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<h1>26</h1>
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<p><em>August 3. Night.</em></p>
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<p>The moon rose over the high edge on the east side of the valley,
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a slow, bright dome, just a shave short of full. Doug had watched
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it from where he sat, up against the pole of the tent close to the
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open flap, seeing the coarse grass fringe limned in silver, then
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silhouetted against the light. The others, Danny, Tom and Corky who
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were at the back, could only see the effect on the valley and the
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water of the stream over by the falls where Billy had stuck the
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feathers.</p>
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<p>The upstream curve of the valley gradually lightened as the moon
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rose higher, sending ink-blot shadows contracting slowly on the
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westward slides of the rocks and trees. The water at the falls was
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a flow of rippling quicksilver and even the small cascade itself
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seemed to be imbued by a kind of magic, softening its sound down to
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barely a whisper. The four feathers of the dead heron were narrow
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curved blades sticking up from the rocks. Danny turned his head
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from the silver stream, drawing his eyes down the bend to the edge
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of the campsite. The change in the light was perceptible over the
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distance, graduating from an ethereal moondew out in the basin of
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the valley, to a baleful red glow by the fire where the pine sticks
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crackled and spat and sparks rose up into the blackness above. The
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stranger sat hunched on the far side, close enough to the flames
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for them to reflect on the smooth gun-barrel. If he had not been
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there, the light would not have looked so hellish, merely warm. His
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presence changed everything and took the magic out of the
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moonlight.</p>
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<p>Billy's face was a pale blur close to the man, flickering in the
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dance of the flames. He was huddled on the log he'd hauled himself
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as his camp bench. His old rusty Sheffield steel knife was still
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embedded into the grain at the end furthest from the fire. It
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wouldn't have done him any good even if he'd been able to reach
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it.</p>
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<p>The man was silent for now.</p>
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<p>He was only a yard or so from Billy, but he looked as if he was
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completely alone within himself. He sat still, solid as the rocks
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at the falls. Four Feather Falls, Billy had called it and they'd
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all recalled the little puppet show with the hero whose magic guns
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would swivel in their holsters and fire at the bad guys, mainly the
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Indians. The idea of a gun going off by itself was now a
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nightmare.</p>
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<p>Billy huddled motionless. They could all see the red glint on
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the fire-side edge of the long barrel and the silver streak at the
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top where the moonlight reflected. Those parallel lines of
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flickering red and silver followed up from the stock to the far end
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which was jammed under Billy's jawline.</p>
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<p>"We will all sit vigil," the man had said. "Pray that you will
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not fall into temptation."</p>
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<p>Danny knew, from long experience what he was talking about. The
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image of the agony in the Garden of Gethsemane came to him.
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<em>Pray!</em> Corky hadn't had the same indoctrination, but he
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instinctively picked up the sense of it. Billy's eyes were red in
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the firelight, wide and scared. The man had sat him down and took
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some of the baling twine which he wrapped quickly round the ends of
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the barrels and then looped around Billy's neck to tie it back on
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the gunmetal again. The noose was not tight enough to strangle, or
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even cause serious physical discomfort, but the agony of
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anticipation should have been enough to make Billy sweat blood.</p>
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<p>The business ends were right under his chin and the butt dragged
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on the ground. The trailing edge of the baling twine went under
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Billy's knees and the man quickly bound his hands there, once
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again, not savagely, just enough to make it difficult for Billy to
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move much. With the gun jammed against his neck, pointing straight
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up under his chin, Billy was too scared to move at all.</p>
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<p>"Therefore keep watch, because you do not know the day or the
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hour," the man told them and the crazy emptiness was back in his
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eyes once more. They all shrank back from it.</p>
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<p>He had made them build up the fire until it was a hot roar of
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heat. Doug and Corky had broken the logs which Danny and Tom had
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dragged down from the fallen spruce tree close to where the Corky
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had struggled for breath in the shallows of the pool. There was no
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escaping now, not while Billy's head was wired to the gun. The man
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knew it. He had them in his grip now an there was nothing they
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could do.</p>
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<p>Corky wondered when he would start hurting them. He did not even
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consider that they had been hurt yet, despite what they'd been
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through. The rabbit's dried blood was smudged on his forehead and
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the bruise there throbbed warmly but not very painfully. The side
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of his face was swollen and angry and his shoulder and thigh hurt
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like all hell. It was possible that the shock had anaesthetised
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him. He leaned back, drawing his eyes from the outside to the dark
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of the tent. Danny's gaze was fixed on the man, half of his face
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pinked by the reflection of the fire, the other half in moonshadow.
