Lagoon
Mathew E C Bridle
Published by Mathew Bridle at Smashwords
Copyright 2010 Mathew E C Bridle
© 2010 Mathew E C Bridle. All rights reserved.
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LAGOON
How long they had been here? Nobody knew. Perhaps, longer than us. They had left us many clues but we had not understood them. They had sent messengers but we denied they existed. Now they are here. Yet we do not see them, not yet.
Lagoon
THE FIND
ONE.
Somewhere in rural England.
"All right, let's move it out," the harsh voice of the sergeant boomed across the assembled ranks. The roar of tanks and heavy machinery kicking into life thundered across the countryside as Operation Daylight began. Smoke swirled over the distant fields as the battle commenced. "Blue two, move into sector 4H. Take what you can and waste the rest," Ross, Sergeant Ross, hero of the day barked into his field radio. Another detachment of the combined forces moved forward into the affray. The sound of gunfire cracked into the sky as artillery exchanges began.
TWO.
Nathan Miles sat fishing with his brother, Stefan, who was only younger by a matter of minutes. Although the two boys were supposedly twins there was little similarity between the two. Nathan was shorter by two inches, at five feet eight, he was of a slim build and rather reckless at times when his somewhat imaginative mind got the better of him. At thirty-two Nathan was already thinning on top, something that his short grade three haircut accentuated. His brother Stefan, Stef to his friends, was a fair haired lout. He was pure spite and anger all rolled together in a nasty twisted mass of flesh. He could best be described as a prize toss-pot. The only thing that the two of them did have in common was their understandable lusting for one certain female, Samantha Steen, Nathan's fiancée. Sam was just a plain ordinary girl. There was nothing physically outstanding about her, her blue eyes were of no noteworthy brightness, her hair was a mousey blond and her figure was just right. If there was one thing about her that caught the eye, it would have to have been her smile; perhaps it was the way that her teeth were a little out of line or just the way it curled up at the ends. Who knows? But whatever it was, it made the overall picture perfect. Let's face it, Sam definitely had 'it'. When asked to describe her, Nathan's normal response would be, "About five-two, blonde, small tits (but enough to enjoy), and a crooked smile." and that's about it really.
Now, although both of the boys held a deep fancy for Sam, she sure as hell thought nothing, if anything, for and I quote "That shit head," referring of course to Stef. But for Nathan she had nothing but admiration, for Nathan she would probably die.
As the afternoon wore steadily on Nathan became somewhat restless. In fact he spent more time looking at his watch than he did his float. He pulled in his line one last time, put his tackle away and sat down on the bank to read. "You given up?" Stef asked, sounding a bit put out.
"Yeah, Sam will be here soon... then we're off home." Nathan smiled as the thought of Sam entered his head. 'Wonder what she'll be wearing?' he thought to himself as his mind drifted over the thousands of possibilities. Stef's float lifted up onto its side, Stef immediately became excited. Nathan looked down the riverbank to where Sam would shortly be appearing. He got up and scuffed some dirt into the water.
"Careful! You useless bastard." Stef growled, "You'll scare the fish off." He really was a mean twat, just about anything would set off his hair triggered temper, anything.
"See you around Stef. Sam's here, I must be going." Nathan strode off along the bank leaving Stef to fight the fish alone. Sam was waving frantically from the nearby cattle bridge; the yellow t-shirt she was wearing bounced in time with her small breasts. This was something that always stirred Nathan's loins. As he drew nearer he could see he was going to be in for a difficult walk home - cycling shorts - Sam was wearing some of those skin tight Lycra things that hugged all known contours. Nathan was already beginning to peel off those shorts in his mind. He would have to stop soon though or his libido would harden.
"Jesus," Nathan said to himself as he ducked under the wire fence that Sam was holding apart for him. He could feel the need rising within his jeans. "Hi, Sam." he said, loitering under the wire making the most of the opportunity to gaze into her crotch.
"See anything you fancy?" she asked, smiling that crooked smile of hers. She lowered her head and looked at him with great scrutiny, "We don't have all day to stand here and take in the scenery." With that she let the wire go. Nathan squealed. Sure that he had lost something vital to the wire he swallowed hard and counted his blessings. Everything was still OK. "I can see that you're pleased to see me... big boy." she licked her lips teasingly.
"Nice day isn't it?" Nathan stood sharply and covered himself with his tackle bag.
"Need a hand with that tackle of yours?" she asked swiping the bag from his hand and taking a quick look at his trussed up nature. She smiled and turned towards the bridge. Nathan took one stride and caught hold of her arm. He swung her around and landed a big sloppy kiss on her mouth. Sam responded much as he hoped she would, her tongue came probing for his, her mouth pushed hard against his own. Nathan pulled away almost breathless, he looked at Sam, her mouth still open like a goldfish in the throws of their kiss. Nathan kissed her again, lightly this time. He released her, almost regretfully, he allowed his hands to sweep over her buttocks, enjoying the smooth curves. "I love you, Sam." he whispered.
"I know," she replied, "I know you do." Sam took his hand as they wandered off back along the road towards the car, a beaten up old Ford Escort, more of a rusting hulk than anything else but it did the job. They walked slowly, enjoying the last of the afternoon sun on their backs. Occasionally Nathan would let his arm slip from Sam's waist and give her bum a quick squeeze. Although Sam always admonished Nathan for his wandering hands it never stopped him, more to the point it encouraged him to try his luck another time. In the end Sam would pull away and playfully slap Nathan's hands. He would squeal and cry blue murder, then try again for another feel.
