Nightmare Valley

by David Longhorn

  “Great!” she said. “You know there's a third party, Wakefield?”

  “Yeah,” Jim said. “Will he be a problem?”

  “I'm not sure,” she admitted. “I couldn't order the guy around in his own house, but the quicker we get back up there the better. He seemed pretty shaken up.”

  “Let's get moving, then. Monsters to destroy and all that jazz.”

  As she U-turned the jeep, Denny looked up at the pub. Isobel was standing at her window, looking down. An uncomfortable thought struck Denny. She had taken it for granted that Interlopers had psychic abilities. Yet she realized that, until now, she had been thinking of them as sci-fi aliens, creatures that would naturally communicate in their own strange tongue.

  But what if they can communicate telepathically with one another? That would make sense. And if one of them is held captive so near to the gateway, they would all know and maybe do something.

  Denny drove fast out of town, back towards Wakefield's home. In the rear-view mirror, she saw the headlights of Jim's van start to fall behind as he tackled the unfamiliar country lane by night.

  ***

  “We never did experiment with bondage,” said the false Marie. “Never too late to start!”

  She was lying on the floor by the bed. When Wakefield had entered the bedroom she had been contorted, bent to an inhuman degree. Her face had been elongated, sharp teeth trying to reach the tape that secured her arms behind her back. Now she was immobile, staring up at him. Her face quickly returned to the perfect likeness of his dead wife.

  “You're sure you never want to see me again, Russ?” Marie demanded, pouting in a way that he remembered all too well.

  Her 'poor little me' look, he thought. Twist me round her little finger. Or claw, in this case.

  Instead of speaking, he took a few paces into the room and held up the knife.

  “Ooh, sado-masochism, now, is it?” she asked. “Well, you'd better get on with it. Those killjoys from Romola will be back soon.”

  “I'll kill you, you monster!” he shouted, but did not move closer.

  You can't do it, said an insistent inner voice. You need her too much, want her too much. Imagine losing her. Imagine a life without her. Forever.

  “Who's the real monster?” Marie asked. “I did everything you wanted. All the things she never would do. For you, at least. She did them for other men, though, didn't she?”

  “Shut up!” he shouted. “Just shut up or I'll …”

  Now he did take a step closer, holding the knife out in front of him with both hands. Part of him wanted to drive it into the beautiful, smiling face. But he also felt the urge to cast the weapon aside and enjoy one last, frantic session of lovemaking.

  That's insane, he thought, even as his arms lost their strength and the knife sagged until it was pointing at the floor. I'm going crazy.

  “If you cut me loose, I'll make it worth your while, darling,” Marie purred. “Remember, if you let me go there's no proof I ever existed. Forget that silly American's lies. I'm the reality. I'm what you always wanted. What you can still have.”

  “No!” he said “You're a monster. I don't – I won't!”

  This time the wave of desire was almost overwhelming, as if every cell in his brain had been caressed by phantom fingers. The body of the imposter became more voluptuous as she writhed slowly towards him, her skin seeming to glow in the dim light. He dropped the knife, reeled back, reached for the dressing table to stop himself from falling. A tide of raw lust was beginning to overwhelm him.

  There was a crash from downstairs as the front door was slammed open against the wall.

  “Oh, thank God,” Wakefield breathed.

  “Oh,” pouted Marie, “is it the White Hats, come to spoil our fun?”

  He staggered out of the bedroom onto the landing to look down into the hallway, already forming the words to welcome back Denny. But the figure that loped into view was not Denny – was not human at all. It scurried quickly to the foot of the stairs and began to run up towards Wakefield, peering at him with tiny, dark eyes in deep sockets. Claws scraped on the banister rail as it reached the landing and paused, half-crouching, preparing to spring.

  Wakefield threw himself back into the bedroom, slammed the door, flattened himself against it. There was a small bolt on the inside, and he drew it.

  “That won't keep him out,” Marie said. “But if you let me go, you won't be harmed. I promise. We still need you, Russ.”

  That's true, he thought. We could go back to how it was before.

