Either way, he mused bitterly, he’d been cut out of the equation now. Whether the freaks would continue to supply to the big league or whether there would be a takeover was anyone’s guess. Presumably it depended on whether or not they were the ones manufacturing the drug or whether they were just importing it into the country. It confused him at how such a group could be in control of such a unique product and seem to have no real business sense, no muscle, and they had chose such a minor-league dealer to work with. It would have made sense if they’d decided to take most of the profits knowing he was too small-time to argue, but he’d been putting up the price and they’d still asked for a tiny cut. He’d fucked them!
“And now I’m fucked!” He muttered bitterly to his empty glass.
A violent chill shot through him, his body spasmed. He hated it when someone walked over his grave, ever since he’d seen The Sixth Sense. Daft really.
His head felt thick, muddled, and his lips and nose were beginning to feel numb. He put that down to the collection of empty glasses on his table. In this pub no one could be arsed to collect the glasses and he couldn’t be bothered to take them back to the bar. An unpractical situation.
Harper was falling deep into an alcohol slump, brooding over what he’d just lost and wishing he had the muscle to cut up the ass holes who’d just shafted him. He didn’t though. All he had was a bruise and a lot of pent-up rage.
His brain was swimming, felt kind of, weird. Whispers.
Harper shivered, his arm twitched uncontrollably briefly and it was a couple of seconds before he realised his hand was still shaking and that his tight grip was increasing. He looked at his hand dumbly, felt the pressure increasing, watched his shaking hand like it wasn’t his own. Felt confused but unable to really feel attached to the situation. Like it wasn’t real.
The glass imploded, his fingers snapping shut around shards of razor glass.
“Fuck!!!”
The pain and the noise kicked him back to reality and Harper fell sideways off his stool in shock, crumpling to the floor. It seemed almost like a sudden jolt as he regained control over himself. kicked back.
Someone, somewhere shouted. “What the fuck’s wrong with him?!”
“You alright, mate?” Someone asked from behind.
He sat up on the floor swearing to himself, his free hand grasping his ripped up palm. Blood was spilling in between his fingers, cascading down his wrist.
“Oh jesus!” He hissed between gritted teeth and reluctantly removed his hand and opened up the cut palm of his other. His hand was shiny red and it was difficult to see where all the cuts were. The only obvious one was a gigantic chasm out of which was sticking a slightly curved shard of glass.
His hand was pulsing with sharp pain, like fire. He was having trouble moving his hand, presumably had slashed some nerves or muscle. A real deep, raw cut.
Harper pulled out the dagger and was rewarded with a stab of pain. There was a collection of blood coated stringy stuff half escaping from the wound now.
“Shit!” He felt repulsed, gagged, wanted to push the stuff back into his hand but couldn’t bring himself to.
“You alright, mate?”
He half looked round, was in too much panic and pain to really see them. Bald... glasses. “What’s it fucking look like?” He returned his attention to his hand. “What the fuck’s goin’ on?” One of the young blonde bar maids stood over him. The one with a harsh face and too much eye make-up. No sympathy, just anger over the mess he’d made.
“Help me up.”
Reluctantly she did, helped by the man from behind.
“That’s a real nasty cut. Probably hit a vein,” a young kid from the group that was gathering around him, told Harper helpfully.
The tarty-looking bar maid looked back to the bar.
“Angie,” She said tiredly. “You better ring the ambulance.”
Presumably it wasn’t good for business having people bleed to death on the premises. Besides it would be a lot of bother for her to clean up.
Harper pushed his way out of the crowd, teeth and cut hand both clenched tight.
“Hey, where you going?” The tart snarled after him.
“Outside!” Harper responded bluntly.
The bar-maid shot her hand out to catch his shoulder, still angry that he’d broken a glass. Suddenly she stopped and decided to let him go.
She was uncertain why.
The crowd stood watching Harper stumble off, blood dripping regularly to the dirty carpet. No one moved.
