Part I: Beginnings
It was a plain Tuesday morning, about mid-June. I was perhaps no more than twelve or thirteen. I remember it was a humid day, one of the hottest on record, and we were seated in the main hall for our morning assembly. Every morning we had to attend morning assembly, before school lessons started. It was the time when Mr Jackson, our head master and resident mental case, gave us supposedly inspirational words on how to achieve the best from our day at school. Most people, however, agreed that we’d probably achieve a lot more if we didn’t have these stupid assemblies all the time. But telling Mr Jackson not to do assemblies in the morning was like telling a fish not to swim.
Jackson really enjoyed doing them, and, as far as we the kids were concerned, anything that kept us from going to lessons couldn’t be all that bad.
On this particular day, however, I would rather have been somewhere else, like the Bahamas for instance, or a little island in the Indian Ocean, drinking coconut milk and getting a tan. Though, in my case, I’d probably be getting burned to a crisp, and sand in my shorts.
It must have been somewhere in the region of eighty degrees in the shade, and most of us were getting pretty restless. Jameson was rambling about his old schooldays or something, and had been for ten minutes or more. As I sat in my seat, eyes slowly glazing over, I suddenly noticed a strange-looking, elderly gentleman lurking at the door. I frowned and stared at him. There was something odd and vaguely familiar about him, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Anyway, I thought, it’s probably just another old fart come to bore us to death. So, I settled back in my seat and gazed dully at the back of my hand, currently doubling as a mini notepad-cum-diary-cum-time - table, and returned to my fantasy in the Indian Ocean.
“…And now, I would like to introduce a firm friend of the school, Mr Harry Jameson!” At this, my ears pricked up. This sounded vaguely interesting. Mr Jameson was a well-known figure in Doncaster, our hometown. He was somewhat dotty, we thought, but he had lots of money, so that made him eccentric. He’d moved into Doncaster about five years ago, from a country home in South Wales. Quite why he’d move to a place like Doncaster was beyond us. But, then again, he was, as Johnny Lockley tactfully put it “a queer old duffer” and had already gained a massive reputation as being the richest person for a hundred miles. He also had a tendency to spontaneously give what he termed ‘little trifles’ to the school of a mere two thousand pounds a year!
We’d all heard rumours about him that his cellars were stashed with gold, and the mansion he lived in was haunted. Strangely, however, we’d never actually seen him before, and some of us were wondering whether he really existed, or was one of those local legends like the Beast of Bodmin, or the Creature of Cornwall or something. Hearing that he was appearing in the flesh was like hearing that the yeti was coming to tea.
As he stood up to address us, we all started whispering excitedly. I turned to Maria, one of my best friends, and raised my eyebrows. “What’s a rich toff like him doing visiting a place like this?” I said quietly.
Maria shrugged “probably seeing where his money’s going to.” She suggested, only half-joking.
I smiled. “Sensible fellow.” I said.
She smiled back and turned to the front again. As I saw my first glimpse of Jameson, I was mildly intrigued to notice he was actually the queer old guy I’d seen earlier.
“Good morning,” He said, staring imperiously about. He voice dripped over us like treacle over pudding, richly seductive. He wore a thin, tight suit, barely big enough to cover the large expanse of waist that his shirt was fighting a losing battle to hold out of sight. His high, domed forehead had a thin spattering of defiant black hair swept back over his head like a semi-bald cock’s comb. I frowned again, troubled by something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Something about him set my teeth on edge. He smiled, a thin, stretched smile, completely humourless and vaguely predatory. “As you know, every year, I donate money to the school. Now is the time for me to see where my money is going. I am offering a chance for a group of children to visit my mansion for the day. Originally I intended for all of you to visit. However, my mansion is undergoing repairs at the moment, problems with the plumbing…”
“Parp!” I heard from behind me. I smiled wryly at Beavis’s childish humour. He was the school joker and nearly always ended up in trouble for one or other of his jokes. He was a nice lad, very funny and sparky, full of pranks and tricks. This comment was swiftly followed by a muted yelp as Beavis received a clip round his ears from Miss Goodbody, our form tutor. I smothered my mouth, nearly choking on my laughter, and turned back to the speaker.
“As a result,” he continued, “I have decided that a select group of five pupils would perhaps be more appropriate at this time. Choosing them is a slight problem, however, as I wouldn’t want to offend anyone. So the Headmaster suggested that all the names be placed in a hat and the five names be drawn. This was done before school, so as to save time now…”
“For God’s sake, hurry up you boring git!” Beavis muttered none too quietly. “Ow!” He yelped as Miss Goodbody caught him a back-hander across the back of his head again. I tittered and shook my head. He never learned.
“So, without any further ado,” Jameson continued, “I will read from my list, the five lucky children. They are: Claire Fastwood, John Lockley, Maria Haycock, Marty Greyton and Libby Stavely.” For a few moments, the hall erupted into a total uproar as the assembled pupils began chattering amongst themselves. I laughed excitedly realising my name had been one of them on the list. “A free day from school,” Beavis whispered in my ear.
“You lucky bugger, Marty.” I laughed again. “Well, y’know, some of us have it, kid!” I began and then ducked as Beavis playfully swiped at my head, and smiled. “Well, it gives you an ideal opportunity to get you and Claire together, at last.”
“Oh, please, c’mon, give me a break!” I retorted, blushing self-consciously, but not really offended. It was a well-known fact then I had a long-term crush on Claire. She was about a year older, and very beautiful, hinting of the amazing woman that she was to become in later years.
After a few moments, order returned, and we were dismissed. We were to assemble in the playground at eleven in the morning and expected to arrive at the house just after twelve. At ten to eleven, the five of us assembled outside, excited about the coming trip.
“What’s up with Maria?” Johnny asked as we entered the playground, gesturing to where she was stood. She stood a little apart from us, her ginger hair falling forward over her face, as if she’d been crying. She was a quiet sort was Maria. Shy and somewhat withdrawn at times, she had a heart of pure gold. If you needed a friend or confidante, she’d be there in a flash, and if you were being hassled unfairly, she would try and stand up for you. In many ways, she was a lot like me. But she also found it hard to fit in sometimes, especially with Johnny around. He wasn’t such a bad sort, but he was somewhat boisterous, and tended not to be very tactful. He never meant any harm, and I doubt he was really malicious ever. But he had a tendency to open his mouth without engaging his brain that often led to problems. Maria hadn’t quite learned how to take him yet, and sometimes he’d inadvertently upset her. I went over to her to see if she was all right. She’d usually talk to me more readily than the others.
“You okay there, kiddo?” I said, putting on my ‘Humphrey Bogart’ voice. She looked up, startled, then smiled.
“Oh, Hi Marty. Yeah, I’m fine.” She said unconvincingly. “Just a bit tired, that’s all.”
“You sure about that?”
She looked at me, and I could see she was on the verge of tears. I put my arm around her and gave here a hug. She put her head on my shoulder and cried. For a few minutes I held her until the tears subsided.
“Sorry about that.” She said, blowing her nose on a scrap of tissue she’d found up her sleeve.
“‘Salright!” I said, smiling. “My shoulder’s used to it.” She smiled back tearfully “You wanna talk about it?” She nodded silently.
“Not much to talk about, really.” She said softly. “I just got a note from Craig…” She trailed off, and blew her nose on her tissue. I put my arm around her and hugged. Craig had been her boyfriend for the past six months. He was about a year older, but rather immature and scatter-brained. She handed me a scrappy piece of paper. On it, Craig had written “Found someone else. Want to date them, not you. Sorry. Craig.”
