The Hollow Tree

by James Brogden

  ‘Anna!’ called the lesh in the voice of her dead husband. ‘Enough of this! It’s time for you to come home!’

  ‘Leave us alone!’ Rachel screamed. ‘Just fuck off!’

  The Green Man roared and threw himself at the door.

  Rachel had just enough time to think He doesn’t look very fucking afraid to me before the door gave way and he was lunging at her. She brought her left hand up to defend herself and his headlong charge threw him right into her grasp. She felt her dead fingers close around his throat, deep into the rancid mess of his beard. Though she was looking at flesh she felt bark, despite seeing his skin stretch and distort in her grip.

  He can’t be stupid enough to do this again, can he?

  He wasn’t. He gave ground and she followed instinctively, pushing him back to the threshold, down the single step into the open space between the caravan and the prefab, and that was when she saw two others, one of them raising a gun to point at her, and realised how easily she’d been played.

  * * *

  ‘Rachel!’ screamed Tom, throwing himself at the door. ‘Rachel!’

  Jeev joined him, and the plywood-and-fibreglass structure began to splinter.

  * * *

  The Dark Man aimed carefully, right between the woman’s shocked, cow-like eyes, and thumbed back the revolver’s hammer.

  And waited.

  ‘Shoot her!’ bellowed the Green Man over his shoulder. ‘What are you waiting for?!’

  * * *

  For whatever reason, the lesh’s companions weren’t moving to help him, but Rachel cared no further than the opportunity this gave her. She gathered her strength and braced her feet, bringing her living right hand up to join the dead one. She felt for that pivot point, the crushing gap between worlds into which she had lost her hand, that blank space where she could touch the other side of the air and move things between death and life.

  The lesh, realising too late that he had been betrayed by his companions, roared and fought back, tearing at the flesh of her arms with wooden-clawed fingernails and trying to break her grip.

  ‘I said fuck off!’ Rachel yelled, and pulled him apart.

  She felt something elastic in the air – or behind it – stretch like a rubber sheet and then give suddenly, causing her to stumble forward, and for a terrifying moment she saw her left arm disappear up to the elbow as the lesh collapsed in an abattoir mess of rotting wood and putrescent flesh. She imagined herself overbalancing completely and following it into the nothing place behind the world, and a small crazy part of her wanted to give in to that temptation, but then Annabel grabbed her by her shirt and hauled her back, and the rest of her arm reappeared.

  When Rachel gathered enough of her scattered wits to look around, the man in the dark coat was still pointing his gun at her.

  ‘That was most helpful of you,’ he said.

  Before he could pull the trigger, the other, smaller man stepped in front of him. ‘Now let’s not be hasty about this,’ he said, and placed the palm of his hand close to the pistol’s muzzle, though it appeared to Rachel that he was unable to actually touch it.

  ‘Are you out of your mind?’ snarled the Dark Man. ‘Step aside!’ He did so himself, but the Small Man followed, blocking his shot again.

  ‘Think!’ said the Small Man. ‘How does this benefit us?’

  ‘She’s dealt with him! We kill Mary’s protector and we take her back! What is complicated about this for you?’ He sidestepped again and was blocked again.

  ‘She can reach into the umbra!’ protested the Small Man. ‘Do you know how rare that talent is? We can use it! If you kill her now only one of us can claim Mary but if we can use the woman’s talent maybe both of us get to exist!’

  The Dark Man hesitated. ‘How?’

  ‘I don’t know yet! But you can’t just blow the brains out of the possibility!’

  But the Dark Man shook his head. ‘I don’t know what game you’re playing. You may be under the impression that I’m as easily manipulated as our brother. I am not, and you cannot stop me. Remember the clearing?’

  ‘What about the—’

  The Dark Man pointed the gun at his face and fired.

  There are some things from which one simply must flinch, whatever one’s nature, and being shot point blank in the face is definitely one of them. The Small Man screamed even though the bullet ignored him and ploughed into the wall of the prefab behind him, where Rachel had been standing.

  But by that time Rachel had ducked back into the kitchen, where Annabel was hiding.

  ‘Who the fuck was that?’ Rachel gasped. ‘And why is he shooting at us?’

