Subterranean Menace
Created | Updated Aug 13, 2007
Nigel Read had worked for the council for almost a quarter of a century. When he had applied for the job as a civil engineer his grand desire was for changing the landscape of Hull for the greater good. His dream was to design great sports centres, shopping arcade and cinemas, things that would last for many years after he himself was long gone.
Never had he imagined that he would gravitate into this particular field of civil engineering. He however was a well renowned authority in the field now. Nigel Read was in charge of the upkeep of Hulls ageing network of sewers.
The majority of the city was serviced by new systems some no more then thirty years old, however in the older parts of the centre his department waged a constant battle against the laws of thermodynamics, entropy and decay followed the water courses. Today he had to make one of his regular inspections, not a job he relished, but one he was used to doing.
Down by the muddy waters of the river he undid the pad lock and let the rusty iron chain fall out from the iron bars on the cage. When traversing the labyrinth of tunnels beneath the city streets Read always would be accompanied by an assistant, Brian Opal. Brian acted the part his scribe, any instruction given for work to be carried out Brian would mark down the details on his pad for the relevant contractor to be informed.
Many times the pair had descended beneath the level of the cars and pedestrians, none of them would ever have known anyone was there silently traversing the sub terrain world.
No matter how many times they descended to the underground world and on each occasion the smell would still take them aback. It was only a matter of minutes though and the smell would have be part of the day to day routine.
On this autumn morning though heavy rains the previous night had washed the system clean. The inspection today would almost be a pleasurable one.
Read would always marvel at the skills of the Victorian builders, their brickwork was so precise, pride had been put into the laying of each brick and every bead of mortar which held the bricks at exacting distance apart. He knew full well the techniques employed by the master craftsman of over one hundred years previous.
Twenty minutes into the inspection only two points had been noted down in Brian’s book, two small points hardly worth mentioning, but with the lack off any other correction to be made he felt somewhat obliged to note anything down. “Junction 22-B,” Read shone his torch around the inner circumference of the of the egg shaped tunnel. The beam of light danced over all the normal stress points, nothing untoward was to be seen. “Which way then Brian? Old town or new?” the sewer branched off into two in front of them. The left hand tunnel led toward the older part of the city, docks and river, were as the right hand tunnel served the newer shopping areas. His torch beam flashed down one then the other.
“Er, old town I think, we’ll see if we can break through into the black Boy cellar.”
“Ey?”
Both men had a chuckle at being able to break into the cellar of the oldest pub in Hull. With that they set off up the slight gradient toward the oldest part of the town and system.
Each junction was inspected for any signs of damage or corrosion before the pair moved onward. The marker points painted on the walls counted down indicating that this particular tunnel would soon be at an end.
“7-A,” Read said shining his torch at the number. That was when something court his eye, “hello, hello what do we have here then?” he trained the light on a recess in the constant oval section. The recess was the full height of the sewer and set back one half brick from the normal elliptical wall. One brick in the recess was well worn away. Taking a pen knife from his pocket he jabbed at the brick. On contact half of it almost disintegrated with the remainder falling down behind the wall.
Read instantly knew this could mark a significant problem, there should be no void behind the walls. This section of the sewer was a cut and cover section. The road would have been dug up, the sewer laid then recovered before relaying the roadway. Because of the back fill, earth should encase the tunnels outer layer pressing the arch inwards strengthening the structure.
As the brick fell through a cloud of stale gas escaped, read coughed as he took a lungful of the noxious foul smelling air. He felt dizzy for a moment before his senses returned. After a moment to steady himself he shone his torch into the hole.
He couldn’t see in, the end of the torch obscured his view. If any further investigation was to be required he would have to remove more bricks, he decided that it was necessary. His knife jabbed at the mortar, it crumbled on contact.
Brian wrote furiously on his pad noting the location, state of the damage and condition of the brickwork. Read scrapped at the crumbling mortar between each brick, slowly one by one he pushed them through.
Each time a brick fell it clanked against something hard on the floor, “Well, it looks like we’ve finally made it, what do you want bitter or mild?” he said with a smile.
“Mild defiantly.” Brian answered.
Nigel Read shone his torch in through what was now a slightly bigger hole, “Unlucky, it’s not the cellar. He said looking through. The hole was not a big one, but still big enough to see, “Looks like an air hole from when it was made…”
Nigel was cut off mid sentence as Brian suddenly turned around to look down the tunnel, what was that?” he said shinning his own torch frantically around.
