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<h1>29</h1>
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<p><em>Interlude:</em></p>
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<p>Angus McNicol eased himself back, put the bottle down on the
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table and unscrewed the top.</p>
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<p>"Put some of this in it," he said. "The sun's well past the
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yardarm now. Coffee'll keep me up all night unless I take it with
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my medicine." The big old policeman grinned, just a burst of white
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before it was closed off again in his remembering. He poured two
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hefty shots of whisky into the half-cups of coffee, put the bottle
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down, raised a cup and clunked it against the other. He took a
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manful swallow, savoured it, swallowed, then let out the gruff sigh
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of someone who's appreciated a drop of scotch for half a
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century.</p>
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<p>"Takes the bad taste out of the mouth as well." Another quick
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flash of teeth and then his eyes changed and it was obvious he was
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looking a long way back into the past once more. Once he'd started,
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he'd been able to talk for a long time.</p>
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<p>"I thought it was all dead and buried and gone, you know. Should
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be, too. Oh, I still recall it sometimes, even now, but I have to
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tell you now son, it's not the kind of thing I like to dredge
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up."</p>
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<p>He looked over the table, over the rim of the cup and drew his
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brows together.</p>
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<p>"Why the interest now? There's better stories to tell about this
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town. Not many worse, except that business with John Fallon's boy
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few years back. He got himself hurt pretty sore when he went after
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that fellow O'Day. That was the year I quit the force, on doctor's
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orders. To tell you the truth, I was glad in a way. You don't know
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you've had enough until it's over and then you realise you never
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ever want to see another mother's face when you tell her a child's
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dead and gone."</p>
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<p><em>Dead and Gone.</em> Angus McNicol had used that phrase
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twice, each in a different context. It should have been all dead
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and gone. Should have been, but the world's full of what should
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have been and never was. It should have been gone, but it kept on
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coming back, like the bad penny; certainly in the bad dreams. I had
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managed to bury most of it, deliberately so, because it was
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something I never wanted to remember and dwell on, not as long as I
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lived, and then once I had kids of my own, it was something I
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wanted to keep down there under lock and key. You just can't begin
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to think that history might repeat itself and that one of your own
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might ever be touched by a madman. Can you?</p>
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<p>I'd managed pretty well until I saw those dulled eyes swivel in
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my direction down on River Street and then pass on with hardly a
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flicker or blink and some of it all came back in such a rush I felt
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my belly drop a hundred feet, or so it seemed, and there was the
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smell of raw fish in the air and the scent of pine smoke and dead
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meat and a crazy man's sour sweat; in my ears I heard the old, lazy
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buzzing of busy flies and the murmuring of slow water in a stream
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and I was instantly back <em>then</em>.</p>
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<p>It doesn't take much to trigger those switches. Some things
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don't stay buried; some things don't stay dead.</p>
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<p>Yet I <em>had</em> managed to bury it all for a while, shoved it
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down there in the depths where it was kept bound and gagged to stop
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it clawing its way up and eating at me. Then, on the sunny morning
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on River Street, with the light reflecting from the skylights on
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the roof of the old boatyard down at Keelyard Road where a bunch of
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boys had talked of a drowned boy in the river and had first planned
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to take a trip to the mythical Dummy Village, I looked into the
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empty depths of a pair of eyes and it all broke free, like some
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beast in a cellar.</p>
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<p>No matter what I did, I could not put this old thing back in a
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box. It was out and growling and it was pawing and clawing and the
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only thing for it was to meet it face to face, to go right back to
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the start and take it from there.</p>
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<p>I had to know.</p>
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<p>Crazy? Possibly, but I'd <em>seen</em> crazy. I'd looked into
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its blinking, twitching eyes. I had to know.</p>
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<p>I had no real answer for Angus McNicol. I said I was researching
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a book, and there was a sliver of truth in that. He looked at me
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over the top of the cup and he took another sip, swallowed, and
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began to talk again. Who knows, maybe the old policeman had his own
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ghosts to bury.</p>
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<p>"Dead and gone. Too many people over the years, I can tell you,"
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he said. The tape was running again. "But not dead and gone in
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here." He raised his free hand and tapped the side of his head.</p>
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<p>"The one thing Hector Kelso drilled into me when I had
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transferred over to plain clothes, was to remember everything.
