Dark Harbour: The Tale of the Soul Searcher

by Joseph Kiel

  What does it matter that Samuel Allington was going to have Danny killed? Being stuck in the room with these three plebs for too long and Danny’s head would soon be in a noose anyway.

  Eventually the squawking died down. Danny waited a few seconds more before deciding that the coast was sufficiently clear to get himself out of there.

  The pub had started to fill up a little since he’d been in the ladies’ toilets. The rain outside had eased to a feathery drizzle. Stella, as expected, was nowhere to be seen.

  He’d search the temptress out again eventually though, when the time was right. Now he was already on the way to Davy Jones’s locker, he was going to make damned sure he went out in style.

  Part 8: Darkness Descends

  Chapter 8.1

  ‘I feel like I’m becoming a criminal,’ Larry said with surprising nonchalance, as though he’d just been given their Sunday league team sheet and seen that he was to play left wing instead of central defence.

  ‘So what?’ Eddie replied as he stared at the yellow lights above the lift doors, lighting up each floor as they moved ever upwards.

  ‘Did you ever think that this is where you would end up? When you sat down with the careers advisor at school, was this one of the things that he happened to mention to you?’

  ‘You want to be normal, Larry? Want to let mediocrity win out over you? Do you want to do all that nine to five crap, fitting into a system that’s only going to screw you over, that’ll give you a mortgage you can’t afford and a pension that won’t support you until you’re eighty-five? This feels like an opportunity, something that don’t come along for everyone. We gotta take this, dude. This is what we wanted, right?’

  ‘Yeah. I think so.’

  ‘I’m just tired. Tired of life passing me by. Looking me over. Don’t you always wonder when your life is going to begin?’

  The lift came to a stop as the light pinged on floor three. The doors opened.

  ‘Maybe it’s here.’

  On reaching the top floor of the town’s multi-storey carpark, Larry and Eddie walked across the concrete. The level was empty of cars, but not empty of people, for at the far end stood a figure. He perched at the edge like an eagle, peering down on the tainted world below.

  It was Vladimir, the agent of karma, and Larry and Eddie felt drawn to him like cats sidling up beside a fire. The way he was standing there in his long, dark coat reminded Eddie of a film. He could very well have been one of the heavenly beings from that film City of Angels, the silent way he stood there watching everything, looking for anything that would call for him to intervene. Dark Harbour definitely wasn’t a city of angels though.

  Despite the approaching footsteps, Vladimir did not turn to face them, as though he could sense who they were. As they took their places either side of him he asked them: ‘What do you see down there?’

  ‘One or two drunks,’ Larry replied. ‘Some chavs. And look at that. Some guy’s taking a piss!’

  ‘And you, Eddie?’

  ‘Asbo punks wanting to stab everyone, pissheads looking for fights, thugs dropping pills into drinks, kids getting shot, little girls getting raped. That sound about right?’

  ‘Decadent Dark Harbour. Stronghold of hopelessness.’

  Drunken revellers stumbled by on the littered streets below, swallowed by the whirlpool of disillusionment and apathy. Eddie could see a young man lying on a bench, an arm draped over his head, his skin pallid and yellow like candle wax. He wore a baseball cap much like the one Eddie wore. The youngster wasn’t moving at all, didn’t even appear to be breathing. For all Eddie knew, the lad could be dead, but everyone just walked by him as though they hadn’t noticed him.

  ‘Where did it all go wrong?’ Eddie pondered.

  ‘Where’s the dream?’ Vladimir went on. ‘Decay, authority, and the pursuit of hedonism. We ruled the world, held it tightly in our hands, but it crumbled from us. Now we know the ship is going down we’re just partying our way out.

  Eddie folded his arms and looked to Vladimir. ‘So, you have another job for us.’ There was a suspicious tone to his voice, which Vladimir expected.

  ‘Thought that’s what you wanted.’

  ‘And you thought that two random losers you met at the park one day would be the perfect ones for it.’

