Ghost Monster

by Simon Clark

  ‘I want the pair of you here. Because I know for a fact that Ross and Scott have guns. When I get back to the truck with the mosaic I’ll need to leave this yard like a bat out of hell.’

  ‘It’ll be heavy,’ Kerry told him. ‘If it’s still in one piece.’

  ‘I’m sure it will be. They’ll want it intact, so they can effectively hold it to ransom. Those two are hell-bent on tormenting my grandfather.’ He gently eased his door shut. ‘I want to take them by surprise. Now, sit tight.’

  Pel watched Jack move through near-darkness toward the house.

  Kerry whispered, ‘Once he has the mosaic it needs to be set back into the mausoleum floor. If our theory about the occult mechanism at the site is correct then, once it has repaired itself, it will work its magic again. It’ll yank Justice Murrain’s henchmen back where they belong. Back into their graves.’

  A shiver trickled down Pel’s spine. ‘You said once it has repaired itself. The effect won’t be instant, then?’

  ‘Magicians, priests, shamans and warlocks of the past believed that their magic wasn’t a transient thing. When they created sacred sites it was accomplished with great precision, using all kinds of devices, such as arrangements of standing stones, ditches, mounds, magic pathways and walls – all laid out with geometric precision; there would be buried animals, or even humans, who had been ritualistically sacrificed. Each component had its own special value, or inbuilt power. Just like the components of a computer have specific tasks, such as conducting electricity, or governing the flow of information, or processing data, so the components of Temple Central each have specific duties. Some act as glue to stick the souls of the dead in a particular area of earth within the complex. Some of the components are designed to repair the temple if it is damaged. You see, the ancients believed that their religious structures were organic. They could be made to act more like living flesh rather than inanimate bricks or sterile mortar. Then, don’t we do exactly the same today? When we enter a house for the first time, don’t we pause for a moment to sense how it feels to us? Whether it is a happy, or unfriendly place to be? Oh my God, I’m lecturing again.’ Kerry managed a tired smile. ‘When I should be groaning that my head hurts I grandly hold forth on the mythology of ancient temples. I’m sorry. And sorry for being a grouch, too, when you were trying to fix my bashed noggin.’

  ‘There’s nothing to be sorry about.’ Pel smiled. ‘You’re the main reason I stayed working on the dig.’

  Kerry feigned surprise. ‘Gosh, you mean to say that you weren’t there for the glamour of sieving mountains of dirt, or our lavish wages?’ She nodded, smiling. ‘I take that as a compliment.’

  The night air chilled Pel to the bone. ‘Jack’s taking too long. Where is he?’

  She leaned toward the side window in order to try and catch a glimpse of Jack at the house. A pair of eyes glared in at her. Before she could even cry out, the front doors of the pick-up opened.

  A gruff voice uttered, ‘What the hell kept you? I thought you’d be here before now.’

  Two middle-aged men, thickset, reeking of liquor, slid into the front seats of the vehicle. The balding one chuckled. ‘Look here, Brother. The fool even left the keys in the ignition.’

  ‘Get out of here,’ Pel aimed a blow at the head of the man behind the wheel.

  ‘Keep your mouth shut,’ said the other. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll take care of you two beauties.’

  ‘You’re Ross Lowe,’ Pel shouted. ‘You almost killed this woman tonight. You’ll do gaol time for what you did to her.’

  Kerry added, ‘And where the hell is the mosaic?’

  ‘I told you to shut up.’ Scott Lowe, in the passenger, seat raised a shotgun.

  Pel didn’t back down. ‘We must have the mosaic. Because you’ve moved it there’s wholesale carnage in the town.’

  Scott pointed the gun at her face. ‘I told you to shut that trap of yours.’ Then to his brother: ‘OK, better get this shifted before Murrain finds there’s no one home.’

  The moment that Ross started the pick-up Jack reappeared from behind the house. He must have been searching for a weak point so he could break in. Even though he raced toward them, Ross managed to get away with ease. The vehicle fishtailed as he accelerated across the dirt yard. In no time at all, he was through the gates, then out on to the road.

  Over the roar of the motor Pel hollered, ‘Where are you taking us?’

  Scott grinned at her along the gleaming gun barrel. ‘To a place where there’s a lovely view of the ocean.’