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Tom was just a pale blur. Dougie's breathing was light, but
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shallow. They were still alive.</p>
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<p>For a bad moment after his escape attempt, Corky had thought the
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man would kill them all. With the natural insight of one who had
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lived cheeck to jowl with a natural level of violence, he knew it
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had been close.</p>
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<p>"What's he waiting for?" he wondered, not realising that he had
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whispered the words aloud.</p>
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<p>"I dunno," Danny said. His stomach was rumbling emptily,
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although he did not feel hungry. He was thinking about Billy
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sweating blood and he wondered about the gun, whether it would go
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off if Billy slumped forward during the night. He wished the man
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would untie it. Danny's Uncle Mick who was his mother's brother and
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the black sheep of the family, his gun had a filed-down trigger
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lever that made it fire, so he said, if anybody looked at it the
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wrong way. If Billy fell, or even jerked to the side, would the gun
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go off? No wonder he was sitting there like a carved Indian statue.
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He looked as if he was scared even to breathe. The safety catch was
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off. <em>Now</em> it was off. Too late.</p>
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<p>The man had hit Corky with the rabbit and Corky had dropped like
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a sack. The move had been so unexpected, so unnatural, that it had
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taken them all by surprise and Danny had thought Corky was dead.
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The enormity of that sudden loss was matched only by the fear that
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he himself would be next. For a moment everything went completely
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and utterly still. Then Corky had jerked as if coming awake and had
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rubbed at the red splash and they had both realised at the same
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time that it was only rabbit blood.</p>
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<p>Corky had got to his feet, very slowly, as if he too was still
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surprised to be alive. The man had stepped forward and grabbed him
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by the neck the way he had seized Danny only seconds before.
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Without hesitation he propelled Corky back up the slope and across
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the stream, ignoring the stepping stones. His boots splashed in the
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water and Corky's splashed beside him, more dragged than stepping.
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He made no sound. Danny followed on, unable to do anything else.
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The man ignored him, as if he had forgotten all about him, but
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Danny knew that was not so. If he ran, the man would turn and catch
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him and this time he might not use the pulped rabbit to fell him.
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He might pick up one of the smooth stones by the river and smash
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him down with it and keep on smashing.</p>
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<p>They got to the edge of the camp. Dougie was standing to the
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side of the fire, shoulders dropped in defeat, his ears red and
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translucent, his vest torn and sagging. Billy was over by the
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hollow, down on his hands and knees as if he had suddenly gone
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blind. His face was upturned and his eyes open, but they looked as
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if they were fixed, the way the stranger's had been, on the far
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distance. Tom was moving forward from the low rock wall. Danny
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hadn't noticed him at first. For a second he thought he might have
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run up stream and got away, gone for help before it was too late,
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but then he saw him moving forward and his heart lurched.</p>
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<p>Tom had the big gun in his hands.</p>
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<p>He had raised it up to his shoulder and the end of the barrel
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was waving around as if he was conducting a slow piece of music.
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The muzzle ends, the black infinity shape, swung round to Danny who
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winced in fright until it moved back to point at the man who was
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pushing Corky in front of him.</p>
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<p>"Stop!" Tom's voice was high and thin, almost a bleat.</p>
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<p>The weight of the gun looked too much for Tom's small frame. The
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end dropped slowly, rose, sagged again. His hands were shaking.
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Danny saw his finger on the front trigger. The muzzle wavered down
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again.</p>
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<p><em>"No Tom,"</em> Danny tried to say but the words wouldn't
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come. His mental shout was just a clamour inside his head. If Tom
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fired, he'd surely hit Corky who was now being shoved up the
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incline to the campsite.</p>
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<p>The man did not hesitate. He pushed Corky ahead, walking
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quickly, his boots thudding the turf and then without warning flung
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the boy ahead of him with a violent push. Tom's eyes followed his
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friend's progress, pulling his attention away from the real threat.
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The man strode forward and took the end of the gun in his hand with
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almost casual swiftness. Danny saw Tom's finger tighten reflexively
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on the trigger, but nothing happened. The end of the barrel was
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pointing straight at the man's head, <em>but nothing happened</em>.
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The gun did not roar, did not spit fire and lead shot. The big,
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dirty hand clamped on the end and drew it away from Tom. The man's
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other hand reached out and took the small boy by the face, thumb on
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one side, fingers on the other. The fingers flexed, squeezed hard
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until the ingrained knuckles showed white.</p>
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<p>Tom made a small <em>oomph</em> sound as his face contorted,
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lips forming a vertical, squashed violin-shaped slash. A flick of
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spittle whirled out. The man squeezed harder and Tom's eyes bulged.
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He moaned in pain, face drawn upwards by the grip. Both his hands
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were shaking furiously and his feet did a jittery little dance.
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Over by the hollow, Billy was turning his head as if he'd just
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realised they were there.</p>
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<p>Corky got to his feet, shook his head to clear it, saw what was
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happening and said something. It was just one word.</p>
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<p>"Don't..."</p>
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<p>That was as far as he got, but it was enough to save Tom's face
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from being crushed and broken.</p>
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<p>The man let go, simple as that. Tom fell to the ground, both
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shivering hands immediately flying to his face which bore the full
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imprint of thumb on the left cheek and four fingers on the right.
