Shadows

the street and parked it outside the large building. Apart from the dozen or so lights which burned in the big windows, the hospital appeared to be in darkness. Kelly scrambled out of the car and hurried up the stone steps to the main entrance, Joubert following closely behind.

The entry-way was bright but the light was not welcoming. It reflected off the polished floors as if they were mirrors, causing Kelly to wince. There was a desk directly opposite, a steaming mug of coffee perched on it. Whoever it belonged to was nowhere in evidence. For fleeting seconds a terrifying thought crossed Kelly’s mind.

What if one or more of the patients had seen the programme earlier in the evening? Even now, the wards could be full of butchered, helpless invalids.

She shuddered and tried to push the thought to the back of her mind but it refused to budge.

‘Kelly, here,’ said Joubert, pointing to a blue sign which proclaimed: MORTUARY. A white arrow pointed down a flight of stone steps and, moving as quickly and quietly as they could, the two of them made their way towards the morgue.

As they descended, the darkness seemed to grow thicker until it swirled around them like a cloud, hardly broken by the low wattage lights set in the walls.

As they reached the bottom of the stairs a long corridor faced them and, almost unconsciously, both slowed their pace, suddenly not so eager to reach their destination. The lights in the corridor flickered ominously for a second then glowed with their customary brilliance once more. Kelly swallowed hard as she advanced

towards the door of the morgue, her heels clicking noisily in the cloying silence.

They drew closer.

It was Kelly who noticed that the door was ajar.

There were some spots of dark liquid on the polished floor which Joubert knelt and touched with his finger. He sniffed it.

‘Blood,’ he told Kelly, softly.

Inside the morgue itself, apart from the half-light coming through the street-level window, everything was in darkness.

The door opened soundlessly and the two of them stepped inside, glancing to left and right for any sounds or movements.

There was a faint humming in the background which Kelly took to be the hospital generator. Other than that, the morgue was unbearably silent. She heard the blood singing in her ears, her heart thumping noisily as she tip-toed towards the one slab which bore a body. . Covered by a sheet, it looked shapeless in the gloom.

They both approached it slowly, their eyes not leaving the motionless body.

There was more blood on the floor beside the slab.

A dark shape suddenly passed over them and Kelly spun round in panic.

It was a second or two before she realized that it had merely been the shadow of a person walking by outside.

Joubert looked at her and she nodded slowly in answer to his unspoken question.

The Frenchman gripped one corner of the sheet which covered the body.

Kelly moved closer.

There was a soft click behind them and, this time, Joubert felt his heart skip a beat. He squinted through the gloom to see that a slight breeze had pushed the morgue door shut. The Frenchman used his free hand to wipe a bead of perspiration from his forehead.

He took hold of the sheet more firmly, aware of the biting chill which seemed to have filled the room.

Kelly nodded and, gritting his teeth, he whipped the sheet away.

Lying on the slab, glazed eyes bulging wide in terror, was the body of Bill Howard.

Kelly and Joubert exchanged anxious glances, the Frenchman touching the face of the dead man with the back of his hand.

‘He hasn’t been dead long,’ he told Kelly, keeping his voice low.

She took a step back, allowing an almost painful breath to escape her lungs.

Bill Howard had obviously died in agony and it showed in his contorted features. A long metal probe had been rammed into his mouth, puncturing his tongue before being driven through the base of his skull above the hollow at the back of his neck.

A question burned brightly in her mind.

Where was Blake’s body?

As the two of them emerged from the stairway into the hospital entry-way, they were surprised to find it still deserted. Once more Kelly wondered if the patients had been butchered in their beds, maybe the staff as well. She slowed her pace slightly, her eyes shifting to the solitary mug of tea which still stood on the desk. It was no longer steaming. Whoever had put it there had not returned to claim it.

‘Kelly, come on,’ Joubert urged, making for the main door. She hesitated a moment longer then followed him out to the car.

‘Where to now?’ he asked.

She gazed ahead of her, her voice soft but determined.

‘There’s only one place left where the body could be.’

Joubert understood.

