Archie's Battleflat Adventures: The Harriman Mystery

by King, Rebecca

  “I’m trying, but I can’t see a blessed thing,” Archie replied, feeling sweat pop out on his brow in spite of the coolness of the night air. He paused for a moment and glanced around them, but could barely see Edward standing behind him, let alone anyone else. They were surrounded by a black curtain of foliage and impenetrable darkness that was entirely menacing.

  “Neither can I.”

  Archie could feel Edward’s warm breath on his cheek; it was vaguely reassuring. He fought the urge to grab his friend’s hand. They stared at each other for a moment, each silently asking the other for a reason to turn around and head back home - to safety and warmth, but neither boy wanted to be the one to admit to weakness.

  So both, wisely – or unwisely, remained silent.

  “Let’s go,” Archie sighed dejectedly several moments later. He should really be relieved that Edward was willing to go along with him, and had no reason to feel dejected at all, but a growing sense of unease began to settle over him. With each passing step, foreboding became his companion to the point that he had to keep glancing over his shoulder to assure himself that Edward was still with him.

  Edward lapsed into uncomfortable silence.

  “Oh Lord,” he whispered, several tense moments later when they approached the edge of the trees.

  There, in front of them, nestled in a small glade on the outskirts of the village, lay Mr Harriman’s ramshackle old cottage. To call it a cottage was being generous, to say the least. It was more of a hovel.

  It was one of the oldest houses in the village. Some say, it was the first house that was built in the area, and Archie could see why. It didn’t look too bad from a distant, old and rather quaint. Up close? It reminded Archie of an old woman. Bent and crooked walls bespoke an undefinable age that hinted at a timeless fragility. The door looked as though it had been made for someone else’s house and had been tacked onto the front of this one by someone who didn’t care whether it worked or not. The roof, such as it was, had been thrown together and looked like a flat cap of straw that could blow away at any given moment.

  But it was the windows that called to Archie’s imagination. One small square on either side of the front – and only – door, looked like eyes.

  “Do you really want to go in there?” Edward gasped, staring in horror at the ruins before them. “You must be mad!”

  Archie could feel, rather than see Edward backing away. Afraid his friend was going to run in fright, Archie spun around and grabbed the front of Edward’s shirt.

  “Don’t be stupid. It is only Mr Harriman’s house. It is just the darkness that is making it look like a face.” His voice was harsh in the night air, and had the desired effect upon his friend. Well, sort of. Archie paused briefly. He really hadn’t wanted to tell Edward that he thought the house looked like a face, but he could see Edward studying it carefully, clearly trying to make up his own mind.

  Archie knew that his friend agreed with the description when his lips twisted and he shook his head.

  “Oh God,” he repeated. “Do you think it is going to eat us?”

  Archie rolled his eyes, relieved to have at least some of the fear ease, if only for a little while.

  “I think we are going to get colds if we stay out here too long,” Archie growled, turning around. He began to make his way down the path toward the cottage door, his hand grasping Edward’s shirt firmly. Although he would never admit it to anyone, it helped his nerves considerably to be able to touch someone else – even if it was with a fistful of shirt. He silently noted that Edward didn’t protest at the contact, and was very glad for it.

  With their eyes firmly locked on the dark nose that was the door, both boys stumbled toward the empty house.

  “What do we do if someone is at home?” Archie gasped, his heart hammering in his ears.

  “I don’t know, you can tell me when you get home, because I can promise you one thing, Archie my boy, I will certainly be there before you will,” Edward declared fervently.

  Archie heard his swallow, and smothered a guffaw at Edward’s attempt at humour. The contradiction that Archie could run faster than his friend hovered on Archie’s lips but remained unspoken as they approached the door. Once there, Edward lifted the iron latch free of its holder. The door swung silently inward.

  Archie frowned. “For an old door, it certainly swings well.”

  “What were you expecting?”

  “I’m not sure, but it seems really solid given the condition of the rest of the place,” Archie whispered, peering tentatively inside the cold and unwelcoming house.

