Hey, remember the chapter of that story I posted a few months ago? I've finally decided to write more, if anyone was interested :P
"Mr. Creed, was it?" Laurel Dent draped herself elegantly over the back of her seat. "You're American, aren't you? What brings you out to a village like this?" The scruffy young man smiled and sat down in the bus aisle, cross-legged like a child. "Oh, a bit of the old ennui, I suppose. I took a term abroad and decided to explore a little with some school chums of mine." He waved enthusiastically at Harry Windstrum at the front of the bus. The rich passenger cringed and sank slightly in his seat. "I do wish he would pretend not to know us in public," he complained to his seatmate. "He is very friendly," Algie agreed. Gingerly, the smaller man returned Creed's greeting with a shy smile of his own. "Hullo, Viktor. Enjoying the trip so far?" Viktor laughed loudly. "Not spectacularly, Evans. This old rust bucket's a bit of an adventure on its own, isn't it?" Mr. Ridgely scowled from his seat at the front. Americans! Did they have to be so blunt?
Abruptly, the creaking hulk groaned to a sudden halt, throwing its occupants forward. Evelyn shrieked as she tumbled over the back of the seat and landed between the Alsburgs. "I'm so terribly sorry!" she cried, hastily righting herself. "Not at all, my dear," the doctor assured her gruffly, "Are you alright?" Laurel stood with a jerk and planted her hands on her hips. "Hey driver! Are you trying to kill us all?" she demanded, "What was that?" Carlisle gulped and pointed to the road ahead. "There's a fellow stranded!" he excused himself, "Look! I just thought I'd stop and see if he needed help, right?" Mr. Ridgely glared and leaned down to whisper, "Have you looked at the clouds, Carlisle? This is no time to play Good Samaritan!" The door opened and a disheveled man sporting a three-day beard climbed in. "I say!" the tour leader sputtered, "This is a closed tour! You can't just barge into my bus like this!" Without even looking at him, the newcomer pressed several pound notes into Ridgely's hand. "I'm on the roster. You left without me," he rasped. The corpulent man counted the bills and raised his eyebrows. "So you are! Terribly sorry for the inconvenience, sir. Do have a seat!"
The stranger made his way to the back of the bus, ignoring the suspicious looks everyone else cast in his direction. Viktor jumped up and made room for him, nodding easily. "Good afternoon," he began. "Not particularly," the man cut him off. Creed smiled a little, undaunted, but did not attempt conversation again. "I don't like the looks of that fellow," Mrs. Alsburg whispered to Ms. Heathering, "You'd better stay up here with Jack and me, dear. I shouldn't like the idea of any daughter of mine sitting so close to such unsavory characters! I'm sure your mother agrees." Mrs. Heathering actually had given no thought to the matter at all, but at the wealthy woman's pointed look, she quickly espoused the virtues of a proper chaperone on any voyage. All previous conversations died away and an uncomfortable silence pervaded the coach. "Now see here, Ridgely," Mr. Windstrum hissed, "That fellow was most certainly not on the roster. I can see it from here! You can't go around picking up strangers, money or no!" The tour leader fixed him with an icy stare and mopped his brow with the ever-present handkerchief. "Young man, who, exactly, is running this tour? You or I? I'll take what passengers I deem fit, thank you very much!" The ginger leaned back into his bench, highly unsatisfied. "Mark my words, mate. There'll be trouble over this later," he muttered darkly to Algie. The shy botanist pretended not to hear his friend and buried himself in his book.
The winding mountain road began to give way to rough path and stone, jostling the passengers terribly. Pop! With a loud report, the bus lurched suddenly to the side and stopped altogether. "Don't tell me!" Mr. Ridgely groaned. "We've burst a tire," Laurel announced, deadpan. "Not that I'm surprised." Mrs. Heathering tsk'd quietly at the reporter's attitude. "Bad luck," she hummed under her breath. At that moment, thunder rumbled ominously. Dr. Alsburg stood and edged out into the aisle. "Ladies and gentlemen!" he called in a distinguished voice, "May I have your attention?" he cast a withering glare at the driver and tour guide. "Storms in the mountains are, I think, rather more serious than storms in town. I, for one, have no intention of risking my wife's delicate health in a rattling deathtrap that may or may not leak." He turned to the driver. "Now look, we're awfully close to this Carnadine House, aren't we? I say we all walk the rest of the way in hopes of finding shelter before the clouds open up!" Ms. Dent tossed her head and joined him in the aisle. "Finally! That's the first good idea I've heard all day!" By unanimous decision, it was decided that the tour group would hike the rest of the way up the path to the manor while Ridgely and Carlisle took the bus back down to the village for repairs, as the whole affair was their fault.
A fierce wind snatched at hair and clothing as they stepped out into the gray afternoon. Evelyn shivered and pulled her wrap tighter around her thin shoulders. "Here." the stranger, who still had not introduced himself, held out his tattered coat to the girl. Timidly, she thanked him and followed the others up the path. They had just reached the point where they could see the crumbling towers of the old house when the storm broke. Amid curses and shouts of dismay, the men and women charged through the rusting iron gates and up the long pathway to the grinning skull of a mansion that lay in the mist-enshrouded forest before them.
Carnadine House.
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