Arthur Catt
(Tim Wreford-Bush)
5th May 1924
The Greenwich Observatory.
You are running late. Your good friend, Doctor Christian Ogilvie, asked you to join him and Professor Richard Harker on the roof of the Greenwich Observatory where he works to take some pictures of the meteor shower due to occur. And that was what you planned to do, getting all your equipment ready early on, packing it in the back of your car. Then you decided to go to your club for a quick drink to while away the time till the evening, and then you met Candy and Susan…
You pull up outside the Observatory, grab all your camera equipment under one arm, and hurry through the empty halls to the stairs for the roof. You can hear them talking up there, the voice you don’t recognise and assume to be Harker wondering where the photographer was. You slow to a saunter that was a pace short of a swagger and climb out onto the roof just as Harker says; “He’s going to miss his shot if he doesn’t turn up-”
“I never miss my shot,” you utter behind them. You give Ogilvie a wink, shake Harker’s hand and introduce yourself to him then quickly set up your equipment. “So what are we expecting here?”
Harker seems eager to explain. “The Earth is currently passing through the tail of Aelfred’s Comet which passed this way only a few days ago for the first time in two hundred and two years and it is still quite visible if you look at the sky now as it’s the brightest object in the sky after the moon-”
You stop him with a wave. You were already getting bored. “Just give me the abridged version, please.”
“Oh. Bright things are going to fall out of the sky,” he replies, rather sullenly.
You nod slowly and point your lens at the sky. “Right you are, heavens: Show me what you can do.”
And as if on your queue, the sky starts to rain fire.
6th May
As you sit down for breakfast you see the newspapers are all full of stories of the meteorite shower which reached all over the United Kingdom. A number of people had a few rocks crash land in their gardens or through their houses, and the shower itself played havoc with the radio, causing interference that all but obliterated the BBC’s evening broadcast from Alexander Palace.
You spend the day developing the photographs from the previous night (and waste a few minutes wondering how those pictures of Candy and Susan got onto the same roll of film) then go to the Observatory to deliver them to Christian. Yet again he impressed with your perfect pictures. That night, yourself, Ogilvie and Harker gather on the roof again to watch the fading storm of meteorites but a blanket of heavy clouds obscure your view and finally, about 1am, you all decide to give up for the night.
10th May
At morning breakfast again you see in the newspaper an advert which catches your eye:
“Carter the Great is seeking any meteor rocks that fell in order to harness the power of the cosmos for his next great feat of daring and magic. Please send them to Mr C.T.Great, PO Box 132, Surrey.”
You have heard about Carter the Great. You read an article some days back about him being in town after a stint in America. He was a magician of some skill by all accounts but a bit of a showman and known for being keen on excess publicly. Last year he spent six whole hours suspended above the Thames in a wicker basket with little more than a chamber pot and a dry Martini. It was done to provide a spiritual focus for all mankind, according to him. You thought he was an idiot then but when you read his story a few days ago that he had planned to stop the comet from hitting the earth with the power of positive thought you had upgraded him to a total loon. Still, he was a loon with money, and you wonder idly if he would be interested in photos of the meteors instead.
17th May
You meet Christian for lunch as he wants to show you his latest find. A meteorite landed in his observatory a few days ago and, despite the time passed, it was still glowing though not with heat. He cannot fathom what. You wonder if some of your lenses you have developed to photograph the ‘oddities’ you have encountered in the past would help to discover more about it and you offer to take it home and try. Christian hands you a wooden box but warns you not to touch the rock itself as it numbs the hand senseless, as he found out. You take the box, trying to hold it by the tips of your fingers, and briefly wonder if your hair was now going to fall out.
Ogilvie also tells you of his other worry: Harker. His friend had rushed to some place in Wales to chase up reports of a huge explosion there which he believed was a large piece of meteorite landing. He was only going for a week but it had been longer that that and there was no word from him. Perhaps he had he found something of importance and decided to stay on longer, you offer but Christian finds that hard to believe. If that was true then Harker would have sent word to someone. It seemed out of character for the man.
