Three Mile Drove, Chapter Twenty Five (standard:horror, 1934 words) [26/29] show all parts
Author: Brian Cross	Added: Mar 02 2008	Views/Reads: 2889/2032	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
The truth behind the happenings in Three Mile Drove is revealed as Darren and Claire face their fate. Continuing the serialisation of my story.

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE 

The sound of wind and thunder had rendered the newcomer's entry
inaudible, but now Darren became all too aware of his arrival. Stench 
wafted through the barn fuelled by sudden draught, and there in the 
open doorway stood the figure, its face masked by the darkness, its 
feet crunching through the hay which covered the barn. 

Darren felt Claire's hand on his arm, he felt it tighten, then he felt
her other hand place something solid into his. In the darkness he 
couldn't tell what it was, and she made no attempt to raise her torch. 

But the newcomer had one of his own. He raised it now, shining it down
to where Tomblin sat, struggling with the bonds that tied him to the 
post. ‘You look a sorry state son,' he said, his voice gruff and flat, 
‘I see the stranger has found his way here, and a right mess we have on 
our hands, so it seems.' Darren saw then who the newcomer was - Jacob 
Tomblin, the old man himself, and if his spirits could have sunk any 
lower they would have done then, because along with him, the assortment 
of gruesome misfits had returned, and guarding the door was a leering 
Joseph. 

Darren's mind span, he felt the object he held in his hand, it was
weighty and solid. He thought that Claire must have provided it as a 
weapon, though its usefulness would be lost if he exposed it now. He 
thought of rushing the group, then he thought of guiding Claire and the 
girl through the tiny exit at the back, but both would have been 
equally useless. The assembly had begun to circle them, and the object 
the old man held in his other hand looked like a revolver. Darren 
fumbled, managed to find his coat pocket and force whatever Claire had 
given him inside it. 

‘Come on you old fool, untie me!' he heard Shaun Tomblin's raucous tones
rattle across the barn, only to be met by a muted response. 

‘All in good time,' Jacob Tomblin swung the torch at his son and gave a
disapproving glance, ‘I thought you could look after yourself better 
than this.' Darren thought the old man made a move to untie him, but he 
stopped and turned about, directing the torch at Claire, ‘I'd rather 
that your daughter hadn't been here tonight, my dear...' 

‘She wouldn't have been if this bastard hadn't set fire to the house,'
Tomblin glared at Darren, ‘he set fire to the house, tried to kill the 
lot of them and when he found it hadn't worked he chased them here.' 

‘Your daughter?' Darren turned towards Claire in disbelief but her eyes
were focused coldly on Shaun Tomblin, ‘Don't be so bloody stupid Shaun, 
nobody has a better reason to destroy that place than you...' 

‘Hold your tongue woman, my son here would do no such thing, he has too
much respect for his family than to do that.' 

‘Too much respect, huh, what a laugh!' Claire smiled humourlessly and
despite Jacob Tomblin's face taking on an angry edge she moved closer 
to him, ‘Let me tell you just how much respect he has shall I?' She 
swung back to Darren for a second, ‘Let me tell you just what's been 
happening out there all these years.' 

‘Are you gonna let her ramble on at a time like this,' Shaun Tomblin
struggled with the ropes, glaring at his father, ‘Just untie me will 
you and then do what you have to.' 

‘All in good time I said, son,' Jacob Tomblin hoisted the gun he held in
his left hand, then relaxed his grip a little, ‘Ain't no harm in 
letting her have her say, ain't going to make any difference either way 
now.' 

‘You think not?' Claire hissed through her teeth, fighting back the urge
to contradict the old man. The police were on their way, she'd called 
them herself, but why give him the advantage of knowing as much? 

‘Yes Darren,' she said, a backward glance at him, ‘Julia is my daughter,
but don't let it shock you too much, there are plenty of hidden, sordid 
deeds in these parts.' 



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