
Giant Killer Eels
By Stuart Neild
©2010 Stuart Neild
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced without the publisher's prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or undead, is entirely coincidental. The moral right of the authors has been asserted in accordance with the Copyrights, Designs and Patents Act 1988
Dedicated to a true master of pulp horror, Guy N Smith
"He wants eels?" the first diver asked the second.
"That's what he said," the second diver replied. "Big eels."
"What would he want eels for?"
"Maybe he's going to eat them, or sell them, I don't know."
"And how are we supposed to catch them?" The first diver held up the plastic bag with disgust.
"The plastic bag he gave you," the second diver nodded.
"You can tell he's really thought this one through." The first diver huffed.
"If you ask me I think it adds a little more fun to the dive, besides he showed us where we could park up round here for free and not get a ticket."
"But who is he anyway?"
"Said his name was Yanick."
"What kind of a name is that?"
"Don't knock the guy, like I said, free parking and great diving. What more could you ask?" The second diver jumped into the water, plastic bag in hand and vanished into the dark underground water. The first diver adjusted his equipment and followed him in.
"See I told you it would be easy," John said with a triumphant smile.
"Don't tell me this is easy. Lying, cheating, then running off from home doesn't come easy to me," Mark replied.
"Relax. Anyway, we haven't run away from home. We're just not exactly where we're supposed to be."
"About a hundred miles from where we're supposed to be," Mark added.
"Not exactly a hundred miles," John's words trailed off before he snapped himself back round, "does it matter? We're here."
And for the moment it didn't matter, as the two boys watched the landscape roll by from their backseat on the bus.
"Look," John pointed to a motorway sign, "just another ten miles till we turn off to The Lakes."
"So I see." Mark felt a twinge in his stomach.
It was all becoming very real now, maybe too real. Of course, John and him had talked and planned it long enough, but now out and on their own at the age of thirteen, they were actually doing it. They had planned the great escape and were following that plan through to the letter. Mark loved the planning, he felt safe when making plans, he could make as many plans as anyone would want, it was just the following them through that disturbed him a little.
On the other hand his best friend John couldn't come up with a plan if his life or every life, in the universe depended on it. But he was a good ideas man, more you're spontaneous type. Full of mad ideas, fun ideas, but mad ideas all the same. The Lake District was just one of them.
But they were not just here to take in the sights, oh no, they had a mission. John had come across a documentary on some obscure satellite channel. It was to do with cryptology, the finding of creatures that were considered a myth but we're in fact real, or at least that's what the documentary had implied. The documentary had come up with a wild array of creatures, pterodactyls in the Amazon rainforest, yetis in Tibet, the jersey devil in the USA.
But what had caught John's attention was the hunt for giant eels in the Lake District. Of course the hunt was now over and the eels were safe with the yeti, the jersey devil and the rest, in not being found, but John being the ideas man had other ideas.
He had figured what had gone wrong with the well manned expeditions to capture or prove that these creatures existed. The fact was they were over manned. These creatures that had stayed out of sight for all these years were too clever. They would never pop up out of a bush while some burly hunters or a string of scientists were waiting.
No, these were clever devils, or they wouldn't have lasted so long. But even the cleverest of devils can get caught out, and on the face of it, John's idea was quite plausible.
Would the yeti be bothered about showing himself to a couple of kids? Would the Jersey devil stop his day to day shenanigans for the sake of a couple of brats? Hardly likely.
This was the part where Mark and his practical planning came to the forefront. Seeing as the US and the Amazon rainforest were a bit far, the Lake District nominated itself as obvious choice for their investigations.
Next came the equipment, which was easy enough, both of them had cell phones with video camera functions built in, they added to this with Johns own mid range camcorder, and Mark's cherished, going towards the higher specs, still camera. Mark made sure they had sufficient charged batteries as back up and the rest of the equipment was fleshed out with notepads, pens, and an emergency medical bag that also hid some emergency money, rucksacks, a tent, some spare clothing, food, matches and a tin opener. Mark was tempted to take a pen knife of some sorts, but seeing the current climate towards knifes was not good, and the fact they weren't going to capture the creature or creatures themselves, just prove their existence, it hardly seemed necessary.
"Most of the houses round here are white because they were treated with red lead and then whitened to keep the damp out," Mark announced out of the blue.
"Right," John nodded, not even trying to sound interested.
"That's how they get that picturesque look," Mark carried on.
"I see," John yawned.
"And of course the Lake District is also famous for the Cumberland sausage," Mark carried on undaunted.
"Which is?" John wearily lifted an eyebrow.
"It's a sausage John," Mark coolly replied, "from Cumberland."
"Trust you to think of food."
"I'm talking about the Lake District culture," Mark sounded offended.
"A few white painted cottages and a big sausage don't make a culture," John said, "the tizzy wiz, now that's culture."
"A mythical creature with the body of a hedgehog and the head of a....," Mark's words trailed off as he couldn't remember what it was meant to have the head of.
"Yeah, that's real culture. In fact if the giant eels turn out to be a disappointment maybe we could have a scout around for a tizzy wiz. We might even be to able bag one of them if they are small enough, now that would be a find."
"Yes it would," Mark answered sarcastically.
"Mind you, it's a bit embarrassing though. I mean a creature that's got the body of a hedgehog, not very cryptology is it? Or was it the head that was meant to be a hedgehog?"
"Actually I'd say it was very cryptology."
"Still, not very cool though is it? I mean, what would be cooler, a giant killer eel, or a cute furry tizzy wiz? No competition is it."
"No, I'll take the cute little tizzy wiz every time over a giant killer eel," Mark replied, before he sank back into himself, silent.
He was glad when John put his mp3 player back on. It meant Mark didn't have to make conversation. Mark liked silence; he just didn't like uneasy silence. Now for a few minutes more until they got off from the bus, he could let his mind ramble wherever he liked, no pressure.
That was the biggest trouble in his life, pressure. He was thirteen years old and by his own admission he was bright. By his teachers and his parents, he was a star pupil, with all the extra work and weight on his shoulders that went with it. Not a school night, nor a weekend, would he escape the clutches of homework and the voices and fingers prodding him to push himself harder, further. As far as he was concerned he'd come far enough. For the last couple of months his head felt like it was about to explode and for the last few days he felt like it had exploded, reassembled and was getting ready to explode again.
This weekend, the great escape had appealed not to a rebel nature in Mark, it couldn't possibly, not when he himself had no doubt, he didn't have a rebellious bone in his body. No, he could safely leave the rebelling to John that was his forte. For Mark this was a necessity, this was the greatest escape of all, this was life or death. If he hadn't made the break for it, he had no doubt he would have been buried alive, with all the expectation others had burdened on him.
Of course it was Mark's planning that had got them this far and as long as they stuck to the plan they would be okay, he hoped. The brilliant plan he'd come up with was that he was supposedly staying at John's, and John was supposedly staying at his, simple but brilliant. It was the complicated plans that went awry. Keep it compact and simple. They had both saved and pooled their money together. John had dug the tent out of his garage and Mark had planned the bus routes and had got all the info he needed about the lakes from the net.
Mark had chosen the area round Hodge Close specifically. The Lakes themselves and other the main tourist spots, would also have the most people, and more people equalled more chance of someone asking what two young lads were doing out on their own. Hodge Close was only of interest to divers. There, they really would be out of the way, out in the wilderness, they could throw the tent up, keep their heads down, no questions asked.
It had been easy to get John to agree to this plan of action. Mark had put the case forward that if Old Slippery, the mythical giant eel John was trying to get footage of, was around these parts, it would hardly be doing a back stroke round Lake Windermere in full view. The same went for the supposedly hidden Blood Lake, Mark went on about all the time. If it was hidden, then it would be well hidden. Of course Mark didn't really believe they would come across anything remotely like a hidden lake or a giant eel, but for the best part his compliance to his friends quest, kept his companion quiet and content.
They made their camp not far from a stream in the woods, flattening down the ferns that carpeted the area as best they could, before erecting their tent. It wasn't ideal camping ground, but the extra shelter from the trees gave them some respite from the wind. They were camouflaged and ready. The old slate mine where the divers went was just a small walk away down the stream. The stream ran into a cave and beyond that the old water logged slate mine that divers explored.
Of course John was chomping at the bit to explore the slate mine. It was as good as any place to start the search for Old Slippery. There were stories about the place and some divers had lost their lives there in mysterious circumstances. Of course the boys couldn't go diving to the bottom of the mine, of which Mark was eternally thankful, but they could watch from the ledges, cameras at the ready, pointing down into those murky depths.
The cave entrance loomed up ahead. Mark and John waded through the ever deepening stream, which led into the pitch black darkness that lay inside the tunnel. Once inside the tunnel, the stream got so deep; their Wellington boots were only just high enough to keep out the water line. They shone the beaming light of their torches, to cut a path through the claustrophobic blackness.
Mark touched the hard stone wall to steady himself. It was cold, jagged and unforgiving. It was the most trapped he'd ever felt, the rush of the water almost pulling his legs down to what he could easily imagine, to be a watery, underground grave. He did his best to concentrate that however far away, there was light up ahead, a pinprick, but light none the less. The cave certainly had the right ambience to be a home for some strange giant dinosaur like creature. He could easily imagine Old Slippery just rising out of the water any second and curling itself around them, their torches dropping helpless into the water, as their young life was crushed out of them, to ooze away into a darkness they would never escape. There was something completely unreal about the experience. The nearest thing, Mark could associate to the feel of the cave was one of those old dark rides that you rode a boat through papier-mâché caves, to gaze upon papier-mâché dinosaurs.
At last the tunnel abated and they came out into the open, but looking down into the old slate mine itself. They stood on one of the safer looking ledges looking down into the still water at the bottom. Mark crossed over to the scaffolding, which divers used to make their way down the pit and into the water.
"I wouldn't fancy climbing down there," Mark said, before backing away from the ledge and its scaffolding.
"How deep is it once you get down there?" John asked.
"Obviously deep enough for divers."
"Come on, let's go down, get a closer look," John said excitedly.
"Isn't it enough," Mark snapped, "that we're perched on a ledge God knows how many feet up, over a pit of water we could easily drown in?"
"We're not going in the water," John argued, "I'm just on about climbing down the scaffolding a bit, so we can get a closer view."
Mark put his hand on the scaffolding, shaking it a little to see if it was safe. He turned to John, but John was already leaving his field of vision, climbing downward.
Slipping over the edge of the scaffolding, Mark clung on for dear life while trying to find a foot hold and not look down. It wasn't that he was exactly scared of heights but he was never going to be a fan of them either.
"That's far enough," Mark shouted halfway down.
John nodded, he could see that look in Mark's eye, John had seen it enough to know the easy going Mark was gone. There would be no budging him now.
"Have you got your camera ready Mark?"
"Yes," Mark replied shakily.
John threw some bread down into the water.
"What's that for?" Mark asked bewildered.
"Don't worry," John sniffed, "it's not a waste of bread, besides it's only from Lidl."
"And you intend to entice Old Slippery with a couple of slices of Lidl's finest white bread?" Mark scoffed.
"Well I'm hardly going to throw in a human sacrifice am I?" John retorted.
"If Old Slippery is as big as you reckon, it sounds as if only a couple of human sacrifices would suffice."
Something rippled underneath the surface; a large chunk of the bread was snatched down and vanished.
"What was that?" Mark squealed in a voice a little too high pitched for his own liking.
"Where?" John's head whizzed back and forth.
"There, the breads all gone," Mark pointed.
"No it isn't," John corrected him as he spied some bread, "it's there."
A large ripple swallowed the last big chunk of bread. The two boys looked at one another.
"It must be a fish," John said gulping.
"A big fish," Mark quivered, "a very big fish."
They moved back away from the edge, both now had camera phones at the ready, pointing at the water.
"Throw some more bread," Mark urged.
"I've only got one more piece," John said almost in a panic.
Mark took control of the situation. He grabbed the final piece of bread and threw it into the water. They watched intently as the bread drifted like a miniature square, white lilo. They waited till their arms ached, holding the camera phones in the same position for an age.
Nothing happened.
"Maybe that last piece was stale," John joked.
A tiny piece of slate fell forward, bouncing off the scaffolding above their heads and then into the water. They instantly looked up to see a strange scruffy man in his late fifties looking down towards them.
"So sorry about that please," the tramp shouted, "there's a lot of loose slate and stone up here. No harm done, thank you very much."
The man, who had a foreign accent neither Mark or John could put their fingers on to the origin of, then vanished from view as quickly as he had appeared.
"Who the hell was that?" John asked disgruntled. "He doesn't look like a diver."
"Maybe he's Old Slippery's keeper," Mark laughed.
"And maybe he's some raving lunatic that roams the woods," said John, "you know the kind, maybe the Lake District's answer to the hills have eyes?"
Mark stopped laughing.
They made their way stealthily and steadily back up the scaffolding. When they reached the top, the tramp was nowhere to be seen. They had both expected as much, although neither of them voiced it. In fact neither of them said anything, as they made their way back through the water filled cave, which would take them back to the woods.
The tall, slender figure of Mia pressed against the even taller, but well built Lance, as soon as they entered their holiday cottage.
"So here we are make or break," Lance said.
"What's with the break, you had the break, this is the make," Mia laughed.
Lance looked hurt. Mia picked up on his body language straight away and changed her tactics.
"You know what I mean," she gently brushed his cheek. "You're not still upset because I've brought my little Daner, remember Lake Ullswater is dog friendly even if you're not."
"Little?" the massive dog bounced around its new surroundings excitedly, knocking over everything in sight, "you call that beast little? It's a Great Dane. They don't come in miniature sizes."
"It's our baby," Mia replied hurt.
"You can have it as your baby, it isn't anything to do with me. The vet bills alone would make me disown it, even if it was a child."
"Lance, I love your sense of humour, but you're getting a little close to the bone. Can't we forget the dog?"
"How can we?" Lance huffed, "when you brought her along, not to mention the two thousand you just forked out at the vets. I just hope she doesn't get lost and shit all over the place. I hate to think what the dog fouling penalties are like in the Lake District. I mean, the dogs had that much chemo it's radioactive. It's a wonder we don't get done for polluting the atmosphere, just taking it for a walk."
"Well how I look at it," Mia said with restrained anger, "it's better to have an expensive dog than that cheap whore you were so fond of."
"Now who's getting close to the bone?"
"I'd love to get close to Sabrina's bone," Mia's anger mounted, "in fact I'd like to break every damn one of her bones."
"Sabrina's history," Lance spoke calmly, "why don't we leave her that way. We've got this place for a week, the views, the peace and the quiet," he smiled. "Sabrina's a million miles away." He pushed himself closer to Mia, but she flinched away.
"Are you so sure about that?" Mia asked before biting her nails.
"Okay a million miles is exaggerating a little, but a couple of hundred isn't."
"Bad pennies have a habit of turning up, especially bad pennies that are infatuated and like to stalk my husband."
"Mia, do I have to say it a million times? Sabrina was a terrible mistake. I'd never leave your side again. Anyway, when would I have chance to have an affair now, with Sabrina or anybody else for that matter?"
"You might think its over, but she doesn't. I know her kind. It'll never be over for her, not until she has you completely."
"That will never happen."
"No? It very nearly did."
"We both made mistakes."
"Sure we did, but some of us made bigger mistakes than others. I should choose my friends more carefully and you," she gently caressed his penis through his trousers; "you shouldn't let your little head rule your big head so much."
"I'll keep that in mind in future," he swept her into his arms. She kissed him passionately.
"What was that?" She pushed him away.
"Just an open window, I'll close it."
Mia gripped her coat tightly round her because of the sudden icy chill she'd experienced. "I just can't get it out of my head."
"What, me and her?"
"No. I just can't get the feeling out," her words evaporated into nothing.
"What feeling?" he urged.
"The feeling that she's out there," Mia said with noticeable fear, "waiting to make her move."
"Like a poisonous snake in the grass," Lance laughed.
"Yes," Mia's tone stayed deadly serious, "because that's exactly what she is. I wouldn't be surprised if she knew we were here."
"How?"
"And that she'd followed us."
"That hardly seems likely."
"Nothing about her is likely."
"She's not going to turn up here. Let's chill, enjoy the moment and look forward to many more moments."
Mia simply smiled, she didn't bother to answer. She looked out into the dark rippling waters of the lake that their holiday cottage over looked. Before she never thought Lance would ever leave her for another woman. Although she couldn't have kids, she was sure their marriage had been rock solid. Now, even though he had returned to her, tail between his legs, she actually wondered how many moments they had left together. She carried on looking out onto those supposedly calming surroundings of the lakes. Call it a hunch, women's intuition, but she was sure to the point of positive, Sabrina was out there. Of course as Lance had pointed out, it was impossible, madness, but those were just two of Sabrina's dubious qualities. Her greatest quality of all, if you could call it that, was she would stop at nothing. That and the fact she was totally, equivocally, evil.
\*\*\*
Mia stood alone at the edge of Lake Ullswater. Trust the damn dog to run off and not come back. She restrained herself from shouting. Lance was funny about having dogs off the lead; it was one of his pet hates. As far as he was concerned, Mia was just slipping a lead onto the dog and standing outside the front door, while he relaxed in his bath. If he had to get out of his bath for a Great Dane he'd go ballistic. And if he heard her shouting it, he'd still go off on one. If only she'd kept her promise of putting the lead on. If she hadn't been lazy and just opened the door to let the dog go. In her mind and to herself, she agreed with Lance that the dog was just damn trouble, even if she wouldn't let the statement actually pass her lips. There was no doubt; the dog was a real, four legged, expensive, argument starter. And it was obviously all set to start another argument, on the first hour of this important get away.
She pursed her lips and cursed her luck. If she could get near the dog she might be able, albeit with a struggle, get her back inside without too much fuss, or at least not bring any fuss to Lance's attention. She shivered. She couldn't see Daner anywhere. It was just as Lance had promised, piece and quiet, away from the bustle of city life out in the wilds with no prying eyes. And the damned dog would spoil it.
The only saving grace was there was nobody about, nobody to complain that the dog had run at them, and bowled them over in its excitement, which it nearly always did. Yep, no prying eyes, no pointing fingers.
So why did she feel so sure someone was watching her?
\*\*\*
Ozzy looked down at the slim sleeping form of Tina, in the seat next to him. There was a smile on her face, the kind of smile that made him smile when he saw it, and he was sure it could make a million others do the same. She was barely seventeen, a year younger than him. As he saw it, she was the smooth to his rough, the pretty to his plain, the intelligent to his average, the understanding to his stubborn. In a nutshell, she was his everything.
He didn't think she'd be disappointed with the beauty of Lake Windermere. He'd been going there on holidays regularly since he'd been a child. The caravan he'd rented out was similar to the ones his parents had rented out on those holidays. It had been expensive for him, but he thought it was worth it. She was worth it. It was their first holiday, their first night alone, it would also be Tina's first time......
The car juddered to a halt.
"We're here," he stroked a thin blonde wisp of her hair gently away from her face.
"It didn't take too long," she yawned.
"So what do you think of the Lake District then?" Ozzy asked.
"It's beautiful," she kissed him playfully on the cheek, "and so are you."
It didn't take them long to unpack and soon they were at the waterside. Such youth never really carried much baggage, nor should it.
"I'm going to hire us a boat," Ozzy said as he joined Tina in feeding the birds on the lake.
"Fancy yourself as a captain do you?" Tina laughed, not taking too much notice of him as she carried on feeding the gleaming white procession of swans.
"I'm serious; I used to go island hopping as a child. I can rustle us up a mean picnic if you like?"
"I thought you were buying me dinner in the pub we past, what was it called?"
"The hole in the wall. It dates back to the 1700's."
"So they even had holes in the wall back then," she laughed, "did they have chip and pin as well?"
He laughed with her, putting his arm around her.
"Come on, the swans are fed, now you need feeding. My dreams of being a captain can wait."
"Tell you what, I'm not that hungry," she giggled, "you can share my hidden packet of crisps if you like?" She offered him the bag of salt and vinegar she'd produced from quarters unknown.
"Where were you hiding them?" He asked puzzled.
"That would be telling," she smiled, "lets go rent that boat out."
\*\*\*
Ozzy was pretty sure Tina was impressed with his rowing skills, and the fact he knew about the tiny islands, which were dotted around in the water of Lake Windermere.
He neatly rowed round the biggest island of Belles Isle which he explained was private and the only island that was inhabited. Next he pulled alongside the island of Maiden Holme. Tina thought the island looked like it had been turned upside down on its head and was about to float off at any second. She was genuinely surprised though when Ozzy told her the island was actually moving. He offered to land on the island, but Tina didn't like the idea. She could envisage the island as a giant floating claw, bursting up and out of the water, ready to grab an unsuspecting traveller in its spidery grasp, never to let go. Ozzy deftly manoeuvred the boat, cutting it knife like through the cool, still water, as pearls of white seagulls swooped overhead.
"I see land up ahead," Ozzy laughed.
A small heavily tree lined island was almost within touching distance.
"Next island is called Lady Holme," Ozzy proudly announced, "this place was at one time home to monks, who allegedly looked after lepers."
"Great, we're going to explore a leper colony," Tina laughed a little nervously.
"Former leper, and like I said, only allegedly," he held his hand out to steady her, as she followed him out of the boat, "besides, life can't be peaches and cream all the time, although when you're with me it is most of the time," he laughed.
"It's beautiful," she admitted, once she was stood on it. She was genuinely taken aback by the islands beauty, combined with the crystal elegance of the lake. He led her deeper into the trees, before turning to her.
"I'm glad you think that," he kissed her.
Within seconds they were both caressing each other on the soft ground, protected from prying eyes by the trees and shrubbery on their island get away. Ozzy pushed his fingers into Tina's flimsy top, deftly undoing a couple of her buttons as he made his way to her breast.
"What if someone sees?" She whimpered.
"They can't, not when we're out here hidden by all these trees."
"What if another boat comes?" She kissed him passionately after she'd finished her sentence.
"We'll hear them," he answered. His hand slid up her skirt, his fingers playfully teasing at the edge of her panties.
"And if we don't?"
He didn't bother to answer, merely pressing his lips more passionately onto hers. He felt the moistness seeping through Tina's panties.
"Not here," she gasped.
He stopped and kissed her cheek affectionately. He had control, women liked that, Tina liked that. The afternoon didn't really matter, not when they had the whole of the night before them.
"So what do you think about island hopping then?" He asked with a cheeky grin.
"It's good," she giggled.
"And.....," Ozzy's words trailed off. He had spotted the sudden look of terror on Tina's face. "Tina," he howled, "what's wrong?"
"Over there, through the bushes at the edge of the....,"now it was the turn of Tina's words to trail off. There was a loud splashing sound.
Ozzy sprang to his feet; looking into the direction Tina had been transfixed.
I don't see anything."
