by Nick Moseley
Twenty-Eight
‘This is ridiculous,’ snapped Bookbinder. Dean had him by the arm and led him over to the library table on which the prison plans were spread. Trev followed behind, taking care to keep the smile off his face. He’d done his best to get the old drunk to spill the beans of his own free will and he’d refused. Now he was going to have to try and face down Grace Montano, whose patience appeared to be tissue-thin. ‘Grace, what on earth is this about?’
‘I want to know what you know about all this,’ Montano said, tapping a finger on the prison plans.
‘I’ve never seen those plans before in my life,’ Bookbinder said. He shook his arm free of Dean’s hand and projected an air of wounded dignity. The effect was diminished somewhat by the fact that he was swaying a little and had spilled whisky down the front of his rumpled white coat. The smell of alcohol hung around him like a cloud. Trev thought he might be getting drunk just by sharing the same air.
‘Trev and Mishti seem very sure you’re holding something back,’ Montano replied, unfazed by the doctor’s denial.
Bookbinder glared at Trev. ‘Nonsense,’ he said. ‘We’ve worked together for years, Grace. Are you really going to take their word over mine?’
‘Not so long ago I’d have taken your word for it without question,’ Montano said. ‘But for God’s sake, Leo. Look at yourself. Drunk again?’
‘I am not drunk,’ said Bookbinder, pronouncing each word with exaggerated care. ‘I’ve just had a small measure to help me sleep.’
‘Don’t insult my intelligence,’ said Montano. ‘Now, come on. Tell me what’s happening here. There are lives at stake.’
‘Yeah,’ said Oscar. ‘Remember that hippopotamus oath thing you doctors have.’
‘Ah, the Custodians’ famous talking cat,’ Bookbinder said, eyeing Oscar with distaste. ‘Are you starting a circus, Grace?’
‘Why not? There are more than enough clowns around here,’ Oscar muttered, loud enough that only Trev heard. He was struck by a sudden coughing fit.
‘Don’t avoid the question,’ said Montano.
‘What have these people been saying that’s convinced you I can answer that question?’ asked Bookbinder. ‘What possible evidence have they got?’
‘Well, you’ve been sleep-walking around the prison talking about “experiments” and things being “awake”, for one thing,’ said Trev.
‘We only have your word for that,’ the doctor replied.
‘And mine,’ said Desai.
‘Plus of course you warned me off investigating the prison’s history,’ Trev continued, ‘and then shortly afterwards I get attacked by three shadows who try to kill me. Are you going to tell me that’s a coincidence?’
‘Yes I am,’ said Bookbinder. ‘Killer shadows? I’ve never heard anything so stupid.’
‘Oh yeah? So what cause of death have you found for the three victims?’ Trev shot back. ‘Didn’t you say they “died of being dead”? Doesn’t sound like a very professional opinion to me.’
‘Don’t you dare call my professionalism into question!’ roared Bookbinder. He slammed a fist down on the table. ‘My record here is unblemished!’
‘You only let yourself down slightly by slurring the word “professionalism”,’ Oscar pointed out. ‘And by dribbling a bit.’
‘Unblemished?’ said Montano softly. ‘Leo, I could have had you fired months ago.’ She shook her head. ‘Told myself it didn’t matter if you were drinking when you were off duty, as long as it didn’t affect your performance during the day. You’re due to retire when the prison closes anyway, aren’t you? So I let it slide. And now here you are, drunk on duty and lying to my face. That’s where tolerance gets you, I suppose.’
Bookbinder’s jaw clenched and his flushed complexion went a deeper red. He pulled out a chair and slumped down in it, his eyes fixed on the plans.
‘Just a little nip to get me through the day, and maybe a drop more to help me sleep,’ he muttered to himself. ‘That’s all.’
‘Leo,’ said Montano. He rolled his bloodshot gaze up to her face. ‘If you know something, please tell me. I don’t want anyone else to die and I’m sure you don’t, either.’
‘I’m sorry, Grace,’ said Bookbinder. ‘There’s nothing I can tell you.’
‘Can’t tell us anything, or won’t?’ asked Desai.
‘Take it however you like,’ the doctor snapped. His fingers rattled on the tabletop. ‘I’m honestly past caring.’