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Remember everything and keep your own records forever, he always
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said. He used to stand there and never move a muscle except in his
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eyes. He never wanted anybody to touch anything, not a thing, until
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he'd been there and seen the lie of the land. If you did that, you
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got a picture in your head that had everything in it, even the
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sounds and the smells. I can still close my eyes and conjure up old
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Ian McColl's head on that dung-heap and I can remember that it was
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mostly cow dung, but there was a dead chicken there as well. It's
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got a different smell. I can still taste the dust in the tack room
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where old Jean McColl was dragged down the stairs.</p>
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<p>"I remember thinking that the man, your <em>Twitchy Eyes</em>,
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was probably ex-army. We found a place down at the east end of the
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Rough Drain, the place that's still all overgrown with. It was a
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bivouac. We knew it was him from the pages of the bible. He'd used
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them to wipe his backside."</p>
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<p>Hector drained his cup and put it down, eyes still focused
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back.</p>
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<p>"We worked round the clock, going through every army record, but
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at that time, there were thousands of boys and men just out of
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national service. There were more thousands who'd been in the war
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and trained to kill and were still young enough to have been this
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beast. It was a broad field we were ploughing up. We turned up
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Scots soldiers who'd been to Aden and done some terrible things
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themselves. There were a few people who'd survived the Jap death
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railway and a few of them were as crazy as all get out, but there
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was nothing we could pin on this devil.</p>
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<p>"We really wanted to nail him. We went through parish records
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but we still drew blanks. I was beginning to think he had just come
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out of nowhere. Maybe he did. Maybe he just did. Maybe he was a
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devil. Remember the Whalen boy? He was snatched on June sixth,
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sixty six. All the sixes. Some of us thought that was some kind of
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ritual thing. Who knows? Maybe it was.</p>
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<p>"There was claim and counter-claim over what drove him on, but I
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thought it was just sheer and utter badness. He was evil. I think
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it was just depravity. The man had a taste for killing and hurting.
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If Charlie Saunders had caught him, he'd have ripped him apart with
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his two hands for what he did to that wee girl of his. Big John
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Fallon, he was just as worried as anybody about his boy and girl
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and if he came on this Twitchy Eyes first, there was a good chance
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it would never get to the High Court.</p>
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<p>"But we never did get him. We rounded up a few ex-soldiers and
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anybody with any record at all for flashing or peeping through
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bedroom windows or stealing underwear off the washing lines. We had
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a couple of identity parades and all for nothing. The man came out
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of nowhere. He always seemed to be one jump ahead. We sweated out
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the whole summer wondering where it would happen next. It was a
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while before Johnson McKay came careening down that farm track in
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his old post van.</p>
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<p>"All we had to go on then was a description from the girls he'd
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tried to pick up the first time and a name from Jean McColl's
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diary. She said his name was Leslie Joyce, though the spelling
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changed to the female version, but that was when he was stalking
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her. There was every chance he'd just made it up, but we had to
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check that too. We turned up half a dozen of them, spelled
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whichever way, and four of them had been in the army. One was a
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woman who'd been a sergeant in the WRAC's. Two were old men and one
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was in a wheelchair. The fifth was a Free Kirk minister from up by
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Creggan and I can tell you he got the fright of his life when me
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and a couple of the CID boys grabbed him in his greenhouse when he
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was watering his tomatoes. He'd been an army chaplain in the war.
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He was five foot tall and he'd a withered arm from childhood polio.
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He couldn't have punched his way out of a wet paper bag. The sixth
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one had been banged up in Drumbain for five years for a smash and
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grab. That was the way of it.</p>
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<p>"Our killer, he could have been anybody. Anybody at all. But he
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wasn't any of the people we found called Leslie Joyce. We never got
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close, though we even did a trawl in the local parish year books to
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see if anyone of that name had been baptised, but still we got no
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closer."</p>
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<hr />
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<p><em>August 4....7pm.</em></p>
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<p>"Unless a man be born again, and cleansed of sin." The man's
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voice was clear and rumbling. He was standing at the edge of the
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stream, both feet in the water. The gun was five yards away. Billy
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was standing beside him, his skin pale in the dimming light. Danny
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wondered if he could reach the gun. Corky wondered the same thing.
