Secrets of the Dead Page 13

  ‘Wake up! It’s coming to get you. Wake up!’ He bashed hard at the metalwork. A frantic drumming sound. A sound that should have been loud enough to wake any human being. When the mummies walk, you can never wake people up. They fall into a special kind of sleep. Nothing can wake them, it’s impossible. That’s what Fletcher had told people in the past; of course, they’d reacted with contempt to his statement, considering him to be crazy.

  He glanced back along the track. The gaunt man was fifty yards away. Bandages fluttered from the body. Little pennants attached to dead bones.

  ‘You’ve got to wake up!’ Fletcher kicked the sides of the van. The booming sound was immense. Even so, nobody stirred inside. There were no angry shouts of: What the hell are you doing out there? ‘Get out of the van! Get away from here! He’s coming!’

  The mummy’s pace was relentless. Now it was thirty yards away. Fletcher could even hear its feet crunching on the gravel – a munching sound; the sound could have been teeth crunching up bone.

  ‘Wake up!’

  Fletcher ran to a side window. Because the night was so warm, the window had been left open. He pushed back the blind in order to look inside. Straightaway, he saw a man and woman lying in the double bed that had been made up from the camper van’s seats. They were dead to the world.

  ‘Wake up! Hey, wake up! Look what’s out here!’

  They didn’t even stir. The couple continued to sleep, their breathing rhythmic, faces relaxed. A small white dog lay at the end of the bed. The animal didn’t stir, either. The occupants of the van seemed to be in some kind of coma. Whatever Fletcher did, whether yelling at the top of his voice, or bashing his fists against the van, didn’t disturb them.

  These people would sleep through a hurricane. They’d also sleep through what happened next. Fletcher knew something would happen. And that something would be horrific.

  Fletcher glanced back along the track. Twenty yards away, the frightening apparition moved ever closer. Its eyes were closed, yet it seemed to stare right through the metal walls of the van and see its sleeping occupants.

  Fletcher Brown could do nothing more to wake the couple. With one last desperate lunge, the boy flung himself at the open window. Reaching in, he grabbed hold of the sleeping dog and pulled the animal out of the van. It didn’t stir in his arms as he ran back up the hillside, panting, gasping, sobbing. ‘I tried, I really tried; it’s not my fault.’

  The towering figure of Kadesh reached the back of the camper van. For a moment it paused. Strips of cloth fluttered in the breeze. It raised its face to the stars, as if to feed on their light – to draw energy from those distant suns far out in space. The metal headband glinted. The eyelids of this dead-alive man remained closed.

  Then Kadesh moved. With a calm sense of purpose, it reached out. Its palms rested against the back of the van. Kadesh pushed … pushed hard. Despite the fact that its parking brake must have been on, the camper van moved forward; perhaps the force of that shove had disengaged the brake. Whatever the reason, the wheels turned freely. The nose of the vehicle dropped downwards when it crossed the lip of the slope. A moment later, it freewheeled down the hill, quickly gathering speed, until it bounced and lurched violently, before smashing through bushes.

  Fletcher watched the vehicle, containing the sleeping man and woman, slam into a tree trunk with an enormous crash. The dog still slept in his arms. It hadn’t stirred once.

  FOURTEEN

  Ingrid, wearing a white T-shirt, shorts and sandals, walked into the kitchen where John sat at the table eating breakfast. Sunlight turned the lawn a dazzling green, even though it still wasn’t eight o’clock. The weather looked set for a perfect summer’s day.

  Ingrid poured herself a cranberry juice from the fridge. ‘I’ve just been listening to the local news,’ she said. ‘There’s been a terrible car accident just a couple of miles away from here.’

  John swallowed a mouthful of cornflakes. ‘Those narrow roads can be tricky.’

  ‘No. It’s not the usual kind of road accident. A couple were sleeping in their camper van when it rolled away during the night, taking them over the edge of a hill. They were both killed.’

  ‘In their sleep?’

  ‘Seems like it. The bodies were found in nightclothes, and the camper van’s bed had been set up.’

  ‘The brake must have failed.’ He grimaced. ‘It just shows, doesn’t it? The Grim Reaper is an opportunist.’

