by Simon Clark
‘We’ve got to go back.’ He slammed into reverse.
‘Listen, I don’t think she’s going to last much longer.’
‘Take a look for yourself. We won’t be using this road.’
Kerry lifted her head so she could see through the windscreen. She was astonished to see a dozen cars had been smashed into an unholy tangle of scrap metal outside a KFC. One car blazed with such brilliance she had to screw her eyes almost shut. The pyramid of fire reached as high as the surrounding buildings.
‘Dear God. There must have been a riot.’
‘In sleepy old Crowdale?’ Jack sounded grim. ‘I doubt it. In fact, I’d be a happy man if it was just a homespun civil disturbance.’ He reversed the truck hard to the crossroads, then took another road.
‘You mean this is Justice Murrain’s doing?’
‘You bet.’ He accelerated along another shopping street. ‘Don’t worry, this’ll get us to the hospital just as quickly.’
By now, the stench of burning plastics stung Pel’s nostrils. Intruder alarms blared out into the night. The reason was clear to see. Even from here, Pel could count six stores that had their plate-glass smashed. On a bed, in the window display of a furniture store, a pair of naked bodies mated with brutal enthusiasm. The woman thrust her thumbs into the eyes of the man as orgasms shuddered her flesh. Just along the street, a man danced with a wheelchair, spinning it round in an extravagant waltz. A middle-aged woman, clinging desperately to the chair to prevent herself being flung out, must have been screaming fit to burst – her mouth was a huge O shape. However, alarms belted out their intruder warning so loudly Pel couldn’t hear the cries. Jack reached across for the shotgun.
‘Whatever you do, Jack, don’t stop. We can only save one person at a time. Right now, Kerry needs our help.’ Pel knew that Jack wanted to rescue the wheelchair rider from her lunatic dancer. ‘Please, Jack, drive on.’
Jack eased by the wheelchair-waltzing maniac, not wanting to collide with the woman, confined in more senses than one to the chair. Pel noticed a piece of blue string looped around her neck, then tied to the wheelchair frame. Her legs flip-flapped loosely at the wild gyrations.
No sooner had he manoeuvred the car safely past the pair, than a wail of police sirens cut through even the din of intruder alarms.
‘Hang on tight,’ Jack warned her. ‘Trouble’s coming our way.’
They didn’t have to wait long for him to be proved right. A purple ice-cream truck tore past them, ‘come-up-and-buy-one’ chimes singing from the speaker set in a giant cone on the truck’s roof. Chasing it, a pair of police cars. Blue lights pumped out warnings for other road-users to get the hell out of the way. The possessed driver of the ice-cream truck lost control. The machine slammed through the window of a boutique. Arms and legs from fashion mannequins flew. A plastic head, complete with scarlet lips and frizzy blonde hair, bounced out on to the pavement. Chimes still tinkled discordantly from the vehicle.
Its driver staggered out from the wreck. The police cars pulled up just paces from him. A cop from each car sprang from their vehicles. Only they didn’t rush to arrest the crazed driver. One cop pounced on the other. Straight away he started to pound his colleague with his fists. Soon the pair were wrestling on the road. The speedster from the ice-cream truck lumbered toward the pair. A broken jaw left him with an expression of slack jawed amazement at the brawling constables. Despite his injuries, he aimed kicks at the policeman who had the upper hand and straddled his adversary.
Jack accelerated away smoothly. Behind him, chaos reigned. The guy pushing the wheelchair joined the fight in the street. He used the chair as a battering ram against the mêlée.
Thankfully, Jack turned a corner: Pel was spared witnessing the fate of the woman, who’d been pushed into the knot of struggling men.
‘It’s Justice Murrain’s Battle Men.’ Pel’s heart clamoured. ‘They’re possessing the townspeople, aren’t they?’
Jack drove hard, tyres screeched. ‘And they’re causing mayhem. Two hundred years ago they used to terrorize the place. They ran a protection racket; abused families in their homes. They murdered people for the fun of it. Now the Battle Men are hell-bent on starting a new reign of terror.’
A naked woman darted from a side-street. She ricocheted off the side of a car. Despite the red flash of a graze down her hip, she didn’t stop running. She didn’t stop laughing, either. It struck Pel that the benighted creature was so hungry for sensation anything would do – sex, gluttony, speed, exertion, pain; an overwhelming lust for being human with feelings again had intoxicated her.
