Chapter 14
Marcus had pulled away from the farm, not entirely sure which way he should go first. As he was not the most experienced person with the local geography, he chose to find an area of high ground first. Then he would decide where to go next. He had spotted a hill that rose up behind the farm, and he aimed for this spotting that there was a winding road progressing most of the way up the hillside. He found the road at the base with little difficulty, and ascended it with even less. He arrived at the near-summit less than thirty minutes after he had left. From his expanded viewpoint, he could see the farm, and the town they had already visited, along with a second town that was near to them, and a third town behind that. Aside from these two new towns, the rest of the land was empty and green, with little of worthwhile notice. He elected to go to the two towns, the farthest first that he might work his way back to the farm. On his way back down the hill, it occurred to him that he had little need to continue his adherence to the legalities of road driving, and decided to pile on more speed, as far as could be done sensibly, allowing him to arrive at the farther town about an hour later.
As he entered the town, he over revved his engine, intentionally trying to make sure he had been heard by any people in the locality. As he dismounted, he removed the pistol from his waistband and held it poised and ready, just in case. This town was smaller than the first, consisting of no modern buildings whatsoever and a small collection of quaint cottages surrounding a building that appeared to be a village hall and church, and beside this a small village shop. He took very little time to explore, kicking in doors with reckless abandon and ignoring all but the most interesting items for supplies. He took less time to check every room of every building than he had taken to get to the town, and soon found he was alone for sure. This town seemed to have suffered a similar fate to the first town, although there appeared no proof to suggest the same protagonist for this town's story of death and disappearance. Marcus did not pursue proof of explanation nor did he spend time to wonder what might have been, he simply treated every door as if it held back horror, and every new room as if it might hold a monster. He tried to copy the behaviour of many television special agents and police entering buildings, pistol in hand, and shouldering the doors open.
Soon enough the town was searched and could be left, so Marcus remounted his ride and aimed himself towards the third town, which had appeared much larger than the first and the second from his earlier viewpoint on the hill. This town also showed its size by its prevalence of heavily tarmaced streets, street markings and multitudes of shops. The general feel was much different from the quaint appearance of the smaller two towns, buildings that looked old and comfortable, not new and unnatural. The center of this town consisted of a few interconnecting streets, rather than the single main street of the previous two. As he began to search, he quickly realised he would not be capable of searching every room as he had done in the other towns. Now, he decided to simply make a lot of noise, and hopefully attract anyone who was near.
He started simply by riding the bike around, heavily revving for added effect, until he spotted a police car. On a whim, he pulled up and used the butt of his pistol to break the window, then opened the door. Once he had gained entry he quickly found his quarry, the object of his search. He pulled out a standard issue police megaphone and got back on the bike.
"HELLO!" He found the megaphone was issuing a crackling noise and was giving feedback. He fiddled with its controls, and tried again. This time his voice was clearer, "HELLO! IS THERE ANYBODY HERE!"
He spent a few minutes repeating himself, and walking through the city. Then he returned to the bike, and shouted through the megaphone that if anyone was there he would go to the center of the town and wait for an hour.
