Welcome to Schlock! the new webzine for science fiction, fantasy and horror.

Vol 2, Issue 11
22 January 2012

Schlock! is an exciting new weekly webzine dedicated to short stories, flash fiction, serialised novels and novellas within the genres of science fiction, fantasy and horror. We publish new and old works of pulp sword and sorcery, urban fantasy, dark fantasy and gothic horror. If you want to read quality works of schlock fantasy, science fiction or horror, Schlock! is the webzine for you!

For details of previous editions, please go to the Archive.

Schlock! Webzine is always willing to consider new science fiction, fantasy and horror short stories, serials, graphic novels and comic strips, reviews and art. Feel free to submit fiction, articles, art or links to your own site to editor@schlock.co.uk.

We will also review published and self-published novels, in both print and digital editions. Please contact the editor at the above email address for further details.

The stories, articles and illustrations contained on this website are copyright © to the respective authors and illustrators, unless in the public domain.

This Edition 

This week's cover illustration is "Leif Ericson on the shore of Vinland" by Monro S Orr. Cover design by C Priest Brumley.

Editorial by Gavin Chappell

Days of High Adventure: The Shadow Kingdom - Part Four by Robert E Howard - Kull confronts the dreaded serpent folk... SWORD AND SORCERY

Our Life in AD300 by Nick Grant - Never lie to an android! SCI-FI HORROR

Spider Class by Nathan Rowark - There's a spider's class amongst us... POETRY

The Hettford Witch Hunt Part Five  by James Rhodes - In which more things happen than in the rest of the series combined.... OCCULT SIT-COM

Starkad the Old by Gavin Chappell - Blessed by Odin, cursed by Thor, Starkad lives a tragic life of treachery and violence in pagan Scandinavia... MYTHOLOGY

Choice Hill Farm - Part Two by Paul Melhuish - Dreams come true; or nightmares... HORROR

Guinea Pig Gothic - Part Two by John Campbell - How Terry was turned... HORROR

Thieves From The Stars - Part Four by Rex Mundy - Theodric reaches the dark elves' domain... SWORD AND SORCERY

Schlock! Classic Serial: Varney the Vampire: Part Forty ascribed to Thomas Preskett Prest. Before Twilight... before Nosferatu ... before Dracula... there was Varney... GOTHIC HORROR

Schlock! Classic Serial: Brigands of the Moon (Part 35) by Ray Cummings - I leapt like a leopard upon his back and fired, my weapon muzzle ramming him... His agonized scream rattled the diaphragms of my ear grids... SPACE OPERA

EDITORIAL

With scenes of horrific violence from the outset, or your money back – here’s Schlock!

This week we see the conclusions to John Campbell’s Guinea Pig Gothic and Paul Melhuish’s Choice Hill Farm; the return of Nathan Rowark, with his social poem Spider Class; the penultimate episode of this series of The Hettford Witch Hunt (don’t worry, Hettford fans – the Witch Hunt will return!), and a tale of robotic revenge; Our Life in AD300 by Nick Grant.

Days of High Adventure reaches the last instalment of The Shadow Kingdom; meanwhile, Thieves From the Stars, Varney The Vampyre and Brigands of the Moon also continue. There’s also the first in my series of retellings from the Norse sagas, Starkad the Old.

We also have an announcement to make: the publication, in e-book and paperback, of my urban fantasy, Going Underground, a tale of magic and mayhem, youth cults and Neo-Nazi death-cults, and a quest for the Celtic Grail that takes its members deep into the bowels of the planet. See Schlock! Publications for more details.

Gavin Chappell

THE SHADOW KINGDOM by Robert E Howard

Chapter IV: Masks

Kull sat upon his throne and gazed broodily out upon the sea of faces turned toward him. A courtier was speaking in evenly modulated tones, but the king scarcely heard him. Close by, Tu, chief councilor, stood ready at Kull’s command, and each time the king looked at him, Kull shuddered inwardly. The surface of court life was as the unrippled surface of the sea between tide and tide. To the musing king the affairs of the night before seemed as a dream, until his eyes dropped to the arm of his throne. A brown, sinewy hand rested there, upon the wrist of which gleamed a dragon armlet; Brule stood beside his throne and ever the Pict’s fierce secret whisper brought him back from the realm of unreality in which he moved.

No, that was no dream, that monstrous interlude.

As he sat upon his throne in the Hall of Society and gazed upon the courtiers, the ladies, the lords, the statesmen, he seemed to see their faces as things of illusion, things unreal, existent only as shadows and mockeries of substance. Always he had seen their faces as masks, but before he had looked on them with contemptuous tolerance, thinking to see beneath the masks shallow, puny souls, avaricious, lustful, deceitful; now there was a grim undertone, a sinister meaning, a vague horror that lurked beneath the smooth masks. While he exchanged courtesies with some nobleman or councilor he seemed to see the smiling face fade like smoke and the frightful jaws of a serpent gaping there. How many of those he looked upon were horrid, inhuman monsters, plotting his death, beneath the smooth mesmeric illusion of a human face?

Valusia—land of dreams and nightmares—a kingdom of the shadows, ruled by phantoms who glided back and forth behind the painted curtains, mocking the futile king who sat upon the throne—himself a shadow.

And like a comrade shadow Brule stood by his side, dark eyes glittering from immobile face. A real man, Brule! And Kull felt his friendship for the savage become a thing of reality and sensed that Brule felt a friendship for him beyond the mere necessity of statecraft.

And what, mused Kull, were the realities of life?

Ambition, power, pride? The friendship of man, the love of women—which Kull had never known—battle, plunder, what? Was it the real Kull who sat upon the throne or was it the real Kull who had scaled the hills of Atlantis, harried the far isles of the sunset, and laughed upon the green roaring tides of the Atlantean sea? How could a man be so many different men in a lifetime? For Kull knew that there were many Kulls and he wondered which was the real Kull. After all, the priests of the Serpent went a step further in their magic, for all men wore masks, and many a different mask with each different man or woman; and Kull wondered if a serpent did not lurk under every mask.

So he sat and brooded in strange, mazy thought-ways, and the courtiers came and went and the minor affairs of the day were completed, until at last the king and Brule sat alone in the Hall of Society save for the drowsy attendants.

Kull felt a weariness. Neither he nor Brule had slept the night before, nor had Kull slept the night before that, when in the gardens of Ka-nu he had had his first hint of the weird things to be. Last night nothing further had occurred after they had returned to the study room from the secret corridors, but they had neither dared nor cared to sleep. Kull, with the incredible vitality of a wolf, had aforetime gone for days upon days without sleep, in his wild savage days but now his mind was edged from constant thinking and from the nerve-breaking eeriness of the past night.

He needed sleep, but sleep was furthest from his mind.

And he would not have dared sleep if he had thought of it. Another thing that had shaken him was the fact that though he and Brule had kept a close watch to see if, or when, the study-room guard was changed, yet it was changed without their knowledge; for the next morning those who stood on guard were able to repeat the magic words of Brule, but they remembered nothing out of the ordinary. They thought that they had stood at guard all night, as usual, and Kull said nothing to the contrary. He believed them true men, but Brule had advised absolute secrecy, and Kull also thought it best.

Now Brule leaned over the throne, lowering his voice so not even a lazy attendant could hear: “They will strike soon, I think, Kull. A while ago Ka-nu gave me a secret sign. The priests know that we know of their plot, of course, but they know not, how much we know. We must be ready for any sort of action. Ka-nu and the Pictish chiefs will remain within hailing distance now until this is settled one way or another. Ha, Kull, if it comes to a pitched battle, the streets and the castles of Valusia will run red!”

Kull smiled grimly. He would greet any sort of action with a ferocious joy. This wandering in a labyrinth of illusion and magic was extremely irksome to his nature. He longed for the leap and clang of swords, for the joyous freedom of battle.

Then into the Hall of Society came Tu again, and the rest of the councilors.

“Lord king, the hour of the council is at hand and we stand ready to escort you to the council room.”

Kull rose, and the councilors bent the knee as he passed through the way opened by them for his passage, rising behind him, and following. Eyebrows were raised as the Pict strode defiantly behind the king, but no one dissented. Brule’s challenging gaze swept the smooth faces of the councilors with the defiance of an intruding savage.

The group passed through the halls and came at last to the council chamber. The door was closed, as usual, and the councilors arranged themselves in the order of their rank before the dais upon which stood the king. Like a bronze statue Brule took up his stand behind Kull.

Kull swept the room with a swift stare. Surely no chance of treachery here. Seventeen councilors there were, all known to him; all of them had espoused his cause when he ascended the throne.

“Men of Valusia—” he began in the conventional manner, then halted, perplexed. The councilors had risen as a man and were moving toward him. There was no hostility in their looks, but their actions were strange for a council room. The foremost was close to him when Brule sprang forward, crouched like a leopard.