They climbed over the last style and trudged wearily over to the car. Nathan took out his own key and opened the boot. He dropped his rod in the back and opened up the cool box. Sam came around behind him and threw the tackle bag in the car with no finesse whatsoever. "Want one of these?" Nathan said, waving a can of Coke in her face.
"No thanks," she replied, "I'll have a mouthful of yours."
Nathan grinned as he pulled the ring pull back, "Must be my lucky
day."
"Ha bloody Ha Ha," Sam mocked. "Does everything that you say have to have some kind of sexual slant?"
"No, it just wouldn't be me without it." he said shrugging his shoulders.
"I suppose so," she opened her door and slid in behind the wheel, "It would be like us going somewhere without your... your inquisitive touch, shall we say." She turned the key and started the car amid a cloud of oily blue smoke.
"My what!" Nathan squealed, flopping into the passenger seat beside her.
"Your bloody wandering hands!" she exclaimed. "Captain Groper." She leaned over and kissed him while her right hand sought out his vulnerability. Nathan moved swiftly, seizing the opportunity to slide his hand up her t-shirt and cup one of her firm buds in his hand. He tweaked the nipple for good measure. Sam sighed and broke off the kiss.
"Piss off!" Nathan shouted and waved his hand at the inquisitive kid that was staring into the front windscreen. The boy abruptly turned around, dropped his trousers and mooned the couple before he eventually sauntered off. "The cheeky bugger," Nathan laughed.
"Boys!" Sam said, contemptuously, "You're all the bloody same." Sam dropped the car into first gear and edged the unruly beast towards the road. "Fancy dinner in the pub tonight?" Sam asked as the car bumped along the road back into town. "I don't feel like messing around in the kitchen," she added hopefully.
"Sure, suits me," Nathan winced as his stomach growled angrily at him, "sound's like my guts are in agreement too."
"You and your guts," Sam smiled to herself. Sam indicated left and swung the car into Pondtail Road. In a few moments Nathan's hunger would be satisfied.
Summer in England was unlike summer anywhere else on Earth. The lush green lands and the heady deciduous forests gave the countryside a distinctive rustic air. A pub dinner in such an atmosphere could therefore only happen there and anywhere else just wouldn't be cricket.
Sam waited out in the pub garden while Nathan went inside and ordered for both of them. Sam leaned back against the pub wall and drew in a deep breath, yawning she looked round. It was still too early for the pub to get crowded and for that she was grateful. She yawned again, sun bathing all day can be such hard work.
"Good evening, young Nathanial," Bill, the landlord, greeted him in his usual exuberant manner. "Ale sir?" he enquired, wiggling an empty pint glass in his left hand while tapping the Broadwood pump with his right.
"It's too hot for the delights of real beer, I'll have a lager instead please Bill, and a half for Sam as well." he paused, while reading the daily menu boards. "And two of those beef and Guinness pies with all the works, please squire." Bill never answered he just took a mental note of Nathan's order and handed over the two beers. Nathan stepped outside to find a recumbent Sam with her feet up on the pine picnic table.
"Just put it there dear boy," Sam said, waving a pretentious royal hand at Nathan. He put the drink down and grasped Sam's bare leg with his cold hand. He stood there a moment or two admiring the symmetry of her erect nipples. "Pervert," she smiled. "If you don't soon take that fuckin' cold hand of yours off my freshly shaven legs, then I shall be forced to kick your boney arse."
"There you go, darling," he said smiling and sipping his soda. "We've got a couple of those tortoise shell pies coming, that alright by you?"
"Sound's great," she swung her feet from the table and sat up to drink the beer.
They chatted idly as they ate, drank and watched the sun go down. "Better go pay the bill." Nathan stood and began to pile the empty plates and glasses onto the tray. Nathan, for some illogical reason, suddenly got an image from his childhood flung to the front of his mind, an image so clear and so cruel. It was something that he had long forgotten and was best left that way. An uncle of his had on several times during his childhood abused him both mentally and physically. He tried to shake the image off and almost succeeded. Behind him Sam was standing staring at the back of his hand, a confused expression crossed her face.
“Whatever happened to that uncle of yours?" she asked, out of the blue, not truly sure why she had asked the question in the first place, after all she had no interest in the old sod.
"Why do you ask?" Nathan asked quizzically, "funny," he added, more to himself than anyone else.
"Dunno, I just got this picture of him in my head. Maybe we're going to run into him somewhere." Sam pushed past Nathan and stood by the bar. Nathan followed her in and stood by her side. He got that uneasy feeling like a burning on the back of neck as though someone was watching them. He turned his head and immediately caught the gaze of a stranger to the pub. She was sitting alone at one of the back tables fiddling restlessly with her hair, the glass in front of her had long seen a drink. Her hair was long and lank, it looked like it had not been washed for several days, although the rest of her was spotlessly clean. Possibly the strangest things about her were her eyes there seemed to be no discernible colour to them; they just went on for miles. The girl's gaze went past Nathan to Sam. She seemed to be undressing her with her eyes. Nathan stepped back to block her view, the girl's eyes shifted to meet Nathan's own. He immediately felt sick and tired. He could feel his head lightening; Sam sensed his danger and put a steadying arm around him. She said something but it could have been Greek for all he knew. Suddenly he just wanted to go home.