Holy crap, Trev thought, struck by a realisation. Beneath all the drunken bluster he’s absolutely scared shitless. But of what?
‘Are you under orders not to tell us anything, Doc?’ he said, fixing Bookbinder with the expression of sympathetic understanding he always used when pretending to care about other people’s problems. The old man glanced at him and said nothing. ‘Or maybe you’re being threatened rather than ordered?’
‘But who would be threatening him?’ Desai wondered.
Bookbinder wiped his lips with the back of his hand. ‘I already said. There’s nothing I can tell you.’
‘This is getting us nowhere fast,’ said Oscar. ‘It’s a moot point anyway. We need to start evacuating the prison before anyone else buys the farm.’
‘We’ve been through that already,’ Montano said. ‘It’s not going to happen. I’m not having those prisoners out of their cells for any reason, especially when we can’t rely on the power. What if we started moving the prisoners and the lights went out? It’d be a bloodbath.’
‘It’s going to be a bloodbath either way,’ said Oscar. ‘Call the Custodians in, then. You’re in charge here. Time to get your thumb out of your arse.’
‘Shut your mouth,’ Montano growled. ‘You’re right, I am in charge here. And that means I don’t give a toss for your opinion.’
‘Oscar put it rudely but he has a point,’ Desai said, wading into the argument. ‘I agree that trying to move the prisoners at this stage is too risky, fair enough. I don’t see why we can’t ask for backup though.’
‘We’ll ask for it when we need it, Mishti,’ said Montano. ‘We know there are three of these shadows and we know that vapour weapons can hurt them. We can handle this. We know what we’re dealing with now.’
‘We don’t know anything of the sort!’ exploded Oscar. ‘Right, so we’ve never seen more than three of them at once, but what does that prove? There might be a hundred more of the buggers we haven’t seen! And just because Trev and Mishti were able to drive them off with vapour weapons this evening doesn’t mean we can actually hurt them. We don’t even know what these things are!’
‘I thought I told you to shut your mouth,’ Montano replied. ‘We can and will handle this. Trev, Mishti, I’m going to need you to help with the guard duty this evening, please. We need every pair of hands.’
‘I want my weapons back, then,’ said Trev, folding his arms. He’d had to return Dean’s seax and he was nervous about being unarmed again. ‘I won’t be much use as a guard without them.’
‘The rules are clear–’ Montano began.
‘Oh come on,’ Trev interrupted. ‘I think we’re well past the point of sticking to the fine print. I’m pretty sure the rules weren’t designed to cover this sort of situation. Give me my weapons back and I’ll happily do all the guarding you like, but I’m not standing in one of those cell blocks in the dark and unarmed.’
Montano’s mouth set in a tight line and Trev expected further argument from her. After a second or two, though, she hissed out a breath between her teeth and nodded. ‘All right, you can have them back. On the provision that you do as you’re told and don’t put my staff or premises at risk.’
‘Done,’ said Trev. Outwardly he was calm; inwardly he was cartwheeling around the room and high-fiving everyone. I’m getting The Twins back!
‘Please don’t make me regret it,’ said Montano.
‘I’m sure you won’t,’ said Trev, and hoped very much that he was right.
Montano a
llocated Trev and Desai to Block C, where the female prisoners were held. They were accompanied by the Scottish guard, whose name was Suzanne. She did her best to look alert and confident, but Trev could see the fatigue and fear in her face. He couldn’t blame her for that; he felt exactly the same. The guards had been running a loose shift system since the lockdown, with the bare minimum on duty during the day, when it was theoretically safer, and the majority covering the night hours. From what Suzanne told them, however, it seemed that many of them were doing double shifts. Nobody wanted to give the impression they weren’t pulling their weight.
‘It’s all very admirable until they start keeling over from exhaustion,’ Trev said to Desai. Suzanne was out of earshot on the walkway above.
‘This whole situation is ridiculous,’ said Desai. ‘Grace should’ve called the Custodians in when Corbyn was killed. This idea of digging in and trying to deal with things “in house” is dangerous for everyone here.’
‘I’m tempted to slip out and try and find a phone,’ said Trev. ‘Call Deacon and get the Custodians out here whether Grace wants them or not.’
