And Afterward, the Dark Read online

  "It would make a useful weapon if need be and it boosted my morale no end. I eventually found my way back to the scene of my unnerving experience; the patch of blood was still there, dried and black in the sun, but the goat had disappeared, removed no doubt by the foresters. Or had the beast which killed it, disturbed by my appearance, hidden and retrieved its prey after I had returned to the inn? That was an even more disturbing thought and it was with a valour that surprised myself, that I took out my axe and started a circular search to see if the dead beast had been dragged off.

  "I was not at first successful. The bleeding had stopped and there was only an occasional splash. But then I was rewarded by a wavering line in the dust, apparently made by the goat's hind legs. It had been dragged back in the direction it had already traversed in its dying struggles. I felt a slight tickling of the hair at the base of my neck when I saw these faint scratch marks, and I must confess I looked round me sharply in every direction and tightened my grip on the axe.

  "Though I am no expert tracker, the marks seemed to prove that the beast concerned could not be a very big one, as it would otherwise have carried the goat clear of the ground. My experiences in India proved my point, for I have seen a tiger carry a full-grown bullock clear of the ground, its enormous strength capable of tremendous leverage, once its jaws were firmly fixed in the centre of the bullock's back.

  "But nothing stirred in all the wide expanse of foothill, apart from the soft movement of the branches of the trees, and the sun continued to pour down onto a beneficent world. The scratching on the earth gradually ceased and eventually, when thick grass was reached, the trail petered out. But I had already noted the general direction in which the goat was being dragged and I continued to push on towards a region of cliffs and rocky outcrops in the distance as I felt the end of my search might well lie there.

  "I had by now gone about two miles and when I eventually reached my destination the sun had sunk a considerable distance in the sky, though not enough to give me any anxiety, as there were several hours of daylight left. I felt I could remain on this spot about an hour and a half, for under the circumstances and not knowing with what type of beast I might be dealing, I judged it prudent to gain the inn over the long forest road while daylight lasted.

  "And yet the end of my journey was almost an anticlimax. There was no sign of a trail, which had long disappeared, neither could I see any trace of the goat, as I studied the terrain from the pinnacle of a rocky hillock. I walked a little closer to the frowning cliffs facing me and after a while found myself in a small gorge. I gripped the axe tightly as I rounded the last corner and discovered it was a cul-de-sac. There was no trace of anything having passed, which was not surprising, as the valley floor was almost entirely composed of solid rock.

  "I was about to retrace my steps when I spotted the dark entrance of a cave, half seen beyond the lip of a mountainous pile of boulders and rubble. As I approached I saw that it was of vast size. The gloomy entrance went up perhaps forty feet into the solid cliff above, which ended in an overhang. In front of the cave was a belt of sand and I stood for a moment, shading my eyes, attempting to penetrate the deep shadow beyond. I could see nothing from where I stood.

  "I hesitated a moment longer. There was no sound anywhere; not even a bird's cry broke the stillness, and the paternal sun shone blandly down, gilding everything in a limpid golden light. I grasped the axe again and then went forward in a rush, rather more hysterically than I had intended. This brought me almost to the cave entrance; the shadow lay not more than six feet away and with this proximity came a layer of dank air.

  "It was a strange feeling, almost like stepping into a bath of cold water. The sun warmed my back but on my face and all the front of my body fell the dampness and mouldiness of decay. My last steps had also taken me to one side and I could now see the carcase of the goat lying half-in, half-out of the shadow. The head had been eaten, but the rest of the body was intact. I saw something else too; scattered in the gloom of the cave mouth were a few bones of small animals, morsels of flesh. I recognized a thigh bone of something and farther back a rib cage.

  "Still militant, I went forward again and then my axe fell to my side. Once within the shadow, the clamminess and coldness completely enveloped me. I saw nothing more, nothing moved, but I sensed, rather than saw, that the cave went back to vast depths into the earth. And I knew then that I could not, to save my life, venture into it and retain my sanity. With this knowledge came relief. I was able to take four paces backwards—I dare not turn my back on the place—and once again stood in the freshness of the sunshine.

  "It was then that I heard the faintest scratching noise from the interior of the cave and I realized with a certainty that something was watching me. My nerve almost snapped, but if I gave way to panic, it would be fatal. I had the strength and fortitude to retain my hold on the axe, my one frail defence against the terror that was threatening to master me, and step by step, walking backwards I progressed from that sinister place into sanity.

  "I had got almost to the area where the grass met the first rocky outcrops some hundreds of yards away, and a ludicrous sight I must have been to any observer, when there came the final incident which broke my nerve. It was nothing by itself, but it seemed to paralyze my will and send a scalding thrill of terror down into my entrails.

  "From somewhere within the area of the cave came a low, dry, rasping cough—it wasn't repeated and there was nothing exceptional about it—but the terrible thing to me was, that it was like the furtive, half-stifled throat clearance of a human being. Something went then; I could not face that sound again and I whirled on my toes and flailing with the axe before me I ran for my life, with stark fear at my heels, until the blood drumming in my head and the wild thumping of my heart at last forced me to collapse onto a rock half a mile from the area I had just quitted.