  ‘Don’t know. Don’t care.’ Annabel was fumbling in a cutlery drawer, and brought out a knife as a second gunshot tore through the wall above their heads.

  Then Rachel heard Tom yelling, ‘Rachel! Get out of there! Run!’

  * * *

  The door finally splintered apart under Tom and Jeev’s combined blows and the fencepost propped against it fell away. He stumbled down the step barefoot onto the grass, and saw a pistol buck and flash in a tall man’s hand.

  ‘Rachel! Get out of there! Run!’

  Tom threw himself at the Dark Man. They fell heavily to the ground together and the gun went flying. Jeev punched the Small Man in the face, and the Small Man staggered, blood squirting from his nose. Snake-quick, he lashed at Jeev with steel glittering in his hand, and Jeev screamed, falling back and clutching his arm.

  Although Tom was well built, he still hadn’t recovered fully from the septicaemia, and after the initial surprise of his attack the Dark Man was able to throw him off, and wheeled on him with his greatcoat swirling like the cloak of a vampire.

  ‘Kutkop!’ he snarled, and drove the point of his shoe into Tom’s ribs. ‘Interfere with death’s business, would you?’ He reached down, grabbed Tom’s shirt and hauled him close to his face. ‘You will beg for your own death to save you before I’m done!’

  Tom recoiled from the graveyard stink of his breath. ‘Whatever,’ he coughed. ‘I’ve already called the police, and they come quickly when there’s gunfire. You’re fucked, mate.’ It was a lie, but it had the desired effect nonetheless.

  ‘He’s right!’ yelled the Small Man, retreating to the treeline. ‘We’re done here! We should go!’

  ‘We’re. Not. Done.’ The Dark Man reached into his coat pocket with one hand, coming out with a fist that gleamed with brass at each knuckle. ‘I think I may have just enough time to pound this fool’s brains out of his skull first.’

  ‘Try it,’ said Rachel, and backhanded him in the head with Callum’s cooking pot.

  The Dark Man collapsed like a coat off a hook, and as he crawled for the treeline, groaning, Rachel helped Tom to his feet and they retreated towards the prefab. Tom was clutching his ribs and gasping with every indrawn breath. Jeev was clutching his arm, which was dripping red. Annabel, who had followed close behind Rachel, stooped to pick something up from the ground.

  The Dark Man’s pistol.

  ‘Well now this is interesting,’ observed the Small Man, right at the edge of things. He had a bloodied handkerchief pressed to his nose. ‘What might happen if she shot you with your own gun, do you think?’

  ‘Shut up,’ hissed the Dark Man.

  The Small Man ignored him, continuing to talk as he backed slowly into the shadows. ‘Would it even work? Can we even die, especially since neither of us is her death? See, this is what I mean about keeping the possibilities alive. It’s tempting to let her try.’

  ‘Don’t push your luck,’ warned Annabel, pointing the gun at him. But there was an unsteadiness to her voice and the gun shook in her hand. She looked like she was about to throw up.

  ‘It is you who should be careful, I think,’ said the Dark Man, crawling painfully to his feet. ‘You know what that weapon has done – what it means to you. The real you. My you. You are no more a gypsy witch than that is a fairy wand.’

  Annabel blinked, totter
ed, and held out a hand to balance herself. ‘Rachel?’ she murmured. ‘I don’t… I can’t…’

  ‘I’m here, right here.’ Rachel slung the outstretched arm over her shoulders, holding Annabel up. The gun tumbled from her grip.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ asked the Dark Man, mockery dripping from every syllable. For someone who had just taken a lump of cast iron to the head he was recovering very quickly. Of the Small Man there was no sign. ‘Are you experiencing perhaps a change of heart?’

  Then a high-revved quad bike engine roared and headlights speared the darkness as Callum returned to the scene. At the sound of reinforcements, the Dark Man’s face twisted with frustration. Sizing up the strength of the opposition, he snatched up his pistol, turned and ran into the darkness.

  The figure in Rachel’s arms collapsed to the ground and began to convulse.

  25

  AFTERMATH

  ‘GET HER IN THE CARAVAN! QUICK!’

