Spectre's Rest

by Nick Moseley

  ‘I thought there’d be more of you,’ Trev said. ‘Have you got backup coming?’

  ‘Possibly,’ Barton replied. He hooked his thumbs into the armholes of his vest. Trev reckoned that Barton was in his early fifties and, like Mac, was ex-military. ‘Everything’s gone nuts in Birmingham over the last couple of days. We’re really struggling.’

  ‘Right,’ said Trev. ‘Here’s hoping. Anyway, what can I do for you?’

  ‘Deacon said that I should keep an eye on you,’ Barton replied. ‘He seems to think you’re a bit of a liability.’

  ‘Nice that everyone’s being so blunt this morning,’ Trev said. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll try not to inconvenience you by getting killed.’

  ‘Appreciate it,’ said Barton.

  ‘What’s the plan then?’ said Trev, steering the conversation into less annoying waters. ‘When do we start evacuating?’

  ‘We don’t,’ said Barton. ‘Evacuating the prison is a last resort.’

  ‘Are you serious?’ said Trev.

  Barton nodded. ‘Very much so. The fact is that the new facility simply isn’t ready to take these high-risk prisoners unless there’s no other option. So my orders are to make the prison secure if at all possible and only evacuate if we can’t do that.’

  ‘Grace has told you what we’re up against?’

  ‘She has.’

  ‘Then how do you think you can make the prison “secure” against that kind of threat?’

  ‘That’s what my team are looking into.’

  Trev felt his temper stirring again. ‘Look, I’m not trying to tell you how to do your job but trust me, there’s no way five of you can make this place safe. Either we evacuate now or everyone’s going to be dead by tomorrow morning.’

  ‘I’ve already had this discussion with the warden,’ Barton replied, unfazed. ‘Moving the prisoners is a risk we’d rather not take. I’m required to explore all other avenues first.’

  ‘You’re wasting your time!’ Trev protested. ‘Whatever this thing is, it’s moving about using the structure of the prison itself. Short of knocking the prison down, how can you stop it?’

  Barton checked off his points on his fingers. ‘First option: isolate its source and trap it there. Second option: interrupt its movement by shutting down the conduits it’s moving through. Third option: lure it out and destroy it.’

  ‘That’s not a list of options, it’s wishful thinking,’ Trev said. ‘Please, you have to evacuate. You haven’t seen these things. I have. You can’t fight them.’

  ‘I understand your concern,’ said Barton. ‘But I have my orders and I intend to carry them out.’

  ‘Is there anything I can do to help, at least?’ Trev said.

  ‘I think we’ll cope, for now,’ Barton replied. ‘I’ll give you a shout if we need you, though.’

  He clapped Trev on the shoulder and walked off in the direction his colleagues had gone. ‘What a prick,’ Trev muttered.

  ‘He’s just misunderstood,’ Oscar said. ‘A lot of people think he’s a prick at first, but if you took the time to really get to know him you’d find he’s actually an arsehole.’

  Trev snorted. ‘I think I’ve worked that one out already,’ he said. ‘This is crazy. I reckon they’ve got space enough in those trucks to take all the prisoners, but instead we’re hanging about waiting to get killed.’

  ‘We don’t have to hang about. We could run around screaming instead, if you prefer.’

  ‘I’m within a hair of being pissed off enough to do just that,’ Trev said.

  He trudged back over to where Desai and Montano were standing. They broke off their conversation as he approached.

  ‘That was quick,’ Desai observed.

  ‘Yeah,’ Trev said. ‘He just wanted to know what I look like, because Deacon’s told him that I’m a liability who needs watching.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Desai. Richie let out a single snort of laughter.

  ‘He also told me that they’re not evacuating us,’ Trev continued, determined not to give Richie the satisfaction of provoking him. ‘What’s that about?’

  ‘From what I hear they’re having some issues at the new facility,’ Montano said, a note of irritation in her voice. ‘When they told the warden that he might have to take the high-risk prisoners a few months ahead of schedule he was quite… agitated.’

  ‘What, so we have to die because he can’t get all his ducks in a row?’

  Montano folded her arms. ‘If they tell him he has to take them, then he doesn’t have much choice. But they’re not going to risk it unless they have to.’

