Timelock

by R. G. Knighton

  “It is obvious from your parking permit that you are a student at Huntingdon University so could you please tell me your whereabouts between the hours of midnight and six a.m. this morning?”

  Tyler blanched at the question, wondering if the police were investigating last night’s gathering, then the penny dropped and he suddenly realised that it must be in relation to the dead milkman.

  “I was at home in my rooms all night from ten o’clock until I left Gisborne House fifteen minutes ago.”

  “Is there anyone who could corroborate that fact sir?”

  “Yes, one chauffeur, two maids, the cook, four security guards, and my father. Would you like names and addresses?

  Tyler knew that there was no way the officer could check up on his lie without giving himself a lot of grief and he grinned in a self satisfied manner, as he knew he had won the battle. The officer sighed and concluded the interview.

  “Not at this moment in time sir, that will be all for now you can be on your wa...”

  Before the final word had left the policeman’s lips, Tyler pressed the up button on the window control and the top of the window glass emerged from within the door housing. It hit the underside of the startled officer’s hand and he snatched it back. Tyler quickly put the car into drive and sped away, missing the policeman’s feet by inches. Laughing to himself, he watched the irritated policeman’s image quickly fade in his rear view mirror.

  It was not long before he headed along the leaf strewn Sycamore Avenue looking for the bungalow of Professor Appleyard, and with a squeal of brakes he stopped the car and stepped down from his warm air-conditioned cocoon. Checking his appearance in the wing mirror then turning up the collar of his jacket and placing his hands into the warm pockets, he shrugged his shoulders to protect him from the biting cold wind whipping across the nearby canal. The smell of old leather under his nose conjured up images in his mind of whom the jacket used to belong to, and how cold it must have been flying thousands of feet up in the air with only winter clothing and possibly a flask of hot tea to keep an airman warm.

  As he walked across the road, Tyler spun around to the sound of a woman’s scream quickly followed by a splash as something hit the murky waters of the canal. Running to the water’s edge he saw a small old woman who looked about ninety years of age thrashing wildly in the water apparently unable to swim.

  “Don’t panic I’m coming!”

  He shouted, desperately looking around for some assistance as he really was not made of hero material. Not a soul could be seen so there was only one thing to do. In spite of the fact he was a poor swimmer he stripped off his jacket and shoes and following one final look around for help or the use of a buoyant object he could throw in, he held his nose and jumped into the filthy water.

  The first thing that hit him was the incredible bone numbing coldness searing throughout his body causing muscular rigor and he momentarily blacked out. When he bobbed back up to the surface, the bright glare from the reflected sunlight hitting the water jolted him back to his senses and wiping the wet from his eyes, he could see the frantic splashing caused by the woman not far away, but his attempt to swim to her aid was curtailed by the fact that he could hardly breathe; the near freezing conditions constricted his chest muscles so tight, air could not get in or out. Panic set in and his heart thumped wildly in his chest as he opened and closed his mouth like a freshly landed fish. This put him in the same predicament as the poor woman still thrashing about a few feet away. His muscles seized yet again, this time from the lack of oxygen and Tyler slipped silently below the surface. His last conscious thoughts were of his family and friends crying at his funeral as his coffin lowered into the earth in the family plot on the estate. No one could hear him fruitlessly banging his fists on the inside of the coffin lid and screaming to get out. It all ended with the sound of loose earth thudding down onto his coffin lid as the grave was refilled.

