by Joseph Kiel
‘I don’t know. I don’t know what we can do about it anyway. They’re walking the other side of the tracks now.’
‘They’re still our flatmates. Still our friends.’
‘You know, maybe we should forget about them now.’
Michael sighed. ‘Look, I’m worried. What do we do?’
‘Just call them.’
‘Okay.’
‘I would do myself but I’m out of credit.’
‘Yeah, I’ll try them on the landline.’
‘Okay, Michael.’
‘I’ll hang up now.’
‘Yeah. Try not to worry so much. I’m sure they’ll walk through the door any minute now.’
‘Yeah. Talk to you later, Danny.’
‘See you.’
Michael hung up. He reached into his jeans pocket for his mobile phone. He only had Danny’s number memorised; the others he had to check on his contacts list. After finding Larry’s number under ‘Diamond’ he dialled it into the landline and let it ring.
And ring. And ring.
A familiar voice of a woman answered. ‘Hello. The person you’re calling cannot answer the…’
He slammed the phone down and then checked his mobile for Eddie’s number. That one brought even less luck as the call immediately connected to his voicemail. Either Eddie’s battery had gone flat or his phone was switched off.
Michael felt as though he was in a horror film. All he could picture now was another scene where a blood-stained mobile phone rang to nobody, its owner no longer around in this world to answer it.
Why were his thoughts going away with themselves so fast? He was being silly. He looked up Larry’s number in his phone again and dialled it. Maybe he didn’t get to it in time or something.
It pulsed and pulsed again, the echoed ringing connecting to a phone in an unknown place, perhaps sounding through the dimensions into the spiritual plain, where a murdered Larry would answer.
Michael… We’re gone. Me and Eddie have jumped into the abyss and you’re never going to see us again…
‘Hello. The person you’re calling…’
Slam.
Something was up. Michael couldn’t shake the feeling. He felt sick as the slimy slugs crawled throughout his guts, breeding and multiplying so that there wasn’t enough room for them and they would surely explode his guts open as they reduced him to a wreck.
What to do? What to do? What to do?
Michael had only one more idea. In a dim corner of his mind, he remembered his brother telling him another little story over a Sunday afternoon roast, something that was most probably a fanciful rumour. Right now though he had absolutely nothing else to go on. If only he still had that damned business card! Why had he let Larry take it?
Michael zipped up his jacket again and shot out of the flat.
Chapter 12.4
Henry had planned to stay in bed all morning. He was going to carry on sleeping until whatever time he woke up, and if that was never, then never it would be. There was nothing to get up for anymore.
The phone had woken him though and he was annoyed at himself for not having taken it off the hook the night before.
He answered. It was Nigel at The Cheshire Cat and he told Henry to pop by. By that, he probably meant that Henry should get out of bed immediately and go straight down there. After hanging up, Henry fell back to sleep again for another hour. He dreamt of wild horses all galloping away from a storm. They were running towards a cliff and were unable to stop in time. One by one they all fell down. Henry saw the rocks at the bottom of the cliff and all those doomed horses smashing onto them. The blood, the horror. He woke up again with a jagged headache and a bitter cloud in his head.
He dragged himself out of bed, put on a crumpled grey suit and drove into town. The traffic was stacked up as usual but the jaded Seraph was in no rush. Parking at the hotel he then strolled up Eastgate.
Entering the café, he sat on a stool at the counter, and as soon as Nigel came over he asked him: ‘What?’
Nigel opened the till and picked out an envelope. ‘This was here when I arrived this morning.’
Nigel put on a brew of Henry’s special tea and then picked up his pad and pen and attended to another customer. Saturday mornings were always busy but Nigel remained relaxed and bright-eyed. Perhaps the antennas on his head were always sending soothing energies into his brain no matter how much frantic activity there was around him.
Henry stared at the letter. His first name was scribbled on it in a scrawly handwriting. Whomever it was from, he knew that it certainly wasn’t more correspondence from The Harbour Master.
