Tales From The Wyrd Museum 1: The Woven Path (28 page)

Suddenly, a hand lashed out as a man tried to prevent himself from falling, and his fist viciously punched into her shoulder.

Howling, the old woman jerked forward and her thick spectacles went flying from her nose to be crunched underfoot.

In another second, Jean's grandmother was thrown down upon a pile of compressed bodies and almost immediately she was buried by two more.

Irene Stokes’ final screams were smothered by the clothes of those who crushed the breath from her. Like a withered twig, the old body that had stored so much bile and resentment, snapped under the oncoming waves of death—and interred in that dark, terrible place the old woman perished.

*

In the high street, Frank Jeffries was too immersed in his own heartache to even hear the booming of the Z rockets overhead.

Cracking with emotion, his normally buttery voice came in gulping bursts as he tried to figure out what had happened.

“What. . . what have I d-done?’ he wept. ‘How could... she treat me so bad? She was so changed—it scared me.’

Shaking his head, he wiped his eyes and resolved to make amends.

‘She can't... can't have meant it,’ he fooled himself, ‘my Kath wouldn't be so cruel, I g-gotta put her straight. When she understands, it'll be the way it was. I'd d—do anything for her—she's gotta know that. Yeah, that's what I'll do—g—go back and sort this out.’

The high street was still filled with obscuring fog and, as Frank smartened himself up, he heard the sound of a woman's footsteps clattering down the far side of the road.

In an ecstasy of anticipation, Kathleen Hewett hurried to the red telephone box near the Gaumont Picture Palace and squinted in the feeble, blue light of the kiosk's bulb.

Inserting her money, she dialled the number she had memorised and waited impatiently for the ringing tone to end.

‘He must be there,’ she muttered, ‘he must be!’

Abruptly, the telephone at the other end was picked up and the unmistakable, clipped tones of her stage manager said, To whom am I speaking?’

Kath wanted to laugh out loud at his caution. There was no longer any need for his petty rivalries and vying for attention from ‘the directors and producers’. All his ludicrously secretive euphemisms and clandestine rendezvous were obsolete now and she wanted Mr Ormerod to be the first to know it.

‘Over-ambitious fraulein,’ she said, trying to keep her voice level and serious.

There was a silence at the other end and she could practically hear his well-ordered thoughts churning in surprise.

“What is it?’ he demanded curtly.

Kath grinned. ‘Not over the telephone,’ she chided him.

‘Where then?’

‘Outside the entrance of my own little theatre.’

The girl knew he would understand what that meant and wondered if his lizard-like eyes had started to bulge yet.

‘When?’ he snapped.

The curtain goes up in fifteen minutes.’

The sound of Mr Ormerod's startled coughing, honked in the earpiece. ‘Impossible!’ he snorted. ‘How am I supposed to reach you in time?’

‘Oh, I'm sure you keep some emergency petrol somewhere,’ she said, ‘but the performance will continue with, or without you to stage-manage it.’

The apoplectic jabbering at the other end brought a satisfied smile to her lips.

Without warning, a loud tapping on one of the small windows made her whirl about. The glass of the telephone box had been painted black but one of the panes was broken, and there, peeping fearfully in at her, was Frank.

Hastily, Kath turned her back on him and muttered into the mouthpiece before slamming the receiver back into its cradle.

“What do you want?’ she cried, pushing open the door and rounding on the airman.

Frank looked at her questioningly. ‘Kathy,’ he said miserably, ‘I only wanted to explain. Whatever it is I d—did to make you like this, to make you not like me any more, to make you so cruel, I wanna make it right.’

‘Make it right?’ she repeated mockingly.

“Course I d—do!’ he insisted. ‘I knowed it can be done too. You're ‘shamed of the way I acted up in the Fort; well, it won't be like that no more. I d—done me a whole mess of thinkin’ and I know that you're the most important woman in my life. If I don't g-got you, then I don't have nothin’. Don't you see? I'd rather face a pack of them Messerschmitts and fly straight through a sky full of flak than live my life without you by me. What d—do you say, Kathy? We can find a way to be happy. I'll hightail it back to base and you can be p-proud o’ me.’

The girl's eyebrows arched in amusement and for an instant she glanced past him, into the fog above.

‘You really don't see, do you?’ she said.

