The Tide of Terror

by Stuart G. Yates

  Closing the door to the pen, Jenny saw that the wing was almost whole again. This was an astonishing discovery. It was almost as if the creature had regenerated itself, almost before her eyes. But that couldn't be the case, not so quickly…

  She locked the surgery door and crossed the courtyard towards her flat. Scruffy would be there, waiting for her, as patient as could be. It was a thought which brought a smile to her face. She needed a friend, someone to share the long hours of the evening with. Something wasn't right and none of it made any sense.

  Chapter Ten

  Woken by the scraping at the door, Jenny yawned, stretched and dragged herself out of her bed. It was Scruffy. The little dog was frantic and Jenny assumed that it was a call of nature that had caused such desperate scrambling. She pulled open the door and Scruffy ran out, barking madly. Still rubbing her eyes, Jenny picked up her dressing gown and held it close. It was early, far too early, and the air was cold and sharp. She glanced at her watch. It was almost quarter past four. She couldn't believe it. As she looked out into the early morning gloom, she could see Scruffy running around, darting into corners, pawing at the surgery door, then going absolutely crazy at something she had caught a glimpse of. Jenny stepped out into the yard and saw, for the first time, the massive shape that dominated the far corner and that had set Scruffy off. She froze.

  The shape moved, stepping out from the blackness of the corner. It was enormous, bulging, heavily muscled legs supported a lithe, sinuous body covered in overlapping scales, almost like plates. It had wings, short arms, tipped with lance-like claws, and a massive head on top of a long and thick neck. Its eyes, gleaming in the dark, pierced her very soul, reading her innermost thoughts. She felt at once abused and awe-struck. How could such a creature have such power? It was beyond understanding. This was not a creature of this world.

  It chomped its jaws together a few times, making a sound like a hammer on wood. It seemed to be sampling the air, deliberating over what it had discovered about the veterinary nurse. Unable to move, gripped by a fear she had never known, Jenny stood as if transfixed. Scruffy, still barking, was not prepared to approach any closer to the creature. Instead, the little dog retreated, curled itself around Jenny's feet, and set up a continuous growl, like a buzz-saw.

  From somewhere distant, unseen and unlooked for, a voice came into Jenny's head. It was a strangely, lilting voice, almost like that of someone singing, an alto-tenor perhaps, but very soft, very gentle.

  “Do not fear me. I have come to give you our thanks. You have helped us, and we shall not forget your kindness.

  “I can tell you are confused and have many questions. It is not in our nature to seek out sentient life- forms from other worlds. We travel, visit, study, then we move on. It is our hope that by studying others we can reach a greater understanding of life and its meaning.

  “But we came to this world, not by design, but by accident. Our craft is submerged and we toil daily to repair it, but it is proving difficult. The depth of the water, the strength of the currents, they prevent us from working quickly. So, we are forced to live and forage here, on this island. It was not our intention to harm, but circumstance has been against us and now there are those amongst you who would cause us injury. We need you to help us prevent any more unnecessary conflict.

  “We will await your answer.”

  Jenny shook her head and came out of the trance-like state that had come over her. As her mind cleared, the voice disappeared. Suddenly, the creature before her seemed to grow even larger for a moment as its wings stretched out from its sides. Then, in the blink of an eye, it jumped upwards and was gone, with no sound, shooting into the grey, cloudless sky like a missile.

  The courtyard became silent. Even Scruffy had stopped growling. Jenny, still shaken by what had occurred, had a sudden, urgent thought. She sprang towards the surgery door, yanked it open and flicked on the light.

  It was still there, the creature. But it was now whole, completely recovered, and it was watching her, its head titled to one side, its mouth slightly open in what looked suspiciously like a smile.

