‘Listen, you two, don’t mess me around any longer. Show me where you hid my stuff – my coke – or I’m going to start hurting you. OK?’
The fierce expression on Micky’s face told Oliver that he was serious. This man had tortured Ben; he’d do the same to Oliver and Fletcher. Oliver nodded. ‘This way. Not far now.’
‘Good. Now hurry up.’
Oliver walked faster. The path ran between the forest and open pasture. The moon revealed Baverstock Castle on its hill half a mile away. Sheep in the meadow watched the three pass by; the animals’ eyes shone brightly. Even they seemed to expect that something shocking would happen soon.
Oliver’s feet grew heavier. Despite the man shoving him in the back and urging him to move more quickly, his pace did get slower. Because soon they’d reach the old mineshaft. True, the drugs were there, but they were a long way down at the bottom of the pit. It would take ropes and specialist equipment to reach the drugs. They were well beyond the reach of Micky. Oliver knew that the criminal would get angry – blazing angry, murderously angry. Once Micky realized that the drugs couldn’t be retrieved he’d start firing that gun. He would start killing. Shivering, Oliver thought: I’ve saved my family. But how can I save Fletcher and myself?
The area of moss was clearly visible in the moonlight. That’s where the slabs of timber sealed the opening to the mineshaft. Rabbits scampered into bushes at the side of the path. Fletcher shot a look at Oliver. The seriousness of that glance revealed that Fletcher knew this was crunch-time. They’d bought everyone back at the house a few minutes in order to give them a chance to call the police. But this was it for Oliver and Fletcher.
When they reached the flat area of moss, Oliver stopped. He might as well tell the truth, he decided. No point in postponing what the gunman would do to them. ‘The drugs are here,’ Oliver told him.
‘Where?’
‘There’s a hole between two pieces of wood just there.’ Oliver pointed at the ground.
Micky went to the spot, dropped to his knees, and scraped pieces of moss away. Straightaway, he saw an opening that was perhaps a foot long by five inches wide.
‘Shit. What’s down there?’
‘It’s a mineshaft,’ Fletcher told him. He didn’t even seem frightened. Like Oliver, he was resigned to whatever terrible thing would happen to them in the next few minutes. ‘It’s hundreds of feet deep.’
‘I threw the drugs down there.’ Oliver felt a flicker of triumph. He enjoyed the look of horror on Micky’s face. ‘It’s so deep you’ll never get them back.’
‘Bastards!’ Micky put the gun down on the thick planks that covered the opening to the mineshaft. He began tugging at the woodwork; he actually tried to break through, maybe hoping there’d be a ladder or something that would allow him to climb down and retrieve the cocaine. ‘When I’ve got my stuff back,’ he snarled, ‘I’m going to put the pair of you down here. Do you hear? This is going to be your grave!’
Oliver didn’t have the strength to run. All he could do was watch. Fletcher seemed the same. Both boys were frozen there. They’d done everything they could – now they waited for their punishment.
Oliver allowed his gaze to focus on the trees at the edge of the forest. Four people stood there in the shadows cast by the moon. No, not four people. Those were the mummies from the castle. Oliver recognized Amber, Bones, Ket and Isis. Even though he couldn’t see their eyes, they seemed to be watching the man, who still tugged at the planks while cursing and threatening all kinds of punishment. The mummified figures stood there without moving. A breeze fluttered the strips of cloth hanging from their arms and their torsos. There was an air of calm, almost serenity about them. Oliver noticed that the features of the smallest mummified body seemed to alter. Strange … just for a moment, Oliver was convinced that he saw his own features there on the face of Ket; almost as if a photograph of his face had been projected on to the front of the mummy’s skull. When he looked at the other mummies he saw the heads flicker and change, there in the shadows. He glimpsed familiar faces – they were the ones of his mother and sister and Ben. How could the mummies wear the faces of his family? Then he remembered what Mrs Oldfield had said. Tonight she’d told them that the mummies were changing – they were starting to look like the Tolworths.
Micky snarled, ‘It’s impossible. I’ll never get them back.’ He seized the gun and stood up, facing Oliver and Fletcher. ‘You’ve thrown away something very valuable. You’ve got me into trouble with my boss. Now you two are going to suffer for what you’ve done.’
A fifth figure stepped out of the shadows.
Kadesh. Oliver recognized the mummy of the adult male. He wore a headband made of metal. The red skin on the mummy’s face seemed to glow in the moonlight. It was as if a light shone inside the mummy’s skull.
That grim husk took another step forward. Just for a moment, Oliver saw the face transform into that of Philip Kemmis. Then it changed back into the ravaged features of the corpse. The upper lip had shrunk back, forming a snarl.
Micky stared at Kadesh in surprise and laughed. ‘You kids playing more tricks? Who have you got to dress up like a jerk from a mummy’s tomb? Ha.’ The man shook his head. ‘OK, stay right where you are. Do not come any closer.’ Micky aimed the gun at the figure clad in strips of linen.
