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<h1>**#**</h1>
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<p><em>Interlude:</em></p>
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<p>"Hector Kelso agreed with John Fallon." Angus McNicol said. "Our
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man had put the blood on the doorposts to ward off the angel of
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death, and that made him some kind of psycho. We knew that already,
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but Kelso disagreed with the shrink who still thought he'd put the
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gun barrel in his mouth. Hector said the killer thought he was
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possessed, and none of us on the investigation disagreed with that.
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He'd a devil in him.</p>
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<p>"Old Jean McFall, she'd been a gutsy old lady. Kelso showed how
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she clambered through the attic and where he'd tried to shoot her
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through the lath and plaster of the ceiling. That must have been a
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nightmare chase and it took guts to stop and write in her diary. It
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wasn't until next day that we found what she'd written and that
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gave us better description of him, and maybe a name.</p>
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<p>Angus McNicol's eyes were focussed far back in the past and the
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tape turned slowly, picking up his gruff voice and not missing the
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crackling emotion behind the words as he recalled the savage
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butchery at Blackwood Farm.</p>
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<p>"Remember that song? <em>A nice wee lass, a fine wee lass, is
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bonny wee Jeannie McColl?</em> I saw the photographs on the
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mantelpiece and it could have been written for her. She'd been a
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looker in her day, fine bones, a lovely smile. When we found her
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against the wall she hardly even looked human.</p>
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<p>"We found the back of her blouse on a piece of metal up there.
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He dragged her inside and down the stairs again, put her on the
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table and put it into her. He broke her arms, high up, close to the
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shoulder, and he tore all the ligaments and cartilage on her
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elbows. Doctor Bell and Hector Kelso agreed that he just
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spread-eagled her and put his weight down. But that didn't kill
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her. Looking at the bruising and the internal damage, Bell thought
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she probably didn't die until at least the next day. Can you
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imagine it? The team called him the Angel, but he was the devil
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incarnate, believe you me."</p>
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<p>"He raped her, and then he used the logging axe to cut off Ian
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McColl's head and he stuck it on the dung heap. Whatever Bryce
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thought, this wasn't a man with any remorse. He waited for the
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flies to come."</p>
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<p>We checked every lead, but the name we had never meant a thing.
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We must have pulled out the files on everybody called Leslie Joyce.
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Birth, army lists, even church congregations, hospital patients,
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and there were quite a few Les Joyces who got a visit. We even
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tried the Joyce Lesley's too, just to try to get a hook on this
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nutcase, but after Blackwood Farm, the man just disappeared and
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Bryce was crowing that he'd been right all along.</p>
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<p>"But I never thought that bastard committed suicide. Not then
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and not <em>ever</em>. Maybe whatever was frying inside his brains
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finally burst and he fell down dead and if that's what happened,
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then it was an end he never deserved. But it was better for me and
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for all of us to think of him dead than to believe he would turn up
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again and see it start all over.</p>
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<p>"We waited a long time, right through until the following year,
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past the next summer. The Angel, the one you lot called <em>Twitchy
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Eyes</em>, he simply vanished. Really I hoped he'd gone up onto the
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moor and got stuck in a bog and took days to die while the crows
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picked out his eyes."</p>
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<p>"No matter what, the killer disappeared and the killings
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stopped. Nobody ever knew why."</p>
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<hr />
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<p><em>Interruption:</em></p>
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<p>I could tell that Angus McNicol had spent a lot of time thinking
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about the killer. A lot of it had come back to me since I saw those
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eyes on the street, those flat and empty eyes that showed no spark
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and no recognition. There was a lot I'd buried down in the depths
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along with plenty more unwanted baggage from way back then. They
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say if you remember the sixties you weren't there, and that's the
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biggest crock of crap anybody ever made up. We were there. We were
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kids, but we knew, like Mick Jagger told us, this could be the last
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time, and it was, of course, because the world was changing and
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everything was blasting apart.</p>
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<p>Up in a valley barely four miles from Blackwood Farm where a
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twitchy-eyed killer mutilated the farmer and his wife and sat until
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the flies ate their eyes out, a boy several months short of
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fourteen told his friends a truth about themselves.</p>
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<p>Everything was changing, some of it for the better and a lot for
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the worse.</p>
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<p>When The Who were the wild men of Rock n' Roll, Roger Daltry
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sang that he hoped he died before he got old, and of course, he
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didn't follow through. He just got rich. There were a few that
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summer who had the life taken from them and they weren't singing
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about it. It was a summer like none other. It would be another year
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at least before Jimmy Hendrix made the hairs on the back of my neck
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stand up when he played <em>Purple Haze,</em> and my mother had
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looked at him as if he was old Twitchy himself, acting the way
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mothers do when it comes to music, as if it could steal their
