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<h1>32</h1>
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<p><em>.....morning.</em></p>
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<p>Day was dawning and it was early morning. Danny Gillan jerked
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awake to the distant sound of the cockerel crowing far off down the
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slope of the moor in the direction of Blackwood farm.</p>
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<p>"Whassamatter?" Tom snuffled, almost incoherent, cringing in
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against Danny for warmth. Corky was slumped the other way, against
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the damp mound where the hawthorn roots twisted their way into the
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moss. The wire was across this throat, but not digging in the way
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it had in the dream. His eyes were closed and he was breathing
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shallowly.</p>
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<p>The cock crowed, distant but still audible, a strange, fierce
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and challenging cry coming out of the mist which had gathered in
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the dark for the second time and now shrouded the world in a fuzzy
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blanket which blunted all the sharp edges which would be later
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homed by the rising sun..</p>
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<p>"...<em>And the cock crew...</em>" The well-learned words were
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ringing in Danny's head, in the shivery aftermath of the dream,
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fading now, but still powerful and ominous. Day was dawning but it
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was still dark and the mist was almost solid downstream where the
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valley formed a scooped cup before the thick tangle of the forest.
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The trees were just a dark and impenetrable wall. It was still dark
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enough, but it was not night any more, and they had survived
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another one. They were still alive. Four of them anyway. Across in
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the tent, there was no sound yet. Danny shivered again. Feeling the
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damp of morning cold steal through him. His legs were stiff and his
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backside numb and wet from sitting hunkered in the moss and
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grass.</p>
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<p>They had survived a second night, but what Corky had said
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sneaked in on him while he was trying to shake off the disabling
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drag of the dream. <em>It has to be tonight, because he won't give
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us another chance after this.</em></p>
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<p>And Corky had fallen asleep, tired and hurt and exhausted like
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the rest of them and they'd missed their chance. Night had come and
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gone and they were still here, braided together with the
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fence-mending wire. Danny huddled still, trying to keep the instant
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panic down. For a moment, despite the closeness of the other three,
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his solitude was vast. Nothing moved in the valley except the near
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tendrils of mist which rose, wraith-like from the pool in small,
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translucent columns to condense into the thick billows against the
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far wall, then flowed like some magical ectoplasm around the roots
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of the alders and hawthorns, crept into the hollows behind the
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boulders and the narrow ravines which fed the tributaries into the
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main valley.</p>
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<p>Far up on the moor, an early lark was singing into the morning
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sky. High up on the east, there was a tinge of opalescent pink to
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break up the grey, a promise of another hot summer day. Here in the
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valley, it was still shadowed, but bright enough see the carpet of
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dew on the grass, like a frost. The air was clean and earthy,
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redolent of moss and heather roots and nearby uncurling ferns.</p>
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<p>A soft morning.</p>
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<p>Danny slowly raised his head to the far rim, on the west side
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where the bracken grew almost to the rim, fringed by tussocks. For
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a moment his eye was transfixed by the exotic fringe of glowing
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silk which undulated in the merest breeze, trailing like a white
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and lustrous flag across the edge of the canyon. He stared at it,
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puzzled, for a while longer and the sight of it, ethereal and
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magical on this cool and shrouded morning, helped damp down the
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rising tide of black fear.</p>
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<p>The gossamer of a million tiny spiders, their gliding threads of
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silkweb, waved in the slow air, picking up the reflection of the
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roseate flush of dawn in the early sky. Danny gazed, mesmerised in
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a moment of rare beauty. The whole west rim of the valley, from the
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trees right on up past the hollow of rock, was limned with the
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slowly undulating silken tide. It was as if the world had been
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bedded in the cotton wool of mist and then wrapped in a cocoon of
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silk. The threads, rippling in glimmering sheets, seemed to bring a
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hush to the morning, giving an illusion of peace and harmony. As he
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watched, the top filaments caught the first sparkle of sun and up
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on the east edge, the sky flared in a spectacular flash of green
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and then pink, like an aurora, heralding the beginning of true
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day.</p>
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<p>Way off, down at Blackwood, the cock crowed faint and far off
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again, to cut through the gossamer wrapping and the moment of magic
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died as Corky's warning came suddenly back on the biblical echo of
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the dream.</p>
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<p><em>He won't give us another chance after this</em>.</p>
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<p>Danny swivelled, nudging Tom who gave a little shiver and tried
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to squeeze further in under his armpit, reluctant to come awake. He
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forced himself round towards Corky and sought the wire where he had
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tried to break through. A line of indentations roughened the metal
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about six inches from the loop around Corky's neck. In some places,
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the dull patina had been scraped away far enough to show the bright
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silver of metal underneath, showing how hard, how desperately Corky
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had worked and struggled in the dark of the night. Only the gouges
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and the shiny metal and the memory of the dreadful creaking sound
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remained.</p>
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<p>Danny sighed slowly. Over to the right, the condom that Tom had
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filled was lying limp, like a shiny piece of intestine ripped from
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the raw fish. Doug still sat frozen, head still cupped in his
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hands, elbows braced on his knees.</p>
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<p>"I tried, Danny," Corky's whispered voice jarred into the
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silence. For an awful moment Danny thought he was still dreaming.
