The Doorkeepers

by Graham Masterton

  “So what are those two going to do to me? Those surgeons?”

  “You’ll find that out in the morning, so I’m told. But I think you can safely assume that they’re going to be carrying out one or two operations on you. Major operations.”

  “Operations for what? What the hell are you talking about?”

  Frank Mordant leaned over her, so close that she could see the hairs in his nostrils. “You seem to have forgotten that you came from Purgatory. People who come back from Purgatory are dead already. They don’t have any rights to their life or property. That’s what the Lord Protector teaches us, anyway. So gentlemen surgeons like Mr Leggett and Mr Crane feel quite unconcerned about cutting them up and taking whatever organs they require.”

  “You’re crazy, all of you. You’re all stone crazy.”

  Frank Mordant stood up. “You know that it’s tommy-rot. I know that it’s tommy-rot. But men like Mr Leggett and Mr Crane have been brought up to believe it, as do ninety-nine point ninety-nine percent of the rest of the population. You took the chance and came back here, my darling; and now you’re going to have to pay the price.”

  “You, Frank Mordant – you are the most disgusting piece of slime that ever slid across the earth.”

  Frank Mordant’s left eye twitched. “It depends on your yardstick, my darling. I do have a heart, you know, whatever you think. I had a dog once. I loved that dog. I really, really loved that dog.”

  Nancy had never spat at anybody in her life, but now she did, hitting Frank Mordant on the cheek. The saliva slid down to the corner of his mouth. He stared at her for a moment and she thought that he was going to hit her, but then he took a carefully-pressed handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbed at his face.

  “Don’t you blame me,” he told her. “You’re the one who came back.”

  Nancy had another night of appalling nightmares. She saw dark crablike shapes leaping and hopping across the ceiling. She heard her grandmother screaming her name. When she woke up, the sun was shining through the window again, and a nurse was setting out her breakfast on a tray. Toast, solidified scrambled eggs, and a grilled tomato. The nurse was young, with a long pale face and freckles, and she stared at Nancy anxiously all the time that she was serving her.

  “What’s the matter?” Nancy asked her. “I don’t bite, you know.”

  The nurse gave her a quick, nervous smile.

  Nancy said, “Haven’t you ever seen a Purgatorial before?”

  “Not one like you.”

  “What’s different about me?”

  “You’re awake. You talk.”

  “That’s because I’m still alive. Here, you want to take my pulse?”

  The young nurse shook her head.

  “So what goes on here?” Nancy asked her. “What kind of a hospital is this?”

  The young nurse didn’t answer, but gave her a nervous shrug.

  “Come on,” Nancy urged her. “What do they do here? Heart surgery? Orthopedics? Pediatrics?”

  “We look after – you know. We look after her.”

  “Her? Who’s her?”

  “Her, that’s all.”

  “Does she have a name, this her?”

  “I suppose she must have done once, but nobody ever mentions it.”

  “You’re not telling me that she’s the only patient here?”

  “Oh, no. She’s not a patient. She’s … well, she’s …”

  The young nurse was obviously struggling for the right words. Nancy sat up and said, “Are you frightened of what goes on here?”

  “Of course not. It’s a privilege.”

  “Then why can’t you tell me all about it?”

  “I’m not allowed to. Not to you. Not to anybody.”

  “Don’t you trust me?”

  “You’re a Purgatorial. You’re dead.”

  “You’re a nurse and you think I’m dead? If I’m dead, why are you feeding me scrambled eggs and grilled tomatoes?”

  “I don’t know. I was told to.”

  “So where are you going next with your breakfast trays? Down to the mortuary? Wake up, boys, come and get it while it’s good and hot!”

  “Don’t. You’re confusing me.”

  “I’ll bet I am. I am absolutely and positively not dead. I never have been dead. I have never been to Purgatory. Everything that you’ve ever been told about Purgatorials is a lie. When people are dead, they stay dead, they don’t come back. But when people come from another world – when people come from another reality – now, that’s something different.”

