Dark Season: The Complete Box Set (49 page)

Joe Hart

When I open my eyes again, it's dark. I must have slept for hours. Moonlight streams in through the windows, and there's the sound of four or five other men snoring in their own different ways. Over in one of the corners, a man seems to be having a nightmare. He's muttering in his sleep, the way he does every night. I don't know what his problem is, but he seems to have been permanently scarred by the war. Listening to his incoherent rambling, I'm reminded that in some ways I'm lucky. Sure, I've lost my fingers, but I can learn to live without fingers. At least I'm still sane. At least I still have my mind.

There's a sudden noise from nearby. It sounded like something heavy landed somewhere in the corridor. There's always a nurse stationed out there, so I guess she just dropped something. And although I'm not tired, I know I should try to get back to sleep. I need my energy. If I can just gain a little more strength, they might let me out of this damn hospital. And then -

There's another noise from out in the corridor, and this time it's clearly a muffled scream. It sounded as if someone was trying to cry out but had a hand over their mouth. My blood starts racing, and I get out of bed. I look around the room, but all the beds are full. I limp over toward the door and look out into the corridor. The nurse's desk is abandoned, and there are some papers on the floor. It's as if there was a short struggle.

Taking a deep breath, I limp along the corridor. In my current state, I'm no match for anyone. If someone tries to attack me, there's not much I can do. Still, I can't just ignore the sound of a woman in trouble, and none of the other patients back there are in any state to help. I feel like a fool on a doomed but honorable mission.

Reaching the end of the corridor, I look both ways. At first there's no sign of anyone, but then I notice that a door has been left open, and it's not just any door. It's the door to the room where the burnt man is being kept. Something immediately feels wrong. Very wrong. I limp toward the door and look inside the room, and sure enough the burnt man is gone. It's as if he got up and walked out, but that's impossible: I saw his injuries. Even if he was healing, there's no way he could have the strength to get up and walk about, could he? Then again, with this 'miracle man' I guess there's no way of judging what's possible or not.

Somewhere in the distance, I hear another thumping sound, like something heavy being hit. I limp along the corridor, hoping to find out what's happening. As I pass a small office, I see that the door's open and someone has left an umbrella leaning against a wall. I take a short detour and grab the umbrella, figuring that it's better than nothing if I end up coming face to face with someone hostile. I carry on along the corridor, listening out for anything that could give me an idea of what I'm up against.

As I turn a corner, I spot something dark on the floor. I step toward it and realize that it's a smeared trail of blood. I look at the corridor ahead, and for the first time I start to wonder whether I should keep going. It's not that I'm scared; it's just that if the burnt man is killing people, I doubt I have the ability to do anything other than get in his way while he adds me to his list of victims. In the long run, I might save more lives by going and finding someone so I can warn them about what's happening.

Burying the urge to go ahead and be a brave (but probably soon dead) hero, I turn and start limping back toward the ward. I'll have to try to find a telephone; at least that way I can raise the alarm and hopefully get some soldiers in who can take care of the burnt man. Besides, judging by the amount of blood on the floor, I'm pretty sure I'm too late to save the poor nurse who has already been taken.

"What the -" shouts Doctor Tarmey as I turn a corner and we almost collide.

"Quiet!" I hiss. "Something's wrong."

"There's no nurse on the station," Tarmey says. "Where -" He looks past me and sees the blood on the floor. "What the hell's going on?" he whispers.

"The burnt patient, the one you showed me earlier," I say. "He's not in his room. And I heard a scream, it was muffled but it was definitely a scream. A woman."

Tarmey stares at me for a moment. "That's not possible," he says, and then he takes a deep breath. "I guess
anything's
possible right now. Come on, we'll call for back-up." He holds out his arm for me to lean on and we head back along the corridor.

"Take this," I say, handing him the umbrella.

"What for?" he asks.

"Have you got a gun or a knife?" I ask.

"I guess this is better than nothing," he replies.

Suddenly there's a banging sound from somewhere nearby, as if someone slammed a door.

"Keep moving," Tarmey says, and we hurry along.

"If you have to run without me," I say, "do it. You have to get to a telephone and call for help."

"We don't have any telephones," Tarmey says. "We'll have to go out of the hospital and get someone from the barracks next door."

