Dodge Danger Page 2

  A sentimental murmur rippled through the hall. Miles’ friends and family looked at Dodge expectantly. He glanced back at Miles for help, but his friend had sat down and was downing another whisky. Someone up the back shouted; “Speech!”

  This galvanized the crow and soon the cry was raised. Dodge scowled and downed his own shot of whisky. He stood up, feeling like a complete fool in the ceremonial kilt!

  “Um … hi.” Dodge stared straight ahead, a smile frozen into a deathlike grimace on his rugged face. Hanging from that ledge he hadn’t been scared. Well, maybe a little. But now he was bloody petrified.

  An old Vauxhall sped along the narrow, twisting road.

  The driver glanced nervously at the leather attaché case on the passenger seat. A thin sheen of sweat gleamed on his face. He stared ahead. It may have been late at night, but a full moon shone down on the countryside, illuminating the surrounding mountains with its cold, baleful light. To the right lay the cold waters of Loch Ness and to the right the bare, heather-covered hills.

  The driver glanced in his rear-view mirror.

  Behind him another car sped around a corner. They were almost on top of him!

  Finally Dodge found his voice. “Wh-what can I tell you about Miles Retro that you don’t already know?” He gulped. “Well, he likes a bit of whisky now and again!” The wedding party went wild. On cue they all slammed down their own drinks with wild abandon. Every head turned to Dodge. He stared back, puzzled by this sudden intent attention. Miles gently pushed a tumbler of whisky towards him. Dodge picked it up and took a sip. Everyone in the hall continued to stare at him. He grimaced and slugged the entire shot down.

  The crowd cheered uproariously.

  “Jesus, Caroline would be proud of me!” Dodge muttered to himself.

  Tyres tore along the road, sending great clouds of dust and gravel spraying out.

  The driver didn’t feel very well, as though something inhuman had a grip on his mortal soul. Glancing towards the leather case he noticed that in the cold blue moonlight the texture of the case looked somehow ... alive!

  He tore his attention from the bag in time to see the road ahead veering sharply to the left. He wrestled with the steering wheel.

  The Vauxhall skidded, the spinning wheels throwing dirt and shale everywhere.

  As the driver fought to regain control of the speeding automobile he thought he heard a thin, unpleasant laugh echo through the night.

  The alcohol had given him confidence. Dodge was now on about his fourth toast to the bride and groom. The whisky had anaesthetized his throat and he was beginning to feel nauseous. He had been warned before he had left; at Scottish weddings it was tradition that every man, woman and possibly even child, do their best to drink every last drop of whisky in Scotland!

  He had taken the tip with a large pinch of salt. Another glass of whisky was quickly passed down the table to him.

  “Dodge, tell ‘em about the time that I had to rescue you from those wee bare-arsed fellows in the Himalayas!” Miles shouted. The guests joined in with peals of encouragement.

  Dodge rolled his eyes and downed his second whisky.

  The driver tried to shake the eerie laughter from his thoughts. It was only his imagination! It could only be his imagination!

  He glanced in his rear view mirror again, but the pursuing car was no where to be seen. He allowed himself a slight smile. Perhaps he was safe. Perhaps they hadn’t found him.

  Beside him the case began to pulsate, throbbing obscenely, almost as though it was breathing. The brown leather surface was no longer weathered and cracked. It had become reptilian! The driver screamed.

  The car swerved as the terrifying sight clawed at his sanity.

  “No, you’re not real! This isn’t real!” he croaked.

  Suddenly a bright light bathed the Vauxhall. An approaching lorry blared its horn. The driver managed to take control of his vehicle and his own tenuous grasp on his sanity. For a moment all he heard was the deep, throaty breathing of the case thing.

  Stealing himself he glanced down at the object again. He saw nothing more than a normal battered old attaché case.

  “Anyway, all joking aside! Miles is a good man and a good friend and I am proud to be his best man. I know that these two people will be as happy as they deserve. And they deserve to be blissfully and one hundred percent happy!” Dodge reluctantly raised another glass. “I’d like to propose a toast to Mr and Mrs Retro! Miles and Kim-Wa!”

