The Berserker
Chapter 6

The ride home on Tuesday was the same as any other for Wilson and Marcus. They spoke about the conversation they had had with Mr Owen, and they spoke about how they were going to explain to their respective father’s about where their fishing equipment had gone.

“My dad will have a baby when he replaces out,” Marcus said, shaking his head and pulling a face of dread. “That rod was almost £100, and he only bought it a month ago.”

Wilson was nodding in agreement, even though he could only make out a few words that he was saying. He was drifting in and out of a daydream about the Norse gods that Mr Owen was talking about in history today.

He was dragged from his reality about Thor and Loki when Marcus skidded to a halt to his right. He pulled on his breaks and spun his bike around in a semi-circle.

“What is it?” he called out, but Marcus didn’t answer, he just dropped his bike to the ground and walked to the grass verge, where he knelt down.

“Marc?” Wilson asked again as he reached his shoulder.

In front of him was a strip of black fur that was matted with a thick fluid that Wilson thought was oil, and to the left was a mass of brown spikes that looked as though they had been dipped in red paint.

“What the frick is that?” he asked him, kneeling down by his side.

Marcus reached out and touched the matted fur, rubbing it between his fingers, and he pulled his fingertips back and showed them to Wilson.

“Please tell me that that’s paint,” he said with repulse as he leant forward to inspect it.

The red fluid was thinner than paint and Marcus knew exactly what it was.

“That’s blood,” he confirmed to Wilson as he rubbed his fingers in the grass. “And that looks like what’s left of Betty Warwick’s’ cat.”

He was pointing to the black fur that was laid out on the grass, and couldn’t resist grabbing it by one end and holding it up.

The head of Betty’s cat flop downwards as he grabbed it by the tail, and what was left of its blood dripped silently onto the grass.

What the frick done that to her cat?” Wilson asked, as he kept hold of the wretch that was building up inside his throat.

“Had to be a fox,” Marcus concluded.

“What’s that there,” Wilson asked, pointing at the thorny ball.

Marcus carefully pushed the spiky object and it made a squelching noise like you would hear if you were walking in a muddy field.

“Looks like a hedgehog that has had a bite taken out of its stomach.”

“Yuk,” Wilson said as he stood up.

Marcus dropped what was left of the cat and stood up himself, brushing the grass stain from his knees.

Wilson got onto his bike and called after Marcus.

“Are you coming over mine?” He asked him.

Marcus picked his own bike up and sat on the seat, staring at the carcasses for a second or two.

“Marc?”

Marcus turned to look at Wilson and nodded.

“Yeah,” he said, “But there is something strange about that.”

The boys rode the half a mile to Wilson’s house and dropped their bikes on the back lawn.

“Do you want a cola?” Wilson asked as he walked to the back door that led to his kitchen.

“Yeah okay,” Marcus accepted as he surveyed the back yard.

He had a feeling that something as wrong as he scanned the edge of the garden, something was missing and the air seemed strangely quiet.

He walked to the privet bushes that lined the border fence and got to his knees so he could look underneath them. He found a stick that had fallen from one of the oak trees that hung over from the field behind Wilson’s house, and he used it to help lift the skirt of the bushes.

Wilson walked from the house and stopped on the back step, staring at his friend as he crawled along the grass on all fours, and he took a swig from the opened can of cola as he continued to watch Marcus meticulously lift the bushes.

“What have you lost?” He called out as he jumped the three steps.

Marcus looked around and stood up, throwing the stick down as he did. He walked to meet Wilson mid garden, still looking around the garden, and took the can from him, flicking the pull open and swigging deeply.

“There is something not right, Wils,” he said as he looked to the branches of the bare oak trees. “Everything seems so quiet.”

He swigged his cola again, letting out a loud belch after he swallowed.

Wilson looked around the garden as he picked up on what Marcus was saying. There was a stillness in the winter air as though the mute button had been pressed on a giant’s remote control, and the chill made a shiver creep down his spine.

“Where are the birds?” He finally asked, looking at Marcus, baffled.

“That’s it,” Marcus said as he raised his cola free arm. “There are no birds, that’s why it’s so quiet.”

Wilson’s attention was drawn to the far end of his garden where the only oak tree that was within their boundary fence, stood mighty. There was a giggle coming from the treehouse that took up most of the centre of the tree, and he assumed that Aimee-Lou and Lana must be home from school already.

Marcus had also heard the giggle and began to walk across the garden towards it.

It was Wilson who spotted the splatter of blood on the fence first, and a whistle to Marcus grabbed his friend’s attention. He pointed at the smear, and they both diverted toward it.

The blood was towards the top of the fence panel, so Marcus reached up and slid his finger through, just to check if it was wet or dry. The tackiness of it left a spot on the end of his finger, so he massaged it against his thumb, spreading it thinly for no reason in particular.

“Well that ain't any fox that’s done that,” Wilson said as he inspected the smear himself. “Too high up for a start.”

Marcus nodded as he wiped his fingers in the damp grass.