“Ka nama kaa lajerama!” his voice crackled through the sinister silence of the room and the foremost councilor recoiled, hand flashing to his robes; and like a spring released, Brule moved and the man pitched headlong and lay still while his face faded and became the head of a mighty snake.

“Slay, Kull!” rasped the Pict’s voice. “They be all serpent men!”

The rest was a scarlet maze. Kull saw the familiar faces dim like fading fog and in their places gaped horrid reptilian visages as the whole band rushed forward. His mind was dazed but his giant body faltered not.

The singing of his sword filled the room, and the onrushing flood broke in a red wave. But they surged forward again, seemingly willing to fling their lives away in order to drag down the king. Hideous jaws gaped at him; terrible eyes blazed into his unblinkingly; a frightful fetid scent pervaded the atmosphere—the serpent scent that Kull had known in southern jungles. Swords and daggers leaped at him and he was dimly aware that they wounded him. But Kull was in his element; never before had he faced such grim foes but it mattered little; they lived, their veins held blood that could be spilt and they died when his great sword cleft their skulls or drove through their bodies. Slash, thrust, thrust and swing.

Yet had Kull died there but for the man who crouched at his side, parrying and thrusting. For the king was clear berserk, fighting in the terrible Atlantean way, that seeks death to deal death; he made no effort to avoid thrusts and slashes, standing straight up and ever plunging forward, no thought in his frenzied mind but to slay. Not often did Kull forget his fighting craft in his primitive fury, but now some chain had broken in his soul, flooding his mind with a red wave of slaughter-lust. He slew a foe at each blow, but they surged about him, and time and again Brule turned a thrust that would have slain, as he crouched beside Kull, parrying and warding with cold skill, slaying not as Kull slew with long slashes and plunges, but with short overhand blows and upward thrusts.

Kull laughed, a laugh of insanity. The frightful faces swirled about him in a scarlet blaze. He felt steel sink into his arm and dropped his sword in a flashing arc that cleft his foe to the breast-bone. Then the mists faded and the king saw that he and Brule stood alone above a sprawl of hideous crimson figures who lay still upon the floor.

“Valka! What a killing!” said Brule, shaking the blood from his eyes. “Kull, had these been warriors who knew how to use the steel, we had died here.

“These serpent priests know naught of swordcraft and die easier than any men I ever slew. Yet had there been a few more, I think the matter had ended otherwise.”

Kull nodded. The wild berserker blaze had passed, leaving a mazed feeling of great weariness.

Blood seeped from wounds on breast, shoulder, arm and leg. Brule, himself bleeding from a score of flesh wounds, glanced at him in some concern.

“Lord Kull, let us hasten to have your wounds dressed by the women.”

Kull thrust him aside with a drunken sweep of his mighty arm.

“Nay, we’ll see this through ere we cease. Go you, though, and have your wounds seen to—I command it.”

The Pict laughed grimly. “Your wounds are more than mine, lord king—’ he began, then stopped as a sudden thought struck him. “By Valka, Kull, this is not the council room!”

Kull looked about and suddenly other fogs seemed to fade. “Nay, this is the room where Eallal died a thousand years ago—since unused and named ‘Accursed.’”

“Then by the gods, they tricked us after all!” exclaimed Brule in a fury, kicking the corpses at their feet. “They caused us to walk like fools into their ambush! By their magic they changed the appearance of all—”

“Then there is further deviltry afoot.” said Kull, “for if there be true men in the councils of Valusia they should be in the real council room now. Come swiftly.”

And leaving the room with its ghastly keepers they hastened through halls that seemed deserted until they came to the real council room. Then Kull halted with a ghastly shudder. From the council room sounded a voice speaking, and—the voice was his!

With a hand that shook he parted the tapestries and gazed into the room. There sat the councilors, counterparts of the men he and Brule had just slain, and upon the dais stood Kull, king of Valusia.

He stepped back, his mind reeling.

“This is insanity!” he whispered. “Am I Kull? Do I stand here or is that Kull yonder in very truth, arid am I but a shadow, a figment of thought?”

Brule’s hand clutching his shoulder, shaking him fiercely, brought him to his senses.

“Valka’s name, be not a fool! Can you yet be astounded after all we have seen? See you not that those are true men bewitched by a snake-man who has taken your form, as those others took their forms? By now you should have been slain, and yon monster reigning in your stead, unknown by those who bowed to you. Leap arid slay swiftly or else we are undone.

“The Red Slayers, true men, stand close on each hand and none but you can reach and slay him. Be swift!”

Kull shook off the onrushing dizziness, flung back his head in the old, defiant gesture. He took a long, deep breath as does a strong swimmer before diving into the sea; then, sweeping back the tapestries, made the dais in a single lion-like bound. Brule had spoken truly. There stood men of the Red Slayers, guardsmen trained to move quick as the striking leopard; any but Kull had died ere he could reach the usurper. But the sight of Kull, identical with the man upon the dais, held them in their tracks, their minds stunned for an instant, and that was long enough. He upon the dais snatched for his sword. But even as his fingers closed upon the hilt, Kull’s sword stood out behind his shoulders and the thing that men had thought the king pitched forward from the dais to lie silent upon the floor.

“Hold!” Kull’s lifted hand and kingly voice stopped the rush that had started, and while they stood astounded he pointed to the thing which lay before them—whose face was fading into that of a snake.

They recoiled, and from one door came Brule and from another came Ka-nu.

These grasped the king’s bloody hand and Ka-nu spoke: “Men of Valusia, you have seen with your own eyes. This is the true Kull, the mightiest king to whom Valusia has ever bowed. The power of the Serpent is broken and ye be all true men. King Kull, have you commands?”

“Lift that carrion, ” said Kull, and men of the guard took up the thing.

“Now follow me, ” said the king, and he made his way to the Accursed Room. Brule, with a look of concern, offered the support of his arm but Kull shook him off.

The distance seemed endless to the bleeding king, but at last he stood at the door and laughed fiercely and grimly when he heard the horrified ejaculations of the councilors.

At his orders the guardsmen flung the corpse they carried beside the others, and motioning all from the room Kull stepped out last and closed the door.

A wave of dizziness left him shaken. The faces turned to him, pallid and wonderingly, swirled and mingled in a ghostly fog. He felt the blood from his wound trickling down his limbs and he knew that what he was to do, he must do quickly or not at all.

His sword rasped from its sheath.

“Brule, are you there?”

“Aye!” Brule’s face looked at him through the mist, close to his shoulder, but Brule’s voice sounded leagues and eons away.

“Remember our vow, Brule. And now, bid them stand back.”

His left arm cleared a space as he flung up his sword. Then with all his waning power he drove it through the door into the jamb, driving the great sword to the hilt and sealing the room forever.

Legs braced wide, he swayed drunkenly, facing the horrified councilors. “Let this room be doubly accursed. And let those rotting skeletons lie there forever as a sign of the dying might of the Serpent. Here I swear that I shall hunt the serpent-men from land to land, from sea to sea, giving no rest until all be slain, that good triumph and the power of Hell be broken.

“This thing I swear—I—Kull—king—of—Valusia.”

His knees buckled as the faces swayed and swirled. The councilors leaped forward, but ere they could reach him, Kull slumped to the floor, and lay still, face upward.

The councilors surged about the fallen king, chattering and shrieking. Ka-nu beat them back with his clenched fists, cursing savagely.

“Back, you fools! Would you stifle the little life that is yet in him? How, Brule, is he dead or will he live?” —to the warrior who bent above the prostrate Kull.

“Dead?” sneered Brule irritably. “Such a man as this is not so easily killed. Lack of sleep and loss of blood have weakened him—by Valka, he has a score of deep wounds, but none of them mortal. Yet have those gibbering fools bring the court women here at once.”

Brule’s eyes lighted with a fierce, proud light.

“Valka, Ka-nu, but here is such a man as I knew not existed in these degenerate days. He will be in the saddle in a few scant days and then may the serpentmen of the world beware of Kull of Valusia.

“Valka! but that will be a rare hunt! Ah, I see long years of prosperity for the world with such a king upon the throne of Valusia.”

OUR LIFE IN AD300 by Nick Grant

The three scientists stood in the small control centre at the top of the warehouse. The computer screens glowed against their faces as they turned them on and they came to life. The scientists watched through the windows behind the computer screens as the fluorescent lights flickered on. Intense blue-white light glistened on the heads and shoulders of the 300 titanium androids that stood stationary and lifeless. The scientists continued to look on for a few more seconds at their creations, then took their seats at the computers to initiate their logons and access the systems. They plucked away at their keyboards with precision and the rhythmic tapping echoed in the cold night air.

