by Chris Mawbey
Pester didn’t seem troubled. “Calm down Lassie. We don’t need to heal the wound. We just have to keep him on his feet long enough for him to reach the end of his journey.”
“But we do not know how long that will take,” Elena snapped.
Pester shrugged. “So we have to do the best we can. How much of that poultice is left?”
Elena reached into her bag and pulled out the jar of the green pungent substance and passed it to Pester. She also produced a packet of painkillers which she threw at Mickey.
“You were supposed to be helping me; not the other way round.”
Mickey looked as if he had just had his face slapped; much to Pester’s amusement. To avoid an argument Mickey busied himself with opening the painkillers. He quickly dry swallowed a handful of the tablets.
Pester knelt and packed the festering injury on Mickey’s thigh with the salve.
He worked to an accompaniment of swearing from Mickey as the green goo stung the flesh around the young man’s wound.
Pester then rewrapped the leg with the same filthy and pus soaked bandage.
“How does that feel?” Pester asked.
“Better,” Mickey lied. “Thanks,”
The leg did actually feel a little better. Mickey thought the green poultice had some anaesthetic properties about it and he also assumed that the painkillers were beginning to kick in, even though he’d only just taken them. The real test would be when he tried to stand up. Mickey rolled to one side so that he first took the weight on his left leg. He pushed himself upright with his hands. The ensuing dizziness and nausea quickly passed.
“Ok. Let’s go,” he said.
Though the poultice or drugs, or both, had dulled the pain the bandage felt tight and restricted Mickey’s movement, making progress slow. The uneven ground didn’t help and several times Mickey tripped or overbalanced, jarring his leg with his heavy footfall. Even the painkillers weren’t able to hold back the breakthrough pain that shot up from the injured thigh to the pit of Mickey’s stomach.
It began to get dark and Mickey realised that it had nothing to do with the time of day. The trees were getting closer together; so much so that the upper branches were intertwining, forming a semi-solid canopy over their heads. At ground level any semblance of a path had all but disappeared and the three travellers had to navigate around tree trunks and over more fallen branches and twigs. The journey now had a permanent background of crunching and crackling.
Mickey felt they had been walking for hours when Pester called a halt for a rest. The sun was now invisible so that it was impossible to gauge what time it was. There was very little water left so each took a sparing sip. Pester insisted that Mickey take an extra swallow before throwing the now empty bottle to one side. Mickey lay back against a tree trunk and closed his eyes.
It occurred to him that something was odd. He couldn’t place it at first then realised that the crackling sound that they’d made whilst walking over the dead twigs could still be heard.
“What’s that sound?” he asked, opening his eyes again.
“What sound?” said Elena.
Pester jumped up and stared back in the direction they had come from.
“Fire,” he said. “On your feet, now. We’ve got to go.”
Elena and Mickey scrambled to their feet and started moving.
“Leave your bag and coat, Elena,” Pester said. “You don’t need them now and you’ll move quicker without them. Mickey, you’re going to have to go faster.”
Mickey looked over his shoulder. He could see nothing at ground level but when he looked up he could see a red glow in the canopy of branches. The sound he’d heard was the crackling of thin branches as they were being consumed by the flames. The fire was spreading from tree to tree as easily as waves rolling across sand.
A sudden roar and flare of flame announced that a whole tree had just been claimed by the fire. It wouldn’t be long before the flames caught up and overtook them.
“Don’t wait for me,” said Mickey. “Make sure you get Elena out of here.”
Pester grabbed Elena’s hand and dragged her forward. She turned to look at Mickey only to see him falling behind already. Her anger at him died a little. He was more fool than villain and didn’t deserve to end like this. Mickey’s loyalty to his friend had been his undoing. She couldn’t help him though. Her own destiny was at risk. He had brought his on himself. Elena wasn’t going to throw her only chance away for a fool.
Mickey waved Elena on then glanced over his shoulder. The flames had already made ground on him. They weren’t close enough to start casting their heat around him yet but they would be soon enough. Mickey turned back and put on a burst of speed but tripped over a branch. He muffled a roar of pain as he landed. Elena and Pester were only occasionally visible through the trees now. At least she’ll get to the end, Mickey thought. So, was this how it was all going to end for him, a shrivelled corpse gazing up through the charred remains of skeletal trees for the rest of time? Mr. Jolly wouldn’t have had the result that he wanted but Mickey would still have failed. Would that be enough for Mr. Jolly’s masters? Mickey had a feeling that it wouldn’t; that there would be something else happen to him, some defilement of his body. He wasn’t having that.
“I’m not done yet,” he growled through gritted teeth. He pulled himself up against a tree trunk and launched forward. The relief from the painkillers had been all too brief and each step lanced through him bringing tears to his eyes.
It wasn’t long before Mickey could feel heat on his head and shoulders. A hot wind, created by the flames, was showering him with embers, sparking sibling fires all around him. Mickey’s time was rapidly coming to an end. The irony was that the trees were now becoming a little more separated, making his progress along the ground that bit easier. This was cancelled out by the fact that the trees were larger and their branches had a broader spread which still kept them interlocked, allowing the fire to overtake Mickey from above.
