The Haunting of Bleeding Heart Yard (Quigg)

by Tim Ellis

  How many bones had she broken? That’s all she fucking needed – the inability to move around. Even one broken bone would probably get her killed. She checked, but miraculously she still seemed to be in one piece.

  As her eyes became accustomed to the gloom, she noticed she had fallen into a cage that was being used to store waste metal. The last rung of the maintenance shaft ladder was high above her, and by the looks of it getting back into the shaft wasn’t going to be so easy – she’d need another ladder or a tower of containers to reach it.

  There was an oily substance on the concrete floor that had soaked into the back of her jeans and top, and she’d just put her hands in the sludge to push herself up.

  ‘Fuck!’

  The metal cage began rattling and made her jump. On the other side half a dozen completely black-eyed human faces were pressed up against the mesh staring at her. Fingers had been forced through the twisted metal squares. It was eerie, because it looked as though they were screaming, but no noise came from their open mouths. The rattling became louder and louder. A few more creatures joined them, and began to force the cage gate open.

  If the creatures got inside she knew she wouldn’t last thirty seconds and began hunting for something to use as a weapon.

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw a dark shape drop from the shaft – she turned to protect herself.

  ‘Michael?’

  ‘I decided that leaving my future fiancé to fend for herself was the behaviour of a coward.’

  ‘Since when did you decide we were getting engaged?’

  ‘Since I decided that I couldn’t live without you.’

  ‘We’ve known . . .’

  If such a thing were possible, the rattling became louder.

  ‘I think we should announce our engagement to the world at another time,’ Michael said. ‘We need to get out of here.’

  ‘I agree.’

  Michael picked up a sweeping brush. ‘I’ll keep them out of the cage, you find a way to get back up to that ladder.’

  She nodded.

  Michael began hitting the fingers sticking through the mesh with the brush handle, but the creatures didn’t move them. It was as if they were immune to pain.

  Kline found a half-inch thick iron rod down the side of a steel cabinet. ‘This should make them think twice,’ she said, passing him the three-foot long weapon.

  ‘Thanks,’ he said, throwing the brush to one side. ‘These people don’t think once, never mind twice, so I don’t think it’s going to be much of a deterrence.’

  She finished building the stack of oil drums so that they could reach the ladder and haul themselves up, but as she began climbing onto the second drum the cage gate burst open.

  ‘Mom?’ Michael said. ‘Mom, it’s me, Michael.’

  Kline stopped climbing and watched as a large rotund black woman came into the cage swinging the same type of iron rod Michael was holding.

  The woman said nothing.

  The other creatures stopped what they were doing and watched the mother and son reunion play out.

  Michael lowered his iron rod. ‘Mom, it’s me.’

  She swung her weapon and hit him on the upper arm.

  ‘It’s not your mum, Michael,’ Kline shouted at him. ‘Maybe it used to be, but it’s not anymore.’

  His mom hit him again.

  He turned slightly, so that the iron bar smashed into his back. ‘Mom, please don’t. It’s me, Michael.’ He was crying and tried to grab the weapon, but she stabbed it at him and then yanked it back.

  ‘You have to defend yourself, Michael,’ Kline said.

  ‘I can’t. It’s my mom.’

  ‘That’s why they sent her in first, because they knew you wouldn’t hit your mum, but you have to, otherwise you’ll die where you are and then they’ll kill me.’

  ‘Mom?’ he pleaded.

  She swung at him again.

  He swung his own rod and hit his mom on the side of the neck, but she didn’t even blink.

  ‘Oh God!’ he said through the tears.

  She took another swing at him.

  He ducked and jabbed his own iron bar upwards into his mother’s thoracic cavity.

  The rusty metal ripped a hole in the descending aorta as it passed and blood gushed out into the available space.

  As she sank to her knees, she dropped the weapon and it clattered on the floor.

  Michel stopped her from falling forward and was on his knees as well. ‘Oh God, Mom. I’m so sorry.’

  His mom’s eyes cleared. ‘It’s all right, Michael.’ She reached up and touched his face before she died.

