Creeping Terror (3 page)

T
HEY WAITED FOR OVER HALF AN HOUR IN THE canteen at the army base. Soldiers came and went. Most of them ignored Ben, Gemma and Knight. But some stared openly at them, obviously wondering who they were.

One woman in khaki uniform came over and asked them if she could help.

‘We’re waiting for Colonel Greene,’ Knight told her. ‘He knows we’re here, but thanks for asking.’

‘You might have a long wait,’ the woman confided. ‘The colonel doesn’t hurry to keep appointments with people he doesn’t want to see.’

‘How do you know he doesn’t want to see us?’ Ben asked.

‘Because he didn’t invite us to wait outside his office,’ Knight said. ‘Am I right?’ he asked the woman soldier.

‘Not for me to say, sir.’ Her smile said it clearly enough. ‘They’ll give you coffee if you ask.’

Gemma and Ben chatted quietly. Knight sat in absolute silence, his eyes focused on nothing. Thinking.

Finally, it seemed that Greene was ready to see them. A young soldier marched purposefully across the canteen straight towards them.

‘Call my mobile,’ Knight said quietly to Gemma. ‘Don’t let him see you do it.’

The soldier stopped in front of the table where they were sitting. Gemma turned away, thumbing her mobile.

‘Mr Knight? The colonel is ready to see you now.’

‘So soon?’ Knight yawned, stretched and stood up. Then his mobile rang. ‘Excuse me.’ He took out his phone and checked the display, angling it away from the soldier. Beside him, Ben could see the word ‘Gemma’.

‘The colonel is waiting, sir,’ the soldier said with evident impatience.

Knight flipped open his phone. ‘Sorry, I have to take this. It’s the Secretary of State. I imagine he wants to know how we’re getting on.’ He covered the end of the phone with his hand. ‘We’ll find our own way. Tell Colonel Greene we’ll be along as soon as we can. You know how these politicians like to talk.’

Turning away, Knight lifted the phone to his ear. ‘They really don’t care who they keep waiting,’ he said. Then his tone changed to a hearty greeting: ‘Jeremy, how good of you to call … No, we haven’t yet. The colonel is very busy … apparently.’

Knight glanced back to see the soldier marching stiffly away again. ‘Priorities, yes, I’ll be sure to mention that,’ he said loudly, before closing the phone and slipping it back into his pocket. He smiled at Gemma and Ben. ‘We’ll let the colonel wait for a bit, shall we? See how he likes it.’

After ten minutes, Knight decided they’d let Colonel Greene wait long enough. He accosted a private who led them to the colonel’s office. The soldier who’d come to get them was sitting at a desk in a small office outside. He glared at Knight and dismissed the private with a growl of reluctant thanks.

‘So many dead people,’ Gemma whispered to Ben as they waited again. ‘Even in the canteen. Can you feel it?’

Ben shivered. ‘No,’ he whispered back. ‘Well, maybe.’

The door to Greene’s office flew open to reveal the colonel standing in the doorway. He was so
broad his shoulders almost touched the sides. His hair was cut close to his scalp and his huge hands were clenched into impatient fists.

‘Are you Knight?’ he demanded. ‘You’ve got twenty minutes.’

‘Thank you, Colonel.’ Knight followed Greene into the inner office, gesturing for Gemma and Ben to follow. ‘But I doubt if that’s going to be long enough.’

‘Long enough for me to tell you this is all baloney,’ Greene retorted. He sat behind his desk and gestured for Knight to take the seat on the other side. ‘You brought your family?’ he said, nodding at Ben and Gemma, who had taken chairs at the side of the office.

‘Colleagues. We recruit them young.’

Greene frowned but made no comment. ‘You have friends in important places, Mr Knight,’ he said, angling himself so he was obviously ignoring Ben and Gemma. ‘My superiors tell me that Templeton is off limits. They tell me that even more important people in government have told them that no one goes into the village until
you
say so.’

‘If that’s what they tell you, it must be true.’

‘Because of a few spooks? I don’t buy that. My men aren’t scared of ghosts. They don’t run
from shadows, or believe everything some halfwit tourist who got himself lost tells them. If my men go into that village, what’s the worst that can happen to them?’

He leaned back in his chair, smiling thinly as he waited for Knight’s reply.

‘Tell him, Gemma,’ Knight said quietly.

