booksnew/source/darkvalley-source/025.txt

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<h2>25</h2>
<p>Billy fell headlong when the man released the tight grip on his hair. He went sprawling past Danny, arms pinwheeling in a fruitless attempt to regain his balance. He made a little croaking noise and the fingers of his left hand caught at Doug's shirt, almost managed to grab it, but only skimmed the fabric. He fell with a thump that knocked his breath out in a whoosh, rolled and fetched up face down on the turf next to the stones around the fire. Another foot and he'd have caved his skull in on the smooth rock. Another two and he'd be face down in the hot embers of the fire. Doug instinctively moved to help him and then froze, half bent with his arms outreached. Very slowly he drew them back to his sides again and pulled himself back. He turned round even more slowly. Danny did not move.</p>
<p>"Ahah," the man said and none of them knew whether he was just clearing his throat, though it sounded like the confirmation of preconceived suspicion.</p>
<p>Corky broke the stillness. He walked past Doug and bent to get a hand under Billy's armpit. Tom took two steps back and helped him. Billy gasped for breath as he got to his feet, both hands clamped to his belly and his face slack with the effort and hurt.  A streak of ash had glued itself to the tears on his cheek and smudged there, making him look as if he'd a black eye. On the other side, two straight lines of soot had striped the skin, like Indian brave war-paint. But at that moment looked less Indian and less brave than ever.</p>
<p>"Well, well," the stranger said. Danny looked up a him and quickly looked away. Corky completely ignored the sound.</p>
<p>"You okay Billy-O?" he asked quickly, voice hushed.  He had one hand on Billy's shoulder, an unconscious and eloquent gesture of solidarity and support. His other was under Bill's elbow, steadying him. Billy swayed a little.</p>
<p>"Yeah," he finally said in between gasps. "<em>Jeez. </em>That hurts."</p>
<p>Tom, on the other side, equally unconsciously and quite unceremoniously brushed some dried bracken off  Billy's shirt.</p>
<p>"Thought you were diving into the fire there," Corky told him. "You were nearly a goner."</p>
<p>Danny could only stand amazed at how calm Corky sounded. It was as if they'd just been wrestling on the short grass and somebody had got winded. Danny could sense the man's eyes taking in the whole scene.</p>
<p><em>Yeah tho' I walk through the valley......</em></p>
<p>Psalm 23, verse two. Danny knew it off by heart. He'd heard it a thousand times, one of his father's favourites, one of the many engraved on Danny's brain through endless repetition, like the Hail Mary's and Glory Be's of the tedious rosaries. And acts of contrition.</p>
<p><em>I will fear no evil.</em></p>
<p>They had stopped in the valley. The sun was shining and the lark was rising on a pillar of song in the warm air but there was a shadow now here beside the stream.</p>
<p><em>Shadow of death....</em></p>
<p>Danny felt it clearly. He had looked up at the man and seen his eyes, not twitching, not then, but taking in the scene, flat and soul-less  as the eyes of a dead trout, as if they stared into infinity. All down the path, he had felt the bore of the gun aimed on his spine, all the time expecting it to blast out and break him. It hadn't happened, but Danny could sense the proximity of death and the casual mindlessness of the violence inside the man.</p>
<p><em>I will fear no evil.</em></p>
<p>He feared evil. Oh sweet Jesus! He very much feared it. An evil indifference radiated from the man who stood there, his shadow between Danny and the sun, long and black, the gun now  held  in folded arms, cradled as if it were a baby. He was indifferent for now, but how long that last before he switched back his attention, Danny could not guess. But it would change and then he'd focus on them.</p>
<p><em>He makes me lie down in green pastures.</em></p>
<p>He had made Billy lie down on the green, thrown him flat with a move of his hand. Billy stood there waiting for the next move. They all did.</p>
<p>The man slowly swept his eyes round the clearing beside the stream.</p>
<p><em>Dumb fry. </em></p>
<p>It came out as a murmur, half strangled. They all heard it. It meant nothing, made no sense. He jerked his head to the side, cocked it again as if listening for something. Corky watched, keeping his expression flat, giving no cause for action or retribution. He'd taken a risk going to help Billy, but that had happened almost instinctively. A friend was down and hurt. He had moved without thinking. It was only now, afterwards,  that he realised the man could have acted just as reflexively.</p>
<p>The intruder was talking to himself. A bad sign. Billy was breathing heavily as if he couldn't control it and beside him, Tom looked tiny and fragile, one hand pressed against his crotch.</p>
<p>"What do you want?" Corky finally said, hardly able to contain his own surprise that he'd found the nerve to speak.</p>
<p>The man seemed not to have heard at all.</p>
<p>"Mister?" Corky risked another venture.</p>
<p>The man turned, not towards Corky, but towards the stream. The sun was shining over the lip of the valley, up high where the mudstone strata poked out under the line of the high moorland turf. The light beamed from the water in coruscating flashes.</p>
