Oddjobs 5: The Long Bad Friday

by Heide Goody

  Pupfish was at the door first and held it as Nina stumbled after him.

  Stonework shifted and a tangled bird’s nest of black lines swept out. Nina held out a hand to ward it off.

  * * *

  “—in last time,” Nina said.

  She was standing in a great big church. Stone columns, stained glass, a lot of shiny iconography over by the altar. Mrs Vivian Grey stood beside her, in the flesh. The woman looked like she had lost a lot of weight. And an arm. But the fiery glint in her eyes had not dimmed.

  There was also a girl standing there. She was wearing a baggy tracksuit and holding Steve the Destroyer. Nina clocked the mass of ginger hair.

  “This is Morag’s baby girl?” she said, surprised.

  The girl smiled. “I’m Prudence. You’re Nina Seth. Vivian says I’m almost as big as you.”

  “I don’t know about that,” said Nina, bewildered. “Where are we?”

  “St Chad’s Cathedral,” said Vivian.

  “Rod’s not here?”

  “No.”

  The Venislarn that had touched her, Yo Khazpapalanaka, was a god of time, Nina thought. These were events that were yet to happen. She would be here at some point soon.

  “Right,” she said. “Um, I’m not Catholic, so where is this exactly? Like, I might need directions.”

  “But you’re already here,” said Prudence. “Surely, you know.”

  It sounded stupid, but Nina said, “I’m coming from the Old Contemptibles pub, on…?”

  “Edmund Street,” Vivian cut in. “You’re really very close. You just need to walk away from the city centre towards the A38. Turn right, keep going. The cathedral is the huge red building on the other side of the road.”

  Nina nodded. “Thanks.” She couldn’t yet handle the feeling it would only be a matter of time before she’d find Vivian again. She fizzed with excitement. “That’s great, I think we’re—”

  * * *

  Nina came back to herself in the rubble-strewn street, halfway through a scream. The swirl of black lines tumbled up and away from her.

  “Have you been hit?” Rod called. “Have you been hit?”

  Nina held onto the edges of the door. “The cathedral.”

  “What?” said Rod.

  “That was Yo Khazpapalanaka. Got to go to the cathedral.”

  “Morgantus is just there! We’re pursuing.”

  Nina shut the door in Yang’s face. “We’ll meet you there.”

  “Where?” said Rod.

  “The cathedral.” She slapped Pupfish’s arm. “This way.”

  “We not going with them?”

  “We’re there before them,” said Nina.

  “What?”

  She hurried along the road in what she guessed was the straightest route back to the pub. The armoured vehicle’s throttle grumbled and Rod set forward at an angle, in pursuit of Morgantus.

  Nina held her hand to her ear as she ran. “Steve. Ready the donkeys. We’re going to St Chad’s.”

  “You hear that, you walking corpse?” Steve said. “We’re moving out! I don’t know if we’re bringing the bag of nuts with us. I’ll ask her.”

  “Just get outside,” said Nina.

  10:11am

  Rod noted that, for a mass of flesh, Yo-Morgantus had a surprisingly high turn of speed.

  The Warrior had a powerful engine, and a four-speed automatic gearbox, so it could keep up with the fastest tanks on the battlefield. Yet Rod was having trouble maintaining pace with Yo-Morgantus. Rod had had experience of racing against blob monsters. He’d been pursued through abandoned railway tunnels by the monster, Crippen-Ai. But where Crippen-Ai was all brain and muscle, Morgantus, fatty, tumorous and scabby, had none of its sleekness.

  The Warrior rode up and over piles of rubble and skidded through water, slime and alien tar stuff.

  “I can’t get – a decent shot if – you’re bumping up and down all the – time,” complained Yang from the turret gunner position.

  “Keep three sixty vision,” Rod replied. “We’re making a target of ourselves.”

  “I’m watching,” said Yang.

  She let off a couple of rounds. The thirty-mil autocannon on the turret took six rounds in the magazine. Rounds of that calibre could pierce vehicle armour and concrete defences. These were UK Army rounds, not Forward Company’s Venislarn killers, but a high-explosive shot at Morgantus should nonetheless rip a hole straight through him.

