This Is the End: The Post-Apocalyptic Box Set (7 Book Collection)
Page 34
"I made the fire before I went down to the lake that last time. It's been sitting there...ready...for years."
It took a while to get the fire going. Some of it was damp and mouldy, but after removing the worst of it, the fire took well. Soon the shack was lit up and warm.
Rudy showed me round, commenting on many of the things in his house. There were only three rooms. The main living room, a small bedroom, and a storage cupboard at the back that stank of rotten food. It would take some cleaning up, but with a little work the place could be liveable again.
In the main living room there was an old sofa, a small desk pushed in one corner, and a bookshelf crammed full of old books and papers.
"The Professor's diary is in there, on the top. I read it a while after he left. I felt guilty, but I wanted to know what he was thinking. You may want to read it. It's...strange...but it explains a little about why he was mad I think. The bits from when he was in London weren't that interesting, but the few entries he made when he moved to the country, are."
I nodded, moving on to look at the large grandfather clock stood in one corner, motionless. The time was stuck at half past four. Dust caked the top and the glass, and the wood was dry and cracked. It was still a beautiful thing, though.
"It stopped working a while after I died." His voice was quiet. "It needs winding up every week or so. The chimes don't work, but the tick of the clock is nice."
He was silent for a moment. "It could do with cleaning up a little. I never got round to restoring it properly, didn't have anything to clean it with. Would you mind winding it up? It's the turnkey at the back."
I did as he asked, and started the pendulum swinging. Soon the quiet tick, tick of the clock broke the silence.
"I used to sit in here a lot, reading. Adler liked to walk a lot, but I preferred to stay in here. The sound of that clock was quite relaxing."
"The professor didn't stay here much?"
"Yes, he did, most evenings anyway. He spent most of the day wandering, and he slept outside. Up the slope, behind the shack a short way, is an overhanging in the rock. He had a camp there. There's not much there now though. I brought most of it back down here, after he left."
"I see. I'll have a look up there later, after I've got my stuff in here."
Searching through the bookshelf, I could see it held mostly classic old tales and several copies of the same thesis book by the professor; duplicates of the books I found in the bus.
"There is a mountain of books of all kinds, mostly rotten, over in the junkyard. You've probably seen it. I used to pick some up whenever I went back there, hunting for stuff." He pointed at the bookshelf. "That's where most of this came from."
Later that day I did read the professor's diary, at least the last few entries that he had written before he arrived in this place. I decided to put the pages inside my journal, in case they become useful at some point.
Professor Adler's Diary
Below are the last entries in the diary of Professor John Adler of Temperance, Northamptonshire, before his arrival in this other place.
March 20th, 1922
It is the first day of spring, and it is a time of the year I always love. The snow, which back when I was boy would still be melting even now, is long gone. I think the weather must be changing over the years.
As I walk the lanes of the country, which I love to do in the afternoons now the weather is turning finer; I see all the first signs of the year to come. The flowers are beginning to bloom, small animals are flitting about, collecting food or materials to build their little nests with, and there's that crisp, pungent smell in the air.
It is nice at least, that the weather has turned, so that I may take a break from writing my memoirs. They are a joy that I would not set aside for long, but it is, as I heard some of the younger, modern thinking artists say, at my last seminar, ‘nice to get out'.
It occurred to me today, while I was passing one of the paths that jut off the lane that I walk, which winds round the lake, that I had never ventured aside from my regular route. There are numerous small pathways that twist and turn away from that thin road, leading to wherever they may go. I was gripped with an urge, one which I must say I resisted for the moment, to start this year's walking with something daring. I was infused with the thought of venturing somewhere new. I must consider this during my evening musings.
March 21st
There are swans on the lake today, glorious and majestic creatures they are. I was gifted with the most wondrous treat when I bore witness to two of the mightier specimens furiously debating the right to the attentions of one of the females. They were indeed noisy and abrupt, it was most impressive.
During my walk, I fulfilled a little of my intent to venture forth and experience a new journey, when I found a likely and interesting path. I took it upon myself to walk but three hundred full strides along it, before inhaling the view and then returning whence I came, with a promise to venture further the next morning. It was spontaneous, even though the intent was premeditated, I know that sounds strange. I wasn't expecting to find a good candidate. This particular lane was one that I couldn't recall seeing before.
The lane was long and winding into the distant fields, very enticing, and I was suddenly elated, joyous even, what an excellent idea this was. I think it would make a nice walk if I started out early enough. I will do this tomorrow.
March 22nd
I started out ten full minutes earlier this morning for my walk, following my usual route around the lake, and not stopping for any distraction that might place itself upon me.
When I arrived at the path, I estimated that I would have at least an hour to venture this day. My diary entry will be short to give me extra time.