  ‘Nothing’s random.’

  The lad on the bench still hadn’t moved, and yet the passers-by just carried on passing by. It all seemed like chaos to Eddie.

  Friday night on the streets of Dark Harbour was always party time, everyone filling themselves with booze and whatever other chemicals they could get their hands on, until they either spewed or couldn’t remember anything anymore. It was a scene that he and Larry had participated in so many times before. But now, standing on top of the carpark, it seemed like he had a different perspective, as though he’d been taken away from the world down there.

  ‘You know what?’ Eddie said. ‘Your friend was right about me. You hadn’t met us on the common that day, you would have met me eventually. I’d be your work one night. Coz one day I’d hurt someone, and it wouldn’t be pretty.’

  ‘I’d like everyone else to see your true colours.’

  Confused by this, Eddie just shook his head, his mind stalling as it was put in a gear that he wasn’t ready for. It was unfamiliar territory to him. No one had ever given him a break. No one had ever given him anything.

  Vladimir turned to the other student. ‘And you, Larry. Maybe one day we’d have met you too.’

  ‘Yeah. Yeah, maybe so.’

  ‘You carry the damage. It’s always lurking behind you. I hear the stitch in your voice, the drum beating at the back of the orchestra.’

  Eddie frowned and looked at his friend but Larry was looking away. The mysterious vigilante seemed to know them so well, seemed to be able to cut to their cores with crystal-edged sharpness.

  ‘Why the hell are you going to trust us with this job of yours?’

  ‘Because I don’t think you’re dumb enough to cross a group of vigilantes.’

  ‘Yeah but how do you know we’re cut out for it?’

  Vladimir tilted his head slightly. ‘I tell you what, think of it less as a job and more as a test.’

  ‘A test? And if we pass?’

  ‘You’ll discover what you’re looking for.’

  ‘What if we fail?’

  ‘You’ll still be a lost soul, just floating in the wind, not knowing why you’re here, not knowing your purpose.’

  The two of them fell very silent listening to his words, listening as they would to the angel of death taking them through their lives after their final chapter when the plot had been well and truly lost.

  ‘What do you say?’ Vladimir asked them.

  Eddie glanced over to Larry. He looked like an actor waiting for Eddie’s next line so that the play could continue.

  ‘Yeah. We’ll do this test of yours.’

  ‘Not mine.’

  ‘No? Where’s it come from?’

  Vladimir looked up into the heavens for a moment, as though tired of looking down on his own world. He turned around. ‘Follow me,’ he said.

  And they did. Eddie glanced once more at the recumbent youngster down below. Whether he was dead or whether he was just paralysed by drugs, Eddie would never know.

  Chapter 8.2

  Rooms are like mirrors; they reflect back to you everything about yourself. The room on the first floor of 38 Toledo Road said a lot about the four individuals that lived there. It said a lot about them based on what wasn’t there.

  The room was dark when Michael walked in so he turned on the light. Two empty crisp packets sat on the arm of the chair, both the flavour that Larry liked so much. One empty tea mug and two pint glasses were on the floor next to the settee, laying on their side with a stale froth of beer oozing inside.

  Getting another drink was evidently not an ordeal for Larry. Going to get a glass and taking an empty glass back to the kitchen at the same time was
apparently asking too much of him though. Too much real-life logic there. Didn’t the bad guys just disappear into thin air after you’d shot them? Ridiculous to assume that anything in the real world that you were finished with should continue to exist. Besides, how did those dirty glasses eventually get washed up if Larry never bothered to take them away?

  Michael disliked living in the remotest sign of squalor, yet he tried not to judge his friends on their lower standards. Crouching down to pick up the dirty vessels, Michael then noticed there was also a dirty plate with a piece of toast on it. He sighed in exasperation and sat down on the settee.

  Where were his three flatmates tonight? It was a Friday night and yet none of them, the three other corners of the square, was anywhere to be seen. Michael couldn’t help but notice how things had changed in the past few months. The square had now crumbled and left behind an unknown, distorted shape. It was more like a doodle drawn by a three year old.

