Spiders

by Tom Hoyle

  Although he had been up since early morning, had travelled through dangerous underwater tunnels and walked three or four miles to the main road, he didn’t feel tired at all. Adrenalin drove him on.

  Adam headed cross-country towards the loch. He travelled through the next valley along, which ran roughly parallel to the route to the castle. Adam knew nothing about navigation by sun, but he did understand that it had to stay on his left, and the path seemed to be straight.

  Abbie had been right about the geography. Eventually the loch appeared in front of Adam, stretched out like a grey-blue ribbon. I hope that she can be as clever when trying to talk her father round.

  The loch was shaped like a number 7, with Adam at the very bottom, looking up its length. Halfway along on the left, on a piece of land that jutted out slightly, was Castle Dreich. A path wound its way down the right-hand side along the foot of fairly steep cliffs, and on the left, not as steep but more exposed, were the wide open hills that were above the caves.

  It was impossible to get within a mile of the castle without being seen.

  If Abbie turned out to have been wrong about one thing, the whole plan would fail. I’m sure there are boats there , she had said. Sometimes I saw people fishing in the distance.

  Adam first saw another little track in front of him, criss-crossed with tyre tracks that made confusing patterns in the thawing snow. Well done , Abbie , he half-said. She had been right that a track left the main one to the castle and came down here.

  At the edge of the water he saw two small boats tied to a rickety short wooden jetty. One was covered with blue tarpaulin, the other with white. Excellent.

  Adam looked around him, imagining eyes in the silence – and binoculars peering down the straight line of sight from the distant castle. He crouched down and edged towards the boats.

  The white tarpaulin was covered with slush and green mouldy decay. He peeled back the cover and saw a rusty outboard motor and wet brown slats to sit on. The floor was covered in murky water and near the stern he saw cracked boards with mud seeping in from underneath.

  He swore.

  The other boat was even older. It had no motor and only traditional-looking wooden oars inside. Adam pressed it down into the shallow water and it dipped slightly, but reassuringly bobbed back up. He looked at the castle in the darkening distance; this was going to be hard work.

  Darkness comes quickly in the Highlands. Adam hid behind a tree and waited for the night to sweep in like fog. But as the light faded, so did his optimism. His recent life had been spent trying to get away from danger; why was he now trying to return to it?

  Megan rescued me.

  Abbie rescued me.

  I need to rescue others.

  He thought of Max and Helen and the others – victims only because they could do something well.

  Adam realized that the incoming darkness had almost turned into proper night. He pulled off the rowing boat’s cover again, heaved it into deeper water and jumped in.

  Although he had rowed a couple of times in an inflatable dinghy on holiday, that experience was not much use when confronted with a more cumbersome wooden boat, which twisted and bobbed while Adam tried to get the oars into position. He had to concentrate hard to make good contact with the water. Fortunately the wind was mild and blowing more or less up the loch in the direction that he wanted to go. His target was clear, despite a gathering mist; most of the lights in the castle were on.

  Adam’s shoulders and hands, already tired from the climbing earlier, ached by the halfway point, but he became increasingly careful (and able) to dip the oars in quietly and heave to maximum effect. The castle was getting closer, but the mist was turning into a fog, and its lights were becoming more of a dull blur than a clear target. Eventually he could hardly see the building, but he started to hear indistinct voices.

  Then a beam of light swung towards him. A ray that felt like it was trying to seek him out. Adam ducked down. But there was no way he could hide the boat. He must be very close to the bank.

  Suddenly a voice: ‘Who’s there?’

  Adam made sure that the oars were out of the water, holding his breath as drips of water splashed back into the loch.

  On the bank in front of the castle, detailed to security, was one of the six trusted Inner Guard. At this point in the evening, they had to ensure there were no unwanted visitors; as the evening progressed, they would need to be sure there were no unwanted departures.

  ‘Is anyone there?’ the man asked again, wondering if he was imagining things in the excitement of the evening.