  The remains of a statue told Rod they were at the top of New Street and heading towards Centenary Square. “He’s definitely after something,” he said.

  He looked in his rear-view. The madness in the sky made him want to vomit. Fire tornadoes cut a curtain across the area behind them.

  “Wind creatures behind us,” he called to Yang.

  “I can’t shoot wind,” Yang pointed out. “Crap. Trees.”

  “Where?”

  A thing that might have been a mighty oak, stepped out from between rock piles. For a mighty English oak, it didn’t look all that friendly. Fat roots shot through the ground beneath them, wriggling with the speed of water snakes. Something momentarily gripped the underside of their vehicle, then noisily broke away.

  Smaller sapling trees came cascading down, planting themselves in the earth like fired arrows. They scored marks along the side of the vehicle, clawing at it with their leafy branches.

  “I am not being killed by a living tree,” said Rod. “I’d never live it down.”

  “All trees are alive,” said Yang and blasted at the oak tree.

  “You know what I mean,” he grunted.

  Morgantus was disappearing over the brow of the hill. Rod concentrated on giving chase.

  * * *

  Steve waited on the pavement with the donkeys as instructed.

  Nina ran toward him. “That way. That way,” she said, pointing down to where the dual-carriageway had once stood.

  Pupfish was bringing up the rear, sporadically firing.

  “What’s the urgency, gobbet?” said Steve, atop Donk’s head.

  “I know where Vivian is.” She looked about them. “Is the King in Crimson here? Now?”

  Steve pointed. “The creature likes to think he’s a silent observer. But he prattles too much for that!” Steve slid a foil packet of peanuts to Nina across the donkey’s brow. Donk shook his head irritably, but Steve held on with ease.

  “I can’t open them,” he said. “I don’t have the fingers.”

  Pupfish unleashed a final round and backed towards them. “Ggh! Dendooshi in the Snow Hill station building,” he said. “Reckon it’s that gang who followed us in Sutton.”

  “Why would it be the same dendooshi?” said Nina.

  “Train station,” said Pupfish.

  “You think they caught the train? They’re wolf creatures. They don’t do public transport.”

  “You don’t understand how gangs work.”

  “It’s called a pack. They don’t do trains.”

  Donk, Dink and Duncan moved warily out of the semi-shelter of the pub building.

  When they reached the dual carriageway, Steve said, “This skeletal godling wants to know where Rod is,” then snapped. “No, I am not your messenger boy! I will ram this pencil in what’s left of your internal organs!”

  Nina didn’t have an answer, so said nothing.

  * * *

  Yo-Morgantus sprinted to the twisted ruin of the Library of Birmingham. He threw out pseudo-limbs and scraped at the buried steel and loose concrete.

  Fear had focused him solely on the mission, and Morag felt his thoughts and senses without the filter of his conscious mind. She was pinned within him, unable to move, breathing only what he granted her. She would have screamed, but there was no space to scream into.

  Morgantus pulled at the ruin, digging in search of answers. He wanted to unearth Vivian Grey and her Bloody Big Book. Morag didn’t yet understand what threat they represented, but it was very real to Morgantus.

 
; He had shared his fearful thoughts with any Venislarn who came near, and word had spread. Flying titans scoured from above. Scurrying earth creatures pored over the landscape. Things that could not be defined in relation to this physical world did … whatever it was they were doing.

  The battered army vehicle that had followed them from New Street Station scrambled up into the civic square.

  In all the chaos, a buzzing Tud-burzu wobbled in and latched itself onto Morgantus. Morgantus drank its memories. In a rush, Morag saw them.

  A building, a smashed window and a large interior space. There were two figures (indistinguishable in the Tud-burzu’s mind but as clear as anything to Morag).

  “Inside the circle, Prudence,” instructed Vivian.

  Morag felt a lurch of joy and anguish at the sight of her daughter, hastening inside the occult circle sketched on the ground.

  The Tud-burzu dived at them but was deflected, losing its hort’ech rider in the process. It bounced away and fled to the window.

