The Dead Have No Shadows (21 page)

Mickey understood what Pester meant but he wasn’t convinced that it would work.  However, he had nothing to lose.

“That pub, over there on the corner, The Stables, is a listed building.  It was a 16
^th
Century coaching inn.”  Mickey pointed to the building that he was talking about.  “Apart from a lick of paint it’s never changed in all the time I’ve known it.”

He scrutinised the building.  The familiar frontage looked to be the same as ever.  The rendered walls had recently been repainted a mild sand colour.  This had made the heavy, dark oak window frames and shutters look old and in need of renovation.

“Why are those shutters on the gable different from the ones on the front of the building?” asked Pester.

Mickey gave his guide a puzzled look.  What was the man talking about?

“There aren’t any windows on the gable,” said Mickey.

He turned back and instantly saw what Pester had been referring to.  Mickey’s familiarity with his surroundings had blinded him to what Pester had spotted straight away.  In the living world the gable end of the pub had no windows and so, no need of any shutters.  Neither did The Stables have a balcony along its rear wall – but Mickey could now see the edge of one emerging from the rear wall.  The shutters on the gable were a decorative wood, much lighter than the heavy, weathered, yet functional shutters on the front.  Mickey could now see that the side and rear of the pub no longer looked sixteenth century English.  They had taken on a close resemblance to the buildings in Elena’s Eastern European home village.

“We ought to take a look down there,” said Mickey, indicating the side road and starting to move across the street.

“Wait,” said Pester.  “Be careful.  Don’t go rushing straight in.”

Mickey hoped that the change in style of the pub meant that Elena was being kept close by.  But that could also mean that Mr. Jolly wasn’t far away.  Mickey wouldn’t be any help to the girl if he allowed himself to be caught before he’d really started.  He had had one lucky break when Elena was captured.  Mickey was certain he wouldn’t be so fortunate next time.

Instead of crossing the road Mickey and Pester walked further along their side of the street so that they could get a better view of the side street without getting too close.  Almost opposite the junction was an old, solid wood bus shelter.  Mickey and Pester used this as cover.  Mickey was about to peer around the corner of the shelter when Pester pulled him back and put a finger to his lips.  Pester had noticed Mr. Jolly emerge from a junction further down the street.  Mr. Jolly had six or seven people in tow.  Pester cared nothing for these people, so he wouldn’t say he felt sympathy for them.  However, he didn’t relish the fate that Mr. Jolly was leading these people to.

Pester and Mickey hid from Mr. Jolly’s view.

“What are they doing?” Mickey whispered.

“Being led to their final destination,” Pester replied.  “They’re people who have either given up their challenges or have been persuaded by Mr. Jolly that he has a better offer for them.”

“Where will they go and what’ll happen to them?” said Mickey.

“You’ll be able to see where they are going soon enough,” Pester said.  He’d sneaked a look around the corner of the bus shelter and indicated that Mickey should do the same.  Mr. Jolly and his charges had turned into the side street and so had their backs to Mickey and Pester.

“As to what will happen to them,” Pester continued.  “You’ve already met some of those who have gone that way – and they’re the lucky few that get to come back out again.  You wouldn’t want to know the details about what happens to the rest of them though.”

Mickey’s eyes widened as he realised that Pester had meant the
Wights
that had assisted Mr. Jolly in the capture of Elena. 

“How could he persuade people to go for that?”

Pester smiled.  “By telling them anything but what was really in store for them, I suppose.”

Mr. Jolly was busy shepherding his flock down the road between The Stables and The Golden Wok Chinese take away.  Pester and Mickey were able to get a good view of where the people were going.  Mickey was surprised to see a cluster of homes of a style and arrangement similar to the square in
Koprno
, where Elena had lived and died.

Even more incongruous was the low hill, with a cave entrance, about half way down the street.

On second inspection the cave entrance didn’t look out of place at all.  It looked as if it belonged there and the street seemed to have been placed around it.  The cave looked dark and uninviting but otherwise innocent in all other aspects.  The lost souls were making their way towards the square beyond the cave but then began to veer towards the cave mouth as they neared the hill.  A deep red glow appeared far back in the cave, growing steadily until the cave took on the appearance of the opening to a huge throat, writhing in flaming anger.

Panic ensued amongst the half dozen or so travellers as they seemed to realise what lay in store for them.  They tried to run but were committed to a one way journey - re-tracing their steps wasn’t an option for them.  Despite their resistance the doomed souls continued to walk towards the cave entrance.  They began to cling together; strangers taking comfort in the face of the fate that awaited them.  It was all in vain though.  As each person reached the cave opening they seemed to be sucked into the maw, their screams continuing long after they had disappeared from view.

When the last of the convoy of souls had been consumed the flaming glow from the cave subsided then died away entirely.  His work, for now, apparently complete, Mr. Jolly continued on his way past the cave and strolled on towards the residential square beyond.  Mickey thought he could see
Wights
standing on one of the balconies.

“That’s the fate that Mr. Jolly wants for you,” Pester told Mickey. 

“You mean this is a possible ending for me?” said Mickey.

Pester nodded.  “If you choose it.”

