The Hotwells Horror & Other Stories

The Hotwells Horror & other stories

A Far Horizons Publishing Anthology

In Memory of

David J Rodger

All proceeds from

the sales of this book go to the charity Mind

Mind provides advice and support to empower anyone experiencing a mental health problem. They campaign to improve services, raise awareness and promote understanding.

The Hotwells Horror & other stories

Edited by Pete Sutton

First Edition Published

by Far Horizons Press

Jan 2018

This edition TBC

This is a work of fiction. Names, places and incidents are either products of the authors’ imaginations or used ficticiously. Any resemblences to actual persons, living or dead (except for satirical purposes) is entirely coincidental.

This edition © Far Horizons Press

The Hotwells Horror © David J Rodger

Out of Context © Chris Halliday

A Day at the Lake © Thomas David Parker

Coffee and Cthulu © Ian Millsted

A Piece of the Puzzle © Cheryl Morgan

Hillraiser © Ken Shinn

Psilocybin © Dave Sharrock

HIAB-X © David J Rodger

The Lost Brother © Simon Brake

Dead Reckoning © John Houlihan

Fall of Ophiuchus © Samantha J Rule & Eli Johnston

Salvation © Dave Bradley

Signal in the dark © Peter Sutton

Fast Love Die © David J Rodger

All rights reserved

ISBN: 978-0-9954641-7-9

Cover illustration and design © Dave Sharrock

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

Contents

Introduction

The Hotwells Horror

Out of Context

A Day At The Lake

Coffee and Cthulhu

A Piece of the Puzzle

Hillraiser

Psilocybin

Hiab_X

The Lost Brother

Dead Reckoning

Fall of Ophiucus

Salvation

A Signal in the Dark

Fast Love Die

Biographies

David J Rodger: Some Memories: Nov 5th 2016 Brooklyn

David J Rodger was born in Newcastle Upon Tyne in 1970 to an English father and Norwegian mother. He had 10 published novels set in a near-future world of corporate and political intrigue and was the creator of Yellow Dawn, a successful Role Playing Game based on the same world formed by his novels ten years after it has een devastated.

At the time of his death Yellow Dawn was in the final stages of being turned into a board game and also being scripted for a potential film.  His partner of 14 years is looking to continue with this work with the help of his faithful RPG friends, so his legacy can live on. 

He started writing at 19 and bought his first RPG at the tender age of 9 after begging his father for pocket money having spotted it with sheer delight in a shop window.  This was the start of his love for H P Lovecraft and his first taste into the world of Cthulhu Mythos and the Dark Arts.

David moved to Bristol at 21 and the only delight on the long coach journey back to Newcastle was spending an hour in a Games Workshop at Birmingham New Street station.  David joined many games & writing groups in Bristol and became quite prolific in the art scene.  Over the years many a book launch or game event was held in coffee shops & cafes he frequented on more than a regular basis. 

David’s presence on the Internet got him a place in the BBC documentary Through the Eyes of the Young.  He had also written non-fiction work for UK magazines and had short stories published in the UK, US, Canada & Japan.  His final novel, Oakfield, was the first novel he started some ٢٥ years earlier and was published just ٧ months before his death.  Acknowledgements were many which always included the masters of moods, musicians who created the essential atmosphere for his world. 

He lived his final years with that Braun coffee maker, writing from a house on a hill with a view of the earth curve. 

You can still find his work at www.davidjrodger.com

Introduction

I was aware of David before I met him. I’m not sure how, some sort of writer’s osmosis in the city I guess. But more likely I’d seen his name on the BristolCon program. My first appearance at BristolCon Fringe was with David. He read a Yellow Dawn story. I’d researched him beforehand and knew that he’d do something dark. Something dark pretty much describes my ouvre and I thought that the audience may want some light relief so I wrote an amusing story about amputation, which did get some laughs. I remember David telling me that it was incredibly difficult to get an audience to laugh – I’ve seldom tried it since. The same evening David introduced Thomas David Parker to BristolCon fringe – a fateful introduction I think since Tom now runs the Fringe. Tom is one of the three without whom this book would not exist. The other is Chris Halliday (more on him anon)

David and Tom had a firmer friendship than myself and David but we continued to do events together – all three of us were on the same program at Small Stories for example. And, as our various stories explored similar dark spaces I suggested we do an anthology, a triptych. The last email I have from David was on this topic, looking forward to working together. But it was never to be.

But the idea of the anthology never went away. At the funeral I spoke of it with Tom and Tom roped Chris in. Chris, again, was a closer friend to David than I, or Tom even. Without Chris we wouldn’t have half the contributors we do.

