by Tim O'Rourke
Switching off the light, he swung the gate shut. “Get your stuff together and I’ll take you out on patrol,” he said. “Looks like your first night will be a busy one.”
“How come?” I asked him.
“Father Taylor, the priest up at St. Mary’s, has reported that another grave has been desecrated,” he told me.
“Whose grave?” I asked him.
“The grave is that of a fifteen-year-old girl who was killed a month or so ago. Her name was Kristy Hall,” Luke said.
“How did she die?” I asked, already guessing his answer.
“Like the others – throat ripped out,” he said, turning away. “I’ll see you outside in five.”
Drawing my equipment from the secured cabinet, I took a radio that had been charging in the office. Slipping on my police jacket, Sergeant Murphy looked up at me and asked, “All set Constable Hudson?”
“I guess,” I said, fastening my jacket.
“You be careful out there,” Potter smirked, sucking on the end of his cigarette.
“Don’t take any notice of him,” Murphy said. “I’m sure Bishop will take good care of you. He’s a good lad. Bit naive, but a good lad.”
“Taking you up to the graveyard, is he?” Potter grinned.
“That’s right,” I said.
“Keep an eye out for the vampires,” he said, and again that cheesy grin of his spread right across his face.
“Vampires?” I said, as if I had no idea of the stories that I’d already been told.
“Haven’t you heard?” Potter said, with mock surprise.
“Heard what?” I said, acting dumb.
“Put a sock in it, ”Murphy told Potter. Then turning to face me, he added, “Just be careful, Kiera, and you’ll be fine.”
Turning my back on them, I left the station. Luke was waiting outside in a marked-up police car. Yanking open the passenger door, I jumped inside, throwing my cap onto the back seat.
“Good?” Luke asked.
“Oh yeah,” I said, glad to be back in my uniform and raring to go.
“Let’s get going then,” Luke smiled back at me as we sped into the night and towards the graveyard at St. Mary’s Church.
We drove in silence and I couldn’t help but think back to how I’d seen him smell the bloodstains on his sweatshirt. So to break the uncomfortable silence and to find out a little more about him, I said, “So what’s your story?”
“You tell me,” he said, looking straight ahead. “You’re the super sleuth,” and I caught him smiling.
“That’s the problem,” I said. “You don’t give much away.”
“Work your magic,” he said over the sound of the wiper blades.
“You’re not married,” I told him. “You don’t have a girlfriend and you live alone.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“No wedding ring for starters,” I smiled.
“But I could live with a girlfriend,” he said back.
“No, I don’t think so.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“You use cheap smelling soap and no aftershave – so you’re not trying to impress anyone. You hurriedly ate a fried egg sandwich before you left for work tonight, which suggests that you can’t cook and there isn’t anyone cooking for you – so therefore you live alone. The sweatshirt you lent me today hasn’t been washed since you last had a haircut, which I’m guessing was about four weeks ago by its current length – which again suggests that you’re a typical bloke fending for himself and only having to do a wash when you really need to. You haven’t had a female in your car – apart from me – in the last six months. So everything added together, tells me that you’re single and you live alone,” I told him.
Luke smiled at me and said, “Very good. I can see now how you figured it all out. But how did you know what I had for my dinner, that I hadn’t washed my sweatshirt since my last haircut, and the fact that I haven’t had a female in my car for over six months? Sadly it’s been a lot longer than that, but how did you know?”
Looking out of the passenger window and into the dark, I smiled to myself and said, “You have ketchup and egg on your tie and some down the front of your trousers, which wasn’t there last night. When you lent me your sweatshirt earlier, I noticed that around the neck there were hair clippings – which tells me that you were wearing it the last time you went to the barber, and as the hairs are still there, you couldn’t have washed it. As for the car thing? There is an oily-black thumb print on the vanity mirror in your car, probably left by the mechanic who last serviced it. If you’d had a woman in there, she would’ve wiped it off so as to check her make-up from time to time. In the foot-well of your car, along with a load of other rubbish, I noticed a receipt from the garage where you last had your car serviced – which was dated six months ago.”