  Any attempt at further sleep was futile. Her mind was buzzing with the words that the creature had put into her subconscious. At least, she believed it was the creature. There was no one - or anything else - that could possibly have done it. But this thought only caused her more concern. If the creature had the power of telepathy then it was a formidable being indeed. And, if what it had said was true, that its 'craft' had crash-landed in the sea, then its intelligence and understanding of technology was far superior to anything that had been developed on earth. Yet, it was obviously benevolent. It did not mean any harm, but circumstances had contrived to force it to…to what? Defend itself? And how would it do that? Any creature, or being that had the intellect to build a space-craft must also have the ability to create weapons of awesome power.

  She ran her hands through her tangled mess of hair and blew out a sigh. It was madness, the whole thing. And she was in the middle of it, trapped like a rabbit in the head-lights. She didn't know what to do, which direction to turn, or who to even ask for help.

  Then a thought struck her, and she felt a tiny flicker of hope. There was a person, a person who had some understanding of all of this. Someone who would not dismiss her as some sort of freak or suffering from delusion. Mark Burridge. He'd helped her before, with the hedgehogs, surely he would be able to offer some advice, some grain of an idea that would help sort all of this mess out. She reached for her mobile and punched in his number.

  Afterwards, having spoken to Mark and listened to what he had to say, she felt strangely deflated. He seemed to be more interested in the tunnels than he was about the creature. The only good thing was that he believed her. Without question. That had cheered her a little. But his insistence that she go back, follow the tunnels to their end…That unsettled her. She had agreed that she would, and that she would also contact him as soon as she had completed her investigation. But what it all meant, and why he was so anxious she had no idea.

  She took Scruffy for a walk later that morning. Letting the little dog off the leash, Jenny watched as she went bounding off down the shoreline, barking at the waves, full of life, happy to be free of the confines of the Burkes' compound. Thoughts of the Burkes darkened her mood still further and she decided to make her way back to the rescue centre. As she turned to go she saw the shape coming low over the rise. Everything became very still, even the crashing of the waves seemed to quieten down. Jenny tensed, crouching, making herself small, hoping that the creature hadn't seen her. But then Scruffy began to bark, its whole body leaving the ground as she put all of her strength into her protests. Jenny cursed because she had seen what the response was – the creature banked and swooped low towards the curving beach, as if guided by radar. For all Jenny knew, it was. Too late she slipped behind a large boulder. But the creature continued to circle, a vulture locating its prey, then it landed not two metres from where Jenny sat.

  Chapter Eleven

  There was a slight breeze, not caused by the weather, but by the creature. It was a silent breeze, created as it floated there, suspended as if by a hundred invisible strings. Gradually it came down, settling gently upon the sand, its great head surveying the surroundings, searching. Scruffy, terrified, was whimpering and the little dog scurried up to Jenny in a desperate attempt to bury itself between the girl's legs. It was all the creature needed and, without hesitation, it took a few strides towards the outcrop behind which Jenny was hiding.

  She looked up. This close, the creature was truly huge. If she had wanted to, she could have reached out and touched it. But fear was now her master and she could hardly breathe, let alone move.

  The creature studied her, just like before. If anything, this time its eyes were even more piercing and the seconds stretched out forever whilst it stood and peered towards her. The only sound Jenny could hear was the beat of her own heart, a steam hammer thumping against her chest. What was
it doing, what did it want?

  As if in reply, the creature flexed its wings, tensed its massive legs, and then launched itself up into the air.

  “Follow!”

  The voice was loud, very distinct. It was so forceful that it shattered any indecision within her and she found herself running, keeping pace with the creature, moving up the hillside path that would eventually take her towards the airport, and then the cliffs.

  Scruffy bounded alongside her, the little dog's legs a blur. This was a great game, it must have been thinking. But Jenny was thinking about how much further she could keep up the frantic pace that she had set herself. She wasn't unfit, plenty of tennis saw to that, but she was no long-distance runner. If the creature's idea was to lead her back to the cliffs, and possibly the tunnel, then it was going to be too far for her to make without a break. Already her breathing was laboured; as she cleared the hill and entered more level ground there was lead in her legs, and a pain from a stitch in her side was beginning to develop. For a few more metres, she could ignore it. Wasn't that what her old P.E. teacher used to say? Work through the pain! She tried, but it wasn't working. She gripped where it burned, squeezing her side, forcing herself on, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. She would have to slow down, just continue at a jogging pace. The creature was high above her, occasionally backtracking, circling in the sky, checking that Jenny was keeping up and then, satisfied, it would move on again. It was relentless.