From the start we wanted stories that David would have enjoyed. I believe that’s what we have. Within these covers you’ll find stories about topics David explored in his own work. Lovecraftian tales and cyberpunk for sure but also a tale I hoped would make him laugh, Hillraiser by Ken Shinn. Ken and David sadly never knew each other but I think they’d have got on well. Among the tales you’ll find that Chris’s Out of Context is a very fine story and very poignant, Tom’s A Day at the Lake is one I think he’d discussed with David, Cheryl’s Lovecraft tale would have tickled him I think. I’ve also included three of David’s own tales which give a very brief insight into his writing – I recommend you go find more of it. Jo Garrard’s introduction has a link where you can seek it out.

This book has been a long time in gestation, because it was a labour of love and paying work kept interrupting. For a long time the book was only ever referred to as ‘For David’ for that’s what it is – a book in his memory, sure, but a book for him, wherever it is writers go when they pass from this world.

At the funeral we did a toast, in Norweigan and I’d like you, before going further with this book, to fetch yourself a glass of something strong and join us in another toast to David.

Og så svinger vi på seiddelen ingjen, hei skal!

(phonetically – Oh saw swinger vi paw saydelenn iyem, hey skawl!)

Peter Sutton (editor) September 2017

The Hotwells Horror

David J Rodger

Investigation launched as ‘unexplained’ human remains

discovered in Hotwells

BRISTOL: Police have launched an investigation after a member of the public found two bodies outside of one of the historic properties of the Colonnade.

Officers received the call at 8am on Sunday morning, from a person reporting human remains lying outside the front door, near to the main A4 Hotwell Road.

Subsequently, a further fourteen bodies have been discovered within six other properties at the Colonnade.

The deaths are currently being treated as unexplained, and an investigation has now been launched.

A huge police response was at Hotwells throughout the day on Sunday, with one lane of the A4 closed and the entire Colonnade cordoned off to the public, and officers conducting patrols.

Donald Collins, the force incident manager for Avon and Somerset Police, said: "At this moment in time we don’t know how these people died. Itis too early in the investigation to make a useful statement, other than to say we do consider foul play to be involved.

"We were called at 8am this morning by a member of the public. I can confirm the bodies of a man and woman who were initially discovered.

"When officers began to canvass the neighbouring properties, further remains were discovered. A total of sixteen bodies have now been found.

Crime Scene Managers have set up a mobile command centre in Hotwells and have begun their investigation.

Police have refused to confirm the nature of the victims’ injuries, their age, or what they were wearing at the time they died, due to the potentially sensitive investigation.

It is the second ‘unexplained incident’ to take place in Hotwells over the weekend – three young men were taken to hospital on Saturday night after suffering some kind of gas-attack within their home on Christina Terrace which left them screaming and delirious. A fourth man was found dead inside the house, in a condition the policehave so far refused to comment on. All three men are in a critical condition.

Christina Terrace is only several hundred metresfrom the Colonnade.

The Colonnade curves into a cliff beside the Avon. Built as a shopping arcade for spa visitors in 1786, it is all that remains of the old Hotwell complex.

***

He found the box hidden in a secret compartment within the bathroom of the aged house; beneath the belly of the cast iron rolltop bath. It was a strange place to conceal it but Miloš suspected the large metal receptacle possibly helped to hide the box from those who had intended to find it first.

For him, the discovery was an accident, an intriguing surprise in the midst of a dull task, and the start of a brief mystery. A prelude to the horror.

He would soon come to wish to God he had never found it. Terrible consequences unfurled from that moment of blind curiosity.

The house belonged to his late uncle: Silas Smolák. He was there to clear the man’s personal items and ensure the property was in a good condition for viewing and sale. There were no relatives to speak of. For either of them. Anyone who had been kin was now either dead or disowned from family fold.

Somewhat oddly, it had been eighteen months since his uncle passed away. Killed by a single, nerve-shredding stroke. Probate had taken forever to complete, delaying the proposed sale, due to complications over the estate. Specifically, when the firm of solicitors Quort, Menahem, Wexler had requested a detailed inventory of the dead man’s things. This involved a thorough survey of the house in Sneyd Park, something which bizarrely included the use of expensive structure-penetrating radar, and thermal scannning equipment.

Had they been looking for the box? It was the first thought that came to Miloš’s mind when he discovered it.

His discovery had occurred when he’d gone to clean the bathroom. He’d removed his wedding ring (wife long deceased) so it wouldn’t snag on the flimsy rubber gloves he’d found beneath the kitchen sink. Placing the ring on the edge of the rolltop bath it had tumbled onto the floor, rolled and come to rest against the side of a low platform upon which the bath itself stood.

It was when he went to pick up the ring that he noticed it seemed to cling to the wood, not with any stickiness, but with a feeling of magnetic attraction. Which just didn’t make any sense at all.

Miloš had knelt there, and played with the effect for a minute or so, holding the ring between his gloved fingers, moving it back and forth feeling the ring caught in some sort of field that exuded from the wooden platform... or from within it?

That was when he’d decided to find some tools to open up the platform and take a look.

