Darker

  He switched on the radio, then stabbed at the presets until he hit free space between radio stations.

  Static squelched from the speakers. It came in great slow fat beats. Like the sound of some dark and monstrous heart.

  A wave of pure horror ran through him.

  ‘Oh, God. It’s here.’ He shot Rosemary a look. ‘We’re too late.’

  Chapter 80

  It’s Here

  Bursts of static erupted into Michael’s ear through the earpiece. The voices of his team distorted. Above the terrace the sky had turned deep blue; a thin silver crescent of the moon showed.

  His mouth turned dry but still he maintained the gentle smile.

  ‘I think the puppy’s here, Amy.’

  Too excited to sit still in the armchair, she knelt up to bounce on the cushion.

  ‘Now remember what I said, Amy. You must do everything I say or that magic puppy just won’t come.’

  ‘Where is he? Where is he?’

  ‘Now, stay in the armchair, Amy. And do everything I say.’

  Michael stood up and moved quickly back to the table on the terrace.

  In a low voice he spoke, knowing the mike would relay what he said to his team. ‘I’m back at the table now. Laptop functioning OK, despite heavy static. And Amy’s as good as gold.’ He looked up toward the skyline. The two clumps of woodland looked like dark mounds now in the dusk.

  ‘Stand by, everyone. Here it comes, ladies and gentlemen. The Beast is back.’

  He looked at Amy and said, more loudly, ‘Amy. He’s going to be here any minute now.’

  ‘Where is he?’

  ‘See over the lake? There’re two big clumps of trees on that hillside. He’s coming from there.’

  ‘All that way away?’

  ‘That’s right. He’s going to have a long run to get here, isn’t he?’

  ‘He’ll be puffed out.’

  ‘He will.’

  ‘Can you see him, Michael?’

  ‘Not yet. But I know he’s there. Right, Amy. He’ll come down the hillside, across the lake …’

  ‘He can swim?’

  ‘Oh, he can do anything. Then he’ll come running right up across the lawns, and up here on to the terrace where you’re sitting.’

  ‘Will he jump up at me?’

  ‘He’ll want to jump up on to your knee and sit there, Amy. He’s been waiting a long, long time to meet you.’

  She looked out across the lawns in the direction of the wood.

  ‘Make him come now, Michael. I can’t wait.’

  ‘Oh, don’t worry, Amy. He’s on his way.’

  ‘Shall I do it now, Michael?’

  ‘Yes, Amy. Close your eyes. And whatever you do, don’t open them. Got that?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Eyes tight shut?’

  ‘Yes, Michael.’

  ‘Keep them shut tight until I tell you to open them. Then you’ll see the puppy. Now, Amy, listen carefully. I want you to imagine the puppy’s running through the trees. He’s all black and furry. With floppy ears … shiny brown eyes.’ Michael scrolled up the text, reading from the screen now. ‘Keep imagining him running through those trees. He’s a lonely puppy, and he knows you’ll love him and you’ll look after him. That’s why he’s running so fast. He’ll want to play when he gets here, but be careful. He can be a naughty puppy sometimes. He might even want to jump up at your head. So, you keep telling him to sit on your knee … and to sit very, very still. Got that, Amy?’

  He saw her nod, her hair glinting in the sunset.

  ‘Now picture that puppy running. He’s getting closer … and closer … and closer …’

  The transfer had begun.

  8:30 p.m. Joey stopped tugging when he heard the groan.

  It sounded human.

  But it sounded impossibly loud.

  The groan came again. So deep and so loud that it rumbled through the ground to rattle the cattle grating beneath his feet. It sounded like the dying song of a lost and long-forgotten god.

  He couldn’t breathe. Sheer terror cracked through him like blasts of electricity.

  He looked up, neck muscles twitching, eyes watering.

  The grassy slope and the two clumps of trees still appeared the same, except that the trees themselves looked almost black in the dusk now that the sun had gone, leaving a deep red afterglow above the horizon.