He drove the bike to the center of the town and parked it up opposite the police station. He had sat still for maybe five minutes or so before he heard a strange clacking noise, as of something tapping against the concrete. It was a noise that usually would not have been heard, but for the eerie stillness, the quiet so extreme you could have heard a pin drop. His first thought was that of a woman in high heels, but he quickly realised this was false as he knew the pattern of the sound was wrong. He decided to sit and wait, as the few extra stories of the buildings around the center of town caused an echoing effect, meaning he could not begin to attempt to figure which direction the sound came from. After a few moments the noise seemed to grow a little louder, and he spotted a shape turn a corner nearest him coming out of a lane opposite the police station. When he first spotted the shape, all he registered was the animal shape covered in long messy fur, and the canine jaw. His heart jumped into his throat. He raised the pistol, expecting that any moment, the animal might snarl and pounce. The animal was not, however, moving quickly at all. Marcus' heart began to soften, and he looked more closely, seeing the animal was in fact just a normal dog, limping, and giving such a clear look of excitement at seeing a person that any thoughts of fear left Marcus completely. He replaced his weapon in his waistband, and approached the animal. The dog limped forward, its long brown fur seeming ragged more as a consequence of his mongrel breed than a symptom of bad treatment or hardship. It was built like a hairy greyhound, a long slim pointed snout lost between long strands of thick fur. The presence of hanging genitals showed the dog was male. Marcus reached a hand out, allowing the animal to sniff it and become acquainted with his scent. The dog quickly decided he liked the scent, and attempted to jump up at Marcus in an excited greeting, only to howl in pain almost immediately. It put its tail between its legs, and lay down to start licking its injured forepaw. Marcus took pity on the beast, and gingerly attempted to pull it's paw forward so he might get a better look. At first it appeared the dog had suffered some major damage, as the paw looked misshapen and was covered in blood, but after a moment's inspection he found it was actually a piece of dull metal that had pierced the bottom of his foot and become bloodied. The metal itself seemed to be a curved piece of sheet metal which had been stood on by the dog, and in the process had been twisted around his paw. Marcus took a moment to calm the animal before he attempted to help the dog, smoothing his long ragged fur flat against his back. Marcus gently took the animals paw, and then bent the outer wrapping of the thin metal back. As he did so the dog began to whine miserably. Having removed the fold that held the metal against the dogs paw, the metal piercing the bottom of his paw was no longer pinned in, and easily came away, altho doing so caused the dog to whine and snap at him vainly. Almost as soon as the metal was removed, the dog realised Marcus was helping, and so he barked a happy bark, and pulled his paw away. The dog spent a moment or two licking the paw clean, and then gingerly placed it on the floor. After testing it, the dog seemed satisfied, and ran off across the central clearing seemingly just happy to be able to. Marcus did notice the dog was still favouring its paw, but not in the crippling way as before. Happy that the dog was now sorted, Marcus decided to give another call on the megaphone. No immediate response could be heard, but Marcus had expected that. He waited out the rest of the hour by throwing sticks for the dog, and running around with it. As he was preparing to leave, the dog seemed to detect something, either a sound or a smell, that had evaded Marcus' perception. The dog adopted a pointing stance, his eyes looking up at Marcus with distinct purpose. The dog trotted off, and then stopped and turned back towards Marcus. He sat, and waited, and when Marcus did not respond, he barked, got up and walked a little and waited again. Marcus took the hint and followed, and the dog began to lead him in a fairly straight direction. they nipped through a small fence, and down a concrete lane, until the dog began to nose at a closed door. Marcus walked up to the door and opened it. The moment the door catch clicked free of the frame, a loud scream of a fear was heard on the other side of the door.
"I'm not gonna hurt you, I am here to help!" Marcus was forced to shout as he could not otherwise be sure of being heard over the screaming voice.
The screaming stopped, and so Marcus opened the door. Inside, Marcus found a small boy of about 5 years of age, dirty on the face and scared witless. Once the dog saw the open door, he was upon the boy in a split second, licking his face and hands and wagging his tail madly. It seemed they knew each other. The boy looked up at Marcus, and Marcus looked back. At first, the boy took in the size and shape of the darkness outside the door, before running forwards and attaching himself to Marcus' leg.
Marcus took a moment to absorb the situation. Whilst his responsibility to the child was not in doubt, he was certainly surprised, as he had been expecting to find only adults, if anyone at all. The child looked miserable and lonely, but not particularly scared beyond being alone. He did not have the look in his eyes of terror, nor of pain, it appeared the source of the small boys unhappiness might be as simple as hunger and loneliness. He took the small boy by the hand, and carefully removed him from his tight hold, then walked him back towards the bike, the dog following alongside.
"Where are your parents?" Marcus asked the boy, "Surely you can't be alone?" The boy simply nodded, but did not speak. The child was fully aware and responsive, he just did not speak.
"So, you don't want to speak?" The boy nodded.