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He jerked back, almost strangled himself on the wire, suddenly
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terrified in case Corky's teeth would be cracked stumps in bleeding
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gums.</p>
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<p>"Couldn't get through," he said. His face was pale, with his
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freckles standing out like sepia ink-spots. His eyes seemed grey in
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the light, and they looked bitterly forlorn. "We're stuffed," he
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added.</p>
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<p>Danny shook his head. "Don't say that," he insisted.</p>
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<p>"Say what?" Tom mumbled, coming awake. He shivered violently,
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strangled down a cough. Doug was blinking dopily. He sniffed and a
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thin trickle on his lip disappeared.</p>
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<p>"Is Billy okay?" he asked. Danny shrugged.</p>
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<p>"I think so. I haven't heard anything."</p>
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<p>"Doug, can you reach the end of the wire," Corky asked. He
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couldn't see past Tom and Danny.</p>
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<p>"No. I tried last night." Doug's voice was just sift hiss,
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barely above a whisper. In the silence of the valley, it sounded
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loud, too loud. "It's out of reach."</p>
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<p>"Give it another go," Corky said. He was stretching to see if
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his fingers could reach the root where the end of the baling twine
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was tied. His hand got to within six inches, but no amount of
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straining would expand the wire the way they'd been able to stretch
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the twine. It had been looped, right over left, then left over
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right, so even if they had risked trying to spin to unravel it, the
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turns around their necks would only have tightened with every turn.
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Doug tried once more, but couldn't get close. He was pulled away to
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the right, arm stretched out, face twisted into a toothy grimace.
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His outreaching fingers flexed in the air as he pulled as far as
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possible, reaching the very limit of give in the wire. He pulled
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further and his leg slipped on the wet grass, shooting right out in
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front of him. His toe hit the canvas back which slid away with a
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tinny clank. Doug slipped back with a sudden, surprised gulp,
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pulling them all downwards with the drag on the wire. Tom gasped
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and tried to ease the stricture at his neck and Doug scrambled
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backwards to get to a sitting position before his air was cut off
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completely.</p>
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<p>"Doug," Danny hissed. "Don't move." This came out in a harsh
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rasp and despite the discomfort, Doug immediately froze.</p>
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<p>"What is it?" he managed to get out.</p>
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<p>"Look." Danny said urgently. "At your feet." Doug got to his
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elbows and looked down at his outstretched foot. The old torn bag
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was only a foot or so from his toe.</p>
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<p>"Can't see," Corky said, straining to edge past Danny who leaned
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back just an inch or two, as much as he could. His breathing was
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now coming fast, excited.</p>
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<p>"Bloody hell. It's been there all night," Corky almost snarled
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in an anger that boiled up on a sudden swell of hope.</p>
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<p>"Can you get it,?" Danny asked, hardly daring to speak, hardly
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daring to hope at all. Doug looked up at him, brows puckered up in
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a puzzled from of incomprehension. Danny nodded at the bag.</p>
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<p>"The tools!"</p>
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<p>Light dawned. Doug's brows shot right up to disappear under his
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fringe of blond hair and his mouth dropped open. Tom started to
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shake again and suddenly the air was charged with that enormous,
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unbearable and brittle tension. Danny sensed time beginning to
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stretch out again on the surge of adrenaline and he felt all of his
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senses crystallise to glassy sharpness.</p>
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<p>Doug lowered himself back down to the grass again and stretched
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his foot outwards. His toe touched the bag and he grinned
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hugely.</p>
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<p>"Easy," Corky hissed. Doug stretched and the bag moved.</p>
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<p>"Can you hook it?" Danny asked, now feeling the panic rise up
