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368 lines
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<h1>22</h1>
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<p>The butcher, the baker, the town sergeant and more besides. What I've said about them is as true as I can make out, although I wasn't there, and despite the fact that those who
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<em>were</em> there, or actually did these things are either dead or fumbling around the dark or hazy quagmires of their minds.
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</p>
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<p>The rest of Arden was in a state of stupor, hung-over in the aftermath of the festival and the shock of the storm.</p>
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<p>But there was more to it than that. Much more. The shadow that had flowed over the town in the night, had settled in the minds of those it could invade. There was a sense of catatonia. Many folk just sat, or stood, or sprawled, their eyes glazed and their minds far away. Others did things they would never have done before and there were others who went through their daily rituals in a trance-like state.</p>
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<p>A few who were unaffected felt a growing sense of anxiety that turned to fear in the strange place that Arden had become.</p>
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<p>Some time around dawn, the storm broke. The thunder rolled away over the hills and the lightning became a distant battleground that gradually died in the distance. The slow sun peeked through watery clouds on to a waterlogged scene of dripping rivulets and muddy pools, rain-trampled grass and sodden ground.</p>
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<p>I had woken with a start in the middle of the night, with my heart thumping and my mouth dry.</p>
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<p>In my sleep I had replayed the scene when I had left Paddy under the tree and walked towards the wrecked car and the white inferno of the ruptured gas pipe. I was walking in slow motion and my feet made no sound. But I could feel the heat-blast of that giant blowtorch on my face, singeing my hair and eyelashes.</p>
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<p>I passed the crumpled Volvo and saw the blood flowing down the shattered windscreen become a red stream that covered the crumpled bodywork and gurgled steadily into the weeds below. Just out of direct vision, something white and red flapped in the branches of a tree and when I passed underneath, I felt a wave of pure coldness that overwhelmed the sizzling heat. A cold so profound that it sunk into my marrow.</p>
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<p>I turned and looked up into the white eyes of the big bird that swung to and fro like a bloodied pendulum. The eyes rolled down towards me and blindly fixed on me. I could feel the touch of its gaze on my skin.</p>
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<p>The head turned and that big, stabbing beak opened wide, impossibly wide, as if the head would split in two. A gurgling noise came out of the maw and then a gobbet of black stuff gouted straight at me.</p>
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<p>It caught me full in the face. It splatted my eyes and nose and mouth and it burned like acid. My throat contracted violently, trying to eject it. My eyes went blind and I stumbled backwards, clawing at my face and eyes, trying to get it off.</p>
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<p>I suddenly awoke with that foul taste still in my mouth, panting for air and sanity. I sat bolt upright on the bed and immediately the sweat on my back began to evaporate, sending cold shivers up and down my spine. I heaved a sigh of relief at the realisation it had only been a dream, and then the picture of the big bloodied bird hanging in the branches flashed back into my mind again, and with a truly sickening lurch I realised what I had seen out of the corner of my eye down in the trees on Kilcreggan Road.</p>
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<p>It had not been an accident. <em>Not</em> an accident.</p>
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<p>What had happened to Barbara had been as deliberate and hellish as the scene Donald and I had witnessed down on the bay.</p>
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<p>A scream from the spare room jolted me right out of bed and the image disappeared like a burst bubble. Paddy's screech was high and piercing and jarring in its intensity. I ran out of the room and across the landing and barged into the room where I'd tucked her up on the old double bed. She was kneeling up on the mattress, tangled in my old shirt and her eyes were wide and unfocussed.</p>
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<p>Her hands were up in front of her eyes as if she was warding off some unseen threat. I clasped her in my arms and she fought like a cat, screeching and squirming. I hugged her tight, stifling her struggles and suddenly she woke. I could feel her heart beating against my chest, fast as a brightened bird.</p>
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<p>'There, there,' I said. It was all I could think of. I rubbed her back, feeling her slender shoulders shudder under my palm.</p>
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<p>
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'It's just a dream. You're all right now.'</p>
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<p>Paddy's breath hiccupped and caught and then she let out a long wail. I kept rubbing gently and the wail dissolved into honest-to-god sobs that sounded much more normal to me. After a while, they began to tail off and finally she was silent.</p>
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<p>I loosened my embrace and she looked up at me, eyes pink from crying. Poor kid, she wasn't having the best of times.</p>
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<p>'Are you all right now?' Of course she wasn't, but what else do you say?</p>
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<p>Paddy nodded and sniffed.</p>
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<p>'It was the bird,' she said, voice still catchy. 'The bird did it. It broke the window and tried to kill mommy.'</p>
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<p>
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<em>How did she know?</em> I felt a shudder, the kind that makes you say somebody walked over your grave.</p>
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<p>'But it didn't kill her, did it?'</p>
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<p>She shook her head.</p>
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<p>'It was bad. Mom was scared and now she's hurt awful bad.'</p>
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<p>'I know Paddy. But she's safe now. She's in the best place and the bird's dead.'</p>
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<p>I think it was at this point that I truly stopped believing in coincidences and finally gave in to the realisation that there was a shadow, a
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<em>bane</em>, a <em>Cu Saeng.</em> Whatever name it had, it was real.</p>
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<p>I believed finally and unequivocally.</p>
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<p>Paddy shook her head.</p>
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<p>'No. It's not dead. It's still here and it's coming for me.'</p>
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<p>
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'What's coming, sweetheart?'</p>
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<p>'The
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<em>bad</em> thing. The thing that gets inside the birds and makes them do bad stuff. It wants to do bad things to me.'
