by Steve Hester
CHAPTER 27
Midnight had long gone but the night was still a few hours from ending. A crack of thunder echoed across the buildings while the pitter-patter of rain transformed, once again, into a torrent.
Jason didn't know how long he'd been walking for but his legs were starting to give way. He stumbled across the slick pavement and leant against the side of an Indian takeaway whose shutters had been pulled down for the night.
He had no idea where he was but the lack of knowledge didn't scare him. Nothing did right now. It was as if his mind had gone numb and all emotion had been replaced by cold, clear logic.
Logic told him to get some shelter. He ducked down the alley behind the takeaway and, in a small yard, found a tarpaulin covering a motorbike that someone was busy fixing up. As he pulled the tarp off the bikes alarm sounded. Acting on instinct, he jammed his fist into the metal and tore out the small box that was making all the noise and crushed it in his hand.
How had been able to do that? How had he been able to tear through metal like it was tissue paper? He staggered across the yard, pulling the tarp over himself before sliding down one of the walls and resting in a corner. What had done this? Realisation dawned on him as he opened his fingers and looked at the chain buried in his left hand as it glinted in the dim light. It’s all because of this, he thought.
It was wrong. It was very wrong.
“I shouldn't be here...” He said to himself. “What did you do to me?”
He tried to tug it loose. The symbol on the end of the chain started to glow. Whispers and echoes of voices started to drift into his mind and he heard snatches of language both ancient and new. He could understand them all.
...Should not be here...the gift of death...many locks, one key...one key...
The glow intensified as the voices in his head started to turn into screams, each coming garbled and loud. Searing white-hot pain ran up his arm and spread across his chest until every cell in his body was burning with agony. His head seemed to suddenly explode as he was swamped with emotions that threatened to overwhelm him and just as soon as it started, it stopped.
He slumped forward, clawing at the hard ground and gasping for breath for a few seconds before collapsing onto his front. The rain continued to fall on his face and steam rose up from his back where it hit. He opened his milky white eyes and looked at the raw ends of his fingertips. The flesh slowly knitted back together until all that was left was the red stain of his blood.
He stared at his hands for the second time in as many minutes. The emotions that had been held back had washed around him like water spilling over a dam and finally it burst.
“I don't belong here... I don't... What has happened to me..?” He muttered as tears mingled with the rain on his face.
Silence descended on the yard broken only by his sobs and the sound of the raindrops. He should be dead so that's what he would be. It was the only option he could see at the moment, the only way out of this nightmarish limbo he was in.
A small piece of the bike's body was lying on the floor not that far from him and without hesitation he picked it up and ran it across his left wrist. An arc of blood squirted out across the yard. He tried to switch hands but the tendons had been cut rendering his fingers useless and the metal tinkled onto the floor.
He lay back and waited for the darkness to come.
A twitch in his hand told him something was wrong. Looking down he saw that the blood had slowed to a trickle and the deep cut across his wrist was already almost fully healed. Grabbing the metal shard he tried again and again but each time he got the same result.
Anger exploded within him like he'd felt it for the first time. He tore off the tarpaulin from round his shoulders and screamed to the skies with raw fury. He descended on the bike with a series of punches and kicks until it was nothing more than a twisted heap of metal.
Finally as it drained out of him he dropped to his knees and caught sight of his reflection for the first time in a puddle and didn't recognise it. It was a stranger looking back at him.
Light started to pour into the yard through cracks in the fencing as a car drove past. Memories started to hover out of the darkness in Jason's mind. He sat back on his haunches as images of Rob's car flashed behind his eyes. Images of the impact. Images of Rob behind the wheel. This was Rob's chain. Rob...
Tonight I sleep, he thought, tomorrow I find answers.
EPILOGUE
The wind blew across the open savannah catching a dead leaf and sending it tumbling across the sky. The sun beat down without mercy baking the sand as the group trudged forward, emerging from the haze like ghosts. They had been walking for five days and showed no signs of stopping.
They were searching for their guardians, none of them knew exactly what had happened but they had been taken from them or abandoned them, they didn't know which. Three months they had waited with the others before the decision to move had been made. The arguments had grown as to where they should go until finally they'd set out in different directions and this group had started their walk to the west.