  The young nurse stared at her for a long time, and then she brushed a strand of hair away from her face.

  “What’s your name?” Nancy asked her.

  “Sophie.”

  “Well, Sophie, thanks for the breakfast. And all I can say to you is, never believe what you read in books. Especially A Child’s Book of Simple Truth.”

  Sophie, still staring at her, crossed the room, opened the door, and walked out. Nancy lay back on her pillow. She didn’t know what to think. All she knew was that she had very little time. Josh probably would have given her twenty-four hours to come back – but when she didn’t, there was no question in her mind that he would come after her. He could arrive in this reality any time today. It might take him a few hours to find her here at the Puritan Martyrs, but she knew how resourceful he was.

  She closed her eyes and said a prayer to her ancestors, to protect her. But here, in this existence, she wasn’t at all sure that she could still feel their closeness.

  Early in the afternoon, when she was halfway between sleeping and waking, she heard the door swing open, and the sound of boots on the polished linoleum floor. She opened her eyes and saw two Hooded Men, one on either side of her bed, with their tall Puritan hats and their black tunics and their long swords and their grotesque hessian masks. She sat up in bed and tugged the blanket up to her neck. She was too frightened to say anything.

  “You believe that your friend will come looking for you?” asked one of the Hooded Men, in the softest of rasps. It was like somebody sawing a velvet cushion in half.

  Nancy still couldn’t speak.

  “You don’t think he’s going to abandon you, do you? Especially when he discovers what fate we have in store for you.”

  “I don’t know what he’s going to do.”

  “Oh, he’ll be here. In fact, we’ve given him a little guidance, so that he knows where you are, and how to find you.”

  “He’s not stupid, for God’s sake. You think he’ll walk right into a trap?”

  “I think he loves you,” said the Hooded Man, and it sounded as if he were smiling.

  “Why can’t you just let me go? We only came here to find out who killed Josh’s sister.”

  “So you keep telling us. But what mayhem you created, you and your subversive friends. And this morning we learned that your precious Josh has killed one of our number. Taken his head off. You don’t think that we can turn a blind eye to murder, do you?”

  “You’re lying! Josh couldn’t murder anybody!”

  “There were more than enough witnesses, I promise you.”

  “Where did this happen? Was it here? Is Josh in this London?”

  “It happened in another London. At this particular moment, we think we know where your partner is, but we can’t be certain. He could be hiding in any one of a million Londons, and we could never find him. That is why you are so valuable to us. When he discovers that we have you here, and what we intend to do with you, don’t worry, he’ll be here as fast as the turning world will allow him. We’ll give him three or four days. We’re not in any hurry.”

  Nancy said, “You’ll be damned for this. Call yourself religious zealots? You’ll be damned for this and you’ll all burn in hell.”

  The Hooded Man leaned forward. Nancy could see something moving behind the eyeholes in his hood. She was aware of a strange smell, too, that reminded her of something that had happened to her long ago, when she wa
s a child. Something cold and unpleasant. Something that she had tried to forget.

  “You, lady,” the Hooded Man rasped. “You don’t know the meaning of hell.”

  Josh and Petty took a taxi from Chancery Lane to West Kensington. Petty was amazed to see London undamaged, and crowded with traffic and people.

  “I can’t believe it,” she kept on saying. “Look at that girl’s dress! Look at it! There’s nothing of it, is there?”

  The taxi driver’s eyes watched them in the rear-view mirror. They were both filthy and bruised, and they smelled. Their clothes were thick with dust and their hair was matted. Josh saw his reflection in the taxi window and realized that his cheeks were gray and his eyes were rimmed with red, like a zombie.

  When they reached Josh’s hotel, he gave the driver a ten-pound tip. “That’s for stopping, and for cleaning up the seats, if you have to. I can tell you that we don’t normally look like this.”

  “Doesn’t bother me, mate,” said the taxi driver. “At least you didn’t throw up.”

