Armageddon Outta Here

  “I’m not going to be able to pull you up,” she said. Her words were fast and clipped. She was up high and she was scared. She leaned forward, her knees tight and her right hand curled into the links. With her free left hand, she reached down to me. “That’s as far as I can go.”

  “I can’t reach that high, Chrissy.”

  “Then find something to step on. If I lean down any more, I’ll fall.”

  I looked around for something to stand on, but the street was empty. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Where’re you going?”

  “I’ll have to get the car.”

  “Hurry.”

  I ran back to the car, not liking this one bit. I turned the key gently, like that would make the engine quieter, and drove very slowly up to the warehouse with the lights off. I mounted the sidewalk, slowing down even more until the wing mirror scraped against the fence just below Chrissy. I turned off the ignition, got out, and clambered up on to the hood. Using the fence to steady me, I lunged up on to the roof. It clunked dully under my weight. I got into position, bent my knees, took a breath, and sprang. I hit the fence and clung on and Chrissy grabbed me with her free hand, then, after lots of grunting and exertion, I was straddling the fence, facing her. We held on to each other.

  “We’re going to have to jump down,” I said.

  She smiled without a whole lot of humour. “You first.”

  She let go of me and I gripped the bar with both hands, swinging my other leg over the side. I lowered myself down as far as I could go, then dropped. My heels slammed painfully to the ground and the fence rattled and I bit my tongue.

  “You OK?” Chrissy whispered. “Are you all right?”

  I nodded up to her, one hand over my mouth, blinking away tears of pain as I hobbled around in a small circle. She swung her other leg over, lowered herself down just like I had done.

  “Catch me,” she whispered and let go. She fell into my arms. She was heavier than I’d expected, but I didn’t drop her. I set her back on her feet and she looked at me, frowning. “You sure you’re OK?”

  “Bit my tongue,” I said, a little shamefacedly.

  “Maybe I’ll kiss it better for you later,” she said, a grin on her face. “Providing we live through the—”

  She grabbed me, pulled me down behind one of the parked cars. We stayed there for a few seconds, frozen. I peeked up. There was a sentry. He walked like he had walked this route a hundred times tonight already. He was watchful, but not wary – otherwise he’d have noticed my car on the other side of the fence. It was pure luck he missed us.

  He glanced at his watch, then put his hands back in his coat. When he passed through the side door of the warehouse, a blue light in an obscure pattern glowed briefly on the doorframe. I was reminded of the security pads I’d seen in movies – where a green light would mean authorised, and red would mean intruder. I got the feeling that the light would glow red if we tried going in. When he was gone, when we were sure we weren’t going to be discovered, we jogged to the door, slowing as we approached.

  I had expected an electronic pad fitted to the wall. Instead, the pattern, some kind of obscure symbol, was simply painted on. I ran my finger against the surface. No sign of any electronics at all. Maybe it wasn’t an alarm. Maybe it had been a trick of the light. Even so, I was wary of passing it before testing its—

  Chrissy took a giant step through the doorway and I sucked in a breath… but the symbol stayed dark. No alarms sounded. She shrugged at me while I got my heart back under control. I took the gun from my pocket and joined her.

  We moved quietly by a small office, got to the corner that led to the main warehouse. There were two tables set up. One, in the centre of the cavernous space, was broad and heavy and covered in a white sheet. The other, over by the wall, held a coffee pot and two trays of sandwiches. Five of Bubba Moon’s People stood here, chatting in soft voices.

  Skulduggery Pleasant and Valkyrie sat with their backs to a steel pillar. Chains kept them in place. Pleasant was facing away from the door, but Valkyrie was looking right at us. Her left eye was swollen almost shut and she had dried blood on her chin. When she saw me, she turned slightly, whispered something. I could see Pleasant’s shoulder move as he nodded. I showed her the gun and she immediately shook her head. I looked over at the People. None of them appeared to be armed.