“What?” Nigel replied still busy inspecting the hole.
“I’m sure I felt something brush past me going in that direction.” He made a gesturing motion with his hand.
“A rat?”
“No, this was past my face.”
“Just a draft.” Read reassured him.
Brian though wasn’t convinced at his old friends’ certainty. He would swear that something brushed past him.
“I can’t quite see how far down…” Read was manoeuvring his torch in all kinds of directions and angles trying to gain a better view into the dimensions into the hole, “…it goes, Jesus…” suddenly he jumped back, so far that his back hit the opposite side off the tunnel.
“What is it?” Brian asked showing a great deal of concern for his friend. Something had put the wind up him and that was for sure.
Read didn’t say a word, he couldn’t speak. The only movement he could manage was to lift his arm and point a shaking white finger toward the hole made in the brick work by his own hands.
Brains curiosity had got the better of him so slowly and steadily he too looked in. his torch beam scanned around the hole behind the sewer wall, but saw nothing until he aimed it downward, “Bloody hell?”
At the bottom of the hole lay a collection of bones, if he was not mistaken, it was the skeleton of a human.
On leaving the sewer system both men were understandable in a state of shock, Brian fumbled around in his pocket and with a shaking hand took a cigarette out of a pocket, put it in his mouth and lit it before taking a deep long drag. The nicotine rushed to his head, such was the ferocity of the it he almost became light headed, “Do you want one?” he asked Nigel offering him the packet.
Read looked at him in disbelief, “How long have you known me Bri?”
“Just thought you might have needed one that’s all.” He said replacing the packet in an overall pocket. Both sat in silence for a few moments and looked out over the river. This event had to be reported to their seniors, much was there to do.
By the time late afternoon arrived there had been much activity in the old town sewer. Nigel had headed the investigatory inspections by the teams of health, safety and independent risk assessors who had ventured under the city streets. A course of action was decided on and for safety reasons must be carried out within hours. A problem had occurred though, a team from the university had arrived wishing to excavate the bones from their final resting place.
Brian had taken an instant dislike to the representative of academia, to his mind they seemed to want to discuss all matters of the project in great detail. Each point being laboured over until the finest detail of the discovery had been made clear and their records recorded.
At one point a member of their party had suggested that the sewer be, ‘taken off line’ for the duration of the dig, were they completely insane?
Eventually the head of the group, a strange looking man who’s grey hair gave the appearance of a man recently out of bed, who was told that he had two hours to remove the bones. His reaction was one of disgust, but soon came around to the idea when hew was offered the choice of doing as instructed or being held responsible for part of the high street caving in, listed buildings and all.
Begrudgingly the Professor agreed.
By the time six o’clock came around the light at the entrance was to the sewer was beginning to wane. News paper limed crates containing the bones were being packed into the boot of an old Nissan estate in which the professor sat. Once the students had closed the boot the engine fired and the car drove off. Without as much as a thank you. All that was left was the smell of burning oil, “Miserable sod?” Brian muttered under his breath.
Nigel read was already in the tunnel over seeing the brick layers work, speed was the key. If a heavy rain storm came tonight the sewer would have to be back up to full strength.
He had never seen the sewer like this before. Several portable arc lights illuminate the area giving the whole sewer an eerie glow to it.
He watched the builders carefully on more then one occasion, several times he poked his finger into the cement checking its consistence. Once the job was completed the men packed up their tools and set off toward the entrance. Read followed carrying on of the lights, still shining. It cast two long bending shadow on the concave walls of the two men leading the way through the ankle deep water. Suddenly the man leading the triad stopped dead in his tracks, “What was that?” he asked the pair bringing up the rear.
“What?” asked his fellow artisan?
“Down there, something moved.”
Read smiled, “Just shadows.” He reassured them. “The times I have thought I’ve seen something out of the corner of my eye.”
“No, something was there I saw it.”
“Here take the light, I’ll lead.” Read led the way to the entrance without incident, “See nothing to worry about.” He said stepping out into the fresh air.
Though the two workmen never said much, both were more then relieved to be out of the tunnel.
