Creeping Terror (7 page)

‘Ben!’ Rupam’s voice was muffled. ‘Ben, it’s moving. It’s
alive
!’

A mass of grass and nettles seemed to rear up in front of Ben, hurtling towards him like a wild animal – clawing, scratching, stinging and tearing at his skin as he tried to fight it off. Pressing into his mouth. His eyes. He was dragged down into the soft leaves. The last of the light disappeared and everything went dark green.

S
ILVER IN THE DARKNESS. A FLASH OF LIGHT CUT across Ben’s vision. There was a tightness about his throat – strands gripping and squeezing. Was that why he was seeing a flashing light?

But the tightness was loosening. He managed to work his fingers under the bindweed that was strangling him, ripping it away. Someone else was pulling brambles and roots and branches away from him. A hand reached out of the darkness – barely visible – dragging him to his feet.

‘Rupam?’ Ben managed to gasp.

‘Who were you expecting?’ Rupam was out of breath. His sword flashed again in the near-darkness, carving out a path before him. ‘Thought I’d lost
you
.’

‘I thought I’d lost you.’

Ben tried to keep close as his friend hacked a way through. Leaves still whipped at his face, while roots continued to thrust out from the ground and stab at his feet. Branches twisted round his legs and
arms. But Ben managed to fight them all off and stumble after Rupam.

Several times they fell. Several times Ben had to drag vegetation off Rupam as it threatened to overwhelm him and drown him in a mass of green. Several times Rupam did the same for him.

It seemed an eternity before they saw the faintest glimmer of sunlight shining through the blanket of greenery. With renewed enthusiasm and hope they forced their way towards the light.

And suddenly they were out of the hedge. They pitched forward on to the roadway on the other side, gasping for breath, laughing with relief. Then they staggered to their feet and stumbled down the road, desperate to get as far away as possible. Tendrils of ivy twitched in the hedges at either side of the road, as if watching the two boys as they ran past.

Maria was sitting on the remains of a stone wall close to the phone box opposite the pub.

‘You took your time,’ she told Ben and Rupam as they ran up, breathless. ‘Still,’ she went on, pushing herself off the wall, ‘at least it’s stopped raining. You got our message, then?’

‘Obviously,’ Ben said.

Maria ignored him. She’d seen that Rupam was
holding the sword and took it from him. ‘What have you been doing? It’s filthy.’

She wiped the blade on the damp grass verge.

‘We had a bit of trouble,’ Rupam said.

‘With a hedge,’ Ben added.

Maria nodded. ‘You look like you got dragged through it backwards.’ She turned and marched off towards the church. ‘Come on. Everyone’s been waiting.’

‘Do you know the story of why the tower’s separate from the church?’ Rupam asked as they walked through the overgrown graveyard.

The sun was low in the sky now, shining across the wet grass and ragged-looking gravestones.

‘It’s because the tower is older. Some sort of fortification,’ Maria said. ‘Growl researched it before we came here.’

‘I said did you know the
story
, not the truth,’ Rupam said, but Maria was already striding ahead impatiently.

The vestry was too small for all six of them to crowd into. Growl was working at a desk already covered with open books and handwritten notes, while Gemma and Knight were helping.

‘I suggest we adjourn,’ Growl said, ‘to somewhere better suited to our investigations.’

‘The pub?’ Knight suggested.

‘I was thinking of the school actually.’ His eyes twinkled in the fading light and for a moment he was less serious and irascible. ‘A good place to learn the truth, don’t you think?’

As Growl and Knight gathered up the notes and papers, Rupam and Ben told them how they had received Knight’s message, and all about the trouble they’d had getting into the village. Ben was not surprised that Knight in particular seemed to take the notion of being attacked by plants and shrubs and hedges in his stride.

‘Things are becoming more urgent,’ he said. ‘I wonder how long we have before the vegetation closes right in and smothers the village entirely.’

‘Pleasant thought,’ Maria muttered. She gripped her sword purposefully. ‘Do we fight our way out?’

‘No, no, no,’ Growl snapped. ‘Absolutely not. The answers we need are here in this village. Abandon it and we lose control – we sacrifice the chance to learn the truth and put a stop to this.’

Rupam and Ben were the last to leave, following the others out through the ruined church. Gemma waited for them at the main door.

