Meadowbank: A dark fantasy thriller (The Shael Chronicles Book 2)

by Jonathan Kent

  Dex, still in bear form, let the lifeless and headless body drop to the ground. With blood, brains and shattered pieces of skull sticking to his fur, he nimbly turned and lumbered off towards the bodies of the sleeping women.

  Elida had turned away at the last second. 'You didn't need to kill him,' she sobbed and pushed him away from her, 'He'd done nothing!'

  'That maybe so,' he said, 'But I don't like loose ends.'

  Dex picked up the women and propped them easily under his giant arms. He waited for Kane to join him and like the oddest couple you had ever seen, the two of them headed off towards the compound. Elida couldn't look at the remains of Peter. Her stomach churned at the smell of blood and brains drifting downwind. Beyond the body the gateway was still open and buzzing. For a split second she thought of stepping through, of getting out of this madness for good.

  But she didn't. She knew if she went she would never be able to get the one thing that could erase the memory of Peter Hatton from her mind; her intoxicating blue blanket. Instead, she forced herself to take one final look at the bloody mess on the ground and simply turned to follow Dex and Kane into the compound.

  Part 4

  The Greyfaer

  1

  'Fuck me!' said Andrew, 'Something has crushed his fucking skull!'

  The four of them stood around the remains, which, had dried and browned on the loose earth just inside the gateway. Andrew was the first to step through and he'd had to be extra careful with his footing so as not to step in the gooey mess.

  'What has the strength to do that?' said Thomas.

  'It doesn't matter,' said Karen, 'I need to report this.'

  Andrew looked at her incredulously. 'Who to? and what you gonna say? After fighting off a giant demon creature we stumbled upon a headless body in a second alien world. An alien world only accessible through a magic doorway! Come on. by the time we've explained all of that and been let out of our straightjackets, whoever has done this will be long gone.'

  'I can't just do nothing,' she said.

  'We're not going to be doing nothing. We're gonna be catching whoever did this!'

  Karen looked to George for support. 'George,' she said, 'We can't just ignore the fact there's been a murder here.'

  George nodded. 'We can't, but pains me as it does to agree with Andrew, we don't have the time to stop and report this. Maybe overlooking one murder for now could avert another two.'

  'Fuck!' she said.

  Thomas was examining the ground surrounding the body. 'Take a look at this,' he said.

  'Don't touch anything, Thomas!' said Karen, 'This is still a crime scene.'

  'I'm not touching anything, but you've gotta see this.'

  He was pointing to a patch of scuffed earth near to Peter's feet. It was clear there had been a lot of recent activity, but one thing stood out; claw prints. Big ones.

  'What the hell is that?' said Andrew.

  George was measuring his own hand against the prints. 'I would say a bear,' he said, 'And a pretty big one at that. But going on what we have already seen today, it could be anything.'

  'Explains the injuries, I suppose,' said Karen, 'No person could have that much power.'

  Thomas was shaking his head. 'Are you telling me that whoever we're chasing has a pet bear? A pet bear that can kill on command?'

  'I didn't say it was a pet,' said Karen, 'But a bear attack would tear you to shreds. This shows control.'

  'It does,' said George, 'Which means it's going to be very dangerous. Whats our ammo count.'

  Karen ruffled through the bag. 'About twenty shells for the revolver, plus the six in the barrel and two clips for the Luger. Oh, and one grenade.'

  George stood gingerly - his back giving a nasty crack as he did - and rubbed at his grey stubble. 'Forty rounds at best. Unless we find some more guns, we haven't got enough for an assault.'

  'What the fuck, George,' said Andrew, 'We're not marching into a war here. We've come to get my wife and Thomas's mother back. Period.'

  George squared on Andrew. 'And you think they're just going to give them up? Look there, that boy is dead. That's not paint there in the dust, that's his brains. It may not mean much to you Andrew, but he was a neighbour and just a boy. I don't know how he got caught up in all of this, but I'm sure as shit he didn't know he was going to end up dead.'

  'Ok George, I'm sorry,' he said, 'But we don't know what we're up against here. We used half our bullets on that thing back there and didn't even dent it. We're not soldiers. You're the only one with a military background and you're touching ninety! I'm just saying if you're looking for a war, we're not the army.'

  'He has a point, George,' said Karen, 'I'm not going to have any more deaths on my watch today. We go in fighting, and people will die.'

