Sombre

by S. B. Norton

  “Woman! Have you seen a Nightmarer?” She tried and realized her folly straight away.

  “Hope’s Halliday, are you a simpleton? She’s blind, you dimwit!”

  “Blind as a bat with a head full of rats!” another Other-self rhymed quite skillfully.

  The rat-woman slapped both her hands on the bench. Then she did it again, and again. She stopped and tilted her head to the ceiling. Her voice was a high-pitched squeal, “They’re insatiable! Cheek-eaters! Vile contaminators! But I love them so! They hurt! Hurt me all the time! And I love them! Oh! Ha! Hhhhhhhaaaaaaa!” She de-entangled one of the rats from her infested locks and slammed it down on the bench. “NEXT!” she screamed, and spit sprayed through her teeth.

  Halliday gulped. The woman was awful, and a lost cause. She suddenly felt very sick to her stomach.

  “You mad witch …” she muttered under her breath and backed through the door into the main street of Steigler. The rats had seemed to double in number – it was as if they were all fornicating and birthing grown up rodents with production line speed. Halliday fired more bullets to keep her path clear. Skin crawling, feeling unclean and unwell, she kicked open doors to other hostels and hovels, scanning them quickly for a fresh-looking corpse, then continuing on.

  As if being discovered doing all sorts of mischief, an avalanche of scuttling legs, quivering bodies, and sniveling snouts, cleared a lane. An open door revealed an outside toilet with one occupant on board.

  “There you are! My dear fellow! You are an unexpected sight!” Halliday almost laughed.

  The man sat, fully clothed (thankfully) on the porcelain’s wooden lid. Rats covered every inch of his body. This was her Nightmarer. His body was slumped against the cistern from the sheer weight of vermin on his torso. Three rats filled his mouth, tails flipping from side to side, stout legs cycling as they tried to burrow further down into the man’s throat.

  “My goodness, you are in a state!” Halliday made her way toward the toilet-sitter. “I think you’re actually still breathing! This has been quite the gather! I wonder how much of you will need a mend. Get off him, rats!” She pulled the three from his mouth.

  With an outward exhale and a ‘PUH!’ from his lips, Halliday saw that the man was indeed still breathing.

  “Oh, well done you! Oh! Woops!” He collapsed sideways, suffering an undignified fall from the toilet. Rats scattered from his person and Halliday used her blade to flick the rest away. Kneeling down, she pulled him up by the collar of his shirt and studied his face, eyelids were purple and bruised and shut for business, his mouth bled with tiny scratches from tiny nails.

  “Can you stand? Say yes or no.”

  A rat crept onto her boot and climbed her leg, “Uh! Get out of it, you nasty little pestilent!” She pulled it off, threw it, and jumped to her feet. “Ugh!” She shuddered.

  Deciding the man was either unconscious or dying slowly, she yanked him up and began to drag him from the lane. She called at the top of her voice, sounding almost chirrupy given the circumstances. “Wilder, my nag, you shall have to meet me on the street! I have a dead weight here!”

  Remington tucked under her shoulder she cleared her way, firing round after round at the rats racing at her feet. She dragged her toilet sitting Nightmarer to the middle of the road and let him drop to the cobbles. The poor fellow’s body was still covered in rats, but he was in one piece. Given her tardiness to the scene, that in itself was a small miracle. She watched her mare make her way down from the hilltop and smiled at the haughty, over-exaggerated stomping trot.

  “Sometime this afternoon would be lovely of you, my nag!” She made another mental note of just another thing the machanihorse struggled to cope with – rats.

  Halliday’s eyes glazed as she thought again of that witch, Lucretia. Rarely did she say anything of interest. Ether. She hadn’t forgotten the name. Had she met Ether yet? That was of interest, Halliday was sure of it. Other than the fact that the woman was quite awful, there was a lot she didn’t know about Lucretia. She had always thought it best to keep things superficial with her. Most did it seemed; she was quite sure Lucretia didn’t have any sort of relationship with any of the Gatherers. The woman forced herself upon the drinkers at The Ruptured Spleen. There was an unknown with her, that in truth, no one probably wanted to know about. “Hmm.”