  Just as she thought she couldn't go on, there was a change. The creature stopped, hovering there, watching. Jenny slowed to a walk, still moving, but grateful for the respite. Her breathing was coming in great gulps. She needed a drink, a sit-down for five minutes. It was the hill that had done it, taken all her energy away, mopping it up like a sponge. There wasn't much left and she stopped.

  The creature floated down and stood before her as she ground to a halt, bent double, mouth wide open, shaking her head. “I'm sorry,” she gasped. “I have to rest. That hill…”

  “We are here.”

  Jenny looked up at that, frowning. They were nowhere near the cliffs or the tunnels. Not yet. This was the pathway that ran from the main road that led down to…She caught herself at that point and gaped. The Burks! Was it taking her to the Burks' home, to the dogs? But if it were, why? What could the creature possible have to do with them? Unless…

  Shaking away these negative, slightly disturbing thoughts, Jenny began to move on down the road. Scruffy was a little less eager now, no doubt sensing that her old home was very close, and she decided to wait on the other side of the street, cowering a little. Jenny gave a wry smile. Perhaps the dog had more sense than she had!

  Now, drawing closer, Jenny could hear dogs barking, and men's voices raised in anger. But not with another person - at the dogs. Crouching low, Jenny dipped into the trees that ran along the road's edge. From there she managed to push her way closer to the actual yard, bent double, invisible from the house. She could settle down, on her haunches, and watch the ensuing scene with a growing sense of distaste.

  The two brothers were there, riding crops or something very similar in their hands. Next to them were various contraptions, set out haphazardly around the yard. There was a treadmill, some sort of wheel devices, posts with stuffed dummies strapped to them, and wooden effigies of what looked very much like dogs.

  And there were dogs too – real dogs. Big, bulky ones, with massive square heads, thighs that rippled with muscles, solid looking animals, fearsome. Pit Bulls.

  The men were putting these dogs through their paces, urging them, threatening, sometimes hitting them, pushing them to their limits. Running around on the wheel, plodding relentlessly on the treadmill, attacking the dummies, pulling and tearing at the effigies with shocking force and brutality. Jenny clamped her hand over her mouth to stop herself from crying out. These men were training the dogs to fight.

  As if sensing her concern, Scruffy suddenly barked. Jenny jumped, span round. The little dog had overcome whatever fears it might have had and scrambled up next to her. But it was too late to force her to be quiet. The men had already heard it and they exchanged quick, sharp words. One of them, his face a mask of fury, began to march over towards the trees amongst which Jenny was hiding.

  She made her move, crashing through the trees, trying to get back to the road. Scruffy was jumping around at her legs, barking repeatedly now. Jenny didn't have time to scold her; she had to get away before the man caught her.

  The road was quiet as she stepped out onto it, breathing hard, hair wild, clothes dripping with perspiration. The creature that had led her there was nowhere to be seen, its job done no doubt. But the man was. He'd run through the gate and cut off Jenny's escape route, standing there, big grin on his face, arms folded, shaking his head slowly.

  “Dear oh dear,” he said with heavy sarcasm. “Seems like you need a lesson in manners.”

  Jenny felt trapped, her throat tight and dry, the strength seeping out of her limbs. She quickly looked around, but she knew that if she tried to make a break for it, he would have little trouble in grabbing hold of her.

  “What's she doing here?”

  It was the mother, coming up to her younger son, face contorted by anger. The second brother joined her.

  “Nosing around,” said the younger, still with that sneering smile on his lips. “What yer going to do, eh? Report us to the RSPCA?”

