The Gates: An Apocalyptic Novel Read Free

gloves hurried around, working on something out of sight.
    “ Atop this small hill, the body of pensioner,
Elizabeth Creasy—a retired local businesswoman—was found dead; her eyes badly
mutilated in what police are suspecting was a premeditated and personal
attack.”
    Rick scrunched up his face. “Poor lady.”
    “She must have annoyed the wrong person,” said
Keith.
    “ Most bizarre, ” the reporter continued, “ is
the presence of a bizarre object found beside the crime scene. A smooth black
stone was discovered right next to Mrs Creasy’s body, but all attempts so far
to collect it have failed. In fact, several attempts to interact with the stone
have resulted in further casualties as two police officers, first to arrive at
the scene, both suffered fatal injuries shortly upon touching the object in
question. A team of geologists from the University of Exeter are now examining
the stone, but their initial studies are yet to provide any insight into its
nature. Police are hesitant to draw any conclusions, but this has been a strange
and brutal attack in one of the country’s most idyllic locations. I’m Kimberly
Wilkins, back to the studio. ”
    Rick pulled a face. “Horrible.”
    Keith shrugged.
    “Somebody mutilated her eyes, Keith. I don’t know
how a person can…” He sighed and took a nip of whiskey. “And that stone they
were talking about...  They said they couldn’t collect it. What does that even
mean?”
    “That it’s heavy. Who cares?”
    Rick wasn’t sure why he cared. Perhaps it was
because he often felt so isolated and vulnerable here on his own. He sometimes
lay in bed at night hearing noises and worrying about robbers creeping around
downstairs. That might be why the thought of an old lady being mutilated and
murdered just miles away from his home was more than a little unnerving. “I
just find the whole thing sad,” he said. “Why would someone do that to a
pensioner?”
    Keith chuckled. “You always think too much, Rick.
I remember when our dog, Cassie, died. You cried in your room for a week. You
were such a funny child.”
    Rick topped up his whiskey and exhaled into his
glass, then took another long swig. He clonked the empty glass down on the
counter and took a moment to study his older brother—a slightly plumper, slightly
balder version of himself. His previously jet-black hair had lightened towards grey
and his nose seemed bigger. “What do you want, Keith? Will you tell me why
you’re here? I know it’s not because you missed me.”
    Keith rubbed a hand against his stubbled chin. It
was unlike him not to be clean-shaven. “Maybe I should have that drink after
all, Rick. I’ll have whatever you’re having.”
    Rick poured his brother a whiskey in a fresh glass
and slid it towards him. “Why are you here for God’s sake? Will you just tell
me?”
    Keith wrapped his fingers around the whiskey glass
and stared down at the oak-coloured contents. “Because I have no place else to
go. I need to stay here tonight, Rick. Maybe for a while.”
    Rick closed his eyes. He could not have got a worse
answer.

~MINA MAGAR~
Oxford Street, London
    “Come on, Mina,” shouted David.
“We need to get there before the others. There won’t be room to swing your
elbows soon, and I need those shots.”
    Mina kept a firm grip on her camera and fought to
keep up. She was fifteen years younger than David, but when there was a story
to be had, the man could move like the wind. His yellow hair flowed behind him
like a thoroughbred’s mane, and he slipped through the crowd like water through
a sieve. All Mina caught were brief flashes of his Argyle socks. She,
meanwhile, bumped into people almost every step, and received more than a few
dirty looks. She couldn’t help but apologise profusely.
    Even on a slow day, Oxford Street was one of the
busiest spots in London, and today people were teeming through it like ants.
They packed together in small groups, lining the road on both sides.