the right and as his vision adjusted he made out two eyes looking directly at him. Then he felt a bony hand grab his wrist.

  The Austerley Express

  There’s something dreadfully comical about all of this, thought Havers. Dressed in a loose-fitting robe with leggings made by wrapping material around his legs, he thought he should audition for the next sci-fi spectacular. On his hands were tight green gloves which matched the dark green slip-ons he was shod in. The overall khaki garb had been suggested by the priest and sourced from the basement. The arms and legs contained small rods, inserted during the wrapping process, meaning that any impact from them would hurt Captain Smith and his crew.

  On an ancient Chinese highway, Havers might have been in his element, but these were the streets of the English coastal town of Dillingham. He was pushing a wheelchair. With a dull grey frame and a black leather seat, it was extremely modern, unlike its occupant. Slouching in the chair with a pair of machetes, albeit very special machetes, was the bulky, heavy-jowled bulldog, Mr Austerley. You’d think he could sit up properly.

  Now at least, transporting the occult expert was getting easier. It had been a mile-long walk through the sewers with the overweight, single-footed hulk. But this was necessary and Havers had kept his professional exterior throughout. It’s just his damn arrogance, thought Havers. I know this evil around me and I’m damn well respectful of it. But this fellow just charges in. Maybe Mr Kirkgordon’s view is right. But needs must, and at the moment I need Mr Austerley, monoped though he is.

  The old girl’s doing alright though. He watched Jane Goodritch striding along beside him. All the way through the tunnels she hadn’t complained or held back once. She’s like a youth leader, Brown Owl showing the way. One of those ladies at the Women’s Guild who manhandles the arrangements for fêtes. She shouldn’t be here. This nonsense shouldn’t happen to decent people. We’re meant to keep them from it. I do the dirty work so they don’t have to see any of it. And as for Mr Austerley insisting she had a weapon… Make her a threat and they won’t focus on me. That’s the trouble working with people like Mr Austerley, generating their own ideas, not following the department’s well-drilled procedures. Mr Wilson wouldn’t have made that mistake.

  Wilson. The name hit him like the strike of a clanger on a bell. First a blunt strike, followed by a constant vibration to be chewed over by his mind. Havers was not prone to sentiment but Wilson had been a genuinely decent person. Many of his recruits were from tainted backgrounds with character flaws making them easy to cajole into this secret life. Few ever did the job willingly. Wilson did. Out of respect for the ordinary human. To protect the innocent. Havers remembered the initial interview well. And even as the world became a darker place, as Wilson became more involved in this strangeness they inhabited, his ideals remained. One day, he would have been Havers’ successor. Havers was sure of it. Damn this job.

  “Major Havers,” said Jane Goodritch under her breath, “I think I see something up ahead.” They were in the middle of town and had so far evaded all of Captain Smith’s crew. With a wheelchair occupant, one who could not even propel himself due to his ineptness with the device, and a middle-aged woman to defend, Havers had been banking on not meeting any resistance on his way to the museum. Although the crew was at least sixty
strong, Dillingham was a moderately sized town and there should be plenty of hiding places.

  The “thing” up ahead was at the junction of two streets. Their current route was taking them along a cobbled piece of the old town. The shops and abodes here were high and almost overhung the street, looming inward, or so it seemed to the walker beneath. Just a hundred yards ahead there was a side street and from here there emerged a long thin stick. Except it looked too flexible to be a stick. Almost like a giant feeler. Havers halted the party.

  “Miss Goodritch,” he whispered, “if you would be so kind as to take over. I know Mr Austerley is quite heavy but I believe you are a woman of talent and necessity and you may have to push quite quickly.” Jane stepped across taking the handles of the wheelchair.

  “Where to, Major Havers?” Havers wasn’t sure.

  “Forgive me, Miss Goodritch, just keep behind me.”

  Jane nodded. Up ahead, a second feeler was emerging as well as what appeared to be a black tusk.

  “That’s a beetle’s tusk and a feeler. Lot bigger than you normally see though,” said Austerley.

  “You don’t say, Mr Austerley,” replied Havers. The full extent of the oversized insect became clear as several legs emerged and it turned the corner towards them. On its back was a scantily clad pirate with a cutlass in his hand. But most strange was the tail on the large beetle. Some five snakes emerged from its rear, attached by their tails to the beetle’s body. The pirate saw his prey and kicked hard on the sides of the creature. It increased its pace, legs clicking forward like a clockwork machine.

  “Behind me, Miss Goodritch,” repeated Havers and set his face to the task ahead. Measuring up the beetle’s attack, he began to run towards it. On reaching the creature, Havers jumped onto one of the tusks and grabbed a feeler, snapping it off. The pirate reached forward, swinging his cutlass. Havers ducked and the continuation of the swing took the blade through the other feeler. The creature threw its head up in pain and Havers was thrown off to the side. He landed on his side and turned his momentum into a roll but was instantly pinned by a set of fangs to the nearest wall.

  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 Aust
erley’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.”

  Museum Work

  That’s the door shut, Major Havers. Can I suggest we head deep inside the museum to avoid anyone catching sight of us?” suggested Jane Goodritch.

  “Jolly well done, Miss Goodritch. I think I owe you my life. An excellent effort. Now the adrenalin is going to wear off, so be aware that you may feel some trauma or anxiety about what you have just gone through. Try to keep it at bay – we need your knowledge to assist Mr Austerley,” advised Havers.