Dark Shadows. Edmund Glasby

      COPYRIGHT INFORMATION

      Copyright © 2014 by Edmund Glasby

      All rights reserved.

      Published by Wildside Press LLC.

      www.wildsidebooks.com

      DARK SHADOWS

      There were things more dangerous than the men who were after him.

      “What the hell!?” Daniel Myers screamed savagely and slammed his foot down hard on the brakes. Tyres screeching, the steering wheel became a living thing in his hands as the car went into a violent spin, the dark blur that had rushed out in front of his headlights leaping into the undergrowth. With a series of bone-jarring bumps, the vehicle careened completely off the road, hit a decline, threatened to upend completely and then crashed down onto all four wheels. Wiry bushes clawed at the windscreen and windows on either side before, with a resounding crunch and the shattering of glass, the car smashed into a tree.

      The violent impact threw Myers forward. The seatbelt he was wearing snapped free from its mooring and he was propelled from his seat and flung hard against the windscreen, smashing straight through it as though he had been tugged from the vehicle by invisible ropes. Narrowly missing the tree, he flew, head first for several yards before splashing down into a muddy, weed-choked pool.

      Had Myers been unconscious he would undoubtedly have drowned. Bubbling mud from his mouth and nostrils, he painfully raised his head and began gasping for air. Blood trickled from his gashed forehead and yet, miraculously, despite the severity of the crash, he was not that badly injured. Getting to his feet, he winced as he withdrew a nasty-looking shard of glass from his hand.

      Suddenly remembering the shadowy thing that had sprung out into the road, he staggered back to the car. It had been little more than a pile of rust when he had stolen it from a side-street in Polski Trambesh, one of Bulgaria’s larger towns, in order to hasten his getaway. Now it was just a crumpled wreck. Streams of black smoke billowed out from under the bonnet. With a fierce tug, he managed to get the driver’s door open. Reaching inside, he opened the glove compartment and took out a small automatic, checked that it was fully loaded, then slipped it into his pocket. He then retrieved from the passenger seat the slim black leather case which contained the secret files.

      More than a handful of good men had died for the sake of these documents and he was going to make damn sure that they had not died in vain. There had been terrible moments back in Istanbul when it had appeared that the entire mission was doomed to failure and only he had managed to escape. However, agents from the other side were closing in. Of this he had no doubt. Had he been more cautious in his dealing with the border guards at the Turkish-Bulgarian border he could well have been in Sofia right now, preparing to board a plane bound for London or Paris. Instead, he was embroiled in this fiendish game of cat-and-mouse, trying to pick his way slowly and steadily along the seldom-used back roads. And now look where his plans had got him.

      The thought almost broke him in half but he knew it would do him no good to mull over past decisions. He had to get moving. Glancing at his watch, he saw that it was just after nine o’clock.

      What that thing that had leapt out in front of him had been he had no idea although he was fairly certain that it had not been a human being. Although he had only seen it for a brief, flashing moment there had been something disturbing about its appearance and action. It was almost as if it had intentionally thrown itself into his path in order to cause him to veer off the road, indifferent to its own safety.

      An unwelcome chill crept down his spine. Shaking a little, he looked around him, taking in his immediate surroundings, contemplating his next move. It was densely wooded. At the edge of the luminosity provided by the car headlights lay what appeared to be an expanse of marshland, the ground covered by a low lying mist. Dripping trees, covered with net-like growths of trailing weed and glistening, green algae grew on some of the tussocks of firmer ground. From all around could be heard plopping sounds as foul marsh gases belched and bubbled. There was a fetid reek in the air.

      Cursing the fact that he was not in possession of a torch, Myers began to claw his way up the slope which had been carved by the car when it had come off the road. There was a jolting pain in his right leg and blood was trickling from his gashed forehead.

      Upon reaching the road, he screwed up his eyes, scanning both directions. To his left and right the road disappeared in a black river of midnight, the tall trees that bordered it looming menacingly as though possessed of their own malign spirits. Here, the darkness seemed to lie more thickly, more tangibly, than anywhere else; as if it were a physical thing that pressed down upon him from all sides. He was glad of the automatic in his pocket and closed his fingers tightly around it as he stood there for a moment, deliberating whether to head back or venture on. Unfortunately, his geographical knowledge of this area was virtually non-existent. However, the last settlement he had passed through must have been at least thirty kilometres back and he had seen no other traffic on the road. Something which, initially, he had taken as a blessing but now he was not so sure.

      Myers made up his mind quickly. He would set off in the other direction, in the hope that he would soon reach a village or town. If he was lucky, he might be able to flag down a passing motorist, in which case he would not be averse to using whatever violence was necessary in order to commandeer their vehicle.

      It was a cloudy night and there was little moonlight and, as Myers set off, he could not dispel the feeling of horror that seeped into his mind. Whether it was due to that strange thing that he had seen earlier or whether it was down to the dark and the overall level of eeriness that seemed to pervade everything, he could not tell. He had to admit that ever since he had fled from Turkey and entered Bulgaria, he had been aware of a certain difference in the general atmosphere of the country. For this was a place that was steeped in the old ways and traditions. The ancient, dark gypsy beliefs and superstitions. To him it was a time-haunted land of mystery and evil in which the Western, modern way of life seemed to hold little sway. Things happened here. Inexplicably terrible things which were mentioned only in hushed whispers by frightened peasants.

      With a nervous gulp, Myers plunged on into the darkness. There was nothing else for it.

      He had only been going a couple of minutes when it started to rain. At first it was just a few drops but it soon became heavier. A sudden flash of lightning rent the murk asunder, illuminating the great straggling trees on either side. They were of a variety he had never seen before. Thunder boomed ominously in the distance.

      Head down, hands thrust deep into his pockets, the leather case clenched tightly under one arm, Myers stubbornly walked on. Grimly, he squared his shoulders and gritted his teeth, his face set in a dripping scowl, his eyes sharp and alert. This had to be the worst assignment he had ever been on and it appeared that things were just going from bad to worse for, without any means of transport, short of his own feet, he was now deep in enemy territory. The more suspicious part of his mind could not help but entertain the idea that this entire mission had been a setup for what should have been a relatively easy task of procuring the secret documents had instead resulted in a bloody shootout necessitating his swift departure from Turkey. It was this belief that gave him the determination to keep going, in the full knowledge that if he were to discover just who was behind this then he would make them pay. Whatever it took.

      An inner rage lent him strength and he began to jog, keen now to get out of the rain and find somewhere he could spend the night. He had passed numerous decrepit farmyard barns further back and he hoped that there might be some up ahead.

      He stopped briefly in order to tie a shoe-lace. It was then that, back along the road he had travelled, he saw approaching headlights, the dull, yellow beams looking like the eyes of some alien monster. The vehicle was not travelling fast, indeed, as he crouched there watching it, he had the unnerving impression that the occupants were looking for him. Maybe his pursuers had discovered where he had crashed and were now trying to track him down.

      Straining his eyes, Myers was sure that whoever was back there had brought the car to