  "The sun was by now a good way down the sky. Nothing had followed me, but I still had a longish walk through the forest, so after a short breather I set out again, albeit more sedately, until I at last came to the inn and the safety of my own room.

  "I was late down to supper that evening. I had debated long with myself over the wisdom of revealing what I had discovered to the Steiners. Their reactions of the morning had been so extreme that I feared what might be the outcome. In the event I waited until Frau Steiner had retired, then I tackled her husband. He sat smoking his pipe in the kitchen as usual, politely waiting until I had finished my after-dinner brandy, so that he could clear away.

  "Though his face turned an ashen colour, he was surprisingly calm and we discussed for some time the implications of my discovery. He told me that he would let the civil authorities know the following morning; no doubt they would arrange for a shoot to take place if the depredations among goats and cattle continued. I had naturally made nothing of the more sombre side of the matter. I merely told him I had found the cave and that it did seem to me that it might be the lair of the beast responsible for cattle killing.

  "But there still remained the problem of Herr Steiner's manner. Both he and his wife had given me the impression that they were well aware of the strange and sinister creature that was taking such a toll of the livestock; that they were secretly afraid and they themselves had no intention of initiating any action against it. It may have been, I felt, turning it over in my mind yet again in my bedroom later that evening, that they had a similar experience to myself. Remembering the incident of the cave and the whole atmosphere of these dark and stifling woods, I could not say that I particularly blamed them.

  "Anyway, it was no business of mine; I was merely a passing stranger and expected to be on my way shortly. Though I was extremely comfortable at their inn, I had had my fill of walking recently and was inclined to linger. It was pleasant to know, as one trudged back in the twilight of these great woods, that a pleasant meal was awaiting one, with friendly faces and a good bed assured. Fortified by these and similar thoughts I soon slept.

 
; "Next morning I decided to take a stroll down into Grafstein; it was similar to a thousand other small villages of its type scattered about Central Europe—a huddle of timbered homes, a small central platz, the whole thing pivoting on the large, splendidly carved fourteenth-century church, the town hall, the two hotels, and an arcade or two of shops, some unfortunately modernized to take advantage of the tourist trade.

  "While I was in the village I enjoyed a really excellent coffee and pastries at the only coffee shop and then called in at the small police station. Here I reported the matter of the goat and the cave to the local sergeant. He thanked me for my cooperation, and I showed him the location on his large-scale map, but I did not gather from his manner that the matter was regarded as of any great importance, or that anything would be done about it in the immediate future. This sort of thing was a commonplace in the forests thereabouts, he told me.

  "I looked in at the church before going back to my own guesthouse for lunch. I had brought my camera and busied myself by taking some closeups of the really magnificent carvings; the pastor was away, I was told, but I had readily obtained permission from his housekeeper, for the small intrusion my photo-making would incur. The skill of these old carvers, most of them anonymous, was really incredible, and once more I was thrilled and uplifted by the beauty and elaboration of their work.

  "I finished the spool in my camera with half a dozen shots of the finely carved details of the front row pews, immediately facing the altar. They represented, so far as I could make out, scenes from the Book of Job, but one of them gave me something of a shock. It was a most unpleasant carving, of most exquisite workmanship, but the result was malevolent and forbidding in the extreme. I expect you all remember the gargoyles on Notre Dame and the way these old stone-masons had given vent to their expression of the powers of darkness that surrounded them.

  Well, this was something of the same kind, but intensified for me a hundredfold. It may have been the darkness and quiet of the old church, but I found my hands trembling as I went to set up my camera for a time exposure. The carving represented some disgusting creature with a misshapen head; incredibly emaciated, it stood erect, most of its body mercifully hidden in what I took to be reeds or grasses.

  "Its long neck was disfigured by large nodules of immense size, the teeth were curved and sharp, like a boar, the eyes like a serpent. In its two, claw-like hands it held the body of a human being. It had just bitten off the head, much as one would eat a stick of celery, and the carver had cleverly managed to suggest that the creature was in the process of spitting out the head before making a start on the meal proper.

  "I cannot tell you what nausea this loathsome creature inspired in me; it seemed almost to move in its frame of dark wood, so brilliantly had the carver, an artist of some genius, depicted his subject. In the flat terms which I have just used, it is impossible to convey my impressions of that moment. But loathsome or not, I knew that I had to have the carving on film and that when I returned to England I should want to find out more about it.

  "So I hastily completed my preparations for the picture, pressed the catch, and waited for the clicking of the time-exposure mechanism to cease before dismantling my tripod and equipment. As the mechanism died and the exposure was made, there was a loud noise somewhere at the back of the church. This startled me for some reason, but I thought that perhaps the verger, or whatever his German equivalent might be, had come in to see that all was well.

  "However, the interruption caused me considerable unease and I hastily packed up my gear and made my way back up the aisle of the church and into the open air. To my surprise, there appeared to be nobody else in the building, neither could I see any reason for the noise. Nothing appeared to have fallen down in the church; but I was late for lunch and hurried out of Grafstein and back to my hotel.