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Tom and Doug watched the scene at the water, each of them wondering
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what would happen.</p>
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<p>It had been a long day since the gun had spoken, since their
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talk in the shade of the line of low hawthorns that led to the
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hollow.</p>
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<p>"You okay, Dan?" Corky had asked.</p>
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<p>He spoke low, but not in a whisper. Danny twisted and that cost
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him a wrench of pain between his shoulderblades, but if he moved
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slowly, it wasn't too bad. Occasionally the light breeze would
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feather across his skin and trail a sensation like pins and
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needles, but for the most part, the bruises, swollen and risen
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though they were, stayed numb. The fire had damped well down, but
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Danny could still remember the awesome burn of it.</p>
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<p>"He <em>shot</em> me!" the enormity of that hovered over him and
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weighed him down. Over and over he saw the world spin and saw the
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white quartz of the rocks rushing up towards him. His nose ached
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for the moment, where he had driven it into the shale. It pulsed
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more fiercely than did the bruises on his back. Another throb of
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pain beat out from his shoulder, where it had hit the outcropping
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of mudstone that had probably saved his life by twisting him just a
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little downstream so that he fell straight into the deepest part of
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the pool and missed the rocks where the heron feathers stood.</p>
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<p>"Thought you were a goner," Corky said again. Beside him, Tom
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silently agreed. His face still bore the faint imprint of the man's
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fingers and he had a dark bruise on his jawline. Every now and
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again he opened his mouth and moved the jaw to the side, as if
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testing for fractures. It helped take the stiffness out of it.</p>
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<p>"Thought <em>I</em> was a goner," Doug said. He drew his fingers
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down the side of his head, just behind his right ear, rubbing
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slowly. "I think I still am."</p>
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<p>"But you got the cartridge away. Honest to god, Doug, that was
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brilliant. And it really took a lot of guts an'all."</p>
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<p>"Thought I was going to <em>puke</em> my guts," Doug said, and
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he gave a strangely fearful grin. His big protruding teeth made him
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look gawky. His sting vest was torn now under his armpit and hung
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on him like a tattered net.</p>
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<p>"But if you hadn't pitched it in the pool, Danny would have got
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the both barrels for sure. You should have seen him, Danny
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boy."</p>
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<p>Billy said nothing. He was sitting just to the side, closer to
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the hollow where he'd hung the stag's head on the thorn branches.
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He was absently massaging the skin of his throat. It was raw and
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inflamed. He had that faraway, lost look in his eyes that Danny
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found somehow scary. It reminded him again of the rabbit and the
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stoat, as if Billy had somehow accepted all of this, as if he knew
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what would happen and was just dumbly waiting for the inevitable.
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Tom glanced over at him. He'd panicked for an instant, suddenly
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more frightened than he'd even been in his life, even more so than
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when the man had grabbed his face and squeezed.</p>
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<p>Billy had been down on the ground, making gagging, hissing
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sounds in his throat, the kind of sound the heron had made when its
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neck had been broken and for that instant, Tom had thought he was
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dead, even though his heels were drumming into the turf. Doug had
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been down too.</p>
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<p>Danny was falling in the air towards the rocks. Corky was
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running towards the man and Tom was certain the stranger would turn
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and swing the gun on him. At that range he'd cut him in half and
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Tom would be left alone. It had all happened so unbelievably
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fast.</p>
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<p>In his mind's eye they were all dead, all except him, up here in
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the valley with the man with the twitchy eyes. The knowledge froze
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his insides to slush and for an instant his vision wavered.</p>
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<p>Then reality, even colder than the fear, cut through the fear
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like a shard of ice. Billy had both hands up at his neck and he was
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breathing raggedly. Tom found his hand reaching for the knife and
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in a few seconds of bewildering violence as Billy blindly fought
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him, he had cut the noose and Billy was hauling for breath. All of
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this unreeled again as they whispered together.</p>
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<p>"And Tom," Corky said, recalling it at the same instant. "He cut
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Billy free. He would have strangled otherwise. Did good there,
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Tom-Tom."</p>
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<p>Danny was amazed at how calm Corky sounded. Even Doug, with his
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big stupid grin, sounded close to normal. Just a few hours ago,
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they'd been crying, and dying. Danny knew that Corky was trying to
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keep them all calm, waiting for the next chance, if they could
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<em>get</em> a chance. If it came, Danny did not know if he'd be
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able to move, and that scared him badly, as much as Billy's scary
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far-distance stare. Doug might have made it downstream if he hadn't
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twisted his ankle. Corky might have made it up the slope if he
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hadn't been hurt making his first run. Danny could have got to the
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top but for the heron flying out of the gully. Tom wasn't fast
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enough and Billy just couldn't move.</p>
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<p>If the chance came, what chance would they have?</p>
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<p>Danny shook his head, sending a wave of dull pain across his
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back, over his shoulder and another wet pulse into his tender nose.