The traffic was surprisingly light in the city centre. The drive to Blake’s house took less than thirty minutes. Joubert brought the Fiat to a halt and switched off the engine, peering through the side window at the large building.

Rain coursed lazily down the windows of the car and, overhead, a loud rumble of thunder was instantly answered by a vivid but soundless flash of lightning.

Kelly brushed fingers through her hair, noticing that her hand was shaking.

She clenched her fists together for a moment, drawing in a deep breath.

‘What if the body isn’t in the house?’ asked Joubert, cryptically.

‘It has to be there,’ she said. ‘Blake would feel safe hiding it there.’

They both clambered out of the Fiat, ignoring the rain as they stood facing the house. A single light burned in the porch. Far from looking forbidding, Blake’s house seemed positively inviting. It beckoned to them and they responded, moving quickly but cautiously towards the dwelling, never taking their eyes from it. Once more Kelly felt a shiver run up her spine.

They paused at the end of the short driveway.

‘It’d be better if we split up,’ Kelly said. ‘That way we’ll have a better chance of finding the body. And it won’t take so long.’

Joubert regarded her warily for a moment.

Til check inside the house,’ she said, producing her key ring and showing him the key to Blake’s front door which she still possessed. “You search the garden and garage.’

The Frenchman nodded.

A particularly brilliant flash of lightning iashed across the rain-soaked heavens, bathing the two investigators in cold white light. For fleeting seconds they resembled ghosts, their

faces distorted and white in the flash.

Kelly hesitated a moment longer then, with a final look at Joubert, she headed towards the front door.

He waited until she was inside then he moved cautiously forward, his sights set on a door at the side of the garage.

Kelly stepped into the hall and quickly looked around her, searching the darkness with uncertain eyes. She raised her hand, wondering whether or not she should put on the light, but she felt simultaneously exposed and safe in the glow. She eventually decided to switch it on.

Nothing moved in the hallway.

To her right, the sitting room door was slightly ajar.

Ahead of her, the stairs disappeared upward into the impenetrable darkness of the first floor.

On the left, the door of the cellar was closed and, this time, there was no

key in it. She decided to leave it until last and moved towards the sitting room, pushing the door wide open. Light from the hall offered her sufficient illumination to find the nearest table lamp. This she also switched on.

Standing in the sitting room, Kelly could feel the silence closing in around her as if it were a living thing.

Outside, the storm was reaching its height.

Joubert found that the door which led into the garage was unlocked but the catch was rusty and he needed to put all his weight behind it to shift the recalcitrant partition.

It swung open with a despairing shriek and the Frenchman practically fell into the dark abyss beyond. He stumbled but managed to keep his feet, looking round for a light switch. He found one close to the door and flicked it on. The fluorescents in the ceiling sputtered into life and Joubert scanned the inside of the garage. The floor was spotted with congealed patches of oil and slicks of petrol but, apart from a small toolbox shoved into one corner, the place was empty. There was certainly nowhere to hide a body.

He took one last look then retraced his steps, flicking off the light as he did so.

Outside in the rain again he wiped some of it from his face and decided which direction to follow next.

There was a narrow passageway beside the garage and the side of the house which, he suspected, led to the back garden. Joubert moved cautiously towards it, attempting to see through the short, but darkness-shrouded, passageway. It was less than four feet wide, perhaps three times that in length and it was as black as the grave in there. He put out one hand and fumbled his way along the stone wall, unable to see a hand in front of him.

There was a loud clap of thunder and Joubert prayed for a flash of lightning which would at least give him a few seconds of light. Enough to reach the end of the passage or perhaps alert him if he were not alone in the gloom.

He tried to force that particular thought to the back of his mind but it would not budge.

Inch by inch he edged onward, deeper into the blackness.

Something touched his leg.

Something solid.

Joubert jumped back, not knowing what he was going to do, fear overwhelming him.

In that split second there was an ear-shredding whiplash of lightning which lit up the entire passage.

A foot or so from the end of it, there was a wooden gate. He had walked into it in the blackness, unable to see the object.