"Thats ok. Do you want to come back with me, and meet my friends?" The boy seemed a little unsure, but nodded anyway.
Marcus lifted the small child up onto the back of the motorcycle. Then, he paused. He was momentarily lost as he realised he now had a dog and a small child to take back with him, but only one space on the bike, and also neither dog nor child would be able to confidently hold onto the bike. Marcus stood and scratched his head thoughtfully as he considered a solution. Eventually, he came to the conclusion that he ought to place the dog on the front where he might keep him under control, and he would make a large sling to hold the child safe to his back. He looked in the nearby shops, and found a simple thin blanket, and then he wrapped this around his front, lifted the child to his back as for a piggy back ride, and then awkwardly managed to wrap the blanket around himself, under his arms, and tie it together. It did not help much to hold the small boy whilst Marcus, but whilst he was sat on the bike it proved an effective if somewhat strange looking solution. He mounted, and settled the boy comfortably behind him, and told him to slap Marcus' back if he wanted to stop, or if he was scared. Then he looked at the dog, who had intently followed Marcus on the search for a sling, head cocked to one side as he watched Marcus arrange it, as if to say, "These humans are funny."
Marcus patted an invitation on the front of the bike, over the fuel tank, and the dog jumped up, and very clumsily, managed to perch on the fuel tank, leaving marcus very little space to reach past and control teh bike. However, given the extreme emptiness of their expected route, Marcus felt that the arrangement would suffice. However, when marcus started the bike, the dog began to whimper, and as soon as it moved, the dog jumped off, forward over the handlebars.
Marcus stopped, beginning to feel as if he had encountered far too much stress so far for a single day, and so he just looked at the dog, who was now sitting a few yards away watching intently, and slowly wagging its tail. MArcus decided to see if the dog could understand the same technique the beast had used itself to direct Marcus to the boy. He pulled the bike forward, and up the end of the nearby street, then stopped and looked back. The dog still sat in the same place, its head now cocked in the familiar pose of confusion. So, Marcus put his fingers to his lips and let out a loud shrill whistle, and the dog pricked up everything it could, from tail to ears, and hopped forward into a loping run, and Marcus began to pull away again.
It took a few more stops occasionally on the way back to allow some rest for their pedestrian companion, and overall they had reduced their speed to allow him to keep up, that by the time they returned to the farm, the light was beginning to fail. The loud engine of the motorcycle had roused the occupants of the farm and made them aware of his imminent return, and as such he found a small group awaiting him as he pulled up the long road into the farm.
As he entered the town, he over revved his engine, intentionally trying to make sure he had been heard by any people in the locality. As he dismounted, he removed the pistol from his waistband and held it poised and ready, just in case. This town was smaller than the first, consisting of no modern buildings whatsoever and a small collection of quaint cottages surrounding a building that appeared to be a village hall and church, and beside this a small village shop. He took very little time to explore, kicking in doors with reckless abandon and ignoring all but the most interesting items for supplies. He took less time to check every room of every building than he had taken to get to the town, and soon found he was alone for sure. This town seemed to have suffered a similar fate to the first town, although there appeared no proof to suggest the same protagonist for this town's story of death and disappearance. Marcus did not pursue proof of explanation nor did he spend time to wonder what might have been, he simply treated every door as if it held back horror, and every new room as if it might hold a monster. He tried to copy the behaviour of many television special agents and police entering buildings, pistol in hand, and shouldering the doors open.
Soon enough the town was searched and could be left, so Marcus remounted his ride and aimed himself towards the third town, which had appeared much larger than the first and the second from his earlier viewpoint on the hill. This town also showed its size by its prevalence of heavily tarmaced streets, street markings and multitudes of shops. The general feel was much different from the quaint appearance of the smaller two towns, buildings that looked old and comfortable, not new and unnatural. The center of this town consisted of a few interconnecting streets, rather than the single main street of the previous two. As he began to search, he quickly realised he would not be capable of searching every room as he had done in the other towns. Now, he decided to simply make a lot of noise, and hopefully attract anyone who was near.
