POWER AND FURY

by James Erith

  ‘When was the last time this was used?’ he asked.

  ‘No idea,’ Sue replied, searching for a light. She flicked the switch and a solitary light bulb sparked into life.

  In the middle of the boat house, covered by a large tarpaulin, an old rowing boat rested on two large pieces of wood. It had three bench seats, and Gus reckoned it was probably twelve feet in length by four feet wide. He laughed. ‘This is it? This piece of junk is going to save us? It should be in a museum!’

  He dragged off the tarp, shook away the dust, and whistled as he inspected the vessel. Layers of peeling varnish and thick dust covered the wood.

  ‘We need to build a canopy,’ Sue said.

  ‘Why?’ Gus quizzed.

  ‘So we don’t spend the entire time bailing water out, that’s why.’

  Gus pulled the oars off the wall and nestled them in the rowlocks before searching the boathouse for wood. He found several lengths of two by four inch cut timber, as well as planks intended, he supposed, for repairs.

  ‘How long did you say we would be stuck in this?’

  Sue shrugged. ‘How should I know? A day, a week’

  ‘A week?’

  ‘Maybe a month?’

  ‘Jeez. A month.’ Gus sprang into overdrive. He ran around the room finding things that might be useful and tossing them into the boat: rope; wood; a couple of buckets; a crabbing line, and a fishing net. He found a handy-looking wooden box and a sealed plastic container, which he told Sue to clean before putting in the matches and anything else that needed to be kept dry.

  How would they anchor down the canopy? What would they sleep on? What would they drink?

  He yelled over to Sue, who was still busy cramming the tarpaulin under a seat.

  ‘A month? Really, a month! You think so?’

  A huge crack of thunder smashed overhead.

  They cowered.

  She stretched her arms out. ‘How long is a piece of string?’

  Gus spied four, fifty-litre plastic containers. He ran over and smelled them. No foul odours. Good. He took two to the tap, then rinsed and filled them before heaving them up onto the boat. It creaked ominously under their weight.

  ‘Make room for these,’ he instructed Sue, ‘one at each end.’

  Gus tied the two empty ones to either side to act as bumpers or emergency buoys.

  With this task complete, Gus spotted more loose planks on the far wall. He marched over and, without hesitating, levered the first plank off. As the nails bowed to the pressure and the length came away, he pulled two more weatherboards away and slipped them into the boat. ‘Hammer and nails,’ he yelled out. ‘Have you seen any?’

  Sue pointed in the direction of an old workbench.

  It was a long shot, but if there were any tools it might make all the difference. He flew through the drawers and cupboards, finding paint and rags, paintbrushes and sandpaper. He dragged out a thick canopy and laid it aside. How would he attach it? To the right, another pile of workman’s bits was covered by two large, crumpled dust sheets.

  He handed the dust sheets to Sue, indicating that she needed to shake them out and fold them away.

  Underneath all this he discovered a selection of woodworking tools hidden in an old, blue canvas bag.

  Gus thumped the air. Clearly, someone had set out to repair the building and left everything behind.

  Right, Gus thought. I reckon I’ve got approximately twenty minutes to build a world class, life-saving canopy.

  Forty-Three

  Kemp and Archie

  Archie trembled. Everything Cain said rang true.

  Archie heard Kemp’s voice, strangely muffled. ‘So, there’s little hope for me and my sisters.’

  ‘There is always hope, young man,’ the ghost replied. ‘But in comparison to the thickness of a rainbow, the chances that the three of you will survive this storm are but an atom wide. You are a child. You have neither the strength, nor the skills, to combat what lies ahead. You have no magic, and you do not understand nature. What chance do you have?’

  He paused for effect. ‘None. That is why you must join me now, Archie. While the world is washed away, I alone offer you the chance to escape through me. You have the opportunity to start again. All I need is the use of your body.’

  ‘Will this help save your mother?’ Kemp said.

  The ghost seemed a little surprised. ‘Yes. You have seen her and you know that she holds a great secret within her that others seek to destroy. By joining me, Archie, she will be saved. I guarantee it.’

