Timelock

by R. G. Knighton

  “Only a few days.”

  Mary lied, wondering what Marion’s reaction would be if she knew the truth.

  As they walked across the park, exchanging pleasantries, all the time Mary was devising ways to separate George and Marion, that was, if George ever returned.

  Mary’s flat was on the third floor of purpose built student accommodation for single females only, situated in the middle of the main halls of residence and right now, near the centre of a crime scene. When the two women arrived at the flat they were stopped and questioned by a police officer guarding the outer cordon. When he was satisfied that Mary lived in the adjacent block they were escorted to the front door and told to leave by the same route and not to venture any closer to the main crime scene twenty yards down the road.

  Marion collapsed exhausted on Mary’s settee and gratefully accepted an offer of a cup of tea and a biscuit. While Mary filled the kettle from the cold tap in her kitchenette and placed it on the lighted ring of her tiny gas stove, Marion surveyed her new surroundings. They were really quite Spartan, one two seat settee, a small chest of drawers with a portable television on the top, the kitchenette in the corner, and a short corridor to what she presumed was the bedroom and bathroom. Assorted posters adorned the dull beige walls including one Marion really liked of a kitten swinging from the branch of a tree by one paw with the words ‘hang on in there’ printed underneath. The rest were of middle of the road pop groups and singers. Piles of exercise and reference books tested the strength of an old nineteen sixties spindly legged coffee table, giving Mary no room to place Marion’s fresh cup of tea. Gripping the body of the cup she passed it handle first, amazing Marion with her apparent indifference to the heat. Marion gingerly held the cups handle and rim, watching amazed as Mary drained her own brew without pausing while she could only sip a little at a time so as not to scald her lips.

  Marion watched embarrassed while Mary suddenly jumped up, unzipped and took off her tracksuit top then removed her leggings leaving her standing only in her knickers and tight white sports vest. Marion was not that way inclined and tried not to stare but she was fascinated by the firmest honed female body she had ever seen and the fact that Mary seemed proud to display it making Marion wonder if Mary was a lesbian. She had never knowingly met one before so Mary’s exhibitionism may just be that and nothing more. The possibility that Mary may be, helped allay her fears that Mary and George were a little too close for comfort but it was still something to keep a close eye on.

  Her own body was not in bad shape and she stayed reasonably fit carrying boxes up and down the stairs to and from the storeroom at George’s father’s hardware store where she had worked for the last four years.

  She started as a Saturday girl then when she left school at sixteen with no qualifications then became full time staff as luckily the business grew. When she first met George, they did not get on at all at first but as time passed she found herself longing for the weekends just to get to see him again. The same thing happened with George and before long he asked Marion for a date and three years later they got engaged. They both decided it would be better to wait until George graduated before planning the wedding but it was difficult maintaining a long distance relationship and the lack of positive communication prompted the surprise visit today, which at the moment seemed doomed to failure. The last thing Marion expected was to be sitting in the flat of a suspected ‘other woman’, subjected to partial striptease by someone of the same gender and to cap it all there had been a murder less than thirty yards away.

  Mary picked up her tracksuit and walked off into the bathroom, pleased with herself at Marion’s obvious envy of her body; the sort she was sure George would prefer given the choice. The pleasure she longed to give to George, doing anything he desired to make him happy, all he had to do was ask. This was quite a presumption coming from a virgin, as for the past day Mary felt different, more sexually energised and daring.

  “I won’t be long, just having a quick shower and change of clothes.”