  10

  3.20. THE CONVOY of Battle Men rumbled through darkness toward Jacob Murrain’s house: fifty vehicles forming a line lit by each other’s headlights. In a Ford, Anna nursed the machine-gun on her lap. Gripped by desperation, she knew she must prevent Justice Murrain taking the Pel Minton woman as his bride. As her fellow Battle Man drove she glanced at him. Chauffeur, she thought. Or rather he occupied the body of a chauffeur. As the man drove he eased scalpels from surgical wrappers.

  ‘These are my Excaliburs,’ he explained, as he stuck them point first into the cushioned surface of the dashboard. Soon, he had made himself a little forest of shiny surgical instruments. ‘Tonight, I occupied the body of a priest, then a paramedic. When the paramedic was disabled by gunfire I transferred to the body of the chauffeur, who’d taken his master to hospital. Simple, isn’t it?’ He added another scalpel to his steel forest. ‘I’ll carve many an Adam’s apple with these. Ha!’ He glanced back at the machine-gun on her lap. ‘So you have your own Excalibur, eh? A mechanical Excalibur that fires a myriad of musket balls at once … no, not musket balls. These modern weapons discharge bullets through a rifled barrel.’ The dashboard lights revealed his smiling face. ‘It’s delightful to rummage through my host’s mind and find such information. Easy. Like ’tis easy to drive this motor machine.’ They rumbled along for a while before he said, ‘You have taken possession of a female constable. You’re Anna, aren’t you?’

  ‘And your demeanour makes me think you are Tom Griffin, right?’

  ‘Correct. I remember you from the old days, when we all lived at Murrain Hall and were as happy as sand boys. Now we will be happy again.’

  ‘Will we?’

  ‘Of course. I have a strong, young body. You are once more a beautiful woman. Isn’t that better than being bones in a grave?’

  ‘Then I’m happy for you, Tom.’

  ‘Ahhh …’ He understood. ‘You once shared the master’s bed, didn’t you?’

  ‘I was his wife … or as good as.’

  ‘Now, he’s set his heart on the lady from the Americas. I see the problem.’

  ‘Do you?’

  ‘Of course. You want your man back. But the Justice has plans that don’t include you.’

  ‘Does he?’ Her voice grew cold.

  ‘Don’t interfere, Anna, my sweet. If you make him angry he will destroy you. Have no doubt of that.’

  Anna didn’t reply – she was thinking hard.

  11

  PEL MINTON STRETCHED her aching limbs. ‘Dawn’s breaking.’ Her voice echoed back from the classroom walls. ‘If those two aren’t coming back, isn’t it time we found a way out.’

  ‘See for yourself.’ Kerry sat with her back to the wall. Patches of crimson had seeped through the bandages around her head. ‘There’s steel mesh over the windows on the landward side. The only door that hasn’t been nailed shut is the one that pair of thugs brought us through. And it’s made of solid timber, with locks that would keep a barbarian hoard out.’

  ‘We can’t just sit here. Ross and Scott might be planning to execute us.’

  ‘Thanks for the optimistic prediction.’

  ‘Kerry, sarcasm isn’t going to break down the door, is it? The Lowe family have got a vendetta against the Murrains. The first time I encountered them they were trying to ram trucks into the mausoleum. The second time they were slashing tyres on Jack’s pick-up.’

  ‘Sorry, Pel. My head’s s
ore. The wounds are still … seeping, to put it mildly. And…’

  ‘And?’

  ‘I know where we are.’

  Pel stopped pacing. ‘I know we’re in an old school, that much is for sure.’ She gestured at upended desks that lay along one wall. On that wall were children’s drawings of boats, houses and stickmen. ‘I understood that the moment the oafs shoved us through the doorway.’

  ‘I mean, I know the place.’ Kerry grimaced. She had the emperor of all headaches. ‘This is Thorpe-Upton. I saw the sign as we arrived. It’s a little village north of our graveyard dig. We—’

  ‘Help! Can anyone hear us!’ Pel didn’t spare her vocal chords. ‘Help!’ The power of the yell loosened dust from the roof beams overhead. In the morning light the falling particles formed a golden snow. ‘Get us out of here. Help … HELP!’