"Cheers Bill," Sam took the change and ushered the bewildered Nathan outside. The fresh air had an immediate cleansing effect, washing away the outer edges of his sudden drowsiness. The mystery girl got up and followed them to the door. She watched them as they walked over to their car and got in. She could clearly see Nathan flinch as he caught her penetrating gaze. Sam, however could not be drawn away from the task at hand She manoeuvred the car around the others in the car park and swung the car out towards the Holbrook end of town. "You better now?" she asked without looking at Nathan, "I fancy an early night. I've got to go down the west country tomorrow and pick up mum." Nathan rubbed at his eyes with the palms of hands.
"Yeh, sounds fine by me. Why not stay at my place? We could watch the stars come out." Sam gave him a wry look and smiled. "Let you drive my car down there tomorrow," he winked.
"You got a deal." he eyes filled with a youthful lust. Nathan's car was a dream compared to her own crate. Driving down to Devon would be bliss after all and it also meant that she would have company for the whole journey. Sam swung the car smoothly around the roundabout and followed the Langhurst Road to Nathan's place. Some place it was too. They turned into the driveway and bumped over the speed ramps. Sam parked outside one of the garages while Nathan climbed out to open the garage door. His head was still a bit muggy, clouding his thoughts, making him a little distant and vague.
The door swung up and Sam parked the car. She ran her hand along the sleek bodywork of Nathan's Tonka as he called it. She blew the Tonka a kiss and patted it good night. She skipped out of the garage, full of glee and the joys of summer, she hopped up to the door and grabbed Nathan's rear as he stepped inside the house. Nathan failed to react to Sam's attack instead he just turned and closed the door. "I do wish that you weren't so bloody vacant sometimes, Nathan." Sam said, entering the kitchen and flicking on the lights. Mogg, the eldest of Nathan's two cats, which he preferred, the other was Greenpeace, so called because it never killed anything, was sleeping in the sink. She raised her weary head and mewed silently at the intrusion of light into her blissful slumber. Sam picked up the kettle and looked out of the window.
Nathan's house stood prominently on a hill on the north side of Horsham from where you could see almost the entire town laid out like a child's model. It was a large house left to Nathan by his father on the premise that his interfering mother would never be able to move their obnoxious in-laws in and spoil the late Georgian splendour. To one side of the house in an annexe was a heated swimming pool, something that Nathan had learnt to enjoy. The house was his own private castle where no-one could tell him what to do although Sam did try. Sam loved it there and longed to move in but she did not have the courage to ask Nathan who in turn could not understand why Sam hadn't asked. Nathan himself would ask her one day, when he was sure that she would not turn him down. Why was he waiting, Sam had never turned him down on anything before, so why now? To live there would be paradise when compared to the hell hole that Sam shared with her abusive parents, her father, a drunken child molesting bigot, her mother, if that's who she truly was, had no real concern for her only daughter on the many occasions when her father was unable to vent his frustrations upon his wife then Sam would have to play the surrogate bitch. Nathan would ask her tomorrow, yes tomorrow he would take the plunge and ask her to move in. Tomorrow.
Nathan had hidden well the secret of his home, practically no-one knew who lived in the big house on the hill, not even his prospective in-laws and he was determined that it would stay that way too.
Nathan walked over behind Sam and pressed his groin against the rounded curve of her buttocks, "Excuse me are you actually going to use that kettle?" he took it from her and gave her a gentle thrust with his pelvis. Sam could tell that he was gradually coming out from whatever cloud he had been under. Nathan put the kettle under the tap and turned it on. Mogg sprang into life and began to swipe the water with her paw splattering it over the window and marble worktop. "Mogg!" Nathan cried, listlessly, "That's the bloody hot tap, you stupid cat." He sighed and shut off the tap. He pulled open the fridge and started making a pile of sausages, eggs, bacon and mushrooms. He turned and looked first at the pile, then at Sam.
"I suppose you'd like that lot cooked." she dropped her hands to her sides and stropped over to the oven. Within a few seconds the gas was burning and there was a delicious aroma of bacon backed by the sound of sizzling fat. Nathan stood silently behind Sam making gross sexual gestures and grinning widely. Sam whirled around in an attempt to catch Nathan in the act. Nathan was already sitting back at the table with his knife and fork at the ready. The small of the cooking bacon made Nathan's stomach growl in anticipation. "It's on its way." she waved a finger at his stomach. Nathan loved Sam's cooking it was one of those thing that like sex she had a natural gift for. It would be untrue to call Sam easy, but she was certainly able and willing, their sex-life together was not unlike a pair of rabbits as both of them had unparalleled sex drives. Which you shall undoubtedly see something of.
Nathan ate vigorously, you would never have believed that he had already eaten one oversized meal, somehow he never seemed to put on so much as an ounce. Sam watch him devour his fried mountain while she leisurely cleared her own plate. "After tea," she pointed at his nearly empty plate, "I'm going to drag you from under that bloody haze you've been under ever since you set eyes on that girl in the pub." she nodded to him as if to confirm his next question before he even spoke. "Yes I did see that weird thing with the black hair, and yes I did notice that she came to the door to watch us go. You ask me where she's from, I don't know?" she shrugged her shoulder and stood to clear the table of the debris. Nathan frowned, got up and wandered off into the lounge. He hated the way that Sam seemed to be able to answer his questions before he had even uttered the first syllable, she just left him sitting there with his mouth opening and closing like a stupid fish. He turned around to face the kitchen door, and stood there apparently having sex with thin air.
