Darker Terrors Page 6

  ‘Then come round after,’ Mannering invited. ‘We’ll all be here.’

  But not for very much longer, thought Holsten; but he said: ‘See you shortly, then.’

  Crosley was again coughing badly, a stained handkerchief to his mouth.

  Jon Holsten fled.

  The kid was named Dave Harvis, he was from Battersea, and he’d been waiting in the hotel lobby of the Bloomsbury Park for an hour in order not to be late. He wore a blue anorak and was clutching a blue nylon bag with a cassette recorder and some books to be signed, and he was just past twenty-one. Holsten picked him out as he entered the lobby, but the kid stared cluelessly.

  ‘Hello. I’m Jon Holsten.’ He extended his hand, as on so many such meetings.

  ‘Dave Harvis.’ He jumped from his seat. ‘It’s a privilege to meet you, sir. Actually, I was expecting a much older…that is …’

  ‘I get by with a little help from my friends.’ Holsten gave him a firm American handshake. ‘Delighted to meet you.’

  The tentacled mouths stroked and fed, promising whatever you wanted to hear. The figure in its tattered yellow cloak lifted its pallid mask. What is said is said. What is done is done. No turning back. Some promises can’t be broken.

  ‘Are you all right, sir?’ Harvis had heard that Holsten must be up in his years.

  ‘Jet lag, that’s all,’ said Holsten. ‘Let’s go into the bar, and you can buy me a pint for the interview. It’s quiet there, I think.’

  Holsten sat down, troubled.

  Harvis carried over two lagers. He worked on his cassette recorder. The residents’ bar was deserted but for the barman.

  ‘If you don’t mind, sir.’ Harvis took a gulp of his lager. ‘I’ve invited a few mates round this evening to meet up at the Swan. They’re great fans of your work. If you wouldn’t mind …

  ‘My pleasure,’ said Holsten.

  The figure in tattered yellow now entered the residents’ bar. The pallid mask regarded Harvis and Holsten as Harvis fumbled with a micro-cassette tape.

  Holsten felt a rush of strength.

  He mumbled into his pint: ‘I didn’t mean for this to happen this way, but I can’t stop it.’

  Harvis was still fumbling with the tape and didn’t hear. Neither did any gods who cared.

  Karl Edward Wagner was one of the genre’s finest practitioners of horror and fantasy tales. His untimely death in 1994 robbed the field of a major talent. Creator of ‘Kane’, the Mystic Swordsman, Wagner’s early writing included a series of fantasy novels and stories featuring the flame-haired sorcerer-warrior. For fourteen years he was the editor of the renowned The Year’s Best Horror Stories anthology series, while his own short horror tales have been collected in In a Lonely Place, Why Not You and I? and Unthreatened by the Morning Light. At the time of his death, he had just finished compiling a new collection, Exorcisms and Ecstasies (eventually published posthumously), from which we selected the semi-autobiographical ‘I’ve Come to Talk With You Again’ as our own personal tribute to a fine writer and a good friend.

  A Really Game Boy

  BRIAN LUMLEY

  YES, YOU’RE RIGHT, Sheriff, Willy Jay is a real game boy, and I counts myself lucky he’s my friend. And I really do ‘preciate the point that he ain’t been home for more’n a week, (a whole week! Dun’t that beat all?) but iffen we was to stop him now – why, he’d never fergive us!

  As to the folks sayin’ I got somethin’ to do with him bein’ missin’ – why, I really dun’t believe that. Everyone knows how much I love that boy! He’s the onliest kid ’round here has anythin’ to do with me. Hell, most o’ the kids is even a mite scared o’ me! Well, they shouldn’t do the things they do and then I wouldn’t git mad.

  And you know as well as I do how many heads Willy’s rattled ’cause he heard them a-callin’ me. That’s how close Willy Jay and me is, Sheriff, and you can believe it. And that’s why I cain’t tell you where he’s at.

  Now listen, Sheriff, you dun’t scare me none. My Paw says that iffen I dun’t want to talk to you I sure dun’t have to, and that dang him but it might be best iffen I dun’t say nothin’ anyhow. And anyways, Willy made me promise.

  See, it’s a kind o’ endurance test – that’s what Willy called it, a endurance test – and he wouldn’t thank me none for lettin’ you break it up. Not now he’s gone this long. Sure is a game boy, that Willy…

  Tell you all about it?

  Well, I s’pose I could. I mean, that’s not like tellin’ you where he’s at. See, I cain’t do that. ’Cause iffen you stopped him he’d surely blame me, and I values his friendship too much to lose it just ’cause I shot my mouth off to the town Sheriff. I mean, Sheriff – what did you ever do for me, eh?