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He couldn't think like that, no matter how hopeless it seemed. He
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didn't want to be like Billy, sunk so deep in the swamp of his own
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fear that he couldn't move. If he worked at it, he could keep the
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fear battened down, and try to keep at a distance the recollection
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of the gun barrels raising up towards him.</p>
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<p>"Where's the knife?" Corky was asking, this time in a whisper.
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Tom used his eyes to indicate the curve of root just beside him.
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The bone handle was barely visible. Very surreptitiously, Corky
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eased his way towards it, reached even more slowly, and then drew
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the knife towards him.</p>
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<p>"I don't think that'll do any good," Tom said. Corky shrugged.
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His eyes had that thoughtful look again. No matter what happened,
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Corky wasn't going to wait for it. Standing straight, he barely
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came up to the man's chest, but he was still thinking of how to get
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them out of this.</p>
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<p>The man had opened one of the corned beef tin cans, the last
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they'd swiped from the self-service shop round on Braeside. Corky's
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stomach was twisting savagely and he could smell the meat on the
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air. They'd only drunk some water Tom had brought up from the
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stream in the canteen. None of them wanted to risk attracting
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attention yet by trying to get some food.</p>
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<p>Over by the little ridge, the man sat still. He'd eaten the
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block of beef, gnawing into it just the way he'd eaten the rabbit,
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making little snuffling noises. Corky's mouth had watered and he'd
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actually dribbled. The stranger had ignored them. Occasionally he'd
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cock his head and then mutter something, always speaking over his
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left shoulder, to whoever he saw there.</p>
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<p>"Unless a man be born again, of water," the man said now that it
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was late and the sky was beginning to darken. The moon was not yet
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up and Corky had an idea that it might be full tonight and he
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thought maybe that was what the man was waiting for.</p>
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<p>He had surprised them all when he'd stood up and taken his coat
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off, letting it slip, almost theatrically, to the grass. He'd
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turned then, just as dramatically and they all looked in his
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direction, suddenly scared again. He stood looking at them for some
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time, as if pondering his next move. Danny felt his heart beat
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faster. Billy stayed frozen. Finally the man came walking towards
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them.</p>
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<p>"You hear them?" he asked, quite softly. He was standing with
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his back to the fading light and his eyes looked like holes in his
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head. He inclined his head towards the hollow. The flies were
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humming busily. He angled his head and stared down at Billy.</p>
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<p>"Listen to them, boy. They're talking to you and me." He crossed
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to the fire and picked up the rabbit's head by one flopped ear. A
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trail of flies whirled upwards and headed for the hollow. "Another
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trophy? You now what to do with it, don't you?" Billy took it
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without a word, crossed to the hollow where the heron's eye was now
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a seething mass of insects, and put the head in the nearest fork.
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They could see him look around, left and right, as if seeking a way
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of escaping, but he did not seem to have the wherewithal to risk
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it. He came back to the tent and sat down again. The man reached
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down and took him by the edge of his tee-shirt. Billy whimpered, a
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little animal sound, but when the man pulled him upwards, he went
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with the motion without a word and got to his feet.</p>
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<p>"Those voices. You just need ears to hear." Billy gave a little
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shiver.</p>
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<p>The man bent down as he had done before, when he'd walked Billy
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towards the gaunt skull suspended in the branches.</p>
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<p>"Must go down into the valley and through to the other side.
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There will be weeping and gnashing of teeth and then the great
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truth. You know it boy. You want to walk down the valley with me?
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Conboy knows the truth, he sees it with his magic eye. Wait 'til
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you see all the things he can show you. Beelzebub's millions; the
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Lord's minions."</p>
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<p>Billy stood completely motionless but his whole body seemed to
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be vibrating with tension. His mouth was open and for a moment his
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breathing stopped completely. The man held him with his eyes.