  Kerry scrunched up her face as the yell made her headache a whole lot worse. ‘Thorpe-Upton is one of the cliff-top villages … to be more accurate, Pel, one of the abandoned cliff-top villages.’

  ‘The Lowes are smarter than they look. They knew nobody would hear us.’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘Then we can’t assume we’ll be found. We have to save ourselves.’

  ‘Pel? Forgotten something? Locked door. Screens over windows.’

  Pel dragged a desk upright. ‘Now it’s getting light we should be able to see out.’ She slapped dust from her hands. ‘I guess the school’s builders set the windows so high to stop the kids gazing out and daydreaming.’

  Wearily, Kerry said, ‘We did a survey of Thorpe-Upton. Little of archeological interest. A nineteenth-century school, which we’re sitting in; field patterns of possibly Saxon origin; a Norman motte and bailey castle, circa AD1070 – that is to say, a mound of dirt surrounded by a ditch. It formed a low budget defence system.’

  ‘You’re lecturing again, Kerry.’

  ‘You know something? I don’t care anymore. Because I learned the motte and bailey fell into the sea last week.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’

  ‘And so you should. The site of it lay just outside the boundaries of this very school.’

  Pel had climbed on to the rickety desk. It wobbled. It wobbled very badly. On hearing those words she froze, forgetting to stay focused on her balance. ‘Pardon?’

  ‘The earthworks fell into the sea. So where that puts the school in relation to the cliff is anyone’s guess.’

  Pel nearly toppled from the rickety desk. At the last moment she caught hold of the window sill. Heart clamouring, with a panicky rhythm, she peered out through the glass. Now her heart really did miss a beat. ‘Oh, my God.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Kerry. We’ve got to get out of here. Did you hear me? NOW.’

  12

  THE FIFTY VEHICLES in Justice Murrain’s convoy halted on the road near Jacob Murrain’s house. It didn’t take long to establish that neither Jacob or Jack were home.

  Justice Murrain kicked down the door. The giant of a man made short work of the timbers. Even so, he suspected he’d broken at least three toes on the assault on the door. No worries. He’d make the switch soon to Jack Murrain, a young healthy body, through which Murrain blood coursed. Justice Murrain took time to explore the home of his descendents. When one of the Battle Men helped himself to whisky from a bottle in the kitchen Justice Murrain punched him down to the floor.

  ‘This will be my home,’ he bellowed. ‘Touch nothing!’

  Then he lingered over photographs of the Murrain lineage that covered much of the dining-room walls.

  Anna crept in to stand silently behind him. Yet he knew she was there. They still shared a bond.

  ‘Look at all these …’ He indicated the photographs. ‘The Murrain men. Don’t we look so very much alike?’

  ‘You are all very handsome,’ she told him.

  ‘Ha. That we are. I’m sure a Murrain man watched the Roman soldiers march into this Godforsaken strip of coast two thousand years ago. And that very Murrain man, in his blue face paint, and wolf-skin cape, would have worn these features.’ He frowned. ‘Of course, I don’t wear a Murrain face at present. But I will soon.’ He examined his features in a wall mirror. ‘Not pretty is it, this face? It was a mistake to possess the idiot boy. However, I judged a body of such size and strength would be useful to me. It is, Anna. Only it is so clumsy.’ Uneasy, he ran his fingers through his hair. ‘Sometimes the idiot’s thoughts wrestle with my own. When they do … I … It becomes difficult to think clearly. There are times I …’ An uncharacteristic air of perplexity surrounded Justice Murrain. Usually, his mind possessed absolute clarity. His judgements were invariably sound. ‘Only in the last few hours …’

  ‘Anything wrong, master?’

  ‘Wrong? No, nothing’s wrong. Nothing at all.’

  He walked toward the broken front door.

  ‘Where now, master?’

  ‘The mausoleum. We probably find my kin there. I know that for Jacob Murrain the mosaic is an obsession.’

  They emerged from the house to find dawn’s first light touching the treetops. Justice Murrain gave a booming order for everyone to climb back into the vehicles.

  The driver in the lead car called, ‘In which direction are we headed, master?’

  Irritated, by what seemed such a foolish question, Justice Murrain snapped, ‘We’re going to …’ The force went from his voice. ‘Why … it’s over there near the …’ Once more his voice failed.