  They walked into hotel reception and headed toward the elevators. Petty’s head went around and around in astonishment. “I’ve never seen nothing like this. This is incredible. And, look, what’s that? Is that a television? It’s huge! And it’s in color, just like a film!”

  “Mr Winward?” called one of the receptionists, dubiously.

  “That’s me.”

  “There’s a message for you, sir.” She reached into one of the pigeonholes behind her and took out a folded slip of yellow paper.

  Josh opened it up. It read: Mr Joshua Winward, your lady frend wos cort by the Hoodiz, I no where they are kepin her cum back to Star Yd as soon as U can excuss my riting on a/c of havn no rit han. Yor frend Simon Cutter.

  “Josh, I love this place,” said Petty, taking hold of his arm. Her eyes were bright with delight. “It’s de-luxe, isn’t it? Really de-luxe.”

  Josh took hold of her arm and propelled her toward the elevators. “Here, steady on,” she protested. “What’s your rush?”

  “I have to leave. Something I have to do.”

  “But we’ve only just got here!”

  “I know. But it’s urgent. I’m going to take a shower, change, and then I’m going to have to go out. I may not be back until tomorrow.”

  “So what am I going to do?”

  “You can stay here. You can order meals on room service. You can watch color television. You can do whatever you like. I’ll give you some money so you can buy yourself cigarettes or candy or pantyhose or anything else you need. You’ll survive.”

  He hurried her into the elevator and pressed the button for the third floor. “But I don’t know anybody here!” she protested. “How do I know that you’re going to come back? Supposing you don’t come back?”

  He took hold of her hands and squeezed them. “I’ll be back, I promise you.”

  When they entered the hotel room Petty dubiously sat on the bed and bounced up and down a few times. Josh went into the bathroom, stripped off and took a shower. He was exhausted, but Simon Cutter’s note had filled him immediately with fresh determination. You have to be strong, he told himself. Nancy needs you, and you have to be strong. He just hoped that he didn’t have to face up to the Hooded Men again. He stood with the water spraying at full blast directly into his face in the hope that he could wash away the image of the Hooded Man’s head. But the tighter he closed his eyes, the clearer the picture came back to him, and in the end he had to open them again, wide.

  There are times in your life when you think, oh, Jesus, what have I done? And this was Josh’s moment.

  He stepped out of the shower to find the bathroom door wide open and Petty standing naked in the doorway. He wrapped his towel tightly around his waist and gently maneuvered his way past her into the bedroom.

  “You don’t have to go, you know,” she told him, reaching out for him. “Not straight away, anyhow.”

  “I’m sorry, it’s something I have to do.”

  “Couldn’t we have a rest first? You and me? This bed’s ever so comfortable.”

  Josh put on a clean blue checkered shirt. “Petty … I like you. Believe me, I really like you a whole lot. But this is a matter of life and death.”

  “So where are you going?”

  “It’s safer for you if you don’t know. Really.”

  “Those geezers in the hoods aren’t coming after you, are they?”

  “I don’t know. But whatever happens, you haven’t seen me, and you don’t know where I’ve gone.”

  She lay back on the bed, twisting her hair around her finger, and giving him a coquettish look that reminded Josh of a 1940s movie star. “Sure I can’t tempt you?”

  It took him only ten minutes to walk to Ella’s flat. A gritty wind blew newspapers across the streets of Earl’s Court. He pressed the doorbell again and again but there was no reply. He clenched his fist and thumped the door frame in frustration. This was a time when he really needed some support. More than that, he desperately needed some insight into what the Hooded Men might be thinking of doing next.

  He gave the doorbell one last, long ring, in case Ella had taken one of her own sleeping potions. He still had his thumb on the bellpush when Abraxas came hobbling around the corner.

  “Abraxas! What are you doing out here, boy? Where’s your mom?”

  Abraxas came up to him and Josh hunkered down on the sidewalk and took hold of his ears and stroked him. He was streaked with dirt and his eyes were dull. He had lost weight, too. Josh reckoned that he hadn’t been properly fed for three or four days.