Desai raised her eyebrows. ‘Actually, I’ve already tried that. When you went off to fetch The Twins.’
‘You’re sneakier than I thought,’ Trev said, with approval. ‘What did they say?’
‘Couldn’t get through,’ Desai replied. ‘Kept getting that annoying “number unobtainable” sound. Obviously a problem at one end or the other.’
‘This one, I reckon.’ Trev rubbed at his chin. ‘Worrying. What if Grace finally decides to call for help and we can’t?’
‘She must have some means of communication other than the land-line, surely.’
‘Like what? Morse code? Smoke signals? Carrier pigeons?’
‘I was thinking more like a satellite phone or something, smartarse.’
‘Oh right. I suppose that could work, in a pinch.’
Suzanne came clumping down from the walkway and Trev and Desai did their best to look like people who hadn’t been busy conspiring a few seconds before. They obviously didn’t do it very well, because the guard gave them a suspicious glance as she joined them.
‘All right?’ she asked.
‘Fine,’ said Desai.
‘Top notch,’ said Trev.
‘Belter,’ Suzanne replied. She looked at her watch. ‘Half eleven. Think anything’ll happen tonight?’
‘Hope not,’ said Trev. ‘Maybe we’ll be lucky and the bad guys will give us the night off.’
‘Aye, right.’ Suzanne’s hand drifted to the vapour weapon at her belt. ‘I still don’t understand what these things even are. These shadows.’
‘Your guess is as good as anyone’s at the moment,’ said Trev, ‘though I think the one fact that we should all keep in mind is that you don’t want them touching you.’
‘Yeah, I got that bit,’ Suzanne said. She shrugged. ‘I’m going to go and check on the prisoners.’
‘I’ll come with you,’ said Trev. ‘I haven’t met our guests yet.’
Suzanne’s expression suggested she didn’t think that was a good idea, though she didn’t stop him from tagging along with her.
Block C only had three inmates. One of them was in a ground-level cell and visible through the bars. The other two were on the first floor, in adjacent cells. Trev had thought about whether they should move those two down to the ground floor so that all three of them would be visible, but then remembered Montano’s warning about the possibility of the lights going out in the middle of a prisoner transfer. He’d left the thought unvoiced.
The ground-level inmate was a vampire. Trev had clocked that from some distance away. She had the typical vampire air of arrogance about her, standing just the other side of the bars and watching them approach with her head cocked to one side. The corners of her mouth were quirked upwards in a faint smile, giving the impression that she found her captivity a trifling amusement.
Her attitude aside, she looked very ordinary. Trev put her apparent age at mid-twenties. She was average height and build, with mousy-brown hair worn in a ponytail. Like all the inmates, she was wearing one of the unflattering yellow jumpsuits. She watched them pass by, dark eyes glinting in her pale face.
‘Who’s she?’ Trev asked Suzanne.
‘Melissa Voight,’ the guard replied. ‘Also known as the Warwickshire Widow.’
‘No way!’ said Trev. ‘I remember reading about her. That was in the seventies, wasn’t it? I thought she was never caught?’
‘Officially, she wasn’t,’ said Suzanne. ‘They couldn’t put a vampire on trial in open court so she ended up here.’
‘How many blokes did she kill?’
‘Not sure. Could be anything between ten and twenty-three. She’s not telling, so it might be even more.’
‘Who knew that answering a lonely-heart advert in the newspaper could be so dangerous?’
‘None of her victims, obviously.’
Suzanne led the way up the stairs and onto the first floor. Trev shrugged himself deeper into his fleece. Block C wasn’t any warmer than the others, and his breath followed him in a wispy cloud.
‘Who’s up here then?’ he said. He looked along the rows of cells. All but two stood open, revealing their cramped and featureless interiors. Trev was sure that Spectre’s Rest was a long way behind the times when it came to prisoner comfort. There wasn’t a TV set or a video games console in sight. The prisoners’ entertainment options appeared to be limited to muttering incoherently, rocking backwards and forwards in a corner, or keeping track of the length of their confinement by making tally-marks on the walls.
