The Devil in Green (6 page)

'We'll pay you,' Miller said. 'Anything!'

'No.' Mallory's voice was sharp, cutting Miller dead.

'You're very cautious,' the old man said slyly, 'but are you as wise as
you seem, I wonder?'

Mallory replaced the shotgun on the floor, instinctively knowing it was
useless. 'You like questions—'

'I like questions and games and riddles because that's what everything is
about, is it not? One big riddle, and you trying to find out what the answer
is.' He chuckled. 'Trying to find out what the question is.'

'And you have all the answers, I suppose,' Mallory said.

'Many, many, many. Not all, no. But more than you, Son of Adam.'

The wind dropped a little, the crashing rain becoming a mere patter.
Mallory remained tense. 'Do you want something of us?'

A long silence was eventually ended by words that were heavily measured. 'Curiosity was my motivation. Few venture up this hill in these
times. I had a desire to witness the extent of the bravery in our latest
visitors.' A smack of mockery.

Tension filled the air, driving Mallory into silence. It felt as if they were
in the jungle with some wild animal padding slowly around them, content
in the knowledge that it could attack at any time. Mallory decided it was
better to engage the old man in conversation rather than allow any lulls
where other ideas might surface.

'Perhaps you'd like to provide us with some answers, as we're so sadly
lacking,' he said.

The old man mused on this for a time, then said, 'Answers I can
give, and questions too. But if you seek my advice, it's this: keep your head
down doing honest work and give offence to none. Avoid drawing
unwanted attention at all costs.'

'What kind of attention?'

'Ah, you should know by now,' the old man said with a cunning tone,
'that when the mouse gets noticed by the cat, it won't leave him alone
.
. .
until he's long gone.'

'What's going to happen?' Miller was whimpering again.

'Many things,' the old man said, pretending it was a question for him,
purely for the sake of malice. With another chuckle, he added, 'The
wormfood will come up for air, and the quick will go down for a way out,
but find none. There'll be a man with three hands, and one with one eye.
Some will be bereft in more profound areas. Friends will be found in
unlikely places, but where friends should really be, there will at times be
none. And consider this: a religion isn't as good as its god, only as good as
its followers.'

'Is that supposed to help?' Mallory said.

'The joy of a riddle is two-fold: in the solving, or in the enlightenment
that comes from hindsight. Riddles are lights to be shone in the darkest
corners, where all secrets hide.'
'Secrets?'

'Everybody has secrets,' the old man said pointedly.

'Thank you for your guidance,' Mallory said with irony. 'We'll take it
with us when we leave.'

'Oh, you will be back, Son of Adam. Back here, and back there. Sylvie
doesn't love you any more. It's a hopeless case.' Then, 'Your sins will
always find you out.'

The tension in the air dropped slowly until they realised they were
alone, which was an odd way of considering it because they had no idea
where the presence had been. Slowly, Miller's body folded until his face
was in his hands. 'What did he mean?' he said bleakly. When Mallory
didn't answer, he asked, 'What was that?'

'Probably best not to talk about it right now.' Mallory illuminated his
watch. The green glow painted his face a ghastly shade, the shadows
defining the skull beneath.

'He can still hear us?'

'I think he
.
.
.
and what he represents . . . can always hear us.' He
stood up, shaking the kinks from his limbs. 'It should be dawn any
minute.' The whistling no longer floated around the building; instead they
could just make out birdsong dimly coming over the ramparts. 'Want to
risk it?'

'I guess.'

‘I tell you this. No eternal reward will forgive us for wasting the dawn.'
Mallory cracked his knuckles.

'What's that?'

'Words from an old singer.'

'You like music?'

'That's a funny question. Doesn't everyone?'

'No, not really,' Miller said.

They walked out into the inner bailey, the ruins and windswept trees now
grey ghosts. The rain had blown away and there was an optimistic bloom
to the edge of the sky. The monkey-creatures were nowhere to be seen.

The morning had the fresh smell of wet vegetation. Mallory took a deep
breath, still surprised at how sweet the air tasted now that it was pollution-
free. They made their way back along the track and prepared to walk the
short distance into Salisbury. As they breached the crest of the hill and
headed down into the city, the mother sky turned golden, framing the
majestic spire of the cathedral protruding through the treetops ahead.
Miller was overcome with a rush of Glory and turned to Mallory,
beaming; Mallory shook his head and looked away.

The corpses of the monkey-creatures ploughed up by the car had
vanished. A little further on they came across Miller's horse, grazing at the
side of the road. Miller patted its flank affectionately.

'We can take it in turns to ride,' Miller said brightly.

'It's all yours. I like a good walk of a morning, gets the blood flowing.'

They took the empty road slowly and within the hour the outskirts of
Salisbury drew around them. It was still odd for both of them to see the
empty houses and factories, the abandoned petrol stations and corner
shops without any of the trappings of the modern world. No vehicles
moved, no electric lights burned, no fast-food wrappers blew up and down
the streets. Instead there was the smell of woodsmoke hanging in the air
and some homes were illuminated by candlelight. The air of the makeshift
lay across the city: handmade signs pointing to the farmers' market or the
council offices, piles of wood obviously prepared for night-time beacons,
repairs carried out to broken windows with plastic sheets. Wild dogs
roamed the streets and furtive rats skulked out of front gardens.

They came upon a sentry box roughly constructed out of crates and
perspex. A grey-faced man in an adapted police uniform was boiling some
water on a small fire. As they approached, he rose suspiciously, holding a
handmade truncheon close to his thigh.

'What's your business?' His eyes were hard on their faces.

'We're going to the cathedral,' Miller said with bright innocence, 'to
become knights.'

The guard didn't attempt to hide his disdain. 'Good luck,' he sneered,
rolling his eyes.

'The police are still going?' Mallory asked.

The guard glanced down at the uniform, which had SPM sewn on to
the left breast. 'I used to be with the Force,' he said. 'Still got my warrant
card. These days it's the Salisbury People's Militia.' He waved them
through, nodding towards the spire. 'I don't think you'll get lost.'