his unvoiced thought. 'Okay, Mickey. Run.'
Mickey leapt over the rail like a gazelle. Ped followed.
Behind him, those booted feet clattered over the gravel. To his right the train roared down at them. It was nothing less than a hell-storm of light and noise and movement. Twenty tons of electric-driven locomotive that would splatter any human standing in its way. Ped could swear that the carriage-work brushed a heel as he raced after his brother. Mickey didn't stop now. He leapt over the fence then ran down the slope to the canal towpath.
Five seconds later he stopped. In the light falling from buildings across the canal three figures stood in their way. To one side of them were the glistening waters, on the other side ran a high fence.
'Hell!' Ped screamed. 'There's more of them.' The gang must have sent some of its members down here. They had the foresight to appreciate that their victims might try to escape this way. The figures didn't move. They were purely silhouettes of ominous intent. Silently, they stood there, blocking the path as effectively as a brick wall.
Ped was running short of options. Nevertheless, he grabbed his brother and dragged him into the bushes that formed a green boundary ten feet deep between this section of path and fence. With luck there might be a gap that would allow their escape. A moment later he knew that there wasn't. The steel fence hemmed them in. All the pair could do was crouch there in the darkness. The gang would find them. That much was sure.
Then Mickey whispered, 'Those three…'
'I know. The gang sent them to cut us off.' He sighed. 'I'm sorry, bro.'
'They aren't skinheads.'
Ped groaned. 'Don't start this now. They're not electric men. Electric men don't exist.'
'No, they're not electric men.' Mickey spoke with conviction. 'They're not any kind of men.'
Ped risked a peek through the foliage. Only it wasn't the three figures he saw, it was the gang of four with their shaved heads. This is where thug collided with something altogether more monstrous. And when the end came it was fast, brutal, bloody.
Ped heard one of the gang snarl, 'Get out of our way.'
Then came weird grunts as if a pack of hungry carnivores had found fresh meat. A second later Ped watched the thugs run back toward the track. They were howling in terror. The hunters now the hunted. It was too dark to see much but suddenly figures flashed by with the speed of panthers. They pounced on the skinheads in a furious maelstrom of movement. All Ped could make out was that the figures from the canal path were biting the men. He saw heads twisting from side to side as they bit through skin. Just for a second a blue-white face lifted itself from the frenzy of limbs. Ped had the impression that the owner of that uncanny face had raised their head so they could swallow a massive mouthful of food. But what kind of food?
The face was female. It was smeared with blood. Worse than the sight of blood was the expression of rapacious gluttony. Ped listened to excited grunts, then came a gulping as if thirsty people drank - no… more than thirsty - these were individuals maddened by thirst. They quenched their arid throats in an orgy of drinking. Meanwhile, the skinhead gang fell silent. After a moment of stillness came splashes from the canal as heavy objects dropped into the water.
When it had been silent for a time Ped emerged from the bushes with his brother beside him. The path was deserted. Briefly, ripples ran across the surface of the waterway. Mickey watched something gliding through the dark waters. Ped made a point of not watching. A sixth sense warned him that his sleep would be haunted by nightmares for years to come if he did see what manner of creature swam there.
Then came a scuffling sound from the bushes. One of the skinheads blundered by them; he wasn't interested in the
Mickey leapt over the rail like a gazelle. Ped followed.
Behind him, those booted feet clattered over the gravel. To his right the train roared down at them. It was nothing less than a hell-storm of light and noise and movement. Twenty tons of electric-driven locomotive that would splatter any human standing in its way. Ped could swear that the carriage-work brushed a heel as he raced after his brother. Mickey didn't stop now. He leapt over the fence then ran down the slope to the canal towpath.
Five seconds later he stopped. In the light falling from buildings across the canal three figures stood in their way. To one side of them were the glistening waters, on the other side ran a high fence.
'Hell!' Ped screamed. 'There's more of them.' The gang must have sent some of its members down here. They had the foresight to appreciate that their victims might try to escape this way. The figures didn't move. They were purely silhouettes of ominous intent. Silently, they stood there, blocking the path as effectively as a brick wall.
Ped was running short of options. Nevertheless, he grabbed his brother and dragged him into the bushes that formed a green boundary ten feet deep between this section of path and fence. With luck there might be a gap that would allow their escape. A moment later he knew that there wasn't. The steel fence hemmed them in. All the pair could do was crouch there in the darkness. The gang would find them. That much was sure.
Then Mickey whispered, 'Those three…'
'I know. The gang sent them to cut us off.' He sighed. 'I'm sorry, bro.'
'They aren't skinheads.'
Ped groaned. 'Don't start this now. They're not electric men. Electric men don't exist.'
'No, they're not electric men.' Mickey spoke with conviction. 'They're not any kind of men.'
Ped risked a peek through the foliage. Only it wasn't the three figures he saw, it was the gang of four with their shaved heads. This is where thug collided with something altogether more monstrous. And when the end came it was fast, brutal, bloody.
Ped heard one of the gang snarl, 'Get out of our way.'
Then came weird grunts as if a pack of hungry carnivores had found fresh meat. A second later Ped watched the thugs run back toward the track. They were howling in terror. The hunters now the hunted. It was too dark to see much but suddenly figures flashed by with the speed of panthers. They pounced on the skinheads in a furious maelstrom of movement. All Ped could make out was that the figures from the canal path were biting the men. He saw heads twisting from side to side as they bit through skin. Just for a second a blue-white face lifted itself from the frenzy of limbs. Ped had the impression that the owner of that uncanny face had raised their head so they could swallow a massive mouthful of food. But what kind of food?
The face was female. It was smeared with blood. Worse than the sight of blood was the expression of rapacious gluttony. Ped listened to excited grunts, then came a gulping as if thirsty people drank - no… more than thirsty - these were individuals maddened by thirst. They quenched their arid throats in an orgy of drinking. Meanwhile, the skinhead gang fell silent. After a moment of stillness came splashes from the canal as heavy objects dropped into the water.
When it had been silent for a time Ped emerged from the bushes with his brother beside him. The path was deserted. Briefly, ripples ran across the surface of the waterway. Mickey watched something gliding through the dark waters. Ped made a point of not watching. A sixth sense warned him that his sleep would be haunted by nightmares for years to come if he did see what manner of creature swam there.
Then came a scuffling sound from the bushes. One of the skinheads blundered by them; he wasn't interested in the
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