  She refocused on the task at hand as a snorting and steaming Wilder pulled up at her side. Her mare was anxious, to say the least. “Rat’s eh, my Wilder. Evil little gnawer’s, aren’t they?” She patted her nag then holstered her gun. “Calm, girl. We’ll be out of here once I lift toilet-sitting-man onto your back. The rats don’t want to give him up, leechy little blights on the world that they are. Get off him!”

  She skimmed her blade across his back, clearing the last of the vermin. Grabbing the fellow by the shirt collar and pant belt, she heaved her gather past the front of Wilder’s saddle, tucking his body under the horn and gullet, draping him across the machanihorse’s broad neck.

  Completely over rats, Halliday pulled a last runner from her boot leg by the tail and slung it. She mounted Wilder and kicked her mare’s sides. With a grateful sounding whinny, nostrils steaming, the machanihorse stomped hard in the direction of the hill. Halliday adjusted toilet-sitting-man’s body a little.

  “Well, this was sobering to the say the least. I shall need a decent wash and some ointment; I am very itchy and scratched up. Then, sadly for you my nag, we must chase down that dark haired, horse chasing scoundrel, Lucretia.” She added, “You’ll be brave, I know you will.”

  Wilder snorted her distaste at the thought as the two left Steigler and its rats behind.

  CHAPTER 20

  Icy

  Hope woke up itchy. Itchy underneath the skin, if that was at all possible. Especially in her legs around the knees, where the pull straps on Halliday’s boots would have stopped. She tried scratching and regretted it straight away.

  “Ow! Shit!” Applying pressure to the area, she held her breath. The itching was like an inner wound. Lucidly dreamt rat scratches hurt a lot.

  “Well, that sucked …” she reached for her glasses. She sat up and swung her irritated limbs onto the carpet. That could have been her worst Halliday mission to date. Rats. She could still picture them. The need to get to the shower had never been so dire.

  There was a message on her phone from Parker, appallingly worded – ‘not ded. no crash. fuck ay! c-u-at school.’ Hope stared at the phone. It was official, Parker had befriended her, she just couldn’t quite believe it.

  And Sombre was responsible – their friendship a direct by-product of the nightmare world.

  Her legs felt awful. She ran to the shower.

  S

  “They’re all meant to be friends, but they’re all bitches, mom!”

  Kate had been in a talkative mood so far this morning. Hope divided her attention between her sister’s rant and the breakfast team of Stacy and Jack on WZMP - Mayhem in the A.M.

  “Don’t call them that, Kate. Girls don’t need to be calling other girls bitches,” Evelyn Kelley shook her head. “But who exactly? You haven’t told me - who didn’t invite who?”

  “Sky and Astrid, I guess,” Kate sighed and shook her head, “their folks are hiring the bus.”

  “Ah, the twins … oh well,” Evelyn said as she turned into Centurion’s drop off zone. “Well, have you been nasty to them at all, Kate?”

  “No! I’m a good friend! You know that! Too damn good, obviously!”

  Evelyn was rallying to her youngest’s predicament. “Do I have a word to Jessica Woodworth? She’s friends with Mandy Prentice. I could see if there’s a seat left in the bus. Which arena are they going to again? Who are they seeing?”

  “Los Angeles are playing Washington at Staples’. I couldn’t give a damn about basketball, but it’s not the point is it! I mean some of us are swapping schools next year. We’re not all going to this hole!” Kate thumbed in the direction of Centurion High as the Jee
p pulled up at the curb.

  “Mind your mouth there missy, there is nothing wrong with this school, your sister has no complaints,” Evelyn turned in her seat. “Okay, Hope. Oh-” She stopped herself mid-sentence and rolled her eyes. She turned the radio volume down, just as Stacy and Jack burst into laughter at another caller’s not particularly funny story. “Jesus! Couple of dumb-bells, aren’t they? Why do I listen?

  “Sorry, Hope. Your sister has flooded the car with this problem this morning. Have a good day.” She took her sunglasses off, huffed on the lenses and wiped them with a cloth. “Now, by the way, tomorrow after school you have another appointment with Doctor Marin, after hours at the clinic. You’ll be sleeping there.”

  “What?” Hope stopped as she clicked her belt. “You’re kidding me! I’ve had one visit and now I gotta sleep there? God, you could have given me some warning!”