  She shouted to Marion as she turned on the shower taps and pulled the plastic curtain across the bath, tucking in the hem to stop water running across the floor. While the water warmed up Mary returned to her bedroom and removed the rest of her clothing and stood admiring her naked form in the full length mirror attached to the inside of the opened wardrobe door. Her hands wandered across her nude body, caressing her breasts and stroking herself intimately while all the time watching her actions in the mirror. Had anyone else taken a look over her shoulder at her reflection they would see something completely different. Mary’s image was transfigured into the hideous naked form of a two thousand year old priestess. The shrivelled body resembled an unwrapped Egyptian mummy enclosed in rotting skin hanging limp from her carcass with tiny tufts of brittle white hair sprouting in patches from a scabby wrinkled scalp. Deep empty black eyeless sockets exaggerated her porcine nose that shone with a coating of deep yellowy-green snot oozing from one of the nasal passages. This ran down her filtrum, coating bulbous cracked lips that puckered into an anus shaped ring. This in turn housed a mucus stained tongue that shot out snake like through the wet orifice to lick clean the discharge before it dried. The remainder of the naked body was just as disfigured and hideous. Bony arms and legs exaggerated the wizened and twisted frame that was rampant with running sores and boils.

  The hip bones stretched the skin, poking out sideways like wicker basket carrying handles and her sunken rib cage bore the outline of her empty lifeless dugs, tipped with elongated black nipples pointing to the floor. Marys every movement was mirrored, caressing her body, pouting and posing provocatively. Satisfied, Mary moved closer to check her complexion and feeling content with the result smugly pressed her lips to the glass kissing her likeness, which to the observer was the snot, covered lips of the old crone. Stepping into the shower and enjoying the caress of the jets of warm water streaming down her skin, Mary was totally unaware of a metamorphosis taking place. The flesh on her back rippled and undulated from the pressure of an internal force pulsating and writhing as her body slowly transformed from within. Like a caterpillar in a cocoon, the power of Toomak was absorbing Mary’s body and replacing it with its own ready to emerge reborn.

  Marion averted her eyes when Mary exited the bathroom barely covered by a small pink towel as she walked into her bedroom, leaving the door open so they could still hold a conversation; all be it a loud one.

  ‘I thought I’d introduce you to the rest of the gang while you’re here.”

  Mary said as she poked her head round the door to see if Marion was paying attention. Marion looked up from a magazine she was flicking idly through, trying not to stare in Mary’s direction. By then Mary was back in her room wandering round, opening drawers and cupboards, selecting fresh clothing to wear for the day.

  “Great, but could we call somewhere on the way for some breakfast, I’m starving.”

  Marion replied, her belly growling to remind her that apart from a biscuit from Mary, she had not eaten since six-thirty the night before. Mary shouted straight back.

  “Where are my manners, help yourself to whatever’s in the kitchen. There’s bread for toast or cereals in the cupboard”

  “I couldn’t impose on you anymore Mary, tell you what there must be a greasy spoon nearby why don’t I treat you to a fry up as a thank you for your hospitality.”

  Marion walked over to the sink, rinsed out her empty cup and placed it on the draining board while she waited for Mary to answer. From her new position she could see through the bedroom door, catching glimpses of Mary reflected in her dressing table mirror as she wandered about getting ready. She watched with a strange voyeuristic intent, admiring Mary’s firm naked body as she dusted herself liberally with talcum powder then moved out of shot towards her wardrobe. For a brief second Marion thought she saw the skin of Marys back ripple and swell as she turned away but put it down to a trick of the light when she returned and all appeared normal.
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br />   Mary was well aware that Marion was watching and revelled in her own blatant exhibitionism. So much so that she walked out naked into the corridor to reply to the invitation, finding it arousing to see Marion blushing with embarrassment, avoiding eye contact and purposely looking down to the floor.

  Accepting Mary’s offer to use the bathroom to freshen up, Marion locked herself inside, and sat on the edge of the bath wondering how she ended up here and the strange attraction Mary seemed to hold for her. She wasn’t a lesbian; at least she didn’t think she was. But there was that drunken kiss and a fumble she shared with Emily Sherwood on New Year’s Eve two years ago, which was something she was too mortified to tell George about, but apart from that, her urges were for the opposite sex, in particular George, the only one she wanted and would someday marry.

