Hungry Moon (21 page)

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Authors: Ramsey Campbell

Tags: #Druids and Druidism, #England, #Christian Ministry, #Science Fiction, #Horror, #Evangelistic Work, #General, #Fiction, #Religion, #Evangelism

BOOK: Hungry Moon
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THIRTY THREE

 

All the way back to the shop June was growing angrier. 'The nerve of that Kramer woman, telling us we should have gone to church. Just what did they all want with Father O'Connell, four of them without a crumb of faith among them? The police want to question them a bit more closely, if you ask me . . .'

Brian murmured wordlessly and nodded as he loped along beside her. He didn't know if he agreed with her or not, but her being suspicious of someone else was an enormous relief. He might be able to think over what he'd done without feeling she was watching him. Her anger with Miss Kramer and the others was almost as much of a relief as the dark.

He couldn't help it, he welcomed the dark. What he needed to do was go up on the moors and think. Maybe he could take Andrew for a walk up there; June wouldn't like it, but she wasn't so ready to disagree with him now that Miss Ingham was lodging with them. Once he was out in the dark he wouldn't feel as if she were still watching him, as he'd felt ever since Godwin's rope had given way.

Perhaps she thought Brian had stumbled forward at the cave because he was concerned for Godwin. Perhaps she was even ashamed of having been so suspicious of him lately, but that only made Brian feel worse. She'd reason enough to suspect him - Godwin's face had made that clear when the rope had given way. He hadn't just dreamed he'd disguised the faulty rope, he couldn't just have dreamed he'd crept up behind Godwin's watcher in the moonlight, though he didn't dare think why. He was even more afraid to wonder how much Godwin knew.

He averted his face as they passed the hotel. At least the woman's screams at the presbytery hadn't brought Godwin out. Since yesterday every footstep near the shop or the house had set Brian's heart lurching. Maybe he didn't need to feel like this, maybe Godwin had forgiven him. He'd be able to think clearly once he took Andrew up on the moor.

Andrew was crouching under the fluorescent tube inside the display window, his face pressed against the pane. When he saw his parents he dodged back into the shop, bumping into a Primus stove. 'You were told not to go in the window,' June cried. 'Just because we've no customers at the moment doesn't mean we can afford to have things wrecked.'

'I think he was anxious for you,' Miss Ingham intervened. 'You got a bit nervous when you were going round the houses, didn't you, Andrew?'

June took a loud breath and released it as a sigh. 'That's the last time you go out by yourself while it's dark, Andrew. I should have known you'd end up scaring yourself.'

'I'm not sure it was quite as simple as that,' the teacher murmured.

'Don't think me rude, Miss Ingham,' June said sweetly, 'but I've known him a few years longer than you have.'

Andrew had shrunk back against the counter. 'What scared you, son?' Brian said, taking pity on him. 'Did you think you saw something?'

The boy stared miserably at him, then looked away. 'There, you see,' June said. 'He knows perfectly well he was just being silly. The best place for you is bed, my lad, so the grown-ups can talk.'

'I'll start dinner,' Miss Ingham said.

‘I’ll come with you.' June turned to Brian as she reached the door. 'You might as well lock up. If anyone wants anything from the shop, they know where to find us.'

She was going with Miss Ingham to tell her about Father O'Connell. Brian wondered if he had time to take the boy up on the moor before he followed the women home, but he wouldn't be able to think while Andrew was in such a state. 'It's all right, son, no need to be frightened now,' he said roughly. 'Daddy's here.'

Andrew blinked at him, then ran and hid his face on Brian's chest. Brian's hands wavered near the small hard head; he wasn't quite able to stroke the boy's hair. Andrew was hugging him fiercely, yet Brian had the fleeting impression that he was doing so in order not to flinch from his father. It started his feverish nervousness crawling, as if his skin were coming alive in an unfamiliar way. 'Want to tell me what happened now that the women aren't listening?' he suggested.

When the boy began to mumble, Brian made to push him away so as to hear, until he realized that Andrew was praying - Brian couldn't tell for whom. 'We'd better be on our way home if you've nothing to say to me,' Brian said, embarrassed, and had to coax the boy out of the shop. All the way home Andrew hung onto Brian's hand, more tightly between the streetlamps. Whenever they passed a road that led to a path up to the moors, Brian felt him shiver.

June was mutely angry when they arrived home. Once Andrew had picked at his vegetarian dinner and been bathed and put to bed, she spoke up. 'Do you know what we heard while you were bringing the boy home? They're still going to show that video.'

At first Brian didn't understand what the new objection was. 'Oh, you mean even though -'

'I mean even after Father O'Connell died so horribly they're going to watch their devilish film. They're saying Father O'Connell would want them to show it, he was going to see it himself. I don't believe for a moment that's true, but if it was, it's no wonder his dog went for him.'

'We ought to go and show them we're on Godwin's side,' Brian said.

'You and Miss Ingham go if you like. I'll have to stay with the boy. He won't even let me switch his bedroom light off. Someone needs to stay who won't stand for his nonsense.'

