Okay, said Molly. That is not natural.
The fog surged forward, racing across the ocean, and fell upon the end of the Pier like a beast on its prey. It consumed the whole end of the Pier in a moment and then moved slowly, purposefully forward, enveloping the Pier foot by foot. I lost sight of the huge rides and then everything else at the rear of the Pier, unable to see more than a few feet into the thick pearlescent fog. Molly was right: There was nothing natural about this. We both backed carefully away from the fog, sticking close together. We couldn t risk being separated.
People farther down the Pier began to cry out as even the everyday tourists sensed something was wrong. Panic moved quickly through the crowds as they felt what Molly and I already knew: that there was something in the fog. Something bad. In ones and twos and then in groups, they headed for the exit. Walking quickly and then hurrying, and finally breaking into an undignified run as the fog struck a chill into their hearts. Young lovers held on to each other tightly, running hard and not looking back, while parents dragged screaming and protesting children along with them by brute force. The retired senior citizens abandoned their deck chairs, and hurried after the departing crowds as best they could. White-faced staff abandoned the stalls and shops and the games arcade, and ran for their lives. Even the fake ghosts came running out of the fake haunted house, throwing aside their sheets and costumes so they could run faster.
None of them wanted any part of the advancing fog and what was moving inside it.
I looked round just in time to see Madame Osiris s tent disappear abruptly, just before the fog reached it. She may not have seen the fog coming, but she knew enough to get the hell out of Dodge. Molly and I looked at each other and smiled briefly. It would take a lot more than some sudden bad-tempered weather to scare us. We stood our ground, facing the fog as it crept towards us. I peered into the thick fog as it ate up foot after foot of the Pier, but though I could sense something moving along with it, I still couldn t see a damned thing. And suddenly I had a very bad feeling about this fog.
We could depart, I said carefully to Molly. If you like. To a better position I m just mentioning the possibility.
No, said Molly, just as carefully. We don t back down, ever. Might give other people ideas Besides, aren t you curious to see what s inside it?
Well, yes and no, I said. There s curious, and then there s curious.
The temperature plummeted. My breath was suddenly steaming on the air before me, along with Molly s. All the hairs were standing up on my arms and the back of my neck. I shuddered briefly despite myself, and it wasn t because of the cold. I had a sudden sharp feeling of my own mortality. The fog advanced deliberately towards us, thick and swirling and pearly grey, with strange lights coming and going deep within it and something that might have been shadowy shapes deep in the heart of it. The air was damp, beading on my face, and I could taste sea salt on my lips.
What is this cold I m feeling? I said to Molly. The cold of the grave?
I don t think so, said Molly. She wouldn t take her gaze off the fog for a moment, even to glance at me. More like the cold of the sea. The kind of cold you only feel in the deepest, darkest part of the ocean. At the very bottom of the sea, where everything falls when it s dead. There s something in the fog and it s coming for us, Eddie. I can feel it.
I nodded quickly. I could feel it, too. A growing sense of presence, of something else here on the Pier with us. Even though the crowds and the tourists were long gone. Something new, or perhaps something very old, had come to Brighton Pier, in the fog, out of the sea. Looking for me and Molly.
My fingers are tingling, I said. And not in a good way.
That s nothing, said Molly. My nipples are hard as rocks.
Oh, great, I said. Distract me. That s all I need.
Molly laughed. Not everything is about you, Eddie.
This time, I think it is, I said. I think this is all about me. About getting rid of the Last Drood.
I can see things moving in the fog, said Molly.
Human shapes heading straight for us.
You ve got better eyes than me, I said, glaring helplessly into the grey fog churning before me. Close, now. Just a few more feet and I d be able to reach out and touch it.
Madame O sold us out, Molly said flatly. She told someone we were here. I shall have words with her later.
Not necessarily, I said. I told you we were being watched. Crow Lee is a power in his own right, as well as being the Most Evil, et cetera, and this is well within his capabilities. He wants to stop me from rescuing my family. He wants to take me down while I m vulnerable. I smiled, and somehow I just knew it wasn t a very nice smile. Poor old Crow Lee. He thinks I m naked. He doesn t know about my new armour.
Right, said Molly. We ll show him.
We could still run, I said.
Too late, said Molly.
The fog swelled towards us like the waves of a silent pearl grey sea. The whole end of the Pier was gone now, swallowed up by the fog. I could just make out the dark shape of the fake haunted house to my right. New lights were showing in the windows: dark green glows, like the phosphorescent light you find on shipwrecks at the bottom of the sea. Dark silhouettes, distorted human shapes, moved slowly past the windows. Something bad peered at me from the illuminated doorway.
Dark shadows, slow-moving human forms, stumbling forward on dragging feet, scraping across the wooden floorboards, appeared in the fog before Molly and me. They were almost upon us now. Not ghosts, not any form of projected image or any kind of illusion. These were solid, physical things. Dead men emerging slowly out of the fog. Dead men walking.
Once I got a good look at them, I knew immediately what they were. Not ghosts or even zombies, but spirits of the dead called up out of the sea and given their old shape and form to do their master s will. Or what was left of them after so long in the depths. Disturbed from their rest and animated by some terrible outside will. Crow Lee. Had to be. There were dozens of the things, maybe hundreds, shuffling and stumbling forward to confront Molly and me. Grey and bloated, flesh eaten away by fishes and all the other things that live at the bottom of the sea that we don t like to think about. Some bodies had clearly been down there longer than others; just bare bones, held together with strips of ancient flesh and tatters of decayed clothing. The faces were the worst: rotten, eaten away, eyes and ears and nose and lips just gone but they could still see Molly and me. Every dead body oriented on us as they pressed forward. They could see us. They knew where we were.
Can you tell what they want? I said to Molly.
No. But I could probably make a really good guess.
We could be mistaken, I said. Let s ask them.
You do it, said Molly. You re the polite one.
I took an ostentatiously confident step forward to face the army of the dead emerging from the fog, and immediately every dead body slammed to a halt. Not one of them moved. All their dead faces, their decaying heads, turned in my direction. I took a moment to make sure my voice would sound calm and confident. I doubted very much I d be fooling anyone, but it s the principle of the thing.
Who are you? I said. Why have you come here? What do you want? Is there anything I can do to help you? To put you back to rest again?
One of the nearest bodies stepped forward. Its bare feet made wet slapping sounds on the bare floorboards. With its bleached flesh and eaten-away face, its ragged clothes in rags, it could have been anyone. Only the manner of its clothes allowed me to identify it as male. It raised one half-skeletal hand to point at me, and water dripped steadily from the revealed bones.
We re all that s left of those who died in the waters here, said the dead man in a disturbingly normal voice. The sea is giving up its dead against its will. None of us want to be here. But then, none of us wanted to die. Accidents, mistakes, murder; we all ended up at the bottom of the sea. In the cold, in the dark and the silence. Raised and sent here by someone who had a use for us. One last crime against us. And all the rage we have for dying, for dying badly, for not being allowed to rest in peace all that rage has been stirred up in us, so we can take it out on you and your woman. We don t know who you are or why someone wants you to die so badly, and we don t care. We can t care. We re dead.