  "During the afternoon I wrote some letters and apart from a short excursion down to the village to post them in the early evening, did nothing else of note that day. I lay down in my room for an hour or two before supper; when I got up again it was quite dark and I felt I had overslept. But a glance at the luminous dial of my wristwatch was enough to reassure me that the time was only half-past eight. We did not eat usually until nine or half-past, so I had plenty of time.

  "I had not switched on the light and I stood at the window for a moment, looking down into the valley. It was a beautiful moonlit night and the pine forests spread out below me, with the spire of the church sticking up far beneath, looked like an old cut by Dürer.

  "I was about to turn away when I heard the big sheepdog of the Steiners start barking down at the side of the hotel; I opened the window and looked out, but could see nothing. The dog was still growling, and then I heard the faintest crackling rustle in the undergrowth surrounding the hotel. The dog did not follow the noise but suddenly began to make a high, howling whine and then I heard Steiner come out with curses and cuff the dog, shouting to it to go back indoors.

  "The noise continued for a few moments, farther away now, a faint abrasive, sinister rustling like someone or something making its way with definite aim and purpose. It slowly passed away over the ridge and the night was silent again. Considerably troubled about this, though I could not really say why, I eventually made my way down to supper.

  "The meal, as usual, was excellent, and sitting in the warm, high-beamed kitchen with the firelight dancing on gleaming brass and pewter, I once again counted myself fortunate in my accommodation and we passed a jolly evening. Tonight, for some reason or other, I had spread out on another part of the huge central table my route maps, notes, and other material for my research, and after supper it was my wish to continue work on this.

  "It was now about half-past ten and I busied myself in clearing up the material, preparatory to taking it up to my room. Frau Steiner had gone to bed, but my host, who as usual remained with me to smoke and read his paper, would have none of this.

  " 'Work there,' he said jovially, motioning me to leave my things where they were. I protested that my notes and route-preparations might take me until midnight. He merely said that he was going to bed anyway and that if I would see that I switched off the lights before I came up, I could stay there as long as I liked.

  "This suited me nicely. The autumn nights were chilly and the warm atmosphere of the kitchen was preferable to that of my own room; apart from this, Herr Steiner pushed a plate of cakes and sandwiches, together with half a bottle of beer towards me, giving me a broad wink as he left. Thus it was that I came to be working in the kitchen of the Gasthof on that night, the only person on the ground floor.

  "The dog was locked up somewhere in the outbuildings at the rear and to all intents I was alone in the world. One curious feature of the establishment was the fact that the kitchen door was never locked, winter or summer, as long as the Steiners were in residence. The main entrance and a door on the other side of the guesthouse were scrupulously locked every night, but for some reason, the kitchen door was excluded from this.

  "It was true, it faced the main road and the village rather more conveniently than did the hotel entrance proper, though I could not quite see the point of this. The real explanation that offered itself to me was that the only means of securing the kitchen door was by a massive baulk of timber which fitted into two metal clips set either side of the door frame. Possibly because of the trouble involved in lifting this into place every night and removing it each morning, the Steiners had let the custom lapse. And for some other reason they had omitted to have the door fitted with an ordinary lock.

  " Anyway, there I was, working away quietly, enjoying the warmth of the fire and the simple excellence of the food and the beer. I completed my notes and had got well on with the details of my route for the next part of my holiday. By this time it was approaching midnight and I had begun to feel a certain tiredness coming on.

  "I stretched myself and went to poke up the kitchen range fire into a blaze again, when I became aware of a faint noise. I listened
intently. The sound did not emanate from inside the inn but from the outside. It was too subtle to make out at first. It was not the tinkle of running water nor the footsteps of a passing villager. I looked at my watch again and realized it was far too late in any case for these simple folk, who sought their beds early, to be about.

  " Walking on tip-toe, so that I could still hear perfectly—though why I did this was somewhat obscure to me—I crossed the kitchen and stood near the window. The noise came again, a moment or two later, unpleasantly like the rustling I had heard in the wood earlier, when looking from the upstairs window.

  "I do not know if you can picture my situation, and it is a difficult scene to recapture, sitting as we are in the middle of London this evening. The rustling, or scratching, call it what you will, was agonizingly slow and deliberate, and it came to my mind that it would be similar to that made by a badly crippled person walking with the aid of two sticks. There was a moment of silence, followed shortly by the scratching noise, like two sticks being dragged painfully across the ground. At that moment, the dog gave an agonizing howl from the back of the hotel somewhere.

  "That just about finished me, I can tell you, tensed up as I was. Far from being a reassurance, it meant that the dog knew there was something foul and unnatural outside which wanted to get in. As this thought came to me, I looked wildly at the door, with the obvious intention of locking it. I am not normally a nervous or timid sort of man, but something had got hold of me that evening and I was not my usual self.

  "The baulk of timber was obviously too big and heavy to manoeuvre into place without a lot of noise, and besides, something kept me rooted to the spot, so that I seemed incapable of action.