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There was a vivid red mark just under the curve of the jaw where
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the man's smallest finger had dug into the skin, the dirty nail
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slicing through the surface. Tom let out a long drawn cry of pain
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and his eyes were closed tight, concentrating on the hurt the way
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boys do, so he did not see what happened next. Corky said his one
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word and the man dropped Tom, as if he'd just flicked something off
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his hand. He spun and to Danny it seemed as if it happened quite
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slowly, but hewas riding high on that ridge of fear and dread in
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which everything seemed to happen at a different speed from normal.
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Corky was suffering no such time distortion. Despite his wealth of
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experience in such matters, he never even saw the blow coming. The
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man spun and his hand swung with him, splayed open, palm first. It
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was the hand that had gripped Tom's cheek to the point of crushing
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his jaw, which was fortunate enough. The other hand was gripping
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the barrel of the gun and if he'd swung that, it would have taken
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Corky's head off at the neck.</p>
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<p>Corky saw the blow coming, just like Pony's roundhouse punch,
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and he instinctively went with it, so that it sounded loud enough,
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but caused no damage. He did a little somersault and landed on his
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hands and feet and scuttled off out of reach. The man did not
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pursue him further. Danny heard Doug's breath catch. The man swept
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his eyes across them.</p>
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<p>"Again a little time and you <em>shall</em> see me."</p>
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<p>Corky looked up warily. They all held their breaths now,
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thinking now that this was it. The gun was up now in the crook of
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the man's arm, pointing at the sky.</p>
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<p>"Could you not wait one hour with me?"</p>
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<p>Danny heard the reference to the garden. None of it made sense.
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He waited for the barrels to dip once again, but again nothing
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happened. The man stared down at Corky who gazed up, unblinking, as
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if caught in the headlights. His eyes focused, locked on the man's
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own almost in challenge. Danny and Doug watched the exchange and
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later they thought it was the bravest thing they had ever seen, but
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at that moment, both of them were silently begging Corky to look
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away, to deflect the heat. The pair of them, man and boy stayed
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like that or several seconds, Corky's chest heaving up and down in
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rapid hitches, the man still as stone, looking as if he did not
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need anything as banal as air to exist. Finally he turned his head
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to the side, like a teacher who has decided to be lenient this
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time.</p>
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<p>"Don't run again, boy," he said. "We have things to do. Wonders
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to perform." He turned away and Corky's eyes closed slowly as if he
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was suddenly exhausted. The side of his head was red and angry and
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swelling fast.</p>
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<p>The man moved towards the fire and picked up the body of the
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rabbit and it was only then that Danny noticed the safety catch of
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the shotgun was pushed forward. Tom hadn't known about that. His
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fingers had definitely tensed on the trigger and nothing had
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happened because it had been locked. But Tom had pulled, whether by
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accident or design. He had a chance to get them out of it and the
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chance was gone. Yet deep inside Danny there was a sneaking
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suspicion that even if the gun had roared, the big ragged stranger
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<em>-Twitchy Eyes-</em> would still be standing there by the fire,
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holding the rabbit up by the ankles. There was something so
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depthlessly evil about him that he seemed to be indestructible.
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Corky had been right.</p>
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<p>"He's not going to do anything right away, is he now?" he'd
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said. "Not to all of us."</p>
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<p>But it was starting now and they were caught here, miles from
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the town. Beyond the man, the four feathers on the falls fluttered
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in a waft of breeze and Danny's stomach clenched.</p>
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<p><em>Bad luck!</em> He'd brought this on them, hadn't he? He'd
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killed it and the shadow had come across the valley. <em>The valley
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of the shadow of death!</em> The luck had blown and flown. Tom had
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pulled the trigger and nothing had happened. Corky had run and the
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man had anticipated it. He'd stepped on his back while he sprawled
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in the water and Corky would have died.</p>
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<p>Now it was night and the moon was over the edge and beaming down
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into the valley and the sparks from the spruce and pine were flying
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up on the updraught. Beyond the flames, they had heard the man gnaw
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hungrily at the rabbit, making animal feeding sounds. He'd made
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them gather the wood and break the logs on the stones, each smash
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sounding just like the sound of the rabbit's skull on Corky's
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forehead. <em>Twitchy Eyes</em>, there was now no doubt in any of
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their minds that this was the man who had done the dreadful things
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to the little girl under the bridge and to Donny Whalen and the
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others.</p>
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<p><em>Twitchy Eyes</em>. He had gutted the rabbit and thrown the
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entrails onto the fire, watching them sizzle and shrink, like some
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crazed warlock casting an augury. The intestines and lungs
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shrivelled to charred lumps while he very quickly stripped off the
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skin, peeling it like a tight coat. He severed the head with one
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quick, frightening twist of his hands and put it to the side,
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looking over at the corner where the three other skulls hung in the
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hawthorn. Doug saw the look and knew the rabbit's head would end up
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there.</p>
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<p><em>And whose else?</em></p>
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<p>He shivered visibly. Oh <em>Jesus please us, chill and
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freeze-us</em>. His lips moved in the gloom but no sound came out.