<p>"<em>Dumb fry.</em> That right Conboy?<em> Only words they understand.</em> No souls. No damned souls."</p>
<p>He stared at the water and they all stared at him, wondering what would come next. Doug's narrow chest was rising up and down and his ears were redly translucent in the sunlight. Danny watched the man and the gun, fearful that he'd simply turn from the stream and shoot. There was a tension in the air, a sense of unbalanced and brittle craziness. The man blinked and muttered to himself as if he'd completely forgotten them.</p>
<p>Tom could wait no longer. The pressure was spreading over the top of his thighs and he thought again he's piss his pants and that was enough for him. He unzipped with a quick rasp, turned half around and let flow a stream. They all heard his instant sigh of sudden relief and then, just as instantly, the hiss of steam as the arc of bright water struck the hot rock. The stone steamed and a bubbling spot of urine sizzled on the stone sending up a sour hot billow. Tom stepped back, head jerking around to see if the noise had attracted the man's attention. In doing so, his body half-swivelled and he was still emptying his bladder. The motion caused him to spray a line right across Billy's scuffed shoe and under any other circumstances, such a lapse of judgement or aim would have merited him a rough knuckle on the scalp, or a head-lock or even  a dead leg. Billy did not notice. His eyes were fixed on the man who stood with the gun cradled in his arms and his gaze looking down at the flashes on the surface of the water.</p>
<p><em>Twitchy Eyes.</em></p>
<p>Billy's mouth formed the words, though he made no sound, but they all heard him as if  he'd shouted them at the top of his voice;  all except Tom who was desperately trying to finish quickly to take any possible attention away from himself, yet found he had huge liquid reserves that kept coming and coming.  The grass turned dark green with damp and then a puddle formed. For such a small person, he seemed to have a limitless supply. Everybody waited and finally Tom finished. He sighed audibly once again, zipped himself up and raised his eyes to look at the man.</p>
<p>The stranger blinked rapidly, and as he did so his whole face contorted. Deep lines formed round his eyes and Danny could see it wasn't so much a blink. It was more like a rapid tic. A twitch.</p>
<p>"What's he going to do?"</p>
<p>Doug's whisper could barely be heard above the burbling of the steam but all of them caught it. Danny shrugged, hardly a movement at all, just there merest hitch of his shoulders.</p>
<p>None of them knew what the man was going to do, but all of them knew they were in trouble.</p>
<p><em>Twitchy Eyes</em>, Billy mouthed once more, and this time Tom read the message. Billy was not telling them, merely  talking to himself, snagged on his awful comprehension.  He had one had on his scalp, gingerly rubbing at the tender place which still felt as if his hair was being pulled out. His face was slack and dreadfully scared. His eyes were not fixed on the man at all, but focused somewhere in the distance. Corky nodded and so did Danny. Tom's eyebrows went up in question and then the recognition dawned in his eyes too.</p>
<p>Beside the flashing water, the man's head was still twisted to the side. His coat was long and heavy, despite the heat of the day, and torn under the armpit and at the pocket as if too much weight had been put there.  The hem hung right down to his calf,  caked with dirt or mud and his boots were old and worn. One of them had a shark-mouth split where the sole was peeling away from the uppers and looked just like the boot they'd found up at the crater on the day they'd walked over the ridge and seen the devastation on the moor surrounding the ghost-shacks of the dummy village.</p>
<p>"What if there's a foot in it?" Doug had asked, giggling. He wasn't giggling now. He remembered telling Billy if there was a foot in it he'd have shit himself. Billy hadn't denied it then. He looked now as if he couldn't force the air out hard enough to make a sound. There was an association here that had sparked yet another. The divers had found a boot in the pool down by the quarry and there had been a foot inside it. That had been when Crawford Rankine had been thrown off the quarry and cracked his skull on the rock.</p>
<p><em>Twitchy Eyes...</em></p>
<p>This man had done it. Doug felt a sudden swoop of panic shudder through him and his breath back up in his skinny chest until his lungs couldn't hold any more.</p>
<p>He'd done it. Thrown Craw Rankine down from the ledge onto the flat rock and then he'd gone back and got Don Whalen and taken him away...<em>Oh Jeez...</em>suddenly Doug's lungs did want to work, tried to draw in more air and there was no more room. Everybody had heard what he did to Craw. He could feel his chest moving up and down while a heat of cramping pain started swelling under his armpits and he was making a sound like a distressed dog on a sweltering day.</p>