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Billy's breath caught and then he was hauling in fast, panting like
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a panicked animal.</p>
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<p>"In the midst of death, they are life. I saw you build the
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altar. Watched you. I choose you now."</p>
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<p>He bent down and put the gun butt first on the turf with the
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barrels resting on the ridge by the stream bank. He clapped Billy's
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shoulder. "So now prepare ye the way. Make straight the path. "</p>
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<p>Very gently he reached and took the bottom edge of Billy's
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tee-shirt and raised it up. It was like a parent with a child,
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Billy dumbly raised his hands and the man slid the shirt up then
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let it fall silently to the grass. He unbuckled Indian-bead belt,
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pulled his jeans down. It all had the slow quality of a ritual.
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Billy stepped out of his baggy underpants leaving them white on the
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grass. The man put his hand on the boy's back, then slid it over
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his shoulder, almost tenderly, drawing him close beside him.</p>
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<p>Danny felt Tom shiver beside him. His own heart was clattering
|
|
away inside him, almost out of control. Corky's teeth were
|
|
grinding, quite audibly. Doug was totally silent.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Billy was led down to the water.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Unless a man be born again, of water, he may not pass through."
|
|
The man's deep voice echoed from the far side. Danny recognised the
|
|
mix of quotations. It was a distortion of all that he had learned
|
|
from the countless Sundays. The man dropped his hand from Billy's
|
|
shoulder and took his shirt off and unlaced his own boots. They all
|
|
watched, fascinated, wondering what would happen next. Only Danny
|
|
had any idea.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Billy's skin was pale in the dimming light. Beside him the man
|
|
was almost completely naked. He had a line of dark hair running
|
|
down between his shoulderblades, and a pair of black tattoos up on
|
|
the tops of his arms, one on each arm. From where they sat, Corky
|
|
and Danny could read one name: Lesley. The evening was far from
|
|
dark, but the sun was down beyond the western rim of the valley and
|
|
the long shadows of the trees downstream had crept up to the edge
|
|
of their camp. The quartz rocks at the falls seemed to glow against
|
|
the grey shade of the far bank.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>The man waded into the shallows. He held Billy by the arm and
|
|
forced him ahead of them. The ripples spread out to the far side
|
|
shingle. Up on the moor the poor curlew bleated again and some
|
|
slight breeze drifting between the hawthorn spikes sent a cloud of
|
|
flies buzzing upwards in a furious little whirlwind. The strange
|
|
pair in the stream were further out, into deeper water. It was up
|
|
to Billy's waist, then up to his navel, up to his chest, just in so
|
|
many steps. The man guided him further.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>They heard Billy gasp for breath as the cold of the stream
|
|
curled around his ribs. They saw him shiver, not in the
|
|
high-tension way that Tom's body was vibrating, but a deep shudder
|
|
of cold and fear. His breath was coming in harsh spikes and the man
|
|
was mumbling something, speaking into his ear. None of the others
|
|
could hear what was said, not then. Billy stumbled and the water
|
|
lapped his chin. He got to his feet again, gasping harder, a
|
|
jittery, panicked sound.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"What's he doing?" Doug asked, out loud. They were all still
|
|
sitting, almost paralysed with apprehension over beside the wall of
|
|
rocks where the scrubby roots looped and twisted into the small
|
|
crevices. They hadn't moved.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>In the stream the man waded forward and now the water really was
|
|
up to Billy's chin, rippling around the stranger's broad back at
|
|
chest level. He looked like some old water god, something out of
|
|
the adventures Danny and Corky had read from the book they'd found
|
|
at Overbuck stables.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Prepare ye the way," the man said, now speaking aloud. He
|
|
raised his head and looked up at the darkening sky. Billy's head
|
|
was just a dark shape on the surface, at the centre of the ring of
|
|
ripples, the man had his hand on the crown. He leaned forward and
|
|
pushed Billy's head under the water. Billy panicked. His hands flew
|
|
upwards and thrashed wildly as he tried to lever himself up for
|
|
air.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"He's killing him," Tom cried. Corky scrambled to his feet. Both
|
|
his hands were balled into fists. Danny felt a great urge to jump
|
|
up and run down to the stream and grab the man's arm, but an even
|
|
greater urge to keep himself away from the crazy stranger
|
|
overwhelmed it completely. Doug was jabbering something
|
|
unintelligible. Down at the steam, Billy was struggling
|
|
frantically.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Unless a man be born again, of water," Twitchy Eyes was
|
|
bellowing. "He shall not cross over."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Billy lunged upwards, spluttering and gasping, his mouth a wide,
|
|
dark circle. Water sprayed out from his nose. The man simply forced
|
|
him down again. The four of them were on their feet now, Corky
|
|
closest to the water. They could see Billy's pale shape under the
|
|
surface, arms flailing, body heaving, but the man was too strong.
