Hikers - The Collection (Complete Box Set of 5 Books)

by Lauren Algeo

  The car park was dusty and run down, and they had to pick their way through piles of rubble to get to the edge of the top floor, above the hiker. They both leant over the lip of the wall and looked down. The hiker was fifty feet directly below them. Brewer handed Georgie the bomb and she carefully lit the fuse then dropped it over the edge. They took cover behind the wall, however the explosion was small and the building withstood it easily. There was a metallic sound as the ball bearings pinged off every surface they could.

  A normal person would have died instantly; the hiker was fine. They watched eagerly as the smoke cleared and Georgie gave an excited squeal when they could make out the hiker lying on the floor. Only within two minutes, it was slowly getting to its feet and shaking off the effects of the bomb.

  ‘Block your mind,’ Brewer instructed. ‘We need to get out of here.’

  The hiker would be looking for the source of the explosion and searching for the mind of its attacker. They had to be gone before it found a way into their heads; they couldn’t risk a repeat of the golf club scenario.

  Georgie followed Brewer numbly down the stairway, not caring about the echo her footsteps were making in the airless space. She felt bitterly disappointed. She had been so sure the bomb would work this time.

  They sprinted away from the car park and began the long journey back to the flat.

  ‘You’ll get used to ideas failing,’ Brewer said when he saw Georgie’s sullen face.

  ‘But it was such a good one!’ she sulked.

  ‘We’ll just have to add it to the long list of things that don’t work.’ He’d long gotten over the gnawing disappointment at unsuccessful kill attempts.

  Brewer took Georgie out more and more, and got her disciplined at shutting off her mind to hikers. They practised from further away and then closer, until Georgie was confident at blocking them. They tried to hone her skill of being able to sense the hikers, but it was unpredictable. Sometimes she could feel them from far away, other times they were almost on top of the hiker before she could sense it, and they could usually hear it by then anyway. Georgie couldn’t pinpoint exactly how she could sense them.

  ‘I don’t know!’ she cried, exasperated, after Brewer repeatedly tried to get her to describe it to him. ‘It’s just a feeling. I just know there’s one there.’

  It didn’t matter too much, it was still an advantage they had together that Brewer hadn’t had on his own.

  They tried a couple of overnight trips over the next few weeks. The first snow fell at the end of November, and it made long stints outside harder. Unless they were sure there was a hiker somewhere around the country, it made more sense to stay near London and return to the flat at night where possible. They did take a weekend trip up to Norwich and stayed in a cheap hotel but it proved fruitless. Brewer didn’t voice it to Georgie, however he was concerned about the current lack of hiker activity. It was almost as if they were being extra careful to cover up their handiwork.

  There were some occasions when Brewer was sure a hiker had been involved, only it turned out to just be a seriously unhinged person. They added a couple of pins to his map but less than he had for a while.

  Georgie grew more accustomed to his life, and actually listened when he told her what to do. They clashed less now she understood what he did. She learnt quickly just how depraved hikers could be, and she learnt to trust her instincts around situations.

  One icy Tuesday morning, they ventured to Bath. Brewer had seen a story on one of the local news websites that had suggested the touch of a hiker. A man had driven a snowplough straight into two men, who had been walking home from work after failing to find a cab in the snow. Both men were in a critical condition in hospital and the man driving the plough had been arrested for drink driving. He had been found at the scene mumbling manically and way over the limit, although his wife insisted before that evening he had been tea total.

  It was enough to spark Brewer’s interest, and he and Georgie packed enough for a couple of days away. He had bought her a pair of her own walking boots, a rucksack, some thermals, and a decent winter coat. He’d even presented her with her own little flick knife. It wouldn’t do much damage, but it made her feel safer to be armed.

  They researched on the train to Bath and made plans to go directly to the hospital, to see if a hiker was lingering there, looking for an opportunity to finish the job on one of the two men.