<p>The man turned round, away from the water, but his eyes were still blinking hard, still <em>twitching, </em>though they were looking well over their heads and not directly at the five boys. Doug tried to stop panting, but his muscles would not obey. His chest heaved even faster, small, shallow and violent breaths that shook his body, made his shoulders jerk up and down. His face was deathly pale, the way Billy's had been and even his ears had lost their red glow. Corky heard the noise get louder and stared at him, shaking his head very slightly but firmly, keeping his eyes locked on Doug's. He did not have to say it, the way he had spoken on the way down the valley. If anything was going to happen, it could be now. They all sensed it. But the more Doug tried, the faster the panting got. The lines of rock striations on the valley sides began to waver as a loop of dizziness brought on by the hyperventilation swept through him. A dry heat built up in his arid throat. In the corner of his eye, shadows flickered and he felt as if he was going to faint.</p>
<p>To his great surprise, Tom Tannahill stepped up beside him and grabbed him through his old vest, his small hand surprisingly strong. Tom gripped the fabric and a handful of skin  and clutched so tight he felt something would rip. He just wanted Doug to stop panting.</p>
<p>A stab of pain lanced across Doug's ribs, sore enough to momentarily divert his attention, A cry built up way down inside him and he clamped his gaping mouth shut to keep it in. He grunted softly.</p>
<p>The man kept his eyes firmly on the distance, maybe on the sky or on the high valley sides where the scrub-alder and hazel mixed with the thick ferns. The gun gleamed, blue-black and shiny clean, a complete contrast to the raggedy stranger with his greasy hair and his gaping boot and the thick, sour smell from his coat. The real difference was that the gun could be put down on its butt end and it would hurt nobody by itself.  This crazy man had a depth of hurt inside him, bursting to get out.</p>
<p><em>Should have run</em>, Doug thought, <em>while I had the chance.</em> His lungs still hurt but the panic panting was over and the dark shadows had faded away from his peripheral vision. His ankle pulsed painfully yet and he new he could not run now if he wanted to. Billy was still mouthing the same two words over and over again as if the sudden comprehension had engraved themselves on his consciousness. Corky looked like a cat, all tensed up, ready to jump one way or another. Tom had his hand still gripped to Doug's vest, but not clenched into his skin, when the man finally lifted his hand and pointed at Billy.</p>
<p>"You boy," he said, not yet looking down. "come over here to me."</p>
<p>Billy looked as if he would faint on the spot. His mouth opened, closed, opened again. Everybody heard the dry click of his throat.</p>
<p>"Mister..." Corky started in. The man turned his head towards him, eyes still fixed on the far distance, as if watching something happening elsewhere, maybe as if seeing visions. His hand was still raised up, fist tight and showing white knuckles. One long, thick finger was pointed straight at Billy's face.</p>
<p>"I said, come here." The voice was low and rumbling, with a slight accent, maybe from the east coast, but it could have easily been from the north. It was not a local accent, no glottal stop, no truncation of the endings.</p>
<p>Billy's mouth kept opening and closing as if he had strength enough to clench his teeth but not enough to hold his jaw tight. Doug started panting again and Tom gripped his skin once more until he subsided. Corky looked as if he might speak again, but the man's face was still towards him and he dared not risk it. Billy's feet moved him closer and Danny thought he looked like a rabbit faced with a stoat. He and Corky had seen that happening up on the moorland to Langcraig Hill, a stoat in autumn colours, dark and long with a jet black tip to its tail and eyes like beads of coal, weaving sinuous in front of a mesmerised rabbit which looked as if it had stopped breathing. The deadly predator swayed, up on its hind legs, body like a cobra, while the rabbit simply waited for the bite on the back of its skull, unable to escape. Billy was unable to escape. He took one slow step and the man's head turned and the black eyes fixed on him and in that moment Danny saw the stoat inside the man. His eyes had the same depths, and the same animal intensity. They bored into Billy and there was nothing the boy could do. He took another step, then another, walked across the turf from the edge of the fire to the edge of the stream. He got to within arm's reach and the man's arm simply dropped down and clapped on his shoulder with a soft thud. Billy did not faint, though Doug felt the strange nauseous wavering inside himself.</p>
<p>Billy stood rigid, face up.</p>
<p>They were fixed for maybe a minute in silence, joined by the man's reach.</p>
<p>"You hear it boy?"</p>
<p>"Hear....hear?"</p>
<p>"You hear it, don't you?"</p>
<p>"I don't know mister. I don't hear..."</p>
<p>"Oh, you will then," the man said. He starred straight into Billy's eyes for another long moment and then turned his head, ignoring the others, until he faced the hollow by the gnarled hawthorn.</p>
<p>"You'll see it too," he said, raising his hand off Billy's shoulder and holding it above his head before dropping it slowly, almost gently, to the dark hair. He patted first and then stroked down.</p>
<p>"Hurt you boy?"</p>
<p>Billy couldn't help but nod.</p>
<p>"Part of the process. All part of it. No need to fret." His voice dropped almost to a whisper, but they could all hear it.</p>