  Deep inside everyone is a reserve of strength that most are unaware we possess. Enormous emotional or physical extremes release this potency within, allowing incredible feats to be achieved. One documented event was a ten-year-old boy who upon seeing his brother trapped under a car, managed to lift up one end allowing his sibling to scramble free. Today it was Tyler's turn, fear of death bump started his system, and on a euphoric wave caused by this adrenaline rush, he kicked for the surface. With his newfound energy coursing through his veins, he swam over to the poor woman, who now floated inactive and face down, with her long blond hair spreading out like a halo around her head on the surface of the filthy brown water. Grabbing a handful of her blond tresses and lifting her face clear, Tyler hoped that he was not too late to save her life, but what he saw was totally unexpected. Screaming frantically, he let go of her hair and tried to swim backwards as he stared at the visage of the drowning woman. Her distended mottled purple face smiled menacingly as she opened her eyes to reveal two shiny coal-black eyeballs reflecting Tyler’s horrified reaction. As he did his best to get away, the creature reached out towards him with bloated slimy hands; her fingers tipped with hooked razor sharp nails, trying to claw at his face. Missing by millimetres and snarling angrily, the dead old woman revealed a disgusting array of jagged decaying mustard yellow teeth surrounding a half rotted tongue covered in oozing sores. Tyler kicked out his legs at the hideous reanimated corpse while swimming frantically on his back to keep her in view, but she suddenly stopped moving and he watched curiously as she slipped silently under the filthy water, leaving him alone. Turning over in relief to swim the few feet to safety, a breathless and trembling Tyler reached out for the stone edged bank only for the leaf covered water in front of him to suddenly froth and bubble as the hideous creature launched out from under the surface. Screaming like a banshee, she arched her body clear of the water and wrapped her hands around Tyler’s throat forcing him for the third time down into the icy depths. Tyler could feel her fingernails biting into his flesh but luckily he managed to remove the tiny hands as they were far too small to clamp onto his man-sized neck. He held onto her forearms as he once again propelled himself up with his legs then choked and gasped for air as he broke the surface. Undeterred she folded her arms in at the elbows, pulling closer and trying to gnaw at Tyler’s fingers but as she opened her mouth for the first bite Tyler raised his knee, catching it squarely under her chin, snapping her jaw shut and splintering her teeth. As the creature wailed, Tyler lashed out his left foot, landing it squarely into the old woman’s chest. To his amazement, she shot back in the water and smashed the back of her head on the canal wall. With a look of surprise on her face, she slid under for a final time leaving phlegm coloured greasy stains on the brickwork and a cloud of fleshy pieces rising to the surface. This left Tyler, still holding onto the old woman’s arms that had torn away at the elbow when he landed his kick. Putrid foul smelling green slime poured out of the ragged ends, floating like oil on top of the water and clinging to Tyler’s face and hands as he tried to stay afloat. In disgust, he flapped the detached arms to clear away the foul stench then threw them away. Eventually with the slime clear Tyler swam to the bank. He mercifully had enough energy to lift his sodden body out onto the towpath where he raised himself up onto all fours, vomited up his breakfast and what he felt was half of the Oxten canal.

  Before Tyler knew what was happening, an old woman (who he later found out to be Mrs Goldstein) hurriedly bustled him across the road and into the professor’s bungalow. She had just happened to look out of the front parlour window and seen Tyler climbing out of the canal. Showing him immediately to the bathroom, she gave him one of the professor’s dressing gowns and left instructions to remove all of his wet clothes and leave them outside the bathroom door while he took a shower. Tyler was too distressed to argue so he did as asked. Retrieving the smelly items, she placed everything in the washing machine on a quick wash before going back outside to retrieve Tyler’s jacket and boots. Tyler busied himself vigorously washing his hair and scrubbing away the smell
of dead flesh from his own when he suddenly burst into tears as his brain registered the delayed shock. Sitting cross legged on the floor of the shower pan as the hot water cascaded down onto his naked body; Tyler sobbed pitifully and gently rocked back and forth until a gentle calm washed over him along with the water. By the time he had finished his shower; Mrs Goldstein already had his clothes in the tumble drier and had made a pot of tea for her new guest.

  Wandering into the parlour, Tyler felt more than a little self conscious and over exposed as the professor was considerably shorter and his dressing gown revealed more of Tyler’s pale flabby legs than he desired. Mrs Goldstein ushered him to a chair at the table and Tyler was glad to sit down and hide his embarrassment.