He looked to the foot of the panel and carefully moved the leaves, which were still lying around from the autumn a couple of months ago, and pointed at the strange footprint that was clearly visible in the mud.

“Look,” he said to Wilson, “It’s the same shape as the ones we saw by Blaise Pool.

“Except smaller,” Wilson added.

“And the way they are pointing,” He mimicked the shape of the print with his hand, “It looks as though whatever it was has jumped your fence on its way out of the garden.”

Wilson stood up and reached for the top of the fence. He pulled himself up and looked over the top of it as his feet ran against the panel, scrapping against it as he tried to get some momentum to get himself over.

As he peered over the top Wilson stopped moving his feet and he dropped back down. His face had changed to a greying shade of white as he landed, and Marcus reached out to catch him as his knees began to buckle, catching him under the arms as he fell to the floor.

“Wils,” he called out as he laid his head gently on to the grass and leaves. “What is it, what did you see?”

Wilson’s eyes were closed as his head nestled on the soggy brown leaves, and his eyelids were flicking slightly. Marcus slapped him on the cheek to try to get a response, which worked as his eyes blinked open.

“What was it?” he asked him again, and Wilson blinked his eyes open rapidly as he tried to see his surroundings.

“What happened?” he asked Marcus as he looked around agitated.

“It’s okay,” he answered, “You might’ve fainted, but I don’t know for sure.” He reduced his voice to a whisper. “What did you see?”

Wilson’s eyes opened wide as the vision that had met him came back.

“It was Flo,” he said as his eyes filled with tears.

Flo is Aimee-Lou’s rabbit that her mother and father had bought her for her tenth birthday. She kept it in a hutch around the side of the house and had taken care of it through rain and high winds, thunder and snow, and she had never missed a day I five years that she hadn’t cleaned it out or fed and watered it. Flo was Aimee-Lou’s baby, and she hadn’t noticed it was missing from its cage.

Marcus stood up and copied the same routine as his friend, without the scampering feet, as he was a little more agile than Wilson, and he pulled himself up and on top of the fence panel. He was expecting to see the rabbit lying on the floor with a bite mark or a missing ear that was bleeding a little, but the massacre caused him to wretch from his stomach.

The rabbit’s fur was hanging from a nail that was stuck out from the fence panel, with its insides strewn around the bushes as though it had been caught in a lawnmower blade. Its fur had had the flesh shredded from it, with deep gauges ripped into it, which only something with sharp claws, and in a wild frenzy, could have done.

Marcus pushed himself back over the fence and sat on the freezingly damp ground, looking into the sky with tear filled eyes.

The clouds had moved away and the early evening stars had begun to sparkle as the day turned to dusk, and the tears that had filled his eyes were now dripping onto his flush cheeks and racing down to his chin.

Wilson had sat up and was staring at his friend, unable to replace the words that would comfort him, and wondering if he actually knew he was crying. He wanted to say something to break up awkwardness that only he was feeling, so the first words that came in too his head soon spluttered out of his mouth.

“Gross mate, wasn’t it?”

Marcus let out a little laugh as he wiped his cheeks.

“Yeah,” he agreed, “just a bit.” He dried his eyes on to his sleeve and sniffed up the mucus that was trying to come out of his nose. “What the hell would do that?” he said as he shook his head in disbelief. “That rabbit had been ravaged by something that was in a frenzy.”

“How the frick am I going to tell Aimee-Lou?” Wilson said quietly. “She doted on that rabbit like it was a baby she had given birth to.”

As though she was on cue, Aimee-Lou laughed loudly from the treehouse in the oak tree.

Wilson looked at Marcus with an intrigued expression, and they both stood to walk in the direction of the tree.

There was a light that looked especially bright in the darkening conditions, and Wilson could see a strange shape that was silhouetted against the ceiling of the treehouse. The shape looked exactly like one of those green haired troll dolls that Aimee-Lou collected in her room.

“Did you see that?” he asked Marcus, who responded with a firm nod of his head as he wiped the remnants of the tears away from his cheek.

Wilson covered the 3 metres to the ladder that was nailed to the trunk in 2 strides and climbed the rungs clumsily, four at a time. He jumped into the treehouse and almost fell backwards out of it when Aimee-Lou and Lana screamed at the top of their voices.

“What, what is it?” he shouted at them in fright, and they stopped screaming in an instant.

He saw the little green haired doll in her hand and breathed a sigh of relief as Marcus joined him in the house.

“What was that scream?” he said as he climbed in and sat next to Wilson.

“These two must have thought I was a burglar or something,” Wilson said with a giggle. “They almost scared me back out of the exit and on top of you.”

“Well you shouldn’t sneak up on people Wils, it’s not funny,” Lana told him.

Wilson’s face suddenly turned serious as he remembered the sight of her rabbit, and he prepared himself to tell her about it.

“Aims,” he said with a soft, sullen voice, “Something’s happened.”

“Happened,” came from the corner with the pile of blankets in.

Wilson looked at that area and then looked at Marcus for confirmation that he had actually heard it.

Marcus shrugged so Wilson carried on.

