The Levitating Village
Chapter Ten - The Ruponauts
I strolled across the golf course of the Country Club, much as I had done when I was escaping to the Library the first day. Wait. Had I been here a week, or did it only feel like it?
I aimed for the Staff Entrance. Inside, the Country Club was like a haunted house. Making my way through the staff only areas, once the home of the kitchens and Butler’s rooms, I grabbed a discarded porter’s uniform and made my way through the hotel. I searched the hotel extensively, but bumped into no one. I did, however, find a secret passage in the rear of Marshall’s office. This must have been what the archaeologists had discovered, what Lana had been looking for and probably what gave Sir William the initial idea for all the evil he had perpetrated since. And for what? I imagined I was going to find out soon enough.
The door had been bricked over, now exposed, and it was thick and solid, metal to the touch and screamed secret in big capital neon letters eight feet high. Of course I couldn’t get in. It was very locked, but I did have a plan. I remembered the talk with Reverend Dylan Murray, about the odd man over by the east boundary, the one who sleeps in a tent. I had a theory. I decided to put it to the test.
When I approached the small camp, I noted the solitary figure making himself busy with nothing in particular. He wore a thick woollen sweater, his hair and beard matted, with bits of twig and foliage. He wore three quarter length slacks and carried a trowel in one hand and a water flask in the other. His camp was littered with finds, from Roman pots to skeletal remains, obviously centuries old. There was rope and other climbing equipment, along with digging utensils and a worn metal detector. He didn’t notice my approach, but I kept a distance just in case and called out to him.
“Hello? I was wondering if you could help me? Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you, and I mean you no harm. I need help getting to the underneath of the Village?”
“But you’re dressed as a hotel porter?” the man countered.
I looked down at my clothes as if for the first time, “Sorry, I was using it as a disguise.”
“What for? There’s no wild porters running about out here.” he said.
I thought it was time to turn the tables on this interrogation, “Who are you, by the way?”
“Dick Felsch.” said Dick Felsch, “Head archaeologist with the University of -”
“Archaeologist? So you know what’s down there?” I asked excitedly.
“Kind of. Looks like some concrete structure. Found it on a routine expedition a few weeks ago.”
“Can you help me get down there?” I asked.
Dick shrugged, “I can belay you down there by climbing rope, if you like?”
“That would be perfect! I’m Doug Layton by the way.”
“I’ve heard of you. The Police are after you aren’t they? This young looking geezer, this Policeman, called Gary I believe, came and saw me and asked me if I had seen you. I said no. If he asked me again, I would say yes. Wow, look at that column of thick smoke.”
I did. I looked. I saw a cloud of smoke in the centre of the Village. Things were getting dangerous now. Not just for me and those I knew, but for innocent people of the Village. It was heading for insanity, “Quick! Do you have any transport? A Golf cart perhaps? Even a bicycle?” I asked feverishly.
“No, but I know a short cut there. Follow me.”
We ran through gaps in fences and deconstructed walls and through abandoned back gardens. The closer we got, the more cloying the air became. It held the distinct smell of burning wood, paper and plastic mingled with the crackling of the flames as they danced skyward. The smoke at its lowest and thickest billowed like a mushroom cloud from the shell and prison it was confined within. The Library was ablaze. The flames licked out. I looked around and saw Reverend Dylan Murray frantically waving me to join him at the gated entrance to the churchyard. I did so. Dick followed.
“Douglas!” said Dylan Murray. He was highly animated, “You have to get in there! They’re all still inside!”
“What? The old men and Meredith Loreley?”
“Yes! Do what you can, and bring them into the church! I’ll get blankets and water!”
“You take the south side. I’ll take the east.” said Dick.
