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<h2>27</h2>
<p>She was lurching along the track, unable to stop while the
baby&#8217;s mind jittered inside of her own, forcing her on. Her
body was a pulse of pain. She could even hear the sound of her
bones grinding against each other where they met. Behind them men
were coming through the trees. The sound of their voices was
muffled, but getting louder out there among the trees.</p>
<p><em>Help me please help me...someone help me</em></p>
<p>The mantra sang out in the deep and barricaded part of herself
that was her own, but she could not make the words come out, could
not make herself stop. All she wanted to do now was die, but the
thing at her breast tugged her on, its own panic conveying itself
to her in sharp drilling spasms of energy. Off to the right, a
clump of snow fell off a spruce tree with a quiet flop of sound and
she felt it jerk in alarm. In her ears the chittering sound waxed,
a fuzzy little crackle that made her ears feel as if they were
bleeding. It vibrated in the bones of her jaw and made her teeth
chatter together.</p>
<p><em>Go go go. GO!</em></p>
<p>No words but a mental goading, whip and sharp spurs, that could
not be denied. She had to run and hide. She had to get the baby
away from here. That was the only thing on the surface of her mind,
the overwhelming, overpowering compulsion to get it to safety. It
was crying at her, whimpering its alarm and its terror. She could
do nothing but respond.</p>
<p>The dogs were coming. Two of them, howling behind, somewhere in
the distance. They sounded like wolves in the early dawn. Over to
the east the sky was pinking, slashed in layers of colours under
the snow cloud, tinged with the rising sun and with the orange of
the street lamps on the main route to the city. Over to the right,
the wide black ribbon of the bridge spanning the estuary was lined
with a coruscation of lights. Under any other circumstances it
would have been a winter scene that would have made her stop to
admire. She did not even see it, not with her own consciousness.
Her whole attention had been focused on the need to run.</p>
<p>She ran, while rivers of white-hot pain surged in her feet and
in her hips. Blood trickled form her mouth and from the ragged
wound in her sole.</p>
<p>The baby whimpered constantly, huddled against her. She could
feel its arms and legs twitch and its alarm was a sharp and
twisting augur of cerebral hurt.</p>
<p>The dogs howled and snarled. Somewhere in the distance a siren
wailed. Down in the estuary the foghorn bawled hollow in the
lessening wind. Snow flurries still blew in, but less than there
had been before. Kate Park&#8217;s feet made deep holes in the
virgin snow and they made hardly a sound. Her joints squeaked like
rusted hinges and it was a miracle that she did not collapse to the
ground and lie down and die if such a word as miracle could
describe her awful plight.</p>
<p>She stumbled on.</p>
<hr />
<p>Behind her, the dog handlers were urging their animals onward,
with some difficulty. When they had arrived at the old station, the
dogs, at first fired with their normal energy had taken one sniff
inside the ticket office and then they&#8217;d gone into fits of
frenzied barking. Both of them, powerful German Shepherd dogs, had
cringed back, haunches low, tails tucked tight. Their eyes had been
rolling wildly and they looked absolutely terrified. The handlers
dragged them back, wondering what was wrong with them. Already the
first team had been forced to pull back up at the farm when the
other two dogs had started snapping and snarling each other, and
one of them had tried to mount the other, thrusting way with
powerful jerks of its rump, while foaming saliva flicked from its
gaping jaws.</p>
<p>This time, just after dawn, the dogs looked plain scared. One of
the other policemen went inside the office and came out holding his
nose.</p>
<p>&#8220;Smells like a slaughterhouse dump,&#8221; he said.</p>
<p>There were footprints in the snow on the far side of the old
building, leading down across the flat where the track had once
been. They angled into the trees where the thick bushes had formed
a snow break. The footprints stopped only a few yards into the
spruce trees where the snow couldn&#8217;t reach. The handlers
pulled the dogs away from the station. The animals howled and
barked excitedly, almost like a gathering of wolves, but the
trained men could hear the panic in their yelping.</p>
<p>&#8220;Something wrong here, Sarge,&#8221; one of the men said.