Jack called back, ‘See what I mean?’ The pick-up’s taillights bathed the running woman in a ruddy glow. ‘The possessors are insane. They don’t care whether they live or die.’
‘But that’s not the worst of it. Those two policemen back there were fighting each other. Which man was possessed? Which was normal? We can’t tell friend from foe.’
Jack gave a sour laugh. ‘If you don’t feel yourself, you will shout me a warning, won’t you?’
‘That goes for you, too.’ She wasn’t joking, she meant it.
Ahead, lights blazed from a large building. A sign by the gate announced Crowdale District Hospital.
Jack sang out, ‘Made it!’
To Pel, the building no longer promised to be the haven of safety and healing that she’d hoped for. As Jack pulled up she found herself chilled by a sense of foreboding, ‘After what we’ve seen back there, you’ve got to wonder what we’re going to find in here.’ She shivered. ‘I can’t stop myself imagining what a bunch of crazed people would do with a bunch of very sharp surgical instruments.’
6
THE DRUNK TRIED to paw Anna’s backside as she passed the gateway marked Crowdale District Hospital. ‘I haven’t seen a policewoman as hot as you before. I love your sexy shirt. Your stab-vest is hot. What a long, black baton you got. That’s hot … that’s really hot. And you’ve got this really, really …’ He struggled to find the appropriate word. ‘Hot! Hot eyes. Sexy, hot mouth.’
Anna had been planning to find some enjoyment with the drunk. Aged about fifty he had piercingly bright blue eyes. He wore a white shirt with a red necktie that was covered with a design of tiny gold farm tractors (maybe he sold such vehicles for a living). Now she debated what she should do with liquor breath. Kiss him? Squeeze his balls? Or peel the skin off his face with the butcher’s knife she’d looted from a supermarket? She’d tucked the blade inside a zip pouch in the stab-vest. Justice Murrain’s promise to make a stranger, by the name of Pel Minton, his bride enraged her. Why should that woman take her place? Couldn’t both women serve their master? Anna felt cheated out of her rightful role as Justice’s favourite. He’d ridden Anna many a night. He’d sighed with pleasure when she’d mouthed his flesh. She’d never ever denied him the use of her body, when his not infrequent bouts of rage had left her thighs bloody after love-making. Then she’d been accustomed to such treatment in the Pennine Asylum before Justice Murrain had selected her to join him at Murrain Hall. Many a night, warders and fellow inmates had dragged Anna by her long hair round and round the dinner hall, while folk had whipped her with belts, or used strong fingers and thumbs to snatch away strands of her pubic hair to garnish their dishes. Alas, such is the uncouth behaviour in an old time bedlam.
However, the Battle Men had a new world to savour. The past is dead. Anna liked the body she possessed. It had such firm breasts. The limbs were strong. This body had belonged to a lioness of a woman. And it was Anna’s now. She found she could dip into her host’s mind. From it, she could tease information about how life is lived today. Anna knew her host was employed by the police force. Though British police do not carry guns as a rule, her host had firearms training. In a strong room at the building that housed the constables there were pistols, rifles, grenades and something called machine-guns. That name seemed unusual to Anna; even so, she could draw an image from her host’s brain; that image revealed a
short stump of a gun that fired dozens of bullets with a dat-dat-dat-dat sound.
The hand of the drunk patted her rear again. ‘Miss Cop … hot Miss Cop. I know you want me. You’ve been giving me that “come on” look, haven’t you? Haven’t you?’
Because she’d ignored him, he rammed both hands into her back. The push sent her to clatter face first into a chain link fence that surrounded the hospital grounds. Straightaway she saw a familiar figure open the door of a vehicle. Her heart surged with such excitement she didn’t even notice the drunk’s sudden anger. For a moment, she was convinced that Justice Murrain was not fifty paces from her. And it was the Justice Murrain she remembered from their time together more than two centuries ago.
But that can’t be, she realized with a surge of disappointment. Her Justice Murrain had housed himself in the body of the giant clad in white. This young buck must be Jack Murrain. Anna had seen him at the house earlier when she’d possessed the Americas’ woman, Pel Minton.
