Something from the Nightside

"We can't help Cathy by plunging headlong into traps. I don't believe in charging blindly into strange situations."

"Just as well I'm here then, isn't it?" said Suzie Shooter.

I looked round sharply, and there she was in the street behind me; Shotgun Suzie, smiling just a little smugly, the stock of her holstered pump-action shotgun peering at me over her leather-clad shoulder. I gave her my best glare.

"First Walker, and now you. I can remember when people weren't able to sneak up on me all the time."

"Getting old, Taylor," said Suzie. "Getting soft. Found anything for me to shoot yet?"

"Maybe," I said. I gestured at the house before us. "Our runaway is in there. Only my gift says there's something decidedly unnatural about this place."

Suzie sniffed. "Doesn't look like much. Let's do it. I'll lead the way, if you're worried."

"Not this time, Suzie," I said. "I have a really bad feeling about this house."

"You're always having bad feelings."

"And I'm usually right."

"True."

I made my way slowly up the stone steps. There still wasn't anyone around, but I could feel the pressure of watching eyes. Suzie moved in beside me like I'd never been away, like she belonged there, her shotgun already in her hands. Joanna brought up the rear, looking a little upset at being pushed into the background by Suzie's presence. The sound of our feet on the stone steps seemed unusually loud and carrying, but it didn't matter. Whatever was waiting for us inside the house that wasn't just a house, it knew we were there. I stopped before the door. There was no bell. No knocker or letter-box, either. I rapped on the door with my fist, and the wood seemed to give slightly under each blow, as though it was rotten. The sound of my knocking was eerily soft, muffled. There was no response from within.

"Want me to blow the lock out?" said Suzie.

I tried the door-handle, and it turned easily in my grasp. The discoloured metal of the door-knob was unpleasantly warm and moist to the touch. I rubbed my hand roughly on the side of my coat, and pushed the door open with the tip of my shoe. It fell back easily. Inside, there was only an impenetrable darkness, and not a sound anywhere. Joanna pushed in beside me, staring eagerly into the dark. She opened her mouth as though to call out to Cathy, but I stopped her. She glared at me again. There was an urgency in her now. I could feel it. Suzie produced a

flashlight from some hidden pocket, turned it on and handed it to me. I nodded my thanks, and played the bright beam back and forth across the hallway before me. Hardly anything showed outside the beam, but the hall seemed long and wide and empty. I moved slowly forward, and Joanna and Suzie came with me. Once we were safely inside, the door closed behind us if its own volition, and none of us were a bit surprised.

TEN - In the Belly of the Beast

The house was dark and empty, utterly quiet and almost unnaturally still. It was like walking into a hole in the world. It felt like something was holding its breath, while it waited to see what we would do next. My back and stomach muscles tensed as I walked slowly down the wide hallway, anticipating an attack that somehow never came. There was danger all around me, but I couldn't put a name to it, couldn't even tell what direction it might come from. I hadn't felt this nervous in the future Timeslip. But some traps you just have to walk into to get to where you're going.

Shadows danced jerkily around me as I played the

beam of my flashlight back and forth. For all its brightness, the beam didn't make much of an impression on the dark. I could make out the hall before me, two doors leading off to the right, and a stairway to my left that led up to the next floor. Ordinary, everyday sights made somehow sinister by the atmosphere they were generating. This was not a healthy place. Not for three small humans, wandering blindly in the dark. The air was thick and oppressive, hot and moist, like the artificial heat of a greenhouse, where great fleshy things are forced into life that could not normally survive. Suzie moved silently along beside me, glaring about her. She hefted her shotgun and sniffed heavily.

"Damp in here. Like the tropics. And the smell... I think it's decay ..."

"It's an old place," I said. "No-one's looked after it in years."

"Not that kind of decay. Smells more like ... rotting meat."

We exchanged a look, and then carried on down the hallway. Our slow footsteps echoed hollowly back from the bare plaster walls. No furniture, no fittings; no carpets or comforts of any kind. No decorations, no posters or paintings or even calendars on the walls. Nothing to show that anyone had ever lived here. That thought seemed significant, though I couldn't for the moment see how. We were, after all,

in Blaiston Street. This wasn't a place where people came to live like people ...

"Have you noticed the floor?" Suzie said quietly.

"What in particular?" I said.

"It's sticky."