  Everyone in the hall reciprocated the toast with appreciation. Dodge lowered the glass and smiled. There was a moment of silence, then the Master of Ceremonies, a huge bearded giant of a man, stood up and lifted his hands.

  “Ladies and Gentlemen! Please take your partners for the main dance of the evening!” As the band started playing a jolly hornpipe, Dodge decided that perhaps it was time for some fresh air. Rather unsteadily he got to his feet, slurred some apologies, then wove his way through the gathered dancers. He left the hot and smoky hall, making his way out to the refreshing night air.

  The inside of the car grew hotter. The driver had draped his jacket over the case, fully aware that his mind was playing tricks on him, but he was also concerned about his own sanity. Too many of his colleagues had died since the discovery. They had all lost their lives in strange and unnatural ways. His best friend had thrown himself through a plate glass window. Everyone had thought that it was suicide, brought on by the deaths of his colleagues. But Gary McDonald had not been the type to give into suicide. And nobody seemed to think that it was strange that he hadn’t opened the window before plunging through it to his death 38 stories below.

  Nothing had been the same since they had found those bloody Runes!

  To the team of archaeology students, the cave in New England had held the find of their lives; proof positive that the ancient Nordic seafarers had set foot on American soil long before Columbus. It had contained Viking jewellery, a shield, a helmet, an axe-head, and various other trinkets, but the most intriguing artefact had been a simple ring of small runestones. At the centre of this ring had stood a small, black statue. Their field guide had been Professor Floyd Davidson, an extremely powerful mage and an evil son-of-a-bitch who liked to dabble in necromancy. He was also an expert on Celtic and Norse legends, but the artefact’s design had baffled him. All at once it appeared to be reptilian, lupine and chicken-like. Davidson’s initial thoughts had been that it was a representation of Nidhoggr, the vast serpent that constantly gnawed at the roots of the mighty ash tree Yggdrasil, the legendary Norse tree of life.

  After photographing and carefully noting every last detail, this team of bright newcomers had removed the artefact. All Davidson had wanted was power, but it was then the horror began.

  Dodge sat on a rock gazing out across the loch’s calm surface. Behind him, the muffled sounds of Miles’ wedding drifted across the still night. Dodge was feeling depressed as Hell. He had been trying to avoid Scotland since the death of his wife Caroline. He had nothing against the country, but he still missed her immensely. He had known a number of women during his life, and he had even loved some of them.

  But he had only married one; Caroline McTarmac.

  After she died in the plane crash that he had survived, Dodge felt as though he had been hollowed out. She had been vibrant, intelligent, and full of life; everything that he had ever wanted.

  He picked up a stone and skimmed it across the cold water’s surface. Damn it all to Hell! It had been over 15 years since Caroline’s death. He wasn’t an accomplished drinker and all the whisky was making him maudlin. With a deep sigh he stood up and turned to face the Urqhart Castle Hotel behind him.

  “Ah well, let’s face the enemy,” he murmured and headed back up the hill towards the building.

  Suddenly, a loud crash broke through the silent night. Dodge spun around as a brilliant light illuminated the whole area.

  “What the Hell?” he muttered, just before a large black car came careering of
f the road and plunged into the loch. Dodge gaped as the vehicle began to sink into the murky depths. Then the adventurer shrugged off his tuxedo jacket and sprinted towards the loch. Briefly he wondered how buoyant he’d be with the heavy material of the kilt around his midriff, but no matter, he’d soon find out. Dodge dived into the water.

  The bitter cold bit into him like a thousand needles. Cursing inside his mind, he strained to see the car in the inky water. Ahead he spotted two tail-lights descending into the gloom. They flickered ominously and he started swimming furiously towards them. The water was thick with silt and weeds; the crashing vehicle had disturbed the bottom. Fortunately, at the edge the loch wasn’t too deep and Dodge was able to reach the car without too much effort. But his heavy woollen kilt was beginning to weigh him down.