  They all laughed at that. But not Jenny. It was taking all of her time to regain some of her strength. Having got herself into this situation she didn't have a single clue what to do next, or what to say. She knew, as well as they did, that the RSPCA rarely visited the island, had little or no jurisdiction there. Animal rights were something the Bailiwick controlled itself. But laws were vague, often difficult to enforce. And slow. Painfully slow. The creature had brought Jenny to this place, but the reasons were difficult to fathom. It must have its own agenda, but whatever it was, Jenny could not fathom at that moment.

  Scruffy suddenly made a dash for it. Whether to try and escape, or make some brave attempt at defending her mistress, Jenny couldn't be sure. But as it shot forward, the younger brother reacted instinctively, kicking her in the side. The dog yelped, rolled over, and the man reached out and seized her by the scruff of the neck. Jenny's fury boiled over, all fear forgotten, and she made a wild dive towards the man, screaming, “You leave her alone!” But the older brother loomed up behind her, gripping her by the arms, lifting her up off her feet and throwing her backwards onto the ground. She hit the tarmac hard, the impact knocking the breath out of her, but she still tried to scramble back to her feet.

  She saw the fist before she felt it. It struck her on the side of the face, rocking her head back, sending her dizzy, all focus gone from her eyes. She was in water, that much she knew, because she couldn't feel her legs anymore. But where had so much water come from? She couldn't understand that. And why could she still breathe, because the water boiled over her now, her ears filling with rushing liquid, pressing into her head, pulsating, throbbing, carrying her away to somewhere very, very black.

  Chapter Twelve

  It was the smell that came to her first. Thick, musty, old. First one eye, then the other. Light invaded her, pain stabbing at her pupils. She blinked through it and things came into focus, very slowly. There was light, very weak, very yellow. But a light. She was grateful for that, even though it hurt. When she moved to sit up, the pain increased and she gave a little cry, instinctively reaching for her jaw. She winced. It hurt worse than anything she could remember. Thinking it was broken, she tried to move her mouth again, half expecting it to be too painful. But she was surprised to find that it wasn't that bad. Still swollen, still probably bruised, but not broken. She allowed herself a sigh and tried sitting up again.

  It was a small room, almost a cell. The walls, a pale yellow, were crumbling with damp, the plaster mere powder that brushed off if she rubbed herself against it. This was the smell that dominated eve
rything. Damp. Deep and penetrating. She could taste the dampness, the back of her throat coated with a sharp, metallic tang. It made her gag, but there was nothing she could do to dilute it, there were no windows to let in any fresh air. So she had to suffer it and get used to it. The floor was wet, covered with broken shards of brick. Looking up she could just about make out the cracked ceiling. Old, cramped. And the door. Metal. Nothing else, not even a bench to lie on. Only the decaying masonry and the small oil lamp that fluttered and spluttered for her companions.

  Gradually she took in more of her surroundings. It was almost certainly a cell, but where it was situated she had no idea. Crawling over on her hands and knees, she pressed an ear against the cold metal of the door and listened. There was nothing. Taking in a breath, she shouted out, at the top of her voice, “Hello!”

  The sound of her own voice frightened her somewhat. It sounded so loud, but so fragile. Like a little girl lost.

  And alone.

  Suddenly it hit her, the enormity of the situation. How had she got here, where had they brought her, and where…where was her little dog?

  Rocking back on her heels, she brought her fists up to her mouth and began to gnaw at her knuckles. This wasn't going to get the better of her. Not this, not them. She would be missed, very quickly. Mr. McCloud was due in, he'd want to know why she wasn't picking him up from the Airport. He'd make enquiries and the police, they would have to put two and two together…surely.

  And where would they look?

  This place, this stinking little prison cell, she had no idea where it could possibly be. She did not know of anywhere on the island like it, and she'd been to most parts. So, if she didn't know, then there could only be two explanations. One, it was somewhere remote, so remote as to be classed as secretive. And two, perhaps she was no longer on the island at all.