The Horror of Craigai by Wentworth M. Johnson

Author:Wentworth M. Johnson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: terror, horror, alien, subterranean, spaceship, devil, ghost, invader, scientist
ISBN: 9781849899697
Publisher: Andrews UK Limited 2012
Published: 2012-01-03T00:00:00+00:00

By three that afternoon they had located the big, old Victorian house, number 712 Cursden Street in the city of Cambridge . The house was set well back off the road and had quite a number of mature oak trees in the front yard. Carefully the car was parked more than 100 metres away from the house in a visitor parking area of a dentist’s.

“Well?” Hammy said, climbing out and locking the door. “How do I look?”

Bernard climbed from the vehicle, flicked the catch and slammed the door. “Very nefarious.” He had the spare PXI in his hand.

“Well, I tell you. I’m not going to remove this PXI until this caper is over.”

Together they walked along the street, trying not to look suspicious. They presented an unusual sight as one had his head bandaged almost entirely and the other was wearing a hat and scarf on a warm summer afternoon. The two walked like escapees from the local Fulbourn House for the mentally maladjusted. Carefully they noted the number on the fence at the head of the driveway.

Hammy and the prof. walked the short drive to the very large Victorian dwelling. The garage was a detached structure with no entrance to the main building. The front door looked like it would not yield to a battle tank. Keeping their eyes peeled for neighbours or even passers-by, Hiram and Bernard worked their way round to the backyard. On the side of the house away from the garage they found a conservatory. Hiram thought that this would be easy to break into, being only glass.

“I’ll smash a window as quietly as I can,” he said in hushed voice.

“Please be quiet,” Bernard whispered. “If we get arrested we are sunk.”

Hammy walked to the glass-paned door and cupping his hands he peeked in, looking for any sign of an alarm system. “Looks good,” he hissed.

“Wait, we can make a better entrance through the French doors.”

Hiram walked to the corner where the prof. was standing. At the back of the house was an extensive lawn with a cement patio and porch. Double sliding glass doors barred the entrance. Hiram approached the doors and cupped his hands to shade the light. He peered into some kind of living room. There was no sign of a burglar alarm or occupants.

Looking from side to side to see if anyone was watching, he gave the door a swift kick near the bottom. Nothing happened, the door resisted his feeble attempt with impunity. He took out his trusty Swiss Army knife, opened it and began working at the lock.

“Hurry,” Bernard said. “I feel very conspicuous out here. You never know who’s watching from another house window.”

“I can’t get the bloody thing to open. Should I smash the glass?”

“Here, let me.” Bernard walked forward, rattled the door, kicked it near the bottom and opened it with the handle. “See,” he said with a smile. “A child could open this type of door.”

“How did you do that?” Hammy asked, walking into the room.

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