The Anomaly

by Neil Carstairs

  With a sweep of her hand, Moira sent the two dire wolves to the body. She took the girls to the river and washed their hands and faces.

  “I can come with you for part of the way,” she said. “We can see if any of them are hurt.”

  “Where are you going?” Vicky asked.

  “I’m going to meet the most powerful woman in the country,” Moira said. “And kill her.”

  ***

  “They’re back,” Kramer said, as the first, harsh call of the crows reached the group.

  Ben stopped and craned his neck to see the dark specks of the birds as they circled down towards them.

  “We can try and make that woodland,” Geordie said, pointing ahead. “It looks to be a mile or so. If we hustle, we might make it untouched.”

  Ben tried to keep his face straight. His back ached, his legs ached and all he wanted to do was lie down for a couple of hours. A race across unforgiving moorland against razor-beaked crows didn’t fill him with any joy. He watched Geordie slide his Bergen off his back. The soldier dropped it at Ben’s feet.

  “You carry that,” Geordie said. “I’ll carry Emily.”

  Ben bit hard on his tongue. He had no choice as Geordie lifted Emily onto his back.

  “Let’s go,” Geordie said, as much to Ben as the ten-year-old girl.

  As Geordie ran with Emily bouncing on his back, Kramer said, “Come on, Scarrett. They’ll be on us before you know it.”

  Ben sighed and dragged Geordie’s Bergen off the ground. He got it settled across his shoulders and began a shuffling run in the wake of Kramer, almost bent double like an old man as the rough grass and undulating terrain tried its best to trip him.

  A mile? Jesus, it feels like ten and Geordie got the better end of this deal.

  He stumbled as a shadow flashed across his vision, one wing tip scraping the ground as the crow swept between him and Kramer. With the extra Bergen weighing him down Ben could do nothing about defending himself. His rifle bounced on his chest, the strap not tight enough to stop it smacking his chin. Ben started to swear after a quarter-of-a-mile as another crow dive-bombed him. A heavy wing slapped passed his face and the bird’s screech filled his ears. Kramer dropped back.

  “You okay?” she asked.

  “Yeah.” Ben squeezed the word out between rasping breaths. He got a sidelong glance from Kramer that said she didn’t believe him. “What?” Ben gasped.

  “We’re almost there.”

  “Good,” he said, but didn’t think she heard him because Emily screamed as two huge crows attacked her on Geordie’s back.

  Kramer dashed forward as Ben staggered to a halt. He dropped Geordie’s Bergen and felt ten-feet-tall as the weight came off. He pulled his rifle up and fired as another three crows closed. The birds wheeled away. Geordie had Emily lying on the grass as he stood next to her. The main flock were carving tight circles in the air above them. Kramer fired three short bursts up, and one crow came cartwheeling out of the sky. Ben followed suit. His first three attempts missed but the fourth folded a crow in half as it tumbled to the ground.

  “Let’s go,” Kramer shouted.

  Geordie lifted Emily again, this time cradling her to his chest. Ben snagged his rifle into a tighter position on his chest and hauled the discarded Bergen back onto his shoulders. Crushed down again he followed the others in his odd, shuffling run. The crows stayed clear long enough for Ben to realise that they’d closed on the woodland enough for him to detect the change of scent in the air. The grass beneath his feet shortened and then the branches of the trees reached out above his head as if to protect him. He stopped dead as he ran into a tree. The rough bark scraped against his face as Ben dropped Geordie’s Bergen and sank to the ground. Every part of him ached now and his heart swelled like a balloon as it pumped in his chest.

  “No time to rest,” Ben heard Kramer say as her boots appeared in his vision. “We need to get further in so the crows can’t follow us.”

  “Not even one minute?”

  “No,” she said so bluntly that Ben had to look up.

  “You know I might not like this side of you,” he said.

  “If it keeps you alive long enough to like the other side of me then that’s fine by me,” Kramer gave his leg a nudge with her foot.

  Ben pushed himself up and took enough time to take a drink from his water bottle. Kramer tapped her foot as he finished.