  Cain was laying on the charm. His persuasion was intoxicating. ‘Here, on earth, the suffering will be great. Together, Archie, we can build a new future. I am nearly useless without you, and you are helpless without me.’

  Kemp looked over at Archie whose terrified face had risen from the other side of the wheelie bin. ‘But, I still don’t understand,’ Kemp whimpered.

  Cain growled. ‘These things are beyond your understanding. Open your mind. Give me your body.’

  Kemp tried to make a run for it. He attempted to loosen the grip on his arm by suddenly charging at the bin. ‘GO!’ he screamed at Archie. ‘RUN!’ But the ghost held him tight and forced him to the floor. Kemp whimpered at the stabbing pain in his hand.

  The ghost moved into Archie’s path and began to unfurl the scarf wrapped around his face. ‘I see,’ he said. ‘There is another.’ His head moved. ‘Only one of you is Archie. You have deceived me,’ the ghost said.

  ‘It is your choice, Archie. If you choose to come with me, you will be saved,’ the ghost continued. ‘My mother will be saved. Run, and you die.’

  He released Kemp, who stumbled to the floor. ‘Which is it going to be?’

  Kemp’s cheeks were streaked with tears. He caught Archie’s eye, and stared at him. Imploring him, begging him to understand.

  Kemp began to speak to his friend. ‘Kemp, you are my only friend,’ he said, ‘and, not long ago, I swore on my life that I would never hurt you or your family. I failed.’

  Archie frowned. What? What was Kemp talking about? Had Kemp figured that the ghost was blind?

  Kemp began again, ‘Run, Kemp, save yourself. GO!’

  ‘Uh?’ Archie said, confused.

  ‘Yes, Kemp, you moron, get out of here! Flee to safety.’

  Archie stared at Kemp.

  And then Kemp said it again. ‘Look, Kemp, you great big oaf. Go now while there’s still a chance. Leave this to me, but promise me one thing.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Look after that fishing rod.’

  ‘Fishing rod?’

  ‘Blimey Kemp, how dim are you?’ he said. ‘Go! Now. Run you idiot—GO!’

  Archie stared deep into Kemp’s tear-stained eyes and could see a spark of light.

  Archie curled his fist into a ball and punched his friend lightly on the shoulder. He winked and mouthed the words, ‘Thank you’.

  ‘So long, Archie de Lowe,’ Archie said. ‘See you in the next place.’

  Taking a deep breath, Archie turned and ran for his life.

  Forty-Four

  Archie Runs

  ‘It has started,’ the ghost cried, his hat angled upwards towards the sky. ‘Something more powerful than you can possibly imagine has begun.’ He raised an arm towards the lightning and thunder.

  ‘If you want to see your friend for the last time, follow his path. I doubt he will last long. You too may run now, but you would be a fool, Archie de Lowe.’

  Kemp moved towards the end of the alleyway.

  People were scattering even though the players were still on the pitch.

  Kemp watched Archie hare towards the steep bank and out of view. Then he reappeared, running flat out, waving his hands in the air, sprinting onto the football field.

  Kemp shifted his gaze.

  Daisy struck the ball...

  CRACK!

  With a deafening roar, a massive thunderbolt flashed out of the sky right on top of Archie.

&
nbsp; Kemp’s heart missed a beat as he watched Archie collapse to the floor like a rag-doll, his body spasming one moment, then still the next.

  Smoke drifted out from his friend’s body.

  Sounds of screaming filled the air.

  Kemp recoiled. Everything the ghost had said had happened; the sweet paper, the lightning in his own image, and now the thunderbolt aimed at Archie who lay dead on the ground.

  Laid back Archie, with his scruffy hair, who was always late for everything. His fishing pal, the only person to whom he’d ever told the whole story about his parents.

  He’d sent him to his death.

