Diary of the Displaced (7 page)

I had seen the points of blue light for a while in the distance, but until we got closer I couldn’t make out what they were. I suspected correctly. It was the crystal stalactites from my dreams, and as I approached the edge of the valley, my eyes adjusted to the new light. The vastness of it all was overwhelming. The valley spread for what seemed like miles. The sound of the waterfall, cascading down the rocks was quiet and muffled. Sound doesn’t seem to travel as well as light does in this place. It’s also odd how the light seems to deaden off at a distance. Only the blue light of the crystals travels far. The darkness is almost like a fog.

I found Rudy’s body down by the water’s edge. It was exactly where it had been in the dream, but it wasn’t the same. Where before there had been skin and bits of body and blood all over the place, now there was only dry, old bones, most of which had become submerged in the mud.

He hadn’t died recently.

The old shack was there, up on the rocks, not far from the waterfall. It was quite a trek up the path, which I think must have been worn away by water rather than been cut. The rock was too smooth.

Rudy was waiting at the entrance to the building, near where the door was flung open and hanging half off of its hinges. A strange, warm wind was gusting across the rock as I hauled the cart up the slope.

After everything I had seen in this dark world, even with the zombies (apparently not zombies), and DogThing, and the mushrooms, seeing a floating, glowing ghost of a dead man was still quite disturbing. I was wary as I approached, but he was smiling and beckoning me forward.

“You made it. Good. Come on, quickly. Get inside before the gargant smells you.” He pointed behind me, beyond the waterfall.

I span round, looking down the valley, and saw the creature he spoke of. The gargant was close by, and the name was quite apt. I’m not sure what it was that I was expecting to see, but I know that a giant slug thing wasn’t it. From my best judgement, given the distance, it was easily the size of the bus, maybe larger. It shuffled around on a multitude of tiny legs that lined the bottom of its body, and hundreds of tentacles writhing across the ground in front of it, as it scoured the river bed and the grass around the lake’s edge for, well, whatever it was looking for.

“Mad.”

“Yes. Exactly. Nasty things. Fortunately they can’t get all the way up here. The rocks don’t give them enough purchase to climb, but they can get part of the way up, and have wrecked the lower end of the valley before, killing all the pods that grow there. Come inside. Let’s not give it any reason to come any further upstream.”

I left the cart on the flat, rocky area in front of the shack and went in, following my ghostly friend. I noticed that DogThing had disappeared again, and Rudy must have sensed my thoughts.

“Don’t worry, it will be back. The maw seem to love gargant spawn, and they are far too quick for the gargants to catch.”

My stomach churned.

“Gargant spawn?”

“Eggs. They leave piles of them in the mud, easy for maw to dig up. Best not to think about it.”

The shack looked long abandoned, but the rough stone fireplace, the only part of the building not made of wood, was stocked up and ready to be lit.

“I made the fire before I went down to the lake that last time. It’s been sitting there… ready… for years.”

It took a while to get the fire going. Some of it was damp and mouldy, but after removing the worst of it, the fire took well. Soon the shack was lit up and warm.

Rudy showed me around, commenting on many of the things in his house. There were only three rooms. The main living room, a small bedroom, and a storage cupboard at the back that stank of rotten food. It would take some cleaning up, but with a little work the place could be liveable again.

In the main living room there was an old sofa, a small desk pushed in one corner, and a bookshelf crammed full of old books and papers.

“The Professors diary is in there, on the top. I read it a while after he left. I felt guilty, but I wanted to know what he was thinking. You may want to read it. It’s… strange… but it explains a little about why he was mad I think. The bits from when he was in London weren’t that interesting, but the few entries he made when he moved to the country are interesting.”

I nodded, moving on to look at the large grandfather clock stood in one corner, motionless. The time was stuck at half past four. Dust caked the top and the glass, and the wood was dry and cracked. It was still a beautiful thing.