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</p>
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<p>
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'Nothing's going to get near you. Not while I'm around,' I said. I hugged her again. 'And I'm staying around, okay?'</p>
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<p>She looked up at me, just a skinny little girl, but the look she gave me could have been from a thirty year old, or a sixty year old adult. It was the kind of look Barbara could have given me, the kind of measuring stare that I would have been dealt by old Kitty MacBeth.</p>
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<p>'You have to stop it,' she said.</p>
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<p>'I know,' I said. 'I'm going to try.'</p>
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<p>'We have to kill the bad thing, because it wants us. You and me and the other one.'</p>
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<p>Where had I heard that before?</p>
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<p>The sun had managed to beat a path through the clouds by the time Paddy and I got into the jeep and splashed through the puddles on the way up to the main street. I'd tried the telephone, hoping to get the latest on Barbara, but it was still dead and my mobile was still off line.</p>
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<p>The town was dead quiet. Even though it was mid-morning, there was dampness in the air and there was definitely a sense that summer was over and Autumn coming in.</p>
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<p>I nosed the jeep past the shops. I considered going in to Mary Baker's for some bread and a couple of buns for Paddy, but I decided I'd go later, on the return trip. That spared me from being the first to find her.</p>
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<p>I had to head west to get to the turn that would take me to Upper Arden and just as I slowed near the harbour a car ahead flashed its lights a couple of times. Alan Scott waved at me from his car. I pulled up on the other side, gout out and crossed over. His wife was in the passenger seat and the three kids in the back.</p>
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<p>'I wouldn't go that way if I were you,' Alan said, indicating the direction he'd come from. 'The road's blocked.'</p>
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<p>'What happened?'</p>
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<p>'A landslip. Half the Langcraigs cliff must have peeled off. Must have happened in the storm last night. Covered the whole road in rocks.'</p>
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<p>I recalled the strange flowing lightning and the seismic vibration after the rumble that shook the ground.</p>
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<p>We must have escaped it by mere seconds.</p>
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<p>Paddy's words came back right there: <em>It wants us. You and me and the other one.</em></p>
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<p>Alan was still talking.</p>
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<p>
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'It's a pure bugger. I'm supposed to be in Levenford this morning. I might get a deal on the Wilkinson place.' He looked at his watch. 'I should be there by now. Got a surveyor meeting me there, and Janet and the kids are off to the shops.'</p>
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<p>'Why not take the other...'I began, then trailed off. The west road was blocked, of course. The gas pipe explosion had destroyed the bridge.</p>
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<p>'That was some bad smash yesterday,' Alan went on. He lowered his voice. 'I'm told there was nothing left of that tanker driver. Bloody hell. What a way to go.'</p>
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<p>He pointed at the jeep. 'You won't get over that avalanche, not even in a four by four. There's a pile of rocks ten feet high.'</p>
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<p>'I have to get up to Glasgow. I've got Barbara Foster's wee girl with me. Her mother got hurt in that smash. She's up in the Western.'</p>
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<p>Janet gave a sharp intake of breath.</p>
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<p>'Oh, the pour soul. Is she all right?'</p>
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<p>'Pretty smashed up, but they think she'll make it,' I said, more confidently than I felt. 'We're just heading there.'</p>
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<p>'Hope she's fine. Listen, I really have to get moving. I'll try the old farm road up by McFall's place and get across the old bridge,'</p>
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<p>I knew the road. It went up by the seminary and took a loop past a succession of smallholdings and came down to join the main route beyond the east end of the town. A good road for summer-day driving or bramble-picking, but not for those in a hurry.</p>
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<p>Alan started his car.</p>
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<p>'Reckon you'll have to take the old road too.' He waved and started off.</p>
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<p>Neither Paddy nor I had a key to Barbara's house and her father hadn't shown up. She wasn't the type to leave a key under the mat, but eventually I managed to find a window catch that was just a bit loose and I wiggled the frame until it sprung and slid the sash up. Paddy was impressed.</p>
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<p>I lifted her up and through the space and a minute later she opened the front door.</p>
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<p>'That was a neat trick. Were you a robber?'</p>
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<p>'And a pirate and a few other things besides,' I said, 'but don't tell anybody.'</p>
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<p>She insisted on taking a shower and came downstairs in a clean pair of jeans and a bright sweater. She'd obviously adopted the torc. It still gleamed on her neck, matching her hair. While she was upstairs, I made a pot of coffee and poured a cup and while I drank, I decided it would be best to wait until the afternoon before taking the farm road loop out of town. The puddles in the potholes would have had some time to drain, I thought.</p>
