"So what seems to be the problem?" he asked.
"I hear voices. Lots of them. All day and all night."
"I see," he said, peering over his glasses at a set of notes resting on his knee, "and what kind of things do they say?"
Margie told him about the old lady whose treasure was sewn into the bottom of her sofa, which her daughter had just foolishly given to a charity shop; about the little boy who wanted to tell his mummy and daddy that he didn’t suffer when he drowned in the garden pond; about the woman who wanted her to tell her husband to rot in hell; about the tortured souls that hounded her every waking second of her goddamn life. She spoke for hours of the tiredness and the anger and the frustration. And just when she thought she couldn’t possibly say anything more on the subject, a young handsome man walked into the room, hurriedly shook her hand, introduced himself as Dr Clarence Malvern and apologised for being late.
Margie, it seems, had poured out her innermost feelings to a ghost. It was the final straw for her and she was sectioned.
Even worse, nobody would believe her when she told them that she was being hounded by the dead. Medical words were thrown around like confetti at a wedding. Hallucinations. Schizophrenia. Delusions. Drug abuse. Psychosis. Depression. They poked and prodded Margie, electrocuted her and drugged her to the hilt. But still the voices came.
The doctors continued to tell her the voices were all in her head and she continued to tell them they weren’t.
And then one day Margie told Dr Clarence Malvern that his mother’s name was Mary and that she died on his first birthday. She had polio as a child and walked with a limp. And wanted him to know that she loved him.
The astonished doctor declared, with a stutter and a stammer, that whilst she was far from normal, she wasn’t sick either! Margie was booted out of the hospital and back onto the streets.
*****
Margie rose to her feet slowly and turned to Alpha. First she smiled at him and then her smile turned into a laugh and then she spat at him, the saliva landing on his right eye.
Alpha was furious and launched at Margie. His steel teeth clamped onto her right arm, digging into her flesh. Margie cried out and used her left arm to try and prise open his jaws. But it was in vain.
"Come on!" screamed Margie furiously into the ether as she fought the great mechanical Dog Beast. "Come and take me too! I'm waiting!"
Alpha dragged her to the ground and violently shook her like an old dust rag. "Torquere wanted you alive, but he shall have you in a box," he snarled.
Alpha released Margie's arm then immediately lunged at her throat. He never got to clamp his teeth around her neck because an ear-splitting screech, like metal against metal, forced them both to cover their ears. It was, they quickly realised, the sound of the giant scorpion coming to life. Before anyone could grasp exactly what was happening, the scorpion’s enormous segmented tail had whipped forward and belted Alpha several metres across the sand.
Unperturbed he raced back to finish the job off. From several feet away he launched himself at Margie who was now curled up in a ball in the sand. Within seconds he was standing over her; his back arched and his teeth bared as a warning to the scorpion not to come any closer. This was
his
quarry;
his
kill.
The scorpion let out another shrill metallic screech before bringing its great grasping claw down in Alpha’ direction. It missed.
Alpha grabbed Margie’s arm in his teeth and dragged her towards the forest. The Dog Beasts, which had already retreated to the forest yapped and howled excitedly. Before Alpha could reach them, the scorpion scuttled forward and once again launched its claw in the direction of Alpha. This time it caught him from behind and sent him rolling across the sand. As he stood up, he realised that one of his hind legs was hanging off. Enraged he launched another attack on Margie. Once again the scorpion’s large claw crashed down in front of him; this time creating a barrier between him and Margie.
The reason for this became clear when the scorpion used its flexible stinger to grab Margie off the ground. Frozen with fear she hung like a broken doll.
A number of the Dog Beasts who, until now, had watched from the sidelines, moved in to prevent the scorpion from taking Margie. As they threw themselves at the armour clad tail, the stinger lost its grip and Margie crashed to the ground.
The Dog Beasts howled with delight and, buoyed by their success, launched a fresh and frenzied attack on the scorpion.
The remaining Dog Beasts entered into the battle almost completely oblivious to Margie’s motionless body which lay in a crumpled heap on the floor. With no one to lead them, they inched closer to the scorpion driven on by instinct and the need to pursue their prey, regardless of its size. Then in a cloud of dust and a frenzy of barking, biting, scratching and pawing they attacked. Alpha shouted for his troops to grab the body, but his voice was lost amid the noise.