  ‘They do have to,’ Trev insisted. ‘There’s no way we can make this prison safe with a skeleton staff plus five Custodians.’

  ‘Six Custodians,’ said Desai, hands on hips.

  ‘Seven, if you count me too,’ said Oscar.

  ‘You’re preaching to the converted, Trev,’ said Montano. ‘I’ve already had that argument with Barton. And with Feargal Deacon. I called him as soon as I was told we weren’t being pulled out.’

  ‘What did he have to say?’

  ‘He confirmed Barton’s orders, and said they’d send more people as and when they were available.’

  ‘This is nuts,’ Trev growled.

  ‘Again, preaching to the converted.’

  ‘What do they expect us to do while they’re trying to “secure” the prison?’

  ‘The guards will be sticking to their routine. The prisoners still need watching and feeding. As for the rest of you, not much you can do except wait and hope.’

  ‘I’ve changed my mind,’ Oscar said. ‘Grace gets the role of Morale Coordinator.’

  ‘Can’t you just let us leave?’ Trev asked. ‘The Custodians are here now, even if there’s only five, uh, six of them. Isn’t that the end of the lockdown?’

  ‘That isn’t my decision anymore,’ Montano replied. ‘Feel free to make your case to Barton, but I wouldn’t get my hopes up if I were you.’

  ‘I’m staying anyway,’ Desai said. ‘I’m a Custodian. I’m not going to walk away and leave everyone else behind. If I can help Barton’s team, I will.’

  ‘That’s the spirit,’ Oscar said.

  ‘Right,’ said Trev. He respected Desai’s decision but that didn’t necessarily mean he was going to follow her lead. He chewed the inside of his cheek in nervous thought.

  ‘What are you going to do then?’ Oscar asked him. ‘Have another go at talking sense into Barton?’

  ‘Lost cause,’ Trev said. ‘No. What I’m going to do is go and find myself some breakfast.’

  ‘And then what?’

  ‘And then I’m going to do what I do best.’

  ‘So many options, but I’ll bite. What’s that?’

  Trev forced a smile. ‘Making a complete and utter nuisance of myself.’

  Thirty-Two

  There were some boxes of food in the library and Trev helped himself to a couple of cereal bars for his breakfast. He seated himself next to one of the feeble radiators and pondered his next move. On the face of it, he had a simple choice: either persuade the Custodians to evacuate the prison, or die. The only other option was to hope that they somehow figured out what the darkness was and how to stop it. Trev didn’t hold out much hope for that. The Custodians hadn’t even seen the phenomenon yet, and by the time they did it was going to be much too late.

  Trev was still certain that Dr. Bookbinder knew a lot more than he was telling, but if the old bugger wasn’t willing to talk then there wasn’t much they could do. Trev didn’t think that either Grace Montano or Ralph Barton would sanction the use of any CIA-style “enhanced interrogation” techniques. Whoever (or whatever) had frightened the doctor into silence had done a very thorough job. It appeared that Bookbinder would rather die than speak out.

  ‘You’ve got that look on your face,’ Oscar said.

  ‘What look?’ Trev replied.

  ‘You look like you’re struggling with a particularly obstinate bowel movem
ent, which usually means you’re thinking,’ the cat said.

  ‘I am. What of it?’

  Oscar stared out of the fogged window. ‘I was wondering if you’d come up with a crazy scheme to get us out of here, or something.’

  ‘Well, I was thinking about having another word with Barton. He might see sense if I keep at him.’

  ‘You call that crazy?’

  ‘I thought I’d start with sensible and gradually build up to crazy.’

  ‘Not your usual style.’

  Trev shrugged. Though he wouldn’t have admitted it, he quite enjoyed his banter with Oscar most of the time. This morning, though, his heart wasn’t in it. In the few months since discovering he had the Sight he’d managed to cheat death on numerous occasions, but however much he might kid himself that he was just one of those “born survivor” types, he always came back to the cold realisation that luck had played a prominent role in almost every case. He knew that luck wasn’t something to be relied upon, and sooner or later it wasn’t going to be there when he needed it. A creeping feeling was telling him it was going to be sooner rather than later. On that basis he really didn’t want to be at Spectre’s Rest when night fell.