"There was something there, something big. It was moving along the ground, like a huge dark shadow, it slithered along the ground, like a snake."
"I think you're imagination is getting the better of you. It was probably an otter. I heard it jump back into the water."
"I know what I saw," she shot him an icy glance.
"I'm not saying you don't," he backed off, "I'm just saying," he fidgeted, "it could have been an otter. A big fat one," he smiled weakly.
Tina stood up and brushed herself down.
"Isn't it time we got the boat back?"
"Sure," it wasn't, but he didn't argue. They left the island in silence. By the time they reached the pub, still no word between them had been spoken.
\*\*\*
"So, are we having a nice time?" Lance sarcastically snarled at Mia.
Mia didn't answer. They carried on walking side by side, but a million miles apart. At this early stage of their romantic holiday, they should have been maybe rolling around in bed, not rambling in the open countryside, but romance never went smoothly, especially rekindled romance.
"What worries me more is that the bloody thing will come back, just as I'm thinking I'm lucky enough to get rid of it."
"This isn't like Daner," Mia finally said.
"It is so like Daner. That dog knows what its doing all right. It can't simply run off and stay run off, oh no, it'll come back after its caused maximum fuss."
\*\*\*
The dog turned up, as Lance had predicted. It was waiting for them at the cottage, after they had trudged round for hours shouting Daner's name. Mia argued the case that it had given them ample opportunity to ramble and take in the scenery. Lance argued back, how could they enjoy anything, wondering what the hound from hell was up to. When they caught their first glimpse of him, he was up to his eyeballs in rubbish. He'd knocked a bin over outside their holiday cottage and was enthusiastically rolling around in the debris he'd unleashed.
"Great," Lance hissed, "what's the fine for littering round here?"
"He's just a dog," Mia snapped before racing to meet Daner with open arms.
Just a dog Lance thought sarcastically, just a dog that had caused so many arguments in their marriage, it hardly seemed possible. As funny as it sounded that damned dog had been one of the very things that had pushed him into the arms of Sabrina. Sabrina had been very sympathetic over Lance's view of the dog, but then again Sabrina had been sympathetic over everything with Lance, it was all part of her act. She wanted him, and that was that. And that, thankfully, was now over. Lance was glad, he was just thankful Mia had taken him back. It should have been a happy ending, but there was still that dog needling as ever.
It was just a dog; he should be able to get rid of it, one way or another.
He pushed the thought from his mind. He was a rational, reasonable human being, hell even if he wasn't an animal lover, he didn't believe in hurting them, but then again, what damage was the dog causing to his and Mia's marriage.
What if the dog ran off?
It always ran off.
What if it didn't come back?
It always came back.
But what if it didn't?
There was always a chance it wouldn't come back, especially if the dog was taken to the right place at the right time. Lance knew the right place, a little diving pit off Hodge Close. Now all he needed to do was wait for the right time.
The uneasy feeling had crept into Mark's psyche and it seemed it was intending to stay there. He sat perched inside the two man tent; he and John had so much trouble putting up. Men of the land they were not, and probably never would be. John was sat by the stream hypnotically watching the water rush by him. Mark wished the water would have the same calming effect on him, but it didn't. Mark was beginning to not like the woods, even in daylight. He pushed all thoughts of what his feeling towards the woods would be at night. Well, as best he could.
John dragged himself away from the stream. He had a stick in his hand that he snapped into four or five pieces and then threw them to the ground.
"We should start a fire," John proclaimed.
"What, and set the woods alight?" Mark argued.
"We'll have to start a fire at some point," John huffed. "We might as well do it now."
"What is it with you and fires?" Mark looked at John bewildered. "Do you want to bring as much attention to us as possible?"
"It doesn't count as camping unless you start a fire," John said.
"You'd better get collecting the wood then," Mark said in an effort to keep John's hands busy and his mind subdued.
"I'm all ready way ahead of you." John turned out his pockets and spilled a clutch of twigs onto the ground. "See. And come look what I've done with the booze." He led Mark over to the side of the stream. There, he'd placed the four cans of beer he had procured from his Father's fridge, inside a carrier bag, tied a piece of string to a tree, and another round the bag that was now submerged into the water.
"That should keep it nice and cool," John proudly boasted.
Mark clasped his hand over his mouth and shaking his head quietly walked away.
\*\*\*
Ozzy, pulling Tina ever tighter and closer to him as they walked, was trapped in a strange dilemma. Half of him was enjoying this first holiday with his girlfriend, the other half was wishing the time away, waiting for the night, when he and Tina would be doing something else that would be a first for them.
"Penny for your thoughts," Tina prompted.
"I was just a million miles away," Ozzy smiled.
"You're not wanting to escape from me so soon are you?"
"No," he quickly replied, "I was just thinking......of things."
"What things would they be?" she prompted playful.
"Oh you know," he was surprised to feel his cheek blush red a little, "just things." He noticed now she was blushing.
"If you catch me I'm yours," she threw down the gauntlet before playfully running ahead.
Within a couple of seconds he had caught her up.
"I guess that means I'm yours now."
"I guess it does."
"I've never been anyone's property before," she laughed playfully.
"There's a first time for everything."
She blushed more.
Ozzy noticed the first signs of rain. He liked it when it rained in the Lakes. The smell and the atmosphere, the feeling that everything had been washed clean, the freshness of the grass and the trees after the downpour. He especially liked listening to the rain when he was warm in bed at night. He hoped it would rain this night, and that he and Tina would open their door in the morning to a brave new world.
\*\*\*
Lance drove the car as if the very devil himself we're behind him, and not the great dane in the boot, which was being tossed and flung, into every twist and corner. Of course Lance not caring for the beast in any shape or form got some satisfaction out this, but for the most part he kept the pedal down because he was in a race against time. Mia was in the bath, he was only meant to be nipping to get provisions from the shops. When he got back he would argue that Daner must have got out because Mia had left the door open, and that he had not seen the dog. Ok to a large degree it would spoil their break, but at least he would be safe in the knowledge that whatever happened, the ruddy beast would not be going home with them.
He snapped on the handbrake, the dog jolted forward, almost into the front passenger seat by Lance's side.
"Fucking twat," Lance screamed at the animal. He grabbed the dogs lead that was hanging loose around its neck, and dragged it into the woods, as they headed towards the old water logged slate mine off Hodge Close.
\*\*\*
It was Mark, as observant as ever, who noticed the slight pulling on the tents fabric. He tapped John lightly to bring it to his attention. John was busy with the treasure trove he had acquired, of three packets of cigarettes, a box of matches, a hunting knife, a small bottle of vodka and a couple of hardcore porn magazines. Mark tapped him harder.
"What?" John then snapped.
"The tent," Mark hissed under his breath, "there's something pulling on the tent."
John thrust his head outside. Before him was a scruffy hunched up figure, rummaging through the bag of tins, John had tied to the tent with a piece of string and then dunked into the stream. It was the same figure that had been peering down at them, at the slate mine earlier.
"Hey, what you doing?" John shouted full of bravado.
"It's nothing, thank you please," the figure turned round to John and Mark, who had now also poked his head outside the tent.
"That's our stuff," John's bravado was still running at full steam.
"Yes, that ok, I not want your stuff, I'm just looking for something."
"It's our bag and our stuff," John held firm, now standing upright.
"It's your bag," Mark felt he needed to make the point, as he too stood up, but a little behind his friend.
"Yes, it's your bag, thank you please, ok," the strange man held the bag out to Mark. "You take, you take. It's ok, ok. My name is Yanick. I like eels, I look for eels."
"There aren't any eels in there," Mark snatched the bag back.
"Yes I know," Yanick agreed, "I checked, no eels, but eels like the bags, they like the dark, I catch eels in bags, yes."
"You can keep the bag if you like," John's bravado was at last waning.
"You boys not at school?" Yanick asked, "No?"
"It's the holidays and it's the weekend," John replied a little uneasily.
"Oh yes, the weekend, the holidays, your parents must be glad to take you fine boys to holiday. Where is their tent?"
"We're boy scouts," Mark interjected as John had seemingly run out of words. "The group we're with is all over this wood."
"It is?" Yanick said in a sarcastic unbelieving manner.
"Scattered about," Mark held firm, "you can't always see them, camouflage you see. It's part of the exercise we're all doing. They won't let themselves be shown. Unless of course there's some kind of emergency."
"Yes of course," Yanick smiled a very devious smile.
"In which case they would come running in their hundreds," John jumped in.
"Hundreds?" Yanick portrayed an over the top, tongue in cheek, startled look.
"Tens," Mark corrected, thinking hundreds was a little over the top, considering there was not a soul in sight.
"Tens of hundreds," John's bravado had suddenly recharged.
"I see," Yanick smiled, "well, I'll bid you fine gentlemen good day," he moved to walk away then stopped, "if you need anything, any help and your hundreds of colleagues don't come running, I'm just through there, over the hill." He pointed to the darkest part of the wood. "By the way, my names Yanick. And remember if you catch any eels, you now know where my home is now. Thank you very much." He strode off, the bottom half of his body disappearing into the green ferns.
"What's with the eels?" John turned to Mark.
"Forget the eels," Mark huffed, "I'm more worried that Yanick's just over that hill."
"So?"
"We're sleeping out here tonight."
"What a mard arse," John laughed. "Come on, let's check Yanick's place out."
"Are you mental?"
"Come on it'll be fun, like going undercover, he won't see us. I just want to see where he lives."
"No."
But John wasn't listening; he was already making his way stealthy through the rough route Yanick had taken. Hesitantly, Mark followed.
Lance stood silent and still as Mia vented the full fury of her anger. He'd expected as much, and was well prepared for her hurricane of an outburst. He did his best to look calm and honest, but Mia just seemed to grow even angrier. He decided to change tactics.
"I didn't leave the gate open. I didn't let the bloody dog out. It's your dog, your responsibility; you should have been watching it."
"I was in the bath, getting myself ready for our so called big romantic holiday."
"Some holiday this is turning out to be. And once again what's the cause of all our arguments, your precious beast."
"I wouldn't be surprised if you'd made Daner run off on purpose."
"What would be the point?" Lance screamed in anger. "It always comes fucking back."
The statement stopped Mia in her tracks. There was sense in it, or at least she could see something forming in the mists of Lance's logic.
"So who opened the gate and let Daner out?" she asked this time less accusingly of Lance."
"Maybe he opened the gate himself?"
"Daner's a clever dog, but not that clever."
"All I know is I left it in the garden while I went to the shops. Maybe it jumped the wall?"
"The gate was open."
"Maybe you left it open?"
"Don't patronise me Lance, if you didn't leave the gate open, I certainly wouldn't."
"And I wouldn't because I wouldn't want to pay for the damage that creature is probably causing out there, at this very minute. Or are you forgetting that last court case where we had to pay damages, and got fined because of him causing that traffic accident?"
"One of us should go out and look. The other should stay here in case Daner comes back."
"I'll get my coat," Lance sighed.
"No, I'll go; Daner comes to me straight away. You stay here."
Lance sighed and shook his head. Mia paused. His anger spent, she sported an uneasy frown.
"Lance, you don't think," she paused and took a deep breath, "you don't think it's her who let Daner out?"
"Who?"
"I'm talking about Sabrina; you don't think she's followed us here?"
"Get real Mia, she'll be onto the next one now. I hardly think I'll be in Sabrina's thoughts, never mind your dog."
"She's obsessive Lance. Obsessed with you, she wouldn't think twice about hurting me in any way possible, just because she can't have you."
"Get her off your mind."
"What if she knows we're here and has followed us?"
"How many times do I have to go through this? She doesn't know where I am, it wouldn't matter if she did. Sabrina was the biggest mistake of my life. I lost everything when I lost you through her."
"You really mean that?" There was a hint of a smile breaking through the sadness of Mia's face.
"Are you sure you don't want me to come with you while you look for the brute?" he asked softly.
"I'm sure," Mia smiled.
Lance eased back onto a comfy chair and with the aid of the remote, flicked the TV on, safe in the knowledge that no matter how much Mia looked, or however long he waited, Daner the great dane from hell, was not coming back.
\*\*\*
Mark and John ducked in unison as Yanick turned round. It was the first time that Yanick had thrown a cautionary glance over his shoulder, and it left them both prone to the ground cowering amongst the ferns.
"This is madness," Mark hissed, "it's like Hansel and Gretel. We're walking straight to the witches cottage."
"You can't get male witches, the male equivalent is warlocks," John replied calmly, "and that doesn't look like no gingerbread house to me, more like a shit tip of a shed, in the middle of nowhere."
"It doesn't matter, it's his shed."
"I thought it was funny, he doesn't seem the type that could afford a house round here. I wonder if he's got planning permission for that, I bet he hasn't, I bet it isn't even his land."
"Will you shut up."
Yanick entered his shambles of a wooden home and closed the door. John slowly stood up, Mark followed his lead.
"Good," Mark panted, "now we can get out of here."
"What?" John laughed, "we've only just got here. Just remember keep out of sight and undercover."
"You've got to be joking?" Mark rasped. But it was too late, John with his head ducked, was heading straight for the window to peer in. Mark stood motionless as the door to the shack opened and John in his surprise, stumbled face forward, and landed straight at Yanick's feet.
\*\*\*
Ozzy shook his head, before pulling himself up and perching on the picturesque stone wall. A piece of its jagged edge jutted out into him. He winced, before straddling the wall in a less precocious and more comfortable position. He dug his fingers into a mossy growth, plucking it up and out of its home where it had nestled in the stone work, and launched it through the air, and into the vicinity of some sheep. Ozzy was smouldering quite nicely.
Tina stood further away from him in the field, the cell phone plastered to her ear, her mother chewing up the airwaves at the other end like a ferocious pit bull. Ozzy didn't like pit bulls, and he didn't like Tina's mother. Tina's mother in turn, liked him even less.
"Your ear is looking red," Ozzy said to Tina as she finally put her phone away.
"Your face is looking even redder," she replied.
"What happened, did your mother run out of breath first or credit?"
"You don't believe in making things easy for me, do you Ozzy?"
"I was just saying."
"I know you don't like my mother, she knows you don't like her. Can't we all just move on from that? I'm here with you, here and now, whether she likes that or not."
"She doesn't like it."
"It doesn't matter. I love you both," she sighed. "I just need to keep you both apart."
"Sounds like we're going to have a fun wedding, don't it just?"
"Ozzy, are you proposing to me?" Tina laughed.
"No," Ozzy panicked, going the reddest of reds. "Why, would you have said yes if I had?"
"That's something you're not going to find out. Not unless of course....," her words trailed off.
For a couple of seconds Ozzy actually thought about asking her. For one thing he knew it would right royally piss her mother off. But then Ozzy's common sense took hold. He had come from a broken home and so had Tina. This was meant to be the perfect weekend. He wanted to keep it that way. He pushed all thoughts of marriage to the deeper, darker recesses of his mind, content to let the idea rot, in a dungeon of his own making.
\*\*\*
Lance was waiting at the front door of the cottage as Mia turned up, empty handed.
"No luck?" he asked, leaning on one of the cottages wooden support posts. She pushed past him and stormed into the cottage. He followed her, but kept enough distance. He thought it was best.
"I'm going to ring the local police, there must be a number for them round here," she said.
"I'm sure there is," Lance coolly replied, "I'm equally as sure they won't be interested in a missing dog. Besides it's not been missing long, it'll turn up sooner rather than later."
"I'm not so sure. I've got a feeling something terrible has happened."
"And how many times have you thought that and it's come trundling back, complete with vet bills and dog warden fines?"
"This isn't funny Lance, Daner doesn't know this area."
"Well maybe it will by the time its little adventure is over. That's if the dog wardens not all ready picked it up."
"You're right. I gotta start making phone calls."
She busied herself around, opening draws, looking for local emergency numbers.
As he had done a couple of hours before, when Mia had gone out looking for the dog, Lance left her to it, safe in the knowledge, if a little guilty, of what he'd done.
\*\*\*
The inside of Yanick's shed was as bad as Mark had expected. The place stunk and as for décor, the Texas chainsaw family had nothing on the place.
"Cup of tea, yes?" Yanick politely offered the two boys refreshment. They both politely declined. It was politeness that had led to the position they were in now, when Yanick had caught them prowling around and spying on him. When he welcomed them as if they were old friends and bade them entry into his humble abode, the only thing they could do was follow his kind request.
Only now when stood in what could be the belly of the monster, did Mark have regrets. As bad as he felt about it, he was relived that he was the one nearer to the door; John was stood in the middle, almost acting as a makeshift buffer, if anything did go wrong.
"You see my eels, they good, yes?" Yanick beamed with pride, showing off his prize possessions that wriggled about in an unkempt large tank of water, which took up most of the room in the shed. "They are my life. My life's work."
"So you don't eat them then?" Mark asked quite innocently.
"No," Yanick yelped, as if physically hurt. "I study them. They are big eels don't you think?"
"They're not bad," John said quite blasé, "but I've seen bigger."
Yanick's face took on a very serious expression.
"You have?" Yanick asked all wide eyed, "where have you seen these bigger eels?"
"Just around," John shrugged.
"Just around here?" Yanick asked, his lips wetted.
"Hereabouts," John replied, giving nothing away.
"Then you must tell me please," Yanick said excitedly.
"In fact it might interest you to know," John skilfully avoided the original question, "me and my good friend here, are on a mission to prove the existence of Old Slippery."
"Old Slippery," Yanick brought his hands up to his cheeks, in what looked like surprise and awe. "It is my dream, all my life; I studied, followed the legend of Old Slippery, he giant killer eel, no. I work to my dream, to prove Old Slippery, yes. They say he is the king of giant eels, no."
"So you actually believe in this giant eel?" Mark found himself sliding into the conversation somewhat casually.
"I do,no. Why not a creature as Old Slippery exist? Only now yes, creatures hidden are found, yes. The panda, no, was legend until last century, no. Imagine this please."
"I can imagine," Mark replied uneasy, feeling the best bet of getting away from the weirdo was to humour him.
"It is so good to have so such fine boys with such open minds," he placed a hand on each of their shoulders. "But wait, our missions, our lives are intertwined, three heads are better than one. You are like me, yes?"
"I suppose so," John buckled with the weight of the hand on his shoulder.
"That is good. Now we are one, I have something I must show you." Yanick breathed deeply. He elevated his hands from their respective shoulders and crossed over to the ragged curtains that hung limply at the window. He pulled them tightly shut, before crossing to the door and locking it.
"Now," he grinned, "now we can begin".
CHAPTER FIVE
Ozzy felt his body temperature drop cold, but his fists clenched red hot, when he saw the three youths hassling Tina. He'd only gone to the toilet for a minute, but they must have just descended from nowhere, on seeing a pretty young female stood alone. Just like predatory wolves.
"Got a problem?" Ozzy strode into the pack, elbowing two of them aside from his girlfriend.
"Leave it Ozzy," Tina pleaded, "I'm Ok."
"It looks it," he turned away from Tina and back to the chasing pack of wolves, "now fuck off before I fucking kill you," he screamed into their faces. The surprise of his actions caught them completely off guard. He knew it would. He had spoken to them in their own language and they understood. Their hesitation gave him just enough room to grab Tina's hand and usher her and himself away.
"Don't look back," he whispered to her.
"What if they jump you from behind?"
"I can see through the shop windows that they're stood still. If they make a move I'll see. As it is, they think they're dealing with someone who can really handle themselves or a madman, and at the moment I don't care which one they think I am."
"You could have got yourself killed."
"But I didn't. That's always a plus."
They turned the corner and Tina pulled him towards her and kissed him passionately.
"It looks like I got me a real knight in shining armour."
"Come on Tina, we've got to get out of here before those thick bastards realise it's three against one and that they might stand a chance."
"Good idea. Let's go back to the caravan."
"I thought you wanted to see the sights?"
"I've seen enough for the moment. Like I said, why don't we just go back the caravan and relax. I could do with a lie down, how about you?"
"Yeah," he blushed a little, "a lie down, good idea."
Their thoughts elsewhere, the couple didn't realise the youths were following them. The wolves had re-grouped and were closing in.
\*\*\*
"Satisfied now?" Lance asked Mia, knowing full well she wouldn't be.
"How can I be satisfied?" She snapped. "Daner's been gone for hours, none of the numbers I rang were any help. I wish we'd never come here."
"Well that's nice," Lance stood to his full six foot height and ran his fingers though his neatly trimmed beard.
"I didn't mean it like that Lance. I just meant.....," her words drained away into nothing.
"Save it, we all know where I come in the pecking order. I think I'll take a walk myself, clear my head. God knows it must need clearing coming back to this."
"So that's it, you going back to her?" Mia screamed.
"No, I'm clearing my head, going for a walk, getting away from you."
"Is she here in The Lakes, have you tucked her away in some secret hideaway?"
"Talk sense."
"It is sense. It's only what you did before isn't it?"
"I'm going for a walk. If I see the dog I'll bring it back for you. You can keep each other company."
"What's that supposed to mean?" She ranted, "where are you going?"
But it was too late, he was gone, slamming the door behind him as he did so.
\*\*\*
"This is what I have to show you, no," Yanick handed the grime encrusted book to Mark, "be careful, the book is very old, thank you very much, very old, fragile."
Mark took the book carefully, handling it gently, more trying to not get his hands dirty, rather than worrying about its very fragile state.
"What's the book about?" Mark asked, showing an interest John, at the moment, could not muster.
"It about one we seek. It about creature Romans who lived in area worshipped as God, yes. It about the one people only caught glimpses of, out of the corner of eyes, yes. It is about one that those who have got close to, perished, never to tell the tale, no. It is history of Old Slippery, giant eel of Blood Lake. Inside pages it tell of how eel has survived for centuries and whereabouts of Blood Lake, no."
"This tells you where to find Blood Lake?" John asked, now excited, "where is it?"
Yanick beamed a broad smile, "My young masters, Blood Lake is all around us, no?"
"I don't get it," John said looking and sounding suitably confused.
"It simple, as I say, the Blood Lake, it is all around, yes."
"What do you mean, like in a metaphor?" Mark asked, leaving both Yanick and John looking at him equally blankly.
"No, it is so obvious, look," he pointed to the pages of the book that Mark was now looking at. "How could the eel be seen here and here, in different lakes?"
"Maybe it's a different eel?" Mark offered.
"No," Yanick shook his head, "there is only one Old Slippery."
"Maybe it crawled out and slithered from lake to lake?" John offered, almost wishing he hadn't.
"No," Yankick shook his head even harder, "the lakes may be different, but there is one thing that connects all the lakes, no. The connection is Blood Lake."
"You mean....," Mark's words faulted."
"Yes," Yanick urged him on.
"Blood Lake connects to all the other lakes and is all around," Mark repeated the clues out loud.
"Yes," Yanick's urgings were at boiling point.