  “How are you feeling now dear?”

  She asked while pouring tea into Tyler’s cup.”

  “I feel much better now.”

  He replied as he raised the cup to his lips and gulped down half a cup full, deliberately scalding his throat in an attempt to remove the after taste of stagnant water and enjoy the inner warmth it produced on its way down. Taking Tyler’s hand between her own she sat down beside him and in a gentle tone asked him what happened. Tyler, shocked at the close touch of maternal affection that was never shown in his family, snatched his hand away abruptly, trying to ignore the look of upset upon her face.

  “Erm, I stood at the edge, admiring the vista when I must have slipped and fallen in, Silly me!”

  Tyler blurted out, feeling his face flush pink at the lame explanation.

  “Are you sure dear?”

  She replied, diplomatically avoiding mentioning the scratches to his neck or the finding of his abandoned jacket and trainers that lay bone dry on the towpath. She worried that it was a half-hearted attempt at suicide on his part or a cry for help, having been witness to many a breakdown in the professor’s study, knowing too well all the pressures the students were under. Many a time students had worked with him through the night on a paper hoping to raise their grade and graduate.

  ‘It’s you I came to see actually.”

  Tyler interrupted, hoping to change the subject.

  “Don’t you mean the professor dear?”

  She replied, wondering if Tyler was more than a little confused from his ‘accident’.

  “Well it is about the professor actually, I have brought you a message that he will be my guest at Gisborne Hall for a few days, helping me with an experiment I’m struggling with and as luck would have it, road works have severed the halls main telephone line so he sent me round to tell you not to worry and would you prepare him an overnight bag while I collect a few things from his study, if that’s ok?”

  Mrs Goldstein was very wary at the request and was reluctant to allow a complete stranger access to the professor’s study. Tyler came to his senses and realised what a hash he was making of everything so he started again.

  “Oh terribly sorry, I haven’t explained myself very well have I? My name is Tyler Morgan the third and I live at Gisborne Hall with my parents and I am a student at the university. Professor Appleyard and a few other fellow scholars have accepted my hospitality to stay with me for a few days and conduct a few scientific experiments. The professor has asked me to inform you of his whereabouts personally as the telephone lines from the hall have been severed by accursed road works. Also could you throw a few things in an overnight bag for his convenience, so I can take them with me?

  Mrs Goldstein was still a little wary, but she still did as asked, and went off to the professor's bedroom to pack his things. On her return she found the parlour empty and Tyler in the study rummaging around for the folder the professor had asked for in hope that it would shed a little more light on their problem.

  ‘What do you think you’re doing young man?”

  She snapped, a little louder than she meant to but was affronted at Tyler’s uninvited intrusion to the professor’s inner sanctum. Tyler jumped and blushed in embarrassment as he blurted out his reasons.

  “Terribly sorry, I was looking for a folder containing notes on the experiment that George and the professor were working on, he asked me to get them.”

  ‘George, who?”

  She asked, placing her hands on her wide hips and narrowing her eyes questioningly.

  “I’m not myself today, sorry about that, my friend George Harding.”

  “Oh why didn’t you say so, it’s in that pile of notes on his desk, and it has a yellow message note with the name of a restaurant stuck to the front.”

  She replied, relieved at the mention of George’s name giving credibility to Tyler’s story.

  With the file found, an overnight bag carefully packed with the professors’ belongings and dressed in still warm clothing from the tumble drier, Tyler gave Mrs Goldstein a thank you peck on the cheek for her hospitality, and as he headed to his car he made a mental note to send a basket of fruit to thank her again for her help.