“The little sod!” I muttered, angry at his lack of tact. “I’ll bloody kill him.”
“No, Marty, he’s not worth it!”. She looked down. “It’s no more that I’d expect from him. Besides, It’s my own stupid fault for trusting. I mean how is anyone expected to hang around someone like me?”
I turned to Maria and lifted her chin. “Listen to me, Maria.” I said softly, anger giving my words power. “That is crap. You are a very special young lady. You’re one of the nicest people I know.”
“You’re just saying that.”
“No I’m not. He isn’t worth it! You have to believe that. If he can’t see that you’re special then he needs to change his glasses. He isn’t worth breaking your heart over. I know how much you loved him and I know how much it hurts. But you have to believe me. He’s really not worth your tears. If he’d do that to someone as nice as you, knowing how you felt, then he’s really not worth a dime. You’re worth more than him, you can find a better guy, ten times the man he is!”
“I know, you’re probably right.” She whispered, her voice barely audible, her face streaming with tears. “But that doesn’t change how I feel. I still love him.” She turned away from me, her shoulders heaving with muffled sobs. I drew her close and held her. “I know, pet.” I said softly. “I know.” I held her close as she cried, and made myself a promise that the next time I saw Craig I was going to kill him for this.
* * * * * * * *
As I rejoined the group, they all came running up.
“Is she all right?” Claire asked, worriedly. “She seemed so upset.”
“Is she ever all right?” Johnny snorted, grinning. “Probably Craig didn’t smile today or something.”
“Shut it, Lockley.” I said, glaring at him. I was not in the mood for Johnny’s ‘clever-clogs’ humour. Johnny was about to say more, but then he caught my eye and fell silent.
“So what was up?” Claire asked. Johnny and Libby moved closer to hear. I made them promise not to say anything and told them she’d just split with Craig and was pretty cut up about it. I showed them the note.
“The little ****” Johnny cursed. “I’ll bloody kill him!”
“Violence rarely answers problems.” Libby said. Libby was the sensible one of the group, calm and logical, and slow to anger, something that could be quite frustrating at times. She often balanced out and calmed Johnny’s wildness, as well as occasionally inflaming his hot-headed temper.
“No.” Johnny agreed, eyes blazing and fists bunched up ready for battle. “But it’d make me feel better.”
“Until you get expelled and lose your place in the school rugby team.”
Libby said pointedly, touching his arm momentarily. Johnny fell silent. “And that won’t help Maria feel any better will it?” Johnny glared back at Libby for a moment, but said nothing.
“Libby’s right.” Claire said to Johnny. “What’s the use in getting yourself suspended from school over a jerk like him?” Johnny glared back, then turned away, still angry “He’d just better clear out of my way, that’s all!” He growled. Claire and I exchanged glances. “Johnny…” Libby began.
Just then, the mini-bus pulled up outside the school gates, thick clouds of black smoke belching from its back end. Johnny smiled, despite himself. “Jeez.” He said, “that thing’s older ‘n’ Jameson!” I smiled. He was all right now. Once he started cracking jokes, it usually meant he was calm again.
“Johnny, behave yourself!” Claire said. “He might hear you.”
“Well, I think he’s quite nice.” Maria said defensively, emerging from the cloakrooms. Typical of her to defend the underdog.
“Thought we were going to lose you in there for a moment!” Johnny said. Maria blushed slightly as Johnny put a friendly arm around her and squeezed. “Here’s looking at you, kid!” He smiled.
“Nice Cary Grant impersonation.” Maria said, smiling.
“Cary Grant! That was–” He caught her eye and smiled. “Watch it, sweetie, any more like that, and you get walking to Jameson’s!”
I smiled. At least she was happy now. We all hurried out the gates and onto the waiting mini-bus. I was the last on, and ended up sitting next to Claire. John was sat next to Maria, and he looked at me as I made my way to my seat, and grinned at me. I blushed as I lowered myself beside her, my heart pounding. She looked up at me and smiled. Her proud, soft features and tall, erect posture put me in mind of Queen Elizabeth II. Not as she is now, of course, but as she’d have looked as a young princess, perhaps. Her dark, bright eyes sat proudly beneath arched, aristocratic eyebrows. I suppose some may have thought her intimidating, but there was a softness about her, as if her face had been smudged with a humanity that aristocrats often seem to lack. Then again, I guess I was just a touch biased.
As she looked at me, I slid awkwardly into my seat and smiled.
“Are you all right?” She asked, noticing my colour.
“Yes, fine.” I said, a little awkwardly, glancing at Johnny. He smiled and began nudging Maria and whispering. Claire followed my gaze and saw him.
“Ah, I see.” She said knowingly. “Just ignore him. He might go away.”
“I’m doing my best.” I muttered, determinedly turning my back on him as I sat down. “Erm, so, erm, you looking forward to looking around the mansion then?” I said, effecting a casual humour.
“Yes, I’ve never been to a mansion before. It could be fun.”
“Fun? Could be a bit creepy if you ask me.” I said. “Remember all the stories about the place. And the mysterious disappearances.”
“Not turning chicken on me, Marty?” She said jokingly, looking me straight in the eyes.
“Of course not!” I said, putting on a blatantly false air of assurance, and going bright red at the same time.
“Glad to hear it!” She said. She turned to the window and gazed out. A smiled danced around the corners of her lips, as if she was laughing at a private joke. I watched her for a few seconds, then turned away.
“Looks like Johnny’s helping Maria get over Craig.” Libby whispered from behind. Claire and I turned around.
“What? I said, surprised. Libby jerked her head across the bus. We turned. Maria and Johnny were deep in conversation. AS we watched. Maria laughed at something Johnny had said. The conversation drifted over to where we were seated.
“Sho,” Johnny said, slipping into an appalling Sean Connery mockery. “You think thach you’re ready for thish misshion, Mish Moneypenny?”
“Well, I don’t know, James,” Maria replied, tossing her dark hair back. “It’s all so sudden.”
“Yesh, but we have to move quickly. If the old guy goesh for hish pocket, ya kick him.”
“Oh, no, James, that’s too much for a poor, weak lady like myself.” She laughed girlishly, leaning her head back against the seat. As she did so, her hand fell by her side, and rested on Johnny’s.
“I think we’ll leave them to it.” Claire said, tactfully turning our heads away.
“It’s probably just Johnny cheering her up.” I said to Claire.
“Yes, probably.”
“Nothing more.” I said, attempting to reassure myself.
“Yes, I think so.” She agreed, looking at me. “You’re not jealous, are you?”
“Oh, no,” I said. “It’s just that, well, I worry about her, you know.
She’s a close friend, and she gets hurt easily. I just don’t want her to rush into something whilst ‘on the rebound’, you know what I mean?”
“Yes.” She said, looking at me with a disconcerting intensity.
“What?” I asked, a little paranoid.
She shook her head. “Nothing.” She replied. “I’m just a bit surprised, that’s all.”
“Surprised?” I said, raising my eyebrows. “How?”
She looked away and said nothing. I watched her, taken aback by her reaction, and slightly concerned. My eyes roamed slowly down from her face, down her slender, brown neck and then I looked away, embarrassed, afraid to look farther.
“Have you ever had a girlfriend?” She said suddenly. I jumped, momentarily startled. She smiled. “Relax, I’m just curious.”
“No. Most girls run away when they see me coming.” I joked.