"It's an underground lake," Mark said, the realization hitting him just seconds before he said the words. "Blood Lake is a lake that runs all through this area, hidden underground. It connects unseen into all the other lakes, and thus the giant eel remains unseen."
"Wonderful," Yanick clapped his hands a little too enthusiastically for Marks liking.
Jason yawned. Just as things were getting started it had stalled into boredom again. It looked as if it was going to be a long and tedious afternoon after all.
\*\*\*
Quickly reading through, Mark couldn't help but find the grimy book Yanick had held so dear, utterly fascinating.
It was written and published as a very limited edition in the 1800's. It collected tales of the great eel and Blood Lake through history. It told of how the Romans had fought the giant eel and how parts of Blood Lake had flowed out into the open, until in an effort to stop the attacks from the giant eel, they had managed to bury the exposed parts of the hidden lake, to help cut off the creatures movements. There were accounts of people going on missions in later years to find the eel, but in doing so had gone missing.
It told of Blood Lake supposedly having magical properties that long forgotten races had tried to plunder. The secret of youth and invisibility, dark spells and black magic. There was even a chapter professing that the lake flowed into the stream of time itself. Long, tall stories, that was for sure, but it held Mark's attention steady, non the less.
The most interesting part was the fact that the books main writer, a certain Arkright Veneables, had written about his own exploits trying to find proof of the giant eel. His entries had stopped quite chillingly with his disappearance. Arkright was never to be seen again. Nobody knew if he'd ever realised his dream and witnessed the creature he sought. What they did know, was his book was brought out posthumously after his disappearance by sources unknown. The epilogue said it was believed that he had drowned in one of the lakes on his final mission, and his body, having never been found, was simply eaten away by the fish and the water life.
The tale was fantastical all right, but he could see method in its madness. He could at last sense the thrill that Yanick, Arkright and his friend John had in searching for this creature. It was both possible and impossible that the creature could exist.
"There are things not mentioned in the book that I know and no one else does, yes" Yanick announced.
"Like what?" John asked a little abrupt.
Yanick stalled on his answer.
"Please, tell us Mr Yanick," Mark politely asked, gently handing the book back to Yanick.
"The old slate disused slate mine, you know it, no?"
The boys looked a little perplexed.
"I saw you both there, with the mobile phone cameras, yes?"
"Yes," Mark replied awkwardly.
"I have the polaroid myself, it's very good," he nodded towards the object lying on his bed, "its slim line, not the old bulky type, I take it anywhere, anyplace."
"Very nice," Mark smiled.
"There is the place the eel surfaces the most," Yanick pointed to the polaroid picture of the old slate mine. "Although it is not really a lake, no, the legend goes, when the miners digging, they stumble across hidden lake running through the lands. Some miners were drowned, but some survived, they say they seeing a giant eel dragging their friends to watery grave, yes. No bodies found."
"Jesus," John muttered entranced.
"The slate mine was abandoned, long, long ago, they dynamited tunnel they make to Blood Lake. They thought everything would be well if left alone, no." Yanick hesitated.
"Go on," Mark urged, enthralled.
"What they not know," Yanick carried on, "is they left a crack, just enough of crack to get attention of the eel. Eel with power, forced crack bigger, so it get through, find new hunting ground, better than the famous lakes themselves. It's main hunting ground."
"You've seen it?" John asked aghast.
"I have indeed, yes," Yanick nodded smugly. "It summer four years, I see it."
"At the old slate mine?" John asked hurriedly.
"Yes," Yanick nodded, "following legends and what little I uncover, I make home here, near to the slate mine. I knew it would be my best hunting ground for eel. I was not wrong, no"
"What did you see?" Now it was Mark's turn to ask in an excited hurry.
"What I see give men nightmares, no. I at the edge of the water looking when I see. I have many feelings on that moment, yes. You know the feeling, yes, no?"
"Yes, I mean no," Mark shook his head.
"My quest had been righteous, no. Such magnificent power before me, yes. It only for a second, just glimpse, but I know this, any closer and I swear that it would crush me like an ant, yes, great gleaming teeth. Such things as this creature not meant for human eyes, no. Creature knows this and would act, just as if nature had told it to, yes."
"What happened next?" John asked open mouthed.
"It roared up from the water, yes, as if trying the reach me above. Then it dived straight back down. Gone, as if was never there, no"
"But it had been there?" Mark asked transfixed.
"Yes indeed," Yanick agreed.
"What about the other times?" John asked.
"Just one more time, just a glimpse, no. It on Windermere itself. I saw in distance, shape, some people maybe said it be a log, no, but I know different. I saw body of creature, but not the head, near island of Grass Holme."
"The isle of what?" John asked.
"The isle of Grass Holme, a small island on lake, you know it, no, yes?" Yanick smiled.
"I can't say I do," John honestly replied.
"It was there and gone, puff, but I know beast. And I think the beast know me."
"How could you know that?" Mark asked, a cold trickle of fear easing down his spine.
"I sense it," Yanick replied, "like in extra sense, where you know someone is watching you and they are. You know this, yes, no?"
"I know what you mean," Mark agreed
"So what about these guys then?" John pointed to the eels in Yanick's tank. "They must be a bit of a disappointment; they're hardly in Old Slippery's league are they?"
"Maybe yes, maybe no," Yanick smiled.
"What do you mean?" John asked puzzled.
"What if," Yanick's smile grew broader, "Old Slippery had babies?"
CHAPTER SIX
Lance steadied himself and pulled away from physically biting his own lip. He'd known it would be like this, he'd known very well Mia would go crazy if her dog had gone missing. What he didn't know, was if she'd ever come back down from planet crazy, when her precious pet never returned home. It was a chance he was willing to take and had taken, there was no going back now, like it or lump it.
He turned the mobile phone back on that he had turned off half an hour early, in anger. There were no messages, text or voice mail. Everything, for the moment, had fallen silent. For a split second he thought maybe, just maybe, he could and should put things right.
Maybe the dog was still alive?
Maybe he could go back and retrieve it safely and securely, go back to Mia and play the hero?
He could say he heard Daner yelping and rushed in to save the day. But it was all maybes, it wasn't going to happen, he'd set the wheels in motion and there was no stopping them now, until they came to their own natural halt, however crushing that halt might be.
The mobile rang. So deep was he in his own thoughts it startled him to jumping point.
"Where are you?" Mia asked at the other end.
"I don't know," he calmly answered, "I'm stood near a tree."
"That's a lot of help," Mia replied,
"In fact, I'm stood by quite a lot of trees."
"Remind me to never get lost with you."
He didn't answer for the moment, he mulled over the tone of her voice. Her voice sounded a whole lot warmer, there was humour in it. Maybe things were going to work out after all.
"Are you still there Lance?"
"Yes Mia, I'm still here."
"Are you going to come back now?" There was a hint of worry in her voice, as if she feared he would say no, and cut the phone off, metaphorically cutting her out of his life at the same time.
"Yes," he replied, "I'm walking back now. I'll see you in five minutes."
\*\*\*
Tina sat up from the bed and Ozzy's embrace.
"Don't you think we'd better shut the curtains?"
"Right," Ozzy jumped up and tugged at the curtain. He fell back onto the bed and into a similar embrace as before.
The caravan inside took on a whole new light. The sun tried to fight as best it could through the thick curtain, bestowing the room a dark, but warm red tinge.
"You do love me?" She whispered in his ear.
"Of course I do," he panted back.
"And you have got the...you know...?"
"The condoms, yes."
He spoke no more. In a swift one handed movement he unclipped the back of her bra, exposing her small, but neatly formed ivory breasts. He flicked a tongue against one of her large, red budded nipples, and she gave a gasp. He slid his other hand down to her panties and began to gently tug them down. She aided him in his mission. Soon she was lying totally naked on the bed, her legs spread, and his head nuzzling down at her sex mound in between them. She gasped in both pleasure and pain as he entered her. He had not taken her virginity; she had given it to him freely. Ozzy didn't have to ask her if she'd had an orgasm, he felt her body shudder and jolt as if an electric shock had been administered.
Satisfied, he quenched his own thirst and released himself. Tina threw her head back in ecstasy; it was as if there was a mental sexual bond between them. She sat up smilingly contently. Ozzy was looking down not so contently.
"Tina, the condoms ripped. It's ripped to shreds."
\*\*\*
Mark and John were walking back towards their tent with a lot on their young minds. It wasn't the tales of Old Slippery that had worried them so, it was the task they were about to do, or rather had to do, if they were going to follow Mark's plan to the letter.
"You ring your parents first," John urged Mark.
"No, we're doing this and we're doing it as we planned."
"As you planned."
"Exactly, and I said you had to ring your parents first, and that is the end of the argument."
\*\*\*
John rang his parents, stating that he was fine round at Mark's house. Mark conveyed a similar message to his own parents, only this time it was him having a very nice time round at John's. That part of Mark's master plan over, they crossed their fingers and hoped to God they wouldn't get caught out.
"Why don't we go check the slate mine out again?" John suggested. "It's a bit too early for us to get shit faced yet."
"I don't think we're likely to get shit faced on two cans of beer each," Mark said, not sharing John's enthusiasm."
"So what do you think then?"
"I suppose it wouldn't do any harm."
"Cell phone cameras at the ready."
"We could keep to the higher levels. There's no need to go as far down as we did before. Just to be on the safe side."
"Bollocks to the safe side," John raced on, "let's rock and roll."
\*\*\*
"Fancy a walk?" Ozzy asked Tina as she lay in his arms.
"Ok," she meekly answered. "It'll be ok you know, the accident. I can always get the morning after pill. We can find a doctor round here."
"Ok, and then I'll buy you dinner down by Lake Windermere."
"Sounds good," she beamed radiant and full of life.
They both got dressed and left the caravan as happy as any couple could be.
The burning eyes that had watched and waited for them, were anything but happy though.
\*\*\*
Mark and John stood at the top of the scaffolding, which led the way down to the waterlogged slate mine. From this vantage point they could see the bigger picture, but not the fine detail. It was however enough for them to spot something floating in the water.
"What do you think it is?" John asked Mark.
"I don't know, it looks quite big. Nowhere near big enough to be a giant eel though. Plus it doesn't look very eel like how it's floating around. Maybe someone has just dumped some rubbish down there?"
"I'm going to take a look," John decided.
"What?" Mark sounded surprised, "after what Yanick told us about that thing?"
"That doesn't scare me. Besides you don't believe in giant eels, you've banged on about it all the time. So what are you worried about now?"
"I'm worried about all those divers that have gone missing down there."
"So what?" John replied, "we're not diving." His point driven home, John began to make his way down the scaffolding to take a closer look.
\*\*\*
"So you've calmed down now then?" Mia asked, greeting Lance at the door.
"You know me, as cool as a cucumber."
"You and me both."
"Has the dog turned up yet?"
"No."
"I see."
"Did you see anything of Daner on your travels?"
"No. And if I had, I would have said so."
"Right."
"Are we going to talk out here all day, or are we going inside?" John asked.
Mia stood back and he passed beside her.
"I shouldn't have gone off at you as I did," she remarked.
"Forget it. All's well," he caught sight of her glare, "or at least all's nearly well."
"I've left the back gate open. When Daner makes her way back, she's got somewhere to go."
Lance smiled inward and outward. Things were going to be all right after all.
\*\*\*
Mark clambered down the last bit of the scaffolding and stood beside his friend.
"I still can't tell what it is," John narrowed his eyes. "Is it moving or just floating? Maybe we should go back up and get a big branch? Maybe give it a poke or two, unless you fancy swimming out there Mark?"
"It's a body," Mark gulped, "a dogs body."
"A dogsbody as in a dogsbody?" John laughed.
"No as in it's a ruddy dogs body and how the hell did it get there?"
"Maybe someone just dumped it there," John sniffed, "Hey, maybe it's a sacrifice for Old Slippery?" John spotted a piece of disused rusting scaffolding, he rushed over to it and picked it up triumphant. "What do you think? Who needs a branch now?" John immediately started poking at the body of the dog.
"It's a fucking big dog isn't it." John said as he leaned right out, over the water.
The bloated body of the dog turned over, exposing the other half of it, which had been ripped totally away.
"Jesus," Mark gasped, "what the hell happened to it?"
It was a question Mark would soon wish he had not spoken out loud. The body of the dead animal was suddenly and violently yanked under the water. John dropped the scaffolding pole instantly and they both ran to the sides, climbing frantically up. Neither spoke or looked back down as they made their assent. When they finally reached the top, they allowed themselves to look back down. All was quiet and still, but the body of the dog was gone and showed no sign of resurfacing. Whatever it was that had been in the water, had dragged the dead beast down and not left a trace of the animal.
Even the water now lay still and silent. It was if it hadn't happened, there was no trace. Not even a solitary ripple.
CHAPTER SEVEN
It was an uneasy silence that sat over Ozzy and Tina's dinner. They had luckily managed to get to see a nurse, who had assured them once she had taken the pill, everything would be all right. But there were still hints of trepidation from both parties.
"Fancy going island hopping again?" Ozzy smiled.
"Not just at the moment," Tina replied, only just managing to raise the faintest of smiles.
"Is it bothering you that you might get pregnant?" Ozzy finally broached the subject.
"No, it's not that," Tina replied before drifting back into her own little world.
"Well what is it? Is it something I've done?"
"It's just a feeling," Tina said downcast, "I know I should be happy, but this feeling keeps getting stronger and stronger."
"What kind of feeling?" He asked, gently placing his hand on the top of hers. She lifted her head up and looked at him dead centre in the eye.
"Like something really bad is just waiting to happen."
\*\*\*
The feeling was becoming unbearable to Lance. He was sure it wasn't guilt, far from it; he had his legitimate reasons, even if he wasn't best pleased how he'd gone about it. He looked at the silent and forlorn figure of Mia, curled up in a ball on the chair near the fire. He had to go and see if the dog had drowned yet. He knew it must have, but all the same, he still felt that unreasonable urge to see.
"I'm going to have a look for Daner myself," he said to Mia.
"Are you sure?" she asked, breaking her silence.
"I know how much that dog means to you. I know how much you mean to me."
He left without a smile or a goodbye. The next thing he was pulling his car up in the same place he had been just hours earlier, then once again, making his way on foot to the old water logged slate mine.
Even before he'd made his way down to the bottom where the water lay still, he could see the dog was gone. He reasoned with himself that when it had finally drowned it may have become stuck under a branch, rather than floating to the surface. But this was a mine not a riverside; there were no nearby trees at the waters edge, no branches.
He noticed an old discarded piece of scaffold. He picked it up and poked it into the water, in an effort to see what he could stir up. The motion was useless though, apart from a split second when he did think he saw something swimming just underneath, probably a large fish. He threw the rusting metal to one side, just as he heard others coming to where he stood.
Divers.
He nodded politely to them as they reached the bottom of the mine, arranging their equipment carefully.
He decided not to wait around. If the dog was down there, they would find it, and he didn't want to be around when they did.
He quickly made his way back to the surface and back towards home and Mia.
\*\*\*
Hugo, an experienced diver of thirty years, had never before sampled the delights of the waterlogged bowls, of the Lake District slate mine. He kept as close as he could to his friend Paul, who was a lot less experienced at diving, but had dived in this particular location on many an occasion. In fact it was only on Paul's recommendation that Hugo was here now, deep underneath the darkened waters.
Hugo twisted around to get a good bearing on his surroundings, and then turned back to Paul, but Paul was gone.
Hugo shone his beam of light, trying to find a trace of Paul's outline, but there was none. He couldn't understand, Paul had dived into the water first and Hugo had been right behind him. The water they were in, hardly stretched for miles, in fact once underneath you felt very claustrophobic as the hard touch of the rocks were never far away. Hugo spun round as fast he could with the water weighing heavy, on his normally limber limbs.
He felt something pass just underneath him to his side. His senses went into overdrive. It was too big to be Paul, it was too big to be anything human, it moved with the swiftness and strength he imagined a great sea serpent would, and from the corner of his eye, he had thought for a split second he had seen as much.
Paul came into view. Hugo found a respite from the brief insanity he had been feeling. That respite however, didn't last long. To his horror he found himself quickly plunged back into that insanity. Paul came floating into view all right, or at least the top half of him. The bottom half of Paul had been completely ripped away. Shredded rubber from the diving suit, skin and entrails waved like grotesque seaweed, shimmering under the light of Hugo's beam. The hand of the corpse touched Hugo's face as it floated forward.
Hugo's screams were gagged inside his diving suit, as he was sure Paul's must have been, during his dreadful fate. Luckily Hugo's limbs were not bound, apart from the freezing fear he felt, not seeping in from outside his diving suit, but from swimming around inside it, spreading up and out of every pore.
Hugo began with all his might to power himself towards the surface. The final thing his underwater torch fell on, was the image of the sea serpent he had glimmered earlier. He couldn't see its head; all he could see were the coils and coils of thick black mass, weaving around his body at a smooth but rapid pace. The creature's body cut through the water like the proverbial knife through butter. Squeezing tightly against him, he prayed to God it was not real, that it was just some perverse underwater hallucination, that he had been starved of oxygen for too long, that his friend Paul, would be alive and would pull him to the surface and away from this nightmare. All Hugo got though was the coils tightening faster and tighter. One by one he felt his ribs crack; his breath stole away from him, his head caught vice like, the pressure feeling like his head would explode.
A final triumphant crack seconds later and it did.
\*\*\*
It was Tina who noticed the youths waiting outside. Her blood ran cold on seeing their thin, leering faces. She didn't bring Ozzy's attention to it, she thought for the moment, it was best not to. The dark feelings of foreboding were now overcoming her. She just wanted to get away, the both of them, safely and quickly. All she had to do was hope the youths didn't see her and Ozzy, and Ozzy didn't see them.
Ozzy saw them. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up on end. He shunted Tina away as quickly as he could, but he knew the pack of wolves had their scent. He had to make them lose their trail.
"How do you fancy island hoping again now? Twice in one day, and I promise you this time there won't be any wildlife out there, to put the wind up you?"
"I'd like that Ozzy. Just to show you I don't scare easily. Let's go right now."
\*\*\*
Mark and John both sat catching their breath in Yanick's shed.
"This what you say you saw, yes?"
"We didn't actually see anything," Mark corrected.
"Apart from a dead dog being sucked underneath the water," John added.
"And dead animal not surface though, no, yes?"
"No," both boys agreed in unison.
"And you at waters edge, clearly see?"
"Yes," once again they both agreed.
"So, whatever was under the water, no, would have seen or sensed you. That for you could not be so good."
"Why, what do you mean by that?" there was panic in Mark's voice.
"Once you cross the path of giant eel, he not forget. This is why I do not get close to the lakes, to the very water itself," Yanick said gravely. "I have seen him and he has seen me. It will not forget, it will not rest. If I let my guard down for one second, yes, it would spring up for the kill." Yanick jumped up to illustrate the fact. Mark and John both jumped startled.
"So you're saying, now he's kind of got our scent, if we go anywhere near the water round here, he could just pop up at anytime and attack us?" Mark asked as his nerves calmed down a little.
"That is so. The few people who have see the monster have not talked about it for long. Soon they would vanish. Remember Blood Lake flows all round here, once you are near the water and he senses, then you are, how can I say, no more," Yanick smiled, pleased with his little tale.
"And you know this for sure?" John asked trembling a little.
"That's why you stay so far back from the water," Mark injected "Just enough for you to see, but at a safe distance."
"Believe me," Yanick smiled, "it has happened before, and it will happen again."
"Not cold are you?" Ozzy asked Tina as he rowed the boat.
"No I'm fine."
"Still, you don't really want to be here do you?"
"Why do you think that?"
"Because you saw something that freaked you out on that island. Don't worry it would only be something harmless, maybe it was a heron."
"It didn't look like a heron."
"It doesn't really matter because we're not going back there. There's plenty of islands for us to hide away in."
"Is that what we're doing?"
"For the moment," he smiled. "I think we're both thinking the same thing. You clocked those dickheads we had trouble with earlier. They're obviously following us. All we've got to do is keep our heads down long enough, and we should lose them."
"They've been watching us all along."
"It doesn't matter. They don't know exactly which our caravan is, although I think they might have a rough idea of its whereabouts."
"Oh Ozzy," she leaned over to him, visibly shaking.
"There's no panic. I've hired this boat for twenty four hours. We can spend the evening under the stars."
"You are joking?" she sat bolted upright.
"Don't worry," he grinned, "we won't be out here that long. Sooner or later those dickheads will get fed up of us not coming to shore and they'll go off and haunt someone else."
"Do you think?" she asked a little easier.
"It's always the way," he promised, not realising in the far distance, the three youths were clambering into their own rented boat and were ready to set sail.
\*\*\*
"We keep getting funny phone calls," Mia stated icily as Lance entered.
"What kind of phone calls?" he asked only half listening.
"I told you, funny ones."
"What, heavy breathers?" he asked slightly amused.
"No, they don't breath or even say anything. The phone rings, I answer and they just put it straight down."
"Probably someone after the people who rented the cottage out before us," he reasoned to her, while at the back of his mind, he wondered, had someone seen him dump the dog. He hadn't killed it technically with his own hand, that's if it was even dead. He'd merely led it down to the water; he hadn't even pushed it in. There was no way the animal could have climbed up alone; God knows he'd had enough trouble carrying the beast down there, nearly breaking his own neck in the process.
Maybe someone had rescued the animal, after witnessing what he had done, and were now tormenting him? God, he hoped the no one and videoed it and stuck it up on you tube.
"I think its Sabrina," Mia said, "I think she's got Daner and she's holding her hostage. She's ringing to torment us."
"Sabrina doesn't need to torment you, you do it to yourself."
"Explain who else would be fucking with us?" She bellowed angrily.
"You're imagination, that's what's fucking with us, not Sabrina, shit do I have to tell you a million times? She isn't here, she doesn't know we're here, why would I tell her, how would she find out? And if she did by some miracle, would it matter? She isn't going to kidnap your dog."
"Have you ever heard the term bunny boiler?"
"Believe me, that dog would take a hell of a lot of boiling."
Mia looked at him, daggers, her eyes burning with utter hatred. Surprisingly her eyes didn't hold the hatred for long. The hate gave way to a look of almost relaxation, before morphing into the visage of sadness and hopelessness. Mia looked resigned to her fate, their fate.
"It just isn't working between us is it," she quietly stated.
Lance offered no answer. He had one but he didn't want to think it, let alone speak it.
"We're clutching at straws Lance, me more so. Maybe I'm just a square peg trying to fit in a round hole?"
He watched her thin pretty form shimmer into the kitchen. She was beautiful. He kept holding that thought in his mind. Clutching at straws he may be, but he was never going to let go, no matter what.
\*\*\*
Ozzy landed the boat on the third island. The lake was calm and they still had some daylight left. He gently helped Tina from the boat, at the same time shooting a backward glance over Lake Windermere.
