No Man's Land

The walk to the mansion is punctuated by rapid-fire series of nightmarish images illuminated by lightning blasts and then wiped out by black sheets of rain. Patches of fog cling to the mounds and well up from sinkholes and craters, resembling old shell holes and trenchworks.


Rusted, yet still sharp, barbed wire left over from the Great War twists across one stretch of hill.

Richard Pimms, clutching his bag tightly, tries to focus solely on making his way down the drive to the mansion, however he cannot turn his head away as the lightning illuminates another hellish scene, burning the images onto his retinas like a photograph. His work during the War, hundreds of miles away back in Blighty, couldn't have prepared him for this, and he starts to feel a little queasy.

For Richard, The Great War was largely senseless, those in command acted with absolute disregard of the men they were sending to their deaths. Undoubtedly a lot went on underneath the fighting, atrocities that may never come to light. It's astounding the lengths, and depths, that men will go to for victory, or power.


A sudden slide of earth from the side of a nearby ravine, provoked by the heavy rain that permeates everything, reveals a pile of dismembered skeletons, obviously a mass grave.

In the brief flash of lightening that illuminates the scene, the bodies look like they may be wearing the remnants of army uniforms, although you cannot tell which side of that war - the war to end all wars.

Kurt regards the war as an absolute disaster and a shocking waste – the royal houses of Europe get to use everyone else as their own personal chess set in a family dispute that nobody can make head nor tail of except that it involved Serbia in some way or other. And Austria. Germany's defeat in 1918, supposedly due to the mythical stab in the back, also seems to be one of the Nazis' pet grievances; the nursing of which seems to provide them with the justification for all sorts of vile behaviour. He had some good mates in the army, but most of them got killed.

Kurt doesn't like to be reminded of the war. It takes it's toll.

Roland's experience of the war came well after its end. As a variety of heroic commanders or young Lieutenants, all actually fighting under the bright sun of Hollywood. Roland is arrogant and removed enough to feel slightly disappointed at having missed out on the war to end all wars, and a real opportunity to distinguish himself as one of the dashing Americans helping to save the day.

He's a little shocked by some of what he sees. Real death has never been a part of his life, though at the same time there is a small thrill about finally experiencing the 'real world'.

Manny reacts with fascination to the sights around him. Like firelight flickering from a cave his eyes begin to shine. He has always believed in fate, fortune and the other superstitions of travelling people, but increasingly Manny has started to look for messages in everything. He looks for some fateful image to form in the fog and half expects the muddied skeletons to speak to him. He is wary, but only in the way he is always wary of his environment.

War, he has no experience of. He is used to the macabre from his upbringing with the freaks and fortune tellers of the circus. He understands death and killing - these are animal urges - but not the senseless slaughter of war. War - like industry or politics - belongs to the world of settled people and not to the circus, and Manny does not understand it. He was too young to really remember the great war and spent its duration in the south of Europe where people still had money for travelling shows. He knows that it changed everything, especially for his kind. People lost their faith in illusion and spectacle so that they no longer saw the point in taming a lion when it was easier to shoot with a machine gun.

A shift of the wind blows a sharp, chemical scent of pineapple and pepper their way; Those passengers with experience in the Great War experience recognise it as chlorine gas. If that fog contains traces of chlorine, leaving the path could be fatal. Perhaps there are old stores underground, seeping chemicals into the soil as the containers slowly rust.

Hal, although a 2nd Lieutenant during the Great War, never saw any front line action and so the walk to the mansion doesn't trigger any old memories. Nor does he recognise the acrid smell as anything dangerous. Still a little shaken up by his first encounter with a dead body most of the grisly scene is passing him by (something he will later regret as he tries to recall the scene to commit to paper).

The only consolation is that the way is easier than first thought; there is some sort of graveled road – pitted by ponds and split by runoff to be sure -- running in the direction the former bus passengers are traveling. A long, poorly maintained driveway that leads up to, or away from, the house.