  The snow was thicker in Bath and it made their journey across town slow. Every train and bus seemed to be delayed or cancelled, and cabs were struggling with the conditions on the roads so they opted to walk. It was only three miles to the hospital, although trudging slowly through the snow made it seem like a lot further away.

  ‘Are we nearly there yet?’ Georgie whined.

  They’d taken to walking single file with Brewer in front, semi-clearing the way for Georgie to follow. Their breath came out in clouds of steam and Georgie’s face was red from the stinging wind. They were both bundled up in their warmest clothes and the exertion of the walking was making Brewer sweat under his layers.

  ‘One mile left,’ he called over his shoulder, his voice immediately carried away by a blast of wind.

  There were a few snowflakes falling and heavier snow was forecast for the afternoon. The roads and pavements were eerily quiet, as if everyone else had stayed tucked up in the warm.

  They decided to cut through some side roads to try and save time. Brewer had seen on the map that if they passed through the edge of a housing estate, it would cut the distance from travelling along the main roads, and they would come out near the back of the hospital.

  Brewer ploughed on and Georgie kept her head down and tried to keep up with him.

  ‘Help me.’

  She thought she heard a child’s voice cry out. She stopped walking and looked around.

  ‘What was that?’ she asked Brewer, only he didn’t hear her over the howling wind and kept moving.

  Georgie started shuffling forward again then she heard the faint sound of a child crying. She peered through the falling flakes and spied a small boy.

  He was standing in the space between two blocks of flats on her right, with his face buried in his hands. Judging by his size, he could only have been about five or six years old, and he wasn’t wearing a coat.

  Georgie rushed towards him. He was obviously lost and he’d freeze the way he was dressed.

  ‘Scott!’ she yelled. ‘There’s a kid here!’

  Brewer stopped and turned around, confused, then he caught sight of the crying boy.

  What the hell is a kid doing out here alone in this weather, he thought.

  ‘It’s ok,’ Georgie called to the boy. ‘We’ll find your mummy.’ She reached him and bent down to his level to find out if he was all right.

  Brewer frowned and walked towards them through the snow. His instincts were screaming at him that something wasn’t right. The kid wasn’t wearing a coat – he was wearing a…

  ‘Georgie!’

  She put her hand on the sobbing boy’s arm to comfort him.

  ‘Hey, hey it’s ok,’ she said softly. ‘I’ll help you. What’s your name?’

  The boy lowered his arms and Georgie fell backwards in shock. His eyes were pure black and he wasn’t crying at all, he was grinning.

  ‘William,’ came the eerie reply then he was instantly attacking.

  She felt his small hands grabbing eagerly at her head, trying to get into her mind.

  ‘No!’ she screamed.

  The child hiker was stronger than any she’d encountered so far. He crawled easily under her barriers, his childish laughter echoing around her head.

  ‘Georgie!’ Brewer shouted again.

  He’d reached the pavement in front of the flats and was nearly to them. Georgie tried to crawl away and get to her feet but the boy took control of her movements, and she fell face first into the snow.

  Brewer slipped on a patch of ice and went down on one knee, trying to regain his
balance before he pitched over.

  Georgie coughed and spat out some snow from her mouth.

  ‘No,’ came the sinister little voice inside. ‘Eat it.’

  She found herself opening her mouth wide and sucking in the freezing snow. She swallowed a large mouthful and felt it numb her throat, although she was powerless to stop.

  ‘More!’ the boy cried gleefully. ‘Faster!’

  Georgie’s jaw moved mechanically and her hands came up to shovel in more snow. She spluttered and choked on a hard lump, and tears sprang up in her eyes as she gulped it down.

  Stop, she begged.

  Only the boy was enjoying himself. ‘You’re a whore!’ he whispered tauntingly.

  The word sounded crazy coming from a child but she was filled with icy fear. He was starting to look through her past. Brewer had said…

  Suddenly Brewer was there. He lunged at the boy and drove his knife straight into his tiny chest. Georgie stared in disbelief through her watery eyes at the horrific image. The little boy with the knife buried up to the hilt in his small body.