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On the other side of the fire, limned by the flames, the man held
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up the skinned rabbit. Its limbs dangled and it looked like a
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new-born baby. The stranger looked like a red-eyed devil, hunched
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on the edge of the pit. He took one of the branches and skewered
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the little animal, stabbing it through the rectum and up to the
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gaping hole at the throat. Very expertly and without fuss, he fixed
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up two other branches on either side of the fire and put the meat
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across the edge beside the flames and above a hot section of
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glowing embers. In a matter of minutes the smell of cooking meat
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billowed out. Doug's mouth watered, but he was not at all
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hungry.</p>
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<p>"What's he waiting for?" Corky had whispered a long time later
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and Danny hadn't known the answer. The moon had risen, only a
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couple of nights short of full, lighting the canvas of the tent
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enough for their night vision to let them see each other, however
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dimly. Corky's face was swollen on the right side as if he'd the
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mumps.</p>
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<p>"We'll have to get out of here," Doug said.</p>
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<p>"I tried, really I did. If you hadn't hurt your leg, maybe you'd
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have made it, but <em>Jeez</em> he was dead fast." Corky swivelled
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and tried to get his hands to the edge of his hip where the man's
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boot had caught him and knocked him flying. The baling twine
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whipped around his hands made any motion difficult. The bonds,
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roughly pulled tight, were connected to another loop around their
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necks. If they tried to squirm free, it choked them. It was very
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effective.</p>
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<p>"I thought my leg was broken."</p>
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<p>Despite what he'd been through, he sounded remarkably composed.
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Danny could see the dim light reflect in his eyes, could make out
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the concentration there. The sparking crackle of the fire was
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enough to cover their whispering.</p>
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<p>"I thought he'd killed you," Danny said flatly.</p>
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<p>"<em>You</em> thought? I never expected him to banjo me with a
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rabbit. Swear to God it was hard as a rock."</p>
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<p>"Not as hard as your head though," Tom said, and for some
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reason, Corky started to giggle, not out loud, but in a whispery,
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suddenly uncontrollable heaving of his shoulders. The motion caused
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him to fall slightly to the left, against Danny and that in turn
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tightened the twine which was looped around his neck and fixed in
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turn to the tent-pole. The laugh cut off in a strangled gulp which
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they all heard. Corky raised himself back, tears running down his
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cheeks and a shadowed smile still stretched across his face.</p>
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<p>"What are you laughing at?" Doug wanted to know and Danny felt
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the hysteria bubble up inside himself. He bit that down because he
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did not know if he could keep it quiet and he did not know that if
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it started, he'd be able to stop, or if it would be laughter for
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long. It might change into blubbering, snivelling tears. He felt
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close enough to them already.</p>
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<p>"Not as hard as my head." Corky said, still grinning and in the
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light coming through the flap, he looked just a little mad. "No
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kidding. I heard that poor wee thing crack like a nut, and I
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thought it was my head caving in. Next think all I could see were
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sparkly stars right in front of my eyes."</p>
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<p>"I saw the blood," Danny finally said. "I thought it was..."</p>
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<p>"But it wasn't," Corky interjected, forestalling him. The look
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on his face had changed, the crazy grin gone in a wink. "It was
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just a slap. It was nothing. I've had worse from my old man. I'll
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look like old Quasimodo in the morning."</p>
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<p>"But he nearly drowned you," Tom hissed, his voice as tremulous
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as Danny felt.</p>
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<p>"But he didn't, did he?" Corky said sharply, and Doug's eyes
|
|
flicked to the figure beyond the flames to see if he'd heard.
|
|
Danny's memory brought him back a picture of his friend helpless,
|
|
wriggling and fighting for breath. The hysteria tried to bubble
|
|
upwards in a sudden release.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"He didn't. 'Cos Danny came and gave me a hand," Corky said and
|
|
now they could all see the faint glint in his eyes. Doug looked
|
|
down, all ears and teeth, not moving, but a picture of shame and
|
|
embarrassment. Corky inclined his head as far as it could go
|
|
without cutting off his breath again. Even in the dimness they
|
|
could read his posture.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Doug," he said, "I never meant you should have done anything.
|
|
You'd have run if you could, but you couldn't, so don't worry about
|
|
it. Sure it was me that stopped you on the way down, wasn't it? You
|
|
were going to go up the side like a ferret up a drainpipe. Even
|
|
with him and his gun at your back. That took guts. Plenty of
|
|
them."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>He nodded his head again. "Wee Tom here. <em>Jeez-o!</em> I
|
|
thought he was going to shoot me. Bad enough Old Twitch knocking
|
|
the feet from me, but Tom? Our pal?"</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Corky grinned again, this time a quick flash and Danny
|
|
understood, with a flash of desolate sadness, what he was doing. He
|
|
was thirteen years old and he'd told them all great and terrible
|
|
truths about themselves to hold them together and now he was doing
|
|
the same thing. Holding them together with his own special
|
|
power.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p><em>Old Twitch.</em></p>
|
|
|
|
<p>The man out there beyond the flicker of the fire, hunched only a
|
|
hard away from where Billy sat motionless, the man who'd stalked
|
|
ther town and done his killing.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Old Twitch.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"I couldn't get it to fire," Tom said.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Safety catch was on," Danny explained.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Just as well for me," Corky said, almost speaking aloud but
|
|
checking himself quickly. "The way that gun was jiggling about, I'd
|
|
have been a goner for sure. Try explaining that when you get home.
