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<h2>32</h2>
<p>The screams echoed round the room, desperate and shrill and
conveying so powerful a fear that everybody visibly flinched. The
sound cut off abruptly and they could hear the crashing sound of
twigs being broken, of bracken crackling underfoot. There was a
thump and an animal grunt which could have been human, could have
been the sound a desperate woman might make when she fell heavily
to the ground. A cracking sound of branches breaking. Another thud,
like a sharp blow.</p>
<p>A snuffling noise, like a dog in the dark, like a pig rooting in
the undergrowth followed. It was a somehow unnatural whistle of
panted breathing. Something, or someone gulped. A thudding sound
came loud and clear, another hard blow landed against a rough
surface.</p>
<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; Helen&#8217;s panic bleated. &#8220;Oh God
no....&#8221;</p>
<p>&#8220;Jesus, turn it off.&#8221; David bent and put his head in
his hands. His shoulders were twitching as if he was holding tight
to prevent himself exploding into violence</p>
<p>&#8220;David,&#8221; Helen screamed and he jerked back as if
garrotted. &#8220;Help me. Please. Oh. <em>Help me!</em>&#8221; Her
rending cry reverberated staccato as it bounced from one tree-trunk
to another, fading all the time before dying completely. They heard
her try to say something, heard the words choke in her throat.
Something else snuffled once more like a hungry beast scenting
prey. There was a harsh cry of pain that ululated high and soared
to a crescendo, a pure and crystalline shriek of utter agony. It
climbed to an unbelievable height, sounding more animal now than
human. It continued for a stretched out minute and then it was cut
off.</p>
<p>They could hear frantic breathing and more grunting and that
could have been anything at all. After a while the sound stopped
altogether. There was a hard crack, presumably when the handset
fell, and then a silence that fell like a physical weight. Somebody
reached to put the recording off. David felt the violent shudder
inside, a combination of anger and rage and impotent distress. At
that moment every eye in the room was on him, all of them aware of
his agony, all unable to reach and touch him at that moment. It was
something he had to hear.</p>
<p>&#8220;That tells us nothing,&#8221; Donal Bulloch said.
&#8220;Nothing of any great help.&#8221; He looked at David and
managed to convey his sympathy and understanding in the same
glance.</p>
<p>&#8220;Except that she was hunted down and raped.&#8221;</p>
<p>&#8220;Oh, it tells us that all right,&#8221; Bulloch said.
&#8220;Doctor Robinson tells us the same thing, more or less. The
tape only lets us know when it happened. If her attacker had
spoken, we might have got a voice-print. If there had been any
background noise, we could have got a pattern, maybe even got a
computer analysis. But there was nothing at all. He never said a
word. The dogs found nothing at all. There&#8217;s no shoeprints,
scraps of clothing, nothing under her nails. Some blood.&#8221;</p>
<p>David winced, tried not to show it. Everybody in the room saw
it.</p>
<p>&#8220;<em>It&#8217;s hunting me it&#8217;s going to get me
its</em>.....&#8221; Her voice continued in his mind. She had
begged for help and no-one had known where she was.</p>
<p>&#8220;<em>Get away. Get away from me. Oh Jees...&#8221;</em>
Her desperate plea drilled into his head. He wanted to be sick. He
cold feel the waves of nausea build up and subside again, like
squeezes of pressure. His head was pounding in a dull, ceaseless
ache.</p>
<p>&#8220;Bruising and lacerations,&#8221; Bulloch continued.