Could she be secretly jealous because Brian was going to the pub with the teacher? He hadn't thought much about Miss Ingham except to find her presence in the house inhibiting, but when she came downstairs wearing perfume and one of her long dresses, he found her unexpectedly pleasing. The way the dress kept hinting at her body warmed his groin. 'Call me Letty,' she said, and he wondered if she might agree to a stroll after the pub.

The One-Armed Soldier was packed with Godwin's followers. Brian bought Letty an orange juice, a pint of strong ale for himself. 'It's a treat to see you, I thought you were dead,' Eric, the landlord, remarked in a voice that carried across the room. Brian muttered as neutrally as possible and joined Letty and her friends, who were talking about how Godwin had been resting in his hotel room ever since he'd braved the cave. Letty's face was why he hadn't taken much notice of her before, he realized, her large, plain face with its permanent smile.

Put a bag over her head, he thought automatically, and was restraining himself from glancing at the outline of her thighs when the teetotallers began demanding to see the film.

'Whatever you think of it, keep your hands off it,' Eric said, slipping the cassette into the player. 'And don't be shy about coming to the bar.'

The film was called
The Devil's Well.
Brian wondered if that had made Godwin think of Moonwell, though it was about an industrialist who drilled for oil where he'd been warned not to. Most of the swarthy actors didn't seem to be mouthing English. From the groans and the shaking of heads around him, Brian gathered that the industrialist was played by Godwin's father.

The drill dug deep into the earth, and then oil filled the screen, except it wasn't oil: it was too black, too purposeful. The industrialist turned to the camera, grinning diabolically, and everyone around Brian began to sing a hymn as demons swarmed out of the gushing muck. The dripping demons that looked like men ripped the doors off houses and killed the townsfolk, pulled handfuls out of their throats, held them up screaming, and smashed them against walls. . . . Father O'Connell mightn't have liked this after all, Brian thought; he wasn't sure he liked it much himself, especially when the victims came back to life and went in search of the few survivors. He especially disliked the sight of a young woman dressed in a T-shirt and denim shorts stumbling through the town in search of her husband although she no longer had a head. He joined in the hymn so lustily that people glanced at him.

His thoughts crowded the hymn out of his head. Of course, the young woman reminded him of the hiker who'd fallen down the cave. But the sight of the headless body on the move recalled to him how he'd felt as he'd watched the hiker on the moor. God help him, he was feeling that now. The spectacle of the headless body was jerking at his groin.

He felt sick with self-loathing and at the same time almost uncontrollably excited. He tried to think of June, but couldn't even see her face. Letty Ingham was closer, and he tried to concentrate on her, to distract himself from the flickering screen that was making his eyes seem to swell. He could imagine lifting her long dress, parting her thighs, thrusting himself into her, if it wasn't for that maddening flat-faced smile of hers. Suddenly he saw the teacher and himself lit by dazzling white light, his hands closing around her head, twisting it, lifting it clear of her shoulders ... He had to struggle not to seize his rampant groin under the pub table. He sang louder, almost bawling.

Demons and corpses overran the town, and Godwin's father grinned out through a repetition of the title. The audience began to clap in time with their hymn. As Eric pulled the cassette out of the player, he glared at Brian as if he'd let Eric down. 'Thank you,' people said innocently to him as the pub emptied. Brian would have liked to stay for another drink - the pub felt like a refuge from the dark - except that he would feel bound to apologize to Eric, maybe to explain too much. He followed Letty Ingham, his penis shrinking from the chill and the dark. He couldn't help thinking how satisfying it would be to have the strength he'd glimpsed, dazzled by himself and the white light. It was only a fantasy, he told himself, but it made his skin feel unstable, too alive. He averted his face as he passed the hotel, and then he realized that he couldn't hide it from June. He had even more secrets to keep from her now.

Thank God she was in bed, Andrew snuggling against her, where he must have pleaded to go. Brian crawled into Andrew's bed and wondered nervously how long it would be before he betrayed his secrets. He heard Letty humming a hymn downstairs, and all at once he knew that he had things the wrong way round. No wonder he felt like this when he'd somehow managed to forget what Godwin had told them all. There was only one way to get rid of his feelings, however painful it might be. Father O'Connell was gone, but he could still confess to Godwin Mann.

THIRTY FOUR

 

On her way home from the presbytery Diana felt as if the dark had won. Perhaps she was exhausted, but she had the impression of shrinking as the dark grew larger, until she and the town meant nothing at all. She did mean something, she told herself fiercely, but what? Maybe she would know once she'd had a good night's sleep.

Something rustled on the hall floor as she unlocked the door of her cottage - two pieces of paper. They were paintings, which she recognized even before she read the children's names on them. Sally's painting showed climbers on a mountain, stick figures with beaky noses, heads the size of dimes; Jane's was of a carnival in which all the rides had to be crammed into the space left by her carousel. Both of them were paintings Diana had put up on the classroom wall.

Their teacher must have given the children their paintings to take home because it was nearly time for the summer vacation, however it looked. Diana imagined the two girls discussing what to do, Sally fiddling with her patched spectacles, Jane agreeing solemnly that they should post the paintings through Diana's letter box. She felt like weeping. They hadn't forgotten her, but she had nearly forgotten them. 'No you don't, damn you,' she hissed at the dark.