  The groan came again; the cattle grid vibrated. Eyes still fixed on the gap in the clumps of trees, Joey yanked harder at his bonds. He tried to slip the steel cuff off over his hand but his wrists were too plump; the cuff bit deeper into skin.

  ‘Go away! Leave me … leave me alone!’

  The Beast was coming. He knew it. He could feel it. He could even taste it. Static filled the air; his tongue felt as if a hundred pins pricked it.

  ‘… leave … leave me alone …’ His voice was raw with terror. ‘… leave …’

  Rooks flew suddenly out of the woods in panic; black flapping wings beat the air above his head.

  Rabbits and foxes ran by. Behind him the deer herd stampeded towards the far end of the field. There they jostled against one another in terror, held from running further by the deer fence.

  ‘No … Michael! Let me go … please … PLEASE!’

  It came.

  A shape rose above the two clumps of trees. At first Joey stared in fascinated horror, believing that he actually saw the Beast.

  It was a dark smoky figure, undulating, shape-shifting, moving forwards, inexorably, tirelessly forwards. Unstoppable.

  Like the hammer of God.

  The dark shape rose and fell above the trees.

  Then Joey realized that what he was watching were millions of leaves torn from the branches by a savage updraught of air.

  They only looked black in the dusk. Around the edges flashed a red halo where the final glimmer of sunlight reflected from the leaves.

  God, no … this isn’t happening to me. I’m dreaming … I’m not here. It’s not happening. I won’t die, I won’t die … oh, God! Chrissie! Chrissie! I’m sorry … I’M SORRY!

  Shadowlike it rolled through the gap in the trees. Trees at the edge of the cleft fell beneath it, shattered from tip to root.

  Solid timber cracked with explosive force.

  It gathered pace.

  Joey, chained into a crouching position, watched it roll towards him, still sucking a plume of leaves after it in the vacuum it created.

  Grass flattened in a twenty-yard-wide swathe.

  Joey couldn’t take his bulging eyes from that flattening grass. It ran towards him like an invisible wheel, crushing everything in its path. A lone tree standing on the hillside exploded into a spray of white splinters.

  ‘No, Christ, please, no …’

  Joey gave one last massive tug.

  A chain link snapped with a crack. That adrenalin-fuelled pull had been tremendous, its force threw him onto his back across the cattle grid’s steel bars.

  Christ, I’ve done it! For Godsakes get on your feet … run … run …

  He tried to stand.

  He could not move.

  He looked up. His eyes bulged. He could not breathe. His heart hammered against his chest wall.

  There was nothing up there. At least nothing he could see.

  But he felt it …

  … pressing …

  … pressing down.

  An incredible weight on his chest, arms, face, legs.

  He lay there, flat on his back across the cattle grid, held tight there by the Beast.

  He tried to scream out his agony and frustration and his terror.

  But the pressure wouldn’t let him whisper.

  The weight increased. The steel bars of the cattle grid dug into his back. Ribs crackled; skin split.

  Like the hammer of God, it came down.

  And Joey felt no more pain.

  Chapter 81

  Darker

  As Michael kept up the steady flow of instruction
s to Amy, his voice low and relaxing, he saw the approach of the Beast.

  Distantly he heard the rumble of trees crashing earthward. A smoky pall of torn leaves gushed up into the darkening sky.

  Even from here, sitting at the table on the terrace, he heard the distant creak of the cattle grid collapsing.

  Poor Joey …

  He shook his head.

  An excited voice crackled above the static now raging in the earpiece. His team had seen it, too.

  He kept speaking. Low, relaxing.

  ‘The puppy’s on his way, Amy. Keep those eyes closed. Imagine him running down the hill; his tail’s wagging; he’s looking forward to seeing you. Remember, he can be naughty. But he’ll do what you tell him. So if he jumps up, tell him to sit still on your knee …’

  Across the lake a willow tree bent like an archer’s bow, then snapped at the root.

  The boat house flattened with a distant crump.

  ‘Nearly here, Amy.’

  He saw her shiver with excitement.