Everything seemed fine. He couldn't see anything of the dickheads. Just in case though, he dragged the boat onto the island itself, disguising it in the shrubs and overgrowth. Ozzy and Tina then ducked into the islands thick patch of trees.
"Well, we should be comfortable enough here for the time being," Ozzy leaned back on the grass, next to the stretched out form of Tina. "Are you ok?"
"I find it quite romantic really," she giggled, "it's like we've eloped and are on the run."
"I suppose we are in a way. I can't think of one person who approves of us."
"Does it matter?"
"No, I don't suppose it does."
She leaned her head on his chest, the warmness of her body melding with his. They were warm and comfortable, with shelter of the trees and the blanket that was tugged tightly around them. It was like they were in their own safe little cocoon. They both closed their eyes and within no time at all had drifted off into a peaceful sleep.
\*\*\*
"I guess this must be a real home from home for you?" Sue huffed at her fish obsessed husband. It wasn't enough that he had six tanks spread over their home and garage, worked in a shop selling tropical fish, and generally lived and breathed the hobby, but he also seemed to plan their holidays, to make sure their destinations, contained at least one nearby aquarium, for them to visit.
"What do you think of their cichlid display?" Nick asked Sue.
"Wonderful," she sarcastically replied, her eyes half closed in the darkened confines of Lake Windermere's aquarium. "Utterly riveting." She walked off and sulked in a corner. She knew he was going to be rooted in there for hours. Cichlids, angel fish, discus and neon tetras were the order of the day now. Nick had even brought some of his precious fish encyclopaedias, which he revered as much as religious zealots did the holy bible. Some holiday this was turning out to be.
"I thought you were going to hire us a rowing boat and take me for a trip on the river?"
"You mean lake," he corrected.
"Yes, ok, don't get all technical on me."
"We've only just come in here."
"We've been here over twenty minutes," she tapped her watch to illustrate the fact, "how long do you want to spend in here?"
He looked at her, as if she had just mouthed every profanity in existence at him
"Don't answer that. I don't think I want to hear it." She turned her back on him and looked for another corner to sulk in. She would rather take the higher ground of her giving him the silent treatment, than him giving it her, if she marched him out of his sanctuary. That way when he did decide to saunter out of his hidey hole, he would do so with his head held low and bearing gifts, or at least the offering of them. She would get her romantic boat ride on the lake and she would get dinner after, and not just any dinner. It would have to be expensive; she'd make sure of that. She might even push for him to get that eternity ring she had been hinting at for ages.
She found the perfect place to let the shadows envelope her, and leaned back against one of the displays nobody seemed to be paying any particular attention to. She closed her eyes and dreamed of a man who would show her more attention than the one she had. A real man, who would be more interested in a hot blooded woman, than a cold blooded fish.
She opened her eyes and turned around to face the display she had been leaning on. She didn't find any prince charming in there, just a creature that turned her own blood cold.
"It's an eel," Nick said as he appeared behind her. "Fascinating creature isn't he?"
"If you like that sort of thing. Personally I think he's an ugly little critter."
"There's nothing ugly or little about him. This fellow is a beast. They don't usually grow to that size."
"You don't say," she huffed disinterested.
"They caught him here in Lake Windermere itself."
"Yeah, how do you know, did he tell you?"
"No," Nick pointed to a plaque by the side of the tank. "It says here."
"Jesus," Sue huffed and walked out of the aquarium altogether.
\*\*\*
Sue tried to relax as Nick sweated buckets rowing their boat on Lake Windermere. Nick wasn't used to putting his back into anything physical and it showed.
"Can't you go a bit faster," Sue asked, "it's like we're standing still. Look at them kids over there, their boats actually moving."
"Do you want to try?" Nick uncharacteristically snapped. "Besides they're not kids they're teenagers and there's three of them. Look at them, up to no good messing about."
"Oh, what's eating you? I've not touched a nerve have I?"
He didn't speak, he just glared at her. The glare unsettled Sue, which was also uncharacteristic of Nick. She felt all hope of getting that eternity ring slipping through her fingers by the second. She turned away from Nick and stared into the rippling patterns of the water.
"It's strange the faces we can see in the water isn't it?" she spoke softly, moving her hand back and to in the water, distorting her own reflection that looked back at her.
"What do you mean?"
"If you look in the water, it isn't a true reflection of you. Or at least I hope it isn't. I look dreadful down there," she giggled. Her giggles stopped coldly as she concentrated more and more on the reflection in the water.
"What's the matter?" Nick asked concerned.
"Nothing," she replied sounding slightly dazed.
"Something's wrong. Come on, what is it, did you take a good look at yourself and don't like what you see?"
"Something like that," she replied trance like before snatching her hand out from the water, as if it had just been scalded. She was not quite sure what she'd seen while peering down in that water. It was a face of sorts, but not her face. The closest thing she could describe it to, was the face of the eel in the aquarium, and while that eel had been just ugly, this, whatever it was, looked ugly, evil and hungry.
She sat back in the boat. Whatever it was, it had gone anyway. It might have been a trick of the light she told herself, or perhaps she had seen that many fish because of Nick, she was seeing them in her daydreams. Either way, she was glad when he soon got tired of rowing and headed back for dry land.
\*\*\*
"We have to keep away from the water at all times," Mark stressed as he and John made their way back to the tent.
"Or the eel of death will get us," John mocked. "You are such a prick."
"Maybe we should move the tent a bit further away from the stream, you know."
"You know what?"
"You know, just in case."
"Just in case a mini eel of death swims up and pounces in the night?"
"I'm just being cautious," Mark reasoned.
"Cautious must be your middle name."
"It's better than having stupid dick head as a middle name."
"That's three middle names actually."
They reached the tent still bickering.
"It's getting dark now," Mark said with a tinge of fear in his voice.
"So, you really believe everything that idiot Yanick has to say for himself don't you. I say something, me being your best friend since playschool, and you make out like I'm backward. Yanick, some weirdo who lives in a filthy, illegally parked shed in the middle of the Lake District and his word is God."
Mark didn't answer. He was on ground so unfamiliar to him that it was completely alien. They had completely switched roles. John was now almost arguing against the case of there being a giant eel lurking about, while Mark, was following the uneasy feeling in his gut and admitting to his fears and doubts. Of course Mark agreed that Yanick was no doubt as mad as the proverbial hatter; there was never any doubt about it. But Mark was wise enough, even in his youth, to know that even in the disguise of madness, there could lie some truth. Yanick's notions and what Mark had seen himself had made Yanick's theories sound plausible, if not possible. To a person of such cautious nature as Mark, it was enough. He was already in over his head with the secret weekend as it was. He kept getting flashes of scenes where his parents found out about his and John's little jaunt, and in between those scenes he got quick little visions, of a giant eel bearing down on him, its mouth all bloody and ravenous.
"What's eating you?" John asked. It jarred Mark out of his visions.
"Nothing, let's just move the tent a little more away from the stream, Ok?"
\*\*\*
The imaginatively nicknamed Camel Fosbrook, urged his fellow callous youths on with their rowing. He was sure he knew this time, after checking out four of the islands, which island the couple had landed their boat on. He was equally sure that they hadn't been spotted yet in their pursuit, and that the couple must be hiding out on the island and hadn't moved away from Lake Windermere itself.
Camel, keeping his and the rest of the gangs movements slow and stealthily, wanted to be positive that by the time they were spotted, it would be too late for the couple to escape again. One thing was for sure, he would teach the boy and the girl a little something for how they'd treated him and his friends. Very few had treated him like that and got away with it. He always made sure he got his pound of flesh, one way or another.
"What did I say? Not too fast," he snarled in a hushed rasp at his two fellow youths. They did as they were told, the way they always did. Fosbrook knew he had shown some weakness earlier, by letting the two get away, but he had managed to just about paper over the cracks. Now he would have to fill those cracks in, or risk the whole of the foundations of his power come tumbling down on him. He looked at the other two who followed his orders. They only did so because he was the strongest, fastest, most vicious and most devious, but those things could change in an instant. He had to prove he was still top dog in the pack.
He felt the handle of his flick knife in his pocket. It gave him comfort. Soon he hoped it would give him pleasure.
The fact that Nick had wanted to return to the aquarium so soon and just before closing time had not astounded or surprised Sue. The promise of the expensive meal was still being dangled in front of her, but Nick was obviously determined to not just make her wait, but grind her nose right down in the process.
He had charmed his way back into the aquarium, just as the manager was shutting up shop. Sadly, the manager was a fellow enthusiast and not just doing the job, as any sane person would, for the money. Or at least that's how Sue saw it. Now she was suffering the conceit of an after hour's tour, rubbing salt into the wounds, as if things couldn't get any worse.
Expensive meal, or no expensive meal, she finally lost it.
"Are you coming or are you going to stay here and talk shop with your new fish buddy all night?"
The look Nick shot her, she could instantly tell he was as seething with being embarrassed, as she was at being neglected.
"Fine, I'll find my own way out. If there's one thing I know how to do, it's find the exit, be it from an aquarium or a bad marriage. Enjoy the rest of your holiday Nick, and the rest of your life. Just don't expect me to be there."
If exams were held in storming off, Sue would have held a degree with the highest honours. She truly did know how to make an exit. Except that is, this time. As she headed for what she thought was the door leading to the outside, she took the wrong turn and the wrong door. She also took the wrong time to crack her head on a shelf, in the unlit cupboard she'd wandered into.
With blood dripping from her head, she slipped unconscious to the floor.
\*\*\*
Mark was sure something had moved outside. His nerves had been playing havoc with him, ever since Yanick had spilled forth his charming revelations. Heaven knows his nerves had been frayed enough as it was; now his nerves were totally in shreds. Of course it made no sense, any of what Yanick had said, but the fact it had a ringing of unnatural truth, threw Mark into a ball park he'd never had any experience of before. So the question that remained on Mark's minds lips, was the movement outside real or just a figment of his imagination?
He allowed the feeble torch light to fall on John's face. His friend had out smoked and out drunk him into a dead slumber. At least Mark drew comfort from the fact John had followed his wishes and they had moved the tent further back from the stream. That comfort became cold useless comfort though, as Mark clearly heard the sound of splashing in the stream. Someone or something was making its way up the stream, and by the sound of it, coming from the direction of the old slate mine.
Mark sat bolt and upright, he moved to wake his friend but found himself frozen, fearfully listening, as the splashing of something bulky making its way through water, was replaced by the sound of something making its way through the trees, clumsy, crushing and crunching the undergrowth as it did so. What's more by the sound of it, whatever it was it was getting even closer and it was coming their way.
Mark had heard of the saying a stifled scream, but he never thought he'd experience the feeling first hand. The sight of the side of the tent bowing in, with the weight of whatever creature was outside nearly choked him. As the thing from outside pressed the fabric wall in further, Mark's screams could be heard over all the Lake District.
\*\*\*
The bed was cold. Lance felt Mia's naked body just a fraction away from his own. Minutes before they had made love, but it had been a cold love. There had been no tenderness, no passion. They had merely gone through the motions as if they had been proving to themselves they still could be as one.
For a time they lay like those two stone cold statues, before Mia moved, getting up out of the bed and getting dressed.
"Where are you going?" Lance asked. "I thought you said you were tired."
"I am, I just need some fresh air," Mia sighed as she put on her coat and quietly slipped out through the bedroom door.
\*\*\*
Ozzy's eyes darted open. Night had fallen down almost as quickly as sleep had embraced them. He nudged Tina, who opened her eyes at a much more leisurely pace.
"What happened?" She yawned.
"We fell asleep. Come on, it's time we got out of here,"
Ozzy was pulling Tina up to her feet in no time. He ushered her to where he had hid the boat, but it was too late, the boat with the three youths in it was approaching, two of the boys rowing frantically, the third youth, the ringleader, was smiling, the glint of the blade he held shimmering magnificently in the moonlight.
Ozzy knew he could not get to his boat before he and Tina were set upon. Their best hope was a game of cat and mouse. The youths obviously knew Ozzy and Tina were on the tiny island, but maybe not their exact whereabouts.
Ozzy held his finger to his lips to illustrate keeping quiet, but Tina was already keeping quiet. He pulled her down so they crawled through the undergrowth. His plan was they would keep out of sight, till all three youths would set foot on the island, and maybe, just maybe they could get to one of boats and make their escape. Of course it was a load of ifs, buts and maybes, but it was their only chance. Ozzy knew they had to play with the cards they had been dealt with, or sit and wait for God knows what was going to happen to them.
\*\*\*
Movement. Camel Fosbrook had already smelt the fear in the air. He narrowed his snake like eyes, the slight rumbling of the shrubs and bushes had fallen into his line of vision. He nodded to his friends who were stood just behind him, before bending down to the ground and picking up a large stone, roughly the size of a tennis ball. He threw the stone at full pelt into the bushes, fully expecting to get a dead hit or a yell at the very least. He got the dead hit, just not the intended target he'd expected.
The thing that rose up from the undergrowth, was akin to something Camel had only ever seen in a Sunday afternoon, black and white monster flick, the ones that Camel's grandfather used to tell him we're so much better than the slasher films, Camel had been enamoured with, at such an early age. B movie monsters weren't supposed to be real, but non the less Camel Fosbrook stood before one. He looked down at the feeble slashing instrument in his hand.
The monster moved quicker than Fosbrook's fear could let go of his limbs. Without any trace of jerky, stop motion animation, the head of the giant eel swooped forward sweeping Fosbrook up in the air and into its mouth, with a satisfying crunch. A single flick knife fell to the ground, with Fosbrook's decapitated hand still clutching the blade.
The two youths who had been hypnotised by their leaders unbelievable and horrific death, finally found their feet, even though fear was stealing the very breath from their bodies. They ran as fast and as hard as they could, before the gigantic body of the eel jack knifed round, crushing them to the ground.
The sound of crushing bones and the smell of blood were distinct in the air, as was the silence that followed the pitiful screams of the youths, at their unmerciful slaughter.
Ozzy and Tina were inside the boat, before they turned to view the carnage behind them. To their surprise the bodies and the giant eel were gone, almost as if it was just a bad dream they had both had the misfortune to share. But the nightmare was far from over. Tina was frantically shivering with shock, at the impossible things they had witnessed. Ozzy could offer her no comfort as he shook the same, if not worse. The only thing he could do, was concentrate on rowing; just keeping himself sane long enough for them to reach substantial land, and as far away from the treacherous island of death as possible.
The jarring thump from underneath the boat brought them to a sickening standstill. Tina started to cry, but for the second time that night Ozzy brought his finger up to his lips, as if silence and stillness could save them. After awhile Ozzy dared to slowly peek over the boat, and into the water, his heart pounding into his ears as he did so. He wanted to be as sure as possible that the giant eel was no longer underneath them, ready to tip the miniscule boat up at a whim.
The strong moonlight coupled with clear water, gave him a better view of the water that their boat perched on. Tina closed her eyes as Ozzy leaned his head over the side. She half expected the creature to burst up out of the water and rip her boyfriend to pieces and then devour her. She could see in her minds eye, the gruesome picture of Ozzy looking overboard, only to fall back into the boat limp, with his head ripped from his shoulders.
That did not happen however. But maybe what Ozzy had seen in the water was a hundred times worse. If Ozzy had been white and trembling before, now he was so pale, he looked as if every single red blood cell, had been drained out of him and every inch of skin and twitching nerve, was being subjected to vicious electric shocks. Everything in Tina's conscious mind told her not to look, to not witness the horrors that had frightened her normally brave and gallant boyfriend so. As much as she tried to fight it though, she found her body was on auto pilot and slowly but surely she peered over the edge.
Below her in the water, she saw their gigantic slimy bodies, slipping and slithering over and under one another, just below the boat. There was not merely one giant eel; the whole lake was alive with their writhing gigantic bodies. What they had thought to have been a lone assassin, had turned out to be a whole army, circling in for the kill.
Tina and Ozzy sat as still as their trembling would allow them, waiting for what seemed like the inevitable, as the lake below them thrashed with a sea of giant killer eels.
"It's a good view isn't it?" Lance said as he joined Mia at the side of Lake Ullswater. For a time she did not answer, spell bounded by the relaxation, of watching the gently bobbing night water. Finally she turned to Lance only now noticing, Lance was clad only in his dressing gown. It brought a smile to her face, a faint smile, but a smile none the less.
"Have you got no class at all?" she asked half heartedly
"You know me," he joked back. "What you see is what you get."
"Yes, but that's not really a good advert is it," she laughed.
It was the first time Lance had seen her truly laugh in a long time.
"Have you got anything on underneath that dressing gown?"
"What do you think?"
She laughed some more.
Lance outstretched his hand and gently touched hers. He felt warmth there, something he hadn't felt moments earlier when they had coldly embraced in bed. In that moment, in that time, the two of them holding hands looking out across the moonlit water, Lance felt as though they had been encapsulated in the perfect cinematic frame, like something from a scene in an old fashioned romantic movie. He wished he could capture the moment, and keep playing it back. Such moments in life, he knew, were few and very far between.
"I've got to agree with you Lance, it is a good view," Mia said as if she were reading his mind, "you can't help but get a good feeling looking out there."
"We should try to get more of those good feelings," Lance said.
"And when we do, we should hang onto them," she smiled.
Lance leaned back, his gaze now away from the water, but he still savoured the image in his minds eye. He closed his eyes and smiled. He felt like a man on top of the world.
"Penny for your thought," Mia asked standing a little back from Lance. Lance began to answer, when in an instant, a stream of long black mass sprang up from the water. The next thing her vision registered was Lance, having been snatched up from dry land, now a mere playing thing for the creature. It threw Lance up into the air with one jerking movement of its head, as another giant worm like creature thrust up, its teeth clamping down onto Lance's lower body. Now it looked almost as if the two creatures were fighting over some perverse Christmas cracker. Both creatures pulled and Lance's body was ripped apart in the air, jaws chewing and devouring rampantly as the creatures fell back, down and under the water in unison, with a resounding splash.
Mia moved in a fast, but dreamlike quality. The race away from the lake and to the cottage was a nightmarish blur she only managed to awake from, when she was stood inside the cottage, her fingers frantically jabbing at the digits on the phone. She stood waiting for the emergency services to answer, her breath beginning to come back to her, but her sanity was still left behind at that scene at the lakeside, she had just blindly run away from.
\*\*\*
Sue wiped away the blood that had trickled into her eyes. It didn't bring her eyesight back. She reached out. Four walls crowded her in. She panicked and cried out. Had she been buried alive?
She eased herself up with the aid of the walls. One of the walls tumbled away. It wasn't a wall but a door.
She stumbled out into the corridor of the aquarium. There were no lights there, all the fish tanks were dark and there were no windows to afford her the luxury of moonlight.
"Help," she screamed in her blindness.
The only thing that replied back though, was her own echo. She cried out another five times before she realised, she might as well save her breath. She used her hands to touch along the side of the tanks, using them to guide her. She reasoned that if she could find the entrance of the aquarium, maybe someone could hear her, a dog walker or a jogger, just anyone that could release her from her blind prison. The work was slow and painstaking. She didn't want to go too fast and fall again. Heaven knows what long term damage she'd done on her first fall. A second would do her no favours. She couldn't tell if her blind searching for the entrance was hopeless or not. With rows and rows of cold glass under her touch, she could have just been going round in circles, in the maze of tanks that surrounded her. She had to try though, she just couldn't bear to sit tight and wait.
A sound. It could have been her imagination, but she was sure she'd heard a sound, a kind of heavy slithering.
"Hello," she shouted out in the darkness, "I need help."
There was no reply, even her own echoes now seemed muted. She leaned back onto the tank filled wall and cried.
Why had she been so pig headed with Nick?
Once the floodgates were open, the tears poured out. Her eyes stung with the intense pain from her salty tears. Her brain reeled with the never ending darkness she stood in the belly of.
Then she remembered her phone.
Her handbag, her phone was in her handbag.
She must have dropped it where she had fallen. She painstakingly retraced her steps, falling to her knees, her hands groping along the floor in blind hope.
She found the handbag. She had put all her faith in hope and hope had answered. The tears were now replaced by beads of sweat, as she frantically fumbled through the bag to try to find her phone, with just the sensation of touch. She heard the slithering sound again, close to her now, but she paid it no heed. The phone had fallen into her grasp. She plucked it up and out of the bag, its digits glowing brightly, enough to illuminate her murky surroundings.
The light fell on the thing that she had been staring at unbeknown, while rifling through her bag in the darkness. It was the same face she had seen looking up at her from Lake Windermere.
The creature struck swift and strong. The phone fell to the floor and darkness fell with the sound of Sue's final scream.
\*\*\*
"So do you think you'll be able to go sleep without me holding your hand?" John laughed, still in hysterics at Mark.
"Piss off," Mark instantly bit back.
Mark was still reeling from the embarrassment of the incident moments earlier, which had caused him to scream like a girl, much to John's surprise at first and then great amusement later. Mark having heard something making its way up the stream and through the woods to their very tent, had been absolutely petrified when the tent had bowed in, with the force of the creature that was making all the fuss, a stray sheep. It was an incident Mark would like to forget in a hurry, but knew full well, John would never forget or let him forget, not in a million years.
"I mean," John said still choking on his own laughter, "you should have seen your face. You should have seen the sheep's face."
"It just made me jump a bit, that's all."
"You made me jump with all your screaming." John slapped his thigh in time with his thunderous laughter.
"I didn't scream," Mark lied.
"Yes you did."
"Does it matter?"
John carried on laughing. Mark shook his head. He had been the mastermind who had plotted and planned their great escape, from John's seed of an idea, only to be humiliated for his efforts.
"I wonder what our parents are doing now?" Mark interjected into John's laughter.
"Probably what they always do at this time of night, sleeping or having sex."
"Please," Mark winced, "I do not want to think about my parents having sex, or your parents having it for that matter."
"It's looking like we've got away with it though isn't it?"
"Don't count your chickens."
"Or in this case, your sheep," John blurted out before spinning himself into fits of laughter again.
\*\*\*
The moments Ozzy and Tina had sat in the strange tableau in a boat on Lake Windermere, had seemed to last for hours, rather than minutes. Ozzy had been calm enough to make sure he hadn't made any knee jerk reactions and Tina had obviously followed suit.
In Ozzy's mind, if you didn't know what to do, the best course of action was to do nothing. And how could he know what to do in this situation, or how could anybody know? He was, after all, sat in a boat that was being circled underneath, by giant eels who had just slaughtered three youths roughly his own age. This was a scene straight out of one of those Guy N Smith horror books his Dad used to read.
"This is nature fighting back," Tina whispered.
"Keep quiet and keep still," Ozzy whispered back. He didn't see it as nature fighting back. This was nothing to do with global warming, or any of the animal rights stuff Tina was always banging on about. These creatures, whatever they were, were an affront to nature its very self.