Professor Martin Hicks bent over the table in the university laboratory. For the last five hours both the students and himself had painstakingly arranged the bones so recently discovered in the sewers of old town Hull on a setting table in the in the lab. Though he’d performed this task on several occasions, in fact too many occasions for him to recall, this time he found it more then a challenge. Many of the pieces seemed to him to be out of proportion to the others. The skull for instance, the teeth looked as though they were more animal then human.
He stood up and stretched the arch of his back when he heard a knock at the door. “Knock, knock.” The voice of his old friend John Crispin said as his fellow academic entered.
Hicks turned to see him holding two pre-packed sandwiches in one hand and two mugs of tea in the other. “John, come in and join the party.”
“How’s it going, heard about the excitement earlier.” As he walked toward the grey haired professor he took a look down at the bones arranged on the table then glanced over at the box of surplus bones which stood on a trolley next too it. “Having trouble?” he said not taking his eyes off the subject. “I thought you might want a bit of supper?” he said finally taking his attention away from the table and offering one of the sandwiches to Martin.
“Thanks.” Hicks was grateful. He hadn’t realised how late it was now. His mind was so occupied with the work in hand it had not crossed his mind to eat.
Both men sat and ate their supper on upturned crates while hicks explained his concerns over the skeleton. “I don’t understand it. Some of the bones, the femur for instance are bigger then normal both in size and weight, and the jaw is more K9 them homo sapient.
Crispin took a sip of tea, “Do you think we are talking of Neanderthal area?”
“That was my first though until I found this in with a collection of broken bones.” Hicks past him a disc.
On examination John could see clearly what it was, a coin, date 1890, “Ah?” he said knowing full well that that dated the body. “Do you have its layout on situe?”
“On the desk.” Pointing across to the other side of the room while trying to speak Martin pointed out a collection of photographs showing the position of the body in behind the wall.
Crispin picked up a drawing of the bones which lay on top of the photos and showed the location of each bone in detail.
The body was almost in the fetal position, knees clenched tightly to his chest, the back bone bend. Then he took note of the area of debris where the extra bone and coin had been found, clearly it was the contents of the stomach, he passed on this observation to Martin.
“That’s exactly what I though.” Said the little professor deep in though, but what do you make of the over developed bone structure, and those teeth?”
“I don’t know, it could almost be the produce of a circus act or side show.”
That night was one of the longest Professor Martin hicks had ever put in. driven on by some unseen energy to succeed he wanted more then anything to find the answer to all the questions this skeleton posed. By the time the sun was appearing over the horizon he had done as much as was possible.
John Crispin also spent the night in the confines of the university, he however was running through boxes of old micro films of notes left to the university by an old police doctor. They were numerous cases, to many to recall in detail, but John knew that somewhere in those old records could be the answer to the riddle of the man in the sewer.
The following morning Nigel sat at his desk in the council offices. On it sat three piles of paper, all needed to be filed before he continued his inspection of the sewage system. Reads desk backed onto brains, he knew Brian had arrived before him, his PC was logged on and his blue rain coat rested on the back of his chair.
Read decided that he would make himself a cup of coffee before starting the filing. The mug required cleaning out, yesterday’s coffee still half filled the mug, now stone cold. It had been too hot at the time to drink, so it was left on his desk.
Slowly he ambled over to the small kitchen where he could wash his cup when he heard a voice calling his name. With a sigh he stopped in his tracks and looked around.
At the far end of the office his bosses door was open the incumbents head poking around the frame, “Nigel, over here?”
Read saw and slowly he returned to his desk, put the cup down, then like an obedient dog trotted into his boss’s office.
On entering he saw Brian already sitting in attendance, but unlike his normal demean, Brian was smiling.
“So,” began the head of department, “who’s’ the most popular council worker then?” as he asked he closed the door not allowing anyone in the anti office becoming privy to the conversation inside.
On their exit some ten minutes later all heads turned, when any employee entered the room and the door closed it could mean only one thing, and that wasn’t a good thing.
The assembled members of the department waited for a word from either of their colleagues, but none came. Both Nigel and Brian walked straight into the left. The head of department, Mr Spencer watched them go with a smile on his face, though as the lift doors slid shut the smile turned into a grimace then he spoke, “Jenkins, get you arse in here.”
Neither said anything as they crossed Queens Gardens, Nigel could only think of what existed beneath his feet under what was the old Queens dock. It was always the same when he was in the town, mind always on the job.