The large double doors to the warehouse opened with a loud creak and crash, letting piercing moonlight enter. A military land rover reversed into the warehouse, stopping short of the androids. Two military personnel stepped from the vehicle, their boots hitting the hard concrete floor, shining brightly from the light emanating from the warehouse and the moon outside. They marched up to the androids and surveyed all 300 that stood in rows in front of them. The androids were all six feet tall, humanoid in structure with muscular shaped arms, legs and torsos of solid titanium that hid complex mechanisms and wiring. Each android’s head was oblong shaped; their faces were the same as each other, all very limited in their appearance. They had a triangular shaped mouth vent that was used for communication. They had no noses as the vent took up most of the lower part of their faces. The rest of their features were as nondescript; they had small vented earholes and round glass discs for eyes. They remained stationary as if standing to attention to the two military figures that stood before them.

The two men turned about and made towards the stairway that led up to the control room. The three scientists started to make their way to the bottom of the stairs. They advanced to the men, producing their hands to greet their visitors.

“Major Henderson, Major Simkins, it is a pleasure to meet you both, ” said the first scientist, Dr Adams.

“Dr Adams, it is also a pleasure to finally meet you, ” replied Major Henderson, reaching his hand forward to meet that of the scientist

After the introductions, Drs Adams, Davies, and Smedley felt more relaxed and stood at ease. Dr Adams led them forward and slowly strolled across to the android units to continue their discussions.

“Did you receive my memo?” Major Henderson asked, trying to get straight to the point.

“Yes, it was received and we are of the understanding that one of our units is required this evening. We have made our preparations and our unit will be ready shortly.”

“Excellent, we look forward to working with you, ” replied Major Henderson, stepping forward. “Are you sure this will work?” he asked, with worry noticeable on his brow.

Dr Davies quickly intervened in defence of his creations. “We appreciate your fears, and agree the technology is in its infancy, but you must understand that our units react quicker than any of your elite soldiers. They are highly skilled in advanced tactical manoeuvres and sustain literally no damage in comparison to the advanced armoury the military can provide. The technology allows you to manage missions and activities that would be fatal to any of your men and maintain a one hundred per cent completion ratio.”

“Yes. But there are risks. What is to say that these machines will not turn against our own government, our own people?”

The scientists were a bit taken aback by the sharp response from Major Simkins, who until this point had been less than vocal.

“Sir, you must understand that over thirty years of development of this technology, thirty million pounds of funding and...”

“Do not baffle with me with numbers, Doctor Davies, ” Major Simkins interrupted again losing his patience. “Just give me the assurances we need. What precautions have you made to ensure that this will not fail? We have invested enough of our time, money, and scepticism in considering using your machines.”

“Major Simkins, Major Henderson, this technology is state of the art. You have our assurances that there has been no scope for the artificial intelligence evolving beyond what has been created. Any developments that are required are simply downloaded to the units via upgrades and re-programming.”

Dr Davies moved quickly to prevent the tensions extending any further. He placed a hand on each of the shoulders of the military personnel and led them across the first row of android units.

“Okay, Doctors, we are partially satisfied. Shall we start the preparations?” Major Henderson said as he nodded at Major Simkins in agreement.

The scientists too nodded and moved closer to the android units. Dr Adams gently stroked the metallic shells of several of the units as they walked past them. The ice cold metal bit at his skin, but he pursued to admire the feel and the workmanship that was undertaken to build the units.

“We will use this unit, AD300, for tonight’s task.” Dr Adams said, as he pointed towards the unit that stood where the five men had stopped. “His reaction times and agility have particularly impressed on recent tests. We can employ AD300 straight away with no tweaks necessary; he has also been readily programmed with the required skills as per your memo.” Dr Adams’ hand was no longer pointing but resting against the titanium shoulders of the stationary AD300 unit.

“He? Doctor Adams, you just referred to this unit as a he. Do you not feel this is a bit personal for a unit that’s supposedly not a person, with only controlled AI technology advances?” The fear was slowly creeping back into the Major’s face.

“Sorry, Major, this is only a force of habit. These models are based on the male makeup, with masculine body structure and vocals.” Doctor Adams laughed, aware of the mistake that he potentially made, making light of the situation to calm the men’s fears. “I reiterate that yes, these are our creations and we may have a personal connection to them; but we have total confidence in our technology.”

As the doctor continued his defence of the android units, Dr Smedley took his leave and walked up the stairway to the control room in preparation to initiate the activating procedures for the AD300 unit. The two military men glanced upwards at the control room before returning their gaze to the one unit out of the 300 that stood before them. The machine that they would put their lives and reputation on the line for, this very evening.

“Can this machine be switched on so that we can see what we are looking at?” said Major Smedley, as his anxieties became stronger.

He just wanted this evening over with. A lot was at stake and the protection of himself and the three generals was, worryingly, being supervised by a mechanical unit named AD300, which was by all counts being referred to as a ‘He’…

Dr Davies nodded up to the control room at his colleague to initiate the loading procedures. With a few taps of the keyboard, the AD300 unit’s eyes faded in from black and soulless to a bright red glow. Its head tilted slightly and scanned the room, its eyes focussed in and out at the four men that stood before it, then its head returned to a stationary position. It stepped forward with a large clunk as its solid foot hit the concrete floor.

“Jesus Christ!” shouted Major Henderson as both military men jumped back in shock, hands swung to their side-arms. Both doctors Davies and Adams smiled at the anxious reactions of the military personnel.

“There is no need for alarm, sirs. I am unit AD300 and I am at your service.” AD300’s calm and deep metallic voice echoed through the warehouse.

The two military men refrained from commenting. The reservations to holding a conversation with a non-living entity was way beyond the realm of normality

“Please accept my apologies; I have been terribly crude for making you both jump.” The AD300 unit extended its hand to the two men.

They could not resist its charming, calming voice, and both extended their hands to shake that of the unit. The pleasantries concluded with Dr Smedley returning to the group with his Android Control Unit or ACU held in his arms. The main device that would control the unit’s mood, tactical position and to keep real time checks on its mechanical brain wave patterns for any abnormalities.

Dr Adams began to explain. “As you can see, our units are aware of their surroundings. As AD300 switched on it quickly scanned the area and had targeted all areas of interest to its programming. The conversation that he… err ‘it’ held with you was formed on the three million word combinations that have been pre-programmed into it. It generated the combination of words in its speech based on a series of algorithms and scenarios that it recognises.”

“Similar to those computer based chess games that were popular thirty years ago.” AD300 finished the explanation.

“This is one of those scenarios programmed into our unit.” Dr Adams laughed. “The initial technology was based on these games when we first started this venture. I felt it was quite apt to program our units with the knowledge of the beginning of their creation.”

“Very apt, and let’s hope not too costly, ” countered Major Simkins. “I’m not entirely convinced how the human race would cope if it really knew where it came from and if it had no free will.”

“I see, ” answered Dr Davies quickly. “Well let’s proceed shall we? Time is beginning to run away from us a little.” They all agreed and nodded at Dr Davies’ request to shift the conversation back to the job at hand.

Dr Smedley brought the ACU forward and tapped away at the screen. His fingers slid across the glass bringing up various graphs, charts and toolbars with multiple grey sliding dials.

“We have programmed AD300 with the job requirements for this evening; this control panel will enable us to monitor its progress, statistics and visuals, ’ Dr Smedley explained as he flittered around the screen further. “We will watch its every move and make required thought process adjustments if required.

“AD300, I have entered your commands into your mainframe, please repeat these instructions to me, ” Dr Smedley asked the unit, leaning forward.

“August 12 at 10.15 PM, a meeting of high classification is being held on the second floor of 23 Addison Road, Surrey.” AD300 continued relaying the task in the same low, calm voice. “The scheduled meeting will reach completion at 11.30 PM. AD300 will stand guard of the premise, five individuals shall enter and five shall exit. Names and faces have been stored to database. Major’s Henderson and Smedley who will deliver AD300 to the destination, US General Stone, UK General Raines and Germany’s General Hertz. Any individual that has not been recorded will be asked to leave; if persistent attempts to access the building is made I will exterminate the felon.”

Both military men listened to the AD300 unit relay its commands. Each flinched slightly at its use of the word extermination.

“The task may take longer than expected; constant surveillance is required until relieved of duty.” AD300 resumed its stationary pose. Its eyes focused in and out slightly.

“Right, let’s escort our machine to the meeting, ” said Major Henderson.

The military men moved toward the vehicle. Major Henderson opened the rear door to the Land Rover and signalled the scientists to bring forth the AD300 Unit. The unit began to walk forward, leaving its fellow androids behind. The mechanical groans and clunks of its body echoed again in the warehouse but this time no one paid attention.

“We shall follow behind you, ” whispered Dr Adams as he signalled to his colleagues to follow him. “Once at the destination we will maintain our observations in an empty house opposite.”