|
|
He held him there. A big bubble of air rose up and burst on the
|
|
surface carrying with it the hollow bellow of Billy's terrified
|
|
cry.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Leave him alone...you loony <em>bastard!</em>"</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Corky's yell echoed back and forth from the sides, repeating his
|
|
last word over and over in a diminishing sequence.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"He's killing him," Doug wailed.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Corky turned to face them all, eyes blazing. "We have to do
|
|
something," he raged.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"What?" Doug asked. The gun was over by the downward edge of the
|
|
pool, beside the ride. They would have to circle the pool to reach
|
|
it. The man was only five steps away from it.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Danny's hands were trembling with the need to act. He turned
|
|
away from the stream, just at the same time as Corky did, both of
|
|
them heading in opposite directions. Danny picked up a smooth
|
|
stone, turned and threw it with all his strength, right at the
|
|
man's head. The motion sent a searing, white hot pain across his
|
|
back as his skin stretched under the torsion of his muscles. The
|
|
white stone, a piece of stream-rounded quartz flashed across the
|
|
distance and, like the stick that had killed the heron, would have
|
|
connected with the back of the man's head if the stranger had not
|
|
bent down to force Billy further under the water. The stone whirred
|
|
past, missing him by a mere inch. The man twitched, as if buzzed by
|
|
a wasp. The stone carried on, smacked against the boulders at the
|
|
head of the pool where the falls tumbled, smashed into half a dozen
|
|
fragments with a loud crack. A splinter knocked the nearest heron
|
|
feather out of its crevice and into the air. The man began to turn.
|
|
Both of Billy's hands came out of the water, waving
|
|
desperately.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Let him go, you big dirty crazy <em>bastard!</em>"</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Corky had crossed almost to the edge of the stream yelling at
|
|
the top of his voice, even louder than before. When the stranger
|
|
had stopped, Danny's heart felt as if it had stopped as well. He
|
|
had thrown the stone on impulse, on instinct, the way he had thrown
|
|
at the bird and with his usual accuracy. But when the man froze and
|
|
then began to turn, he realised that he had made himself the next
|
|
target for punishment. Then Corky had butted in, diverting
|
|
attention once again, and Danny felt a shameful surge of relief
|
|
once more.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Come on then," Corky bawled, his voice cracking with the
|
|
effort. Danny swivelled and saw he had Billy's knife in his hand.
|
|
The old rusty blade was held out in front of him, knife-fighter
|
|
style. Corky's legs were spread, and despite the fact he was half
|
|
the man's size, he looked suddenly ferocious. He looked like a
|
|
young warrior.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>The man finished turning and stopped dead. His eyes swept across
|
|
Danny, past Doug and Tom, lighted on Corky. The eyes started to
|
|
blink rapidly. Billy came spluttering up to the surface, coughing
|
|
and gagging, unaware of what was happening.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Yeah, you big fuckin' creep," Corky was screaming now. "Come
|
|
on. Let's see what you've got." His left hand made a come-on
|
|
gesture, a man-to-man invitation.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>The man smiled slowly. He took a step forward then another,
|
|
pushing a bow wave in front of him. Danny could see the name on the
|
|
other tattoo now. For some reason it held his eyes. He did not want
|
|
to see the feral grin on the man's face. Just below the blue
|
|
lettering, a series of rips had been chewed into the skin, like
|
|
saw-teeth cuts, the scars still dark and fresh. Tom and Doug shrank
|
|
back. Billy was stumbling to the other side of the pool, towards
|
|
the shallows, sending out great splashes of water to the shale
|
|
bank. The eyes were blinking like dark strobes now.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"What's this, Sergeant Conboy? See this?" he cocked his head,
|
|
still grinning, still twitching.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Corky held his ground and the man came up the bank. His shorts
|
|
had slipped, dragged by the weight of water. His penis,
|
|
unshrivelled by the cold water pushed out to the side, like a dark,
|
|
thick, club. Coarse hairs ran up to his belly and down his thighs.