“It stopped working a while after I died.” His voice was quiet, “Needs winding up every week or so. The chimes don’t work, but the tick of the clock is nice. “

He was silent for a moment. “It could do with cleaning up a little. I never got round to restoring it properly, didn’t have anything to clean it with. Would you mind winding it up? It’s the turnkey at the back.”

I did as he asked, and started the pendulum swinging. Soon the quiet tick, tick of the clock broke the silence.

“I used to sit in here a lot, reading.  Adler liked to walk a lot, but I preferred to stay in here. The sound of that clock was quite relaxing.”

“The professor didn’t stay here much?”

“Yes, he did, most evenings anyway. He spent most of the day wandering around, and he slept outside, up the slope, behind the shack a short way is an overhanging in the rock. He had a camp there. There’s not much there now though. I brought most of it back down here, after he left.”

“I see. I’ll have a look up there later, after I’ve got my stuff in here.”

Searching though the bookshelf, I could see it held mostly classic old tales and several copies of the same thesis book by the professor. Duplicates of the books I found in the bus.

“There is a mountain of books of all kinds, mostly rotten, over in the junkyard. You’ve probably seen it. I used to pick up some whenever I went back there hunting for stuff.” He pointed at the bookshelf. “That’s where most of this came from.”

Later that day I did read the professor’s diary, at least the last few entries that he had written before he arrived in this place. I decided to put the pages inside my journal, in case they become useful at some point.

Professor Adler’s Diary

Below are the last entries in the diary of Professor John Adler of Temperance, Northamptonshire, before his arrival in this other place.

March 20
^th
, 1922

It is the first day of spring, and it is a time of the year I always love. The snow, which back when I was boy would still be melting even now, is long gone. I think the weather must be changing over the years.

As I walk the lanes of the country, how I love to do in the afternoons now the weather is turning finer, I see all the first signs of the year to come. The flowers are beginning to bloom, small animals are flitting about, collecting food or materials to build their little nests with, and there’s that crisp, pungent smell in the air.

It is nice at least, that the weather has turned, so that I may take a break from writing my memoirs. They are a joy that I would not set aside for long, but it is, as I heard some of the younger, modern thinking artists say, at my last seminar, ‘nice to get out’.

It occurred to me today, whilst I was passing one of the paths that jut off of the lane that I walk, which winds around the lake, that I had never ventured aside from my regular route. There are numerous small pathways that twist and turn away from that thin road, leading to wherever they may go. I was gripped with an urge, one which I must say I resisted for the moment, to start this year’s walking with something daring. I was infused with the thought of venturing somewhere new. I must consider this during my evening musings.

March 21st

There are swans on the lake today, glorious and majestic creatures they are. I was gifted with the most wondrous treat when I bore witness to two of the mightier specimens furiously debating the right to the attentions of one of the females. They were indeed noisy and abrupt, it was most impressive.

During my walk, I fulfilled a little of my intent to venture forth and experience a new journey, when I found a likely and interesting path. I took it upon myself to walk but three hundred full strides along it, before inhaling the view and then returning whence I came, with a promise to venture further the next morning. It was spontaneous, even though the intent was premeditated, I know that sounds strange. I wasn’t expecting to find a good candidate. This particular lane was one that I couldn’t recall seeing before.

The lane was long and winding into the distant fields, very enticing, and I was suddenly elated, joyous even, what an excellent idea this was. I think it would make a nice walk if I started out early enough. I will do this tomorrow.

March 22nd

I started out ten full minutes earlier this morning for my walk, following my usual route around the lake, and not stopping for any distraction that might place itself upon me.

When I arrived at the path, I estimated that I would have at least an hour to venture this day. My diary entry will be short to give me extra time.

March 23rd

On my third visit to the path, I have found a wonderful spring running down the slope of a small hill. Because the flask in which I carry my tea was empty, I decided to sample the water from the stream, it is quite an unusual find, and the water is exceptionally clear. I tried it in my tea, in the evening, and it has a wonderful mineral tang to it, quite unlike anything I have tasted before. I must return with another sample tomorrow.

