“Get that camera rolling, Bob,” cried Taylor. “This is some story.”
Bob grinned cynically.
“If we ever get out of here to tell the story.”
Taylor wasn’t listening.
“Do you reckon we can get nearer?”
“No way!” shuddered the cameraman.
Taylor’s eyes suddenly narrowed.
“Good grief! What am I thinking about. There’s a public telephone just up the street by the Post Office.”
He turned and ran off. It was not long before he returned downcast.
“I can’t get through. They’ve isolated the telephone lines to the village,” he explained to his fellow reporters.
Claire knocked and entered Noall’s office.
“Bill, I thought you should know. People are starting to get really panicky. Reverend Pencarrow thinks someone should talk to them.”
Neville nodded.
“What about it, Lambert?”
“The officer commanding at Goonhilly has taken command pro tempore,” replied the scientist. “Lorries are on their way from Bodmin to carry out a complete evacuation of the area. The village and surrounding areas are to be evacuated and isolated.”
Sergeant Jones bit his lip.
“Then what?” he demanded. “Those things would be able to smash through any cordon set up round the area! Bullets don’t hold them.”
“I have informed Goonhilly of the situation,” said Lambert. “As soon as the people are clear of the area, the RAF will launch an air strike on the hill using napalm and high explosive.”
Sergeant Jones’ face broke into a smile.
“That’ll deal with them devils! Smash ‘em to bits!”
“Yes, but won’t it destroy the village?” asked Claire.
Lambert shrugged, detached and unemotional.
“There is that probability. Better to destroy the village than let those things start over-running the countryside.”
The Prime Minister looked anxiously at the Home Secretary and the Minister of Defence.
“I want a top security blackout on this.”
“I don’t see how that is possible,” returned the Home Secretary, a large florid-faced man. “We understand that as well as service personnel involved, there is an entire village of several hundred people and staying in the area were several members of the press who had gone there to investigate earlier incidents.”
“It must be made possible — even if everyone has to be coerced into signing the Official Secrets Act,” snapped the Prime Minister. “Just think of the field day the anti-nuclear people will have if it becomes known that this affair is the result of nuclear waste dumping…something we have told the electorate is a totally safe method of disposal. They will start screaming for our blood.”
The Minister of Defence coughed hollowly.
“Hardly that, Prime Minister. Hardly that. People are realists these days. They know the risks involved. Our first task must surely be to eliminate these creatures whatever they are. Then we can investigate this man…er Lambert…this man’s claims, rather preposterous claims, I may add, afterwards. That will be the time to get involved in the debate about nuclear safety.”
The Prime Minister looked gratefully at the defence minister.
“Indeed. I shall countersign executive orders for evacuating any threatened area and also the imposition of martial law to make such evacuation possible.”
“I shouldn’t think martial law will be necessary,” interposed the Home Secretary. “I think most people will co-operate to the full in face of the dangers from these…er, beasts.”
“None the less, all contingencies are to be allowed for,” insisted the Prime Minister. “Who is in charge at this time?”
“Group Captain Hyde, the officer commanding at Goonhilly.”
“I want the situation to be put under the charge of the combined services with the OC South-Western Brigade, Home Defences. See that is done immediately.”
The Minister of Defence nodded.
The Prime Minister frowned.
“These creatures are to be utterly exterminated, of course. Then I want an immediate top level enquiry. In fact, I believe it would be prudent to place everyone under the Official Secrets Act.”
The Home Secretary sighed.
“It would be totally unworkable, Prime Minister. You are dealing with a substantial civilian population consisting of men, women and children. How will you stop children from talking?”
“Get some advice as to how it can be done,” insisted the Prime Minister waving a dismissal at the Home Secretary. The man stood up, half shrugged and left the room.
“Now, Minister,” the premier turned to the Minister of Defence. “I believe you are flying down to Cornwall immediately?”
“Yes. I shall join the OC, South-Western Brigade at Bodmin and keep a close personal eye on this operation.”
The Prime Minister smiled briefly.
“Security is of the essence. We must find a way of keeping this affair, or rather the causes — if this scientist Lambert is correct — away from the public domain. Keep me in touch with all developments.”
“I’ll do my best, Prime Minister.”
CHAPTER XXII
Lambert looked round at the anxious faces which surrounded him in the bar of The Morvren Arms.
“The entire village and surrounding countryside must be evacuated. There are lorries on the way here to pick you up. I have been told by the military authorities that you will be allowed to take an overnight case — one small suitcase — and that is all. A cordon of military personnel is being placed around this point within a fifteen-mile radius. Everyone in that area must be moved back beyond the cordon.”
Seth Treneglos grimaced.
“Then what, mister? Do we sit back and watch them things take over?”
There was a murmur from the crowd.
“No. As soon as the evacuation is complete the military will take total control of the area.”
“Military!” Jack Treneglos gave a sharp laugh. “What good is the military against those things? Didn’t I hear the sergeant say that bullets don’t kill them?”