Minutes later they were at the entrance to the new BBC building and been ushered into one of the studious used for the production of the local news magazine program.
Once make up had been applied and micro phones clipped to their jumpers they were interviewed at length on their discovery. Both were somewhat taken aback by the interest the whole event had coursed, rumour was that the story could even make the national news, so long as no floods or murders happened that day.
The two old friends laughed together as they crossed the garden once again heading back to their office. They had just been on the television, granted the interview would not be shown until that evening, but still…
They had enjoyed their moment in the limelight, but now it was time to return to work.
Overalls and waders now donned they stood at the river entrance once again. For a moment they both paused, Nigel held the pad lock in one hand, the key in the other. As Brian waited his ears picked up on a familiar sound, it was the sound of dropping something heavy into deep water, in this case the river. He looked down over the side of the bank, but saw nothing. Directly below was an outlet pipe from the sewer, the water came out of it in a slow trickle. So what had caused the deep clunking sound? On the surface of the water a ripple spread out toward the other bank and both up and down stream.
He said nothing as the pair entered the wrote iron gates and then down into the tunnel once again. Brian closed the gate behind him and hooked the catch across.
As there footsteps faded away the gate swung open and rattled as it hit the iron stopper, how it had opened no one saw, as no one saw the mutilated torso bubble up from the surface of the muddy waters of the River Hull. Slowly it drifted down stream them disappeared back into the dark waters were it had just came.
John Crispin rubbed his eyes, they could hardly remain open such was his fatigue, due to the researches he had carried out all through the night. Today he had two free periods in the morning, nothing until this afternoon. He had to allow himself some sleep. Not though before he had spoken too his old friend Professor hicks on the extraordinary discovery he had made in the Police Doctors archives.
Around a hundred and ten years ago or there about a series of disappearances had taken place in what was now the old part of the city. Many of the vanishings were sailors and prostitutes, those people associated with the high Street area of town. None of those reported were found and because of the location of the events, who knows how many more souls had disappeared in that time, people who were miles away from home or had no living relation?
The only clue, well it couldn’t be a clue to the disappearances, maybe just a coincidence, but a necklace covered in blood and flesh was found on the mud banks of the river.
At the time, so the notes said, it was put down to a practical joke to lead the police off the sent.
When the drains were laid the vanishings seemed to stop, the stalking ground of the predator had gone may be? Had they moved on somewhere else? The police in those days didn’t have such things as databases so one force didn’t communicate with any other on a day to day basis, so who knows?
The other curios point though was when digging the drain which followed an underground watercourse, several bones were found and an alcove (or so it was said to be likened too) in the wall of the natural tunnel cut by the stream, it looked as though it could have been made deliberately a sleeping quarters for some kind of animal, say the size of a large dog.
John put the phone down, Martin wasn’t answering. He had an idea in his head that the missing people and the subterranean discovery could be connected to his friend’s findings which at present sat in the lab.
Martin didn’t hear the telephone ringing, he too had been burning the midnight oil. For a man who was used to working in exacts, this skeleton was a curio. If he was not mistaken, and he seldom was, then the bone structure indicated that this wasn’t a man, more of a K9?
He put the elusion down to tiredness and turned in for the night, or at least the first part of the morning. Sleep was probably the thing for him.
“Did you hear that?” Brian asked.
“I’d like to say no, but…”
The inspection of the old town sewer was almost complete now. After the joy of this mornings TV appearance both men felt ill at ease with their surroundings. The noise Brian had heard was almost a cry, but more of a growl, dog like.
Nigel thought for a moment, maybe they should call it a day, it wasn’t often that an animal got stuck down here with them, but if it did its normal instinct was to attack first.
“Ok, let’s go back.” Nigel said, a hint of hear in his voice. Brian was not unhappy at the decision, “What, get off.” He said striking out an arm, almost hitting his friend.
“What?” Nigel asked in a raised voice.
“You know, trying to spook me.” He had felt Nigel poke him in the side of his neck, that wasn’t like him, trick playing.
“I didn’t do anything.” Assured the older of the two men.
Both of their attention was taken away from the petty argument though by a loud wolf like cry from somewhere close to them. Nigel froze, Brain dropped his torch, clicking itself off as it hit the water.
They never saw what it was that made the noise.
On Look North that night the interview was broadcast, hundreds of thousands of people watched as the two men told their tale, but no one saw the blood stained bones of two men slide out of the outlet pipe of the drain the plop into the river.