  “Where’s your mom, Abraxas? Where’s Ella? She hasn’t left you, has she? She wouldn’t do that.”

  At that moment, the front door to the apartment building opened and a tall middle-aged woman came out, carrying a Harrods shopping bag.

  “Oh, that poor dog!” she exclaimed. “He’s been hanging around for three days now. I’ve called the RSPCA twice, but when they arrive he’s never here. I feel so sorry for him.”

  “Where’s his mistress?”

  “Why, she’s dead. Didn’t you read about it in the papers?”

  “Dead?” Josh felt a sensation in the pit of his stomach like dropping fifty feet in an airplane. “When was this? What happened?”

  “It was quite awful. She fell out of the window of her flat and landed right on the railings. I’m so glad I wasn’t here when it happened. And a man friend of hers was stabbed right here in the hallway. I almost decided to move out. I still would, if I could find a decent flat around here for the same sort of rent.”

  Josh kept on stroking Abraxas’ head and looking directly into his eyes. “You must be grieving, boy. You must be feeling your loss so bad.”

  Abraxas came up closer and rested his chin on Josh’s knee and looked up at him with his sad amber eyes. “You certainly have a way with animals,” the woman remarked.

  “I’ll take him and get him cleaned up,” said Josh. “He needs some emotional care, too. He’s going to be feeling very confused about Ella disappearing so suddenly.”

  “I’ve got the number of the RSPCA if you want it.”

  “That’s OK. Right now, the last thing he needs is a kennel, with a whole lot of other distressed dogs. He needs calm. He needs reassurance.”

  He walked back toward the hotel with Abraxas gamely limping after him. The woman watched him go, slowly shaking her head.

  Petty watched Abraxas wolfing down a bowl of milk and dog biscuits and shook her head. “Looks like you’re picking up all the waifs and strays, doesn’t it?”

  “I couldn’t leave him wandering the streets like that.”

  “So what are you going to do with him? You can’t keep him here, can you? And if you’re going away tomorrow, don’t expect me to look after him. I don’t like dogs.”

  “Look, I’ll take him with me, if I have to.”

  “That’s all right, then.” She lit a cigarette and blew out a long stream of smoke. “So you’re
going to be staying here tonight, after all?”

  “I’ll have to, won’t I, now that my friend’s been killed.” “Well, don’t expect any hanky-panky. Not with that dog in the room.”

  Josh couldn’t help smiling. He was exhausted and he couldn’t think about anything else but Nancy, caught by the Hooded Men – but he was still amused by Petty’s unshakable conviction that men were only interested in one thing. Hanky-panky? he thought. You wish.

  It was another gusty day, and Josh had difficulty in lighting the candles. Abraxas stood beside him, patiently panting. Josh had made a lead for him out of a suitcase strap. One or two passers-by stopped to watch him, and one old woman asked him if he was making a shrine.

  He told her yes; and in a way he was. This niche in the wall was a shrine to Julia, and to Ella, and all of those who had been killed or tortured at the hands of the Hoodies.

  At last the candles were burning strongly. Josh hefted Abraxas up in his arms and recited the words of the Mother Goose rhyme. There was hardly anybody around – only a girl with a basket of sandwiches walking up from Carey Street – and so he stepped over the candles and into the niche. Abraxas barked three or four times as they turned the corner out of this Star Yard and made their way through the passageway.

  The other Star Yard was almost deserted. Josh peered around the corner of the niche, to make sure that there were no Hoodies or Watchers waiting for him. Then he tugged at Abraxas’ lead and said, “Come on, boy. Let’s go find Nancy.”

  He had almost reached Carey Street when a hand seized his left shoulder. “’Ere! Don’t go beetling off! I’ve been waiting for you for days!”

  It was Simon Cutter, although Josh could hardly recognize him. His face was swollen and scratched, both his eyes were black, and his two front teeth were missing. His right arm was wrapped in filthy bandages and held up in a sling. His long coat was covered in mud and straw and the lining dragged along the paving stones.

  “God almighty, what happened to you?” Josh asked him.