The Tide of Terror
Page 19
Jenny, fists rammed into her mouth, eyes unable to tear themselves away from the scene before her, couldn't speak, could barely breathe. Somehow, forced by some invisible surge of curiosity, she had to see it through to the very end. The final act. The corpses stood up, stepping away from the broken, shattered wreck of the policeman. He was dead and now, their task completed, the corpses returned to their former state, collapsing back against the cold, dank walls. Silent.
The mother too lay dead, eyes wide open, mouth gaping, a mocking imitation of the prisoners themselves, their bodies twisted and contorted as they had fought for breath in their last, dying moments. Now Burks was with them.
It was over.
Trembling, Jenny carefully gathered up the sketches and put them into her rucksack. Picking up her torch, she climbed back up the ladder, scrambled over the hatchway lip, slowly closing it and locking the handle in position. She squatted there, revisiting the horrible scenes below, knowing she would need to bring the authorities here, try to convince them of the truth of what had happened. And to recover the bodies, give them a proper, fitting burial. So much suffering, so much wrongdoing. She had to find some, small way to begin to put it right.
It wasn't easy going back down that tunnel, not easy to stand at the entrance and look at the view out to sea, to stand once more on firm, dry land. What she had witnessed would stay with her for the rest of her life. None of it, not even getting up in the morning and living her life from day to day, was ever going to be easy again.
Sirens drew closer. Looking up, in a kind of daze, she saw two patrol cars swiftly approaching. Before they stopped, Detective Sergeant Mills was running towards her, concern etched into his drained face. And then he was holding her in his arms as she fell into him.
They stayed like that for a very long time.
Chapter Twenty
They took the time to stroll down the cliff path that meandered towards the sea. It was a bright and warm afternoon and, for the first time since she could remember, the sky was clear and blue. It mirrored how she was feeling, light and sunny. For too long she had been under a dark shadow. It was such a relief to be in the pure sunlight once more.
“I couldn't tell you everything,” said Mills, kicking away at some loose stones. They had both come to a halt and now they gazed out across the sea. Jenny waited for Mills to continue, sure that it was best to just let him speak. “I'm sorry.”
“You don't have to be. Everything turned out for the best. In the end.”
“Yes, I suppose so. That business about Mr Haslam…what do they call it, a red-herring? I wasn't sure how much you knew, even if you were part of it.”
“Well, you believed me in the end. That's the main thing.”
“It's lucky you phoned us when you did – I shudder to think what might have happened if—”
“Phoned you? What do you mean?”
“You, phoning the station, to tell us where you were. We would never have found you if anything had ever happened to you.”
“But…but I didn't phone you.”
He looked at her for a moment and was about to say something, but then merely shrugged. “Well…never mind.” It was obvious he didn't believe her, no doubt thinking she was in shock or something. She wanted to tell him, ram it home that it couldn't have been her, that she still hadn't found her mobile. A shape wheeled across the sky, far out to sea and as she looked, screwing up her eyes to make it out, she realized then what had happened. She knew what had made the phone call.
Jenny met Mark off the plane and drove him down to the hotel where he was staying. They exchanged a few pleasantries and afterwards, when he had booked-in, showered and changed, they met up at one of the bars that over-looked the harbour. Jenny had received some good news, news which had revived her spirits and brought a smile back to her face.
“It's my dog,” she explained, standing up from the table as Mark came in. He kissed her on the cheeks as the little black and grey dog wrapped itself around his feet.
“Yes, it is a dog – well spotted.”
“No, silly, I meant, she was found, over at the Burks' old place.” She scooped Scruffy up, ruffling the fur around her head. “Sit down, and I'm going to tell you a story. It's not a very pretty one, but I think you'll find it interesting.”