No one saw the ripples made by the id labels floating down the River Hull before sinking into the water as it reached the tidal barrier.
Never had he imagined that he would gravitate into this particular field of civil engineering. He however was a well renowned authority in the field now. Nigel Read was in charge of the upkeep of Hulls ageing network of sewers.
The majority of the city was serviced by new systems some no more then thirty years old, however in the older parts of the centre his department waged a constant battle against the laws of thermodynamics, entropy and decay followed the water courses. Today he had to make one of his regular inspections, not a job he relished, but one he was used to doing.
Down by the muddy waters of the river he undid the pad lock and let the rusty iron chain fall out from the iron bars on the cage. When traversing the labyrinth of tunnels beneath the city streets Read always would be accompanied by an assistant, Brian Opal. Brian acted the part his scribe, any instruction given for work to be carried out Brian would mark down the details on his pad for the relevant contractor to be informed.
Many times the pair had descended beneath the level of the cars and pedestrians, none of them would ever have known anyone was there silently traversing the sub terrain world.
No matter how many times they descended to the underground world and on each occasion the smell would still take them aback. It was only a matter of minutes though and the smell would have be part of the day to day routine.
On this autumn morning though heavy rains the previous night had washed the system clean. The inspection today would almost be a pleasurable one.
Read would always marvel at the skills of the Victorian builders, their brickwork was so precise, pride had been put into the laying of each brick and every bead of mortar which held the bricks at exacting distance apart. He knew full well the techniques employed by the master craftsman of over one hundred years previous.
Twenty minutes into the inspection only two points had been noted down in Brian’s book, two small points hardly worth mentioning, but with the lack off any other correction to be made he felt somewhat obliged to note anything down. “Junction 22-B,” Read shone his torch around the inner circumference of the of the egg shaped tunnel. The beam of light danced over all the normal stress points, nothing untoward was to be seen. “Which way then Brian? Old town or new?” the sewer branched off into two in front of them. The left hand tunnel led toward the older part of the city, docks and river, were as the right hand tunnel served the newer shopping areas. His torch beam flashed down one then the other.
“Er, old town I think, we’ll see if we can break through into the black Boy cellar.”
“Ey?”
Both men had a chuckle at being able to break into the cellar of the oldest pub in Hull. With that they set off up the slight gradient toward the oldest part of the town and system.
Each junction was inspected for any signs of damage or corrosion before the pair moved onward. The marker points painted on the walls counted down indicating that this particular tunnel would soon be at an end.
“7-A,” Read said shining his torch at the number. That was when something court his eye, “hello, hello what do we have here then?” he trained the light on a recess in the constant oval section. The recess was the full height of the sewer and set back one half brick from the normal elliptical wall. One brick in the recess was well worn away. Taking a pen knife from his pocket he jabbed at the brick. On contact half of it almost disintegrated with the remainder falling down behind the wall.
Read instantly knew this could mark a significant problem, there should be no void behind the walls. This section of the sewer was a cut and cover section. The road would have been dug up, the sewer laid then recovered before relaying the roadway. Because of the back fill, earth should encase the tunnels outer layer pressing the arch inwards strengthening the structure.
As the brick fell through a cloud of stale gas escaped, read coughed as he took a lungful of the noxious foul smelling air. He felt dizzy for a moment before his senses returned. After a moment to steady himself he shone his torch into the hole.
He couldn’t see in, the end of the torch obscured his view. If any further investigation was to be required he would have to remove more bricks, he decided that it was necessary. His knife jabbed at the mortar, it crumbled on contact.
Brian wrote furiously on his pad noting the location, state of the damage and condition of the brickwork. Read scrapped at the crumbling mortar between each brick, slowly one by one he pushed them through.
Each time a brick fell it clanked against something hard on the floor, “Well, it looks like we’ve finally made it, what do you want bitter or mild?” he said with a smile.
“Mild defiantly.” Brian answered.
Nigel Read shone his torch in through what was now a slightly bigger hole, “Unlucky, it’s not the cellar. He said looking through. The hole was not a big one, but still big enough to see, “Looks like an air hole from when it was made…”
Nigel was cut off mid sentence as Brian suddenly turned around to look down the tunnel, what was that?” he said shinning his own torch frantically around.
“What?” Nigel replied still busy inspecting the hole.