"You can cut that out! I know what you're doing, Nathan Miles." Sam stepped out from the kitchen and mimicked his motions perfectly. This always impressed Nathan, how the hell did Sam know what he was doing and thinking? He laughed to himself as he slumped into his viewing chair. This particular chair was positioned in the centre of an expansive bay window that looked out over the hill and down to the town below. The chair was one of huge swivelling recliner's that was almost a sofa. Nathan's father had built a raised platform so that he could see a bit more of the shallow valley in which the town lay. From his vantage point it was possible to see almost the whole town lit by the eerie orange glow of the streetlamps giving the appearance of a town shrouded in an alien mist.
Horsham, was a strange sort of town, which like other nearby towns it had become the home to many ex-Londoners who found the urban ways of the small market town as bearably near to country life as was tolerable. Over the last twenty or so years Horsham had lost its true small town identity as its borders grew and grew swallowing up the surrounding hamlets and villages with the appetite of a ravenous beast. Still, whatever it had become it was still home and a fairly pleasant one at that. There had only ever been one or two murders and strange disappearances, a few knifings and muggings and the expected level of petty crime. Tonight with the arrival of a one solitary stranger those statistics were set to change, for the worse. The town was about to experience some of the most inexplicable deaths and mutilations that it would ever wish to see.
Nathan sipped idly at his coffee, sitting staring out of his window like a medieval lord surveying all that what his. Sam left the kitchen and carefully switched off the lights. Now the only light in the room was coming in through the window from the moon outside. Eerie shadows lurked behind the heavy velvet curtains that were now draped loosely to either side of the window, each of them was tied back with a heavy sash cord. Nathan watched silently, unaware of Sam's subtle cat-like approach. She had already discarded her t-shirt and was now slinking her way out of her shorts, she slipped them over her hips and kicked them to one side. She stopped at the point where the moonlight first touched her skin, she shivered involuntary until an inner warmth pushed away the unwelcome chill. For now at least a fever was rising within her that no chill could allay.
She placed her right hand between her legs and smiled as the moistness enveloped her fingers. She stepped up behind the chair where Nathan watched the world going by in pin points of ray traced light. Sam placed her wet, scented fingers over Nathan's mouth, smiling to herself as she did so. Nathan's tongue flicked out at the moistened fingers pulling them into his mouth and sucking on them hard. Sam worked her fingers in an obviously provocative manner. She grabbed the back of the chair with her free hand and spun it around. To Sam's almost astonishment Nathan was completely naked and up to all of her expectations.
There must be something about moonlight, perhaps its the thought of an angelic hand caressing the body with an unparalleled sensuous touch, or maybe its more simply the way that it enhances the nudity with its even natural light that inspires the imagination of lovers. In the cool light of the moon Sam's back appeared to be uniformly opaque only the fine hairs on the nape of her neck intruded upon the illusion of perfection that and a single bead of sweat that ran down her arcing back like the cold touch of winter. Sam sighed softly and bit her lower lip. Her legs were tucked up against Nathan's sides like a frog clutching onto its mate. Her arms were tense and rippling as she clawed at the top of the chair where she had been standing what now seemed to be a lifetime ago. Sex knows no time scale, its time is that of moments both fleeting and shared. The coupling of two heated forms charged with the energy of each other’s thrusting motions.
Each time Sam pulled at the chair Nathan pulled her pelvis down into his lap, his feet steadily rocking the huge arm chair. His fingers raked at the fine flesh of her buttocks as he pulled her down harder and harder with each climatic thrust. Sam's hair clung to her in rivulets of sweat which ran down into her eyes stinging them with their salty touch adding somehow to the ever increasing sensation of lust. Nathan, conversely, sat almost unaffected by the whole event, he still sat there as silently as before the only difference being the tension. The tension that builds up to that final moment of complete, exhalative release, that moment was rapidly approaching.
True lovers never count the times that they make love neither do they count the times that they come together, whatever the sum total of both was for Sam and Nathan it was about to be increased by one, a very large one. Sam kissed Nathan, deep and hard her tongue searched around his teeth and gums probing, touching, searching always moving on, never stopping for too long. Their bodies ran with sweat, their mouths ran with mutual saliva, their coupling bonded with love. Outside the window, moths that had beaten their wings frantically against the unyielding glass in time with the uncontrolled flurry of the lovers, now clung motionless to the glass, their tired wings reflecting the moon's glare with an equal radiance. Slowly the night ebbed towards the dawn as Nathan led his lover in an embrace that would lead to a more frantic sequel on the satin wastes of the oak-posted bed of the master bedroom.
THREE.
With the departure of our two lovers from the The Rising Sun, our mystery girl had retaken her place at the corner table and was busying herself with a fresh drink, a Bloody Mary, heavy on the vodka. Julia Tarn, that was her name, for what importance a name would have in the last few hours of her life.