  Cain hovered behind him. ‘I am nothing more than a sad ghost,’ he said, almost forlornly. ‘I was stripped of my flesh and bones, but not my spirit. It means that I cannot move or touch anything with any great purpose, so I require flesh and blood to partially restore me. This is where you come in. I cannot do it alone.’

  The ghost removed his scarf and sniffed the air around Kemp, who felt a chill on his neck.

  ‘Rest assured, boy,’ the ghost said softly, ‘I have no intention of taking your life, only borrowing it for a little while. When my work is done and my mother is safe from harm, I will put you back near this spot. That is my solemn promise. But nature’s curse is now upon us. A decision needs to be made.’

  Kemp remained frozen to the spot.

  ‘You must freely decide,’ the ghost continued. ‘The window is closing so you must decide now. I very much doubt you will get such an offer from the storm.’

  Forty-Five

  The Storm Begins

  Confusion reigned as players and spectators ran hard towards the cars and houses above the football field. Screams filled the air.

  Archie prised his eyes open and attempted to focus. His head! It pounded as if a road roller was travelling backwards and forwards in his brain.

  He caught the sharp, acrid smell of burning hair.

  When his eyes finally hooked up with his brain, he could make out a burning net and a smouldering goalpost.

  ‘Archie!’ Daisy cried as she rushed over. ‘Please...’

  Several inaudible words mumbled out of his mouth.

  ‘Archie!’ Isabella screamed as she tore across the pitch.

  She placed her hand on Archie’s forehead then felt for his temperature, checked his pulse and inspected his tongue.

  ‘Thank God!’ she said, cradling him. ‘I thought you were toast. Say something—can you move?’

  Very slowly he lifted an arm, his fingernails black and his charred clothes singed.

  He smiled weakly.

  ‘At least he’s showing signs of mental stability,’ Isabella said. ‘Daisy, grab the tracksuits! I’ll make sure his internal organs are functioning.’

  Shortly, Isabella declared that Archie was well enough to try a couple of little sips of water.

  Archie shut his eyes then opened them. Then he slurred some words.

  ‘My strips must have saved you!’

  ‘Urgh?’

  ‘The strips you stuck on the bottom of your boots.’

  Daisy returned with their tracksuits, slipping into hers before helping Archie into his.

  ‘We won!’ Isabella said. ‘You did it!’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Daisy scoffed as she pulled Archie’s top over his stiff hair.

  ‘I’m not,’ Isabella replied. ‘The ball’s in the net. It was blown into the goal. You actually scored!’

  Daisy didn’t know whether to hit her sister or cry. ‘No,’ she said furiously. ‘I missed and Archie got fried. Look at him, it’s a miracle he survived—’

  ‘But you’re fine now, aren’t you, Archie?’ Isabella said. ‘Anyway, you’re wrong. Your free kick was heading towards the corner flag but the lightning bolt deflected the ball into the goal. I swear it. The charge of particles must have generated a force to deflect it without blowing the ball up. It is therefore, the most extraordinary goal of the millennium—’

  ‘Shut up! Please,’ Daisy snapped. ‘Stop it.’

  Coach was running over towards them. He went straight to Archie and checked him over.

  ‘WOW-ee,’ he whistled. ‘That is one lucky escape, young man. I thought you were brown bread. It looks like the Gods spared you. You may feel a little groggy for a while, but, amazingly, I think you’re gonna be all right. Try standing if you can.’

  Archie, with the support of a person on each side, stood up.

  ‘How do you feel?’

  He couldn’t quite hear or see them. He tried smiling.

  ‘That’s the match ball in the net, isn’t it, Coach?’ Isabella asked. ‘I’ve taken a picture of it on my phone, for safekeeping.’

  Coach clapped his hands. ‘You know what, Isabella, you’re right! Looks like we ruddy well won. We’re only the bleedin’ champions!’ He slapped Daisy on the back, almost knocking her over. ‘Quite amazing...’ He stopped mid-sentence and looked up, his tone serious once again. ‘Listen, if you think you can make it, Arch, you’d better get off now, up that funny track to your cottage. Otherwise, I’ll give you a lift back, via the school.’