There's more banging from somewhere in the hospital, and it sounds like it's getting closer.

"Come on!" Tarmey says.

We reach the abandoned nurses' station, and Tarmey helps me to sit down. My leg is killing me.

"You'll have to go on and get help without me," I say.

"I can't leave you here," he replies.

"You have to!" I insist. "Look at me. I'll slow you down. Run, get help. I'll do what I can here, but run."

He stares at me.

"Go!" I shout.

After a moment's further hesitation, Tarmey turns and runs along the corridor. I take a deep breath and glance through the door to the ward. Everyone's still asleep, still trapped in their own personal nightmares. It occurs to me to try to wake them up, but they're all emotionally and physically shot to pieces. There's no way I can get any of them to help me. I take another deep breath and look down at the bandaged stumps where my fingers used to be. What the hell am I supposed to do if the creature attacks?

Suddenly I hear something nearby, a kind of shuffling sound in one of the corridors. I look around, but there's nothing I can use as a weapon. Damn it, why did I give Tarmey that umbrella? I open the desk drawers, but they're empty. With the shuffling sound getting closer and closer, I try to get out of the chair, but a sharp pain shoots up my leg I sit back down in agony and squeeze my eyes tight shut as the pain threatens to overtake my entire body.

As the pain subsides, I open my eyes.

He's here.

Standing on the other side of the desk, towering over me, the burnt man is staring straight at me with his bright white eyes.

I open my mouth to say something, but no words come out at first. "You..." I manage to say finally. "You have no business hurting people here."

He stares at me. His skin is still charred and black all over. He looks like he should be dead, but he's standing there, watching me. What's he waiting for? Why doesn't he just kill me? It's obvious I'm a fucking cripple, so why not just do whatever it is that he wants to do?

"Come on, then," I say, my voice trembling a little. "You damned monster, come on. I promise you one thing, I won't go down easy." I try to stand up again, but the pain is too much and I collapse back into the chair.

Suddenly there's another scream from nearby. A woman's voice again. The burnt man and I both look in the direction that the scream came from, and then the burnt man slowly turns and starts walking away. His injuries mean that he can't walk too fast, but he still has a chance of catching that girl. I try to stand up again, and this time - despite the agony - I force myself up from the chair. I lean against the wall, stunned by the pain, but finally I gather the strength to start limping after the burnt man.

Although he's got a head-start, he can't walk much faster than I can, so I manage to keep him in sight. It's a bizarre, slow-motion chase, but after a couple of minutes I realize that he's starting to speed up. It's as if he's healing, recovering from his injuries, right in front of me as he walks. I struggle to keep up, but I can't and eventually I trip and fall to the ground. As I look up, I see him walk around the next corner.

I try to get to my feet again, but I can't, so I start crawling instead, hauling myself along the floor on my elbows. It's hard work and I'm soon out of breath, but I have to stop this monster from reaching that nurse and finishing her off, I have to -

As I crawl around the corner, I'm faced with a shocking sight.

The burnt man is walking faster than ever now, and he's almost reached Tarmey, who seems to be dragging a bloodied nurse in the other direction. My heart drops. He didn't go and get help, so now no-one knows what's happening here.

"Over here!" I shout, hoping to distract the burnt man and give Tarmey time to escape.

Tarmey glances over at me, and then he looks up at the burnt man and runs at him, knocking him to the ground. The burnt man grunts with pain as he lands, then reaches out to try to grab Tarmey. Going back over to the girl, Tarmey takes her by the legs and starts to drag her along, but she suddenly struggles to get away.

"Help!" she screams, kicking at Tarmey.

"Shut up!" Tarmey shouts at her. "You stupid fucking bitch!" He lets go of her legs, reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pair of scissors, which he plunges into the nurse's chest. She gasps, and for a moment she tries to push him away, but then her body goes limp.

Tarmey climbs off the nurse, and then he walks over to the burnt man, who is slowly getting to his feet. "And fuck you too," he says, kicking the burnt man back down onto the ground. Looking over at me, Tarmey seems unsure what to do for a moment. "Sorry," he says as he starts walking toward me, with the scissors still in his hand. "I've got to shut you up too."

"It was you?" I ask, incredulously. I look over at the burnt man, who's struggling to get to his feet.