  ‘Oh Mom.’ He held onto her and wept.

  ‘Michael,’ Kline said. ‘This is probably not a good time to say this, but we have to go.’

  ‘I can’t leave her.’

  ‘Then you’ll die with her. Is that what she would have wanted? I don’t think so. I think she would have wanted you to get revenge on the fucking bastards who are responsible for her death. Now come on, let’s go.’

  He stood up and picked up his mom’s discarded weapon. ‘You’re right.’ He beat back the creatures that were trying to get through the gate and secured it for a short time with the iron bar.

  Kline climbed up onto the last barrel, jumped and grabbed the last rung of the ladder. ‘I need help, Michael,’ she called over her shoulder.

  Michael clambered up the drums.

  ‘And don’t go thinking that because I’m letting you touch my arse it gives you any rights in the future.’

  ‘I won’t.’ He pushed her up.

  She got her feet onto the ladder and then reached down and grabbed Michael’s hand.

  Just as he was pulling himself up, a man leapt off the barrels and grabbed Michael round the legs.

  ‘I can’t hang on,’ Michael said looking up at her.

  ‘Yes you can. Think of your mum.’

  He gritted his teeth and gradually wriggled from the creature’s grip. Then, he hauled himself up onto the ladder.

  They began climbing. In the crawl space at the first basement level they rested.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Kline said.

  ‘It’s not your fault.’

  ‘If I hadn’t gone down there . . .’

  ‘It was my decision to follow you.’

  She put a hand on his shoulder. ‘That wasn’t your mum.’

  ‘Yes it was. You saw and heard her at the end. My mom was inside all the time. I killed my own mom. How am I going to live with that?’

  He cried silently.

  Kline had no answer for him.

  ***

  ‘Wake up, Quigg.’

  He’d been dreaming that he was lying on a sun bed wrapped up in a thick blanket on the Titanic listening to the band playing ‘Chant d’Automne’ (Autumn Song). His mother was lying on the sun bed next to him, and they were sliding along the deck towards the bow as the stern rose up in the icy air behind them.

  ‘It’ll be all right, Quigg,’ he recalled his mother saying. ‘Sing along, sing for all you’re worth, sing as though your life depended on it.’

  The English lyrics reverberated in his head, even though he’d never heard the song before, and he began to sing:

  Under the moon of an autumn evening

  Inside of a secret clearing

  Sing the beautiful Lady Fairy

  She sings of mysteries,

  Shadows and beauty

  And everyone around her listens

  Winter will soon be here

  Spreading its cold shroud

  And Lady Fairy will leave

  Hear the autumn song

  It flies by just like the wind

  And yet, it always resounds

  When frost and snow come,

  You will all be asleep

  Only my voice will resound

  He forced his eyes open.

  Magdalena was standing in front of him naked.

  ‘How did you get back in?’ he asked. He didn’t me
an to sound so annoyed because she was so beautiful, but he really needed a lot more sleep and she kept waking him up.

  ‘I’m the Lady Fairy, Quigg. I’ve brought the frost and the snow. It’s time to die.’

  He looked down at the monstrous erection between his legs. ‘Whoa! Where did that come from?’

  She sat astride him. ‘You had it in you all along, but now it belongs to me.’

  ‘I don’t think I’m ready to die just yet, Lady Fairy.’ The tip of his penis entered the cavern of ice and he shivered as his life was sucked from him.

  ‘It matters not, Quigg. This is your time.’

  She rode him. She rode him as if he were a beast of burden. She rode him until he was slavering at the mouth. She rode him until he had emptied himself into her and he was simply an empty husk lying between her muscled thighs. She rode him until he could see that she was a hideous horned creature with glowing red eyes, cloven hooves and a long pointed tail.

  As he hovered between the light and the dark he had a terrible vision. He imagined he was in the midst of all manner of horrendous atrocities and he knew then that he had descended into hell.

  No heaven for him then.

  Hell was obviously where he belonged. He must have done some unforgiveable things in his life to have ended up in hell. He tried to think of them, but nothing immediately jumped into his mind.