  About to turn away, he saw the front of a boat nose out of the fog. Then the whole craft slowly emerged. It looked empty.

  The man stepped into the cold water, pulling out his radio as the boat rippled into his circle of torchlight. When it nudged against his knee, he could see that it was completely empty: no rower, no oars, almost ghostly.

  I need to report this.

  Then . . .

  A sudden blur followed by searing pain and dazed confusion. The man put his hand to his head. It came away sticky with blood.

  And . . .

  More pain – on the back of his head this time. He couldn’t stop himself falling forward.

  Fragments of thoughts:

  Grab the boat.

  To avoid falling into the water.

  Stumbling.

  Leaning forward.

  Resting on the boat.

  Toppling in.

  Gently bobbing up and down on the water.

  Drifting away.

  Sliding into the safe blankets of unconsciousness.

  Adam looked at the end of the oar he had used to hit the man. There was no sign that it had been used as a weapon. He used it to give the boat with the man in it a shove, then sent both oars out into the loch’s foggy swirl.

  Adam followed the instructions Abbie had given him in the lorry. He picked up a stone that fitted neatly into the palm of his hand and went straight to the castle walls, darting under windows around the back of the castle. Keep close to the wall and the lights won’t get you , she had instructed. He tried to picture the window that Abbie had told him about: on the side of the castle away from the loch, next to some garage doors. The window led to a small storeroom next to the kitchen.

  In the middle distance Adam heard the thin sound of walkie-talkie contact, the splashing of tyres through mud and the low throb of an engine. A 4x4 was approaching the castle. Risking a glance round the corner, he saw headlights swimming in the fog and the incongruous sight of garage doors set into worn castle stone. About ten paces away was the storeroom window. But the whole area was floodlit – and directly in front of the window stood a man. The cult member couldn’t have been in a worse place.

  Adam put the stone down and pushed his fist into his palm in frustration. There was no way he could smash the window as hoped. And he would be spotted if he tried to dash in through the garage doors behind the car.

  Adam slipped to the ground, nose against the castle walls, and poked his eyes round the corner. The garage doors were being opened and the Land Cruiser had stopped.

  The driver was saying something out of his window, and the guard disappeared into the garage. Something like, ‘Can you park it here, brother?’ echoed from within the garage.

  Adam sprang up and, sweeping around to avoid the brightest light, took long steps towards the 4 x 4. Finally, dashing forward, he crouched down by the rear number plate.

  Silent edgy breaths.

  The guard was back at the passenger window. Adam heard ‘. . . communion . . . departure . . . all together . . . Golden Planet,’ and then, ‘. . . in the boot.’

  He stopped breathing. The guard was four paces away.

  Adam lay flat on the floor and wriggled under the car. He could see brown shoes plod to the rear of the vehicle, reaching the back the instant that his own shoes disappeared underneath.

  The boot opened.

  If the car pulled away now . .
.

  And the boot closed.

  The car started to edge forward into the garage. In one second Adam would be exposed, lying flat in the mud in front of the guard.

  Rolling over, Adam looked up and saw an exhaust pipe and other tubes and metal rods inches from his head. Just behind his head there was one strip of metal, and it was this that Adam wrapped his hands around – and kept them there, even when the jolt came, and he was dragged through the mud and into the garage.

  Finally the car came to a stop and Adam could let his aching arms go. The garage doors closed with a very secure thump. Adam had managed to get back into the building he had escaped from just hours before.

  CHAPTER 34

  GOING UNDERGROUND (SATURDAY 20TH DECEMBER 2014)

  Although Megan rattled and pushed and shoved against the green door, it held against her strength. She had one or two onlookers, people passing by in their own worlds, but no one seemed interested in challenging her. Megan was too absorbed in her task to think of the people around her or how this must look. She cursed and tried to shoulder-barge the door as she had seen people do in films. But she wasn’t powerful enough. She rattled the door again, overwhelmed with frustration.

  There was a sudden rush of sound and her shoulders were grabbed. ‘Can we help you?’

