Read Online The Wells of Hell by Graham Masterton - Free Book Online
Authors: Graham Masterton
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lobster-like joint. Lawrence,
his hands shaking, turned the boy’s body back over again, and we could see that
where his sexual organs had once been, there was instead a spiny array of blue
and green crustaceous filaments.
We were all silent. We stood around
Oliver’s body in the light of those police torches, gathered together in that
dark, sodden house, and none of us knew what to do or what to say. Lawrence at
last stood up, tugging the wet cloth of his pants away from his knees, and taking
off his spectacles.
Outside, the wind blew sadly; and
inside, the rugs and the carpets sponged up the water with a slow ticking
sound. Sheriff Wilkes cleared his throat.
‘I think we have an idea what may
have happened here,’ said Dan, in a low, almost inaudible voice.
Lawrence Dunn looked at him, but
Carter couldn’t take his eyes off the dull sheen of the scales on Oliver’s
body.
‘If you think you have an idea,
you’d better spit it out,’ said Carter.
‘It’s the whole reason we came up
here,’ Dan explained. ‘The Bodines were complaining about discoloration in
their water-supply, and Mason here brought me a sample to test. I found some
kind of organism in it, a microscopic creature that kept giving off a
yellowy-greeny fluid.’
‘Did you identify it?’ asked
Lawrence.
Dan shook his head. ‘I didn’t have
time. One of the mice in my laboratory drank some of it by accident while Mason
and I were out, and when we came back – well, the same thing had happened to
the mouse that’s happened to poor young Oliver here.’
‘So you think he’s been drinking the
water and it’s made him turn all shell-backed like this?’ asked Carter.
‘There’s no definitive proof, not
yet.’
‘Do you think it might affect
anybody else’s water supply?’ Lawrence wanted to know.
‘I haven’t any idea,’ said Dan. ‘But
just to be safe, I’d try to put out a warning if I were you, telling the local
folks to stick to bottled water for the time being. Until I find out what these
organisms are, and why they affect people this way, then I think we have to
assume that the whole community’s in danger.’ Carter looked down at Oliver’s
jointed thighs, and slowly shook his head. ‘I’ll be damned if I’ve ever seen
anything like that before.’
One of the deputies, Erroll, a young
sandy man with a ginger moustache, came up from downstairs with a radio message
from the volunteers out looking for the Denton boy. As soon as he walked into
the room, he said: ‘My God, what’s that smell?’
‘Smell?’ asked Carter.
‘ That smell of bad fish. Hasn’t it hit you?’
Three
I was living, temporarily, in a
stone-and-weatherboard weekend house just outside of New Milford, on the back
road to New Preston. The house belonged to my lawyer, the same lawyer who had
handled my divorce for me, but he rarely came up from the city these days, not
since he’d broken up with his mistress. I used to live over a macrame and
pottery store just across from the foodliner store in the centre of New
Milford, but the lease had expired and the landlord had wanted the place for his
aged sister. Shelley and I, rather than argue, had packed our bags and our
ballcocks and our lengths of piping, and moved out.
Still, Shelley liked it out at New
Preston. There was a small farm right opposite, where black-and-white cows
grazed in the foggy fall mists and that meant there were plenty of mice to be
played with. And the place was quiet, too. So quiet that you could step out of
the back door at night and take a deep breath of that chilly Connecticut air,
and hear nothing at all but scurrying leaves.
I didn’t get back to the house until
it was almost dawn. I parked the Country Squire on the sloping driveway, and
climbed tiredly out. Shelley stretched himself out like a watch-spring, and
climbed after me. I’d named him Shelley after the poet Shelley, who had
written: ‘How wonderful is Death, Death and his brother Sleep!’ It never
his hands shaking, turned the boy’s body back over again, and we could see that
where his sexual organs had once been, there was instead a spiny array of blue
and green crustaceous filaments.
We were all silent. We stood around
Oliver’s body in the light of those police torches, gathered together in that
dark, sodden house, and none of us knew what to do or what to say. Lawrence at
last stood up, tugging the wet cloth of his pants away from his knees, and taking
off his spectacles.
Outside, the wind blew sadly; and
inside, the rugs and the carpets sponged up the water with a slow ticking
sound. Sheriff Wilkes cleared his throat.
‘I think we have an idea what may
have happened here,’ said Dan, in a low, almost inaudible voice.
Lawrence Dunn looked at him, but
Carter couldn’t take his eyes off the dull sheen of the scales on Oliver’s
body.
‘If you think you have an idea,
you’d better spit it out,’ said Carter.
‘It’s the whole reason we came up
here,’ Dan explained. ‘The Bodines were complaining about discoloration in
their water-supply, and Mason here brought me a sample to test. I found some
kind of organism in it, a microscopic creature that kept giving off a
yellowy-greeny fluid.’
‘Did you identify it?’ asked
Lawrence.
Dan shook his head. ‘I didn’t have
time. One of the mice in my laboratory drank some of it by accident while Mason
and I were out, and when we came back – well, the same thing had happened to
the mouse that’s happened to poor young Oliver here.’
‘So you think he’s been drinking the
water and it’s made him turn all shell-backed like this?’ asked Carter.
‘There’s no definitive proof, not
yet.’
‘Do you think it might affect
anybody else’s water supply?’ Lawrence wanted to know.
‘I haven’t any idea,’ said Dan. ‘But
just to be safe, I’d try to put out a warning if I were you, telling the local
folks to stick to bottled water for the time being. Until I find out what these
organisms are, and why they affect people this way, then I think we have to
assume that the whole community’s in danger.’ Carter looked down at Oliver’s
jointed thighs, and slowly shook his head. ‘I’ll be damned if I’ve ever seen
anything like that before.’
One of the deputies, Erroll, a young
sandy man with a ginger moustache, came up from downstairs with a radio message
from the volunteers out looking for the Denton boy. As soon as he walked into
the room, he said: ‘My God, what’s that smell?’
‘Smell?’ asked Carter.
‘ That smell of bad fish. Hasn’t it hit you?’
Three
I was living, temporarily, in a
stone-and-weatherboard weekend house just outside of New Milford, on the back
road to New Preston. The house belonged to my lawyer, the same lawyer who had
handled my divorce for me, but he rarely came up from the city these days, not
since he’d broken up with his mistress. I used to live over a macrame and
pottery store just across from the foodliner store in the centre of New
Milford, but the lease had expired and the landlord had wanted the place for his
aged sister. Shelley and I, rather than argue, had packed our bags and our
ballcocks and our lengths of piping, and moved out.
Still, Shelley liked it out at New
Preston. There was a small farm right opposite, where black-and-white cows
grazed in the foggy fall mists and that meant there were plenty of mice to be
played with. And the place was quiet, too. So quiet that you could step out of
the back door at night and take a deep breath of that chilly Connecticut air,
and hear nothing at all but scurrying leaves.
I didn’t get back to the house until
it was almost dawn. I parked the Country Squire on the sloping driveway, and
climbed tiredly out. Shelley stretched himself out like a watch-spring, and
climbed after me. I’d named him Shelley after the poet Shelley, who had
written: ‘How wonderful is Death, Death and his brother Sleep!’ It never
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