They all remembered how things had been such a short time before, the peace, the ease, and the calm. Now they knew pain, the calluses formed on their feet after they had bled on the unfamiliar rough ground. The sand blown up by the wind had started to toughen their skin. They now knew hunger and thirst and the chill of the night that cut to their bones.
Away from the group a lone figure stood on small hill, scanning the horizon. As the group walked on his attention was drawn to the eastern sky and the dark clouds that had started to gather. He idly played with the chain around his neck, running his fingers across the silver pendant deep in thought.
The clouds would bring rain he thought. How he didn't know as none of them had seen rain before but the knowledge was there. He also knew what else might come, using the oncoming dark as a cover.
Shortly they made their camp on the plain near the dried out husk of a long dead tree, its branches bleached white by the sun. Night was closing in and the storm was nearly on them, the first few drops of rain starting to hit the ground sending up small fountains of dust where they hit. Shivering they closed into each other, bathing in the shared body heat.
When the rain came it was relentless, constant with a sharp edge to it that stung. Their world had become alien and oppressive full of pain and loud rumbling noises and with each bolt of lightning they shook with fear. Some started to weep while others turned their heads skyward and begged for the peace again.
Another bolt of lightning, this time closer, struck the plain. Something was waiting out there moving nearer with each passing moment. It tried to breathe and found it difficult but it had its task and it would complete it regardless. The group looked so small to its eyes, easy pickings but that would come later. For now it had more pressing needs.
It staggered to its knees clawing at its throat. This wasn't working! Those wretches had changed things when they sacrificed themselves; it was like being a fish on land! It couldn't survive like this, it needed to get back home and think of another plan or die here. It fought to stand and took one last look at the group. They lived perfectly happy here. Maybe that could be used? Yes. Take one of them, become it, use its body to live.
The lightning struck the trees torching the timber and setting the tree on fire. The group screamed and ran from the blaze, scattering like ants. This was the time! Gathering the last of its remaining strength the creature ran towards the nearest one and leapt at him.
The two fused together and a strange alien gurgle came from its throat. He writhed on the sodden ground as the creature took him over. He tried to scream but it felt as if fire was coursing through his veins burning up all his air and suffocating him from the inside. He couldn’t move for the shear pain and then the fire stopped to be replaced with cold, freezing cold which started to consume not his body, but his soul. He could feel himself vanishing and disappearing as the cold continued, his fear pouring through him, until with one l
ong ethereal scream his soul was swallowed and the blackness came.
All became still. The rain started to stop, the last few drops falling on the body. After a few moments it jerked up breathing as if for the first time. Its eyes opened, the sharp pupils flickered back and forth, taking in the world around it. It worked! Carefully it stood getting a feeling for its new legs and found them easier to control than it thought.
It turned its attention back onto the group. They had slowly started to reform, mesmerised by the burning trees that now spat and hissed as the last of the rain evaporated under the flames. One moved towards it, her hand out feeling the warmth on her palm. Soon they'd learn to respect it's fury but for now they all drew closer to its heat.
The creature marvelled at them as they started to dance. Such power in so fragile a body and no comprehension of any of it, it thought. It heard footsteps coming from behind and turned.
The man walked towards it, idly touching the chain around his neck. The creature snarled back at him, its cheeks tore as it forced its jaws wide open and blood cascaded down its torso. This was why it was here, weaken the chain, force open the locks and take back what the others had stolen. It charged towards its prey.
There was a flash as the two collided and it was over before it had begun. The creature slumped, cleaved clean across the torso and fell into two piles on the ground. Before the blood had even chance to darken the ground the body had started to decompose and dissolve until all that was left was a pile of ashes that stained the wet sandy floor.
The man looked across at the group. One of them had burnt himself on the flames and was screaming in pain. They never saw what had just happened. He looked down at the remains of the creature.
And well they shouldn't he thought before walking away into the night.
About The Author
Steve Hester is bipedal organism in his mid thirties who’s normally a professional actor (and sometime drama teacher) living just outside Manchester. He has a fondness for playing video games, Irish whiskey and enjoys complaining about stuff in what is hopefully an amusing way.
Gothic is his first novel as well as the first in a series. To keep up with developments or to find out more you can follow Steve on twitter @stevehester
Photo credit: Scott Murray