18th May
It is quite late when you get back to your house after a night down the club. You are about to sit down when the phones rings. It is Ogilvie, and he sounds extremely distressed. He went to The Astronomical Society where Richard works figuring he must have sent word there, if even to let his assistant know that he would be away for longer. He found Shannon murdered, horribly mutilated. He also found a screwed up bit of paper which turned out to be a telegram from Harker, dated the 11th. Judging by the number of fingerprints over it Ogilvie reckons other people have read it – like the murderers. He has turned over the information to the police and pressed on them the danger to Richard. They have promised to contact the local bobbie down in Llangadfan to go and check on the professor.
19th May
After doing a studio photography job for an ‘Arty’ French magazine (god, you love your work sometimes!) you are driving home when you notice a black car following you. At first you think it is coincidence, but you take a few turns that make a complete circle yet the car is still there. You dive down a few alleys, fear beginning to rise as you wonder about who they are. Could they be behind Harker’s silence, or Shannon’s murder? You shake your head. No, you’re over reacting. You look back. The black car is nowhere to be seen. Part of you breathes a sigh of relief and puts it down to coincidence, but the sliver of fear remains.
21st May
It being a Friday night you go to your other club where things have habit of getting interesting after midnight. Propping up the bar, you are soon talking to a couple of so-so ladies. Well, it’s still early.
“Twins you say?” you inquire innocently. “And exotic dancers? And highly flexible? And you quite like sailing to that far of island of Lesbo while others watch? Well, my luck just keeps on improving!” A hand touches your shoulder and you turn to see who it is. “Hey, Christian! What on earth are you doing here? Anyway, this is Betty and Susan-”
“I’m Claire and this is Sarah!”
“Yeah, whatever love. Anyway, Christian, they’re flexible exotic dancers-”
“We’ve got to get out here!” he shouts at you. “Now!”
You stare in him in utter bewilderment. “Have you gone mad? Didn’t you hear the flexible bit?”
His shaking hand tightens on your shoulder, and you notice the fear in his eyes. “Look, don’t ask me who or what or how or why but you, me, and I definitely know Harker, are in some real danger here! I was just attacked at the observatory by a group of black robed men!”
“Perhaps they got lost from the main tour of the place,”
“Arthur, they tried to gut me with very nasty looking daggers. And then they mentioned about going after ‘the picture man’. Want to take a guess who that might be?”
You open your mouth a couple of times but nothing comes out. You give the girls an apologetic smile then gape back at Christian. Then look back at the ladies. But they’re exotic dancers! In the end Ogilvie loses his patience and drags you out by the arm. You mime to the girls to call you.
“I’m never going to forgive you for this,” you mutter when you are outside in the foggy street. You lead the way to your car.
“Where’s the meteorite?” Christian asks.
“What’s that got to do with anything? It’s back at my place! What’s the plan? Go to the police?”
Ogilvie pauses before answering, which is quite ominous. “I don’t know if they’re going to be of much help-”
Car headlights flicker on behind him. You make out the vague outlines of bulky silhouettes. “Christ, it’s them!” he screams, and the fear in his voice is enough to jolt you into action.
“Get in!” You roar the car into life and jumps away from the standing start, scattering pigeons and homeless folk. Tyres squeal in protest as you changes lanes. You glance back in the rear view mirror. The chasing car mounts the kerb as it cuts corners to catch up with you, running over pigeons and homeless folk, vanishing and reappearing in the fog. Once, twice, three times you slam the car around the streets, forcing Christian to grab hold of something or risk serious damage. Each time you do you glance back to see the pursuit being continued.
You grab the handbrake and slide the car around a bus, the noise setting your teeth on edge. You give a little wave to the passengers and immediately turn down another street, taking it nearly on two wheels, and floor it. A quick look back sees the street is clear.
“I think you lost them,” Ogilvie mutter, breathless.
“Yeah.” You start to slow down. “Now what the hell is this about?”