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children away and bury them in a cellar and damn their souls
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forever. Clapton and Bruce and Baker were about to put sounds
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together the way we'd never heard them before, but the flower power
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hadn't touched this little pocket of the world. We did not have a
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love-in, it was not groovy.</p>
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<p>There were five boys just on the wrong side of innocence up
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there in the valley that day when.....</p>
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<hr />
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<p><em>August 3. Morning:</em></p>
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<p>The man stepped out from the bushes and cast a shadow across the
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water of the stream.</p>
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<p>It had been a fitful night in the aftermath of John Corcoran's
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soliloquy. The long silence after he finished speaking and stood
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with his head down and his shoulders jerking, stretched on and on
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while the flames of the fire dopplered down in a slow diminish from
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yellow to red and then to glowing embers that pulsed with a life of
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their own in the merest breath of warm night air. Corky stood
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there, staring into the flicker of light and Tom hovered beside
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him, a hand still to the shoulder, just a couple of silhouettes
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from Danny Gillan's viewpoint. Over to the side, Doug sniffed again
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a couple of times and Danny couldn't tell whether he was crying or
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not. Billy had his head in his hands, eyes fixed on the fire, like
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a big Apache, for once silent.</p>
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<p>After a while, after what seemed a long time, Corky turned round
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and went to the tent. He came out with that old army blanket his
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old man had swiped from the territorials hall when he and Deek
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Galt, Pony's old man, had heisted a box of grenades for poaching
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the salmon up at the Witches Pots on the Corrie River where a
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generation later some folk would go hunting something else and burn
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the whole forest down to charred stumps.</p>
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<p>"I'm going to sleep out here," he said, wrapping the blanket
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around his shoulders and lowering himself to the grass about six
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feet away from the fire. Everybody stood there, shaken, with the
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red of the fire on their faces, making them look wild and bleak and
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somehow feral, like young warriors, like young braves.</p>
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<p>"Me too," Billy finally said in a soft voice that was unlike
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him. He and Tom crossed to the tent and got their own blankets.
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After a while, Danny and Doug did the same. The tent stood dark and
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empty while they all hunkered around the fire, huddled around their
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thoughts while the flames faded and slowed and turned the logs to
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mere glowing embers. Up on the moor a poor curlew bleated soulfully
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and the dented moon rose over the high sides to shine down into the
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open valley.</p>
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<p>Some time in the night, Billy cried out and then subsided into a
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snuffled sob. The noise woke them all, but none of them could tell
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whether Billy was awake or asleep. Sometime in the night, Danny
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Gillan thought he heard footsteps downstream and woke up with a
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start, breathing quickly, nerves suddenly tight and alert. The fire
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had sunk down now to barely a glimmer which gave off some heat but
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not much. As he fetched some thick pine logs from the pile he and
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Tom had collected, he scanned the darkness down in the valley where
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the trees crowded blackly, holding their inky shadows. He could
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sense eyes upon him and he shivered in the cold night air. A
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trickle of apprehension rippled down his spine and he hurried back
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to the circle of the campfire where the others were dark huddled
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shapes on the ground. The logs quickly caught fire and sent the
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heat blazing out, but the cold trickle inside Danny took a long
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time to diminish.</p>
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<p>In the morning, when he awoke, he was still tense and his hands
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were clenched into fists. His fingernails had dug red crescents
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into the skin of his palms.</p>
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<p>Tom and Doug used the last of the sausages in the old pan,
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frying them up in their own sparking fat while the tin of beans
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with its saw-blade top angling up in a jagged halo sat at the edge
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of the fire, bubbling away in the heat. Billy took a while to rouse
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but as soon as the sausages, burned almost black, were on the
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plate, the smell brought him round as if he'd been slapped. Tom
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handed him his breakfast. Billy nodded his thanks, keeping his eyes
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down. Normally he'd be full of talk and blether in the mornings
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while everybody else was yawning and scratching and just trying to
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find their bearings, but now he was silent and for the moment there
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wasn't much to say.</p>
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<p>They ate quickly and licked the plates clean. Danny said they'd
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have to set some more snares for rabbits and catch some trout in
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the stream if they planned to stay much longer. Doug had the notion
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he could find a pheasant's nest down in the trees and get some
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eggs, but at this late stage in the summer that idea was voted down
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with some derision. Most of the eggs would be hatched and the
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others would be addled with half formed chicks. Doug then
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remembered Mole Hopkirk clambering down from the railway arches
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with the pigeon's egg burst in his mouth, and the rousing derision
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when he'd puked it all up. It got a laugh, feeble in the light of
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what had happened to ol' Mole, and in the aftershock of the fight.