Harper got quickly to the door, was eager to get outside. He wasn’t even considering what he would do once he got there. Or why he wanted to leave the pub.
He used his shoulder to open the yellow glass panelled door and was out into the heavy rain. Wind was whipping about him and hard sheets of water pelted over him. He stood bewildered and in pain staring back at the wedge shaped pub that sat on the corner. Across the road the glass wall of a car sales place, some iron spiked fences to one of the Uni’ buildings, old run down and spray-painted terrace houses and a car park underneath a flyover. A few lamps shot pools of light down onto the black liquid road and pavements.
“What the fuck am I doing?” Harper said in a confused and mildly scared whisper. He had suddenly realised that he had no idea why he’d left the pub just behind him.
‘Business appointment my dears,’ whispered the voice of an angel in his ear.
He turned ’round, knowing who he would see, only he didn’t. All he saw was the rain-washed street of boarded up and abandoned buildings.
Harper tried to remember the guy’s name—he rarely had dealt with anyone other than Malok. The thin, tall and harsh looking one who rarely spoke.
“Where are you?” Harper yelled into the wind.
From the edge of the building, the alley behind it, a long, thin arm unfolded and with a single finger beckoned him to come. Harper frowned at the mantis limb and considered turning the other way.
Something was deeply wrong.
He stood there, cold and bleeding trying to understand why they’d possibly want to see him again. Did they maybe still want him in? Didn’t seem likely.
The sharp pain in his arm was still throbbing and the blood felt like lava in the chill. He knew he should get it seen to, had no desire to see his old associates, didn’t even like the fact that they had come to see him, but yet, he felt he had no option other than to comply.
The arm slowly moved back into the alley, finger still gesturing as it pulled back and reluctantly he moved to follow. Every particle of his being shrieked not to.
“Greetings Harper.” Nickoloi said from behind a wide smile; despite the rain, he wore sunglasses, and what appeared to be a woman’s Summer jacket. It was bright pink and with it he wore a pair of baggy combats. On top of his thin bald head he wore a battered straw hat.
Behind him standing motionless was Malok. Just a dark shape, standing unflinchingly in the storm.
Harper scrunched his face up. “What the fuck do you want?”
Nickoloi just smiled.
“What the hell’s goin’ on here?” An alarmed voice shrieked through the rain. The tarty-looking barmaid stood, nervously, at the mouth of the alley.
“Leave!” Malok said in his low voice.
She stood there blinking dumbly.
“My colleague wasn’t making a suggestion my dear.” The new voice belonged to Zakeriah. He stepped out behind the bar maid, his tall form wrapped away into a dark long-coat and a black brimmed hat sat on his head, the edge of which water weakly dribbled and spilled from. He stood at the entrench of the alley, the young girl staring up at him.
“My, it is cold isn’t it?”
She nodded, eyes wide with fear.
“Then why don’t you go inside? You don’t want to stay out here in the cold, cold night do you?”
She shook her head silently.
“And that way,” he continued casually, “I wont have to stab you in the eyes and
slit your swan little neck. So really, I think we’d all be better off. Don’t you?”
Slowly she began to back away, until she was out of Harper’s vision.
Zakeriah turned his vision to the crowd in the alley. “Everyone here? Good, good, good.”
Harper looked about him. He was beginning to feel weak, the heat was still throbbing and gurgling out of his hand, no matter how tight he grasped the wound. Steam was escaping into the air.
Zakeriah slowly paced down towards him.
Harper looked back at Nickoloi’s leering face, then at the emotionless features of Malok and felt terror welling up in him. For the first time ever he realised how truly different they were, like a curtain had just been torn aside.
“That’s a nasty cut, Harper boy!” Zakeriah observed as he reached him. “Still, I wouldn’t worry if I was you. you see, we’ve got some bad news for our old pal, Harper.”
Nickoloi had moved up silently beside him. “We’re going to cut you up and maim you and hurt you and bleed you and stick things inside the little holes and then...”