“Jesus, you don’t miss a trick do you?” he said. “I can see I’m going to have to be careful around you.”
Looking at him, I said, “Why? Have you got something to hide?”
Before he could reply, Luke was slowing the car. “Here we are,” he said.
Looking through the windscreen, I could just make out the tall steeple of a church set back from the road in the middle of a graveyard. Tall leafless trees wrenched back and forth in the wind, like dark twisted limbs. Just looking at the place gave me the creeps and gooseflesh covered my back and arms.
Grabbing my cap from the back seat, I climbed from the car and out into the driving rain and howling wind. The graveyard was surrounded by an ancient-looking stone wall. Luke led me around it, and he bent forward against the wind. Reaching an old weather-beaten gate set into the wall, Luke pushed it open and we made our way through the gravestones to the front of the church. The wind was bitterly cold, and the rain jabbed at my face like needle points.
Then without warning, someone stepped from the shadows of the church and said, “Rather inclement weather we’re having.”
Without being able to stop myself, I yelped at the sudden appearance of the figure.
“I’m sorry my child. I didn’t mean to scare you,” the man said. On his head, the stranger wore a wide-brimmed black hat, and rain ran from it in constant rivulets. His face was thin and gaunt-looking as if he were sucking in his cheeks. His eyes were bright and keen and they almost seemed to twinkle in the darkness. His lips were thin and twisted upwards in a grim looking smile. Beneath the upturned lapels of his long black coat, I noticed the white markings of his priest’s collar.
“Good evening, Father,” Luke said, with an awe-like respect.
“Good evening Constable Bishop. I’m so glad that you and…?” he looked at me and gave that grim smile again.
“Constable Hudson,” I said, over the roaring wind.
“Constable Hudson,” he said, and his eyes twinkled again as he looked me up and down. “Very good.”
“Sergeant Murphy said that you’d left a message – another grave had been disturbed?’”
Nodding his head and leading us towards the back of the graveyard, he said, “Yes, sadly so, constable. God rest the poor soul. Only fifteen-years-old was poor Kristy. It doesn’t seem more than a few weeks ago that I was baptising her as a baby.”
Leading us further away from the church and into the darkest corner of the graveyard, I pulled my torch from my belt and switched it on. Weaving the beam of light before me, I could see rows and rows of gravestones, stretching out in every direction. Some lent to one side, others looked smashed or broken. The inscriptions on some had either worn away or had been covered by moss.
“This way,” Father Taylor said, leading us towards a tall tree that twisted up into the night sky like a giant ogre. As we grew near, Luke switched on his torch, and with both our beams of light, I could see a mound of disturbed earth ahead of us. With my heart racing in my chest, and my stomach tightening, we made our way towards it. Once we were a few feet from the broken and disrupted soil, Father Taylor stopped.
“What’
s wrong Father?” Luke asked.
Crossing himself, he looked at us from beneath the brim of his hat and said, “I can’t go on, Constable. There is evil at work here tonight.” And he crossed himself again.
“Evil?” I asked him.
Ignoring me, Father Taylor spoke to Luke again and said, ”I’d be better served back in my church, praying for the soul of that poor girl,” then looking at the both of us he said, “I shall pray for you too.”
Without another word, the priest turned and hurried back off into the night and towards the church, which loomed like a shadow in the distance.
“I guess we go on alone,” Luke said looking at me.
I stared back at him.
“Are you sure you want to go on?” he asked.
“Don’t concern yourself about me,” I said, trying to mask my nerves. “I’ll be just fine,” I added, brushing past him.