|
|
He looked like a savage giant. He came out of the water, went
|
|
straight towards Corky who stood his ground until the man was a
|
|
yard away, then backed off, still holding the knife up. There was
|
|
no contest. The man reached. Corky swiped with the knife in a low
|
|
arc and the man's left hand came up and hit him on the side of the
|
|
head. Corky reeled to the side and the man simply reached again,
|
|
grabbed his wrist, bent his hand downwards with a violent jab and
|
|
the knife went tumbling out, spinning in the air, towards the clump
|
|
of roots where Corky had picked it up in the first place.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>He did not hit Corky again. Instead, he turned, still dripping,
|
|
towards the ridge. Corky was breathing fast and the others on this
|
|
side of the stream swung their gaze from him to the stranger.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Twitchy Eyes picked up the gun.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Nobody moved. He picked it up, turned, quite purposefully and
|
|
with none of the dramatic, ritual slowness he'd displayed as he led
|
|
Billy down to the water. He walked back over the gravel from the
|
|
low turf ridge, swinging the butt upwards, one hand to the barrel.
|
|
His fingers locked on the stock. Danny stood there, breathing hard,
|
|
chin up defiantly. The rest of them were scared speechless.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"And again he defied him," Twitchy Eyes growled. "For a second
|
|
time."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p><em>Denied him.</em> Danny mentally corrected. He was back up in
|
|
those realms of icy clarity brought on by yet another burst of
|
|
extreme fear. <em>Not</em> defied <em>it's denied</em>! He almost
|
|
expected the cockerel down at Blackwood farm to crow again, in some
|
|
parody of punctuation for the biblical quotation, and if it did,
|
|
Doug might burst into his red rooster strut just to complete the
|
|
picture of unearthly craziness.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Don't," Doug breathed. He was not strutting now. Tom's spastic
|
|
dry swallow was just a series of throaty clicks. Even Billy was
|
|
silent now. The man turned his head towards Danny and speared him
|
|
with those black, jittering eyes.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Let he who is without sin throw the first stone," he rumbled.
|
|
"Are you without sin, boy?"</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Danny couldn't speak. It was as if his own throat were bunged
|
|
full of dry paper.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Are you in a state to meet eternity?"</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>He stared on for a long, drawn out moment, the eyes screwed up,
|
|
hardly twitching at all now, then he turned away from them. Tom
|
|
groaned like someone in pain. The eyes swung back to Corky and
|
|
transfixed him.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"And again he defied him." The voice was rising now, getting
|
|
back up to that creepy, dreamy level. "For the second time."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>He bent closer. "You afraid boy? You scared?"</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Corky said nothing. His teeth were still clenched together and
|
|
his lips drawn back as if he was holding himself all together with
|
|
a tremendous effort. His chin was still up.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"You will cross over boy. You will know what waits on the other
|
|
side. Prepare ye the way."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>The gun came up, barrel pointing at the sky then swung down. The
|
|
man was less than six feet from where Corky stood with his arms
|
|
held out to the side, like a miniature wrestler who didn't know yet
|
|
which way to swivel. The man slowly stepped forward and brought the
|
|
muzzle right up against Corky's cheek.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>There was no movement. They all watched that barrel maw as if it
|
|
was a poisonous snake completely mesmerised. It rose up, a
|
|
centimetre, an inch. It was directly over Corky's eye. Danny could
|
|
see the other eye, looking up, unblinking, still somehow defiant.
|
|
He could not quite believe what was happening.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>The man's finger tightened on the trigger. "If thine eye offends
|
|
me."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p><em>NO!</em></p>
|
|
|
|
<p>The scream rang inside his head, high and desperate and echoing
|
|
on and on, but his mouth could not form the word. His lungs
|
|
couldn't force the air out. He was caught in the ice of freezing
|
|
terror.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>The fingers squeezed. The voice almost wheedled now. "Pluck it
|
|
out."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Silence fell. The trigger pulled back. The silence stretched
|
|
out.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>A loud metallic snap cracked the silence. The shotgun's hammer
|
|
pin slammed down onto an empty chamber with a sound that was
|
|
suddenly deafening.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>John Corcoran swayed backwards. Very slowly his legs buckled
|
|
under him. He slumped to the ground and his eyes rolled up so far
|
|
only the whites were visible.</p>
|
|
</div>
|
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</div>
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</body>
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</html>
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