&#8220;They don&#8217;t want to go on&#8221;</p>
<p>&#8220;They&#8217;ll go on with my toe up their
backsides,&#8221; Sergeant Holleran warned him. &#8220;I
don&#8217;t care if they&#8217;ve got broken legs. Get them out and
get them sniffing.&#8221; The dog men dragged their charges onto
the disused track. The beasts sniffed and yelped, in obvious
distress. This pair, however, had taken their training better than
the previous two at the farm. After a few moment&#8217;s
hesitation, they got their heads down, started to snuffle for scent
and then, very slowly, very nervously, they began to follow a
trail. Every now one of them would back off, yipping in alarm and
consternation. Slowly and hesitantly however, they made progress
through the damp forest.</p>
<hr />
<p><em>He had perceived the pursuit and had woken her</em>.</p>
<p>He made her move with a brutal, panicked wrench of his thought
The dogs yipped and yelped and in his strange acoustics, he heard
the sound like the cracking of ice, but he still recognised it as
<em>threat</em>. Alarm jangled through him as she gathered him up
and hobbled out into the cold, clutching him against her failing
heat. He touched her mind once, twice, little shoves. Inside she
was shrieking, like the other one had, like no other mothers
before. They had all accepted him, they had loved him.</p>
<p>But now he was changing, and while he could control the mothers,
he had to push them hard.</p>
<p>He shoved, twisted violently and she lurched outward over the
snow flat and down to the runnel and into the trees. Her breath was
ragged and her heart was beating too fast. He could sense the
weakness there and the heat of slowly tearing muscle. She would not
last. Her pain screamed within her, competing with the constant
shriek of her trapped mind. Still she stumbled on, barging through
the thickets of birch and bramble, charging through clumps of alder
and hazel. He needed a place to hide. The threat came from behind
them, in the howl of the beasts and the hoarse rumbling vibrations
that were the shouts of pursuing men. If they caught him they would
destroy him. That instinctive knowledge burned brightly, not in
words but in a complete concept, on the forefront of his mind. A
sudden dread washed over him. He had never been hunted, not in his
memory. He had always driven the mothers, made them move on,
whenever he sensed any threat. He had never been chased and now he
was out in the cold, exposed and desperately vulnerable and they
were after him.</p>
<p>In his panic he reached out a long way, casting ahead and
behind, to sense for spaces where the danger was less, to identify
the points of greatest peril.</p>
<p>He brushed the other one&#8217;s mind and recognised her.</p>
<p>Hope flared. A chance. Hunger swelled with it despite his panic.
She was coming. She would follow him. If he could find a place, she
would come to him, dragged along the invisible lines that bound
them. He needed her now.</p>
<p>The mother stumbled on, broke free of the bushes and was down on
the track again. Here, for a long straight distance, the rail-route
was a broad avenue of pristine snow. He shoved and she went along
it, breath crackling like ground glass, heart thudding so hard he
could hear it through the shawl and the coat.</p>
<p>The dogs howled. Men shouted. They were getting closer. Ahead of
them, the old iron bridge over the canal loomed, grey and stark.