  ‘Their dog survived. There wasn’t a mark on it. Police found the animal sitting beside the body of the woman. I can’t stop thinking about it.’

  He glanced up; her expression told him that she was seeing the smashed-up van in her mind’s eye. ‘Try not to dwell on it, Ingrid.’ He poured some cornflakes into a clean bowl for her. ‘What are your plans for today?’

  ‘After you go to work, I thought I’d potter around the garden for a while. Later, I’ll set up the barbecue. We could eat outside tonight.’

  ‘Good idea.’

  She sat down opposite him. ‘At some point I need to buy Oliver some more flip-flops.’

  ‘He’s got a new pair.’

  ‘They fell apart. It looks as if he’s run a marathon in them.’

  A light knock sounded on the kitchen door. The face that appeared round the door managed to be both unfamiliar yet strangely familiar at the same time. Ben had his mother’s dark eyes, yet the shape of the face and the unruly mass of curls were just like John’s when he was nineteen.

  ‘Uh, sorry to interrupt.’ Ben did sound genuinely uneasy at coming into the kitchen while they were having a conversation. ‘Good morning … thanks for the cereal and juice. I’m sorry about making a mess in the house on Monday, Mrs Tolworth. Me being sick all over the place. The painkillers were stronger than I thought, and I hadn’t realized my friends had put vodka into my drink.’

  Ingrid stood up quickly to take the bowl and glass from his hand as Ben hobbled into the kitchen, using a crutch to balance himself. The cast on the leg clattered against the door. Clearly, he was in pain and found walking difficult.

  Ingrid said, ‘Thank you, but you needn’t have brought the bowl back. I’d have collected it from your room later.’

  ‘I don’t want to be needy, Mrs Tolworth, you shouldn’t be running around after me.’

  ‘Ben,’ she said firmly, ‘let’s be clear on certain points. You have hurt your leg; it’s no trouble for me to collect a bowl and a glass from your room. And I insist you call me Ingrid.’

  He grinned. ‘OK, thanks, Ingrid.’

  Ingrid smiled warmly. ‘And this is John, of course, unless you prefer “Dad”?’

  John glanced at her in surprise. He’d never expected that Ben, long-lost son or not, would call him ‘Dad’.

  ‘No disrespect,’ Ben said politely. ‘Using the word “Dad” would be a bit odd. I’ve never called anyone that before.’

  ‘Call me John. After all, you’re an adult now.’

  ‘Cheers, John.’

  John realized that Ben must have been anxious about meeting his biological father for the first time. Their first encounter hadn’t been straightforward, or what could be described as mutually satisfactory, because Ben had vomited copiously on to John’s feet. Yesterday evening, John had tried to have a conversation with Ben when he’d come home from work; however, the painkillers he’d taken were so strong that he’d been too drowsy to speak, or even follow the thread of what John had been saying. This morning was the first time they’d been able to speak properly.

  Ingrid pulled out a chair. ‘Would you like to sit down, Ben, if you can manage it?’

  ‘Thanks.’ He hobbled to the chair. With the help of John and Ingrid, he managed to lower himself down. ‘Sorry. I’m sure I’ll be more mobile in a day or two. I just need to get used to this cast on my leg.’

  ‘Take your time,’ John told him. ‘The main thing is to give the bone chance to heal.’

  ‘I broke it in three places.’ He glanced at each in turn,
perhaps guessing more information was required. ‘I fell down some steps outside a pub.’ He flushed with embarrassment. ‘You’re right, alcohol was involved.’

  John realized that his son – his new nineteen-year-old son – was quite a shy person. He clearly hated putting people out.

  ‘We want you to feel at home here,’ Ingrid told him, smiling. ‘Treat the place as if you’ve lived here years.’

  ‘It’s a great-looking house. I mean, look how old it is. Ceiling beams. Stone walls. And so in the middle of nowhere. I didn’t notice much on the way here. In fact, I hardly knew my own name, but all those fields, woods, and hills. That blows my mind. It’s like a desert … only instead of sand there’s heather … or does that sound an odd comparison? The painkillers are strong enough to send me a bit loopy at times.’

  John smiled. ‘It’s a beautiful part of the world. We’re only going to be here for a few weeks. I’ve a short-term contract, and the employer’s provided this house.’

