Authors: David Wingrove
He walked across. It was dark and he had to feel his way; even so, there was no sign that anything was wrong. Nothing was broken, nothing spilled. Everything was as it had been.
In the hallway, nothing. Only silence and the stale, musty smell of things.
The living room was empty. So too the back room.
Upstairs he paused, sniffing the air.
If there’d been strangers here, they were here no more. The very silence of the house confirmed it. But they had been here. He was certain of it.
He found her in her bedroom, laying beneath the sheets. At first he thought she was asleep. He couldn’t
hear
her sleeping, but then he’d heard that old people slept very
lightly.
Scrabbling in the bedside table he found a box of matches and lit the candle. In its burgeoning light he turned and saw at once.
‘Oh… Margaret…’
They had slit her throat from ear to ear. Blood caked the pillow under her head.
He leaned across and closed her sightless eyes, then bent close to gently kiss her brow.
Outside Boy barked.
Jake went to the window and called down. ‘Peter! I’ll be right down.’
He would come back in the morning and see to her. Until then…
Jake stood, weary suddenly, all of the belief he’d had in the goodness of men drained from him. They didn’t have to do this. They could have taken what they wanted and let her be.
Only no.
He stood. He would leave the candle. Let it burn down.
Let it all burn down.
Maybe it was a good thing. Maybe she’d be spared what was to come. Who knew? Only he did know. He knew that this was evil. This nothing of an act.
Outside Peter was waiting. ‘Well?’
Jake shook his head.
Boy barked again, as if he sensed something was wrong. Peter quietened him, but he too seemed agitated now.
‘What are you going to do?’
But Jake was done with words. He set off, half running now, seeing in his mind what had to be done. Peter ran after him, for once struggling to catch up.
As Jake came out onto the lawn of the New Inn once again, Waite took a step towards him. He was smiling, but, seeing the look on Jake’s face, the smile became a frown.
‘What’s up?’
Jake pushed past him, pushed his son aside. For a moment he stood there in the doorway, looking in, then, throwing his gun down, he drew his hunting knife from his boot and, crossing the room in
an instant, bent down and dragged the younger man – the stammerer – to his feet.
‘Who did it?’ he demanded. ‘Which of you two sick fuckers did it?’
‘I d-d… I d-d…’
Jake’s voice was unforgiving. ‘You d-d what?’
‘
Dad?
’
Peter was standing in the doorway now, tears streaming down his face.
Jake turned, his face like stone. ‘Don’t
dad
me. You didn’t see what this bastard did!’
‘I d-d…’
Jake turned and, bringing up his arm, drew the knife quickly, crisply, across the man’s throat, then let him fall. Seeing that, the other began to jabber fearfully. But Jake seemed inured
to it. Kneeling close, he took the bloodied knife and wiped it on the man’s shirt.
‘Thieving we might have let you get away with, but murder…’
Jake stood. For a moment he studied his handiwork. Saw how the one he’d cut struggled for each breath now, his bound hands scrabbling at his throat, trying vainly to stem the ebbing tide
of blood. A strangled, gurgling noise coming from him.
‘Charlie…’
Waite was standing in the doorway next to Peter. ‘Yeah?’
‘He’s all yours.’
Jake was standing there, out on the lawn, holding Peter to him, when the shot rang out. A moment later Waite emerged. He came across.
‘What was it?’ he asked.
Jake turned to him. ‘That bag… it was hers. I didn’t realize that at first. I must have seen it, sitting on the side, a hundred times. But what I did recognize was her
earrings. Lovely silver earrings shaped like leaves. She always wore them.’
Waite looked to Peter. ‘Well? Was I right or was I right? Scum they were! Nasty little cut-throats!’
Peter looked suitably chastened. ‘You were right, Mister Waite.’
‘Good…’ He reached out and ruffled Peter’s hair. ‘We’ll make a proper citizen of you yet, my lad!’
But Jake wasn’t so sure. Even so, he looked to Waite and nodded. ‘I’ll tell Tom it’s dealt with. You’ll see to the burials, yeah?’
Waite nodded. His whole tone was softer now that things were settled. ‘Yeah… leave it with me.’
‘Good. Then we’ll see you later.’
‘Later?’
‘Yeah. There’s stuff we need to talk about.’
But Waite clearly had heard nothing about what had happened back in Dorchester. He’d been too busy dealing with the prisoners.
