The Collector Book One: Mana Leak

by Daniel I. Russell

  “Then it should still work. Joe, are you still near the door?”

  “Yes. I still have a hand on it.”

  “Then reach up. There’s a cord around there.”

  Joe did as instructed, grasping around in the darkness around his head. He knew the ceiling was low, maybe just a few inches beyond his reaching fingertips. If the cord was around here, he couldn’t miss it. He touched something thin, dangling a few feet in front of his face. He grabbed it and gave it a firm tug downwards, hearing a click from above.

  Light filled the garage.

  Joe groaned.

  3.

  The single bulb glowed in the centre of the ceiling. One half of the glass had taken a splash of rust coloured liquid, throwing parts of the garage into shadow. What little light illuminated the room was enough for Joe, who clamped a hand over his mouth. The contents of his stomach seemed to bubble up his throat. He shut his eyes, but the grisly detail had already buried itself deep into his memory.

  The interior of the garage had been hosed in blood. The walls and ceiling were coated in a dry, brown splattering. Footprints left behind by Frank and Jake had flaked on the concrete floor. Scattered around in the mess was the odd pile of more solid matter; things that looked like the throwaways of a butcher’s shop. The smell was horrendous, filling Joe’s nostrils with a thick, dank stench.

  He retched, only just managing to avoid throwing up. The powerful smell snaked through his sinuses and into his mouth. He tasted rotten meat at the back of his throat.

  “Sweet Jesus…” he said between gags. He opened his eyes again, forcing himself to focus on Frank and Jake, who both held hands over their mouths and noses. “Jake…I can’t…I mean…”

  “It’s okay,” said the boy. “I was here when it happened, remember?” He quickly wiped an eye with the back of his hand.

  Joe now realised how hard all this must be on the lad. They’d all felt scared, threatened and alone, but only Jake and his mother had lost someone they loved over all of this.

  “There are no flies,” said Frank.

  “What?” asked Joe.

  “There are no flies. At this time of year, and with all this festering in here, we should hardly be able to see for the things.”

  “Frank, please have a scrap of compassion and keep things like that to yourself.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Joe sighed. “Just remember where we are. Jake, where’s the petrol?”

  “Over here.”

  The boy walked past the motorbike rested on its kickstand to the rear of the garage. In the corner a heap lay, concealed by a dark blanket on the floor. He pulled it off, revealing six green petrol cans lined up in a row underneath.

  “We had to hide ‘em,” said Jake. “Mum would’ve gone fucking ape if she’d found out.”

  “So would I,” said Joe. “Isn’t this dangerous?”

  Jake shrugged his shoulders.

  “Where’d you get it?” Frank asked. “Petrol station?”

  “Yeah,” replied Jake. “It’s easier to steal in a can. You just fill it and run. They can’t get your licence plate or nothing.”

  “Clever,” said Joe. “Frank, you going to help me get them out of here? Frank?”

  Frank had picked something off the blood-covered floor and was examining it closely.

  “Look at this,” he said. “It’s…incredible!”

  He held a silver sphere, about the size of a basketball. A large chunk knocked out of the side showed the hollow within. Frank turned it around in his hands, studying every angle. “Jake? Is this the…?”

  “Yes, part of it.”

  “Unbelievable!”

  Frank reached for the hole in the side of the sphere, his fingers edging towards the dark interior.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” warned Joe. “Just put it down so we can make a start on shifting this petrol.”

  “In a second,” said Frank, not looking up. The reflection of the highly polished metal danced in his eyes. He reached inside.

  “Frank. Don’t. There could be anything in there!”

  Jake stood watching from the corner in silence.

  After a few seconds of rummaging, Frank withdrew his hand. He let the sphere fall to the floor, where it split on impact.

  “Look at this,” he said, holding out his hand.

  Coating the tips of his fingers was a blue liquid. To Joe, it looked like bright blue paint, or at a push, some kind of lubricant or oil.

  Frank rubbed the viscous substance between his fingertips.

  “It tingles.”