  Ben nodded. ‘You’re working at Baverstock Castle, and you’re involved with restoring Egyptian papyri.’

  ‘That’s right. How did you know?’

  ‘I read your blog, so I know you specialize in virtual reconstruction of artefacts.’ Ben continued enthusiastically, ‘A couple of years ago my mother finally – finally – gave in and told me your name, so it was easy to Google you and find your website. Every now and then I check out your blog.’ He paused. ‘Sorry. It sounds like I’m stalking you.’ He suddenly appeared uncomfortable about revealing his interest in his father. ‘What you do is really cool. I’m studying archaeology at university myself.’

  Ingrid patted Ben’s hand. ‘It’s perfectly understandable that you’d want to discover more about your father. After all, you’d never met him. You’re bound to be curious.’

  ‘Thanks. It was strange seeing his photograph on the website. I’d never seen a picture of you before, John. Weird.’

  Ingrid laughed. ‘Yes, he is a little weird, but lovable, too.’

  ‘Sorry, I mean weird to see a picture of someone who resembles me. A bit like looking in a mirror, and …’ He tried to find the right words. ‘I don’t know … just made me feel strange inside. There’s my dad, wow. And I’ve never met him.’

  John smiled. ‘We’ll have plenty of time to get to know one another.’

  ‘Thanks. Oh … and finding out that I’ve a brother and sister. That’s so surreal … Good, too. I think it’s great that I’ve got this new family I never knew I had.’

  John didn’t want to appear too gushing, nor did he wish to appear aloof. But what’s the right balance? ‘We’re all in unknown territory.’ He spoke in a friendly way to put Ben at his ease. ‘But I’m sure we’ll get along together.’

  ‘Mr Tolworth? Sorry, I mean John.’

  Ingrid gave Ben’s hand a reassuring squeeze. ‘You don’t have to keep saying “sorry”. We’re easy-going people.’

  ‘Right. OK.’ He nodded, smiling. ‘It’s just going to take some getting used to, isn’t it? I mean, for everyone? Especially for your own children. They’ve suddenly got a big brother who they didn’t even know existed.’

  ‘They’ll be fine,’ Ingrid reassured him.

  ‘Hey, I saw what you’d done with a three-D printer.’

  ‘Oh?’ John wondered what he was referring to.

  ‘I found the model in my room. You’ve made a copy of your daughter’s head. Looks neat.’

  ‘No, that’s not Vicki.’

  ‘Oh? It looked like her.’

  John suddenly had the cold sensation of dead men’s fingers crawling down his back. ‘There’s a collection of Egyptian mummies in the castle. I used a computer program that created an image of how one of the mummified females would have looked when she was alive.’

  ‘Really? Wow. That’s such a coincidence, isn’t it?’ Ben was astonished. ‘I could have sworn that you’d made a three-D copy of your daughter’s head.’

  John and Ingrid exchanged glances. John remembered how freaked out Vicki had been when she’d seen the reconstruction of a dead girl’s face that so closely resembled her.

  Ingrid clearly decided it was timely to change the conversation. ‘Tea or coffee, Ben – which would you prefer?’

  Samantha Oldfield stood outside the castle’s main door. Her arms were folded, and she wore a worried expression on her face.

  John walked towards her. He was keen to process another batch of the torn papyrus fragments, but he guessed from her expression that work might be delayed today. ‘Morning, Samantha,’ he said. ‘Is something wrong?’

  ‘A bloody break-in,’ she fumed. ‘I found the door wide open when I arrived here ten minutes ago.’

  ‘Oh no! Anything stolen?’

  ‘Greg’s gone to check. He’s told everyone to stay away … He doesn’t want our fingerprints and DNA contaminating the place before the police get here.’

  ‘Damn it, there’s all our equipment in there.’

  ‘And our priceless mummy family. If they’ve been damaged or stolen, we’ll be in so much trouble.’

  ‘Hardly our fault, is it, if there’s been a robbery?’

  ‘Want to bet? Our employers will decide we should have been sleeping in the laboratories, guarding the mummies with our lives – especially if it’s proved that they are Egyptian royalty. Damn it, John, we’re in the shit. Our careers will be blighted. We won’t work again.’

  ‘Surely, it won’t be as bad as that?’