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once more. Doug nodded, grunted, stretched until the wire was
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pulling right under his chin, digging in so far it was just a black
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line, as if his head had been cut off and stuck back again. A white
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bubble appeared from his nose, burst silently, and a lick of
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spittle flecked his lip where his teeth bit in tight. He
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concentrated in pushing and on ignoring the sudden hot strangle on
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his neck. They all watched in an agony of needing, each of them
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focused on that outstretched scuffed canvas boot that had seen
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plenty of better days. The toe got to the edge of the bag, barely
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to the corner. Doug made a low grunting sound that was all effort
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and concentration. The bag moved two inches, turning on the wet
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grass as it did so. Doug's foot slipped on the corner, came
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whipping across the side and the bag slid away. Doug fell back
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heavily. They all heard the creak of the wire. Tom, still shaking
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with the wound-up tension, reached quickly and eased him up before
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he really did choke.</p>
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<p>Danny's heart sank like a stone. The bag had pushed out of
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reach, beyond Doug's ability to get his toe around it again and
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ease it backwards towards them.</p>
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<p>"Shit," Danny blurted. Corky said nothing. He was suddenly
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desperate to get the bag, to get a last chance, because he knew
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with complete conviction that this <em>would</em> be the last time,
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and that the crazy man with the twitchy eyes would do something
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terrible today. Today would be the end.</p>
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<p>Just then, right at that moment, a movement downstream caught
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Danny's eye. He his head and, and the others caught the sudden
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motion.</p>
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<p>The heron came flapping down into the valley. It skirted the
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tall trees and swooped along the rim, stirring the silken gossamer
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spiderwebs with its passing. They sparkled and gleamed in the
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slanted rays of the rising sun, like filamented jewels. The big
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grey bird swerved, banked, then swooped low, over the top of the
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pooling mist close by the trees, then beat its wings slowly as it
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came flying upstream towards them.</p>
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<p>"No," Danny hushed. The heron followed the line of the stream,
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curving round at an angle at the point where Corky had been felled
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at the shallows of the lower pool. They all sat like stone and all
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Danny could think about was that harsh alarm call. If it cried out
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it would wake the man, wake Twitchy Eyes and they wouldn't have a
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chance.</p>
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<p>The bird came flapping onwards. They could see the yellow of its
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eye, fixed and unblinking, and heard the low whoosh of its broad,
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slow wings. Danny waited, more acutely aware of the danger than the
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others. The heron had startled him and made him stumble up there on
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the high slope. His back still flared with the burn of the swollen
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skin.</p>
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<p>"Shhhh." He hushed at it, as if speaking to a child, as if he
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could will it to silence.</p>
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<p>It came level with them, twisted in the air, as if suddenly
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aware of their presence, though none of them had moved a muscle. It
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veered sharply, pounding hard to gain height. Danny knew it would
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call out: <em>Kaark-kaaark,</em> knew that his bad luck would be
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back again, and final too.</p>
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<p>But it did not call out. The sweep of its wings trembled the
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three feathers of its dead mate in the mist at the waterfall,
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making them flutter like flags and then it was gone, beyond their
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line of vision, beyond the low ridge where they sat under the
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roots. Corky breathed out.</p>
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<p>"Try again," he almost snarled. "Go again Doug." All he could
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think about was the big pair of insulated pliers that Phil had
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jammed in with the rest of his stash. They could cut through mild
