THE KILLER OF THE DARKNESS

EPISODE EIGHT

EIGHT

The first cottage we reached was empty. We peered in through the tiny windows and could see only vague outlines of furniture in the semi-darkness within. Everything neat, and tidy, and untouched. There was no sign of a car and the door was firmly locked.

Roome consulted his clipboard.

"Belongs to a David Riches from Stowmarket."

I checked through another window and then gave a shrug.

"No sign of recent occupation."

The wind swirled around us, causing Roome's coat to flap on his chest. He pulled it together and buttoned it securely.

"Let us press on. The weather's not looking so good."

We got back into the Wolseley, I braced my feet against the dashboard as the vehicle lurched and bounced over the pot-holed surface.

Roome leaned across from the steering wheel and rapped the clipboard I was holding with his knuckle.

"I suggest we do the one furthest point of the island."

The road flirted with the North Sea. At one stage I looked out across to the main village on the island which pulled away behind us. I frowned when I noticed the sea.

"Lot of white horses out there. With any luck, those German U-Boats will be having a rough time."

Roome's face showed a trace of amusement.

"Let's hope so."

The road turned away inland, leaving the coast to rise precipitously to form the misty Killer of the Darkness. We topped a steep climb that forced Roome to drop a gear, and before us lay the curving beach of the most northern part.

"Jesus, look at that sky!"

Even as Roome blasphemed, I was already taking in the giant blue-black clouds that seemed to be growing, swirling, and reaching forward like smoke until half the sky was covered in the towering mountains of the coming storm.

Roome shook his head.

"I think we may to skip the other's for now. That looks like snow and the last thing I want is to be stuck out here, not with what we've got on."

We reached a fork in the road and took the left one which plunged straight down towards the white-washed building standing in the shelter of a mound of beach stones that reached as high as the roof.

We both tensed at the same time. An Austin 12, a large four-door family saloon, stood outside, and the front door swung wildly in the wind.

"I don't like the look of this."

Roome growled as I lowered my feet to the floor.

"Neither do I."

I looked at the list.

"Belongs to one Dee Williams."

Sleet, razor sharp, struck the windscreen like a handful of thrown gravel.

*

I was breathing heavily, my heart thumping in my ribcage. Roome's reassuring figure in front of me, comforted my tingling spine as we moved to the doorway, frightened of what might confront us.

"Hello. Anyone there?"

The door swung violently forward into the Inspector. He stopped it with a regulation-gloved hand, and peered into the room, taking a step inward.

"Hello, anyone..."

He broke off and gave a grunt.

"This is it."

We moved into the wrecked room, the overturned table and smashed chairs forming strange shapes in the gloom. The wind moaned in the roof.

I pushed past Roome and picked up a chair to move it aside. I dropped it as though it was hot.

"Quick. A light in here!"

Roome pulled out a torch and flicked it on. The pool of light swung around and descended on my upturned palm.

It was covered in blood.

I swallowed.

"I think we may have found where it happened."

The wind rose to a shriek.

*

The pools of light from our torches began to show the sticky glutinous covering to the wrecked interior. Neither of us spoke for a moment, as we looked at the blood-soaked room. Roome let his breath fall away in an audible sigh of resignation.

"f*****g hell, this is terrible."

It seems a strange thing to say, but I understood. We both continued to look around and were not moving when a sound came - from the next room.

We froze, looking at each other, checking to see that we had had heard right. I wordlessly nodded confirmation.

Roome swallowed and whispered, "Could it have been the wind?"

I did not answer.

This time something in the room fell over. No way, could it have been the wind?

Surrounded the evidence of insane violence, as tough as I thought I was, I felt decidedly shaky. I came from a dystopian future from a society bereft of reason, and that would change if I could stop the Nazi's secret weapon.

Grateful for the presence of Roome, I watched him reach for a chair leg lying loose on the floor.

I followed suit and armed myself. We moved slowly to the door leading into the bedroom. I became aware of a totally alien feeling, with a realization that I had no idea what to expect. Only a ghastly anticipation.

We let the door swing open, fists and sticks ready to lash in self-defence.

The wind continued to moan, but nothing came from the blackness. The door was not wide enough for us to go through together. Roome gritted his teeth and knew it would have to be him first; he was the law here.

I uttered a silent prayer and started to edge into the room. As my face came around the door, there was a sudden blood-curdling snarl.