She stumbled towards it, now reeling from side to side, powered
only by the force of his will. She could do nothing but move and
the rivers of pain sizzled inside her.</p>
<hr />
<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s ahead of us,&#8221; Helen Lamont panted. She
and David had been pushing their way through the bushes. Both of
them had listened to what Snib McPhee had said and they were the
only ones who took his description literally. Helen&#8217;s mind
wandered back in the direction of the barn and then shied away from
the recollection. She had seen something and her eyes had swung
round, denying what she might have seen in the shadows. It had been
a flash, a glimpse, nothing more, and it could have been anything
at all, except for the fact that her subconscious mind had flared
and snatched the image and burned it deep into her brain.</p>
<p><em>Monster.</em></p>
<p>She knew it had been and it had almost had her. It had reached
with its foul touch and had drawn her in and somewhere in the dark
of the barn it had opened her eyes and she had felt its hunger and
it had been like the touch of corruption. It had wanted her, and
God help her, in that instant, she had wanted it.</p>
<p><em>Monster.</em></p>
<p><em>&#8220;It&#8217;s a fuckin&#8217; monster,&#8221;</em> Snib
McPhee had said, unashamedly massaging his balls where, according
to the two policemen, he had taken a bit of a knock when he&#8217;d
fallen on the slippery snow against a tree-stump. Snib knew there
was little point in protesting about brutality, and anyway his mind
was on other things.</p>
<p>&#8220;Swear to Christ,&#8221; he swore to Christ. &#8220;I saw
it with my own eyes. It&#8217;s a fuckin&#8217; monster.&#8221; The
small man crossed himself several times in quick succession,
driving out devils. His hand slid back down onto his throbbing
crotch.</p>
<p>&#8220;I saw a woman. She was just sitting there with her eyes
open and I thought she was dead for Christ&#8217;s sake and then
she moved. I heard her first. Crying like, sort of moaning. Or
maybe like a grunt. I thought it was a dog or something, stuck
behind the door, but I got a look at her in the torchlight and she
saw me. She tried to talk, I think, but I never heard anything and
then this baby she was holding, it turned round, and it
wasn&#8217;t a baby at all.&#8221;</p>
<p>&#8220;What was it?&#8221; Bert Millar wanted to know.</p>
<p>&#8220;I told you. It was a fuckin&#8217; monster. My torch went
out and next thing it&#8217;s up at the window. It had eyes like
nothing I ever saw in my life and a mouthful of teeth. A big circle
of them, all pointing in towards each other. You put a finger in
there and it&#8217;s never coming out. I&#8217;ll tell you what
it&#8217;s like. It&#8217;s like them lampreys you get on salmon.
You know those things that eat their way inside?&#8221;</p>
<p>David recalled the words of dead Ron McBean in his strange and
obsessive report. The Lassiter woman, way back before the turn of
the century, had leapt off a bridge and killed herself</p>
<p><em>When recovered, her whole body covered in bleeding
lacerations and bruises which a doctor described as very similar to
the sucking circlets caused by lampreys on salmon from the nearby
River Nith</em>.</p>
<p>McBean had noted the similarity in the odd circular lesions
uncovered in the autopsy on Harriet Dailly.</p>
<p>Another coincidence, David thought. Whatever this thing was, if
McBean was right all along, it was older than fifty, older than a
century. How long had it been around, picking women, stealing
mothers? And what sort of creature, what sort of beast, looked like
a sucking lamprey that fed on living salmon?</p>
<p>&#8220;You&#8217;d know all about salmon, Snib,&#8221; Sergeant
Holleran had volunteered, but the CID boss held up his hand for
silence.</p>
<p>&#8220;What do you think?&#8221; he asked David. &#8220;Is he
taking the piss or what?&#8221;</p>
<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; Helen said. &#8220;It&#8217;s probably the
farmer&#8217;s wife. She&#8217;ll have the baby.&#8221;</p>
<p>&#8220;Killed her own and then run off with another?&#8221;</p>
<p>&#8220;I couldn&#8217;t say, sir,&#8221; Helen said, falling
back into police-speak. &#8220;But the woman is missing and I
can&#8217;t think of anybody else who&#8217;d be out alone with a
baby on a night like this. And it also wouldn&#8217;t be the first
time, if we&#8217;re right.&#8221;</p>
<p>Millar drew them outside. &#8220;At least we&#8217;ve got a
direction. We&#8217;ll take his word for it, but as far as the rest
are concerned, it&#8217;s a woman and a baby.&#8221;</p>
<p>A half an hour later, Helen stopped, panting for breath.
&#8220;It&#8217;s ahead of us,&#8221; she said. They were almost at
the edge of the trees now, coming down to the straight. She had
been pushing through the bushes, well to the left of the other
policemen, maybe ten feet from David when she felt its touch, the
cold slither of hunger and black need. It sent a shiver right into
her, because she recognised her own response.</p>
<p>&#8220;Which way?&#8221; David asked. He recognised the look on
her face and simply believed her. In the cold of the morning, in
the weak winter light, her face was pinched and pale, and her dark
eyes were like black stones in snow. The wind ruffled her hair and
made her seem slender and vulnerable.</p>
<p>&#8220;There,&#8221; she said, pointing ahead, further to the
left. She turned and he followed, up a tree-covered rise and down
the slope. The dogs were behind them now. They reached a stand of
thin, rotting willowherb, ploughed through and found themselves on
the straight.</p>
<p>A pair of footsteps, deep and unclear, angled away from them
towards the bridge in the distance. From where they stood, they
could see the shambling progress, as if both feet had been
dragging, throwing up spill-piles of snow into hummocks. The tracks
wove left to right, from one side of the line to the other.</p>
<p>David turned and bawled, attracting the attention of the dog
teams who came bursting out onto the line some fifty yards behind.