"Did you see her?" Tarmey asks. "Stupid bitch was always wearing a uniform that's a size too small. A man's got needs." He's standing right over me now. "I'm not a bad man," he says. "I just..." He looks back over at the dead nurse, then he turns to me again. "I didn't mean to kill her," he says, "but she struggled and... I didn't want her to scream, and... I didn't mean for this to happen. You've got to believe me. I'm not... This isn't me. I'm not a murderer, it was an accident. You believe me, don't you?"

I look up at him. There's a crazed look in his eyes. I don't believe him at all, but I believe that he believes what he's saying. "Have you ever done this before?" I ask.

He sighs. "Only once," he says. "But these women, they just... Why can't they just do what I want? I mean... I work hard. I'm a good doctor. Would it kill one of these bitches to just open her legs and let me have a bit of fun?" He seems to be close to losing control, and those scissors are still in his hand. He realizes that I'm looking at the bloodied blades. "I'm really sorry, Joe," he says as he kneels down and raises the scissors. "I promise, after I've killed you, I'll never do anything like this again. I promise."

Just for a moment, as I look up at him, I really believe that I'm about to die. I look at the scissors, with the nurse's blood already on the blades, and I realize that there's no way I can get out of this, no way I can run. I start to close my eyes, but as I do so, I see something appearing behind Tarmey. A dark shape, a human figure. Tarmey seems to sense it too. He turns and finds the burnt man staring straight at him.

Trying to push the burnt man away, Tarmey finds that this time he's out of luck. The burnt man grabs him by the neck, carries him over to a nearby window and slams his head through the glass. He then pulls Tarmey's head back and slices it down onto a large sharp shard of glass. Blood pours from Tarmey's neck, his struggles for a moment, and then he falls still.

The burnt man lets go of Tarmey's body, which remains hooked on the glass shard. Turning to me, the burnt man stares for a moment. I look up into his face and see that, although it has only been a few hours since I first saw him, his burns are already visibly healing. Instead of the charred remains of a face, I can now just about make out some features, and his eyes, the only part of his entire body that really look human, have a sense of compassion about them.

"Hey!" shouts a voice in a distant corridor. "Is there anybody here?"

I look up at the burnt man. He turns and walks away. I wait a moment, and then I call out.

"Down here!" I shout. I roll onto my book and look over at the dead nurse, and then I look up at Tarmey's body still wedged on the broken glass of the window. As I start to pass out, I hear the sound of someone running toward me.

Part Two

August 1932

Kentucky, USA

Joe Hart

"California," says Buck, staring at me over the kitchen table. "It's where the jobs are, and we've got to go where the jobs are, so -"

"I can't go to California," I interrupt. "How many times do I have to tell you?"

"Joe! It's where the damned
jobs
are!" He stares at me. "I know you don't want to go to California. Neither do I! But it's where the jobs are! Get that through your head!"

"What job can I do?" I ask, raising my hands. They're just stumps, with no fingers. "Come on, Buck. A hundred men turn up for a handful of jobs, so what foreman is gonna look at us and decide, gee, I'll hire the guy who ain't got no proper hands?" I sigh. "There's no job I can do. I have to make my own job, which is why I have to stay here and -"

"This farm's dying, Joe," says Buck. "The soil's barren, the bank's gonna foreclose, there's nothing here."

"My father made it work," I say firmly, "and I can make it work. If you can stay here and help me -"

"I can't stay here, Joe," he replies with a sigh. "Don't you get it? I've got a family to look after. I'm taking 'em to California, and you've got to come too! There's nothing tying you here except this old farm."

I sigh. There's no way to make Buck understand. He always thinks we can act now and think later, and solve problems when we get to them. Looking at my stumps, however, it's clear that there's no chance for someone like me to get a job. No chance at all. Why can't Buck see that? I have to just stay here and... Oh, who am I kidding? What can a guy like me do? If I can't use my hands, I can't do anything.

"Joe," Buck says, sounding concerned. "I don't want to leave you here. I'm worried about you. Look, being honest, you're right. With those hands of yours, you can't do squat. You can't work a farm, you can't do nothing. So you've got two choices. Do nothing in Kentucky, alone, or do nothing in California, with people who'll look after you."

"I don't need charity," I say, "and you and Ruth don't need me causing trouble for you."