Frank put his hands on her shoulders and gazed desperately into her eyes. ‘Please, Kathy!’ he begged. ‘You frightened me back there but I love you so much—I ain't afeared of d—dyin’ no more if you'll stand by me.’

The corners of her mouth twitched as she smiled ruefully and Frank wept with joy as he believed she had forgiven him.

‘Oh, Kathy!’ he cried, hugging her tightly. ‘You an’ me, it'll be j—just like in the movies—a happy ending. Only our love won't never end, it'll just go on and on, getting bigger and stronger every d-day.’

With her chin pressed against his shoulder, the girl parted her lips and whispered into the American's ear. ‘Lieutenant Elmer Burakoff,’ she hissed, ‘Sergeant Hank McCall, Private David Johnson, Sergeant Ralph Driberg...’

Frank leaned backwards. ‘What's that you're saying, Kathy?’ he asked timidly.

‘I'm simply telling you about the others,’ she laughed with derision, “you wouldn't believe the information I managed to get out of them—or what I did to get it. Of course, there's lots more but it's so difficult remembering all of their names when I can't even remember their faces. There was one who had the most awful breath, I won't forget him in a hurry, but then he was the only one who seemed to know anything vital that particular weekend.’

Frank stood as still as stone whilst she continued to taunt him.

‘As for you,’ she spat, ‘you were the easiest of them all! Stupid Frank Jeffries—was there ever an idiot to equal you? You were so gullible and lapped up everything I said. And how you sang. You'll never know how saddened I was to learn that you'd survived that mission. I had hoped the guns of the magnificent German air force would rip through your skinny body and send your wretched aircraft plummeting down to hell!’

Unable to utter a sound, the American felt his entire world drop away and an empty, raw grief howled inside his soul.

Starting to shake, he tried to pull himself from her, but Kath would not let him go.

‘Oh no!’ she laughed, ‘You can't g-g-g-g-go yet, Frank d-d-d—d-darling! There's something I want you to see. The nights I spent listening to crass, dull-witted bores like you are finally ended, I shall never have to humiliate or sell myself again, for now I have a power of my own.’

Stupefied and aghast, Frank stumbled backwards but the girl clapped her hands to the sides of his face and cried, Turn, my poor pathetic sweetheart. Look on the new object of my affections—see his might and majesty!’

Too weak to resist her scratching fingers, the airman slowly twisted his neck and stared back at the awful shape that had been towering over them the entire time.

Rearing from the mist, the huge, demonic form of the squander bug filled Frank's vision and his legs buckled when the horrendous glare from those fiery eyes burned through the fog and ripped into his frail spirit.

‘What ... what is it? he yelled, tripping over himself, unable to tear his gaze from the ghastly spectacle.

Above them, Belial let loose a bellowing roar and Kath's exulting voice joined it.

The twin, evil sounds cut right through the American and he covered his face with his hands.

‘See the doom that awaits you and your kind!’ she shrieked at him. ‘the Archduke of demons will lay your fat, idle land to waste and spill fire upon your corrupt cities.’

Bathed in the harsh, crimson light, Frank tried to escape but Kath grabbed his arm and dragged him back to her.

‘Isn't that what you wanted, beloved,’ she scorned, ‘to hold me forever in your embrace?’

‘No,’ he whimpered, still staring up at the mind-numbing horror that was Belial. ‘Let me g-go, please!’

‘Just one f-f-f-final kiss,’ she teasingly implored, ‘for old time's sake.’

The petrified airman was powerless to stop her and Kath hauled his head down to her mouth. With a sadistic snigger, she pressed her lips against his, whilst at the same time plunging the blade of a long knife between his ribs and twisting it into his heart.

Recoiling from her, Frank uttered a dismal, agonising cry and lurched into the road.

Kathleen watched with delight as he fell to the ground.

‘Accept this offering, my lord!’ she crowed to the grotesque creature at her side.

Belial glared down at her and the repugnant face glowered with malice.

'This is not what you promised,’ he growled menacingly, ‘What is one base life when you vowed I could feast on hundreds? The night is full of death, it floats thick and close, pervading every drifting air. A hundred murdered souls and more have I sensed near to this place, and yet you would throw me scraps.’

Kathleen glanced up fearfully, there was a terrible edge to his rumbling voice and she was quick to appease him.

‘Follow me!’ she beseeched. ‘I swear that we are close to that place. Come, it is not much further and your hunger shall be satiated.’