  Hey, I knows you laugh at me behind my back. Paw told me you do. He says that you’re the two-facedest Sheriff he ever knowed.

  What’s that you say? Well what’s that got to do with it, Willy bein’ just thirteen and me eighteen and all? He’s a real big kid for thirteen, and he treats me just like a brother. Why, I could tell you secrets me and Willy knows that would—

  —But I wun’t …

  There you go again, blamin’ me for that little Emmy-May kid what drowned. You think I did that? Why, it was me drug her out the water! And Willy with me. It was a accident she fell in the crick, that’s all, and I never did take her clothes offen her like some tried to say I did. That was just Willy foolin’ about with her. He didn’t mean her no real harm, but—

  Aw, see? I promised him I’d never say a word ’bout that, and there you go trickin’ me into shootin’ off my mouth again. Well, okay, I’ll tell you – but you got to promise me you’ll never tell Willy.

  Okay …

  It was like this:

  See, Willy took a shine to that little Emmy-May girl and he wanted to sort of kiss her and do things! Aw, shucks, Sheriff, you knows what sort o’ things! Anyways, she bein’ a Sunday school girl and all, he figures maybe she ain’t much for that kind o’ thing. So bein’ a game boy and all, and not lettin’ nothin’ stop him once he’s set hissen mind on somethin’, Willy works out a little trick to play on her. So this Sunday Willy gets religion and off he goes to Sunday school. When it’s over and all the kids is a-leavin’, he catches up to Emmy-May and asks her iffen he can see her home. See, she’s seen him hangin’ back, and she’s sort o’ hung back too, so maybe she’s taken a shine to him like he has to her.

  Anyways, their walkin’ takes ’em close to Fletcher’s Spinney where the crick bends, and this was part o’ Willy’s plan. I was awaitin’ in the spinney, all crouchin’ down and out o’ sight like he told me to be, and I seen and heard it all.

  ‘I knows a secret place,’ says Willy, his face all eyes and teeth and smiles.

  ‘Oh?’ says Emmy-May, and she laughs. ‘You’re just foolin’ about, Willy Jay,’ she tells him. ‘Why, there ain’t no secret places ‘round here!’

  ‘Is so,’ he says. ‘C’mon and I’ll show you – but you got to keep it a secret.’

  ‘Sure thing!’ she says, all big-eyed, and they runs into the spinney.

  Anyways, sure ’nough there is a secret place: a clearin’ where the grass is kind o’ cropped under a big old oak that leans right out over the crick. Me and Willy had fixed up a rope there and used to swing right out over the crick and back. And sometimes we’d take our clothes off and splash down into the water off the rope. O’ course, me and Willy can swim like we was born to the water …

  So there they are in the secret place, and me creepin’ close in the shrubs and listenin’ and a-watchin’ it all.

  ‘See,’ says Willy, ‘this here’s my secret place. And that’s my swing. Why, I can swing right over the crick on that there rope!’

  ‘Can you really, Willy?’ says Emmy-May.

  ‘Sure ’nough. Watch!’ says he. And he takes a run at the rope, grabs it and swings right over the crick and back. ‘Iffen I’d let go I could’ve landed on the other side,’ he says. ‘Would you like
to try the swing, Emmy-May?’

  ‘Oh, no!’ she holds back. ‘I cain’t swim, and iffen I fell—’

  Willy, he nods and lets it be. ‘Anyways,’ says he, ‘it’s just a precaution, is all.’

  ‘A what? What sort of precaution, Willy?’ she asks.

  ‘Why, the rope!’ says he. ‘In case I got to run.’

  ‘From what?’ she laughs. ‘Ain’t nothin’ here’bouts to be a-feared of.’

  ‘Oh?’ says he. ‘What about wood spirits, eh? Surely you knows about them? My Paw says your Maw and Paw is full o’ superstition from the old country.’

  ‘Oh, I knows about them,’ she answers, ‘but like you say, them’s just old wives’ tales.’ But still she looks around the clearin’ real careful like.

  By now they’s a-sittin’ under the old oak and this is where I’m to play my part in this joke. See, Sheriff, Willy had it all figured out. I just rustled a bush a little and let out a low sort o’ groan, like a hant might make.

  ‘What was that?’ asks Emmy-May, and she creeps real close to Willy and puts her arms around his neck.

  ‘Did you hear ’im?’ says Willy, actin’ all s’prised. ‘Ordinary folk dun’t hear ’im, mostly.’