  “For God’s sake, Frank. Get it off! It could be burning you or something.”

  Frank flinched as the blue liquid burst into flame, a flickering blue fire, like the pilot light in a boiler.

  “Shit,” he cried, slapping his hand against his trousers. The flame was quickly smothered out.

  “Jesus, Frank, are you hurt?” asked Joe.

  Frank peered up.

  “No…I’m not.” He held his fingers up and wiggled them. “Not even a scratch. I didn’t feel a thing, it was just the shock.”

  “It was mana,” said Jake. “Did you see it? It was mana!”

  “He’s right,” said Joe. “If mana is energy, then it might have powered the thing that attacked Jake’s family. If we can find enough parts of this thing, then maybe we can gather enough mana to give to him!”

  “I doubt it,” said Frank, still examining his hand. “The amount that caused the inferno in the kitchen…the amount he wants…I don’t think there’s enough here. We should stick to the original plan.”

  “But this is a simpler way,” argued Joe. “Even if we do manage to close this damn door of his, we still have him and his creatures to deal with. This could be so much easier!”

  “No no no!” said Frank. “If he wanted this, why leave it lying here? It’s the payload he wants, the mana he thinks we have. We decided on the better plan together and we are going to go through with it! I for one am looking forward to giving that sonofabitch what he deserves. The kids and women will be out of harm’s way, so it’ll be us against him. What do you say, Jake? Make that bastard pay?”

  Jake waved his hammer. “You’re damn right he’s going to pay.”

  “Will you two be quiet?” Joe hissed. “Fine, we’ll carry on. You’re probably right, Frank. There won’t be enough here to satisfy him. But please keep it down! If him and his things burst in here, we’re all dead…”

  He paused to look at both of them. They still seemed fired up, but their mouths were now closed.

  “Good. Come on, Frank. Let’s get this petrol moved.”

  Frank stashed his long knife back behind his belt, down the side of his hip.

  4.

  “Jake, think the bike’s okay?” Joe asked.

  “Should be. It’s been through worse.”

  Jake approached the bike and quickly passed an eye over it. Apart from taking a coating of blood, it appeared fine.

  Blood.

  Adam’s blood.

  His grip on the handle of his hammer tightened.

  “Will the bike need any of this?” asked Joe, picking up a petrol can in each hand.

  “No, we always keep the tank full. There should be more than enough.”

  Jake crouched down to check the tyres, trying to avoid thinking about his brother. He prodded the front tyre with his thumb and, feeling little give, was satisfied with the pressure. It was likewise with the rear tyre.

  He was about to stand up, when something on the messy floor by the bike sparkled in the poor light, catching his eye. He picked up the small object and wiped away some of the dried flakes of blood, unveiling a golden gleam beneath. With a final quick scratch to remove the worst of the coating, he looked upon the shiny wedding ring.

  Before Joe or Frank noticed, he stashed it in the rear pocket of his jeans and stood up. He looked towards the two men moving the petrol cans from the corner and distributing the six betwee
n them. Jake tucked the hammer into his belt, copying Frank with the knife. He reached up to the high shelf and picked up the key to the bike. He shoved the kickstand up with his foot and wheeled it closer to the doors of the garage.

  Joe and Frank, done with the cans, waited behind him. Joe carried four full cans, one in each hand and one tucked under each arm. Frank held the remaining two.

  “We ready?” Jake asked.

  “We are, but are you?” returned Joe.

  “Eh?”

  “Jake, he is probably going to think you’re making a run for it, going alone. He can’t have anyone escape him now and he’ll do anything in his power to stop you. He’ll send everything, Jake. You sure you can deal with that?”

  Jake patted the bike.

  “As long as I’m on this,” he said, “nothing will have the chance to get near me. You watch.”

  “Just make sure you go past the house first. I cannot stress how important that is, Jake. If they don’t hear you, they don’t escape.”

  “Okay, relax, Joe! I got this down. I’m going to try and lead them up to the main road at the head of the Crescent. That should give you two more space.”