The boat rocked violently, almost tipping over as something hit from below. Tina screamed. Another thud hit the boat. Ozzy snatched at the oars, seeing now was the time for action.
It was with a loud crunching sound that brought that action to a standstill. Ozzy lifted out of the water what remained of the left oar. It was virtually nothing, apart from the handle he held in his hand, the rest of the wood had been snapped and splintered off, as if it had been a pathetic weedy dry twig, snapped under foot.
Another hit from beneath.
As Tina became more hysterical Ozzy's anger grew. He stood up, no longer afraid but vicious in the hopelessness of their situation. He rammed the good oar down into the water at one of the giant eels. He hit his intended target strong and firm, but the oar merely bounced of the steel like skin.
The eel roared up from the water. Tina jumped or fell, Ozzy couldn't tell which, in fear, into the water. He moved to jump after her as the head of the giant eel bore down on him, with its mouth wide open, with an array of vicious teeth, and the smell of the most horrible death possible, bellowing out of that insane hell hole.
Lance was dead. There was no doubt in Mia's mind about that. She'd seen what had happened, no matter how sudden or unbelievable it had seemed.
The police officer had not believed her. Of course the rational part of her mind could easily see his point of view. Giant worms did not attack people on holiday, at picturesque English holiday resorts. It wasn't the done thing. It was sheer madness and sounded sheer madness, but without a shadow of a doubt, it had happened. The officer had calmly taken her statement, promised her he'd look into things, and then recommended she see a doctor straight away. It was all water off a ducks back to him, as if such occurrences were common.
Mia had not called on the help of a doctor though, nor did she intend to. She just sat there, silent in the holiday cottage, alone, bewildered and terrified.
Was her mind playing tricks on her? Had it all really happened, or was it a break down?
She analysed the facts, asked the questions and still came up with the same answer. She wasn't going mad, maybe the world itself was, but she was as sane as sane could be. Heartbroken, but sane. She had lost her love in events that seemed utter madness. She didn't know what to do next. She shivered, she knew she was probably in shock, but for the moment, she did not care. She sat alone in the darkness, helpless in everyway from stopping the shadows or the shock from taking her.
\*\*\*
"That Yanick's a right nutter," John came out with the statement as Mark was settling off to sleep.
"I had noticed," Mark sighed.
"I think you could be right."
"About what?" Mark yawned.
"About him being dangerous. I mean, he looks the type."
"Why don't we talk about this in the morning. I'm tired." If there was one thing Mark relied on it was his sleep. Even though he had been scared half to death, and was taking the biggest risk of his young life, just being where he was, sleep still called him. He was only too happy to succumb to it, or at least try to.
"It's not scaring you is it, all this talk of Yanick and his eels?" John laughed.
"No its not," Mark snapped back.
"Only I don't want you waking me up again like that."
"Like what?" Mark huffed.
"Like you screaming like a big girl."
"Go to sleep."
"I can't, I'm wide awake now."
"Don't tell me you're afraid of the dark," Mark hit back. "Would you like me to leave a light on for you?"
"Piss off."
Both boys grunted. Mark quickly drifted off into an uneasy sleep. John now feeling strangely and uncharacteristically uneasy, found relaxation eluded him, until finally, with the last sip of a can of alcohol, he was welcomed into the land of unconsciousness.
\*\*\*
It was not without a look of trepidation that Yanick viewed the frantically thrashing eels in his tank. Earlier in the day, when he had been showing off his prize acquisitions to the two boys, the eels had been fine, twirling and swimming in their normal everyday manner, while under his care. This was different though. He'd had the tank set up for years, eels had come and gone, either died off, or he had taken them back out to the wilds, whatever struck his fancy. But he'd seen nothing like this.
He could smell rain in the air. A storm was brewing. He didn't like storms. Neither did the eels. They normally got a bit fidgety with an oncoming storm, but not like this. This was something else. It was as if someone had electrocuted the water, sending the eel's berserk.
"What's the matter my lovelies?" He asked as he put his hand over the water with some food. Two eels struck immediately darting up and out of the tank, finding their target of Yanicks hand and sinking their teeth into the flesh of it.
Yanick screamed, snatching at the writhing eels that wrapped around his hand and arm, sinking their teeth still further in, as they did so. He smashed his hand against the wall, crushing the skull of one of the eels.
It fell limply to the ground. He tugged so hard at the remaining eel, he ripped its body in half. Even in death though, the eel's teeth were still locked into his skin.
With great effort Yanick finally managed to force the undead jaws open and free his hand from some of the pain. The wound was deep. He'd been given nasty nips by eels before, but once again, this frenzy was another first.
He sat back as far away from the tank as possible in his confined quarters and caught his breath.
Inside the tank the eels had stopped their frenzied writhing. Now every tiny eye was watching him, calm and calculated from behind the glass walls that separated them from Yanick. He finally stood and moved to another corner of the room. The head of each eel turned sharply towards Yanicks new direction. Once again they shimmered, calmly awaiting Yanick's next move. Yanick reversed his position back to where he'd first been. The heads of the eels did likewise, in mind numbing unison.
Yanick stepped out of his shack and caught his breath. A speck of rain fell onto his nose. A storm was definitely coming. There would be no escaping it.
\*\*\*
Jumping into the cold, eel infested water, had shocked his body system already, but Ozzy fought against the pain of the freezing water, diving down into the depth to rescue his girlfriend. He lashed out blindly. He felt something, not one of the monstrosities, but hair, human hair. He stretched his other hand out. Tina's shoulder, it had to be Tina. He fumbled, but managed to keep hold of her. She offered no resistance.
Please let her be alive, please.
He fought against the wild currents and whirlpools the giant beasts made as they twirled and thrashed around him. Ozzy was braced for death at any second, but he was not giving up hope. He broke to the surface his arm round Tina. He looked down at her, half expecting to find just her head and the top half, with the rest of her in the stomach of one of the monsters, but she was whole and what's more she was alive, spluttering, but very much alive.
"We have to swim Tina, do you hear me, we have to swim?"
She muttered something incomprehensible as if she was half conscious and half unconscious. Then her eyes flicked wide open, wider then any humans eyes Ozzy had ever seen in his life.
She screamed.
Ozzy thought it might be shock, the sudden realization of the situation, but as blood spurted up and out from her mouth, he felt her tugged from him, with a force no human has ever witnessed at such close quarters and survived.
He felt the concrete coils of the creature from hell wind round him. The coils gently caressed, but firmly held his body, vice like.
Ozzy was surprised it didn't crush him quicker. It was almost as if it enjoyed the tightening, the slow strangulation of Ozzy's breath, as every bone in Ozzy's body creaked and groaned under the ever constricting strain, before finally in an orchestra of snapping, every bone in Ozzy's body succumbed to the pressure, leaving him a mere sack of skin, with insides of dust for bones, floating on the top of the water, until finally a whirlpool of giant eels sucked his carcass under.
Mark knew very well it wasn't clever to stand under trees when it was lightning. He also knew when thunder rolled that close, lightening was never far behind. Mark and John's tent was parked deep in the woods. It was something Mark just hadn't planned on. He and John had to get out of the woods and fast.
"It's pissing down," John moaned
"Would you rather keep dry and get hit by lightening?"
"We won't get hit by lightning."
"That only happens in movies I take it" Mark said sarcastically.
"Where are we going to go?" John whined.
"I don't know," Mark snapped. "Somewhere."
"Where?"
A bolt of lightning surged down outside the tent, illuminating the dark woods that surrounded them. John moved to push the tent flap back closed, but Mark stopped him.
"What are you doing?" John snapped, "you're letting all the rain in."
"I'm not staying in here to get burnt to a frazzle."
"Well I'm not going out there. I'd rather take my chances in here and get burnt to death, than get soaked and then burnt to death out there."
"Suit yourself," Mark pushed past John.
"Wait, you're not really going. What about all that we'll be all right as long as we stick together?"
But Mark was not listening to John's pleas. He marched off into the night, leaving John to watch the figure of his friend trailing off into the distance, until finally, not even the lightning illuminated Mark's outline. John was totally alone. The partnership which Mark had said nothing could go wrong with as long as they stuck together, had been broken. Now anything could happen.
It was the feeling that Mia was not alone that finally broke her out of her repeated movement of rocking back and forth. She stood up, turning the lights on as she did so. She had been sat in the darkness for too long. Her only slight illumination had been the flashes of lightning outside, her only sound, the rolls of thunder and the hammering rain. She thought of ringing the police again, trawling her head for ideas she could come up with to make them believe her.
The lights began to flicker, she reached for the phone.
They had to believe her, they had to.
The lights went dead as did the phone Mia held in her hand. It must have been the storm she reasoned, half glad that her reasoning was coming back and half afraid, because it made her realise the truth of her predicament.
Crunch.
The loud sound of metal and glass exploded from somewhere outside. Mia pressed her face against the window.
Nothing but darkness.
A lightning bolt hit, piercing the darkness momentarily. Outside the cottage, Lance's car lay crushed and smashed to smithereens.
What the hell was out there that had done that amount of damage?
As if she had to ask herself. She knew the answer, she knew it wasn't lightning, nothing as mundane as a natural occurrence. This was not the wrath of God, this was the vengeance of Satan.
Smash.
She whirled round, knowing the big double patio doors had been obliterated even though she couldn't see a thing. It was in the room with her, the bulk of its body slithering unseen and cloaked with the darkness. She reached out, trying to find a wall to guide herself with, to try to escape, no matter how much in vain that escape might seem. She had witnessed only too closely what that creature had done to Lance. She didn't want to die.
She didn't want to die like that.
A cascade of crashing sounds ricocheted round the room. Mia couldn't tell where the creature was as she blindly groped at the darkness. She had the feeling the creature was all round her ready to coil in. That was plausible enough; she'd seen the size of the thing that had taken Lance. Then she remembered there was more than one of them.
She touched the wall. The sickly slithering sound of a great weight moving fast closed in on her. It was playing with her, just as it had toyed with Lance before the kill. She pressed her whole body harder against the wall, wincing at the fact that at any second as she allowed herself to be led by the wall it could bring her straight into the path of that beast of destruction and evil.
A lamp fell forward, touching the back of her leg as it did so. She screamed and leaped in the air, wishing she could just jump up onto the ceiling and escape the slimy slithering creature or creatures that were surrounding her in the dark.
The stairs, she had to find the stairs.
She tumbled forward over something, something that felt wet, something that had a pulsating live body, a great mass that screeched in anger at Mia's clumsy touch of it.
Mia's hand reached out to propel her up as quickly as possible. Her hand came into contact with the stairs. She threw her body up the first three steps before scampering as quickly as possible up the rest of the steps. She raced into the bedroom throwing the latch down behind the door.
Without catching her breath she dragged the dressing table from its place and with all her might and set about jamming it behind the door. From there she picked up anything she could lay her hands on, chairs, suitcases, even shelves, and threw them behind the dresser that was barring the door. Catching her breath and satisfied she could do no more she sat on the bed and waited.
Nothing.
She could hear no sound either upstairs or down. A bolt of lightning struck outside lighting up the room and startling her at the same time.
Everything was still and silent, a terrible yearning silence.
Mia remembered her phone, her cell phone. She reached down and dug down into her pocket but the petite pink phone she always carried around with her, was not there.
It must have fallen out of her pocket when she had tripped over that....that vile thing. A thing that could at any second be making its way up to the bedroom.
She knew very well if it did, the door and no matter what she had stacked behind it could not keep such a creature of that size and ferocity out. Her only two hopes in hell were that it would just leave, or that help would come. She didn't hold out much hope herself for either of those options though.
She fell to her hands and knees and closed her eyes. She clasped her hands together and prayed as she had done as a little girl when in times of trouble.
Then she heard the creaking of the stairs, the great weight pressing down on them as wood splintered underneath.
Maybe the stairs would give under that weight and the creature would plunge down and not be able to get back up.
She heard an all-mighty crash and a screech, as if the creature had felt pain.
If such a creature could feel pain!
She waited, holding her breath. Her heartbeat pounded up from her chest and into her head. There was silence. No giant creature smashing down the door, no slithering evil, just a frightened female curled up on the bed wondering if God really had answered her prayers. They seem to have been answered....
But not for long.
She heard the familiar heavy slithering sound and creaking on the landing just outside the door. The furniture she had placed behind the door began to judder. The door and the furniture splintered into a thousand tiny pieces, as the head of a giant eel smashed through everything that had barred its way. The full beams of the moonlight bathed the creature's vile head; as it reared up, snake like. It crashed its head into the ceiling and plaster fell down. Mia threw herself from the bed to the wall.
The window. Why had she not thought of it earlier?
She pushed the window frantically. It was locked. She smashed her hand through the glass but all that achieved, was a cut hand and a mere small hole in the glass. She saw the key to the window lock on the window sill. She fumbled with the key trying to steady her bloodied hand which was now dripping all over the place. The key fit, it turned. The window flung open and Mia crawled out onto the thinnest of ledges.
She slipped, only just managing to force her bloodied hand out and catching a clump of the thick ivy that ran over the side of the house. It had momentarily stopped her fall but she could feel the vines, they could not possibly hold her weight for much longer. She looked to the window at her side as the hard rain pelted down on her face leaving her gasping for breath. The creature was still in there, probably waiting for her to climb back in.
Mia looked below her. If she let go the fall would probably break her back or legs. But the thing that struck the biggest fear of all into her was the sight of no less than five giant eels waiting down below, circling the house. Mia began to say her prayers again, grimly clinging onto the vines, which were now ripping out of the wall with her weight.
Below the creatures waited.
The vines in her bloodied right hand finally totally snapped away, jerking her back.The left hand vines began to stretch and snap. She could hear the creatures below her waiting, although she could no longer bring herself to look down at them. That might have been a blessing in disguise. At least she would not be privy to the sliming giant eel that reached to its full height and began to scale the wall to her side.
A sudden explosion collided at the exact same moment the last vine strains finally give way. The head of the first eel up the stairs burst through the wall in a firework of spewing bricks, wood and debris. For a second Mia watched as she fell.
By the time her body hit the wet grass with a dull thump, she had closed her eyes.
Yanick had to see. He knew very well anyone would view his actions as madness, but Yanick had never been bothered by other people's views on him.
He made his way steadily through the wood, towards the slate mine off Hodge Close. He had his waterproof Polaroid camera and torch at the ready, undeterred as the thunder rolled closer and the lightening struck nearer. He had seen and done a lot of crazy things. Tonight though, he was hoping to be vindicated. Tonight he was sure, he would at last prove the existence of Old Slippery, maybe he'd even be able to photograph more than one giant eel. He was pretty sure more than one existed, and in a way that spoilt the myth somewhat, he only needed one Old Slippery, not a dozen of the creatures, but he would take what he was given, or at least what he could photograph.
Tonight would be the night he would find his proof alright, he was sure of it. His views, his life would have held some real meaning. No longer would people view him as that crazy old tramp that haunts the woods and hunts eels. He would have proof. A picture as they say was worth a thousand words and what a picture one such creature would make. It would be like a thousand word poem, sheer poetry.
John was not loving the experience. He'd finally shut and firmly zipped the tent flap up, but the tent was still full of water. He looked for leaks but couldn't see any. He felt the base of the tent move a little. The firm ground the tent had been placed on had now obviously turned to mud.
Maybe the water was coming in through there?
Whichever, John was left with a conundrum. This was the kind of situation where Mark always came into his own. But Mark had gone off into the night. John thought he would have come back straight away, Mark was hardly the one for wild abandon but it seemed like ages now that Mark had been out there.
The rain battered down on the tent harder, John had never known rain like it. The bottom of the tent moved and squiggled a little more. John could have sworn the tent was slipping and sliding away, almost as if some unseen force outside was tugging at it. Of course he could have opened the tent flap again and looked outside, but he didn't fancy it. He contented himself to make the best of a bad job and sit and wait for Marks return.
If he ever did return.
\*\*\*
What was he doing? Even Mark admitted to himself it was sheer madness racing through the woods as lightning bolts hit left right and centre. One particular fork of lightning struck out and hit a tree to Mark's left, he raced forward as the tree cracked and fell to earth. Madness it may be, but it would have been suicide to stay in the tent. He pushed forward; he was nearly out of the most dense part of the woods and had in the last few gasps of the way decided the place he was going to, it was Hobson's choice really.
Up ahead lay Yanick's shack.
\*\*\*
Yanick made his way to the edge of the scaffolding from where he would look down into the pit. Although he had rushed to get into this position, now fear and trepidation took over him. He could hardly bring himself to look over and down into the water, for what he might see. The waterproof poloraid camera trembled in his hands as the rain continued to beat down, ever furious.
He moved closer to the edge.
Camera at the ready, Yanick peered over.
As the lightning danced and played, striking down on the water, the heads of nine giant eels sprang up and screeched defiance. Yanick clicked his camera to take one picture, then another.
Every eel head turned towards him.
"They can't get me," he mumbled, "not up here, no, you can't get me, not here."
He took another picture.
The first of the eels began to stretch up to its full height. It plastered itself against the sheer rock face and began to push its body up.
"Not up here," Yanick said frantically.
The eel fell back down a little. Yanick breathed a sigh of relief.
The sigh did not last for long however, another eel was wrapping itself around the scaffolding making its way up, twisting and turning, reaching in Yanick's direction. When a second eel began to follow suit, up and around the scaffolding Yanick began to run.
He had his proof of giant eels alright, but now the proof was getting a little too close for comfort. He brushed the harsh rain from his eyes, but couldn't brush away the harsh reality.
The eels were coming and nothing could stop them.
\*\*\*
Mia's eyes flickered open. She was alive, what was more she couldn't feel any physical pain. The only downside being the freezing fear that had plagued her so and the fact that apart from her eyes she couldn't move a muscle. She was not even able to turn her head from side to side. She could see though, even through the blistering rain. She could also smell the same rank odour that accompanied the creatures that tormented her.
She tried to move her head, again nothing happened. It was as if every muscle apart from her eyes, were held in a vice like grip. She tried to scream, but even her vocal chords where locked in that unmoveable muscle prison. This wasn't fear that had frozen through her, this was something worse. The fall must have injured her critically, maybe her back or spine had broken when she'd hit the ground.
The sound of heavy slithering came closer, she sensed motion from the corner of her eye, she was helpless; there would be no escaping them now. She would not even have the comfort of passing out with the pain as they fed on her, as all her feeling was gone. She prayed for unconsciousness but none came. She strained her eyes downward, an eel was approaching her legs, its mouth opened, sinking around her useless limbs.
The snapping sound it made as its jaws bit through her bone was enough to make anyone pass out, but some how she lingered on, wishing for a quick death or unconsciousness.
Neither came that quickly.
Another eel slithered over the top of the first eel. This new eel was even bigger. Its mouth dropped wide open, taking the whole of the remainder of Mia's lower body.
More snapping and crunching sounds.
And still torturous consciousness.
She closed her eyes begging for the end. When she opened them she found she could no longer see.
With a final snap, a third eel wrenched Mia's head clean off and swallowed.
\*\*\*
Yanick's place was a wreck at the best of times, Mark could certainly vouch for that, but now something had happened that was beyond the normal organised chaos. The floor was swimming with water, things had been upturned and wrecked and worst of all Yanick's eel tank had been smashed.
Mark bent down and inspected the remains of the tank more closely. The water and the eels had gone as one would have expected, but what was much stranger was the fact that the glass had been broken from the inside.
A sudden movement caught Mark's eye.
What the hell was going on? Was it a mouse or a rat?
Neither, an eel came shimmering up to Mark along the waterlogged floor. He recoiled back, his arms touching the remains of the tank. He screamed in pain, thinking he had caught himself on a jagged piece of glass, but to his horror he found an eel had clamped its jaws around his index finger.
Now screaming in total horror Mark spun round the confined space, arms flailing wildly, trying to dislodge the eel that bit down ever deeper into his flesh.
The eel fell on the third smashing against the wall. Somehow it was still alive though, and slithered off to join the other eels, which had appeared from out of every nook and cranny.
Mark took stock of his unlikely surroundings. He was completely encircled; there were eels on the walls hanging down at him, snapping from the rafters and worse still, a pool of the creatures coiling and uncoiling laying in wait for him at the door.
He moved forward and one of the eels on the rafters lunged at his face. It narrowly missed him, as he ducked back.
He found himself back in the same position of being pressed against the jagged remains of the tank, as an army of hateful eels slithered along the ground and walls towards him, each one with a malignant look of evil in its eyes.
He had to get to the door.
He pressed a foot forward. An eel pounced and attacked his shoe. Mark kicked out, but the eel held firm, counter attacking back.
Behind Mark an eel fell from the rafters nearly landing on his back. He jumped forward crushing an eel unexpectedly under foot, as the full weight of his body came down on it. Blood flowed out from the eels mouth and it wriggled no more, content to lie limp and lifeless on the floor.
Mark realised that as he had started his gauntlet of terror towards the door there was no going back.
Another eel fell from the rafters, this one skimming his shoulders before falling safely to the ground. He pushed on. Another two eels writhed towards his feet. Mark gave a satisfying stomp to each of the attacking eels, leaving them squashed and blood red on the floor.
More eels lay ahead.
An eel threw itself from the wall, but Mark managed to bat it away with his arm.
Now Mark faced his final test, the pool of eels guarding the door. There must have been about twenty of them. Where the hell all these eels had come from Mark didn't know, he was sure Yanick hadn't had that many in his tank.
Hanging down over the door were another three eels waiting to pounce and that was if Mark managed to successfully navigate past the eels, guarding the floor in front of it.
He moved his foot nearer the pool of eels. Like the snake heads from medusa the eels darted forward in attacking formations. Mark kicked out, sending a couple of the eels spinning.
He noticed a heavy looking tome of a book. He stamped his foot down on the eel that was curled round it and praying that the eel was dead and that there were no more inside, he bent down and grabbed the book.
The book had enough weight in it to smash it down onto the pool of eels. Mark jumped on the book, using it as a stepping stone; he flung himself headlong outside and onto the soaking mud.
He looked up, wiping the mud from his eyes. To his horror he could see the wood was alive with eels, but these were not just the eels from Yanicks tank, nor anything near normal size. These were giant eels, a whole army of them sprung up from the shadows and lakes, unnoticed by Mark as he had been suffering the ordeal from their smaller cousins.
Thunder bellowed out and with it the snapping of trees and branches as the eels ploughed their path forwards towards Mark.
\*\*\*
Huddled up in a ball in the corner of his tent, John found himself uncomfortable but drifting off to sleep at any rate. Even when the tent began to tear in half, he thought it was just a dream and he tried to shake it off, in an effort to slump back into slumber.
But with one half of the tent in the mouth of a giant eel, John as expected, quickly arose to the land of the living and exited the other half of the tent.
He ran but it didn't seem to do him any good, the giant eel was too large and too fast. It poised to strike, before shooting down like a lightning bolt towards John. The eel did not reach John, however, an actual lightning bolt did reach the eel. The bolt hitting dead centre, fried the eel instantly and threw John into unconsciousness, as he flew up in the air.
