Hunters: A Trilogy (90 page)

‘Look, look at that! What’s he doing?’ Michael couldn’t contain himself any further. ‘Go Dad, go – kill it!’ he shouted out, rising to his feet with cheek muscles bulging, face red with passion. He appeared as though he wanted to jump into the screen and help his father, which was precisely what the young man did want to do.

Jack had started to glow, the blueness radiated from him like anger, as he reached the veil, he seemed to pulse. A blue ripple of energy surged outwards from him, ripping into the dark barricade to his front. The power he exuded tore through the veil as though it were indeed a curtain, a useless, cosmetic, net curtain. One that was of no use whatsoever in standing against the ruthlessness of Jack Wildeman’s assault. He blew it away with ease and raced through the gaping rip left open by his attack.

Without stopping, he scrabbled his way up the final slope, losing his footing several times. He stumbled and fell, but always he carried on, never pausing for breath, eyes fixed firmly on the mysterious figure standing in the doorway – standing and laughing at him. As he neared, Jack slid the rucksack off his shoulders and threw it onto the rocky ground to his front. He tried to undo the flap but fumbled, frozen fingers numbed to the bone.

Cursing, Jack wrenched at the straps.

The figure spoke to him – taunting him. ‘Hello, Jack! My, my, you are early, aren’t you? You very nearly caught me with the old trousers around the ankles! That would have been most unfortunate, wouldn’t it?’ The voice laughed, taunting Jack: ‘Oh dear, oh deary-deary me, Jack, Jack, Jack, JACK! What are you doing, my dear chap? Look at you, with your frozen fingers. You poor thing, what is all the panic about – what is it, a grenade, or a pistol, perhaps?’

The man’s voice began to chuckle, for it was now clear that it, the figure standing in the glare of blackness, was a man, at least it sounded like a man. The voice was thick and bitter, like poisoned treacle, flowing across to Jack and slithering from the silver screen to reach out for those who were watching.

Red shuddered involuntarily. Ken looked at him and watched as the big man seemed to cringe. He knew Red recognised the sound, it was Jeremiah’s voice in all but accent, the underlying evil was there, fat and smokey with its intent, but the pronunciation was different, almost well-spoken.

Either way, it was evil and filled with a despicable, gloating, menace.

‘Ooooh…surely not a pistol, Jack, not a big, scary pistol, you know that you can’t bring those things in here, nothing works in here, nothing at all – except me!’

The figure stepped forward and Tori’s students tensed as they waited to see who, or what, would come into the light. It was not to be, however.

Still shrouded in darkness, the thing spoke once more.

‘Still, I suppose you may well have figured something out that does work. You and your meddlesome kind having managed to get in my way so many times before, haven’t you? So, with that in mind, I think I may as well be on the safe side, wouldn’t you say, my dear fellow?’

With those words, they saw the shadowy figure move.

Jack glanced up from his pack and the expression of desperate realisation upon his face was one they would never forget. Jack knew he was done for, and yet still he fought. With a curse, he finally undid the flap – his fingers were covered with blood as he delved into the pack to reach for his saviour.

He was too late.

A stream of pure energy leapt from the direction of the taunting figure, it was as though a fire hose filled with bilge water, a filthy, liquid sludge, had been aimed at Jack and then switched on with the tap fully open. A potent stream of liquid energy smashed into him, poured right through him, blasting Jack backwards down the track. He somersaulted twice and then skittered to a halt on his face. They heard the low moan of pain escape his lips, and the shriek of delight coming from the Demon.

‘Oh, what fun we are having today! Ooooh…look! ‘The Hunter’ is on his back!’ Its laughter filled the room once more. ‘Not so big and clever now, are we, Mister Wildeman, not so big anymore?’ The awful chuckle seemed to reach into the onlookers’ heads and scrape their eyeballs from the inside.

Jack rolled onto his side and scrabbled to his knees; he sucked air into his lungs and coughed once. Then, with that terrible anger crossing his face, he spat blood and words back at the taunting Demon. ‘Fuck you!’ he said, and rose to his feet once more. With a supreme effort, he made the return trip up the slope.