He pointed to the tracks and then turned to follow them. The dogs
barked frantically, high, fretful yipping sounds that made them,
sound plaintive and timid, but the handlers urged them on. David
and Helen ran ahead, following the footsteps and all the time,
Helen could feel the oily, sinful touch of the thing she had
pursued now for eleven days.</p>
<p>_______</p>
<p>Kate Park lurched out of its grasp on the steep embankment about
three hundred yards past the bridge. She had stumbled off the old
track and down the slope, driven by the thing she carried. Behind
them the dogs howled and scrabbled. Footsteps thudded on the far
side of the bridge and men&#8217;s voices carried on the cold
air.</p>
<p><em>Go go go go GET GONE</em></p>
<p>There was desperation in its urging and she obeyed it. She
slipped, fell, arched her racked body to protect her burden, and
got to her feet again. Every nerve ending jittered with pain.
Burning crushing sensations ground from bone to bone down the
length of her back. Her heart was a lump of fire in the centre of
her chest and the pain in her legs and hips had soared to such a
crescendo that the nerves there had simply given out. A dreadful
numbness oozed up her limbs making it even more difficult to carry
on. Yet she moved, stumbled, staggered, reeled down the slope,
snagged by thorns and bramble runners, down to the low wall that
came to waist height, in the brown sandstone of railway embankments
the world over. An angle-iron fence sat atop the wall, its top
spikes rusted and paint peeled. She started to climb when one of
the upright spars clanged outwards, making a gap. A bolt had
rusted. She slipped through, pushing the baby ahead, then drawing
herself between the spars until she was on the wall itself, maybe
ten feet above a narrow street.</p>
<p>The metal clanged back into place just as the dogs came pounding
over the edge of the embankment, whining as they came. The handlers
urged them on. They all came thundering towards the shape on the
other side of the fence, half-hidden by the upright spars. The baby
squirmed until it could see over her shoulder, risked opening its
eyes despite the ferocious burn even in the half light of the early
winter&#8217;s morning. Its attention was half snagged by the other
female who was behind the dogs, but it had no time to waste. It
concentrated at the beasts, reached out, stabbed into their
minds.</p>
<p>The dogs went berserk.</p>
<p>They were halfway down the steep slope when the whining yelps
turned into savage growls. The lead dog turned round, bolted
between its handler&#8217;s legs, knocking him of balance. It
pulled the leash from his hand and went streaking for its partner,
jaws agape. The second dog reared up, met it half way, fangs
exposed in a ferocious snarl. The two animals hit, growling like
tigers. Their teeth closed on each other&#8217;s necks and they
worried and tore frantically. Blood and fur flew. The two men tried
to separate them, but the dogs seemed to have gone mad. Their eyes
were rolling wildly and their strangled grunts soared higher and
higher as they savaged one another. One of the men got his
night-stick between one dog&#8217;s jaws, levered hard and
succeeded only in snapping two teeth. The dogs ignored them.</p>
<p>Helen and David came running fast over the rise and down the
slope. They took in the snarling animals and then saw the shape at
the far side of the fence.</p>
<p>Helen felt the touch of the thing, not aimed directly at her,
because it was focused on the dog threat, but it still sent a spasm
of horror (<em>and feral hunger too, she knew</em>) right through
her.</p>
<p>&#8220;There,&#8221; David said, pointing. A pale face could be
seen on the other side of the fence. Someone was sitting on the
wall. &#8220;Stop,&#8221; David yelled, and the face disappeared
from view. The dogs screamed in fear and fury. Blood bubbled form
their nostrils, from their throats. One of the policemen was
shouting at the top of his lungs. David started toward the wall and
Helen followed, her whole mind cringing from the leprous touch.</p>
<hr />
<p>It turned its mind away from the mother.</p>
<p>The woods were full of noise and motion. She had got through the
fence and was over the road when the dogs came rushing down,
howling and whining and the thing had turned its attention on them.
