Uninvited

by David Anderson

  He sat on a flat rock for a while and then searched the cave. It wasn’t very deep and his eyes soon got used to the gloom. At the back he found a bag he recognised, containing empty water bottles and scrunched up food wrappers. With an angry shout, he flung it against the wall, sending plastic bottles cascading in all directions.

  “Damn those bastards to hell.”

  Peterman appeared behind him and gave a rueful snort.

  “That’s blown our chance to stop them once and for all,” Wheeler continued, “Now they know we’re on to them, there’s no point in trying this again.”

  Peterman nodded. “You have an even bigger problem now, sir.”

  Chapter Twelve

  I awoke to blinding light in my eyes. The sun pouring in through my bedroom window had moved across the room onto my face. My forehead was sweaty and my body damp. I got up and felt only a small pain in my head, so the long sleep had done me good. I checked the clock and saw that it was suppertime.

  Ned and Toby were already at the dining table. Toby looked up and gave me a smile as I entered the room. “You’re looking a lot better,” he said.

  I decided to be bold and sat down opposite him. After all, there was plenty of room at the big table now.

  Nora came in and sat on my right, whispering in my ear, “Marie gave both of us the night off.”

  Marie pushed a heated trolley of food from the kitchen. She had a withdrawn look on her face, as if her thoughts were a long way away. And where was Peterman himself?

  “Anything wrong, Marie?” Toby asked. So, he had noticed it too.

  I hoped she would say something but instead began quietly serving the meal.

  “Should we wait for Julius?” Toby persisted.

  “I wouldn’t worry about it, sir,” Marie replied, “Mr. Wheeler is busy elsewhere. Please go ahead.”

  That was all the explanation we got. I was hungry, and the hot food smelled delicious, so I led the way with knife and fork.

  I was on a second helping when Peterman came in. His long grey hair was slicked down, and he looked like he had come straight from the shower. When he approached the dining table with more wine, I noticed deep scratches on his bare arms and dark bruises on the old man’s face.

  “I apologise for being late,” Peterman said to them, setting the bottle down and glancing at Marie, “I hope no-one minds.”

  No-one did. I scraped my plate and wished I could go back in time and eat it all over again. The tomato and red pepper soup had been amazing and the steak and gravy main course even better. Small talk criss-crossed the table as the dessert of New York cheesecake was served and consumed, but I saved my energy for the main task of eating.

  Coffee and liqueurs came afterwards and by then I was feeling a bit tight around the waistline.

  Toby smiled. “You’ve got your appetite back, Nick. That’s good. You’ve even outdone me tonight.”

  It was true. Toby and I were the main eaters around here.

  Ned Mackie, mostly silent until now, coughed and spoke. “I think we should talk about what’s going on around here,” he said. Immediately, the atmosphere chilled.

  “It’s been an awful few days,” Toby replied, “What do you want to say?”

  “I’ve come to some conclusions,” Ned shot back.

  “I’m sure you must have,” Toby replied in a calm voice, and placed a consoling hand on Ned’s shoulder, “We’re all listening.”

  Ned looked at the hand blankly, as if it was something alien. “There’s something damned strange about that meteorite. Everything was fine until Sanders spent too much time poking around it.”

  “I’ve been thinking that too,” Nora replied, “I think we all have.” Good for you, sis.

  “It’s as if he picked up some sort of virus or disease from it,” Toby added.

  “Then why haven’t the rest of us caught it?” I asked.

  Ned leaned across the table and scowled at me. “I’ll tell you why. It’s some sort of mental infection, spread by direct contact from person to person only. It gets into people’s brains and makes them act completely out of character.”

  Toby nodded. “Sounds bizarre, but you could be right.”

  “Hold on a minute, we all came into physical contact with Mr. Sanders,” I objected, “We all moved his body after he got struck down.”

  Toby shook his head at me as if warning me off the subject. I ignored him. Ned gave me a look like murder.

  “Abby’s contact must have come later, been more intimate,” he growled. I realised what he was getting at and thought for a minute he was going to spring across the table and strangle me. “Abby was fine till she wandered off alone. Sanders revived and took her by force.”