Gemma’s chair was so high her feet didn’t reach the floor. She kicked her legs as she spoke, her girlish attitude at odds with what she said.

‘They might see ghosts. Apparitions. Demons. But that isn’t a problem. People see them all the time. Usually kids. Probably the younger soldiers … Maybe the ghosts will see them. Maybe they’ll come after your soldiers. Maybe they’ll put ideas and thoughts in their heads, drive them crazy.’ She sniffed. ‘Perhaps they’ll make them forget who they are or why they’re there. Make them get lost, or have fits, or shoot each other.’

The colour was slowly draining from Colonel Greene’s face. He opened his mouth to say something, but Gemma hadn’t finished.

‘Probably we’ll never know. You’ll just find the bodies. Or more likely you won’t find anything at all. They’ll just disappear. Like ghosts. It happens. They might end up back in 1943, or they might
fall through the same crack in reality all the way to Hell.’

There was silence for several seconds. Then Greene laughed. ‘You expect me to believe that childish rubbish?’

‘I expect you to obey your orders and keep away from the village until my team have inspected it and declared it safe,’ Knight said. He made a point of looking at his watch. ‘Actually you were right. It didn’t take that long, did it?’ He stood up.

‘Wait,’ Colonel Greene barked. ‘I’m not closing down important training and manoeuvres just on the say-so of some suit and a couple of kids.’

Knight sat down again. ‘There again …’ he murmured.

‘I got my orders last night, when they told me you jokers were coming. But I’d already sent a patrol into Templeton to check out what that crazy tourist and his son said.’ He leaned forward and pressed an intercom button. ‘Jenkins, has Corporal Rutherford reported back yet?’

The reply was distorted by the speakers, but it was clear enough. ‘Just a couple of minutes ago, sir.’

‘Have him report to me here at once.’ Greene turned back to Knight. ‘We’ll soon find out if there’s anything weird going on in that village, Mr Knight.
And since I spent a few nights of a training exercise sleeping in the churchyard there just the other week, you can take it from me – there isn’t.’

Corporal Rutherford’s uniform was spattered with mud and one sleeve was ripped. His face was scratched and dirty, with a couple of days’ stubble on his chin. He marched up to the space beside Knight in front of Colonel Greene’s desk and saluted smartly.

‘At ease,’ Greene said.

‘Sir.’ Rutherford visibly relaxed.

‘You and your team were in Templeton for a while, Corporal. These people are keen to know if you witnessed anything unusual.’

Rutherford shook his head. ‘All seemed normal. Quiet of course. You’d expect that under the circumstances.’

Knight leaned forward. ‘How did you hurt your face?’

Rutherford’s hand went instinctively to his cheek. ‘Just a scratch, sir. Had a fight with a bramble.’ He grinned. ‘Most eventful thing that happened, actually.’

Ben glanced at Gemma. She was frowning. Something was wrong. She caught Ben’s eye and 
shrugged. Something, only she didn’t know what … Ben eased his mobile phone out of his pocket and flipped it open. But there was nothing unusual about the image of the corporal on the screen.

‘Satisfied?’ Greene demanded of Knight. Then he spoke curtly to Rutherford. ‘Dismissed. And let me have a full report soon as you can.’

‘Sir.’

Rutherford turned to go. As he did, he saw Ben holding up his phone. ‘What the hell is that?’

‘Sorry.’ Ben quickly closed the phone and put it away. ‘Sorry. I was just …’ His voice tailed off as Knight held up his hand.

‘You object to being photographed?’ he asked Rutherford.

The soldier looked at Greene, who remained impassive. ‘No problem, sir. Is that – can I ask? – is that a camera, then? Must be new. For spies and agents, is it? SOE?’

‘SOE?’ Greene echoed. He was frowning now too.

‘Special Operations Executive,’ Knight said quietly. ‘They trained and ran agents during the Second World War.’

‘I know,’ Greene barked. ‘You being funny, Rutherford?’

‘Sir?’ He seemed genuinely surprised at Greene’s anger.

‘Get out!’

‘No, wait.’ Knight’s voice was full of authority, making Rutherford freeze. Knight was holding his own mobile phone – almost identical to Ben’s. ‘You don’t know what this is, do you?’