‘Stuff?’
‘We need to call a council of war,’ Jake said. ‘Decide what we’re going to do.’
‘Things are that bad, huh?’
‘That bad.’ And, with a final nod, he took Peter’s arm and walked away, the thought of what he’d just done burning in his head, like the after-image of some awful,
searing light.
‘Peter? Are you okay?’
Peter looked up. It was Beth, Meg’s elder sister. She had left the others and come across to where he sat alone at one of the big trestle tables at the back of the New Inn.
He liked Beth. Or rather, admired her. She was the rebel in the family, the one who never did what you thought she would. At seventeen she ought to have been married by now, maybe even had kids,
but she wasn’t having any of that. She wanted a different life. She didn’t want to be an unpaid drudge, tied to some dishwater-dull farmer. Only what were the options?
‘I’m fine.’
She sat, facing him, leaning in towards him and making a face. ‘Well, you could have fooled me, cuz. You’ve been sittin’ there with a face like a wet weekend.’
‘Have I?’ He almost laughed. Only he kept seeing it in his memory, and every time he did it cast the same dark shadow over things.
That his own dad should have been capable of such an act.
At the other table the other kids were chatting and laughing, sipping at glasses of the home-made lemonade that was Ma Waite’s specialty. Meg was among them, and from time to time she
would glance at him, but she wouldn’t come across. Not after what he’d said.
‘You two havin’ a tiff?’ Beth asked, seeing where his eyes had gone.
He looked back at her. ‘Yeah.’
‘I didn’t think you two ever argued.’
‘We don’t. Only today’s different.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Yeah.’
‘All that stuff that’s been happening, you mean?’
He nodded. He had heard it from his dad only an hour back. Had seen how worried it made him, like this was
it
.
‘Is that what they’re talkin’ about now in there?’
Peter nodded. ‘Yeah, but it won’t be any use, though.’
‘How d’you mean?’
‘I mean… if it
is
the Chinese…’
She laughed. ‘You really think…?’ But she could see he was serious.
‘Dad
saw
them. He
saw
the dragons on the craft. And then there’s the photograph…’
‘What photograph?’
There was this friend of Dad’s, at market… he showed Dad a photograph. A polaroid. Only there haven’t been polaroids about since before the Collapse… they’re
self-developing, see, and the chemicals that allow it to develop… Well, Dad thought about it and he couldn’t see how it could have survived, how it would have
worked
after all
these years. So he had another look at it, and there, in the top corner on the back of the print, were four tiny Chinese characters…
chops
, you call them.’
‘And?’
‘Don’t you see? The guy who had the camera must have got it off them… off the Chinese, that is. Bought it, maybe, or stole it…’
‘And what were the Chinese doin’ with it?’
Peter shrugged. ‘That’s not the point. The point is that if he did, then they must be here.’
‘The Chinese?’
‘Yeah.’
Beth considered that a moment, then looked at him again. ‘What if it was made by the Chinese, but someone else brought it into this country? Some trader… that’s possible,
isn’t it?’
‘Only…’
‘…you like your dad’s version better… yeah?’
Peter smiled. In some ways Beth was much better suited to him than Meg. Meg would just have accepted what he’d said.
‘I’m not saying categorically that they
are
here, just that
if
they are…’
‘Then we’re all fucked…’
‘
Beth!
’ But he was grinning now. ‘What would your mother say?’
‘She’d say I was a big girl now…’
Peter looked up, past Beth’s shoulder. Meg was coming across.
‘What’re you two talking about?’
Beth turned to face her little sister, exaggerating her country accent as she did. ‘We wuz tarkin’ Aparcollips. ’Bout ’em Chinese fellas comin’ ’ere ta
Purbeck…’
Peter giggled. The way she said it did make it seem rather funny. But Meg didn’t find it funny. She hated being teased.
‘You gonna come join us?’
He looked down. Truth was, he didn’t want to. Not right then. He’d been enjoying Beth’s company. But he could see how much it had cost Meg to come across; how she’d had
to swallow her pride.
‘Thanks,’ he said, looking to Beth as he stood.
‘You’re welcum, vine zur…’ Beth answered him, getting up and curtseying, like she was a milkmaid.
He went round, took Meg’s arm. ‘I’m sorry…’ She looked up into his face. ‘Are you?’
‘Yeah… let’s have a nice evening, eh? Let’s worry about tomorrow when it comes.’