  ‘Quigg – wake up.’

  ‘Hello?’ he mumbled.

  ‘We have work to do.’

  ‘But . . .’ He recalled feeling as weak as a thousand year-old parchment, but now he felt rejuvenated – nearly-human again. ‘Hey, I don’t feel tired anymore.’

  ‘You’re a new you.’

  ‘So I am.’ Smiling, he looked up and nearly died. ‘God in Heaven! Who are you? What are you?’

  ‘I am Naamah the succubus and Guardian of the seventh gate of hell, and before you recoil in horror at the sight of me, you want to take a look at yourself.’

  ‘What?’ He tried to stand, but fell forward onto his face. ‘Oh God!’ He was naked, but that wasn’t the real problem. The real problem was that he had legs like the hind legs of a goat, cloven hooves and a tail that swished the flies away. He pushed himself up and took tentative steps towards an oval mirror hanging on the wall. ‘What have you done to me?’

  ‘You are what you are. Your outward appearance is simply a manifestation of what you have always been inside, Quigg – a satyr.’

  He didn’t even know what a satyr was, but he had muscles like a weightlifter, curled horns growing out of his forehead, pointed ears and a penis that was at least twelve inches long.

  ‘Are you sure you’ve got this right? I mean, I always imagined myself as a cuddly koala bear, maybe a leopard at a stretch, or a panda chomping on bamboo leaves.’

  ‘You belong to me now, Quigg. And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay away from those nymphs . . .’

  A vein in his penis began throbbing as he looked around the decaying room. ‘There are nymphs here?’

  ‘I want you to remember that my bite is a lot worse than my bark.’ She looked down at his penis. ‘If you know what I mean?’

  He covered up his pride and joy with both hands and thought about how hot those nymphs were.

  She began striding along the hallway to the door. ‘Come, we have to go.’

  ‘Go? Go where?’

  ‘While I’ve been up here concentrating on you, I’ve been neglecting my other duties. Battle lines are being drawn, armies are being prepared and choices are being made.’

  ‘I’m a lover not a fighter.’

  ‘I know, but if you recall – I’m a guardian. I have obligations. Certain people are trying to close my gate, and I can’t let that happen.’

  ‘Certain people?’

  ‘Your old partner for one.’

  ‘Walsh?’

  ‘Kline.’

  ‘Old partner?’

  ‘You’re half-human and half-goat now, Quigg, which means that you’re no longer a detective inspector on earth. You’re my satyr, the father of my triplets and your job is to keep me happy.’

  He licked his lips. ‘Now?’

  ‘No, not now. Now, I have work to do.’

  ‘Oh!’ He bounded after her. Triplets! Had he made a succubus pregnant?

  ***

  After they’d rested, and Michael had composed himself, they began climbing the ladder up to the penthouse apartment.

  Kline went first.

  Michael brought up the rear.

  After a time Kline said over her shoulder, ‘I can hear noises. Are they following us?’

  ‘Yes, and getting closer.’

  ‘I don’t know if I can go any faster.’

  ‘I’m going to get off at the next floor and stop them,’ Michael said.

  ‘We’ll both get off.’

  ‘No. Somebody has to get to the penthouse and let them know what we’ve seen.’

  ‘You can do that.’

  ‘I can’t let . . .’

  ‘I hope you’re not going to bring gender into it.’

  ‘I don’t think . . .’

  ‘You were, weren’t you?’

  ‘A guy has to protect his future girlfriend.’

  ‘And don’t think I don’t appreciate the gesture, but I don’t need protecting.’

  They both climbed off the ladder at the next floor and waited.

  Michael began to doubt their strategy. ‘Instead of confronting them, maybe we should climb down into the corridor and try the proper stairs or lift.’

  Kline shook her head. ‘We’d be trapped. They control the lifts and stairs. Our best shot is to stay in the shaft.’

  He nodded. ‘Okay.’