  What could he do about it? Michael had sometimes talked to them about his religion. He was careful not to sound like he was preaching, but when the situation called for it he wasn’t afraid to tell them what God brought to his life. It was so sad that Michael could see exactly what they were lacking, yet when he tried to offer it to them he usually had it thrown back in his face.

  He wasn’t one of those Catholics that arbitrarily called himself one just because he’d been born into the religion. Michael was a Catholic because he truly believed in it. He saw himself as a creature of sin and had accepted Christ as his saviour. There was no point being a Catholic if he wasn’t going to act one.

  It was times like this when he could see how religion had strengthened him, how it had made him avoid becoming a person who would lust after someone else’s fiancée or associate with criminals. For those were the trails of temptation that his non-believing friends were now lost down.

  They frustrated him, but Michael saw no point in being angry or resentful towards his friends. What hope would there be then? He had to be better than that. He had to keep in his heart what once their friendship square was, had to remember the fun and good times that they’d had together. Michael had to remember that he still loved his friends. He had to stay true to those feelings, for they were the feelings that were true to him. That’s what Jesus would do now.

  So maybe the three lost lambs would come running back in time, wherever they now were. Danny going after Stella, chasing after the wrong girl. Samuel Allington’s threat to him if he should carry on seeing her. Michael was aware of it. So where was Danny tonight? Why had he gone out alone without telling anyone where he was going?

  And Larry and Eddie, joining up with that dreadful vigilante organisation. How could they do that? Especially after seeing what had happened to Danny, especially as they knew that they, themselves, were a part of it. How could they have carried on without a word of sorrow?

  The slugs of worry slowly crawled around in Michael’s stomach as his eyes rested on the piece of toast on the plate beside him. Larry liked his toast with lime marmalade but for some reason he’d only eaten half of it. He’d cut it into two triangles and the remaining one had curled up and gone dry.

  An ominous thought suddenly crept into Michael’s head, as though one of those slugs had slithered its way up there and quietly whispered a diabolical idea to him. A triangle.

  Having been thinking about his square of friends for the past few moments, Michael could not help but notice the synchronicity in now seeing an object that was once a square, now existing only as a triangle.

  One of the corners is missing.

  Michael felt sick and swallowed awkwardly as a drought of saliva hit his mouth. Where had this thought come from? Why was he unable to shrug it off? Why did it feel as though he was sensing the echoes of some future event?

  Missing, or no longer in existence? It was an odd intuition to feel, but Michael had to be careful about it. Certainly it was always affirming to think that God had inspired him with the thought, or an angel had whispered it to him, but what if it was the Devil putting insidious thoughts in his head?

  But still the thought throbbed in his mind. One member of the square would no longer be with them at some point soon. That member would no longer be in existence. He would be dead.

  Which one? There were so many dangers now threatening their lives. Least likely was that it might be Michael himself, but a possibility nonetheless. That’s if Michael was to give this idea any credence. That’s if he was to believe that looking at a half-eaten piece of toast would obviously be a sign that someone was about to die. Obviously!

  He stood up again and made his way to the kitchen with the collection of dirty glasses. As he walked downstairs he saw Meriadoc sitting by the front door, hoping that if he whined loud enough it would make his lost master appear at it.

  It seemed that Meriadoc was worried too. Or maybe not. Maybe he just wanted to be out there with them.

  Chapter 8.3

  Danny immediately wanted to touch her again. It had been over a week since he’d done that, but here she’d slipped out of the ether once more, a desert breeze on the Arctic’s plains. Danny’s thirsty eyes aligned with hers but he kept his hands in his pockets. There were better places to touch her than right outside The Waggon and Horses.

  ‘Fancy seeing you in a bar tonight. I think you’ve practically moved in there now, have you?’

  ‘I could think of other things I’d rather be doing,’ Danny replied to her.

