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    Nightmare Dimension: The Plymouth Grey, #4
    Nightmare Dimension: The Plymouth Grey, #4
    Nightmare Dimension: The Plymouth Grey, #4
    Ebook136 pages1 hour

    Nightmare Dimension: The Plymouth Grey, #4

    By Brian Lambert

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    About this ebook

    Reality around Plymouth is, shall we say, slightly iffy, even at the best of times. But even worse is when different dimensions get mucked about with.

    The Plymouth Grey – the secret group that protects Plymouth against paranormal threats – know this more than most as throughout their history they've dealt with attacks originating from dimensions far different to our own.

    A Grey operation on Halloween takes on a distinct turn for the weird for Misha and Cruz when they're thrown into another reality and meet someone they never expected to see.

    As it is this would be strange enough, only they discover something far worse is happening – dimensions are being destroyed. And ours could be the next in line.

    But how can Misha and Cruz survive against vicious nightmare beasts roaming the countryside, let alone stop the dimension killer before it reaches our own?

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBrian Lambert
    Release dateFeb 23, 2019
    ISBN9781916056305
    Nightmare Dimension: The Plymouth Grey, #4

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      Book preview

      Nightmare Dimension - Brian Lambert

      Some enchanted morning

      The private ambulance diligently kept just under the speed limit as it drove along the nearly empty Embankment Road next to the river Plym. The streetlights had barely turned off and its blacked-out windows were only lit by the early Sunday morning light reflecting off puffy clouds high in the sky.

      Having a speed camera make a record of its journey, or being stopped for speeding was not an option. Especially not with what the reinforced plastic black bag in the back contained, let alone what stained the clothes of both the driver and passenger under their fake uniforms.

      Inside the ambulance Misha’s eyes began to slowly close as she looked exhaustedly out of the passenger window while Cruz hummed a happy tune. She was sure he was as sweaty and filthy and tired as her but why was he so gosh-darned happy?

      Do you think I could try out the flashing lights? Cruz asked.

      Misha jerked awake and immediately responded with sharp, No! Anyway, what flashing lights?

      Just something I added, Cruz added nonchalantly, trying not to make it sound like a big deal.

      She knew Frank, the leader of the Plymouth Grey, had told him not to trick out the ambulance, as its primary purpose was to secretly transport entities of an unusual nature through Plymouth. Adding things that would call attention to itself was a bad idea. But he still tried.

      That was why Frank had told her to keep an eye on him.

      While no-one’s around? he added hopefully.

      Still, no.

      He was quite correct though. They had the road almost to themselves at this hour in the morning. Those few cars that passed them by unknowingly received intense scrutiny from both Misha and Cruz through the darkened windows.

      Sure?

      Yes, I’m sure. She hoped there was enough venom into her tone to curtail any further queries. And when we finish this take them off. Why did you add them anyway?

      In case of emergencies.

      "We deal with emergencies. Anyone else would just get into trouble."

      Or die, he added, without thinking.

      "Yes, or die. Last I heard Frank was very much against that. Do you really want him to have words with you?"

      The threat seemed to work and Misha wondered if he could just leave her alone and get them to the incinerator at Derriford Hospital without calling any attention to themselves, or asking any more questions he already knew the answer to?

      Her hackles lowered at hearing him grumble under his breath about being told what he couldn’t do. Slowly her eyelids began to droop again as she succumbed to the white noise of the engine’s drone.

      The ambulance turned off at Marsh Mills roundabout and followed alongside the A38 heading west to the Tamar Bridge and Cornwall.

      Misha’s purple hair flattened against the glass as she dozed off, only moving slightly when the ambulance took more turns than their designated route stipulated.

      Some hard-earned Cruz-specific warning sense tickled her brain and she blearily opened her eyes. Slowly she realised that the buildings they were passing weren’t the one’s on the route to Derriford Hospital.

      Wha–? she groggily enquired.

      Cruz looked over at her, Thought we needed some caffeine.

      A shot of adrenaline fired through Misha that more than made up for any amount of caffeine Cruz was thinking about. You’re getting a coffee with that thing in the back?!

      Well, yeah? Nice end to the day. Or start. Whichever way you look at it?

      The ambulance was now past the traffic lights and over the ridge, heading down to the entrance to the retail park where the drive-through coffee shop was located.

      No! Turn this around or I’ll kick you out and drive it there myself!