He started simply by riding the bike around, heavily revving for added effect, until he spotted a police car. On a whim, he pulled up and used the butt of his pistol to break the window, then opened the door. Once he had gained entry he quickly found his quarry, the object of his search. He pulled out a standard issue police megaphone and got back on the bike.
"HELLO!" He found the megaphone was issuing a crackling noise and was giving feedback. He fiddled with its controls, and tried again. This time his voice was clearer, "HELLO! IS THERE ANYBODY HERE!"
He spent a few minutes repeating himself, and walking through the city. Then he returned to the bike, and shouted through the megaphone that if anyone was there he would go to the center of the town and wait for an hour.
He drove the bike to the center of the town and parked it up opposite the police station. He had sat still for maybe five minutes or so before he heard a strange clacking noise, as of something tapping against the concrete. It was a noise that usually would not have been heard, but for the eerie stillness, the quiet so extreme you could have heard a pin drop. His first thought was that of a woman in high heels, but he quickly realised this was false as he knew the pattern of the sound was wrong. He decided to sit and wait, as the few extra stories of the buildings around the center of town caused an echoing effect, meaning he could not begin to attempt to figure which direction the sound came from. After a few moments the noise seemed to grow a little louder, and he spotted a shape turn a corner nearest him coming out of a lane opposite the police station. When he first spotted the shape, all he registered was the animal shape covered in long messy fur, and the canine jaw. His heart jumped into his throat. He raised the pistol, expecting that any moment, the animal might snarl and pounce. The animal was not, however, moving quickly at all. Marcus' heart began to soften, and he looked more closely, seeing the animal was in fact just a normal dog, limping, and giving such a clear look of excitement at seeing a person that any thoughts of fear left Marcus completely. He replaced his weapon in his waistband, and approached the animal. The dog limped forward, its long brown fur seeming ragged more as a consequence of his mongrel breed than a symptom of bad treatment or hardship. It was built like a hairy greyhound, a long slim pointed snout lost between long strands of thick fur. The presence of hanging genitals showed the dog was male. Marcus reached a hand out, allowing the animal to sniff it and become acquainted with his scent. The dog quickly decided he liked the scent, and attempted to jump up at Marcus in an excited greeting, only to howl in pain almost immediately. It put its tail between its legs, and lay down to start licking its injured forepaw. Marcus took pity on the beast, and gingerly attempted to pull it's paw forward so he might get a better look. At first it appeared the dog had suffered some major damage, as the paw looked misshapen and was covered in blood, but after a moment's inspection he found it was actually a piece of dull metal that had pierced the bottom of his foot and become bloodied. The metal itself seemed to be a curved piece of sheet metal which had been stood on by the dog, and in the process had been twisted around his paw. Marcus took a moment to calm the animal before he attempted to help the dog, smoothing his long ragged fur flat against his back. Marcus gently took the animals paw, and then bent the outer wrapping of the thin metal back. As he did so the dog began to whine miserably. Having removed the fold that held the metal against the dogs paw, the metal piercing the bottom of his paw was no longer pinned in, and easily came away, altho doing so caused the dog to whine and snap at him vainly. Almost as soon as the metal was removed, the dog realised Marcus was helping, and so he barked a happy bark, and pulled his paw away. The dog spent a moment or two licking the paw clean, and then gingerly placed it on the floor. After testing it, the dog seemed satisfied, and ran off across the central clearing seemingly just happy to be able to. Marcus did notice the dog was still favouring its paw, but not in the crippling way as before. Happy that the dog was now sorted, Marcus decided to give another call on the megaphone. No immediate response could be heard, but Marcus had expected that. He waited out the rest of the hour by throwing sticks for the dog, and running around with it. As he was preparing to leave, the dog seemed to detect something, either a sound or a smell, that had evaded Marcus' perception. The dog adopted a pointing stance, his eyes looking up at Marcus with distinct purpose. The dog trotted off, and then stopped and turned back towards Marcus. He sat, and waited, and when Marcus did not respond, he barked, got up and walked a little and waited again. Marcus took the hint and followed, and the dog began to lead him in a fairly straight direction. they nipped through a small fence, and down a concrete lane, until the dog began to nose at a closed door. Marcus walked up to the door and opened it. The moment the door catch clicked free of the frame, a loud scream of a fear was heard on the other side of the door.