Suddenly, the scorpion lifted its heavily armoured tail high in the air, sending a number of Dog Beasts flying, and brought it down again heavily. As the Dog Beasts stumbled about, disorientated from the impact, the scorpion arched its tail forward over its body; curled its stinger tightly around Margie’s waist and snatched her up from the ground.
Alpha, desperate now to ensure he didn’t lose Margie again, used the last of his energy to launch himself over the scorpion’s claw and directly towards Margie.
The scorpion wasn’t quick enough. Alpha’s jaws clamped onto Margie’s legs tightly and there he hung, unwilling to lose her for a third time.
Margie was terrified yet, despite Alpha’s teeth piercing deep into her flesh, she didn’t feel any pain. Desperately she kicked the Dog Beast with her other leg, but to no avail. Alpha hung on with all his might, not once taking his eyes off Margie’s. In a frantic attempt to lose Alpha, the scorpion flicked its tail violently, left then right but still the angry beast hung on, clamping his jaw even tighter.
Finally succumbing to her terror, Margie let out a scream. It came from somewhere deep within; the culmination of everything that had happened to her since she'd arrived in Limbuss. It was a scream that sent a heaving great ripple coursing, like a tsunami, through time and space.
Suddenly Alpha let go of Margie’s leg and as he fell it became clear that something incredible had just happened. He had been turned entirely to ice.
As the weight of Alpha’ body fell away, Margie fell silent. And in the quiet timeless seconds that followed, she watched his icy body fall and shatter. Each shard evaporated into a tiny, shimmering ball of light which flew upwards to form a small vortex. Spinning faster and faster and getting brighter and brighter the millions of shards eventually exploded and disappeared along with the army of Dog Beasts, which retreated into the forest howling and whining.
Suddenly the pale blue heavens deepened to an indigo blue. A thunderstorm rumbled off to the east and a light wind blew in carrying the unmistakable bite of winter.
Margie had a bad feeling as the scorpion tightened its grip.
Journey to the Darkest of all Places
Margie remained in the clutches of the scorpion's tail for a few more moments, being flicked clumsily this way and that way, until eventually a small hatch flipped open in the scorpions back and, like a piece of litter, Margie was dropped inside.
She landed in a giant pile of cushions and rolled off onto the floor. Dazed and frightened she stood up, her fists clenched ready for a fight.
"Ah now then," said a soft, friendly voice. "Is that any way to treat an old friend?"
It took a few moments for Margie's brain to compute. Then the fog in her brain cleared enough for her to recognise the familiar face peering intently through a magnifying glass at her.
"Grandma Doyle?"
"Aye, it is my child; the very same one."
"How do I know it's you?" demanded Margie through narrowed eyes.
"You could ask me a million questions to test me and I could answer them all. But we don't have time."
Margie studied the room in which she found herself. It was a large room cluttered at one end with shelves, dials, cogs and various mechanical objects and cosily decorated at the other end, more like the interior of an old gypsy wagon. In the centre of the room, separating both ends, was a large elaborate periscope. Running the length of the room, on either side, were bunks.
"It’s quite okay," said Grandma Doyle. "It needed a bit of a woman’s touch when I first arrived – not easy with no resources an’ all – but it’s comfortable and most importantly it’s safe."
"Are we
inside
the scorpion?"
"We are. It’s magnificent isn’t it!"
Margie’s lip wobbled.
"I thought you were ..."
"Child, I thought I
was
, let me tell you!" Grandma Doyle grabbed Margie's chin and lifted her face up. "Would you like a nice cup o’ tea? You don't look well at all."
Margie didn’t answer. Overwhelmed by the events of the previous few days she slumped to the ground and sobbed into one of the pillows. For several hours she cried, the pillow becoming sodden with tears.
"Oh Grandma Doyle," she eventually managed to sniffle. "My Giant is gone. I saw it with my own eyes. He didn't deserve it; he was trying to help."
"I know," soothed Grandma Doyle. "I saw it too. We were trying so hard to reach you both, but we couldn't get the blasted machine to work. Everything shut down. It was kaput. We could do nothing to get it started; we tried everything."
Margie hadn’t heard a word of it. Or if she had, she didn’t let on. She didn’t really care about anything right now. All she knew was that she wanted The Giant. She couldn’t get his final image out of her mind – the expression on his face as he was dragged away by that creature, that 'thing'. She shook her head sadly but the image remained.
Margie let out another huge sob. "Will he come back Grandma Doyle? Please tell me he will."