  Rachel was cradling Annabel’s head as she jerked and fitted. Tom moved to help but Callum jumped off the quad bike and strode over, his face twisted with fury, and shoved Tom with both hands.

  ‘You told us it would just be the one guy!’ yelled Callum, shoving him again. ‘And you never mentioned any feckin’ guns!’

  Tom recovered his balance and shoved back. ‘Do you think I fucking knew?’

  ‘Boys!’ snapped Rachel. ‘Shut it, the pair of you, and do something useful!’

  Jeev plopped down heavily on the ground, groaning and clutching his arm.

  ‘Sort him out,’ Tom said to Callum. ‘I think he’s going into shock.’

  ‘He’s not the only feckin’ one,’ muttered Callum, and went over to his friend.

  Tom took hold of Annabel’s knees and Rachel her shoulders, and between them they managed to carry her into the caravan and lay her as gently as they could on one of the sofas in the living area. From outside they heard Callum exclaim, ‘Aw fuck, man, that’s going to need some stitches.’

  ‘Can you keep an eye on her?’ Tom asked Rachel. ‘I need to check on Jeev.’

  Annabel’s convulsions were lessening, but Rachel wasn’t terribly reassured. ‘I have no idea what’s wrong with her,’ she said. ‘She’s having some kind of seizure.’

  ‘If she stops breathing, yell.’

  ‘Oh you can count on that. Tom,’ she added, as he was heading out of the door.

  ‘What?’

  ‘We can’t take her to hospital. We can’t let the authorities find her. She doesn’t have any identification. They’ll separate us and then she’ll be vulnerable again. The police can’t protect her from those men.’

  ‘I’m thinking that might not be such a bad idea. Look at the mess she’s caused.’

  ‘Tom!’

  ‘Jesus Christ, Rachel, one thing at a fucking time, okay?’

  Tom slammed outside, where Callum was kneeling beside Jeev, who had collapsed onto his back. Callum had taken his hoodie off and wrapped it around Jeev’s wounded arm, which he clutched in both hands. ‘Cal! You got pressure on that?’

  ‘Sorted. You calling an ambulance or the SAS?’

  ‘Neither. We’ll get him to A&E ourselves – quicker than a bloody ambulance, anyway. There’s a big first aid kit in the office. Wait here.’

  Cal uttered a hollow laugh. ‘Going nowhere, boss.’

  Tom ran across the darkened field towards the shipping-container office, which had a first aid kit. Halfway across he stopped as dizziness washed around inside his head like water down a plughole, and braced his hands on his knees as it flooded into his stomach. He fought the urge to throw up, swallowing bile. ‘No,’ he mumbled to himself. ‘No you fucking don’t. Keep your shit together.’

  He kept it together and ran on.

  * * *

  By the time he and Callum had finished getting a dressing on Jeev’s arm, Annabel had started to come around, and as far as Rachel could tell she’d suffered nothing more serious than a bad case of shock – certainly nothing worth taking her to Accident and Emergency for. But Tom wasn’t having any of it.

  ‘No. No fucking way. I am not leaving you here, not with her, and not with those bastards still lurking around. This was a stupid idea from start to finish.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Yes! I get it! She might get locked up in a loony bin! Good! But you come with me now and I’ll keep my mouth shut, or I will go without you and tell the cops everything, because we are not equipped to deal with this!’

  He was red-faced and yelling by the time he’d finished. Even during their most heated arguments she’d never seen him so furious. She knew it came from a combination of shock at the attack and fear for her safety, but she also had no doubt that he’d make good on his threat.

  ‘Okay,’ she said quietly. ‘Whatever you say. Hospital it is.’

  * * *

  They delivered Jeev and Cal to the A&E department at the Queen Elizabeth Hospital. A simple lie about an accident at a party was enough to satisfy the paramedics and there was no need for Tom, Rachel and Annabel to wait for the hours that it would take for Jeev to be treated and discharged. There was no question about either of the men telling the truth about the attack; when Tom mentioned it to Cal he received a filthy look and a mouthful of abuse in return.

  They drove home in silence along the empty early morning roads with Annabel passive and listless in the back. Rachel watched her out of the corner of her eye, and the more she looked the more she was convinced that it didn’t look very much like Annabel any more.