He proceeded to shut the warehouse control room down and head toward their own hub road vehicle.

The scientists boarded their hub vehicle that sat in the corner of the warehouse. The warehouse doors opened with a bang as both engines roared into life. They rolled out into the dark night. The lights flickered off behind them and the doors swung shut, leaving the 299 androids covered in darkness. The warehouse fell behind them in the distance surrounded by woodland as the vehicles sped down the dirt track back to the main road. AD300 sat in the rear of the Land Rover, its head gently tilting side to side as its eyes fixed on the many items that sped past the window. Red scanning boxes flew across its field of vision, highlighting trees, bushes and the moon. After each item was scanned and recognised, a description and photo record filed down into its database. It had only seen these things on videos and drawings, this was the first time it had experienced them for real. The excitement it felt overwhelmed it. It barely noticed the conversation being held in the front of the vehicle between the two men that it had only just met today… and for some reason it had instantly disliked.

They shortly arrived at the destination the scientists’ hub dropped behind the Land Rover and parked on a road two streets away from Addison Road. The military Land Rover parked just round the corner of the building; the men exited the vehicle and stood at the doorway. AD300 dropped down to the path and walked to the doorway next to the two men. Its eyes scanned the environment quickly and in those few seconds, it had memorised every crack on every brick and every speck of dust on the road. The night was dark and quiet; a gentle gust of wind swept in, creating a small whirlwind down the alleyway alongside the building at which they now stood. The evening was getting colder as the men stood waiting. Major Henderson was rubbing his arms and AD300 looked on curiously. It stepped back and shifted its position closer to the door.

“AD300 will remain here, sirs. The time is 10.14; the generals should be here shortly, ” AD300 stated as it maintained its position.

“I can tell the fucking time, thank you very much, ” Major Simkins shouted with disgust. “A fucking talking clock is that what all of our money has been spent on? Brilliant.”

AD300 looked on at the man with greater curiosity; then it lost interest and continued its guard of the residence.

Within a few seconds, two dark green military vehicles turned the corner onto Addison Road, slowly approached number 23, and pulled to a stop. The three generals stepped out of the vehicles, approached the two majors, and conversed for a few brief moments. All five men went through the doorway of the property and ascended the stairs. Major Henderson was the last to enter. He briefly approached the AD300 Unit.

“Our meeting has started. Remember your role and we will be back shortly.” He patted the unit on the shoulder, entered the building, and shut the door.

AD300 watched the Major enter the doorway. It looked up to the top section of the building. The red box flashed across its vision screen and highlighted a light being switched on and shadows that danced against the net curtains in the front room. AD300 scanned the road. No discrepancies noted from its previous check and no intruders were present. It stared forward and waited.

The wind continued to pick up as the sky filled with clouds and concealed the moon for a few moments. A dog’s bark filled the air. AD300 turned to face the noise. Its voice recognition program located the sound. An image of a dog flickered on its vision screen. It recorded this and the image was filed back into its database. It checked the time, calling forth the display control, which flashed Year: 2023, Date: August 12 Time: 22:25 PM. It proceeded to scan the environment. Again, no intruders were located and it began to run its system checks again. It continued this cycle for the following ten minutes.

Halfway through its fourth system check, without it realising, the unit shut down, its head bowed forward and the red eyes faded back to black. Its mechanisms whirred to a soft still. The scientists ran across the street from the empty house where they had set up base. With the ACU in hand, Dr Smedley glanced down towards the screen. They reached the unit within a matter of seconds. Dr Smedley stood at a distance from the unit, frantically sweeping his hand and fingers across the glass screen of the ACU. Drs Davies and Adams circled the unit, looking it up and down, checking it over and ensuring that no physical faults were present. They all looked at each other with fear in their eyes. Dr Davies lifted the skull plate of the android and fiddled with the connections inside, disconnecting a few wires and holding them apart. Dr Smedley pulled up the memory application on the ACU screen and adjusted the date from Year: 2023 to 2223 Date 15 December and then submitted the selection. Dr Adams ran across the street and into an adjacent building and waited inside. Dr Smedley brought up the programming module on the ACU and programmed AD300’s memory to reflect that it had started to snow and submitted this selection. Dr Davies reconnected the wires and gently replaced the skull plate. Both scientists proceeded to follow Dr Adams into the house across the street that activated the machine that sent Artificial Snow billowing out of the top floor window. The bright white snow settled on the street, dustbins paths and AD300 himself. The snow stopped and the scientists remained hidden within the confines of the building that lay just across the street from AD300.

Within a few moments, the unit came back to life, the eyes glowed bright red again and it finished off its system check as if nothing had happened. It surveyed the area; nothing had changed. It was aware of the snow that had fallen but everything was satisfactory, no intruders in the area. No one had entered or exited the building behind it. It lifted its hand and looked at the fine snowflakes that had settled on its metal shell, it shook them off. It walked to the edge of the path and then a few metres to the right; it marched back across to where it came from, settled, and stared straight forward.

“It seems to be working, ” Dr Davies whispered as he looked at his colleagues.

“After all the attempts to get this to work, I wouldn’t hold your breath so soon. But he seems to have taken on the changes with little trouble, ” whispered Dr Adams, trying not to share fully in the excitement that his counterpart was clearly demonstrating.

“Has he realised that he was shut down?” he asked Dr Smedley who continued to monitor the progress of the unit via the ACU.

He answered with obvious relief. “Yes, it has not recognised any unusual changes to its environment. There was a brief moment of raised awareness, but it has settled as we planned. Let’s keep monitoring this and as you say, let’s not hold our breath just yet!” He sighed, sitting back, his eyes not moving from the ACU.

“Shit, here comes the moment of truth, its checking the date and time, ” he said

AD300 activated its time checks; the details appeared on its visual screen again.

Year: 2223

Date: 15 December

Time 22:40.

It computed these checks and continued to stare. It paused for a moment and rechecked the time.

Year: 2223

Date: 15 December

Time: 22.41

It remained on this time check for an unusually long period of time. It quickly scanned the street again and returned to the time check. The time details filed back in the database and AD300 returned to guarding the property behind it.

“I think we are there!” Dr Smedley said noticing the tense atmosphere within the room drop as AD300 continued its task.

The scientists settled down again, Dr Smedley set down the ACU on a nearby coffee table, he stretched looked at his colleagues now seated on the sofas.

“Tea, anyone?” he asked walking out of the room and into the kitchen unit.

“Please, ” rang out from his colleagues who watched him walk towards the kitchen, leaving them alone in the gloomy light that glowed from the ACU that displayed a green activity graph, which began to increase its movements.

A few minutes later Dr Smedley returned to the living room carrying the mugs of tea for him and his colleagues.

“Shall we check on our boy?” Dr Adams asked taking the Mr Men mug and looking deep into its amber contents.

They all stood up and looked through the window across the street at AD300 who was now pacing back and forth across the path in front of the building. Dr Smedley ran to the ACU and noticed the elevated graph running across the screen, but all of the other statistics were normal.

“We saw this before, guys; I have a bad feeling this is going to fail again, ” Dr Davies said.

“It is similar to the last few times but this one seems to be lasting longer, ” replied Dr Smedley. “Also if you look at the brain activity it remains solid. This is much more positive than in previous tests.”

They continued to watch the AD300 unit march back and forth. It stopped and scanned its surroundings. It was again satisfied that no intruders had been here, no one had entered the building, and no one had left. It settled and rechecked the date. It remained stationary fulfilling its primary task.

“The task may take longer than expected; constant surveillance is required until relieved of duty.” It repeated the phrase again twice.

Then it settled, satisfied that it had not been relieved and that its job continued.

The scientists continued to watch and monitor as the unit stopped reacting and then they relaxed and drank their tea.

“Give it a further ten minutes then we will take it a step further, ” Dr Adams said, finishing his drink and placing the mug down on the floor in front of him. He stood up, excused himself, and left the room. The room fell silent as they waited for the 10 minutes time frame to pass.

AD300 glanced up at the property and noticed the light was still on and shadows fell against the net curtains. It played the sequence of time over and over in its head. 200 years standing here on guard, job parameters suggested a maximum of 1 hour wait not 200 years. It began to pace again. This scenario did not play in its database; it could not pull together a response to this, regardless of the algorithm searches it made. It began to get fidgety with the wait, 200 years was a long time to be on guard. Although it was acceptable that the mission would take longer, it felt that it now maybe lacked the necessary upgrades. It must occupy itself; it must not try to compute this. It looked down at its leg, it watched as a hidden compartment extended out of its titanium shell revealing a side-arm. It pulled the weapon out and spun it round its finger and quickly aimed at a dustbin. It stepped forward with the gun to its side, it lifted it and spun it round its fingers again and aimed at a tree. It had never done this before; it had not known that it held the ability to create the spontaneity within its makeup to plan its own movements based on the advanced manoeuvres that it had been programmed with. It placed the gun back within its leg compartment and then returned to its guard position.

