Death's Dominion

by Simon Clark

  From the town came the tolling of a church bell. A melancholy sound that seemed to countdown the moments until their destruction. West appeared to feel the weight of her sense of doom. His eyes were grim as he scanned the desolate-looking town. Only Caitlin had a spring in her step. This could have been the return of the prodigal daughter. One who’d found riches in the outside world. Now she was going home to show off her acquisitions. So what’s your story, Caitlin? Why does a human being side with monsters? Why are you so upbeat? Those questions joined the swarm buzzing inside Elsa’s brain.

  When the four reached the bottom of the steps they followed the road that took them over the bridge to the main part of the town. Garbage rotted in the streets. A dead cat lay on the pavement – a bloated, puffball of ginger fur. In the daylight the houses presented an even more squalid face to the world. Tiles were missing. Windows cracked. Paint came from stucco walls like peeling scabs. Most of the stores were boarded up. Listless seagulls squatted on railings that ran along the harbour-side. And all the time the bell tolled from the hillside church. It tolls for thee … The toxic thought only served to darken Elsa’s mood.

  ‘What? No welcome party?’ West grunted. ‘I expected a warm reception.’

  Caitlin joined them so the three walked abreast behind Dominion as they entered the main street. ‘They’ve seen what Dominion can do,’ Caitlin told them with a glint in her eye. ‘They’re nothing but cowards. You watch, they’ll keep out of sight until he’s gone.’

  West shook his head. ‘I hope you’re right. Because if they decide to take an axe to us there’s not a lot we can do to stop them.’

  ‘So it’s true,’ Caitlin said, ‘You really aren’t allowed to harm us.’

  ‘That’s our law,’ Elsa responded. ‘We’re psychologically incapable of harming a human being; or allow harm to befall a human being through our action or inaction.’

  ‘So I could slap your face and you could do nothing?’

  That grunt of West’s again that was loaded with so much emotion. ‘Miss, I could advise you not to strike me lest you injure your hand in the process. Other than that …’ He shrugged.

  Caitlin laughed. Dear God, she enjoyed this. ‘And are you really like the monsters from the Frankenstein story? I mean, are you stitched together from dead bodies?’

  ‘No. The transition process only works on a complete individual who is deceased.’ West kept a wary eye on the surrounding alleyways. ‘We’re more like Lazarus. A whole body raised from the … you know what.’

  ‘And there are no lightning bolts involved,’ Elsa pointed out. ‘No hunchbacks in the tower, no grave-robbers, no neck-bolts. Any resemblance our existence shares with Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein is entirely coincidental.’

  ‘But in the eyes of human beings you’re still monsters.’

  ‘Monsters, God Scarers; there are plenty of names for us.’ Elsa shrugged. ‘When the first were brought back to life we were hailed miracles.’

  ‘From miracle to monster in forty years.’ West’s gaze roved over the soon-to-be ghost town. ‘That’s what I call a backward step.’

  Caitlin could barely stop herself from skipping along. ‘And you call human beings sapheads?’

  ‘Not officially,’ Elsa said.

  West added, ‘Saphead derived from Homo sapiens. It’s frowned on but lately we’ve tended to refer to you – well, to human beings as saps.’

  ‘Fucking bastards!’

  After the boy shouted, a bottle shattered on the road twenty paces from them. Dominion continued walking. He merely glanced in the direction of a boy running away along an alleyway.

  ‘Bastards.’ The child’s voice echoed back at them.

  ‘At least the kid’s got some spine,’ West murmured.

  From the hill the tolling of the church bell grew louder. The melancholic peals rang out across the harbour with its sad assembly of derelict ships. Draped over railings were seemingly acres of fishing nets. Clearly they hadn’t been used in years. All they caught now were scraps of windblown newspaper. When the four were just yards from the grocery store where Caitlin lived, an old woman appeared at an upstairs window of a cottage. She shook a fist that resembled a wizened plum.