|
|
Sorry Mrs Corcoran. I never knew the safety catch was on. That's as
|
|
bad as 'I never knew the gun was loaded.' "</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Beyond the fire, perched on his log, Billy sat still as stone
|
|
while the man devoured the rabbit. He had thought he was going to
|
|
die when the gun had been tied tight to his neck, either from the
|
|
blast when it went off, or from the pounding of his heart which was
|
|
so powerful, and so stuttering, that it felt like an engine firing
|
|
on three cylinders. It felt as if it could burst inside of him and
|
|
for a long moment, he was so scared to breathe that his peripheral
|
|
vision took on the hue of the splash of dried blood still smeared
|
|
on Corky's forehead.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>He hadn't been able to move. Not then, not before even when the
|
|
man had put his head down close to his cheek and spoken directly to
|
|
him.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p><em>They talk to us all, those voices. You just need ears to
|
|
hear.</em></p>
|
|
|
|
<p>The man brought his head down until his chin 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, no
|
|
strength at all.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p><em>Got to go down into the valley and out the other side. You
|
|
want to make that journey boy? You want to listen to the voice of
|
|
the dead?</em></p>
|
|
|
|
<p>And he'd bent further and taken the soft skin at Billy's neck
|
|
between his teeth, gently enough, but Billy had been waiting for
|
|
dreadful pain of the bite.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p><em>Oh Jeez! Oh mammy! He'll eat me.</em></p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Like he'd eaten the fish, heedless of the head and eye and raw
|
|
guts. Like he'd bitten the kid from school, bitten pieces out of
|
|
him. Billy had felt his legs begin to buckle when the small screech
|
|
had startled the man back. After that, everything had been a blur.
|
|
One of them, had it been Danny? Corky? had run off, but Billy
|
|
couldn't get his eyes to focus. Somebody had called his name, as if
|
|
from a long distance, something about a gun, but by now his legs
|
|
had given way and the world was just a haze in the pounding of his
|
|
heart and the shudder of absolute fear. It had happened so fast and
|
|
he was moving so slow and it was all jumbled up.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Parts of it came back to him, jerky little pictures, little
|
|
flashes, blurred and fast, almost like half remembered dreams; Tom
|
|
raising the gun; Danny yelling something down by the stream; Corky
|
|
falling sideways and making a long low sound that seemed to go on
|
|
and on.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Now he was beside the fire, eyes fixed on the flames. He could
|
|
think now, but it was a slow process, as if his brain had become
|
|
fogged with the same numbness that had slowed him during the day
|
|
when the man had bent to his neck and promised him....</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Over in the tent the others were together and he was alone,
|
|
singled out again, the way he had been singled out when the man had
|
|
stepped over the stream and forced the fish into his mouth, and
|
|
when he'd led him to the hollow to watch the flies crawling over
|
|
the dead skulls. Every now and again he imagined he could hear the
|
|
others talking, over the whispering hiss of resin bubbling from the
|
|
end of the spruce logs and the flutter of the flames. He imagined
|
|
he could hear them whisper but he hoped they were all asleep.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Talk was dangerous. He knew that, even in his dull state of
|
|
shock. If they were talking, they could be planning to escape, and
|
|
if they tried that, there was a gun at his neck and even Billy knew
|
|
that was a warning to them all. One wrong move, and the man
|
|
would</p>
|
|
|
|
<p><em>bite!</em></p>
|
|
|
|
<p>reach for the gun and squeeze the trigger. He would make Billy
|
|
come through trials and tribulations to reach that great truth.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p><em>You want to make that journey boy? You want to listen to the
|
|
voice of the dead?</em> In his mind he could hear those words,
|
|
played over and over again, the way his mother used to play those
|
|
Western tunes on the old Dansette, like the song from High Noon. Do
|
|
not forsake me. Oh my.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>He'd been singled out, kept apart from the others.
|
|
<em>Forsaken.</em> And that meant the raggedy man planned something
|
|
for him, something different. He had wanted to plead and cry and
|
|
beg for mercy and fall on his knees, but that hadn't happened, not
|
|
until the man had followed the rabbit's squeal and walked away and
|
|
then he'd been left on his own, forsaken again, with nothing to
|
|
cling to. He'd been singled out and the man had told him what would
|
|
happen. Not how, but what.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Want to hear the voice of the dead? They had all heard the
|
|
stories of Don Whalen in the bomb shelter, stories told in graphic
|
|
detail, because nothing stayed secret for long, even the secrets of
|
|
policemen. They'd found him dead and stiff and fly-blown with his
|
|
head twisted to the side, facing the screaming mouth of the
|
|
girl.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>When the man had asked him the question, that was the image that
|
|
had flashed into his mind: Don Whalen listening to the dead scream
|
|
of the dead girl. The <em>Voice of the dead</em>. And Don had made
|
|
the journey, down in that squirming shelter, tied to an old table.
