The Ghoul of Christmas Past

a band. I usually go by the stage name of Mistress Mushy.’ She pointed to the two guys. ‘This is Hatchett and Bob.’
‘Bob?’ Michael had to query it because against the backdrop of Poison, Mistress Mushy and Hatchett, it seemed a little bland.
Bob explained. ‘It stands for Beyond Belief. Mum always said I was beyond belief. I guess I got into trouble with her a lot when I was little. It stuck and dad started calling me Bob. That stuck too.’
Frank clapped his hands together, breaking the moment. ‘Right, that’s the introductions done. Let’s go get this ghoul then, shall we?’
Mary grabbed Michael’s arm. ‘Don’t you move a muscle, Michael Michaels. You need to come home right this minute. You’ve gotten in enough trouble for one day already.’
‘We’re just going to take a look, love,’ he assured her. ‘It’s important. The man I saw was hurt and they might mean to kill him. The police didn’t believe me and all we want to do is see if we are right about where they have taken him. After that, I promise we will call the police.’
She shook her head vigorously. ‘No. I heard the strange man who looks like a weasel,’ Frank frowned at her comment, ‘just say it is a ghoul you are after. I don’t know what that is, but it does not sound like a church-sanctioned Christmas Eve activity. You’re coming home.’
Michael pulled her into another hug. ‘I can’t, darling. I really wish I could, but I know someone is in trouble and police are not doing anything about it. I can’t stand by and then read about their murder in the paper. I need to at least try.’
Mary wailed, ‘This is a job for Tempest and that giant friend of his.’
His quiet reply stilled her arguments, ‘He is not available, dear.’

Sneaking in the Dark. Saturday, December 24th 2218hrs
There was no chance Mary would go in the band’s van to get there, so she followed in her Ford Escort. Michael sat in the passenger seat, watching to see if she would change her mind and just try to drive him home. Thankfully, she didn’t, and they arrived at Chatham Docks, a largely abandoned former hub of industry and manufacture right on the river’s edge. A few businesses were still operating but the area was dominated by the theme park which had now also failed and closed its doors for good.
They were close to the historic Royal Navy Dockyard where Michael worked occasional shifts as a tour guide. Michael knew the area well and knew a place to park where security patrolling the area would be unlikely to spot them. Not that security were the enemy; they might even be needed, but to get to the theme park, Michael, Frank, and everyone else would have to go unnoticed to begin with.
Getting out of the camper van next to them, Poison and her friends had all donned black masks that covered their heads. They looked like ninjas and to his disbelief, Michael watched them begin to unload weapons.
Frank held up a baseball bat with a grin. There was something written down the side of it. ‘They wouldn’t give me back my axe,’ he said, as if that explained things. The ninjas were hefting an assortment of blunt weapons: a staff, nunchucks, a pair of sticks that Michael could not remember the name for.
‘You should stay in the car,’ Michael cautioned.
‘You can get stuffed, Mr Michaels,’ replied his wife, leaving little ambiguity regarding her thoughts on the matter.
Holding up his hands in supplication, he backed away from the car. ‘I was just thinking about your safety and comfort, dear.’
‘Knickers. I’ve got to come with you to make sure you consider your own safety. Without me there to stop you, you might try scaling the wall to follow Weasel Man and the Freak Show.’
Michael sighed. ‘Can you just call them by their names, love?’
Mary argued, ‘They’re too hard to remember.’
Her reply got a raised eyebrow. ‘Really. I doubt I could forget their names if I lived to be a thousand.’ Letting the subject die and praying his wife wouldn’t cause him too much embarrassment, Michael caught up to the others as they sidled to the corner of the old industrial park. The first building was a long-forgotten factory but peering around the corner, they could all see the front façade of the theme park.
One thing was clear: It was closed. Like forever.
‘It does not look like there is anything going on in there,’ commented Michael, holding up his ticket stub and wondering if he’d bought a red herring.
‘Oh, well,’ said Mary. ‘Can’t be helped. Let’s get back for a drink before bedtime.’
She started to tug at his arm, but Michael slipped free. ‘There’s a cut through in the corner to get to the river. I bet we can access the back of the building from there.’
He started forward, Frank and his four black-clad ninjas sticking to the dark. In contrast Mary strolled out into the moonlit carpark area, refusing to play along.
‘Darling, we have to stay hidden,’ Michael urged, grabbing her arm to pull her back into the shadow. She muttered the whole way, making sure he could hear what she was saying by being loud enough that everyone could hear her, including any security guards who were not asleep in their cars and probably the bad guys if they were here.
It was a surprise then when they made it to the far edge of the factory unchallenged and found the cut through Michael claimed was there.
‘How did you know about this?’ asked Frank.
Michael shrugged. ‘These buildings have been here since before I was a kid. I used to come down here with my friends to go fishing in the fifties. Some things change, but a lot of stuff stays the