Like any stranger in any pub, Julia attracted the attention, however brief, of all the regular clientele. Above all others she particularly attracted the attention of the barmaid, Bridget Tornsen, not because she was a lesbian or anything like that, it was more the to the point of curiosity. Julia had been in the pub since opening hours, now it was nearing closing time and the girl had not spoken other than to order her drinks. Bridge, as she had become known to just about everyone, rumour has it that she comes across, had noticed Julia's strange fascination for her drink. Julia sat there almost motionless staring into her drink as if it were the most wondrous thing in the whole world. Occasionally she would dip her finger into her drink and rub the thick fluid between her finger and thumb, endlessly toying with her drink almost enthralled by its cold touch. Bridge had wondered about asking the girl if she would prefer a whole tomato to fondle instead of just the juice but had thought better of it.
Men, like men anywhere who had partaken in a beverage or two became uncommonly brave, their conversation rose a few decibels in the childish hope that they would be overheard by their intended victim. Comments of the like, " I'll give her something to squeeze between her fingers," you know the kind of crap that 'the boys' come out with. But Julia, it appeared, was immune to all their childish remarks, perhaps she was deaf. Perhaps she was already dead and just running on auto pilot but then again perhaps not. One of the lads came over to sit by her and see if he could cheer her up a bit, you know the sort of thing the usual fascist bully-boy bullshit. His bravado was soon deflated however when he felt Julia's hand close upon his thigh, a slim soft hand. At first he was a little edgy, his heart jumped a beat and he thought that his luck was in. he turned and winked at his mates who were laughing raucously and trying to get Bridget's attention before time was called.
Julia's heart beat quickened, the moment had arrived that she had been waiting for, a chance for danger, excitement. Her fingers clenched and dug into the boys flesh drawing blood as her fingernail punctured through his jeans and gouged his flesh. The man clenched his teeth and jerked his leg free from her grasp at the expense of a bit of torn flesh. He stood up angrily and almost knocked the drinks over, "you fucking bitch," he spat at her, Julia smiled seductively back at him, feeling a touch high on the sudden release of adrenalin. No-one else had witnessed the affray in the corner, no-one had witnessed the quiet dark haired girl inflict the injury and no-one saw him as he left limping and clutching at his bloody wound, the great rush for ale was on.
By this time of an evening. almost eleven o'clock, the atmosphere in the pub was akin to a welding shop, heavy with smoke and blue jokes. The man, Gary Stevens, who had been injured by Julia could count himself lucky that he had not looked deeper into Julia's eyes and been caught by that deep hypnotic stare like Nathan had, if he had done so then he would have been next instead of Bridge, who was to come across one last time.
As the bar cleared of its drunken horde and the smoke veil lifted, Bridge raised the bar-flap and started to clear the tables of the half emptied glasses, ashtrays brimming with butts and wiped away the debris of a dozen mauled rolls. She straightened herself up and rubbed tiredly at the small of her back. As she turned to the next table, the one where Julia had been meditating over her bloody Mary, she noticed that the drink had been left virtually untouched, what little was missing had been spilt over the table. She took the glass and put it on the bar for Bill to clear away. It was then that she thought she heard the sound of a muffled cry of pain somewhere towards the exit. She stood deathly still and listened hard for any further sound but all she could hear was the glass washer and Bill clattering glasses together in the other bar. Bridget shivered, shook herself and carried on clearing up. She looked over to the hallway that led out to the front door, there for a brief second as plain as daylight was Julia Tarn, standing with one hand thrust down her trousers digging into her crotch, and then she was gone. Bridget didn't bother to go out after her, there was no banging of the front door, no jingling bell, in fact there was no sound at all. She went over to Julia's table where she had been cleaning.
The surface of the table doubled and weaved in her vision, "Whoa there," she said, steadying herself over the table. As her eyes swam back into focus she froze, her gaze locked onto the word that had been written on the table. TONIGHT. That's all it said, nothing more. The one solitary word drawn with a finger dipped in something thick and sticky, too thick to have been tomato juice. Bridget wiped the table over with her cloth but the word glowered back in defiance of her efforts. TONIGHT. It faded. Bridget felt herself slipping away so she sat down and leaned back against the padded seat, breathing deeply she sighed, "Christ... I don't feel pissed." Lowering her head somewhat gingerly she back down at the table. It was clean, too clean and so were the rest. The bar had been cleared and most of the lights were off. A shadow passed before her. Bridge rubbed her eyes then wiped her hand on her lap, it was then that she noticed she was now wearing her jersey and trainers. She looked at her watch, 11:21 it proclaimed, Garfield was still grinning at her from the watch's face. That sound again, the one of stifled pain. She wanted to look at the doorway but fought the compulsion to do so, or at least she gave it her best shot. Julia had returned only this time she was naked. One hand was squeezing her right breast hard enough to leave impressions in her flesh, her other hand was viciously stabbing into her vagina. There was blood on her fingers, black and old.
"You staying the night?" Bill enquired, looking down at her with a rather concerned fatherly look. Bridget jumped and placed her hand to her chest in the hope that it would quell her racing heart.
"Sorry Bill, I seem to have lost track of everything," she sounded lost and vacant, "Did you...?" her voice trailed of to a whisper. Her eyes locked firmly on the empty hallway.
"What?" Bill stalked, over to the door, "Was there someone out there?" he said, coming back into the bar lounge. "Door's locked," he shrugged his shoulders, "You OK?"
"Yes, I'm fine, just feel a bit run down... I guess." Bill extended his hand and helped Bridget up onto her tired feet. She yawned as she followed Bill out to the front door and stepped out into the chill night air. "Night, Bill," she turned and smiled wanly at the bearded, ageing hippy landlord.