  The door rattled suddenly and opened. A blue van drove in, killing its lights once inside. The sentry pulled the door closed and the van trundled to the left side of the warehouse, leaving the centre clear but for the cloth-covered table. It stopped and the engine was cut off.

  Bubba Moon got out. He looked like Pete Green all grown up, but he wasn’t. There was something extra about him, something extra in the way he moved – like he still, even after all these years, hadn’t fully figured out how to work his new body. Like he didn’t quite fit into it. He was tall and lean and still had all his hair. He wore ripped jeans and cowboy boots, and as he sauntered forward he took off his shirt, let it drop to the ground.

  Underneath he was scarred.

  Someone, years ago, had gone to work on him with a blade. Bizarre symbols, like the one on the warehouse door, like the ones we’d found in the basement when we were kids, had been meticulously cut into his flesh like savage tattoos. The way he was showing off to his People made me realise he’d probably commissioned the work himself – and something about his grin made me think he’d been fully conscious the entire time.

  “Brothers and sisters,” he announced, his voice echoing in the great expanse, “I thank you for coming on what is truly a special day.”

  Bubba Moon spoke with a Southern accent, an accent that Pete Green had never had.

  “We are blessed, we are truly blessed, to have two witnesses to this month’s offering. Two valued guests, over from the Emerald Isle, here for one night only. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Skulduggery Pleasant and Valkyrie Cain!”

  The People applauded. Now that I was focusing on them, I could see the cuts and bruises they sported. One of them had his arm in a cast. They each looked like they’d gone twelve rounds with a prizefighter.

  “Pleasant and Cain,” Moon continued, wandering over to his captives, “we have heard tales of your exploits and adventures. I am truly honoured. Never in my life did I expect that our modest little operation here would warrant your attention. We are but simple folk.”

  He grinned. Some of his People laughed. The grin didn’t stay on for long. “Of course, you did put six of my people in hospital this morning. We did what we could with our limited knowledge of medical procedures, but our friends, our very good friends, are now languishing in hospital wards being seen to by clumsy mortal doctors, and that’s… that’s just not cool.”

  He lashed a kick into Pleasant’s side.

  “But I’m not one to hold grudges,” he said. “I have a simple philosophy in life. Do unto others as they do unto you. You have honoured me by coming to this nowhere little town. You have honoured me by taking an interest in me, in us, and in the work we do here. So allow me to repay you in kind. I will honour you, sir, you and your partner.”

  He smiled down at her. “Valkyrie, Valkyrie, Valkyrie… what age are you, Valkyrie? Seventeen, aren’t you? A little old to be an offering, strictly speaking… but tonight is a night for exceptions, is it not?”

  Two of his People hurried forward. They undid the chains holding Valkyrie to the pillar, and pulled her to her feet. She lunged at one of them, but her hands were cuffed behind her back and Moon stepped forward, slapped her so hard she almost fell.

  “Play nice,” said Moon, “or you don’t get to play at all.”

  The two men dragged her to the table, and Moon’s attention returned to Pleasant as Pleasant spoke.

  “An offering?” Pleasant said as the two men dragged Valkyrie to the table. “A blood sacrifice? You people are still doing that?”

  I wished I could catch a glimpse of his face, just to see if he looked
as cool as he sounded.

  Moon shrugged. “It’s a little retro, sure, but we’ve been doing it for decades and we’ve received no complaints so far.”

  “What about the sacrifices?”

  “Oh, well, yes, they complain, but they’re always in a bad mood, anyway.”

  “And do you mind me asking who you’re making the offerings to? Just for my own personal amusement, you understand.”

  Moon laughed. “That’s just the thing, Detective Pleasant, I don’t even know myself. All I know is that a being of wonderment and awe came to me in a particularly vivid dream, and he told me that I was an integral part of the anti-Sanctuary. He told me I was to gather around me like-minded individuals and every time we met we were to offer him the blood of a mortal.”

  “There is no anti-Sanctuary,” Pleasant responded.

  “Well, the only thing I can say to that is there is, and I am an integral part of it.”