<p>"You see it boy. I know you do." He indicated to the hollow where the dead deer skull gnashed its teeth in a fixed and silent grind. The eye sockets were crawling with flies, masses of them,  like a moving mat.  The wasted nostrils, pulled back in flaps, showed a sliver of bone and a hollow dark space alongside the flaccid skin which moved with the abundance of maggots under the surface. The  clogged eyes seemed to stare out of the shaded place. Above it, the imperious white skull of the ram on the pole was a stark ivory sculpture, white against the dark of the green, its eyes gaping and haunted and bracketed by the heavy ridged double curve of horns. Below them, the heron's severed head stared out, the delicate spear of the beak now shut, a useless and blunted weapon. Below it, the ragged neck had attracted its own swarm, but the yellow eye gazed blinklessly.</p>
<p>The eye caught Danny's own and a feeling of guilt swamped him. He hadn't meant to kill the thing but it had died anyway, neck broken, graceless and flapping before the final shiver of severed nerves.</p>
<p><em>It </em>did<em> bring bad luck,</em> he thought, aghast. Billy had cut off the head and the yellow eye had fixed itself accusingly on Danny, bright and glittering while the droplets of blood had sprinkled out onto the grass and onto Billy's skin. Danny had killed it and a cloud had shadowed the valley right then and it had felt completely wrong. Now the eye still stared, flat and lifeless and it felt worse now. The shadow was back in the valley in broad daylight, in the sultry burn of the noonday sun. They had fought last night, Billy and Doug telling each other terrible truths that should be better left unsaid and Corky telling truths that they all had to hear. More bad luck.</p>
<p>And now the man had started to move and was walking Billy out beyond the camp to the hollow where he'd set up his trophies. The gun was casually slung over his free shoulder, barrels pointing at the sky. He ignored the other four as if they did not exist. They stood frozen while the man and boy moved out along the second trail made by Billy's feet trampling down the short ferns there at the edge of the clearing. The flies were faintly audible, a soft murmur of sound, like someone moaning softly in the hollow. It was no more than thirty yards away, far enough for the smell not to carry down to the campsite.</p>
<p>The man led Billy ahead of him, the hand still laid on his head, but not twisting the hair now. He looked like a priest with an acolyte, with an altar boy. They got half way to the hollow when Corky slowly turned to Danny and whispered.</p>
<p>"We've got to get out of here."</p>
<p>"How?" Doug asked. "I've hurt my foot. Twisted my ankle."</p>
<p>"What about Billy?" Tom wanted to know. "What's he going to do to him?"</p>
<p>"It's that crazy guy, isn't it?" Danny said. He felt his own breath back up, as if his body didn't want to respond, to say those words. He compromised.  "Him."</p>
<p>"Twitchy Eyes," Doug hissed. Corky nodded.</p>
<p>"Has to be him. That's why we've got to get out. Get help."</p>
<p>"But he's got a gun."</p>
<p>"Yeah, but he's not going to do anything right away, is he now?" Corky said. He waited until they had all digested that. "Not to all of us."</p>
<p>Danny was astonished at Corky's grasp of this situation. Like he'd done the night before, he had cut to the heart of it, through the gristle and connective tissue and laid it all bare. What was worse? Reality brought its own added terrors. They had all heard the stories that had run around the playground, brushfires of truth and surmise, but mostly truth.  A town like Levenford could hold no secret for long. Every detail of what the man with the twitchy eyes had done had been gone over and been picked at, by men in the bars; by women over teacups; by boys braving it down on the edges of Rough Drain warily listening for the passage of strangers; by little kids scaring each other in school. The starkness of what Corky said, spoken in just a whisper that would not have carried for four yards, had the impact of a scream.</p>
<p>Mole Hopkirk had lain for a long time before he'd died, hurt and bleeding and alone and unable to call for help. Don Whalen had been carried away to the old bomb shelter in the scrub land where the old glue works had once stood down near the Highcross Road. The shelter had not been a place of refuge for him. The man had taken him down there and hurt him until he died beside the open-mouthed corpse of that girl from Lochend. And the killer had taken his time with Sandra Walters.</p>
<p>Corky was right. He would not do anything to them right away, not to all of them, not <em>right now</em>.  But he would do something terrible if they didn't get away from here. The knowledge of who he was and what he had done was laid right on them by the bleak simplicity of Corky's statement.</p>
<p>Tom thought of the little kid under the bridge and was reminded of the story he'd read to his sister in the last days, <em>Billy Goats Gruff </em> with the nightmare hiding in ambush under the dark arch. He felt his bladder complain again and he concentrated until the protest faded. This man had killed the little girl under the bridge.</p>
<p>There was no doubt in any of their minds. They had seen the twitch. The man was big and  - <em>oh jeesus please-us hug and squeeze us - </em>it was him all right and he was here. Tom felt a ripple of intense fear shudder through him and he thought about death again, not for the first time. He did not want to die like that girl under the bridge. He didn't want to die in his own piss.</p>