March 23rd
On my third visit to the path, I have found a wonderful spring running down the slope of a small hill. Because the flask in which I carry my tea was empty, I decided to sample the water from the stream, it is quite an unusual find, and the water is exceptionally clear. I tried it in my tea, in the evening, and it has a wonderful mineral tang to it, quite unlike anything I have tasted before. I must return for another sample tomorrow.
March 24th
I have made an interesting discovery along the lane this day. About a quarter of a mile along, which is indeed a long walk, there is the most exquisite chapel. It resides on the side of the hill, a short walk along one of the paths that leads off this new road that I am walking each day. Behind the chapel, which seemed quite deserted and unused, is a small graveyard with some amazingly old gravestones. I only managed to investigate a few of them, and there are at least three dozen other. The dates that I saw were 1722 and 1728, so extremely old, and intriguing.
I have decided this evening that I will, just for the day, postpone my memoirs and make a whole day of it. I have made sandwiches and selected two ripe apples, and found my old walking satchel to take with me. I think it will be an interesting day.
Once more this morning I filled a flask with water from the spring for my tea this evening. It adds a wonderfully sharp taste to the tea that is both subtle and lasting.
March 25th
I had the most interesting experience this day, while sitting on the bench in the graveyard. One moment the day was clear, with barely a cloud in the sky, then the next moment the sky changed. It seemed as though it happened in an instant. Above me were dark thunderheads, and a chill wind blew across the hills. I'm not sure if it was something that I am coming down with, but my vision felt blurred for a moment, and shadows inside the chapel and the stones shifted slightly, giving me a slight dizzying feeling. I rubbed my eyes, and looked back up, and everything was as it should be once more, the sky was clear and the sun was smiling down upon the hills again. I thought that it was strange for the weather to change so quickly.
I am unable to explain what caused this strange vision, if that is what it was. I am certain that it was merely a moment of sickness on my part.
I have taken to using the
water from the spring in my lemon drink before I retire to my bed, as well as my lunch and evening tea. I have found that I feel much more invigorated in the morning when I awaken, because of this.
March 26th
The oddest thing happened during the night. I had what I can honestly say was a lucid dream, it must be the purifying effects of the water, I am sure of it. In the dream I was up at the graveyard on the hill, and talking to a fellow that I couldn't see clearly. I am not sure of all the conversation; my memory of it is fading, even as write this diary entry.
I do remember the fellow trying to convince me that there was a better way to lead my life, a purer way; it was almost as if he was like one of those door to door peddlers I used to tire of when I lived in the city, thank heavens I moved to the country.
I remember one other thing about the man in the graveyard, he had a terrible smell about him, and I think maybe he hadn't washed for a long time.
I woke with terrible headache, so am going to give my walk a miss today. It looks terribly dreary and dark outside. The weather has taken a turn for the worse, I would guess.
March 27th
Some strange things are happening. The weather changes from a bright sunny day to a misty, stormy half-light. It does this now, regularly, and far too quickly. I worry about what may be causing this terrible change, and what we may have done to our world.
Last night as I lay in my bed, I swore I heard noises outside, someone in great pain, but when I shone my lantern out of the window there was no one there, not even a sign of any passage.
The blurred vision has returned once more, but this time with a vengeance. The strangest thing is that I believe that it may be weather-dependant. When it is sunny outside my vision is as normal, but then when one of the sudden weather changes occurs many things seem blurred. As before this is accompanied by headaches and dizziness for a moment before it passes.
March 28th
I had another dream last night. In this one the very same fellow I spoke to in the graveyard came to my home, and was sitting in the study talking to me. I remember asking him to leave and he said the strangest thing, he insisted that he lived here.
Of course, I scoffed at this, and I told him that he was being ridiculous, but he insisted that I was the intruder. The dream took a strange turn before I awoke, I finally got to see who I was talking to, and it was me, except this version of me was not well, not well at all. It must be a manifestation of my worries about the strange symptoms I am suffering, because this version of me was disfigured, and had what is best described as bits missing. It was quite disgusting. I do hope that this is not some spiritual warning of a fate that may come.
Outside, everything is gloomy and cloudy for most of the day. I did take a walk up to the spring to replenish my supply. I think if it were not for the spring water I would feel much worse.
March 29th
I am determined that I will make an appointment with the doctor. My vision is playing up terribly. This afternoon while the weather was furious outside, I began hearing the most terrible noises, it must be a deficiency of some kind, for the dizziness came, and my vision went blurry, then I heard the screaming. It was a terrible, terrible haunted scream, one of pure torture, and obviously it was completely in my imagination. I ate cheese this morning with my toast, so maybe that has affected me.
I wanted to write it in my diary immediately, but I couldn't for the life of me find the damn thing. And then the oddest thing happened. The sun came out once more, and there it was, my diary and pen, right where they always were. I must have missed them completely during the feverous moment that had now passed.
March 30th
The storm last night was ferocious. The episode with my diary occurred yet again today, I am beginning to question my sanity. It was missing for most of the day while the bad weather and those terrible voices assaulted my senses.