Jack stumbled now, no energy left to run, feet dragging across the icy ground, only his unbending will to keep him going forward. Whatever the Beast had propelled, or fired, at Jack, must have done terrible damage to the tall man, he looked as though he had been run over by a juggernaut, his deathly-pale features with those blazing blue eyes glowing, cherry-splashed lips twisted in fury and determination.

His adversary giggled again, this time its well-spoken host was shoved to the back as trailer-park trash, man-dog, made his bid to be the lead speaker. ‘Why dontchya jus’ fuk off back down this lil-ol’ hill, huh, Jackie-Jack-Jack? Git lost before yoo really piss-me-the-fuk-off!’ The giggle thickened until it became a snarl.

Jack snarled back, his bleeding lips curled back in rage as he launched himself forward again. Considering the damage he had already suffered, Jack’s speed was remarkable. He almost flew across the last remaining twenty yards separating him from the figure in the doorway. He slithered to a halt and dived towards his pack again, the brown bag lay upon its side with a gentle glow illuminating the interior.

As he reached into the pack the shadow bound figure laughed at him again.

‘Uh-uh, Jacky-boy, I told yoo already, no naughty weapons allowed!’

It blasted him once again, and as though he had been caught in a powerful gust of wind, Jack tumbled backwards once more – they heard him cry out in anger and in pain. He stumbled to his feet for the last time, shook his head, looked at the sky, screamed, and then began to glimmer with that strange blue light again; they saw it flicker and wane. Jack cried-out, and as the blueness of his rage increased in its intensity, the spellbound audience began to understand – they were watching Jack’s life-force, one that he was summoning with all of his remaining might.

The Demon saw this too, felt it, and they heard it shriek with joy, hatred and fear. All of the surrounding darkness lifted into the air above Jack, joined forces, and began to take on the shape of some ungodly airborne beast, a black, shimmering liquid bird. They didn’t really know what it was as the shape twisted and turned. Like molten tar, it fractured and then coagulated. The terrible aerial dance was mesmerising.

As they watched, the Hunters saw the stinking beast leap downwards onto Jack. His blueness exploded – in a final blast of light and energy, he blew the Dark One’s mist away. In a million splintered crystals, the horrible mist scattered into the icy wind. It was to be his last real fight, Michael’s father was spent. He fell to his knees and collapsed. As Jack lay there on his back, the dust of his enemy began to fall upon him; it rained down like volcanic ash, sprinkling softly across the whole area. Jack became covered in it.

With a swift caress of her forefinger, Tori stopped the show, saying: ‘Are you okay with this, Mikey?’ She glanced at him and they all saw the concern on her face.

Michael sat still for a few seconds, breathed deeply, and then nodded in consent. ‘Yeah, it’s all right,’ he said. ‘It’s hard to watch, but I…I’ve seen this before, George showed it to me back in Mum’s house, not in so much detail, but I need to know anyway, I want to know everything!’ Junior and Red echoed his sentiments, nodding when Tori cast her gaze towards them.

‘Fair enough,’ she said. ‘It’s terrible, but…’ She pushed the buttons and let the silver screen do the talking.

Jack lay on the frozen earth and rolled his head sideways. As they watched, the onlookers saw him reach out with his hand whilst muttering some words to himself, he looked as though he was talking to somebody, but there was no-one to be seen. Jack must have been hallucinating, injuries sending him half-crazy.

After a few seconds he began to wrestle with the imaginary person, his mind appeared to have been lost alongside his physical strength, he pushed whomever it was he was able to see away from his chest and then lurched once more to his feet. He was still talking, but the words were lost behind the shrieking of the Demon. Its howl sounded like the ripping of metal.

As Jack spoke they saw the yellow of his eyes, they flashed with green and then dimmed before Jack’s true colour pushed to the forefront again. His words were still unclear to Michael and the others. But then, as if the microphone had been pushed closer, they began to hear the end of his sentence, and hear it very clearly. With eyes blazing and black soot pouring from his lips, Jack Wildeman said his final words.

‘I’ll see you later… in some other place, run, Mary, RUN!’

The shock of hearing Jack ordering his invisible mother to run, his dead mother, was almost too much for Michael – he gasped and banged the table with a clenched fist. ‘Mum!’

‘Mikey,’ Tori said, urgently. ‘Mikey!’

He turned away from the screen and nodded, saying: ‘It’s okay, carry on – I can deal with it, carry on!’ Michael looked back at the show in time to see his father sling the pack onto his back and turn to run towards the void.