“Why? I don’t see anything to run away from.”
I looked up at her face, and I suddenly felt a warmth in my chest, swelling like a flame within my heart. Perhaps something showed in my face, because she smiled, faintly embarrassed, and looked down.
“Don’t act so surprised at that.” She said softly. “You have more admirers than you think.”
“Oh, yes, tell me more!” I said, curious. She smiled again.
“Well, look at the way you’ve taken Maria under your wing. She’s lucky you’re around.”
“She sure is!” I said immodestly, laughing it off. “I mean, if it wasn’t for my shoulders, she’d run out of tissues!”
“Oh, Marty.” She laughed. “You’re terrible!”
“Yes, but only when I sing.”
She looked at me, confused. “What?”
“Nothing. I’m just being surreal for a change!”
“You’re crazy.”
“Who? Me? Nah, not me! You must be confusing me with my twin brother Marty!”
“You are out of your tiny little tree!” She laughed, shaking her head. With a twinge I realised she was laughing with me, not at me, as many did at that time. I laughed back, strangely pleased. Silence fell, not the awkward silence of embarrassment but a warm, sweet silence. Suddenly I realised now was an ideal moment. I turned to her. “Claire, I-”
“Yes?” She turned and looked at me, and suddenly all my words died. “I’m tired.” I said lamely.
“Too many late nights, Noddy.” She said, then added quickly “And any comments about big ears, buster, and you go straight through the window, Goddit?”
“Loud and clear, ma’am!” I said, executing a quick mock-salute.
“Behave yourself, mister!” She said as she elbowed me in the ribs.
“Oi!” Libby said, popping her head over the top of the seat. “Will you two stop fighting, or I’ll have to separate you.”
Claire and I looked at each other and just laughed.
“What’s so funny?” Libby asked, bemused. “What?” Claire and I just giggled.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Some time later, we arrived outside the mansion grounds. All around them, there was a high brick wall surmounted with wicked-looking iron spikes.
“Ugh!” Claire said, shuddering.
“Oh, look, what an interesting example of neo-classical architecture!” Libby gushed. “Although, to be honest, it’s probably more Neo-Gothic, as the Classicists would have used stone, not brick. But, anyway, that’s just being pedantic.”
“Libby, can’t you ever just say something’s nice, or different, without attempting to confuse us with long words.” I said, slightly irritated. Libby’s knowledge was a great gift, but it often left others completely confused. Sometimes, I think she did it deliberately, a fact confirmed when she replied, quick as a flash:
“Of course I can. However, that takes half the fun out of it!” I turned and looked at her. She smiled impishly and winked cheekily at me. I shook my head in mock despair, and turned away.
As we passed through the ornately wrought iron gates, they clanged noisily shut behind us, causing us to jump. “It’s like being in prison.” Johnny said, leaning across the seats to us. Maria shuddered nervously.
“A mere security precaution.” Jameson said reassuringly to us as we drew up to the front of the mansion. As we stumbled to a halt, we got our first glimpse of the mansion. It rose out of the green field like a concrete tower, blackened tendrils of ivy entwining with heavy green mistletoe, gleaming white stone, as white as bone, showed between elegant sash windows. Mr Jameson turned to us. “Here we are, kids,” he said brightly. “We’re just in time for lunch.”
I heard Maria gasp behind me. I turned and looked at her. Her face was pale, as if she’d seen a ghost. Jameson looked sharply at her and his face twisted for a second into a grimace, distinctly unpleasant. Maria turned away, visibly shaken. Then his face broke into a brittle smile, as thin and cold as ice. “Well, here we are, then.” He said brightly. “Come along, everyone off then.”
“Are you all right, Maria?” Libby whispered as we filed off the bus. She nodded, still pale. She waited until we had passed Jameson and bent her head towards my ear. “Jameson had no whites in his eyes!” She whispered, her voice trembling. I frowned. “What?”
“Look!” She whispered again. Jameson passed us, and stood at the door as we entered. As I passed him, I looked up. His small, beady eyes were dark and penetrating and, I realised with a shudder, completely whiteless! He looked coldly down at me, and turned away again.
“See?” Maria hissed again. I nodded.
“Weird isn’t it?” I whispered back.
“Come along, no time for muttering and gossiping here, wait until we get inside!” Jameson said in a jolly tone of voice. We shuffled out of the entrance into the corridor beyond.
As we entered, a tall, pale manservant emerged from a doorway. “Follow me.” He said flatly.
“Coming, Lurch!” Johnny said in the same flat tones, causing a brief gale of laughter, which doubled as Jameson clipped him around the ear and followed him.
Huge chandeliers hung from the ceiling of the corridor as we walked down it, glittering crystals hanging from them like diamonds, refracting the light and glinting temptingly.
“Wow!” Claire breathed. “It’s beautiful!”
“Yeah.” Johnny said. “Bet it cost a blimmin’ fortune.” Red velvet festooned everything, giving the rather uncomfortable feeling of being inside a large, red throat As we walked along the long hallway, Jameson enlightened us as to the history of the place. Apparently, it had been owned by a very rich Lord who was a little bit mad and tended to enjoy ritual sacrifices in the back rooms. “Even the cellars are haunted with his previous victims.” He finished, grinning ghoulishly. Maria whimpered slightly.
“Don’t worry.” Libby said, her keen logical mind at work. “Ghosts don’t really exist. They’re merely the subconscious memories of past times projecting themselves onto the conscious mind, creating a quasi-visual and audio experience.”
“What?” Maria asked, confused.
“What Miss Spock is trying to say,” John interjected, “is that it’s all imagination.”
“Precisely.” Libby agreed, her eyes glinting smugly. “As I just said.”
“If you would care to come this way,” Jameson broke in impatiently. “I think it’s time for dinner.” He herded us into a huge, splendid Edwardian banquet hall and seated us at the far end of it. The room was decorated with large friezes of battle-scenes, previous Lords and less-than-reassuring portraits of Jameson himself.
The table was piled high with mountains of food ranging from tiny canapés to a huge trifle. Jameson sat at the head of the table and smiled. We sat at the opposite end. “Please, help yourselves.” He said grandly. “It’s all here to be eaten. I shall leave you to it, as I have an urgent appointment I have to attend, but I shall see you before you leave, I’m sure.” He smiled, a thin smile, brittle as ice. He then stood up and left.
“What d’you think?” John blurted when he’d gone. “Seems a bit of a queer old boot to me? And did you get a load of them eyes?”. He grabbed a piece of chicken and tore into it, spraying crumbs across the table. Maria frowned at him disapprovingly.
“I think he’s nice enough!” Claire smiled as she said this. “But he doesn’t seem to like kids much.”
“No.” Maria agreed, shuddering. “Perhaps that’s because he’s not used to us!”
“Hmm.” I said, drinking deeply of my glass. Claire looked at me.
“You sound doubtful, Marty.” She said.
“There’s something about him that doesn’t seem right, somehow.” I said.
“What do you mean?” Libby asked.
For a few moments I didn’t answer. I wasn’t really that sure, myself. There was just something about him that I simply didn’t like. I shrugged.
“It’s probably nothing.” I said, stifling a yawn. “It’s just that…” My voice trailed off as I yawned openly. Suddenly I didn’t feel so good.