  Dodge began to unbuckle the straps that held the kilt together. Within seconds he was free from the thick wool and it sank to the bottom. Dodge reached the car door and struggled to pull it open. He strained against the pressure of the water but it wasn’t budging. He looked around. A large rock caught his eye and he scooped it up. His lungs began to clamour for oxygen. He needed air, but if he gave in the vehicle’s occupant would die. Dodge drew his hand back and pounded at the windscreen. He had to hit it four or five times before it crumpled inwards. Water began to gush in the car. This revived the unconscious driver and he began to panic. Dodge swam around and managed to yank open the driver’s door.

  He grabbed the driver and began to haul him out of the car. In the eerie glow of the headlights the man gazed up at him through wide and horrified eyes; Dodge attempted to calm him with a look. The driver started thrashing about, his face etched with fear and panic. He twisted wildly to the left, breaking free from Dodge’s grasp. Water swirled as the driver lunged towards his car. Reaching inside he pulled an attaché case from the passenger seat. Dodge started swimming for the surface; satisfied that the other man would also make it. He broke the surface and took a long, deep gasp. As he clambered out of the freezing water, the driver followed him.

  “Are you okay pal?” Dodge faced the wild-eyed and bedraggled man standing before him, tightly clutching a soggy wet attaché case to his chest. He looked around fearfully. “Hey, it’s okay! You’ll be fine,” Dodge soothed.

  For a few seconds the man simply stared at him without really acknowledging him, then abruptly his expression changed from fear to puzzlement.

  “What am I doing? There are people chasing me! I need to get away - please!” He looked around again, his expression returning to one of fear, his eyes flickering with agitation. When he looked back at Dodge his mood changed instantly. A small smile crept across his face. “Why aren’t you wearing any trousers?”

  Dodge looked down at his bare legs.

  “It’s a long story!” He smiled ruefully. The man started to laugh. Dodge realised how strange he must look and he began to chuckle as well. The mood was infectious and pretty soon they were both laughing heartily.

  “Now, are you-” Before Dodge could continue, a hard left hook interrupted his train of thought. He fell over, shocked by the unprovoked attack. He looked up. The driver stared down at him wretchedly.

  “I am sorry!” he groaned in a monotone. Lunging forward he grabbed the dirk from Dodge’s sock. He looked up to see people swarming from the hotel.

  “Look after my sister!” he begged Dodge “Please!”

  In a single fluid motion he drew the blade across his own throat. For a moment he stared pleadingly at the bedraggled adventurer, then he crumpled to the ground. Blood gushed from the arterial wound across his throat. He stared at the case with glazing eyes. “Destroy the runestones!” he gurgled.

  They were his last thought before he drifted quietly into oblivion.

  A sleek black Rolls Royce sat at the roadside, engine idling. The driver, a small ratty Oriental, peered through a gap in the conifers around the loch. It had been torn by the out-of-control Vauxhall.

  “The coward has killed himself, Exalted One. The case is lying at the cur’s feet!”

  A thin and reedy voice spoke from the back of the car. “How many are there?”

  The Oriental driver looked again.

  “There was only one other at first, but now many people have emerged from the building. What shall I do?”

  The passenger paused for a moment. “Drive onwards. We will recover the case later, at our convenience.”

  The Roller pulled away and roared off into the night. From the back seat, a shadowed, gaunt and immensely old face stole a glance at the scene.

  The hotel manager appeared in the large sitting room. He looked sympathetically at Dodge, who was sitting in front of an open fire, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He was cradling a hot cup of tea in his hands; Miles had tried to thrust a whisky onto him but Dodge had insisted that he didn’t want anymore alcohol.

  “I’ve sent for the police,” the manager declared. “But the nearest station is in Glenloch, I’m afraid they’ll take twenty minutes to arrive.”

  “Thanks.” Dodge managed a half smile. The manager paused for a moment, unsure of what to do. Then he nodded vaguely and left the room.

  “Dodge, it wasn’t your fault!” Miles soothed his friend.

