“Screw that for a game of soldiers. Surely Martina or Tubby Flynn of any of the rest of them would have covered for you.”
Robbie shrugged. “I didn’t think to ask anyone.”
“When’s it on?”
“What, the scan? Half eleven, up in the hospital on Holles Street. Why?”
“That’s only down the road. Look we’ll get this out of the way quickly and you can scoot on out to meet her when the Purge is done. I’ll do the tidy up and everything. You should be with the missus today.”
“You sure?”
“Of course, look it’s only a bit of thing,” Brian picked up the shock-stick and went over to the bulbous black sack that clung to the wall. A damp, watery sheen had started to form on the exterior skin. “We’ll have this burned off in no time.”
He tapped it gently with the stick. There was a hollow noise like wood knocking on shell.
“Thanks man. I really appreciate it,” Robbie said, turning for the door. “You mind if I nip out and give her a shout? Let her know I’ll be up later?”
Brian nodded. “Go on. Do the rounds while you’re out there too, make sure the rest of the house is clear. I’ll get things prepped here. And Robbie, tell her I said hi.”
Robbie gave a thumbs up as he left.
“Let’s see what we’ve got now,” Brian whispered, leaning back against the bench with arms folded, taking in all of the sparse room.
The bare, grey walls were marked with splotches of paint where someone had once considered a colour-scheme but never got around to really starting, let alone finishing it. The cracked plaster and exposed insulation showed it was easier to neglect a house than tend to it, despite the perfect rental location. Brian noticed the high ceiling had that distinctively, patterned circular section in the middle where the light-fixture would have been once upon a time. The plasterwork was now chipped and cracked, testament to the botch job which had been done removing it. A lone, naked light-bulb dangled from the ceiling like a hanged-man, giving off a sickly, pale-yellow glow. A single, narrow window looked out onto about two foot of non-existent front garden that stopped abruptly, bordered where a black, spiked, metal fence met the footpath.
Brian knew he just had to tape a plastic sack over the window to make sure the view in from the street would be blocked. It was far from hi-tech but it would be enough to stop any nosey pedestrians gawking in while Robbie and himself were working.
Lots of the front rooms of the period houses in this part of Dublin were the same but this one had something else, something different which made it unique, but not in a good way. Brian walked over to the fire-place, which was built into the wall opposite the door and he looked closely at the tumorous shape which hung there like an obscene picture.
“Kind of ironic you choosing the hearth to hibernate over,” Brian whispered softly like someone reading to a child, “because I’m going to burn you up.”
Out in the hallway Robbie tapped on Anne’s name and she answered before it had rung twice.
“How’s it going Mother Hen? All good?” he asked.
“Yep. My Mum’s here so everything’s fine. We’re gonna let the school-run traffic go, then start getting ready to head in along. I want to arrive nice and early, find parking, not be rushing, you know? Still can’t believe they made you work today honey. It sucks.”
“Got good news for you on that front,” Robbie popped his head into the kitchen as he spoke, giving a quick glance around. Empty presses, filth encrusted cooker, unplugged fridge discarded in the middle of the floor. Nothing out of place. “Brian reckons we’ll be finished up early. Says it should be a nice handy job by all accounts. He’ll even do all the clean-up so I can make the scan.”
“That’s brilliant,” Anne squealed joyfully. Robbie pulled the phone away from his ear with a grin. “Mum, Robbie’s going to be able to make it after all.”
He stood in the doorway, smiling, listening to his wife talking at her mother. His eyes were drawn back to the fridge, lying unplugged in the middle of the floor. Odd, but not really out of place.
Just discarded there. (Nothing out of place)
In the middle of the floor. (Nothing out of place)
Those smudges on the dirty tiles, like it had been dragged. (Nothing out of place)
Empty. An empty fridge. Just left there.
(Nothing)
(Out)
(Of)
(Place)
Robbie blinked furiously, turned and headed for the stairs. He ran his free hand along the smooth banister as he ascended, phone pressed once more to his ear. There was a fuzzy, almost tingling feeling in his brain, like bubbles fizzing up through a drink, as if something had been forgotten. Or never remembered.