&#8220;No sign semen at all. There&#8217;s a possibility there were
two of them, because she&#8217;s been held in a tight grip, hands
and feet. More than a possibility. There probably were two, or
more. It&#8217;s possible they were disturbed before they
finished.&#8221;</p>
<p>David kept hearing the dreadful screams. They overlaid
everything else. Every time Bulloch paused, David could hear the
frantic, demented shriek. Worse, he could hear the snuffling sound
as Helen&#8217;s legs were forced apart and something sharp and
spiked had been rammed inside her so hard it had ruptured the neck
of her uterus and punctured her bowel.</p>
<p>&#8220;I know it&#8217;s a tall order, but I&#8217;m sure
you&#8217;ll agree that we have to get a description,&#8221; The
Chief told David, keeping his voice even. &#8220;She hasn&#8217;t
spoken to anybody at all, and we have to get some response if
we&#8217;re going to find them. It&#8217;s possible you might get
some reaction.&#8221;</p>
<p>David looked at him blankly, trying to get his mind to switch
off the interminable screaming. He cursed himself for being late,
condemned himself for not picking up the signs quickly enough. He
had arrived home, tired from a long day, looking forward to a good
whisky and the chance to get the chill out of his bones. He parked
the car, began to wall round the side of the house and stopped. For
some reason, he turned. Had there been a smell on the air? He
sniffed. There was a scent of spring growth, perhaps a hint of
perfume from daffodils and primulas in the next door garden. Maybe
something else, faint and almost gone.</p>
<p>The hairs on his arms were crawling again. He could feel them
brush the fabric of his shirt sleeves. A trickle of sweat ran down
the sides of his ribs. It felt cold. His heart speeded up and a
flush of odd, anxious emotion, like a quick anger, twisted inside
him. He turned, sniffing the air again, recognising this odour yet
scenting a different smell inside it.</p>
<p>He was not alarmed, not yet, but the anxious sensation, and a
new, odd and inexplicable feeling of foreboding, made him walk back
through the gate. All of his senses, flagging and dragging only a
moment before, were now wound up instantly to sharp alertness. He
scanned the little yard, saw Helen&#8217;s car parked in the
corner. There were no lights on in the house.</p>
<p>He paused for a moment, then turned quickly and ran up to the
front door. It was locked, and that would be usual if Helen had
arrived home first. His heart gave a double beat, felt as if it
turned over inside him. The key rattled on the outside of the lock
and he cursed at the delay. Finally it slid home, clicked and the
bolt slid back. He pushed the door open and got inside. It was
cold. The heating had not been switched on. He called her name and
the feeling of foreboding swelled blackly within him. She was not
here.</p>
<p>David did not hesitate. He went straight back outside,
forgetting to close the door behind him. He ran to her car, found
it locked. A breeze shivered the topmost branches of the trees in a
whisper of sound. He turned, and the street lamp on the corner
glinted on something on the ground. He bent, found the car keys
only feet away from the door.</p>
<p>His heart stopped.</p>
<p>Two yards away, Helen&#8217;s bag was lying close to the hedge.
It was wide open and the contents had spilled out.</p>
<p>A dreadful premonition shivered through him. Without hesitation
he reached for his own handset and called the office. In ten
minutes four patrols were in the little yard, lights flashing on
the walls of the surrounding houses.</p>
<p>The tracker dogs were howling in the trees. One of the searchers
fond the telephone. It was another six hours before they found
Helen Lamont, bloody and bruised, huddling at the side of a disused
boatshed close to the waterway. She had been unable to speak.</p>
<p>The memory of her bruised and torn body hung with him, hooked
into his heart, the way the terrible screams on the
operator&#8217;s tape lanced through him. He told Bulloch, in a
slow, mumbling voice, that he would do what he could. He got up
from the room and left them, feeling their eyes on him, not caring
at all.</p>
<p>Helen was huddled on the bed. The clean white sheets showed up
the scratches on her face and the bruises under her eyes. Her hair
was jet-black against the pillow. Her eyes were open, staring at
the wall. David sat down at the side of the bed.</p>
<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ve managed to repair the damage,&#8221; Dr
Robinson had told him. David wanted to kill. Her dark eyes were
unfocussed, hollow smudges, bereft of their life and fire.