  There was an uncomfortable silence. Nora kicked me under the table and I gave an acknowledging nod. My big mouth again.

  Ned wasn’t in any mood to let it go. “I can understand Sanders and the Benton girl running off together,” he added, “But my Abby too?”

  “It’s out of character for all three of them really, isn’t it?” Toby said consolingly, “It’s like they’ve become different people altogether.”

  An image of last night flashed into my head and I shuddered. “That blank stare they have–”

  “Like cult members,” Nora said.

  “It’s like Sanders brainwashed Abby,” Ned agreed. “She’s suddenly got some new overriding purpose. As Nora says, it’s like a conversion to his weird cult.”

  “What can we do to help them?” Toby asked, “To get them back to normal again?”

  Ned thudded his cup on the table, spilling coffee on the ornately embroidered cloth. “That’s what I’ve been racking my brains trying to figure out,” he said, “How can I get her back?”

  “They’ve become a danger to themselves,” Toby sighed.

  And to us too, I thought.

  “Julius will have some ideas,” Toby added optimistically.

  Ned snorted. He looked at Peterman and Marie across the room as if deciding whether to speak in their presence. “Julius only thinks of himself,” Ned said, “I talked to him and he’s mad that three of his guests have ‘misbehaved’ as he calls it, sneaked around each other’s bedrooms, and stolen food from his kitchen. Attacked Nick here then slunk off. That’s what Julius said.”

  “But did they really mean to harm anyone?” Toby protested.

  Ned snorted derisively and looked at me. “What do you think, Nick?”

  I nodded slowly but kept silent. Ned was putting me in an awkward position and for once I didn’t jump in, aware that it wouldn’t be smart to escalate things.

  “Well, we don’t know for sure what they intended,” Toby insisted, “As it turned out, Nick caused himself the injury.”

  Hmmm, that’s one way of putting it. I was thinking about sharing my views about that encounter when Wheeler stormed in. He, too, looked like he’d just come from the shower.

  “We’ve got to sort this out,” he said when he saw us. We all knew what he meant. “Sanders and the two women have become a threat. God knows what they’ll do next. We need to protect ourselves.”

  “How exactly do you propose to do that?” Ned replied. “Harm one hair of Abby’s head and I’ll have you up for murder.”

  Wheeler grabbed a coffee and sat down with us. “Alright, alright, I didn’t mean it that way. I mean protect the house. We’re keeping watch tonight. I’ll be ready for them when they return.”

  “All night long? Are you serious?” Toby asked.

  “Yes, right through the night, otherwise there’s no point. We can easily do it in shifts.”

  “Just lock the doors and we can all go to bed,” Toby said.

  “Not good enough,” Wheeler replied, “They’ll force their way in, damage the property, maybe set fire to the place. Do you want to reason with them, and all that crap?”

  “You have a point there,” Toby conceded, “But they’ll need our help.”

  “Fine, provided they act normally,” W
heeler agreed, “But don’t forget how aggressive they’ve become.” He turned to me and I shrank away a little. “They forced themselves on poor Nick here. We can’t have Sanders sneaking into our rooms and doing the same.”

  I could feel my cheeks redden. Ned shook his head, obviously unhappy. “What are you suggesting, Julius?” he snapped, “When they come tonight, we shoot on sight?”

  “Of course not, Ned, just set up a watch, that’s all. When they show up, we alert each other and deal with it.”

  “Basically, if they come to the house we make sure you know about it before letting them in?” Toby clarified.

  Wheeler nodded. “That’s right. It’s my house and I need to know first. I’ll be the one making the decisions. I’m in charge around here.”

  “Well, you have that right,” Toby acknowledged, and sighed. “They’re unstable, so I guess we should be careful.”

  Wheeler gave a rare grin. “I’m glad you see it my way. I decide how we help them. If they come during your watch, get hold of me at once and let me deal with it.”