John landed back to earth with a slosh, his body sinking down into the mud with the impact. Giant eels slithered, converging and encircling around him.
John was oblivious though. He was slowly drowning face down, in the mud.
\*\*\*
If Yanick couldn't believe his eyes at the sight he had seen down the old slate mine, he was completely astounded at the madness that lay ahead of him now. Behind him he had been forced to flee giant eels and now in front of him yet more giant eels lay up ahead. They couldn't possibly be the ones from the slate mine because Yanick could see the first of them on the horizon behind him. The other eels must have come from other lakes. For all Yanick knew, the whole of the Lake District could be covered with giant eels, springing up from every lake that had connections with Blood Lake.
Blood Lake, which supposedly ran underneath every single lake in the Lake District. Yanick had been running out of breath, but now he was asking the question, where was he going to run to?
Where was anyone going to run to?
The landlord didn't believe the gibbering tourist when he ran, screaming, back into the pub. It was nearly chucking out time and he had heard all kinds of excuses from people asking to be served after hours. But then again he'd heard nothing as preposterous as this, in the five years he'd run the pub.
Of course the landlord kept his calm. A tourist was the life blood of his trade, a tourist equalled money, good money.
He calmed the tourist down as best he could, but the man was having none of it. Such was his frenzy he seemed to be foaming at the mouth. That was another trouble with tourists. You never knew what some of them were on.
"They're coming up from the lake, giants," the tourist frothed.
"Keep your voice down Sir, or I'll have to ask you to leave," the landlords manner was firm but fair, a manner that had served him well over the years.
"Everybody they're all around us," the tourist over turned the table, the landlord had sat him down at, and began racing up and down, to each and every onlooker in the pub.
This, the landlord had never seen before, this was just plane crazy.
He hesitated in restraining the tourist, who on seeing no one was listening, had sat back down on the seat the landlord had first placed him and was simply muttering, "you have to believe me," over and over again under his breath, as if he were going into some kind of shock. The landlord left the tourist where he was and after ushering the public away, he rang the police to deal with the matter.
The matter though, was obviously not going to be dealt with that simply.
Old Jock had taken a peek outside to see what had ailed the tourist. Jock had not liked what he'd seen.
"He's telling the truth," Jock shouted, "I see em with me own eyes, they're out there now, crawling all over the place."
Everyone in the bar, except the landlord and the tourist, spilled out and bore witness to a myriad of giant eels marching forward. A blaze of mobile phone cameras illuminated the rain soaked night. It was enough of an attraction to a number of the eels, for them to break away from the rest of the pack and turn their attention to the picturesque pub.
The crowd quickly backtracked into the pub and a chorus of mobile phone keys being pressed filled the air, as each and everyone one of them rang the emergency services.
The landlord peered through the window at the abominations that were steamrolling through the countryside, now heading towards his pub. By the time he was halfway through his own conversation to the disbelieving police, the first eel smashed through a window.
It was a much smaller eel than some of the other giants. It was of a similar height and length to a crocodile and much speedier for that fact. Within a second of it gaining access through the window, it was wrestling with its first victim, Old Jock on the floor.
One of the regulars smashed a bar stool into it, as it wrapped its body round the old man, crushing the life out of him and ripping his face into a bloody pulp with its razor edged teeth. The bar stool, no matter what force was used, made not one jot of difference. The old man was already lost as the second eel charged through the wall.
The landlord couldn't tell how many people the bigger second eel got in its first strike, but he wasn't waiting around to be a victim of its second strike. He decided through a mixture of fear and self preservation, that discretion was the better part of valour.
He bolted for the cellar steps, unseen by the others in the panic. He paused only to lock the cellar door behind and then sprinted down the steps where he squatted, silent in the darkness.
The sounds above him were horrendous. He knew there was nothing he could do and in some ways he was glad about that. There was nothing he wanted to do, except stay alive and in one piece. He knew if he'd invited anyone to share his sanctuary, it would be a sanctuary no longer, they would only give his position away and dilute his own chances of survival.
He'd found out all about survival seven years ago going through his divorce. Now there was him and only him to care about, he wasn't about to change that, especially in these dire circumstances.
The reinforced concrete ceiling above him shook, while the cries and screams reverberated down to and around the cellar.
The landlord was steadfast. His only chance was those creatures not seeing him. He'd seen the bigger ones go through brick as if it were paper. If they knew he was down there, nothing would stop them getting through. He didn't know what was going on, but it was every man for himself and if he were to be the only man standing, so be it.
The screams from above had been stifled now. The only sound was the heavy dragging sound.
They were searching.
He held his breath and kept his nerve. There was only one thing that gave him comfort in the cold darkness, the fact that he kept telling himself he would survive. All he had to do was wait and not make a sound. How long for, he didn't have a clue. Enough people had rung for help; it would surely arrive sooner or later. The only problem was if one of those creatures above got inquisitive enough and found the cellar door, or if they could sense or smell him.
The very thought of his smell or his fear giving him away, tightened his stomach all the more.
He had to keep telling himself he would make it through, that help really was on its way and would be here sooner rather than later and pray to God whatever that help was, it would be capable of holding up, against the creatures of destruction that lay above.
But while his heart held out hope, no matter how he tried to convince himself, his head wasn't so sure.
Yanick knew he had to get to a phone. The problem that niggled him as he got close to the nearest dwelling, was would they be willing to let him in? The locals and the holiday makers always eyed Yanick with a wary distrust. Of course he could always use a phone box, ringing the emergency services was free, but phone boxes in England nowadays, were few and far between. The Lakes were no exception to this rule.
As he trudged through the sludge, keeping a watchful eye on all angles, he began to wrestle with the magnitude of his problem, everybody's problem in the vicinity.
A great big chunk of his life had been spent trying to track down his own personal Bigfoot, or rather in this case, a giant eel. He had been rewarded for his perseverance alright; he had been rewarded with honours. The honour of trying to save his own neck and let the human race know, that there were creatures from the very depths that had rose up, to destroy all in their path.
He could envisage in his mind a battle between the army and the eels, like something from a fifties creature feature. But this was real life. The British army wasn't geared up to fight dinosaur sized killer eels. No army was.
Something moved in the undergrowth. Yanick's own breath nearly strangled him in his panic.
It was the wind; it had to be the wind.
Yanick calmed his nerves and moved on, not too fast, not too slow. He knew what was coming up from behind and he had more than a good idea what was up front. To survive he had to keep his nerves steady, that was all he had to do and if they got close to him, he would have to run like the devil himself was behind him, because for all intent purposes, that's what they were.
A lone cottage loomed up ahead. Yanick was right on track. He knew the area like the back of his hand. In fact he knew it better than the back of his hand, much better. Yanick didn't spend much time in his life looking at the backs of hands. His only washes were the natural down pours he would get caught in. The rest of the time he had a certain dirt crust all over his hands, feet and often his features. In his younger life Yanick had lived a wild lifestyle, but those days were far behind him now, now he lived more like a wild animal, a kind of missing link between humans and the critters of the wood. In some ways it was only natural that the honour of exposing the eels should go to him. That was of course if they hadn't found other humans already.
The cottage seemed untouched, there were no signs that the eels had passed this way, just as Yanick had expected.
Yanick gave a gentle rap on the front door, before giving way to a more forceful knock.
No answer from inside was forthcoming.
Yanick tried the door. It was locked. He went round the back. That door was also locked. He bent down and picked up a handy piece of loose paving stone, which fit snugly in his hand. He smashed the stone through the window of the back door. The window was not doubled glazed and easily shattered on impact.
Yanick fumbled trying to unlock the door by leaning inside where the glass had been. He couldn't release the door, so he ended up climbing through the former window.
He fell awkwardly into the darkened kitchen, where a sudden loud clicking sound startled him.
He turned slowly round and saw himself staring down the long barrel of a shotgun.
\*\*\*
John coughed back into life, swallowing down fresh gulps of air as he spat the mud from his mouth.
He rolled onto his back spluttering before remembering what had happened. The evidence of his living nightmare lay before him. The corpse of the lightning hit eel lay on its side in front of him. Either side of him large eel trails scarred the ground, but there were, thankfully, no sign of the eels themselves.
He reached for his cell phone, but it was totally dead, soaking wet from lying inside his waterlogged pocket.
He began to shiver. His phone dead and help miles from anywhere, he had no choice but to walk, it was either that or stay and catch his death from pneumonia or get killed by any giant eels that decided to back track.
He jumped into one of the crater trails an eel had made. They trailed of into the distance, to the heart of The Lakes where help would hopefully lie.
If the eels didn't get to them first.
\*\*\*
Mark brought himself up to his knees. He didn't make any rash movements. He was holding out hope that the eels, small and giant, hadn't seen him.
He turned around. The smaller eels were spewing out of the doorway of Yanick's home.
A giant eel stopped and turned towards Mark's direction. A second giant eel stopped and looked, changing its projected path and then a third. Mark found his feet, but then slipped in the mud again, as soon as he found them.
The rain was showing no signs of abating, turning the mud clad fields and woodland into a swamp.
The eels both large and small moved quickly in these conditions, it was what they were used to it. It was almost as if they had waited for this, the perfect storm, so they could rise up and were now ready to inherit the earth.
Mark knew his only chance now was to run. To run fast and in the right direction, whichever way that was. The eels knew he was there now, he had to out run them, to use what distance he had between them as a slim advantage.
At least the lightning had stopped even though the rain had not.
His feet slipped from underneath him again and he found himself sat in the mud, the eels ever closing in.
He felt his heart muscle tighten in pure fear. He now knew he was not going to be able to out run the eels. It was like a matchstick man trying to outrun King Kong, such was their size and speed. And that was another factor, King Kong was only one, these were many, as equally large in number as in size.
Mark's only hope stood before him, a tree, an oak tree, solid in strength and stature. It was a calculated risk but a necessary one. He began his climb without caution.
Only when he was at the height of a normal house did he slow down and plan his climb more carefully. He had to get as high as possible, he figured, maybe the eels would forget about him and pass him by, out of sight out of mind and if not out of sight, out of reach.
Maybe?
A tree branch cracked under his weight; luckily not his full weight or he would have gone plummeting down. He felt like he was sat on top of a rollercoaster, it made him feel giddy. He had got up, but he didn't have a clue how he was going to get down, especially when he saw the giant eel stealthily slithered its way round the bottom of the tree, cautiously making its way up to the upper branches of the tree, where Mark hung on precariously.
"Lily-Ann is a woman," Charles left a meaningful pause, "a-n-y man would desire," Charles finally finished his sentence, stressing the any vigorously.
Kim was unimpressed, no matter how much Charles stressed anything.
"You know what I'm talking about then," she waved a letter underneath Charles's nose.
"It's a letter to a very dear friend. Now could I have a glass of water?" Charles waved his hand, "seeing as you're up and about that is."
"It sounds like it's a love letter to me," Kim ranted on, chomping the bit well and truly between her lips, "or did you suddenly forget you were already married? If so can I have a little of the something you use to forget? After twenty three years of marriage to you, I need the whole of my mind wiping."
"There's no need to be like that dear heart. You know I only have eyes for you."
"But you've always had eyes for Lily-Ann. Shall I read the letter out loud?"
"Go ahead if it makes you feel better," he waved her on.
She threw the letter at him, grunted and stormed to the kitchen, with the dog lead in hand.
"Wait a second," he pointed a solitary finger, but still did not move from his seat. "It's a bit late to be taking the dog for a walk now, even if you are in a temper and it is raining."
Kim paid no heed.
"Have you forgot you don't like to go out at night?"
No answer.
Charles gently picked up the letter and lovingly pressed the creases out. Yes, he would be the first to admit, he had always held a soft spot for Lily-Ann, but he knew nothing would ever come of it. Nothing had happened before he had met Kim, when he and Lily-Ann had both been footloose and single, why should it now?
Charles knew though, his wife's disgruntled mood was nothing to do with the fact he had written a harmless letter to his friend. Kim was fuming because he had failed to get a job, yet again. Kim for all intent and purposes was a snob. The fact that her husband had been out of work for the previous twenty years, had not gone down well for the first ten years. While the second ten to her, had been unbearable.
Kim had already walked out on Charles five times. Charles even suspected she'd only got back with him this time because of his father passing away and leaving the house in The Lakes to him. She was quick to point out Charles's faults, of which he admitted he had many of. He was a dreamer, too much of a dreamer, he didn't really fit with the nine to five rat race. He'd always fancied doing something different. Then again Kim was the same. On paper they should have been the perfect match. As work shy as Charles was, Kim was hardly the stereotypical housewife and mother rushed off her feet. The house was a mess, as was the house before it, the one before that and the one before that one.
They'd been at The Lakes for a month and had managed to make friends with no one, much to Kim's distaste. Kim liked to think of herself as an intellectual, an artist, be it in the written word through her poems or the brush through her paintings. She had threatened to write a book on numerous occasions, before going off the boil and blaming Charles for the fact she never had. There was no logic in this, but as much as Charles argued with her, she wouldn't move from this particular ground she had chosen.
Charles's defence was he did all the cooking, cleaning and ironing and driving around, What did Kim do? She didn't even provide him with an adequate sex life. And what was Kim's answer? It was back to being an intellectual. She was an artist, she had to paint, although her paintings were never finished, she had to write, although her books never got past chapter one. The most Kim ever did, was walk about with her miniature pet poodle, named Whammy, vainly trying to latch onto someone that would listen to her, to find anyone that might respect her.
Not that Charles didn't respect her, far from it, but the respect of a nobody, which in Kim's eyes was all he was, could never be enough. Yes, taking the dog for a walk was about as much as she did and even that job she would hand over to Charles at night, on account of the local teenagers, who had been shouting abuse ever since they found out the dogs name.
"Whammy whammy red arse," the big kids would shout, much to the amusement of the smaller kids and what with Charles being rather portly round the middle, but thin of legs, the kids would also shout abuse about him, calling him a gay boy, while pointing out the fact that his body looked like a big fat potato, stuck precariously on two matchstick legs.
"There's giant eels invading," a drenched Kim yanked little Whammy back into the house, "they're all over the place."
Charles looked at her with some suspicion. Kim loved to be the centre of attention, but feigning madness was a new trick to her.
"They're outside; they're smashing through people's houses, they're killing people."
Charles scratched his chin. Kim began to race round the room in circles like a headless chicken.
"You have nothing to fear," Charles pointed his finger at Kim as if that would make her stop panicking. "I hardly think giant eels would be roaming the Lake District willy nilly, never mind attacking people."
"You don't believe me, you lazy old fool, listen, outside, can't you hear?"
"I am listening. I heard some row outside, which was indeed unusual for this time of night in these parts."
"I said listen," she frantically urged.
"It sounds like somebody is having a party. Maybe it's getting a bit out of hand. We should keep out of it. The police will deal with it. Somebody will obviously complain, they always do. They soon complained about little Whammy's barking."
"You fool; does that sound like a party? Its screams, didn't you hear it before?"
"Naturally the conclusion I came to, was somebody had their television set on too loud."
"Look outside, then you'll see them, giant eels. I'm going to run, that's what I'm going to do, if you don't get in that car and drive us out of here right this minute."
"If and o-n-l-y if there are giant eels out there, which I know there is not, then of course, I would drive us both out of here, but I hardly think it likely," Charles huffed.
Where as he was a daydreamer, Kim was a down right fantasist. This was even more unbelievable than the tale she always told about her first husband trying to shoot her in the woods, but she'd managed to out run his bullet with sheer determination.
But still, giant eels?
Charles pulled the curtain back and peered outside into the darkness.
"I can't see anything unusual, except the fact the street lights are off. Probably the council cutting costs again."
Kim screamed something incoherent at him.
"Kim, I really must protest. There are no giant eels outside. It's even gone quiet, the party must be over, the rabble have gone home. Maybe they called it a night when the street lights went off?"
Kim stood visibly tearing her hair out.
"Calm down my dear," Charles moved back to his chair and sat down, "you're nerves are getting the better of you. Just think, things are on the up, what more could you ask for? We have this house, this scenery, good company....."
Charles's words were cut off when a giant eel hurtled through the wall.
Kim was flung backwards, the ceiling above her crashing her down into darkness.
The only thing left of Charles was a smear of blood and gore where the eel had crushed him under its charging weight. A weight that had carried it straight through the other wall and back out into the night.
"I'm very sorry over window, thank you please," Yanick spluttered.
"Save it for the police," the little old man waving the shotgun under Yanick's nose, answered back.
"The police, yes, is a good idea," Yanick agreed, "we have to tell them about eels, giant killer eels."
"What kind of a crazy are you, or do you take me for a fool?" The old man jabbed the shotgun viciously at Yanick.
"We have to get out of here. We have to get help as soon as possible please."
"We'll get help alright. If you so much as even blink I'll shoot." The old man kept the gun trained on Yanick while he reached for the phone with his free hand.
"The phone's dead. I suppose it was you who cut it off. Not like that will do you any good. How many more of you are there?"
"More?"
"Weasels like you don't strike alone. Well if your friends do try to get the jump on me, rest assured I got plenty of bullets for them as well."
"Do you have a car in your garage, no?"
"You think I'm gonna let you steal my car? Don't you quite get what I'm saying?" he jabbed the gun at Yanick again.
"I'm so sorry yes, but we have to leave and we have to leave right now?"
"What's that noise out there, is it one of your helpers. I bet you've got a ton of goons out there to back you up. Some good they'll do you though, when I fill you full of lead."
The sound was not one of goons or back up though, it was the sound of loud heavy dragging, something slithering along.
"They're here," Yanick shrilled, "there is no time to explain."
"What the?" the old man looked out into his garden. There he saw the cause of the sounds. Two giant eels were smashing through the old man's flowers and rockery. He whirled the gun round from its position trained on Yanick and discharged two bullets into the eels.
"As I thought, bullets no work," Yanick mused, "skins of steel."
The eels turned to face Yanick and the old man.
"Your car keys?" Yanick pleaded.
"Son's of bitches," the old man cried, "no one tramples on my rockery."
The old man reloaded his weapon as he walked towards the eels. He cocked his rifle up, taking aim. The nearest eel swept him up in his jaw as he did so. The old mans weapon discharged in a final act of defiance.
The eel gave a sound like a scream, writhed around in the air before falling flat to the ground, smashing through the garage roof as it did so.
"I guess the inside of these eels isn't as strong as the outside, no." Yanick shrugged, as he whipped a set of keys from the wall.
In the best tradition of all good horror movies, Yanick had expected to have to go through every key on the bunch, before he found the one to the garage door, however he hit pay dirt on the second attempt. The key to the car door was even simpler; the only problem being there, was the head of a giant eel ledged on the boot of the car.
Yanick started the engine. It fired up first time. The car wheels spun but the vehicle did not move. The heavy head of the dead monster still lay, crushing the boot, holding the car back. Yanick slammed his foot down harder on the accelerator. Above him, the remaining giant eel thrust its head through the shattered garage roof.
\*\*\*
The giant eel had taken its time to get to the position it was now in. It was firmly off the ground and stretching up to reach Mark, who, petrified for his very life, stayed just about, out of the creatures reach.
All ideas had now deserted Mark. He had climbed as high as he could up the tree, the levels above him would not hold his weight and would be nearly impossible to reach at any rate. He had already tried to use his cell phone, but a signal had eluded him.
The eel wormed its way round the tree tighter, it stretched that little bit closer, and it was ever gaining ground on the still and solemn Mark, by the second.
Carefully it moved, as if it had all the time in the world, like it knew Mark was powerless. The only way was down and if the boy had jumped from this height, he would have surely broken every single bone in his body. If he stayed where he was for any longer though, the eel would pick him from the branch as easily as a spider would a fly in its web.
Mark braced himself to jump. He'd already decided it would be better to die by smashing his body into the ground than death by eel, even if now, it was one eel and one alone. The other eel's had moved on, as if they were assured their brethren had the job in hand.
He closed his eyes and sucked his breath in, ready to send himself sailing through the air, defying his hunter to the last. He would not remain fodder for the eel; he would not satisfy it with the kill.
And it seemed he would have need to jump for the moment.
"Hey you bastard, why don't you come after me instead of him? I'm better meat than he ever could be," the voice from below shouted.
Mark looked down amazed. "John?"
"Come on you dumb eel, what are you waiting for?" John screamed at the eel, while throwing anything he could find from the woods floor, up at the eels body.
The eel loosened its tight grip round the trunk of the tree and began to shimmer down.
"Run John," Mark screamed from the tree.
"Shit," John yelped as he turned on his heels and darted away from the eel that had now slinked back down to the ground, ready to give chase.
Mark clambered down from the tree in record time. The eels attention was now on John and had set its sights firmly on its new kill.
"Over here," Mark shouted, launching a branch towards the eel as it closed in on John.
The eel took no notice.
"Over here I said," Mark threw a rock.
Still the eel took no notice, quickly gaining ground on his friend.
Mark threw a final rock, the eel spun back round to Mark, its beady eyes glowing fierce and red.
Mark dropped the new branch he had picked up ready if the rocks had failed and ran past the tree he had previously been stuck up.
"Mark we can't keep playing piggy in the middle with this thing," John shouted. "Have you got any better ideas?"
Never mind ideas, Mark hadn't even got his breath. Whether he liked it or not, he found himself stumbling to a halt.
The eel had turned its attention back to John. Mark caught his breath. He was about to look around for something to throw or shout at the eel, but before he could, the eel had turned back round to him. Obviously the eel too, was no longer willing to play piggy in the middle.
The eel reared up to its full height. It was smaller than some of the other eels Mark had seen, but nearly as big as a two story house. It swayed over him not looking unlike a python about to strike.
Then the cell phone rang.
Mark instinctively stuck his hand into his pocket and plucked out the phone.
It carried on ringing.
The eel now swayed like a snake hypnotized by the phone. Mark threw the phone as hard and as far as he could.
The eel darted after it.
The phone stopped ringing.
Mark couldn't tell if the eel had crushed it, eaten it, or whether the automatic voice mail had kicked in. It didn't really matter. They had a head start and John was at his side. They raced away from the eel together. By the time they had run out of breath, the lone eel was nowhere to be seen.
"We lost it," Mark gulped.
"Yeah, but there's more of them," John replied in between catching his breath, "tons more and bigger ones to."
"I know, I've seen."
"Do you think this is something to do with Yanick?" John asked.
"He's just one man. But he might know something."
"So what now, find Yanick?"
"We'd best find the police first. They can find Yanick, if he's still alive that is."
"Do you think we'll get out of this alive?" John asked more than a little worried.
"I think we've got more chance of that than this rain going off."
Both boys laughed.
"My phones bust," John said.
"I guessed as much," Mark replied. "Mine's is in the belly of a giant eel somewhere."