“Are you all right?” Johnny asked. His voice seemed strange and far away. He stood up to reach over to me, but stumbled and fell, dragging the cloth off the table. Maria screamed, and tried to go to his aid, but collapsed before she’d finished standing. “My legs…” She moaned, as she collapsed to the floor. I lurched drunkenly from my seat, knocking the table and chairs away. Out of the corner of my eyes I could see Claire’s unconscious form on the table. “Drugged…” Libby slurred, almost incoherently, scattering food as she fought the effects. “Theerrre fooooo..” She grabbed my arm for support, knocking my across the room. My legs, unable to support the weight, collapsed beneath me and I crumpled to the ground, Libby sprawling across me. I fought desperately against the leaden feeling in my limbs and struggled to get back to my feet. The room blurred in and out of focus and span around me. I slumped backwards, and the room spiralled into blackness as consciousness finally deserted me…
Part II:- Prisoner…
I groaned muzzily as consciousness returned. My head pounded like an anvil, and my stomach lurched sickeningly. I tried to sit up, but the nausea in my stomach caused me to rethink that idea. As I stretched out an arm to steady myself, my hand brushed something cold and hard. I jerked away with a cry, and a wave of dizziness hit me like a sledgehammer. I opened my eyes a crack to look at where I was. All around, I could see a deep, damp gloom. As my eyes adjusted to the half-light, I could discern stone walls all around me. I appeared to be laid on a hard wooden bench chained to the wall. I Rolled to one side and fell with a thump onto the floor. It was cold and damp. As I lay there gathering strength, I ran my fingers across its surface. It was unnaturally cold, almost burningly so, and the dampness felt clammy, unpleasant. I became aware of an acrid, pungent smell, unidentifiable but intrinsically repellent I sneezed, attempting to clear my nose of the repulsive odour. I pushed myself into a crouched position, and squatted on my haunches, my head resting against the bench. As I moved, I felt something cold around my wrists. Peering at it in the gloom, I could make out a long, flexible shape extending from them. AS I peered closer, I noticed it looked suspiciously like …
Chains! I’ve been taken prisoner! I thought numbly. I pulled at the chains, the manacle part, biting into my wrist. It was firmly rooted to the wall. Desperately I twisted and turned my hands, trying to wriggle them through. But it was to no avail. My hands were too big, and all I succeeded in doing was chafing my wrist. On a sudden, desperate whim, I reached down to put my hands into my pockets and rummaged around, searching for something, anything that might be useful. I grabbed a handful of assorted oddments and scattered them at my feet. Then I rummaged again. Finally I found what I was looking for. I pulled out a battered, tin lighter and smiled. I flicked the wheel. It sparked and went out again. I cursed mildly and tried again. There was a fizz, and the flame flared up. I looked down at the objects I’d spilled at my feet. There was a length of string with half a yo-yo still attached, a bottle of liquid paper, a fountain pen, assorted scraps of paper, a couple of bent paper clips and a sticky mass that was once a packet of jelly-babies, but had long since decomposed. Not much to go on, I thought, But it’s a start. I stared thoughtfully at the paper clips. I wonder … I reached out and began to straighten them out. After a few moments, they were both straightened. I picked one up, and looked at my shackled wrists. Now, I thought. How did James Bond do it again?
The battered lighter’s flame burned low, barely shedding any light now, but still managing to burn my fingers. The shackle still remained firmly and definitely locked. Picking this lock wasn’t easy. Juggling the lighter in one hand, whilst using the other to pick the lock of the manacle on the hand holding the lighter isn’t easy to say, let alone do. I jiggled the pin once more. “C’mon you little… Aahh!” I yelped as the lighter burned my fingers, and it slipped from my grasp. It hit the floor, spluttered then went out. I cursed angrily and jiggled the pin blindly. Suddenly there was a click, and the manacle fell off my left wrist. I quickly fumbled with the other manacle, searching for the release-pin. After a few moments, I found it. In seconds the remaining shackle was gone. I was free. Well, freer, anyway. I rubbed my raw, numbed wrists, trying to massage some feeling back into my wrists. I peered dimly into the gloom, barely able to make out the far wall. Now what?
Suddenly, there was a loud, metallic rumble and a section of the wall across the room grated back. A blinding white light stabbed at my eyes. I shaded them instinctively, momentarily blinded. Then I made a lunge for the gap.
“Not so fast, kid!” A rough shove sent me sprawling back to the ground. Through slitted eyes, I could make out a tall figure standing in the doorway, framed by the light.
“Who are you? What do you want?” I cried out fearfully.
“Nothing much!” It replied, and laughed, a deep, rich laugh I recognised instantly.
“Jameson?”
“Who else?” He sneered.
“What’s happening?” I cried out angrily, lunging for him. “Where are my friends? What have you done to them?” He lashed out at me, his hand smashing across my face. I fell back, stunned. Tears sprang into my eyes and my mouth filled with the sickening, salty taste of blood. I glowered defiantly at him, angry tears stinging my eyes. “If you’ve hurt them, I’ll…”
“What?” He replied, mockingly. “Kill me? You wouldn’t dare try. You’re just a dumb kid!”
“Where are they?” I repeated, forcing my voice to remain calm.
“Oh, they’re hanging around somewhere!” He said, and laughed, a uniquely unpleasant sound. His lips curled back to reveal white, uneven teeth that seemed to almost glow in the darkness and a harsh grating laugh hissed from his throat like steam from a boiler. I felt a hard, cold lump form in the pit of my stomach, and the nauseous taste of fear hit the back of my throat. I swallowed it down and stared back at him.
“Don’t worry.” He said. “They’re not dead. Yet!”
“What do you want?” I asked, my voice trembling.
“Nothing much, just for you to spend a single night here!”
“Here? wh-why?”
“I like to play games with my guests.” He said. “If you survive the night here, you can go free!”
“Survive?” I said fearfully. The lump had risen to my chest and was spreading. I felt sick to the stomach with fear, and I felt the cold, bitter taste of my gorge rising. I swallowed desperately, and when I spoke again, my voice was level and even “What do you mean, survive?”
“What I said, child. Survive and you go free. Don’t, and you don’t!”
“What about my friends?”
He looked at me, and smiled a thin, cruel smile. “They didn’t.” He said simply. I stared back at him, shaken to the core! Suddenly, I felt a surge of anger rise in my heart, overriding the fear. With speed that surprised myself, I sprang at him, knocking him to the ground, my hands reaching for his throat. He staggered back, then grabbed my arms in an iron grip. He shoved me back, and smashed me across the face. I fell to the ground, sobbing the angry, impotent tears of a child. Blood poured from my nose and mouth. He stared at me, his face twisted in a grimace of distaste, then gestured at one wall. A small panel slid back to reveal a button. In the dim half-light it glowed red, winking balefully, like an evil-eye. “If you get too frightened, you can always press this button. You forfeit the deal, however. Have a nice night.” He chuckled evilly as he stepped back into the light. The wall slid smoothly back into place. I curled up on the floor and cried, deep, soul-wracking sobs, the cries of a boy who had lost everything…
I don’t know how long I curled there. It seemed like forever. Grief filled my mind like a cold, grey fog, numbing my senses, blinding my mind. Images of my friends floated through my mind, their faces as grey and haunted as my mind: Libby, clever, pretty, a budding bio-chemist with the world at her feet; Johnny, hot-headed future Roger Taylor wannabe; Maria, shy, loving, precious Maria. And Claire. Oh, God, Claire! I thought of all the things we’d shared together, all of us. I remembered the time I’d lost my dog, last fall, and it had been killed by a car, and how they’d all been there for me. I remembered the last fall, and the pact we’d made, between us. Friends forever! Claire had said, and we all took each other’s hand. We’ll stay together until the day we die! Those words echoed hollowly in my ears. Back then, it’d seemed something so far in the future. And now…
AWOOAAWWWWWOOOOAAAA!…..