March 24th

I have made an interesting discovery along the lane this day. About a quarter of a mile along, which is indeed a long walk, there is the most exquisite chapel. It resides on the side of the hill, a short walk along one of the paths that leads off of this new road that I am walking each day. Behind the chapel, which seemed quite deserted and unused, is a small graveyard with some amazingly old gravestones. I only managed to investigate a few of them, and there are at least three dozen other. The dates that I saw were 1722 and 1728, so extremely old, and intriguing.

I have decided this evening that I will, just for the day, postpone my memoirs and make a whole day of it. I have made sandwiches and selected two ripe apples, and found my old walking satchel to take with me. I think it will be an interesting day.

Once more this morning I filled a flask with water from the spring for my tea this evening. It adds a wonderfully sharp taste to the tea that is both subtle and lasting.

March 25th

I had the most interesting experience this day, whilst sitting on the bench in the graveyard. One moment the day was clear, with barely a cloud in the sky, then the next moment the sky changed. It seemed as though it happened in an instant. Above me were dark thunderheads, and a chill wind blew across the hills. I’m not sure if it was something that I am coming down with, but my vision felt blurred for a moment, and shadows around the chapel and the stones shifted slightly, giving me a slight dizzying feeling. I rubbed my eyes, and looked back up, and everything was as it should be once more, the sky was clear and the sun was smiling down upon the hills again. I thought that it was strange for the weather to change so quickly.

I am unable to explain what caused this strange vision, if that is what it was. I am certain that it was merely a moment of sickness on my part.

I have taken to using the water from the spring in my lemon drink before I retire to my bed, as well as my lunch and evening tea. I have found that I feel much more invigorated in the morning when I awaken, because of this.

March 26th

The oddest thing happened during the night. I had what I can honestly say was a lucid dream, it must be the purifying effects of the water, I am sure of it. In the dream I was up at the graveyard on the hill, and talking to a fellow that I couldn’t see clearly. I am not sure of all the conversation, my memory of it is fading even as write this diary entry.

I do remember the fellow trying to convince me that there was a better way to lead my life, a purer way; it was almost as if he was like one of those door to door peddlers I used to tire of when I lived in the city, thank heavens I moved to the country.

I remember one other thing about the man in the graveyard, he had a terrible smell about him, and I think maybe he hadn’t washed for a long time.

I woke with terrible headache, so am going to give my walk a miss today. It looks terribly dreary and dark outside. The weather has taken a turn for the worse, I would guess.

March 27th

Some strange things are happening. The weather changes from a bright sunny day to a misty, stormy half light. It does this now, regularly, and far too quickly. I worry about what may be causing this terrible change. Sometimes I worry about what we may have done to our world.

Last night as I lay in my bed, I swore I heard noises outside, someone in great pain, but when I shone my lantern out of the window there was no one there, not even a sign of any passage.

The blurred vision has returned once more, but this time with a vengeance. The strangest thing is that I believe that it may be weather dependant. When it is sunny outside my vision is as normal, but then when one of the sudden weather changes occurs many things seem blurred. As before this is accompanied by headaches and dizziness for a moment before it passes.

March 28th

I had another dream last night. In this one the very same fellow I spoke to in the graveyard came to my home, and was sitting in the study talking to me. I remember asking him to leave and he said the strangest thing, he insisted that he lived here.

Of course, I scoffed at this, and I told him that he was being ridiculous, but he insisted that I was the intruder. The dream took a strange turn before I awoke, I finally got to see who I was talking to, and it was me, except this version of me was not well, not well at all. It must be a manifestation of my worries about the strange symptoms I am suffering, because this version of me was disfigured, and had what is best described as bits missing. It was quite disgusting. I do hope that this is not some spiritual warning of a fate that may come.