Helen&#8217;s breathing was slow and measured, but every now and
again, her chest would hitch as if she was about to burst into
tears.</p>
<p>The tears did not come. She said nothing.</p>
<p>He held her listless hand, finding it difficult to comprehend
the turmoil inside himself. She did not respond to his touch or to
his presence and that too upset him. Bandages swaddled her wrists
and her hands, badly scratched and abraded, stayed flaccid and
flopped, not returning his grip the way they had before. She had
always been a tactile woman, eager to touch, eager to hold and
caress. Her hand was cool and the skin dry. Her eyes did not so
much as flicker.</p>
<p>He spoke to her, speaking low, leaning close so his words were
private, just for the two of them. Her pupils remained fixed on
some point far beyond the wall. He told her he loved her, promised
her that everything would be fine, that they would be happy
together. She did not react.</p>
<p>Helen made no sound at all, except that when David was about to
leave, she began to hum, very faintly, almost inaudible. A trickle
of saliva drooled down from her slack lips and he thought she had
groaned. He turned round, leaned close again, willing her to
respond.</p>
<p>She was humming tunelessly. He did not recognise the notes.</p>
<p>For an instant though, her eyes flickered. She blinked slowly
and she looked at him. For that instant he thought she was trying
to reach out to him, to make some sort of contact and he took her
hand again. Then the expression changed. The eyes slid away. A
muscle twitched on her cheek, drawing her mouth into a small smile.
For another instant, for a brief flash of time, David thought he
had seen that look on someone else.</p>
<p>It was only when he was leaving the hospital that he recalled
the last time he had seen the same, almost sly expression on
another face. It had been when mad old Greta Simon had spoken to
him in Blane Hospital, when she had begun to hum the old Gaelic
tune.</p>
<hr />
<p>Helen sat in a world of strange and numbing sensations. She was
Helen Lamont, a part of her understood, but she was more than that.
It had looked into her eyes and it had connected with her depths
and in that sharing she had touched them all, all of the past
ones.</p>
<p>Her mind had fragmented and shattered and at once she was among
them, sharing with them all, down through the years, feeling their
powerful need, needing their powerful presence. They were one. They
had all had one purpose, driven to it, unable to escape it, but
there had been a purpose and now it was different.</p>
<p>Helen had reached into her new memory and had plucked out a song
that she would sing to herself, and there were other songs, in
words that she now understood, from far, far back. She hum these
softly while these others clucked and fussed around her, seen as if
through gauze curtains, heard as if through fog, part of a
different world now. She had broken and shattered and fragmented
and then all the scattered parts had coalesced once more and she
was alive again.</p>
<p>He had come to speak to her, murmuring words that she could not
understand, trying to touch an emotion that she could no longer
posses, because there was only one emotion. He had touched her hand
and she could feel her skin crawl. He did not realise how she could
not bear to be touched any more.</p>
<p>None of them realised anything at all.</p>
<p>She blinked slowly, turning away from the light, and turned in
to herself, listening to the slow beat of her own heart and the
rhythm of her own cycle.</p>
<hr />
<p>June&#8217;s parents both came round to David&#8217;s house the
evening after he had been to the hospital and surprised him when
they asked after their daughter. They had been surprised to learn
that she and David had split up, for she had not mentioned the
parting at all. In fact she had continued as if nothing had
changed. They had wanted to know if she was staying with him, for
they hadn&#8217;t heard from her in a few days. David was irritated
by their presence, because it reminded him of a dead relationship
while his own relationship had been shattered by Helen&#8217;s
rape. He held himself in check, because they were a nice couple and
he&#8217;d always liked them. The three of them went round to
June&#8217;s flat, found the place cold and empty, with two
day&#8217;s milk outside the door and two days mail behind it. He
took them down to the station and helped them fill out a missing
person report.</p>
<p>Within himself, however, he harboured dark and irrational
suspicions. Had June taken a revenge? Had she set Helen up in the
hope that she could win David back? A miserable, smouldering anger
started to twist inside him again and he could not quench it.</p>
<p>The rapists were never found. Neither was June Whalen.</p>
<p>David spent a couple of hours with Dr Mike Fitzgibbon, the
psychiatrist who had taken him down to see Greta Simon, what seemed
like years ago. David was hoping to get some answers.</p>
<p>&#8220;She wants to forget what happened,&#8221; Mike told him.
&#8220;It&#8217;s the brain&#8217;s way of coping with an overload
of trauma. It is not catatonia, more a withdrawal. I&#8217;m sure
she will pull out of it, with help and therapy and counselling.