Joubert closed his eyes for a second and smiled thinly, moving forward once again. He succeeded in slipping the catch on the gate and passed through and out of the passage. The Frenchman found himself in the back garden. The rain continued to pelt down, plastering his hair to his face, streaming into his eyes. Another crack of lightning -lit the heavens and Joubert saw that, ten or twelve yards further on, nestling in some trees at the bottom of the garden, was what looked like a wooden shed. He trod quickly over the sodden grass towards the small hut and tugged on the handle.

It was locked.

He pulled on it again, finally using his foot to dislodge the timber door. It swung open, a pungent smell of damp and decay billowing out to greet him. He coughed and stepped inside.

There was no light in the hut.

The bulb was still in place but it was broken. He narrowed his eyes in an effort to see around the confines of the small structure, which seemed, to all intents and purposes, like a garden shed. He saw a lawn-mower, a roller and sundry other garden implements.

Joubert even spotted a large, double-handed axe. Blake had obviously intended

chopping down some of the overhanging branches which grew around the shed, Joubert assumed. He moved forward and picked up the axe, glad of a weapon though he wondered if it would be of any help if the need arose.

The rain was pounding the shed so violently now that it reminded the Frenchman of waves breaking continually on rocks. He shivered in his wet clothes and took one last look around the tiny hut.

Hidden behind a pile of boxes and encrusted with grime as it was, he almost failed to see the freezer.

It was long, perhaps six feet and at least half that in depth. Quite large enough …

Gripping the axe tighter, he moved towards it, pulling the boxes aside in his wake until he could reach the old freezer without any trouble. He hooked his fingers beneath the rim and prepared to fling it open.

There was a harsh crack as the wind blew the shed door shut, plunging Joubert into darkness.

He muttered something in French and hurried across to the door, pushing it open once again, allowing the rain to lash his face for a second, then he returned to the freezer. He dug his fingers under the filthy lid and lifted.

It was empty.

Only a large spider and some woodlice scuttled about inside.

Joubert slammed the lid down again, his heart still beating fast. He wiped his face with the back of his hand and leant back against the empty freezer to catch his breath.

The lights inside the house dimmed for a moment then glowed once more as thunder continued to roll across the heavens. Kelly stood quite still in the darkness, her eyes darting back and forth, ears alert for the slightest sound.

But all she heard was the driving rain and the fury of the storm outside. As the lamp in the sitting room came on she moved slowly towards the kitchen.

The door was open.

Kelly stopped for a second and glanced over her shoulder before entering the next room. She flicked on the lights and looked around. There were a couple of dirty mugs in the sink but, apart from that, everything seemed to be in its place.

The lights went out again.

She waited for the brightness to return, her heart thudding more rapidly in her chest.

She waited.

Outside the thunder roared loudly.

Waited.

‘Come on, come on,’ she whispered, trying to steady her breathing.

Waited.

The house remained in darkness.

From inside the garden shed, Joubert had seen Kelly turn on the kitchen lights and now, as he stood looking at the house, he too wondered how long it would be before the power supply was restored. The Frenchman decided that he would be better employed aiding Kelly in her search of the house. Carrying the axe with him, he headed for the door.

A gust of wind slammed it in his face.

He gripped the rusty knob irritably and tugged it open.

Joubert found himself face to face with David Blake.

Before the Frenchman could move, he felt powerful hands grabbing for his throat, hands which felt like blocks of ice as they squeezed. He struck out vainly at Blake who finally hurled the intruder to one side where he crashed into a pile of boxes. As he tried to rise he felt an incredible pressure on his skull as Blake gripped him in a vice-like grip, his fingers resembling talons as they threatened to plunge through the Frenchman’s skull.

Joubert felt the cold filling his head, his torso. His entire body.

He screamed but the sound was lost as thunder tore open the dark clouds and the rain lashed the hut unmercifully.

He felt himself being hurled to the floor where he landed with a jarring impact. When he opened his eyes there was no sign of Blake. Joubert didn’t know how long he’d been

unconscious. A minute? An hour?

The Frenchman got to his feet, picking up the axe as he did so. He held it before him, studying the heavy, wickedly sharp blade. He looked towards the house and thought of Kelly. The axe felt as if it were a part of him, an extension of his arms.