Mickey had been keeping his eyes fixed on the ground a few feet ahead of him so that he didn’t trip over anything. When he allowed himself a quick glance up he didn’t understand what he could see. About fifty yards ahead of him was a grey wall. Its size was immeasurable; it spread as high and as wide as Mickey could see. Directly ahead, at the base of the wall was what looked like a sliding door; Pester and Elena were standing to one side.
What were they playing at? Why hadn’t they gone through?
Mickey was too far away for his voice to be heard above the roar of the flames and the crack of the blazing branches. Flaming twigs hit Mickey’s back and shoulders. He redoubled his efforts to run but could feel himself becoming faint from the pain and exertion.
As Mickey got closer he could see that the door was an entrance to a lift.
“Get inside. Don’t wait for me,” he called.
“We can’t,” shouted Pester. “The door won’t open.”
If Mickey had been capable of thought he would have come up with something like, well that’s fucking great: all this effort just to be burnt to a crisp because the door won’t open.
As it was Mickey couldn’t think any of this; his mind was too focused on reaching the wall. He crashed into it and slammed the heel of his hand into the lift call button.
“Open, you bastard,” he yelled.
Somewhere, high above him, machinery whirred into life. The sound of an approaching lift car grew louder. Elena cried with relief but Mickey and Pester both eyed the encroaching blaze. It was going to be close, possibly too close. Flaming brands were falling all around them now. The forest floor was a carpet of flames. The fire was greedily feeding on all the oxygen and the three travellers were beginning to struggle for breath.
A falling branch sent up a cloud of sparks which rained down around Mickey and his companions. Elena’s initial relief turned to terror. Fires were springing up all around their feet.
The sound of the lift mechanism stopped and the door slowly rumbled open.
“Inside, now,” gasped Mickey. He grabbed Elena and pushed her into the lift car. He turned to do the same with Pester but was himself propelled inside by his guide as an entire tree fell across the spot where the three of them had been standing seconds before. Pester hit the door close button.
The three of them leant against the far wall of the car, trying to get their breath back. Outside the sound of the blaze grew louder and angrier. The air inside the lift car started to heat up.
“Let’s get out of here,” said Mickey. He crawled over to the control panel. To his surprise there was only a single floor button. Shrugging, Mickey pressed it. There was a pause, long enough for Mickey to begin to worry, then the motor came to life and the lift began to rise.
Chapter 28
Mickey had no idea how long the lift was moving for but they must have risen hundreds of feet by the time the mechanism cycled down to a stop. Doors at the rear of the car slid open onto a view that initially defied comprehension.
Glorious sunlight flooded into the lift and the three of them had to shield their eyes from the glare. The lift had opened on to a large floor space. The trio walked out of the lift and looked around them. The floor area was horseshoe shaped with a glass dome for walls and roof. In the centre of the floor a double bank of escalators led down to a lower level. Wherever, Mickey and his companions had emerged, there were at the top of it.
Mickey slowly moved further into the floor. Around the periphery of the horseshoe, a row of benches, set slightly back from the glass wall, faced outwards. Some of these benches were occupied. There were old people, sharing sandwiches and sipping tea and young mothers wiping up the drips and splashes from the ice cream cones that their toddlers were sporting. The whole scene had a sense of long missed normality.
Elena walked to the far end of the floor.
“Leave me here,” she sighed. “This is too beautiful to leave.”
Mickey and Pester joined her at the window and Mickey happily agreed with Elena’s sentiment. The glass walls gave a panoramic view of the countryside beyond the tower they found themselves in. Lush green meadows spread all around, ending in cliff tops, beyond which a calm sea glistened in the sunlight cast from a cloudless sky. The horizon was a thin barely discernable haze that made the sea look as if it stretched forever.
To one side, the cliffs were broken by a shallow but wide valley that led down to a broad, flat, sandy beach, where waves gently lapped at the edge of the golden sand.
“This is such a wonderful place,” said Elena. “I would be happy to end my journey here, just looking at the sea until time ends.” Despite the tears running down her cheeks, Elena looked the happiest that Mickey had seen her.
Pester had wandered away from the windows and was looking at the shrubbery in the planters around the edge of the escalator well. The bushes were decorated and the wall containing the lift was similarly dressed.
“I didn’t notice that before,” said Mickey as he left Elena enjoying the view and moved to where Pester was standing. “It looks a bit weird for celebratory stuff.”
“Unless it’s a Feste Macabre,” Pester replied.
“A what?” said Mickey.
“A macabre festival. Like Halloween, but with a far more sinister edge to it.”
Mickey saw that Pester wasn’t joking. He looked at the decorations. They were black, deep purple and blood red. The bunting and streamers were tooth edged and jagged. Serpent headed creatures with bodies of what looked like razor wire and eyes of deep red gemstones were wrapped around the branches of the bushes. Similar creatures, coiled into springs hung from the ends of the branches in a parody of Christmas baubles. Whatever these things signified it wasn’t a joyous festival in any sense that Mickey knew.
“This means trouble doesn’t it?” said Mickey.
Pester nodded. “Aye it does. I take it you don’t recognise where you are.”