There's an awkward silence between us for a moment. Buck knows he can't change my mind, and that the more he tries, the more I'll be determined to stay here. He understands that this farm is part of my family, that there's no way I'll ever leave it. I appreciate the fact that he keeps trying, though, and that he keeps hoping he can find a way to change my mind. He's a good friend, but it's time for us to go our separate ways. He has a family who need him to go to California and get a job, and I have... this farm. That's enough for now. I couldn't afford to feed a family, anyway.

A horn sounds outside. Buck nods, accepting my decision, and we both stand up and head to the door.

"If you ever change your mind," he says as we go outside into the scorching hot sun, "you know where we'll be." Ruth and the rest of Buck's family are waiting in the truck, ready for the long drive to the west coast. "Come out and try to find us."

"I'll come see you some day," I say, and we hug. "Look after that family of yours."

Buck goes and gets into the truck, starts the engine and smiles as he pulls away. His family all wave at me, and I wave back at them, and I stand and watch them disappearing into the distance. I know what they're thinking; they're thinking that they'll never see me again, that I'll rot and die on this farm. Pretty soon they're out of sight and I'm left standing there, with nothing to see in all directions but dry, parched farmland, and not another soul for miles. Turning to look at the ramshackle building, set in the middle of a dusty patch of God's land, I guess they might be right. But if I'm going to rot and die anywhere, it'll be here. This is where I belong.

I go inside, shut the door and go through to the back room. I have some tools stored away that I need to find, tools that I think I might be able to use despite my physical limitations. Plus, I have some tools that Buck customized for me. Good old Buck, he understands me better than anyone. I'll miss him. I wonder if I'll ever see him again?

There's a sudden knock at the door. Wondering what Buck has forgotten, I head over to the window and lean out, but instead of Buck, there's some other guy standing there, with a big grin on his face.

"Is he here yet?" the guy asks, with a strong Scottish accent.

I stare at him. "Who?" I ask, suspiciously. The stranger's wearing a big coat, so it's hard to tell whether or not he's armed. Still, I don't reckon anyone would try to rob me of anything. It's pretty obvious I've got nothing worth stealing.

"He said he'd be here," the stranger says, looking annoyed. He comes over to the window. "If he's still swimming around with that damned mermaid. Out the way." Without any further warning, he climbs through the window and into my house. He reaches out a hand for me to shake. "Hamish," he says with a smile, before looking down at my hands. "Oh," he says. "Sorry."

I stare at him.

"Why do you look so worried?" Hamish asks.

I take a deep breath. "Do you want to get out of my house?" I ask.

He frowns. "What's your name?"

"Never mind my damn name," I say. "Get the hell out of my god-damn house!"

"Okay," Hamish says. "I can understand why you're annoyed. It's a perfectly reasonable response, and frankly I'd feel the same if some lunatic came climbing into my house. But the thing is, I'm supposed to be here."

"It's
my
house," I say firmly. I'm trying to think of a way to scare this guy, but the truth is, with these hands of mine I can't hold a gun or even an ax. I'm pretty much defenseless.

"I know it's your house," he replies. "That's why I'm here. I'm supposed to be in your house right now. And so are you. The problem is,
he's
supposed to be here too."

"Who?" I ask, trying to not lose my temper.

"Patrick," Hamish says. "We arranged to meet right here, right now."

"When'd you arrange that?" I ask.

"Six years, one month, eight days and five hours ago," Hamish says. "I don't know where he could have got to."

I march over to the door and, with a little difficulty, I open it. "You can wait for him about four miles due south," I say. "That's the end of my property, and beyond that point it's none of my business what you do."

Hamish smiles. "But... I thought the bank was foreclosing on this farm in a couple of days?"

I stare at him. How does he know that? I haven't told anyone, not even Buck, about the situation with the bank. The only explanation is that this Hamish guy is
from
the bank, trying to pull a fast one, in which case he'd better get the hell out of my house. "I might not be able to hold a gun," I say, stepping toward him, "but I can still beat your brains right out of your head if I have to." It's a lie, of course, but I'm sure gonna go down fighting if necessary.