  When the first head appeared Kline and Michael used their feet and fists to force the creature back. Thankfully, there were only two attackers, and only one could climb the ladder at any one time.

  Eventually, both of the creatures that had been following them were forced back, but even though their faces had been smashed to a bloody pulp it was clear they were never going to give up.

  With no other options open to then, Kline and Michael began climbing the ladder again and soon arrived at the corridor outside the penthouse apartment.

  They jumped down.

  From what Kline could see, army numbers had improved slightly. There were about fifty people milling around.

  Ken Coxon was an overweight man in his early thirties with flabby white skin, a surgically–corrected hair-lip and a gold Rolex watch that rattled around on his left wrist as he moved. ‘Michael! We’d given up on you.’

  ‘I got distracted.’

  He looked Kline up and down as if he was in a lap dancing emporium and licked his lips. ‘So I see.’

  Kline stuck her fingers in Coxon’s droopy jowls and squeezed. ‘If I thought you were having dirty thoughts about me I’d cut your dick off and stuff it in your mouth.’

  ‘Hey! Tell her who I am, Michael.’

  ‘This is Mr Coxon, Tallie.’

  Even though his sweat was coating her hand in an oily gel she didn’t let go of the folds of neck fat. ‘I don’t give a shit who you are, but let me tell you who I am. I’m Detective Constable Tallie Kline, so any thoughts you might have about me you’d better lock them away out of sight – understood?’

  ‘I don’t . . .’

  She squeezed harder. ‘Understood?’

  ‘I understand,’ he managed to force out through his constricted windpipe.

  She let go and wiped her hand on his expensive silk shirt. ‘Good. So, what’s the plan?’

  ‘I’ve decided . . .’ Coxon began.

  Kline’s lip curled up. ‘Who put you in charge?’

  ‘This is my apartment and my father . . .’

  ‘Bollocks. Have you any qualifications in leading people?’

  ‘Well, I went to Eton and played a spot of . . .’

  ‘The answer’s no then. Do you have any military experience?’

 
‘I don’t see . . .’

  ‘You’re a jumped up prick. People like you like nothing better than sending the working-class to their deaths. From now on, Michael’s in charge.’

  ‘You can’t . . .’

  ‘I just did, so shut the fuck up.’ She pushed him out of the way, he fell backwards over a chair and went sprawling on the floor. ‘Well, Michael, what’s the plan?’

  Michael surveyed the people that had gathered in the apartment. ‘My own mother was one of them and I just killed her,’ he began. ‘Some of you have wives, brothers, sisters, parents and children on the other side. Inside those creatures your kin are still alive. My mother spoke to me before she died, but it was either her or me. Some of you might believe I should have sacrificed myself, but what we’ve got here is a lot bigger than individual sacrifice.’

  Kline squeezed his arm. She had guessed right – he was a natural leader.

  ‘I believe that this is one more battle in the age-old war of good against evil. Most of you have seen the creatures we’re up against and know what’s been happening. Evil is trying to get a foothold in the world through our building and it’s using our kin to do it. If we’re afraid to kill the people we care about, as evil thinks we are, then evil will win. We’re the first line of defence. We have to do what’s right even though it might seem wrong. Are you with me?’

  People glanced at each other, rung their hands and bit their lips, but nobody said anything.

  ‘I was expecting a blood-curdling response,’ he said.

  There was a smattering of laughter.

  A bald man in his fifties put his hand up. ‘Can we ask a couple of questions?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘You’re expecting us to kill people?’

  ‘Yes.’ He turned to look at Kline. ‘I think most of you know Detective Constable Tallie Kline now . . .’

  ‘Fucking bitch,’ Coxon mumbled.

  ‘She and I went down to the basements. That’s where they’re holed up. We were lucky to get out of there alive. If I hadn’t killed my mother . . . Anyway, they’re not going to listen to reason. They don’t care if you’re their husband, wife, child or parent. If you don’t kill them, then they’ll kill you – it’s that simple. They won’t surrender, and if you try to surrender they’ll kill you without a moment’s hesitation. There are no rules of war – it’s kill or be killed.’