  Now the lake churned and boiled; the water, once almost black in the approaching night, turned white as milk, fizzing and creaming like beer from a shaken can.

  Momentarily the waters parted; even Michael felt a burst of astonishment as the lake split into two halves. Then it was through the lake and the two halves rushed inwards to slap into one another again in a burst of spray.

  ‘… almost here.’

  Static crackled in his earpiece. The laptop screen snowstormed.

  Not that it mattered now.

  He knew the text by heart.

  In any event, it was too close now to stop.

  As he spoke to Amy, who knelt there on the armchair twenty paces away, he shot a glance at the motorbike parked alongside the terrace.

  And for the first time doubt sneaked into his head.

  Maybe it wouldn’t work tonight after all.

  Maybe it would roll on to the terrace crushing the girl.

  If it did, could he make it to the bike and ride away before it crushed him?

  Still talking in that low voice, he watched the grass flatten as it rolled up the hill. Halfway up, it hit a post-and-wire fence.

  The wires snapped like over-tightened guitar strings, breaking one after another to create an unearthly music that shimmered back from the house and the hills.

  ‘Don’t worry about the noise, Amy. Nothing to do with us. Just keep imagining that puppy, that black, furry puppy …’

  Michael’s voice dried. The ground shook beneath his feet.

  He shot a look at the bike. And he realized it was too far away to reach in time.

  Because the Beast had, at last, arrived.

  Chapter 82

  Darkness Comes

  The time: 8:45.

  Richard nearly ploughed head-on into the white Transit van as it careered round the bend toward them, its tyres tearing up clouds of track dirt.

  He swerved to the right, slamming into the saplings that lined the woodland track. Leaves torn from branches fluttered into their faces through the open front of the car. The trunk of a tree appeared through the bushes; the car clipped it, shaving off bark. Then he bounced down to the track again.

  ‘You all right?’

  Rosemary nodded, her face grim.

  ‘The van …’ He nodded back over his shoulder. ‘He’s after us.’

  He knew the van driver would turn round as fast as he could to follow them. He guessed, also, there would be more of Michael’s men nearby. The crumb of good news was that Darlington House couldn’t be far away now.

  ‘See that?’ she called above the noise. ‘The clock’s gone crazy.’

  ‘Engine’s acting up, too. Electrical interference.’

  ‘Has this thing – the Beast – had that affect before?’

  ‘No. Perhaps it’s getting bigger … more powerful …’

  ‘So we can assume it’s here?’

  He nodded. And he knew that they were too late.

  All he could hope was that somehow Christine and Joey had found a car and driven Amy away in time.

  That bastard, Michael … I hope he’s been crushed to shit.

  ‘At last. It looks as if we’re coming out of it.’ The trees began to thin.

  ‘There!’ Rosemary stabbed her finger forwards. ‘See the house.’

  ‘That’s Darlington House?’

  ‘That’s the one, all right. I remember those tall chimneys.’

  It was still a good five minutes’ drive away. He only hoped the motor would hold out. The revs would suddenly fade before kicking back in again, surging the car forwards.

  He glanced in the rearview mirror. The van must surely appear any moment now.

  On the dashboard the digital clock flickered, numbers scrambling insanely.

  ‘Look out!’

  Rosemary’s voice punched his ear. Standing in the track ahead was a man with a rifle at his shoulder.

  He aimed it. Biding his time for a clear shot.

  To Richard’s left the trees broke, leaving an expanse of rough pasture running down towards a lake.

  And in those trees to his left, walking their way, a man with a sub-machine-gun.

  Machine-gun or rifle? You choose, thought Richard desperately.

  ‘Rosemary!’ he yelled. ‘Down on the floor.’

  Christ. He gambled the machine-gun fired handgun ammunition. Probably fairly low muzzle velocity hollow-nosed slugs. Stop a man dead in his tracks.

  But, Richard staked his life on it, the machine-gun ammo wouldn’t have the clout to penetrate the thick steel skin of the Volvo’s door.

  With Rosemary crouching down on the floor, Richard aimed the bucking car in the direction of the lake and lay on his side on the passenger seat.