Bill Neville came to Lambert’s aid and stilled the rising anger of the crowd.
“Listen to me! Those things, believe it or not, are giant worms. They are ordinary worms which, by a fluke of nature, have grown to enormous proportions. Being worms they have no central nervous system so no bullets harm them. You all know what happens if you slice through a worm with a garden spade. The two halves can wriggle away! However, there are other ways of destroying them. How would you kill a worm?”
He directed the question at Jack Treneglos.
The fisherman laughed.
“Why, step on it, Mister Neville. But you don’t expect us to step on those things out there, do’ee?”
Bill Neville smiled.
“No, but the RAF can. Once the area is evacuated the RAF plan to bomb the creatures.”
Noall pursed his lips.
“That’s all very well, Mister Neville, but what about our homes? Are you saying that we must move out and let the RAF destroy our homes?”
There was a roar of protest from the people.
Lambert had difficulty in getting them to quieten down again.
“It’s all very well for you folk. This village is where we were born and bred, where our homes and livelihoods are,” declared Seth Treneglos.
“I live and work here.” Neville pointed out.
“Begging your pardon, Mr Neville,” called Charlie Treneglos. “Though you’ve lived here a while, you be an upcountry man. We’ve no means to earn our living elsewhere such as you have. Our folks have lived here for centuries, since before there was an England. It means a lot to us.”
Reverend Pencarrow stepped forward.
“Well, I’m not an upcountry man. You all know me here. My family have lived in Bosbradoe as long as most. I say this, there comes a time when you have to make sacrifices
for the common good…”
“What do’ee mean, Vicar?” cried Jeremiah Trevaskis.
“Have you thought of the consequences of what will happen if you stay here? Those creatures will eventually come and destroy your homes, destroy you, and then spread out over the countryside. What Dr Lambert and Mr Neville are suggesting is that, by evacuating this area, and allowing the military to deal with the creatures, you will not only save your own lives but the lives of countless other people on whom those creatures will turn when they have devastated your community.”
“But all we have and own is here,” protested Noall.
“But at least you will be alive to rebuild. There will be a chance of compensation and aid. How can you do that if you are dead?” demanded Pencarrow.
Jack Treneglos conceded the point. He seemed the unofficial spokesman for the villagers.
“When do these lorries arrive, Vicar?” he asked.
“Probably less than an hour so I suggest we get started right away,” interposed Lambert. “The longer we stay here the closer those things will come.”
“I suggest that Sergeant Jones, as the senior military man here, take charge of the evacuation.”
There was a reluctant mutter of assent.
Jones moved forward.
“I want four men to go round the village and make sure everyone gathers in the car park here within half an hour. Only one suitcase per person. I suggest, however, you take as much money as you have with you. Is that clear?”
Four men, Roscarrock and the three Treneglos brothers, volunteered for the job.
“What about the outlying cottages and farms?” asked Jones when they had departed with the villagers to collect their belongings.
Noall scratched his head.
“There be two cottages along the Cambeak road, about a mile or so out of the village. Then there is the Winterborn Farm on the Bodmin road. There’s Tymur Cottage, Mr Neville’s place, but seeing as he’s here that don’t matter. Oh, there’s old Mother Polruan’s place beyond Tymur.”
“Is that all?” asked Jones.
“Aye, it is. We’re completely surrounded by the moors here and the moors are inhospitable places for building houses.”
“I can slip over in my car and pick up the people in the cottages on the Cambeak road,” offered Reverend Pencarrow. “You’ll be passing by the Winterborn Farm on the way to Bodmin, so that’s no problem. How about Mrs Polruan?”
Neville frowned.
“I haven’t seen her for the last two days, have you?”
They shook their heads.
“Well, I have my car outside. I’d better go and get her,” Neville said.
Noall caught his arm.
“But her cottage is on the Tintagel road…you will have to go up the hill by Wheal Tom. That’s where those things be. She must have left before this. Leave it, it’s too dangerous.”
Neville shook his head.
“We can’t be certain that she has left. I can get through.”
Sergeant Jones intervened.
“If she’s in the danger area I ought to go…” he began.
Neville cut him short.
“You are needed here, sergeant. We have to have a qualified man in charge of the evacuation.”
Jones hesitated and then nodded agreement.
“Very well, Mr Neville. Do you want my pistol?”
Neville smiled and shook his head.
“I wouldn’t know how to use it, even if it were of some use.”
Jones smiled agreement and then had a thought.
“Take these then,” he said, handing across his last two
grenades. “You pull the pin, count five and throw it as far as you can.”
Neville took them gingerly.
“Alright, Sergeant. I’ll take them.”
“Good luck, Mr Neville. In case we get separated I am going to make two rallying points — one at Camelford and one at Trewassa.”
Neville nodded and looked round for Claire but she was nowhere to be seen.