<p><em>My fault, </em>Danny thought, with the image of the heron crashing to the ground, broken and twisted, one wing carrying it round in stupid circles. He'd brought the bad luck. Everything had started to go wrong for them after that.</p>
<p><em>And Billy had  hung the head up.</em></p>
<p>Now Billy was paying the price. He had stained himself with the blood which had splashed from the ragged neck</p>
<p><em>And they marked the lintels with the blood so that the angel of death would pass over</em>. The line from the bible came back to him, unbidden. He'd thought of that when Billy had cut the head off the bird, a<em> biblical</em> quotation. And the angel had not passed over. He'd come as if summoned and he was quoting the bible, a grotesque parody of Danny's own father. Danny shied away from the connection. His head was buzzing under the pressure of sudden overload. Corky's voice pulled him away and back to the here and now.</p>
<p>"What's he doing?"</p>
<p>"Talking to Billy," Doug said. He was up on tip toes, using Tom as a leaning post. The stranger was half hidden behind the first low clump of scrub. He leaned and put the gun against a flat face of rock, butt down on the grass. For the first time, hope swelled.</p>
<p>Over by the hollow, the man was talking, not very loud at first, but the words amplified by the hollow curve of the stone face. They could just make out what he was saying. Billy could feel himself shaking all through, as if he'd become a tuning fork.  For some reason his stomach kept twisting all of its own and that made him belch constantly, little pockets of air bursting at the  back of his dry throat.</p>
<p>"Hear them, eh?"</p>
<p>"What?" Billy managed to blurt.</p>
<p>"The flies boy. Children of Be-elzebub, purifiers of the dead. In the midst of death, they are life. You hear them? They talk to us all, those voices. You just need ears to hear."</p>
<p>The man brought his head down until his cheek was against Billy's ear. He could smell his breath, flat and cloying and rotten; he could smell his sour sweat. The man's beard bristles rasped against the side of his face and Billy had no strength to pull away.</p>
<p>"Got to go down into the valley and out the other side. Come through trials and tribulations to reach the great truth. You want to make that journey boy? You want to listen to the voice of the dead?"</p>
<p>"Crazy," Doug whispered. "He's off his flamin' head." Tom nodded slowly.</p>
<p>"We have to get out of here first chance," Corky said. "Soon as we  can."</p>
<p>"Can you get help?" Doug wanted to know. "I can't run. I twisted my ankle." The bitter disappointment was etched on his face. If anybody could have gone for help, gone quickly, it would always have been him. That little stumble as he reached out to help Tom had cost him his speed. Cost them all.</p>
<p>"I <em>have </em>to get help," Corky said. His eyes were fixed on the enactment in the hollow by the old hawthorn. The man was leaning over Billy now and for a moment, they could have been father and son, both of them tall, though the stranger towered over the boy, and both dark-haired and sallow of skin. Not the father Billy would have wanted, not the hero.</p>
<p>"Watched you set this up, boy." The voice came, chilling in its casual matter-of-fact flatness. Billy couldn't speak. The stranger took the hand off his head and reached towards the deer's skull. Immediately a cloud of black flies peeled off and into the air in an angry little tornado. One of them landed on Billy's cheek, a big fat blue thing. It edged down towards his mouth and he got a whiff of the dead meat it had fed on.</p>
<p>"<em>Dung Fly,"</em> the man said. This time they all heard it. "Conboy knew. He  knew what they meant, Godless heathens. Am I right?"</p>
<p>Billy nodded in quick response, though he hadn't a clue. None of them had. Corky looked straight at Danny, his mouth set in a grim line. They had both climbed up on the roof behind the old surgery at Cairn House and had seen the flies patter like rain against the window. They hadn't known then. They knew now.</p>
<p>"When?" Danny asked. Corky was about to say something when a high-pitched squeal pierced the air, startling them all. The stranger's head snapped up and he seemed to some out of that dreamy, far-off state.</p>
<p>"What's that?" he asked sharply. Billy looked up at him, face blank and open a picture of miserable bewilderment.</p>
<p>"I dunno," he finally managed.</p>
<p>Down at the bottom end of the clearing, where the low hazels crowded together with some tangled blackthorns, the cry came again, a squeal of pain or panic. The man moved backwards from the hollow, leaving Billy on his own. He turned and walked not towards the waiting group, but cut round the edge of the flat ground, head cocked, the way it had been before, but this time obviously listening for the noise. He reached the tent and skirted behind it. The sound came again and this time Corky recognised it.</p>
<p>"It's a rabbit," he said. "Maybe one of the snares worked."</p>
<p>The man seemed to have forgotten about them for the moment. He moved into the clump of blackthorn then beyond a thick hazel and disappeared from sight. They all stood stock still. The gun was up there at the rock, only yards from where Billy stood.</p>