As he ran they heard Mary’s voice, the thin howl would be a sound they would all remember for a long time to come, possibly forever. Her words seemed to come from the inside some long, tinny, metal tube, they were scratchy and distorted but there was to be no mistaking the horror filling the heart-rending plea as Mary screamed at her doomed husband.

‘Jack, wait! Jack!’

The awful cry was almost the last sound they heard as they watched Jack leap over the edge – almost the last sound, but not quite. In fact, the final sound belonged to the words of the Demon, its fear and cowardice, the sudden terrible realisation of the item that Jack had been reaching for, were mirrored in the scream of its wretched voice.

‘Get the ship! Get ouuttt! Ohhh, Out! Get out quickly!’

Then, with its usual bad manners, and without as much as an ‘excuse me’, the screen rudely blinked out. Tori did the honours and they sat in silence as the silver messenger slid back into nothingness.

She looked up, brushing her hair back with one hand. ‘So, there you have it, my friends,’ she said. ‘There is some…’ she paused before adding: ‘…some additional information, but I think we should discuss it at a later date. For now, the only thing for us to focus on is the fact that we are going back to that place, back to the cave and back to the Demon, but this time there will more than just one of us! We will all go together and confront him. This time we will finish him, no matter what the cost!’

All of them agreed, as one they rose and looked at each other, from face to face and eye to eye, they stared at each other, not one of their members looked down or turned away. Tori reached into her pocket, produced the flask and placed it in the centre of the table. Jane smiled and went to fetch the glasses.

Together they raised those glasses high and toasted Jack, and then, once the warmth began to spread, they held their glasses aloft to carry out another toast – one to themselves. Then one more to all the Hunters of the past, of the present, and of the future – they tossed the fiery drinks back in one gulp, chanting out the words: ‘Down with the Demon – Death to the Darkness!’ Their fiery chorus resonated throughout the room as they stood, grinning at each other.

Red stood next to Michael, his huge forearm draped around the boy’s shoulders. With his own son standing guard on the other side, the three men looked most fearsome. When Tori joined them, her tall grace completed the picture, the vivid colours of their hair standing out like the warning markings upon some terribly-poisonous snake: ‘Danger – do not touch!’

As Ken stood and watched them, he felt Jane move next to him, hearing her soft voice whisper in his ear. ‘Now then, there’s a full house, if ever I saw one – somebody had better bloody well watch out!’ she said. He clenched her hand and held out his glass for a refill. That damned flask seemed to be almost bottomless tonight.

The party, for which the two young men had provided such a bountiful supply of poultry, was undeniably a grand affair. Almost the whole town came by to join them in their celebration on the farm. The residents of the old place had become well-known in the local community. Maggie’s store, Red’s art school, the outlet for his and Jane’s works, and not forgetting the salon managed by Tori, had all become mainstays of the town. Like well-worn furniture, they belonged there.

Ken had let everyone know that he and his ‘family’…for that was the way in which he now thought of them all…yes, he and his family were going to be taking a trip, one that would necessitate them being absent for quite some time. ‘I’m not sure how long for,’ he would tell anyone who asked. ‘We have some savings and so we just thought we would go and see some places, you know…have a look around?’ That would be about as much as he would say, what else was there?

The listener would nod and smile in complete understanding. ‘A look around’ was something they understood and understood all too well. What Ken and Jane didn’t know, or understand, and they never really would, not just yet, was that the entire town – all the outlying farms and lonely houses, the whole world in which they currently lived, happened to be filled with people who, like themselves, had made some extreme sacrifices of their own. All of them at some stage or another had been into the Darkness and held the flame of George’s battle-torch high – they, all of them, had been Hunters. A town full of Hunters. It was not something ever discussed, and anyway, only two residents knew exactly who had done what and when they had done it. Maggie and Tori knew all of the details, precisely.

So, it came as no surprise to any of the town’s local residents when Ken told the tale of his family’s proposed adventure. Many had been on such trips themselves, and even though they had come here on the tail-end of some bloody battle, come to revive their spirits, maybe even to retire, a fair few of them had once more answered the call to battle and had gone back out into the Darkness, gone looking. They certainly knew what ‘looking around’ meant, for sure they did.