  He wailed in surprise and Georgie felt him leave her mind instantly. She gagged on the snow in her mouth and spat it out forcefully as she regained control of her body. Her stomach felt heavy and tight, and she was gasping for air.

  The boy crumpled to the floor and his blood began to stain the snow around him dark red. Brewer yanked his knife out of the boy’s chest and fended off his weakened attempts to get inside his head. He was ready to strike again if needed; trying to push aside the idea that this was just a little boy.

  ‘We don’t have much time!’ he yelled, helping Georgie to her feet.

  The boy would start to heal any second and get his strength back. Georgie was in shock and couldn’t coordinate her body properly. She lurched to the side and nearly fell again.

  Brewer dragged her to him and lifted her off the ground. She didn’t weigh much, but carrying her across his arms impeded his view of the ground in front. He tried to balance both their weights and navigate the snow and ice. Georgie was panting and coughing, and her eyes were glassy.

  ‘I didn’t sense it!’ she wheezed in a terrified voice then her head rocked back and she passed out.

  Brewer risked a glance over his shoulder, however there was no sign of the boy. He hurried as fast as he could along the road with Georgie’s dead weight in his arms.

  He took her straight to the hospital. In his state of panic, he couldn’t think of anywhere else to go, and they were already nearly there. He hoped that if the child hiker was following them, he wouldn’t be able to pick them out from the amount of people in the hospital.

  As they neared the entrance to A&E, Georgie began to stir. He waited until her eyes fluttered open, and she was aware of their surroundings, before he put her down. She was still shaky on her feet and he held her arm firmly to guide her to the sliding doors.

  The hospital was in chaos. They slipped past the desk, unnoticed, and Brewer led Georgie to an empty seat at the back of the waiting room. He made sure she was comfortable, before going to get them both a hot drink from the nearby vending machine.

  The waiting room was three quarters full, and there were people bustling around everywhere. The snow and ice had caused plenty of accidents and injuries. There were a few people holding bloody cloths to various cuts on their bodies and heads. One woman was cradling her arm gingerly; from the amount of swelling, Brewer guessed her wrist was broken. A couple of people had their legs propped out in front of them with undoubted sprained or twisted ankles from falls.

  Brewer overheard a receptionist telling one of the nurses walking past that another ambulance would be out of action, after it slid off the road and got stuck in a mound of snow. The bad weather had stretched the hospital thin, with plenty of staff not being able to get in for their shifts, but Brewer was grateful for the drama. It meant no one would pay them any attention and they could hide out there for as long as they needed.

  He made his way back to Georgie, carrying two paper cups of watery tea. Georgie was leaning forward with her elbows resting on her legs, and her head was bowed. Her face was a worrying shade of grey. She glanced up at him as he handed her the tea and he could see the stricken look in her eyes.

  She sat holding the cup for a while before taking a tentative sip.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ he asked her.

  It was a stupid question – her body was visibly trembling and she’d just been tortured by a child hiker. Still, she’d come off a great deal better than he had after his own encounter with one. He subconsciously stroked his finger over a small scar at the back of his head.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ Georgie replied so quietly Brewer had to lean in to hear her. ‘It was just a child?’

  ‘Child hikers are the strongest of all,’ he told her. ‘Trust me.’

  She nodded slowly. ‘The green pin in your map… you faced one before?’

  His mouth suddenly felt dry and he swallowed hard. It had been a long time since he’d let the memories of that day surface.

  ‘I have,’ he said. ‘And I barely survived.’

  ‘You told me a while ago that it was a story for another day. Can you tell it to me now?’

  The nightmares from his experience were already threatening to spill over so he embraced them.

  Chapter 25 – 6th March 2010

  It was purely by chance that Brewer had set off on the trip that nearly killed him. He’d been hunting around Weymouth at the start of March when he’d gone into a local shop and happened to hear the shopkeeper commenting to a customer about a story in a South West newspaper.

