Sombre

  “This is it. Wow, he’s got a private one,” Parker announced in a gruff whisper, “you ready?”

  Hope just nodded as she fell in behind her friend. It wasn’t her intention to hide behind Parker – but it was only now that she realized how awkward this was going to be – they really had no right being here at all.

  “Shhh - shit!”” Parker exclaimed stopping just inside the doorway. She held Hope back with both arms. “Who in the hell-?”

  Hope peered in over Parker’s shoulder.

  Jerry was asleep, his hand resting on a mini iPad.

  He had a visitor.

  The man was sickly gaunt under his black raincoat. His long, thinning dark hair barely covered his scalp. Hope couldn’t tell if his hair was wet or just greasy. Beneath the strands, an over-elongated neck was sickly white. Back turned, with long fingered hands clasped behind his back, he stood over Jerry at his bedside, leering, as if daring him to rouse.

  “It couldn’t be …” Hope croaked.

  He had been partially obscured by trees at the party, but she knew this was the same creep who had been watching her.

  The chill in the room was crypt-like. A replica of the other morning in her bedroom. The same chill Halliday had felt at the foot of The Unexplained Mountain.

  “Are you going to go in? He’s due to wake up soon.”

  Both girls startled, as a young nurse entered the room. Heading straight to the clipboard at the end of the bed, she studied the monitors and began penning notes.

  Hope could see that the nurse was completely oblivious to the other presence in the room.

  Satisfied with Jerry’s readings, she turned and walked back toward a wide-eyed Parker and Hope, giving them both a gentle, tired smile. “You know, he’ll be fine. A beating like the one he had will take some time to recover from. He’s had some internal bleeding that caused us some concern … are you friends from school?”

  “Y-Yes,” Parker said. It was a miracle she could say anything at all, as only feet from the nurse’s shoulder, the man in the raincoat stood watching both of them, mouth set in a knowing smirk. In stark contrast to his sickly pale face, his eyes were an unreal luminescent black. Arms rigid at his sides, his almost powder white hands were turned outward, as if imploring both girls to come closer.

  The nurse continued on, “We have Jerry on calmatives, those things make you sleepy.” She gestured to two chairs at the wall. “You can sit and wait if you want.”

  With a curious, but friendly smile, she left.

  The two girls were left staring at the stranger.

  “Fuck! What do we do? He’s a ghost, isn’t he? That nurse couldn’t see him,” Parker hugged her arms, “It’s so friggin cold in here! She couldn’t feel that either! Do we go in?”

  Hope couldn’t peel her eyes away. “No! We’re not going any further. He’s dangerous, Parker!”

  “Do you know this freak? Who is he?”

  “Uh!” Hope gasped as searing pain shot from her left temple and coursed across her forehead. “I think … oh god, what’s going on … I think I’m going to collapse!” She took hold of the older girl’s arm to steady as her legs folded beneath her. Her eyes glazed. It was the party all over again.

  Parker braced her fall, “Shit! No, you’re not! I won’t fucking carry you out of here, Hope!” She shook Hope by the shoulders. “Sorry, but this has to be …”

  Parker slapped her face hard, dislodging her glasses from her nose.

  Hope’s vision was filled with stars, but the slap had done the trick, broken through the pain.

  Parker pulled her by the arm toward the door as the strangers mouth widened; he produced a thin tongue. A guttural murmur rose from deep down in his throat; he sniffed up a snot-full, coughed and laughed as ticking filled the room, filled everywhere.

  Hope felt like she was being punched continually in the chest – it was her heart – she could actually feel it; its size, its weight.

  She gasped, “Can you feel that, Parker?”

  “What? Like I’m about to have a heart attack? Yeah - I can!” the older girl cried.

  Hope’s hand went to her breast, an attempt to cushion her precious organ, as it pounded along with the ticking.

  The ghoul moved closer, mesmerizing them both. Black eyes shining wet, he snorted excitedly, as his focus went directly to Hope. He spoke in a whisper, his tone full of gravel. “Oh, how she’s known! What an intricate path she is to walk. How she impedes upon the spaces as she lives her burden. A burden to all!”

  Hope felt his chill pinching her spine, pulling on her nerves. Was this what Halliday had felt?

