All previews of books, stories, covers and whatever else springs from my dark, scarred mind. Do you dare to glimpse your nightmares?
‘This is a terrible idea,’ he said, and stubbed out his cigarette end in the overflowing ashtray. ‘Absolutely terrible.’
Nevertheless he took out a thick folder from the top drawer of his side of the partner desk and opened it. Scrutinising every page, he removed all notes, copies and newspaper clippings that might be deemed offensive by anyone reading over his shoulder.
Chandra didn’t see them coming, but she felt them, those sharp knives plunging into the front and back of her right shoulder. Clammy, living leather rubbed against the side of her face. She wanted to scream, but something heavy collided with her head and her breath escaped with a sigh. A cable as thick as a barrel coiled around her and squeezed.
October, 1347. Twelve ships entered the harbour of Messina, Sicily:
“The people who gathered on the docks to greet the ships were met with a horrifying surprise: Most of the sailors aboard the ships were dead, and those who were still alive were gravely ill.”
This is the standard passage telling of the Black Death arriving in Europe. While doing research for Leo’s story,
Darkness pressed behind his eyes. It engulfed him – for a moment, perhaps an era – like a wave of warm seawater. He spluttered as some if it dripped down his throat.
‘Stay awake and just swallow,’ De Laval commanded.
Other noises surfaced between the static, sometimes soft, sometimes louder. He tried to concentrate on possible words, but his mind refused. Twice he rewound the tape to listen again, but to no avail. All he heard were inarticulate sighs and whispers. Sometimes his filters hadn’t removed his own groans and snores, but these whispers were different. More frantic, going on and on.
Second cassette; same noise. Same whispers.
‘…me…’
Martin sat bolt upright. Did he just—?