  “Can we stop the chatter and get on with this?” said Frank, glancing at his watch. “We don’t have much time left.”

  “He’s right,” said Joe. He grabbed Jake by the shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze. “Good luck.”

  “I don’t need luck,” grinned Jake, climbing onto the bike. “Open the door for me.”

  Joe placed the petrol cans on the floor and carefully strode to the door. “We’ll be right out after you.”

  He pushed the blood-streaked wood. Sunlight poured in, revealing dust mites dancing in the doorway. Joe rubbed his hands against the back of his pants and stood back.

  “You might want to cover your ears,” said Jake. He shoved the key in the ignition, turned it and cranked the bike. The engine shuddered and released a roar, coughing out a thick cloud of exhaust fumes. Jake revved the engine, filling the garage with high, jagged whines. Hunched over the handlebars, he lifted his foot from the floor, and the bike shot forwards out of the garage.

  On a well-practised route, Jake brought the bike up the slight incline of the drive and past his house. At the front, he negotiated the bike, now rumbling at a lower pitch, through the open gate and onto the road. He paused, looking around.

  The street was as silent as before.

  Pumping the throttle, he sped towards the end of the street.

  “Yah!” he cried, the wind billowing his hair back. “Come on out, motherfucker!”

  Jake forced the bike to scream as he twisted the throttle round hard. He roared past the Harper house. Confident the task was done, he carried on up to the entrance of Penny Crescent.

  The main road was devoid of traffic. Jake looked left and right, searching the road in either direction. Not a single car or pedestrian went by. It felt like the state of eerie calm had spread out of Penny Crescent and taken over the whole town. He swallowed, pushing these thoughts aside. He had a job to do, and if he worried too much over how far The Collector’s influence had spread…

  Jake brought the bike around in a tight turn, the rear wheel kicking up a spray of pebbles and tiny stones. He scanned the road before him.

  He hoped Joe was right. The road appeared fine, though. The tarmac had been uniform the whole way, the short journey smooth with few little bumps. He found it hard to believe he’d driven over a portal to another dimension and not felt a thing.

  Even if Joe’s wrong, he thought, I’m still distracting him so Mum can get away.

  He released the handlebars with one hand and patted the pocket of his jeans. The reassuring bump of his mother’s wedding ring prodded into his fingers.

  Run, Mum, and if this doesn’t work, I’m out of here. When I find you, you’re going to be so happy I found this…

  He hoped returning the ring would grant her forgiveness, should he fail to kill The Collector.

  But that’s not going to happen, is it my friend?

  He moved his hand from the pocketed ring to the metal hammerhead tucked in his belt.

  Jake replaced his hand on the handlebars at the sound of a growing noise from the opposite end of Penny Crescent. It reminded him of a rare day spent in school in computer class. Thirty or so students had all sat at their computers, all feverishly typing away at their keyboards, desperate to complete whatever stupid task the teacher had set them. This sounded similar, all those fingers tapping away at once.

  It grew louder.

  Jake revved the bike twice. His stomach lurched, and his heart raced like the engine beneath him.

  This is it, he thought, what it all boils down to – him and me. For Mum and Adam. This is it.

  From the end of the street, The Collector slowly marched towards Jake. Behind him, flowing up the street like the shadow of a total eclipse, scampered his Prowlers, hundreds of them by Jake’s judgement. The pointed limbs clicked on the tarmac. Others jumped from gardens, scuttled over walls and darted around fences to join the advancing mass. They trooped along, a disorganised army of black, their steps a chaotic clatter. The Collector walked at the head of the enormous group with his head bowed, the bowler covering his eyes in shadow.

  Jake licked his lips and wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead. He pumped the throttle, inching forwards.

  The Collector stopped, causing the advancing tide behind him to come to a lingering halt. The street returned to a moderate quiet, only disturbed by the low growl of the bike and occasional chirp or click from the Prowlers. The Collector raised his head, locking his large eyes on Jake.

  “Going somewhere?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

  5.