“I think it’s something to do with the meteorite-”
An impact, a scream of twisting metal, and an upside down world all happen at once. The squealing continues as your brain quickly tries to keep up with events. The car slides on its roof, sparks lighting up the darkness. And then silence as everything shudders to a stop. You hang upside down in the seat trying to gather your wits.
“Arthur?” a voice croaks, and the name doesn’t mean anything to you. You feel yourself being shaken and you stare at the man hanging upside down next to you without recognition. Then everything comes flooding back.
“Christian. You… You all right?”
“I think so. You?”
“I think I stabbed my brain…”
“What happened? Did you hit something?”
“N-No, I don’t think- I didn’t see- Can you move?”
“More or less-”
A thunderous impact on top of the car causes the door pillars to crumple at frightening speed. The remaining parts of windscreen shatter as the car is slowly crushed. You both scream and the car is rammed again, more metal buckling under the unseen weight. You heave against the roof in a desperate effort to stop it but another hammer on the underside of the car crushes you further.
“What’s doing it!?” Christian yells, looking out of what remains of the window. “I can’t see-” A impact drives the rest of the sentence from him.
“There’s nothing!” you shout back. “There’s nothing there! Bollocks, my leg is stuck! I can’t get out.”
Glass shatters, and you twist round to see the back screen has gone. You struggle violently, throwing yourself back in your seat to untangle your leg. Suddenly there is a flash. The ruin cockpit lights up brilliantly and a deafening bellowing scream cuts through the fog air. You and Christian look at each other in bewilderment for a couple of heartbeats before the tearing of metal above rips you back into action.
“Arthur, what was-?”
“My camera! It was in the back!” You twist around and dig it out from the pile of broken glass and metal where the back seat was. “Quick, find the spare bulbs!”
With all the mess and being stuck in a seat it makes it nearly impossible, but Ogilvie manages to arc his back and dig in. More metal screams above you as whatever it is tears again at the car. “Here: two, Arthur!”
You nearly snatch them out of his hand and hurriedly screw in a flash bulb, your grip slipping as the car is rocked. You look out into the fog, craning your neck to look through the small gap to search for the attacker. Suddenly you see shadows in the fog and your terror climb to a new level.
With a final twist the bulb goes in. “Got it!”
The flash lights up the inside of the car and the fog. The roar of pain is deafening and it nearly causes your ear drums to burst but you do not notice: the brief flare had showed you a sight that nearly stops your heart. A single pulsating tentacle, connected to shadow deep in the mist, writhes over the stricken car. Its length was covered in gasping, sucking and almost too human looking mouths.
With a strangled curse and shaking hands you hurriedly screw in the last bulb, sweat making your fingers slid of the glass. It locks in. You push the button.
Nothing happens.
“Aww, shit…” you murmur. That was not fair..
The ruin car shudders as rents appear in the floorwell above. Like a sardine can, the floor is slowly peeled back with a scream of resisting metal…
...only there is more than screaming. It’s whistling. A policeman’s whistle peeling through the fog, coming closer. It is quickly joined by others. The metal stops moving. Everything becomes quiet except for the slow drip of water from the engine. Then the light from many torches fall on the car.
It takes the fire service and police an hour to free you from the wreckage. All are amazed at how you and Ogilvie avoided not being seriously hurt, and all are confused at how you managed to roll the car. Everyone is confounded by the damaged done to the bottom of the car, apart from you. It almost looks eaten.
After the arrangements for the clear up have been made and statements taken by the police, you hail a cab to take you to your place and then your Ogilvie’s.
“I…saw… something, Christian!” you growl when you are alone with him. “There, in the fog, when I was using the flash. I’ve seen some strange stuff but that… Who’s after us? What’s after us?”
Ogilvie shakes his head, throwing his hands up in the air. “I don’t know. I don’t why any of this is happening. But I’m willing to bet Richard is in a shed load of trouble as well! I was planning on going to Wales before; I’m definitely going now! I want answers!”