Reaching the grave, I shone my torch into the hole in the ground. Luke came to stand beside me. The rain made a drumming sound against what was left of the coffin lid, which was splintered and ripped open. Crouching down to get a better look, I could see that the coffin was empty – the body of Kristy Hall had been taken. A putrid stench wafted out of the hole, and I covered my nose and mouth with my free hand.
“What can you see?” Luke asked, kneeling beside me.
“Not a lot,” I said, shining my torch over the sides of the hole and the ground surrounding it. Then placing the end of the torch between my teeth, I swung my legs over the side of the grave.
“What are you doing?” Luke asked, gripping my shoulder.
Taking the torch out of my mouth, I said, “Getting a better look.”
“Are you insane?” he asked, rain running down his face like tears. “Can’t it wait till daylight?”
“Not in this weather,” I told him. “The rain will wash away any clues that might be left.” Then biting the end of the torch again, I scrambled into the open grave.
“Hang on!” Luke shouted over the howling wind. But it was too late. I was gone.
I landed with a thump on top of what was left of the coffin lid. Wiping rain from my eyes, I pulled back the lid and some of it came away in my hands. The coffin was lined with white silk, which was now wet and soiled. Maggots and spiders scurried away, frightened back into the darkness by the light from my torch.
Inside the coffin, I found a small toy bear, obviously buried with the girl by her parents. Her favourite toy to accompany her on her journey to wherever it was she was going. Steadying myself in the slippery mud, I placed a hand against the side of the hole and bent forward. There was something glistening in the corner of the coffin. Balancing on the broken coffin lid, I reached down and picked up whatever it was. Holding it up in the torchlight, I could see that it was a set of rosary beads. Placing them back where I’d found them, I pulled away part of the coffin lid and turned it over in my hands. In doing so, I saw something that almost stopped my heart and made my blood run cold.
The underside of the coffin lid was covered in claw marks. There were no marks on the top like there should have been if someone had broken into the coffin. But to my horror and disbelief they were underneath. The lid was covered with them and however improbable, the only conclusion that I could come up with was that Kristy Hall had been buried alive and she had raked and clawed at the underside of the coffin lid as she tried to get out. Dropping the piece of wood, I shone my torch around the walls of the grave and could see similar claw marks in the earth, as if she had scrambled out.
Numb with shock at what I’d discovered, I looked up at the hole above me.
“Luke, you won’t believe this!” I shouted.
No answer, just the sound of the rain thumping down at me and the wind screaming above.
“Luke!” I called out, this time louder. “Luke, are you there?”
No answer.
“Luke!” I called again. And this time I detected a tremor of fear in my voice and I hated myself for it. Where could he be? Perhaps he had gone back to the car to get some evidence bags, so we could do the job properly for once?
Realising that he wasn’t coming back in a hurry and just wanting to be out of the grave, I switched off my torch, fastened it to my belt and started to scramble up the inside of the grave. The earth was wet and slippery and several times I lost my footing and slid back down on top of the coffin again.
“Luke, goddammit,” I cursed under my breath, and started to climb again. As I neared the top, I saw a shadow of what looked like a person flit past the opening above me.
“At last!” I muttered. “About time you came back.” I said, pulling myself from the hole. I was filthy. I had wet mud all over my hands, down the front of my jacket and trousers, and my boots were caked with the stuff. Turning around, expecting to see Luke, I jumped with such a start, that I nearly toppled back into the grave. Standing just a few feet away from me was a teenage girl.
Fumbling for my torch, I yanked it from my belt and shone it at her. Immediately, the girl threw her hands to her face and screeched as if in pain.
“I’m sorry,” I said, wanting to scream myself.
I looked at the girl and I could see that she wore a filthy-looking dress. I guessed that once it had been white; but it was now covered with earth and dirt. Her hair was long and matted in filthy clumps to the side of her ashen face. Her fingernails had earth beneath them and her bare feet and ankles were splashed with mud.
“Are you okay?” I asked her. I know that was a dumb question but I couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“Mummy,” she said. “Where’s my mummy?” and her voice sounded deep and hollow.