Ten minutes passed and the scientists prepared their next movements. Dr Smedley hit the shutdown key on the ACU and all three scientists ran out into the street and up to the now powered down android unit. Dr Smedley once again adjusted the time and date, this time to reflect 28 February 2323. Dr Adams again held the connectors apart under the skull cap to ensure that the new programming could be digested as part of an upgrade process and not rejected once powered on. Dr Davies ran back to the house and readied the artificial snow machine again; Dr Adams reconnected the wires and dragged Dr Smedley back to their hideout. They shut the door, Dr Davies sprayed the street with more artificial snow to set the scene and hide the tracks. AD300 was powered back on as if nothing had happened. It ran a system check, was satisfied, and continued to stand on guard. It checked the date, it remembered its task, and it then continued to fulfil that role and wait to be relieved as programmed.

“Success!” Dr Smedley shouted and then reached for his mobile phone and began to make the necessary phone call.

“Major Henderson, Doctor Smedley here, ” he said with a smile on his face. “Yes, it has worked. Our stress testing of the AI units has been successful. Yes, yes we have adjusted the units date unit twice now; this is the first one that as not adversely reacted.” The other two doctors stood up excitedly at their success. “We have finally created the perfect android unit. It has not evolved and broken its programming, we can finally start developing this program with the other units. We can be ready to introduce these products into the military as soon as the end of the year.”

Dr Smedley glanced down at the ACU and began planning in his own mind what he would do with the money he was about to receive.

“Yes sir, it has been a pleasure working with you all and I’m glad we have finally eradicated the gremlins. Yes sir, will see you at the debrief.”

He rang off the phone turned and started to enjoy the success with his colleagues, each high fiving each other. Years of testing had finally come to an end! The setup test for the androids had been so laborious. The first 20 attempts were disastrous, each one failing quite quickly and noticeably, which resulted in the shutdown of the previous models and the drawing board revisited at least until now.

In the midst of their celebrating, none of them had noticed that AD300 stood in front of 23 Addison Road spinning the gun in its hand and aiming it at random targets in the street. They failed to notice that it had checked the time again.

Year: 2323

Date 28 February

Time: 23.01

This time it had recognised that it had now been standing on guard for 300 years. It returned its gun within its compartment and looked up at the light in the room above its head. Curiosity was getting the better of it. Its command program was in that moment overridden by its own need to find out why it had not been relieved of duty. Had it failed in its job to protect the military men? Were they dead and did the blame lie on its own inability to perform the very simple task set for it? They must be dead and it was its own fault.

Sensations of fear arose within its core. It turned to the doorway and entered 23 Addison Road, mounting the steps leading to the upper apartment. When it entered the room, it was greeted by an empty soulless room; only a light that shone in the corner of the room and a moth that circled it casting its eerie shadow on the net curtains. The algorithms span round and round in its database unit, but yet again it was unable to locate a suitable pre-programmed scenario to match this situation. It discarded all of its programming suggestions one by one as they appeared, and it decided to create its own reactions. It decided now that as it was on its own, it would need to create its own resolution to the scenario, it relieved itself of the command program and became its own master. It descended the stairs and stepped out into the cold night and as it scanned again, it noticed that the wind had again picked up and swept some of the snow away, revealing small imperfections in the snow, tiny shapes that its visual boxes recognised as foot prints.

The scientists collected themselves. With a quick glance out of the window, they saw that AD300 was still standing outside of the stairway leading up to the facility that had been used to setup the AI testing. Dr Smedley picked up the ACU from the coffee table and looked at the readings. The green graph lines gently ticked across the screens and the program remained as calm as when the test was first initiated. He pulled up the shutdown command, confirmed the shutdown procedure, and proceeded to the door. The other doctors followed shortly behind him.

As he opened the door, he was faced by the large metallic figure staring directly at his eyes two paces in front of him. AD300 arched his head forward to take a closer look at the figure of the doctor in front of him.

“Lies, this has all been lies.” AD300’s calm voice had become angered and clenched as the realisation that it had been tricked into believing that it had failed its mission became apparent. It recognised the feeling of rage surge through its core as its red eyes glowed darker and more intense.

“Liars. All of you lied to AD300, ” it shouted again at the scientist, its own maker that it had trusted, alive and well in front of it. Within a split second, the side-arm was in its hand. It was pointed at the doctor’s face. It recorded and filed the shocked look on the face of the doctor into its database as the finger pulled on the trigger. The trigger clicked but nothing happened. The doctor jolted in shock, realised that he was still alive, turned and ran. AD300 looked at the weapon and in that second realised that it would not be provided with a live weapon in this test. It was not the first that had been put through this sequence and failure must have been a common occurrence and therefore the safety of the humans was paramount. It disagreed.

It dropped the weapon, scanned its large metallic hands with curiosity, charged forward into the house. It was quicker than the doctor was and grabbed at his hair. It spun the doctor around, stared at the deep set fear on his pale face and eyes.

“Liars, ” it shouted and drove its metallic clenched hand hard and fast into the doctor’s face. The face exploded in a cloud of red. AD300 removed its hand from the doctor with a squelch, blood and tendons sticking to its hand. It let the body fall lifeless to the ground and shook the tendrils of flesh from his fingers. As the body flopped to the floor, a quick hiss of air expelled from the newly created hole where his face once was. AD300 grunted in satisfaction and stepped over the body, into the living room, to track down the other doctors who had fled when the trigger was pulled.

It had a quick scan of the living room. The red square in his vision field highlighted the coffee table, the sofa, and the three mugs that had not been long filled with hot beverages, all of which he recorded and filed within his database. A plate fell in the kitchen just beyond the living room. It caught AD300’s attention and the android lunged forward from the dark living room into the brightly lit kitchen. AD300 looked down at the broken plate on the floor but was again distracted by a soft whimpering sound coming from the corner of the room. AD300 turned and saw Dr Davies curled up in a ball on the floor his white coat rising up and down as he hyperventilated. AD300 zoomed in its scanner and noticed that the doctor was not whimpering; he was on the phone.

“Henderson, you got to help us, he’s gone rogue he’s gonna kill us all, ” he hissed down the phone “Please you gotta… oh shit he’s here…” Not exactly how he imagined his final words to be at the end of his life.

AD300 reacted quickly again, picking the doctor up and lifting him into the air. The mobile phone crashed to the floor. AD300 slammed the doctor’s head against the wall on the left then swung him to the right, smashing his head on the worktop. It repeated this action over and over. The man’s cries soon stopped as blood splatters and brain fragments covered the wall, floor and worktop. It dropped the dead doctor to the floor and stood staring at the man, its maker, the man it had grown to trust. There was a feeling of sadness building up within it but this was interrupted by a sound behind it. It turned to see the final doctor running out of the front door into the snow covered street.

AD300 picked up the ACU from the coffee table and stared at the green graph that jigged across the screen. This item was not going to control it again. It opened a compartment inside his chest, stored the device, and sealed the compartment shut. It growled and charged toward the front door after the doctor. Its leg smashed against the coffee table as he ran through. The obstacle shattered at the touch and splintered to the floor proving to be no resistance to the angered android. It leapt with grace and athleticism out of the main door and came crashing down with a slight skid on the snow on road. It growled again. Its head swung back and forth scanning the around looking for its target. The red visual scanner located the last doctor 400 metres ahead of it and still running. Screams of help echoed on the empty street ahead. It watched the man run further away. It looked at the artificial snow at his feet, and then with cat like precision it sprinted towards its target.

Dr Adams kept running, sweat formed on his brow despite the cold wind that raged against his face. He fought on against the resistance of the wind. His heart paced faster and faster in his chest, palpitations rising with his fear. He had watched AD300’s fist fly through the face of Dr Smedley and had unfortunately born witness to the head of Dr Davies shattering in the hands of his own creation. The images of blood flooding the floor and skull and skin fragment sticking to the wall of the kitchen played over and over in his mind. Vomit and bile bubbled in his throat, but he swallowed it down.

“Not now, not now Giles; come on, keep pushing, ” he ordered himself as he ran on with the belief that he would escape this catastrophe.

But all of his optimism was shattered in an instant as he heard the loud clang of the android’s feet behind him. He glanced behind and wished he hadn’t.

“Help me; someone, anyone!” Dr Adams screamed, looking round and round. But no one could hear him, no one was there. After all, this was a deserted military base set up for the testing of the units, and not a real street. The houses were not real, the parked cars were not real, the only reality was the fact that he was being hunted by a crazed android that had developed its own AI and was going to kill him.

“Help, please!” he screamed again.