She made black coffee and drank it as hot as she could, walking back and forth through the cottage to try to wake herself up. When she went out, she still felt as if she hadn't wakened - as if she needed to waken so as to understand what she could do about the dark. Finding out from Mann what had happened at the cave must be a first step, she told herself. At least now she had an excuse to go into the hotel.

The large, dim lobby under the dusty chandeliers was a relief after the streets, the dark lurking between the streetlamps, leading to the sunless moors. She went to the reception desk, where the manager stood looking harassed, his oval forehead gleaming through what remained of his red hair. 'Are the couple who were in a car accident here just now? Craig and Vera somebody.'

'Mr and Mrs Wilde.' He glanced about for a receptionist, then peered at the board where the keys hung. 'Yes, they're here: 315.'

'I'll go up, shall I?'

'You may as well,' he said, sweeping back his sparse hair with both hands in a despairing gesture. 'Top floor.'

When she stepped into the elevator, the doors closed, but she had to press the button twice before the lobby fell away. The elevator faltered at each level, giving her a view of deserted corridors through the small square window. At the top, the doors staggered open with a muffled squeaking. Either the central heating didn't reach up here or it was turned off. Perhaps it was the chilly stillness that put her in mind of a cave, for the gloomy floor with its eighteen bedrooms felt larger than it should. She went quickly along the right-hand corridor and knocked on the door of 315.

Craig opened the door and smiled rather shakily at her. 'Miss Kramer, it's good of you to look in. If you're blaming yourself for the accident, please don't. It was entirely my fault, me and my neuroses.'

'I thought you showed a whole lot of presence of mind. Is your wife okay now?'

'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude. Please do come in

and say hello to her. We're just making coffee, if you'd like some.'

Vera turned from staring at the electric kettle as if at some vitally important task. 'Miss Kramer, I don't know what you must think of me after all that fuss I made.'

'I might have behaved that way if I'd been through all you'd been through,' Diana said, probing gently.

'Oh, I think we just let this dark get on top of us,' Vera said with an awkward laugh. 'I don't like it, I won't pretend I do, but that's no excuse for my carrying on that way, as if that poor policeman hadn't enough to do. I don't mind telling you, Miss Kramer, I'm ashamed of myself.'

'We managed to find someone to fix the tyres,' Craig said. 'The car should be ready tomorrow. I hope this wretched weather will have improved by then.'

'I thought,' Diana said carefully, 'you thought the dark wasn't just bad weather.'

She was speaking to both of them, and it was Vera who responded. 'I told you I was ashamed, Miss Kramer. I'm not as young as you, you know. Finding that poor man's body preyed on my nerves, that's all.'

But you talked about the dark before you saw him, Diana thought. It was no use; she would only disturb them if she persisted. The kettle began to steam, and she stood up. 'Won't you have coffee?' Vera said plaintively.

'Thanks, but I have to speak with Godwin Mann. I don't suppose you know which room he's in.'

'Yes, I'll show you.' Craig let her out of the room and pointed down the corridor. She was moving away when he cleared his throat. 'Our daughter, Hazel, was telling us you've been ousted from your job because of differences over religion. If you should feel in need of a bit of free legal advice, please don't hesitate to contact us,' he murmured, and closed the door.

Diana felt both touched and dismayed: he was talking as if life were going on as it always had, or as if pretending would make it so. Mann's wasn't the only unquestioning faith. But it was Mann's that had caused whatever was happening to Moonwell, and now she must see what had happened to him.

She started along the corridor, away from the elevator and the stairs. Craig had pointed to the room at the end, next to the bathroom; what could be more banal? Never mind that the shaded wall lamps seemed small and fewer than she would have liked, never mind that the low corridor felt colder and more largely empty as she ventured forward, but she would have welcomed a sound or two in the total stillness; she couldn't even hear Craig and Vera, though surely they'd be talking. She resisted a crazy urge to stamp her feet on the faded brownish carpet, to have at least some noise for company.

She stopped in front of the door to 318. She was raising one hand to rap at a panel when her gaze wandered to the foot of the door. Whatever light Mann was using in there, it was unpleasantly white. Her hand was inches from the panel when she heard Mann's voice in the room, gentle yet penetrating, if rather forced. 'Don't worry, Miss Kramer, I haven't forgotten you. I'll be coming to you soon. I'm looking forward to meeting you face to face.'

She found she was backing away from the door as she stared at it, realizing that there was no spy hole, no way he could have seen her. She turned and walked very fast to the stairs; if she'd run she would have lost all control. She was through the lobby, past dozens of Mann's aimless followers, and out of the hotel before she remembered that the elderly couple were still up on that floor.

She couldn't go back now. Perhaps they would be able to leave tomorrow, allowed to leave since they were determined not to notice what was happening. No, she couldn't let them go into the dark, unless the police who were investigating it managed to get through and come back. Just now it was more urgent to make sure that

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