"Anything can happen in Limbuss, my child. Anything at all. Nothing is ever what it seems."
Grandma Doyle’s words didn’t sink in because Margie, exhausted from her ordeal, had already fallen into a deep sleep.
When Margie opened her eyes several hours later, she found herself staring at a vision of horror – or rather she found herself being stared
at.
The creature’s face, if that’s what it was, was a hideous misshapen form with a great beak-shaped protrusion. Its eyes were nothing more than two great round hollows.
Practically nose to nose with the creature, Margie screamed.
Grandma Doyle, who was busy preparing something in a large pot in the corner of the room, marched over and pulled the strange looking creature away from the bunk on which Margie was lying.
"Take that thing off now," she demanded. "As if the child hasn't had enough to upset her!"
As the face drew away from her, Margie could see that it was in fact a mask of some kind. The 'creature' had a body like any other man. It was tall and wore body armour made from a dark material. In the centre of the body armour, where the heart should be, was a clock. But instead of hands and numbers, this clock contained a tiny person, squashed up so tightly it looked like it was knotted; his little face squashed against the glass so hard it looked deformed.
Margie blinked a number of times, unsure as to whether she was seeing correctly.
"It’s the latest fashion," said the man, who was busy trying to undo a buckle under his chin which held the mask over his face. "Not that I follow the latest fashion mind, a sinful waste of time." The mask finally came away to reveal a handsome old man with a greying beard and a cloud of silvery white hair. A scar snaked down the side of his face, which on the whole had a sort of friendliness to it.
"It was a gift," he finished, patting the watch. "He was probably a terrible time waster in his life ... and this is his punishment."
Margie studied the man in the watch, horrified.
"Don’t worry," interrupted Grandma Doyle, "it’s not forever; just a couple of hundred years max. Nothing really; not compared to
some.
"
Margie pulled herself up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She felt woozy, like she had slept a lot longer than she’d wanted to.
"My name’s Black Adam," said the man, holding his hand out. Margie shook it warily.
"You have no idea the trouble you have caused young lady."
Margie didn’t really know what Black Adam meant by this, but remembering suddenly the loss of her beloved Giant (and feeling totally overcome with sadness) she simply shrugged her shoulders and stared vacantly at a stain on the floor.
Grandma Doyle threw Black Adam a scowl. "Have some sympathy you old codger!"
"I didn't say anything!" he said holding his hands up in mock defence. "Now if you'll excuse me I've got work to do."
Grandma Doyle wrapped her arms around Margie. "I know it's hard, but you have to forget about The Giant for now and focus on getting better. You have a difficult journey ahead of you."
"I know," sniffled Margie, "and now I have no one to come with me."
"Well," said Grandma Doyle, "You don't have to worry about that anymore because we are going to take you as far as the gateway to the Darkest of All Places!"
"Oh no we're not," called a voice from the other side of the scorpion.
"Yes, we are!" chided Grandma Doyle.
Black Adam stepped away from the periscope and fixed Grandma Doyle with a stare. "We are taking her as far as the Sea of Sorrow. That was the deal."
Grandma Doyle smiled sweetly at Margie before striding across the room to Black Adam and pulling a folded-up piece of paper from deep within her pocket. "It says right here," she said in a hushed tone, "...'to the Darkest of All Places'. It doesn't say 'to the Sea of Sorrow'."
Black Adam frowned. "I tell you what;
you
take her across the Sea of Sorrow and I'll wait for you with a warm towel and a hot mug of tea!"
"If that's the way you want it, then that's the way you can have it. But if you want to play that game then the money is mine."
Black Adam let out a dramatic gasp. "In your dreams old lady! You wouldn't get within a thousand miles of the Sea of Sorrow if it wasn't for me and The Trusty Old Boy." He patted the periscope affectionately.
Grandma Doyle narrowed her eyes. "You're a fraidy cat, that's what you are. You're frightened. I know it. You're too afraid to cross the Sea of Sorrow." She straightened up and smiled. "It's okay to be frightened. I understand. Why don't you drop the two of us off at the Sea of Sorrow and
I'll
take her across to the Gateway. We'll see who deserves the money when we go to collect it."
It was Black Adam's turn to narrow his eyes, "you're a sly old bird, Madame Doyle. You always were." He stared at her for a while.
"You really don't have to come any further," interrupted Margie. "You've done so much for me already."
"I know," said Grandma Doyle. "The problem is I
want
to come with you. I want to look after you. You're getting so sick."