“Hi, sorry about that honey,” Anne was back and the tingling was gone. “I was just telling mum. That’s absolutely great news. Good man Brian. I think the baby heard too, it’s doing summersaults with excitement.”
“And you’re feeling ok?”
“Perfect. Even better now thanks to that news. Where are you working today anyway?”
“Northumberland Road.”
As they spoke Robbie popped into each of the upstairs rooms, inspecting their dark corners and forgotten wardrobes, but nothing caught his attention.
“Really? Sure that’s only up the way from the hospital.”
“Yeah, I can be down to you in less than ten minutes once I’m done.”
“Aww sweetheart that’s great. I’m delighted. Here, hang on, wait a second.”
Robbie heard Anne put down the phone and start talking to someone else at her end. It was muffled and he couldn’t make out the words. While he waited for her return he walked into the last of the bedrooms. The only furniture was the skeletal frame of an old bed and a battered dressing table that even the Saint Vincent De Paul people would have had qualms about trying to sell on. He peered into the drawers, finding nothing but an old, melted cough sweet and a few elastic bands. He swiped his initials on the dusty mirror and, rubbing the dust from his fingertip, ambled back down the stairs, lingering over each step on the way. Nothing out of place. The smudge in the living room they’d been sent to expunge was a lone rogue. Happy day.
“Sorry about that, mum was talking to me,” Anne said in his ear.
“No worries. Look babe I gotta go and get this job finished.”
As Robbie spoke his gaze was drawn to the half open kitchen door. Something about it just wouldn’t settle. He knew he’d checked there already but couldn’t remember the exact details. It was that annoying feeling of being in a table quiz and knowing the right answer is just over the edge of your brain’s horizon but can’t quite be seen.
“Everything alright?” Anne sounded concerned. “You’ve gone quiet.”
“Yeah. Ah just the sooner I start this the sooner I’ll be finished.”
“Cool. I love you sweetheart,” she paused. “And mind yourself, okay.”
“Mind myself? I’m a Dangerman darlin’. Danger is practically my middle name.” With a laugh he turned away from the kitchen.
“Well we’re not naming our bump after you then mister Roberto Danger Donovan.”
“Dangerman Donovan. You’ve got to admit there’s a certain ring to it.”
“Oh there’s something ringing alright,” Anne laughed. “Alarm bells. Right, I’d better get rolling too and leave you to it. Love you.”
“Love you too,” Robbie hung up and stepped into the living room. “Anything you need me to do in here?”
“No, we’re pretty much ready to go,” Brian, decked out now in heavy, grey work overalls, was standing by the dark blotch, drawing symbols in white chalk on the wall around it. He seemed at ease but Robbie could tell he was keeping a safe distance. Brian pointed at the mini-engine. “You want to get that generator going and then suiting up, so we can numb this thing, get the job done. The rest of the house clear?”
“Yep,” Robbie replied kicking off his boots and stepping into overalls. They then
set about the final preparations for the Purge. Brian moved back from the now rapidly pulsating stain and inspected his handiwork. The wall was decorated with four triangular markings set out in a rough rectangle and linked by a series of arching lines.
“You know when I was first partnered up with you I thought those were magical markings, like runes or something,” Robbie laughed.
“No chance, it’s all just math, but that’s like witchcraft to some I suppose,” Brian chuckled. “Basically we need keep the demon between these lines to maintain the structural integrity of the house. I certainly don’t want this heap falling down around me. The price of these places we’d want to be reincarnated as golden geese just to make the repayments.”
There was a faint hum as the stain pulsed, bubbled outwards like a balloon filling and then, without bursting, retracted again. Robbie stepped closer to it, his eyes focused, mind reaching outward, probing, trying to get a reading. The stain began pulsating faster and faster, like an increasing heartbeat.
“What’re you getting?” Brian asked quietly.
“Nothing special. Fairly low level demon. It’ll mostly be basic animal survival instincts we’ll be fighting against. It’s still sleeping which is good.”
