‘Dear God!’ the Reverend O’Sullivan shouted out. The silver crucifix was melting. The arms of the cross were drooping down over his fingers and the head of Jesus had liquefied into a shining featureless blob, which clung to his glove for a moment and then dripped down into the sewage below.
All their LED lamps abruptly went out, followed by the lamps on their helmets, and they were plunged into absolute darkness.
‘Don’t panic!’ said Jim Feather. ‘Try your emergency lamps and if they don’t work make an orderly exit, back the way we came!’
A few seconds of rustling and splashing followed, and then Gemma said, ‘Mine’s dead, Jim. Let’s get out of here.’
Jerry reached into the blackness and found Jamila’s arm, and then her hand. ‘Come on, sarge. This is one of those times when running like fuck is the better part of valour.’
Gemma had already turned around, and he could feel that she was pushing up against Jim Feather. Before any of them could wade more than two or three metres though, there was a deafening bang and a crackle like fireworks, and the sewer ahead of them was filled to the roof with raging green flames. Jerry felt the same ferocious heat that he had felt when the children’s ward had been set on fire, and he had to turn his face to one side, even though he was wearing a protective plastic mask.
‘We’ll have to go the other way!’ shouted Gemma. ‘There’s another manhole further up, at Plough Way!’
Blizzard was still jumping up at the side of the coffin, but PC Maitland dragged him off and started to splash northward. Jerry turned to make sure that none of their party had been injured, and then he and Jamila followed PC Maitland. All around them, the green flames threw frantic patterns on the walls of the sewer. They looked like dancing demons, and the dazzling reflections around their boots made it appear as if the sewage itself was on fire.
They had waded fewer than fifteen metres when the sewer ahead of them exploded with another bang, and was blocked with more roaring green fire.
‘Holy Saint Patrick!’ said the Reverend O’Sullivan, crossing himself twice. ‘She’s trapped us, the witch!’
Jerry stopped and looked back. When he breathed in, he could feel that the fire was rapidly consuming all the oxygen in the sewer, and the air was becoming hotter and hotter with every second. He could also see that the fires were creeping closer and closer together, and that it would not be long before all seven of them were incinerated, like the children in Peaceful Ward.
‘Jerry – what can we do?’ said Jamila, gripping his hand even tighter. ‘We’re not going to die, are we?’
For a split second, Jerry thought that they could save themselves by lying down under the sewage, but then they wouldn’t be able to hold their breath for more than a few seconds, and there was no way of knowing if the fires wouldn’t carry on burning even if they were submerged. Besides, if he was going to die, he would rather be cremated alive than drowned in human waste.
But then he thought of the way in which Adeliza Friendship had immolated those twenty-two children. She had done it immediately, whoomph, without giving them even the slightest chance to escape. So – even though these two walls of green fire were gradually edging nearer – why hadn’t she killed them all instantly?
He looked down and saw that Blizzard was gasping for air, but was still desperately tugging at his lead to get at the coffin. That’s it, he thought. It’s Blizzard. He’s a dog, and she’s afraid of dogs. Maybe she daren’t touch them. Not directly, anyway. Maybe she can allow him to suffocate, but she can’t kill him herself.
He let go of Jamila’s hand and went over to PC Maitland.
‘Give me Blizzard.’
‘What? Why? He won’t go with you.’
‘Tell him he has to. Come on, mate. This is our only chance. You want to be barbecued to death, or what?’
PC Maitland bent down to Blizzard and said, ‘Go with DC Pardoe. Now!’
He handed Blizzard’s lead to Jerry, and Jerry let Blizzard drag him toward the coffin. He had little choice – he hadn’t realised how strong Blizzard was, and he was almost pulled clear off his feet.
The fires on each side of them were burning even closer now. Gemma had dropped to her knees, and Jim Feather was standing over her, trying to shield her from the heat. The Reverend O’Sullivan was standing with his eyes closed and his head bowed and his hands together, praying. The two flushers were holding on to each other like long-lost brothers.
Jerry went up to the coffin, and Blizzard jumped up against it.
‘Down!’ Jerry told him, and from behind him PC Maitland shouted out, ‘Down, Blizzard! Sit! Do as you’re told!’
