Three Mile Drove, Chapter Nineteen (standard:horror, 2432 words) [20/29] show all parts
Author: Brian Cross	Added: Aug 25 2007	Views/Reads: 2815/1953	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Approaching the conclusion of a serialisation of my completed horror story, Three Mile Drove. Darren Goldwater is drawing the conclusion that Claire Summerby has betrayed him. Is he right, and if so, why?

CHAPTER NINETEEN 

Darren placed a hand on the bonnet of the Jeep, rapping his fingers on
the black paintwork, watching Claire's car become a speck on the flat 
horizon of the drove. Go back to the hotel room she'd insisted, lie 
down – No way. He was going to finish off what he'd barely started last 
night, even though his head was racked with hot pain. Even if it was 
broad daylight. His conviction of Tomblin's attempt to kill him was 
paramount. He couldn't understand the negative attitudes of Claire and 
the parson, that they hadn't even considered seeing things his way. 
Then there had been Claire's vehemence that he shouldn't trespass, and 
how it had oddly conflicted with the worried look in her eyes when 
they'd parted. It all served to override his inhibitions, submerging 
them beneath the adrenaline that surged within. 

*                                             * 

The morning sun was already fading behind cumulus cloud as he pulled the
Jeep to a halt and jumped out. Behind the bank of conifers that 
shielded Tomblin's house from sight, a metallic tapping mingled with 
the intermittent cries of kids carried on the wind. He crossed the 
makeshift bridge over the dyke and glanced at the derelict house to his 
left, what could have been the front lawn covered in a mass of bog and 
undergrowth. His heart rate on the up he approached the open 
cross-barred gate that created a gap in the trees. He caught sight of 
the kids first, two boys and a girl in the middle of a rough and 
tumble, in a concrete yard badly in need of repair. He stared as he 
approached the house, wondering for one stupid moment whether one might 
be the missing kid. But that was just what it was. Stupid. Because the 
resemblance to Tomblin was clear enough to see, prominent foreheads all 
of them, uneven jaw lines, the same huge hands, even the girl. 

He saw them fighting and glance from him to their right, then from the
oldest, a kid he judged to be about twelve, came a voice of disapproval 
as they backed through the open door, though the voice was so thick and 
ill formed only the tone betrayed his resentment. 

And then he saw what had forced their retreat. Looking to his left he
saw Shaun Tomblin rising from the battered blue bus he'd been hammering 
on. ‘You tired of livin' fella? I thought I'd warned you off,' the same 
thick accent though much deeper, carried across the yard as Tomblin 
stomped towards him. Darren's initial reaction would have been to back 
towards the gate, but his own rage held him steadfast. Tomblin almost 
upon him now, bent his head forward, ‘Now you get this plain and 
simple,' he said slapping a huge hand on his shoulder and forcing him 
towards the gate, ‘I catch you anywhere near my land again I'll hit you 
so hard you won't see daylight for a month.' 

Darren swung round, his movement so quick that Tomblin's grasp was not
only freed, but the big man almost fell in the process. He glared up 
the six inches or so that separated them in height, his temper as high 
as the wind right now, ‘Your threats don't scare me Tomblin, any more 
than your attempts to kill me last night.' 

Tomblin adjusted his balance, knotting his bushy brows. He placed his
hands against his thighs, ‘What the fuck are you on about?' His voice 
lowering to a quiet growl he let the hammer slip to the floor. 

‘You were at my bungalow last night as if you didn't know,' Darren
lifted his face towards Tomblin, ‘you came up behind me, shoved some 
kind of rag across my face – some kind of poison in it. You thought 
there was enough to kill me and you placed cans of beer in the kitchen 
to make it look as if I'd dosed myself with a lethal cocktail.' 

‘You're mad, get yourself off while you still can.' 

But Darren wasn't getting himself off of Tomblin's land, at least not
under his own devices. Tomblin's hands moved quickly from his pockets, 
grabbing him in a bear hug so tight his breath seemed to be dying in 
his throat. He was half carried to the barred gate and hurled to the 
track outside. He heard the sound of metal as the gate slammed shut and 
rolled over to see Tomblin's hands clenching the top bar; he saw 
renewed anger, barely contained, on the man's face and the dark look in 
his eyes. Behind him the children edged out again, gruesome all three, 
but they weren't playing now, they were staring with the same animosity 


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