  Her mother shrugged her shoulders and gave her a pitied smile, “This is how it works, apparently… the clinic had a cancellation, and there wasn’t another one for a month, so we fast-tracked. Doctor Marin gets his data this way. Should be interesting.”

  As Hope slid out of her seat and clicked the door open, she threw a verbal jab at her sister. “And you’re worried about missing out on a stupid basketball match! Try sleeping overnight at some creep’s lab so he can watch your brainwaves! Whiner!”

  “Bitch!”

  Hope shut the door hard. Her mother gave her a pleading ‘why?’ look as she drove away. Adjusting her bag strap on her shoulder, then her glasses up on her nose, Hope walked toward the gate. The Halliday rat-itch was still in her knees, but it was fading. That happened in her sleep. How on earth was a monitored night of Sombre going to go down at a sleep clinic? She pictured herself in a white hospital gown, getting up out of bed, pulling cords and sensors along with her while she went on some sort of Frankenstein’s- monster-like sleepwalk, arms flailing and legs kicking as Halliday fought off some beast on her latest mission. It was almost too much to contemplate.

  Another pimple had formed just under her chin, big and blind and as sore as hell. She muttered an expletive as she spotted Parker sitting on a bricked partition, hessian book bag hanging off shoulder, chin up in smiley defiance. She was being ‘talked at’ by Georgia, the leader of the Sparks’. The discussion was a heated one, (well at least from Georgia’s side). Parker looked like she was extremely at ease with it all. Hope kept her head down as she drew parallel with the two and then attempted to pass.

  “Hope!” Parker called out.

  Hope turned and watched uncomfortably as Parker the ex-cheerleader stood and stated calmly to the still-current cheerleader captain, “Georgia. If I wasn’t so happy with myself right now, I would have slapped those fat lips of yours right off your face for that outburst. Take a pill and fuck off will you!”

  With a broken sounding, “Huh!” from Georgia, Parker shook her hair and gave a few over-animated shrugs of her shoulders as she walked off toward Hope. She grinned.

  “You’re shunned, Parker!” Georgia yelled.

  “Yeah, big deal,” Parker called over her shoulder and then addressed Hope with an animated raise of her eyebrows. “I have the hospital Jerry’s at. Visiting hours start after four – you game?”

  Hope, still watching a fuming Georgia stare daggers at them both, hurried to catch up with Parker. A thrill caught in her throat as she answered. “H-How do we get there?”

  “I’ve already texted my brother, Josh. He’s got nothing better to do. He’ll drive us. Make some shit up and text your mum. Josh will drop you home.”

  Hope’s mind raced, “right.”

  The older girl rolled her eyes. “Tell me you have your phone on you Hope. Don’t tell me you’ve left it at home on the charger. Old people do that. My gran does that.”

  “I have it,” she felt the pocket in her bag just to make sure.

  Parker grinned and nodded. “That’s progress.”

  The second bell rang. “I better hurry, I have math first period,” Hope stated.

  “See you at lunch. Text your mom,” with a friendly push in her shoulder, Parker left and headed in the opposite direction.

  Hope pinched her arm just to make sure she was awake.

  It was all real. The course of her life was changing. Veering off into the unknown.

  “Awesome,” she said under her breath as she raced to class.

  S

  “Josh is a total dick about his car, Hope.” Parker said as the two walked toward the main gate at schools end. “He’s 19 and working part time at a shitty pawnbroker in Lamont. He’s up to his neck in debt with it. Best just to sit and not touch anything, I’d rather keep the drive civil.”

  The silver Mustang started up as the two approached. Hope waited for Parker to open the door to the coupe. The two were bombarded with an aural explosion of death metal as they slid into the black leather seats.

  Parker had to yell, “Josh, did you just turn that up as we got in?”

  “Deal with it, Parker. Who’s your friend?”

  Josh Wright turned and removed his sunglasses. Hope gulped. Parker’s brother had a dangerous air about him. Dyed, jet black hair swept over his blue eyes. She noticed the chiseled jaw-line. Like his sister, he was well put together – but he seemed to be fighting against it. Hope tried a smile. The older boy gave her the blankest of looks as he slid his glasses back on.