  Then he thought again of the corpse he had examined that morning, its viscera scattered, face and limbs hideously mutilated. Wakefield stooped, picked up the knife, and retreated as the new Interloper charged the door. The door bounced on its hinges, and there was a distinct crack of wood giving way.

  “Tick tock, Russ,” said Marie, staring at him. “Deal's still on the table. Or the bed, if you like.”

  ***

  Denny left the engine running and jumped out of the jeep, not waiting for Jim as she raced to the open front door. Feeling slightly ridiculous, she held her small spray can in front of her as she moved more cautiously into the hallway. There was a commotion upstairs, a man shouting, and a high-pitched screech that might have been an animal. Denny looked around, saw Jim running after her carrying what looked like a nightstick.

  “They're in the bedroom!” she shouted, and rushed up the staircase.

  She found the bedroom door hanging crazily at an angle, and saw rapid movement inside the dim-lit room.

  “Doctor?” she shouted, pausing in the doorway.

  She heard a muffled cry that might have been 'Help!' Rushing into the room, Denny skidded, almost fell. The deep-pile carpet was slick with some kind of liquid. At the same time, she became aware of a stench, one she had first encountered at Malpas. It was the smell of an injured Interloper. She saw two figures struggling in a corner of the room and rushed toward them, only to trip and fall. She landed on something soft and yielding; a warm body that moved.

  Denny realized that it was the false Marie just as the creature's distorted face loomed up in the gloom. The entity's circle of vicious, sharp teeth lunged toward her. Denny screamed in panic fright. But the hideous muzzle did not fasten onto her face. Instead, the Interloper seemed to pause, as if unsure of its target. Then the creature gave a high-pitched whine and shied away.

  Denny scrambled to her feet and leapt away from the monster, then turned to the two figures still locked in their struggle. She could see now that Wakefield was lying underneath a second Interloper, stabbing frantically at the creature with a large knife. As Denny watched, the Interloper collapsed onto the doctor, who continued to drive the blade into its back. Black blood spurted from numerous wounds, and Denny realized she had slipped on this noxious fluid.

  “What's happening?” Jim shouted from the doorway. At the same moment, a bright beam of light shot into the room, blinding Denny for a moment. When she recovered her sight, Wakefield was heaving the inert body of the Interloper off him.

  “Very impressive,” said Jim. He put his flashlight on the dressing table and stepped around the false Marie. “Seems you didn't need any help, doc. Not everybody could take on one of those things.”

  Wakefield was kneeling beside the remains of the second creature.

  “I think I got a bit carried away,” he said, dropping the blackened knife.

  “Understatement of the year,” murmured Denny.

  “Been building up for a while,” said Wakefield, standing up. He looked over at the fake Marie. “I couldn't kill you, even now, but I found a way to relieve the tension.”

  The surviving Interloper, now returned to fully human form, gave no sign of hearing the doctor. Instead, it was staring up at Denny. Its expression was blank, with no hint of faked human emotions.

  What's your problem? Denny wondered.

  Taking a step closer to the creature, she squatted just out of reach. Marie continued to gaze b
lankly at her.

  “It knows you all right,” Jim observed. “Don't get too close. I'll get the stuff from the van.”

  “Stuff?” asked Wakefield, looking confused.

  “Quite a mess there, needs cleaning up,” Jim said, gesturing at the remains in the corner. Denny glanced over, quickly looked away. It was already clear that the Interloper's body was breaking down, flesh melting into dark, fetid liquid.

  “I'll bag it and tag it,” Jim explained, as he turned to leave. “And then I'll put her ladyship into a nice secure box.”

  Again, the reference to Marie prompted no reaction from the Interloper, which continued to scrutinize Denny. Denny realized that the creature was not looking at her face but somewhere just above her breasts.

  Of course, she thought, as she remembered the one material piece of evidence she had found since arriving in Machen. Denny reached down and took out the crude stone pendant. In the radiance of Jim's flashlight, its purple color seemed brighter, almost lurid. Denny took the pendant from around her neck and dangled it in front of Marie, who gazed at it in apparent fascination.