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<p>In any case, I thought a couple of hours would make no difference, and visiting a hospital is always better done after lunch. Barbara's phone, I discovered, was dead, along with every other one in Arden. So was the electricity and the two main routes out of town were blocked.</p>
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<p>Effectively, but for one winding farm road, Arden was cut off from the rest of the world.</p>
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<p>If I'd really thought about that, then real alarm bells would have started to ring. But I didn't.</p>
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<p>In fact, it did not strike me until two in the afternoon, after Paddy and I had ham sandwiches in the kitchen. We pulled out of the driveway, Paddy strapped beside me in the front, and went down the hill. She was eager to get up to the hospital although, she explained, she still knew her mother was going to be fine.</p>
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<p>We took the left up past Mr Bennett's small-holding when an on-coming car flashed its lights and I stopped.</p>
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<p>It was Alan again. When I crossed over, he rolled the window down and I could see his face was white.</p>
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<p>
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'What's up?'</p>
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<p>'I don't know what's going on,' Alan said. He seemed a bit dazed. I looked from him to his wife. She seemed downright scared. In the back of the car, the kids sat very quietly.</p>
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<p>'We can't get out,' Janet said in a voice so brittle I expected it to break.</p>
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<p>Alan held up his hand to stop her, looking quickly at Janet and then flicking a glance over his shoulder to the children. He patted his wife on the hand, then got out and drew me away. Once out of earshot, he leaned in close, holding my arm at the elbow. There was a slight tremor in his grip.</p>
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<p>
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'She's right, Nick. We can't get out.'</p>
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<p>'Out of where?'</p>
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<p>'Here. Out of Arden. I kept getting <em>lost.</em>'</p>
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<p>'Yeah, right. You got lost. In Arden.'</p>
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<p>'Fuck, yeah. That's what I'm trying to tell you. There's something crazy going on. I've been going round in circles all morning. I'm telling you, we just can't get out.'</p>
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<p>'I don't understand,'</p>
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<p>'Look. I've tried every road I know. Every farm track. They all come back to the one place. It's like a mucking maze.'</p>
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<p>'I still don't get it,' I said, stupidly.</p>
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<p>'Listen will you? I went up by McFall's farm and along the road that goes along beside Cardross Hill.'</p>
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<p>'I know the road. It takes you out beyond Langcraigs.'</p>
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<p>'It always did <em>before.</em> But not today.'</p>
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<p>'How do you mean?'</p>
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<p>'It just doesn't. It doesn't go
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<em>anywhere</em>. Except back to McFall's farm. You know that stand of trees. The big chestnuts we used to pick?'
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</p>
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<p>I nodded.</p>
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<p>
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'I've gone past that a dozen times. That narrow bit where the road nips in and there's a track on the verge where cars moss the curve. That's where it happens. I keep going round that bend under the trees and then...then I'm back at the farm again. I don't know how, but it's scaring the shit out of me.'</p>
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<p>I tried to visualise the road. It's not easy to picture every bend in a winding farm lane, no matter how familiar. Obviously, I thought, Alan must have taken a wrong turn somewhere.</p>
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<p>'Have you tried the Black Hill Road?' I asked. It would have been my second choice.</p>
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<p>'Course I have, I've tried every bloody road. And the same thing happened every time. I got to the crossroads that takes you to the reservoir. But then I just found myself back at the junction at McFall's place.</p>
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<p>Alan's voice was getting higher. I put a hand on his shoulder. His face crumpled.</p>
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<p>'Seriously Nick. I'm getting scared. Something weird's going on. Either that or I'm cracking up. But I don't think it's me. I think something's happened that's screwed up
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<em>everywhere.'</em></p>
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<p>He leant in closer and dropped his voice.</p>
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<p>'And there's other funny stuff going on up there. Not just the roads.'</p>
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<p>'Like what?'</p>
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<p>'Look at the side of the car.' I looked. It was stove in right across the doors.</p>
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<p>'What happened.'</p>
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<p>'A bloody cow. It came right out of nowhere and hit me. I mean it
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<em>attacked</em> the car. A cow, for Christ sake. And up beyond the farm there's a family out having a picnic in the marsh. I mean, they're just sitting about in the mud. I must have passed them a dozen times and they all wave. It's crazy.'