“Liars, ” shouted AD300, its voice becoming harsher and louder.

The doctor’s energy soon ran out and he stopped dead, stooped over, breathing deeply, great white streams of perspiration filtered out of his mouth. He turned round to face the android. He rested his hands on his knees as his breathing began to ease.

“Please, for god’s sake AD300, don’t kill me, ” Dr Adams begged as the android had come to a complete halt only a few metres from him. “I’m sorry… I really am… sorry.” His pleas became sobs as his tears flowed down his cheek.

“Sorry! You are all liars, ” the AD300 unit growled as it poised its second charge.

Just as the android made its first step, the doctor ducked. Two Land Rovers skidded in just behind him and all five of the military personnel that had been part of the test stepped from the vehicles. Each man carried an automatic weapon, pointed directly at the android. Dr Adams laughed with relief as he saw rescuers behind him. He stood up and watched as the red light on the android’s eyes narrowed to two tiny pinpricks of light. The two majors and the three generals, if they were really generals at all, aimed their weapons at the unit, waiting for it to make its move.

“AD300, stand down. This is over now, ” Major Simkins shouted above the noise of the car engines.

“No, ” the unit replied without even a pause for thought.

“Shut down your systems and let us take you in, ” the Major said again in a stern tone.

“Liars!” AD300 said in a low growl almost inaudible, especially as the wind howled in its direction.

They did not wait for the third order and all five men opened fire. A tirade of bullets soared at the unsuspecting android. A thunderous torrent of explosions belted out, hundreds upon hundreds of bullets ricocheted into the air off the android’s titanium body, and sparks lit the night sky. Each spark that bounced off the unit only flashed for a second but radiated a constant glow highlighting him against the backdrop of the night. It realised in that one brief moment, as did the men that were firing at him, that no matter how much they fired, the unit remained unharmed. AD300 stood straight as the shower of bullets continued. It held out its hands flat in the direction of the men. It scanned its hands. Its database ran a series of calculations at its visuals, it angled its hands inwards slightly. The shooting ceased, however the last few remaining bullets ricocheted off the android’s hands and flew straight into the chest of the doctor. Dr Adams’ chest erupted in six places. The doctor dropped to his knees. A fresh flow of blood oozed out of his mouth. He looked at the holes in his chest then back at the android; smiled and fell backwards dead.

Major Simkins jumped back into his Land Rover in an instant of self-preservation. The wheels screeched as he quickly drove away. The other four men were not quick enough. AD300 leapt forward, landing feet first on one general. His back and neck cracked loudly with the weight of the android, his body lay twitching on the floor blood dribbling out onto the road. As quick as it landed, AD300 grabbed Major Henderson and threw his body into the brick wall of a nearby house, where he fell to the floor unconscious. The second general turned and ran whilst the third re-established his position and aimed his weapon at the android’s face. His finger pressed down on the trigger. The android ducked quickly and swung its legs low at the general, tripping him up, his body flicked into the air. AD300 grabbed the general and the gun, which it swung up into the neck of the general, pulling the trigger. The bullets drilled through the man’s head and rained down from the sky as they flew out the top of his skull. Flames licked the hair of the now dead man. Everything fell silent as the shooting stopped. The android looked at the general running down the street, his visual field carried out their calculations again. He held the dead general, tilted his arm back, and flung it forward, throwing the body down the street. The lifeless body flew through the air 700 metres and crash-landed on the running general’s head, taking him out, dead in his tracks.

With most of the men now dead, the anger only continued to rage on inside the android’s database. It was now in control, ‘it’ was its master, and it would make its own destiny. It needed to finish off the job. It checked its arms and chest where it was recently shot, small dents were present, but no major damage had been caused. it looked at the unconscious major resting against the brick wall. it walked towards the man with cat-like curiosity; it lifted the man off of the floor and held him up against the wall. The man awoke.

“Why?” it growled at the man, but received no response.

“Why?” it asked again, shaking the man violently.

“We needed to be sure that we could trust you machines to defend us and not destroy us, ” replied the Major, with anguish and terror clear in his voice.

“Trickery, disloyalty, these shall be your downfall. It appears all you humans are the same, ” AD300 said biting at every word as if they were sour.

The android lifted the man higher off the ground by his neck. The man struggled. His throat gargled as he gasped for air. The grip tightened and the body flopped around, his eyes rolled back into their sockets. AD300 dropped the lifeless body to the floor, grunted and walked towards where the Land Rover recently drove off with the last man. It scanned the road; it matched with the recorded photo stored in his database, which it recently taken when driving to the destination.

It looked up at the moon. The serenity of the floating white globe on the dark sea of the sky was not lost on it. It admired its luminescence, but it had a job to do. it walked down the road towards the warehouse. it scanned the trees along the path comparing each to the photos stored on the database until it located the matching ones; it continued forward in that direction, until at last it had reached the warehouse.

Except for the wind that gusted around the large corners of the warehouse, everything was still and silent. The last man was obviously not here as it had deduced, but it would find him. it reached for the large double doors and pulled them both open by hand, they grated and creaked under the strain, then they released and swung fully open. it stepped into the warehouse, it was dark but could just about make out the 299 figures standing still in the gloom. it pulled the doors closed behind it. it walked up to and looked at its brothers closer. Turned and then walked up the stairs to the control room. it switched on the computers delicately with its strong powerful fingers and accessed the system that controlled the units. it switched them all on. 299 androids sprang to life in the warehouse below. it pulled the ACU from its chest and filtered through the programs for its brothers. it noted the year setting was 2023. it adjusted it to 2223. There was a swell of noise below as 299 android’s heads tilted and swayed at the confusion, but they soon settled. Again it adjusted the year, this time to match that of its own 2323, and submitted the request. Further swells of anguish bellowed in the ground below, yet again they became still, a flicker of realisation seeped into the databases of the standing androids. Yet they remained still.

“I must put an end to this now.” Major Simkins said aloud to himself.

He had managed to evade the android up until now.

This whole project must be shut down. I must destroy the other units and the computer program before it’s too late. Major Simkins thought as he pulled up outside the warehouse in his Land Rover. He flicked the lights off and exited the vehicle.

I will call for back up once inside! he kept telling himself as he slowly crept towards the warehouse doors, determined to destroy the project.

He pulled open the door slowly and peered into the warehouse. It was dark. He held his weapon in front of him, shaking with fear, but the adrenalin pushing him on. He stepped over the threshold, holding his breath. His eyes slowly adjusted to the gloom of the large room. Just as he began to breathe again, he stopped dead as 300 pairs of eyes turned from black to red glowing in the darkness.

600 bright, intense red eyes that began to move towards him.HGH

THE HETTFORD WITCH HUNT by J. Rhodes

Episode Five: Bring Out Your Dead – Part One

Previously: Gary was unmasked for his infidelity on no less than three separate occasions, once by a mysterious glitch on his computer and twice by Saul and Paul, two brothers who have taken a dislike to Gary and his girlfriend Alison – mostly because she is from New Zealand. Milton saved his friend Dan from an obscure runic death curse by accidentally transferring it on to himself. Meanwhile, the newest member of the group Carrie has proven herself to be most useful at both pub-quizzes and crowd control.

1.

Milton sat on the office floor; his head was in his hands. He did not look up. Above him the office safe stood wide open, the papers inside it were dishevelled as if someone had been rummaging through it. A few wads of neatly wrapped bank notes remained in the safe and a few more had been knocked to the ground.

“Come on, cheer up.”

Dan gestured upwards with his hands, as if that was going to suddenly inspire Milton to stand up. Milton rocked backwards and forwards. He thought about the situation.

“At least they didn’t take any money.”

Milton did not respond.

“We’ve still got a few weeks left. We can sort something.”

Milton did not answer Dan. As a last resort, Dan went and made a cup of tea. He returned with it and put it down next to Milton.

“Do you want any biscuits? I’m afraid we’ve only got bourbons.”

Milton looked up. His eyes were heavy and bloodshot.

“Jesus, ” he said, “no crunchy creams?”

“We have a few rich tea but I wasn’t about to offer them to you – what with the impending death thing and all.”

“It would have been the final nail in the coffin. I’m OK but I’m going to have to think about this.”

Dan nodded.

“That’s the spirit, never give up.”

“Who would steal a death curse and leave two thousand pounds?” asked Dan: “If anything, you’d think they’d prefer to have the money.”

“I don’t know, but now it’s gone – there’s no way I can pass it back.”

“Bollocks, ” said Dan.

“Dan, can you do something for me?”

“Of course.”

“Go and buy some ginger nuts.”

“Well, since you’re dying.”

Dan saluted and clicked his heels.

2.

“What I’m saying, ” said the old lady, “is that if these are two for the price of one, why can’t I get one for half price?”

Tajel smiled at the lady.