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steel. They could cut through baling twine, no bother at all.</p>
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<p>Doug tried again. He lowered himself back down again until he
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was lying almost flat, hands out to the side to brace himself. His
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foot went out to its full extent. He closed his eyes and gritted
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those teeth again. Me made a little squeaking sound of effort and
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his long, bony frame seemed to elongate even further. Tom's eyes
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flicked from his foot to the wire around his neck, wondering how
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much more pressure Doug could take. Doug's face went red, then
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almost purple, shading down by degrees. He hooked his toe again,
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got it to the bag. Jerked. It slipped again.</p>
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<p>Tom sighed in dismay. Corky said something under his breath that
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sounded like a curse. Doug did not give up. He stretched even
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further, now making a gurgling sound in the back of his throat. His
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foot snicked the side of the bag and the old canvas handle flopped
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right down from the top side to land on top of his toe. Danny's
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heart was fluttering like a bird's, all out of control. He could
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feel the need to pant for breath, countered by the equally powerful
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compulsion to hold it in. Doug concentrated so hard his face was
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twisted as if it had been mashed. He eased his foot back and up.
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The loop of the handle followed, drew upwards tight. Tom could see
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the wet canvas slipping over the rubber toe of the old baseball
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boot. Doug must have felt it and made a momentous decision. He
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kicked upwards. Something in the bag clunked again, muffled under
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the canvas and the bag itself came right up off the ground.</p>
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<p>For a heartbeat, it looked as if it would go tumbling off and
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land on top of the tent. Tom almost wailed in dismay. But at the
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very last moment, Doug managed to get enough purchase to flick it
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backwards. It took all of his strength and as soon as that
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manoeuvre was finished, he flopped back, gasping for breath, Tom
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got his hands to the wire and slid his fingers between the metal
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and Doug's neck. Doug's face was suffused and swollen.</p>
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<p>The bag came flipping backwards and hit Corky square on his
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chest with a heavy thud, hard enough to jar him backwards. Despite
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the sudden punch on his ribs, the joyful expression on Corky's face
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was incandescent. He raised his knees, almost reflexively, to
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prevent the bag from falling back, managing to cup it on his lap.
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He got a hand to the catch, loosened it with two blurring
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movements, dived his hand inside. For a scary split second, his
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mouth dropped open blankly as he fumbled inside, then lit up again.
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He drew his hand out, gripping the thick red pliers like a
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weapon.</p>
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<p>Danny breathed out, sucked air back in again. "You flippin'
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beauty," he managed to mouth. He lifted the bag from Corky's lap
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and opened it out. A few tent pegs remained, along with the
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ballpeen hammer they'd used to stick them into the turf. Doug's
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catapult lay in the bottom, along with Phil's old airgun. He took
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them out and laid them on the grass, searching for something else
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to cut the wire. There was nothing.</p>
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<p>Corky raised the pliers up to the braid, gritting his teeth.</p>
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<p>Before he even got a chance to squeezes, something shook the
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tent. A dull knocking sound came from inside, muffled by the
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fabric. The man snorted, as if just coming awake.</p>
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<p>They all froze, nerves suddenly jangling, wound up tight as
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banjo strings.</p>
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<p>The man's deep voice rolled out, though they couldn't make out
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the words. Corky's expression was suddenly stony and desolate, he
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was still sitting with both hands cocked up, gripping the inside
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jaws of the pliers against the twist of wire.</p>
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<p><em>Bad luck,</em> Danny thought, almost saying the words aloud.
