Hamlin 2: Village of the Damned

The town of Hamlin was a prosperous place, not that this seemed to make the towns folk any happier. They watched, famed, fictional detective, Snow Spackman with narrow, suspicious eyes as he and his full-time, part time assistant, Kerry, made their way towards the local inn.

"This sure looks like a fun place," muttered Kerry.

"Hopefully we won’t be staying here long," said Snow.

"Good. This town looks like Dullsville."

*

Snow caused every eye in the inn to look in his direction when he entered the bar. Not because anyone recognised him or anything but because he tripped on the welcome mat and cracked his head good and proper on the wooden doorframe. "Ouch!" he cursed, going down like a sack of potatoes.

It looked extremely comical.

Not that the patrons of the bar showed any signs of amusement, Hamlin was a peaceful town they knew better than to mock big looking strangers. The big man picked himself up and glared around the half empty room, daring any of the people to laugh, or even snigger. No one did. He relaxed and sat down at an unoccupied table.

Snow had the hump now. His eyes darted around the room again, not one person was looking at him. They were all too wrapped up in their own business, which seemed to be mournfully staring at the ale before them. Snow had never seen such a miserable bunch of fuc-

"Ooh, look at the face on you, what’s the matter?" interrupted Kerry.

"Nothing," muttered Snow. "I just hurt my head."

"Chill," said Kerry. "We’re not suppose to be drawing attention to ourselves, are we? Remember what the mayor said? He doesn’t want the citizens to know that he has had to call in outside help?"

"I know," said Snow. "It’s just, I’ve never seen such a miserable bunch of fuc-"

"What’s your business here, Stranger?" interrupted a gruff voice.

Snow’s eyes left Kerry and settled on the owner of the gruff voice. It was a man, an old man. Short, swat and wearing a dirty apron. A patch covered one eye and a drink was in his right hand. "That’s no concern of yours," said Snow coolly. "I’m just a stranger passing through."

"We don’t like strangers in Hamlin anymore," said the man harshly. Which was a pretty unwise thing really, considering the mood Snow was in.

"I’m Snow Spackman and this is Kerry," said Snow. "We ain’t strangers now, so go away."

"Snow Spackman?" another man said, rising up from a nearby table. A look of half amazement, half delight on his face. "The Snow Spackman who killed McJock’s giant last year?"

Snow treated the man to a suspicious glare. "I might be," he said carefully, for that was a different adventure and indeed a previous story. "Why?"

The man, who had thinning hair and an expanding waistline, rushed over to Snow’s table and began to furiously shake his hand. "It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sir," he gushed. "I expect you’re here to bring back our children, aren’t you?"

"Ah..." said Snow.

"Yes, of course you are. Why else would a great hero like yourself be in Hamlin?" The thin haired man rushed from the table and out of the inn. Seconds later he re-entered holding a piece of paper, he thrust the paper at Snow. "You might want this."

Snow and Kerry read the paper.

"So much for not letting anyone know what we are doing here," said Kerry. "Bang goes our fee."

"Not necessarily," said Snow, tapping his nose. "We shall just pretend we’re passing through and are going to lend a hand. That way everyone is happy." He turned to the fat guy. "So what did this geezer do?"

A sad look came over the faces of the two men and most of the other patrons of the bar, if Snow and Kerry had bothered to notice, which they didn’t.

"He stole our children," said the short, swat man.

Snow gestured to the empty seat before him. "You better sit down and tell me the whole story."

*

"So that’s it?" asked Snow in disbelief. "This geezer rids you of a plague of rats, but because your mayor stiffs him with the bill, he does a runner with all your children? I can’t believe it, it sounds like a fairy tale."

"The Mayor never mentioned that part," muttered Kerry under her breath, worrying over their fee.

"I’m afraid it is true," said the swat man, who’s name turned out to be Hans. "After he had led all the rats off into the River Weser, he came back. When the mayor said he could not afford to pay him what he wanted, he led all the children off to...to who knows where."

"And he did all this with a pipe?" asked Snow.

"He did," said Hans. "All he wanted was five hundred bucks to be rid of the rats and now look at us."

"Indeed. Now where was the last place you saw this pied piper geezer?"

"Tommy saw them last," said the other guy, whose name was Sigmund. "He said he saw a great door open in the mountain and they all danced in."

Snow nodded in a knowledgeably manner, despite the fact that he had actually no idea of how to get the children back. Not yet anyway. "Where’s this Tommy guy? I need to speak to him. Will he be able to take me to where he last saw the piper?"

"Of course I can," said Tommy. "I’m lame, not stupid."

Snow smiled at the twelve year old boy. He was rangy, with a mop of thick, curly black hair and bright blue eyes. He was leaning on a wooden crutch and staring defiantly at him.

"I never said you were," said Snow softly. "Ever ridden a horse?"

"Of course. It’s easy."

"Good, then you can show me how to ride one. Now, are there any toy shops around here?"

"Will you shut!" bellowed the tall, thin man at the wailing children. The caged children fell into a muted silence.

He was a strangely garbed fellow, a long half red, half yellow coat hung to his ankles, complete with a pair of matching trousers and a pipe hung around his neck on a piece of string.