  ‘Oh God, I think I preferred the constipated look to the one you’re doing now,’ Oscar said. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘Just the usual worrying about dying a horrible, meaningless death in a few hours’ time,’ Trev replied.

  ‘Bollocks to that, we’re not dead yet,’ said Oscar. ‘Let’s go and talk to Barton. Better to be doing something proactive rather than sitting in here thinking morbid thoughts, right?’

  ‘Yeah, probably,’ said Trev. He hauled himself to his feet. ‘He’s going to say no, but we might as well know for sure. Then we can try and come up with a plan “B”.’

  They eventually found Barton near the infirmary, talking to a pair of guards. He sent them on their way and folded his arms as Trev approached. He was almost sure that he was wasting his breath, but Trev decided to press on anyway in true British fashion.

  ‘Hello again,’ he said.

  ‘What can I do for you?’ said Barton, in a less than welcoming tone.

  ‘I wanted another go at persuading you to evacuate,’ Trev said, choosing the honest approach. ‘I totally understand your position and the risks involved, but however risky it might be we’ve got a much better chance of surviving if we leave.’

  Barton shook his head. ‘No, you don’t understand. There have already been security breaches at the new prison. To be blunt, it’s a shambles down there. If we throw these high-risk prisoners into that mix, we’re almost certainly looking at a full-blown riot. I wasn’t joking when I said evacuation was a last resort.’

  ‘Fine,’ said Trev. ‘Then you, and whoever else wants to, can stay. Let the rest of us leave. I’m not a Custodian, I’m not a prisoner and I don’t work for Veil Security. I shouldn’t even be here.’

  ‘I thought as much,’ Barton grunted. ‘This is just about you saving yourself, right?’

  ‘No,’ said Trev. ‘Well, all right, a bit. But why not let the people who want to leave, leave?’

  ‘Everyone in this prison wants to leave, me included,’ said Barton. ‘But it’s not as simple as that. And as far as you’re concerned, the trouble started just after you arrived and from what I’ve been told these shadows always seem to manifest when you’re nearby. I’m not letting you wander off until I’m satisfied you aren’t involved.’

  Trev clenched his fists in an effort to keep his voice even. ‘Is that really a concern?’

  ‘Very much so.’

  ‘Right. Fine. But when we’re all dead I’m going to make a point of coming back from the grave just to say “I told you so”.’

  ‘Knock yourself out,’ said Barton. ‘Now, was there anything else?’

  ‘No, I don’t think so,’ said Trev. He turned and walked away, fuming silently.

  ‘That was some brilliant negotiating,’ Oscar said. ‘You’re a regular Henry Kissinger.’

  ‘Shut up.’

  ‘Not likely,’ said the cat. ‘So, what’s plan “B”?’

  ‘I can’t decide between sobbing uncontrollably in a corner or helping the Custodians investigate the shadows.’

  ‘I think the latter might be the better bet.’

  ‘Maybe. Though I reckon they’ll both end up being a waste of time.’

  They returned to the library. Desai was there, going through the old prison plans with a pair of the Custodians. One was a tall, scrawny man with greying hair and glasses, while his companion was a small, solid-looking woman wearing a beanie hat and a world-class scowl.

  ‘I’ve come to help,’ Trev said, slumping into a chair. ‘What’s your plan of action?’

  ‘We’re going to investigate the conduits in the walls and cell blocks,’ Desai said. ‘It should give us some idea of how the darkness moves about the prison, and if we’re lucky, how we can interrupt it.’

  ‘We need to be very careful with this,’ Oscar said. ‘We still don’t really know what we’re up against. Messing with those conduits could have all sorts of consequences.’

  ‘I think we’re past the point where we can afford to be cautious,’ Desai replied.

  ‘Maybe,’ Oscar said. Trev expected him to follow up with further comments, but he didn’t.

  ‘How can I help, then?’ Trev asked.

  ‘Barton’s already sent two of his team to Block C to make a start in the cells,’ Desai said. ‘We were going to try and get at a couple of the wall conduits, probably these two here and here.’

  Trev leaned forwards to see where she was pointing on the prison plans. The two sites she indicated were large conduits located at the junction of two corridors.