Greene stood up and walked slowly to the window, staring out across the base towards the woodland beyond. ‘Answer Mr Knight’s questions, soldier,’ he said. Ben could hear the tension in his voice.

‘It’s a camera, sir. You just said.’

‘I said it takes photographs. But it’s actually a mobile phone, isn’t it?’

Rutherford’s astonishment was obvious. ‘A
phone
, sir? But it’s so small. There’s no connection – no wire. Like an RT, is it?’

‘A bit like a radio telephone, yes. Now tell me, where have you been for the last twenty-four hours or so?’

‘On duty in the village of Templeton, sir.’

‘Doing what?’

Rutherford looked to Greene, who turned from the window and nodded. ‘Checking everything was all right. That’s it really, sir. The village has
been evacuated, there’s no one there now. All quiet and normal, like I said, sir.’

‘You see?’ Greene said. ‘Exactly as I told you.’

‘It’s a funny way of saying it, though,’ Ben said. He hadn’t meant to speak out loud, but he’d been struck by Corporal Rutherford’s words.

‘Go on,’ Knight prompted.

Ben swallowed. ‘Well, just the way he said it. “The village has been evacuated” – like it only just happened.’

‘And when did it happen?’ Knight asked Corporal Rutherford. ‘When exactly was the village evacuated?’

‘On 27 February 1943. The village of Templeton was evacuated and handed over to the War Office for training and manoeuvres.’

‘Satisfied?’ Greene asked.

‘Your man is very well informed,’ Knight said. ‘He even knows the exact date of the evacuation. Which is more than I did.’

‘Of course, sir,’ Rutherford told them. He gave a short, nervous laugh. ‘I mean, it was only a couple of weeks ago.’

There was silence. Greene’s mouth had dropped open. Gemma stopped swinging her legs. Knight nodded.

Embarrassed at the silence, Rutherford went on,

‘The village is empty and quiet, sir. Ready for our lads to start training properly. And now the Yanks are getting properly involved, we can really stick it to Jerry, like Mr Churchill says.’

Knight stood up. ‘Thank you, Corporal Rutherford. That’s very helpful.’ He turned to Greene, who was looking pale. ‘I suggest you give this man and the rest of his patrol a complete medical.’

‘They’ll probably be fine after a good night’s sleep,’ Gemma said. ‘So long as they stay away from the village.’

‘But keep an eye on them anyway,’ Knight added. ‘And as I told you before, I want that village cordoned off, completely out of bounds until my team has been in and inspected it.’

Knight strode across the room, with Gemma and Ben following close behind. He paused as he pulled open the door and turned back towards Greene.

‘Unless you still want to argue that there’s nothing weird going on?’ He barely paused for a reply. ‘I thought not. We’ll see ourselves out.’

B
EN WAS LIVID.

‘There’s no point arguing with him,’ Sam whispered.

Ben hadn’t realised she was there. His anger and frustration were focused on Knight. They were standing on the steps that led up to the front door of Gibbet Manor.

‘You are staying here and that’s final,’ Knight told him. ‘I need Gemma, but for this someone with more experience is essential.’

Maria was already getting into the car – not Knight’s Morgan but a large hatchback. She gave Ben a sympathetic smile, but he wasn’t in the mood to appreciate it.

‘After all that stuff with Colonel Greene, I want to see the village.’

‘Maybe you will,’ Knight told him. ‘But not just yet. Besides, I need you here. I need you and Rupam to find out everything you can about Templeton.
Its history, parish records, local stories, the families who lived there – everything.’

‘I thought all that was classified,’ Ben grumbled.

‘Talk to Mrs Bailey. I asked her to see what she could dig up. And get Webby to search the Internet – public access sites and the restricted ones too. There must be something.’

Reverend Growl pushed past them. ‘I’m hoping there will be some records remaining in the church,’ he said. ‘I see that there’s a village school as well, which might have kept registers or local documents. From what little we do know, everyone cleared out in rather a hurry. Maybe they left a few clues behind.’ He rubbed his hands together enthusiastically. ‘Can’t wait to get started.’

Ben watched the car pull away. Gemma gave Ben a wave, but Maria, Growl and Knight ignored him.

‘No use standing here sulking,’ Sam said. ‘Why don’t you find Rupam and make a start on this research?’

‘Rupam’s probably memorised it all by now.’