  It seemed that all his followers in the vehicles stared at him through the windows. The giant in the white forensic suit cast glances about the garden. Then over the fields, where shadows yielded to the approaching day.

  Concerned, Anna touched his arm. ‘Master?’

  ‘It’s really time I quit this ungainly flesh.’ He rubbed his face. ‘Anna?’

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘Tell me. Do you see a little figure over there on the lawn?’

  ‘A figure, master?’

  ‘Of course,’ he snapped. ‘A – a tiny goblin of a man. He’s grinning … blasted, vile grin. Bobby! Uh … I don’t know why I said that …’ He rubbed his face again. This time he noticed his hands were shaking.

  The driver that headed the convoy called out, ‘What’s the matter?’

  Anna replied loudly, ‘Nothing’s the matter. Give the master a moment to consider his plans!’

  She took Justice Murrain’s arm. ‘I’ll look after you. Step this way. Once you’re in the car, you can rest awhile.’ Pleased, she guided the man she loved to the lead vehicle. To its driver she snapped, ‘Drive to the graveyard. The rest will follow.’

  13

  PEL MINTON STARED out of the school window in horror. No land presented itself. Instead, only ocean. Mile upon mile of grey brine. In the dawn light she could see the dredgers already gouging at the ocean bed. They looked about as pretty as dreadnoughts, too. Those boats, hauling huge iron scoops, were responsible for the plight of the old school building. They’d destabilized the seabed for miles around. Coastal erosion greedily devoured the land. Day by day, ground had fallen into the surf by the ton. Now, the little village school stood, as precarious as Pel on the rickety desk, on the very edge of the cliff. When Pel pressed her nose to the cold glass she could make out the waves pounding the base of the cliff. Ocean scents spiked her nose.

  In a dull, lifeless voice Kerry stated, ‘We’re just about to fall into the sea, aren’t we?’

  ‘This building might. But we aren’t going down with it.’ She scrambled from the desk, then opened a connecting door to the next classroom. The L-shaped building only consisted of a pair of classrooms. And those had high windows too that were intended to cheat easily distracted pupils of the views. Pel rushed about to gain some overall picture of the school that the Lowe brothers had turned into a prison. As she did so, she shouted, ‘Kerry, pull yourself together. We must find a way out of here.’

  ‘My head’s sore. I’m weak as a mouse.’ She didn’t budge from where she sat with her
back to the wall beneath one of the high windows.

  Pel’s swift survey of the village school revealed that, apart from two classrooms, there was a miniscule closet that contained the remains of a heating system, and equally miniscule kitchen area with a disproportionately large Belfast sink. This room must be where the staff had made their coffee, swapped stories about the children’s antics, or whispered eagerly about colleagues’ love affairs. Between the boiler-room and the kitchen she discovered a narrow door that opened on to a set of stairs. These ascended to an attic space that served as the school’s office. No furniture remained but a filing cabinet, its empty drawers yawning open. A calendar revealed that the school had been abandoned a couple of years ago. A rather alarming inscription above a wall hook read SPARE THE ROD, SPOIL THE CHILD. Pel didn’t doubt for a moment that in the time of yore a formidable cane, which would have been used to beat mischievous children, once hung from the hook.

  Most importantly for Pel, the office had two sets of windows set in the sloping ceilings. One had terrifying views of the sea. The second overlooked a road that ran to the edge of the cliff, the missing section of which must lie on the beach now. The surviving section passed between boarded-up homes, then uphill through woodland. These windows weren’t covered with screens. Can I persuade Kerry to climb out on to the roof? There might be a way of shinning down to the ground. But then Kerry was displaying signs of clinical shock. She had no energy, nor inclination, to do anything other than sit against the wall and utter pessimistic predictions about their approaching doom.

  Pel scuttled down the stairwell, her feet clattering on the wooden steps. In the classroom, Kerry sat in a daze. Rather than alarm at being incarcerated by vengeful thugs she appeared on the verge of drifting into unconsciousness.

  ‘Kerry, don’t go to sleep. We’ve got to get away from here.’ Pel clapped her hands. ‘Stay awake, please.’

  Clapping or her pleas didn’t stir the woman.