  ‘Hear who?’ she whispers, her blue eyes big and round.

  ‘That mean old wood spirit,’ says Willy. ‘But dun’t you worry none. Oh, he’s ugly and he’s mean, but iffen you’re a good friend o’ mine he wun’t hurt you. He’s only ever real bad on full moon nights.’

  She hugs his neck tighter. ‘Tonight’s a full moon, Willy Jay,’ she whispers.

  ‘Is it?’ again he looks s’prised. ‘Why, so it is! But that’s okay. Just be still and quiet. As long as you’re with me he wun’t hurt you none. We gets along just fine, me and the wood spirit – mostly.’ And he gives her a kiss full on her mouth.

  Now she pulls back from him and stands up – just like he’d told me she might. I rustles the bush some more and makes a angry sort of grunt, and Willy says, ‘I told you to stay still, Emmy-May! Dun’t you know them wood spirits is dangerous? Now come back down here.’

  So she gets down again, all shivery like, and Willy pulls the bow at her neck and loosens her buttons. Well, Sheriff, by now I’m all excited. I mean me? – I’d never ever dare do any sech a thing, but dang me iffen Willy ain’t the gamest boy. But…that Emmy-May is sort o’ game, too. She slaps him real hard. And me, watchin’, I sees his face go all red from the slap.

  ‘So,’ he says, breathin’ real hard. ‘That’s how it’s a-goin’ to be, is it? Well, I warned you, Emmy-May.’ And he calls out: ‘Wood spirit, you see this here girl, Emmy-May?’ I gives a big grunt and shakes my bush. ‘Well, she dun’t like me and she dun’t believe in you. There,’ he says to her. ‘Serves you right, Emmy-May, for slappin’ me. Your folks’ll sure miss you tonight!’

  That was my signal to make some real angry growlin’ and snarlin’, and to beat on the ground with a fallen branch. And I set the bushes a-shakin’ like they was full of rattlers as I crept closer, pantin’ like a wild animal.

  ‘Call ’im off, Willy Jay!’ Emmy-May cries. She hugs Willy tight and sobs, and this time when he kisses her she dun’t protest none. And when he puts his hand up her dress she sobs a little but she dun’t stop him none. Then he stands up, real slow like, and takes off his clothes, every last stitch. And his pecker is big as my own, Sheriff, I swear it. He’s a real big boy for thirteen…

  ‘What you a-doing’, Willy Jay?’ she says, all breathless like.

  ‘Wood spirit,’ he calls out. ‘Iffen she’s good to me you just stay quite – but iffen she ain’t…’

  Emmy-May starts in a-sobbin’ real loud.

  ‘And iffen she dun’t stop her snivellin’ right this minute – then she’s all your’n!’

  ‘Willy! Willy!’ she cries, crawlin’ to his feet.

  ‘Take off your clothes,’ he says, his voice all broke up like. ‘All of ’em, and do it slow.’

  ‘But Willy,’ she gasps, ‘I—’

  ‘Wood spirit!’ he calls, and I gives a real loud howl, so like a wolf it scares even me!

  So she takes her clothes off and stands there all pink and sweet and shivery and a-tryin’ to cover herself up with her hands, and even the hot summer sun comin’ through the oak’s branches cain’t warm her none. And Willy, he lies her down in the grass and touches, pokes, strokes and kisses her here and there and everywhere, and—

  Well, I’m a-comin’ to that, Sheriff!

  Finally, he’s all worked up and his face is red and his hands a-shakin’. He says: ‘Open your legs real wide, Emmy-May, so’s I can put my pecker in you.’

  ‘I’ll tell, I’ll tell!’ she screams, and she jumps up.

  Quick as a flash Willy yells: ‘Sic ’er, wood spirit – sic ’er good!’ But she ain’t listenin’ none.

  That was when the accident happened. See, she made a run at the rope, jumped, fell …

  Well, I sprung up out o’ hidin’ and was all fixed to dive right in after her, but Willy grabs me and says: ‘Dun’t fret yourself, Zeb,’ he says. ‘She swims real good …’ Only he was mistook, ’cause she couldn’t. And the crick bein’ pretty fast water just there and all …

  Down she went and swept away, and her head bobbin’ in the current as she’s whirled out of sight. Willy, he tosses her clothes in after her and gets hisself dressed real quick. ‘C’mon, Zeb,’ he says, ‘and I’ll tell you what we’ll do. We’ll say we was walkin’ by the crick and we saw her in the water. Mind, we dun’t know as to how she got there.’

