Chapter 8

From what Hopper had seen, the local area wasn't very busy; a smattering of small huts, some local market stalls, but nothing he would call exciting. Nevertheless, he had looked around the place for a couple of hours, spying out what he could that might help him in his investigation into this boy and the break-in at the shop. He received odd looks from some locals; doubtless they didn't usually have very many visitors, and even fewer police officers. Yet the place felt strange, tense, as though there was a collective angst about something, a collective fear. He got some directions from a young woman towards the nearest orphanage. It looked almost deserted, and about to fall down. He approached the entrance and knocked on the splintering wooden door.

Barely a second after his hand had moved away from the wood, the door swung open to reveal a woman. She looked old; her face was weather-beaten and wrinkled and her hands were peppered with wrinkles, gnarled like the root of an ancient tree. "Hello", Hopper greeted her. "I'm Chief Jimmy Hopper, is it all right if I ask you a few questions?" She looked disorientated, as though she had suddenly had a wave of amnesia. "Are you from the government?" she asked. "The government?" he said, suddenly looking confused himself. All of a sudden her features relaxed, as though she had had a sudden realisation. "Of course...sorry, you must be the Vicar". "The...Vicar?" he questioned, now completely lost. "Yes", she said, smiling. "He told me, take the child and care for him. That's what he said. He said he would have to hide away for a long time...such a long time.

" "When was this?" he asked her. "2 months ago", she replied, still strangely calm. "7th April 1967". He stared at her. The woman was clearly mad. 1967? "Are you sure?" he asked her, making a mental note to ask one of his officers to take care of her. She was obviously deranged. "Positive", she replied confidently. "The Vicar asked me to look after him, above everything else, him. That's one thing I never understood-the name. Some sort of religious fellow, I suppose...I never asked him, wish I had. He visited me every now and then over the years. Quite a few children came with him I must say-about 9 or 10...anyway, I only remember they called him Papa, but I suppose the same could be said of every parent and their children...". She trailed off. Hopper was too shocked for words. A face swam in his memory; the cruel scientist, secretive experiments, and in that moment he knew past and present had collided creating even deeper mysteries, and he was fearful of what lay ahead.