  “Should we go in?” Edward’s voice quivered in his ear.

  “We can’t search it otherwise.”

  “You first.”

  “How did I know you were going to say that?” Archie shook his head. He was loath to acknowledge that his heart was hammering madly in his ears, and resolutely crept forward, Edward on his tails.

  Once inside, the heavy thump of the door behind them made Edward squeak in fear.

  “You sound like a girl,” Archie scolded.

  “I do not!”

  Phah! “Yes, you do. Girls squeal like that,” he added. Humour helped him deal with the fear. His hope that Edward would continue the useless and distracting conversation were soundly quashed at his next words.

  “Lord, this is dark,” Edward whispered, staring at the small square room. Although there were no curtains at the window, the moonlight had long since lost its battle for supremacy, and had surrendered everything to almost complete darkness.

  “I’ll start over here,” Archie said, pointing to the opposite side of room. “You start over here, and work your way toward the hearth. We will meet at the fireplace.”

  “What am I looking for?”

  Edward didn’t see Archie’s shrug. “Any small bits of paper that could be the other half of the map, or anything that looks like it could have been used to make that coin thing we have.”

  “Do you think it is a coin?”

  Archie sighed. “I haven’t seen too many coins to be sure, but it looks like a penny, although not completely finished.”

  Silence settled between them for several moments, as both boys patted their way around the room.

  “Found anything yet?”

  “Yuk! I am suddenly glad it is very dark,” Edward sighed morosely.

  “Why?”

  “Because I cannot see what has just crawled up my left leg.”

  Archie laughed, and wiped his grimy fingers on his trousers. “Not much good at cleaning stuff was he, our Mr Harriman?”

  “He’s not my Mr Harriman,” Edward whispered. “He’s not really Mr Harriman at all anymore.”

  Archie stepped forward and paused, staring out of the window beside Edward thoughtfully for several moments.

  “What?”

  Edward asked, when he realised Archie’s side of the room had gone quiet. “Have you found something?”

  “I thought I saw something,” Archie replied, nodding toward the window. “Outside.”

  “What?” Edward couldn’t see the hand of warning Archie held up to him, and spun around to peer out into the night. “Who?”

  “I am not sure, it could have been the trees outside. Hurry up, let’s get out of here.”

  Within minutes both boys were standing before the large hearth that dominated the far end of the room. As far as they could tell, it hadn’t been swept in quite some time, but freshly cut logs sat alongside. The familiar scent of yew and oak hung in the air; a teasing memory of home and warmth.

  “There is nothing on the other side of the room. Only an old, rickety table that has nothing but a plate and bowl that had some gunk left in it. There’s some coats and things hanging up on the pegs beside the door, but nothing in the pockets,” Edward reported, his voice dipped low despite the boys being the only ones in the cottage.

  “There was nothing but a chair with nothing on it, and a dresser on my side, but nothing on the dresser. It’s too
dark to see inside it,” Archie replied with a frown.

  “Let’s go.” Dejection laced Edward’s voice. Despite the fear that had gripped him ever since he had left Archie’s house, he had hoped they would be able to find something that would mean their adventure would be able to continue. The strength of the disappointment he felt at not finding anything, and the thought of the adventure ending, surprised him. He glanced at his friend, who was staring into space with a thoughtful frown on his face.

  “What?”

  Archie stared down at his feet and rocked forward once more. He glanced at Edward, unsure whether it was his imagination. He rocked his booted foot once more, convinced more than ever that his first impressions had been right.

  The floor under his foot was moving.

  Squatting down, he moved his boot and patted the floor. The soft chink of the tile as it moved against the surrounding tiles was all the confirmation he needed.

  “Do we have a light or something?”

  “There was a candle over on the table, but it was pretty burned down and there isn’t a spill to light it with.”

  Archie wrinkled his nose up, frustrated more than ever at his inability to see much. A sense of urgency swept through him, making him clumsy as his fingers tapped the loose tiles.