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They were all talking now, all except Billy who seemed still
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cocooned inside the happenings of the night before. When Dan went
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down to the stream to use the fine sand to wash the plates clean,
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Corky followed.</p>
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<p>"You stick with Billy, right?" he said. "He'll be okay in a
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while."</p>
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<p>"You reckon? He was pretty cheezed off last night. We all
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were."</p>
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<p>"Yeah," Corky conceded, somehow sadly. "It had to be said though
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Dan. They'd have been at each others throats in a minute and then
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we'd all have been hooking and jabbing. That's the way it goes.
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Billy's a bit crazy these days. You know that. Not bad, just
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cracked."</p>
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<p>Danny nodded down at the water where the rippling water broke
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his reflection into wavering patches of shadow. Up by the fire,
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Billy was trying to pick up some music on his radio, but all he got
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now was static. Tom and Doug were already half-way up the side of
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the valley heading for the heights where they'd left the bombs from
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the Dummy Village.</p>
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<p>"He's always been a bit flaky, but now he can be pretty mean
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with it. I don't think he can help it, and what Doug said didn't
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help, did it? Jeez. It's like it's been building up though and I
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had to say it last night because if Billy explodes..."</p>
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<p>"We'll all be covered in blood and guts and shite," Danny
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finished for him, wanting to keep it light now after the dismay of
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the night before. What Corky had said had got under his own skin,
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making him realise even more strongly than before, the limits of
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his own world and the constraints upon himself. The <em>Bad
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Fire,</em> his own nightmare. <em>Hell and damnation in the
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fire.</em> Corky had known without saying until last night, when it
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all came out. Corky had Crazy Phil on his back all of the time and
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would have his old man back out of Drumbain Jail soon and Corky
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would have to handle the regular knock on the head or the belt
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buckle. But was that really worse than the constant and inexorable
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weight of pressure and the never-ending litany of prayer and piety?
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Danny Gillan wanted out from under just as much as Corky needed to
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escape.</p>
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<p>"Too true. And guts and hot air." Corky said and he laughed
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aloud, jerking Danny back to the moment. "Blood, guts and gallons
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of lard. The size of him, he'd cover the whole campsite."</p>
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<p>They used the thick fishing line to make more snares which Danny
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set in the runs he'd found by the bushes further up the valley
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where they'd already seen some rabbits when they arrived. The line,
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Danny assured him, was better than the fencing wire because the
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rabbits wouldn't see it. When they'd finished, Corky went up the
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track to join Doug and Tom. The sun was rising fast and the heat
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was gaining on the day, bringing out the bees and damsels and the
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big dragonflies whirring in squadrons over the pools. Down in the
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trees, pigeons murmured sleepily and the slow water muttered, like
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conversations almost fathomed.</p>
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<p>Billy and Danny went upstream to catch trout in the shallow
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pools and under the rocks where the water tumbled. Up on the
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plateau, close to where the natural dam had backed up the steam to
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form the long twist of Lonesome Lake, the others were whooping
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excitedly, the cares of the night forgotten, or at least banished
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under the heat of the sun.</p>
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<p>"Bombs awaaaay." Tom's high voice came wavering down. There was
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silence, then more whoops and gales of laughter. Danny couldn't
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help but smile.</p>
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<p>"You think they'll explode?"</p>
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<p>"Hope so," Billy said. He'd his head down, hair trailing the
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burbling surface of the clear water, both hands jammed under a flat
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stone, eyes fixed with concentration. "Big one in here." He
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twisted, pushed further. Danny could see his shoulders working as
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he tried to get a hold of the trout. Finally he slowly withdrew his
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hand from under the rock, keeping his balance, brought out a thick
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spotted fish that twisted and torqued powerfully in his big
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hands.</p>
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<p>"Beauty," he said through gritted teeth. "Bet that's nearly a
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pound." He held it tight in his left and hooked a forefinger into
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the trout's mouth while it bucked for freedom, pulled on the upper
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jaw until he mouth gaped and the head drew right back. There was a
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watery squelch and then a small crack. The fish shivered and then
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flopped to limp stillness, its neck broken. Danny watched
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dispassionately. They'd been catching trout since they were no size
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at all. It was different with fish. It was <em>normal.</em></p>
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<p>Behind and above them, in the narrow chasm leading off the main
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valley, Doug and Corky were balancing the bombs on the branches of
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a twisted hawthorn tree that leaned out over the side of the drop.
