SHORT FAT STUBBY FINGER STORIES PRESENTS: The Night of the Darkness: A temporally free-to-read abridged version of an original story by Tony Stewart. EPISODE: 81

  

SHORT FAT STUBBY FINGER STORIES PRESENTS:the night of the darkness blog cover  THE FINAL COUNTDOWN

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EPISODE 81

Having confirmed with Joseph it was time to spin his tale of woe and error, Harvey opened the door to the police station, gingerly poking his head around the door to make doubly sure that the suspects weren’t anywhere in view, and walked up to the reception counter.

  Young Constable Ben Jarvis, the junior member of the Trenthamville Police Force, looked up in surprise at Harvey’s arrival.  He recognized Harvey instantly, and smiled as he walked over to him.

  “Hello, Harvey,” Ben smiled in appreciation of seeing who the visitor was, but his voice was abnormally serious in tone, and low in volume. “I have to speak softly.  The chief inspector is interviewing some out of towners.  He wants everything out here to be nice and quiet.  It’s good to see you again, Harvey. What can I do for you?”

  “Hello, Ben.”  Harvey’s voice was also reduced to no more than a whisper which pleased the young policeman no end, considering the circumstances; he had no idea that Hervey’s need to keep his voice down was more to do with self-preservation than his supervisor’s temperament, “I need to speak to the chief inspector immediately.”

  “Oh, I am sorry, Harvey.  I can’t disturb him.  He was very clear about that.”

  “I am afraid that you will have to, Ben.  This is to do with what the chief inspector is doing right this very moment.  The chief inspector is talking to the wrong men.”

  “Oh!  How do you know that?” The young constable asked suspiciously.

  “Because I was the one that told him it was them that had started the fire at the farm, and had possibly killed one of the archaeologists that were staying at the farm.  I really thought it was them when I reported them to the chief inspector.  However, at the hote,l it was arranged for me to hide in the room behind the counter where William was on duty, while your three fellow policemen went off to see the suspects in their room.  I was supposed to be hiding out of sight so I could watch them pass a window with the suspects, and let the chief inspector know if I realised I had made a mistake … which I had.  But before I had a chance to do the right thing … Ben, do you see this blood on my head?”  Harvey asked as he swung his body around several degrees so that one side of his face and neck was predominantly, dramatically, exposed to the young constable’s wide-eyed, shell-shocked, eyes.

  “Yes … oh my god, have you been set upon?  Oh, my god.”  The young constable somehow managed to restrain his whispered voice from suddenly rising to a much higher level, despite suddenly feeling nauseous at the sight of the blood that was still slowly trickling down Harvey’s face and soaking into the collar of his jacket.  But he couldn’t restrain his mouth from the barrage of questions that flew out of it.

  “Do you want me to ring a doctor, or an ambulance?  Would you like to report a mugging … or an attempted murder?”  He asked in a rambling, incomprehensible, narrative.
  “No, Ben … I am alright now.  Please … just calm down, or I’ll find myself having to call an ambulance for you.”  Harvey replied, speaking slowly and retaining the soft whispering volume as he spoke in order to keep the flustered policeman calm. “I only showed you the result of a fall I had in the room where I was hiding so you would understand why I didn’t come out straight away when I realised that I had been wrong.  I was heading for the door when I slipped or tripped on something.  It all happened so fast I really don’t know what happened, but it would appear that I hit my head on something and was unconscious for a few moments.
  When I came to, there was a small chairside table lying on its side, but whether it was what I hit my head on, or what I tripped over … I have no idea.  At any rate, I came straight here once my vision cleared enough to make the trip, so you can see it is important that I speak to Chief inspector O’Reilly as soon as possible before things go wrong in there.  Will you do that, Ben?  Will you go and tell him that I need to see him?
  “Oh my!  He won’t be too pleased about all of this. But, yes, I had better tell him you are here straight away.  I can’t let him embarrass himself.”

  “No, Ben, don’t tell that I am out here, just tell him that there is someone out here to see him and it is important; extremely important, that he come out to the counter.  Don’t tell him that it’s me, for God’s sake, or what I just told you.  Do you have that?  Just tell him that there is someone outside to see him, and that it’s important he comes out.  Do not tell him it is me. Do not repeat what I have just told you.  Do you understand?”  
  The young policeman shook his head in acknowledgement, not daring for a moment to say that he didn’t, and took off like a startled rabbit.  He hated it when he had to tell the chief inspector some bad news lately, and this sounded incredibly bad.  Pressure was not something that the young constable felt comfortable with, and he knew that the past few weeks, with missing villagers, and a comatose professor, had placed a huge strain on the chief inspector … and it had begun to drain him.  And the young constable knew that he, himself, had problems with pressure.  When he became perplexed, he found himself incapable of retaining the simplest of instructions.  He immediately began to ask himself what it was that he had to remember to say, and what not to say, as he made his way to the small office a mere fifteen paces away from the counter.
  The tension that Constable Jarvis fast shredding nerves now felt themselves under had become so unbearable that he could feel a migraine thundering inside his head as he knocked gently on the door.