Starting to back away, I reached for my radio, wanting to call for Luke.
The girl came towards me, her steps long and slow.
“Kristy?” I said, fumbling for my radio. “You are Kristy, aren’t you?”
“I want my mummy,” she said again. “I’m hungry.” And she sniffed the air and licked her lips with a dry-looking tongue.
“I’ll find your mummy for you,” I told her, leaning my head towards the radio.
Sensing that I was going to call for help, she reached for my radio with one filthy hand, and I could see that her fingers were long – more like claws. Stumbling backwards, I yelled into my radio, “Luke if you’re receiving this, I need backup right now!”
The radio crackled and hissed, and the girl covered her ears and screamed as if the noise was unbearable. Then over the sound of the wind and the rain, I heard a tearing noise. It sounded wet and moist – like flesh being ripped from bone. The girl jerked backwards and her back arched. Rolling her head back on her shoulders, she opened her mouth and screeched as if in agony.
Her whole being seemed to ripple and contort in front of me and I shouted into my radio again.
“Luke! Luke! I need urgent assistance right now!”
Again there was only static.
The girl lowered her head and looked at me. Her eyes glowed like hot coals as if they were on fire. She opened her mouth and her two front incisors were now long and razor-sharp. She came towards me, and for a moment, I seemed unable to move – captivated by her frightening beauty.
All the while she moved towards me, working her way between the gravestones, her hair now bellowing in the wind. The girl rolled her shoulders back as if shrugging and I could hear her bones twisting and stretching beneath her skin. The sound of it shook me from my trance. Focusing on the creature that was approaching me, every survival instinct that I had was screaming at me to run!
Spinning round, I raced as fast as I could away from the girl. My legs felt like jelly, and I willed them not to buckle beneath me and send me crashing to the ground. Weaving my way between the rugged gravestones, white plumes of breath squirted from my nose and mouth and disappeared into the cold, black night. From behind me, I could hear the sound of feet fast approaching. Not being able to help myself, I glanced back over my shoulder to see the girl within reac
hing distance of me. She pounced into the air.
Dropping to the ground, I rolled over onto my back to see the creature go soaring over me. Realising that she had missed, the girl landed and came rushing back. She moved at an incredible speed, her hair bellowing out behind her like a mane. Kristy’s hands looked like talons, and she grabbed for me. Taking a deep breath, I rolled away, her claws snagging at my jacket. Not looking back again, I got to my feet and ran towards the gate in the wall. With my heart feeling as if it were going to burst in my chest, and my arms working like pistons by my sides, I ran for my life.
Reaching the gate, I yanked it open. Sliding over the bonnet of the police car, I pulled open the door and climbed into the driver’s seat. Hitting the automatic lock with my fist, I screamed into my radio one last time.
“Luke! Luke! I need urgent assistance. Please help me!”
Nothing.
Finding the key swinging in the ignition, I turned it and the car rumbled into life. Gripping the steering wheel, I looked ahead to see the girl pouncing out of the night sky straight towards the windscreen. Throwing the car into reverse, I started to back down the narrow lane. But she was too quick. Within an instance, the creature had slammed into the windscreen. Cracks started to appear in the glass and they spread across it like a spider’s web. Punching her long talon-like fingers into the bonnet of the police car, they cut through the metal like it was made of cardboard. Then throwing her head back, she smashed it repeatedly into the already cracked windscreen. It broke, showering me in splinters of glass.
“Get away from me, you bitch!” I screamed at her, throwing the gear stick into drive. The creature shot forward, her head coming through the hole in the glass, her razor-sharp teeth snapping just inches from my face. Foam flew from them and spattered me. Slamming down on the brake, the girl flew backwards off the car and crashed into the stone wall that circled the graveyard. I shot forward too, my face smashing into the steering wheel. My nose started to gush blood and I could feel it hot and sticky as it ran over my lips and off my chin.