Blizzard sat down, although he was still twitchy. He kept snuffling and licking his lips and making mewling sounds in the back of his throat.
Jerry hooked his fingers into four of the rings on the side of the coffin, two in each hand. He took in a deep breath of hot air, coughed, and then prised the lid up. It was much heavier than he had thought it would be, and for a few seconds, he thought he would have to let it drop back down again. But then he gritted his teeth and gave it another heave, and it fell off the coffin and clattered down against the side of the sewer.
There was a shrieking howl, and out of the coffin boiled the smoky figure of Adeliza Friendship, her hood stretched up into a high point and her sleeves flapping wide. Jerry staggered back and nearly lost his balance. He looked up into Adeliza Friendship’s hood and saw her face, her eyes incandescent white, her mouth stretched wide open, her teeth bared – Satan’s mistress in a satanic fury.
‘Kill, Blizzard!’ Jerry shouted at him, almost screaming, and let go of his lead. ‘Kill!’
Blizzard leaped up at Adeliza Friendship, but his jaws met nothing but smoke, and he dropped back down again. All the same, he leaped up a second time, snarling at her.
Adeliza Friendship whirled around and around like a dust devil. She flowed out of the coffin and up to the roof of the sewer, opening her sleeves out wide.
The Reverend O’Sullivan stood beneath her, looking up at her and making the sign of the cross.
‘I command thee, demon, to be gone! I command thee to leave this world and return to the depths of Hell in which you were spawned! In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost, I dismiss thee! I dismiss thee! I dismiss thee!’
Adeliza Friendship’s smoky figure remained spreadeagled against the bricks. The green fires were still blazing on either side, and Jerry thought that she was showing her contempt for the Reverend O’Sullivan by refusing to leave. But then Blizzard leaped up again and started to bark, and she twisted around, turned to the north side of the sewer, and disappeared into the flames.
At once, the flames sank down, and then flickered, and then died out altogether. The seven of them were left staring at each other in disbelief.
Jerry looked down into the coffin. The bottom of it was covered by a fine layer of grey ash, and lying on top of the ash was a handsaw, its serrated blade still stained with amber spots of dried blood.
He beckoned to Jamila. ‘There’s our murder weapon, unless I’m greatly mistaken.’
‘So how do we explain to the coroner that a woman made of nothing but smoke could carry a saw?’
‘We lie,’ said Jerry. ‘It won’t be the first time.’
A fresh draught blew down the tunnel, and it smelled strongly of sewage, but at least it was breathable.
‘Holy shit,’ said PC Maitland.
The Reverend O’Sullivan crossed himself again. ‘I’m afraid to say that sums it up to a T.’
*
Eleven days later, Louise woke up and saw that the sun was shining. She sat up in bed and realised that she wasn’t in her room at The Whittington Rest Home, but in a hospital ward, surrounded by screens. She felt swimmy, and bruised between her legs, as if somebody had been repeatedly kicking her.
Then she remembered. The sudden cramps. And then the contractions. Her fellow carer Linda Pearson driving her to the BirthWell centre. After that though, she couldn’t remember anything.
She reached across and pressed the call button. After only a few moments, the screens parted and a smiling nurse appeared.
‘You’re awake! How are you feeling?’
‘Terrible. Confused.’
‘Well, we had to give you a general anaesthetic.’
‘Have I had them?’
The nurse had an oddly doll-like face, with bright red lipstick, and kept on smiling. ‘Yes, you’ve had them.’
‘What – what are they like?’
‘Like all babies. What were you expecting?’
‘They were… the scans showed that they weren’t normal.’
‘It depends what you mean by “normal”, doesn’t it?’
‘Where are they? I don’t want to see them, but where are they? What’s going to happen to them?’
‘They’ve gone.’
‘Gone? Gone where?’
The nurse sat down on the bed and took hold of Louise’s hand.
‘I took them,’ she said, and her voice was suddenly hoarse, like a woman who has been smoking all her life.
‘You took them? I don’t understand.’
‘They’re my nestlings. Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of them. They’re sacred. All children are sacred. Even the children God forgot.’