Tucked away between two wooden joists was a rectangular box of smoky grey metal, reflective in a dull way, like pewter but not so soft.

Why had his uncle Silas hidden it there? What or who was he hiding it from? Quort, Menahem,Wexler? But who did they represent?

Reaching through the opening he had made, Miloš had lifted out the box, surprised by how heavy it was. He’d actually struggled to get it out.

But now he had it on the floor beside him.

Miloš sat there, with his back against the stud wall, the solid weight of the box resting across his thighs. The midmorning sun was streaming in through the small window above and to his left. The day was mild despite the lateness of year, and he felt comfortable, relaxed and warm.

The box was about the length of his forearm and almost as wide; quite deep, it had hinges concealed amongst elaborate decorative details. Miloš suspected the metal was not ordinary, and the unusual design suggested the box had a special purpose.

He was drawn to it, in a very particular way. It was as if it had some influence over him. A fact he was consciously aware of, but felt inclined to ignore. A palpable aura of risk: of hidden things, of secrets, locked away for good reason. Not to be opened. Not meant to be discovered at all.

Perhaps.

Or maybe it was intended to be found when the right person came along?

Was he the right person?

His mind felt off-balance; his thoughts jumbled and confused. He stared down at the box as if a great decision hung over him.

Strange...

There was no lock, just an ornate hasp mechanism. Making an abrupt decision he swung the lid open.

Inside he found the box contained a stack of paper documents and an object that initially looked like a fist-sized lump of quartz.

He examined the documents first.

Old sheets of paper that had been through a typewriter and some more modern laser-jet computer prints. No hydrogel or softscreen items, no so-called smart paper. Each document featured an ink-stamped reference to a certain Project Huld. Together they appeared to represent a historical record of construction carried out in the 19th century. Schematics and engineering diagrams showed cross-sections of a large shaft dug at a specific angle of elevation; complex machinery that looked like something from a Jules Verne story supposedly occupied this tunnel-like void.

Then Miloš realised what he was looking at and his roaming paused, his scalp tightened and a deep frown carved through his brow. The documents related to the Clifton Rock’s Railway, but suggested the original structure had been created not as a railway but as the home of a magnificent, mysterious machine.

What the hell..?

He knew of Clifton Rocks Railway. It had opened in the 1890s, as far as he knew as a funicular to connect the lofty mansions of Clifton to Hotwells below. But these documents claimed the opening of the actual railway was planned with an intentional delay. A delay to allow the creation and activation of the machine called the qS-Probe.

Flicking through pages at random, Miloš learned the entire project was orchestrated by a group calling themselves the Large Cosmos Fraternity. It seemed this group had existed for centuries and Miloš’s uncle had been a member of it, possibly a senior one. According to the paperwork Silas had been responsible for maintaining the ongoing operation of the machine and the measurements it continued to undertake, even after a century.

But what about the Clifton Rocks Railway? How could such a machine operate and remain hidden whilst the small funicular train line had been running? Miloš searched for answers in the documents.

Collusion between project members had kept those responsible for building the huge shaft and internal workings entirely in the dark. A fabricated complication over planning had facilitated the required delay. Nobody questioned it. Every person involved in the official construction felt they were merely doing their job, unaware they were facilitating the secret desires of the Large Cosmos Fraternity.

Once finished, the qS-Probe was activated and left to run.

Meanwhile, the public face of the Clifton Rocks Railway trundled into motion.

No details as to what the qS-Probe was measuring but there were clues.

Miloš was aware of a creeping discomfort sitting hunched over the box, its contents spreading across the bathroom floor.

***

He pulled everything together and moved downstairs. That was when he examined the curious quartz-like object. Standing by a small desk in his uncle’s former study, Miloš held the item between both hands and slowly rotated it under the bright beam of a tall reading light.

It had a highly ordered property, as if perhaps it was made of crystal, and yet the weight of feel of it reminded him of a metal; also, there were angular protrusions, like thick, curving fronds, which were both artistic and yet seemingly functional - certainly they had been crafted, cut with a laser or some kind of energy that left perfect edges, creating an overall symmetry of form. It was pleasing to hold. As if he was wielding great power between his hands. He just didn’t know what kind of power yet. Miloš went back to the documents.

Using his PA to run search queries through the Internet, he checked every name mentioned. He discovered that the original members of the Large Cosmos Fraternity consisted of a handful of exceptionally wealthy individuals with a background in Astronomy, Mathematics and Engineering, including electrical engineering - with references to the work of Bell, Bláthy, Edison, Ferraris, Heaviside, Hertz, Jedlik, Lord Kelvin, Parsons, Siemens, Swan, Tesla and Westinghouse. Other, less familiar and more esoteric names were listed, and searching through some of these revealed a shocking association to occult and paranormal studies of the late Victorian period.

It was unsettling, to think of so much money, effort and energy, wrapped in secrecy and dedicated to a machine that nobody had any awareness