  Then we races near a mile to the big swimmin’ hole where the kids is all splashin’ and a-yellin’. And Willy shouts, ‘There’s a girl in the water, comin’ down the crick! We seen her!’ And as Emmy-May comes driftin’ into view we both go in full-dressed and drag her out. But by then she’s a goner.

  So you see, Sheriff, it were a accident. Just Willy’s little trick gone a mite wrong, is all.

  Now I done told you he ain’t run away! What, because o’ what happened to Emmy-May, you mean? Shucks, why that weren’t nothin’ compared to the other things. I mean, it were a accident. But then there was your prize hens, and—

  Oh. My! I didn’t ever mean to mention then hens, Sheriff, I surely did not. Well, you shouldn’t whacked his ear that time he gave Jason Harbury a bloody nose. That really made him sore, Sheriff. Oh, it were Willy, all right. He pizzened ’em good! And then there’s Old Miss Littlewood …

  Why sure, Sheriff, I knows she’s dead.

  Well, see, Willy had this thing he’d do with worms. It tickled me pink and made the girls all throw up, and Willy – heh! heh! – such a game boy, that one!

  See, he’d find a big, juicy worm and pop it in his mouth, then let it just sort o’ dribble out, all wrigglin’, when someone’d stop to speak to him – ’specially girls.

  One day he’d trapped Old Miss Littlewood’s cat and tied a can to his tail, then let him loose over the old lady’s fence. Why, that cat was madder’n all hell! Finally she grabbed him and got the can off of him, and she came over to the fence where we was hidin’ in the bushes.

  She sees us and says: ‘Zeb, I just knows you wouldn’t do a thing like that. But you, Willy Jay – ’bout you I ain’t so sure. You are one mean, cruel, unpleasant boy, Willy – and you’ll end up in a sorry mess sure as shootin’!’

  And Willy, he just stands up all slow like, and he opens his mouth and grins, and a big fat worm glides over his bottom lip and falls plop onto the grass!

  Well, she screams! She really screams! – and Willy just standin’ there laughin’. Until she reaches across that fence and brings him such a smack as I never heard. That did it. Willy bein’ such a game boy and all, he wa’n’t a-goin’ to let no old spinster lady get away with that! No sir!

  We spent the next hour or two diggin’ out the biggest, fattest, juiciest worms we could find, and when Old Miss Littlewood left her house and walked off down the street and into town with her basket, then that Willy
he snuck into the house and put worms in her bed, and her kitchen, in her preserves, her butter, her milk…worms everywhere!

  T’ward dusk she comes home, goes in, lights her lamp, and for a while we can hear her a-hummin’ through the open window. Then – she starts a-screamin’. And she keeps right on a-screamin’, each scream higher’n the last. Woke all the neighbours, and all their lights goin’ on, and me and Willy watchin’ the house and a-sniggerin’ fit to bust. Then she comes staggerin’ out in her nightdress, trips and falls in the garden – and lies still. Me and Willy, we gits out o’ there fast!

  Yes, I know folks said she’d had a stroke or heart attack or suthin’, and so she did. But what caused it, eh?

  Now, Sheriff, I allow I didn’t much care for that one. I mean, when I saw Willy the next day and he laughed at her bein’ dead and all. But when he saw I wa’n’t too happy ’bout it he soon dried up and said yes, I was right. But it had been a accident, just like Emmy-May, and iffen folks found out I’d be in real trouble ’cause I helped him dig them worms. But, him bein’ my friend and all, he said not to worry my head none – he wouldn’t tell on me. I was just to fergit the whole thing …

  Now Sheriff, I done told you already I cain’t—

  What?

  Just tell you what the endurance test is all about? Well, I suppose that’d be okay. So long as you dun’t ask me where it’s at.

  See, Willy has this thing ’bout ropes and climbin’ and a-swingin’ – a reg’lar Tarzan, he is. Well, one day we was at – the place. No, sir, not the secret place in Fletcher’s Spinney, the place o’ the endurance test. And there’s this rope a-hangin’, see. And Willy says, ‘Hey, Zeb, you’re pretty big and strong. Iffen that rope was round your feet, how long you reckon you could hang up there, all upside down like, afore you had to stop?’

  ‘Why, I really cain’t say as I knows that, Willy Jay,’ says I.

  ‘I reckon,’ says he, ‘I could beat your time whatever.’

  ‘Now Willy,’ says I, ‘you’re a real game boy and no question, but I beat you at runnin’, swimmin’, wrestlin’ and swingin’ – so what makes you think you could outlast me on that there rope?’