  “What's that?” asked Wakefield, leaning forward to look more closely.

  “Not sure,” Denny replied. “But it was given to a human by the Interlopers. It's some kind of talisman. It seems to recognize it.”

  Marie suddenly emitted a sharp growling noise, a low and utterly inhuman sound. The Interloper arched its back and then wriggled swiftly away, stopping only when it collided with the bedside table.

  “She doesn't like it,” Wakefield said wonderingly. “I've never seen her react like that. Never seen fear at all.”

  “And you're calling her 'she' again,” Denny noted. Old habits …

  “What is it, Marie?” she asked, shuffling forward and holding the pendant closer. “Don't like it? Why? It brings good luck to people, right? What's not to like?”

  Because they're not people? So maybe, instead of good luck …

  On a sudden impulse, Denny swung the pendant towards Marie.

  “Here,” she said. “Catch!”

  When she let it go, the pendant, trailing its dark lanyard, traced a short arc toward Marie's face. Moving with uncanny speed the Interloper flung up its arms to bat the talisman away. The purple stone was flung over the bed, into the room's far corner, where it landed amid the remains of the decaying Interloper. There was a sharp hissing sound. Looking over at the mess of bones and rotting tissue, Denny saw that decomposition had accelerated. A cloud of oily vapor was rising from what was now a crumbling skeleton.

  “Bloody Hell!” exclaimed Wakefield. “What is that thing?”

  “One of your ancestors got it for a guy called Pelham,” Denny said. “It's supposed to be a good luck charm.”

  “Not for those buggers, obviously,” grunted Jim. “Seems to burn them like phosphorous.”

  “One of my ancestors?” Wakefield asked.

  Seeing his puzzlement, Denny asked if he had heard of a wise woman called 'Ma Wakefield'. He shook his head.

  “Okay,” she said, “there's a diary back in my room you should check out.”

  The doctor nodded, then looked over at Jim, who was now busy in the corner of the bedroom.

  “You might want to consider getting a new carpet, doc,” observed Jim. “I can't see your regular cleaner tackling this.”

  He was shoving what remained of the dead Interloper into a transparent plastic bag. Denny went over and retrieved the talisman from the bubbling mess, then wiped decaying organic matter off the stone with a paper tissue. She replaced the stone around her neck, then turned to Marie again.

  “Why does it harm your kind?” she asked.

  Marie snarled at Denny. She was clearly not willing to co-operate and was no longer even faking the human form convincingly. Her face was too angular, the mouth protruding, eyes sunken.

  “How are you going to take her away?” Wakefield asked Jim, who was leaving with the remains of the dead Interloper.

  “Best thing is to wait for it to perish naturally,” said Jim over his shoulder, with an emphasis on the 'it'. “Then I can bag it and tag it.”

  Wakefield looked shocked, but said nothing. Instead, he sat on the bed and put his face into his hands.

  I thought we were the good guys, Denny thought, looking at the cowering creature. She got Jim's flashlight and shone it onto the false Marie, which raised its ragged claws to shield its eyes. Now Denny could see that the Interloper was showing signs of decay, once smooth skin becoming rough and uneven.

  “You'll be gone, soon,” she said. “Wouldn't you rather go home?”

  Wakefield began to protest, but Denny held up her hand for silence.

  “Show me the gateway,” she said. “Show me the portal to your world, and I'll let you live.”

  The creature lowered its claws. There was still something of the woman it had mimicked in the face that spoke.

  “If you let me go, I will show you.”

  “Why do you want to know where this gateway is?” asked Wakefield.

  Denny reached down and picked up the doctor's gore-clotted knife. She thought of the legend the doctor had told her.

  “So, I can go through it,” she said. “Maybe save some kids. Maybe save a friend of mine.”

  Chapter 8: Creature of the Night

  “You must be going barmy!” exclaimed Jim. “You can't just let that thing go.”

  He had returned from the van with a body bag and a bottle of preservative chemicals. He had found Denny sawing through the tape around the Interloper's ankles with Wakefield's carving knife.

  “It'll show us the gateway in Branksholme Woods,” she explained. “That will save us a lot of pointless thrashing around.”

