Tanners Dell: Darkly Disturbing Occult Horror

by Sarah England

  The startlingly bright day outside highlighted his groggy lethargy. Oh for a darkened room and a soft, warm duvet. Except that wasn’t going to happen, was it? Tempting, yes. Massively. But there was way too much at stake to cop out like that. So, after making the cringe-worthy phone call, he grabbed his jacket, jumped onto the motorbike and snapped his helmet down. Right, let’s get the job done.

  ***

  This time he constantly checked the mirrors and scanned the road ahead in a state of heightened awareness. The second a black sedan with a strangely powerful engine showed up he’d pull over immediately, set the phone to video and speed dial the police. Come on then, you bastards…I’m ready…

  Every couple of seconds he looked into the wing mirror, keeping his speed down. Thankfully, normality appeared to be the case this morning, with only a smattering of white vans and delivery lorries in sight. Very few people took this particular road since they would either be visiting Drummersgate or taking the long, scenic route towards Chesterfield or the Peak District beyond; and all was quiet. Eventually he came to the junction for the A1 and, relaxing a little, was soon heading for Leeds and in particular the village of Guiseley.

  Guiseley sits to the north of the city and is, in estate agent terms, a desirable location; with well-built stone houses close enough to commute to Leeds whilst also bordering the north Yorkshire countryside. A short drive and you could be in Harrogate or even over to the coast. There was, Noel thought, as his bike purred throatily into the leafy suburbs, a feeling of quiet money here: that this was perhaps where a retired professor and his family might live very comfortably. He pictured Michael opening the door – a tall, well-built gentleman of mature years who was no doubt going to look thinner and more tired than when he’d seen him last. Nothing, however, not all of the years he’d spent in nursing put together, prepared him for the shock of the other man’s appearance. It caught him so off guard that the words of introduction he’d prepared came out in an incoherent jumble.

  Michael’s flesh had withered from his facial bones to such an extent that his head now resembled little more than a skull. Jaundiced eyes stared out from cavernous sockets, and the man’s clothes draped from a rail thin body, his trousers belted double over a sweater to keep them from falling down. As Noel attempted to recover himself, there came a waft of staleness from the house interior and a stench of decay from the man himself.

  Noel held out his hand. “I really am terribly sorry to intrude, but we met in St Mark’s church not so long ago – you prayed all night with myself and a friend who was in a bit of a state – and well, I’m afraid we desperately needed some help, and… Look, I’m a nurse and I can see you aren’t well enough for this. I’m so sorry, please forgive me.” He turned to go.

  “How did you find me?”

  Noel turned back.

  There was a glint of recognition in the other man’s eyes.

  “Well it wasn’t easy. I’d been looking for a while. In the end I waited all night until someone at St Mary’s pointed me in the right direction. We’re desperate, you see? There’s something terrible going on – it came to our door at the psychiatric hospital where myself and the friend I mentioned, work. Long story. Suffice to say that several members of the medical team involved will never practice again and some have died. It started after a patient from one of the mining villages near here was hypnotised.”

  Michael stood back from the door and motioned for Noel to enter. “I can’t stand for long, you’d best come in. I’m in a bit of a mess – you’ll have to excuse me.”

  Noel saw immediately what he meant. Dirty dishes were piled up on the drainer, the remains of a long-ago meal were congealing on the kitchen table and the curtains were still drawn. Michael had obviously been sleeping downstairs on the couch for some time too. The air was rancid; at a guess the bins hadn’t been emptied for a while and the mewing cat’s litter tray was full.

  “Is no one helping you?”

  Michael shrugged. “A nurse comes in with painkillers but there’s little she can do about all this. I don’t want anyone in, really.”

  Noel nodded. That was so often the case. Many people who were either elderly or infirm didn’t want strangers in their home even though they were struggling. It was understandable though, when the last thing you had left was your dignity. “Shall I put the kettle on? Make us a cup of tea?”