‘I’m glad you’re here,’ she told the boys.

‘At least someone is,’ Ben said. He was feeling
ignored and unappreciated, and guessed Rupam felt the same. ‘We come all this way, we get half killed and no one’s even said thank you.’

‘You’d better get used to it,’ Rupam said, forcing a smile.

Gemma gave Ben a quick hug, then embraced Rupam. ‘We’re all glad you’re here. It’s just that some of us don’t show it. Growl is … well, Growl, and Mr Knight never tells anyone they’ve done well.’

‘And Maria?’ Ben said.

Gemma raised her eyebrows, as if to ask whether that was a serious question.

The sun had dipped below the horizon by the time they arrived at the school. It was a
single-storey
Victorian building with a steep roof – most of which was still in place. Tiles had slipped off, though, and there were patches where the rafters were exposed.

Inside was a small foyer which led into an office area on one side and the main schoolroom on the other. The schoolroom took up most of the building. It was large and rectangular, reaching up the full height of the building. The ceiling was discoloured and plaster had broken away, falling over the desks and floor. 

The end of the room was raised up a step to create an area for the teacher. On this low dais stood a desk, a blackboard – with the date 24 February 1943 still faintly visible – and an upright chair. The walls had been whitewashed, but were spattered with patches of damp. There were several faded posters, one with pictures and names of farm animals. Another showed each of the letters of the alphabet beside something starting with that letter. It was headed ‘Phonics’.

‘I thought that was a new thing,’ Maria said.

‘Nothing new under the sun,’ Growl told her. ‘Old wine in new bottles.’

Each desk had a bench seat attached to it. Knight got everyone to help turn the desks and position them to form a long single table with a bench running down each side. Growl spread his papers out again, then Rupam and Ben piled the material from their rucksacks at the end of this makeshift table.

‘I hope they won’t mind us moving their desks,’ Gemma said.

Ben couldn’t see what she meant, until he opened his mobile phone. Then he saw the faint impressions of the children, sitting now along both sides of the table. Girls in pinafore dresses and boys in shorts and grubby shirts turned to look at him.
The teacher – a middle-aged lady with her hair in a severe bun – rapped on the blackboard with a cane for the children’s attention.

Ben closed his phone. ‘Do you see them all the time?’ he asked Gemma quietly.

She nodded, biting her lower lip. ‘Rupam knows they’re there, but he doesn’t actually see them. Maria does, though.’

Ben glanced across at the older girl. She was staring at the table, or rather at the children Ben could no longer see sitting round it. Her face was pale and she blinked back tears from her eyes. Then she caught sight of Ben. He looked away.

‘What are you staring at?’ Maria demanded. ‘There must be some lamps somewhere,’ she said, pushing past him and hurrying from the room.

‘Yes, that would be useful,’ Growl said, still arranging his documents.

There were no lamps, but Maria found a drawer full of candles in the office. With Gemma’s help, she carried them through. They also found school registers dating back to 1907, which Growl accepted with enthusiasm and added to his collection of books, documents and printouts.

Rupam and Ben helped position the candles round the schoolroom and down the middle of the table.
Knight had a lighter, though Ben had never seen him smoke. Once a candle was lit, Ben let it burn for a few seconds to melt enough wax for him to tip out and use to glue the candle in place once it set.

It was only when Knight suggested that Ben and the other children get some sleep while he and Growl continued their work that Ben realised how tired he was. It was late and dark. Gemma was yawning and Rupam had slumped against the wall at the side of the raised dais.

‘I’m not tired,’ Maria said.

‘Nevertheless,’ Knight told her, ‘I’d like you to sort out the others. I suggest you bed down in the office as best you can. I think I saw some blankets in there.’

‘They’re tablecloths,’ Maria told him. But she didn’t argue.

There was just about room for them to lie down, each wrapped up in a couple of tablecloths, on the office floor. It was uncomfortable, but Ben was too tired to wriggle about and try to improve things. He’d slept in worse places, he thought. A single candle gave them faint, flickering light as they all settled down.

‘Tell us the story of the church tower,’ Maria said.

‘What story?’ Gemma wanted to know. She
sounded half asleep.

‘It’s interesting,’ Rupam said. ‘As you know, the real reason the church tower is separate from the main building is because it’s older. It was probably part of another church, or maybe a fortification of some sort that no longer exists.’