You sigh loudly after several heartbeats of silence, your decision made. “Make that ‘us’. I’m bloody well not staying in London!”
22nd May
Early the next morning you both set off by cab from Christian’s place to a friend of yours to borrow a car. You take turns to make the long drive to Wales, each continuously checking for any following vehicles, and by the time you reach the Cann Office Public House in Llangadfan you are quite looking forward to a drink. As you enter you immediately spot a small gathering of three sat back by the wall. Christian looks again.
“Lizzie?” he ventures to the woman sitting nearby. “Elizabeth Mayland, is it you?”
The name rings a bell; Ogilvie said Harker’s cousin was called Mayland. The lady looks up from her drink; she seems a little wary at first but then she recognises him. “Mister Ogilvie!” she says, and it almost sounds like relief. “Oh it’s good to see a friendly face! I assume you’re here to look for Richard as well?”
He nods. “I think he might be-”
“-in some trouble?” she finishes for him. “Yes, I’m beginning to see that now. We’ve had some trouble-”
“-as well,” Christian finishes for her. He exchanges looks with you.
“There seems to be a lot of that going round,” you say. “I’m getting a drink. Anybody want one?”
As you buy a round, Elizabeth introduces her friends Winston Donahue and Bill Biggs. Christian quickly explain about the meeting he had planned with the policeman and invite them to join him.
The door opens again and you wonder if it is the law. But much to your surprise Charles Carter, Mr ‘The Great’ himself, walks in. He pauses as he spots Christian, then approaches gingerly. “Mr Ogilvie,” he nods.
Christian does not shake his extended hand. “Now I’m guessing you are not here by chance,” he replies coolly. “Are you really this pathetic in your attempts for publicity that you would follow me?”
Carter is already shaking his head. “Please, Mr Ogilvie, this has nothing to do with that. In fact I wish I had never heard about the meteorites! I’ve had a break in, been nearly killed, I can’t go back to my home, my life! The only connection I’ve got to all of it is the comet, and that means Harker, and that means you!”
“We’ve been attacked as well!” says Elizabeth. “By black robed men. And something else…”
“Something not very nice,” adds Winston, grimacing as he touches his shoulders.
Christian bits his lip. “Me and Arthur had a spot of bother as well with something not very nice.”
The door opens again and this time it is the policeman along with a shifty looking fellow. Christian gives him a nod and a wave. “Are you Mr Ogilvie?” The policeman shakes his hand. “I’m PC Gray, we spoke on the phone.”
“Pleasure. Can we go to and find Harker now? I’ve just received news that has me doubly worried.”
“Of course.” The policeman gestures to the shifty man. “This is Thomas Moore who will be guiding us to the cottage Harker has rented. It’s in a nearby forest but it’s a bit of a maze getting there.”
“Excuse me, Officer” a voice interrupts. A man stands behind your small group. “I couldn’t help overhearing, but did you mention a small cottage in the forest?”
The policeman nods. “And who might you be, sir?”
“I’m Peter Roberts, Estate Agent.” The man motions towards a rather wealthy looking couple seated nearby. Their servants stand a discrete distance away. “I have been appointed by the estate of the late Mr Joseph Lewis to sell his land and property and the Earl and his betrothed were to view it today. However the key holder, Mr Dafydd Jones, has advised me that the chap who recently rented the property for a week has not returned the key and by all accounts may still be there. I wonder if I could have some help with directions to the cottage, and if necessary evict the trespasser-”
“Poppycock!” shouts Christian.
“Richard’s no trespasser!” Elizabeth begins hotly but PC Gray holds up a hand for quiet.
“Now, now, let’s all stay calm.” The policeman brushes some dust off his lapels. “I’m sure this is all some big misunderstanding. Let’s sort all this mess out. Moore, lead the way.”
The shifty man mutters something under his breath which doesn’t sound too pleasant and motions for everyone to follow him. Setting off with your entourage, including a hesitant Carter, you all drive in your vehicles to the entrance of the forest before setting off on foot in search of Professor Richard Harker...
|
|
|
|