|
|
Hadn't he?</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>On the fire, one of the logs rolled over and crashed into the
|
|
ashes, startling him enough to make him jerk, but only for an inch.
|
|
The weight of the gun stopped him, along with the sudden freezing
|
|
that came with the knowledge of those barrels pressed against his
|
|
flesh. A shower of sparks shimmered upwards on the hot draught of
|
|
air.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Billy hauled for a difficult breath, wondering when it would
|
|
happen. Beside him, the man gnawed at the rabbit, making little
|
|
snuffling and gobbling noises as he did so, sounding like a pig in
|
|
a sty. Every now and again he'd flick a bone into the red embers
|
|
and listen to it crack and warp. The rabbit's head was off to the
|
|
side, but too close to the heat to have attracted any flies.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>After a while, the fire died a little and Billy's numbness slid
|
|
into a kind of exhausted torpor. His eyes closed and his head
|
|
drooped just a little, finally coming to rest against the muzzle of
|
|
the shotgun.</p>
|
|
<hr />
|
|
<p><em>"Slitty eyed vermin!".</em></p>
|
|
|
|
<p>The man's sudden utterance woke Billy with such a start that he
|
|
almost fell backwards off the log. Over in the tent, Danny and
|
|
Corky, sitting side by side and both connected to the upright pole
|
|
as well as to each other, banged heads.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Wassamatter?" Tom asked dopily. Danny, just coming awake,
|
|
hazily remembered Corky winding Billy up about the disease he could
|
|
have caught from Phil's stash of pictures.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Wassermatter reaction," he mumbled, beginning to smile, then he
|
|
came fully awake as the loop of twine rasped against his neck and
|
|
brought him right back to reality.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Hush it," Corky hissed.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"<em>Am I right, Conboy</em>?" The voice was low, but jerky,
|
|
like a sleep-walker's disjointed diction. "You can see them. See
|
|
everything you do. Got a third eye now, eh? See all!"</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"What's he saying?" Tom asked, a disembodied whisper in the dark
|
|
corner furthest from the flap. The fire was still glowing, but not
|
|
aflame now. The moon was almost directly overhead, sending its wan
|
|
light through the thin stretched canvas of the old tent, and
|
|
forming almost solid shafts of silver through the few puncture
|
|
holes in the slant roof where they caught the motes of old
|
|
dust.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Dunno," Corky said. "Listen." He had not been quite asleep, but
|
|
he'd been dozing fitfully, as had the other three, tired and
|
|
drained from the events of the day but still in a state of fearful
|
|
apprehension that precluded the possibility of deep sleep. The very
|
|
fact that the man had started talking, after such a long silence
|
|
worried him badly. Was it the start? He couldn't guess, despite the
|
|
guessing he'd tried ever since the man had marched them all down
|
|
together. Good or bad? He did not know. Bad probably, though the
|
|
fact that Billy was still tied to the gun was good, depending on
|
|
the standpoint. Corky had figured that as long as Billy was tied,
|
|
he was a hostage for their good behaviour. The warning was clear.
|
|
It was in all the best and worst of western movies.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>One wrong move and the boy gets it.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Good for them. Bad for Billy. But the man was talking now and he
|
|
was a crazy lunatic and the normal rules, if there could any normal
|
|
rules in this tortured craziness, would not apply. Would it start
|
|
now?</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Danny was aware of Corky's tension. He could feel it through the
|
|
twine that coupled them and he hoped Corky was all right. If Corky
|
|
caved in then that was it. None of them would make it. Danny held
|
|
his breath tight and tried to figure out, the way Corky had done,
|
|
whether it was all going to start now.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Not talking now, Conboy? Eh?" The voice rumbled over the murmur
|
|
of the stream. "What's the matter? Flies got your tongue?"</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>The man laughed, not high this time, but almost as low as the
|
|
voice itself, a kind of derisory, guttural sound.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"I know you can hear me. I know. Not long now Conboy. They'll
|
|
come back soon, slitty eyed yellow scum. <em>Dung Fly</em>! We'll
|
|
wait for them. Just you and me and we'll finish them all. Wipe them
|
|
all out! Dung Fly. Only word they know."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>There was a moment's silence, then the voice was back, a little
|
|
louder, a little more jerky. "Only word. Hear what I'm telling you
|
|
Conboy? You have to stay awake. Keep an eye out. Ha. An eye."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>In the tent, Corky and Danny, side by side, shared the same
|
|
posture, sitting with their heads back, cocked and listening. Over
|
|
on the other side, Doug sniffed.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Who's he talking to?"</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Who knows?"</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Is Billy okay?" Tom wanted to know, typical of him. Danny
|
|
remembered him from the night before, even after Corky had reached
|
|
and touched a finger in the jagged wound of Tom's loss, how Tom had
|
|
reached to touch Corky and offer his support.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Doug leaned back, squinting through the flap. He moved slowly,
|
|
held his position for some time, then turned back. "Still there.
