Дэвид Уоллес - Island of Fog and Death

“And the chance of finding something nasty over there is high, I’d say,” said Peri. “So we press on to Amanda’s chapel. To boldly go, where the hand of man has never set foot, and all that.”

Raising his voice slightly, Steve said, “Back into formation, and let’s move. Keep your eyes – no, your ears, keep your ears peeled.”

“How the fuck do I peel my ears, dumbass?” asked Peri. “Never mind, it probably involves sharp things that I don’t want to know about.”

The team carried on through the fog.

“It should be a few yards further, on our left,” whispered Amanda. “Look for a track that goes around behind those trees, there.”

Peri could see something darker looming through the fog. “Are those trees?” she whispered. “My imagination sees something much worse than trees. That’s a fucking T-Rex.”

Steve chuckled. “No, it’s a clump of trees, Peri. And sure enough, there’s a farm track.”

They turned onto the track, and two camper vans emerged from the gloom.

“That’s them,” said Amanda. She strode forward to open the door to the big Aero camper, but Troy reached out to hold her by the arm.

“Let us go first,” said Steve.

Steve and Troy moved to either side of the door, weapons ready. Steve counted down, then yanked the door out and open. Troy darted inside and to the left, his C8 pressed to his shoulder. Steve moved in right behind him, and faced the opposite way. “Clear,” said Steve, quickly followed by, “Clear!” from Troy.

Steve appeared in the doorway. “Peri,” he said urgently. “I need you.” Amanda made a move, but Steve held up a hand, and said, “Wait, Amanda.” He looked at Gus, who nodded in understanding and put an arm round Amanda’s shoulders.

Peri stepped into the van.

The first thing she saw was the body of a young woman lying on the floor in a pool of blood. Her chest was a gaping bloody mess, and a piece of mangled flesh seemed to have been stuffed into her mouth. “Shit,” breathed Peri. “That’s – that’s – is that her heart?”

Steve nodded. “I think so,” he confirmed.

“Fuck, this is awful.” Peri crouched down and looked closer, taking in the woman’s brown hair and pale skin. “I think this is Gilda. The other one – Tori – she’s a blonde.” Then Peri frowned and looked at the wound in her chest. “This looks different, doesn’t it?” She looked up at Steve. “Doesn’t it?”

Steve bent down to look more closely. “You’re right. It doesn’t look like the work of a snake.”

“What. The. Fuck.” Peri said, slowly. “It’s like something ripped open her chest and pulled out her heart, then put it – there.” She rose unsteadily to her feet. “What. The. Fuck,” she repeated. She started towards the door, mumbling that she needed air.

“There’s another one,” said Steve.

She stopped in her tracks, and closed her eyes, willing herself to stay calm. “Where?”

“Look.”

Peri moved into the camper and looked down its length where a lanky young man was lying on the floor with his back propped against a bench seat. “Owain,” she said. “Well, I mean, it isn’t Professor Coupar, so it must be Owain. But there’s no blood?” She looked over at Steve. “What killed him?”

Steve shrugged. “I can see the same as you can, Peri. He’s dead, but not like…” He gestured to the other end of the camper van.

Peri knelt beside the body and leaned in close. “Weird,” she said. “His trousers have been undone at the waist.” She pulled up his tee shirt. “Scratches on his chest, but not breaking the skin.” She looked at his face. She leaned in close to his lips and sniffed. “Smells of woman,” she said. She pushed back the hair on his forehead and pointed to small blemishes on his skin. Each was small, round and red, with a crescent shaped mark on one side. “Burns? From finger tips?”

Steve was still processing something. “What do you mean, he smells like a woman?”

“No,” said Peri. “His lips smell of woman. Scented lip balm. There’s a slight waxiness and a hint of vanilla and tea. He doesn’t look like someone that plumps up his lips, ergo, he’s been kissed by someone that does.”

“Okay, and finger tips?”

Peri stretched out her own fingers and held them just above the marks. “Ten fingers, each with a fingernail, pressed into his forehead pretty hard.”

“Ah, I see it now. So what does that all mean? He and Gilda were doing the bump and grind, then he died, then… then I’m confused.”

“We need to check the other van.”

Peri ran to the door of the VW camper and opened it before Steve could stop her. There was no-one inside.

Steve started to say something about going first, but then stopped as the smell hit his nostrils. “What’s that smell? It’s sort of familiar, but…”

Peri was laughing. “My friend, I am relieved that you find the smell sort of familiar, because it suggests you are getting enough.”

“What?”

“Getting,” said Peri slowly, “enough.” She made an unmistakably lewd twerk with her hips. “You know, Steve, …Getting… Enough…”

“Whoa!” he said, stepping back. “Are you saying I’m getting a nose full of…?”

“This is what a horny teen student’s bedroom smells like after, first, discovering girls, and second, vigorously entertaining said girls, and third, never taking the trouble of doing any laundry. This is what mums have to put up with without comment, because ‘boys will be boys’. The same scent in a girl’s room would likely cause a riot – life is such a bitch to girls! You are taking in the mingled scents of sweat, Cowper’s fluid, saliva, semen, natural vaginal lubricants, cervical mucus and pheromones. You are inhaling copious quantities of ‘ l’aire de baise grand ’.”

Steve frowned at her, and slowly said, “And you recognise this exotic concoction because…”

She put on a surprised look. “Hey, I was once a girl, who was, first, discovered, and then, second, vigorously entertained by her fair share of students who were, third, totally laundry-challenged. I wasn’t always this innocent maiden you see before you. I recognise intensive rumpy-pumpy therapy when I smell it. Mind you, even in my less savoury episodes, the smell was never, ever this strong.”

Steve was frowning again. “Hey, Peri, there’s something funny about this place.”

“Funny in what sense?”

“My head feels… Fuzzy. I’m… Sort of… A little dizzy.”

Peri reached out to him, tilted his face towards hers, and looked intently into his eyes. “Your pupils are the size of dinner plates.” She glanced down at his crotch. “And someone looks pleased to see me. Come on, get outside and take some deep breaths.”

“What’s… What’s happening?”

“Out,” she ordered and led him out by the hand. “Now you can let go of my hand. I mean it, let go.”

Troy looked at Steve’s eyes. “What’s happening?” he asked.

“The VW camper reeks of some kind of aphrodisiac, and it’s – well, let’s just say Steve isn’t immune, not even a little,” she said. She pulled a couple of cotton wool balls from her pocket. “Here,” she said to Troy. “Stuff cotton up your nose, and his too. I’ve got one for Gus as well.”

“That was weird,” said Steve, his voice slightly slurred.

“Is he going to be all right?” asked Troy. “Steve, are you okay? What was that, Peri?”

“I don’t know what it is, but he didn’t touch anything in there, and he sure as hell didn’t shove anything in his mouth, so I assume the substance that affected him is scent based. Hence the cotton wool. There might well be more of it in the building. Look, Troy, have a scout around out here, see if there’s any trace of the other two people, or any snakes or… anything.”