“Never been here before,” said Mickey with certainty. “This can’t be right though. It all seems out of place. Look at those old people over there. They’re not the sort who would go for something like this. This is all Gothic looking stuff. There’s a society at university that’s into this kind of stuff. It could even be devil worship.”
“Possibly,” said Pester. “But I think the living people can see something different from us.”
“Living people?”
“Look around you,” said Pester. “What can you see?”
Mickey looked and instantly saw what Pester meant. Despite the bright sunlight everyone, except Mickey, Pester and Elena had a shadow or a reflection in the brightly polished floor.
“They’re all alive,” he said. “Can they see us?”
“No. The living can never see the dead. Despite what some people might think.”
That comment made Mickey shudder. Pester had never put it that way before. He was right though. If these people could see Mickey, they would be looking at a ghost.
“What are you two talking about?” Elena asked as she joined them. Her mood seemed to have been brightened by the view and her earlier anger at Mickey forgotten. “Ugh. I do not like those decorations. They are sinister. Pester, what do they mean?”
“They mean that we have to be careful while we’re in here,” he replied.
Elena scowled at Mickey. She didn’t speak but her expression left Mickey in no doubt who she blamed for this.
Mickey looked around, trying to spot a threat. All he saw were old couples and young families enjoying the view and the sunshine. He suspected that the real danger would present itself when they made their way through the lower levels, trying to find the exit.
The escalator took them off the tower in three flights. From the half landings Mickey could see that the tower formed part of a huge glass roofed building that ran parallel to the coastline. Each of the half landings was decorated in the same manner as the viewing tower. The windows at each level had emblems and motifs that seemed to taunt Mickey and Elena though. The images framed the idyllic scene outside as if to say, ‘so near and yet so far.’
The final escalator disgorged the travellers onto the upper floor of a giant shopping mall.
Elena had never seen anything like it and gawped at the myriad shops that ran down both sides of the massive open balcony. Large clusters of broad leaved vines hung from the rafters, close to the eaves, soaking up the natural light streaming through the vaulted glass roof. The central portion of the roof structure was clear of greenery but was bedecked with massive ornate banners and flags. Each was black, purple or red and bore strange emblems and sigils of arcane heraldry. Strung alongside these banners were more barbed streamers and macabre baubles. The roof beams were wrapped with more, larger, red eyed serpents; each one sporting a series of lethal looking blades along the length of its body.
The concourse was busy with shoppers and strollers while others were relaxing in clusters of settees and chairs dotted about the place.
“Left or right?” said Mickey.
Elena ignored the question. She was too busy lapping up the sights. For a poor village girl this was beyond her wildest dreams.
“Go left,” said Pester. “It looks less busy. And keep on the lookout for anything suspicious.” He gently took Elena’s arm and led her towards the left hand concourse. People seemed to drift out of the way as the three strangers walked along.
The open well running along the centre of the concourse gave a clear view of the floor below. Emerging from the ground floor was an odd structure. It was a skeletal pyramid shape that looked to have been constructed from the trunks and branches of the petrified forest that Mickey and his companions had just fled from. The structure looked haphazardly built with beams and posts lashed together with thick rope. Platforms ran around the structure at various levels. Ladders were strung between these landings giving access to the pinnacle of the structure. The whole thing reminded Mickey of a medieval siege tower, apart from the decoration. The arms supporting the landings were draped with more b
anners, smaller versions of those hanging from the roof. Heavy braided rope was wound up and around the central column of the tower in a strange parody of streamers. More bladed serpents twined around these ropes. The end of each arm carried another, coiled serpent wrapped around a vaguely human effigy. The whole thing was made all the more distasteful by the fact that the shoppers and people milling around didn’t seem to find anything untoward about this macabre device or its hellish decorations. Perhaps in the living world these structures were harmless and cheery Christmas trees. Mickey would never know.
There were groups of street actors and artists plying their trade. Mimes and statues drew a few curious spectators and the occasional half interested glances from passers-by, while jugglers and contortionists were graced with larger crowds. One such crowd was assembled just past an open stairwell, halfway along the concourse. Instead of trying to barge past or having to move to the other side of the concourse, Mickey took the stairs to the ground level.
At the bottom of the stairs a number of large cushioned sofas were arranged next to a children’s play area. A couple of young mums were chatting on one of the sofas whilst their little ones were running around in the play area.
“I need a minute,” said Mickey, limping over to a free sofa. He eased himself down onto the cushions, trying to position his leg to ease the growing pain in his thigh. It seemed that Elena’s displeasure with Mickey had returned because she turned her back on him and walked off to browse some of the nearby shop windows. Though she would never be able to buy, she could still look and dream.
Another troupe of street artists came past. These were dressed in long black hooded cloaks with large wide brimmed black hats. Their faces were completely covered by white masks that had long beaked noses. They reminded Mickey of the quacks that plied their trade during the Black Death. The beaked part of the masks would have been filled with aromatic materials to protect the wearer from the plague laden air whilst they were treating the sick.
The plague doctors seemed to be performing a walking cum dancing routine that would repeat every dozen or so steps. Though they appeared to be very good at what they were doing Mickey had no idea what the purpose was.