  There were three of them, all in a straight line. By running his fingers along the edge of the tile, Archie found a small ridge that was enough to poke his little finger into. The tile lifted.

  “Do you see if there is anything under it?” Archie whispered.

  “It looks as though there is some cloth or something,” Edward replied, pulling up the second tile which gave way without hesitation. The third was dispatched by Archie, who watched as Edward lifted a small wrapped bundle out of the ground.

  “No!” Archie ordered, placing a hand on the bundle Edward had begun to open. “Let’s get it back to my house where we can light a candle and take a look at it properly.” His eyes met and held Edward’s, and he could see the silent question in his friend’s gaze. “If something falls out on this floor we will be lucky to find it again, and I don’t know about you but I want to get home.”

  The memory of the coin falling from Mr Harriman’s death grip the night before was enough to convince Edward, who stuffed it down his shirt while Archie carefully replaced the tiles.

  “Wait!” Edward gasped, grabbing Archie painfully by the shoulder. The panic in his voice was enough to make Archie jump, and he turned wide, horror-filled eyes toward the window just in time to see the black mass flicker past.

  Someone was outside.

  Someone tall and dressed in black.

  “Do you think –” Whatever else Edward had been about to say was cut off by Archie’s hand as it clamped over his lips. Archie dragged Edward across to the wall on the opposite side of the window. Their eyes were glued to the door as it slowly swung inward.

  Was it Archie’s dad? Had he woken, found both boys missing and decided to look for them at Mr Harriman’s house?

  Or was this someone else?

  Whoever it was, they moved stealthily. The door swung silently inward. For one horrifying moment, the doorway was almost full with the towering presence of the man in black. The tall, broad shouldered figure was heavily garbed in a long, flowing cloak that was blacker than the night.

  Archie’s stomach dropped to his knees and he began to tremble. He knew without seeing the gnarled face and yellow teeth, that the new arrival was the man who had murdered Mr Harriman. He was suddenly very sorry that he had involved his friend, Edward, in this whole thing. Now matters had turned very serious, and very dangerous, he suddenly wished he hadn’t gotten himself involved in any of it.

  They watched the figure slowly enter the house, and be swallowed by the inky blackness as the door closed behind him. Archie’s heart began to pound until he was certain that the murderer could hear it. He closed his eyes and began to pray, only then he found himself afraid to open his eyes in case the murderer appeared in front of him. As long as the intruder walked across the middle or the far side of the cottage, they had a chance. If he walked directly in front of them, both boys would be caught, especially if the moon chose that moment to make a valiant attempt at reappearance.

  Sweat began to pop out on Archie’s brow.

  His knees began to buckle, every sense locked onto the heavy footfall of the man’s boots as he moved away from the door. Archie wasn’t sure he wouldn’t have preferred the man to stay before the door, at least then he couldn’t be seen. Archie wasn’t sure what was worse, listening to the heavy footsteps, or seeing the tall, black shape move across the cottage mere feet from them.

  He felt rather than saw Edward jump when Archie clamped a hand on Edward’s wrist. They couldn’t risk whispering. Although it was windy outside, it wasn’t enough to hide any noise they made, so instead Archie could only hope that Edward would understand and not hesitate.

  While the figure was making his way toward the hearth, Archie bent down, dragging Edward with him as he tiptoed toward the door. Standing within the shadows, he could only hope that they were swallowed by the darkness, just as effectively as the man had been moments earlier. Both boys knew that they wouldn’t be able to open the door and leave without being seen. As soon as the door opened, they would have to run for it.

  With one hand wrapped firmly around Edward’s wrist, Archie lifted a hand to the latch on the door, his gaze locked on the dark shape as it began to make its way around the cottage. It was clear from the furtive movements that the man was also searching the small room, presumably for the packet Edward now carried. It was imperative that they keep it safe. The words hung in Archie’s throat and he wished he could caution his friend.

  Lifting the latch silently was easy enough. With urgency clawing at him, Archie swung the door inward, not waiting until it was completely open before slamming it back against the wall and lurching after Edward. Together both boys broke out of the house at a fast run. The loud banging of the door behind them rang in their ears and was abruptly followed by a loud curse and another slamming of the door as the intruder followed.