"Oh listen to her," scoffed Black Adam. "I don't know who'd be holding who back."
Grandma Doyle fixed Black Adam with a firm stare that instantly rendered him silent.
"If you really want to come then you wouldn't be a burden," said Margie. "You're like my family now."
"Oh child," sighed Grandma Doyle.
"We'll come with you," said Black Adam. "But only as far as the Gateway. Then you're on your own. Okay?" He turned to look at Grandma Doyle. "Okay?!"
Grandma Doyle clapped her hands happily. Black Adam wasn't a bad person. He was actually very kind. But he had a job to do. And that was to get Margie to the Gateway. He would be paid and that would be that. She knew that The Big Invisible would kill Margie if she
didn't
make it ... but in her heart she didn't know if she would make it anyway! Once they had The Big Invisible, what would they do with her? She could only hope that whoever had put the bounty out was looking out for Margie. After all, it had already saved her from the Dog Beasts ...
In the intervening days, the scorpion continued its journey. The mask that Black Adam wore controlled the great metal beast by thought alone. If Black Adam wanted the beast to travel North; he merely had to think it and the scorpion would obediently change its course.
Margie, meanwhile, kept herself very much to herself. Curled up on the large pile of cushions beneath the trap door she spent her time sleeping. It was the only time she felt any peace. It was during these dormant periods that Margie's body began to weaken. Her already pale skin took on a greyish hue, and her fragile, bird like body shivered continuously. Grandma Doyle was shocked by the sudden deterioration.
"How long til we get there?" she asked Black Adam for the umpteenth time. "We're not out here to admire the view you know!"
Black Adam ignored her. Looking through the periscope he had other things to worry about. He had never ventured this close to the Darkest of All Places before and was already beginning to regret his decision. He had a feeling that they weren't alone on their journey; that they were being watched. To make matters worse, a silent storm had been raging around them for days, sending bolts of lightning across a bruised and battered sky.
For days he had seen what looked like a lighthouse blinking in the distance. Could this be the lighthouse which overlooked the Sea of Sorrow? Black Adam was sure it was. He'd studied his maps and charts religiously. As the days passed, however, they didn't seem to get any closer. Instead, the sky grew darker; more ominous; more threatening. This only added to Black Adam's misery, making it difficult for him to navigate the already-temperamental scorpion. He was sure they were moving; it definitely felt like they were. And Grandma Doyle had certainly berated him often enough.
"Control your scorpion," she'd admonished wiping up spillage after spillage of soup or tea.
Black Adam spent a few more minutes studying his charts. By his dead reckoning, it should only take a couple of days to reach. Scratching his head, he put his face to the periscope.
He quickly wished he hadn't when, without warning, one of the lightning bolts formed a giant claw-like hand. It reached out of the sky and hurtled down the periscope grabbing Black Adam's throat and squeezing it until his face turned blue. Black Adam clawed at the hands, desperately trying to prise them off when suddenly the hands were gone and he found himself flying several metres backwards. He landed with a crash on one of the bunks.
Grandma Doyle shouted angrily from somewhere nearby. "Are you
trying
to wake the girl you old fool?"
Dazed and frightened, Black Adam remained silent. Staring at the periscope he could see nothing. What
was
that? He had never encountered anything like that before. He looked across at Margie, who was sleeping fitfully beneath a mountain of blankets and wondered if there was more to this young woman than he'd first thought. Did she really possess something more powerful than Limbuss itself?
He'd heard the rumours; he'd scoffed at the idea that a pretty young woman could carry something so destructive. Yet here he was having doubts about this job. Just what had he gotten himself into? He wasn't the young man he used to be. His days of battling were long gone. He preferred the easy life now, simple bounty assignments ...
He was struggling to shake off the sense of foreboding that had just swamped him when something brushed the back of his neck. This was followed directly by the sound of a deep, raspy sigh.
At almost exactly the same moment, Grandma Doyle let out a scream. Black Adam leapt to his feet (as fast as his aching bones would allow him). There he saw Grandma Doyle standing next to the periscope, shaking violently; her eyes wide with shock.
"Look," she cried, "it's the Sea of Sorrow." She clutched the periscope like it was a long lost family member. "We've arrived."
"You crazy, foolish, stupid old woman!" shouted Black Adam, breezing over and pushing her out of the way. "What have I told you about touching things that don't belong to you! You have no right to be looking through this thing. Do you hear me?"