  The other man nodded, slumping into an armchair by the cold, empty fireplace.

  Once in the kitchen Noel switched onto automatic pilot, unable to curb his natural caring and cleaning tendencies, and zoomed around emptying the litter tray, feeding the cat, putting dishes into the dishwasher and opening a window. Flying around, multi-tasking as he related to Becky later, he wiped surfaces, rinsed out a couple of cups and flicked the kettle on. It was ridiculous really as Michael would not be hard up for money. Still, even if he didn’t find help for Kristy today, maybe he could make this man’s last few weeks a bit easier by arranging private help.

  Back in the living room, Michael accepted the tea gratefully while Noel brought him rapidly up to speed. “So now Kristy, we believe, is in a state of possession too. And what’s worse is that the doctor in charge of her care is Crispin Morrow. So you see, Becky and I are the only two people left now? She’s supposed to be contacting a junior police officer this morning and he’s our last hope. Everyone who tries or gets involved in this ends up hurt, you see?”

  Michael nodded thoughtfully.

  Noel frowned. “Do you mind me asking when you were diagnosed?”

  “Two weeks ago. The day after I started with symptoms I had a diagnosis of stage four – too late already! How about that?”

  “Good grief.”

  “Yes, I know. In fact my decline has been so rapid I haven’t even told my family yet. I’m a widower but I have a daughter and two grandchildren, a brother and a nephew who I’m close to.” He put his head in his hands.

  “Michael, please would you let me help you?”

  Michael nodded. “Thank you. Bless you, thank you.”

  The day did not pan out as Noel expected it to, with himself making dozens of phone calls and cleaning up; but by the end of it private domestic help had been arranged as well as a private nurse; and Michael’s daughter, brother and nephew had all been informed and would be arriving as soon as they could.

  “It took me by total surprise,” said Michael. “One day I was fine and the next I was in agony… I can remember the exact moment – I was standing in the queue at our local newsagents when I felt this huge crushing pain in my lower back. I broke a sweat – I’m not joking I was bent double and barely made it to the car. Since then I’ve been stuck here in this… how can I describe it? It’s rather like being on the ocean floor with my speech and movements all in slow motion and the real world miles away – as if it’s all a dream. And sometimes I’m not sure if I’m awake or sleeping because the visions come either way – creatures speaking in tongues and someone poking or pinching me; and although I’ve been desperate to urinate I’ve been unable to rise from the bed.” He hung his head. “I’m afraid the mattress…”

  Noel’s heart squeezed with compassion for this gentle, well-educated man.

  “That can all be sorted out,” he said, patting the other man’s shoulder.

  As the day died in a fuchsia-streaked sky, he went to make more tea and toast, drew the curtains and turned on the lamps, then attempted something he’d never done before. From rolled-up newspaper, twigs and logs he built a real fire, and when it finally crackled into a blaze he almost cheered.

  “Nothing like it, is there?” said Michael, leaning forwards with outstretched hands. “I’ve got central heating but this place has been colder than a morgue even with the thermostat turned up full. It just wouldn’t get warm.”

  Noel frowned. “Michael, what’s your take? What’s happening? Give me the truth as you see it because we haven’t got much time left.”

  “Well, my take is simple really �
� whatever was attacking Becky has attached itself to me, except somehow she resisted where I was perhaps an empty vessel.”

  Noel frowned and shook his head, not understanding. “You know more about this sort of thing than I ever could, but how is that possible?”

  “The transfer of an evil entity into another’s aura is entirely possible, absolutely. As for the darkness being intelligent enough to identify people, sniff them out and psychically or physically attack them, I don’t know. I’ve been an atheist for most of my adult life, arguing theologically on the non-existence of any kind of superpower and frankly, winning! I was ordained originally but later I lost my faith. Then a friend of mine had a bizarre and inexplicable experience and I re-discovered it. That was about ten years ago now but who knows how these things work?”