The drunk growled, ‘You wanted me a few minutes ago. Now you’re ignoring me. Not good enough, am I? Got your eyes on some cock-sure detective, no doubt.’ He shoved her against the fence again. ‘I’ll show you what you need. I’ll have you begging for mercy …’ He talked like a man possessed, but this was a regular guy, not one of the Battle Men, though it would be fair to say he’d been possessed by the spirit of the whisky distiller’s art. He gripped her hair as he uttered profanities jumbled with threats of pain and erotic pleasure. Roughly, he shoved her face against the fence. But a greater force than pain worked on her now. Anna couldn’t take her eyes off the handsome face of Jack Murrain. She longed to rub her cheek against the mane of black hair. As she watched through the wire mesh, he gently eased an unconscious figure from the back seat of the car. Straightaway, another figure stepped out from the vehicle.
Then Jack hurried toward the entrance with that bundle of humanity in his arms. He paused to call back to the figure who followed. ‘Pel!’ he called. ‘Pel!’ He nodded at the vehicle. ‘Bring the gun. We might need it!’
Pel! This is the Pel Minton woman? The very woman that my master will make his bride! In her mind’s eye, Anna saw Justice Murrain tenderly kiss that interloper, while murmuring fondly, ‘I love you, Pel. There is no other to match you. You will be my wife, forever and ever.’ Still Anna didn’t even notice the drunk’s rough groping of her breasts. Only the distressing image of her man loving that Pel woman to the exclusion of all others filled her head right now.
Just fifty paces away Jack Murrain, a devilishly handsome man, who made her heart flutter, carried a sick or wounded woman through the hospital doors. Meanwhile, Anna’s despised love-rival hurried back to the pick-up. The woman hadn’t noticed that she was being spied upon. Intruder alarms wailing across the neighbourhood, ensured she didn’t hear the couple at the fence, either.
‘Get your clothes off,’ grunted the soused oaf. ‘It’ll do here, right up against the fence. Gonna make you squeal. Ha!’ He got a fistful of her boob … squeezed … squeezed until he moaned with pleasure.
Enough. Anna reached into her host’s mind where it had been driven into a few strands of cerebral matter. There, Anna searched until she found the information she required. The entire process took mere seconds. As soon as she realized the purpose of the canister that dangled from a hoop on her belt she snatched it, then aimed it back over her shoulder as she closed her own eyes.
‘Gonna make ya’ beg, ya’ bitch. I’m—’ Whatever he intended to threaten didn’t leave his lips. Instead, a jet of pepper-spray entered his mouth. After that, the torrent of chemical irritant hit his eyes. Choking, blinded, not knowing what had assaulted him, he stumbled backwards from Anna. Saliva hung in strings from his mouth. The pepper-spray robbed him of his much-professed hots for the comely policewoman. Anna didn’t intend wasting time on the drunk. She had a quest of burning urgency. So, after delivering a sharp kick to the man’s testicles, which felled him as effectively as a headshot, she raced to the hospital gate.
By this time, she saw her rival for Justice Murrain fully lit by the hospital’s floodlights. To Anna, she appeared young and strong. The full breasts and broad hips were evidence of excellent nourishment. This well-fed stranger radiated fecundity. She would possess the healthy womb that would bear many a strong Murrain child. Ye gods. That must not happen. Once you are dead the Justice will realize that I shall be his wife. This strong body I have stolen for myself will give him sons aplenty. Just one glistening drop from his shaft will impregnate me. I know that to be the truth!
Silently, Anna raced toward the woman who hurried toward the hospital doors. In Pel’s hands, a formidable gun with two barrels fixed side-by-side. Nevertheless, Anna smirked with confidence. I’ll strike her before she realizes I’m even there. There was nobody else around. Jack had vanished into the building with his burden.
Thirty paces away. Anna unzipped the pouch on the front of the stabvest.
Twenty paces away. Still not seen by the interloper. Pel walked along a line of parked ambulances.
Fifteen paces away. Anna took the knife by the handle.
Ten paces. Good, the woman was too preoccupied to notice the figure approaching from behind. Anna circled one of the parked ambulances. She could pounce on the Pel bitch from behind the vehicle. Take her completely unawares. Knife in hand, Anna got ready to pounce.