She felt the buzz of mental energy as it concentrated, and threw
its command at them. It was like he searing heat of lightning in
the air, an arc of pure power. Her own mind had reeled out of the
control and then lurched away from that mental blast.</p>
<p>And she was herself again.</p>
<p>Kate Park blinked, coughed, and a trickle of pink foam spun away
from her. She felt a scream build up in her shredding lungs, an
enormous primal blast from the depths of her fragmented soul and
she clamped it to silence. All of her was in pain, her mind, her
heart, and her body. The image of Jack&#8217;s twitching body came
back again, overlaid by the sound of sucking from the baby&#8217;s
crib and the awful dribbles of blood that had come soaking through
the basket weave.</p>
<p>She was out of it, out of one nightmare and into another. She
turned her eyes to the thing and saw its flat, mindless eyes. It
was bigger now, more angular, almost insectile. She looked at it
and her hate welled up and in that moment she knew what she had to
do.</p>
<p>Behind her, the dogs howled and shrieked, tearing at each other,
men were bawling. The beast was concentrating on the animals,
trying to combat one threat. It would come back to her, or it might
turn on the others.</p>
<p>She was done and she knew it. There was nothing now. Jack was
dead. Lucy was dead, her own baby gone. There was nothing to live
for and the pain was so much, so overwhelming that she knew she
would not last much longer.</p>
<p>It was turning to the others. She turned too, unable to prevent
herself. Through the bars of the fence she saw the young man coming
towards her, his mouth open to say something, one hand raised as if
reaching to grab her across the distance between them..</p>
<p>Beside him was the girl she had seen below the hayloft. She
recognised her instantly, although their previous encounter had
only been a dreadful scrape of contact. She recognised her and her
open mind touched the girl&#8217;s, in a flash of empathy. She knew
in that instant it had wanted her and she knew why. The
girl&#8217;s mind touched hers and sent a shudder of sorrow and
pity and fear.</p>
<p>Kate Park turned away. Down below the flagstones of the sidewalk
came hard up against the wall of the embankment. The thing&#8217;s
attention was still on the dogs, just beginning to swivel to the
men, when she launched herself into the air. She clutched her
burden tight, turning as toppled, ensuring that they would both
land together, head first on the hard concrete.</p>
<p><em>Kill you!</em> Her mind snarled. She spun away. Oblivion
rushed at her.</p>
<p>David Harper saw the twisting lurch and bawled at the top of his
voice, jumping past the slavering, snarling animals. Helen
screeched an incoherent warning. The woman disappeared from the
other side of the fence.</p>
<p>Kate was falling. But a long runner of bramble thorn snagged her
foot as she tumbled, spinning her in mid air. The world whirled.
The thing in her arms shrieked a glassy mental scream, more
powerful now in its desperation, stronger now since its change and
the spurt of growth. It screeched and she felt the mind-blast like
a sizzle in the air, like a physical vibration. A pure distilled
pain shuddered into her head and completely shattered the cochlea
in her inner ear. Above the embankment, the mind-shriek lashed
outwards and a policeman&#8217;s retinas detached themselves and he
went instantly blind. In the trees overhead, the flock of crows
that had mobbed Kate on her run down by the hedge, dropped like
fluttering weights, hitting against branches before they flopped to
the ground quivering but not dead, all of them hissing like snakes.