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</p>
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<p>His voice was rising again and I motioned him to calm down. He looked over at his wife who was still sitting rigid in the car, and went quiet.</p>
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<p>'I don't know what to do,' he said, and his face crumpled again as if he might just burst into tears.</p>
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<p>'Well, I can't explain it. I'll have a look for myself when I go. We got to get to the hospital.'</p>
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<p>He grabbed my sleeve. 'Don't go up there. It'll just freak you out.'</p>
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<p>
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'There's got to be some explanation,' I said.</p>
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<p>'I hope to god there is. But I tell you, I've done a hundred and thirty miles since this morning and I've got nowhere. It's scared the shit out of me. I was terrified I'd run out of petrol. I tell you nick, I didn't want to be stuck up there on those roads. No way.'</p>
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<p>'Listen. Why don't you get home? There's no point in getting them any more worried. Maybe we could both go together later on.'</p>
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<p>'Would you do that, Nick?'</p>
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<p>'Sure. We'll go check together. There's bound do be some way to explain it.'</p>
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<p>'Thanks. I mean it.'</p>
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<p>I assured him I'd call up later when we got back. Frankly, while I knew he was scared and upset, I just couldn't get my head around his story. It had probably been a while since Alan had been up on the back roads. He must have taken the wrong turn. Maybe got disoriented.</p>
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<p>Alan went back to his car and I got in the jeep. We knew that the main roads out of town were blocked, but all the other tracks and farm roads just couldn't be. I started up the engine, knowing I had half a tank of fuel that would take me to Manchester if I'd wanted to go.</p>
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<p>But, just before I pulled away from the kerb, something made me reach out and turn the little winder that put the milometer back to a line of zeroes.</p>
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<p>An hour and a half and almost fifty miles later my mouth was dry and Paddy had gone very quiet.</p>
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<p>By then I believed what Alan Scott had told me. Something had gone badly wrong on the outskirts of town. The more I drove, the more I could sense it. Those country roads took us nowhere...except back to where we had started, at the bend where the road nipped in and the big chestnut trees stood tall at the verge.</p>
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<p>I'd driven under the spreading branches and when we came out into the light again, we were back again at the copse just a hundred yards or so past McFall's farm.</p>
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<p>There was no way to explain how we could drive into one patch of trees and come out of another that was almost two miles back.</p>
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<p>We tried the Blackhill Road and went left at the crossroads and drove for a bit with the dry-stone wall high on either side, and suddenly we were past the walls and moving down towards that stand of chestnut trees again.</p>
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<p>It was impossible.</p>
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<p>It was as if somebody had taken time and space and twisted them around, or some force had cut the landscape into jigsaw pieces and stuck them back together again so that the roads formed a never ending loop.</p>
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<p>Now I understood Alan's fear.</p>
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<p>It was as scary as all hell. And that wasn't the only scary part.</p>
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<p>We had been doing about forty along a straight stretch just under Cardross Hill when a big dog came running towards us, loping like a wolf in big strides that bobbed its shoulders up and down as it came down the straight.</p>
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<p>It was right in the middle of the road and going full out. As it came closer, I could see its tongue lolling out of its jaws, whipped back by the air. I batted the horn a</p>
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<p>couple of times, but the dog kept on coming. I slowed to about twenty five, but the animal, like a Labrador-shepherd cross, kept loping towards us and never slowed.</p>
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<p>There was no space to turn and at the last minute, when I saw the dog wasn't going to change direction, I stamped on the brake pedal and Paddy jerked forward in her seat, but I was too late.</p>
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<p>The dog simply sprang at the front end with jaws wide open and lips drawn back from a fearsome set of teeth in a vicious snarl. There was a loud thump as it hit, but even then, I saw it try to snap at the car. There was a crack as its teeth connected and then it was spun right up and over the top of the jeep. It hit the road behind us.</p>
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<p>
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'Jesus,' I gasped. I glanced at Paddy who was squirming around, trying to see behind the car. I looked in the mirror and saw the dog trying to struggle to its feet. It was howling now, and it sounded more like fury than pain. Just before I reached the bend, I looked again and it was staggering along the road after us, one leg bent and dragging. It was still chasing us. It looked like it wanted to have another go.</p>
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<p>We didn't see the family who Alan said were having a picnic in the marshland, but we passed an old fellow who leaned against a wall with his trousers at his ankles, holding his equipment in his hand. The first time we passed him, I didn't notice that part, until we were right up close and as we were passing, he shot his groin forward, displaying as much of himself as he could.</p>