  Megan leaped with sudden terror.

  ‘Asa, stop messing around,’ said Rachel. ‘We thought it was you, Megan. What on earth are you doing? We were just on our way back from Starbucks and we saw you duck down here.’

  ‘I need to get through this door.’ Megan gave it another rattle. ‘Asa, are you strong enough to break it open? It’s not especially sturdy.’ Megan gave it an ineffectual kick.

  ‘I could,’ Asa said. ‘but – y’know – there are laws and things about smashing down doors.’

  A small group of tourists shuffled past, trying to find the main road.

  ‘If you don’t break down that door, I’ll . . . I’ll . . .’

  Rachel and Asa raised their eyebrows.

  ‘OK, let’s do it together . Then I’m responsible. And if I’m right –’ Megan glared at Asa with a determined eye – ‘you can take the credit.’

  On the third attempt, the lock cracked open.

  Inside wasn’t the crumbling, dusty hole that Megan had been expecting. The concrete floor was chipped in places, and the walls were covered in names and other fading graffiti, but it had been swept clean.

  ‘Rach,’ said Megan, ‘would you get the police? I’m certain that something is going on.’ And then to a reluctant Asa, ‘You’re coming with me.’ She walked through the doorway and down the passageway. ‘Don’t stand there like an idiot. Come on .’

  Asa shrugged at Rachel. ‘My life is one long story of being told what to do by women,’ he muttered.

  Rachel shook her head and frowned at Megan. ‘I can’t believe I’m going to get the police so that they can arrest my best friend and my boyfriend.’

  Asa puffed his chest out. ‘Boyfriend, eh?’ He strutted peacock-like for two steps. ‘OK. Let’s go, I suppose .’

  On the left there was a turn that led to a deep spiral staircase. Frosted plastic covers shielded bulbs strung a few steps apart.

  ‘Come on,’ she said quietly. ‘Adam has never let me down before.’

  The steps creaked and rattled as they descended, and it was only as Megan put one hand on the inner handrail and one on the outer that she appreciated quite how totally unprepared they were. What if the man had a weapon? What if there were others with him?

  Asa muttered in a whispery squeak: ‘I don’t think there’s anything down here.’ A few steps later: ‘Right, we can go back now.’

  Megan turned and pointed a rigid finger at him. ‘Look,’ she pleaded. ‘This could be something you’ll remember forever . If there’s nothing, we’ll leave right away.’

  Asa nodded, tight-lipped. He wanted to say that they should return if there was something down this ghostly ghostly staircase.

  With a few steps to go, Megan stopped. A noise. Then there was a much louder sound: metal falling on to concrete. And a scraping sound: a something, maybe a bucket, being dragged across a floor.

  Megan put the same rigid finger to her lips, then beckoned Asa on.

  As they approached the very bottom of the stairs there was a more dramatic rush of noise coming from the right. Rhythmic clangs and jangles accompanied by a draught. A train was passing. Although the station was closed, the line was still in use. But the noise didn’t stop entirely when the train had passed. There was another scraping sound. And then a cough.

  Asa tapped Megan on the shoulder and pointed upstairs. ‘Let’s. Go,’ he mouthed.

  Megan glowered, her jaw and lips tight, but said nothing.

  Here the smooth walls had been replaced by damp brick. Arched passageways headed off to left and right, disappearing into darkness. They tiptoed on, until Megan pointed to the right. There was a metal door slightly ajar, bolt and metal clasp hanging loose.

  It was clear even from the small section that they could see that something very weird was going on. This room was painted completely black, all six sides including the floor, with minuscule dots of light across every surface. Megan peered inside, careful not to nudge the door. In the middle of the room there was a gold globe, throwing out the specks of light. She nudged Asa. ‘I don’t like this,’ she whispered. ‘Let’s get help from upstairs.’

  But Asa was pointing further down the corridor. There was a man dragging a large container. Asa was open-mouthed with horror. Megan seized his arm and dragged him into the room.