  “Josh, meet Hope. Hope meet Josh. He thinks he’s tough, but he really isn’t. He sure tries hard though.”

  Hope mouthed a, “Hi.”

  Josh didn’t bite back at his sister, just threw the Mustang in gear and revved the motor hard. They pulled away slowly.

  “He’s at the Mercy, Downtown – second floor, room 315!” Parker announced to both occupants, yelling to get over the rumbling death metal. “Oh, turn this shit down will you! You’re not impressing anyone with it!” she turned in her seat, “Sorry, Hope, this abysmal rubbish is what he listens to 24-7.”

  Josh ignored Parker as he stopped at the intersection, turned right and floored it.

  “What did you tell your mom?” Parker queried.

  “That I’ve been invited over to Tran’s to study for an English exam,” she called back as she began pulling at her fingers with vigor.

  “She a friend?”

  “No.”

  “But she is in your class, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “She cool?”

  Hope swallowed. “No, not particularly.”

  “Should you have used someone else?”

  “There’s no one else to use,” Hope admitted, not overly comfortable with this conversation. (Particularly in front of Parker’s brother who she was sure she saw smirk.) Parker had picked herself up a younger ‘dud’ to hang round with. He would be wondering where his sister’s head was at? He was picking up the stench of Parker’s social suicide. Hope knew the car suddenly stunk of it.

  Parker gave her brother a sideways glance, then turned down the music.

  “Hey! I didn’t say you could do that!”

  “Just a bit. I can’t hear myself think, nerd!” She pulled down the passenger visor and looked at herself in the vanity mirror, then began rubbing a hand over her left cheek. “Friggin zit-fest lately. So’ run down. I did have the best skin in my class.”

  “Mine used to be okay as well,” Hope offered as she felt the car change gear and slow down. A cream-colored building came into view. Indicating, Josh pulled into the Mercy Hospital drop off zone.

  “Don’t go far, Josh. I’ll text you.”

  “You owe me for this, Parker,” he said and ran his hands through his hair as he pulled to the curb.

  “Yeah, whatever. Stay close, we’ll be about twenty,” she cracked open her door.

  Hope did the same. Josh Wright was intense; she was more than happy to be getting out of the sedan.

  Lending well-timed authenticity to the occasion; Hope caught a glimpse of the yellow in Parker’s cheeks as the two stepp
ed out onto the path, the late afternoon shadow-light giving the older girls skin a strange, deathly glow.

  Perfectly tempered air filled her senses as she followed Parker into the entrance of the Mercy. “Straight to the elevators,” Parker said licking her lips, clearly enjoying herself. Hope was her giddy accomplice, two Sombre-affected teenage girls about to visit a beaten Jerry Cowle; like two detectives on the most random of cases: a mystery with next to no semblance in reality. The older girl jabbed the ‘up’ button and they waited.

  “I think I’d better do the talking to begin with. He knows me enough to not be freaked out,” she raised her eyebrows and grinned. “Fuck, Hope! How’s this! You nervous?”

  “Shitting myself, actually,” Hope said grinning. She pushed her glasses up on her nose. The elevator door opened, and they stepped in.

  Parker studied Hope’s face. “You need contact lenses, Hope. You have nice eyes behind those things, the friggin lenses are so thick they look like frosted glass.”

  “Contacts make my eyes itchy.”

  “Get some drops then, make it work somehow. If it was me, I’d be saving those things for home. The whole Millhouse from the Simpson’s thing you have going on there needs a rethink.”

  “That’s not very nice, Parker,” Hope said, a little dismayed by her new friend’s need to take an observational crap on her good mood.

  “Yup. No, it wasn’t. But very true, Hope … I did say you had nice eyes.”

  Parker Wright shot from the hip - something to get used to.

  The elevator stopped at the second floor.

  Parker sucked on her bottom lip. “C’mon, this is us. We don’t have to worry about the front desk. It’s room 315.”

  The two paced through the ward. Hope remembered how much she hated hospitals. She had spent more than her fair share in them when she was younger. Her Great Auntie Elle had suffered through a bout of pneumonia that she ended up dying from. Hope was seven at the time and visiting with her mother, daily. She learnt from a young age that hospitals couldn’t fix everything. Not able to help herself, she peered into every room they passed.