  Losing control, she fell forward. The pain in her head was back. “No!”

  “Oh, fuck this!” the ghoul’s spell had broken on Parker, she burst into action. “Good luck Jerry! Come on!”

  She dragged a shivering, convulsing, Hope out of the room.

  S

  Parker and Hope sat in the back seat of the Mustang in silence. Parker had offered a still-shaking Hope a comforting arm. She held Hope’s surprisingly weighty glasses in her right hand, figuring they would just get in the way as she recovered.

  Both had hardly uttered a word. Sensing the mood, Josh’s non-stop death metal attack was at an acceptable volume. In contrast to the onset of their journey, the muscle car’s motor could now be heard and not just felt.

  Hope had finally stopped shivering. Retrieving her arm, Parker sat up. Rubbing her hands up and down her jeans she called out to brother,

  “We’ll need fifteen, Josh. Pull over.”

  “Why?”

  “Hope and I need to talk.”

  “So, talk - no one’s stopping you.”

  “We need privacy, dick!”

  “This favor’s almost out of gas, Parker! I’ve got things to do you know! Jesus!” he slowed down and pulled the car into a curb. “Ten minutes, I’ll be timing it!”

  “Yeah, whatever,” Parker pushed open her door. “Come on Hope.”

  Hope looked up at Josh’s rear-view mirror as she slid along the back seat - he was watching her. Hope Kelley was turning out to be a real pain in Josh Wright’s ass.

  She met Parker sitting with her legs crossed on the warm, dry patch of nature strip. It was summer, and there was as much dirt as there was grass. She glanced around at Channel Drive. They were a few streets away from her house. Some kids were having a noisy game of Nerf guns, while their mothers spoke in the driveway. She found the sight soothing.

  “Quick, sit down, Hope,” Parker said ripping up some yellowed lawn with her fingers. She spoke hurriedly, “What are we going to do. All of this has just gone up a gear. Who in the hell was that? What was with the ticking?”

  Hope sat and shut her eyes; she was still lightheaded. She pictured the creep’s smiling face, the black eyes. The long neck. She shuddered. She could still feel how his chill pulled at her nerve-endings.

  “Halliday hadn’t been able to see him. She could only hear and feel him,” she said. She stared straight at Parker, “He was the stranger from the party who followed me into the trees … he’s from Sombre. I - I can’t believe it.”

  Parker nodded and grinned. “Why can’t you believe it? I can! We went there to see something. We saw the show. Of course, I didn’t think we were going to run into that freak … shit! What a rush!”

  Hope nodded. “He has to be the one who attacked Jerry. So, Jerry has seen him. We have. Halliday hasn’t yet …” She paused as a flashback from her previous night in Sombre flooded her thoughts. “Lucretia has though! She asked Halliday if she had ran into Ether. Ether! That was the freaks name. It has to be him! I wonder what it all means?”

  “What do you mean what it all means? It means that our freaky dream world is crashing our reality, Hope! That creep has broken through!” Parker stopped and gave her a curious look, “Hang on, back up a bit. Who’s Lucretia? You just dumped a random in there.”

  “Another Gatherer – sort of Halliday’s nemesis. A nasty piece of w
ork. Rides a motorbike, has black hair and black lips, she wears a black leather jacket, says ‘Death-Witch’ on the back.”

  “God, I’m so jealous your character is a Gatherer. Stupid Em can hardly string a sentence together,” she threw grass at Hope. “You suck.”

  “Ether is dangerous, Parker. You heard what the nurse said. Jerry had internal bleeding! It’s taking him days to recover. What if he comes after us? He’s already followed me! Why was he in Jerry’s room? It was like he was waiting for us! He said something as well. Can you remember what it was?”

  “No. The lunatic was rambling, we were trying to leave,” Parker said. “Hm … actually, you’re right about one thing. He didn’t seem surprised to see us.”

  Josh hit the horn.

  “Yeah, okay!” she shook her hand at her brother and held up two fingers for two more minutes. She turned to Hope. “Call me tonight about this. I think we should talk before we hit the hay. Let’s keep right up in each other’s business now. We need to stick together as much as we can when we’re awake.”