  “Did you go back into the Church of England?”

  “Yes, well Methodist actually. I’ve tried many religions but frankly I go wherever I’m needed; mostly to those of any religious persuasion who’ve lost their faith or are undergoing some kind of crisis. Or I did.”

  “Was your friend in a similar situation to Kristy’s, do you mind me asking?”

  Michael’s eyes welled with sadness. He shrugged. “Suicide. He hanged himself.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s a long story, Noel. Suffice to say he dabbled in things he thought were good fun but were, in fact, far more dangerous than either he or anyone else, including myself, could ever have imagined. He lost his mind first.”

  They sat in contemplative silence for a few minutes, gazing into the fire.

  “Eventually, Michael said, “From your description of what might be going on in Woodsend, it seems perfectly possible those people have summoned a demonic force. And now it’s spreading pain, terror, disease and debauchery – everything that defiles humanity. Recruiting too, with promises of power and revenge.”

  “What can we do about Kristy? Can we save her, do you think? Is there anyone else in your opinion, who we could ask to help?”

  “What happened to the other psychiatrist? To Dr McGowan?”

  “He was exorcised by a priest and he’s now back with his family in Ireland, albeit struck off the register and facing divorce. They had a different medical officer at Laurel Lawns then, and his mother got the agreement.”

  Michael frowned deeply.

  “That priest is no longer available, apparently,” Noel added. “On long term sick leave.”

  “Hmmm…How would we get past this Dr Morrow, do you think? He must have time off?”

  “Surely you can’t..? I mean, you’re not well enough…”

  “Find out when he’s off. Ring Becky and ask her to fix it up, and I will bring a friend of mine to do the actual exorcism – he owes me a few favours and he’s studied possession for years. It’s against the rules but he’ll do it off the record – he’s a good man, a special person.”

  “Oh my God, thank you, thank you.”

  “I’m going to die, Noel and there’s no getting away from that. My family will be here tomorrow and I’ll say my good-byes. Then I’ll be ready.”

  ***

  By the time Noel left it was dark. Although Michael had protested, he fetched a bag of groceries for him and put them away so he’d got ready-made meals and fruit drinks in the fridge. It would tide him over until his family and the paid help arrived next day. Meanwhile, fighting leaden exhaustion, he picked up his mobile and scrolled down the list of missed calls. No, he wouldn’t be well enough to work tomorrow and no, he couldn’t go to the opening of a new bar in Leeds, and no, he wasn’t interested in solar panels. Finally there was Becky’s number with a message to call.

  She picked up straight away.

  “I’ve got stuff to tell you,” she blurted out.

  “Stop! Becky listen – I’ve got help for Kristy but you need to find out from Nora when Crispin Morrow’s off duty. Do it right now, will you? Michael is terminally ill and it’s urgent we go in as soon as possible. He’s got just days. I’ve never seen such a rapid decline and—”

  “What – terminally ill, did you say?”

  “Stage four prostate cancer as of two weeks ago!”

  “Two weeks,” she said bleakly.

  “Exactly.”

  “Oh my good God.”

  “Yes. So we need to act fast. His family are coming tomorrow so let’s see if we can fix it up for the day after? Do you have Nora’s private number? Keep her out of the loop as much as you can by the way, just give her the bare bones – that Kristy deserves some religious support and as Crispin Morrow won’t allow it then it will have to be when he’s not there – and that’s the extent of her involvement. We don’t want any harm coming to her.”

  “I’m on it. Doing it now. I’ll ring you back in a bit.”

  ***

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapeltown, Leeds

  Monday night

  In the end it hadn’t been too big a job tracking him down. Toby rubbed his hands together in the freezing night air as he queued for fish and chips on the street corner. On a night like this only the most hardy and desperate of prostitutes stood out on the pavements waiting for kerb crawlers. Scantily dressed in pelmet skirts, their bare legs were mottled from the cold and they huddled together smoking and chatting – most of them just teenagers - with scraped back hair and dead eyes.