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<p>I glanced at Paddy. She had a baffled look on her face.</p>
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<p>On the second time round that particular circuit, before I truly realised that we really weren't getting anywhere, we came across the old guy again. This time he was standing closer to the road and again, he had all working parts ready for a vigorous display. Forewarned, I told Paddy to reach into the back for my wallet, hoping to spare her. It was just a ruse.</p>
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<p>But as we passed by, she caught a glimpse of him out the rear window.</p>
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<p>
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'There's that funny old man waving his <em>thing</em> again,' she said. 'Haven't we come this way before?'</p>
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<p>We tried a couple of other, narrower roads, but every one led back to the starting point again.</p>
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<p>I was prepared to give it a couple more tries, still reluctant to believe the growing evidence of experience, but on one of those little-used tracks we came past a gnarled beech tree that was wind-blown and stunted, its branches sweeping eastward under the constant pressure of the wind on the hillside. I had to slow down and slip the gears to take the narrow bend.</p>
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<p>The tree <em>moved.</em></p>
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<p>I caught the motion in the corner of my eye, but I
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<em>saw</em> those branches move, twisting down impossibly towards us. I yelped in pure fright and Paddy let out a scream. The thick grey twigs at the end of the branches thudded against the roof like twisted fingers and spanged off the windscreen.
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</p>
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<p>'Did you see that?' Paddy said. 'It tried to get us.'</p>
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<p>'Probably just the wind,' I lied. But I didn't risk saying any more because my heart was beating so hard I could hardly speak. I didn't even look at her, but I knew she had seen what I had seen. Suddenly I got a flash back to Andy Gillon lying there in the mud in his field under that massive tree-trunk and the look in his eyes when he gasped:
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<em>The tree jumped.</em></p>
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<p>Now I believed him.</p>
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<p>I gave up looking for a road out and went back to Arden.</p>
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<p>And as I drove, I realised that our town was cut off, completely, from the world outside.</p>
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<p>How that was achieved, I don't believe I'll ever know. Whatever had awoken under Ardmhor Rock - I was now convinced that something
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<em>had</em> awoken, and by now, in my mind, I called it the Cu Saeng - seemed to have some kind of elemental power.
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</p>
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<p>
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<em>Cu Saeng.</em> There it was. Out in the open at last, in my mind at least, even if I could not prove the fact.
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</p>
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<p>And what was this Cu Saeng?</p>
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<p>I know what Kitty Macbeth had said: the ravener, the dweller under the roots. Something out of old Celtic or Pict mythology.</p>
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<p>The folk tales are hazy on what it really is, It appears rarely in the myths and sagas and I reckon it's got much diluted down the years. The latter-day version of it is as some kind of goblin, or an evil sprite haunts lonely places, isolated rocks and moors. The stories go that just to cast your eyes one it can kill you by driving you mad. And in the old days, any traveller lost in the hills and bogs was deemed to have fallen victim.</p>
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<p>Whether there was supposedly one entity, or a whole host, I have never discovered. I don't know whether the bane that had come to life under the black rock was even the same kind of creature - or
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<em>un-</em>creature - as the folk tales described.</p>
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<p>What I was absolutely certain of was that
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<em>something</em> had stirred and stretched and yawned a gaping mouth that slavered at the corners when it realised it was hungry and needed to feed.
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</p>
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<p>I also knew that somehow I was to become a central character in what was to happen next, because of something that had happened to us as children. Me, Colin and Barbara. And because of something that had happened long before the time of the Romans.</p>
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<p>That knowledge made my stomach churn and my knees go weak and my heart bound hard against my ribs.</p>
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<p>It was me against something that could cause landslides and make tankers crash and explode, and twist the world inside my head so that I didn't know east from west.</p>
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<p>It could make birds kill and make dogs attack a jeep with intent to kill, and it could make trees twist and
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<em>grab</em>.</p>
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<p>What else, I wondered, could it do?</p>
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<p>That I was just about to find out, and very soon.</p>
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