Fifty yards away a cat howled, ran across the broad, and was
flattened under the wheels of an early morning commuter&#8217;s
car. Beyond the bridge, a small child in a high-chair vomited and
fell face first into a plate of cereal.</p>
<p>Kate Park landed on her hip and her pelvis shattered into
fragments. The appalling jolt smashed her teeth together so hard
that they bit right through the tip of her tongue. A new lava-burst
of pain slammed her breath away and she bounced, flopping on the
pavement, dazed, but amazingly still conscious. Unbearable despair
overshadowed the inconceivable pain in her damaged body. She had
tried to kill them both and she had failed.</p>
<p>&#8220;Are you all right dear?&#8221; A voice came from nowhere,
thin and wavering. Her head turned as she lay, not voluntarily, but
simply with its own weight. An old and weathered face was looming
down at her.</p>
<p>&#8220;Go,&#8221; she tried to say.</p>
<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s that love? Are you hurt?&#8221; The old
woman peered down, her head tightly wrapped in a thick scarf
knotted under her chin. &#8220;You took a nasty fall there. Did you
slip on the ice?&#8221;</p>
<p>&#8220;Please,&#8221; Kate tried to tell her, but the word only
came out in a wheeze. Her vision was looping in and out of focus
and she felt her consciousness only now begin to slip away. In her
arms, a shape stirred, wriggling powerfully and it was only then
that she realised it was still wrapped in the shawl. It kicked
against her. She could feel its mindblast of panic as it shoved and
twisted, like a trapped stoat.</p>
<p>&#8220;Oh dear,&#8221; the old woman said. &#8220;The poor wee
thing. Is the baby hurt?&#8221;</p>
<p>She tried to scream again, to tell the old woman to get away.
Beside her, she saw with unexpected clarity, a shopping bag on
wheels and just then she got a whiff of freshly baked morning
rolls, the first normal scent she had been aware of since the thing
had come scuttling in through the cat flap and stolen her mind.
It&#8217;s thoughts were focused outwards, not aimed into her
brain. It knew she was useless. Up above, beyond the wall, the
shouts of men echoed down and she could not move, could not even
speak. Blood gushed from the rip on her tongue, dribbled down her
throat, made her cough in a red spray.</p>
<p>It pushed and kicked, panicked now and desperate. The old woman
with the trolley was leaning closer, using her solid walking stick
to brace her weight. She was wearing a long dark coat and had a red
scarf double-looped around her neck.</p>
<p>&#8220;Can you get up?&#8221; she asked.</p>
<p>The thing swivelled, managed to get its head and shoulders out
of the confines of the swaddle of the shawl. The old woman blinked,
wrinkled her nose.</p>
<p><em>Take me take me take me. HELP ME!</em></p>
<p>The wordless command blared out. Kate Park recognised it. Her
whole body was trembling in the shock of her fall, making the
twitching motions Jack had made as he death-danced to the floor,
but even then, in her extremity, she tried to move, to roll over,
crush the life out of it. Much of her weight had wasted away, but
there was enough there, surely, to suffocate the monster. She tried
to move, rolled and just then the old woman bent and lifted it,
grunting with the effort.</p>
<p>&#8220;Oh, who&#8217;s a lovely baby then?&#8221; she crooned,
sing-song.</p>
<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; Kate tried to say but all that came out was a
bubble of red. She fell forward and hit the pavement with a solid
thud. Her shoulder splintered where the weakened bone took the
impact but even then, she still tried to grab the thing from the
old woman. Already it had fixed its eyes on her. The trolley rolled
away on its own, down the small slope, tumbled off the kerb onto
the road, and a half-dozen morning rolls spilled out and wheeled
around in decreasing circles under the span of the old railway
bridge.</p>
<p>&#8220;Give me,&#8221; Kate grunted but the words were all
bloodied and incoherent. She snatched at the old woman&#8217;s
coat, ignoring the white rivets of pain caused by every motion. Her
numb fingers grabbed the fabric and she hauled hard. The little
lady was jerked forward, almost off balance. She turned to look
down at the crawling, desperate woman on the ground.</p>
<p>The baby held her tight and glared into her mind. Its glands
pulsed, sending a hiss of chemicals in an visible cloud around them
both. An immediate rush of emotion swept through the old woman, an
unexpected flare of heat and need. Her vision swam for an instant,
steaming up her wire-framed glasses, then it cleared. She looked
down and saw some dreadful woman trying to steal her baby. In that
hellish moment, she felt a twist of pain in her ancient breasts,
felt them swell. Another sensation rippled between her angular,
shapeless hips. Sensations she had not experienced for near-on
fifty years flooded her and in that instant she had to protect her
baby. The dreadful woman on the ground was trying to take it from
her. She wanted to kill it.</p>
<p>The old woman dragged herself back with a thin cry. Without
hesitation, she raised her walking stick and brought it down with
all her weight, her strength now augmented by the baby&#8217;s
powerful demand. The end of the stick came down in an arc and
caught Kate Park on the side of the face and her head whipped back
in a violent jerk. Without hesitation the club was back in the air
and coming down again. It cracked against her jaw and something in
there broke like a twig.</p>
<p>&#8220;You can&#8217;t have it,&#8221; the old woman squawked.