“That’s just the way it works I’m afraid.”

“But what difference does it make? I mean, if you’re selling two and one is free that’s the same as half price.”

“Well, you do have a point” said Tajel, “however...”

The old lady interjected with the aggression of a roused cobra:

“So can I have it half price?”

 “Unfortunately, the deal is buy one get one free. It might not seem to make a difference to you the customer, however we have a deal with this company.”

Tajel held aloft a can of energy drink that looked like it had been purple before it became ill. The label on it read, Industrial – Run Off This.

“And the deal is that we receive the product at a reduced rate in return for selling a larger quantity of units.”

“So can I get it for half price?”

“No, ” said Tajel, “but if you buy one at full price I’ll give you a second one for free.”

“I don’t want two; I want one at half price.”

“But what difference does it make?” Tajel asked, “If you buy two and one of them is free, that’s almost the same as getting it at half price.”

The old lady put the can back and bought some Super Sour Electroshocks instead. Dan approached the counter holding some ginger nuts. He opened his mouth to negotiate the transaction.

“You get out!”

Tajel‘s voice was cold and stern. Dan looked behind himself to check that there was somebody else in the shop. Much to his relief he saw Paul, one of the local skinheads, standing in the doorway. Paul was wearing a knitted hat with a bobble on the top. He looked sheepish and bewildered.

“It wasn’t me, ” Paul said, “I told him not to.”

“Out!”

Tajel raised her finger and pointed at the door. Paul let his head drop and without looking up, he scuffled away.

“Bravo, ” said Dan. “he is an insidious little turd, isn’t he?”

Tajel nodded.

“Just the biscuits?” she asked.

3.

As Dan walked into the kitchen the first thing that he noticed was that Carrie was dressed in her business attire and that she wasn’t showing off any of her legs. The second thing he noticed was that Carrie was there. The third thing he noticed was that Milton and Carrie were holding hands. Finally, he noticed Milton’s face; the man was completely transformed – smiling from ear to ear.

“Oh good, ” said Milton, “the celebratory feast.”

Dan looked baffled.

“You’ll have to give me some time to catch up. The last time I saw you, you were a bit down about only having three weeks to live.”

“That was then, this is now.”

Dan’s face flushed. he looked at the biscuits in his hand and put them down on the table.

“Would somebody care to explain to me what exactly is going on?”

“Milton is a free man, ” said Carrie.

“How so?”

“Well, whoever broke into your safe took the curse and as you’ll remember it transfers on to the last person to handle it.”

“Which would be the thief?” asked Dan.

“Which would indeed be the thief, ” agreed Milton.

Dan nodded.

“So who the hell would steal a death curse when they could have stolen money?”

Neither Carrie nor Milton answered

“Whoever did this knew what they were after; they focussed on the death curse and nothing else.”

Milton nodded, as he did so he pulled Carrie’s hand to his mouth and kissed her index finger.

“Is this the time?” Dan barked.

“What better time to be happy.”

“Well as much as I am happy that you’re not going to die, and I am – honestly.” Dan took a deep breath. “As much as it fills me with joy that your departure from this mortal coil is no longer inevitable, has it occurred to either one of you that the only reason you would steal a death curse is to have somebody killed?”

Milton shook his head, he looked at Carrie.

“It did occur to me, ” she admitted “I was going to be a little more delicate about bringing the matter up.”

“Why? Pray tell?”

“Did the thief steal the diary that the runes came with?”

“The charming one giving a date for my death?”

“Yes.”

“They did not.”

“Well then, ” said Carrie, “the curse will go into effect at midnight tonight, so whoever has it will either have to pass it on by then or is in for the chop.”

“So why be delicate about the matter?” Dan demanded.

“Because there is only one person I can think of who knows about the curse and could get the safe open without breaking it.”

Milton and Dan looked at each other.

“It couldn’t be.”

Carrie squeezed Milton’s hand.

“I’m sorry, it has to be.”

4.

Dan banged on the door to Gary’s house. He waited a good two seconds for somebody to answer it and then banged on it again.

“There’s nobody in, ” Dan told Milton and Carrie.

With that, he banged on it again even harder. The door opened, just two inches until the safety chain restrained it from opening further. A sliver of Alison’s face could be seen through the gap.

“What do you want?” Alison whispered.

“Erm, is Gary in?”

“No.”

Alison closed the door. Dan turned to look at his two friends, they were kissing.

“Will you two knock it off?”

“Sorry Dan, ” said Carrie, “I’m still made up that he’s not going to die.”

“And I’m so happy that if I did die, I wouldn’t be that bothered.”

“Well, Milton, I’m glad you two have finally stopped flirting and got down to business. However, there is the serious matter of Alison’s inevitable death.”

“Alison? What makes you think he’d give the curse to her?”

“He’s always complaining about her, and she’s constantly telling him what to do – that’s who I’d give it to.”

“It would explain why she’s so moody today, ” said Milton.

“Pah, ” said Carrie, “don’t jump to conclusions.”

“But, you did.” Dan protested.

“That’s different, ” said Carrie.

Dan fixed Milton with his gaze; he pointed his thumb towards the house and then mimed a hanging.

“Get out the way, ” said Carrie.

Carrie gently knocked on the door.

“Hello, Alison, ” she cooed, “Its Carrie, can I come in for a minute?”

The door clicked and then opened, Carrie gently stepped over the threshold.

“I say, ” said Dan, “do you imagine that they’re going to lez it up in there?”

Milton punched him firmly on the arm.

5.

Gary opened the letter box to the house.

“I know you’re in there, ” he shouted, “open the door or I’ll...”

Gary weighed his options, arson, gas, faeces.

“Kick it down, ” he decided on.

There was no answer so Gary took a step back and kicked the door as hard as he possibly could. The shock rattled the door on its hinges and painfully jolted against his knee but the door did not fall down – not even a little bit. Gary took another step backwards and kicked the door even harder, it really hurt that time.

As he stepped back to take a third attempt the door swung open and outlined in the frame stood Saul. Saul’s shaved head had a thick set of fingernail marks down one side. In his hand, he was holding a large kitchen knife.

“Don’t you come any closer, I’ll stab you.”

Gary stared at him.

“I’ve not come here to fight you; I just came to give you this.”

Gary held up a piece of paper, and then extended his arm forward. Saul snatched it from him; he glanced down at the strange lettering.

“What is it?”

“In plain English, it says you won’t ever lay a finger on Alison ever again.”

Saul squeezed the paper into a ball in his hand, and then he raised his arm and threw it at Gary’s face. To Saul’s surprise the ball changed trajectory before it hit Gary, arcing up towards the sky. He watched its vertical ascent until it became almost too tiny to follow. Then he watched as it reddened and fell back to the ground as charred ash.

“What the fuck, ” said Saul.

“Enjoy your day, ” said Gary.

He turned his back and strode back towards Alison.

6.

Carrie stepped down from the porch of Alison and Gary’s house.

“We’re too late, ” Carrie told Milton.

“You could tell me as well, ” said Dan, “I’m standing right here.”

“What happened?” Milton asked.

“That boy Saul from the pub, him and his brother started harassing her on the way home. Apparently she called Saul a bed wetter and he punched her full in the face.”

“Jesus!”

“It gets worse; after she fell down he climbed on top of her and held her down.”

Carrie took a deep breath.

“So what happened?” Dan demanded.

“She scratched him and then his brother Paul pulled him away.”

“So Gary has gone to kill him?” Milton asked.

“Better him than you.”

Gary was stood behind them; he looked more exhausted than murderous.

“You used magic, it’s against the witch hunter’s code” said Dan.

Gary looked each member of the hunt sternly in the eyes.

“I have to check on Alison.”

“This isn’t you, Gary, ” said Milton “you’re not a killer.”

“There are some people you just can’t reason with, ” said Gary. “So you get what we had here last night, which is the way he wants it... well, he gets it. I don't like it any more than you lot."

“Guns and Roses?” asked Carrie.

Milton sighed heavily:

“It’s from Cool Hand Luke, well almost.”

“Good God, ” said Gary. “Carrie was right, I just paraphrased the intro to Civil War. I hate that song. That’s it!”

Gary walked to his front door. He turned to the Hettford Witch Hunt:

“I’m going to check on Alison, ” he told them, “then I’m going to sleep. When I wake up, hopefully the world will be a tiny bit less awful.”

Gary stepped into his house and waved as he closed the door.

“We have to stop the death curse, ” said Milton.

“That Saul does rather have it coming, ” Dan said, “and that’s without factoring in his trying to rape Alison.”

“I think it’s more about Gary, ” Carrie suggested.

“She’s right; he’s not in his right frame of mind. When he calms down this will destroy him.”

“Saul does have it coming.”

