Michael Walters - The Shadow Walker

“Is something wrong?” Nergui half whispered, the sound of his voice muffled by the snow.

“I’ve just realized what this place is,” Cholon said. “I came here only once or twice, and I did not recognize it in the dark.”

“What do you mean?” Nergui moved to take the crowbar from Doripalam, watching Cholon closely.

“It’s the factory where our father worked. It was when he lost his job here that we were forced to move out of the city.”

Nergui nodded. With a slight sense of shame, he realized that his primary emotion was one of relief, an acknowledgment that the shadows he was chasing might, after all, prove to have some substance. He could see that Cholon’s emotions, by contrast, were confused, his recognition of the truth battling with a realization of its implications.

“We must press on,” Nergui said. He inserted the crowbar behind the first of the nailed boards and slowly eased it away from the door. The doorway had been expertly sealed and it took some time to remove all the boarding to the point where the entrance was accessible. Finally, though, they had it cleared, and Nergui kicked the door open.

After the deadened silence of the landscape outside, the echo of the opening door was startling, booming around the enormous vaulted space beyond. Nergui waited a moment for the sound to die away, and then stepped carefully into the darkness. He waited again before preparing to turn on his flashlight, allowing his eyes to grow accustomed to the blackness.

As his eyes adjusted he realized that the darkness was not complete. The large factory room itself was unlit, but at the far end of the room was the faintest of lights hardly visible from this distance. Nergui squinted, trying to orientate himself to the shape of the building. It was, he realized, a glimmer of light shining under a door. The door of the room where they had found Delgerbayar’s body.

The waiting. That was the worst of it. The knowledge that something was going to happen, but not knowing what or when. The sense that something or someone was waiting, just outside his vision, and might appear at any moment.

And the silence, the unearthly, unending silence. Other than the faint sounds of his own breath, his own heartbeat, he had heard nothing for-how long? He had no idea. It felt like hours, but was perhaps only minutes. There was no way to measure time. His body felt as if it was in suspended animation-he had long since ceased to feel any pain, any bodily needs or feelings at all. It was as if somehow he was existing beyond time.

And then suddenly the silence was broken. It took him a moment to register. Was it the sound of movement, of footsteps? He concentrated hard, trying to listen, trying to work out precisely what it was he had heard.

At first, he could hear nothing, then he heard it again, more clearly this time. It was the sound of someone, something moving somewhere close at hand. He strained to move his head to try to see something more, but the binding around his neck held as tightly as ever, and all he could see was the glare of the ceiling lights.

The sound grew louder. It was the sound of footsteps, not quite steady, not quite even, as though the person was dragging some heavy object. And there was something else, a scraping, something metallic being pulled along.

And then, for a breathless moment, there was silence once more. He could hear his own heart beating, faster and louder than before, the blood pounding in his ears.

For the first time since his initial panic attack in the dark, he was terrified. Up to now, his mind had detached itself from this reality and he had almost allowed himself to believe that the silence, the waiting, might continue forever, as if time really were suspended.

But the approaching sound of footsteps had brought him back to the reality of his predicament. There was no way out of this. He could not move. He could only lie here, his heart pounding, as he waited for what would happen next.

He strained his ears again listening for some clue, some indication. The footsteps resumed, uneven as before, backed by the strange metallic scraping, growing ever louder, ever closer. And then he heard something bumping against wood, a hollow echo. The footsteps paused again, and he heard, with a sickening emptiness in his stomach, the door at the far end of the room slowly being opened.

“It’s the same room as before,” Nergui whispered. “The room where we found Delgerbayar.”

Doripalam and Cholon had clustered close beside him. The factory was icy cold, and they could feel the further blast of chilled air from the open door behind them. The three of them were looking down the length of the room. Nergui was holding a large spotlight, shining the beam down the dusty empty space toward the closed door at the far end.

The main factory area was as empty and deserted as before. Nergui had shone the flashlight around the large vaulted room, peering into the corners and up on to the ramps to make sure nothing had changed. At this time of the year, there were not even any rats scurrying in the corners. There was simply an eerie, hollow silence that seemed to close around them as they stood together in the freezing night.

Nergui turned to Cholon. “You don’t need to come any further. Go back to the car. If we’re not out in ten minutes, radio for back up.”

Cholon hesitated. “I’d still rather come with you. If it is Badzar-”

“We don’t know what we’re going to find here.” Nergui’s mind was already conjuring up images of their last discovery in this place. “It’s better if you go back and wait.” Up to the point when he had spotted the glimmer of light from the far room, he had not really believed they were going to find anything here. It was a hunch, something that had to be checked out, but all his professional experience had told him that it was a waste of time. But his hunch had been right. There was something here.

Cholon paused a moment longer, but Nergui said: “Go. Now.” Cholon nodded, and turned back to the open door. Nergui suspected he would wait outside, desperate to find out what lay behind this. That was okay-at least he would be in a position to radio for help if it should be needed.

Nergui nodded to Doripalam, and they began to make their way slowly along the length of the room. Nergui kept the spotlight trained ahead of them, trying to avoid it shining directly on the door so that there was less chance it might alert anyone in the room beyond.

By the time they reached the door itself, Nergui was convinced he knew what lay in the room. He wasn’t sure what alerted him first-some instinct, perhaps, but then he picked up a smell he knew only too well. It was the smell of blood and decay. It was the smell that lingers when human remains have been left to rot. The smell of death.

He gestured silently to Doripalam to stop. Then he whispered: “Step back. I do not think we are in any danger here, but I suspect that what lies beyond that door will not be pleasant.”

Nergui put down the spotlight and pulled out his pistol, his eyes locked on the doorway. Then he reached out and threw open the door, holding his breath, preparing for whatever lay beyond.

Even so, he was taken by surprise.

The room, as he had expected, contained no living creature. It was as silent and empty as when they had found Delgerbayar’s body. And it was again lit by a spotlight attached to a car battery, providing the setting for another grotesque display.

But the centerpiece was different. There was no body on the table. Instead, there was a bloody mess, a horrifying parody of a butcher’s tray. Nergui blinked, trying to take in what he was seeing. Finally, his breath coming in short bursts, he was able to decipher the extraordinary sight in front of him.