Somewhere: Chapter 1 (Pt 2)

CHAPTER 1 (Pt 2)

 

Elsie sighed even more deeply. “We’ll leave that till last.” There had been no phone call or email shrieking blue bloody murder about a threat to civilisation, so she assumed it was only that the police were puzzled by something and didn’t know what else to do with it.

There was a request for another OMS (which Elsie thought about giving to Chris just to make a point), someone who was reporting something odd going on with their electrics, especially their toaster (“For fuck’s sake,” groaned Chris) and finally a couple who were hearing voices in their garden.

Elsie frowned. “Are we sure it’s not just the neighbours?”

Annis said, “The householders state that the voices are those of children, and neither the neighbours on either side nor the ones at the back have children. Paragraph two on the referral sheet.”

Elsie pursed her lips and looked down at the sheet. Sarky bitch.

Chris said, “What was that address again?”

 “Turnlove Lane. Number 43.”

He nodded. “There was that case down there in the sixties, those kids going missing.”

Elsie looked up. “What case was that?”

“I can’t recall all the details off hand,” said Chris, “but it definitely rings a bell. My Auntie Kath used to live down Turnlove Lane. I remember her saying about these two kids, went missing, never found, neighbours always reckoned the parents did away with them.”

“Didn’t the police search the garden?” Elsie asked.

Chris nodded. “I think so. Nothing found. But, of course, the fact that they’re not there…”

“…doesn’t mean there aren’t Echoes,” Elsie finished. “Ciaran, perhaps you and Jack could pay a visit, before or after the theatre? Read up on the old case beforehand. We’ll shove the other OMS and the toaster on the To Do pile for now.”

Ciaran nodded and took the sheet. Jack didn’t look so keen.

“It’s probably nothing,” Elsie said to reassure him. “The current occupants may have found out about the rumours and it’s fired their imaginations. OK Annis, put your screen where we can all see it, and let’s see whatever the police have for us. Have you had a chance to look at it yet?”

“Not yet,” said Annis. “And I’m afraid I’ve just printed out the info the police sent through to accompany it. I assumed it would be self-explanatory and I’ve been rather busy doing the backgrounds on the other referrals this morning. And there was the post.”

Elsie saw Chris and Ciaran exchange looks. Annis was always the first one in. Elsie was usually the last, making a flying entrance at 8.20 for the team’s official opening at 8.30.

“Right,” Elsie said, ignoring Annis. “Apparently this comes from Saturday night, so they obviously don’t think it’s that urgent.”

For the first few seconds they looked at murky CCTV footage of Minster Yard, the cobbled lane running alongside the magnificent Gothic cathedral and Dean’s Park next to it. It appeared to be just after sunset, the shadows gathering around the ornate medieval stonework.

“Enlightening,” said Chris drily.

“Oh, here we are,” said Elsie. “Looks like…”

“A human being,” said Chris.

The footage was far from sharp, but they could see a young man emerge from the garden of one of the large houses at the far end of Minster Yard. He started to walk towards the gate at the other end of the lane.

Elsie glanced at the printout. “This is apparently Liam Mayfield, a university student.”

“With digs in Minster Yard?” said Chris caustically. “Things have changed a bit since my day.”

“None of our business,” said Elsie. “Oh hello, what’s that?”

On the screen they could see a stain, darker than the evening shadow, creeping across the stone of the Minster and the grass of the park, edging towards the railing separating the park from the lane.

“What is that?” murmured Ciaran.

Elsie shook her head. A few seconds later she said, “What the hell?”

The stain had increased its speed, slipping from the light stone of the Minster walls and sliding through the railings, coming between the young student and the gate.

Liam Mayfield stopped. The darkness in front of him began to solidify and take shape.

It was a black caul, which glistened even in the indistinct CCTV images. From it emerged a small oval head, bent low, followed by long curved talons that started to inch towards the frozen figure of Liam Mayfield.

The young man fell to his knees, his hands clawing at his throat, his mouth open. It looked like he was screaming. Then he buckled and fell forwards. The talons continued to crawl.

“Fuck,” whispered Chris

The black shape stopped. It reared, then shrivelled into itself. It slithered back through the railings that bordered the park, merging with the gathering gloom. A few seconds later human figures came running along the lane to Liam Mayfield’s inert body.

The screen went blank.

Annis was the first to speak. “Look at the time on the CCTV. It’s 20.45. The Minster bells would have just chimed the three-quarter hour.”

Elsie looked at the referral sheet. “It says here people in the surrounding houses were alerted by Liam’s screams. None of them saw…whatever that was. They assumed he’d been mugged and called the police. The lad was apparently shrieking all sorts of stuff. Police thought he was possibly on something hallucinatory…called an ambulance…paramedics took him to A&E and the hospital kept him in. The police got around to checking CCTV late yesterday afternoon.” She said, with real anger in her voice, “Why the hell didn’t they flag this up? Phone it through? I was on Duty this weekend, I could have followed it up straight away.”

“Ebor Weekend at the racecourse,” said Chris. “What with that and the stags and hens and general summer mayhem and the Festival of whatever-it-is-this-week, police will have been rushed off their feet. They were probably just glad to pass it on. They don’t really know how we work. They may assume we’re a seven-day service and would get it anyway.”

“I think they know better than that.” Elsie shook her head vigorously, as if to clear it. “Right. First, we need to contact the hospital and find out if this lad’s still there, if not where he’s been discharged to. Chris, can you do that? Get in touch with whatsherface from Patient Services and let her know there’s an official request coming, it’ll save time after you put the form in. I’ll phone the police.”

Ciaran asked, “Have you ever seen anything like this?”

“No,” said Elsie. She looked at Chris, who shook his head. “We need to get a statement from Liam about what he actually saw.”

“I think we could see what he saw,” said Chris.

“Not necessarily,” Elsie said. “CCTV angles can be deceptive, it was getting dark, and the quality of the images isn’t great. Although I think we can probably agree it wasn’t a mugger.” She looked across at Jack, who was a shade of white tinged with green. “Well,” she said lightly, “welcome to the best mystery we’ve had for a while.”

He looked as if he might be sick.

She sighed. “OK. Well, let’s get on with the other referrals as agreed. Chris and I will take this. Thanks, everyone.”

They filed out of the Pod, Chris lingering until just he and Elsie remained. “That didn’t look like any Echo manifestation I’ve ever seen. There’s never been one in a non-human form before.”

Elsie raised her eyebrows. “Just because we’ve never seen one doesn’t mean they don’t exist. Echoes can sometimes distort, we know that.”

Chris said, “That thing seemed to know what it was doing.”

“Oh God,” said Elsie. “Don’t you go all ghosts and sentient afterlife on me. There’s enough of that from Electoral Services. I need coffee.”

“Electoral Services?”

But Elsie was already walking briskly away.

Chris looked thoughtfully at the space where Annis’s laptop had been. After a moment he shifted his gaze to the rows of white workstations outside the Pod, each computer and phone complete with its attached human, each row framed by a full-length, unopenable window. Beyond the windows, the grey stones of the Norman city wall gazed in at these most recent of city inhabitants, going about their business in yet another fleeting, impermanent structure.

“Yeah. Coffee,” Chris said softly to himself, and followed Elsie out of the Pod.

 

Picture by Malcolmx15, copyright free at Wikimedia Commons: File:Lamp standard at night Minster Yard York.jpg - Wikimedia Commons