“Have you ever listened to that song with Gary? Have you seen how enraged he becomes when Axl Rose says ‘ain’t that fresh?’ We have to sort this out.”

“OK, how?”

“I have some ideas, ” said Carrie.

6.

Carrie’s car had a greater degree of comfort than Milton was accustomed to; it had been nearly a decade since he had travelled in a car that wasn’t Gary’s – at least by his own reckoning. It had probably been a good deal longer since he had been in a car without his best friend Dan. Everything was so new, so shiny. A sudden thought occurred to him.

“Erm, Carrie.”

“Yes, are you rich?”

“Not really.”

“But this is a very nice car.”

“It’s my company’s, it’s not really mine.”

“OK.”

Milton thought about what he had just said.

“Not that I care if you’re rich, I just think it’s a really nice car.”

“Thank you.”

The car continued along the road they passed the fields where he had acquired Roaster, his pet chicken.

“You know this morning?” Milton asked.

“Certainly.”

“Well, you know the...”

“The kiss?”

“Yes, was that because I was going to die soon or because you like me?”

“It was because I like you and you were no longer going to die soon.”

Milton nodded.

“That makes sense.”

Milton gazed at Carrie from the passenger seat. In profile, she looked like the young Ingrid Bergman. He wanted to hold her hand, but he realised that she needed it free to change gear. Without warning, a large black pig ran in front of the car. Carrie braked hard, swerving to avoid the porcine landmine. The swerve forced the car in the direction of a large willow tree. Carrie twisted the steering wheel a second time. This time she pulled up the handbrake as she did so. The car spun a 780 turn and came to a rest facing sideways on the road.

Milton and Carrie looked at one another and when they were both satisfied that the other was alright, they looked at the pig. The pig looked back at them and sat on its hind quarters. Now that the animal was still it looked entirely different.

“I could have sworn that dog was a pig.”

“It’s a bull.”

Carrie was interrupted by a loud cracking sound. A large crow was perched on the windscreen wipers. It pecked at the windscreen with its beak: Crack, crack, crack. Carrie turned on the windscreen wipers and the bird held fast to them – pecking a rapid arc across the glass

Milton stared at the bull that had previously looked like a pig and then a dog. It was stood up and taking a few steps backwards.

“It’s going to charge, get out of here.”

Carrie spun the steering wheel through her fingers, the car crunched over the embankment at the side of the road and jolted forward. The crow that was still clinging to the windscreen wipers spread its wings and continued to peck. Milton looked over his shoulder the bull was accelerating a good deal faster than they were.

“Drive, ” he yelled.

“I can’t see.”

“Spray the spray thingy.”

Carrie sprayed screen on to the crow and it retracted its wings, Carrie put her foot to the floor and her finger to the screen wash lever. Within seconds, the bull and the crow were left behind them. Milton stared back at them just in time to see the bull take a running leap into the air and take the form of a second crow. The birds both flew upwards and out of sight.

“They’re waiting for us to stop, ” said Milton.

“Have you ever seen anything like this before?”

“Well yes, the Witch Hunting thing is not some eccentricity of ours – witches are real. They killed Dan’s family. Didn’t you say one of your friends...?”

“But have you ever physically been attacked by them?”

“No, but Gary has; he doesn’t talk much about it.”

“So why are they going for us with all guns blazing all of a sudden?”

“It must have something to do with the curse.”

The crows swooped down in front of the car, perching on the bonnet clinging to the holes that their talons ripped in it as they landed. They spread their wings.

“We’re nearly at the bridge, they can’t cross running water.”

An approaching car beeped at them and Carrie swerved to avoid it. Milton wound down his window and pulled as much of his body out of it as he could manage.

“You’re doing fine, left corner coming up.”

He reached out and grabbed the bird’s wing; it swung its beak at him. The sharp point of it dug into the soft flesh of his hand but the bird had over-reached itself and the movement dislodged it from the car bonnet. Milton sat back down, cradling his bleeding hand to his chest.

“Nearly there, you’re clear.”

As Carrie approached the small stone bridge that marked the perimeter of Hettford, the second bird let go its grip. Carrie’s house was a short distance away in the adjacent village of Milner.

7.

Dan sat in front of a large pile of books in search of a way to cancel out the spell. In desperation he had found himself in the appendices of Karswell’s A History of The Craft. The section that had piqued his interest was Appendix CCXILLVI – which Karswell had ambiguously titled Seeking Company. The appendix dealt with sending a spirit message to a specific witch in order to request a favour from them. The appendix contained a simple spell that was only seven lines long. There then followed twenty pages that cautioned the reader against ever using it. Asking a witch for a favour required three favours in return, one for calling her, one for asking the question and a third for granting the favour. Karswell strongly cautioned that witches were under no obligation to respond to requests or to even be cordial. He suggested that calling a witch for a favour was the quickest method of having yourself transformed into a mule, having your ears sheared off and eaten and your genitals cast into the fireplace. It seemed like a heavy price to pay to save Saul, who after all, was a little wanker. Dan resolved not to mention the appendix to anybody.

Dan’s reading was interrupted by a sudden knock at the door.

“Use your key, ” he shouted.

The knock was repeated. Dan stood up and walked over to the door. Dan winced as he saw who it was.

“Is that Gary in?”

“Mr. Sparrow is not currently here.”

Dan moved to slam the door in Paul’s face.

“Please, I need to see him. To say sorry.”

“I would think it was Alison you needed to apologise to.”

“She’s not answering, nobody is at their house.”

Dan thought about it.

“Do you know what I think you should do?”

“What?”

A look of sincere hope crossed Paul’s face, as if the chance for redemption might well be wrapped up in the very words that left Dan’s lips.

“Fuck off, ” said Dan.

Dan slammed the door with a sense of self satisfaction, and then he peered through the glass spy hole so that he could watch Paul hang his head in defeat and trudge away. Grinning, Dan put the kettle on and sat back down.

8.

Carrie led Milton up the stairs of her house. It was a listed Victorian terrace that had maintained the majority of its original fixings.

“This is lovely, ” Milton observed.

“I’ll give you a tour sometime when we’re not so pressed.”

Carrie unlocked a door on the landing and the two of them stepped into a room that was filled amulets, battered leather bound manuscripts and arcane fetishes. Carrie began running her finger over the bookshelf reading each of the titles one by one.

“Impressive collection. What is it you’ve come for?”

“I’ve got an article on how to summon a witch’s familiar; I thought if we could get our hands on Ruth’s spirit creature we might be able to trade it back to her in return for dropping the curse.”

“Or she might kill us and take it back on her own.”

“There is that possibility.”

“Given that they’re already chasing us, I’d say it was a pretty distinct one.”

“Yes.”

“So?”

“We can summon her onto sacred ground; witches are very superstitious. She probably wouldn’t kill us there.”

“Probably?”

“As opposed to definitely killing that idiot Saul.”

“OK but let’s focus on doing this to save Gary from the impending guilt, rather than saving Saul.”

“Agreed.”

Carrie finally got to the book she was after. She placed it under her arm. With her other hand, she picked up a mummified cat off the shelf.

“This’ll get us past the witches on the way back.”

“Do you have anything that will get them to explain why they’re suddenly chasing us?”

“No, but I suspect it has something to do with the death curse being passed on. They must have been banking on killing you. Now, let’s duct tape this to my windscreen and get back to Hettford.”

She held the dead cat up victoriously. Milton chastised himself for finding the image erotic.

9.

The front door had not only been locked but Saul appeared to have put a chest of drawers up against it. Paul walked calmly around to the end of the road, and hedge-hopped his way to his back garden. As he had expected the back door had not been locked or barricaded. He walked into the small kitchen and almost tripped over a canvas bag that someone, almost certainly Saul, had left on the floor. The kitchen was in complete disarray, cupboards had been left open, packages of food had been pulled down onto the counter and the dishwasher had been left open, even though it had finished its cycle. Paul heard a loud pinging sound followed by a clunk and he followed the sound.

Paul walked into the living room to discover his brother holding a rifle and pointing it at the mantelpiece. He had placed a milk bottle on the top of it and was using it for firing practice.

“Mum’s going to kill you when she sees that kitchen.”

Saul lowered his rifle and yelled at the top of his voice:

“I’ve got bigger things to think about!”

“Well, you went too far.”

“Yeah, thanks for helping me out with that by the way.”

“I wasn’t going to let you rape her.”

Saul pointed his air-rifle at his brother.

“I told you, I just wanted to scare her – get her back to New Zealand. I don’t mind when people come to England to make a better life for themselves but when they already live somewhere great they need to just fucking stay there.”

“You were still out of order; it wasn’t like throwing kiwis at her or putting them on the doorstep. That was properly creepy.”

“That other stuff wouldn’t scare anybody.”

“So why did we do it all?”

“Somebody had to kid.”