********

 The look of annoyance on Chief inspector O’Reilly’s face at the intrusion would have been the final store for the dangerously traumatised young man who, no doubt, would have passed out had he seen it.  However, the look passed as quickly as it had appeared, and by the time the chief inspector had risen from his chair in order to open the door it had subsided.

  However, the instant he placed his hand on the door handle a second wave of anger raged its way across his face; his response to it was to emulate the thoughts into physical action.  His face again flushed, he swung open the door so violently, and moved toward the source of his annoyance so quickly and threateningly, he barely had time to stop from morphing with the young constable, and accidently ended up in a threatening nose-to-nose confrontation with him.  And to add to the electricity of the moment, a flash of light lit up the entire station so brightly the young constable was forced to momentarily close his eyes; simultaneously, a violent burst of thunder roared through the front door into the station so loudly the entire building seemed to rock on its foundations.

  Then almost instantly after the previous threat to their safety, another strike of lightning thumped down, seemingly in the street outside, in that very same second when the sweat laced face of Constable Jervis, and the pumping veins on Chief inspector O’Reilly’s nose, were momentarily but a millimetre apart.  When the building lit up brighter than would have been seen had the lightning struck around their all but melded bodies.  When the sound of thunder was so loud it threatened to shake the skin off their bones, when the young constable was in such a state, and so off-edge with own his sanity and the unreality of everything that was taking place around him.  When his eyes opened, and he saw the dark, scowling face of the chief inspector, he physically jumped backwards into what he considered to be the peace and safety of a black hole.  And if it hadn’t been for the quick thinking of his superior who reached out and grabbed him and pulled him back in time, the constable would have been more than capable of collapsing into a psychotic breakdown.  As it was, he was still rocking back and forth on his feet to the point that both Harvey and the chief inspector thought he would be floorboard bound again at any tick of the clock.

  “What is it, Constable?”  The chief inspector snapped in a voice louder than perhaps was necessary considering the original reason for his anger, “I left orders not to be disturbed.  This had better be extremely important.”

  And it was then that the chief inspector suddenly realised the irony of the situation that he had placed the young constable and himself in, and quickly turned around and closed the door to the office behind him before steering the constable as far away from earshot to those inside the room as he could.  However, he had been so busy being cautious with the young constable, he had failed to realise he was now standing in the clear view of a bemused Harvey.

  “Now, Constable Jarvis, clearly and precisely, thank you.”  But the stern, authoritative, voice of his superior failed to impress the mind of the young constable – in fact it made no impression on him whatsoever; in fact, it made things worse.

  The young man began his narrative in a poorer state-of-mind than he had been in only moments earlier; his voice now so shaky, so thick, it perfectly matched his constantly vibrating body as he spoke. “Ther-ther-the-there is a gent-gent-gentleman here who, who, who says that these are not the ri-ri-ri-ght pe-pe-pe-people, and those that are g-g-g-guilty have just left-ft-ft-ft town.”
  “Constable Jarvis, for god’s sake … calm down.”  The chief inspector pleaded, “It’s like listening to a woodpecker on steroids.  And you are shaking like a Christmas jelly.  Stop it, man … it’s downright annoying.” Chief inspector O’Reilly’s voice was loud, and terse.  He disliked interruptions in the first instance; interruptions that reeked of problems were even less welcome, and trying to understand the young man only added to his current demeanour.  And it was at this point that Chief inspector O’Reilly realised he didn’t like the way he himself was reacting to the situation, but he had no idea how to handle it.  It was something that he had never come up against in is entire career.  ‘Surely he’s not going insane.  He’s acting so strange’, The C hief inspector wondered … and then, like a thunderbolt, it hit him.  “My god. I think he is frightened of me because he had to break orders.  Well, he should know that I wouldn’t get upset over an interruption to an interview … why I …’  And it was at this point that the chief inspector recalled his reaction to the knock and felt a tad apologetic.

  “Ben, if I have upset you with my reaction, I am very sorry.  I never meant to offend you.  I think I have been overtaxing my brain in order to do justice to the interview.  I also have a feeling that I do get a bit uptight at times lately and forget that my position can so easily put us both in a one-way communicative situation where you never feel your right to speak your mind is justified.  I am sorry if I have been a bit of a bastard lately, it’s just that I am feeling slightly overwhelmed, and perhaps not capable of dealing with the things that are happening in the village at the moment.  They go well above my experience; murders, comatose victims, strange happenings like fires that can’t be extinguished, stories of witches and strangers everywhere in the village – it all goes beyond the pale.  I will do my best to relax a lot more than I am capable of at the moment, and I will certainly deal you a better hand in our relationship starting right now.  So, in your own time, Ben, relate to me the gist of your message.