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They were using some of the hay-baling twine from the roll that
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served as guy ropes for the old tent, and despite the straining
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effort, they'd managed to pull one branch right back until it
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touched the ground. Tom had snagged the twine around the tree's own
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root and he plucked it, making it sing like a deep guitar
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string.</p>
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<p>"Try it now," Doug said. Tom got his old army knife with the
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spike for taking things out of horses hooves, opened the sharp
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blade. Gingerly he hacked at the hairy string, covering his eyes in
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case it whipped back and blinded him. The blade bit through before
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he expected it to and the branch uncoiled with a whiplash crack.
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The bomb went straight up in the air, maybe ten feet or more. Tom
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went sprawling back.</p>
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<p>"Bombs away," he yelled, scrabbling for balance before he
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tumbled over the edge.</p>
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<p>"Watch out," Corky bawled. Doug shrieked with laughter. The bomb
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went straight up and came straight back down again, tail first, but
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already beginning its turn. It hit the very spot where Tom had been
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only a second before, landing with an earth-shuddering thump on its
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side and then it toppled over the edge as the one had done the
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previous night to slide down the shale slope and come grinding to a
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silent halt.</p>
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<p>They all burst out laughing together.</p>
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<p>Danny and Billy, stripped to the waist and with their sloppy-joe
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sweat-shirts tied by the arms around their waists, had taken six
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fish in the first hundred yards, none of the rest as big as the one
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Billy had tickled from under the stone and now they were threading
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twine through the gills to carry them back to the camp.</p>
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<p>"Did <em>you</em> know?" Billy had asked and Danny hadn't
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bothered, hadn't needed to ask what he was talking about. He'd been
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waiting for the question, uncomfortable in its proximity and unsure
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of what he would say when it came.</p>
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<p>"Yeah," he finally said. "I knew. Stood to reason, didn't it?
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Doesn't matter though. None of us is bothered about it. We don't
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care."</p>
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<p>"I never thought about it. Honest to God."</p>
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<p>"We knew that, Billy."</p>
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<p>"But my Ma's been lying to me all these years."</p>
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<p>"Everybody's mother lies. She just wants you to feel good."</p>
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<p>"But I <em>don't</em> feel good. She said he was a hero."</p>
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<p>"And he could have been. Might have been. Who the hell knows?
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Look at Corky's old man, he's no hero, that's for sure. Nor mine.
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Corky was right. It's not worth fighting about. We've all got
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troubles."</p>
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<p>"Yeah, but <em>Jeez,</em> I never thought. How stupid can you
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get? I could have belted Doug last night. I could have really
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gubbed him. I still could, you know? Because of what he said."</p>
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<p>Danny saw Billy's shoulders twitch again, this time with the
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internal pressure of a held-back punch and he was immediately
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reminded of Corky's analogy. He did look as if he could explode.
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The twitch was like a small seismic shiver, but the body language
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so eloquent. In his mind, Billy was lashing out to land a fist on
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Doug's nose. Dany was glad it was still held in tight, glad it
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hadn't come to it. What Corky had done, what he had said had
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touched them all. He'd stopped it.</p>
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<p>Billy bent to threading the string through the gills. Up on the
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hill, another cheer went up into the still air followed by yet
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another gaggle of laughter. Danny thought it would be a good idea
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if they dumped the fish down at the camp and went up the hill to
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join in. Once they got Billy laughing again, it would be okay
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(<em>until the next time</em>). He was just about to turn and
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suggest this to Billy when across the stream, where the hazel
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bushes crowded together, a trickle of gravel went hissing down the
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slope. Danny looked up.</p>
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<p>And the man stepped out from the bushes.</p>
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<p>Danny jerked back in surprise, his breath drawn in quickly in a
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hiss. Billy hadn't noticed. He was still crouched down,
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concentrating on the task of inserting the thick, fibrous twine
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inside the gill and out through the gaping, bloodied mouth.</p>
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<p>The man stood there silently on the far side of the stream. He
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was tall, very tall and his hair was black as Billy's, though uncut
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and greasy. His eyebrows shadowed his eyes and he stood stock still
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in a long shabby coat that came down below his knees and looked too
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warm for the summer's day. He was wearing a pair of scuffed black
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boots laced up to the top with pieces of twine. One of the soles
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was peeling away from the upper.</p>
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<p>"Bill," Danny whispered.</p>
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<p>"Shouldn't have said it anyway," Billy muttered tightly still
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replaying the scene. "He was just having a go at me."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Danny nudged him and for a moment Billy just continued his
|
|
self-bound conversation. Finally Danny reached and clamped his hand
|
|
round the other boy's meaty wrist.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"What?" Billy said, turning his head. He saw Danny's eyes, fixed
|
|
and unblinking, staring across the tumbling water. He slowly
|
|
turned, caught a glimpse of the figure standing on the far bank.
