Spawn of Man (30 page)

Days went by and Pierre still waited. Intermittent gunfire and shell-burst sounded outside, sometimes seeming near to the small chapel, but Pierre did not stir. Day and night were not separated in the gloom of the cellar, but during one period of time there was movement on the small table. Pierre guessed it was morning outside by the birdsong and he moved towards the table again. He heard a wet choking sound and distinguished a squirming motion on the table, as if the stem writhed in the substances that had seeped from its own body. Then everything was silent again.

Pierre stood by the table without moving for another three days before there was movement again. Now threadlike filaments emerged from the flesh and bone that had been ripped apart and began to knit the segments together. The coils fed into each other, then motors realigned themselves and when the reformation was fully achieved the entity was reborn and it shrieked into existence.

Pierre reached out and lifted the entity from the table, lumps of raw flesh dropped from its form as it was moved and it whimpered through its agony.

Pierre spoke to the entity then. ‘I am so sorry for your pain. But I have been instructed to care for you until your new strength flourishes on this physical plane. Then you will lead us against the flesh-walkers and we will inherit the physical world and enjoy their sorrow for eternity.’

The entity coiled its body then and waited for its strength to return and it dreamed of Daniel, Robert and Alex.

Chapter Thirty-Four

The lake’s surface was as placid and serene as the two men that drifted upon it were. Neither spoke for a long time. Their fishing rods lolled across the side of the small boat they occupied and the still, warm air was filled with the sound of whispering tree branches and the buzz of lazy insects, some real and some imagined. Although the men occupied the same boat, what they saw and felt, and the smells and sounds carried to them across the waters calm, varied slightly in their perception according to the peculiarities of each man’s mood and physiology.

One of the fishing rods jumped slightly and Robert leaned forward to take hold of the handle, slowly turning the reel and watching the tip of the rod bend and flex under the weight of the bite.

Andrews raised the brim from his hat and squinted. ‘What you got there, Douglas?’

Robert smiled and replied, ‘I haven’t decided yet.’

Andrews eased himself up from his reclined position. ‘Amazing how you conjure up so many old boots though, Douglas!’

Then he tilted his head in the way he always did when his naturally and once professional inquisitive nature surfaced. ‘You’ve tried to contact her again, haven’t you, Douglas?’

‘No,’ Robert lied.

‘You’ve tried to contact her again and you’re convincing yourself it’s working, aren’t you?’ continued Andrews.

‘How can I be convinced of anything, Andrews, how can you?

Andrews trailed his fingers in the warm water and looked across the expanse of the lake to the wooded banks beyond. ‘I’m not. But I think we’re supposed to let go, then we can move on. I think that’s what all this is about, giving up this, giving up what’s comfortable, familiar.’

‘Then what?’ interrupted Robert. ‘Then what?’

Andrews shrugged. ‘I have no idea, Douglas.’

‘Then we fish and we enjoy the sun, Andrews, and we wait and see. But if I see a way to follow Alex, I will take it in the blink of an eye.’

And Andrews looked at his hand and watched the silver drops of water drip from his fingers to splash into the mirrored tranquility of the lake.

And the tall man in black still watched from the shore.

About the Author:

I was born on the outskirts of Manchester in the UK in 1965 and I am one of three children. I work in the financial industry and I am married with one child and now live in the seaside town of Blackpool in the UK.

Acknowledgements:

The friends and family who generously took the time to read and review my books in their most disorderly, chaotic and unkempt form; Sue, Carol, Karen, Ave and my Father. 

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