|
|
Can't see if he's asleep or not. The gun's still there."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"What about <em>him?</em>"</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Same place. He's finished the rabbit. Still sitting. Can't see
|
|
his face. Maybe he's turned round."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"What do you think he'll do?"</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Corky shrugged. So did Danny. Neither of them wanted to say what
|
|
they thought.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Outside, the man's voice lowered a little and maybe he had
|
|
turned round, for the words were hard to make out, and they'd a
|
|
double-toned quality to them, as if they were echoing back from the
|
|
steep sides across the steam. The tone had changed too, not quite
|
|
so vehement. Danny strained to listen. It sounded as if a
|
|
conversation was going on, almost furtively. It continued for some
|
|
time, rising a little, falling some more and finally, after a long
|
|
time, it slowed and stopped. The fire continued to glow.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Down in the forest, an own screeched like a banshee moorland
|
|
ghost and its cry tapered away to a hollow moan. Later on, with the
|
|
moon now crossing to the far side of the valley, something small
|
|
squealed and died. The glow of the fire lessened.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>It was much later, with the embers now a pink circle of light in
|
|
the boundary of hot stones, that Danny woke up with a start. Corky
|
|
had moved, perhaps, shifted enough to wake Danny.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>He came swimming up, panicking, out of a fitful dream where he
|
|
was alone in the valley and the night was coming down dark and
|
|
heavy and all of the scrub alders and hazels had turned into
|
|
gnarled thorn bushes with black spikes, all twisted into circlets,
|
|
into crowns of thorns dripping blood. The sides of the valley
|
|
soared up into the sky, steep and gravelly and seeming to curve in
|
|
threateningly at the top, as if the edges would cave in and bury
|
|
him under their weight.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>An unseen voice was asking if he could not wait up an hour to
|
|
pray and he did not know if it was his father talking to him or God
|
|
or someone else, some other awful presence who was now striding
|
|
like a giant down the valley of the shadow of death with a
|
|
doom-doom-<em>doom</em> tread and a terrible blank and crazy look
|
|
in his black eyes.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Whatever you do to the least of these, you do also to me," the
|
|
voice rolled out, echoing from the walls and the heron flew past
|
|
him on ponderous wings and though he now tried to haul back, the
|
|
staff in his hand whirled through the air and hit it in the neck.
|
|
It floated to the ground, broken, its yellow eyes speared on him
|
|
accusingly. The beak opened and instead of the harsh <em>kaark</em>
|
|
call, it spoke to him in a voice he recognised.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Done it now, Danny boy. You killed one of God's creatures and
|
|
it's the <em>Bad Fire</em> for you. You're going to burn, boy. Burn
|
|
<em>forever</em>."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>He turned away form the searing eye and found himself clambering
|
|
through the boiling liquid on the old linoleum floor, scrabbling
|
|
for purchase and finding none while the heat ravened all the way
|
|
down his back and he could feel his skin blister and sizzle while
|
|
behind him Father Dower, smiling that wide toothy grin of his, was
|
|
reaching to touch him and instead of hauling him out of the
|
|
dreadful, scalding fire, he just rubbed his hands slowly over
|
|
Danny's bare skin and chuckled softly.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Danny came out of sleep hauling for air as if he was drowning.
|
|
Corky nudged him with an elbow, keeping it pressed in hard against
|
|
his ribs, enough of a contact to let Danny know where he was.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"You okay?" he asked. Danny was still shivering as if he was
|
|
cold, although despite the night, it was warm inside the tent. He
|
|
blinked rapidly, almost the way the man had done, shaking away the
|
|
remnants of the dream until he was just about free of it. The odd
|
|
and hungry grin hovered in the near distance before it
|
|
fragmented.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Yeah. Suppose so," Danny whispered back. On the other side of
|
|
the tent, Doug and Tom were leaning against each other, both
|
|
asleep, their breathing shallow. Doug muttered something
|
|
unintelligible and Tom stirred but not enough to wake
|
|
completely.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"We have to get out of here."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Danny nodded in agreement. "You nearly made it. If that rabbit
|
|
had got caught in the top snare you'd have had a good start and
|
|
you'd have made it. It was just rotten bad luck."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Yeah. Bad luck. It's always bad luck." Danny could hear the
|
|
bitterness underlying Corky's whisper.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"It was my fault."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Don't be daft. It's nobody's fault. Just that crazy nutcase out
|
|
there. It's his fault."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"No," Danny insisted. "I knew when I killed the bird. The Heron?