|
|
His head jerked up and his own eyes widened. His whole body started
|
|
back in surprise.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>The man stood there for a long moment, still as rock. Behind him
|
|
the little shiver of shale trickled down the steep slope, possibly
|
|
where his coat had brushed the dry surface. It sounded like a slow
|
|
breath. In Danny's hand, one of the fish bucked, even though he'd
|
|
been sure the blow on the head had killed it dead. It shuddered and
|
|
then went limp. The man stared at them, though they couldn't see
|
|
his eyes under the beetling brows. His face was craggy and angular,
|
|
and his hair, thick and dark, hung down lank and turned up at his
|
|
collar. It was spiked near the crown, as if he'd cut it himself and
|
|
on either side of his mouth, deep furrows formed black, angry
|
|
brackets.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>The moment of contact stretched on. Neither of the boys knew
|
|
what to do. Up on the hill they could hear the excited yelling of
|
|
the others, but they couldn't call out to them while the man was
|
|
staring at them. Was he a farmer? A gamekeeper?</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Both of them knew he was neither. He was ragged and dirty and
|
|
unwashed and unshaven. His work trousers were torn at the knee and
|
|
covered in dark stains. His mouth was curved downwards. Danny
|
|
touched Billy's arm again and moved backwards, still crouched on
|
|
the grass by the bank. The fish on his string slithered towards him
|
|
with the movement, its eye blinkless and dead, mouth agape. Billy
|
|
scrambled back with him.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Who is he?" he whispered out of the corner of his mouth.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Don't know."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>The sunlight on the moving water sent spangled reflections onto
|
|
the steep slope behind the silent figure and dappled shimmering
|
|
light on his threadbare coat. It flashed into his eyes and he
|
|
blinked several times, very rapidly. He turned away from the light,
|
|
quite slowly, as if it hurt his eyes, until his face was in
|
|
profile, then he jerked once and seemed to galvanise into motion.
|
|
He took a heavy step forward, crunching on the gravel and small
|
|
stones by the side of the stream, took another step which put his
|
|
foot right into the water with a loud splash. There were enough
|
|
stones to allow him to step across and stay dry at this time of the
|
|
year when it hadn't rained for more than three weeks and the water
|
|
was low, but he ignored them. The dark brows had come down again to
|
|
shutter the eyes, but they knew he was staring right at them, so
|
|
intently he did not even seem to notice his boots were under
|
|
water.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Danny and Billy cringed backwards. They got to their feet,
|
|
hearts suddenly thumping. Behind and above, Tom and the others were
|
|
hooting with laughter again.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Mister we..." Billy started. "we're just catching some fish for
|
|
our dinner. Honest."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Neither of them knew who the man was, or what power, civil or
|
|
official he might wield but Billy was already working on
|
|
mitigation.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Fish."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>The word came out in a soft hiss of breath, almost dreamily.
|
|
"Fishes."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>The man crossed the stream and came up the bank, mounting to the
|
|
flat in two or three big strides. When he reached the turf where
|
|
they'd been threading the trout he stood up straight, towering over
|
|
them.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"I will make you fishers of men," he whispered, his voice
|
|
slightly hoarse, as if he'd been shouting. The boys drew back a
|
|
step, standing closer together now. The whispering voice made no
|
|
sense, though Danny had heard the words before. The man was still
|
|
staring at them, his face completely impassive, as if there was no
|
|
emotion in him, as if he was looking both at them and right through
|
|
them.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"What do you want?" Danny asked and both he and Billy heard the
|
|
apprehensive little tremble in his voice. The man was just standing
|
|
there and that was scary enough. They'd been chased by gamekeepers
|
|
and bawled at by irate farmers and that was the way of things with
|
|
boys. But this big scarecrow of a man had just whispered, not
|
|
raised his voice, and that was somehow very unnerving.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"They said, <em>Lord, here is a boy with a few fishes</em>." The
|
|
whispering became a grating rumble, coming up from deep inside the
|
|
stranger. "A <em>few</em> fishes."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>He took several steps forward, alarmingly quickly. Danny and
|
|
Billy flinched yet again. The man reached and picked up the biggest
|
|
of the fish, the one Billy had been trying to loop on to the
|
|
string. He held it up to them. The still-wet scales threw back the
|
|
light in iridescent sparkles. Without hesitation the man brought
|
|
the limp trout up to his face, opened his mouth and bit down on its