  “Because you had a dream.”

  Moon smiled. “Doubt all you want, Detective Cynic, Detective Sceptic, but I know the truth and so do my People. We have seen what lurks on the other side. And within minutes you will see, too.”

  I was running through things to say in my head – Freeze! Nobody move! – when another of Moon’s People went to the back of the van and pulled out Sammy. His mouth was gagged, his hands tied. He’d been crying. He looked terrified as he was pushed towards the table, which had become a sacrificial altar in my mind, and I stepped out and raised the gun.

  “Stop!” I shrieked. “Just stop! Let my son go! Let them all go!”

  Bubba Moon and his People looked at me with nothing more than surprise in their eyes. Chrissy hurried out beside me, sticking close.

  Moon began to smile. “Look at this. Look at this situation we currently find ourselves in. Why, this is nothing less than a class reunion! My oldest friend and my oldest crush. And there was I thinking this night could not get any more special…”

  “You’re not Pete,” I said. The gun was shaking badly in my hand, so I brought my left in to steady it. “You’re Bubba Moon. I know all about you.”

  “I doubt it,” said Moon, and gave another smile. “Chrissy. The years have not been good to you, now, have they? Probably down to that thug of a man you married. Yes, I know all about that. Your life has never quite taken flight, has it? You had your wings clipped young.”

  “Sammy,” I said. “Come over here.”

  Sammy looked around, making sure no one was going to try and stop him, then he ran over. Moon chuckled.

  I pointed the gun at the man holding Valkyrie down. “Release her. Take off the handcuffs.”

  The man looked over at Moon, who glanced at his watch. For some reason that made his smile grow wider. “Do what my friend says.”

  A few seconds later, Valkyrie was free. The moment the cuffs were off, she sighed, like freedom hadn’t been the only thing that had been kept from her. She grabbed the key from the man and threw it to Chrissy.

  “Help my friend,” she said.

  Chrissy immediately went to the pillar where Pleasant sat.

  Moon didn’t seem to care about any of this. He was looking straight at me. “How’ve you been, old buddy? Done any skateboarding lately? Sammy, you might not know this about your old man, but he was quite the skateboarder when we were kids, just a few years younger than you are now. He was cool back then. We used to skate in the park, even though we weren’t allowed. We frightened the pigeons and the old people. Good times, were they not?”

  Things were going according to plan. The gun trembled less as I pointed it at him. “You’re not Pete.”

  “But I’m in here with Pete,” said Moon. “I know everything he knows. I know you and me were both in love with Chrissy Brennan. I know she preferred me.”

  “I’m pretty sure she’s changed her mind about that now,” I said, and Moon laughed.

  I looked over when the chain fell, and saw Pleasant getting to his feet. Before he came round the pillar, his hand went to his collar, like he was fixing his tie. He stepped into view and I frowned. It wasn’t Pleasant. He was as tall and as slender, he was dressed in a similar suit, but this man was white, handsome but unshaven, his brown hair tousled.

  It wasn’t the man I’d met the previous night, but when he spoke, he spoke with Skulduggery Pleasant’s voice. “I must admit, this is disconcerting. You could have disarmed my gun-toting friend here without a second thought, but you didn’t.”

  “No, we didn’t,” said Moon, and then gestured to the man’s face. “I like this, by the way. Inspires trust.”

  This man – Pleasant in disguise? – observed Moon through narrowed eyes. “All of which leads me to suspect you have something up your sleeve. Which is not a nice thought, to be honest.”

  Moon smiled. “I wouldn’t say it is.”

  “You looked at your watch before you allowed Valkyrie to be released. Time is not on our side, is it? It’s on yours, but not ours. Are we expecting company?”

  “We are.”

  “Someone who will cancel out the threat posed by Valkyrie and myself?”

  “Indeed.”

  Skulduggery Pleasant, for I had come to the conclusion now that it was definitely him, wearing a disguise of some kind, nodded. “I really don’t like the way this is going. Still, at least I’m no longer in shackles. That’s something, at least.”