He sighs. "I've handled this all wrong," he says. "I'm sorry. Listen, obviously my friend is delayed, so I'll leave you in peace. Just remember, if a guy named Patrick comes by, tell him I'm in town and I'm waiting for him." He pauses. "And if a guy named Duncan happens to come by looking for me, tell him you've never heard of me. Deal? 'Cause I owe him a donkey and I don't have one to give him right now." He clears his throat. "Okay. You have my sincerest apologies for any disturbance caused, and I can assure you that I won't be bothering you again." He heads to the window and climbs out, and then he turns back to me. "Remember, though... if my friend happens to come by for any reason, please tell him I'll be staying in town for a while. It's really important that you -."

"I get it," I say, interrupting. "I'll do it. But if I were you, I'd get word to your friend that he ain't welcome here."

"I'll try," Hamish says, and then he laughs. "But come on..." He holds up his hands and wiggles his fingers. "What are you really gonna do about it?"

And with that, he turns and disappears from view. I head over to the door, go outside and look around for him, but it's as if he's just vanished into thin air. Whoever he is, he's damn fast on his feet. I take a deep breath and sigh, and then I head back inside. As I shut the door, I glance up at the sky. It hasn't rained around here for months, but those black clouds look like they're headed this way. With a bit of luck, we might just get a few drops. Then again, a few drops could never be enough. This soil has been parched for so long, it'd take a flood of biblical proportions to get the farm back in a state where it can grow crops again.

Against all the odds, a few hours later, as the sun goes down and darkness settles on the land, I hear the first little drops of rain hit the roof. It's such an unfamiliar sound, it takes me a moment to really believe that it's actually happening. I only have one small portable gaslight, but I carry it over to the window and look out. Sure enough, a fine rain is falling in the yard, and I can hear it getting more and more intense. In fact, I'm pretty sure I can hear a drop inside too, dripping through the ceiling. It's close to being a miracle, and within a few minutes it's absolutely pouring, and there's thunder and lightning too. It's damn near the biggest storm I've ever known, and there's a wind so strong that I can hear the walls of the farm creaking. I turn the gaslight out to save fuel, and I get into bed, but I can hardly sleep, not with the sound of such a huge storm swirling all around the farm.

And then suddenly there's another sound, up above, on the roof. I swear to God, it sounds like someone's stomping about up there. I get out of bed and listen, and sure enough I hear footsteps. There's thunder and lightning out there, and wind almost strong enough to blow the door off its hinges, and now it's as if some lunatic sees fit to take a walk on my roof. I pause for a moment. There's only one lunatic I've met recently, and I'll be damned if he's gonna have his way with my property.

I go to the back-room and grab the rifle I've been keeping back there. Fumbling with my fingerless hands, it takes me a whole minute to get the chamber open, and then another couple of minutes to get a single cartridge loaded. I manage to get the whole thing ready, and then I grab a piece of rope and push it around the trigger, then I put the other end in my teeth. Steadying the rifle against my chest, I'm ready and I head to the door, opening it with my elbow and heading out into the torrential rain. I get a few meters away, and then I turn and look up at the roof of the farm.

There's a man up there, looking down at me. Thunder rumbles close to us, and lightning flashes across the sky. I aim the gun up at the figure, one end of the rope attached to the trigger, the other end in my mouth. As I stare at the figure, I realize it has a familiar shape. Not that mad Hamish guy from earlier, but someone I met a very long time ago, back at the Passchendaele hospital; a man I'd managed to convince myself was part of some crazy drug-induced dream. But here he is, standing on my roof in a storm, watching me.

There's another flash of lightning, and suddenly I'm transported back to Passchendaele. The noise, the mud, the rain... I start to panic, and when there's yet another flash of lightning, I can't help feeling it might be a bomb. Feeling my heart pounding in my chest, I steady the rifle, pull on the rope, and watch as the shot hits the dark figure on the roof. For a moment, it seems he isn't going to react at all. He just stands there, like some kind of demon. Finally, he drops to his knees, and then he topples over, slides off the roof and lands in the mud.

I stand there, lightning arcing across the sky directly above me, wind and rain howling around me and battering the farmhouse. It's been fifteen years since Passchendaele, but tonight it feels like I'm back there again. Dropping the rifle, I close my eyes tight and try to tell myself that I'm okay, that I'm safe, that I'm thousands of miles from that horrific place. But with more thunder and lightning striking, I drop down onto my hands and knees in the mud, howling as the memories crush me.