  “I know that, Miles. The guy was obviously deranged.” Dodge gazed into the fire.

  “Are you going to be alright?” Miles asked in concern.

  “Jesus Miles, in my time I’ve seen a Hell of a lot worse than some poor sap cutting his own throat! I’m fine. I think I’ve got a bit of a hangover that’s all.” Dodge rubbed his forehead. “If I were you I’d go and see Kim-Wa … before you end up getting a divorce!”

  “Dodge, I don’t think I should leave ye alone. You’ve had quite a shock!” Miles protested.

  “Christ Miles! It’s been a long time since I had a mother, and when she was alive I never listened to her, either. I’m fine. You go and enjoy your wedding night.” Dodge glared at Miles, his expression and tone leaving no room for argument. Miles shrugged, got to his feet and headed for the door.

  “G’night Dodge.”

  After Miles had gone Dodge sat thinking, his mind racing. It hadn’t struck him at the time, but now with time to analyse things he thought that he had seen the dead man before.

  But where?

  Dodge rubbed his chin and stared at a table across the room. On it sat the brown leather attaché case the man had had in his possession. Dodge frowned. He didn’t remember anyone bringing it inside. The dead man had gone back for the case – it had obviously been very important to him. Perhaps some clue to his identity lay inside. Dodge put down his mug and stood up. He started cautiously towards the case. Over the years he had developed something akin to a sixth sense. It had saved his skin numerous occasions and was seldom wrong. He had that concern now.

  Damn! Why was he so spooked?

  Dodge touched the case. It felt curiously warm, but Dodge put that down to the accumulated heat of the room. He laughed to himself and shook his head. “It’s only an old briefcase!” he said aloud.

  Dodge slowly opened the catches on either side of the bag. Sweat poured down his back and the sensation that something was wrong grew stronger. He swallowed and slowly opened the case.

  Like a streak of green lightning, a snake leapt from inside!

  Dodge’s reflexes sent him flying backwards. He gaped in horror as the alien serpent shot over his head and hit the floor. Coloured a bright jade, it seemed to have no eyes. The muscles in its thick body undulated and squirmed as it slithered towards the prone archaeologist. He couldn’t move. This had to be one of the most terrifying creatures he had ever seen.

  It reared and swayed from side to side. Dodge managed to start backing away from the creature. However, even this slight movement seemed to alert this blind monstrosity to his presence.

  It hissed menacingly. Dodge bit back a cry of terror as the creature’s jaws opened. Any last resemblance to a normal snake vanished.

  Its jaws split
into four sections, each with a wickedly sharp fang at the point. The creature poised itself above Dodge, looking like a bizarre and nightmarish flower.

  The snake darted forward, its obscene mouth lunging for Dodge’s throat!

  Dodge rolled to the side. The snake hit the carpet beneath him and whipped around to strike at him again. Galvanized by the sudden rush of adrenaline, Dodge flung himself out of the way. He feared snakes and certainly didn’t want to be killed by one. The creature missed him by a fraction and Dodge toppled a small, but heavy marble table onto its back. The serpent writhed frantically, lashing at the table and then at Dodge. The adventurer leapt to his feet, glancing back at the struggling creature in revulsion. He was no zoologist, but knew he had never seen a snake like this before. It was the stuff of nightmares. Dodge hunted for something he could use to bash the monster’s head in. Beside the fire he found a heavy brass poker. A grim smile played across his face.

  “That’ll do.” he muttered to himself. A thought struck him. If the snake was indeed a new species then surely it belonged in a zoo? The Hell it did!

  At times he was pious - he probably took after his dad more than he cared to admit - but dammit he wasn’t that pious! Poker upraised he charged back to where he had left the snake.

  But the table had been rolled away and the snake was gone! It had taken him considerable effort to overturn that piece of furniture, yet that serpent had shifted it easily!

  “Swell!” Dodge spotted the vile creature disappearing under an ornate red leather couch. Dodge flung it over, but the snake shot under a large writing bureau.