"Don’t you lot ever belt up?" he asked coldly, his piercing blue eyes glaring at the children..

The children watched him, their small faces full of fear, dread and foreboding.

"We just want to go home," one of the braver ones piped up, her voice faint and fearful.

"Tough," the man snapped. He turned on his Cuban heels and stomped away from the cage, leaving the now wailing again children alone with their tears. "Bloody kids."

The ride to where the evil piper was last seen was anything but easy. The grateful townsfolk had loaned them some horses, Kerry was a natural but Snow found it a waking nightmare. He found himself getting chaffed in places he had no desire to be sore.

Tommy was telling them the story of how the piper led them all dancing away, with sweet tunes on his magical pipe.

"You kids sure danced a long way," muttered the sore one.

"Most of us did," replied Tommy quietly.

*

"Is this the place?" asked Kerry, reining her horse by the foot of a mountain.

Tommy nodded.

"Thank my sore goolies," muttered Snow, clambering carefully off the horse.

"A great door opened in the cliff face and they all danced in," said Tommy.

"But where is the door?" muttered Snow, to no one in particular.

Tommy shrugged.

"How do you propose we find it?" asked Kerry, looking at Snow expectantly.

Snow ran a hand across the strangely smooth surface of the rockface, looking very carefully at the rock for signs of a crack. There was nothing. "I do have a plan, of sorts," he said.

"What?" asked Kerry.

Snow pulled out the tiny flute that he had picked up in town before they had left. "I remembered the story," he said. "So I brought along a little bit of insurance." He gave a little blow on the flute and smiled.

"You are joking, of course," said Kerry.

Snow played the only tune he had ever learnt on his recorder, when he was a kid. Three blind mice.

Kerry shook her head. "That is never going to –"

She was interrupted by a fearsome sound of scraping rock, it lasted about ten seconds then fell silent. "What the?" began Snow, before the whole cliff face exploded into blinding light. This was followed by a fearsome blast of air, so strong that it almost had them off their feet.

As quickly as it had begun, it ended.

Snow now stood before a huge, slightly ajar door. "Ah," smiled our hero.

Kerry shook her head. "How did you know that would work?"

"It had to," said Snow. "How else would I have been able to open the secret entrance?"

"You could try using your brain."

"Very amusing." Snow had managed to get six of his fingers in the gap and he gave the door a hard pull. "I’ve never been that good at pulling," he muttered.

"This is tough," he added, straining with the door. It was incredibly hard work but the great door was beginning to move. Inch by inch the door was beginning to open. "Argghh!" cried Snow, as with one last great Herculean effort he flung the door open. Or at least, enough to squeeze through.

Our mighty hero sagged...slightly.

"Are you all right, Snow?" asked Tommy.

Snow straighten himself up to his full height. "I’m fine, Tommy."

Kerry, who was off the horse and checking out the entrance, smiled. "I think we might be on to something here." She said and made to enter the mountain.

"Hold on a moment," said Snow, taking the girl’s arm. "I want you to wait here and look after Tommy. He’s only a kid remember?"

Kerry glared at Snow. ‘Sexist bastard’ she thought coldly. "But I always have to wait outside," she complained. "I am never going to learn anything waiting outside."

"A detective should never go in anywhere without back-up outside," said Snow. "Now you have learnt something."

Kerry answered with something unprintable.

*

The inside of the mountain was very much how you would expect the inside of a mountain to be. It was cold, it was dark and a mild breeze was blowing. Snow made his way through the darkness like a jungle cat, swiftly, silently and without fear, his warning instincts on constant standby for any hint of danger.

In his dreams.

Snow blundered through the cave like the infamous bull, in the china shop. Until that is, he turned a corner and the darkness was suddenly lit up. "Ye gods!" he cried, as you do when you suddenly step into bright light after being in the dark. Once his eyes had recovered he could make out an opening. Moments later he was at the entrance peering into a brightly lit cavern. "By Santa’s balls," he muttered to himself. The cavern was full of cages and in these cages were children.

"Sweet Fancy Moses," said Kerry from behind him.

"Arrgh!" cried Snow, spinning around to face the girl. "Kerry? What do you think you’re doing? You nearly gave me a heart attack."

"Sorry. I came to see if you wanted some help," said Kerry.

"I could do with a bit of CPR," moaned Snow.

"You’re like a moaning, old women," said Kerry. "I said I was sorry, didn’t I?"

Snow muttered something incomprehensible under his breath and cast his eyes over the wide cavern. There must have been at least a thousand children of various ages in the place. All scruffy dressed in rags and looking one step away from malnutrition.

"It is like a nightmare, where did all they all come from?" asked Kerry.

Snow shrugged. "This guy must have been grabbing children from everywhere."

"But why?"

Snow shook his head. "I don’t know," he admitted. "But I know we’re getting them out of here." He turned to Kerry and gave her his most heroic look. "All of them."

Snow acted swiftly. He nipped from the opening to the nearest cage. Finding a handy iron bar, that was laying around waiting to be used, he forced open the cage door and stepped in. The children inside stared at him, fear in their small eyes. They were dirty, abused and miserable looking. They milled around the back of their jail, too afraid to do or say anything. "I have come to rescue you," said Snow softly.