Zakeriah’s eyes flicked to Nickoloi for the first time as if he had only just noticed him. The look of disapproval and anger was clear.
“Nick, you appear to have forgotten our little talk about blending in. Haven’t you?”
Nickoloi sighed like a scorned child. “I saw a woman wearing it, she looked pretty. So I took the hat and I took her jacket.”
Zackeriah looked mildly concerned. “And the woman?”
Another demon smile. “Oh, I didn’t want her.”
The leader, as he appeared to be, just let his eyes bore into the other. Harper tried to back away but found his legs unwilling to move.
“That’s not true, Zackeriah.” Nickoloi said suddenly, apparently with out motivation.
“Listen,” said the deep voice of Malok from behind. “This isn’t the time. I’m sure I’m not the only one to realise this isn’t the best place to stay.”
Zakeriah drilled his eyes into Nick for a few seconds longer then replaced his fake plastic smile.
“Quite right, Mark. After all, we are business men and in business you should always be business-minded.”
His razor blade smile turned now to Harper. He was shaking violently. There was a kind of icy terror eating up inside him, a sharp, tense pain beating in his chest. Only it all seemed faded and dream like. Something was suffocating his mind, numbing it. Even though he was aware that he should have been more scared, it just wasn’t happening.
For a second, when the man spoke he had sharp teeth. “Harper, did you know that some nasty, nasty men with guns came to see us today? No? Well they did, you see, and you’re the ape who told them where we were.”
Harper, in his numbed state tried to shake his head.
“No, don’t try to lie, you are glass! No, in fact, you are plastic. Actually why not? you are spunk! Oh I’m bored. I’ll cut it short. We don’t need you any more and you’re going to die.”
They filed out of the alley. Just shadows in the rain-streaked night. Behind them Harper followed like a lobotomised dog.
START
IT WAS JOSH WHO’D ANSWERED Rufus’ phone. Now he was just standing there, slowly turning to ice. “Is that you, Josh?” The voice on the other end of the phone was nervous, sounded close to becoming frantic. It was the voice of Sarah’s mother.
“Yes it’s me.” Josh said slowly.
“I’m sorry, but is Sarah there with you?”
A very long pause, then he spoke too sharply. “No. Why? Where is she!?”
“I don’t know, she hasn’t been home for a couple of days. Usually I’m not concerned, but she hasn’t phoned. you haven’t seen her, have you?”
He barely heard her, had heard nearly nothing past the part when he’d been told Sarah had been missing for two days.
“Why didn’t you phone earlier!” He snapped, losing control.
Stunned silence. “It’s... it’s not uncommon.” A pause, a muffled sob. “I, I didn’t think.”
Guilt cut through him. “I’m sorry,” he said more calmly.
“Have you seen her? I’ve already phoned your parents and Sally and Alex and all her friends but...”
“Have you phoned her boyfriend?”
“Alex? yes I just told you that.” Now she sounded mildly pissed off.
Josh fought off the bitterness that was cutting through him. “She’s got a new one. Rob.”
Sarah’s mother sounded surprised. “Oh, I thought he was just a friend. I found his number in Sarah’s phone book, but there wasn’t any reply. I’ve tried it about three times now. Can you think of any one else?”
“No,” A long pause while he searched for anybody Sarah might be with. “If I see her, I’ll let you know.” He hung up.
PILGRIMAGE
RUFUS LOOKED MILDLY disgruntled. Sun was streaming over his face, a rare blast of warmth, but the air was still bitter and winter fresh. Light danced over the curve of his sunglasses as the car rolled forward.
Occasionally he’d dart an annoyed glance towards his passenger.
Josh sat forward anxiously in his seat and turned up the sound of Fear Factory to cloud out some of the terror growing in his mind. The mechanised guitar and machine-like speed drowned out some of his dread. Some of his dread.
Silently, Rufus shook his head again and took a deep drag of the joint he was toking, as if to calm him.
“I’m supposed to be in a frigging’ lecture in half an hour.” He mumbled to himself.