He waved goodbye to Jones and Lambert and pushed his way through the throng of people towards his car. He was just starting up when the passenger door opened and Claire slid into the seat next to him.
“Claire!” he exclaimed. “Get back with the others. I’m going
“I know where you’re going and I know who’s going with you,” declared Claire, trying to sound light hearted.
“It’ll be dangerous,” began Neville, then he looked at the firm set of her jaw and shrugged.
He switched on the ignition, revved the engine to warm it and sent the car speeding through the village towards the bleak ruins of Castle Breaca. The hills beyond were strewn with movement. Claire’s face was pale as she stared up the hill towards the dark silhouette of Wheal Tom.
“There are quite a number of those creatures up there, Bill,” she whispered.
“Hang on,” grunted Neville. “So long as the road is open, that’s all we need worry about. Once we’ve picked up Mrs Polruan I shall keep on going for Bossiney and then swing across on to the Trewassa road. We won’t have to go back near Wheal Tom again.”
The sleek black shapes undulated in their dozens over the hillside around the old mine workings. Neville accelerated forward, praying that none of the giant creatures would edge their way down on to the roadway and cut them off. The road was too narrow to turn about in a hurry.
Claire let out a startled scream.
“To the right!”
He glanced over. Ahead of them, one of the gigantic worms seemed to be racing them towards the roadway, as if trying to intersect their route. Neville jammed his foot down harder on the accelerator.
“Hold tight, Claire,” he grunted as the car leapt forward.
It swayed dangerously along the roadway, the branches of small trees and hedgerows scratched and squealed in protest along the sides of the car. The creature was near to the hedge, in a few seconds more it would be pushing its terrifying growth across the road, blocking them off.
A few seconds…
Then they sped past it and the great body thumped down in the roadway just a few feet behind their car causing them to gasp.
“They are awful, Bill!” cried Claire in disgust as she surveyed the slimy black body of the creature in the full light of day. “I never dreamt anything so awful could exist in this world.”
Neville grimaced.
“They’ve existed for millions of years, Claire. They are older than Man himself. All you have to do is pick up a common garden worm and put it under a magnifying glass and those creatures are what you would see.”
“Are you sure they are nothing more than that?”
“Lambert was convinced. Radiation has simply reprocessed their cell structure in some way. God, when I think I used to pick them up as bait for fishing when I was a kid. Never again!”
They sped by the entrance to Tybronbucca. Claire gasped as she saw a good section of the old house was in ruins, presumably where the creatures had tunnelled out from the cellars. Claire shuddered as she remembered how close she had been to them. Then they had sped by the turn off to Tymur Cottage. Neville’s little place overlooking the cliffs was a mess of masonry rubble. One of the creatures lay sprawled across it.
“Mrs Polruan’s place is just half a mile up the road on the right,” Neville said, giving her an encouraging grin.
There were still groups of giant worms here and there and several isolated creatures. The main cluster seemed to be centred round Wheal Tom.
“There must be a hundred of them at least,” Claire said. Then she puckered her brow. “Bill, Lambert’s theory is wrong.”
“How’s that?”
“Common garden worms don’t live in the sea.”
“Some do,” asserted Neville. “Whatever has affected these worms and caused them to grow to outsized proportions has also affected the cellular growth of the two main species of worm in this area — that’s what Lambert says, anyway. The common land wo
rm and a worm known as phoronidea — marine worms that live in water.”
Claire shivered.
“It’s like some awful nightmare.”
“Soon be over, Claire. Here we are.”
They approached the grey stone of Mrs Polruan’s cottage and Neville braked sharply to a halt. He and Claire clambered out calling the old woman’s name. There was no answer.
Neville banged sharply on the door and then tried the handle.
It opened.
“Mrs Polruan!”
He entered the musty smelling cottage and stood uncertainly in the tiny parlour. It was cold and he shivered.
“Mrs Polruan!”
He made his way upstairs.
Claire followed him into the parlour and stood peering round.
“Bill!”
Neville rejoined her.
“There’s no sign of her,” he began.
Claire had picked up a piece of paper which lay on the table.
“What’s that?”
“It says: “To whom it may concern. This night I have gone to make contact with the Morgow to beg forgiveness for the sins of mankind. If I do not return it will be that the Morgow has rejected my supplication. Humanity will have to pay the full price. We have sinned against nature. It is right that we should be destroyed.” After that it goes off into some language, Cornish I think. I don’t understand it.”
Neville bit his lip.
“Poor woman! Poor crazy old woman!”
He took the note, glanced at it and thrust it into his pocket.
“Come on, love, we’d better…”
The sound of something crashing down outside caused him to glance up, startled.
“What is it?”
He went to the window and peered out.
Claire could see his face visibly pale.
“It’s one of them, Claire. Right outside the cottage.”
She raised a hand to stifle a scream. Then trying to control her emotions, she joined him at the window.
The great shiny black body of the creature had demolished an outhouse and lay in a supine coil nearby.
The Morgow Rises! Page 17