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Authors: Shane Dunphy
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too, and everyone smiled and shook hands with me again.
Bríd led the way back down the stairs, telling me various titbits of information about the religious artefacts that adorned the walls as we descended. It seemed that theological history was something of an interest of hers, and she must have been in heaven in the old hospital with its dark, echoing hallways and countless dusty pictures, statues and ornaments.
‘This piece is really fascinating,’ she was saying, stopping me by a painting in a guilded frame of Daniel in the Lion’s Den. ‘It dates back to 1764, I think, and –’
The remainder of her lecture was drowned out by a noise that sounded like a wild-cat roaring, and something sprang from the shadow of the stairwell behind us and landed on Karena’s shoulders. The childcare worker screamed in fright and pain and fell to the carpeted floor. Another growl rang out and a second creature dropped from above, this one bouncing off Olwyn and knocking her to the ground. I peered through the murk of the corridor, trying to work out what was happening. The thing on the ground rolled like a monkey and was upright in one fluid motion. I suddenly realized that these must be the Byrnes. What I was looking at were two children. I knew they were ten years of age, but they looked to be much smaller, with masses of light brown hair. Both were naked, and I could see that they still bore the marks of malnutrition and were covered in scars and healing scratches. The child who had felled Olwyn looked at me and hissed like a cat, lashing out at me with clawed hands. I stepped back instinctively.
‘Children,’ Bríd exclaimed, rushing over to help Olwyn, ‘stop this nonsense this instant!’
The child nearest me seemed to be female – her hair was long and unkempt, and it hung right down over her face. She stalked towards me like a predator, long, fluid movements on all fours, rolling from side to side in an almost serpentine pattern. It was very unnerving, and I found myself backing up until I hit the wall. Karena, meanwhile, had pulled herself erect, and she crept behind and scooped up the child into her arms.
‘Francey, I want you to go back to bed, please.’
Francey seemed to have other ideas, and with a snarl she sank her teeth into Karena’s arm. The worker gasped in pain and momentarily let go her grip, but it was enough time for the child to make the leap to her brother, who was struggling with Bríd and Olwyn. I shook off the sense of panic that had gripped me and ran over, reaching out to restrain the little girl. She must have had good peripheral vision, because, quick as lightning, she swerved to avoid me and, with a howl, leapt over the banisters, vanishing into the darkness to the floor ten feet below us. Larry fought even more ferociously when he saw his sister escape, and in a second had raked Olwyn all down her face and bitten Bríd on the ear. Then he too was gone.
‘The Byrnes, I presume,’ I said, not sure how I was feeling after the bizarre encounter. I was still reeling from the surreality of it all.
‘That’s them,’ Karena said, examining the marks on poor Olwyn’s face.
‘Come on, let’s see if we can round them up,’ Bríd said, and we followed her down the stairs.
We found them in the kitchen. Francey was squatting under the big, wooden table. Larry was perched on top of it. Milk, cereal and sugar were poured all over the floor in a congealing mess, and both children had fistfuls of bread they were munching on. When Larry saw us enter the room, he gibbered like an ape, jumped up and down a couple of times and then rolled off the table, landing skilfully on his feet and scuttling in beside his sister.
‘Larry and Francey,’ Bríd said sternly, ‘I want you to come out of there and go back to your beds. We will talk about this tomorrow. There will
have
to be sanctions.’
Sanctions is just a nice word for ‘punishment’. The twins would have heard it used throughout the
Bríd led the way back down the stairs, telling me various titbits of information about the religious artefacts that adorned the walls as we descended. It seemed that theological history was something of an interest of hers, and she must have been in heaven in the old hospital with its dark, echoing hallways and countless dusty pictures, statues and ornaments.
‘This piece is really fascinating,’ she was saying, stopping me by a painting in a guilded frame of Daniel in the Lion’s Den. ‘It dates back to 1764, I think, and –’
The remainder of her lecture was drowned out by a noise that sounded like a wild-cat roaring, and something sprang from the shadow of the stairwell behind us and landed on Karena’s shoulders. The childcare worker screamed in fright and pain and fell to the carpeted floor. Another growl rang out and a second creature dropped from above, this one bouncing off Olwyn and knocking her to the ground. I peered through the murk of the corridor, trying to work out what was happening. The thing on the ground rolled like a monkey and was upright in one fluid motion. I suddenly realized that these must be the Byrnes. What I was looking at were two children. I knew they were ten years of age, but they looked to be much smaller, with masses of light brown hair. Both were naked, and I could see that they still bore the marks of malnutrition and were covered in scars and healing scratches. The child who had felled Olwyn looked at me and hissed like a cat, lashing out at me with clawed hands. I stepped back instinctively.
‘Children,’ Bríd exclaimed, rushing over to help Olwyn, ‘stop this nonsense this instant!’
The child nearest me seemed to be female – her hair was long and unkempt, and it hung right down over her face. She stalked towards me like a predator, long, fluid movements on all fours, rolling from side to side in an almost serpentine pattern. It was very unnerving, and I found myself backing up until I hit the wall. Karena, meanwhile, had pulled herself erect, and she crept behind and scooped up the child into her arms.
‘Francey, I want you to go back to bed, please.’
Francey seemed to have other ideas, and with a snarl she sank her teeth into Karena’s arm. The worker gasped in pain and momentarily let go her grip, but it was enough time for the child to make the leap to her brother, who was struggling with Bríd and Olwyn. I shook off the sense of panic that had gripped me and ran over, reaching out to restrain the little girl. She must have had good peripheral vision, because, quick as lightning, she swerved to avoid me and, with a howl, leapt over the banisters, vanishing into the darkness to the floor ten feet below us. Larry fought even more ferociously when he saw his sister escape, and in a second had raked Olwyn all down her face and bitten Bríd on the ear. Then he too was gone.
‘The Byrnes, I presume,’ I said, not sure how I was feeling after the bizarre encounter. I was still reeling from the surreality of it all.
‘That’s them,’ Karena said, examining the marks on poor Olwyn’s face.
‘Come on, let’s see if we can round them up,’ Bríd said, and we followed her down the stairs.
We found them in the kitchen. Francey was squatting under the big, wooden table. Larry was perched on top of it. Milk, cereal and sugar were poured all over the floor in a congealing mess, and both children had fistfuls of bread they were munching on. When Larry saw us enter the room, he gibbered like an ape, jumped up and down a couple of times and then rolled off the table, landing skilfully on his feet and scuttling in beside his sister.
‘Larry and Francey,’ Bríd said sternly, ‘I want you to come out of there and go back to your beds. We will talk about this tomorrow. There will
have
to be sanctions.’
Sanctions is just a nice word for ‘punishment’. The twins would have heard it used throughout the
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