“I’d better make sure I don’t choose that route then,” Mickey said dryly.

“A wise decision,” said Pester.  “Be warned though, Mr. Jolly will do whatever he can to persuade you.  You do have the advantage now, of knowing what Mr. Jolly’s offer will lead to.”

“He must be a damn good liar to sell that ending to people,” said Mickey.

“Aye he’s a bloody good salesman,” agreed Pester.

Mickey let the last comment go as he had another thought bothering him.

“Those people were trying to get away though.  Why couldn’t they?”

“You already know the answer to that,” said Pester.  “Once a decision is made it can’t be reversed or replaced by another choice.”

Mickey nodded absent-mindedly.  His attention had drifted to the group of houses beyond the cave; the place to where Mr. Jolly was heading.

“I want a closer look at that village square,” said Mickey.  He made to move out of the bus shelter but Pester pulled him back.

“I agree,” said Pester.  “But you can’t risk being seen.  And you can’t risk going past that cave.”

“Why not?” said Mickey.  “It’s dormant now.”

“Aye, but it’ll wake up as you get close to it,” Pester replied.  “And though you won’t get sucked into it, Mr. Jolly will know you’re here.”

Mickey thought for a moment.  He tried to place where the village square sat relative to the road in the living world.  An idea began to grow.  There was no guarantee that the streets and pathways would be there, but there was a chance that he could reach the square without having to go past the cave.

“Follow me,” he said to Pester, and set off back the way they had come.

At the next junction Mickey turned left.  He led the way down a street of terraced houses.  Each property looked virtually the same except for an occasional different colour of front door or an ornament here and there in a downstairs window.  The street was a cul-de-sac, ending in a broken down wooden fence that was becoming overwhelmed by hawthorn and brambles.  A faded sign proclaimed the land beyond as private property.  The statement had never meant anything to Mickey when he had been a boy and he certainly wasn’t going to pay any heed to it now.  He and Pester climbed over the fence, where the bushes were thinnest, onto a disused railway line.  The tracks had been taken up decades ago but the stone base layer had resisted the spread of the undergrowth.  In amongst the coarse grass, weeds, thistles and nettles, two parallel lines showed where the rails once lay.

Mickey turned left and chose one of the weed free lines.  It seemed strange to him how much greenery there was.  He’d quickly become used to the barren valley floor.  He guessed that what he was walking through was just an illusion, a transplant of his memories and imagination.  The cave had most likely been the reality of where Mickey was.  Despite that, the vegetation was a welcome sight.  The sense of being in a familiar environment, with its associated feeling of normality, was comforting.  It was going to be painful for Mickey when the time came for him to leave and continue his journey.

After a few minutes the houses of the square came into view.  The transplanted village square sat across the route of the old railway line.  Mickey and Pester moved off the easier path and took to the trees and bushes on the far side of the cutting.  They edged forward slowly, checking the buildings for signs of movement.  The properties seemed deserted so the two men cautiously moved closer; ready to dart back under cover if anyone appeared at a door or a window.

The houses were arranged along three sides of the square.  Mickey and Pester moved up to the property on the outer end of the row that faced them.

“We should go inside and try to take a look across the square,” said Mickey.

Pester nodded in agreement.  “Just hope that none of Mr. Jolly’s friends are in here.”

Pester and Mickey stepped into the ground floor through the rear entrance.  They took each step carefully, trying to make no sound as they moved forward.  The layout of the townhouse was the same as Elena’s old home.  The scullery opened out onto an entrance hall that had served as the
Kovaks
’ food store.  Unlike Elena’s home though, this townhouse had no food.  The front door was locked and bolted.  So, though they couldn’t be seen, Pester and Mickey couldn’t see out either.

Pester held a finger to his lips as they stood at the foot of the stairs.  Both listened intently for sounds of life from the floor above.  The house remained silent and had the feel of being empty.  Neither man was prepared to take any risks though.  Pester signalled that Mickey should stay downstairs while he went up to check the first floor.  Mickey could see the logic of this.  If they had to leave in a hurry his injured leg would slow him down.  Having any kind of head start would be a help.

Pester had only climbed three steps when there was a loud creak from the stairs.  Mickey looked around for something to use as a weapon but the room was bare.  When no response or challenge came from above Pester continued his ascent.  As Pester disappeared from view Mickey suddenly felt vulnerable.  He leant against the locked and bolted front door and watched the rear entrance.  He occasionally scrutinised the shadows in the corners of the entrance hall and shot nervous glances up the stairs.

There was silence from the floor above for a long time.  Then there was the creak of a floorboard followed by a footstep on the stairs.  Mickey looked up only to see the staircase empty.  He panicked until he realised that the footstep on the stairs would have been Pester going up to the next floor.  After an equally long wait Mickey heard movement on the stairs again. 

Pester came halfway down to the ground floor before he spoke.

“You can come up.”

Mickey felt a wave of relief and not just because the house was empty.  He had become used to having Pester in close company.  He certainly wouldn’t call it dependency but was it becoming companionship?

The front balcony window was half shuttered, throwing much of the living area into shade but allowing a thin shaft of light into the room.  Dust motes danced lazily in the sunbeam.