Just one second from springing out at her victim, another figure lumbered from the shadows of the parking lot. A huge, shambling figure clad in white.
It seized the fist that held the knife, then a second hand, the size of a dinner plate, clamped tight over Anna’s mouth. Before she could even struggle, Justice Murrain had picked her up, as if she had no more substance than a straw dolly. Quickly, he lumbered away with her back into the shadows. Once they were hidden from sight he threw her to the ground. She was a piece of garbage now. A filthy, worthless object that he didn’t even wish to soil his hands with.
Winded, she struggled to her knees. ‘I love you. She’s not right for you.’
He raised his fist. ‘I’ve told you, Anna. I will make the woman from the Americas my wife. You will not interfere again.’
‘You can’t kill me, sir. Once my spirit has left this body it will find another … then another, if needs be.’ She added with absolute defiance, ‘I’ll come looking for you. I’ll never leave you.’
‘Go.’
‘You loved me once, Justice Murrain. I shared your bed. We were happy together.’
‘You don’t understand. Modern people have learned something of the human condition. There is a germ called a “genetic”. I’ve reached into the mind of the man I’ve possessed and learnt about it. You have bad blood, Anna.’
‘But you’ve taken the body of an idiot. It’ll serve you wrong. No good can come of it.’
‘Be quiet.’ He yanked Anna to her feet. ‘That woman I have chosen has muscle on her bones. She has a strong mind. Intelligence, aye, she has much intelligence. When I have taken my rightful ownership of that young buck, Jack Murrain, I will be wed to her. Because the gene she carries is perfect – unlike yours – her children will be strong warriors. A time will come when Jack’s body wears out; then I will transfer to his son. I will be a young man again. This I can do for all eternity.’
‘She’ll be the destruction of you, master. I can see it. Even a fool can make such a prophecy. Pel Minton will ruin everything.’
‘That’s what you think, jealous little whore.’ He grinned. ‘But what words will come out of those lips when you witness our wedding rites. Hmm?’ With a laugh he flung her aside, then loped away into the darkness.
Though Anna was certifiably mad, she embraced one clear, indestructible line of thought: I love Justice Murrain. I will fight to win him back.
7
IN THE HOSPITAL: pandemonium.
Pel Minton had never needed to use the word before. But that’s what she saw now. Total pandemonium. Medical staff in green scrubs (many s
plattered with shining, scarlet gore) worked like crazy. Without exception they all wore expressions of deep anxiety. Victims of violence either lay groaning on trolleys, or sat on chairs in the waiting area. Most had been bandaged in a hurry. All were in shock.
Pel still carried the shotgun. Her grip tightened on it when she noticed that there were perpetrators of violence, too. A guy of around seventy, with a white beard that would have impressed Santa Claus, snarled like a mad dog. His wrists were handcuffed to a radiator.
‘Come fight me! I’ll take you all!’ He bellowed a string of curses.
The man’s dazed wife repeated to everyone in earshot, ‘He’s never like this. I do apologize. My husband isn’t himself. He’s the Reverend Pearson from St Jude’s. I do beg your pardon. I don’t know what’s got into him.’
‘I do,’ Jack whispered to Pel. ‘One of the Murrain Battle Men.’ Jack found an empty trolley so he could set Kerry down gently. Once he’d done that, he took the shotgun from Pel.
Pel grabbed tissues from a dispenser then carefully tried to clear the blood from her boss’s face. ‘My God. I don’t know if she’s alive or dead. Try and find a doctor.’
‘I’ll do my best.’ He scanned the room for one of the green-clad medics; however, now there was none to be seen. They’d taken the casualties to the treatment rooms. ‘The place has gone to hell. What we’re witnessing here is one of the Battle Men’s jaunts into town.’ He added grimly, ‘Just like the good old days, eh? When my ancestor used to send his thugs into Crowdale to teach the locals a lesson. Payback time.’ With the words, ‘Sit tight, I’ll see if I can find a doctor,’ he headed down a corridor.
From packs of surgical dressings on a trolley, Pel did her best to bandage the cuts on Kerry Herne’s head. Blood matted the woman’s long, dark hair that was her pride and joy. The bestial roars of some patients who’d been restrained suggested that at least eight people were possessed by Justice Murrain’s damned banshees.