  I sensed a lot of manipulation going on but what choice did any of us have in Wheeler’s house? Nora seemed to read my thoughts and gave a little shake of her head, as if to say; I’m not falling for Wheeler’s crap.

  “I’ll take a late shift if that’s okay,” I said quickly and too loudly. “I’m a real night bird anyway. Nora and I can do a double shift.” Nora kicked me under the table.

  “Are you sure you’re up to it?” Toby said.

  Now that I’d volunteered, I couldn’t back down. “Sure. I’ve spent most of today in bed, so I probably won’t be able to sleep tonight anyway. My head’s fine now.” That was more or less true.

  Wheeler liked the idea. “That would be good,” he said, and gave me a thump on the back.

  “No problem,” I replied, “In fact, I’ll double up and do Nora’s shift as well as my own.”

  The fire went out of Nora’s eyes and she stopped kicking me. Wheeler stood up.

  “Okay, Toby takes the first shift, beginning at ten o’clock. He’ll hand over to Nick at midnight, and then I’ll come down and relieve you at four in the morning. Ned can do the early morning shift from six to eight o’clock.”

  “Fine, I’ll probably enjoy it,” I lied.

  “Just don’t fall asleep,” Wheeler warned, with his hand now on my shoulder.

  “I won’t. By four a.m. I’ll probably just be getting sleepy.”

  “You can read quietly,” Wheeler said, then added, “But keep away from the bar, alright?”

  It was as if he could read my mind. I felt red heat flood into my cheeks again.

  “Now I’m having a nice big supper,” Wheeler said and barked some orders to Peterman and Marie in the kitchen. I took the chance to leave the room and everyone followed.

  * * *

  Nora disappeared upstairs, and Toby and Ned went into the living room. I hung around the hallway with no real idea of what I was going to do next. That’s when I noticed the door to Wheeler’s study.

  It was open; only an inch or so but still open. Wheeler was tucking into his supper and would be for a while. This was my opportunity to get a quick peek into his man cave. I went up to the doorway and stood perfectly still, listened carefully, looked down at the kitchen and made sure that Wheeler wasn’t coming out. The coast was clear.

  I pushed the office door and it swung open. Inside was a long, curving desk with a computer monitor at one end and papers piled on the rest of the surface. A plush office chair, all ergonomic bumps and hollows, sat behind it. All around the desk and chair were mounds of folders and papers, print outs and God knows what all else. This sure was no paperless office. In fact, it was a mess.

  A large grey metallic box stood in the far corner, with ‘SatComm’ prominently displayed along the top, and a pair of sophisticated looking phones hung on the wall beside it, each with its own small display screen. This had to be the satellite communications system, connected to a satellite dish probably attached to the roof. I took a deep breath, stepped inside and picked my way through the mess on the floor to get a better look at it.

  If things got any crazier, this was how we could get in touch with the outside world. Wheeler was in charge of it and keeping it to himself as usual, but that could change. A people’s rebellion was what was needed around here.

  What if Wheeler caught me in here, right now? Suddenly blind panic swept over me. What the hell was I doing? I turned and hurried back to the door, praying I wouldn’t encounter Wheeler or anybody else out in the hallway. Toby would take a dim view of what I’d just done; Ned might push his way in and create another row.

  As I passed the desk I saw a small brown book on the floor. Without thinking, I picked it up and stuffed it into the big flap pocket on my shorts. It was pure instinct, some kind of souvenir or trophy urge.

  Back outside in the empty hallway, I pulled the door tight behind me and heard it click shut. When I tried the handle, it wouldn’t budge. Wheeler would never know he’d left the room unlocked.

  And now I was stuck with the book, whatever it was. I decided to look at it later tonight, during my ‘shift’.

  * * *

  I sat in the shiny green leather wingback chair in the living room, the one I liked so much, vowing I’d someday have a chair like that for myself. In my hurry downstairs, I’d forgotten to strap on my watch but the ornate brass hands on the grandfather clock in the corner told me it was ten minutes past midnight. Apart from the ticking clock, the room was completely silent. I listened for other sounds elsewhere in the house and couldn’t detect any, not even a creak of wood. Minutes crawled slowly by. I looked at the clock again; twenty minutes past twelve.