Her stick hit again, right on the bridge of Kate&#8217;s nose and
this time it was enough to slam her to the ground. The world spun
in wavering ellipses and then blacked out. The pain drained
away.</p>
<p>The old woman did not pause. She turned and tottered away, off
the pavement and past the overturned trolley. Her foot crushed one
of the morning rolls under the bridge, but she saw nothing. Her
whole being was overwhelmed by the need to get away, find a place
to look after the baby. The bundle in her arms, a heavy, dragging
weight, clung tight to her coat and she smothered it in her thin
arms.</p>
<p><em>Move move move move.</em> She heard the commands as her own
thoughts and she scurried under the bridge, turned at the corner
beyond it, hastening in small, old-lady steps. Behind her, dogs
were snarling and men were shouting or crying and she had to get
away. At that moment, for the old woman, it was the whole purpose
of her existence.</p>
<p>In her arms the thing shoved hard. A savage, mindless glee
shuddered within it, the aftermath of extreme danger. He would
escape. He would find shelter and find another mother. He had
touched this one and knew it was empty. He instinctively sensed the
twitches deep inside this one as its body tried to respond, as the
old machinery tried to re-awaken, but it was dry and barren. There
was no feeding here.</p>
<p>They turned the corner and the sounds of pursuit faded away.
Here the road was narrow, flanked on one side by the blank wall of
the railway where boys came to practise climbing in the summer. The
line then turned to allow space for a terrace of sandstone houses.
On the other side, a couple of old buildings, the bakery and a
newsagents. They were almost at the far edge of Barloan Harbour.
Beyond the cluster of buildings the canal snaked away up from the
harbour itself. A strip of grass, covered now in snow and planted
with cherry trees in regimented lines, gave on to the bridle path.
A mist crept up from the still water where the outlines of the
houseboats and converted barges loomed like ghosts.</p>
<p>The old woman scurried along, heading past the shops. In the
distance, ahead of her, a bell jangled and a child came scooting
down the slope on a bicycle. A couple came out of the newsagents
and started walking towards the bridge.</p>
<p>Up on the embankment, a tragic comedy of confusion was
unreeling. One of the policemen was crying real tears as he tried
to open the jaws that were clamped and still chewing away it his
own dog&#8217;s neck. He did not care that his own animals teeth
were embedded in the flesh of its attacker. They were partners, he
and the dog. He had trained it almost since it was a puppy and it
was dying in front of his eyes. He jammed his night-stick in
between the teeth and twisted savagely. The other policeman, a
close friend, took exception to this and kicked him on the backside
so hard his colleague fell over onto the writhing pair of animals.
All around them, stunned crows were flapping in little circles,
banging into trees and men alike, now cawing raucously in confusion
and fright. Another policeman grabbed the first and dragged him
back, while a fourth was holding on to the trunk of a tree and
bawling for help. &#8220;I&#8217;m blind, for pity&#8217;s sake. I
can&#8217;t fuckin&#8217; <em>see</em>!&#8221;</p>
<p>Both dogs were howling no longer. They grunted and snarled
weakly, unable, it seemed, to open their jaws and let go, locked in
a deadly embrace.</p>
<p>David and Helen were over at the fence on the wall. David was
trying to climb the spiked spars which had been designed just to
prevent such an occurrence to keep children off the line. Down
below, through the close-set spars, he could see some movement, but
it was hidden by the ridge of the wall.</p>
<p>&#8220;She must have got through,&#8221; Helen said shrewdly.