‘Probably,’ Sam agreed. ‘But he needs you to help him understand what it all means. You’re the one who can work things through, see the connections, make the links.’

‘You think so?’

‘Course I do. And so does Knight. That’s why he’s asked you to do it.’

‘He just wants to keep me busy.’

Sam shook her head. ‘He doesn’t need to do that. There are plenty of other children here just carrying on with their classes. He could have sent you back to school. Instead he’s given you a job to do. So stop moping about and do it.’

‘I still wish I was going with them,’ Ben said, staring down the drive. The car was passing through the gates and disappearing out of sight.

Sam laughed. ‘A haunted village? I bet they’ll have a really boring time. Probably won’t even see that many ghosts.’

‘And how many will
I
see, stuck here?’ Ben turned to go inside.

‘Let’s not get personal,’ Sam told him.

Gemma felt like a schoolgirl. Knight had told them all to dress in neutral clothes that would not have been too out of place in 1943, so she was in dark trousers and a plain white blouse. Knight had frowned at her trainers but said nothing, so she kept them on.

The only consolation was that Maria looked just as uncomfortable in similar attire. ‘It’s all
right for the men,’ she told Gemma in the back of the car.

Knight was in one of his usual dark suits, while Growl was in his black cassock complete with clerical collar.

It took a couple of hours to reach the army checkpoint on the road into Templeton. Knight had a printed pass that Colonel Greene had given him, but the soldiers at the checkpoint were expecting them anyway.

‘No one else is to come through, is that clear?’ Knight told the soldier in charge.

‘Clear as a bell, sir. Colonel Greene’s already made that quite plain. No one in or out till this is sorted, unless they have his personal permission.’

‘How far is it to the village from here?’ Growl asked, leaning across.

‘Four miles, near enough.’

Growl nodded. ‘Just the distance for a brisk walk in the spring sunshine, don’t you think?’

‘A walk?’ Gemma said.

‘Four miles?’ Maria added. ‘You’ve got to be kidding!’

‘I don’t want to take anything into Templeton that isn’t from the right time period, when the village was evacuated,’ Knight said. ‘Growl’s correct. We’ll
get a bit closer, though, and then leave the car.’ He turned in his seat to look at Maria. ‘You’re not wearing high heels, I hope?’

‘What if I am?’

‘Bad luck.’

‘Good job I’m not, then.’

Only Knight was oblivious to the ghosts. He could have watched them on the screen of his mobile phone, but for the moment he seemed to have chosen not to.

Growl could sense them – Gemma knew that from the way he became quiet and surly. His usual avuncular character was hidden as he grew more businesslike and serious. If – when – they came across stronger spirits than those walking silently along the lane out of the village, Growl’s temper would flare and at moments like those it was best to avoid him.

Maria could see them, of course. But Gemma guessed that the pale, ethereal figures she herself saw were even less substantial to Maria. She was eighteen now and with every passing month the older girl’s powers seemed to fade further … Gemma looked forward to the day when she didn’t see the ghosts any more, but it seemed to scare Maria.

‘Ah, the church,’ Growl announced.

The tower was visible between the trees. The top was ragged and the roof was missing. It looked as if a giant had bitten it off, leaving the uneven remains sticking up like a broken tooth into the sky.

‘I did manage to do a little research into the parish,’ Growl admitted. ‘There are mentions of the church in some of the architectural texts. It’s unusual in that the tower is separate from the main building.’

‘Why did they build it like that?’ Maria wondered.

‘If I knew, I’d have told you, wouldn’t I?’ Growl snapped. Immediately, he apologised. ‘Sorry, the texts didn’t give a reason. Probably some local legend or story – there usually is in such cases. I hope we’ll find some clue in the church itself.’

‘It may not matter,’ Knight said. ‘The church is old.’

‘Fourteenth century,’ Growl agreed.

Knight thought for a moment, then said, ‘What’s happening here only started in the last month. Something has changed recently. So looking at old records and documents might not help us at all.’

‘Or it might be something that happened in 1943, but it’s only having an effect now,’ Gemma suggested. ‘All these people had to leave home. That’s so sad.’

‘Upheaval, trauma, resentment,’ Knight agreed. ‘Bound to disturb the place. Good point, Gemma. But I think there must be a more recent trigger, even if the underlying problem is from back in 1943.’