“Probably wandered through a breach, maybe down along the canal somewhere, and then got lost in our world,” Brian indicated with a booted foot at the pile of small bones and webs and hair on the ground. “I’d say it made a nice dinner of that Jack Russell we saw on the poster outside. Poor Mr Sparky won’t be going home anytime soon. Likely it crawled in here looking for someplace to snooze, latched onto the wall and the cold caused it to hibernate. Pure chance that the routine sweep found it before it woke up.”
Robbie grunted in agreement, “weird looking thing isn’t it? Reminds me of a black beetle.”
The outer shell was slick and moist but surprisingly hard despite the constant expansion and compression.
“The Near Edges are a pretty dangerous place according to anyone I know that’s been down that way. Reckon these lads must have developed a tough outer skin so they don’t get eaten by any of the bigger nasties wandering about. Won’t stop it from getting burned up though. You Purged one of these before?”
“Yeah once, with Hilary on burner duty. It wasn’t this big though. Thank God it’s hibernating. They’re terrors to deal with when awake. That last one pushed psychic backlash in a real primal way. Gave me a headache for a week. It was like chewing tinfoil fighting it,” he rubbed the back of his neck. “Anyway, we good to go?”
“I reckon so. Best of luck man. No more talking from here on out,” Brian shoved in ear plugs, pulled the hood of his overalls up and fixed a blank facemask in place. It had neither mouth nor eye-holes and the edges of the hood adhered smoothly to the mask giving the whole a shapeless, liquid appearance. The only parts of Brian left exposed were his hands.
Robbie popped in his own ear-plugs and flicked a switch on the mini-engine. Immediately a deep, booming rumble filled the room like a herd of motorbikes coming over the horizon. It was designed purposefully to be as loud as possible, the whole point being to cover the screams of dying demons from prying ears and even through the plugs Robbie could hear it. The vibrations knocking in his chest were a mix of that rumbling bass and the anticipatory nervousness which came before every job.
“Cry all you want now little buddy,” he said sotto voice fitting his mask in place.
Similarly decked out to Brian the only differences in Robbie’s outfit were the gloves and that from the forehead of his mask a thin wire spooled, like a butterfly’s tongue. The end was coated with a sticky substance which made him think of thread topped off with chewing gum. Robbie flicked this cable and it stuck where it struck, adhering tightly to the demon’s black carapace. Immediately the creature on the wall wailed, a skittering, chirping noise that reached a crescendo and descended to a moan like the sound of a child groaning in its sleep.
Robbie sat himself down in the lotus position and let his energy flow through the wire and onwards to the thing on the wall. The creature moved, rippled, the surface visibly shuddering then cracking. It split open along this new seam, like a beetle’s shell, the sides spreading but instead of wings as they pulled apart a dark, fleshy centre was exposed. Brian stepped forward, lightly shaking his hands as if they were cold, then when he was three feet from the creature he stopped. He flicked his wrists like a magician preparing for a trick and from his palms a gentle flame licked. It dripped down his long, thin fingers and then, with a directed swish he threw the steady stream onto the creature’s prone flesh. As flames poured into the thing on the wall from Brian’s hands it screamed, higher on the astral plane than in the physical world. Robbie shuddered.
“It’s okay, it’s okay, I got it,” he muttered.
Behind the mask he felt sweat breaking out, prickling his scalp uncomfortably. Convincing himself it was from the heat of Brian’s assault Robbie maintained the mind-meld. As his partner worked, burning it up, Robbie kept the creature as close to numb as he could, stopping it from lashing out. The demon squirmed and fought to push itself awake, to disengage itself from the wall as the temperature rose, as it burned up, but Robbie’s assault was like a pillow over the face.
Slowly, from out of the crack a thick tendril reached, like an arm poking from tar. It slid through the air, extending slowly, dripping with bodily juices and touched the wire at the half-way point between itself and Robbie. For a few seconds it looked like the demon’s tentacle tip was curling around the wire, getting ready to tug, when from out of the shell the rest of it fell with a splat onto the ground where it exploded like a tomato dropped from on high. The tip of the tendril hung on for a moment before unravelling and falling limply to splash among the other remains.