"Take care girl." he paused, "Look don't bother about tomorrow lunch time, have a rest. It'll do you good."
"Right oh, rest it is then," she waved a lethargic farewell, crossed over the road and turned right out toward the north end of town. Her mind was very cloudy, puzzled by everything even the cool eyes of the mood couldn't see their way through the haze. Bridget glided along the pavement past the Piss-stinking phone box with its graffiti lined interior down towards the small bridge that crossed this end of the Red River, along past the wood that separated Pondtail Road from the old Tilbury housing estate in the next road. If she had turned to look behind her she would have noticed the street lamps going out one by one as a dark figure passed beneath them. Bridget stopped on the bridge and looked down into the river that was bathed in an effulgence of moonlit ripples. She looked at her reflection, a faceless, formless intruder into the dancing light. She watched on unaware of time, unaware of the growing cold. She watched on a while longer mesmerised by the changing reflection, the lights and shadows separated leaving a bright crystal clear image of Julia Tarn.
Bridget's eyes widened with a mixture of curiosity and revulsion as Julia's image began to repeat her earlier performance of gross self gratification. Blood dripped from Julia's hands, both hands as they stabbed and pulled repeatedly at the tender flesh. Julia's face flashed from pleasure to pain and finally to pure agony. She no longer seemed to be enjoying her masochistic pleasures, now she had become obsessed with removing her innards. Julia's hands were inside herself beyond the knuckles, the backs of her hands ran thick with blood and gore. A long thin tendril uncoiled from her crotch as Julia fell onto her back and pulled herself open wide. Some fell past Bridget's face and splashed into the water shattering the image and her thoughts. Reality intruded once more into her already fragmented mind.
TONIGHT, the message had read, tonight it was and she was alone at witching hour, alone by the woods beneath a pagan moon. The shadows were a subtle blend of pastel greys and faded blacks that betrayed no image but gave shelter to countless fearsome nightmares. A dark lightless street is a wonderful place for an assassin or an assailant to strike, tonight it would be the turn of Julia Tarn, her body guided by an irresistible force. She had been outside the pub, she had followed Bridget along the road dowsing the street lights by the touch of her hand, drawing on their electricity until the demand overloaded and blew the fuses. Her body had become immune to pain such was the hyped up level of adrenalin in her system. The stolen electricity was being stored in her body to make the transfer as painless as possible, but not for her. While Bridget had been stooped over the bridge watching the etheral image of Julia, Julia herself had been standing behind her reading her thoughts and planting further images, forming perhaps a precognitive story of what was to be. Perhaps it was a forewarning of her own fate.
Bridget yawned, shivering she trudged along the darkened road, a little nearer towards home. She looked out over the new over-priced housing estate that had sprung up to spoil the view that looked out towards Langhurst. There in the middle of the trees stood an impressive white house that held a commanding view over the town. She stopped to gather her thoughts and wondered who lived there, 'Nathan might know, next time I see him I'll ask him he lives out that way somewhere, he should know.' she thought to herself. A movement in the woods to her right snapped her mind in focus. A dark figure stepped from the tangle of branches, some of which had lain where they fell in the storm of '86. The figure stood in the centre of the pathway directly in front of Bridget. She looked around at the surrounding houses. There were no signs of life, no lights, no people only the pallid glow of the moon. For some strange reason Bridget's fear suddenly left her. There was something about the mystery figure that bore no malice. Bridget felt as though she could trust the silhouetted figure to leave her if she so wished. She crossed over the road without looking to see if she was being followed. For some unknown reason she felt that she had to turn and see if the figure was real or not, she reached the far side of the road and turned around, slowly. There was nothing there of course, by now she had come to expect that her mind was going to mess her about until she had had a bloody good sleep. A light breeze swept along the road and blew strands of hair about her face, she swept them away with a carefree wave of her hand and turned back to her travels. Julia Tarn was waiting with her coat held open revealing the curves of her body wrapped in a delicate white lace Basque. Bridget drew a sharp breath and screamed, her heart felt as though it had leapt into her throat and was threatening to tear its way out in a single violent pulse.
She ran, ran as fast as her tired feet would carry her, driven by an uncontrollable fear. Her eyes went wide with terror, her body ran with sweat as cold as ice, her hair flailed behind like seaweed caught in a receding tide. Bridget ran through the darkness, away from the apparitions and walking nightmares, away from her fears to her home, to the safety of her nest.
The new Pondtail Road curved away to the right as Bridget swung left into the unlit end of the road. Black phantoms swooped down out of the darkness and wailed their curses around inside her head. There had been few taboos in Bridget's life allowing her to be open minded and free from life's phobias that had crushed many of her friends. Her home for the last five years had been a large caravan parked in her parent's field over by a river. Only one small barrier lay between her and salvation, a small chain link fence that marked the boundary of her patch. There in her 'van' she would be safe, she could lock out the night, its spectres and Julia Tarn with it. Thud, thud, thud, beat her heart in time with her pounding feet, those days spent sweating it out in the gym were at last proving useful in the flight from her assailant.
Bridget could see that last hurdle in front of her now, she lifted up and leapt over the fence clearing it with ease, she stumbled on the uneven ground pitching forwards to regain her balance. She thrust one hand into her jeans pocket and fished out the key, her other hand held out to brace her against the side of the caravan which she hit with a heavy thump. The key slipped home first time, Bridget fetched a glance back across the field, there was no-one, she was safe. Opening the door she threw herself inside and locked the door. She went to the fridge and took out a bottle of water. Sweat ran down into her eyes as she drunk in great mouthfuls of the chilled elixir. She fell back into a chair and listened to the heavy thump of her heart against her heaving chest. She looked down at her sweater that was stuck to her, she began to peel away her clothes and prepare for a shower.