|
|
head.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Danny's heart seemed to drop like a stone.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Jeez," Billy gasped, backing into the smaller boy and almost
|
|
knocking him sideways. Danny had to grab his arm, to keep from
|
|
falling.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>The teeth came down on the head and they both heard it crunch
|
|
wetly, almost with the sound of a boiled egg being cut open with a
|
|
blunt knife. The fish flapped twice, the way the other trout had
|
|
done, showing it was still, even if barely, alive. Danny could not
|
|
believe his eyes. His throat clenched and he felt as if he was
|
|
going to vomit. Close by, he heard the sound of Billy gulping for
|
|
air.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>The teeth clenched tight and they stood fascinated, mesmerised,
|
|
unable to draw their eyes away. The head crunched and the man's
|
|
head pulled back. A piece of flesh flipped out from between the
|
|
teeth and then the rest of trout pulled away. They could see that
|
|
the wide, grey head had been bitten clean through to just behind
|
|
the eye. Black blood welled from the small braincase. Dark blood
|
|
trickled down on the man's clenched teeth. He swung his head, in an
|
|
animal motion, the way a dog does, and chewed hard. The sound of
|
|
the fish head crunching, an innocuous little sound in itself, was
|
|
suddenly appalling in the still air of the day. It was nothing and
|
|
yet it was immense, of great importance; of earth shuddering
|
|
consequence. Of a sudden, both of them, standing elbow to elbow,
|
|
with the sun hot on their shoulders, felt completely and
|
|
terrifyingly defenceless.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>The man stared into them from the shadows under his brows and he
|
|
chewed slowly and deliberately, letting them hear every disgusting,
|
|
sickening sound. Then he swallowed and the lot went down his throat
|
|
with not a shiver or a tremor.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Danny tried to turn to run but for some reason he was frozen to
|
|
the spot, Billy was jammed up against him and he could smell his
|
|
sweat, feel the peculiar shiver in the face of this craziness.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>The man stepped forward and held the torn trout out. "Take this
|
|
and eat it," he said to Billy, pinioning him with black eyes, now
|
|
visible this close. He cocked his head to the side, a strangely
|
|
dog-like gesture. "He took it and gave it to his disciples." Danny
|
|
had also heard those words before, heard them many a time, read out
|
|
in the nightly family prayers around the empty grate of the fire.
|
|
Words form the bible, from the new testament. <em>This is the word
|
|
of the Lord</em>.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>For a moment he heard his own father's voice transposed on the
|
|
raggedy man's low rumble.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Billy was backing away. The man stepped forward, jabbing the
|
|
bloodied end of the fish at the taller boy. "Take this and eat it,"
|
|
he repeated. The eyes were completely devoid of colour, like holes
|
|
under the shelves of the brows. Billy whimpered.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"I don't like..." he started to say.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Eat. Eat." The voice rumbled. The torn end, showing the curve
|
|
where the eye had been ripped from the socket, rubbed against
|
|
Billy's lips. He gagged, shaking his head in disgust.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Come on Billy," Danny said, voice rising. He grabbed his friend
|
|
by the arm and pulled him backwards. "Let's go."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Danny hauled hard enough to spin Billy round. The big boy
|
|
turned, eyes wide in fright. A slick of blood and fish slime coated
|
|
his mouth like a smeared, viscid lipstick and his normally sallow
|
|
skin had turned fish-belly pale. Danny felt his heart flip
|
|
helplessly like the jerking twitch of the dying fish. The sense of
|
|
danger simply inflated inside him. He pulled again. Billy blinked
|
|
once, twice.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Come <em>on!</em>" Danny urged, pulling him. Billy seemed to
|
|
lurch out of a dream. His muscles seemed to unlock. He jerked and
|
|
then he was moving. Danny leapt down the slope to the next
|
|
downstream level with Billy in front of him. All the while he could
|
|
sense the man reaching for him, a big gnarled hand with fingers
|
|
outspread to grab him by the skin of the neck. He could imagine the
|
|
man's breath. He thought he could hear his big boots pounding after
|
|
them.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Billy was moving, only a couple of feet ahead, his blue and
|
|
white tee-shirt flapping like an apache breechcloth. His big, meaty
|
|
arms were swinging and Danny could hear the panicked tremble in his
|
|
breathing. His own breath was coming fast; short, gasped pants for
|
|
air and it felt as if his heart had raised itself up about six
|
|
inches to block his windpipe. The track beside the stream narrowed
|
|
between two large boulders at the turn where Billy had caught the
|
|
big one and they both went through the gap like startled rabbits.