He kicked open the door and trudged across the lawn towards the darkened house, the large, razor-sharp weapon held before him. A smile creased his lips.

When the power inside the house went off, Kelly could hear nothing but the rumbling of thunder. The electric wall clock stopped ticking and she was deprived of even that welcome sound.

Now she stood alone in the darkness, praying for the light to return. The thought that the fuse box might have blown began to creep into her mind.

Or had someone in the house turned the power off?

She spun round, her imagination beginning to play tricks on her. Had she seen movement in the sitting room behind her?

The lights came back on so suddenly she almost shouted aloud in surprise and relief.

Kelly licked her lips but found that her tongue felt like old newspaper. She quickly checked in the pantry then turned, intent on heading back through the.house to look upstairs.

In the light flooding from the kitchen windows, she saw Joubert approaching across the small lawn.

She breathed an audible sigh of relief and knelt to undo the bolt on the back door, preparing to turn the key in the lock to let him in. He obviously hadn’t found anything, she reasoned, except for the axe which he carried. He had almost reached the back door.

She turned the key in the lock, her hand resting on the knob.

As he saw the door opening, Joubert uttered a high-pitched yell of fury and swung the axe with all his strength. It scythed through the wooden door, ripping it free of one hinge. Kelly’s own scream mingled with the shriek of splintering wood. She turned and ran for the sitting room as Joubert stove in the remainder of the door and crashed into the kitchen.

Kelly slipped and fell as she reached the hall, looking over her shoulder in time to see him emerge from the kitchen.

He looked like something from a nightmare with his hair plastered down, his face scratched and bruised and his mouth spread in a kind of rictus. He hurdled a coffee table and hurried after her.

Kelly leapt to her feet, slamming the hall door behind her, darting towards the stairs.

She took them two at a time, stumbling once again at the top.

Below her, Joubert flung open the door and hurried across the hall, pausing on the bottom step before ascending slowly.

Kelly was faced by four doors.

She raced towards the first, hearing his heavy footfalls on the stairs as he climbed higher.

The door was locked. •

Kelly hurried to the second one, praying that it was open.

She pulled open the door and ran inside,-flinging herself beneath the bed.

Through the half-open door, she could see when Joubert reached the landing. He stood at the top of the stairs for what seemed like an eternity, only his feet visible to Kelly but she realized that he must be deciding which door to try first.

He moved towards the room on her left.

The locked one. She heard him twisting the handle then she heard the sound of shattering wood as he smashed off the knob and kicked the door open.

Kelly closed her eyes, wondering if this was all a nightmare. If she would

wake up in a second. She tried to swallow but her throat was constricted.

She heard his footsteps, saw his feet as he stood in the doorway of the room in which she hid.

He took a step inside.

Kelly bit her fist to stifle a cry.

He moved closer towards the bed.

If only she could roll out on the other side, run for the door …

But what if she slipped? What if he reached the door before her?

What if…?

He was standing beside her now, his feet together.

She imagined that axe poised over the bed.

With a strength born of terror, Kelly snaked her arms out, fastened them around Joubert’s ankles and tugged. She succeeded in pulling his legs away from him and he went down with a heavy thump, the axe falling from his grip.

She rolled over, scrambling clear of the bed, jumped to her feet and ran for the door.

Joubert was up in a second. He flung out a hand and managed to grab a handful of her hair. Kelly yelped as some of it came out at the roots and she felt herself overbalancing. She grabbed for the door frame and managed to retain her stance but he had slowed her up and, as she reached the landing, the Frenchman hurled himself at her, bringing her down in a pile-up which knocked the wind from them both.

Kelly struck out with her nails, raking his face. Joubert bellowed in pain and tried to pull her down again but Kelly got to her feet and kicked him hard in the side, bringing the heel of her shoe down on his outstretched hand so hard that it penetrated. Blood welled from the puncture and Joubert roiled to one side. But, he was still between Kelly and the stairs.