  ‘Yes,’ she said in that delicately airy voice of hers. ‘Yes, I’m sure you could.’

  Since the last encounter, Danny had puzzled at how to get in touch with her again. It wasn’t like he had a phone number he could call, no address where he could knock at the door (not that that would have been the brightest of ideas). He didn’t even have an email address for her. All he could do was wait. The days had listlessly floated by and Danny had felt like a sailboat in a vacuum.

  Nine days he’d waited, and they’d been an eternity. Waiting for the flap of the letterbox every moment he was at the flat, waiting around at the places he’d seen her previously, all on the outside chance that she might be looking for him there. He knew he was desperate, like an addict trying to find his dealer, but he didn’t care. He wanted her.

  Both of them opened their mouths and spoke some words at the exact same time. Stella smiled then said: ‘Sorry, you first.’

  ‘I was just… Go on. You first.’

  ‘You know, Danny. Lost little Danny. I know that…’ Her words trailed off, as though they were pinned in her throat. ‘Let’s go somewhere else, shall we?’

  Danny was glad to get out of the street, especially as he had a distinct sense that he was being watched everywhere he went. The watchful eyes of a jealous boyfriend would very much want to know if Danny was going to ignore the drastic warning he’d been given. This was exactly what he’d told him not to do, treading within the flowers of the forbidden garden.

  They headed off across the road and walked down onto the beach. The tide was out as far as it could be tonight, and so they slowly made their way over to the shoreline, the darkness gradually enveloping them, throwing a shroud over their illicit meeting. However wrong it might be for Danny to be in her presence again, he knew that he could not resist being with her any more than the moon was able to resist being pulled towards the Earth.

  It was muggy tonight and the air felt congested and thick like treacle. It felt so heavy that it was as though the universe had turned up the level of gravity a notch or two. Walking felt that little bit more onerous.

  ‘The thing is this, sweetie: have you thought about how Sam would react if I told him I was going to leave him? Especially after the idea we put in his head. The idea about…’

  ‘Us?’

  ‘Yes.

  ‘So what are you saying?’ Danny pressed.

  ‘Sometimes I wish I could just jump into the sea and swim away, far away from everything and everyone. It seems that all I cause is
trouble. Everyone I put my hand to falls apart.’

  Her words jarred Danny. Never in the whole time he’d known of her had he expected that she was capable of such forlorn sentiment. To Danny she was always a bright soul radiating inspiration wherever she went. And so, it was through the tune of melancholic infused compassion that her words had inspired the goblin to play on the organ, that Danny put a comforting arm over her shoulder.

  ‘That’s not true,’ he said to her.

  ‘Yes it is, Danny. Look at you. Look what I’ve done to you, distracting you from everything like this. Blowing you off course and corrupting your heart.’

  ‘You’ve not… you’ve not corrupted me! What are you talking about? You’ve lit everything up.’

  ‘Blinded you, I think.’

  ‘Stella, I don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s not your fault that I want you. To feel the things I feel. It’s human.’

  ‘Why do you desire me so?’

  ‘Because you’re perfect,’ was all Danny could say.

  ‘And is happiness found through yourself, or through another person?’

  ‘What does it matter?’

  Having reached the shoreline, Stella kicked off her sandals and sat down on the damp sand that glistened in the dull moonlight. The moon was diffused by patchy clouds that hung in the air like phantoms, the delighted overseers of this meeting of uncontrollable lust. The dark waves rustled nearby, gently sweeping close to her, tempting her to take her away to her retreat.

  ‘Do you love him? Samuel,’ Danny asked.

  ‘There’s love for him, yes. But what exactly are those feelings? Now that’s the question to ask. Do I love him as much as it is possible for me to love someone? Do I love him more than I could any other? The answer to that question, Danny, the crucial fact is that no, I don’t.’

  ‘Then why are you with him?’

  ‘He needed me. I know what it’s like for everyone else looking in on us. They see perfection. But it’s not. It’s just so… smothering. A weight on my soul.’