  ‘Very odd stuff going on down in Cornwall,’ the female shopkeeper had said, tapping at an article on the front page.

  ‘I heard some of it,’ the man replied, putting his groceries into bags. ‘Some crazy people running around down there, if you ask me!’

  The shopkeeper sniffed. ‘More like selfish people, killing themselves like that. It’s the families I feel sorry for.’

  ‘Where’s that?’ Brewer asked casually.

  He walked up to the till with some sandwiches and a couple of bottles of water.

  The man and woman eyed him suspiciously. He was a stranger to them, and he knew the uneasy effect he had on people. The two days’ worth of stubble and his large khaki parka didn’t help.

  ‘I’m heading down to Cornwall tomorrow, so good to know what’s going on,’ he carried on, giving a relaxed smile.

  The woman warmed to him slightly. ‘You better read the paper before you go then,’ she said, handing him a copy to buy with his supplies. ‘There’s all manner of tragedy going on.’

  He thanked her and paid for his items then left the shop swiftly. He thumbed through the paper eagerly as he walked in the direction of the nearest train station. His steps soon slowed and he ended up sitting at a bus stop to read the articles properly.

  There was chaos around Newquay and Padstow. With mounting horror, Brewer read the number of deaths that had been reported between the two areas over the last week. Two people had committed suicide by jumping from the cliffs of a well-known National Trust area called the Carnewas and Bedruthan Steps. According to the articles, they had both been fairly young women, and neither had any history of depression. There were no notes left behind but both bodies had washed up with no signs of trauma, and the coroners had ruled the cause of death as suicide.

  The day after the first woman’s body had been found, a car with three teenage passengers had lost control on a winding road and rolled down another cliff area, where it had burst into flames, killing everyone inside. That one had been reported as accidental. Brewer knew better.

  There was more. There had been another fatal car crash five miles from the first site – this one with a middle aged married couple inside, who had apparently lost control on a straight road ­–­ also reported as an accident. In the garage of a cottage in Newquay, a man’s body had been discovered inside a car with the engine r
unning. He had run a tube from the exhaust pipe into the car and closed all the windows to gas himself. Another suicide.

  Lastly, a woman in her late thirties had taken her dog out for a walk, on the evening the second woman’s body had washed up, and been found hanging from a tree the next morning.

  The paper was calling it ‘March madness’, and there were talks of possible suicide pacts being made on social networking sites, although no links had been found between any of the victims yet. Other people were blaming the effects of an upcoming full moon but that was laughable. There was a remote chance all of these people had killed themselves or simply crashed their cars on empty stretches of road, however Brewer highly doubted it.

  These deaths had a hiker’s cruelty stamped all over them. He had never come across so many so close together though, and all in the same area. Either this was a hiker who was deliberately disobeying the Grand, or a rogue one who worked alone. The Grand would surely know about this ­– the hiker was causing enough carnage to draw attention to itself.

  Brewer made the decision to get down there sharpish. If the Grand was coming to finish the hiker off, it would be interesting to see if he killed it in the same way as before. Maybe there were other methods the Grand could use to kill them, which Brewer could learn.

  He caught the train to Padstow and started to research on the journey. He took out the atlas of the UK he kept in his rucksack and found one with a more detailed map of the South West area. With a black pen, he marked the four suicides and two crashes on the map. The points from two of the suicides and the two site crashes formed a rough semi circle alongside the coast. In the middle of these were the two dots that marked the suicides at the Carnewas and Bedruthan Steps. It seemed as if the hiker wasn’t venturing far from there in any direction so he decided that would be a good place to start.

  Brewer took the Greyhound bus to the National Trust area and began scouting around. It was particularly cold for March, and the wind on top of the cliffs was so fierce that it stung his face and made his eyes water constantly. The sea below was rough and over the noise of the waves and the howling wind, he couldn’t make out any other sound.