“There seems to have been an accident,” he said without looking at her.

“Accident,” the voice said.

Lana laughed into her sleeve as Wilson looked at Marcus again, who had sat more upright this time, more interested.

“What the frick have you got up here?” he asked Aimee-Lou, staring at the corner all the time.

“Here,” came from the blankets, and that made Wilson lunged forwards and grab at them.

Both he and Marcus crawled backwards until they reached the wall of the wooden house and they screamed in shock.

Clive screamed back at them.

The troll was sat in the corner with its matted brown hair now gelled up into a point and dyed a lime green colour. Its eyes were wide, as wide as they could get, which was not really very wide at all, and the green was now sparkling against the light brown foundation that the girls had applied around its eyes. The oversized smiling mouth was now looking more like the Joker’s from the Batman comics, as the girls had plastered red lipstick all over its lips, and surrounding area. He had a pink dress on that was frilly at the bottom and had a low cut front that showed off the training bra that they had used to protect his dignity, and ample bosom that rested on top of his pot-belly, and his animal skin shoes that they had found him in had been replaced by a pair of Homer Simpson socks that Lana had borrowed from her father’s drawer.

“What the hell have you done?” Marcus said loudly to the girls.

“He’s a troll,” Lana said, matter of factly, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“We can see he’s a fricking troll, Lana,” Wilson shouted, “We’re not blind.” He pointed at Clive and laughed manically. “It’s a real fricking troll Lana, a real one.”

“And his name is Clive,” Aimee-Lou butted in.

Marcus laughed loudly and Clive copied, which made Marcus laugh even louder.

Wilson didn’t know if he should laugh or shout, but the sight of the real life troll in a pink tootoo, that made it look like some kind of overweight ballerina, could only make him laugh.

“What have you done?” he asked them again, this time calmly.

“We made him look like Hailey Baillie,” Lana said.

Hailey what?” Wilson asked.

Aimee-Lou lifted up the green haired troll doll that uncannily looked like Clive.

“Hailey Billie,” she said, pointing at the doll.

The boys sat dumfounded as they watched the way Aimee-Lou picked Clive up and placed him in her arms as though he was a new born baby, and how she started to feed him a ham sandwich that Lana had brought from home.

“You're cradling him like you would Fl...”

Wilson trailed of as he remembered about Aimee-Lou’s rabbit, and he figured that now may not have been the best time to tell her about him.

Marcus asked the next question, and then quickly wished he hadn’t when he received the answer.

“Where the hell did you get him, her, it?”

“We found Clive on Holy Island,” Lana said, as she helped her friend feed him.

Wilson stood bolt upright at the mention of the island, and he elongated his words as he spoke.

“Jesus, mother of frick.” He said as he leant forward toward Aimee-Lou. “Do you know how dangerous that place is? How did you get,” he changed his question, “No, when did you go there?”

Clive had coward further into the corner as Wilson’s voice raised, but he came forward with bared teeth when he began to point threateningly at Aimee-Lou.

Wilson stood up and looked at Marcus, who had finally stopped laughing and was backing away, and he indicated with a nod of the head toward the girls.

“Aims, Lana, come over here,” he said calmly as he flicked his fingers, but the girls stayed seated between him and Clive.

“He won’t hurt us,” Lana said confidently, and she put her hand toward him.

Clive sniffed at her flesh and hid his bared teeth.

“See,” Aimee-Lou said, smugly.

Wilson sat back down as Clive relaxed onto his throne of blankets, tucking his legs in together.

“We have to take it back,” he said to all three of them. “We have to get it back tomorrow.”

He remembered what Mr Owen had said about the trolls, and how the blood of any warm bodied creature would drive them into an insane version of itself. He also remembered what he had said about the trolls being drawn out by the total eclipse of the Sun.

“But he’s ours,” Lana said, putting on a sad face.

“Don't you get it,” Wilson said angrily. “This thing is a killer of humans, of anything with blood come to that, and we have to get it back to its family.”

He looked at Clive and soon dropped his anger as the defenceless looking troll looked back at him and smiled. The ridiculous smile, which was emphasized by the lipstick, was enough to make anyone think that he was just a baby troll dressed as a ballerina, incapable of hurting anyone or anything.

“Okay fine,” he said with his hands in the air. “But we take it to ‘orrible Owen in the morning and see what he has to say about it, agreed?”

“What does he know about trolls?” Aimee-Lou asked.

“More than you could ever imagine,” Marcus said with a hidden laugh.

Wilson looked at them all individually for a response to his proposal, and they all responded with the same reluctant answer.

“Agreed.”

“Okay then,” he said with a smile. “But please get that lipstick off of him Aims, he looks like a girl.”

The girls laughed and Clive copied them, which made Marcus and Wilson laugh as well.

They also agreed to leave the troll in the treehouse so that Aimee-Lou and Wilson's parents didn’t see him.

“What’s the worst that can happen up here?” Wilson had reassured them.

Clive sniffed the air as the humans spoke and laughed, and a dribble of saliva fell from the corner of his mouth.