“Come back here, you bitch!”
Edith threw herself behind one of the piles of trench equipment, her heart pounding. What was it that was so important about this parchment? Fingers trembling, she unfolded it, desperately hoping its contents might give her more leverage. It was some sort of map but she could make nothing of the symbols and writing. Shaking her head she refolded the map and continued to search for a weapon.
She heard Jeffries enter the chamber. There was a crash as he lashed out at a pile of equipment. “Give me the map, girl. Give me the bloody map.”
There was a hiss and chatter. Peering out, Edith watched as Chandar attacked Jeffries again. Jeffries pistol-whipped the old Chatt and send it sprawling against the chamber wall, the last of its strength and anger dissipated. She let out an involuntary gasp. Hearing the sound, Jeffries turned. She ducked back out of sight, but too late. Jeffries strode round the pile, hauled her up by the hair, tore the map from her grasp and shoved it back into his tunic.
“I warned you,” he said.
AS EVERSON FOLLOWED the trail of death and destruction through the temple, a screaming, flaming apparition ran towards them. A Chatt ablaze, sheets of fire wrapping themselves about it as it stumbled. Startled, Atkins let off a shot. The screaming stopped and the shape tumbled to the floor.
Next they came upon the burning library and alchemical chambers. Scrolls were crisping, shrivelling and burning while jars cracked and exploded in adjoining galleries, Chatts flinging themselves on the flames in a vain attempt to extinguish them. They were so intent on saving whatever was stored there that they paid no heed to the three Tommies that hurried through their midst.
Racing down a short tunnel, the soldiers heard a scream and burst into a chamber containing large piles of trench equipment to see Edith struggling with Jeffries.
“Halt!” yelled Everson, his pistol aimed squarely at the man’s head. “Give yourself up, Jeffries.”
“Everson, what a surprise. I might have known it would be you. Ever the boy scout, hmm. However, I’m your commanding officer. You’re only a second Lieutenant. I think you’ll find I give the orders around here.”
“We both know that’s not true, don’t we?” said Everson. “You signed up as a private under a false name. You’re no officer.”
Atkins and Ketch covered Jeffries nervously as he held Nurse Bell to his chest, one arm around her throat. The injured Chatt lay crumpled against the wall, one arm seemingly broken, its antennae stumps twitching feebly.
“Let Nurse Bell go,” Everson said, calmly.
“No.”
“Let her go, Jeffries — or should I say, Dwyer?”
“Ah, so it’s come to that has it?”
“Look, we can talk about this.”
“Can we? I don’t think so. Let’s ask Nurse Bell, shall we?” Jeffries tightened his arm around her throat and her face began to turn purple as he applied more pressure.
“You’ve got nowhere to go, Jeffries.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, though I must admit for a while there, when we first arrived here, I was worried.”
Atkins, who had begun to edge along the wall, trying to flank Jeffries, found himself in Jeffries’ sights as the man pointed the pistol at him.
“I think you’d better stop right there, Atkins, yes?”
“Sir?”
“Don’t move, Atkins,” said Everson, taking a step forward. “Jeffries, for God’s sake man, give yourself up. It’s a court martial. I swear you’ll be dealt with fairly.”
“If you know who I am then you’ll know I’m facing the drop. Call that a fair trial? Besides, if you kill me you’ll never get home. You’re here because of me. Did you know that? I brought you here. Without me, you’ll never get back. Never. It’s taken the deaths of thousands of men to achieve this. I worked for years to this end; do you think I’m going to let you stop me now?”
Atkins was shaken. A way home? Flora, oh dear God, please let it be true. But having to deal with a rogue like Jeffries to get back? Atkins began to lower his rifle.
“Don’t believe him, Atkins,” snapped Everson. “The man’s a congenital liar, a fantasist.” He appealed to Jeffries again. “Can’t we talk about this like rational men?” he asked.
“Talk about what, Everson? Your ignorance, your fear of responsibility? Do you even realise what it is I’ve accomplished here? Do you realise that you’ve been party to the greatest occult undertaking of the age?”
“You can’t be serious, Jeffries. Listen to yourself. That’s utter humbug!”
“Is it? Look around you, Everson. Can your small provincial mind even conceive the scope of what has happened? No, don’t bother. Only a handful of people would truly understand my achievement. Magi for centuries have failed where I have succeeded. Only death on a truly industrial scale could have been sufficient to invoke Croatoan. I saw to it that those pointless deaths on the Front weren’t wasted. I harnessed them. Used them to charge a pentagram set into the very landscape itself.”
“You’re mad!”
“That’s what that hedonistic mooncalf, Crowley, said and where is he now? Skulking in America, plying his lies to Colonial toadies and lickspittles.”
“It’s shell-shock. Jeffries, you’re not well.”
“You want to go home? You want to see Blighty again?” roared Jeffries. “Well I know the way. Kill me and you’re stranded forever.”
Everson faltered and his pistol arm slowly lowered.
“He’s bluffing, sir,” said Atkins. “Isn’t he?”
“He’s got some sort of map,” said Nurse Bell. “He’s gone to a lot of trouble to get it.”
A grin slid onto Jeffries’ face as he arched an eyebrow. “Tick, tock, Everson. The Captain’s funked it, and you’re Commanding Officer now. It’s your call. Your responsibility. Do daddy proud. These men that survived? Nothing more than the dregs that Croatoan rejected. I have no more use for them. I commend them into your care. It may be that their deaths can return you the way they brought me!”
“The devil take you, Jeffries!”
“The name, Everson, is Dwyer!” he spat, and with that Jeffries opened his arm, threw Nurse Bell aside and fired.
Everson grunted as the impact of the bullet into his shoulder drove him back and spun him around.
Ketch fired back. Jeffries ducked behind a pile of trench supplies and returned fire.
Behind Jeffries, Bell hoisted up her ripped skirt and swung her foot between Jeffries’ legs. It connected with a satisfying thud and he doubled over.
Tears filling his eyes and distorting his vision, Jeffries fired again. Atkins ducked only to hear tiny clangs as metal struck metal. He looked around for the source and saw hissing green gas escaping from two chlorine cylinders, almost buried under a pile of trench supplies.
“Gas! Gas! Gas!” he shouted.
Jeffries grabbed hold of Bell again. “That,” he said, pulling her head back with a sharp jerk, “wasn’t nice. Just for that you don’t get to die quickly.” He released her and punched her in the solar plexus, winding her, before flinging her across the floor towards the punctured gas cylinders.