"I'm not gonna hurt you, I am here to help!" Marcus was forced to shout as he could not otherwise be sure of being heard over the screaming voice.
The screaming stopped, and so Marcus opened the door. Inside, Marcus found a small boy of about 5 years of age, dirty on the face and scared witless. Once the dog saw the open door, he was upon the boy in a split second, licking his face and hands and wagging his tail madly. It seemed they knew each other. The boy looked up at Marcus, and Marcus looked back. At first, the boy took in the size and shape of the darkness outside the door, before running forwards and attaching himself to Marcus' leg.
Marcus took a moment to absorb the situation. Whilst his responsibility to the child was not in doubt, he was certainly surprised, as he had been expecting to find only adults, if anyone at all. The child looked miserable and lonely, but not particularly scared beyond being alone. He did not have the look in his eyes of terror, nor of pain, it appeared the source of the small boys unhappiness might be as simple as hunger and loneliness. He took the small boy by the hand, and carefully removed him from his tight hold, then walked him back towards the bike, the dog following alongside.
"Where are your parents?" Marcus asked the boy, "Surely you can't be alone?" The boy simply nodded, but did not speak. The child was fully aware and responsive, he just did not speak.
"So, you don't want to speak?" The boy nodded.
"Thats ok. Do you want to come back with me, and meet my friends?" The boy seemed a little unsure, but nodded anyway.
Marcus lifted the small child up onto the back of the motorcycle. Then, he paused. He was momentarily lost as he realised he now had a dog and a small child to take back with him, but only one space on the bike, and also neither dog nor child would be able to confidently hold onto the bike. Marcus stood and scratched his head thoughtfully as he considered a solution. Eventually, he came to the conclusion that he ought to place the dog on the front where he might keep him under control, and he would make a large sling to hold the child safe to his back. He looked in the nearby shops, and found a simple thin blanket, and then he wrapped this around his front, lifted the child to his back as for a piggy back ride, and then awkwardly managed to wrap the blanket around himself, under his arms, and tie it together. It did not help much to hold the small boy whilst Marcus, but whilst he was sat on the bike it proved an effective if somewhat strange looking solution. He mounted, and settled the boy comfortably behind him, and told him to slap Marcus' back if he wanted to stop, or if he was scared. Then he looked at the dog, who had intently followed Marcus on the search for a sling, head cocked to one side as he watched Marcus arrange it, as if to say, "These humans are funny."
Marcus patted an invitation on the front of the bike, over the fuel tank, and the dog jumped up, and very clumsily, managed to perch on the fuel tank, leaving marcus very little space to reach past and control teh bike. However, given the extreme emptiness of their expected route, Marcus felt that the arrangement would suffice. However, when marcus started the bike, the dog began to whimper, and as soon as it moved, the dog jumped off, forward over the handlebars.
Marcus stopped, beginning to feel as if he had encountered far too much stress so far for a single day, and so he just looked at the dog, who was now sitting a few yards away watching intently, and slowly wagging its tail. MArcus decided to see if the dog could understand the same technique the beast had used itself to direct Marcus to the boy. He pulled the bike forward, and up the end of the nearby street, then stopped and looked back. The dog still sat in the same place, its head now cocked in the familiar pose of confusion. So, Marcus put his fingers to his lips and let out a loud shrill whistle, and the dog pricked up everything it could, from tail to ears, and hopped forward into a loping run, and Marcus began to pull away again.
It took a few more stops occasionally on the way back to allow some rest for their pedestrian companion, and overall they had reduced their speed to allow him to keep up, that by the time they returned to the farm, the light was beginning to fail. The loud engine of the motorcycle had roused the occupants of the farm and made them aware of his imminent return, and as such he found a small group awaiting him as he pulled up the long road into the farm.