  “What am I going to do tomorrow night?”

  “What do you mean, friend?” Parker said as she got to her feet. Josh hit the horn again. “C’mon,” she pulled Hope up by the hand. “We don’t want him to drive off on us.”

  They both walked to the car.

  “I forgot to tell you,” Hope continued. “My mother has me going to a sleep clinic. I’m going to be monitored as I sleep.”

  Parker laughed, “Oh shit, that ought to be fun! Couldn’t you get out of it? What’s going to happen do you think?”

  “No, I can’t. And who knows? I’m not looking forward to it. The doctor guy is pretty lechery as well.”

  “But you’ll go to Sombre, won’t you? How’s that going to work?”

  Hope waited as Parker cracked the shiny passenger door to the Mustang, she answered her without a single trace of humour. “It might be quite a show.”

  CHAPTER 21

  Impossibilities

  “If we see him, I suppose we’ll just have to run.”

  Hope said yawning, she craned her neck to look at the clock. It was after ten. She had been laying on her bed and talking with Parker on the phone for just over an hour.

  “As chickenshit an idea as that is, Hope, I think you’re right.” At the other end of the line Parker also yawned. “Gee, I’m beat. Anyway, it’s not like we can go to the police – no one can see him,” she wound things up,

  “So, what do we have so far: we’re fairly sure he’s this Ether fucker. He’s beaten up Jerry Cowle to within an inch of his life, for reasons we’re not sure of. He’s like some sort of dream ghost? We have no clue why he’s here. We’re just waiting for that Gatherer, Louella-what’s-her-name, to feed Halliday some information in Sombre once she chases her down.”

  “Lucretia,” Hope corrected the older girl.

  “Yeah right, much better than Louella. Louella makes her sound like someone’s overweight aunty – Aunty Louella! Ha!”

  Hope giggled. “I couldn’t see Aunty Louella riding round on Lucretia’s motor bike!”

  “We still need to talk to Jerry, though,” Parker said. “See what he knows about this freak. There has to be a reason he’s been targeted. For all we know, Jerry could be someone in Sombre as well. He’s got that same nasty yellow in his face like we do.”

  “Maybe,” Hope said unconvinced. Parker had come to her through Halliday. Hope’s Halliday had some almighty purpose with Parker’s, Colonel Em Contusion. Hamish the Mender had said so. Halliday had nothing to do with Jerry as far as she could tell.

  The line went quiet at the other end for a moment before Parker yawned and said, “Hope. You know you can end this phone call if you like. I mean, I’m tired, you’re tired – I won’t be hurt if you want to go. I shouldn’t be the one to always have to end the phone call. It’s all a bit nasty of you, really.” Parker yawned again. “Do you hear how tired I am.”

  “Oh. Okay, sorry,” Hope said not knowing if she had really pissed the older girl off or if she was joking.

  “It’s alright. You’re not well versed in phone call etiquette. We can’t text all this stuff – we have to talk it out. You’re like a new teen-alien, learning the ways of our strange society,” she huffed, “You need to be able to say, ‘Parker, I’m tired, see ya,’ or ‘well, I’m bored with your boring shit – later.”

  Hope giggled, “well I’m not going to say that last one, am I?”

  “Why? I’m your friend. I won’t get offended. I might bore you occasionally, it happens – as sparkling as my personality is.”

  “Good night, Parker. Sleep well,” Hope said.

  “Oh, you’re hanging up on me now?”

  “I am,” Hope said grinning.

  “Good. Later.”

  S

  Hope drifted then fell heavily into sleep, wraithlike hands came searching for her subconscious, dragging her back into her rite of passage, into the nightmare world …

  Her butchered body, in bits under her bloody bridesmaid dress, slopped around on the wooden door as the wedding-turned-funeral procession walked her corpse through cemetery gates. Her sister having found a way up onto the door, rode with her, she was checking her phone, scrolling through some social media.

  The relatively clear afternoon disappeared as an unreal mist came over the grounds – a particularly fake looking mist, as if pumped in by dry ice machines for special effect. Her mothers head appeared at the edge of the door, she smiled evilly at Hope’s corpse, her eyeshadow ran ghoulishly, bringing out her impossibly bloodshot eyes.