‘Kelly McVitie,’ said Suzanne, pointing to one of the two locked cells. ‘Custodian, went vigilante. And Zoe Simpkins, another vamp. Spent her weekends taking advantage of drunks on their way home.’
‘She was a taxi driver?’
‘Very funny,’ said Suzanne. She opened the viewing hatch on each door and checked on the inmates. That done, she turned to Trev and shrugged. ‘All present and correct.’
‘Right,’ said Trev. ‘Thanks.’ It was more interesting than standing at the foot of the stairs doing nothing, but it was close, he thought.
There was a patter of paws on metal and Oscar came running up the stairs, Desai behind him. ‘It’s starting,’ he said without preamble. ‘Can you feel it?’
Trev concentrated. ‘Yeah,’ he replied. He drew The Twins from their holsters. ‘Get ready, everyone.’
Desai and Suzanne got their vapour weapons out, along with a torch each. Trev didn’t have a spare hand for a torch, not that it mattered. If he activated Caladbolg he wouldn’t need one.
He took a couple of deep breaths, aware of the growing tightness in his chest as Bad Trev responded to the change in the atmosphere. There was no doubt Oscar was right; it was starting again.
He looked up at the fluorescent tubes overhead. ‘Here they come,’ he said.
The lights flickered once and went out.
Twenty-Nine
Suzanne and Desai clicked their torches on and swung the beams around, making the shadows of the handrails slide across the walkway. Trev tightened his grip on his weapons but held back from activating them. He forced himself to breathe evenly. In through the mouth, out through the nose… or was it the other way around?
Crap, I’ve forgotten how to breathe!
‘Are you sure they’re coming here?’ said Suzanne, glancing at Trev as he made a small choking sound.
‘Of course they are,’ Oscar said. ‘The way I’ve heard it, they only show up when Trev’s about.’
Trev stared at Oscar. Everyone else stared at him. ‘What?’ he said.
‘Well it’s true, isn’t it?’ the cat replied.
‘Er,’ said Trev. A few moments’ thought told him that Oscar was right. ‘Shit.’
‘Oh, that’s great,’ said Suzanne. ‘I wish you’d told me that before I agreed to share a shift with you.’
‘Shit,’ Trev said.
‘We can point fingers later,’ said Desai, with a look that strongly suggested all the fingers would be pointed at Trev. ‘We’d better get into position.’
‘OK,’ said Trev. He took a step away from her before turning back. ‘Um. What positions would those be?’
‘Mishti and I will guard the two prisoners up here,’ Suzanne said. ‘You and Oscar take the ground floor.’
‘Got it,’ said Trev. Suzanne nodded and began checking in with the other guards using her radio.
‘If the shadows appear we have to stop them from getting into the cells,’ Desai added.
‘I think I worked that bit out for myself,’ Trev grumbled as he hurried back to the stairs. Oscar scampered along beside him. The cat was using some of his energy reserves to create a thin white aura around himself, and he glowed faintly in the darkness.
‘I don’t want you tripping over me,’ he said, in answer to Trev’s raised eyebrow. ‘Plus I’m hoping it’ll stop the shadows from grabbing hold of me.’
Trev was unwilling to holster one of The Twins to leave a hand free for a torch, so he just activated Caladbolg instead. The lightning-blade crackled into life and bathed the stairs with shifting light. It also pushed back his fear and anxiety, which was even more welcome.
Here we are again then, lad! boomed Caladbolg’s cheerful voice in his head. What manner of beastie are we up against this time?
‘No idea,’ Trev replied. ‘They look like shadows but can kill you with a touch. Sound familiar?’
There was a pause. Never heard of such a thing, Caladbolg admitted. But we ought not to fear a challenge, eh?
‘Not sure I’d classify the threat of instant death as “a challenge”, but we’ll see how we go,’ Trev said. ‘We’re guarding the prisoners from these killer shadows, by the way.’
Guarding vampires and the like? Caladbolg said, with obvious distaste. These are strange times, lad. Awful strange.
Trev’s attention was drawn to Melissa Voight, who was watching him from behind the bars of her cell. She hadn’t moved. The lights going out and Trev’s vapour weapon didn’t seem to bother her at all. ‘Strange is right,’ he said.