  What have I got myself into? Too late to back out now.

  There was no way I was risking a repeat of last night. If Abby and Sanders appeared outside, I intended to shout for Wheeler at once. That would rouse Toby and Ned too, maybe even Nora who was a deep sleeper.

  Was I being paranoid? Nope. Everything around here had got very serious. I shuddered despite the warm night and wished my four hours were over rather than beginning.

  Best to make the time go as quickly as possible. I got up and wandered around the room. When I got to the bar I thought about ignoring Wheeler and helping myself anyway. A quick shot would settle my nerves. I took down a bottle labelled ‘Black Bush Irish Whiskey’ and poured myself a couple of inches of the thick, orangey-brown liquid. It tasted sharp, smoky and strong.

  Before I knew it, I’d emptied the glass. Another one? No, I’d better be careful tonight and pace myself. I daren’t guzzle too much liquor and doze off on the couch. If Wheeler found me asleep, he’d write me off as a total loser who couldn’t be trusted to do a simple job. Worse still, Nora would chew me off.

  That mustn’t happen.

  Still, maybe I’d have another in a couple of hours’ time. Meanwhile, I had to keep wide awake. The thought of waking up to find the window open and Sanders standing over me should be plenty enough stimulation to keep my eyelids from closing.

  Next to the bar there were bookcases full of old hardcover tomes. I scanned some of the titles and they were all authors I’d never heard of, the sort of boring pioneer stuff that Wheeler liked. There was even an ancient leather-bound set of Encyclopaedia Britannica, dated nineteen-eleven, on the bottom shelf. Who would ever read that?

  The gap between the top of the bookcases and the ceiling was filled with antiques; enormous blue porcelain bowls, silver candlesticks, heraldic shields and even a giant set of twisty deer antlers. I decided on the spot that if this was what wealth got you, I didn’t need any of it. Apart from the green leather chair, of course.

  When I sank back into the chair, a corner of the little book I’d taken from Wheeler’s office prodded into my thigh. I’d kept it in the big flap pocket ever since, too afraid to take it out downstairs, and I’d actually forgotten about it when I’d gone to my room and dozed for a bit.

  I g
ot up again, switched on the small brass table lamp beside the chair, and clicked off the main room lights overhead. Now I was ready for some late night reading. I took out Wheeler’s book, a thin, small volume that looked handmade. The covers were plain green cloth and the spine was brown leather, the gold lettering there rubbed and indistinct, making it difficult to read. I shifted position and held the book where the lamplight was brightest but still couldn’t make out title or author.

  I gave up trying to decipher the spine, opened the book at the first page, and groaned. The title read; ‘An Explanation to Family and Friends of My Return from British Columbia, Canada, and an Account of a Meteor Fall & Other Strange Events Witnessed There.’ Beneath this it stated the author was; ‘Thomas J. Irwin’ and at the bottom of the page was printed; “Privately published by the author in a limited edition of 26 lettered copies, Salisbury, 1926.’

  More of Wheeler’s boring old pioneer rubbish. I tossed the book on the side table in disgust. Then I stared at it and wondered about ‘meteor fall and other strange events’. Maybe this was more than just whatever Wheeler happened to be reading right now. What if it explained what was going on? I picked the book up again with both excitement and hesitation.

  The lamp shone its yellow light on the pages as I reopened the book. I sat back and made myself comfortable, turned to the first page of text and began to read.

  Chapter Thirteen

  It was like something out of a Wolverine comic. The author, Thomas Irwin, said he’d spent three years in Canada and swore what happened to him was true. In fact, he claimed he was still having nightmares about it.

  Irwin and a friend of his had fur-trapped in the West and brought their pelts to a place called Fort Douglas, owned by the Hudson’s Bay Company, which sounded like Costco, Wal-mart and Home Depot all rolled into one. When summer came, Irwin got restless again and wanted to explore the wilderness to the north-west. All the more so, when he saw a strange light searing across the sky one night.