I jerked out of my reverie and stared about me, fearfully. The howl echoed in the confines of the room, rebounding from the walls and vibrating in my skull. Something was in the room! I stared wildly about me, scrabbling for the lighter. In the dark something scuffled. I peered into the gloom. Vaguely, against the far wall, something large and shaggy appeared to hunch. Backing against the wall, my hands searching desperately for something, anything to protect me from whatever was in the room with me. There was movement, and something hit me in the face. From the impact it felt like a giant hairy mallet. I fell to the ground, momentarily unsure whether my head was still connected to my shoulders. Something’s trying to kill me! I thought. Behind me, I could hear snuffling and grunting.
AWOOOOOAAAAAAARRRRRRRROOOOOOAAAAAA!
That cry again! That mournful, bloodthirsty cry! It echoed in my soul. My whole body trembled with fearful dread. Ice-fingers ran up and down my spine. I looked around me, terror filling my mind, searching desperately for something, anything to help me. My fingers closed around the manacles, still discarded on the floor. Another soul-rending yowl tore the air, this time, appearing to come from directly beside me. I yelled out, and lashed wildly. The manacles arced through the air, and smashed into something heavy and furred. There was a crunch, and another yowl. A claw-tipped paw hit me in the chest, lifting me off my feet. I landed with a thud on the other side of the room. Dazed and hurt, I didn’t know what to do. Then, a soft, red light seemed to emanate from above me. I looked up,. Above my head lay the red button. Jameson’s words echoed through my head. But I was past caring. All I wanted was to get out, away from that…. thing, and out of this hell-trap. And so, panicking completely, I stabbed at the red button…
PART III: Horror!
There was a swoosh from behind. I turned and watched as a panel slid back. I looked, panic-stricken, as the noise became unbearably loud. I clamped my hands over my ears and rolled through the opening. In the flickering torch-lit room I could see what appeared to be an operating table with a figure lying on it. As my eyes adjusted, I recognised, to my horror, the prone body of Claire. A sheet covered everything but her head. Her face was deathly pale, and her head, one covered with luxuriant hair, was bare and scarred with cuts, as if shaved in a hurry. Tubes came from various parts of her body leading to shallow bowls from which brown, furry things chattered and lapped eagerly at the contents. A bank of electronics stood on one wall whirring and flashing. Then I saw it. An impossibly tall creature, crouched over a screen of some description. I put my hand to my mouth to stifle a cry, but it was too late. I gasped in horror. It turned, faster than a creature of such bulk should be able to move, howling like an animal. I had just enough time to realise it sounded exactly like the howls I’d heard before, then it had seized me. I looked up into a heavy, thickly furred face from which a piggish snout jutted and two black, beady eyes viewed my with distaste.
“SO.” Its voice thundered and echoed, each syllable as final as a tombstone. “YOU FOUND THE RED BUTTON. YOU LOSE!” It threw me across the room and into the wall. I landed with a sickening thud. As I hauled myself into a sitting position, I dazedly stared at this creature. This is it, I thought crazily, this is a crazy nightmare and I’m going to wake up soon! But I knew it wasn’t, I knew I wouldn’t. The creature leered at me, drool dripping from its open mouth. I could see stubbed, yellowed tusks jut like tombstones from its jaws as it approached me. I tried to roll out of its way, but a sharp pain in my leg caused my to cry out. I looked down. My leg was bent at an odd angle. I looked up, tears of pain and fear rolling down my cheeks. The thing grabbed me again. “IT’S DYING’ TIME!” It rumbled. It raised me high into the air and prepared to smash me against the wall. In desperation I lashed out with my good foot. It smashed into an eye. The creature screamed out in agony, bringing both hands up to its face. As it did so, it let go of me. I landed heavily and tried to pull myself up, ignoring the pain in my leg. As I scrambled back, I put my hand into a bowl, upsetting it, and sending the furry creature lapping at it racing whimpering under the table. I stared in horror at my hand. It was covered in blood. Claire’s blood! This creature was draining her blood! I looked at her, horror-struck. My limbs felt like lead and I was powerless to move. Then a growl from behind me caused me to turn away, and look across the room to where the creature hunched, clutching its eye. Purple blood oozed from it. It hauled its huge bulk up, “YOU WILL PAY FOR THIS, LITTLE MAN! MORLOCK WILL KILL!” It bellowed in pain and anger. I looked frantically for something, anything to use as a weapon. I spotted the brown, furry creature, peering out with angry red eyes from beneath the table. Desperately, I grabbed it by its fur and flung it at the Morlock. As it arched through the air towards him, it emitted a loud, high pitched whine of fear.
“NOOOOOOO!!!” roared the Morlock, clamping its great paws over its ears and cowering. The thing flew over its head and hit the far wall with a sickening crunch. As it slid down the wall and came to rest, its cries intensified. The Morlock wailed. “PLEEEAASSEE!” It whimpered plaintively. “MAKE IT STOOOOP!!!”
I stared, dumbfounded for a moment. Then I smiled, a spark of hope flaring. Perhaps there was a way … I turned around and seized another creature and hurled it across the room, and another.
“NOOOOOO!” The Morlock pleaded desperately, slowly sinking to its knees. “NOOOOoooaaaaarrr!” It swung its heavy paws at me, wicked claws passing within inches of my face. I rolled to one side. All around, the brown ‘furries’, as I’d christened them, were crying out. I watched, amazed. Somehow, something in their cry was hurting it! I grabbed more of the furries and flung them at him. The cries intensified, rising in pitch, as the Morlock roared in pain. He reached out towards me, screaming curses and threats. I lashed out again with my good foot. A heavy paw caught me and lifted me across the room. I hit the ground with a thud, and winced painfully. The creature, maddened with pain, lurched towards me. I desperately rolled to one side. There was a sickening crunch and a fiery pain lanced up my bad leg. In its blind lunge, the Morlock had stumbled and landed heavily on my leg. I cried out, and reached out for something, anything to use as a weapon. My fingers closed around something. I looked up. There was a long metal bar of some description. Hardly believing my luck, I brought it over my head in a wide arc. It hit the Morlock on the side of the head. Once! Twice! Thrice! It roared in agony, and slashed at me with its claws. I rolled desperately to one side and lunged upwards and forwards at it. The bar struck it in the chest. Unable to stop, its momentum carried it forwards onto the bar, skewering it. Purple blood spurted across the room, spraying across the walls and floor. I turned away, closing my eyes and lifting my arms up to protect myself. There was a thump before me, followed by a rumbling groan. Then, nothing except the frantic wailing of the furries. I opened my eyes. The great Morlock lay stretched out before me, face down, lifeless. All around me, the furries were running about in a panic. Except, I notice, the ones I’d hurled at the walls. They simply huddled making brief whimpering noises. I turned away, momentarily shamed at my wanton cruelty to them. But, as the saying goes, it was them or me.