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The heron had woken the man, somehow warning him of their escape
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attempt. Without thinking, he twisted his head round to look at the
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other heron's skull hanging in Billy's collection, what the man
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called his altar, half expecting the yellow eyes to be glaring at
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him mockingly. A flicker of white caught his eye. For an instant he
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couldn't make it out, then saw what it was. Pages of a book had
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been stuck to the spread of stag horns. Each page had been pierced
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with a sharp tine and left there like flags.</p>
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<p>In that moment Danny realised it was the pages of the bible,
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pinned by horn and in the same moment he realised that Corky would
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indeed be proved right. The man had torn pages of the bible and
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left them when he had killed people. He must have torn them last
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night in the dark, over by the skulls where he spoke to the
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shadows, talking to a man who wasn't there. If he'd torn the pages
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out, then he must be going to really do it.</p>
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<p>"Oh Jeez," he muttered. Corky looked at him. Tom was cringing in
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again for heat or comfort or protection and Danny felt he had none
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left to give. An emptiness yawned. Doug just stared at the tent,
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like that rabbit with the stoat.</p>
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<p>Another rumble came out, very low. Billy said something. It
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sounded like a question. The man repeated whatever he said and
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Billy whimpered. Doug's teeth ground together like glass beads. A
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segment at the side of the tent bulged slowly and the whole thing
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shivered. The slit opened, expanding like a cat's eye and something
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white flashed in the interior darkness.</p>
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<p><em>There will be weeping and gnashing of teeth...</em>the words
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came back to Danny and he tried to shuck them away.</p>
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<p>Doug jerked so hard that the wire creaked. Inside Danny the huge
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tidal wave of panic and utter dread was swelling to an enormous
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pressure. Both temples were pounding to the twisting beat of his
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heart. Tom was shaking once more, a human tuning fork.</p>
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<p>Corky put the pliers down onto the grass and for a moment the
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others wondered what he was doing. Very quickly he reached down,
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gripped the bottom of his shirt and hauled it up and over his head.
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A small green button flew off to the side and landed silently in
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the grass. Corky, working blind, placed the shirt up and over the
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braid of wire. He reached for the pliers, got them in under the
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bundled garment, wrapped the whole fabric tight around it so that
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both hands were hidden from view. The realisation struck Danny and
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his surge of panic subsided under the fierce blast of admiration
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for Corky's practical thinking.</p>
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<p>Corky closed his eyes, as if in prayer. His stocky shoulders
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flexed, tanned and muscular. Up under his shirt, a metallic click
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jarred out, very loud in their ears, too loud. As soon as the jaws
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of the pliers cut the wire and met, all Corky heard was the sound
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of the shotgun's firing pin slamming down on the empty chamber. The
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sounds were almost identical. A flare of anger suddenly seared
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inside him. Without any hesitation, he unrolled the shirt, put the
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pliers down and got his fingers to the braid of wire, working at
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the twists to unravel them. They jangled musically, but in only a
|
|
few seconds, he had reached the braid at his neck, spun the wires
|
|
and was free. The thin strands dropped away with a slight
|
|
vibration.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>There was no hesitation now. Danny was jittering, feet moving up
|
|
and down on the turf in a frantic little dance that was close to
|
|
hysteria. Corky got to his knees, twisted, brought his shirt up
|
|
again. Danny could see he had two bruises on his ribs, the size of
|
|
fists, where he had fallen when the man kicked him. His eyes were
|
|
alight and alive and suddenly glittering with determination and
|
|
anger. He insulated the pliers again in the roll of shirt, squeezed
|
|
hard. The metal snicked again, more quietly than before, right in
|
|
against Danny's neck. He felt all the braids part in a snap. One of
|
|
the edges stuck into the skin of his neck with a needle burn, but
|
|
there was no pain and no blood.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Over in the tent, the man snored or snorted again, like a pig in
|
|
a thicket.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Quickly yet very deliberately, Corky moved past Danny, did the
|
|
same for Tom, moved on and snapped the cutting jaws down to free
|
|
Doug who raised his hands up to his neck. The bite of the metal had
|
|
left a thin, fierce red mark, exactly as if his head had been stuck
|
|
back on again.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>The tent vibrated. Maybe the man had rolled his weight against
|
|
the nearest pole.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"What about Billy?" Tom asked in a tight little whisper.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p><em>Leave him!</em> Danny's first, dreadful thought bubbled up
|
|
before he had time to get a hold of it and stuff it back down.