His hand reached beneath his jacket for his chest. Through his shirt he could feel the imitation Akasa Stone. It felt as though he was wearing a loser’s medal, or perhaps he was Superman with a chain of Kryptonite around his neck.
He put on his glasses and read the letter. Afterwards he then stared ahead into space for a good five minutes.
His head was completely empty. The chatter of Saturday morning shoppers did not enter his ears. Although his eyes were open, his brain did not register the light that they allowed in. Henry Maristow was a dead man.
Nigel returned to the counter and started pouring his cup of tea.
‘Nigel, we need to get the boys in. Call them up and get them to Clarence.’
Nigel frowned. ‘Won’t they be asleep?’
‘Wake them up! I need them here now.’
‘I’m on it. One other thing…’
‘What now?’ Henry said, almost like a whisper. He no longer had the energy to speak.
‘There’s someone in says he wants to speak to you. Says it’s urgent. Do you want me to get rid of him?’
Henry glanced over his shoulder. A young man in a white jacket was hovering nearby.
‘Send him over.’
Nigel nodded and Michael approached. Henry folded up the letter.
‘Hello, Mr Maristow,’ Michael said as he stood by the Seraph and offered him his hand.
Henry appeared to be in a trance as he stared down into his cup of tea. ‘Take a seat.’
Michael withdrew his hand and sat on the stool beside him. ‘I assume I’m talking to the right person if I want to discuss a matter concerning Halo of Fires.’
‘You assume correctly, young Mr…?’
‘Foxbury. Michael Foxbury.’
‘And how can I help you?’
‘I’d love to talk about Jeremy Tuckwell for a start,’ Michael said which brought Henry’s gaze directly onto him. ‘But right now I want to know what’s happened to my friends. I demand to know what’s going on.’
Henry was silent so Nigel spoke for him. ‘Your friends?’
‘Lawrence Stewart and Eddie Jansz.’
Henry looked up at the blank ceiling. His face was the colour of ash; the flames that were once his harnessed force had grown too fierce and finally consumed him. ‘Jeremy’s dead. We’re all dead,’ Henry muttered.
‘Please. I need to know. They didn’t come home last night. Where are they?’
‘We’ll get them back soon,’ Nigel said gently, like a schoolteacher reading a story to a class of primary school kids.
‘You know where they are? We have to go to the police!’
Henry didn’t appear to be listening to him. He just shook his head and looked to Nigel. ‘Devlan. Why did he turn them in? Why would he do that?’
Michael stood up. ‘Where are they? We need to find them.’
‘Look…’ Henry began. Although he was facing Michael now, it was more as if he was talking to himself. ‘We’re going to get the boys in. They’ll sort it all out. Come, let’s have a cup of tea, shall we?’
Michael was rigid, wondering if he’d heard him properly, looking from one man to the other, trying to find more signs of their quite evident psychosis. Why weren’t they as worked up and worried and panicked as he was? Why weren’t they doing anything?
‘Yes. Have a cup of tea,’ Nigel agreed.
<
br /> ‘Nigel,’ Henry said from his croaky throat. ‘The phone.’
Part 13: Hell
Chapter 13.1
The pain of the crushing headache, the relentless harrowing dreams, and the welling feeling of nausea finally dragged Eddie into consciousness. His neck ached and all his limbs were stiff, having been unconscious on a concrete floor. He didn’t know where he was but as his mind tuned in to his waking reality, he began to piece together what had happened last night.
They were at the recycling centre… and then Larry had seen that abandoned factory… and, oh yes, that freaky guy with the red eyes! And then all those lights… That tall man with the leathery skin… Thugs coming towards them… Larry being walloped… Larry… Where’s Larry?
‘Larry?’ Eddie called out into the chilly darkness. ‘Where are you?’
He heard a grunt, a couple of sharp sniffs, that patter.
‘Meriadoc! My man,’ he said as the dog pushed his wet nose into Eddie’s face and licked him. ‘You’re all right. Thank fuck.’