As the Frenchman struggled to his knees, Kelly ran at him and lashed out again with a kick which caught him firmly in the solar plexus. He fell backward, clutching at empty air for a second before tumbling down the stairs, thudding to a halt at the bottom with his head at an unnatural angle.

She gazed down at his motionless form realizing that his neck must be broken.

Kelly ran into the bedroom and picked up the double-handed axe, moving quickly from bedroom to bedroom in search of Blake’s body.

The rooms were empty.

Kelly began descending the stairs, the axe held firmly in her hands. She paused beside the body of Joubert, holding the razor sharp blade above his head as she felt for a pulse.

Nothing. As she’d thought, his neck had been broken in the fall.

She suddenly felt overwhelmed by sadness, not just for his death but for all the other people who had died that night and who would die if she did not complete her task. Her grief slowly became anger as she realized that all of the carnage, all of the suffering had been caused by Blake.

There were two more rooms in the house to be searched.

She went through the dining room quickly. That left the cellar.

The door was locked but that did not deter Kelly. She brought the axe down twice, shattering the lock, knocking the door wide open. She slapped on the lights and slowly descended into the subterranean room.

The silence crowded around her, an almost physical force. She stood still at the bottom of the steps, her eyes searching.

Next to one of the large bookcases, almost invisible on first glimpse, was a small door, no bigger than three feet square, its handle also painted white to make it even more inconspicuous. Kelly bent and tugged on the handle.

It opened effortlessly and she recoiled as a rancid smell of rotten wood and damp earth rose from the tiny compartment. But, if the door was small then what lay beyond it was not. The space behind the door looked as though it had been made many years earlier. It stretched back into darkness, she wasn’t sure how far. The walls were soft and slimy and she had to duck low to avoid scraping her hair on the dripping ceiling. The stench was almost overpowering.

Lying undisturbed, covered by a blanket, amidst the muck and filth, was the

body of Blake.

Kelly grabbed both ankles and, using all her strength, pulled. Inch by inch, the corpse came clear of its resting place until it lay in full view in the cellar. Kelly noticed that the eyes were still open. They seemed to fix her in a reproachful stare and, for a moment, she was rooted to the spot.

There was another deafening clap of thunder, audible even in the depths of the cellar.

The room was plunged into darkness as the lights flickered then died.

A second later they came back on again and Kelly finally managed to tear her gaze from the body of Blake.

She reached for the axe and raised it above her head, knowing what she must do, praying for the strength to perform this final act of destruction. Tears welled up in her eyes then trickled down her cheeks and the axe wavered in the air. Kelly squeezed her eyes tightly shut for a moment, anxious to avoid the reproachful stare of Blake’s dead eyes.

The lights began to flash on and off, blinking wildly as the thunder now seemed to become one continual salvo of sound.

Kelly screamed as she brought the axe down.

The blade buried itself in the right shoulder of the corpse and she heard a loud cracking of bone as the scapula was shattered. Kelly wrenched it free and struck again, her aim slightly off but the weight of the weapon was enough. It severed the right arm. She lifted it again and, after two more powerful strokes, succeeded in hacking off the other arm. Tears were now pouring freely down her cheeks and the storm offered a macabre accompaniment to her own sobs and the thick, hollow sound the axe made as it sheared through dead flesh.

She changed position to attack the right leg, the axe skidding off the pelvic bone and shaving away a portion of thigh. Kelly recovered her balance and struck again, forced to stand on the torso to pull the blade free. Her next blow exposed the femur and, with a despairing grunt, she smashed the thick bone and managed to hack the leg off. The remains of the body shuddered beneath each fresh impact but Kelly continued with her grisly task, perspiration soaking through her clothes. It took five attempts to sever the left leg.

Panting like a carthorse, she took a step back, realizing that she had still not completed the monstrous task.

With a blow which combined horrified determination and angry despair, she struck off the head. It rolled for two or three feet across the floor, coming to rest on the stump. She noticed with relief that the sightless eyes were facing away from her.

Kelly stood amidst the pieces of dismembered corpse and dropped the axe, shaking her head gently. Her breath came in great choking gasps which seared her throat and lungs. She

leant back against the nearest wall for support, closing her eyes for a moment.