Kadesh walked forward; there was a lethal purpose in that stride.
Micky didn’t hesitate. Aiming the gun, he pulled the trigger. Those loud bangs hurt Oliver’s ears. Flame spat from the muzzle. Once, twice, three times. Bullets ripped into the chest of the mummy; dust jetted from between the bandages.
The man fired again as he screamed, ‘You’re not real … you’re not real!’
Kadesh raised the arm that ended in a bulbous shape, not a hand. He swung it down against Micky’s head. The blow was enormous. To Oliver’s ears the CRUNCH it made was much louder than the gunshots.
The force of the impact knocked the man clean off his feet; the pistol flew from his hand into the grass. Before he could climb upright again, Kadesh picked him up. The man lay almost like a child cradled in its father’s arms. But that shocking face didn’t belong to a loving parent. Micky opened his eyes, saw that portrait of ruin, and screamed again.
He was still howling in terror when Kadesh walked away into the forest. The other mummies followed. The criminal’s yells grew even more terrified and panic-stricken. Oliver still heard the screams, even though he couldn’t see Kadesh carrying the man.
Just a moment later, the screams stopped abruptly. Then, silence. Oliver and Fletcher stood there without moving, not knowing what they should do next.
Soon, however, a tall figure stepped out of the forest’s shadows, and Philip Kemmis walked forward into the bright light of the moon. He said gently, ‘It’s all over. He can’t hurt you. Come on, it’s time you went home.’
SEVENTEEN
The hospital was, even at three in the morning, a world of bustling movement, noise and bright lights. Oliver Tolworth had been examined by doctors. His mother and sister were there in the room with him; they were exhausted and sat holding hands. Nevertheless, they smiled with relief when the doctor announced that Oliver was perfectly fine.
Oliver followed his mother out into the corridor. He looked through a doorway into a room where his father and Ben were lying on beds after receiving treatment for their injuries. Both had bandages around their heads. Oliver thought they looked like Egyptian mummies. There were police officers in the room with them. They asked his dad and Ben questions and made notes in books as they did so.
Oliver ran into the room. His dad hugged him and ruffled his hair. The police stopped asking questions at that point and smiled at Oliver.
His father hugged him again. ‘Are you alright, Ollie?’
Oliver nodded. ‘The doctor says I’m fine.’
‘That’s good news.’ His dad sounded hugely relieved. ‘It’s been a rotten night, but we’re all going to be OK. Ben and I have got some ba
shes and grazes. We’ll be back to normal in a few days, though.’
Ben reached out from his bed, and Oliver grasped his hand tightly.
‘I’m sorry, Oliver,’ Ben told him. ‘I did something really stupid, and what happened is all my fault.’
‘It’s not,’ Oliver insisted. ‘It was that man with the gun. You’re not to blame. I don’t want you to go away.’
‘I’ve just had a chat with your dad. He’s asked me to stop for the rest of the summer, despite what I’ve done, if you’ll have me?’
Oliver hugged Ben, a fierce hug that made the nineteen year old wince. Even though the wounds hurt, he didn’t pull away, and he hugged Oliver back. At last, Oliver reluctantly left the room while the police continued their conversation with Ben and Dad.
‘The police questioned us, too,’ Vicki said.
‘But you won’t be asked anything tonight,’ his mum added. ‘They will want a little chat with you and Fletcher later, but there’s nothing to worry about. You’re not in trouble.’
The police must have thought that Oliver was out of earshot in the corridor; however, he heard one of them say, ‘Mr Tolworth, we found the body of a man in woodland. We believe it to be Michael Dunt, the individual who attacked you. He’s well known to police and had only been released from prison a few weeks ago …’
Doctors and nurses in green scrubs walked briskly along the corridor. There were other side rooms where people were being treated. A lady with long white hair was connected to a machine that bleeped. A drunken youth was trying to get out of bed while a nurse encouraged him to stay put. Just another night in A&E.
A nurse invited them to sit in a waiting room away from the bustle in the corridor. Vicki and his mother sat side-by-side. Oliver lay on the chairs with his head on his mother’s lap. After a while, both Vicki and Mum fell asleep.
Philip Kemmis climbed the hill in the moonlight. When he reached the top, he gazed back down at the dim shapes of the gatehouse and the castle. Beyond the castle, a misty glow revealed where the moon shone down on the ocean. The police had interviewed him about what had happened tonight. They’d told him about the discovery of Dunt’s body. Philip had expected accusations that he’d killed Dunt. However, the detective had quite openly voiced her opinion that Dunt, a small-time crook, had arrived here with an unknown accomplice; that there’d been a falling out between thieves and the accomplice had murdered Dunt.
So be it, Philip told himself. If the police believe that an accomplice killed the man, why complicate things with other explanations? The police wouldn’t believe me, even if I told them what really happened. They’d say I’m insane.