He put his arms around his unfailing guardian whom he imagined to have been watching over him all night in the strange place they’d been taken to. The dreadful nausea began to abate and he felt some comfort. All he had to do was figure out where he was and why he’d been brought here. And Larry. Where in the hell was that muppet?
He looked around. The room was small and sparse, not much bigger than his bedroom at the flat. The walls were made of breezeblocks and across the room were a battered wooden table and a set of drawers. That was about all he could see in the cold room, until he propped himself up and looked to his left.
One side of the room was open and seemed to join onto a much larger room. Not a room, a warehouse. It appeared to be full of… machinery? Eddie dragged himself to his feet steadily and took a few steps towards the opening. He didn’t get far before his sore head banged into an invisible force-field.
He cursed profusely as another thumping pain throbbed throughout his entire skull. When it started to ease, he steadily reached out his hands to feel for the glass wall. What the hell was this place?
Lights flickered on, harsh floodlights that illuminated the entire building and forced Eddie to close his unadjusted eyes tight.
He heard a groan, human-like this time, and as he slowly squinted his eyes open he saw the outline of a person slumped in a chair through the glass wall.
‘Uhh… I don’t remember drinking a thing. But I sure have the worst hangover ever.’
‘Oy! I’m over here,’ Eddie called to Larry as he banged on the glass.
Larry lifted his sorry head, a purple bruise staining one side. ‘I get tied to a chair and you get your own room? I think I ought to have a word with the management.’
Eddie smiled faintly but the next voice felt like ice-cold water trickling down his body.
‘Good morning, children. Did you all sleep well?’
The tall man with the leathery face stomped up to them and Eddie slumped to the ground, feeling the energy drain from himself like his body was covered in mosquitoes and they’d sapped him of all his blood.
‘I think it’s about time I introduced myself. My name is Des Floyd. This, where you’ve both been catching your beauty sleep, is my little Chamber of Fun. How do you like it? Enjoying your stay?’
Eddie glanced around the chamber, and saw that it wasn’t machinery, but fairground rides. The warehouse was full of them.
‘Yeah. It’s totally magical,’ Larry said. ‘A couple of guys in furry costumes and you’ll put Disney out of business.’
Floyd grinned. ‘Funny. I can see Maristow must have employed you as his court jester.’
‘Yeah. Yeah, that’s right. Good one. So can we go now?’
‘Leave so soon? But, children, we haven’t even started to have fun yet.’
‘Yeah,’ Larry began. ‘About that… Now, see, whatever your idea of fun happens to be, the thing is our colleagues are professional vigilantes, and now that we’ve both had a good look at your pretty face, and know your name, of course, there’s a possibility that they might get a little incensed if you decide to butt-rape us both.’
Floyd’s eyes jittered as though they were having a party. He looked from Larry to Eddie and then back again, dread lingering in the silence like a poisonous gas.
He reached into the inside pocket of the heavy trench coat. He pulled out a crumpled letter with a red blob on it.
‘Well then, boys, this here letter from your so-called boss is a bit confusing. I can only assume that Maristow didn’t tell you much about the monster it was addressed to.’
‘He told us about him.’
‘Did he tell you everything? Tell you all about what Devlan gets up to?’
They were silent.
‘People often go missing in this town. It’s a little problem we have, all because of this strange creature who, every now and again, will get a craving for human flesh. Now, if his hunger ain’t met, he’ll go out at night and grab people off the street and drag them back to his hiding hole and chew on their bones and drink their blood.’
‘Fucking bollocks, mate,’ Eddie said.
Floyd laughed. ‘You don’t really think Maristow actually gave a shit about a couple of fucking spastics like you, did you? Here’s how he was actually fucking you over: all of a sudden he wants to become buddies with Devlan, because Devlan knows something that Henry really wants to know about, and to get him on his side, to give him a complimentary food hamper, he sends along you two retards. He says: ‘Here, Devlan, here’s some meat to get your teeth into. When you’ve finished eating let’s get together for a coffee and talk business.’ You understand me?’
‘That’s crap,’ Larry said.