Bridget paced around the caravan searching for a towel, the sweat was drying on her skin making her feel cold and clammy, her exposed nipples were hard and prominent. The hours of sweat and toil in the gym had left her with a lean muscular body that moved, her buttocks were firm and round, her thighs subtle and strong, her breasts jutted out from her frame, and were fully self supporting. She had done well to transform her old eleven stone frame into the nine stone lean machine that it now was. Bridget was very proud both of her home and her body. Where her body was kept toned and shaven her home was neat and spotless. If only she could find that damn towel. Never mind she would find it later, she was beginning to find the feel of the drying sweat intolerable. She stopped to check her face in the bathroom mirror, her hair certainly needed a good sorting out, the evening's exercise had left her dark hair thick and matted but by way of compensation what sparse make-up she used was still intact. A light brushing of mascara and a smudge of eye shadow to emphasise those emerald green eyes. Bridget reached into the shower cubicle and started the shower going. Hot steam rose rapidly filling the small bathroom with its dense vapour. She stepped into the cubicle and drew the curtain across. Soon she was lost in a world of soothing thoughts.
A hand, thin, perhaps even emaciated, reached up for the outside door handle. It was locked. The hand lowered to the lock and covered the hole. The tip of the index finger split open revealing a slender black tendril that eased its way free of the flesh and into the lock. The door swung open, Julia Tarn, stepped inside. She looked around the caravan casually taking her time. She slipped of her coat, folding it neatly she placed it on a chair. Julia, went to each window in turn and drew the curtains making sure that she could not be seen from the outside. She lifted her blouse over her head folded it and placed it on top of her coat. She removed her trousers, she wore no underwear. She went over to the sink and filled the kettle took out a mug from the cupboard and prepared a coffee. She turned and entered the bathroom, the steam eagerly engulfed her frail body. She wiped her hand over the mirror and stared into her own vacant eyes. She was ready. Julia slid one hand behind the curtain and pulled it aside.
For a moment Julia, just watched Bridget as she washed the soap from her hair. She liked the way the muscles in Bridget's shoulders pulsed and flexed, she liked the way the water ran between her breasts, she also liked the way Bridget ran her hands over her body, a body that would soon be hers.
Julia, put the flannel into Bridget's groping hand. Bridget froze. She drew the flannel slowly down her face wiping away the last residues of soap. Bridget drew a sharp breath and held it. She watched Julia's eyes walk over her body taking in every microscopic detail. Bridget looked at Julia, her emaciated body, her thin arms and legs, she noticed how tight the skin was over her ribs how her stomach was drawn in revealing a pouch-like shape that moved slowly beneath her skin. She could see Julia's pubic mound protruding like a misplaced rug, there were many deep scratches around her groin. Julia raised her arm and stroked the side of Bridget's face with the back of her right hand. It was then that Bridget noticed the thick black vein that ran like a cable down the back of Julia's arms. Her eyes flicked down to her legs, she couldn't see them but she was sure that they too had that cable-like vein running their entire length.
Julia stepped closer and gently nudged Bridget's thighs open with her knee. Bridget began to tremble with fear, she gasped as the hard edge of the shower unit dug into her flesh. Julia moved her head closer and clasped her scrawny hands onto Bridget's arms. Bridget tried to scream but it all happened too quickly.
She poured the water from the kettle into the mug, the rich aroma of the coffee rose into her nostrils, "Don't forget the sugar," a voice spoke to her.
"I won't," she said, and stirred in three heaped spoonfuls. She didn't take sugar, couldn't stand its sickly taste. She took the mug and sat down being careful not to disturb the neatly piled clothes. She plugged in the hairdryer and began to dry her hair while she dabbed her body with the towel that she had found in the bathroom. She would leave the body where it was for now, it could wait for tonight at least. She tentatively rubbed between her legs wincing at the numb pain. It felt as though someone had been trying to push a baby into her and had succeeded. If the truth had been known at the time she felt like she had been heavily beaten but there were no physical signs of violence on her body. Somehow she knew that she would feel better in the morning, Christ knows she couldn't have felt any worse. She finished drying her hair, rinsed out the mug and left it on the draining board. She looked into the bathroom at the slumped body in the shower, "Sweet dreams Julia," she even knew her name, "thanks for the ride." she closed the door of the bathroom and went to bed. For a while she just lay there looking at her body, feeling the faint ridges that now ran the length of her arms and legs, they felt strong and good. Bridget closed her eyes and dreamed of far off worlds.
FOUR.
"We're in 4G and are on our way into sector 3, Sir." a mildly confident voice was pleased to announce over the field radio.
"Good. Will rendezvous in 2G. ETA 10:00. One of you is to stay with the beacon 'till we get there. Is that understood." Ross barked back.
"Yes, Sir," the radio went silent.
"Move it out. We'll have this little war game all sewn up by dawn." Ross raised his night scope and watched his first unit slip away over a ridge. In the scope the battlefield was lit by many red dots crossing the infrared night. It would all be over by morning and all being well he'd have his leg over by the afternoon.
FIVE.