  Eleanor grabbed the hands of the children and gently pulled them into the kitchen.

  “Come along, dearies. Quickly, now.”

  Anne stood by the back door, a hand on the large iron key sticking out of the lock.

  “Was that Jake?” she asked.

  “Yes,” cried Eleanor. “He just drove past. Come on!”

  With shaking hands seemingly determined to hinder progress, Anne fumbled the key around and pulled the two deadbolts back.

  “Jenny,” she shouted. “Get in here! We need to go!” She stared at Eleanor, who looked over her shoulder towards the hall and shrugged.

  “Watch the kids,” said Anne, closing the locks, “and don’t open this door.”

  “Of course,” said Eleanor, “but hurry.”

  Anne marched past her, stopping when Bronwyn grabbed her hand.

  “Mummy! Don’t leave us,” she said, her bottom lip beginning to quiver, a sure sign of imminent tears.

  Anne crouched down, running her fingers through her daughter’s hair.

  “It’s okay, hon. I’ll only be in the living room a minute. We need to get Mrs Dean to come with us so we can all leave together.”

  “But…” The girl sniffed. “But I don’t want to leave.”

  “I know, Bronwyn. Neither do I. But we must. We can go and visit your granny. Would you like that?”

  Bronwyn shook her head.

  “I know this is scary,” continued Anne, “but we have to go before the bad man comes back.”

  “And remember what Dad said,” chirped up Charlie. “There’ll be trouble if we don’t do what Mum says.”

  “That’s right, Charlie,” said Anne, giving him an approving nod. She lowered her hand under Bronwyn’s chin and raised her head. Her daughter gazed into her eyes. “Please be brave,” she said. “This will all be over soon. I’m going to get Mrs Dean now. Will you be good for Eleanor?”

  The girl nodded, eyes brimming with tears.

  Anne stood up, the bruises on her chest and stomach flaring, forcing her to snatch in a quick breath and rub her skin through her top. With the events of the last few days, she had all but forgotten her injuries. They seemed pathetic and unimportant in such conditions. Even the nasty bump on the head had receded into a backg
round throbbing, easily ignored.

  No more, she thought. No more after all this. Frank will be a changed man. I can see it already. It will be like before…

  The thought gave her a slight boost and, returning to the job at hand, she ran through the hall and into the living room.

  Jenny Dean, sitting on the arm of the sofa, leaned across to look through one of the peepholes. Her hands trembled in her lap.

  “Jenny, we have to go.”

  Jenny stayed rigid, the light from the peephole reflected as a blue square in the lenses of her glasses.

  “Jenny, please. Come on!”

  “He’s out there right now,” Jenny said quietly. “I watched him go past. He’s out there and he’s after my boy.”

  Anne knew she couldn’t leave Jenny behind, but why did she have to be so awkward? Now of all times!

  “Jenny,” said Anne through gritted teeth. “Listen to me. We have to go right now.”

  “After my boy,” continued Jenny. “But he’ll get his. Take my word. He’ll get a surprise.”

  Anne released a long, shaky breath.

  “We’re leaving. I don’t have time for any of this bullshit. I’m not risking my kids over you!”

  Jenny turned from the window.

  “If you are coming, you come now,” shouted Anne.

  Jenny had been crying, and her eyes appeared even smaller. She sniffed, sucking snot back up inside her nose. For a moment, Anne thought she looked more like a pig than ever before.

  “I…understand,” said Jenny. “I’ll come.”

  She swayed her body off the arm of the sofa. Anne imagined the other side would raise up and smash back down as she vacated her perch.

  “Come on,” said Anne. “We don’t have much time.”

  Jenny looked at the window one last time, apparently reluctant to tear her gaze away. Out of the living room, Jenny finally sped up, ambling through the hall after Anne and into the kitchen.

  Eleanor and the children stood waiting by the back door, studying Jenny nervously.

  Anne ran to the door, opened it a crack and peered through. A bright beam of light cut vertically down her eye and cheek as the sun flooded in.