“I’m sure I felt something brush past me going in that direction.” He made a gesturing motion with his hand.
“A rat?”
“No, this was past my face.”
“Just a draft.” Read reassured him.
Brian though wasn’t convinced at his old friends’ certainty. He would swear that something brushed past him.
“I can’t quite see how far down…” Read was manoeuvring his torch in all kinds of directions and angles trying to gain a better view into the dimensions into the hole, “…it goes, Jesus…” suddenly he jumped back, so far that his back hit the opposite side off the tunnel.
“What is it?” Brian asked showing a great deal of concern for his friend. Something had put the wind up him and that was for sure.
Read didn’t say a word, he couldn’t speak. The only movement he could manage was to lift his arm and point a shaking white finger toward the hole made in the brick work by his own hands.
Brains curiosity had got the better of him so slowly and steadily he too looked in. his torch beam scanned around the hole behind the sewer wall, but saw nothing until he aimed it downward, “Bloody hell?”
At the bottom of the hole lay a collection of bones, if he was not mistaken, it was the skeleton of a human.
On leaving the sewer system both men were understandable in a state of shock, Brian fumbled around in his pocket and with a shaking hand took a cigarette out of a pocket, put it in his mouth and lit it before taking a deep long drag. The nicotine rushed to his head, such was the ferocity of the it he almost became light headed, “Do you want one?” he asked Nigel offering him the packet.
Read looked at him in disbelief, “How long have you known me Bri?”
“Just thought you might have needed one that’s all.” He said replacing the packet in an overall pocket. Both sat in silence for a few moments and looked out over the river. This event had to be reported to their seniors, much was there to do.
By the time late afternoon arrived there had been much activity in the old town sewer. Nigel had headed the investigatory inspections by the teams of health, safety and independent risk assessors who had ventured under the city streets. A course of action was decided on and for safety reasons must be carried out within hours. A problem had occurred though, a team from the university had arrived wishing to excavate the bones from their final resting place.
Brian had taken an instant dislike to the representative of academia, to his mind they seemed to want to discuss all matters of the project in great detail. Each point being laboured over until the finest detail of the discovery had been made clear and their records recorded.
At one point a member of their party had suggested that the sewer be, ‘taken off line’ for the duration of the dig, were they completely insane?
Eventually the head of the group, a strange looking man who’s grey hair gave the appearance of a man recently out of bed, who was told that he had two hours to remove the bones. His reaction was one of disgust, but soon came around to the idea when hew was offered the choice of doing as instructed or being held responsible for part of the high street caving in, listed buildings and all.
Begrudgingly the Professor agreed.
By the time six o’clock came around the light at the entrance was to the sewer was beginning to wane. News paper limed crates containing the bones were being packed into the boot of an old Nissan estate in which the professor sat. Once the students had closed the boot the engine fired and the car drove off. Without as much as a thank you. All that was left was the smell of burning oil, “Miserable sod?” Brian muttered under his breath.
Nigel read was already in the tunnel over seeing the brick layers work, speed was the key. If a heavy rain storm came tonight the sewer would have to be back up to full strength.
He had never seen the sewer like this before. Several portable arc lights illuminate the area giving the whole sewer an eerie glow to it.
He watched the builders carefully on more then one occasion, several times he poked his finger into the cement checking its consistence. Once the job was completed the men packed up their tools and set off toward the entrance. Read followed carrying on of the lights, still shining. It cast two long bending shadow on the concave walls of the two men leading the way through the ankle deep water. Suddenly the man leading the triad stopped dead in his tracks, “What was that?” he asked the pair bringing up the rear.
“What?” asked his fellow artisan?
“Down there, something moved.”
Read smiled, “Just shadows.” He reassured them. “The times I have thought I’ve seen something out of the corner of my eye.”
“No, something was there I saw it.”
“Here take the light, I’ll lead.” Read led the way to the entrance without incident, “See nothing to worry about.” He said stepping out into the fresh air.
Though the two workmen never said much, both were more then relieved to be out of the tunnel.
Professor Martin Hicks bent over the table in the university laboratory. For the last five hours both the students and himself had painstakingly arranged the bones so recently discovered in the sewers of old town Hull on a setting table in the in the lab. Though he’d performed this task on several occasions, in fact too many occasions for him to recall, this time he found it more then a challenge. Many of the pieces seemed to him to be out of proportion to the others. The skull for instance, the teeth looked as though they were more animal then human.