|
|
Off in the bushes a blackbird went clattering away in a scold of
|
|
alarm. They smashed through, where before they had gingerly angled
|
|
avoiding scratches from thistles, now crunching and crushing the
|
|
hogweed and wild rhubarb. Billy was like a tank, heedless of any
|
|
obstruction.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>They came out of the shadow at the bend and into the sunlight.
|
|
The other boys were high up on the edge, further up the gully of
|
|
the tributary, oblivious for the moment to the drama down below.
|
|
Billy ran as fast as he could, tasting the blood and raw slime from
|
|
the fish, suddenly more afraid than ever before. It had happened so
|
|
fast and it was so inexplicable it was truly terrifying. The fact
|
|
that the man had bitten into the living head of the fish had been
|
|
scary enough, <em>wrong</em> enough to be dreadfully shocking, but
|
|
then he had forced the thing at Billy's mouth and if a man would do
|
|
that, he had to be crazy for sure. He had just stared at them and
|
|
then spoken in a harsh, creepy whisper. His eyes had blinked under
|
|
the brows and Billy had thought.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Billy had thought there was something...</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Billy thought</p>
|
|
|
|
<p><em>Twitchy Eyes.</em></p>
|
|
|
|
<p>He had never been quick on the uptake, but as soon as the fish
|
|
had jammed into his mouth and he had caught the reflection of the
|
|
light on the man's black eyes, seen the rapid fire blink, like some
|
|
flickering morse, the image had come smacking into his head and his
|
|
knees had almost given way.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p><em>Oh holy Jesus please-us</em> a childish voice had yelled
|
|
inside his head and Billy had instantly felt very small and
|
|
dreadfully vulnerable. Danny had been pulling at him and he'd
|
|
frozen just for the moment, not able to make his feet work, while
|
|
the smell of fish was thick in his nose and the back of his throat.
|
|
And then he and Danny were running, him first, down the track and
|
|
he knew if they could get to the next corner and down to the camp
|
|
they'd get away because the man would see the others and he'd know
|
|
he couldn't get away with anything if there were witnesses and
|
|
everything would be...</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>They came scuttering round the corner, angling their bodies to
|
|
take the bend. They made it past the clump of stinging nettles,
|
|
past the cluster of dockens waving in no breeze the way dockens do
|
|
in the summer. A hunting swallow flew right in front of them,
|
|
jinking at the last moment in a flare of gunmetal blue-black.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Then Billy's foot stepped into a cowpat that wasn't old enough
|
|
to be caked and dry. The top surface slid across the wet and greasy
|
|
inside and his foot slipped with it.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>It all went wrong just as quickly as that.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>He put his foot down, still running at an angle, reaching with
|
|
his left hand towards the stand of hazel saplings to get enough
|
|
purchase to swing his weight around and next thing he was up in the
|
|
air. His foot skidded out from under him and the other foot
|
|
couldn't come back down quickly enough to regain his balance. He
|
|
hit the ground with such a thud that his teeth gnashed together
|
|
with a jar of sudden pain. Another pain jolted up from his backside
|
|
to the top of his head as all his weight compressed the bones in
|
|
his back. His breath came out on one loud whooping expulsion.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Danny was only three feet behind. He saw Billy go down, tumble
|
|
and bounce and then he was flying over Billy's head. Both knees hit
|
|
against the other boy's shoulder and his own momentum flipped him
|
|
up and over. He landed with a numbing crash right at the edge of
|
|
the track where the bank dropped about six feet to a shallow pool.
|
|
It was only the fact that his torn jeans snagged a protruding hazel
|
|
root that prevented him from plunging forward head first onto the
|
|
rocks below.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Up above, on the rim, startled voices came rolling down.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Hey, what's up? You OK?" Danny vaguely heard the drumming of
|
|
feet as Corky and the rest came haring down the hardpack sheep
|
|
track. Billy groaned, grunted, turned himself over, got to his
|
|
knees. Danny eased himself to his feet, aware that he should be
|
|
doing something, but momentarily dazed by the shock of the
|
|
fall.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Hey Dan!" Doug bawled.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>The man came round the corner just as Danny got to his feet.
|
|
Billy was still on his knees, facing downstream. He saw Danny's
|
|
face go slack and his eyes raise themselves upwards, higher than
|
|
Billy's own. Behind him, something brushed against fabric and then
|
|
a cold, hard edge pressed against the curve of his jawline.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Oh Billy," Danny said, but there was no need for explanation.