  ‘Caitlin Jackson! You’re a wrong ’un. Ever since you were six years old and you threw bleach in that lad’s eyes I knew you’d be nothing but trouble, you little bitch.’ The woman’s voice cracked as it rose in volume, ‘Pregnant at fifteen! Thievin,’ breaking windows, runnin’ away from home. You drove your poor mother into an early grave. And we know the rest. All that dirty carrying on! You’ll be sorry …’

  Caitlin hissed, ‘Take no notice. She’s always been like that.’

  The woman’s voice rose until it screeched like a knife point dragged across a plate. ‘Now you run off with those things. Everyone knows what they’ve been doing to you. A real man won’t have anything to do with you now. You might as well be lying dead at the bottom of the sea. Corpse meat, that’s what you are, you—’

  Caitlin snapped, ‘What’s the matter, Mrs Wragg? Wake up with another hangover!’

  ‘You little bitch! Just you wait … We’ll settle you once and for all!’

  ‘Oh, yeah … like Mr Wragg wanted to stay with you? Whose bed is he sleeping in these days?’

  The old woman slammed the window shut.

  Elsa took a deep breath. ‘It might be wise to avoid confrontations, Caitlin.’

  ‘That woman makes me sick.’

  ‘We’re here for clothes and food; we don’t want to be provocative.’

  ‘It’s easy for you to be calm about it.’ Caitlin’s eyes glittered with rage. ‘Yes, I had a daughter when I was fifteen. But it was her son that did it – that was only after he got me blind drunk. What’s more he never even turned up the day I buried her. Chrissie’d been born with her heart all wrong. But she was a fighter. She lived two years after the doctor told me she wouldn’t last the week out. The night she died – it was right on the dot of midnight – I wanted to take her to that transit station of yours. They wouldn’t let me … even though I wanted her back so much I was …’ She used the heel of her hand to scrape away a tear. ‘Look. You wait here while I pack my bag.’ When she entered the shop she paused. ‘They’ve cleared out the place. You’ll have to get them to bring you food from somewhere else.’ With that she disappeared into the back of the building. Of her father there was no sign.

  Dominion stood on the pavement outside the store. The bell still tolled … a monotonous, one-note lament for the pathetic town. Fumes from blocked sewers floated in a miasma among the houses as if the place were possessed by a foul-smelling spirit. His sharp ears picked up snatches of conversation muttered behind the walls.

  ‘You know what that Jackson girl has let them creatures do to her?’

  ‘Even if her father is the mayor, he’ll have to get rid of her …’

  ‘… the big one with the dark skin and the yellow hair … that’s the one that broke Anthony’s arm.’

  ‘They say the best way to kill them is burn them. There’s plenty of lumber in the railway yard.’

  ‘Call in the army. That’s what Jackson should do …’

  ‘It’s the big one. He’s not like the rest. He’s got the Devil in him …’

  West had grown edgy as they waited. ‘We should go back to the castle. They might bring the food to us.’

  ‘No,’ Dominion told him. ‘They won’t offer anything. We’ll have to take it.’

  West shrugged. ‘Either the store’s been looted since you paid it a visit or they’ve emptied it out. So, where now?’

  ‘Most are in the church.’ Dominion gazed up at the stone building on the hill. ‘We’ll go there.’

  ‘What happens if they don’t want to play along.’

  ‘Their children’ll be there, too.’

  West gave a nervous whistle. ‘You really intend to go along with it? Drowning their newborns?’

  Dominion started walking. ‘They’ll l
earn. One way or the other.’

  Behind him West began to follow. Elsa hung back. ‘I’d best wait here for Caitlin.’

  West called back in a voice that would carry to Elsa but not the people skulking in their homes. ‘Elsa, if trouble starts don’t wait for her. Just head back up to the castle.’

  ‘Take care, Westie.’

  ‘Haven’t you noticed? I’m with the eighth wonder of the world. He’ll look after both of us.’

  Dominion heard the exchanges between the two but he made no comment. Forces were at work inside of him. He knew that now. Even though he could understand that his kind had laws that prohibited using force against humans there was a will-power that drove him, which refused to accept that. Overriding every notion of right and wrong was the single, overwhelming instinct to survive.