  “Need anything else?” she asked.

  “Only Geordie to take his pack off me.”

  “No.” Kramer shook her head. “We need to move fast and carrying her is better.”

  Ben stared at her. “Can I carry Emily?”

  “No, Geordie’s better trained to protect her. And don’t even think of suggesting that I carry his Bergen.”

  “I’m gonna need a good massage to get over this,” Ben said.

  “So grab that pack and move. The sooner we get to wherever this path is taking us the sooner we can get home.”

  ***

  Moira frowned as she stood at the edge of the woodland. The subtle change in the air around her told her the world had changed again, this time to one she was very familiar with.

  Why now?

  The twins waited patiently at her side. The entire wolf-pack had now re-joined them as the sun edged behind the nearest hills and cast cool shadows across the land. She needed to leave, but with night falling, wanted the twins to wait for full daylight before continuing their pursuit.

  “The wolves will keep you warm tonight,” she told them. “In the morning, the crows will show you where the others are. You know what to do.”

  “Can we have pizza?” Lizzie asked.

  Moira sighed. “Yes. I forgot how much young people eat.”

  She walked into the woodland and reappeared a few minutes later with two pizza boxes and big plastic cups of coke. The girls settled down to eat as the wolves pressed close, sniffing and salivating at the aroma of the food.

  “We will meet up again, maybe tomorrow or the day after,” Moira said. “I will come and find you. Don’t worry about anything. The wolves will protect you.”

  The girls nodded as they worked their way through the pizza slices. Moira walked away and the shadows merged upon her. She came out of the shadows and walked up the steps to the front of her house. Inside, she found a suitcase and packed as quickly as she could. Back outside, the mist closed in again. Moira enjoyed the cold touch of water vapour on her skin and in her lungs. She stepped forward. Mist rose and fell. Moira stood in the car park of the hotel she booked near Sir Richard’s house. No-one noticed her sudden appearance. She rested the suitcase on the ground and sat on a wooden bench that overlooked a small pond in the hotel grounds. A couple came out of the hotel and walked to a car, their loud conversation disturbing the peace of the scene.

  As they pulled out of the car park, another vehicle turned in. Moira studied it for a moment before deciding this was the one she was waiting for. The dark green Jaguar swung a wide circle before pulling up next to her. The driver got out, looked at Moira and her case and said, “Mrs Morigan?”

  “Ms,” Moira said in a voice that made the driver flinch.

  “Yes, sorry, I’ll get your bag.”

  “Thank you.”

  Moira sat in the back on leather seats that cradled her in comfort. The driver slid in behind the wheel and shut the door with a soft clunk. Moira couldn’t hear the engine start. As they pulled away, she turned her head to look at the pond one last time, as much to hide the smile of delight on her face as look at the dark, weed laden water. She watched the English countryside drift passed. So different from what she had first seen but only because of the hands of men who had cut down the forests and shaped the land. She could already see the ghosts of the past beginning to appear. They sensed her excitement and the growing uncertainty in the world.

  She settled back. The driver had cropped blonde hair and pale skin above the tight collar of his shirt. If Moira looked closely enough, she could see
the pulse in his neck as it pumped his lifeblood on its journey to his brain. He wore a cologne that lay heavy on the air in the car. Moira resisted the idea of reaching out and stroking the skin at the nape of his neck. The shock might make him drive off the road. She settled for gazing out again at the fields that flickered by.

  She knew this land waited for her. Just as she could see the pulse in the driver’s neck, she could sense the pulse in the land. A heartbeat from the earth that sent a tremor into her bones. It excited her. Moira could feel the tingle in her flesh, an electric surge that made her mouth water at the prospect of unleashing the ghosts upon this land. And not just the ghosts, she would open the portals and bring through every kind of monster she knew existed. They waited at the door; she could hear their breathing and the soft scratch of claws as they pawed at the boundaries between worlds.

  Soon, my children, the feast will begin.