I hauled myself into a sitting position and turned my head towards the table where Claire lay. Blood oozed from the tubes, and slowly spread across the floor like red ink. I crawled painfully towards her, desperately fighting against the pain in my leg. I knew I had to do something, and quickly. As if on auto-pilot, I began to work. It was as if something, some power was working through me, giving me strength. On auto-pilot, I pulled myself across the floor. My leg trailed uselessly behind me, crushed and shattered in several places. I hauled myself across to the table, and leaned against it, exhausted. Pain throbbed through me, but I had to carry on. The pool was spreading across the floor and running in rivulets. I pulled myself into a sitting position, and looked desperately at the tubes. Two went into her arms, entering at the arteries. Two more went into her legs, held by intravenous needles. I pulled out the nearest one, as quickly and carefully as I could. I knew there was only a matter of minutes before it was too late, and painfully aware that if I was too rough, I could kill her. In a few seconds, the tube fell to the floor. The needle remained in her arm, but without the tube attached, the blood ceased to flow. I sighed, and reached across her to remove the other tubes.
Minutes later, the last tube fell to the floor. I pulled myself up onto my good foot, leaning heavily on the table, and looked down at Claire’s still form. Was I in time? Her grey lips had already begun to turn blue, and deep hoods hung beneath her eyes, and she barely seemed to be breathing. I bent forwards, and lifted her head tenderly.. “Claire?” I said softly. Her thin, pale face, so different from how it had seemed a few short hours ago, was as cold and immobile as if it had been carved from marble. I tenderly stroked her face, my fingers leaving bloody stains where they touched. Then I bowed my head, grief overwhelming me. I held her hand close to my face. All the horrors of the day welled up in my mind. “Why?” I sobbed. “Oh, God, please, why?” Hot tears of anguish rolled down my face.
“Don’t waste your time, kid.” I looked up. Through a mist of tears I saw Jameson standing beneath an archway. In one hand he held a pistol. “She can’t hear you.”
“You evil monster!” I said, my voice hollow and drained. “You’re killing her!”
“Killing?” He said quizzically, almost hurt. “Oh no no no, dear boy. I’m not killing her.” He smiled, stepped forward, kicking a nearby furry. It rolled, whimpering, towards me, and came to rest at my feet. “You see,” he continued “I need her alive.”
“Alive?” I said bitterly, waving an angry hand over her still form. “You call this alive? You were draining her blood, dammit!”
“Whilst she was still alive, though.”
“You swine!” I lurched towards him, my left leg swinging wildly, barely supporting me. He raised the pistol, cocking the trigger as he did so.
“Don’t be stupid, child. I could blow you away in an instant.”
“So why don’t you?” I stared at him, my eyes blazing with hate.
“I need you, just as I need Claire, and the other three brats. If I didn’t, you wouldn’t be here now.” He walked arrogantly towards me, swaggering like a cruel, conquering Emperor eyeing a peasant. “Poor, defeated booby!” He laughed evilly. “You still don’t understand? I’ve watched you defeat Morlock. I let you defeat him.”
I looked back, stunned. “Why?” I said numbly.
He looked at me, as a teacher might look at a thick pupil. “I had to test your Spirit. You see,” he continued, as if beginning a well-rehearsed speech, “human life can be divided into five distinct parts. Body, Mind, Strength, Heart and Spirit. Separately, they are weak. Joined together, however, they are the greatest force, the force of life itself. That is why You and your four friends were brought here. Each of you has one of the five elements to an almost perfect degree. Claire, here is the Body, the other two girls are the Mind and Heart and the other boy is the Strength. If I could extract them, and combine them into one body, I could create a mighty being, a Super-being that could rival the Gods themselves!” I stared at him, speechless. “You’re crazy!” I finally managed.
“Crazy? No, I don’t think so. I prefer to call it Genius.” He stepped closer. “Yours is the binding element I need to bring the others together.” He reached out and tugged on the torch above him. There was a series of grinding sounds, and four panels lifted up, revealing dark alcoves. He snapped his fingers, and they lit up. There, chained in the first three were Libby, Maria and John, slumped forward. “You see. Mind, Heart and Strength. And you…” The light flared in the last alcove. It was empty. “You will be the Spirit!” He threw back his head and laughed. I lowered my eyes, momentarily dumbstruck and looked down at Claire, her gaunt, haggard face pale and waxen. I thought of all the suffering she’d endured, and how much pain she’d been caused, I remembered the look in her eyes as we sat together on the bus so recently and, suddenly, I felt a fire well up inside of me, white-hot, consuming all my fear and horror. As I gazed down at Claire, the feeling burned through my veins like molten lead. I raised my head and looked squarely at Jameson. “No!” I said softly. My voice cut through the wails and whimpers like a welding torch through butter, cutting them dead. Jameson stopped laughing and stared at me in shock. I stared levelly at him. “No!” I said, my voice strangely distorted with emotion. “It ends here!” Jameson stared back, almost admiringly.
“Such strength of Spirit…” He murmured. “Or something else…” Then he smiled again. “So,” he continued. “You want to fight. This is good, your Spirit is indeed strong.”
“You think you’re so clever.” I spat, each burning word flying out with the force of a flying fist. “You think you’re so good and great, do you? You’re Nothing.”
“What?” Jameson spluttered. “You fool, do you think…”
“No Jameson, you are the fool. All that crap about Body and Mind, and Spirit. It’s bull-dust! You cannot bind all these things together in one body like this. That’s not life! It’s living death!” I shook my head, and hobbled towards him.
“Hold it, one false move, and…” He began nervously
“And what?” I spat viciously. He recoiled as if hit. I lunged at him, catching him off-guard. He fell back, the gun skidding across the floor. “You slime!” I said venomously, seizing him by the throat, and slamming him up against the screen so hard, it cracked. He stared at me, terror in his eyes. He kicked me in the chest and I fell back. He lunged for the gun. Desperately, I flung myself at him. My leg skidded wildly, and I half fell over him. My whole body lay across him, and my hands seized his throat again. He struggled to free himself, but I had him pinned down. “You forgot one element from your list.” I snarled. “One which you couldn’t see.”
“What?” he said fearfully
“You wouldn’t understand, even if it jumped up and bit you!” I said bitterly, tightening my grip. He struggled, his breath coming in wheezing gasps. “Your sort never will. Your creation might walk and talk. It might have brains, power. But it would lack that which its creator lacked, humanity.”
He stared back at me, then bowed his head, as if conceding a point. “Yes, you’re right.” He said quietly. “It’s all over.” I released my grip slightly.. A mistake. Suddenly, he made a quick movement with his hands. I rolled desperately as he lunged for the gun. My bad leg gave way, and I pitched forwards. I landed on his arm. He rolled over, putting his other arm around my throat. I stabbed backwards with my elbow, and heard him gasp in pain. I rolled to one side, and lashed out with my remaining good foot. It hit the gun, which skittered across the floor, disturbing a group of furries. They turned and fled into the shadows. I lashed out again, and caught Jameson in the stomach. He doubled up, and groaned. Ignoring the fiery pain, I smashed my fist into Jameson’s chin. He slumped backwards, unconscious. I raised my fist again, about to strike once more, but instead I fell back, breathing heavily. As the rush of emotion faded, I suddenly felt very, very tired. My leg throbbed painfully, and I could feel a sharp pain in my side that suggested cracked ribs at the least. I turned to the alcoves, where my friends hung. I realised, through the pain, that I needed their help if Claire’s life was to be saved. Painfully, I dragged myself across the floor towards them. I reached the first opening, and looked up. It was Libby. I stretched, wincing in agony as a shooting pain shot down my side. Gritting my teeth, I reached out to her foot, just above me. I grabbed it, and used it to haul myself onto my feet. “Libby.” I said weakly, leaning heavily against the alcove wall. She stirred and groaned.