  Mary dressed herself in tight blue jeans and a thick fluffy jumper pulled over a plain white t-shirt. She finally emerged from the bedroom after brushing her still damp hair and applying a small amount of face cream to moisturise her dry skin. Marion was already waiting after freshening up and they both set off to get breakfast.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Huge off road tyres skidded to a halt as Tyler hurriedly parked his car at the far end of the small gravel bedded car park, a short walk from Carl Barkers houseboat. A second wave of delayed shock from the attack began to kick in as he viewed the canal once again and the blood drained from his face, turning his complexion to slate grey. As he got out of the car his hands trembled trying to hold his car keys and he fumbled several times in his attempt to press the correct button on the remote key fob. When he finally locked the car he staggered drunkenly down the towpath on jelly legs while trying to avoid looking at the water. Halfway there he had to stop and steady himself on a fence post before attempting to carry on. Two female joggers ran by deliberately giving Tyler a wide berth to avoid any possible contact and muttered to one another about it being disgusting that he was probably drunk from the night before as they ran into the distance. Somehow, Tyler made it onto Carl’s boat and he fell through the door into the arms of Chelsea when she opened it on hearing a knock. The two of them collapsed to the floor in instalments as Tyler’s burden exceeded Chelsea’s strength and she found herself pinned down under his much larger frame when they both landed and he hit his head on the floor, knocking himself out cold. Unable to release herself from Tyler’s unconscious spread eagled bulk in the narrow corridor, Chelsea began to panic and fight for breath with his weight forcing more air from her lungs than was allowed back in. The minutes that rolled by seemed like hours and Chelsea started to see white dots floating in front of her eyes from the lack of oxygen when mercifully she felt the boat rock from someone stepping onto the deck.

  “I leave you for ten minutes and you’re already at it behind my back.”

  Mocked Carl who now stood in the doorway armed with two bags of fresh provisions and a French loaf tucked under his left arm.

  “Shut up and get him off me, he’s fainted and I’m suffocating!”

  Chelsea wheezed with what felt like her last remaining breath. Carl quickly put the groceries onto the floor, straddled the two of them, hooked his hands under Tyler’s armpits and in one motion lifted him off Chelsea, stepped over sideways, turning the patient over in the process and dragged his limp body into the bedroom. Chelsea recovered quickly and helped Carl by lifting Tyler’s legs as they both dumped him unceremoniously onto the bed.

  The next conscious thing Tyler felt was the back of a hand lightly tapping his cheek and waking bleary eyed to focus on Carl’s concerned face.

  “Talk to me buddy, you ok man, can you hear me Tyler? Say something.”

  Tyler smiled weakly and tried to sit up, wincing in pain and gingerly touching his forehead, which throbbed mercilessly making him lay back down again. Chelsea upon hearing voices came in with a cold damp folded flannel, which she placed carefully across Tyler’s forehead giving an instant analgesic effect. Carl sat quietly with Tyler as he regained his faculties until five minutes later Chelsea returned, this time with a hot cup of coffee, which she put on the bedside table.

  “How are we?”

  She asked as she lifted one end of the flannel, kissed his forehead tenderly, and then flipped the dressing over to the cooler outer side.

  “We have a headache, have you got any pain killers?”

  Tyler replied, enjoying Chelsea’s care and attention.

  “Can we play doctors and nurses now?”

  Tyler asked, grinning cheekily.

  “Behave yourself or I may have to give you a cold bed bath.”

  Chelsea replied, saucily wiggling her hips and pouting. Carl jumped up, playfully slapped Chelsea on the backside, turned to unlock his bedside drawer and asked Tyler,

  “What type of pain killer do you want, over the counter or under?”

  Tyler paused before making his choice. He had never been offered illegal drugs before even though he had known Carl for quite some time. Carl had never tried to involve him in his dealings as he preferred to keep work and friends apart; but today felt like an exception. Tyler was sorely tempted but decided that now was not the best time due to the seriousness of the situation.

  “Thanks old bean but just a couple of aspirin will do today.”