|
|
Billy knew it was a gun.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"And again a little while and you <em>shall</em> see me," the
|
|
man said and there was a hint of shivery laughter, a kind of cold
|
|
glee in his rumbling voice.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Doug and the others came hurtling round the bottom bend. From up
|
|
on the rim they had seen both boys tumble, but the track had curved
|
|
down behind one shoulder of the slope and they had not seen the
|
|
stranger pushing through the foliage.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>They all skidded to a halt when they rounded the crumbling
|
|
corner of the dog-leg of the valley, Doug first, Corky hard on his
|
|
heels and Tom only a few feet behind.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Everything stopped dead still.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>A lone cuckoo sang out downstream where the forest crowded down
|
|
to the water, a lazy, somnolent summer sound, almost smoky in the
|
|
warm air. Two black and gold dragonflies chased each other between
|
|
the two frozen groups, for a long, extruded moment the only
|
|
movement in that part of the valley. Three boys stood there in
|
|
attitudes of sudden stop, hands out, bodies twisted, as if they'd
|
|
been photographed at the beginning, or the end of a race. All of
|
|
them were open mouthed, wide eyed.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Danny Gillan was further up the track, half turned, eyes fixed
|
|
on Billy who was still down on his knees, his black hair in awful
|
|
contrast to the now pure white of his skin. His own dark eyes
|
|
looked like pits. The long, shining barrels of the shotgun had him
|
|
just behind his ear, their gaping mouths a dark and infinite figure
|
|
of eight laid on its side.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Billy's eyes were blinking fast, blinking almost in time to the
|
|
tic in the gaunt man's own eyes. Everything was frozen in a tableau
|
|
except for the eyes and the dragonflies whirring past about their
|
|
own business, oblivious to the drama.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>For a long, stretched moment of time there was no sound at all
|
|
except the murmuring of the stream and the robber bird down in the
|
|
trees.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"And so he came amongst them," the ragged man finally said, "and
|
|
they got down upon their knees."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>This time he laughed. It was the first time the other three had
|
|
seen him, the first time they had heard his voice. John Corcoran
|
|
felt a deadly cold chill trickle upwards on his spine and he knew
|
|
instantly they were in the most appalling danger. For that long
|
|
moment, he was frozen, yet on many levels he was aware of
|
|
everything, even the far-off cuckoo and the mindless chattering of
|
|
the stream. He gauged the distance back to the curve around the
|
|
little knoll of rock on the shoulder, out of the line of fire of
|
|
those long black barrels. Would the man shoot Billy? For a second
|
|
he considered running, turning on his heel, thinking the same
|
|
thought Danny had already considered, that the man would not dare
|
|
shoot if there were witnesses free to point the finger.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>In the man's other hand, he saw the dead trout, saw a trickle
|
|
ooze down to the ground, wondered where it had come from. Billy's
|
|
eyes were wide and pleading, not fixed on anything, but jittering
|
|
left right, up and down, beseeching the very air. He looked as if
|
|
he expected his own brains to come blasting out onto the grass.
|
|
Danny was standing, hands shaking now, his whole body aquiver with
|
|
tension, his back to the rest of them. He looked slight and fragile
|
|
against the tall stranger whose shadow blocked the path.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Oh shit, Corky," Doug said in a tremorous whisper. "He'll kill
|
|
him."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>The man stood stock still, the way he had on the far side of the
|
|
stream when he'd come across Danny and Billy. Everything was
|
|
frozen, a tableau of exquisite tension. Corky took in the whole
|
|
scene, the gun close to Billy's neck, the look of absolute fear on
|
|
his face, the shadows under the craggy brows on that gaunt face. In
|
|
that split second he knew he could not run. They had come
|
|
scampering down the hill and into madness on a summer's day. All
|
|
the odds, all the distances, all the estimates of speed and flight
|
|
evaporated. The man with the gun stood there, blinking in the
|
|
bright light of the sun. There was no flight now, Corky knew with
|
|
complete and instinctive certainty. The gun would simply blow Billy
|
|
Harrison's head from his shoulders, and then it would talk to Danny
|
|
and then....</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>The man leaned forward and put the dead, ungutted fish against
|
|
Billy's mouth. The entrails were squeezing out of the hole where
|
|
the mouth should be, little slithery green strings. The stranger
|
|
leaned over and whispered something that none of them heard.
|
|
Billy's belly muscles seemed to shiver. His head moved from side to
|
|
side, but his mouth opened and his teeth came down on the trout and
|
|
he bit into the gill covers. Purple blood splashed onto his
|
|
cheeks.</p>
|
|
</div>
|
|
</div>
|
|
</body>
|
|
</html>
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