|
|
<em>We could get away!</em> Corky looked at them all, his eyes now
|
|
more green than grey, his chest heaving. He put his cord shirt back
|
|
on, pulling it fast over his head. Sweat was dripping from his brow
|
|
and soaking his cows-lick hair into little spikes.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"We have to get him," Doug said, and it was probably the
|
|
bravest, the most selfless thing, that any of them had ever heard.
|
|
Billy and Doug had always been at loggerheads, were forever sniping
|
|
at each other. On the last night before the twitchy-eyed stranger
|
|
had appeared, they had savaged one another, stripping each of a
|
|
protective coat, using a dreadful and devastating knowledge as
|
|
weapons. Now, in one short phrase, Doug Nicol redeemed anything he
|
|
had said in a display of the most selfless and courageous
|
|
altruism.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Danny bit down on the shameless little voice of unreasoning
|
|
fear.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Corky raised a finger to his lips, quite superfluously
|
|
demonstrating the need for silence. He moved like an Indian, feet
|
|
making no sound, away from the little ridge where they'd sat all
|
|
night, first towards the corner where Billy's old sheath knife had
|
|
been thrown. He picked it up, jammed it into his belt, and then
|
|
came half-way back again. The mist by the stream was almost gone,
|
|
trailing its way downstream as the sun rose. Danny got a flash of
|
|
iridescence from up on the east ridge where the gossamer sparkled
|
|
in sunlight that was risen over on the moor. The morning grey was
|
|
already melting to blue.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Without any hesitation, Corky moved, deliberately but stealthily
|
|
towards the pile of logs they'd hauled up from the trees.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Over in the tent, the noise came louder. A bulky shape of a
|
|
shoulder pushed against the wall of the tent. The man was awake. Or
|
|
he was waking.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Tom was still shaking, looking around them in confusion and
|
|
fear, wondering what to do.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Corky lifted a thick spruce branch that had been pulled out from
|
|
the trunk and had a heavy knot at the thick end. Most of the
|
|
branches were that shape, because the limbs always split away like
|
|
that when a tall conifer falls. He hefted it like a club, which
|
|
indeed it was. Danny realised what he intended and hurried across,
|
|
denying and defying the creepy little voice that ordered him to
|
|
run, to get up that slope and over the top and away home. He
|
|
reached the firewood pile, selected a thick branch a yard long,
|
|
pulled it out. The rest of the branches tumbled to the side in a
|
|
scuffle of wood. Everybody froze yet again. Over in the tent, there
|
|
was a silence, only for a few seconds. The man snorted again. A
|
|
round shape, up from the shoulder, bulged the canvas, moving in
|
|
slow rhythm</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Corky crept up again, holding the branch like a twisted baseball
|
|
bat. He got to the side where the slit opened and close to the
|
|
pushing of the shape inside. He bent down, suddenly tense, like a
|
|
squat hunter facing a leery, spooked and dangerous beast that could
|
|
charge out from a thicket. Inside, in the shadows, he saw movement.