<p>"Get it," Corky said between his teeth. He wanted to shout but couldn't risk it.  The man had gone into the scrub about thirty yards away, but he was still closer to the gun than they were, or so it seemed. Billy was only a few feet from it. He had half turned towards them, but his whole attention was fixed on where the stranger had gone.</p>
<p>"Billy!" Corky hissed. Doug turned round and did the same, waving his hands for emphasis. None of them had the nerve to run to the hollow, just in case that's what the man was waiting for. Down in the cover the rabbit squeaked again, weaker now. They knew the noose would be caught on its cheeks and it would be trying to force itself free, drawing the fishing line snare tighter with every move. If it had been round its neck, the pressure would have strangled the sound.</p>
<p>"Billy," Danny gesticulated too. "Get it. Get the gun!" His uncle Mick had let him fire a few shots down on the whale's back sandbank on the estuary. They didn't even have to fire it at all, just threaten. Twitchy Eyes might be crazy, but he couldn't be so crazy he would  ignore a gun threat.</p>
<p><em>But too crazy for Billy  to risk going for the gun...</em></p>
<p>Danny's legs twitched, as if they wanted to get started, get moving, as if he was already running for it. Something inside of him wanted to see the barrel pressed up against the man's throat, to get revenge for the dreadful sensation of fear that had swamped himself when he had felt them aimed at his spine, ready to cut him in half.</p>
<p>The noise cut off. For a moment there was silence.</p>
<p>"Billy!" Tom hissed. Billy's attention was still fixed on the spot where the man had gone into the rough. Once again he looked like the rabbit mesmerised by the stoat. Off in the cover the other trapped rabbit had stopped crying.</p>
<p>Corky took two steps back. His head swung left and right, gauging the distance to the gun, to the stream. His hands balled into thick, tense fists and of a sudden his eyes glinted like emeralds.</p>
<p>"Wha..." Doug started to ask. Corky forestalled him.</p>
<p>"I got a chance," was all he said. He swivelled round to estimate the climb to the top of the rim, shook his head, crouched like a runner waiting for the gun, hands spread for balance. It was  a high steep slope and the loose, shifting gravel would slow him. Both Danny and Doug could see that. The agony of indecision stretched out for what seemed like a long time, but must have been only seconds. He shook his head again, making the decision.</p>
<p>"I'll come back," he sad. "Honest. Try to..." he did not finish. Out in the scrub beyond the campsite, a low thudding sound punched out. Because of the dense foliage of fern and alder, none of them could say from what direction it came. It was enough, however, to galvanise Corky. He gambled on a downstream run. Despite his previous misgivings about being taken down into the trees - and they had been real fears - he worked out the best option. It was a downhill sprint, following the cow-track beside the stream, that would give him the advantage of speed. It was on the other side of the campsite from where the gun was, so even in if the man came blundering back and reached for it, he could easily be two turns of the stream ahead and out of the line of fire. If he reached the trees, they would give extra cover. He could hide in the shadow, use the shade and cover to get up to the edge of the valley and get down to the town. It was a <em>chance</em>.  There was a good chance that the man would come after him and that would give the others the opportunity to scatter and the more of them that got away, that would give anybody else a better hope. Corky was only thirteen years old, but he had a bright instinct for odds and chances, honed, possibly by the years of sliding between his violent father and his loony brother.</p>
<p>He spun, leapt over the smouldering fire and hit the ground on the other side.  He went down the slope like a hare, arms flashing, feet thrumming, racing along the bank.</p>
<p>Doom-doom-<em>doom.</em> Corky passed the overhang where the stream had dug under the edge and the noise of his passing echoed back to them. Hope leapt in Danny's chest. His heart did the same, beating so fast he could actually feel its pressure high up under his throat.</p>
<p>"Run for it, Corky," Doug muttered to himself, to the three of them. "<em>Go on, man</em>."</p>
<p>Corky made it down to the next pool. He skittered across the stones where the stream narrowed at the tight bend and then ran  back across the shallows beyond, sending up a fine spray that caught the sun and made a series of brilliant rainbows. He reached the turn, grabbed on to the upright trunk of a slender sapling to propel himself round the corner.</p>
<p>The man came right out of the bushes at the side of the clearing.</p>
<p>For an instant Danny thought the big charging shape  was a highland cow that had been startled by the sudden motion until he recognised the size and shape. The man came streaking out, almost silent but for a couple of twigs that crackled underfoot.</p>
<p>"Oh fuck," Doug said emptily.</p>
<p>The man had been further downstream that they had realised. They could have got to the gun if they'd known.</p>
<p>Corky caught the motion out of the corner of his eye. They all saw that. The black shape came streaking out of the bushes. Corky's face turned and one hand went up in a reflex protective action. He swerved to the side, too late, for he was hemmed in now by the steep valley side and had no room for manoeuvre. He tried to run faster, reached the flat turf at the edge of the stream, got one foot onto the shingle at the bottom end of the pool and the man lashed out with his foot and caught him a savage blow right on the hip.</p>