  ‘Want to bet money on it, John? Do you really want to?’ When she noticed a figure striding up the driveway, she groaned. ‘Oh my God, this all we need: the local madman.’

  Philip Kemmis hurried up the driveway towards them. He wore the green dressing gown over his day clothes. The man’s eyes flashed wildly; his expression was one of absolute dread. John had to admit the man did look deranged. He wore black leather gloves – one of which covered the artificial hand.

  ‘Have you heard?’ Philip shouted. ‘Have you heard what happened?’

  ‘Yes, there’s been a break in,’ John said.

  ‘No! About the two people camping up on the hill. They’re dead. They’ve been killed.’

  ‘The runaway camper-van?’ Samantha nodded. ‘I heard it on the news this morning.’

  ‘A terrible accident,’ John added. ‘They died in their sleep.’

  Philip thundered, ‘Accident be damned! They did it! Them, in there!’ He strode past them to the doorway.

  ‘Hey!’ Samantha blocked his way. ‘You can’t go in there.’

  ‘I’m going to drag those things out here and burn them.’

  John shook his head in bewilderment. ‘What things?’

  Samantha answered for the man: ‘The mummies. He’s done this before. He blames the mummies for causing all kinds of mischief. Isn’t that right, Philip?’ she asked with a contemptuous toss of her head.

  ‘I’ll break them to pieces. Then I’ll burn them.’

  ‘You’ll do no such thing.’ Samantha held out her arms to stop him going further.

  Snarling, the man lunged at her. He grabbed her with one hand while he used the other arm, with the artificial hand, to push her aside.

  ‘Let go of me, you lunatic!’

  John seized Philip by the collar of the dressing gown and pulled him away from Samantha.

  ‘I’ll report you to the police.’ Samantha stabbed her finger in his direction. ‘It’s time they put you away. You’re always causing trouble. Enough, OK?’

  Philip raged: ‘Don’t try and stop me. I’ll drag those monsters out here, smash them to pieces … I’m going to burn them to ashes!’

  John tried to simply hold the man still, with the intention of calming him down, but it didn’t work out like that. It turned into an exhausting tussle. Philip Kemmis had plenty of muscle. He pushed John, almost toppling him on to his back. John recovered his balance, and soon he and his old friend circled each other, both pushing and being pushed by the other. Samantha watch
ed with a mixture of bemusement and shock.

  ‘Calm down, Philip,’ John panted. ‘You’ll get into trouble with the police.’

  ‘What does that matter to me? I’m in trouble with life in general. I’ve been crippled with trouble since I was eleven years old!’

  ‘I’m not letting you go until you calm down.’

  ‘You won’t stop me burning those damn monsters. They took my hand from me. Last night they killed an innocent man and woman.’

  ‘It was an accident.’

  ‘Let go!’

  ‘No!’

  ‘I’ll burn the castle down, if need be. I’ll wipe those things off the face of the earth.’

  ‘Philip, listen. You were my best friend once. Remember? When I lived here, we had such great times together. You were eleven. I was ten. We spent all day roaming the countryside. Fishing, riding bikes, firing that air rifle you had.’

  ‘Please, John. I’ve been wanting to do this all my adult life. I picture myself piling those husks into a mound, pouring petrol all over them, then setting them on fire and watching them burn.’ Tears ran down the man’s face. ‘Let me kill them once and for all.’

  ‘They’re already dead, Philip. They’re just bits of bone and skin. They’ve been dead for over three thousand years.’

  Philip hissed, ‘You wouldn’t say that if you’d seen what I’ve seen.’

  At that moment, Greg appeared at the doorway to the castle. ‘What’s wrong? Is that man causing trouble again?’

  ‘Everything’s OK, Greg,’ John called back over his shoulder, even though he still gripped Philip. ‘A misunderstanding, that’s all.’ He turned to face his old friend and whispered, ‘I’m going to let you go now. Just walk back down the drive.’

  ‘I’ll burn them!’

  ‘No, go home. If you don’t, Greg will bring the police here. You must know what that will mean. They’ll take you away, and you’ll probably be put into a secure psychiatric unit. Understand?’

  Philip nodded. ‘OK.’ He took a step backwards. ‘Promise that you’ll meet up with me later? I need to talk to you.’