“Wh–?” She mumbled as she opened her eyes. She looked down at me, dazed. “Oh, my God,” she said, looking down at me. “You look terrible.”
“Thanks.” I grimaced, fiddling ineffectually with the clasps around her legs. In a few seconds they fell away, and I hauled myself up to her arm-chains.
“What happened?” She asked. I pointed across the room to where Jameson lay slumped, and the Morlock’s still corpse. Her eyes then lighted on Claire
“Oh, no.” She said quietly.
“Oh, Yes.” I said bitterly. I reached up to where her hands had been clasped to the wall. The clasp was fastened by a pin, designed to pull tighter as you pulled against it. I pushed the pin upwards, and the hasp flicked open. She fell forwards, and landed on top of me. A cry of pain escaped my lips. Red hot needles were stabbing into my side.
“Marty, are you alright?”
“Yes.” I nodded, lying through my teeth. “Help me over to Claire.”
“My God, is she..?” “I don’t know” I snapped, pain and fear for Claire sharpening my voice. “But help me to her so’s I can find out, then you free the others.”
“But Marty…”
“Just do it, dammit! Then hang Jameson in one of the alcoves. And if he moves, sock him one. Or five.”
“Gotcha!” She said, and tried to lift me. “Jeez, you weigh a ton, kid!” She grunted. She half walked, half dragged my to the table. I slumped by the side of it. Libby stood for a moment, staring at her.
“Get the others.” I said urgently. She stood staring for a moment. Then she turned and hurried towards the alcove. I turned painfully and looked at Claire’s still form. “C’mon.” I whispered softly, shaking her by the arms. “It’s me, Marty.” She lay there still and silent. I placed my head on her chest, listening for a breath, a beat, anything. I could hear a faint beat, and smiled. She was alive. But for how long? I heard the others behind me. Libby came by my side. “They’re dragging Jameson away.” She said. I nodded silently. Libby knelt down beside me and looked sadly at Claire. “Is there nothing we can do?” She said, her voice choked.
“We need to somehow stabilise her. I managed to remove the tubes, but she lost a lot of blood, I…” I stopped, unable to continue. Tears began to roll down my cheeks. Libby turned and looked down at me.
“My God, you poor kid!” She said, her voice full of concern “I didn’t realise you were so…” She knelt by my side, and stroked my face. I looked away.
“I’m alright.” I said bravely, blinking away the tears.. “Don’t worry.”
“Don’t be bloody stupid!” She snapped. “You’ve got a busted leg, probably broken, and possibly cracked ribs and there’s blood flowing from a cut on your head. Of course you’re not bloody alright!” She reached out and ripped a strip from my shirt.
“What about Claire?”
“Shut up, and let’s get you sorted first! We can’t do any more about her for now, but we can sort you out. Now lay back and relax whilst I strap you up.”
I leaned back, too tired to argue anymore. She looked frantically around for something to use as a splint. “Aha!” She said, and raced across the room. When she came back, she was clutching a length of wood. She ripped my trouser legs, and used the materials to make a splint for my leg. Then she gently rolled me onto my back. I cried out as shooting pains shot up and down my chest like electric shocks. Tenderly, she began winding strips of material around my chest. After a few minutes, she’d finished. “There!” She said. “Now stay there and wait. Johnny any Maria are looking for a way out.” I lay back and closed my eyes. I suddenly felt very tired and weary. Whatever had been driving me suddenly seemed to vanish, and I simply lost all energy.
“Hey Guys!” Johnny yelled. I looked up.
“Yes?” Libby replied “We can’t find a way out.”
“What?”
We can’t find a way out. It seems we’re trapped!”
Oh no, I though. “Now what?” I asked Libby. She shrugged. “Now what indeed!” She murmured softly.
Part III: Escape
Libby was the first to speak. “Keep looking!” She said to Johnny.
“But…” He began.
“Look, there has to be a way out.” Libby said as calmly as she could. “We got in here, right? So, logically, there is a way out. We just have to find it, that’s all.”
“Easy for you to say!” Johnny snorted. “Unfortunately, we can’t all take such a dispassionate view, Miss Spock!”
“Easy, Johnny.” I said, warningly. “We’ve all been through a rough time, not just you!”
“Yeah?” He snapped. “Look at her.” He pointed at Libby. “What would she know? She’s not even human!”
“Back off!” I said angrily. “You have no idea!” I lunged forwards, but Libby held me back.
“C’mon, Johnny,” Maria said, putting her arm around him. “We’ve done well, so far, considering. If we can just hold together a little longer, maybe we can get out in one piece. We have to think about Claire, and Marty. The sooner we get out, the sooner we can get them to a Hospital.”
“But…” Johnny shook his head.
“We’ve got to try.” Maria insisted gently. He abruptly stood up and stalked across the room. Maria looked back at us apologetically, then followed him. Libby turned away from me. Her shoulders began to shake.
“Hey,” I said softly, propping myself up against the table. “C’mon.” I reached out and rubbed her tenderly across the shoulders. She turned. “Oh, Marty.” She said, tears welling up. “What if we don’t get out?”
“We will!”
“But what if we don’t!” She said, hysteria creeping into her voice. I reached out to her and put an arm around her. She looked up at me. I drew her closer and hugged her. She clung to me and cried, deep, heavy sobs right from within. I just held her, unable to comfort her. Tears of my own began to fall, and I bit my lip, desperate to hold together for a few more seconds.
“Hey, look here!” We both looked up. Johnny and Maria crouched by the far wall. “I think we’ve found something.” Maria bent forwards and tugged at something. There was a sudden crunch followed by deep rumble. A trickle of dust fell from above them. Maria scrambled back, dragging Johnny, as a section of the wall suddenly collapsed inwards. There was a crash, and a cloud of bricks and dust. Then there was silence.
“Are you all right?” Libby called. Maria turned and waved. “I think we’ve found something!” Johnny yelled back. He turned and crawled forward through the hole left be the falling masonry.
“What can you see?” Maria called.
“I think there’s some kind of trapdoor. I think I can.” There was a distant creak, and a crash followed by a muffled curse.
“Johnny!”
“I’m all right!” He called back. “I think I’ve found a way out. I’ll try and get some help.” There was silence. Then, after a few moments Johnny’s head popped down. “The phone’s out!” He said. “I’m gonna run for help!” Before we could say anything, he’d gone.
Libby looked around thoughtfully. “Maria, come give us a hand!” She said, suddenly racing over to the electronic bank. Maria obeyed. They both stood before the machine. “Right.” Libby said, putting her hands on her hips. “We need to take this apart and make a stretcher-affair to carry Marty and Claire.”
“What, just like that?” Maria said doubtfully. Libby nodded “Either that or we sit on our butts, do nothing and die!” Maria nodded. Libby smiled reassuringly and began pulling at one end. Maria moved uncertainly to the other end. They both began pushing forwards. For a few seconds, nothing happened. Then, with a shower of sparks and dust, the bank crashed forwards. “Right.” Libby said. “Where do we start?” Maria looked at her and raised a quizzical eyebrow.
After what seemed like hours, they’d managed to remove the back of the machine. “Right.” Libby said. “All we need is a blow-torch, then we’re cooking.”
“Right, well, just a moment, I’ll check my pockets.” Maria said sarcastically. Libby glared at her. Then she looked down. There was a massive tangle of wires inside, many of then still sparking. There was a distant rumble, followed by a crash as a section of the ceiling caved in.
“What’s happening?” Maria said, frightened.