  ‘Anna?’ she asked. There was no response. ‘Anna, are you okay?’

  Still nothing.

  ‘Mary?’

  The woman’s glazed eyes swung toward Rachel. ‘Yes?’ she replied, in Mary’s mouse-like voice.

  ‘Nothing,’ said Rachel, and turned to face forwards again. ‘Just sit tight. We’re going home.’

  * * *

  After Mary had let herself be put to bed like a child, Rachel and Tom sat at the breakfast bar in the kitchen with cups of tea going cold in front of them. Dawn was still a good couple of hours away, but both knew that any more sleep was impossible.

  ‘There’s no way we could have known there’d be three of them,’ said Rachel.

  ‘No,’ agreed Tom.

  ‘You were right. It was a stupid idea from start to finish.’

  He shrugged. ‘We had to try something.’

  ‘All right, stop.’ She turned to face him squarely. ‘Just stop it.’

  ‘Stop what?’

  ‘Being so bloody agreeable about all of this! You should still be furious!’

  ‘And what good would that do?’ he asked, taking a sip of lukewarm tea. He looked absolutely done in. Rachel wondered why she wasn’t freaking out herself, but then remembered how severely she’d reacted after the attack at the monument, almost crashing the car. Had that really only been yesterday? It seemed impossible that she could have changed so much in so short a time. But her stump was a constant reminder of how the impossible insisted on happening. You either coped or – well, you coped. There was no alternative, it was simply a question of how well or badly. I took my enemy by the throat and tore him apart. What were a couple of gunshots compared to that? She didn’t know who those other two figures had been, but if they were all working together then they’d just had a taste of what she could do if they came after her or the people she loved. It should be the tall man with the gun and his tubby sidekick who were running scared.

  ‘I will tell you this, though,’ Tom said, breaking the silence, ‘I haven’t changed my mind about Mary, or Annabel, or whoever she is. I don’t trust her. I think she’s dangerous.’

  ‘She’s dangerous? What about those men who came after her?’

  ‘Or if not actually dangerous herself,’ Tom continued, ‘dangerous like a lightning rod. Not something you want to hang on to for too long. I was tempted to go to the police at the hospital anyway and say that I thought she was part of something gang related ju
st so they’d arrest her. But if you are determined to hang on to her then I’m going to stick as close to you as I can and try to minimise the damage, because I love you.’ He grimaced at the tea and put it to one side. ‘So what next, boss?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she confessed. ‘To be honest, I thought that was going to be the end of it. I wasn’t expecting the lesh to have friends. But maybe death always comes in threes, like three wise men or three blind mice. Except there was something the one with the gun said – about her not really being a gypsy witch. “The real you”, he said. “My you”.’

  ‘What do you think it means?’

  ‘I’m not sure.’ Outside came the first twitterings of the dawn chorus as the world began to wake up.

  ‘Right,’ he said, slapping the worktop decisively. ‘This is no good. My head keeps going around in circles; I have to be doing something. I’m going to start getting the stuff in from the van. Are you going to bed?’

  ‘I think I’ll look in on Mary first, but yes.’

  ‘Okay then.’

  He shifted his stool back and made to leave, but Rachel caught his arm. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said.

  For a moment it looked like he was going to say something, but instead he leaned down and kissed her, which was all the reply he needed to give.

  * * *

  Tom went out to the van, so wearied by everything that had happened that he didn’t notice the figure in the shadows of the bushes bordering the drive until it ahemmed at him.

  It was the Small Man.

  Tom opened his mouth to yell.

  ‘Shut your hole,’ the Small Man ordered, and for a flicker of a moment allowed Tom to see the real face that hid beneath the glamour of his human disguise. Tom gasped and fell back a step, stunned.

  ‘Sorry to have to do that,’ the Small Man added, his plump and complacent smile restored. ‘But I really don’t have either the time or the inclination to have to persuade you, especially when all I want to do is help.’

  He stepped forward and Tom flinched, then darted a glance in the direction of the house; Rachel might still be awake. It wouldn’t take much to attract her attention. Then again, it didn’t look like it would take much more for this man – this thing – to do him serious harm.