  Jim began to protest, but Denny interrupted, raising her voice.

  “Firstly,” she said, “we should find the gateway on general principles, right? Then if Benson wants Forster and his guys to encase it in concrete, like they did at Malpas, then they'll know where to go.”

  Jim gave a reluctant nod as Denny stood up.

  “Second,” she went on, “I don't feel comfortable letting a living, thinking being just die because we tied it up. It's one thing to kill in self-defense, but this feels too much like murder. Murder by neglect, maybe, but still …”

  The Interloper, wrists still bound, pushed itself upright against the wall. As it stepped forward, Denny noted that it had left a dark trail. She assumed it was now shedding decaying tissue.

  It's already falling apart, she thought. We need to move fast.

  “Get downstairs and into the back of the van,” she told it, cuttings its hands free so she didn’t have to help it up “We'll drive you to the woods.”

  Jim looked as if he might protest, but then sighed and stood aside as the creature loped out of the room and down the stairs.

  “How do you know it won't try to kill you?” asked Wakefield.

  “One, it couldn't kill me because I wore the talisman,” said Denny. “Two, it's in bad shape and getting weaker by the second. It might not even make it. When these things drop to pieces, it’s really fast.”

  Denny rode in the back of the van, feet away from the creature, again holding the talisman in her hand. In the front, Wakefield guided Jim up to Branksholme Woods. The journey took a few minutes, but by the time they pulled up near the tree line, the stench from the dying Interloper was almost unbearable.

  Denny threw open the doors of the van and jumped out. As the creature struggled to climb out, she unthinkingly reached up to take one of its arms. As soon as she felt the pulpy flesh, she realized what she had done, but forced herself to help it to the ground. The entity gave no indication that it was even aware of her help. Once its feet touched the ground, it began to limp urgently into the trees.

  Normally, those things are so fast we can’t follow them, Denny thought as she followed. This one's barely managing a brisk walk.

  She wondered, not for the first time, what desperation would prompt any
intelligent being to enter a world where the very laws of nature were toxic to it. The doctor's account of the old folk ballad had given her a vague clue as to what the Interlopers' motives might be. If she was even vaguely right, they needed to move fast.

  At Malpas, I went into the Phantom Dimension and survived, she thought. I can do it again.

  Denny knew that she had been allowed to escape so she could bring the false Lucy with her. It had been a staged rescue. Lucy had almost convinced the foundation's team that she was indeed a little girl, Gould's younger sister, abducted decades earlier. Mere chance had derailed the Interloper's plan that time.

  What if I'm fooled again? Denny wondered. But if I do nothing, I’ll damn sure be saving nobody.

  They arrived at a clearing. In the gloom, it was impossible to see anything that might be a gateway. For a few seconds, Denny wondered if the fake Marie had simply led them on a wild goose chase.

  It might be under orders not to let the enemy know where the gateway is, she thought. Like a soldier on a suicide mission.

  Then Jim crashed into the clearing and swung the beam of his flashlight around, illuminating tree stumps and fallen boughs amid wild ferns and nettles. The Interloper was now on all fours, crawling through the underbrush.

  “There it is!” cried Jim, focusing the light on the area just ahead of the creature.

  In the artificial light, Denny could just make out a rippling sphere of disturbed air, like a globular heat-haze. It was fixed in place about three feet above the ground. Wakefield appeared at her shoulder, gasped in astonishment.

  “That's some kind of portal to another dimension?” he asked.

  The Interloper was under the shimmering sphere, now. It tried to stand, failed, tried again, collapsed.

  “Crap,” said Denny, racing forward. She tried to lift the creature but it was too heavy.

  “Some help, guys?”

  After brief hesitation, Wakefield and Jim joined her, and between them they half-threw the Interloper into the sphere. The globe of strange energy pulsed, darkened, then emitted a faint reddish glow. For a moment, Denny thought she could see through it to the nightmarish landscape of the Phantom Dimension. She had a fleeting vision of ruins stretching across a bright red plain under a pale, colorless sky. Then the gateway was transparent again.