  Now, instinct drove him up through the graveyard toward the church with its endlessly tolling bell. The cemetery bore the scars of his recent handiwork. Tombstones lay toppled in the grass. He’d smashed the faces from stone cherubs. The marble angel still lay amid broken panels inside the store where he’d hurled it. Come to that, the burnt car still lay on its side with the cross protruding from its charred shell. His step became firmer as he surged through the unkempt field of bones. Acute senses merged with his imagination. In his mind’s eye he saw the reverberations of his footfalls pass through the layer of grass then down through six feet of soil to shake the bones of the dead of Scaur Ness. From the dainty skeleton of Caitlin’s baby to the hefty bone structures of fishermen who had fought the oceans for their livelihoods.

  WAKE UP … WAKE UP … WAKE UP …

  What would those hardworking men and women of centuries past make of the town today that was nothing but a shadow of its former self?

  West followed Dominion until he was twenty paces from the twin timber doors set in the bottom of the church tower. Dominion didn’t pause. As he walked he balled his fist, ready to pound on the door.

  Before he could reach the doors, they swung open to reveal a figure dressed in black. Dominion’s gaze swept over the man. He was aged around eighty. His cheeks were hollow and the face so gaunt that the veins in his forehead stood proud of the taut skin. The skin itself, an unhealthy yellow, was mottled with pale-brown marks. Dominion could smell the priest’s blood. It slowly turned poisonous inside of him.

  Dominion intended walking past the man into the body of the church where the congregation prayed. Row after row of hunched shoulders was all he could see as the soft throb of voices uttered their holy verse. When Dominion was no more than a yard away from the door the priest raised his hand.

  The priest spoke firmly. ‘I won’t allow you in there.’

  ‘The mayor is inside?’

  ‘He is. But this is a religious service. He nor my congregation are to be disturbed. I know who you are. And why you are here.’

  ‘Then move aside.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I warned them what would happen if they didn’t give me what I need.’

  The priest’s face hardened. ‘Yes, I heard about your threat. But I won’t permit you to intimidate me … what is more, you can’t hurt the part of me that is constant and incorruptible. Do you understand?’ Even though exhaustion was creeping into every cell of the holy man’s body he refused to back down. ‘Dominion, I’ve heard you’re not like the other transients. You’ll probably take pleasure in hurting me but let me tell you this: you are a blasphemy. When I see you I don’t see a big man; I see a corpse that has no soul. You’ve been made to walk and talk by a trick of science, that’s all. You’re an empty vessel. Nothing more. I pray that your soul is already with God. But you, standing there, are nothing but clay.’

  Dominion held eye-contact. ‘You are dying.’

  ‘No doubt your kind can see death in my eyes, can’t you?’

  ‘How long?’

  ‘I’ll live as long as God wants me to serve my parish.’

  ‘What does it feel like?’

  ‘Dying? You’ve experienced it, haven’t you? So, why ask me?’

  Dominion looked over the man’s shoulder. The occupants of the church kept their heads bowed. Above the altar, Christ on His cross gazed down. Taking a step back, Dominion said, ‘Tell Mayor Jackson I’ll keep my promise.’ In the congregation a mother held her baby to her breast as she prayed.

  ‘Before you do anything, Dominion, hear me out.’ The priest raised his hand again, almost but not quite touching Dominion’s chest where the bullets had punched through the fabric of his sweatshirt. ‘We’ve debated your demands. A car will deliver food and lamps to the Pharos this evening. Understand this, also, if you’re not gone in forty-eight hours the military will be informed of your whereabouts. There, you have my word that you will have your supplies by tonight. Now, leave us alone.’

  The priest’s eye-contact didn’t waver. After a moment he stepped back across the threshold of the church. The doors swung shut.

  ‘You’ve done it again.’ West sighed with relief. ‘You’ve got what you want.’ He took a step forward. ‘Dominion? What’s wrong?’

  When he didn’t reply, West moved closer. ‘Dominion? Anything the matter?’

  Dominion took a deep breath. ‘Look at me … I’m changing.’

  19

  White Hands

  ‘Hello.’ Elsa pushed open the door to the hallway. Behind her, the bare shelves of the store shared a barren symmetry with the rest of the town. ‘Caitlin? Hello?’