  Whilst wolfing down greasy chips with a plastic fork, he surreptitiously observed the kind of punters cruising by. Middle aged men most of them. ‘Pathetic bastards,’ he thought. ‘Imagine being that sad you had to pay for it!’

  Ruby would have been one of these girls not so long ago. From what Becky told him, she’d been a user from the age of fourteen but her memories were addled to say the least. Had she been a prostitute then too? And did Jes bring her here at such a young age or was it after she left the mill when she’d have been around twenty? He shook his head. The girl could have been anywhere and done anything – off the radar like so many other lost kids. In many ways she was lucky to be alive because this was the underworld, and once you crossed the line you could easily vanish into thin air and not be missed. There but for the grace of God…

  He finished off the chips and looked around for a bin. Right, now his stomach was full he could start looking for Jes.

  “Hi, gorgeous! You want good time, yes?”

  He swung round to face a young girl with slanting eyes and a deadpan expression. The accent was eastern European and she flashed open a faux fur coat to reveal black PVC hot pants and a bra top with holes cut out of it. Her skin was pearl white, her body that of an emaciated twelve year old.

  “No, love. Just looking for a mate.” He indicated she should fasten her coat up. “It’s freezing. Maybe you could help me find him?” He gave her his can of coke, which she immediately cracked open and knocked back. “Name of Jes? Dark hair, forties…”

  Passing headlights caught the girl’s stoned expression. “Ah yes, Jes. Everyone they know him.”

  Toby blinked, his heart racing. Had he found him already – with the first girl he asked on the first street corner in Chapel? “Really? That’s amazing. I haven’t seen Jes in ages.”

  “You want come with me?” she said, moving closer. Her face was devoid of all the hope and animation a young girl should have as her God-given right. “Twenty pound - is good, yes?”

  “I’m not looking for that, love. Honest. Just me mate – if you could tell me where he lives?”

  She shrugged and held out her hand. “Five pound. You are his friend. I take you.”

  Okay, well she might be taking him to a couple of thieving thugs and leave him for dead but he handed her the money and took that chance. He could run faster than anyone else he knew if the worst came to the worst.

  The girl snatched the note and stuffed it down her bra top, then led the way to a row of boarded-up shops a few blocks down. Here the yards were strewn with discarded take-away cartons and litter lay decomposing in the drains. He fo
llowed her down a gennel and through an alleyway to the back of one of the terraces, then up a wrought iron fire escape and eventually through a heavily scuffed door covered in graffiti. Once inside the word, ‘seedy’ sprung to mind as the distinctive aroma of marijuana lingered in the air, along with ingrained tobacco and the stench of human sweat. “You follow,” she said, scooting down the dimly lit hallway past several rooms pumping with heavy base music. Right at the end of the corridor she stopped and knocked sharply on one of the doors.

  “Fuck off!”

  She turned and shrugged. “He is in.”

  She knocked again and pushed it open. A swarthy bloke, handsome in an uncut kind of way, lay on a pock-marked sofa smoking weed. Springing to his feet he glared at her. “Who the fuck’s this?”

  Toby stepped forwards. “Go on now, leave us.” he said to the girl, pushing her gently out of the door before closing it behind him. The two men stood facing each other. “I’m Toby – a friend of Ruby’s.”

  The flash of recognition in the other man’s eyes told him he’d got the right guy but he’d probably get thrown out in seconds if he didn’t play this carefully. Holding out his hands in an appeasement gesture, he blurted out, “We need help. You are Jes, aren’t you? What a relief! Ruby said I’d find you here. Look mate, she’s in trouble and so is her daughter. Can we talk?”

  Jes stared for a moment longer before sitting down again, his arm along the back of the couch. Casually gesturing towards the fridge in the corner, he said, “Help yourself to a beer. Toby, did you say your name was?”

  Good. He’d bought himself some time. “Thanks, yeah.”