Your division&#8217;s got some good rape crisis people.&#8221;</p>
<p>Mike explained David&#8217;s own feelings of panic and anger, of
complete helplessness.</p>
<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s another side effect of your own drive. You
feel the need to protect your mate, and you consider that you have
failed in that . If there was a visible threat, another human, you
would fight him, but you cannot see it, only imagine it. Your brain
is doing the fighting for you because you feel the overwhelming
need to protect what is yours.</p>
<p>&#8220;You asked me some time ago what sort of woman steals a
baby and I explained about the mothering need. It is a primitive
drive, a built-in instinct. Men sometimes have a corresponding
drive which generally manifests itself after the birth of a child.
All of these drives are linked to the great fundamental, which is
more powerful and basic than the day-to-day survival instinct. Our
whole lives, our very existence, revolves around the compulsion to
reproduce. Everything is secondary to that, yet everything is
linked to it. The reproductive urge is the most powerful force on
the planet. Yours had been threatened, in a very literal sense.
Humans suffer stress because of that. Helen is suffering enormous
stress and so are you. The problem with humans is that we can
think. We are not mindless animals. If we were, it might be
easier.&#8221;</p>
<p>David still wanted to lash out. He needed a target to hit.
Something to kill.</p>
<p>Helen Lamont came out of her fugue state after two days, but
while she seemed more aware of her surroundings, she remained
silent and unresponsive. She walked stiffly and painfully, wan and
bloodless, her eyes huge in her pale face, still focused on the far
distance. A battle weary soldier would have recognised that
hopeless look into infinity. She looked more slight, more
vulnerable than ever. A woman colleague of Mike Fitzgibbon, along
with two rape specialists, tried to coax the story out of her, but
Helen, when she spoke at all, haltingly, mumblingly, managed to
convey to them that she remembered nothing at all. After another
day, despite David&#8217;s panicked protests she signed herself out
of the hospital. Failing to persuade her, he told her he would take
her back to his place, which in recent times had become their
place. She shook her head dumbly Helen refused to go to her
mother&#8217;s house, or her sister&#8217;s place where he knew she
would get love and care. She went back to her own apartment,
sitting silent in the car as he drove her there, ignoring
everything on the way, eyes fixed ahead of her. She let herself in
with her key, easing the door closed on his hurt expression.</p>
<hr />
<p>At the beginning of May, two small boys found something in a
dense coppice four miles along the waterway parkland. They were not
sure what it was, but they said it had skeleton hands and it might
be a body.</p>
<p>David was merely going through the motions, unable to cope with
what had happened to Helen. She was still unable to return to work
and she still refused to communicate with him, or, it seemed,
anyone else. Her mother had called on him, hoping for some help in
getting through to her daughter, but he was as powerless as she
was. Helen had simply withdrawn into a shell of her own world, into
a cocoon of solitude. On the two occasions when she let him into
her apartment, he picked up a sense of anxiety and more than a
sense of dumb hostility towards him which he found as painful as a
physical blow. Her eyes were dull and lustreless and she cocked her
head to the side, absently listening to some imagined sound. He got
the impression that she could hardly bear his closeness and only
wanted him to leave. He wanted her to get medical help, but she
told him in a flat, listless voice, that she neither wanted it or
needed it. She only wanted to be alone.</p>
<p>&#8220;What about us?&#8221; he asked, clumsily. She looked at
him as if she did not quite understand. He got no reply to his
question. In the breaks of conversation, breaks that could stretch
out into dismal, uncomfortable minutes, she would hum to herself as
if her mind was roaming elsewhere. Her hair was getting longer, but
it was losing its shine. She was developing lines at the side of
her mouth. The bags were still heavy dark curves under her eyes.
Occasionally she would smile to herself, as if harbouring a secret.
David wondered if she had simply gone insane. He felt impotent and
angry and bewildered all at the same time, and added to that was
the guilt he felt for harbouring such a selfish attitude.</p>
<p>He tried to throw himself into his work and when the call came
in that a body had been found in the woods on the parkland, he
welcomed the chance to get on a case.</p>
<p>&#8220;Over there,&#8221; the local policeman said when he
arrived on the cycle track that shadowed the waterway.