  “Run! Don’t stop,” Archie gasped, pushing Edward ahead of him.

  Although the man’s legs were longer, Archie and Edward were quicker. Fear nipped at their heels as they were swallowed once again by the ink blackness of the forest. Twigs crackled and popped beneath their boots; crinkly leaves rustled and crunched as they sped in the general direction of home. With the winds echoing hollowly around them, it was impossible to tell if they were being followed. Archie couldn’t hear the heavy thump of booted feet behind him, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t there.

  Memories of that fateful afternoon of Mr Harriman’s murder ran strongly in his mind. But unlike last time, he wasn’t alone. Edward was with him, and it was the familiar sight of his friend’s back that stopped Archie from pausing briefly to sneak a quick peek over his shoulder. He couldn’t risk losing sight of Edward in the darkness. How Edward was managing to find his way, he couldn’t be entirely sure, but he was certainly very glad that he was following and not leading.

  “Come ‘ere!” The low growl was all too close to Archie, who gasped and turned fear-filled eyes on his friend.

  “Run, Edward!” Archie yelled, watching as Edward slowed enough to glance behind him. The horror on Edward’s face was all that Archie needed to know that the man was close behind him – very close behind him. Lengthening his stride, Archie dodged around a tree. If he could use the trees to distract the murderer from Edward, his friend could find his way back to Archie’s house and safety. Hopefully he would alert Archie’s dad, who would come in search of him. Until then, Archie just had to stay alive. Again, the memory of Mr Harriman’s mottled face as he lay dying swam before Archie’s vision, and made his jaw clench in determination not to become the murderer’s next victim.

  Archie didn’t need to slow down. He could hear the man’s laboured breathing. Jumping over a fallen log, he ignored the sharp
stab of pain in his ankle and dodged and wove his way around the thick trees. He had lost sight of Edward and could only hope that he was on his way home and hadn’t fallen over any of the gnarled tree roots that seemed to litter the forest floor. Within seconds, Archie was involved in the chase of his life.

  It was one of those twisted and tangled roots that proved to be Archie’s downfall.

  CHAPTER NINE

  When Archie thought about it later, it all felt as though everything had happened at half speed. One minute he had been running through the woods, heading toward home and the next, his foot was caught on something large and unyielding that lay on the floor. He landed with a heavy thump that took the breath from his body.

  He lay in stunned silence on the floor for a moment, his heart beating a heavy tattoo in his ears as he waited for the long, cruel fingers that would crush the life from his body. The heavy footsteps of his attacker shook the ground beneath him, but no fingers clamped around his throat. No cruel hands encircled his neck, ready to hand him ruthlessly over to death’s waiting arms.

  How long Archie lay there, he wasn’t sure. It was only when the cold of the ground beneath him began to seep into his chilled flesh, and silence had settled that Archie dared take a peek around him. He was certain that when he opened his eyes, he would be staring into the gnarled face of the murderer and almost wept with relief when all he could see was the dark shadows of the tree trunks beneath the thick canopy of leaves and branches as they swirled and collided high above.

  Lifting his head, he peered around him cautiously.

  A scream locked in his throat.

  His stomach churned. His mind wouldn’t focus. He couldn’t think about anything other than the blank eyes staring back at him.

  The dark and empty eyes of Mrs Humble.

  That one look was all it took. In the blink of an eye, Archie lurched to his feet and ran. Darting around trees this way and that, he grew increasingly disorientated until he wasn’t certain if he was running in the right direction or not. He tried to listen for anyone following but couldn’t make anything out except for the heavy thumping of his heart and the rustling of the trees around him. Carrying the spectre of death on his shoulder, Archie locked onto the blessed thought of home, and the safety it offered. Suddenly, the adventure didn’t seem such an exciting prospect, and he wished he hadn’t over-ridden Edward’s worries and insisted they head out into the night.