So Mark listened and she was right. He did find it interesting. She told him everything, the strange wounds on the animals, the mysterious creatures, the Burks, the tunnel and, finally, the drawings on the wall. She steered clear of only one thing, the impossibility of the dead coming briefly back to life, to destroy the people who were trying to murder her. Mark would have found that part difficult to swallow. Perhaps it was too much for her to swallow also. She had slept soundly the previous night, after Detective Mills had come round to tell her they'd found the bodies, and the cause of death. The son had gone down the ladders first, followed by the mother who had slipped, falling on top of him, breaking his neck. She herself had struck the ground, shattering her skull. A freakish accident, killing the two of them. Only their still-shining torches had alerted the police to where they were. The hatch was open, just as the Burks had left it. Jenny had listened, without saying a word. There was no mention of her being there. Apparently there was no evidence to suggest that she ever had been. Nor was there any evidence to link her to the disappearance of the other two brothers. Both remained missing. Along with all those fighting dogs, they had seemingly vanished into fresh-air. But there was some good news – the prisoners found in that subterranean room were to be given a proper burial. It truly was a miracle. No one would have ever come across them, not down there.
“They were Spanish slave labourers,” explained Jenny to Mark. “Most of them had fought against Franco during the Civil War. They were initially arrested and thrown into prison, but then Franco sent them to Hitler, who had them sent here. They joined many foreign workers brought here to work on the fortifications. Russians, Poles. Most of them were prisoners of war. But the Spanish were different. They were political prisoners and Franco wanted them punished for standing up against him. So he asked his pal, Hitler to help. Forty of them, worked almost to death, in the concentration camp at Sylt, here on Alderney. That was their punishment, but now their bodies will be returned home for a proper burial. A just ending to a very unhappy story.”
Mark nodded. “I was here,” he said quietly, “just a few months ago. Helping my son out – again. It seems this place attracts all sorts of weird happenings. Your creatures, the ones you described, are you any closer to discovering what exactly they are?”
“No. The man from the Natural History Museum isn't coming. I got a text, he's ill. And this morning, I get more phone calls. All of those animals, the ones with the marks on their sides, the ones who so mysteriously disappeared – they've all come back.”
“What, all of them?”
“Even the sheep. But the weirdest of the lot…the farmer, Mr Reynolds, they said he'd discharged himself. But he hadn't. He'd disappeared…he arrived home early this morning. He phoned me, to tell me everything was all right. He'd been to – how did he put it – a far and distant place…I don't know what he meant by that. I don't think even he did.”
They strolled back to the animal rescue centre, Scruffy straining at the leash, and as they crossed the courtyard, the little dog suddenly span round and set up the most urgent barking. Jenny tried to quieten her down, but it was useless. Mark laughed, “She must be happy to be back home.”
“No, it's not that, she can sense something. What…” her voice trailed away and she sat there, hands around her dog, trying to calm it, with her eyes locked on something on the other side of the courtyard. Mark followed her gaze and gasped.
On the far roof, sitting silent and aloof, seemingly studying the two of them, was the creature. The young one, its wings now fully healed. It stretched them outwards as if to prove the point and very slowly, seemingly without effort, it ascended into the blue of the day.
W
ith mouth wide open, Mark watched until the creature was nothing more than a tiny dot in the sky. His voice sounded shaky when he asked at last, “What was that? Where did it come from?”
“I've no idea,” said Jenny, and gave a little smile. “Let's just be grateful it was friendly – and its friends too.”
“Friendly? I don't understand.”
“No, neither do I. But I'm grateful for everything they did.” She kissed her little dog's head. “All of us are.”
The End
Of Part Two
PART THREE - FAREWELL
Dedicated to Scruffy, the best dog there has ever been. I can still see her little face staring at me from the top of the stairs as I bashed away at the keyboard. I miss her with all my heart.
Dream start…
She woke up with a start, sitting bolt upright, staring wide-eyed towards the opposite wall, the images lingering like the remnants of a devastating storm. Her heart hammered in her chest as she looked around, certain someone, or something, lurked unseen in the far corner. She groped for the light and switched it on.