<p>They all heard the dreadful smacking sound as the toe of the boot connected. It sounded exactly like the noise they'd made when they swung the thick logs on the stones to break them into firewood. Corky made a sound that did not sound exactly human. The force of the blow knocked him right up into the air, legs twisting from under him. He flew in a low arc and landed on the shingle with another loud thud, scattering small stones as he ploughed into them.</p>
<p>"Jesus," Doug said.</p>
<p>Down by the pool Corky tried to get to his feet. They could see his left leg dig in at the shingle in a desperate attempt to raise himself up again and propel himself further down the valley, but his right leg was not moving at the same speed. A cry of pain or desperation or bitter defeat escaped him and came echoing up to where they stood. He got to the edge of the water, his left hand scattering shingle into the pool. The man took a step forward and kicked his backside. The blow wasn't as violent as the first one had been, and obviously wasn't even intended to be.</p>
<p>Corky lurched forward, off balance. His hand skidded out from under, making his body flop at the edge of the shallows. The stranger took another step and put his boot on the small of Corky's back.</p>
<p>"Jesus," Doug mouthed again. They had all moved forward, all except Billy,  unable to stop themselves, getting to the lip at the edge of the slope, unable to draw their eyes away from what was happening further down the valley. The man leaned forward and Corky's arms thrashed in the water.</p>
<p>"He'll drown," Tom said in a shivery little bleat of panic.</p>
<p>Corky's head went under the water. It wasn't deep, maybe three of four inches, but with the weight of the man himself pressing down on him, driving him into the shale, it was deep enough. He raised his head up from the water, but hands splashing furiously, waving to get some purchase and once again sending up coruscating prism colours. He tried to pull himself from under but there was nothing to hold on to. His head flopped down and they all heard him gasp and splutter under the water.</p>
<p>"He's killing him," Tom said, almost in a whimper.</p>
<p>Corky yelled frantically as he exhaled, managing to lift his mouth and nose clear for an instant, just enough to haul in a breath.  It was an inarticulate sound of no words but the desperation in it was clear and stabbed them all.</p>
<p>Danny was moving. He did not remember starting to move, or even deciding to do it. The animal sound Corky had made simply released something in him and before he knew it he was down the slope and belting along the track. Somebody shouted behind him and the sound seemed to draw itself out like warm toffee. It might have been Doug or Tom for Billy was probably still paralysed up by the altar of the skulls. Danny ran over the stones, travelling in a straight line the way Corky had done, then across the shallows at the first pool before he even realised what was happening and by that time everything was moving too fast including himself. Corky's head was down again and all of his limbs were thrashing about. The stranger was laughing or saying something. Unbelievably, he had a rabbit in his hand, about half grown, still alive and kicking, trying to squirm away much as Corky was doing. Danny was too far committed now, moving too quickly to turn round and tell Doug to get the gun. He would have cursed to himself if there had been time, because he should have got the gun and come down and shot the man but all he'd heard was that animal sound, a deadly noise of a drowning boy and inside Danny something had clicked like a thrown switch; like a pulled trigger. He'd got a vision of  Paulie Degman rolling over in the water and the sick feeling of proximity to death came welling up in him and all of a sudden, he had no choice at all.</p>
<p>He splashed across the shallows of the upper pool, down the slope to the second, across the narrow part of the falls and landed with a thump on the shingle, scattering an arc of stones much as Corky had done when he fell. His momentum carried him forward, feet pattering through the few inches of water. Behind him somebody was screaming and he couldn't tell who it was. He skidded forward, barked against the man's right leg and almost fell. Despite the speed of the collision, the man hadn't even moved. Danny felt as if he'd run smack into a tree. He bounced, body twisting, feet skidding, but did not stop. He simply grabbed Corky's ankle, got his other hand to it, felt the powerful and desperate kick as his friend fought for air, fought for life, and dragged backwards. For a fraction of a second, nothing happened and then Corky jerked back, only a few inches, but enough to get his head clear of the water. His face scraped across the shingles, still pressed down on the ground. He hauled for breath, a great whoop of suction, coughed violently, retched, then whooped again. The man took his foot off his back and Danny's weight pulled Corky even further back from the water.</p>
<p>Danny fell on his backside, suddenly numbed by the enormity of what had happened.  A loop of nausea bubbled up inside him, burning the back of his throat, then subsided without any conscious assistance. He started to get to his feet when the man's shadow fell on him.</p>