Geoff Horsfield sat back, pointing the stem of his pipe at Harry Miller, who sat just across from him.
‘That’s all very well, ’Arry, only there’s far too few of us and we’ve no bloody time in which to do it!’
The bar of the New Inn was packed, every table filled to overflowing. Everyone had turned up, it seemed, brought there by the news of the strange craft the men had seen at market.
‘Besides,’ Geoff went on, taking a match from his pocket and beginning to dig at the bowl, ‘if we want to set up
proper
defences then why don’t we use what
we’ve got? I mean… we’ve a perfectly good castle out there…’
‘It’s a bloody ruin,’ John Lovegrove chipped in.
‘Bits of it. We could fill the gaps…’
But Jake had heard enough. They had been talking around the subject for the best part of an hour now, and he was beginning to lose patience. He stood, raising his arms, calling the meeting to
order.
‘Ladies… gentlemen… please… let’s address the real problem. What if they
are
here? Shouldn’t we be asking ourselves a few questions? Like…
what do they want? And how is it going to affect us, here in Purbeck?’
‘Why don’t you go and ask ’em?’ Ted Gifford said, making everyone laugh.
Jake shook his head. ‘I think you’re all missing the point. That craft, if it
is
Chinese, speaks of a highly advanced civilization. Christ… we didn’t have
anything like that
before
the Collapse!’
‘Not that we knew of…’ Will Cooper said. ‘But you know ’ow governments are…’
‘What if those dragons were Irish dragons,’ Jenny Randall threw in.
‘For Pete’s sake,’ Geoff Horsfield answered. ‘Is that really likely?’
‘Well, they are a creative race…’
‘
Chinese
,’ Jake said emphatically, feeling like he’d blow a fuse if he couldn’t get them to focus on this. ‘It was a
Chinese
dragon. I saw it,
remember? But I ask again… what do they
want
from us?’
‘Why should they bloody well want anything?’ Old Josh said, from where he sat on a stool by the bar. ‘Maybe they’ll leave us alone. Let Branagh rule us.’
‘Maybe,’ Jake said, conceding the point, some part of him wishing it were so. ‘Only I don’t believe that.’
‘You know why I
don’t
think it’s them?’ John Lovegrove said, sitting forward. ‘Because if it
was
them, then it could mean only one thing.’
‘An’ what’s that, John?’ someone asked from one of the tables at the back.
‘That they want to rule it all…’
‘Bollocks!’ Charlie Waite said from where he stood behind the counter, drying glasses. ‘Why would the Chinese want Purbeck? What fuckin’ use are we to them?’
It was a good question. The Chinese had traditionally stayed within their borders. Why should they change that now?
‘Not so much Purbeck,’ John said, ‘but… well… England… you know, the old United Kingdom… I mean, if they were the first to recover… the first
to get back on their feet, so to speak well… maybe…’
‘Maybe what?’ Jake asked. ‘A world state…? Is that what you mean? With the Chinese pulling all the strings?’
Jake looked around, seeing the effect his words had had on them all. The idea of it had got through to them, had touched their imaginations for once.
A world run by the Chinese…
‘Nah…’ Eddie Buckland said, puncturing the mood, signalling to Charlie to get some more drinks in. ‘I can’t see it, meself. Can’t see why they’d
bother…’
‘But it’s a
fact
,’ Jake said, exasperated by their complacency. ‘They’re
here
. We saw one of their craft. We didn’t
dream
that. We
saw
it. It’s already
here
.’
‘Well it zertainly wuz massive,’ Ted Gifford said, nodding as if to emphasize what Jake had said. ‘Biggest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen, truth be told. Like in the
ol’ films… you know, when the aliens invade…’
‘Thanks, Ted,’ Geoff said, shaking his head. ‘Be sure to tell the kids that one afore they go to bed tonight.’
‘Yeah, but Ted’s right in a way,’ Jake said. ‘What if it is an invasion? It’d explain all those people on the move…’
‘There are always people on the move.’
‘Sure, John, but recently… Well, we’ve all seen it…’
‘That’s true,’ John answered, sitting forward. ‘Only why’s there been no word of it before now? You know how it is, normally… we hear about such things long
before they reach us. What’s gone wrong this time? Why has the rumour mill dried up?’
Jake didn’t know. Maybe it hasn’t, he thought. Maybe they’re just much more efficient at keeping word from spreading.