  ‘How are you going to get at them?’ he said.

  ‘We haven’t got anything much in the way of machine tools, unfortunately,’ said the tall Custodian. His voice was surprisingly reedy. ‘It’d be pretty easy to break through the bricks with a pneumatic drill or something, but no such luck.’

  ‘So we’ve got to do it by hand?’

  ‘I don’t think it’d be a good idea to use vapour weapons near those conduits,’ said Oscar. ‘We’ve no idea what sort of reaction we’d get.’

  ‘We’ve got a couple of ordinary masonry drills that we can use to speed things up, but we’ll be using hammer and chisel for most of it,’ said the male Custodian.

  ‘This sounds uncomfortably like DIY,’ Trev said. ‘Oh well. Where do you want me?’

  ‘With four of us we can tackle both sites at once,’ Desai said. ‘Trev, you work with Stewart and I’ll pair with Dawn.’ She looked at her watch. ‘It’s dark by four o’clock so we haven’t got a lot of time to play with.’

  Trev stood up. ‘Let’s get on with it, then.’

  Stewart proved himself to be quite passable company. He wasn’t one for small talk, which suited Trev. There wasn’t much to be said, and both men kept to their own thoughts as they worked. After a while they were out of breath and sweating despite the cold. Victorian buildings were known for their sturdy construction, and Spectre’s Rest was no exception. Breaking through the first layer of bricks they found a second layer behind. The conduits had been well enclosed; Trev’s guess was that it was either to protect them or insulate them.

  The pile of rubble on the floor was quite large by the time they had a decent-sized hole in the wall. Stewart shone a torch inside, revealing a thick bar of metal passing vertically through a tight cavity. Even after a hundred years or more, it showed no sign of tarnish or corrosion. The surface was inlaid with intricate, spiralling designs picked out in a different metal, possibly silver. Trev leaned in towards it. He thought he could sense the energy pulsing through the metal pillar, although it could have been his imagination. He shivered and took a step back.

  ‘Look familiar?’ Oscar said.

  ‘Not really,’ said Stewart, but Trev was nodding.

  ‘It looks like the same sort of patterns that Kolle
y’s Funkelay Cage used,’ he said.

  A Funkelay Cage was a large apparatus that gathered psychic energy and focused it into a barrier that could be used to entrap supernatural creatures, such as ghosts or demons. As the knowledge of how to make one had mostly been lost, Funkelay Cages were very rare. Even so, people had sometimes tried to build them using a combination of incomplete notes, guesswork and trial-and-error. If they were lucky, the thing simply wouldn’t work. If they were unlucky, they’d find themselves reduced to a faint scorch-mark at the bottom of a sizeable crater.

  ‘Why would a prison have a Funkelay Cage built into it?’ Stewart asked.

  ‘You can’t build a Cage with the pillars encased in brickwork,’ Oscar said. ‘There has to be line-of-sight between them for the energy to bridge the gap and form the barrier. This thing must have a different purpose.’

  ‘Well we know that something powerful has been flowing along these conduits,’ Trev said. ‘But what for? Where’s it coming from?’

  ‘Good questions,’ Oscar replied. ‘I’m just hoping you’re not expecting us to give you any answers.’

  Stewart folded his arms and stared at the pillar. ‘I remember reading about Funkelay Cages a while ago,’ he said. ‘Is it true that they’re a kind of open system that allows energy to enter the circuit and leave it?’

  ‘Yes it is,’ Oscar confirmed. ‘A certain amount of energy is allowed to “bleed out” of the system. Otherwise it just keeps drawing in more and more until it overloads and goes bang.’

  ‘Do you think the system here is the same?’

  ‘I haven’t a clue. It’s possible, I suppose.’

  Stewart had picked up the drill and was weighing it thoughtfully in his hand. ‘If we damaged some of the conduits, maybe the darkness would bleed away safely?’ he suggested.

  ‘That’s a very big “maybe”,’ Trev said.

  ‘Yeah, but it makes sense,’ Stewart persisted. ‘If I remember what I read rightly, these spiral inlays are what focus the power and keep it within the pillar or conduit, except where it has to leave to jump to the next. A damaged inlay ought to create a weak point that leaks.’