‘All these people …’ Maria gestured to ghosts that only she and Gemma could actually see. ‘Gemma’s right. It was traumatic. Devastating. It changed their lives out of all recognition in a single day. A whole village, a whole community just … stopped.’

Knight had his mobile out and was watching on the screen now. ‘Yes. But I don’t think they’re important. They’re just echoes, playing out the same day over and over again. Endlessly leaving the village.’

‘What about the pub where our friend Tommy got his lemonade?’ Growl said. ‘There was interaction there, not just a replay of past events.’

‘But to no purpose, or no purpose that we know of. Though maybe the pub is the place to start.’

‘Tommy’s dad saw the ghosts in the pub,’ Maria told Knight. ‘Maybe you will too.’

‘There’s something to look forward to,’ Knight said. He didn’t sound convinced.

The ghosts had stopped their ethereal evacuation by the time Gemma and the others
reached the welcome sign with the name of the village painted out.

‘They did that at the start of the war,’ Knight explained. ‘They took down or blotted out any signs that might help the Germans if they invaded.’

‘Not much fear of an invasion by 1943,’ Growl said. ‘Hitler had made the mistake of attacking Russia and the Americans had joined in the war in Europe.’

‘Perhaps they just didn’t like strangers,’ Maria said.

The lane opened out as they entered the village. There was a row of houses down one side. They looked ready to collapse – roofless shells, their empty window frames rotting away. The lane branched off, leading to more houses one way, the church and the school the other. An old-fashioned street lamp stood at the fork in the road.

The pub was opposite the first row of houses. Its sign was gone, leaving an empty metal frame that creaked in the breeze.

‘The Green Man,’ Knight said. ‘According to Tommy.’

‘Whatever,’ Maria sniffed. ‘Doesn’t look like it’s open anyway.’

Gemma stared round. She couldn’t see anyone any more. No ghosts, no echoes of the past at all.
Except … ‘The church,’ she murmured. ‘There’s something about the church.’

‘The whole place is a ruin,’ Growl pointed out. ‘Not just the church. The houses have lost their windows and roofs. Falling down. The ghosts can have it.’

‘What’s that little hut?’ Gemma wondered, pointing to what looked like a tall, thin shed with broken windows round the top.

‘Phone box,’ Knight said, sparing it a glance. ‘We’ll look inside the pub anyway. You might pick up something.’

The pub was empty. Dust and rubble were strewn over the flagged floor. A few broken struts remained across the roof – visible through a hole in the ceiling and the collapsed upper floor. A round table stood lopsided in the corner, with several chairs lying in pieces beside it.

Broken glass crunched under Gemma’s feet as she walked behind the bar. There were a few dusty bottles lying on their sides. One of the beer pump handles was snapped off and another was completely missing.

‘I’m getting nothing,’ Maria said, looking round with obvious distaste. ‘Nothing useful anyway.’

‘Gemma?’ Knight asked.

She could feel something, but nothing significant. ‘Maria’s right. There are echoes and ghosts, but no more than anywhere else. Nothing unusual.’

The ghosts of the past were all around her. If she focused, concentrated, she could see them: the old men playing dominoes, the barmaid wiping the glasses. She instinctively knew who they were, and something of their background and history. She watched Henry Jones slapping his son for being stupid. Davie Moorhouse, who slipped and fell in 1876 and banged his head and never got up again, was lying on the floor in a pool of spilt beer and spreading blood …

‘Poor man,’ Gemma said quietly.

‘He was drunk,’ Maria said, seeing where Gemma was looking. But there was a sadness in her eyes too.

‘There’s no point in staying here,’ Growl decided, leading the way back to the door.

There was an old woman standing in the doorway. Gemma could tell from their reactions that Growl and Knight could see her too. But she wasn’t
real
. She had white hair tied back with a black ribbon and was leaning heavily on a walking stick that looked as if it was made from a gnarled branch of an ancient tree.

Her voice was as old and cracked as her wrinkled face. ‘Beware the green.’

‘I beg your pardon,’ Growl said.

‘The green. You watch out, clergyman. And the rest of you.’ She nodded emphatically, then turned to go.

Growl and Knight exchanged looks before hurrying after her.

Gemma and Maria were close behind. But suddenly all they could see were two men standing outside the pub in the midday sunshine. Alone in an empty, deserted village.