Philip breathed deeply, catching the perfume of wild flowers on the night air. All of a sudden, he froze. He realized he felt different. Ever since he’d lost his hand as a boy, a storm had raged inside his head. That internal storm had tortured him night and day; he’d not been able to think clearly. Everywhere he looked he saw the mummified dead. Now, however, his mind had become quiet. At last the storm inside his head had died away. A sense of peace filtered through him, relaxing his muscles, eliciting a sigh of relief.
Was it too early to hope that his life would change for the better? Maybe. But perhaps this was the beginning of the end of his nightmare. Philip walked down the hill through the moonlight and, to his surprise, he realized that he was smiling.
Oliver stood up, left the room, and walked along the busy corridor. The hospital was immense, and it wasn’t long before he found himself heading into a quieter part of the building with dimly lit corridors. He didn’t know where he was going in particular. He just felt like walking.
He found one long corridor completely deserted, apart from a lone figure sitting on a chair against one wall.
‘Oliver, I thought about you coming to find me, and you did.’
Oliver saw that figure was Fletcher. The boy sat there in the red cap that Oliver had given him. Oliver asked, ‘Didn’t the police take you home after the doctor looked at you?’
‘Yes, but my father brought me back here again.’
‘Oh.’
‘You see, my mother died tonight.’ Fletcher didn’t have any expression on his face. He simply gave a shrug. ‘It was expected. They’ve covered her face with a sheet.’
‘I’m sorry your mother’s died, Fletcher. That’s rotten.’
‘She’d been ill for months. It wasn’t good that she was suffering. She isn’t now. It’s like she’s sleeping.’ Fletcher gazed down the corridor; the far end was gloomy. Oliver followed the direction of his gaze. A tall, thin figure stood there in silhouette. ‘That’s Kadesh, isn’t it?’ Fletcher asked.
‘Maybe.’ Oliver couldn’t be sure – all he could tell was that a tall figure stood in the corridor a hundred paces away. The figure appeared to be looking this way, but it didn’t move or make a noise. ‘This is all over, isn’t it? I hoped the mummies wouldn’t walk any more.’
Fletcher stared at that mere ghost of a shape. ‘I wanted Kadesh to do something for my family. I like to think he’s here to take my mother to a place where she’ll be at peace.’
Oliver stared into the gloom until his eyes watered. He couldn’t see the tall figure any more, and he began to wonder if it had ever been there at all. ‘I’d best go back to my mother and sister.’
‘OK, Oliver. Thanks for coming.’
‘Did you really make me come and find you just by thinking it?’
‘You know me by now, Ollie. I’m not like anyone else.’
‘Where’s your dad?’
‘I don’t know. There’s paperwork, I suppose. The death certificate. Stuff like that.’
Oliver said goodbye and started walking along the corridor. He paused and turned back to look at his friend. The twelve year old sat there by himself in the gloom. He suddenly looked so alone and so forlorn. Even though Oliver was only eleven, he realized that Fletcher would always be alone in life. He wouldn’t be able to maintain relationships or marry. Oliver felt, at that moment, as if he’d been given a glimpse of the future, and he saw a grown-up Fletcher forever living by himself in the gatehouse, with its view of the old castle on the hill.
Fletcher gazed down at the floor, already lost in a world of his own.
‘Fletcher,’ Oliver said, ‘I’m going to stay in Devon for the rest of the summer. We’ll still meet up every day.’
Fletcher gave a sad smile. ‘You won’t. Your family will leave as soon as they can. They won’t want to live in a house where bad things happened. Goodbye, Oliver. Thanks for the cap.’
‘I’m going to tell my mum and dad that I want to stay in Devon. I’ll see you tomorrow, and we can go fishing in the big pond.’
Fletcher gave a single nod and returned to staring at the floor. Oliver went back to find his family, determined to persuade them to stay in the house in Devon. He wanted to spend the rest of the summer there with Fletcher.
Vicki stood by the door of the waiting room. ‘Ollie, we can leave now.’
‘We’re going back to the house?’
She shook her head. ‘We’re staying in a hotel tonight, then we’re going back home to London tomorrow. Come on, we’re being driven to the hotel in police cars. Ben’s coming, too.’
‘Wait, I’m going to say goodbye to Fletcher.’
His sister was too exhausted to argue. She just gave a little shrug and leaned on the wall, where she’d wait for him to return.
Oliver ran back along the corridor, pushing open swing doors as he went. He found hospital corridors that stretched into the distance. These were gloomy and silent and completely empty. Oliver kept running. When he called out Fletcher’s name, his own voice echoed back. There was no sign of that strange and lonely boy in the red cap and, at last, the corridor took Oliver back to his sister. Oliver knew that he couldn’t keep searching for Fletcher, so, with a sigh, he took hold of her hand and they both walked out into the night where his family patiently waited beneath the moon that shone down on this sleepy corner o
f England.
The police cars arrived that would take them to the hotel. Before Oliver climbed in, he looked up at the hospital and murmured softly, ‘Goodbye, Fletcher. When I grow up I’ll come back to the castle and visit you, I promise.’
Simon Clark, Secrets of the Dead
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