  'I agree,' said George, 'Stealth is the preferred option over attack. Besides, I believe we have one thing in our favour.'

  Karen frowned. 'And what would that be?'

  'I still don't think they know we're on their tail.'

  2

  They dragged a dirty blanket from the basement room and covered over what was left of Peter. Karen was keen to protect the crime scene as best she could, but agreed a degree of protection was needed when a bunch of green bulbous headed maggots began feasting on the remains. At George's request, Thomas stashed the leather journals with the guns and ammunition.

  'Are you sure that gate is gonna stay open?' asked Andrew.

  'According to these books it will,' he said.

  'Great. Let's put our faith in eighty year old technology.'

  'You're more than welcome to stay behind,' teased Karen, 'If you don't want to get your hands dirty, that is.'

  'What, and let you get all the credit! Fat chance. What's the plan George?'

  'Logic would say they went in that building. Seems a good place to start.'

  Andrew put an arm around George's shoulders, the animosity from before now gone. 'You're my man with a plan,' he said, 'Let's break some eggs.'

  Karen, bringing up the rear, smiled and stashed the Luger in her belt. The air was humid and what was left of her previous crisp white uniform shirt was tied around her waist. She dreaded to think what her old desk sergeant would make of her now; hair slick with sweat over a dirty sleeveless vest and a loaded gun sticking out of her dusty service trousers.

  He wouldn't think she was a police officer, that's for sure.

  They cut through the compound gate which they could tell had recently been prized open and crossed the concrete no-man's land towards the main building. Up close it was a beast of a structure towering above them to the height of four houses and stretching for a good two hundred metres on either side. There were a pair of foreboding concrete doors slashed with two thick, but faded, yellow lines. It had the feel of an airplane hanger, but none of them expected to find any aeroplanes inside.

  George headed to a small console to the right of the hanger doors and pressed a random selection of buttons on the keypad. He didn't expect there to be life in the panel and wasn't disappointed. There was a small speaker above the keypad with an intercom switch that too was lifeless.

  He scratched his head and looked back to the others watching on with anticipation. 'It's dead,' he said, 'I don't see how...'

  A burst of static from the speaker made them all jump. There was a metallic coughing sound and then a voice with a soft American accent came through the tannoy. 'WELL I AM PRIVILEGED.' it said, 'IT'S BEEN NEARLY 800 YEARS SINCE I LAST SAW A LIVING SOUL AND I GET TWO GROUPS THROUGH ON THE SAME DAY!'

  They were all taken aback by this strange robotic voice and it was Karen that reacted first. 'Hello,' she said, 'Who is this.'

  'HOW RUDE OF ME,' said the voice, 'MY NAME IS CHARLES AND I SHALL BE YOUR GUIDE FOR THE TOUR.'

  'Tour? What tour?'

  'WHY, THE TOUR OF THE FACILITY OF COURSE. IS THAT NOT WHY YOU ARE HERE?'

  Karen turned to the others for help, Andrew was nodding for her to continue. 'Yes, we are here
for the...tour, we are just new to the area and weren't sure what to do. We've heard such good things about the facility.'

  This time, when the voice came back, it was full of boyish pride. 'WELL, HERE AT THE SECTOR 72 RESEARCH FACILITY WE DO PRIDE OURSELVES WITH RUNNING A TIGHT SHIP.'

  'You seem to be doing a standup job,' she said, playing on the things ego, 'Did the other group take the tour.'

  There was a short pause and when the voice came back it was much more formal. 'INITIALLY YES. BUT THEY HAVE STRAYED BEYOND THE STANDARD TOUR PERIMETERS.'

  'Oh, that's a shame. We were supposed to meet up with them.'

  'SADLY I CAN NO LONGER DETECT THEM ON MY SENSORS. WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO MAKE AN ANNOUNCEMENT?'

  'No!' said Karen, with more than a touch of panic, 'That won't be necessary. It was only on the off chance. It's the tour we are mainly interested in. Do we need security clearance.'

  There was a series of clicks followed by a long pause. 'NO,' the voice finally said, 'SECURITY CLEARANCE IS NOT REQUIRED FOR A LEVEL 1 VISITORS TOUR. PLEASE MAKE YOUR WAY TO THE MAIN ENTRANCE AND ENJOY YOUR TOUR OF THE SHAEL RESEARCH FACILITY. WHERE DREAMS BECAME REALITY.'