  Needle-thin pins of light fired on to them like lasers, criss-crossing the room, confusing, sparkling. There were only two other things in the room: a coat, and a mobile phone on top of it.

  Without a second’s thought, Megan grabbed the phone and put it in her pocket.

  Asa put his head in his hands.

  ‘We’re going back upstairs,’ whispered Megan, pointing theatrically upward.

  Another train was coming, noise gathering in the distance, then loud clattering.

  Yes , nodded Asa eagerly as they edged out of the room and silently, despite the other noise, took large steps back to the stairs. They had just turned the corner when they heard a voice.

  The man was speaking in a language that neither Asa nor Megan had ever heard – in fact, he was using the made-up language of his imaginary Valdhinians.

  After a brief pause, Megan and Asa crept on, back up the stairs.

  Then English words, clearer and louder. ‘I must be empty of myself. Now is the time. I delay no longer on this evil planet, and with this food will bring others to join us. I must be empty of myself. Others must be empty of themselves. The evildoers must be punished.’

  Asa started moving faster. ‘Let’s get out of here!’

  But Megan had turned and was moving towards the voice.

  ‘Meg?’ said Asa.

  She was beginning to run – the wrong way .

  ‘NOW IS THE TIME!’ came from down the tunnel, before the words were drowned out by another passing train.

  ‘Meg? Come back!’ This time he was loud enough to be heard throughout the tunnels.

  Megan ran straight towards the point where the track passed through the disused station. Back down the tunnel, past shapes, words and names sprayed on the walls years earlier, beyond the metal door and two other turnings, before she hurtled out to where the platform used to be, though this was now on the same level as the tracks. The rear carriage of a tube train was rapidly disappearing down the tunnel.

  Asa took a very deep breath and followed.

  Beside the track there were old sleepers and other discarded pieces of equipment. Turning left, Megan saw these first. Then she looked to the right: immediately next to the wall at the far end of the disused platform there was a man pouring the last of five large containers of a crumbly yellow substance into a metal machine that looked very much like a snow cannon.

 
The man looked up. ‘What?’ Mania fell from him, replaced by surprise. ‘Who are you? What are you doing here?’

  Megan took in the electrical cable running into the tube tunnel, the strange device and the hawk-like, determined man with blank eyes in front of her.

  Asa came to a stop behind Megan. His hands were shaking and he chattered in a high-pitched voice. ‘We seem to have lost our way.’

  Megan shuffled forward a couple of quarter-steps. ‘What are you doing here?’

  The man flicked a switch and the machine started to whirr. ‘We shall travel together to the Golden Planet.’

  Megan ran towards him. Asa didn’t exactly decide to run; it was as if Megan exerted a sort of gravitational pull that dragged him along in her wake. And as she threw herself towards the man, Asa arrived in front of the machine, which was now making a slightly lower growl, beginning to turn the poison into minuscule airborne particles, and stood frowning, trying to work out how to switch it off.

  Megan was easily thrown aside, spinning into the mess at the side of the tracks. She didn’t have the weight or strength to compete with an adult. ‘Just rip the thing apart,’ she yelled at Asa.

  But Asa only yanked the cord from the side of the machine, and, trailing the electrical wire with him, backed into the train tunnel. He knew he couldn’t outrun the man; neither could he flee down the tunnel and risk meeting an oncoming train.

  Alistair picked up a metal pole, left years before by a workman, and spoke calmly to Asa. ‘Hand that back.’ He tapped the pole twice against his leg, then raised it.

  ‘Meg – what do I do now?’ screamed Asa. ‘I’m not enjoying this any more.’

  ‘It’s over,’ said Meg. She could see that the man was two paces away from hitting Asa over the head with the metal bar. ‘Asa – throw down the cable.’

  Asa let it fall from his trembling hands.

  As Alistair leaned down to pick it up, Megan made her move. She had one chance, so she put everything into it, shoulder first, a barge rather than a push. The man fell between the tracks.

  ‘You’re going to have to do better than that,’ he sneered.