  Somehow, the young policeman managed to slowly take in what the chief inspector had been saying to him.  He smiled, not the smile of humour, but a smile of understanding and compassion.  His body came to a slow halt and he took a deep breath of relief.  For the first time he felt there really was a place and acceptance for him; Constable Jervis felt worthy to be one of the members of the police station he was so proud to work in. 
  “There’s someone outside who says that you are interviewing the wrong people.  He says that he accidentally misinformed you.  I really think you should talk to him, sir.  He is right there … in front of the desk.”
  “He’s what?”  Chief inspector O’Reilly asked as he threw his head in the direction that the young constable was pointing, and he got the shock of his life to see Harvey grinning at him.
  For a moment the chief inspector was at a loss to know what to say or do, offput by the young constable’s input to the occasion, and embarrassed to have lost his composure in front of Harvey.  But within less than a second, he remembered the importance of the moment, and slowly began to comprehend the words the young constable tried to emit.
  He looked hard at Harvey.  “You made a mistake, Harvey.  Is that what young Jarvis is trying to tell me?”  Chief inspector O’Reilly asked, his despair clear in the anger he revealed as he spoke.

  Harvey had expected the chief inspector’s reply and resentment and was ready for it.  “Have a look at my head, Chief Inspector.”  Harvey said in a low, clearly audible voice as he repeated his physical statement to the young constable,
  “William had left the room where I was waiting to watch you all pass the window.  When the six of you did finally pass the window, I was suddenly uncertain if it was them, and by the time you disappeared out of my sight, I was totally certain that it wasn’t them.  It had been just one of the men that I concentrated on; the one I thought I had seen at the farm, but now, in my mind, he was a look alike, but not the one I had seen at the farm.  I am certain now, as I was back at the hotel, that it was not the man you brought to the station.  I moved straight away to catch up with you, but I tripped or slipped on something and banged my head.  I only came to a few moments ago and came straight here.” 

  “Oh, I am sorry, Harvey … I had no idea.  Well, damn, I feel so embarrassed.  And, unfortunately, it looks like the city boys will be required after all, but you did the right thing, thank you for coming in as quickly as you did, Harvey.”

  Harvey was in the process of advising the chief inspector of his immediate need to check in with a doctor, and was about to quickly retreat from the station, when the sound of the office door opening could be heard, and as both men turned in the direction of the room, Professor Robinson and the unknown man walked out and placed themselves beside Chief inspector O’Reilly and Constable Jarvis, as did the two police officers who had followed them out.  Sharkie, however, walked past the counter and stood but inches from Harvey, then turned his head in the direction of Chief Inspector O’Reilly before he spoke.
  “We couldn’t help but overhear your conversation, Chief Inspector, so I gather that you no longer have a need of us?”  Sharkie asked in what Harvey took to be a thick Russian accent, or at least something in the vicinity.      

  “No, it appears not.  Please accept my sincerest apologies, Gentlemen.  Yes, you may go.  Thank you for your co-operation.”

  But Sharkie stood his ground. “Is this the man who mistakenly identified us?”  He asked as he turned his gaze to make eye contact with Harvey; cold, resentful, contrary, eyes that felt to Harvey, though they looked cold, they felt as if they were burning their way deep into his mind, body and soul.
  Not realising the danger that he was putting Harvey in, Chief Inspector O’Reilly agreed that he was.

  “Never mind, my English friend, we all make mistakes.”  Sharkie said with a smile as he reached out and placed one arm around Harvey, pulling him in tight, giving him an apparently friendly squeeze, then patting him on the back as he spoke. At least you have corrected yours, as we will all correct ours.”

Harvey never felt the stone drop into his coat pocket as Sharkie retracted his arm and turned to his two compatriots.   

  “Come.  It is time for us to go.  Goodbye, gentlemen.  I doubt that we will see any of you again … ever.”

  The three men, no longer suspects, walked out of the door, vanishing into the ever-darkening shadows as night and the storm continued to cover the village. And as they walked, with a frightening intensity another flash of light lit up the village, and the accompanying thunderclap again roared once again through the open police station.



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About tonystewart3

Born and bred in Brisbane, Australia hundreds of years ago I learnt about the power of imagination that goes into reading and writing and I have tried my best to emulate some of those great writers in print, radio and screen with my own creations starting with The Night of the Darkness which is part of a series under the heading of the Edge of Nightfall. I hope you enjoy the blog and you are more than welcome to make comment should something strike you as being not quite right in the blog or the storyline. Thanks for taking the time to read this and the blog
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1 Response to SHORT FAT STUBBY FINGER STORIES PRESENTS: The Night of the Darkness: A temporally free-to-read abridged version of an original story by Tony Stewart. EPISODE: 81

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