Free A Cry From Beyond by WR Armstrong Page B

kill had died down, and the resulting mess was
cleared up, I tentatively checked beneath the potbelly for others,
but found none. The incident, unpleasant though it was, had
supplied a welcome distraction from the real issue of Terry’s
disappearance. In the end however, like it or not, we were forced
to return to the unpalatable subject. H started the ball rolling by
pointing out that Terry lived at home with his parents
    “Let’s
call them first, before we call the police” he suggested, “Why
don’t we contact them in the morning, see if he made it home
sometime during the night?
    “Why not
call them now,” I asked.
    “I’ve got
his parents number in my mobile,” Rick informed us.
    “Call
them,” I said, so he did.
    Terry’s
father answered, and informed us that his son was
absent.
    “Is there
a problem?” he asked.
    “No
problem,” Rick said. “But would you mind calling me back if he
turns up.”
    Terry’s
father said he would, and Rick ended the call.
    While
this was going on, I was studying Lennon, who roamed the room like
a caged animal. Evidently something had upset him while he’d been
alone with Terry. If only he could tell us what he had
seen.
    The
unsettling turn of events made conversation difficult, so we called
it a night. The gang collected their belongings together and piled
outside into the van, minus one, to drive off into the foggy
darkness. After they’d gone, I wandered aimlessly about the house,
trying to figure out what was going on, but failed to come up with
any answers, for what had happened defied explanation.
     
     
     

CHAPTER SIX
     
    Terry
never arrived home according to his parents. I got the unwelcome
news from David, who phoned the next day sounding like a man who
has the weight of the world on his shoulders, and is slowly being
crushed by the pressure.
    “Jenny
and I are worried sick,” he admitted.
    I barely
heard him. My thoughts were centred almost entirely on Terry.
“Where the hell did he disappear to, Dave? If he didn’t stay here
and didn’t go home, then where did he go?” I glanced over at
Lennon, who was watching me closely from the corner of the
room.
    “There’s
still no sign of Mary-Louise either,” David said, ignoring my
question, apparently deciding conjecture was pointless.
    “We
should call the police right now,” I said. “See what they make of
it.”
    David
agreed.
    Just then
I caught movement through the window. A large black bird had come
to roost on the ledge directly outside. It appeared to be observing
me. It tapped the windowpane with its beak, as if seeking access. I
could see others out there, in the background, perched on the
branches of trees, and on fence posts. They were even in evidence
inside the gazebo. Still more of the creatures cawed from the
rooftop above me. All of a sudden it felt as if the cottage was
under siege. The din caused David to pass comment. “What’s
happening over there? It sounds like you’re in a bloody
aviary.”
    “It’s the
birds,” I said, stating the obvious.
    I reached
for the pack of cigarettes lying on the table in front of me,
pulled one out and lit it. My hand trembled
imperceptibly.
    David
said, “Leave the cops to me, John,” but I wasn’t really listening.
I was far too busy watching the birds watching me. I suddenly felt
like a prisoner. Like it or not, I was forced to accept that the
birds intimidated me far more than I previously cared to admit. I
recalled their sinister appearance during my exploration of the
folly: how they’d launched the unprovoked attacks on the little
girl, who I’d come to think of as the daughter of the mystery
blonde.
    I was
still staring through the window at the birds when David said:
“I’ll let you know the outcome of my conversation with the cops as
soon as I can.” With that he said his goodbyes and hung up, leaving
me to ponder his words, while I observed the bird perched on the
ledge outside.
    Annoyed
by its intrusive presence, I slammed