Josh didn’t hear him. He was preoccupied with only one thought.
Sarah was dead.
“Are you sure you know where this Rob guy lives?”
“No,” Rufus grunted. “I’ve only been there once to sell him some pills. I told you we should have phoned Blow-job Barry, but...”
Josh finished for him. “...but his phone wasn’t on, was it?”
Sunglasses turned on Josh and he felt the sharp brown eyes behind. “Josh, man, I’m trying to be real understanding here but you are pissing me off. Acting all tripped out and paranoid and bitching at me like some fucking,” a pause, while Rufus considered his words, then clearly angry enough not to avoid being blunt, just spat out the last part. “Cunt! A real fucking cunt!!”
“Fine, stop the fucking car, tell me where I’m going and I’ll walk.”
A long silence. Shadows of winter-stripped trees rolled gently over the car. Rufus shook his head clearly conflicted.
“No,” his voice soft, reluctant. “You won’t.”
Josh took a long look at the man who had been such a close friend for so long now. Thought about everything he’d done recently to Rufus and managed to dislodge himself from his own mental world.
“Rufus, I’m sorry man. It’s just, that I’m certain, something, is happening.”
The other laughed weakly, took a huge drag of his shit and again shook his head. “Josh, you gotta’ stop saying that. Jesus, get some new material.”
Again he looked over at his passenger, warmer now.
“Look, I don’t know what’s going on inside your crazy-ass head man, really don’t.”
Josh nodded solemnly. He suspected he had in part already seen what they were about to encounter. In a way no matter how bad things were about to get, it would still be reassuring. One way or another it would prove what he was now heavily suspecting.
“I think,” Josh said fixing his eyes onto Rufus. “That when we get to his flat we’re going to see something that will help you understand.”
“MORE THINGS IN HEAVEN AND EARTH...”
A WOODEN CHIP BOARD, which had since been spray-painted, had been fitted over what had once been a glass panel in the flat’s door. The word “cunt” shouted at them in big red letters. It was a charming welcome and Josh paused. Normally there would have been a lock which each resident had a key to. It wasn’t really a concern anymore though, since it had been smashed open at some point.
Rufus, who had already b
egan opening the large door looked back at him.
“What?”
Josh took a step back and looked up at the huge block of grit-decorated concrete and dark windows that towered over him. The bright winter sun made the block of flats seem almost black.
He was beginning to feel sick. There was a low repellent hum inside his head, like a voice he couldn’t quite hear.
“This is going to be bad.” It was said really to himself.
Rufus misunderstood his apprehension. “It’ll be fine. Man, no one’s gonna’ bother you. Jesus, I spend most of my life in places like this.”
“No I didn’t mean...” Josh didn’t bother to continue since Rufus had already pushed inside.
He took one last look up and followed.
Eventually the aluminum lift doors parted to reveal a few names scrawled in marker pen and a strange smell which was difficult to identify.
“Lovely,” Josh said and stepped inside.
Rufus jabbed one of the buttons. “I think it was that floor.”
The machine hummed and rattled. Old cables creaked and groaned unpleasantly. The light above them flickered rapidly, hurting their eyes.
Rufus, who was still wearing his sun glasses despite the gloom, was watching Josh cautiously before suddenly speaking. “You know, your obsession with Sarah’s getting a little out of control?”
Josh sighed as the lift juddered to a stop. “Trust me on this one.”
Narrow corridors stretched out on both sides. There was no natural light and everything was bathed in an unhealthy-looking yellow glow. The world seemed to flicker as dirt-cloaked bulbs hummed in every direction. There was a distant hissing sound, although Josh couldn’t be certain it was really there. vague white sound which seemed to pulse. There was a sharp pain expanding inside his head, presumably from the sickening light. Nausea was growing inside his guts and there was a strange smell beginning to assault his nostrils. As they moved up the corridor, the sensations increased and he realised that the experience wasn’t entirely new. He’d felt something very similar when he had encountered Carthy.
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