|
|
Remember?"</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Course I do. Great shot."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"I knew right then I shouldn't have done it. I knew something
|
|
bad was going to happen, and it did. We all started fighting and
|
|
then he...<em>him...</em>he turned up."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Aye, and if you believe that, you believe in Santa Claus,"
|
|
Corky said. His head was only inches away from Danny's and the
|
|
sarcasm was thick in the sound of his voice. "No kidding Dan, you
|
|
should listen to yourself. Ol' loony-tunes didn't need you to magic
|
|
him up here. This must be where he's been hiding all this time. The
|
|
bird was nothing to do with it. <em>Jeez.</em> I've lost count of
|
|
the number of street-scrag pigeon chicks I've had to wring. And
|
|
trout. And remember that time we got a half dollar for wringing the
|
|
chickens at Boghead farm? It was just a bird."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"But it was..."Danny paused, tried to thing, remembering the
|
|
slow whoosh of wings. The image of the dream came back, that yellow
|
|
eye spearing him. "I dunno. It was special."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Special my arse," Corky said. "No kidding Danny. It's got
|
|
nothing to do with you.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"What do you think he'll do?"</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Christ knows. We can't hang around for it anyway. He's waiting
|
|
for something."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"You think there might be two of them?"</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Corky shrugged. "Up here there could be a whole army of them.
|
|
Maybe he's been up here since the war. Shell-shocked or something.
|
|
You know, with the bombs and stuff. Whatever it is, he's as mad as
|
|
a wet hen. Honest to god, I thought I was a goner today when he
|
|
stepped on me. I thought I was drowned for sure."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Danny recalled that Corky had veered off that subject when Tom
|
|
had said the same thing earlier, when the man was eating by the
|
|
fire. He recognised that this was for him only.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"One of us will have to get out. You reckon you can make
|
|
it?"</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"I'm not as fast as Doug."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Nobody's as fast as him. He's built like a starved greyhound. I
|
|
don't know what he'll be like in the morning. Maybe his ankle will
|
|
have stiffened up."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Maybe it'll have loosened off" Danny said, more in hope that it
|
|
wouldn't have to be himself who took the risk.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Aye. Maybe. But I don't know if this time he'll just freeze. He
|
|
would have run this morning and if he'd done that..." Corky left it
|
|
hanging for half a second, then changed tack. "Just in case. You
|
|
think you can take off if we get the chance? Tom hasn't a hope, and
|
|
my leg's going to be black and blue in the morning."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Is it sore?"</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Only when I laugh, arseface." Corky said and turned to grin
|
|
again. Danny knew he'd ask again and forestalled him.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"If I get the chance, I'll run. Maybe I could get into the
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bushes and up to the ferns. If I could get that far he'll have a
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|
job finding me. So long as he doesn't keep firing, 'cos that gun
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could fire through bushes no bother at all."</p>
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<p>"He's not got enough cartridges I don't think. I had a look at
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him. He's got no bag with him and his pockets don't seem that full.
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I think he's just got a few. If you get to the edge of the woods,
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you could be up and away. That's where I was heading for."</p>
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<p>"It'd be quicker to go up the top and down the moor. Quicker to
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get home."</p>
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<p>"Sure, as long as you weren't out in the open for too long. If I
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|
had the chance, that's the way I'd go, so long as he didn't have
|
|
the gun, and as long as he leaves us alone for a while. He'll have
|
|
to take a piss sometime, or go for a shit. I was hoping that fish
|
|
would give him food poisoning."</p>
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|
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<p>"I'm just glad he didn't make us eat the rabbit. Raw trout guts
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|
would be bad enough." Danny felt Corky twitch with spontaneous
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|
laughter and a bubble of hysteria swelled in his belly. He
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|
swallowed down on it.</p>
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|
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<p>There was a silence for a moment then Corky whispered: "Dan, I
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|
don't think we'll get a lot of chances. I don't know what's going
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|
to happen tomorrow. I think we're all right for the night, or he
|
|
wouldn't have tied Billy up like that. He's got to sleep sometime
|
|
too. But whatever he's waiting for, he's not going to wait long. If
|
|
one of us gets home, he'll run because he'll know they're after
|
|
him."</p>
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|
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|
<p>"He'll kill us," Danny said flatly and he was amazed when the
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|
words came out just like that. The enormity of it. The end of his
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|
life, contemplated and made concrete in three small words.</p>
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|
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<p>"Don't think that way," Corky hissed urgently, digging hard
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|
enough to hurt with his elbow. "Danny. Listen. He's crazy, for
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|
sure. It's the guy they've been looking for." Danny noticed he
|
|
didn't spell it out, but he didn't have to. They all knew the list
|
|
of names. Corky's voice had gone very cold and earnest and of a
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|
sudden he sounded all grown up. "We can't think about what might
|
|
happen. If I did that all my life I'd be a nervous wreck by now.
|
|
Billy's no use. You can see it in his face. He's thinking ahead and
|
|
that's why he can't move. You see that in the fights at the back of
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|
the school when somebody doesn't want to. He's all seized up."</p>
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<p>Corky dropped his voice even lower, so that there was no chance
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|
anybody but Danny could hear it. "I think maybe Tom and Doug might
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|
freeze as well. Honest, if my leg's okay I'll do it, but it might
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|
not be. I think that nutter nearly broke it."</p>
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<p>He twisted round as far as he could, so he could just get a look
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at Danny.</p>
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<p>"If we get a chance, Danny boy, we have to take it."</p>
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