"If I still had my phone we could ring it," John laughed. "So we get out of the woods and to where people are?"
"That sounds a fine plan John, let's run with it."
They caught their breaths for a couple of seconds more, before composing themselves. They both knew it was not that the road ahead of them was long, but the fact their lives could be snuffed out in an instance. They strode on however, frightened yes, but no longer frightened boys.
Now, they were men.
\*\*\*
Yanick got the feeling if he pressed the accelerator down any harder, he would have put his foot straight through the floor, but still he grinded it down all the same. He felt the front of the car wheelie up slightly and bit his lip. The eel carcass was still dragging him back.
Through the cars sunroof, the rain splintered image of the live eel was bearing down on him. He pressured down so hard, he felt the sole of his foot begin to burn.
The eel above struck. Clumsily it dislodged his dead fellow eel as it did so.
The car shot out of the garage like a bullet from a gun.
It all happened so fast. Both the eel and Yanick were helpless and at the mercy of events.
The car hit the side of the house.
Yanick's lifeless looking body lay slumped in the driving seat as the eel, attracted by the none stop blare of the car horn, moved in.
The first house that Mark and John came into contact with looked as if a train had run straight through it. Smashed furniture and destruction could easily be seen through the gaping hole in the home's side. They could see no sign of human life or the eel that must have caused the devastation.
"Do you think we should look inside?" John asked.
"We should. We might find survivors; there might even be a working telephone."
"You really think," John pointed at some downed telephone lines.
"Then there might be a cell phone then, one that actually works, with a signal."
They cautiously made their way into the hole in the wall, stepping over loose smashed brickwork as they did so.
"If there are survivors I don't want see them, you'll have to deal with them," John announced.
"What?"
"I can't stand blood and guts. If an eel eats someone whole in front of me, I can deal with that, as long as there's no yuck. I guess I'm just a one gulp and gone man."
"That is such a comforting thought John," Mark said sarcastically. "Remind me that if an eel should pounce on me in front of you, not to let it bloody me up. I'll just jump straight into its stomach."
"You know what I mean."
Mark huffed and moved forward into the ruin of the home.
"Anyone here?" Mark whispered.
"Anyone alive?" John stoutly shouted.
"Let's just hope those eel things haven't heard you screeching at the top of your voice," Mark scolded
"At least this way if someone's lying there bleeding to death, they'll give a bit of a moan. That way I can go and wait outside, before I see them all gory and that."
"Of course," Mark agreed sarcastically with John's logic, "why didn't I think of that. The last thing we'd want to do is turn your stomach."
No answer from anyone or anything else was forthcoming though. The boys pushed on, Mark in the lead, the squeamish John lagging behind slightly.
"It's a right mess in here," John said, "do you think they'll be able to claim back on their insurance?"
"What?"
"Insurances are funny, they don't like paying out. They've got all types of clauses to catch you out on. I mean, would you be covered for a giant eel attack?"
"Now's not the time John. We'd better check upstairs," Mark paused, "or rather what's left of it."
Mark checked the upstairs as best he could, while John waited downstairs. There were no signs of anyone, although Mark could not go into the most dangerous parts. Having a big hole right through the middle of the house had caused the whole structure to be unstable. The floor itself was split in two, one half where Mark stood creaking with his weight, the other half had completely fallen through to the lower level.
Mark cautiously moved back to the stairs. The floor was creaking so badly now, it sounded like it could follow the rest of the upper level and hit the bottom. Once he'd seen enough to know no one was alive upstairs and there were no cell phones or at least, any he could possibly reach, he was glad to call it a day.
By the time he had got back downstairs John was stood there ashen faced.
"There's somebody moaning," John pointed, "it's coming from over there."
Mark followed John's finger to a pile of rubble below where a section of ceiling and floorboard had fallen through. Mark struggled to pick the fallen floor up.
"You'll have to help me," he screamed at John.
"I can't," replied John, tears running down his face.
Mark pushed and pulled from all angles, but he couldn't lift the debris. He stopped and listened. There was no sound.
"Maybe I just imagined it," said John, wiping his eyes.
Mark didn't answer him. He didn't need to. The both knew he hadn't imagined it. Mark only wished whoever had been trapped underneath was now in a place where they would feel no more pain.
"We should get out of here, the rest of that ceiling looks dodgy," said Mark.
John looked up in horror. Mark had not realised how prophetic his words were going to be. John tried to move, he tried to shout a warning but it was all too sudden, too late. The rest of the ceiling came cascading down, with Mark lost in the avalanche underneath it.
\*\*\*
Yanick looked up and into the blinding white light. It dazed and dazzled him so much, it gave the impression that he was being lifted up into it, floating into its very centre. He couldn't feel his body, no pain, no fear, there was nothing but the bright light. He carried on swimming into the vision of that light, hypnotised by its glow.
And then the light was gone. He felt cold. He touched his forehead, hot blood trickled from it. His senses flooded back to him.
The police helicopter overhead was no longer shining its light on the car Yanick had been slumped in and was now putting the eel in the spotlight. It seemed the light had also caught the eels interest, as it was no longer bothering with Yanick and was rearing up to the searchlight.
"What the hell is that thing?" The officer asked the police pilot.
"I've never seen anything like it," the pilot shook his head, "when they said there was giant creatures running amok, well, you just naturally think bullshit."
"Well that bullshit is staring us right back in the face. Take us down closer; I want to get a better look at that thing, while I radio in."
The police helicopter hovered down as Yanick stumbled out from the car. He ran with a limp towards the house.
"There's someone down there with that thing," the officer cried out, "take us in lower."
"Lower?" The pilot asked, unafraid to show his fear, "are you sure?"
"I'm sure."
The helicopter lowered down nearer to the rain splattered image of the eel.
"Where did the guy go?" the pilot cried.
"I think he went into the house."
"We're going to have to pull away. We're getting too close to that crazy thing."
The eel stretched up to its full height, snapping its jaws onto the helicopters foot bar. The helicopter jerked under the weight of the beast. The pilot did his best, but in the battle of the helicopter versus giant eel, the helicopter stood no chance.
The helicopter and eel smashed down into the house which exploded in a fountain of smoke, bricks and mortar on impact.
"You are not going to die," John fought back the tears, as he frantically dug through the rubble that had covered his friend.
"I know I'm not," Mark finally coughed from underneath the rubble.
John carried on ripping the junk away and soon found himself working in tandem with his friend who was pushing up from underneath.
"Aren't you bothered I might be covered in blood?" Mark said as he pushed out into the open.
"I couldn't give a shit," John replied as he held his hand out, helping his friend up, "but I'm glad your not."
"Well, I didn't see any cell phones down there," Mark laughed with some relief.
"I found this," John waved a huge carving knife up in the air, "I found it just before the roof came down. I thought it might come in handy."
"If you're thinking of taking on the eels you'd be better of with a flamethrower."
"Couldn't fine one handy," John replied smugly. "Besides, all this rain would put it out."
"I don't think the rain is coming down as hard as it was," Mark wiped the dust from his eyes. "Maybe the storms going to pass soon?"
"And the eels with it?" John was digging for any signs of hope or good news.
Mark didn't have any though, as much as he sort the same things himself. "Lets carry on and get to safety."
"And which way is safety?"
"Anywhere, away from here."
\*\*\*
Yanick kept on running and didn't look back, even when the helicopter exploded into the house behind him. Luckily for him, he had decided when he had entered the house it was a bad idea to hang around, so he had exited through the front door and was now just concentrating on keeping on running.
There were no more houses in the area, but a pub was close and that's where Yanick was heading.
Maybe with a bit of luck another police helicopter would come searching and this time pick him up, instead of picking a battle with a creature it couldn't possibly hope to defeat.
The only trouble was the pub was near water. It was a calculated chance
A chance Yanick knew he would have to take.
\*\*\*
Mark and John spied the pub from a distance; or rather the remains of what had been the pub. They could even see the eels, although for the most part they were now some distance from the pub.
The nearest eel to the pub was one that was sneaking back and forth by the lakeside, and although they could still see it at a distance, it didn't seem to be as big as the biggest of the giants.
Mark had the unsavoury feeling that the eels had an intelligence, that they had a plan, after all, it was obvious they were moving towards the more inhabited part of the lakes. They sought people. The eels were hungry.
"Come on I'll race you down to the pub," Mark said.
"It's a bit too close to the lake and that eel for my comfort. Just look what they've done to the place."
"Exactly, they've got what they've wanted and moved on."
"And what's going to be there for us?"
"Shelter for awhile maybe? At any rate we don't want to get too close to that army of eels. Some might see us and double back."
"What about the straggler by the lake?" John noted.
"If we run fast enough it might not notice."
"Here's hoping."
"Got any better ideas?"
John hadn't.
They raced down to the ruins of the pub.
\*\*\*
The landlord felt himself turn rigid. For what seemed like an age, silence had reined supreme. Now there was a noise upstairs. He couldn't tell if it was the eels or a rescue party.
He listened intently. He couldn't any hear voices. It certainly didn't sound like a rescue party.
Maybe it was looters, or maybe it was one of the smaller, but no less deadly eels creeping about.
He clenched the pitchfork he had found discarded in his cellar, harder.
He eyed intently the door. If this was to be his last stand, he was going to go out with a fighting chance, if nothing else.
The muffled sounds came close, the beads of sweat mounted on his brow. Whatever or whoever was close, the only question now, was should he strike first and ask questions later, or leave himself at the mercy of a sudden attack?
He brought the pitchfork higher.
If it was a rescue team they'd have let it be known.
He settled on attack first, ask questions later. It was better to be alive and be able to apologise, than not being able to apologise at all.
\*\*\*
Yanick had caught sight of the two boys. They were quite far away from him, obviously heading for the same destination he was. He knew from their meeting, at least one of them talked more sense than his young age betrayed and sense was always a good thing, especially in situations like this.
He carried on following them from behind as they ran to the pub, knowing that although he had slowed down because of the stitch in his side, he was not too far behind.
\*\*\*
"Don't look behind the bar," Mark said to John.
"Don't tell me, please don't tell me."
"I'm not, I'm just telling you not to look."
John shivered.
"Let's try through here," Mark said.
They made their way through to the main part of the bar, which, up to that point, had been mostly hidden from view. Mark had already seen the grotesque site of a pair of disembodied legs behind the snug bar and shrugged it off, but this sight, made even him, nearly pass out.
The walls of the main bar were awash with blood, ribbons of ripped skin and fragments of fractured bones.
John's stomach did not hold up well. The only thing that grinded the seemingly never ending bile rising up from John's stomach to a halt, was the fact a certain crocodile size eel stopped feeding on the carnage and spun round, on hearing fresh meat.
The boys in tandem ran through to the back of the pub. The cellar door caught Mark's interest. He reached out to pull the door. He tugged on it three times before it swung open and a pitchfork aimed at the face greeted him.
\*\*\*
The mid size eel that had been guarding the lakeside had been joined by another three similar sized eels.
Yanick guessed they must be the young of the bigger eels. Ok they were still big and looked as deadly as hell, but there was still plenty of room for growth.
If Yanick didn't know better he'd have said they were playing the part of the rear guard, the back up to the main attacking task force which had gone on ahead.
He ducked down before a clump of shrubs.
The eels hadn't seen the boys entering the pub, he was pretty sure of that. Maybe there would be some sort of shelter in there, but that shelter would only be any good if everyone stayed unseen. For all he knew, the eels could have had some telepathy between one another and if one saw, it would pass the message onto the others.
The more he looked at it; the pub looked a pretty good hideout. Yanick was hardly a gambling man, but it seemed the best bet and the best bet is sometimes the only bet. He didn't fancy carrying on any further than the pub; to wind up in the middle of God knows what.
The emergency services must come soon and then things would have to change for Yanick. If he survived this he would be someone. People would want to speak to him. People would want to know him. The vision of his life as a minor celebrity flashed before his eyes.
Yes it would be good. People loved stuff like this. That was what had attracted him to the eels in the first place. It took him back to his younger days when he'd worked in a museum of freaks before his accident. A time when his fake accent was all part of the act, instead of him actually becoming the act.
It was there, just before the place went bust, he'd become interested in the legend of Old Slippery. Little had anyone known that time that Old Slippery was not one giant eel, but a whole army.
Yes he could see himself on talk shows, radio, TV, newspapers, maybe he'd even get to run his own museum of oddities, with a certain eel based motif. Yes it sure sounded good.
If he survived.
If the human race survived.
\*\*\*
The landlord withdrew the pitchfork and dragged both Mark and John into his pit of darkness.
"What's up there?" he asked, "is there any sign of them?"
"Them?" John asked puzzled.
"He means the eels," Mark said. "There's one inside the pub."
"Did it see you?" The landlord frantically asked in a hushed tone
"I don't know," John stuttered, "maybe."
"Maybe?"
"There's a good possibility," Mark sighed, "I know it heard us."
The landlord wasn't the best of colours to begin with, now all colour had drained out of him.
"Why did you come here?" He snarled.
"For shelter, for help," Mark pleaded. "We don't know what's going on, anymore than you do."
"Nobody survived upstairs?" the landlord said it half as a question, half as a statement.
"I can't see a damn thing in here," John moaned.
"Then you shouldn't have come down here," the landlord snapped, "you should have stayed away. Now just keep quiet."
The landlord stood and listened as the two boys fell silent. "It knows you're here. You've led it to me. Not only have you damned yourselves, but you've damned me. I would have survived if not for you." He pointed the pitchfork towards the ceiling. "Listen, can you hear that? It's searching, it's close. That door won't stop it, nothing would stop it. But I would have been alright if not for you. You did this to me."
The panic that had first started off in his eyes and voice, had now spread to every fibre in his body. He pointed the pitchfork threateningly towards the boys. "There's only one way for all of us out of this. You have to go and you have to go now."
He jabbed the pitchfork closer. "Go on, I've unlocked the door, get through it. You'll have to take your chance with what's up there. If it sees you two, it might not notice me. It'll just think it was you making the noise."
"You can't do this to us," Mark pleaded.
"Can't or won't, it doesn't matter, I will and I am." He jabbed the pitchfork too close for comfort. The boys had no choice but to conform with his orders.
With the cellar door now bolted behind them, the slithering sound of the eel trickled into earshot, even though the creature couldn't be seen.
"It's all around us," John screamed.
"It's moving underneath the debris," Mark said in panic. "We've got to get back outside."
The swift slithering underneath the pub debris, followed and intercepted them at the door. Although the eel remained unseen for the moment, Mark knew it was waiting, just hidden by the rubble it had burrowed under, for that right moment to burst into view.
"It's playing games with us," John whimpered.
"It wants to be sure," Mark shivered, "its waiting to strike at the right time."
They back tracked and the sound of slithering once again followed them.
"It's circling round us, we're too easy of a target, we have to split up."
"Split up?" John gasped, "are you mad?"
"It's our only chance."
"You mean its going to get one of us, but at least one of us is going to get away?" John said breathless, "well, which one of us is it to be?"
"What?"
"You know, which one of us gets to live and which gets to die?"
Mark didn't answer, he didn't have time.
"Oh God," John cried, "there's another three of them outside and they're coming this way."
Yanick scratched his chin thoughtfully. A few moments ago he had been quite optimistic about the odds of him surviving. Now, as he watched the three eels move from the lake towards the pub, he began to wonder if it wasn't going to be all plain sailing. The thoughts he'd had about selling giant eel t-shirts with speech bubbles coming out of their mouths that said size does matter, at his own museum of the unusual, had all but disappeared from his mind. He was still in the thick of it, right up to his neck in it.
The idea crossed his mind he should let the boys know what was heading their way, but he reasoned with himself, would his interruption save them, or just endanger all three of them?
Maybe the boys were well hidden and any intrusion would cause more harm? Maybe they had already left the pub? Maybe something had already been waiting in the pub and they were dead anyway?
Either way, now it was irrelevant. The eels had disappeared inside the pub. Whoever was in there was now trapped, or worse still, dead.
\*\*\*
Mark and John both jumped into action as the eel exploded from underneath the rubble and thrashed its body out at John's leg.
John screamed and somersaulted back into the debris on the floor. The eel turned its attention to Mark who only just managed to jump out of its way and onto the bar.
From nowhere the landlord ran in screaming using his pitchfork like a bayonet. He struck it into the body of the eel.
For all intent purposes the pitchfork had no effect on the eel, apart from drawing the eels attention away from Mark and John.
The landlord stood looking bewildered, as if in a rash moment, he'd snapped and lost leave of his senses and was now questioning what he had done and why.
The eel itself seemed also to be questioning its attacker's motive, as it slowly weighed him and the situation up.
The three other eels from outside entered the main bar and crept around the first eel. They were all of a similar size and now formed a circle around their intended victim. The landlord.
They struck as all parties in the room knew they would, but were helpless to do anything about it. The four eels sprang on their prey, ripping him in half as four body's tussled and tore at him.
The boys ran through different doors.
One of the eels turned around, obviously wondering which he should give chase to, but then, thankfully, it went back to the feeding frenzy with the others of his kind.
It seemed this meat was fresh and it was willing to fight its corner to get its fair share.
Bursting out back into the night, the rain, once again, searing down on them, Mark and John now bolted in the same direction. Only when Yanick popped up from a bush and said, "hello boys," did they stop to catch breath.
"You know more about these eels than you're letting on," John accused Yanick as the party of three moved cautiously on.
"I know everything I have imparted to you, thank you."
"And the rest," John accused.
"What more can I say? If you not believe me, you not believe me, no."
"We're not saying we don't believe you," Mark tried a different tactic, "it's just if you do know something, you're not letting us in on, some secret, it could be the difference between life and death."
"Yeah, our life and death," John barked.
"I have many questions myself," Yanick assured them.
"Why are they here, how are they here, where do they come from?" Mark asked as if he were thinking aloud.
"And why have you led us back into the woods Yanick?" John quizzed. "We're muddied up to the eyeballs, getting even more soaked. Hardly shelter is it? I mean, surely you must know somewhere we can hide out, somewhere dry?"
"It is shortcut, nobody knows The Lakes better than I do and does not the trees offer you some shelter from the rain, yes?"
"Yes," Mark agreed, "but what worries me, what if one of those things is unseen, wrapped round a tree, just waiting for us to pass near?"
"We have to take our chances, all three of us know that, no," Yanick replied, but six eyes, like three heads are better than two."
"We get your drift," John butted into Yanick's sentence. "Anyway, where you from Yanick?"
"You know my home I show you."
"No, I mean where you from originally?"
Yanick came to a grinding halt. There was a look of great sadness.
"I don't know."
The two boys looked at Yanick, then at each other.
The party started up their trek again, although for a time there was silence.
"Where are you runaways from?" Yanick asked politely.
"We're not runaways," John snapped.
"No, we just shouldn't be here," Mark replied honestly.
"At this time, I don't think any of us should be here, no," Yanick sighed. "You have homes, yes, parents yes?"
"Yes," Mark replied, his throat suddenly dry.
"They will be glad to see you, no, even gladder to not know you are here."
Not knowing they were here. That statement stuck in Mark's mind. There'd be hell to pay when they got home, if their parents found out. And how the hell was he going to stop them finding out, when they were smack bang in the middle of a giant eel invasion force?
"It'll all be Ok," John said, seeming to read Mark's thoughts.
Yeah sure it will, Mark thought with more than a hint of sarcasm. Life churned out happy endings by the dozen. They were hardly stuck in a Disney movie as it was, but Mark had the feeling things were going to get even worse. They had escaped so far by the skin of their teeth. Their luck had to run out sooner or later, good luck, even bad, always did and seeing as good fortune was normally low on supplies, it was looking increasingly so, that they'd be nearing the end of their good credit.
"Do you really think the eels are all over?" John asked, "I mean is it just The Lakes, or is it the whole of England, or even the world?"
Nobody answered. Mark hadn't thought about it that way and neither by the look on Yanick's face, had he. But he was obviously thinking about it now. They all were, in their little pockets of silent reflection.
"One of the eels, yes," Yanick cut through the silence, "brought down a police helicopter, I saw this with me own eyes, yes."
"So where did you get that crazy accent Yanick?" John asked.
Mark seemed surprised at John's rudeness.
Yanick himself seemed somewhat taken aback.
"That also I, do not know," a smile crept onto Yanick's lips.
John burst out into fits of laughter; even Mark could not hold back a beaming grin. The three were stood in the blackest of woods, the rain now easing, but still in attendance, not knowing if they were going to live or die, but laughing, laughing as much at John's comment over Yanick's accent as they were the absurdity of the situation.
Death by giant eel, I mean, come on.
The laughter stopped as equally abruptly as it began, when Mark's earlier comment about eels lying in wait came back to haunt them all.
Like giant jack in a boxes they shot out of the ground. Two giant eels sprung from being hidden under the mud, where they had been totally camouflaged. As tall as giant oaks they reared up to the full dreadful height and as they did so Mark noticed the figure of his friend John, trapped in one of the beasts jaws. It carried him up high and for a moment, for Mark at least, all of time slowed down, as he outstretched his hands in a vain attempt to catch his friend.
But his friend was gone forever. Now all he had was Yanick pushing him in the back and screaming to, "run."
Mark ran, although he knew it was useless. Even if the first eel was busy devouring John, the second eel could strike in an instant, all escape was lost. He felt like he wanted to just lie down in the mud and wait for that second eel to winch him up high in the heavens, up there with his friend and out of all the fear, the running, the pain, this mess once and for all.
He didn't lie down though; he carried on running, while he braced himself and felt the strong whooshing of a wind, which he knew was the eel swooping down on him.
Mark could now add that he had been under bazooka fire, along with other such oddities as nearly being killed numerous times by giant eels.
The burning sensation hit him before he'd even hit the ground. When he did hit the ground, the wet mud felt good for the first time, cooling his scorched skin.
He rolled over, his senses dazed.
Yanick pulled him up to his feet and managed to drag him a few feet more, before the second blast hit, sending them both sprawling to the ground again.
"I think the Gods are on our side no?" Yanick slapped Mark on the back, causing him to cough a clump of mud, out from his mouth.
Mark wiped the mud from his eyes, felt his knees buckling and when his ears stopped ringing from the sounds of the blasts, the screaming sound of "go, go, go," reverberated round his ears.
Mark felt himself being dragged forward not by one arm, but two.
As his eyesight came back he saw the soldiers helping him and Yanick, while another squad of ten soldiers opened machine gun fire on the two eels. The machine gun bullets didn't seem to do anything much to the creatures though, apart from annoy them like a fly would annoy a human.
The bazooka fire seemed to do slightly more damage and all that had seemed to have done, was slightly disorientate the creatures and leave a bit of a burn mark, where the weapons had hit dead on.
"Retreat," the sergeant cried out to his troops who were only too glad to join Yanick, Mark and the other soldiers.