‘So why build the new church away from the existing tower?’ Ben asked.

‘I don’t know. Maybe there were ruins still in the way. It was originally a pagan site, centuries before. A lot of churches were built on land that was already thought to be sacred from earlier religions. But maybe they didn’t want to associate too closely with that earlier religion here when they rebuilt the church.’

‘Growl said much the same.’ Maria sounded impatient. ‘You said there was a story. We know the history, or as much as we want to anyway.’

‘OK, OK. The story, or legend, doesn’t care for the real history. In the story the church and tower were built at the same time and the tower joined the church. And the church was built near a site where the Devil was worshipped. He wanted his own church, but the villagers wouldn’t build it for him. So he took the church tower and moved it to where he wanted it.’

‘So is that why it’s separate?’ Ben asked.

‘Just about. In the story, the villagers dismantled the tower and moved it back, rebuilding it attached to the church. But the next day the Devil had moved it again. So again the villagers pulled it down and rebuilt it with the church, and this time they carved statues of saints all round the tower to protect it.’

‘I’ve seen the alcoves where the statues used to be,’ Maria said.

‘And the Devil still moved the tower?’ Ben said.

‘I guess so,’ Rupam agreed. ‘It’s not attached to the church, so I suppose the villagers gave up. It’s just a story,’ he added.

But Ben hardly heard him. He was drifting into a dreamless sleep. The last things he was aware of were Maria saying something, Rupam laughing, the sound of Gemma’s regular breathing from somewhere nearby … And his sister Sam’s gentle kiss on his forehead as she said goodnight.

‘Beware the green.’ Reverend Growl stood by the blackboard, looking down at everyone else like the class teacher.

Ben sat with Rupam and Maria at the desks arranged into a long table. Gemma was perched on the other side, sitting on the desk, her feet on
the bench seat and her chin resting on her knees. She looked bored. Knight stood leaning against the wall, arms folded.

‘After the experiences of young Ben and Rupam yesterday, and our own observations of the approaching vegetation and plants, I think we now know what that warning means,’ Growl said.

‘Is that why the villagers are appearing?’ Knight asked. ‘Are they manifesting as some sort of warning?’

‘Quite possibly,’ Growl agreed. ‘Let me tell you what my nocturnal studies have unearthed, then I think things will become a little clearer.’

‘About time,’ Maria muttered.

The early morning sunlight was angling in through the dusty windows of the schoolroom. A shadow fell across the table in front of Ben and he turned to see Sam standing behind him. She smiled, putting her finger to her lips.

‘From the way the plants are growing and advancing, and from the satellite printouts that Webby provided showing a ring of vegetation round the village, it’s very clear that the church is right in the middle. Here in the school we are close to the edge of the village, but the church is the epicentre if you like.’

‘Does that mean the church itself is the key to
the problem?’ Knight asked.

‘Possibly. Or it may just be coincidence. The church is in the middle of the village after all. And even if this was entirely random, something would have to be in the middle of it.’

Growl picked up the printout of the pamphlet about the history of the church that Rupam had brought. ‘This is the best source of information we’ve got. It was written in 1937, so it’s as up to date as we’re likely to find. There are a few line drawings, like this one of the tower.’

He held it up, but it was too far away for the others to see any detail.

Oblivious to this, Growl went on, ‘Now, it’s interesting, as this would appear to show the tower as it was before the Puritans vandalised it. But more of that in a moment.’

He turned to another page of the printout. ‘We do learn a few interesting things, though I doubt they are relevant. But did you know that one of the graves in the churchyard is arranged north–south, rather than the traditional east–west that the other graves follow?’

‘So what?’ Sam said, though no one but Ben could hear her.

‘Why is that important?’ Ben asked.

‘It quite possibly isn’t important at all,’ Growl admitted. ‘But let us now turn our attention to the name of this village.’

‘Templeton,’ Rupam said.

‘And why do you suppose it is called that?’ There was no reply, so Growl continued, ‘I’ll tell you. It’s because the Knights Templar had a temple here. Oh, a long time ago, and all trace of it has long since gone. No one is even sure quite where it was, though there are several mentions in the history of a “Temple of the Holy Crystal”. But, more to the point, where you find the Knights Templar, it is not unusual to find the Memento Mori.’