  “I’m glad you think so.”

  Chrissy came over, standing beside me with Sammy behind us. Sammy was pale, frightened, still bound and gagged, but his eyes were fixed on Pleasant, not Moon.

  Moon looked at his watch again, and a brand-new smile broke out.

  “Here we—” was all he had time to say before a hole tore open in empty space and a light poured through and I glimpsed something, something within that light, which I somehow knew to be a portal to somewhere else, somewhere terrible, and I saw a monster’s face in that light and the light grew and grew and burst and—

  uncovered my eyes, blinking rapidly, and found myself in a dark room that smelled of settled dust and moth-balls.

  I was alone. It was cold. There was a bed in the corner without a mattress. I crossed to the window, peered out through the grime-streaked glass at Bredon. The warehouse was on the east side, but I was on the west, looking down on to King Road and the junkyard. From here I could see the church and the lights of the gas station, and if there hadn’t been that line of trees on Hyland Street I’d have been able to see my school.

  I was in Bubba Moon’s old house. Only… I’d passed Hyland Street a few times since I’d been home, and those trees weren’t there any more. They hadn’t been there since I was a kid.

  There was a sound, somewhere below me.

  I wiped the perspiration from my right hand, then gripped the gun tighter. I opened the door and immediately stepped away, expecting something to rush in at me. My back rippled with gooseflesh as I stood there, looking out into the gloom, waiting for horror. Finally, I started moving again, the floorboards creaking gently under my weight.

  The landing was empty. There were no lights on in the house. The usual smells one would expect in an abandoned house – smells resulting from drunk teenagers breaking in or passing vagrants spending the night – were absent. No teenager had ever been drunk enough to break in here, and no vagrant had ever been cold enough to seek shelter under this roof. The only smell, apart from the dust, was a damp, unhealthy rot that seeped through the walls. It was like the house was sick, riddled with some wasting disease.

  I reached the stairs and looked over the banisters. I had to go down there. I didn’t know how I had got here, but I knew I had to go down there.

  I started down the stairs.

  Whether this was illusion or madness or magic, or if I had died in that warehouse and this was the hell I was to spend eternity in, mattered little to me at this point. For all I knew, I was still in the warehouse and this was all happening in my mind. Maybe it had affected everyone there. Maybe that br
ight flash of light had hypnotised me, hypnotised all of us.

  Or maybe I was really here. And that thing I had glimpsed, that thing coming through the portal, maybe it was here, too.

  I got to the bottom of the stairs without a clawed hand reaching through the banisters and grabbing my ankle. The front door was just ahead of me. I could have run straight to it, pulled it open, and fled. But what would I be fleeing into? Or when? Whatever had happened to bring me here had not only sent me across town, it had sent me across time. I knew, with no doubt in my mind, that this was the night we had snuck into Bubba Moon’s house, all those years ago.

  And that meant I had to go down, into the basement.

  The basement door was under the stairs. The doorknob was black and loose and rattled when I turned it. I had to give it an extra turn it was fitted so badly. When it opened, the darkness from the basement spread upwards, passing me, darkening the hall, turning everything colder still, and then it settled, my eyes adjusted, and I started down the wooden steps.

  There were more steps than there should have been. They descended into a gaping mouth of pitch-black. Twice on my way down I almost lost my nerve – but if I was here, then Sammy might be down here, too, and I wasn’t going to abandon my son.

  Gradually, the gloom began to lift, ever so slightly, and I saw the concrete floor below. When I reached the bottom, I looked back, unsurprised to find that there were, at most, maybe ten steps in all leading up to the open door.

  The house was playing tricks on me.

  Navigating my way round the stacks of piled-up junk was like being caught in a maze. I didn’t remember there being this many stacks, and I didn’t remember them being this high. It was the house again, growing and widening, adding more twists and turns to the journey. Playing its games.

  There were shouts in among the stacks, but shouts from far away. Something else, too. Like distant gunfire.