  Closing her eyes, Moira allowed the journey to continue without too many distractions; the driver, the ghosts, the heartbeat. She planned the following day. Meet the Prime Minister and what? Kill her on the spot? Toy with her like a cat plays with a mouse? Or simply wait another twenty-four hours until she was sure that the twins had caught and killed the others.

  The Pathfinder.

  A touch of worry ran across Moira’s nerves. Somehow, the child was protected. She should be dead by now. And now the Pathfinder travelled through the world that nurtured Moira’s power. I should have stayed. I should be there for the kill. But the chance to take the power of this land into my hands is too much to resist.

  The Jaguar slowed as it came into a tight ‘s’ bend. A gravel driveway appeared on Moira’s right. The driver steered into it. A wrought metal gate and three huge rising bollards blocked their path.

  The driver spoke for the first time, “Security will hold us for a moment until they drop the bollards.”

  “I understand,” Moira said. The gate had two houses either side, probably some hangover from when whichever Lord or Lady lived here in the past had housed their staff in them. Now, a pair of armed police officers approached. Moira’s driver lowered his window and spoke to them. One walked around the vehicle as the other looked in at Moira. She smiled at him as the gates swung open and the bollards sank into the ground.

  “Have you been here before?” the driver asked as he guided the Jag between the brick gateposts.

  “No, this is my first visit,” Moira replied.

  “The P.M. will arrive tomorrow,” he said.

  “Have you met her?”

  “A couple of times. She’s nice enough to the hired help, if you know what I mean. I expect she’ll be even nicer to you as you are a guest.”

  Chequers appeared as the car swung around a looping driveway. Not as imposing from this view as Moira had expected. The driver took the Jaguar to the right and followed the arc of the driveway into an area enclosed by a high wall. A small grassed section lay in the centre of the quadrangle. The driver pulled them to a halt where Moira could see two members of the House staff waiting for them.

  “Here we are then,” the driver said, “I don’t know how long you are staying, but this is the last day of my shift, so I won’t be back for four days.”

  “Then I don’t think I’ll be seeing you again,” Moira said as he opened the door for her.

  “Well, have a nice visit,” he said with a smile.

  “I’m sure it will be.” Moira breathed in the air. “I’m sure it will be.”

  ***

  Kramer nudged Ben awake at somewhere near four in the morning for him to take his turn at guard duty. He crawled from his sleeping bag and watched with envy as Kramer replaced him with a whispered, “You got this nice and warm for me.”

  Ben leant down and kissed her. “Sweet dreams,” he said and walked across to the trunk of the old oak tree that Geordie had chosen to camp beneath. He yawned, shivered, and listened to the night sounds in the wood. It would be easy to get spooked by any of the noises. Little rustles of foliage. The thump of objects falling out of trees. The screech of an owl and the dying squeal of the owl’s victim.

  Keep your eyes and ears open.

  The woodland at night held all kinds of secrets. Ben’s head held even more fears. Most of them unfounded as moths fluttered by his head and bats swept on silent wings to snatch the insects out of the air. He saw lights as well and imagined them as the eyes of creatures that stalked the woodland as they scented blood.

  Stop it.

  Ben looked up as something scampered through the branches above his head. An acorn dropped near him, and a few leaves floated silently to the ground. Getting up, he made a near silent circuit of the camp’s perimeter. As good as his night vision had become he found low branches reaching out to drag at his clothing and touch his face like ghostly fingers.

  They’re branches, not ghosts.

  He saw movement in the dark, a paler patch of shade that bounced across his line of sight. Ben brought his rifle up, finger trembling on the trigger. His heart raced, and maybe fear made him see a giant and not a waist high deer that skittered through the trees and into the night. He tracked it with the muzzle of the rifle until any sound and movement disappeared.

  Sweet Jesus.

  Ben found himself beside the oak again. He needed to pee. He wanted to get back in his sleeping bag, preferably with Kramer still inside it, and go to sleep. Instead, he yawned and forced his eyes to stay open. A chill breeze drifted through the trees, stirring branches and rattling leaves. It cut him to the core and Ben sank to his haunches. It took another few minutes before he decided the breeze carried a scent upon it. An unnatural smell of decay. Ben edged around the oak, finding a spot where the bole of the tree sheltered him against the cutting edge of the wind.