|
|
There was the red of Billy's tee-shirt and beyond that the curve of
|
|
a thick elbow. The one tattooed word stood out clearly, even in the
|
|
shadow.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>He stood up, turned to them. He nodded very solemnly across the
|
|
short distance, and they saw his eyes were set like polished
|
|
stones, glaring with a light of their own. His mouth drew back at
|
|
the edges until his gritted teeth could be clearly seen. He eased
|
|
the branch forward, head nodding a little to some beat only he
|
|
could hear. Danny realised he was timing it with the motion inside
|
|
the tent.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Fucking bastard," he grated in a low, hoarse voice, swinging
|
|
the heavy branch up and then down in a fast arc, putting all of his
|
|
strength into it. The heavy knot of wood at the club-end slammed
|
|
against the rounded curve which pushed out against the fabric.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>A noise like a pistol shot cracked out, a sharp shock in the
|
|
charged air. Corky's club splintered and the thick end broke off
|
|
and went spinning away towards the undergrowth, making a whirring
|
|
sound, like dragonflies wings, as it flew. On the other side of the
|
|
canvas, a deep, somehow mindless groan rumbled out. The rounded
|
|
hump in the fabric slid down towards the ground. Billy whimpered,
|
|
high and quivering. Danny stepped past Corky who was standing there
|
|
with only the shaft of his stick in his hands. He raised his own
|
|
club, slammed it down on the shape. It was not as loud as the first
|
|
whiplash crack, but duller, somehow deadly. Another groan, more a
|
|
whoosh of expelled air, followed. Danny felt his club strike
|
|
something hard which moved only a little with the blow. Again he
|
|
remembered the sound of the bullocks down in the slaughterhouse
|
|
chamber when the malletmen fired the bolt into their brains.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>The tent quivered. A violent blow rocked it and then there was a
|
|
thud and the sound of splintering wood. Something snapped the far
|
|
upright and the whole thing tilted, caving in at one side,
|
|
billowing at the side where Danny had cut the escape slit. Billy's
|
|
hand reached out, palm down, then withdrew. He cried out. Two of
|
|
the ropes snapped with sudden high, almost musical notes and a
|
|
tent-peg came shooting out of the ground to spin right over the
|
|
tent and land by the circle of stones round the cold fire. The
|
|
canvas pulled away from the groundsheet. The butt of the shotgun
|
|
lay half exposed.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Tom grabbed the gun. He stood there for strange a moment,
|
|
baffled and undecided. The tent collapsed with a sudden snap of
|
|
more ropes. The man was groaning now, <em>really groaning</em>,
|
|
like an animal. The sound was deadly and awful, even more mindless
|
|
than before. A large hand appeared under the frame of the bottom
|
|
edge, fingers spread wide. A shape slumped against the billowing
|
|
side. Billy's legs, feet still in his baseball boots, were sticking
|
|
out on the front side, knees scrabbling for purchase. Tom spun the
|
|
gun around, so that it was butt first and ran in, now moving
|
|
quickly and smoothly. He raised it up, swung it hard. The edge
|
|
slammed the head-shape.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>And the gun roared.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>The noise was like sudden, catastrophic thunder, this close in
|
|
and in the confines between the tent and the hollow. Tom felt an
|
|
enormous punch jar though his arm. He felt the sear of fire from
|
|
the end of the barrel as the shot belched scant inches away from
|
|
his side. By a sheer miracle, when the butt connected, both barrels
|
|
in his hands had not been pointing directly at him. The shot would
|
|
have cut him in half. The gun jumped out of his hands.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Less than twenty yards away, the rotten deer's skull and its
|
|
decoration of bible pages, exploded into fragments as the spread of
|
|
shot knocked it straight out of the hawthorn branches. The white
|
|
sheep's head tumbled down and cracked against a hard rock,
|
|
splitting into two halves. The heron's pointed head disappeared,
|
|
along with half the foliage from the tree. The altar, in one
|
|
cataclysmic blast, was gone.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>The roar of the gun echoed on and on, as it had the first time,
|
|
crackling in their ears. In the ruins of the tent, the twitchy eyed
|
|
stranger slumped down to the ground. Tom stood transfixed, face now
|
|
white as the quartz. Corky ran in, grabbed the gun, turned it
|
|
around and put the barrel down to the hidden head, jamming it right
|
|
against where the ear would be.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Billy came out of the fallen tent, crawling fast. Danny saw his
|
|
face. It was blank and awful. There was a streak of dark on his
|
|
leg.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"See how you like it, you crazy fucking <em>bastard!</em>" Corky
|
|
grated, not screaming, but low and straight and somehow deadly.
|
|
When he swore, he really meant it. He held steady, squeezed the
|
|
trigger. All of them, except Billy who was still stumbling to his
|
|
feet, now dumbly trying to get into his jeans, braced themselves
|
|
for the close blast.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Nothing happened. The hammer clicked again on the empty chamber.
|
|
The metallic sound was not as loud as it had seemed the first time.