  If his luck held out Machine-gun Man would still be too far away to fire down into the cabin of the car. The man’d have to aim at the car’s flank as it tore by.

  Richard, pressing down into the passenger seat, saw nothing but darkening sky. He steered with one hand, the other shielding his face.

  The wait was agonizing. The engine roared, the car bucked and accelerated downhill. There weren’t many trees now: he prayed the car wouldn’t find one of the few that dotted the grass between here and the lake; Christ knew, he didn’t want —

  Then came the sharp snapping sound of bullets slamming into the side of the car.

  Side windows shattered; hot metal bored holes through the air above his head.

  Then it was over.

  He whooped.

  They were past the machine-gunner. Behind him the van was only just chugging out of the wood. Ahead was clear grassland down to the lake, after that a driveway would take them up to the house.

  Then something solid knocked the back of the car. At first he thought the back wheels had gone over a branch, but suddenly it felt as if a weight dragged the car down at the back.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Rosemary called pulling herself back on to the passenger seat.

  ‘I don’t know; it could be – Damn.’

  He saw what had happened: a man strolled almost leisurely from behind the cover of a tree trunk, a shotgun in his hand.

  ‘He must have blasted the back tyre.’

  The man aimed again, not even hurrying.

  ‘Down.’ Both he and Rosemary ducked. But the man wasn’t aiming at them. Expertly, he hit the front tyre, tearing rubber to shit. Now the car slewed sideways.

  The speedo needle dropped back to twenty.

  Richard thrashed the engine.

  ‘Come on, come on!’

  But with two tyres gone the car moved crabwise, throwing off what remained of the two tyres, leaving two steel hubs to buzz like circular saws at the turf, throwing up dirt, shredding grass. No traction now. The car slowing to a stop. And there was not a damn thing Richard could do about it.

  He looked up to see armed men walking slowly towards them from every direction.

  With a final bump, the car slid sideways to stop aga
inst a tree.

  Chapter 83

  Dark

  ‘It’s not what your years of experience fighting all those dirty wars in the Middle East and Africa have prepared you for, Mitch, but I’d like you to babysit Amy for me.’

  Mitch Winter stood on the terrace, a radio handset in his hands, and tilted his head to one side which clearly meant: Would you mind repeating that?

  Michael nodded towards Amy who sat staring at her knees as if they were the most fascinating thing in the world. ‘I know she likes you, Mitch, and I need to spend a few minutes with my people upstairs.’

  ‘You’re the boss.’

  ‘I am now. Yes.’ He smiled.

  Mitch hid his puzzlement and watched the little girl. He found to his surprise that he was relieved she’d not been hurt but she seemed different somehow. Perhaps it was the expression on her face. Happy, but … just different. Mitch shivered.

  ‘By the way,’ Michael said in a low voice. ‘The Youngs have a son, called Mark. He’s on a camping holiday with a friend. I’ll give you the details later but I want him dead.’

  Again Mitch said in a flat voice, ‘You’re the boss.’

  ‘And what’s happening to Rosemary Snow and Young?’

  ‘My men have them surrounded on the hillside across the lake. They’ll be out of the picture any minute now.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘You want them fed to the pigs?’

  ‘Frankly, I don’t care. You can leave them to rot in the grass for all it matters.’

  Mitch, even more puzzled, watched Michael walk back to the house. He looked like a man who’d just been made king of the world.

  ‘Rosemary … out of the car … keep your head down. Stay by the door.’

  ‘What are we going to do?’

  ‘Run for it.’

  Richard switched the headlights on full beam so they slashed through the gloom into the faces of the men approaching the front of the car. Maybe they’d be dazzled enough for their aim to be spoiled.

  But as soon as he crouched beside Rosemary between the car door and the main body of the vehicle he realized there was nowhere to run.

  All around them was a closing ring of men armed with rifles, shotguns, machine-guns.

  Rosemary’s eyes met his. ‘Hell … we’re sitting ducks, aren’t we?’