  When there was no reply Elsa moved into the rear quarters of the shop. A couple of storerooms stood nakedly empty, too. Right at the back of the building a kitchen with grubby appliances looked out on to a walled yard.

  ‘Caitlin? Are you packed yet?’ Maybe Caitlin’s bedroom is in the attic? That’s why she can’t hear me.

  After walking back along the passageway from the kitchen Elsa found the door to a staircase. Its carpet had seen more prosperous days. In the centre where the pile should be, years of passing feet had rubbed away the material to reveal the string backing.

  ‘It’s time we were going back to the castle,’ Elsa announced to thin air. ‘Have you changed your mind? Are you staying here?’

  At the top of the stairs a gloom-filled landing gave way to three closed doors. The first she opened revealed a double bed. Men’s shirts hung from a rail by the window. She crossed the landing to what must be a rear bedroom. When she opened it the first thing she heard was a shout.

  ‘Shit.’

  ‘One of the things followed her up here!’

  One glance told her the story. Three men were in the room. Their ages could have been anything from late twenties to thirties. Caitlin lay face down on the bed. A man with a red sweaty face had one knee pressed between her shoulder blades. One of his hands was clasped over her mouth. His right hand gripped her hair. Another man, this one with a goatee, held her by the wrists. Caitlin’s eyes were wide with fear. A third man stood with his back to the wall.

  ‘OK,’ he called to the others. ‘Leave her. Come on.’

  Red-face snapped, ‘Chicken.’

  ‘She doesn’t deserve this, Mel. Leave her alone.’

  Mel, the red-faced one, spat back, ‘Doesn’t deserve it? Christ, by the time I’ve finished with the bitch, she’ll never walk again.’ He tugged her hair so hard it lifted her head. Caitlin cried out in pain.

  The one with the goatee wore an expression of alarm. ‘Wait. What if that big bastard’s here. He’s not like the rest. He bust some guy’s arm last night.’

  ‘I don’t see him, do you?’

  ‘No, but—’

  ‘Then shut up, you spineless piece of uh … do that again and I’ll rip your hair out.’

  Caitlin stopped struggling.

  Elsa moved aside from the door. The stench of alcohol cut through her nostrils like a blade. This must be the coffin paint, that Caitlin mentioned. The liquor boiled up in backyard stills. She didn’t doubt its potency from the slurred speech of the men. The one called Me
l had a face that was redder than an over-ripe cherry, while his eyes were glazed with alcoholic madness.

  The one by the wall pleaded, ‘Come on Mel … we’ve got to get out of here.’

  ‘Wait until I’ve finished with Queen Caitlin here. Just because she’s the mayor’s daughter she thinks she’s royalty. She fucks around with these – these monsters. And what is this one anyway? Is that one of the uniforms that they wear in the transit station?’

  The other man started having second thoughts. ‘Maybe Karl’s right, Mel. Have you seen the size of the fucker who smashed up the town?’

  ‘These are God Scarers. You know what that means, Johnnie Boy? They can’t hurt humans like us.’

  ‘You slept through it last night, Mel. You were off your wallet! There’s this big God Scarer. He’s a giant. He set fire to a car, and when some guys tried to stop him—’

  Mel climbed off Caitlin. ‘You two,’ he pointed at his buddies. ‘Learn from a master.’ With that he swung a punch at Elsa. The blow rocked her backwards. From a sheath attached to his belt Mel drew a diver’s knife with an eight-inch blade.

  ‘Hold on, Mel.’ Karl held up his hand. ‘You don’t know what you’re getting into here.’

  ‘Listen, stupid. When the army blew up the transit station some monsters got away. Farmers’ve been rounding up these things, then burning them alive. No one cares anymore.’ Mel grabbed Elsa by the hair. ‘You’ve got to understand one thing … no … two things. Two things!’ His voice slurred; the stench of booze made Elsa gulp. ‘Two things, Johnnie Boy. Uno dos facts. One: these little darlings can’t fight back. They’re not allowed to hurt us. Two: the new government want us to destroy these mouldy bitches. They’re dead anyway. You wouldn’t leave a body lying in the street to rot, would you? ’S not hygienic.’