&#8220;Don&#8217;t know what the hell it is.&#8221; Two small boys,
both red haired and freckled, obviously brothers, were sitting in a
police car, looking scared yet puffed up with importance all at the
same time. David spoke to them first then went into the coppice,
pushing his way through the bramble runners and dog rose stems
which clawed and tugged at his coat. Finally he reached the shape
in the centre of the thicket.</p>
<p>It looked at first like the decomposed body of a man.</p>
<p>There was no wind here in the coppice, but the day was warm and
the smell was overpowering. No direction was upwind. A horde of
black buzzing flies crawled over the body. A long, thin hand
reached out to grasp a sapling. The other one was stretched
overhead, hooked onto a branch. The skin was purple and fluid, as
if it had been burned or melted. Bones, long and slender, strangely
gracile and oddly jointed showed through in places.</p>
<p>&#8220;What in the name of Christ is that?&#8221; a uniformed
sergeant who had followed him through the undergrowth wanted to
know. David heard the man&#8217;s harsh gagging as he tried to cope
with the smell of rot.</p>
<p>He stepped closer and saw that whatever it was, it was not a
man. It was more like a spider monkey, in a way, with those
elongated arms and grasping fingers. The lower limbs were almost
identical, slender and jointed, almost insectile. For a moment, the
image of a mantis came to him. The feet were prehensile, each of
them holding onto an upright stem. It hung there, head down on its
narrow, ridged chest, an obscene Christ from a <em>Dali</em>
nightmare. Flies crawled all over its flat face. David risked
getting closer, shooed them away and they buzzed up in an angry
cloud. Two wide sockets, each big as a fist, gaped in a flat
face.</p>
<p>There was no mouth at all.</p>
<p>David stood a step back, suddenly nauseated, not so much by the
smell, but by the dead thing&#8217;s hideous appearance. It defied
the senses in a monstrous assault. It was an obscenity, an
<em>offence</em> against the natural order of things.</p>
<p>To David, the rotting carcass was a crime against nature, though
its shape, thin and angular, was somehow familiar. But for the lack
of mouth, it was just a larger, more elongated version of the thing
that he had shoved down into the mud of the canal. Such a thing
could never exist, not in this world, but it was there, decomposing
in the shadow of the copse, suspended from the branches, a slender,
slatted horror with purpling, viscous skin which dripped onto the
brambles below it. Its proportions were all wrong, yet it looked
somehow deadly, somehow predatory. He could imagine it stalking,
like a mantis, like all other mindless creatures.</p>
<p>Between its legs curved a spike which looked like bone. It
pointed outwards and upwards, a vicious stabbing thing.</p>
<p>Donal Bulloch&#8217;s words came back to him. &#8220;Something
sharp and spiked has damaged the walls of her uterus and punctured
her bowel,&#8221; Bulloch had said after the tape had stopped
playing and the silence had echoed with screams.</p>
<p>As soon as her recalled that, the image of the mantis faded. The
deadly insects killed only to eat, even to the extent of snatching
a potential suitor and tearing it to shreds. This thing without a
mouth was different. As he stared at it, his encyclopaedic
knowledge of the natural world dredged up for him a picture of a
male octopus, in a scene captured underwater by the camera of the
now dead Flora Spiers. It had copulated with the female and after
the successful fertilisation, its role in life done, it had ceased
to live. It had completed its purpose and it simply disintegrated
and died.</p>
<p>He remembered another picture, taken by himself when he was only
ten years old, of spent mayfly bodies on the still water of a river
pool. They had metamorphosed from larvae to emerge as adults for
their final flight, the incandescence of the breeding dance on the
summer air. They had fed all their lives and now the feeding was
over. They had emerged with only one drive, to find a mate. To
breed. They had no need of mouths, not any more.</p>
<p>&#8220;Oh sweet Jesus,&#8221; David muttered. He stumbled
backwards, his mouth open, eyes fixed on the dripping shape.</p>
<p>The clawed hands gripped the branches in a death lock. The feet
were hooked round the slender saplings. David now recognised the
bruising on Helen&#8217;s wrists and ankles.</p>
<p>And death it showed its living purpose, the stabbing spike
between its scrawny limbs curved up like a horn. It was only then
that he realised the cause of the dreadful rending wounds inside of
her. He stood back, groaning, eyes suddenly blinded by the violent,
uncontrollable pounding of his heart.</p>
<p>Helen Lamont disappeared that day from her flat. She was never
seen again.</p>
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