He stood up and stretched the arch of his back when he heard a knock at the door. “Knock, knock.” The voice of his old friend John Crispin said as his fellow academic entered.
Hicks turned to see him holding two pre-packed sandwiches in one hand and two mugs of tea in the other. “John, come in and join the party.”
“How’s it going, heard about the excitement earlier.” As he walked toward the grey haired professor he took a look down at the bones arranged on the table then glanced over at the box of surplus bones which stood on a trolley next too it. “Having trouble?” he said not taking his eyes off the subject. “I thought you might want a bit of supper?” he said finally taking his attention away from the table and offering one of the sandwiches to Martin.
“Thanks.” Hicks was grateful. He hadn’t realised how late it was now. His mind was so occupied with the work in hand it had not crossed his mind to eat.
Both men sat and ate their supper on upturned crates while hicks explained his concerns over the skeleton. “I don’t understand it. Some of the bones, the femur for instance are bigger then normal both in size and weight, and the jaw is more K9 them homo sapient.
Crispin took a sip of tea, “Do you think we are talking of Neanderthal area?”
“That was my first though until I found this in with a collection of broken bones.” Hicks past him a disc.
On examination John could see clearly what it was, a coin, date 1890, “Ah?” he said knowing full well that that dated the body. “Do you have its layout on situe?”
“On the desk.” Pointing across to the other side of the room while trying to speak Martin pointed out a collection of photographs showing the position of the body in behind the wall.
Crispin picked up a drawing of the bones which lay on top of the photos and showed the location of each bone in detail.
The body was almost in the fetal position, knees clenched tightly to his chest, the back bone bend. Then he took note of the area of debris where the extra bone and coin had been found, clearly it was the contents of the stomach, he passed on this observation to Martin.
“That’s exactly what I though.” Said the little professor deep in though, but what do you make of the over developed bone structure, and those teeth?”
“I don’t know, it could almost be the produce of a circus act or side show.”
That night was one of the longest Professor Martin hicks had ever put in. driven on by some unseen energy to succeed he wanted more then anything to find the answer to all the questions this skeleton posed. By the time the sun was appearing over the horizon he had done as much as was possible.
John Crispin also spent the night in the confines of the university, he however was running through boxes of old micro films of notes left to the university by an old police doctor. They were numerous cases, to many to recall in detail, but John knew that somewhere in those old records could be the answer to the riddle of the man in the sewer.
The following morning Nigel sat at his desk in the council offices. On it sat three piles of paper, all needed to be filed before he continued his inspection of the sewage system. Reads desk backed onto brains, he knew Brian had arrived before him, his PC was logged on and his blue rain coat rested on the back of his chair.
Read decided that he would make himself a cup of coffee before starting the filing. The mug required cleaning out, yesterday’s coffee still half filled the mug, now stone cold. It had been too hot at the time to drink, so it was left on his desk.
Slowly he ambled over to the small kitchen where he could wash his cup when he heard a voice calling his name. With a sigh he stopped in his tracks and looked around.
At the far end of the office his bosses door was open the incumbents head poking around the frame, “Nigel, over here?”
Read saw and slowly he returned to his desk, put the cup down, then like an obedient dog trotted into his boss’s office.
On entering he saw Brian already sitting in attendance, but unlike his normal demean, Brian was smiling.
“So,” began the head of department, “who’s’ the most popular council worker then?” as he asked he closed the door not allowing anyone in the anti office becoming privy to the conversation inside.
On their exit some ten minutes later all heads turned, when any employee entered the room and the door closed it could mean only one thing, and that wasn’t a good thing.
The assembled members of the department waited for a word from either of their colleagues, but none came. Both Nigel and Brian walked straight into the left. The head of department, Mr Spencer watched them go with a smile on his face, though as the lift doors slid shut the smile turned into a grimace then he spoke, “Jenkins, get you arse in here.”
Neither said anything as they crossed Queens Gardens, Nigel could only think of what existed beneath his feet under what was the old Queens dock. It was always the same when he was in the town, mind always on the job.
Minutes later they were at the entrance to the new BBC building and been ushered into one of the studious used for the production of the local news magazine program.