One of the smallest children stepped forward. She was a girl of maybe eight, with yellow hair, blue eyes and a sullen look about her. "Who are you, Mister?"

"I’m Snow Spackman," said that man. "Tell your grandchildren about me. Now get out of here. You see that opening? Go through there and run, after a few minutes of pitch darkness you will come to a door. Go through and you’re free. Wait there until I return. My friends there, Tommy, wait with him. Go!"

An hour passed quickly by, Snow and Kerry had freed about twenty cages before they were rumbled. Snow sensed the approaching danger before he saw it. How? I don’t know, it’s just a hero thing.

"Who are you?" demanded a smooth voice from behind our hero.

Snow remained with his back to the voice. Kerry unseen by the newcomer, faded into the background.

Eventually, after a good long wait, just to show how hard he was. Snow turned to face the voice, a big grin on his features. "Hi," he said brightly, his eyes falling on the red and yellow clad man. The Pied Piper. "Nice day, isn’t it?"

The Piper’s blue eyes glared at Snow, his face was hard and impassive. "How did you get here, Moron?"

"Oh, names," said Snow mockingly. He didn’t see what he had to fear from a man as thin and weedy as the Pied Piper. "What a nasty man you are, Mister Piper."

"I asked you a question," snapped the Piper. "What are you doing? How did you get in here?"

"Oh sorry, I thought you were talking to the moron," smirked Snow. "I didn’t realise you meant me."

"And that’s two questions," he added.

"I won’t ask again," shouted the Piper.

"I’ll be off then."

"Do not mock me," warned the Piper, fingering a small golden pipe that hung about his neck. "What are you doing here?"

"I have come to release the children," said Snow.

"Oh you have, have you?" smiled the Piper, the pipe in his hands now. "These are my children now, all collected quite rightly when people didn’t keep their promises. That’s how things work."

Snow took a step towards the Piper. "No it’s not. If you’ve got a problem with someone, you sort it out with them, man to man. You don’t steal their children."

The Pied Piper laughed and put the pipe to his lips. "You make me laugh, you macho moron heroes," he sneered. "So righteous and pompous, how many people have you killed in your lifetime, eh?"

Snow shrugged. "A few hundred, who’s counting?" He lied.

Snow took a couple of steps towards him. The Piper blew a few notes on his pipe and the children, who stood around him, stepped forward between himself and the detective. Snow noticed, for the first time, all the vacant looks the children wore on their faces. It was quite disturbing. Like a real life, village of the damned.

"You cannot defeat me," smirked the Piper, he blew a few more notes and the children began to approach Snow. "I have complete control over these kids. They will rip you to pieces. Hah haa haa."

Snow watched the kids approach him, their arms outstretched and their eyes empty of all feeling. He considered, not for the first time, how he never met anyone nice on his adventures. "This doesn’t look good," he muttered. The first of the children had reached him and were attempting to grapple him to the ground. He easily pushed the them off, as the Piper played on but whenever he shoved some aside, more replaced them.

Snow took a few steps back but it was no good. He was surrounded and short of shooting his way out, there was no escape. Tiny hands grabbed him and wrestled him to the ground and although he was ten times as strong as any of the children, they had sheer weight of numbers on their side and overwhelmed him.

Twisting his head in the children’s iron grip, Snow could see the Pied Piper, he was strutting around playing a mean tune on his pipe. Our hero was just about to let fly with one last curse, when he saw a wooden crutch fly past him and hit the Piper square on the back of the head.

The tunes stopped instantly, so did the children. They fell away from Snow like so many autumn leaves. He was on his feet in an instant, shaking the kids free from him. The Piper had fallen to his knees and was scrambling across the floor towards his pipe, clutching at the back of his head.

Kerry was quicker though, she burst out of her hiding place and rushed for the pipe. She made it first and her small leather, knee high booted foot crushed the pipe. The Piper’s fingers an agonising whisker away. Kerry used her other foot to kick the villain in the happy sacks.

The Piper cursed, clutched his goolies and attempted to rise.

Snow stopped this by punching out his lights. He rubbed his sore knuckles and smiled at Kerry.

"What were you waiting for?"

Kerry ignored the question. "I have been thinking," she said. "What if the mayor doesn’t pay us?"

"I’ve been considering that, as well," said Snow. "And if he doesn’t. I will have another use for Tommy’s crutch, and it won’t be pleasant".

"Hey, man down!" interrupted Tommy, he was laying on the floor away to one side, beaming up at them.

"Indeed," smiled Snow, picking up first Tommy the hero, then his life saving crutch. "Not bad work, Youngster. You saved my life."

Tommy smiled. "That will teach him to leave me behind."

Bio:Craig has been writing since birth (it seems) with as much luck as one might expect. He spends his time between getting up early to write, working on www.steelcaves.com, the e-zine he helps to run and looking after his son, Aidan, who is one and a bit.

E-mail: craig@renaissance2000.freeserve.co.uk

URL: www.steelcaves.com

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