  “Gonna drop you off now, Hope. There’s a hole ready for you, you wretch! Ha!”

  A single gull landed on Hope’s corpse and began to peck at her carcass with its beak. Her dead nightmaring soul cried out at the indignity of her ending, the unfairness of it all. What had she done? More gulls flew down and landed on the sliding mess that was her body, joining in the blood feast. Her sister didn’t seem to notice.

  The procession continued along the winding gravel path, past rows and rows of cement headstones; the bride and groom, and twenty or thirty soiled and bloodied guests, walking in slow motion, (in her Great Uncle Eustis’s case, scootering) all wanting to see her soon to be bird-defiled, corpse gone.

  S

  Halliday Knight had never had to seek out Lucretia St Aimes – never. The very thought of it left an acidic taste in her mouth. After dropping ‘toilet-sitting-man’ off at The Menders, her time was now her own. Well, at least it was, until Sombre gave her a next mission, or the quite hopeless, Colonel Em Contusion, decided to crash another plane. Aboard a galloping Wilder she travelled through The Byway and watched and listened to Sombre’s movements. The Byway at this speed was pure distortion; comically unreal and horrifying at the same time. Endless forms of towns and their citizens came and went, terrible and disturbing to the eyes. A discordance of shouting voices screamed in anguish, thrill and pain, murderous rage and wild laughter. One could hear distant missiles and tea-kettle-like whistling, bombs and explosions and a variety of roaring motors.

  Halliday listened for just one motor; an obvious twin exhaust that she thought she knew quite well. And if she didn’t, her mare certainly did.

  “There is something wrong in Sombre, my faithful steaming nag. Crooked! Damned well bean shaped! Mark my words!” Wilder pumped wet vapor up and into Halliday’s face as she whinnied her disapproval of this venture.

  Her rider wiped her forehead and laughed hard. “Oh, snort at me if you want, you stroppy cow, but this will be for the greater good! Just listen out for that abominable contraption of hers.”

  “Halt, Wilder!” A rumbling motor caused them both to slow until they heard the air horn. “Speed Truck! No! Move on!” Halliday yelled licking her lips, deeply invested in this new challenge. The endless thoroughfare that was The Byway went on and on. Time passed. With a high-pitched whinny, Wilder skidded to a stop.

  Halliday kicked her mare’s sides in th
e stirrups. “Yah! Ha-ha! That would be her! Well done, my nag!” Machanihorse and rider charged through the entry into the town where Lucretia St Aimes had been summoned.

  S

  It was the edge of the night. They stopped on a road of loose asphalt. The skies cracked and flashed with heavy gunfire - lots of it.

  “Where are we Wilder?” Halliday said genuinely confused. “And how on earth did you hear Lucretia’s bike through all of this?

  “She’s gone and chased that witch into Battallion,” said an Other-self, “bad move.”

  “If to get yourself shot to pieces was your aim, this is where you would go!” said another with a huff. “But Hope’s Halliday is a bit of a simpleton. We have established this, and she just keeps proving us right.”

  The current Halliday shrugged and pulled her Remington, she gave Wilder a squeeze with her legs and spoke under her breath to her mare, “C’mon let’s go find her.”

  Halliday was intruding, she knew it, this wasn’t her mission. What she was doing now would be frowned upon, but she didn’t care. Deep in her core she knew this was right. This Ether, had to be found. If she had to break a few of Sombre’s unwritten laws, so be it. Another burden to add to her growing list, she would have to wear it like a badge of honour. Things were changing. Hamish had told her this again and again.

  As if a light had switched on inside her, finally, she now believed it.

  Battallion had a depressing air about it. A World War II situation; its creator had a very elaborate nightmare indeed. He or she had dreamt up a coastal war scene, a war-torn city as well. Ocean spread out to Halliday’s left; three Higgin’s boats were ashore; two massive aircraft carriers were anchored in the distance. Faceless houses and equally faceless, multiple storied buildings, were spread out around the inland in clumps of uniformed rows, as if taken from a World War II edition of Monopoly. A central city was the target of heavy attack. Flash-fire and bombing throughout the streets lit up the bomb-bitten buildings.