Paul, Harvey tore the last of the dressing from his nose and cheeks and tossed it aside. He had already removed the bandages around his head. Now he moved slowly down the lane, sucking in lungfuls of early morning air. He still found it difficult to breathe through his nose and his breathing was harsh and guttural. A persistent pain gnawed at the back of his head where he’d sustained the fracture and, periodically, he would press tentative fingers to it.
Exham had yet to come to life. The town seemed to be sleeping as dawn broke but Harvey knew that, soon, there would be people on the streets, in their gardens, walking their dogs. He had to find shelter. He’d spent the night in a shed at the bottom of a large garden. It was from there he’d picked up the shears which he now held in one huge hand but, as the daylight began to creep inexorably across the heavens, he knew he must find somewhere to hide.
The church stood on a hill, on the very edge of one of Exham’s many estates. It was old, its stone-work worn and chipped, the colours in its stained-glass windows now faded somewhat. A weather vane squeaked mournfully in the light breeze and Harvey ran appraising eyes over the building as he approached it. Many of the gravestones were coloured with moss and a good number of the plots were overgrown. Here and there, dead flowers lay like discarded confetti, their petals now brown and wrinkled.
He reached the main door but found it locked. He slammed a powerful fist against it twice, angry that he could not gain entry. Muttering to himself, he made his way around the building until he found another door. This one was old too, the woodwork the colour of dried blood. It was splintered in many places and the chain which held it shut looked brittle. Harvey tugged hard on it, gritting his teeth as he felt the rusty links give. It snapped with a dull clang and he tossed the pieces away, wedging his fingers in the gap between door and frame in an effort to get it open.
The hinges screamed alarmingly but Harvey persevered, finally opening it far enough to give himself access. He slipped inside. The stench and the impenetrable darkness nearly made him change his mind but, fortunately, due to his broken nose he could not detect too much of the fetid odour and he soon found that there was some light coming into the subterranean room. He descended the stone steps cautiously only realizing when he reached the bottom that he was in a crypt.
Nevertheless, it was shelter. He sat down, the shears across his lap.
He waited for the darkness.