|
|
The man was groaning loudly now, and rocking about under the
|
|
canvas, blundering his way around. Corky looked at the gun as if
|
|
he'd been betrayed, standing stock still for several seconds. Then
|
|
he moved, broke it open, looked into the empty chambers.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Only had one shell," he said. Danny felt a sudden seethe of
|
|
resentment against Tom for wasting the last one, but it died
|
|
instantly. Corky dropped the gun. The man groaned again, this time
|
|
much louder and his head nodded up and down, jammed in against the
|
|
corner. A stain of blood spread on the canvas. Danny could smell
|
|
it. Billy was on his feet.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Kill him," he said in a shivery voice. "Kill him, somebody.
|
|
<em>Please</em>."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>The tent rolled to the side and the man's feet could be seen
|
|
now, pushing against the trampled grass and ferns, scraping to get
|
|
a purchase. He was struggling to get out, groaning and moaning
|
|
wordlessly the whole time, like a wounded bull, trying to get free
|
|
of the constraint. Doug ran to the fire, picked up a smooth rock in
|
|
both hands, came striding back, straight towards the commotion
|
|
inside the tent. He raised it up high, using his whole body,
|
|
brought it down, crouching as he did. The rock hit something which
|
|
snapped like a branch. This time the man roared, like a mad bull.
|
|
His legs kicked out. One foot caught Doug on the shin and almost
|
|
felled him. The stone rolled away.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Kill him," Billy quavered, very softly, but as powerful as any
|
|
shriek. "<em>Kill him</em>."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Doug backed off to stand beside Tom who was holding on to Danny.
|
|
Corky ran forward, tugging at the knife at his belt, leapt upon the
|
|
humping shape. They could see his elbow jerk back. Once, twice,
|
|
three times, each movement followed by a forward punch and a
|
|
sudden, thudding sound. The canvas blossomed a flower of dark, wet
|
|
sheen.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>The man's roar stopped dead. He led out a long wavering moan
|
|
that tailed away.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Jesus, oh fuckin' Jesus God." This from Doug who stood there,
|
|
mouth agape. Corky backed of. Everything stopped for several
|
|
seconds. The man's feet went still. His shape, rolled up in the
|
|
bundle of canvas lay long and prone. The blood formed a patch a
|
|
handspan wide at the far end. Halfway down, an even wider patch
|
|
glistened and spread very quickly.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Is he dead? Is he dead?" Billy was asking. He'd pulled his
|
|
jeans up, but Danny could still smell the blood on him, and the
|
|
cold, stale sweat of the stranger. His face was strangely slack, as
|
|
if all the nerves had gone to sleep, but his eyes were dark and
|
|
feral, almost the way the twitchy man's had been when he looked at
|
|
the brightness in the water.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>He spun, crossed to the bag, grabbed up the ballpeen hammer that
|
|
lay on the grass and ran towards the prone man. He raised it up and
|
|
slammed it down, not aiming, just hitting. It made meaty thuds
|
|
where it landed. Billy's arm raised up and plunged down half a
|
|
dozen times, before he stumbled back, panting very hard. He stood
|
|
up, eyes fixed at first on the still shape.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Everybody turned to look at Billy. For a moment, he was fixed on
|
|
the prostrate form, as if he wanted to continue, to keep on hitting
|
|
with the hammer. A trickle of saliva drooled from his mouth and in
|
|
that moment, he looked completely mad. After a moment, he dropped
|
|
the hammer. He backed off, and then realised they were all looking
|
|
at him. An odd flicker crossed his face. Danny recognised it as
|
|
deep and devastating shame and his heart went out to him. Corky put
|
|
a hand out and touched him on the shoulder, the way Tom had done to
|
|
himself on the night of the big argument. It was just a touch, but
|
|
it said a huge amount. In his other hand, Corky held the knife.
|
|
Despite what he had done with it, the blade was surprisingly
|
|
clean.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>There was a silence for a long moment.</p>
|
|
</div>
|
|
</div>
|
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</body>
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