She scampered along the side of the fence trailing her hands on the
spars. One of them swung at her touch. &#8220;Over here,&#8221; she
said. David gave up on his fifth attempt to clamber the fence and
came quickly towards her. She pulled the metal back, leaving just
enough of a gap for him to squeeze through. Ignoring the men and
the dogs behind them they got onto the wall and looked down.</p>
<p>One woman was lying spread-eagled on the ground, her pale face
up to the sky. A couple of snowflakes landed on her forehead. Her
eyes were open, staring straight upwards and David assumed she was
dead. Down under the arch of a bridge, an old woman was walking,
head down. David ignored her.</p>
<p>&#8220;Where is it?&#8221; Helen said. &#8220;I can&#8217;t see
it.&#8221; Both of them peered down. There was no sign of the
baby.</p>
<p>&#8220;It can&#8217;t have got away, can it?&#8221; Without
hesitation he turned and began to lower himself down. There was
little purchase for his feet on the damp surface and he slipped
downwards, only catching himself at the last moment. Green smears
of moss painted the elbows of his coat. Helen turned and started to
lower herself onto her belly at first and then down the wall. For a
moment the pair of them hung like mountaineers and then both
dropped together, fortunately landing lightly. David turned,
slipped on the snow and went down on one knee which hit the ground
with a sickening thud.</p>
<p>He limped across to the prostrate woman. Her eyes were still
open and a trickle of blood was dribbling out of her left ear. Her
face was pale and twisted out of shape, which skewed her mouth out
of position. There was a jarring grotesqueness about the
woman&#8217;s posture. She looked as if she had crumpled in on
herself. David got a flashing image of vampires after sunrise, then
dismissed it. This was an injured woman. Even in the first glance,
he could see that she was dreadfully hurt.</p>
<p>Helen scrambled across and knelt beside the woman, ignoring the
damp snow under her knees. She took a hold of the woman&#8217;s
face, holding it gently as she could. Kate Park blinked once,
twice, and she took a deep, shuddering breath as she swam up to
consciousness. Her eyes rolled, focused and met Helen&#8217;s.</p>
<p>&#8220;Saw you,&#8221; she said, and though the damage to her
jaw and the bloody wound on her tongue fuzzed the words, Helen
understood. &#8220;Couldn&#8217;t let it take you.&#8221;</p>
<p>&#8220;I know,&#8221; Helen said. &#8220;We&#8217;ll get help.
Just lie still.&#8221;</p>
<p>&#8220;Find it,&#8221; Kate Park. &#8220;It&#8217;s got
away.&#8221; The pain was razoring and twisting through her and not
one part of her body was free of it. She had welcomed the dark,
welcomed the cessation of hurt, but she forced herself to open her
eyes. She had to do it because the thing had taken everything from
her and she had to destroy it. The pain was a price she was willing
to pay.</p>
<p>&#8220;Where did it go;?&#8221;</p>
<p>&#8220;Old woman,&#8221; she said, gasping for a breath that
seemed to take forever to come. &#8220;She hit me. It got
her.&#8221;</p>
<p>&#8220;Jesus,&#8221; David said. He hadn&#8217;t been thinking.
He had seen the old woman turn the corner just beyond the bridge.
It hadn&#8217;t even struck him as incongruous that the woman was
still walking past after another woman had come flying over the
wall and landed on the concrete. He hadn&#8217;t even considered
how unnatural that was. Without hesitation he turned to face up to
the embankment. The dogs were still wheezing and the crows were
only now beginning to get their flight capability back, lumbering
unsteadily into the air. One policeman was coming through the gap
in the fence.</p>
<p>&#8220;Get on to Mr Millar,&#8221; David told him. &#8220;Tell
him where we are. Get an ambulance here pronto.&#8221; The man
nodded. David turned back. &#8220;You look after her,&#8221; he
told Helen.</p>
<p>On the ground Kate Park moaned. She shook her head and a stream
of blood blurted from between her lips. &#8220;No,&#8221; she said,
guttural and almost incoherent, but powerful enough to make sure
they understood.</p>
<p>&#8220;Find it,&#8221; she said. &#8220;Find it and kill
it.&#8221;</p>
<p>She lowered her dreadfully injured head to the ground and the
red blood trickled down onto the white snow in a searing contrast.
Her body shivered as if in a death spasm, but her eyes were still
gleaming bright.</p>
<p>&#8220;Go,&#8221; she told them.</p>
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