      Cruz muttered rude words under his breath, and then said, It’d be easier just to go around the roundabout down there.

      I think I’d like a coffee.

      Both Cruz and Misha sat bolt upright as if ice-water had been poured down their spines.

      You said that? she asked Cruz, hopefully.

      No. Did you?

      Slowly they turned round to look at the black bag in the rear of the ambulance.

      Look at the road, Cruz.

      Oh, yeah.

      I thought it was supposed to be dead. Didn’t you kill it?

      You saw how many bits it was in! It’s dead. D...E...A–

      A coffee would be very nice.

      Dead things don’t ask for coffee, Cruz!

      Cruz brought the ambulance to a stop by the side of the road. He turned and spoke to the sturdy shiny black bag taking up most of the back of the ambulance, Look. Are you dead?

      Yes. Very. Lots of bits.

      Then stop asking for a coffee.

      Why? What else have I got to lose?

      Cruz sighed and looked at Misha’s angry face. An idea came to him and he turned back to the bag. If I get you a coffee will you shut up?

      What the hell are you doing, Cruz!? We don’t make deals with dead things!

      Cruz looked into her angry face, It’s just coffee?

      It’s the principle of the thing. Now it’s just coffee, then it’ll be your soul. And lastly it’ll be whatever passes for intelligence in your head!

      I’d be better off with the coffee.

      Hah! cried Misha. Then thought better about agreeing with the contents of the black bag.

      Stung, Cruz turned back to the bag. Look... bag. I will not take insults from something that is... dead. And in bits. And in a bag we’re taking to be incinerated!

      Finally!

      Cruz turned back to look out of the front of the ambulance.

      Shame really.

      Not listening, Cruz replied tersely as he started the ambulance off again.

      I’m sure someone else will find it one day.

      Still not listening.

      The ambulance turned round the roundabout.

      Find what? asked Misha.

      Oh, nothing. Just treasure beyond your wildest imaginings.

      Still not listening. And what are you doing asking it questions? Cruz directed at Misha.

      She shrugged. Might be interesting.

      If you keep on like this I’ll use the siren.

      "Wait, what siren?"

      "Got it in a two for one offer. Can’t have flashing lights without a siren. Makes sense really.

      No it doesn’t!

      Everyone has them?

      No they don’t! You’re not meant to have either! Take the bloody things off or do you want me to tell Frank about it?

      He won’t be back for a while.

      Misha turned to the black bag. You keep out of this!

      She gave a deep sigh. Get us to the incinerator, Cruz. As fast as whatever you’ve tricked this ambulance out with can go.

      Sure?

      Misha didn’t like the hopeful ‘did she really say that?’ tone of his voice but felt tonight needed to end as fast as possible if she was ever going to see her bed in the next few hours.

      Yes.

      Cool.

      Cruz reached under the dashboard with one hand and fiddled around with something. With a click the engine noise changed to a deeper tone that Misha felt vibrating though her bones, and then a roar began behind her.

      Jesus, Cruz!

      Cruz turned to her and waggled his eyebrows. Too late to change your mind. Hold on!

      With a squeal of tyres the ambulance accelerated back up the hill pushing Misha back into her seat like she was in a rocket taking off. She glanced through the side window at the mirror and was pretty sure she saw blue flames coming out the back of the ambulance.

      Are you quite sure you’re not interested in the diamonds?

      Shut it! yelled Misha.

      The ambulance reached the top of the ridge and jumped into the air.

      Cruz!

      Got it! I haven’t been able to try it out before now!

      The ambulance crashed back down to the road and skidded as Cruz, his knuckles white against the steering wheel, fought for control of the speeding vehicle.

      Misha was thrown hard to the right and then to the left as they hurtled onto the roundabout over the A38. She was glad she’d remembered to lock her door as she was forced hard against it all the way round and through the red traffic lights. The only respite she had was when they turned off and careened down the slope onto Forder Valley road leading to Novorossiysk Road and the route to Derriford Hospital.

      You don’t want to go via Crownhill!? she called out.

      Past the Police station?

      Sorry. The bag threw me.

      Ok.

      I can see you’re the brains here.

      What? replied Misha, over the roaring noise of the souped-up engine.

      Eh? asked Cruz, risking a quick glance at her.

      You didn’t hear that?

      Hear what? Cruz

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