The Fog - James Herbert [19]
Holman chuckled and said nothing. His amusement soon vanished when he realized the fog was becoming thicker. He slowed down to a crawling pace and leaned even further towards the windscreen.
‘John what’s that?’ Casey clutched his arm, her eyes staring across him at something to his right.
He looked through his side window but saw only the swirling mist. ‘What? I can’t see anything.’
‘It’s gone. It may have been nothing but I thought I saw a glow. Something white, shining through the fog, but it vanished almost immediately. I think a heavier bank of fog must have swept by. I can’t see it anymore.’
‘It might have just been a clear patch, the sun getting through somewhere.’
‘Yes, maybe.’
Their attention was drawn back to their passenger as he began cursing again.
‘Bloody weather. Bright one minute, fog the next. Goes with the times, it does.’
‘What d’you mean?’ Holman asked.
‘Nice peaceful summer we’ve had, couldn’t have been better. Then what happens? A bloody earthquake, of all things. Here in Wiltshire!’ He rocked forward in pain as his voice rose. ‘And then yesterday. Did you hear about yesterday?’
Holman shook his head, still concentrating on the road. Casey replied, ‘You mean the axe murders?’
‘Yeah. In all the papers this mornin’. ’Appened fairly near the earthquake village, an’ all. Rich bloke, Colonel something-or-other, murdered with ’is wife and all ’is staff, cook and a maid, I think. Done in with an axe. And the bloke they reckon done it chopped at ’is own wrists ’till he bled to death. Party of people came over to see this Colonel and found all the bodies just lyin’ around. I dunno what it’s comin’ to, one thing after another.’
‘Yes,’ said Holman, ‘it’s like you said. Sunny one minute, dark the next.’
‘And now I suppose I’m goin’ to lose me job over this.’
‘No, I’m sure you won’t,’ Casey said sympathetically.
‘Oh, you don’t know old Captain Hook. Never ’as liked me. Still, I know a few little secrets about him.’ Hodges groaned again. ‘How much further?’
For another painfully slow fifteen minutes they were immersed in the dense fog then, suddenly, they were clear. It was like passing through a door, the change was so abrupt.
‘Christ,’ muttered Holman in surprise. He’d been squinting into the mist and just had time to register it becoming slightly lighter when at once they were driving in bright sunlight. He and Casey looked over their shoulders at the thick yellowish-grey blanket behind them. Hodges was too busy nursing his own pain and grievances to take any notice. As they watched, it seemed to move away from them like a dark shroud being drawn across the countryside. Casey shivered and Holman smiled at her with a reassurance he hardly felt.
‘It isn’t natural,’ the girl whispered.
Holman shook his head, but had no answer to give. He switched off the car lights and moved forward again, picking up welcome speed as he went. The village was soon reached and Hodges directed him to the police station. He ran up the steps and quickly told them what had happened to the coach. The police sergeant couldn’t quite understand Holman’s anxiety when he learnt that none of the boys was seriously hurt. He was surprised and almost disbelieving about the fog, it certainly hadn’t passed through the village and he’d had no reports of it from around the surrounding countryside. Nevertheless, he reassured Holman, he would get in touch with the garage and send one of his men out there right away. He gave him directions for the doctor’s surgery and thanked him for the trouble he’d taken.
When Holman left the police station he had a faint feeling of dissatisfaction. Perhaps he was making more of it than the situation warranted, after all, fog in England certainly wasn’t unusual although at this time of year it was a little strange. It was difficult to conjure up the menacing atmosphere of the cloudy yellow-greyness in his mind now that he was in the bright sunshine. The fog seemed unreal, as though it had never really