The baleful eyes fixed on her suspiciously, but Kath took a step forward and beckoned the demon on.

The clawed limbs of the squander bug raked through the mist as the demon lumbered after her, dragging the sagging belly of his loathsome raiment over the ground. Into the dense fog they went, Belial's forked, scorpion-like tail lashing the vapour to shreds behind him.

Close to death, Frank Jeffries lay in the middle of the high street, clutching the handle of the knife that was still firmly lodged in his chest.

Using the last remnant of his ebbing strength, he tightened his fingers about the weapon and slowly drew it out, screaming as the unbearable pain jolted through his body like lightning.

The instant the blade was loose, a fount of blood pumped up from the ugly wound. Cascading over his body, it flowed in a steaming river over the road and into the gutter where it formed an ever-widening lake.

In the veiled sky above, the drone of the Luftwaffe grew louder and Frank whined piteously as his head lolled feebly to one side. Now, beyond despair, the gentle American ironically reflected that the ominous noise of the enemy aircraft was the last sound he would ever hear. Then his eyelids fluttered shut.

Angelo was not far away when he heard Frank's anguished scream. For a dread-filled moment he hesitated, then charged towards that curdling cry, his heart thumping.

‘Frank!’ he yelled, stampeding through the fog which separated them. ‘Frank!’

From the dense, blanketing cloud the airman came, his dark eyes burning with anxious concern. Then the final, hazy curtain was ripped aside and Angelo saw him.

‘No!’ he bawled, rushing to the wounded man's side and gazing in horror at the waning spout of blood.

‘You'll be OK!’ he cried, covering the gash with his hand and trying to staunch the dwindling flow.

‘Don't you worry now, Frank, Voodini's here. He's gonna make everything all right. You just hang in there!’

Jerking his head around, Angelo stared into the foggy street and called out desperately. ‘Help!’ he roared. ‘Help us someone! For God's sake help me!’

The flow of blood had become a seeping trickle but still Angelo tried to stop its escape from the airman's chest.

‘Come on, Frank,’ he urged, ‘listen to old Voo—there'll be a medic here any time now. You gotta hold on till then.’

A pitiful moan drifted from Frank's lips and his eyes trembled open.

‘That's it, pal!’ Angelo cried, lifting his head and cradling it in his arms. ‘You'll be fine, just fine.’

The ghost of a smile flickered about Frank's mouth and, gazing up into the tear-brimming eyes of his friend, he died.

‘FRAAAAAAANK!’ Angelo howled, hugging his buddy close and rocking him like a baby.

For several minutes, he held him and cried desolately. Then Angelo turned to the knife that was still clenched in Frank's hand and gently took it from him.

Holding the gore-covered blade before his face, Angelo's tears subsided and a bitter anger welled up in their stead.

‘God—why wasn't I here when you needed me?’ he muttered thickly. ‘Don't you worry now, Frank, I'll find whoever did this. I swear to the Almighty, I will. If it costs my immortal soul, I'll avenge you. Trust your old Voodini, I won't never rest, I won't never give up till I find out who did this to you.’

The first of the German bombs erupted in the distance with a dull
crump
and, throwing his head back, the lieutenant called upon heaven to witness his oath.

‘You hear me?’ his defiant cry challenged the powers of the world. “Whatever it takes!’

Sorrowfully, he closed Frank's blank, staring eyes, then took off his own flying jacket and placed it under his dead comrade's head.

Tumbling from the chopped-up garment, Daniel's new teddy fell at his feet and Angelo snatched it up, smearing the fur with blood.

With a tremendous roar, the ground quivered as a parachute mine exploded three streets away.

Angelo stared at the bear in his grasp and his horror plumbed new depths as a hideous premonition seized him. ‘Jean,’ he murmured, ‘oh my God!’

Suddenly, two circles of light came sweeping through the mist, accompanied by the fierce rattle of a motor engine.

Heading for number twenty-three, Barker's Row, the Jeep, containing two military policemen, had swerved aside when they heard Angelo's lamenting screams.

Bouncing over the road, the vehicle ploughed through the fog, its hooded headlights straining to see the way ahead.

Leaning forward in their seats, the MPs looked aghast at the gruesome sight unexpectedly captured in the soft beams.

Standing over the blood-drenched corpse of a GI, they saw a Lieutenant of the American Air Force. The murder weapon was still in his hands and the face he turned to them was wrung with guilt.