  Morgantus disengaged and prodded Morag for information. She tried to hold back but it was not a matter of choice. Vivian and Prudence were in St Chad’s Cathedral. Morag knew it, so Morgantus knew it.

  Yo-Morgantus relinquished his fruitless search of the Library and set off in a new direction.

  * * *

  “Enemy is changing direction,” shouted Rod and threw the Warrior into as hard a turn as it could manage. The tracked vehicle crunched through rubble and swung round the square to follow Yo-Morgantus as he set off in a new direction.

  “Hostile at six o’clock,” said Yang from her gunner position just behind Rod.

  The girl was a fearless fighter and a canny marksman. He didn’t know whether to be impressed or concerned about such skills in so innocent a body.

  “Details?” he said and looked to his rear-view.

  “We’re being chased by my grandma.”

  Grandma? he thought. He looked momentarily at the young mammonite and rechecked his rear-view.

  Yoth Mammon, a mouth of questing gums and razor-sharp teeth, so large it could block out the sun, was bearing down from behind. He floored the accelerator.

  “Piss off, granny!” yelled Yang and fired a full magazine of six shells on full auto.

  Rod followed Yo-Morgantus down a stony slope from the square and onto the old dual carriageway, hot in pursuit and hotly pursued.

  10:24am

  Even after every human had been killed and all humanity’s traffic had stopped, crossing the road was still difficult. Nina, Steve, the invisible King in Crimson and their tiny train of donkeys had to search for a break in the concrete divider running up the A38 dual carriageway so they could cross to St Chad’s. A miserable pack of hungry dendooshi tried to attack them while they were crossing, but Nina’s wand blasts and some wild firing from Pupfish sent them scattering.

  Donk did not need any encouragement to get up the steps to the main doors. Nina pushed the door open with her back and the group passed through.

  The interior of the Roman Catholic cathedral seemed remarkably unscathed. There were a few knocked over pews, and bits of fallen glass and masonry, but it was nothing that a good half hour with a broom couldn’t sort out. Halfway down the aisle and off to the side, Vivian Grey had set out her space to sit in, surrounded by a circle of magical protection. Nina hurried forward.

  “Steve!” yelled the pre-teen girl next to Vivian, and ran forward. She had a distinctive mop of red hair.

  “Greetings, mortal!” yelled Steve in reply. He slid down Donk’s nose and dashed to meet her.

  Vivian reluctantly put down her pen and turned to face Nina.

  “We did it!” said Nina. She couldn’t help the manic grin on her face. “We got the donkey and we found you.”

  “Nina,” acknowledged Vivian. “Michael,” she said to Pupfish. “I was expecting you.” She gestured to the Bloody Big Book on the table. “It was written.”

  Nina ignored the lacklustre greeting and wrapped her arms around the older woman’s bony frame, hugging her tightly. “You were dead. And then you were in hell. And I knew we could bring you back somehow.”

  Vivian wriggled uncomfortably and extricated herself from the loving grip. “Yes. You missed me. It’s understandable.”

  Nina should have been offended by Vivian’s coldness, but she could only shake her head in delight and laugh. She turned to see the girl holding Steve up, the two of them hurriedly sharing stories. Prudence’s mouth widened in a toothy smile when Steve told her that Yang was still alive.

  “This is—” began Nina, then stopped herself. “Hang on. This is where I came in last time.” She tried to remember what she’d seen and said in the future memory Yo Khazpapalanaka had dumped on her. “This is Morag’s baby girl?” she recited, gesturing in her best approximation of surprise.

  “I’m Prudence,” said the girl. “You’re Nina Seth. Vivian says I’m almost as big as you.”

  “I don’t know about that.” Nina held up her arms and looked round, making sure she gave herself (and her memories) a good look at the place. “Where are we?”

  “St Chad’s Cathedral,” said Vivian.

  “Rod’s not here?”

  “No.”

  “Right. Um, I’m not Catholic, so where is this exactly? Like, I might need directions.”

  “But you’re already here,” said Prudence. “Surely, you know.”

  Vivian waved the girl to be quiet.

  “I’m coming from the Old Contemptibles pub,” said Nina, “on…?”