  The voice clicked off and the giant double doors opened with a low groan. The left one appeared to be stuck in its runner, but they had just enough room to squeeze through. The space behind was vast, stretching off far into the gloom beyond. The area where they stood was illuminated with flickering strip lights, but the rest of the cavernous hangar was in darkness, making it difficult to judge its exact size.

  To their right was a grand reception area which, at one time, would have been where visitors were initially greeted. It reminded Andrew of a plush hotel reception, something you would see in the Savoy or a city centre Hilton. Only this one had clearly seen better days. The marble counter was covered in inches of dust and the leather upholstered receptionist chairs were rotted down to their metal frames. The area was also illuminated, but less successfully than the entrance. The ornate hanging chandeliers having given up the ghost years before.

  The only thing that did seem to be working was a large computer monitor mounted facing outwards on the reception desk. They made their way towards it and could make out a message blinking on the screen. It read: WELCOME GUEST.

  Below this was another message scrolling across the screen in a much smaller font: FOR IDENTIFICATION PURPOSES, ALL GUESTS ARE REQUIRED TO SIGN IN INDIVIDUALLY ON THE TOUCHSCREEN PROVIDED. PLEASE PLACE THE PALM OF YOUR HAND ON THE SCREEN TO CONTINUE.

  The screen was smeared as if someone had recently attempted to clean it, but still had a good deal of dust. Karen stepped forward and held up her hand. 'What do you think?' she said.

  'I don't like this,' said Thomas, 'It all feels too nice.'

  'I agree,' said George, 'But for now I don't see we have any other options. We try and search this place on our own and it'll take days. At least this way we might get the lay of the land.'

  'Have they clocked us?' said Andrew.

  'Possibly. Which means without the element of surprise we are going to have to improvise.'

  Karen was still waiting, palm up. 'Shall I.'

  George nodded.

  She placed her hand flat on the screen, but for a few seconds, nothing happened. There was then a pleasant chiming sound and the screen flashed green. 'WELCOME KAREN FROM SECTOR 19...ENGLAND!' echoed the robot Charles voice.

  Thomas stepped up next and there was the same pause, followed by: 'WELCOME THOMAS FROM SECTOR 19...ENGLAND!'

  George followed with the same response and then Andrew: 'WELCOME ANDREW FROM SECTOR 19...CANADA!'

  He smiled. 'Interesting,' he said, 'My parents moved to England when I was two. How would this machine know that?'

  Before anyone could answer, a door slid open to the right of the reception area, followed by Charles' echoing voice. 'IT IS MOST UNUSUAL TO HAVE SO MANY SECTOR 19 VISITORS IN ONE DAY. MOST UNUSUAL INDEED.'

  Thomas raised his hand.

  'MASTER THOMAS,' said Charles, 'THERE IS NO NEED TO RAISE ONES HAND. VOICE RECOGNITION IS SUFFICIENT SHOULD YOU HAVE ANY QUESTIONS.'

  'Ok, sorry,' he said, 'It was about Sector 19. Do you mean Earth?'

  'WHY YES. ALL REALMS CREATED IN SHAEL ARE ALLOCATED SECTOR NUMBERS. SECTOR 19 WOULD HAVE BEEN ONE OF OUR EARLIER CREATIONS. WE ARE VERY PRIVILEGED TO HAVE SO MANY VISITORS FROM SUCH AN EARLIER TIME. NOW PLEASE TAKE THE CORRIDOR TO THE RIGHT. YOUR TRANSPORT IS WAITING.'

  Much like the reception area, half the lights along the corridor weren't working. Of the ones that were, the majority flickered, creating an eerie sensation as they moved along its length. The walls were decorated with enlarged photographs, the majority of which showed groups of people in white lab coats posing in front of various pieces of equipment. If it wasn't for the weird looking objects they were stood in front, they could quite easily have passed as a bunch of NASA scientists.

  At the end of the corridor was a set of sliding doors that pinged and opened as they approached. They stepped through into a luxurious room that reminded Andrew of the first class departure lounge at Heathrow. There was a marble topped bar with assorted bottles, sat in front of a smeared full length mirror.