Floyd stood over him, looking down on him with those small, empty eyes. Their flittering stopped for a moment, and Larry saw how empty they were of everything. Empty of feeling, empty of humanity. He’d never felt so terrified in a very long time.
‘You really don’t know Henry like I know him. I used to work with him, kid. I know what he’s all about. I bet you don’t know about the treasure he’s been searching for. Seen that display in his office? All about his pursuit of the Akasa Stone? He’d do anything to get his hands on that thing and if it meant sacrificing a couple of teenagers then he wouldn’t think twice.’
‘Can I read that letter then?’ Larry asked.
Floyd laughed cockily as though he’d been rumbled. Instead of changing the subject, he said: ‘Sure,’ and held the letter in front of Larry.
Eddie waited for him to read it, waited for him to shout ‘ha’ and call him a fucking liar. But he didn’t. He read in silence and then hung his head.
The demon stuffed the letter away. ‘Enough of all this. I think it’s time we had some fun!’ He turned to Eddie and walked over to the glass. ‘I take it the dog is yours?’
Eddie glared back at him. He hated him more than he’d ever hated anyone. Even more than he now hated Henry Maristow, the bastard who’d been all smiles and then sent them along to this horror. What a bastard. He hated everyone. He hated the entire fucking world.
‘Yeah, it went to you so I figured it was,’ Floyd went on. ‘Stayed by you the whole time. I bet you must really like that dog.’
Eddie’s nostrils began to flare.
Floyd continued: ‘Some people love their pets. They’ll cry more when their dog goes than when their mother kicks the bucket. Myself, I’m not an animal lover. They cost you money, give you fleas, tear your house up, and shit everywhere. They’re pointless.’
Eddie lowered his eyes to the ground, ignoring the loudmouthed monster.
‘But I think you like your little doggy quite a lot, don’t you? I’m just curious to know how much you do actually like him. Gonna tell me?’
Eddie looked at the canine soul who sat quietly next to him between he and Floyd. His ears were pricked and his eyes were alert, ready to defend his master with a purity of spirit that would always outshine any human’
s.
‘Tell me,’ Floyd went on. ‘Do you like your dog more than you like your friend over here? I mean, if you had to choose between them, whose friendship would you pick? The jester or the dog?’
‘Go fuck yourself,’ Eddie spat from beneath his baseball cap.
‘Tell me!’ Floyd boomed. ‘Which one would you pick? If you could only have one, which one?’
‘Larry,’ Eddie mumbled. It was a stupid question anyway and it didn’t mean anything.
‘Interesting,’ Floyd said. ‘Well, now then, I’m gonna want you to prove it.’
Floyd paused at that point as Eddie could feel a tightening in his dry throat, as though it was about to fill with vomit.
‘You see that cabinet next to you? Go over there and open it. Go on!’
Eddie got up and staggered over to it.
‘Open the top drawer.’
Eddie did so. Inside was a gun.
‘Now take the gun and shoot the dog in the head.’
Eddie was numb but then flinched when Floyd pulled out another gun from his trench coat and fired it directly at him. He didn’t feel anything.
‘Bullet proof glass, so don’t even bother,’ Floyd said. The maniac walked over to Larry and put the gun to his head. ‘Now kill the dog or I’ll shoot your friend’s brains out.’
Eddie could only stare down at the gun laying in the drawer. There was no way he could pick that thing up and shoot Meriadoc.
‘Do it, you fucking bastard! Kill that stupid mutt or I’ll shoot your friend!’
He looked over at poor Larry whose eyes were open so wide they looked like they would pop out of his skull. He didn’t have any quips to make now. Rigid in pure fear, Larry was like a deer milliseconds away from impact with the truck.
He turned to Eddie pleadingly. His mouth was shut so tight, bracing himself for the bullet that was about to sheer through his head and burst open his skull.
Eddie picked up the weapon and looked across at Meriadoc. He was panting so heavily as he stared back at his master, the man who’d rescued him from the streets and taken him in. The same man who was now going to have to shoot him dead.