I shall walk down to the village in the morning and see Doctor Elsden. This can be tolerated no more.
March 31st
Terrible storms. Diary is only there for moments. Dizziness gone somehow. Can't sleep but tired. Strange smell, can't rid of.
April or May
No clue of date, is still April? Legs ache, finger has fallen off, can't understand. Must find food. Cannot leave, terrible hungry, what is date? Chanting heard Nua'lath, Nua'lath. What is this mean?
When
Blood Lots it Everwhere blood Carnt seep the screamun too many screamun
Mas 145 1728812
Nua'lath muo'lah vor : Blud far Nua'lath : Kiy e Nua'lath : Blud far Nua'lath : dun dring der warta
That's the last entry in his diary.
I don't know if it answers any of my questions or not. Did I end up here in a similar way? I wish I could remember what happened after I went to the toilet in the service station.
One thing that worries me is the date. 1922. How long was Adler here?
Day 20
I wasn't aware of falling asleep, though I do know that we talked for hours. I know what woke me though.
The storm had come, just as Rudy had said it would, and I had arrived at the shack in the valley just in time. Outside the shack was a maelstrom of wind, dust, and rain. I'd never seen anything like it. Down the valley hundreds of small tornadoes swirled around, churning up the muck and water. Across the river and up onto the start of the rock plateau I could see rain gushing sideways at an incredible speed.
Odd though. I could still see quite far, at least down into the valley where gargants hunkered down into the muddy water. Several of them were sitting there like massive, wet, rock mounds, half submerged in the swamp.
DogThing wasn't anywhere to be seen. I guessed that he had snuck off somewhere and found a shelter of his own.
The shack was mostly untouched by the storm, tucked away as it was in the hollow of the rock face near the waterfall. The wind and the rain still battered the walls, and I felt a bit wary that it might come crashing down on my head at any moment.
Rudy must have sensed my concern.
"This place has weathered hundreds of storms."
"Ok. Good."
He sat down on the chair near the fireplace. Can ghosts actually sit? It would seem so.
"Whoever built it certainly knew what they were doing. It may look like a pile of junk, but it's solid."
"You didn't build it?"
"No. It was here before I arrived, pretty much as you see it now. I made a few repairs, but not a lot."
I spent most of the rest of the day having a poke around in the house, hunting around for useful stuff. Found more tools, including a rusty saw and a couple of hammers. I also moved my cart into the shack, out of the storm, and emptied it. Some of the scraps of wood I'd gathered stoked up the fire nicely and I was able to dry everything out.
The storm ended during the night. I awoke to silence. I even think it was the silence that woke me.
Day 21
I found a hole.
Not a normal hole. This is a little bit different. Well, the best description I have for it is a hole.
I found it outside the hut after the storm, as I was trudging among the newly formed rock pools. Any crevice or recess in the rock that could hold water was filled up and I was busy bottling as much of it as I could.
I stood frowning at the hole for a few minutes, watching the water trickle out of it and down onto the ground to gather in one of the pools. Even if I empty the pool, it keeps refilling with the water from the hole.
Doesn't sound strange does it? Nope. But this hole is in mid-air. It's not in the rock or the ground. It's about three feet off it. Just...sitting there? Holes don't sit do they? Hanging there even.
Well it's there anyway, and once the water finally stopped coming out of it a beam of bright light lit up the pool. The light was coming out of the hole. Even stranger, it could only be seen from one side. When I walked round to the other side there was nothing, only the light, but from the front I could clearly see a hole.
"Strange aren't they?"
It was Rudy. He was standing a few feet away.
"What the hell is it?"
He shrugged.
"Well, a hole, I guess. I've never been able to figure out what they are. Only that they appear for a short time after the storms and gradually disappear."
"Weird as hell."
(Laughter)
"Yes. Very much so. Adler used to turn into a nervous mess when those things appeared. He swore that he came here through one of them."
"Seriously?"
"Yes. I'm not calling him a liar, but I've never seen one big enough to fit a man through."
We talked as we walked back up to the shack.
"How did you get here, Rudy?"
He was quiet for what seemed a long time before speaking again.
"I'm not entirely certain, but I know that I had been assaulted. Back in the old world, in the area that I lived, there was a gang of what is best described as rich thugs, high earners in the city, some people said, who had a hobby of going into the slums and making sport on those who could do little to defend themselves. They did some quite awful things. I was quite used to avoiding them usually. They'd turn up every now and then in the middle of the night in their fancy cars. They would grab someone and take them somewhere out of the way and...Well you can imagine the rest. One night I was asleep and didn't hear them coming."
We arrived back at the shack and sat down on the rocks outside. Rudy continued.
"The whole experience is hazy, but I do remember something interrupting them, something terrible. I remember being picked up by people who I couldn't see. They were different people and not the gang. I was stunned or concussed I think. They took me. I woke up in the ruins across the swamp. That's about all I can remember."
"They didn't tell you where you were?"