Another few rounds of concentrated bazooka fire halted the eels, but it was only temporary. It was for the moment enough though.
Yanick and Mark were hauled into the middle of the five army trucks. All the trucks moved in fast order on the winding road. All except the final truck.
With tremendous speed and force the eel struck, whipping the truck up into the air. Rounds of firepower followed from the soldiers that were still fit for the fight, but the fight was completely one sided.
In a matter of seconds both eels were amongst the soldiers on the ground. The fourth truck stopped and the bazooka fire started again, but it was all too no avail. The soldiers from the fifth truck were lost. The fourth truck had no choice but to follow orders and retreat leaving their fallen comrades.
Mark looked up in the air. The rain had finally stopped. He wondered if his ordeal was over, but he knew even if it was and they escaped The Lakes, his ordeal would never be over. He had lost his best friend. He had seen him plucked from his side, snatched away into the jaws of death. There was no escaping that and never would be.
\*\*\*
Mark sat shivering underneath the blanket the soldiers had provided him with. He'd heard them mumble something along the lines that he was probably in shock. He looked up at their grim faces, their eyes avoiding his.
They didn't look too good themselves.
"This is good, no?" Yanick said to him. "The army takes us to some place safe, yes."
"Yeah, sure," Mark pushed away Yanick's attempts to make him feel better.
He was going to have to face questions over what had happened, there was no running away from it. He was going to have to face John's father, his brother, his mother. Sweet Jesus, how was he going to be able to sit and look John's mother in the eye and tell her all, about how they'd sneaked away and it had all ended up, with John dead and him alive?
How was he going to be able to tell her of Johns last moments, those painful last seconds, when her son had been used as mere food fodder while still alive?
"Where are they taking us?" Mark asked Yanick grimly.
"I told you, some place safe, yes."
"He's right," a soldier butted in. "We're taking you to our base."
"Army base,no?" Yanick asked puzzled, "I know no army base round here, I know like the back of my hand, see."
"It's an emergency base. We used our emergency powers to take over the Beatrix Potter museum," the solider grunted, "do you have a problem with that?"
"No," Yanick replied, "I know not how Peter Rabbit will take it, yes."
The solider huffed and turned away.
"That's a funny joke no?" Yanick asked Mark.
"Very funny," Mark replied sarcastically. "That soldier had to turn away because he was laughing so much".
"Maybe one day soon, yes, very soon," Yanick said excited, "there will be a Yanick museum of the giant eels, no?"
"No."
"You don't think?" Yanick asked dejected.
"Maybe it'll be the eels that set up a museum of humans, after they've wiped us all out," a tear fell from Mark's eye.
"You're not the only one to lose a friend today," a soldier put his arm on Mark. "I lost a friend. He was in that last jeep. There was nothing I could do and there was nothing you could do for your friend. But by the grace of God we're sat here now and with the grace of God we'll get out of here, if everything goes to plan."
"What you mean?" Yanick asked worried, "we get out of here, you are the army no?"
"Yes sir, we're the army. But you saw yourself what those eels did, you saw the effect our weapons had on them, nothing."
"You have bigger stronger weapons, yes?"
"Oh yes, we've got much bigger and much stronger. But it's all a question of logistics. We have to get the apparatus here and that takes time. The question is how much time do we have?"
"The rain has stopped, yes?" Yanick asked, "this is a good omen, no?"
"No, I don't think it's a good omen," a soldier said as the truck ground to a halt.
Up ahead on the road was the biggest giant eel Yanick and Mark had seen so far.
"Oh brother it's a big one," the soldier said.
"The biggest, yes," Yanick said, "even Old Slippery himself,yes?"
"Who?" The solider asked.
"It not matter," Yanick answered, as bazooka fire blazed into the eel.
"They're getting bigger," Mark said horrified.
"You think," the soldier laughed. "You should have seen some of the sights we've seen in the last hour, while we've been trying to evacuate people. I've seen them twice the size of that one."
"And have the army managed to kill many of them?" Mark asked.
The soldier didn't answer.
"Any of them?"
Still the soldier did not answer.
The sound of bazooka fire became unbearable. Yanick and Mark covered their ears.
The trucks started reversing back down the narrow road. Mark watched as a solider frantically shouted down a walkie talkie. The bazooka fire was joined by some machine gun fire on the advancing eel.
One, by one the trucks turned, allowing the eel to gain valuable ground on them. The first truck, which was now the last truck, was snatched up into the jaws of the eel. The rest of the trucks didn't even attempt to fight, or save their friends. They were used to wars, but this was just a massacre.
The trucks carried on even when the sound of jet engines filled the air. The explosions that followed were like nothing on earth. Thick black smoke filled the air.
"Did they get it?" Mark asked out loud to any solider who would reply.
"What do you think?" a sarcastic voice replied, "can you see that sucker coming up the hill after us?"
Mark couldn't see anything. The smoke was too thick and the trucks weren't slowing down for anything.
"We still going to our destination, yes?" Yanick asked out loud.
"We'll get there," a soldier snapped.
Mark wasn't so sure and the way Yanick was twitching on his seat, he guessed he was having similar thoughts.
The sky blazed with fury as somewhere in the distance rockets blasted.
"They've got the real heavy power here now," a soldier said to Mark as if to allay his fears a little. "I'm Tim by the way," he outstretched his hand to first Mark, than Yanick. Mark recognised him as the soldier who had told him he'd lost friends in the truck incident.
More rockets went up in different areas; they peppered the skies while jet fighters crisscrossed it.
"The wars really on now," Tim smiled, "it doesn't matter how big those things are, we can outgun and outrun them."
"It look that way to me, no," Yanick said breathless.
"That was just the light stuff we were using, the weapons we could dispatch at a moments notice, as soon as this emergency flared up. You wait a couple more moments and you get your jet fighters, followed by the heavy rockets that have just kicked in. The tanks will be next. Those eels don't stand a chance," he placed a firm reassuring hand on both Mark on Yanick's shoulder and laughed.
Mark didn't find much comfort in this. Not long ago this guy was mourning over a lost comrade, now he was laughing, seeming to enjoy the situation.
His laughter stopped as he quickly took up arms.
On the road ahead were three giant eels, not a patch on the size of the eel that had been jet bombed, but of a significant size enough to take seriously.
Bazooka fire blasted and machine gun bullets raged. The soldiers pushed Mark and Yanick down to the floor of the truck as they drove into battle. This was one they were not backing out from, there was no going back.
The smell of hot metal filled the air. Mark looked up, but all he saw were blinding flashes.
It looked like they were driving into hell itself.
The three trucks came out of hell, through skilful driving, but low on ammo. Mark heard the hushed words being bandied about that they could not afford another battle. At best the weapons were just providing a distraction for them to get away, rather than doing the eels any actual physical damage.
"I think it going to rain again, yes," Yanick said, just as the clouds burst open once more.
It was almost a sign. It should have been easy when the army turned up, it should have been all over with their rescues, but it was not. The way things were looking now, the rescuers themselves needed rescuing.
"We're nearly at base now," Tim smiled.
"Yes, I know, I recognise, thank you very much," Yanick smiled back.
"Do you know what these things are?" Mark asked Tim.
"Eels," Tim replied, "big giant eels."
"Yes, I know, but where did they come from?"
"Search me son and if I did know I probably wouldn't be allowed to tell you. The official secrets act and all that."
"This is going to be one hell of a secret," Mark said.
"I know what you mean," Tim laughed. "I don't think they could put a lid on this one. It would be a bit like shutting the gate after the horse has bolted. The sky news crew were here even before we got here. I heard a couple of their reporters got eaten, most got away though."
"And where they are now, no?" Yanick asked, "if not in belly of giant eel?" Yanick laughed, but nobody else seemed to enjoy is joke.
"They're at the perimeter. The Lakes has come under the control of the army, that much I can tell you. More bodies are being drafted in to control the situation. Until it comes under control, the army will do what it has to do, no questions asked."
\*\*\*
To say it was surreal, to be sat inside the Beatrix Potter museum, surrounded by army personnel, was an understatement at the very least. Amongst the life sized figures of Peter Rabbit and co, shuffled refugees, robbed of their homes, their belongings, members of their own families, because of the coming of the eels. Some sat weeping; some sat as quiet as the grave, almost as though they had given up hope, or no longer had anything to live for.
Scattered around were a few camp beds where people slept, mostly children, not so soundly asleep.
Outside barbwire had been strategically placed around the area, with armed guard posts and most reassuring of all, two tanks and missile posts. Every now and again a missile shot up without warning, heading for a target somewhere in the distance.
In between all this Mark sauntered about, hearing mixtures of heartbreaking stories and peoples views on what the whole of this mess was about.
"It's acid rain, pollution," one old man ranted, "the rain is radioactive and it's caused the eels to grow."
"It's an act of God," a portly woman proclaimed.
"Terrorists," a teenager reasoned against his younger sibling, who was backing alien invaders from mars.
Mark didn't know if any of those things were true, but he wouldn't have bet against them either. All bets were well and truly off.
"Those clothes ok for you?" Tim asked Mark.
"I guess so," Mark meekly replied.
"My clothes are very nice, yes," Yanick added.
Tim leant forward and whispered into Mark's ear. "I bet those are the best things he's worn in a good while."
Mark couldn't help but laugh.
"We should be able to move you guys out of here soon."
"Out?" Yanick asked slightly worried.
"Yeah, out of The Lakes. That's what the army is trying to do at the moment. Get as many people out as possible. We've got nine bases over The Lakes. We send out patrols to get people to those bases which we can then defend with the men and ammunition we've got. We're just in the process of getting more tanks in the area."
"More tanks, yes?" Yanick asked a little over excited.
"Sure, more tanks, then we'll round the people we have in those bases up and get them in trucks in the middle of tank convoys, to get them out of here. Once we've done that, its tanks versus eels big style." Tim laughed.
"It sounds simple," Mark proclaimed.
"The best plans normally are," Tim assured.
"Do you think the army will use nuclear weapons?" Mark asked.
"Now why would you say a thing like that?" Tim asked suddenly grim faced.
"It was just a thought."
"You sure have some strange thoughts kid," Tim's serious expression collapsed and his beaming smile returned. "As if the British army would nuke the Lake District."
"But if they can't stop the eels any other way, wouldn't that be a possibility, you know, tactical nuclear weapons?"
Tim visibly bit his lip. "I think you've been watching one too many army versus monster movies son."
"But isn't that what we're smack bang in the middle of, one giant big monster movie?" Mark could tell Tim was growing more uneasy at his line of questioning. Each time Mark argued the case, he could see Tim's face turn that bit grimmer, taking longer for his beaming smile to return and when it did it was weaker every time.
"I know about eels, yes," Yanick suddenly proclaimed.
"You do, do you fella?" Tim laughed, "good for you," he slapped Yanick down on the shoulder.
"Yes, I tell you about where they came from, yes, a place called Blood Lake, yes."
"Blood Lake," Tim nodded playing along, "you don't say."
"No, I mean yes."
"And where is this Blood Lake?"
"It all around here."
"What, in the atmosphere?"
"No, you have me wrong ,yes," Yanick pointed to the ground. "Blood Lake is hidden, it underground, but certain places it leaks into main lakes. That is the legend, no."
"Get a load of this Sarge," Tim nudged the sergeant behind him, "have you ever heard of Blood Lake?"
The sergeant's face was not amused. He listened intently. Maybe Tim hadn't heard of Blood Lake before, but Mark had more than a sneaky suspicion that the sergeant had.
"Blood Lake?" the sergeant said with a quizzical look.
"Yes sir, Mr Yanick here was about to tell us about it. Apparently it supposedly runs hidden underneath these parts."
"That's enough soldier," the sergeant barked. "Mr Yanick, would you say you knew this area very well?"
"I would, no."
"No?"
"I mean yes."
"As I thought. If you could come with me Mr Yanick."
The sergeant hustled Yanick away. There was no time for goodbyes, as Yanick was escorted out of the room with such urgency, Mark knew he wouldn't see him again.
Mark watched through the window as an army helicopter landed. Yanick was one of the few chosen passengers that were escorted aboard it.
"You'd best come away from the window," Tim appeared behind Mark.
"Your friends must have been pretty interested in what Yanick had to say," Mark said. "They wanted him out of here quick enough."
"You'll be out of here soon yourself."
"With the rest of the cattle. That is how the army sees the survivors isn't it?"
"Please do as I say and come away from the windows."
"Is that an order?"
"I have orders to see no one is near the windows. I intend to carry those orders out."
Mark didn't argue. He didn't need to.
About an hour later more tanks rolled into town. The rain was in-between one of its many stop and starts. The refugees from the museum filed out in single line and boarded the trucks that nestled in-between two tanks at the back, two tanks at the front and one tank nestled in the middle of the trucks.
Mark put his hand in his pocket and looked at the envelope Tim had given him just before he'd left. It was addressed to Tim's wife. Tim was obviously a solider who would follow his orders by the letter, even when that letter was one that spelled out the word death. Yep, Tim was going to die alright. Mark may have been a boy, but he knew death well now, he could recognise the look in Tim's eyes. Mark also knew the army were fighting a losing battle. If they hadn't been why would they have need of Yanick? If anything, that smacked of clutching at straws.
Mark watched as Tim stood behind the rows of barbwire as the procession of tanks and trucks took off. Mark had overheard talk with the other soldiers that a mass of eels were coming in two separate directions, converging on the museum. The soldiers had been ordered to hold their position. Maybe at that moment in time the army had nine bases in The Lakes, but trapped in the middle of maybe hundreds of eels, Mark knew it wouldn't be long before there were only eight bases.
He didn't worry about the soldiers problems for long though. He had more pressing matters. The tanks and trucks grumbled on into the breaking daylight and for the first time ever Mark prayed.
It was the fire from the tanks that stirred Mark from his sleep. Up ahead on the road were twin giant eels. The tanks continued to fire but it seemed to have no effect. At most the eels shuddered and waved for nothing more than a couple of seconds, before carrying on down the road towards the convoy.
The signal to retreat was given. The leading tank however stood its ground while the backtracking took place. With each explosion the eels, now closer to, would stop until the smoke cleared, before edging that bit closer to the tank.
The tank finally began to roll backward but not quick enough.
In unison the eels struck, the first one wrapping itself around the tanks turret crushing it, the second one, the slightly bigger one of the eels, curled around the main body of the tank.
The hulking tank was flipped over on its back by the bigger hulks. It lay as helpless as a tortoise on its back, the eels constricting and crushing its thick metal as if it were mere tinfoil. The remaining tank in front held no hope for their brothers in arms and proceeded to fire as they backtracked. The eels paid them no heed and continued with their crushing of the tank in their grasp.
The thoughts of Mark's prayers drifted back into his head. He realised that rather than them being answered, his nightmares had been instead. To the left hand side of the convoy, five giant eels appeared. The tank in the middle swivelled round, to attack the fresh approaching eels, attacking on the flank. Before the tank fired the first shell Mark saw this second lot of eels were visibly different to the ones ahead, crushing the tank. In daylight it could be seen the left eels were dark red in colour, while the tank crushing eels were a deep velvet black. Not that the colour scheme of the eels mattered a jot to Mark, all of the eels were soon cloaked to invisibility, in the clouds of thick smoke, which was pouring out from the explosions.
As both the tanks, trucks and smoke rolled back, the red eels could been seen joining in attacking the fallen tank.
Or were they?
To Mark's amazement the red eels were not attacking the tank, but ripping into the black eels. The black eels fought valiantly back, but they were no match for the red eels, who were greater in number. The remaining tanks saved their ammo and were content to back track with the trucks, as the red eels finished they're kill, vicious daggered teeth, ripping into the metal hard flesh, tearing strip, upon green bloodied strip.
The red eels began to slither away from the bodies of the black eels leaving a fellow red eel behind, which writhed about so injured, it looked like death would not be far away.
The tanks were about to commence firing as the red eels turned their attention to them, but from the right the black eels had re-enforcements that, while too late for the dead black eels, were just in time to provide another handy distraction, to allow the trucks and tanks room for their reverse manoeuvres.
The black eels struck with even more ferociousness than the red eels had displayed. The red eels fight was brave and tireless, but the odds played another part in the proceedings and this time it was the red eels whom were outnumbered by the black eels.
The trucks and tanks did their best to put as much distance between the battlefield of squirming bloodied eels, only to bring their retreat to a stop.
More eels were cutting off the road behind, red eels. Mark braced for the firing of the big guns, but it didn't happen, as if even the tanks themselves had frozen in fear at the sight amassed in front of them.
This army was not outgunning anyone, especially the forty giant eels which were making their way up the road and the surrounding countryside.
Finally the big guns kicked into life, as futile as everyone knew it would be. This time distractions meant nothing. The sea of red eels simply swept aside and swept over the trucks and tanks as if they were not there. The screams of crushed metal and equally crushed humans attacked Mark's ears. He found himself falling upside down as the truck was ripped through, but thankfully, although disorientated he didn't seem hurt, even though people at the back of the truck had not been so lucky.
Another eel rammed into the remains of the truck Mark and five others were sprawled in. The eel clipped the half smashed truck and spun it around like a spinning top, as it past.
Mark clenched on to a loose strap and gritted his teeth as he endured the worse fair or theme park ride ever.
A girl of about sixteen was not so lucky and couldn't find any grip.
Mark watched her helpless as she was flung out of the truck, only to fall screaming under an advancing eel. Thankfully for him most of this horrific scene was lost in the blur of non stop spinning.
The spinning finally stopped and Mark found himself dazed, clambering out of the wreckage. So disorientated was he, that he could hear what sounded like a thousand birds flapping above him and over them the sound of Yanick's voice screaming down.
The rope ladder that dropped down in front of him and knocked him back off balance, but he reached his hand out and clasped the bottom rung as instinctively and hard as he had done when he had hung on for dear life, moments earlier in the truck.
Here he was hanging on for dear life again, watching the ground spiral away from him. The giddiness hit him again, as did Yanick's voice. This time he could hear what Yanick was shouting, "hang on, yes."
Mark tried to tighten his grip, but felt it loosening. In his mind he replayed the image of his friend John, being plucked away from him and into the sky. Mark's grip had slackened almost to the point of no return, when the hand from above grabbed him.
"John," he asked half delirious. It was not his friend, but a soldier with a firm grip, helping him up the ladder and into the helicopter.
"I say if they not come back for you I not going tell them all I know, yes," Yanick beamed as proud as punch, as Mark was helped into the helicopter. "It took while before got see really important people. They took lot of persuading, yes, but when they saw I not budging, here we are. I ask for two hundred thousand US dollars, thank you very much, now I think about it, I not understand why, I never been to States, but sounded good at time, no."
Mark laughed half with the pleasure of his rescue and half with the amusement of Yanick's thinking.
Down below masses of red and black eels converged to do battle against one another while the dots that were the army below, either managed to manoeuvre out of the way, or got crushed in the process.
The rockets and mortars had all but stopped now. There were only two sides in this fight. The rest were just side players, cannon fodder or food for the warring masses. The eels, of course, would always be quick to devour any handy human. An army only marched on its stomach and an army of giants would take much feeding.
The casualties were massive. Mark didn't know if Tim had survived the onslaught, but he had handed on the soldiers letter to the troops in charge, as soon as the helicopter had landed in the safe zone, the safe zone being forty miles away from the outskirts of The Lakes.
As he sat, nursing his cuts and bruises, he watched what was left of the battle; play out on the TV footage on the news channel. Thousands of people, soldiers and civilians had been lost. The bodies of thousands of dead and dying eels, red and black scarred the normally serene views of the Lake District. He didn't think any of them had been defeated by the army, as much as they said otherwise. Mark knew, as did other people who had been on the ground and seen what had happened and survived, that the two factions of eels had simply cancelled one another out. The slithering wounded on both sides had made their way back to the lakes themselves. There was now actual news footage coming in of the red eels dragging themselves into Lake Windermere while the black eels favoured Lake Unsworth.
The Lake District had been a battlefield and now that the battle had been played out, to what seemed like the conclusion of a draw. All that was left, was to try to put the pieces together of what had happened.
Would the eels be back?
World leaders were already discussing putting defensive measures in place and to aid Great Britain in clearing up and guarding the borders that these creatures had sprung from.
For the time being the Lake District was no man's land, maybe now it would always be that way. Mankind had never found itself so helpless. People had been scared stupid by the threat of wars, terrorists and nuclear bombs tripping off, but here a different kind of bomb had exploded. And even though the jack had clambered back into the box, there was no telling if and when it would pop up again. And that had to be the most frightening thought of all.
\*\*\*
Mark's parents came for him while he was sleeping. He asked if they'd been in touch with John's parents. They said they had. He asked no more. He apologised for everything he'd done and for what they must think of him now. They told him they thought no less of him and left things at that. Of course they were all in tears, but they were more tears of relief than anything else.
As Mark was escorted away with his parents, the image of the last eel slinking back into Lake Windermere under machine gun fire, played out on the screen.
A soldier sick of the army propaganda telling people that all was well and the army had scored a resounding victory, entered and switched the television off.
Two days had passed since the eel attack. The top army brass from the UK, France, the USA and Russia sat in solemn mode round the finest of marble tables.
"As always you know Great Britain has our full support," the US assured.
"You also have the full support of Moscow," Russia added.
"Yes of course," the British Prime Minister sniffed. "It's good to know that in times of such crisis your great nations are behind us. It's just a pity," his brow furrowed, "it's just a pity that you see fit to point all your nuclear warheads in our direction, just in case things don't go to plan."
"What else can you expect," the small, uppity French representative spluttered. "Would you not do the same to us?"
"Are you forgetting if you let those missiles fly its right on your own doorstep?" The Prime Minister pointed out.
"That is why France is acting in such a way, because it is on our doorstep. The next step and the eels could be running rampant in our own homes."
The Prime Minister shook his head. "France never changes, does it?"
"And what is that supposed to mean?" The Frenchman asked highly offended.
"Spare me your hurt feeling monsieur; you are not the one whose country has enough nukes being pointed at it, to totally wipe it off the face of the earth."
"And should we wait and let them wipe us all off the face of the earth if you can't contain them?" The US added.
"We don't know if we do need to contain them. We don't even know where they are, the live ones that is. We sent diving parties out into all the lakes, but they've turned nothing up so far."
"Then let us conclude these talks, by hoping and wishing your mission to find out where the eels went, and how you can stop them from returning, is a success," Russia offered.
"I'm sure you'll be watching our every move so closely, it'll be almost as if you're down there with us," the Prime Minister wryly said.
The Russian fidgeted with his collar uneasy.
"Do you have any leads on where the eels went?" the US asked, "I mean, they didn't just vanish into thin air after they'd entered back into the lakes."
"No indeed they didn't. And as I'm sure your intelligence operatives are keeping you abreast of matters, I can see no harm in informing you gentlemen, that the search for Blood Lake is well on its way."
THE END