  “Edmund Street,” said Vivian. “You’re really very close. You just need to walk away from the city centre towards the A38. Turn right and keep going. The cathedral is the huge red building on the other side of the road.”

  Nina nodded. “Thanks.” She gazed around, trying to recall how long the memory had lasted. “That’s great. I think we’re clear.”

  Prudence was looking at her like she was mad.

  “I just had to send a message back in time to myself,” explained Nina. She tugged at her Georgian coat. “I’m a time traveller, you know. Like Doctor Who?”

  “Who?”

  “That’s the one. And—” she said with as much razzamatazz as she could muster, throwing in some jazz hands, “—I’ve brought you your donkey!”

  She stepped aside to present Donk.

  Vivian sighed heavily. It must have been an emotional moment for her. Here, at the end of the world, to be reunited with her husband. Donk batted his big donkey eyelashes and stepped side to side in nervous anticipation. Vivian cupped his white bristly chin in her one hand and brought her face close to look him in the eye. It was a love that transcended boundaries – Romeo and Juliet, Beauty and the Beast, Shrek and Fiona—

  “This isn’t him,” said Vivian.

  “What?”

  “It’s not Mr Grey.”

  This was not right. This was not how things should be. Rather than confusion, Nina felt anger. “Are you sure?”

  “I think I know what my husband looks like.”

  “The Hath-No fury is married to a beast of burden!” laughed Steve.

  “Okay, okay, okay,” said Nina, determined to salvage the situation. “Then maybe it’s this one…” She drew Vivian down the line to Dink.

  “Definitely not,” said Vivian. “Wrong colouring entirely.”

  “No. Okay, okay. Then, maybe our friend Duncan here…” Anger giving way to a frantic desperation, Nina pulled her towards the third donkey.

  Vivian looked. “Ah.”

  “Ah? Ah, as in ‘Ah, yes, that’s him’ or ah as in ‘Ah, you’ve fucked up again, Nina’? Which is it?”

  Vivian took his muzzle in her hand. Duncan the donkey snorted and pressed against her.

  “This is him,” she said, quietly.

  “It is? Oh, that’s an adn-bhul relief! Hoo!” She felt the sickening adrenaline rush through her. “Of course, it is. I was just building up the suspense!”

  “Were you?” said Pu
pfish.

  “Course I was! Now, Vivian, all you need to do is re-transform him, do the ritual thingy and we can all go back to—” she waved her hands and looked around, “—you know, not being at the end of the world and that.”

  “No,” said Vivian.

  Nina’s brain wasn’t ready to hear that. “What?”

  “No. I’m not doing that.” She relinquished Duncan AKA Mr Giles Grey and stepped back. “That’s not what’s going to happen.”

  “But the ritual…”

  Vivian fixed her with a stare. It had been so long since Vivian had fixed her with one of her powerful stares, that Nina almost shivered.

  “You know the ritual is only theoretical?”

  “I kinda got that…”

  “You know what the ritual entails?” Vivian turned to look at Prudence, the kaatbari. When Vivian looked back, Nina felt hot shame. “Shall I put the knife in your hand, Nina?”

  “But this is the world we’re talking about,” said Nina. “I’ve heard you say many, many times that if you had to choose between one life and—”

  “I know what I’ve said!” snapped Vivian, with more emotion than she ever usually let herself show. She walked back to her occult circle and the little writing table she’d set up for herself. Nina, stunned, had nothing to say.

  “Shall I show you the statue of the Jesus man?” Prudence said to Steve and carried him down the aisle.

  Pupfish slung his rifle casually over his shoulder and followed them. “Ggh! He’s the one they parade round with a stick up his ass, right?”

  Nina didn’t know what to say or do. With numb fingers, she unknotted the ropes that bound the donkeys together and let them wander free.

  Her radio earpiece crackled and warbled. “Coming your way!” said Rod’s voice.

  “Say again,” said Nina. “Say again.”

  “Coming up to St Chad’s cathedral. Pursuing Yo-Morgantus. He’s—”

  Nina ran down the aisle and shouted. “Get out of the way! He’s coming! Get out of the way!”