  Carl passed Tyler two aspirin then relocked the drawer before returning to the galley with Chelsea to drink their coffee and finish unpacking the groceries; leaving Tyler to rest.

  Ten minutes later Tyler emerged wearily carrying his empty coffee cup. He still felt a little light on his feet so he quickly sat down at the table to conserve his strength. Chelsea refilled his cup with a fresh brew then sat down opposite him to hear what happened. Tyler reported his personal news starting with his collecting of the professor’s notes and his idea of telling Mrs Goldstein that they were all staying at his house conducting experiments and the phone line was out of order. The other two agreed that it was a good idea but were eager to hear the rest of his news. Tyler continued, amazing them with his escapade in the canal.

  “How did you escape?”

  Asked Chelsea, fascinated by the incredible tale. Tyler blanched at the memory, swallowed hard and said.

  “Not now, I’ll tell you some other time, let’s just say I killed it and survived to tell the tale. Anyway apparently there’s been a fatal accident at the university.”

  “It’s more than an accident, the police are everywhere and they don’t put that many coppers in one area unless it’s something serious. They must be looking for someone.”

  Carl stated, grinding his teeth at what a heavy police presence would do to his drug business.

  “Hello is anyone at home?”

  Mary shouted from the towpath and rocked the boat as she stepped aboard. The rear door opened to reveal Mary’s smiling face as she barged in without waiting for an invite.

  “Oh good you’re nearly all here.”

  She stated, ignoring the indignant stares from Carl and Chelsea for the rude intrusion.

  “I’ve brought someone to meet you all.”

  She continued, reaching through the door and pulling Marion through by the hand.

  “This is Marion Masterson, George’s fiancée!”

  Everyone stared in stunned silence allowing Mary to continue, gloating at her importance and confidence that she had matters in hand. Marion smiled shyly and gave a little wave jolting everyone from their trance. They all reciprocated with welcomes and introductions. Mary, keen to maintain her importance carried on.

  “I have already told Marion that George will be absent for a few days on his field trip and Marion has accepted my offer to stay at my place until George returns.”

  A visible sigh of relief came from the other three allowing everyone to relax. The ladies were all offered a seat leaving Carl and Tyler leaning against the sink.

  “What happened to you?”

  Marion said as she noticed Tyler still holding the cold flannel to his forehead.

 
“Oh nothing much, just had a dizzy spell then fell over, banging my head. It will soon pass.”

  Tyler replied, embarrassed that he was still holding the cloth, probably out of comfort rather than necessity. Realising that someone was missing Marion exclaimed,

  “Isn’t there anyone else?”

  Tyler informed her of the last member of the gang.

  “You must mean Henry, Henry Jackson. He lives on campus sharing a flat with his friend Jim, completely platonic of course. I will introduce you to him later; we have a very important folder for him to read.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Tyler Morgan was not the only person with a headache this morning; Henry Jackson woke at lunchtime with his head pounding. The after effects of his injuries and the stress of everything he went through were severely taking their toll and the noise coming from the kitchen caused by his flatmate Jim singing tunelessly along to the radio at full volume while he made his lunch did nothing to ease his pain. Jim was still sore at Henry for not turning up at Romeo’s last night so consideration while Henry slept was not on his agenda until he saw Henry stagger into the kitchen wearing just his boxer shorts and looking like death warmed up. As Henry sat carefully down at the kitchen table the look on Jims’ face gave Henry cause to invent a tale of which consisted of getting into a fight with two skinheads before running away when five more of their friends showed up. Henry looked terrible, he sat hunched over from his sore shoulder and when he placed his hands on the table in front of him the damage was evident. His fingertips were bruised and swollen, and half of his fingernails were split and covered in dry blood from his desperate attempt to avoid capture. The remainder of his body, that Jim could see, was covered in assorted grazes and scratches. Jim made Henry stay sitting while he made him a cup of tea and some toast.

  “Turn it down will you?”

  Henry asked, grimacing from the loud noise while he gingerly massaged his temples.