  Man, whoever invented guard duty needs shooting.

  That smell was still there, though. Faint. Lingering. Dead.

  Not good.

  Ben looked up and saw a lightening of the sky. Dawn. He looked away, careful to try and keep his night vision as good as possible. But every minute or so he needed to look again, just to make sure that the sun still rose. It did. The dark sky grew lighter. Whatever creatures lived in the night scuttled their way back to their burrows and holes and hideaways. But the stench remained.

  Not good.

  He heard a grunt and Geordie woke with a muttered curse as he remembered where he was. The soldier came to his feet and rubbed some life into his face as he came over to Ben.

  “All okay?” he asked, leaning close and keeping his voice low.

  “Depends,” Ben said.

  “On what?”

  “Can you smell that smell?”

  Geordie sniffed noisily. “Yeah.”

  “What time is it?” Emily’s voice reached them from where she lay.

  “Early o’clock,” Geordie said.

  “So shut up with the talking and let us get some sleep.” Kramer joined the conversation.

  Ben saw Geordie bite back on a comment. The soldier gave him a long-suffering look and whispered, “I’m glad she’s your girlfriend.”

  They fell into silence. Dawn began to filter down into the wood, revealing the outline of trees and bushes. Ben rested back against the oak as Geordie walked the perimeter. Having company and increasing daylight lifted Ben’s spirits. No more ghostly shapes stalked his vision. The woodland’s sounds were just that, natural and non-threatening. He watched the shadows lift from Kramer as she lay, eyes closed, near to him. Somewhere in his world, Ben knew his sister Chrissie was planning her wedding. Looking at Kramer made Ben think about weddings in a different way.

  Wow, I think I haven’t had enough rest. That’s a hallucination if ever there was one. And whatever you do, don’t tell Kramer you thought about weddings and her in the same moment.

  Geordie re-joined him. They waited out another forty minutes or so until Geordie decided it was time to get a brew on. He fired up a camping stove as Ben found a discrete spot thirty yards into the wood and r
elieved himself. By the time he returned Kramer and Emily were up and eating out of the ration pouches they carried with them. After eating, Geordie and Ben sorted the camp as Kramer took Emily into the trees for a comfort break.

  When they got back, Kramer said, “That smell isn’t good.”

  “You got that right,” Geordie said. “Want to take a look?”

  “With Emily?”

  “Well, we can always leave her here on her own,” Geordie suggested.

  Kramer sighed, shook her head, and said, “Sometimes, I wonder about you.”

  “So let’s go look,” Geordie said, with a grin.

  The British soldier led the way, Kramer following behind, holding Emily’s hand. Ben brought up the rear, happy enough that Geordie had decided not to carry the girl and burden Ben with his Bergen again. The woodland thickened in patches, forcing their route into a non-negotiable series of switch-back changes that had Geordie muttering curses under his breath.

  Ben heard the wolves first. Distant yips and barks that broke through the sound of their progress through the undergrowth. He told Kramer and Emily, and they relayed the news to Geordie.

  “Great.”

  Ben looked back. He couldn’t see the pack, but there was no doubt they were there, hunting them down. Geordie pushed the pace, Emily telling him if he needed to go left or right as the path that only she could see wound its way through the wood. They hit a patch of clearer ground, the trees wider apart and the ground only touched by strands of grass and low brush. Geordie broke into a trot and the others followed. Ben glanced back and thought he saw movement. Anywhere they could move faster, the wolves could move fast, too. He almost ran into Kramer when she stopped.

  The woodland opened up into a glade. Dappled sunshine made the place look warm and welcoming. A place to have a family picnic or a romantic tryst. “Why have you stopped?” Ben asked.

  “Look,” Kramer said, her voice soft.

  Ben looked. He saw a clearing with some bushy trees off to one side. Otherwise, his neck tingled to the knowledge that the wolf pack were closing so he said, “The wolves are coming. We should move.”

  “There’s a man there,” Kramer said.