  Watching from the front window Mrs Goldstein was relieved to see Tyler walk straight to his car and get in without going any closer to the canal’s edge than necessary. She still wondered how he ended up in there in the first place.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Mary Callaghan jogged steadily out through the gates of Kirklees Park. Even though the night she had just experienced would exhaust most people, she always jogged every morning, and this was to be no exception. It loosened stiff muscles and gave her time to think as she ran. Wearing her usual bright pink track suit, running shoes and white super stretch fabric gloves she followed her usual route while trying to analyse the images flashing up in her brain as her mind raced with visions of last night. Ideas to aid in George’s rescue blossomed, began to bear fruit and then sadly withered on the vine as she realised they were unworkable.

  Without concentrating on her direction she suddenly realised that she had jogged all the way to the front gate of George’s flat. To her surprise she saw a woman of similar age sitting on a suitcase outside the front door. Mary did a quick assessment observing the woman’s blond bobbed hair, medium build and wore average chain store clothing. As she curiously approached Mary found the woman’s features familiar but she could not put a name to the face. Closer inspection showed the woman’s eyes were red and puffy from either a very bad cold or she had been crying. Mary guessed the latter was more plausible as she asked if she could be of assistance.

  “Hello, are you alright? Could I offer you any help?”

  Mary began, still intrigued by her familiar face. The woman wiped here nose on a scrunched up tissue, looked up and replied,

  “Not really, you see I’ve come on a surprise visit to see my fiancé and the only train I could afford was an early morning one and when I got here there was no answer at his flat and I have nowhere to go and I have very little money and I’ve been here for an hour and it's bloody freezing.”

  Mary smiled at the repetition of the word ‘and’, deciding that the woman was not very erudite so she would have to adjust here own grammar accordingly. Mary studied her face intently as the woman fished in her handbag for yet another tissue when she suddenly remembered who she was and exclaimed,

  “Marion Masterson, George’s fiancée, I knew that I’d seen your face somewhere before, it’s on his bedside table, your picture that is. Oh where are my manners, I’m Mary, Mary Callaghan a very good friend of George, How do you do?”

  Marion’s crying stopped abruptly as she listened to Mary’s statement and glared at her face while ignoring the proffered handshake.

  “What d’you mean his bedside table, how would you know?”

  Mary blushed as she realised her faux pas but secretly relished the seed planted in Marion’s brain and hoped it would grow into something bigger. She had been snooping around Georges’ flat when he was in the bathroom but did not want anyone to know that; so she made up an excuse.

  “I came over to borrow a book last week and over a cup of tea he told me all about you and how he keeps your photo on his bedside table which
he brought from his bedroom to show me.”

  Mary was quite pleased with her rapid response, coming up with such a good excuse in the time allowed; this seemed to quell Marion’s temper.

  “He loves you very much you know.”

  Mary added, immediately furious with herself for blurting out such a syrupy statement, which would not aid in her quest for George’s love. Marion satisfied, returned the handshake and apologised for being so testy; now eager to know where George had gone.

  Thinking fast on her feet for a second time Mary concocted another story.

  “Erm, George is away on a field trip, he should be back in a couple of days, I’m surprised he didn’t tell you about it.”

  “That’s partly why I am here, he hasn’t contacted me recently, and every time I call the phone in the lobby of his block of flats I can never get an answer. The problem is I was hoping to stay with George as I don’t have enough money for bed and breakfast; now I’m stuck!”

  Mary realised that if Marion returned home and reported George on a field trip that none of the family were aware of, it would raise suspicion, and questions could be asked so she came up with an idea.

  “You can stay with me if you like; any friend of George is a friend of mine, that's if you don’t mind the sofa?”

  “But I hardly know you; I couldn’t impose on you like that.”

  Marion replied but Mary was ready with her answer.

  “No problem at all, we both know George and that’s good enough for me.”

  Marion was at a complete loss for a better idea so she accepted Mary’s offer, stood up and picked up her heavy suitcase to follow Mary out the gate and across the park, puffing all the way.

  ‘How long will he be?”

  Marion asked as she swapped her suitcase into her other hand to ease a pain in her back and allow the blood to circulate back into her fingers. Mary stopped, took the case from Marion, and with no effort marched away leaving Marion amazed at the feat.