He was very much like me. When the chips were down, the sane instinct took over. I agreed because there was no reason not to. Within minutes we were joined by Councillor Irvine Seabrook and the inimitable Bob Quinn. We systematically sifted through the flames, moving pieces out of the way until the fire slowed a little, mainly because of the highly flammable building and its contents going up so quickly and beginning to settle down to a mere scolding heat. Amongst us, we pulled out eight unconscious bodies. But there was no sign of Meredith. I tried to return, but the others stopped me. It was suicide. And yet I was willing to try. But I quickly realised they were right. There was no use of me going in and another poor soul dying in that fire. Amongst the four of us, we managed to get the eight inventors into the church, each on a pew and covered with a blanket. Doctor Kyle Murdoch arrived minutes later, shaking more than usual, Nurse Fischer almost dragging him in by the arm as the Doctor whimpered with his hand over his eyes. Distracted by people needing his help, he seemed to settle down a little, but Nurse Fischer maintained a watchful eye on him. We had to let the fire burn itself out. This was it. Something had to give and I climbed the steps of the pulpit.
“Listen up!” I called out, initially surprised by the amount of volume created by the high ceiling acoustics, “This has gone on far enough! Too many innocent people are getting involved with some kind of sick actions by some very sick people! I myself became embroiled in this mess the moment I stepped foot in this Village! I have been trapped, chased, cut, injured, nearly killed, ran for my life from something I had no idea of until the day after, and even then I got the information second hand! There’s something deeply corrupt in this Village and it’s infecting everyone who comes here! Like the plague that entered this Village and exterminated its population, another plague has entered and put people at harm, in some cases killed them! It has to stop! Who’s with me?”
Irvine spoke up, “But how? How do we stop it? We haven’t managed so far.”
“I don’t know,” I conceded, “But we can work it out? We are intelligent people!”
Irvine continued, “I think I speak for everyone here when I say we are with you, but I agree. What can we do what we haven’t managed so far?”
I thought over it, then came an epiphany, “Well, for one thing you can become united. Affirmative action! As a group!”
There came a low mutter of words amongst them in discussion. The door to the church opened. Gary Seabrook, the Village Policeman, walked boldly in and made a bee line for me. I thought of running, but then I caught sight of inevitability. Four other officers walked through the door behind Gary.
Gary straightened his already pin sharp uniform, “Douglas Uriah Layton? I am arresting you on suspicion of murder, evading Police arrest and possibly arson with intent to harm or kill. Please come down and follow.”
#
We were at a house, not unlike the one myself and Lana had slept in, but this one looked older than the furniture inside it. It must have been at least three hundred years old, but it was built to last. It was the Seabrook’s house. I knew this because of the wrought iron sign that stated it so. I was flanked by the two Policemen, with Gary in front, opening the front door and walking in. Irvine Seabrook was breathing heavily behind us as he eventually caught us up.
“What are you doing, Gary?” said Irvine through gasped breath.
“Dad, don’t get involved. This man is dangerous and needs to be brought into custody.”
Irvine pleaded with his son, “You know this is ridiculous, Gary? He’s obviously not guilty. And you know who is!”
Gary put a restraining hand on his Father’s chest, “Not another word Dad, or I’ll arrest you too. Mr Layton, if you please?”
I looked into Irvine’s eyes, “Forget about me, I’m of no consequence. Get evidence, help these people. They are relying on people like you, Irvine.”
Gary opened the door to the cellar of the house and led me down the stairs into a little area opened up among boxes and knickknacks, where there was placed a stained thin mattress and a solid but rusted metal bucket.
“Sorry about this, Mr Layton,” said Gary, “But we don’t have much call for a custody suite. There’s only me, you see. I’m the only Copper in the Village. We’ll try and make you as comfortable as possible. There’s a mattress over there with a duvet.”
“Does he want a cup of tea?” asked Talullah from the top of the stairs.
Gary looked back in anger, “Mum! Not now! This is official Police business!”
“Well, he better use the bucket.” she said, “I’m not cleaning up the mess.”
“Mum!” said Gary, like a practiced teenager.
“I’d love a cuppa, Mrs Seabrook.” I said. Well, I did.
