Simon Beckett - The Restless Dead

Lundy turned to me. ‘Did you wedge the door open?’

He didn’t whisper but he kept his voice down. I nodded. I remembered the solid weight of the steel door, how stiff and reluctant the hinges had been as I’d forced it back against the wall.

‘Maybe it came loose...?’ Rachel spoke in hushed tones as well.

Neither Lundy nor I answered. It was too heavy to swing shut by itself, and it would have taken a stronger wind than this to move it. The silence inside the fort seemed to gain weight. The DI drew in a breath, as though asserting something to himself.

‘Wait here.’

He went to the door. I started after him. ‘I’ll come with you.’

‘No you won’t. Close the door and keep it bolted till I get back.’

He stepped out before I could argue. Moving softly for such a big man, he pulled the door to behind him, easing it shut with a dull clunk.

His footsteps died away outside. In the silence that followed, Rachel hugged herself. ‘It could still just be the wind. If the door’s open it might have blown something over inside.’

She could be right. The wind was definitely growing stronger, its low moaning accompanying the boom of waves breaking against the tower’s hollow legs. Perhaps the door hadn’t been wedged as firmly as I’d thought. Suddenly it seemed ridiculous to be hiding in there while Lundy checked the empty corridors by himself.

‘What are you doing?’ Rachel asked as I went towards the door.

‘I’m going to see where Lundy is.’

‘He said to wait.’

‘I know, but—’

An explosive BOOM shattered the quiet. It reverberated through the metal walls, far louder than the noise that had preceded it. There was no question of it being the wind this time, and no mistaking what it was.

A shotgun blast.

Rachel was staring at me, eyes wide with shock. Despite Lundy’s instructions we hadn’t bolted the door, and as the gunshot died away I reached for the handle.

‘No!’

She pushed in front of me, ramming the top bolt shut before I could stop her.

‘You’re not going out there,’ she said, facing me with her back to the door.

‘I need to find Lundy—’

‘ And do what? ’ Her face was scared, but determined. ‘That was a gun , what do you think you’re going to do?’

I didn’t have an answer. God knows, I was scared enough myself, but I couldn’t leave Lundy out there. I reached past her for the bolt. ‘Lock it behind me.’

‘No, don’t be—’

The soft protest of unoiled metal came from the door. We stared as the handle turned down. The door shifted slightly, creaking as it pressed against the heavy bolt that Rachel had just slid into place. Out of reflex, I started to say Lundy’s name, but it died on my lips. If it had been the DI in the corridor he would have said something.

Whoever this was, it wasn’t him.

Rachel backed away, moving close to me. I felt her flinch as something thumped against the door. The top bolt rattled but held, and as the handle shook again Rachel darted forward and shot the lower bolt home as well.

The door shuddered once more, then fell quiet. The silence was unbearable. Rachel turned her head towards me to speak, and as she did the shotgun roared again.

The entire tower rang like a struck bell as the door bucked from the blast. Twisting away, I hunched over Rachel as the noise hammered at us like a physical blow. Certain the door must have given way, that the old bolts couldn’t have withstood the impact, I risked a look over my shoulder.

The steel door was intact, its bolts securely in place.

My ears rang painfully as the sulphur stink of gunpowder filtered into the room. Rachel’s face was white as we stared at the door. Nothing happened. My ears were still ringing but now the thudding of my heart drowned it out.

‘Have they gone?’ Rachel whispered.

I didn’t answer. Whoever it was could still be waiting out there. But the silence seemed to have a different quality now, as though the corridor outside were empty. There was only one way to find out.

Rachel tried to pull me back as I unfastened the top bolt. ‘What are you doing?’

‘I can’t leave Lundy.’

I reached down for the lower bolt. The steel edge of the door was deformed halfway down: the blast had been aimed at where a single lock or bolt would be. I slid the last bolt partway back but left a half-inch of the metal rod still in place. I paused, listening for any sign that someone was still outside, hoping if they were they’d be fooled into giving themselves away.

Nothing happened.

I turned to Rachel. ‘Get ready to open it, then bolt it again as soon as I’m out.’

She shook her head, vehemently. ‘No, we should—’

‘Count of three,’ I told her.

She closed her eyes, then suddenly hugged me. ‘Be careful.’

I silently mouthed the numbers, then gave a nod. As Rachel tugged the bolt back, I yanked the door open and rushed into the corridor.

It was empty.

A blue haze filled the air, and the reek of gunpowder was much stronger. I realized Rachel hadn’t closed the door. She had followed me out, her eyes wide as she stared down the corridor.

She shook her head. ‘I’m coming with you.’

There was no time to argue. I started towards the steps, trying to walk as quietly as I could. Halfway along the dark corridor I paused, making sure the door to the roof was still closed and bolted. As I did I heard the distant sound of a receding engine outside.

A boat was leaving.

But any relief I felt was replaced by a growing dread. ‘Lundy?’ I yelled. ‘Lundy!’

The shout echoed into silence. And then I heard something: a low, hoarse sound coming from the steps. I ran to the top and saw him.

Lundy was lying halfway down. He was on his back, one leg crooked under him and both arms straight by his side. His entire front was covered in blood. In the dim light it looked as though he had something on his stomach and chest. Then what I was seeing resolved itself into exposed intestines and ribs.

The steps were slippery with blood. It had already started to congeal, clotting into viscous piles where it had dripped down from one step to the next. I was vaguely aware of Rachel behind me as I knelt by the DI in the cramped staircase.

‘Lundy? Bob, Bob , can you hear me?’

He was still alive. His chest still rose and fell slowly, as though with great effort. The noise I’d heard was his breathing; asthmatic and laboured. His expression was surprised, and every now and then the cornflower-blue eyes behind the blood-flecked glasses would blink as he gazed up into the shadows.

‘Oh, God,’ Rachel breathed. ‘Oh, God, look at him!’

I tore off my coat, wadding it up to hold against the terrible wound. ‘Go outside,’ I told her, pressing down on the coat with both hands. ‘Find a signal and phone for help.’

‘Shouldn’t I—’

‘Just do it. Now .’

Still keeping up the compression, I moved to one side so she could squeeze past. She tried to avoid the blood on the steps, but there was too much of it. As she eased by I noticed a footprint already in the congealed mess lower down.

But I didn’t spare any thought for that. Shifting my position to ease my arms, I continued to press down on the wound. My balled-up coat was already soaked, and my hands were sticky with blood. It was pumping out more slowly, but I knew that wasn’t my doing.

‘OK, Bob,’ I told him, trying to keep my voice calm and reassuring. ‘Rachel’s gone for help, so all you need to do now is sit tight till it gets here. I just want you to stay awake and focus on my voice, OK? Can you do that, Bob?’

Lundy didn’t respond. His eyes remained fixed above him as his chest slowly rose and fell. I carried on talking. I talked about his wife, his daughter and granddaughter, about the little girl’s birthday party and anything else I could think of. I didn’t know if he could hear me but I talked anyway, because it felt like I should and there was nothing else I could do for him. I kept talking when Rachel came back and stood silently at the foot of the stairs, and I still carried on when the big chest stopped moving and the laboured breathing fell quiet, even though by then I knew I was talking to myself.