The cellar door slammed shut and Kelly shot an anxious glance towards it.

At the top of the stairs stood David Blake.

Kelly shuddered as the room seemed to fill with icy air, as if someone were sucking all the warmth from the cellar and replacing it with the bone-chilling numbness she now felt.

Blake began to descend, his eyes fixed, not on her, but on the hewn corpse.

‘It’s over, Blake,’ she said, her voice a harsh croak.

He didn’t answer. He merely continued his purposeful stride, his face impassive until he reached the bottom of the stairs. Then, his nostrils flared. With a roar of rage he ran at her.

Tired from her exertions, Kelly could not move fast enough to avoid his fearsome lunge. He grabbed her by the throat, lifting her bodily from the ground.

Kelly found herself looking deep into his eyes — into bulging orbs which were pools of sheer hatred. But there was something else there too.

Fear?

She felt the cold seeping through her like gangrene through a rotting limb but Blake’s powerful grip was beginning to weaken. With a grunt he lowered her to the floor where she sprawled before him, gazing up at his contorted features.

He took a step back, almost tripping over the mutilated remains of the corpse.

His corpse.

The Astral body of David Blake, the tangible embodiment of his evil, staggered drunkenly for a second, one hand held towards Kelly in a last act of defiance.

With a despairing groan, he dropped to his knees, his eyes still fixed on the girl who was cowering a few feet from him. Kelly saw him open his mouth to scream but the sound, when it came forth, was like nothing human. The thunderous utulation rattled around the cellar, causing Kelly to cover her ears for fear that they would be damaged. The lights in the room went out for a moment then came back on with an increased brilliance.

Blake’s scream died away as his face began to split open. Huge, jagged fissures opened in his flesh, as if his mirror image had been broken. An evil-smelling, yellowish-white subslance bubbled up from the rents which were now spreading all over his body. He clawed at his chest, pulling his shirt open, a large lump of skin coming with it, exposing the bloodied internal organs beneath. His fingers seemed to shrivel like dying flowers and Kelly saw more of the pus-like fluid oozing from the deep cuts which were spreading along his arms and legs like rips in fabric.

He fell forward, his head disintegrating as he hit the ground. It split open, pus and Wood bursting from the ruptured skull. A tangle of intestines snaked upward, as if propelled by some inner force as his stomach burst.

Kelly looked away, feeling her stomach somersault. The odour of corruption, that rank and fetid stench which floated in the air like an invisible cloud, surrounded her. She coughed and thought she was going to be sick. But the feeling passed.

The room was plunged into darkness again as the lights dimmed for fleeting seconds and a massive thunderclap shook the house.

Kelly managed to look back at the decaying form of Blake. The last moments lit by the faintly glimmering lights which seemed to act like strobes as they flickered.

As the electrical power was restored, the cellar was bathed in the cold white light of the fluorescents.

Blake had vanished.

Nothing remained.

No blood. No pus.

Nothing.

Only the dismembered corpse lay before her.

Kelly got slowly to her feet, swaying uncertainly for a moment. She was soaked with sweat. Every single muscle in her body ached and it took a monumental effort for her to even walk. She was completely drained. As close to collapse as she could ever remember but, somewhere amidst that exhaustion, there was a feeling of triumph. She had succeeded in stopping B’ake. Now she prayed that she had been able to end the reign of terror he’d unleashed. There was no way of knowing yet.

All she could do was wait.

And hope.

She knew that there was one more thing which had to be done.

Crossing to the phone on the nearby desk, she lifted the receiver and pressed out three nines. She had no choice but to tell the police. Kelly heard the purring at the other end of the line.

The lights flickered once more and she muttered under her breath as she heard the phone go dead.

She was about to try again when the hand closed on her shoulder.

She spun round, the scream catching in her throat.

The figure which faced her was identical in every respect. A mirror image of herself.

And it held the axe.

Her alter-ego smiled as it brought the vicious weapon down with incredible force. The blade aimed at Kelly’s head.

It was the last thing she saw.