“I think we might have dislodged something when we moved this electronic bank. We’d better work quickly, if we’re to get out of here. She put her head down and began pulling out handfuls of wire.
After several minutes, the pair of them dragged a large panel across the floor to where I lay. Carefully, they slid it underneath my back. Then, using the wire cannibalised from the electronic bank, they strapped me to it. Behind me, I heard another resounding thunder as the roof above the alcoves roared down. Chunks of masonry rained down. Maria screamed and flung herself over me. Libby dived over Claire, trying to shield her from the debris. There was a rumbling boom. Then there was nothing except a deep silence.
I groaned, painfully, as I opened my eyes. Libby looked down at me, tears in her eyes. I struggled to get up. “Easy, Marty.” She said softly. “What….?” I began, then it all came back. “Claire!” I shouted. Libby looked across at Maria. My eyes followed her gaze. The laboratory was a wreck. Rubble and debris lay everywhere, where furniture and fittings had fallen in from above. In the distant recesses, I could see flames licking hungrily at the ruins of the laboratory. Then I saw Maria. She was cradling Claire in her arms. “No!” I cried out and struggled to get up.
“Marty.” Libby said, holding me back. I wrestled angrily with her. “No, Marty, please. There’s nothing you can do.”
“No!”
“Marty, please, listen. She’s gone.” She said, leaning forwards and looking me straight in the eyes. I looked back, slowly realising the truth. Claire was dead! I sagged and went limp. Numbness filed my mind. Libby wrapped her arms around me and held me gently. I was barely aware of her. All I could see was Maria, cradling Claire. “No, God, please, no!” I whispered. Hot tears of anguish poured down my face as I rocked with grief. Libby held me closer, but I didn’t care. Nothing mattered anymore. I sank back, and closed my eyes, weeping. “C’mon.” She said. “We have to go. The whole place is about to blow.”
She called over to Maria. She looked up, her eyes empty and dead. “C’mon. Hurry!” Libby shouted. As if in a daze, she helped her lift me. They staggered over the rubble, and out. Behind me, I heard the fires burning. I felt other hands grabbing me. I opened my eyes, and looked up into the face of an ambulance-man as he helped to carry me out. Another, a lady, slid down, and lifted Claire’s still form. She looked across at the one lifting me. “She’s still breathing, just.” She said urgently. “But she’s in a bad way.” I felt a sudden fierce hope flare in my heart. Other medics appeared, and helped us out. As they carried me out, I could see Johnny helping others to carry Claire out. The fire was burning brightly, now. A fitting end, I thought, for a house of hell. As if in slow motion, I saw them running away from the wreckage. Then there was a loud explosion that flung us all to the ground. Bits of rock and stones rained down as I hit the ground. I cried out in pain as someone fell over me. Then there was silence. I opened my eyes. The ruins of the mansion lay smoking. It was over.
Part IV: Aftermath
The ambulance people lifted me into the back of the van. Libby came in with me. She knelt by me, and held my hand.
“What about Claire?” I asked weakly. Libby shrugged. “They say she’s lost a lot of blood, and it could be touch and go, but as soon as they get her to the hospital, she should have a reasonable chance. She’s lucky to be a live. We all are. Thanks to you!” She squeezed my hand. I shrugged.
“Just did what anyone would’ve under the circumstances.”
“Yeah, right. Thanks anyway.” She kissed me on the cheek. I nodded vaguely, relieved, and closed my eyes, suddenly weary. “I need to rest, now.” I murmured. Then I fell silent, finally sleeping.
When I awoke, I was aware of a bright, white light. I could feel I was laid out on some kind of bed or … Operating table! I jerked up, panicky, and cried out as pain lanced through my side. “Easy, Marty.” I squinted at the figure. “Maria?”
“Who else?” She smiled. I sank back.
“It’s over!”
“I know, Marty.”
“How’s Claire?”
“The Doctors say she’s gonna be alright. They’ve given her a series of blood transfusions, and some bad internal bruising, and she’s suffering from post-traumatic shock, as we all are, but she’ll be fine.” I smiled. I looked down. I seemed to be set in plaster from the chest down, and there was a bandage round my head.
“You saved our lives.” Maria said, her eyes brimming with gratitude.
“Au, shucks.” I looked away, embarrassed.
“You did!”
“Where’s Libby and Johnny?” I said, changing the subject.
“Outside.”
“And Jameson.”
“Consumed in the explosion, along with the rest of his evil.”
“Good!” I said, surprised at the force I said it. Maria looked down at me.
“Well.” I said, bitterly. “He nearly killed five of the best human beings in the world! US!”
“Yes, we were pretty good, weren’t we?”
“Are, shweetie.” I smiled, slipping into my Sean Connery. Maria smiled.
“Well, James, Don’t get too cocky!” I turned and looked at the speaker.
“Claire!”
“The very same!” She sat up in a wheel-chair, paler and frailer, but smiling.
“I’ll be outside.” Maria said, getting up and leaving. Claire rolled to my bedside. I reached out and held her hand. For once, words failed me.
“A miracle.” She said, smiling. “You’re lost for words!” I smiled back.
Tears sprang to my eyes.
“I thought I’d lost you.” I finally managed.
“So did I! Good job I found me again!”
“Don’t!” I whispered, my voice breaking
“Hey, c’mon, Marty.” She said, reaching out and holding my hand. “It’s meant to be the rescued damsel who cries into the hero’s arms, not the other way around!”
“Please, I’m serious!”
She looked into my eyes. “I know.” She said. “I know.”
“When I saw you lying there, as I came out, I thought you were…” I broke off, choking back tears.
“I know.”
I looked away, tears rolling down my face. “Y’know what?” I whispered.. “All I could think of was you dying, and I never … Well, I never getting a chance to tell you I loved you.” I gave her a watery smile. “Corny, huh?” “perhaps. No less touching though.”
“I mean it, dammit!”
“I know.” She said softly, stroking my face. “I know you wouldn’t say it if you didn’t.”
“I have to know, do you love me too? ”
She leaned forwards and kissed me tenderly on the lips, then held me close. “Yes.” She whispered. “I love you.” I hugged her and smiled, tears of relief pouring down my face. Outside I saw the others peering in.
“Whatchoolookinat?” I said, in a mock-butch voice. Claire broke free, and turned. The others stood there, smiling broadly. She laughed. “Let’s give them something to look at!” She said and kissed me again.
Johnny, Libby and Maria came in.
“So, you two finally got sorted.” Johnny said with his usual tact.
I smiled and nodded.
He looked down. “I guess you’ve heard the official verdict?”
“No.”
“They say that Jameson kidnapped us, and we set fire to the place by accident attempting to escape.”
I could hardly believe my ears. “What?”
“Well, we figured the real story would never be believed.”
“True.” I conceded, and lay back.
“Now what?” Libby said. I shrugged.
“Who cares?” Maria said with feeling. “Let’s try and get on with the rest of our lives.”
“Yeah,” Johnny said, then turned to Libby. “Hey, listen, About before…” He began.
“Forget it!” She said, shaking her head. “We were all under a lot of stress. All that matters is we’re alive. All of us.” She said, looking meaningfully at Claire. She smiled.
“I’ll drink to that!” She said, and smiled.
The End
Copyright of this story Marc Green 1999-2000 All rights reserved. All characters and events portrayed in this work are fictitious and any resemblance to real people, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The author asserts that this is an entirely original work. Please address all enquiries about this work to Marc Green