The shadows retreated. There was nobody there, just her imagination working overtime as usual. Relieved, she flopped back down onto her pillow with a loud sigh. When would it stop?
This latest nightmare was one of the weirdest. A lonely beach, a headland jutting far out into a grey, boiling sea. A lonely figure stood, wearing a dark gown which flapped and swirled in the wind. With one long, outstretched finger, it pointed out to sea, towards the horizon, pulling her attention to the distance. A ship sailed steadily, its course bringing it dangerously close to the shore and the hidden rocks that lay in wait like dragon's teeth, ready to rip through creaking timbers.
A face, yellow, streaked with grime, loomed out of the gathering storm, and from its mouth came a vast spray of foaming, stinking seawater. Jenny screamed, throwing up her hands, trying to shield herself from the torrent, but it proved overwhelming. Drowning, suddenly submerged beneath the waves, she floundered helplessly. A last desperate struggle to bring herself to the surface and that glorious, sweet taste of air…
Jenny clasped her hands across her face, fighting back the tears. When would it stop?
Now, freed from the dream, she sat and put her face into her hands and wept. There was no fighting it anymore – the island's message was clear.
Leave.
Start again.
Chapter One
The departure lounge seethed with a press of well-wishers. They all hugged Jenny tightly, gushing with their fond farewells. The children, naturally, were the most vocal and open in their emotions. Many of them were in tears, every one sad and depressed. Jenny did her best to remain calm, but found it increasingly difficult. She never would have believed that her leaving would cause such an outpouring. Even the Island President stood there, openly shedding tears, to see her off. He had already made a quick speech and now, held onto her like a much-loved daughter.
“You'll come back?”
“Of course. It's only for six months.”
“You promise?”
She pulled away, frightened that she might burst into tears. Of course she'd come back, hadn't she already said that to everyone who had asked? Why then did she not truly believe it; could it really have everything to do with Mark? If he asked her to stay in the U.K., would she? This island held so many memories, not all of them good, its strange, irresistible power tugging at her, trying to hold her back. A lot of soul-searching contributed to her decision to leave and return to the mainland to continue her studies.
Mark telephoned her unexpectedly and they talked and talked. At first, she had been quietly pleased to hear his voice, to listen to what he had to say; a little flattered by the sentiments. In truth, she hadn't thought about him very much since he'd gone back all those months ago. How long ago now, nine? Nine months! It had gone so quickly but evidently, from what he said, a lot had happened since. He didn't tell her the whole story, only snippets, but what he did say sounded harrowing. His son had become embroiled in something dreadful. Fortunately, it was all over now, but the retelling struck her as so appalling she didn't feel she could open up about what she had gone through and how she'd suffered from nightmares ever since. How she dreaded falling asleep in case the terrible sound of beating, spectral wings would return once more.
Then had come the crunch question – how would she feel if he invited her to come over to the mainland for a short while? Nothing permanent, of course, but perhaps just for a few 'quiet weeks', a chance for them to get to know one another without having to worry about other-worldly goings-on. Shocked, she eventually managed to tell him she'd think about it, that it wasn't that easy. She had a job, responsibilities, to leave all of that behind…He understood, of course he did, but he'd leave it with her. Perhaps she could consider the options. There had to be a way, surely…
Jenny had thought about it and eventually she had gathered up the courage and gone to the committee and sounded them out about a sabbatical, a few months away from her job at Island Animal Rescue during which she could gain some extra qualifications. “Can't you do that on the internet,” they'd said, “You can do all sorts of things on the internet nowadays.” She might have been able to, but in truth, the allure of going back, of spending some time with Mark…she found it hard to resist.
So now here they all were, to send her off. Joel, trying his best not to shed his tears, holding onto Scruffy. Dogs could travel on board the aeroplane, a bright yellow Trilander, as long as they had a blanket to lie on. Linda was holding that. Jenny thanked both of them as she took hold of Scruffy's lead. The little dog looked up expectedly, but her tail didn't wag, almost as if she knew what was happening. The flight call came over the tannoy and Jenny gave the children a last goodbye hug, and then strode out across the tarmac towards the little Trilander aircraft. In a couple of hours she'd be back on the mainland.