Once make up had been applied and micro phones clipped to their jumpers they were interviewed at length on their discovery. Both were somewhat taken aback by the interest the whole event had coursed, rumour was that the story could even make the national news, so long as no floods or murders happened that day.
The two old friends laughed together as they crossed the garden once again heading back to their office. They had just been on the television, granted the interview would not be shown until that evening, but still…
They had enjoyed their moment in the limelight, but now it was time to return to work.
Overalls and waders now donned they stood at the river entrance once again. For a moment they both paused, Nigel held the pad lock in one hand, the key in the other. As Brian waited his ears picked up on a familiar sound, it was the sound of dropping something heavy into deep water, in this case the river. He looked down over the side of the bank, but saw nothing. Directly below was an outlet pipe from the sewer, the water came out of it in a slow trickle. So what had caused the deep clunking sound? On the surface of the water a ripple spread out toward the other bank and both up and down stream.
He said nothing as the pair entered the wrote iron gates and then down into the tunnel once again. Brian closed the gate behind him and hooked the catch across.
As there footsteps faded away the gate swung open and rattled as it hit the iron stopper, how it had opened no one saw, as no one saw the mutilated torso bubble up from the surface of the muddy waters of the River Hull. Slowly it drifted down stream them disappeared back into the dark waters were it had just came.
John Crispin rubbed his eyes, they could hardly remain open such was his fatigue, due to the researches he had carried out all through the night. Today he had two free periods in the morning, nothing until this afternoon. He had to allow himself some sleep. Not though before he had spoken too his old friend Professor hicks on the extraordinary discovery he had made in the Police Doctors archives.
Around a hundred and ten years ago or there about a series of disappearances had taken place in what was now the old part of the city. Many of the vanishings were sailors and prostitutes, those people associated with the high Street area of town. None of those reported were found and because of the location of the events, who knows how many more souls had disappeared in that time, people who were miles away from home or had no living relation?
The only clue, well it couldn’t be a clue to the disappearances, maybe just a coincidence, but a necklace covered in blood and flesh was found on the mud banks of the river.
At the time, so the notes said, it was put down to a practical joke to lead the police off the sent.
When the drains were laid the vanishings seemed to stop, the stalking ground of the predator had gone may be? Had they moved on somewhere else? The police in those days didn’t have such things as databases so one force didn’t communicate with any other on a day to day basis, so who knows?
The other curios point though was when digging the drain which followed an underground watercourse, several bones were found and an alcove (or so it was said to be likened too) in the wall of the natural tunnel cut by the stream, it looked as though it could have been made deliberately a sleeping quarters for some kind of animal, say the size of a large dog.
John put the phone down, Martin wasn’t answering. He had an idea in his head that the missing people and the subterranean discovery could be connected to his friend’s findings which at present sat in the lab.
Martin didn’t hear the telephone ringing, he too had been burning the midnight oil. For a man who was used to working in exacts, this skeleton was a curio. If he was not mistaken, and he seldom was, then the bone structure indicated that this wasn’t a man, more of a K9?
He put the elusion down to tiredness and turned in for the night, or at least the first part of the morning. Sleep was probably the thing for him.
“Did you hear that?” Brian asked.
“I’d like to say no, but…”
The inspection of the old town sewer was almost complete now. After the joy of this mornings TV appearance both men felt ill at ease with their surroundings. The noise Brian had heard was almost a cry, but more of a growl, dog like.
Nigel thought for a moment, maybe they should call it a day, it wasn’t often that an animal got stuck down here with them, but if it did its normal instinct was to attack first.
“Ok, let’s go back.” Nigel said, a hint of hear in his voice. Brian was not unhappy at the decision, “What, get off.” He said striking out an arm, almost hitting his friend.
“What?” Nigel asked in a raised voice.
“You know, trying to spook me.” He had felt Nigel poke him in the side of his neck, that wasn’t like him, trick playing.
“I didn’t do anything.” Assured the older of the two men.
Both of their attention was taken away from the petty argument though by a loud wolf like cry from somewhere close to them. Nigel froze, Brain dropped his torch, clicking itself off as it hit the water.
They never saw what it was that made the noise.
On Look North that night the interview was broadcast, hundreds of thousands of people watched as the two men told their tale, but no one saw the blood stained bones of two men slide out of the outlet pipe of the drain the plop into the river.
No one saw the ripples made by the id labels floating down the River Hull before sinking into the water as it reached the tidal barrier.