“Ok.” said Talullah in a faux telephone voice, “Please use the bucket provided, and your tea is on the way.”
It wasn’t what I was expecting. I had been expecting an old fashioned Police station with a lockup custody suite. What I got was locked in a cellar of a residential home. This was it. All I had to do was wait for the authorities. All that running, hiding and disguises had been for nothing. Well, not nothing, I suppose. There were people I would never have met in my life if I had remained that sedentary office clerk - the adventures I’ve had, and the wounds I’ve gained. I suppose in its weird little way, I wouldn’t have changed it for the world. Well, maybe the falling from the church roof and nearly dying from an impaled skeletal fragment in a very old grave. That bit I could have missed.
The night stretched on and I tried to sleep. Too many things ran around my mind, too many loose threads. The cellar door clicked open. I moved cautiously over to it. It had swung slightly open due to the warping of the wooden door in its frame. I called out. Nothing. I crept out a little and called again. Still nothing. I jogged up the stairs to the house above. The place was deserted. I saw a red rubber band on the floor. I wouldn’t have noticed it, but the room it was in was immaculate. One might almost say clinical. The owner of this house wouldn’t leave a rubber band lying idly on the floor, just sitting there, mocking the room. I walked through the house, from room to room looking for someone. Not a soul. I moved to the front door and opened it.
There was a light shower beginning. I grabbed a spare umbrella from the stand by the door. The streets were deserted. Nothing unusual in that as the streets had always been deserted. I wasn’t entirely sure in what part of the Village I was, so walked down the middle of the desolate road. Abandoned and rusted cars gave promenade for my ambling. It was like walking through a world where everything had stopped and the people had vanished, not even enough time to take their valuables. Not time to take their slightly less valuables either. I found it odd that the only thing missing was wandering bands of rabid animals as I walked for about five minutes. Then I reached a river.
This surprised me. The most surprising thing was it was a flowing river. How? I’m no expert in physics or anything, but wouldn’t it need a source? And somewhere to go? Then it struck me. I had, upon arriving to the base of the Village noticed out the corner of my eye something akin to a tatty pointless waterfall. So, that answered where the water went. How did it get there in the first place? I stood close to a mooring post with a submerged and rotten wooden boat aimlessly tied to it with a mossy green covered thin rope. By the mooring was a weather murdered sign with a tarnished plaque on it. “Experiment No. 6: The Self Propelling River”. I followed the pseudo river along its unnatural course.
I gave thought to why I had been left on my own at the Seabrooks. Obviously they had expected the off Village Policemen to still be there, but for some currently unknown reason, they had vanished, and the door had been unlocked. I pondered this particular move. Frankly, even to a relative weakling like me, I could have broken out if I wanted to. But those red rubber bands? Someone wanted me to get out. They must have known my seemingly natural inquisitive nature; a nature I seemed to have picked up like a bad habit from coming to this Village and being exposed to its strangeness. I could swear I saw that spirit again, evil in vigil, lumbering in a copse of trees to my side. Oddly it seemed to be carrying a barrel as well as being attired like a plague doctor. Amazingly, this wasn’t the strangest thing coming to my mind right now. I mean, given less pressing matters, following a large, thickly packed plague doctor who was lumbering through trees in an effort to hide itself would be top priority. That was until what I saw next.
The river meandered to a bridge. I could see commotion beyond. I hid under the bridge, perched behind a pillar. I could hear voices but not make out what they were saying. When I thought the coast was clear, I looked out from my hiding place to see the last of the people, dressed in dark clothes and hooded from view, disappearing into a copse of trees. I did my best to creep up to where I saw the person disappear.
Beyond was a Folly. The door was bathed in candlelight. I noticed a chiselled block of stone next to my head denoting the maker; “Built by Acantha Theodosia Kidd and her merry band of Irish Men. 1742 ‘The Plague Folly’. Donated by Lord Wilberforce Marshall to commemorate the fallen in the Great Plague of Lower Upton.”