<p>"The earth trembled and it quaked," he said, very slowly and clearly, almost dreamily. "They trembled because he was angry."</p>
<p>A hand reached down and took Danny by the neck, lifting him to his feet in one swift, smooth motion. He felt something creak in under the grip and a twist of pain shot from one side to the other at the back of his skull. His feet came almost clear of the ground, the way Billy's had done when the man grabbed his hair. The fingers squeezed, not monstrously but enough to get the impression of great and irresistible strength. Danny remembered thinking he should shout to Doug or Tom to get the gun, but he was too scared to even open his mouth.</p>
<p>"Suffer little children to come unto me," the man said. He twisted Danny around and forced his head back so that he could look right into his eyes. He bent forward, blotting out the blue of the sky and locked on to Danny. The black eyes in that dark and seamed face seemed to expand by some alchemy. They fixed on Danny, black as night and held him tight. They were so dark that no pupil could be seen, only the depth of blackness, like holes. He leaned in close and the sour, unwashed smell enveloped Danny. The man was dirty and he was mad. The eyes held him, completely expressionless, not angry, not even mad-looking and that was creepiest of all. Danny was up on his tip-toes, while this man stared right into his soul with those black searchlights, leaning forward like a hungry animal.</p>
<p>"He's going to eat me..." a panicked and jittery thought bubbled up. <em>He bites people. Oh man he eats people...."</em></p>
<p>"Don't hurt him," Corky pleaded. He'd been coughing the water out of his throat when the man had turned and grabbed Danny. He lurched to his feet, biting down on the augur of pain that drilled right high on his hip where the blow had almost dislocated the joint. His leg was numb and stiff, like the worst dead-leg he'd ever had and everything from mid-thigh down was jittering and jiving of its own volition. He hauled himself upright and now he could see his friend caught by the neck and the raggedy man was bending over him. Corky pushed in,  trying to get himself between Danny and the intruder. He was scared, dreadfully scared but he knew Danny had come for him and he had to go for Danny.</p>
<p>"Let him go, mister," he bawled, reaching up to grab the arm that had Danny by the neck. Danny was making little croaking sounds while the black, and for once blinkless eyes, seared into him. Corky dragged downwards, trying at least to get Danny's feet flat on the ground, just in case the man shook him and broke his neck. For some reason, the motion broke the connection. The man blinked once, as if coming awake, swivelled his head to look at Corky.</p>
<p>"What?"</p>
<p>"I said let him go," Corky said.</p>
<p>Without a word the man held up the rabbit by its hind legs. It jiggled there, trapped in his grip, making little reflexive running motions. Its brown eyes rolled in the sockets. A tiny pink tongue, like that of a new-born baby lolled softly.</p>
<p>Without warning the man jerked his hand. The animal swung in a brief arc and came down with whipping force. Its head connected with Corky's cow's-lick hairline at the top of his brow. There was a wet crunch.  A metallic smell misted the air. A red stain  pulped across Corky's head. He fell to the ground, landing on his backside with such a force that his teeth snapped together hard enough for Danny to hear. The man had lowered Danny's feet to the grass and  the grip on his neck eased considerably. He twisted just enough to see what was happening. Corky was  slipping backwards, eyes open, but with a wide bloodied mark right across his head. He grunted and it was the most deadly sound Danny had ever heard. It was an animal sound, mindless and helpless. It was the kind of sound the Aberdeen Angus bullocks made down in the slaughterhouse pens when the malletmen fired the bolt into their brains and they dropped, stumbling to the tiles with a grunt of expelled air, dead before they fell.</p>
<p>Corky made that awful animal noise.</p>
<p>Both his hands were on the ground. He rolled slowly and lay flat.</p>
<p><em>He's killed him. Oh!</em></p>
<p>Horror and shock wheeled right through Danny.</p>
<p>It had happened with such brutal force, such unexpected speed. A whip and a crack and Corky was down. The enormity of it was still trying to impinge itself on Danny's mind when Corky suddenly moved. He jerked, much as the man had done, as if coming awake. Both hands flew up to his head and dabbed gingerly.  He blinked several times and then he moaned, not loud, but the way someone does when they've bumped their head or barked their shin. He winced as he did so. His hands came away bloodied and Danny expected him to find bits of skull and bone there too, at that part where his skull had been caved in.</p>
<p>Corky face twisted into an expression of disgust and he rubbed gingerly again at his scalp. Danny turned back, completely bewildered and saw the rabbit swinging in the man's hand. Its head was a red ruin. The little animal's skull was flattened and pulped and a trail of blood dribbled from the nose that had been twitching only seconds before. It was stone dead.</p>
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