  Charles' voice crackled through the overhead speakers. 'IF YOU WOULD LIKE A REFRESHMENT BEFORE THE TOUR COMMENCES, PLEASE PLACE YOUR ORDER AT THE BAR. WE HAVE A LARGE ARRAY OF BEVERAGES FROM NUMEROUS DIFFERENT REALMS INCLUDING A VERY RARE ONE THOUSAND YEAR OLD SECTOR 5 COGNAC. YOUR TRANSPORT WILL BE ALONG MOMENTARILY. IN THE MEANTIME, PLEASE MAKE YOURSELF COMFORTABLE.'

  The voice clicked off leaving them in silence. Andrew was at the bar checking out the rows of bottles. The labels were faded and clouded with dust, making it hard to make out anything recognizable. As he was leaning over a small silver screen slid out of the marble topped serving surface.

  'CAN I GET YOU A DRINK, SIR?' this time it wasn't Charles. This was a seductive female voice.

  'Yeah, I'll have a whiskey. With ice.'

  'CERTAINLY SIR, DO YOU HAVE A SECTOR PREFERENCE.'

  'No, just good old sector 19 will be fine.'

  There was a brief whirring beneath the countertop and a second panel opened. From it, a glass rose containing a disgusting brown sludge.

  'That's perfect,' said Andrew, 'Thanks very much.'

  'NOT A PROBLEM SIR, WILL THERE BE ANYTHING ELSE?'

  'No, this is fine.' He turned to the others and held up his glass, 'Bottoms up.'

  'Think I'll skip it myself,' said Karen.

  'How are these machines still running?' said Thomas, 'Everything else is rotting away.'

  'It's not all that bad,' said Andrew, 'They're well stocked in the booze department!'

  'Funny.'

  'It's a good point though,' said Karen. 'How come all the computers seem to be running fine. If that Charles is right, this place is over one thousand years old. Shouldn't everything have rotted away by now.'

  George was at the far end of the room beside a set of glass double doors. It was hard to make out what lay beyond, as it was shrouded in darkness. 'I don't know how they are still running,' he said, 'But I think I know why.'

  Andrew set the sludge down. 'And why is that?'

  'Isn't it obvious? They're trying to slow us down. Whatever it is they're trying to do, they weren't expecting to have visitors. Us being here has put a real spanner in their works.'

  'But what good is it if we don't know where they are?'

  'I'm not sure. But all the time the four of us are together, we're playing into their hands.'

  Andrew was shaking his head. 'George, you're not seriously saying we should split up? Where are we gonna go? You said we should get the lay of the land.'

  'I also said we should improvise. By sticking together and going where we're told, they've got us exactly where they want us. As you say, it's time to break some eggs.'

  Andrew was having none of it. 'Let me just say right now that this is the worst fucking idea I've heard all day and believe me, we've had some whoppers. Karen, back me up he
re, we have to stick together.'

  'This is going against my better instincts,' she said, 'But he may actually have a point.'

  'Are you out of your fucking mind?'

  'Possibly,' she said, 'But think about it. Since we've been here, we've been on the back foot. Whoever they are, they're calling the shots. This "tour" or whatever it is, is just another way to keep us looking in a different direction. Much as I don't like it, George is right.'

  Andrew looked at George. 'I take it you have a plan then?'

  George gave a playful wink. 'Don't I always?'

  'I still think it's a shitty idea, but spill.'

  'Alright. Firstly, we don't know how big this place is. I suggest two of us stay on this level. There must be an admin office, or supervisor's office, or something. We need to know what we're up against here. Look for a map or a schematic of the building. Get us on the front foot.'

  'Ok,' said Andrew, 'That's not a bad call. But what about the other team?'

  'You and Karen are going to take this "tour". You're going to go along with their games. Find out what you can, ask lots of questions.'

  'You mean act the stooges, play nice.'

  'Exactly. Take the tour. Act like a sightseer. Give Thomas and myself time to have a snoop around.'

  Karen was frowning. 'I like the plan, but how are you two going to get out of this tour without raising suspicion.'

  George smiled and pointed at Thomas. 'Because our young friend here is starting to feel most unwell.'

  'Will that work?' asked Andrew.

  George nodded. 'Should do. Long enough for us to break a couple dozen eggs, anyway.’

  3

  They were still huddled together at the bar when the lights beyond the sliding doors flickered on. The doors squeaked open revealing a compact looking four seater open carriage that appeared to run on a single rail. The carriage looked in better shape than either the bar or reception area and going by the lack of dust on the metal framework, Andrew presumed they had been kept preserved in some sort of storage facility.