Feeling like this was some kind of strange fairy tale, I moved round the tower to a place I hoped I was hidden in the darkness to listen to the conversation beyond.
“We need to do something to put a stop to all this. It’s beginning to get out of hand.” spoke Talullah.
“One more and its going to unravel, you know that.” said Meredith. So, she wasn't dead after all?
“But we can’t just let him go. It’s gone too far. Why did he have to come? Why did he have to be so nosey?” said Calder.
“It can’t be helped. And I think we can trust him.” said Talullah again.
“Rubbish. He’s already proved to be a handful. I say it’s a mercy killing.” said Doris.
“You’d have said that about all of them.” said Meredith again.
Slow I know, but it dawned on me they were talking about me. I recognised the speakers quite easily. The people of this Village had very distinct voices. One more what, though? I readjusted position and continued to listen.
“This isn’t solving anything. We want to draw less attention to this. Not more.” said Talullah again.
“Besides, you’re talking about taking a life. It’s not as easy as it sounds.” said Meredith again.
I didn’t like the sound of this. My hand went involuntarily to my wound as a surge of adrenaline rose in my gut. Setting me up is one thing. Murdering me was an entirely different one. In the second one, I’d be dead. Not a state to easily come back from.
“But we have a heritage we have to protect. We have a history here that all of us can trace back to the Middle Ages.” said Rosemary Trafford.
“And just because an outsider brought the plague to the Village then, doesn’t mean there’s a correlation here. It was us who did this to that poor man.” said Talullah again.
I had noticed I was in a kind of perched position. I relaxed a little. At least some people didn’t want to kill me. At least not yet.
“No. It was Sir William, and you know it. It was him who brought down the rain of horror upon us.” said Calder again.
“I agree. It was him that made us sinners and unGodly.” said Doris again.
“Pfft. We became unGodly the day our ancestors contracted the plague. God deserted us that day.” said Meredith.
I was beginning to get a real dislike for that woman. I hadn’t forgiven her for locking me in a basement. It really affected my sinus troubles, all that damp and lack of air circulation. But at least there was the voice of reason, even if it came from the last source I was expecting. I thought he was on my side.
“You do realise how insane this all sounds. You’re talking about murder for revenge, for an incident that happened a thousand years ago. This is nonsense!” It was Irvine.
“No, what we are doing is discussing the course of action we should take to protect this Village; to conserve our heritage.” said Calder.
“Well, I for one don’t think murder is the answer. Murder's never the answer.” said Meredith again.
“I agree.” said Talullah.
Okay. I admit it. I was changing my mind on the old biddy. She didn’t mean to accidentally lock me in that basement. Wait, she did escape the fire though -
“Then do we do what they did in the seventeen hundreds? Do we burn the place, reconsecrate the area with fire?” said Calder again.
“Burning our businesses is only a temporary measure. But it may give us time and a distraction.” said Irvine again.
“So, burn away the sins and bathe in the flames?” said Meredith Loreley again.
“It’s not a perfect solution, but it has its merit.” said Talullah Seabrook.
“It is the burden of our past. We owe it to those who came before that there will be a hereafter.” said Calder.
“This is deliberate arson, you do realise that?” said Meredith again. She has a cheek!
“It’s the only way to leave the past, to start again.” said Calder again.
“Like the phoenix that rises anew from its ashes. It's what we’ve always done.” said Talullah.
Then I remembered again the plague doctor and his billy can. Maybe there was less of the supernatural and more of the strange going on. What else had the plague doctor done? Where else had it been? What happened those times I saw it close? I tried to remember, but I became distracted again.
“It smacks of brushing the problems under the carpet, but I see it’s our best option.” said Meredith.
“And what about Douglas Layton?” asked Talullah.
“Leave that to me. I have the weight of the law behind me.” That sounded ominous and came from a voice I really didn’t expect. It was PC Gary.
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