It was early. Nathan was up, and had been for some time, now he was holding the covers up admiring the view of Sam's sleeping form. He set the duvet back down and went to prepare breakfast knowing that he had disturbed Sam sufficiently to wake her. He drew the curtains as he walked through each room in turn allowing the bright summer morning to chase away the dark shadows of the night. The two cats were both waiting by the front door to be let out, Nathan, opened the door and watched the two felines dart out, " I won't be back for a while," he called after them, "so you'll just have to go catch something living." both cats turned their heads to glance back over their shoulders, they looked at each other before sauntering off into the woods. Nathan closed the door and went into the kitchen.
He could hear Sam starting the shower, she wouldn't be long. The bread popped up from the toaster smoking slightly, he took it and buttered it heavily before covering it in golden honey and sliced bananas. In a corner the radio bleated into life, "... is it that the army has to go tearing up somewhere like Dartmoor when they want to play soldiers. So here it is again for those who missed it. All routes across the centre of Dartmoor National Park will be closed until further notice due to the armed forces playing at soldiers. I ask you! Ah, well here's a little something just for them." Kate Bush's, Army Dreamers, seeped through into the room.
"Morning, you actually got up this time!" Nathan passed her some toast. She took a slice and bit off way too much which she ended up shoe¬horning into her mouth. Nathan gave Sam a once over glance, wincing at the loud Bermuda shorts she had chosen but her gave her the thumbs up for the equally loud Pink Floyd t-shirt, "Nice outfit!" he raised his eyebrows in mock alarm, their taste in clothes was remarkably similar.
"You look a picture too." she quipped, running a knowledgeable eye over his loosely clothed frame. She finished her breakfast with a swig or two of fresh milk. "We ready?," she asked wiping the milk from her around her mouth with her long pink tongue. "I'll drive down, you can drive back that way you won't have to listen to my mother's dross on the way back." She smiled at him and went to the door. Nathan was close behind and slipped past her as she opened the door.
Sam waited, shivering, while Nathan backed the Tonka from the garage and swung it around. The Cherokee was massive, but Sam love to drive it, the sense of power was unreal though she would have preferred a brighter colour, like green say, than black. Nathan hopped out and held the door open for Sam, "Your chariot ma'm." He closed the door and sprinted around to the other side.
The sun was just beginning to peek over the tops of the trees casting long cold shadows across most of the house and gardens as they rumbled their way along the drive towards the road. The Tonka bumped over the last speed-ramp and swung out down the hill towards town. "YEAH!" Sam yelled as the gunned the engine and slipped it through the gears.
"Oh my God," Nathan screamed as the Tonka took the roundabout at forty-five, the vehicle leaned heavily the engine growling as Sam demanded more juice. "Don't ever do that again. I almost filled my boxers." Nathan was visibly shaken by Sam's driving talents, "And try to keep within the legal speed limits." Sam eased the vehicle, reluctantly, back down to sixty. As usual for the early hours of a Monday morning the roads were practically deserted, though of course things would change as time wore on and they neared the bigger towns like Exeter. Sam followed the by-pass around town until it met with A24. Their chosen route was fairly simple, Sam, didn't care much for a lot of road changes so they were going south to the A27 then follow its line west until the M27 ended at Southampton, then they would follow a more southerly route avoiding Salisbury. This way they could stop somewhere near the coast, hopefully, and have some late breakfast. All in all they should be there in five hours. Possibly. Still, that should give her mother plenty of time to make herself respectable, and get some clothes on.
The tent flap was jerked angrily open, Ross, stomped up to the sick man's bed. "What's up with him?" he demanded.
"They dragged him in here about an hour ago, from G2 I believe," the medic checked his charts, "Yes, G2, five a.m. this morning." he looked up at the agitated sergeant, "When they brought him in he was covered head to foot in a mixture of blood, vomit and excrement. Not a pretty sight. The young soldier in question had been the first to reach the beacon in sector G2, he had been the one to stay the night in order to claim the beacon as found, it was he who had pitched his tent at the epicentre of the forthcoming disturbance. The rest of his unit were waiting on the sector's boundary for Sergeant Ross, to arrive that morning. Well, now that he was there he was not pleased with the sight that had greeted him. He went back outside to find the unfortunate sap who had discovered the stricken wretch.
It was 6 a.m., a fine mist still covered the ground in a swirling veil. The air was chilly but calm, there was natural sound only the bleating of the soldiers running about their various duties. Ross stood waiting for the boy, he was barely through his basic training, to arrive. Ross, rocked backwards onto his heels as the boy approached. "Sir," he said, to Ross saluting, "You sent for me, Sir."
"At ease, soldier. What's your name son?"
"Cartwright, Sir." he answered, unnerved by the sergeant's brash attitude, something that Ross inwardly admired in any youngster.
"I just want you to tell me exactly what happened to Hicks."
"Well, as you know Hicks was the first find the beacon so he opted to stay with it all night. That was OK by us. But this morning when I went to get him for breakfast there was no answer from him." Cartwright, paused to draw his breath, "I opened his tent and had to turn away, the smell was terrible. I covered my nose and mouth and looked back in. There was blood everywhere and vomit, I think he also messed himself. I was sure that he was dead what with all that... that muck everywhere. I ran down to the others and together we dragged him down to the M.O. The tent's still out there, M.O.'s orders, Sir." the boy was relieved to have finished his account.
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