Concentrating on his feet trudging through the mud and rain, Richard grimly makes his way forward, his body hunched against the rain and the nightmares that lie just off the path. Manny walks forward taking in the scene, fascinated but aghast, a mixture of kid in a sweet shop and nun in a brothel. Roland is pushing ahead, relishing the stormy weather and dramatic lighting, eager to see what comes next.

Kurt walks like when he was in one of the storm groups in the final offensive: Walking hunched up, trying to present as small a target as possible.

Thinking: Everybody else is bunched too close together. One burst from a machine gun ,or a well placed grenade, and they'll all be dog food. Need to watch out for hill crests and obstacles like walls and gates. We don't want to be silhouetted against the horizon.

All this going through him more or less unconsciously. He checks the luger in his pocket.

Just like riding a bike. You never forget.

Kurt tells everyone to spread out and keep low, his voice carrying over the thunder.

Also thinking – some of this lot don't look like they'll be able to go far. They're injured and/or wet plus a couple of them looked decidely shaky. The house is probably our best bet, people can rest up and maybe get dry. Although...I don't like the look of the place...not one bit.

Hal is still somewhat withdrawn at the moment. He is following the rest of the group, but is lagging a little behind, for fear of being engaged in conversation. He is not yet ready to "join in".

Despite being on this trip to seek out adventure, his unremarkable, but comfortable life has rendered him somewhat blind to the fact that the adventure has now truly begun. The crash and the walk to the mansion are little more than an inconvenience on his route to finding it.

About 150 yards from the house, the begraggled passengers are forced to pick their way across a line of barbed wire, tangled with logs and boards. This slows their progress and bunches them up together. Taking care, they are able to negotiate this obstacle with little difficulty, only slightly tearing some clothing, or picking up small scratches. It looks like the remains of a collapsed gate.

A lightning flash reveals a shattered wooden sign. It reads TVERODA KASILDA in stencilled, weather faded writing.

Hal, Kurt and Richard are able to translate this as reading 'Fort Kasilda' in the backwater dialect of these parts.

By this time, they are close enough to make out the details of the dark house, even against the stormy skies and driving rain.

Rather than the anticipated gothic pile that would be expected in these parts, the architecture of the house is high modernism, stark lines and sharp angles . It's exterior walls seem to be smooth, polished black stone. The house rises to around fourty feet tall, although judging by the arrangement of windows, it only seems to have three visible stories. At the top of the path, the house has enormous double doors of burnished heavy steel. There are currently no lights visible in the house.

Roland's amateur enthusiasm for architecture allows him to identify the house. It is the 'Black Chateau' the final masterpiece of the reknowned and brilliant modernist architect Adhemar Grau. Roland recalls that Grau, a fanatical Modernist and disciple of Le Corbusier, exhibited plans for the Chateau at various academic shows and conferences for several years, before he mysteriously disappeared seven years ago. The house was supposedly never built - but here it is.

"Say, I recognise that house. Any of you fella's interested in architecture?"

Roland turns to look at the other members of the party group. Richard looks puzzled for a moment, before turning to Roland.

"I'm more perplexed as to why that building was built here, I'm certain this site used to be a chemical weapons depot during The War."

"It was." says Hal "and a big one. Though I should imagine it was decommissioned years ago."

Hal looks suspiciously at the drifting clouds of acrid smelling mist

"Perhaps not as thoroughly as it deserved."

"In that case perhaps we should keep away from it? " suggests Kurt. "Alternatively, anyone got a canary?"

"Under normal circumstances I would be inclined to agree," says Hal, "but this wretched storm somewhat limits our options."

"However, things may not be as grim as they appear. These Balkan Johnnies may have desposed of the chemicals by simply burying them in the grounds. The building itself may offer shelter not just from the storm but also from the chemicals."

Despite his words, a small part of Hal, the part that remembers the plots from his own horror novels and the hundreds of horror stories he mined for inspiration, is quietly, but insistantly trying to make its concerns known. It is foolishness of course, Hal knows this and lends no credence to the idea that although the building may indeed offer shelter from the storm and the gas, something worse than either lurks within those imposing walls.