Robbie felt the creature dying and then there was nothing. No final scream, no subdued kicking as it lashed out in the final throes, just the residual heat in the room when Brian extinguished his flames, the cooking smell of burned demon flesh and the roar of the generator. Brian flicked it off and the silence was sudden, like everything immediately became whole again, expanded out to full-size from what had been a tight focus.
Robbie lifted his mask and removed the ear-plugs to a buzzing like tinnitus. It wasn’t uncommon after a Purge. He looked over at Brian, his partner’s expression hidden behind the blankness. The noise persisted and Brian lifted a hand above his shoulder, closed fist with thumb and baby finger extended.
“Huh?” Robbie squinted.
The buzzing was… familiar.
Robbie’s eye’s snapped wide open as his brain caught up, blowing away the last fog of the mind-meld. His phone was ringing.
“Go for it, I’ve got this covered,” Brian said.
Robbie hauled himself up, hips and knees stiff like he’d just come in from a run, grabbed his phone from the table and pushed on into the hall. He didn’t recognise the number flashing on the screen.
“Hello?”
“Am I speaking to Mr Donovan?”
“Yes, what is it?” he asked. Suddenly an image of his pregnant wife flashed in his mind. “Oh God, is Anne okay?”
“Mr Donovan I’m…”
“What is it? Is she alright? Just tell me.”
“Oh, Mr Donovan, I’m not sure I…”
“Is it about Anne?” Robbie snapped. “Is everything okay?”
“Mr Donovan I’m calling from your bank,” the voice at the other end of the line said. “Is this a bad time?”
“What?”
“I’m from your bank, sir. This is a service call. Is now a bad time?”
Robbie shook his head, trying to make sense of it. Directly after a Purge he was always fragile and confused.
“What? I’m in work. Of course it’s a bad time.”
Cursing he thumbed the end button and took a deep breath. He leaned back against the banister, composing himself and felt a relived chill flow from his neck and shoulders, down until it seemed to pass out through his
feet.
“You’re jumpy as a cat on a trampoline today Robbie-my-lad,” he said aloud with a laugh.
He was about to renter the living room when a scraping noise from the kitchen caught his attention. Heart still racing he stopped. Tilted his head. Listened. There it was again, the sound of something… dragging?
Robbie sidled up to the door, toed it opened slightly and leaned carefully around so he could take a peek inside. There was a naked woman lying on the floor in front of the fridge. She was curled up on the black and white chequered tiles, hands around her heavily pregnant belly. She looked up at him, eyes wide, pleading.
“Help me.”
“Are you okay?” Robbie pushed the door open and moved towards her, kneeling down as he did.
“Help me please…” her voice was lost to sobs but her eyes, death black pools, never left him. Reaching up she touched soft fingers to Robbie’s outstretched hand and his body seemed to moved forward in space five inches ahead of itself. Something wrapped around his still exposed and sensitive mind. It squeezed and he sagged forwards, eyes rolling backwards, head lolling.
“Help me please,” she whispered, her breath ice blowing over Robbie’s fading consciousness. His shoulders shivered like he was falling to sleep. She loomed over him, purring softly, black eyes giving nothing.
In the living room Brian finished inspecting the wall above the fireplace to make sure all of the demon had been removed. Physically tired and mentally drained with the taste of burned meat on his tongue he looked around and noticed that Robbie hadn’t returned yet. Pulling the shock-stick from the work-bench the Dangerman prodded in amongst the slowly cooling chunks of brown-red mess, moving the ash and shell which still adhered to the fleshy remains of the creature around, looking for any signs of life.
“Insert witty action hero comment here,” Brian said stiffly. Content that the creature was fully dead he headed out into the hall after his partner. “Robbie? Everything okay buddy?”
The door to the kitchen was half-closed. There were noises coming from there that sounded nothing like one side of a telephone conversation.
“Robbie, everything alright?”
Kzine Issue 22 Page 5