As the plane accelerated down the runway she looked out of the tiny window towards the huddle of people, all of whom were waving frantically. Jenny held onto her dog, finding comfort in her being there. Suddenly, feeling lonely and a little frightened, she wondered, not for the first time, if she wasn't making a terrible mistake. She allowed herself to cry then, holding nothing back as the aircraft began its climb. The tears were still rolling down her cheeks as Southampton airport came into view some forty minutes later.
Mark met her at the airport. He'd driven down from Merseyside the day before, finding a nearby hotel in which to spend the night. When he saw her, with Scruffy running around her legs, his face lit up and his happiness appeared genuine and quite touching. Jenny smiled and fell into his arms.
“Are you all right?”
She nodded. “Just a little…you know…I'll be okay.”
“It's quite a trek back to Liverpool. Shall we get something to eat first, before we set off?”
But Jenny had had enough hanging around airports. She'd been in the departure lounge on Alderney for just under two hours. She simply wanted it all over and done with. “Let's just go, Mark.”
They went out into the car park and Mark's waiting car. A long drive lay ahead, a drive of over five hours. Jenny didn't say anything, but her tiredness was eating into her, her eyes heavy and gritty. Scruffy, too, seemed strangely quiet, no doubt still suffering from the noise of the aeroplane. Again that horrible thought swirled around in her head. Had she made a dreadful mistake, leaving that lovely island? Only time would tell, she knew that. But how much time would it take before she had her answer?
Chapter Two
The little flat Mark had managed to find for her was comfortable and clean. It had a separate kitchen, which she liked, and the lounge had a small balcony that looked out across some fields. In many ways, it was a better flat than her old one back on the island. But this was not the island and most telling of all, no matter where she went or what she did, there was the noise of traffic.
It was the first thing that she noticed since arriving in the
large town of Wallasey, on the Wirral peninsular. So many motor vehicles, people rushing everywhere, gloomy skies and lots of rain. She'd been here for one day and it hadn't stopped pouring down. Already she felt that crushing feeling of depression weighing her down. Why had she decided to come here?
It was Monday morning and Mark, who had seen her briefly the previous day, was picking her up at eight-thirty. She had an interview down in Irby with a small rescue centre. It specialised in re-homing dogs, but it also kept cats, some birds, and a number of sickly farm animals that it tended. In many ways it was a much busier-sounding place than Island Animal Rescue and Jenny couldn't help but feel a little excited at the prospect. Prior to her leaving the island, she had spoken with the owner on a number of occasions over the phone, a cheerful, friendly-sounding woman called May Walsh. Today, was to be their first face-to-face meeting and Jenny was anxious to make a good impression.
She was pouring herself a cup of coffee when the doorbell rang. Scruffy rushed forward, tail whirring like a rotor-blade, growling but not barking. Scruffy rarely barked and was a hopeless guard dog, but Jenny wouldn't change her for the world. Whenever Jenny felt a bit down she would remind herself of how Scruffy had been treated before being rescued; somehow that put everything into perspective.
Mark breezed in, rubbing his arms. “It's like the flamin' Arctic out there.”
She handed him her cup of coffee, which she hadn't yet touched, and he smiled his thanks.
“That was good timing.”
“You're a bit early. It's only ten-past.”
“I needed to talk to you, before we got going.”
Immediately on her guard, Jenny motioned for Mark to sit down. “What's wrong?”
“Nothing's wrong. I just…I've been thinking about you coming over here, getting a break from the island and everything that's happened…” He wrapped both hands around the coffee mug to warm them. “I thought it best if I let you know that the things I told you about, what happened to me and my son…there's no need to worry. Everything is perfectly fine – it's all back to normal.”