  ‘Thanks, but don’t worry, Coach,’ Isabella said. ‘It’s not so far. We’ll get him back in one piece, I promise. Anyway, you’re not that poorly, are you, Archie?’

  Coach eyed them. ‘You sure? Well then, you’d better get going then. Best scarper before another of them thunderbolts zaps us.’ He patted them on their backs. ‘As fast as you can! I reckon it’s going to bloody piss down.’

  Coach skipped off towards the car park singing loudly. Then he yelled back at them. ‘Great goals, Daisy, and bloody brilliant hairdo, Arch. You’re all legends!’

  Archie wavered a little and Daisy caught him. ‘You really think we can get back home?’

  Archie was trying to say something. But it came out slightly askew.

  ‘What is it?’ Isabella said softly.

  ‘Storm!’ he said, his words slurred. ‘Go.’

  Angry rolls of thunder boomed around them.

  ‘Is anyone else finding this very loud?’ Daisy asked. ‘I’ve had to put tissue in my ears. Look!’ And she pulled out the paper. Suddenly Daisy’s face went pale.

  Isabella spotted it. ‘What is it?’

  ‘I think there’s another in-coming thunderbolt.’

  ‘What!’ Isabella said.

  ‘RUN! NOW!’

  They hooked Archie’s arms around their shoulders and set off.

  ‘I can hear the particles gathering in the cloud, I think,’ Daisy said nervously. ‘Sounds like a build-up of collisions.’ She stopped. ‘DIVE!’

  A moment later, a massive crack tore across the sky and unleashed a lightning bolt that smashed into the exact spot where, moments earlier, they had been huddled together. The ground smouldered.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ Isabella whispered, her knees buckling, her heart thumping. ‘That was close. It’s like it’s after us.’

  ‘It is,’ Archie mumbled. He closed his eyes and tried to work more saliva into his mouth. ‘We have to survive... until dusk.’

  ‘That’s exactly what Sue was yelling about,’ Isabella said. ‘Survive till sunset.’

  ‘Where do you get that nonsense from?’ Daisy said. And then she twitched.

  Isabella noticed. ‘What is it, Daisy?’

  ‘Another one—I think I can hear it!’

  They reached the tree and slipped under the branches.

  ‘We should be safer here.’

  Daisy held her hands over her ears as a couple of tears rolled down her cheeks. ‘My God. Here it comes!’

  A lightning bolt crackled and smashed into the branches. The children screamed as a huge branch sheared off and crashed a couple of metres away.

  They ran out hugging each other.

  ‘OH, NO!’ Daisy cried, her ears screaming in pain.

  ‘What is it now?’

  ‘It’s like... like a power shower has just been switched on.’

  A warm wind swi
rled and nearly blew them off their feet. Then the first few large rain drops like mini water balloons began to plummet out of the cloud.

  ‘We need to move, NOW!’ Isabella cried. ‘This is the storm from hell we predicted—’

  ‘Predicted?’ Daisy yelled.

  ‘Yeah, Sue and I ...’ Isabella’s voice trailed off. ‘We’ve got about five minutes before this playing field becomes a river.’

  ‘Oh, well that is simply marvellous,’ Daisy yelled.

  Isabella and Daisy folded his arms across their shoulders so he was properly supported.

  ‘You’ve got to move your legs, Arch,’ Isabella implored. ‘HURRY!’ she screamed, forcing the pace. The rain intensified as the wind blew in several directions at once. In no time, in front of them, on top of them, and behind them, a wall of water sluiced out of the heavens, pounding them, beating them hard on their heads and shoulders and backs. Isabella removed her coat and draped it over their heads. For the moment at least, it acted like a shelter.

  ‘Where’s the bridge?’ Daisy shouted above the din of the rain. ‘I can’t see ANYTHING!’

  Isabella slowed and stared at the ground. Water heads downhill, so it’s got to be this way. If we get to the path, we’ll find it. Without knowing why, she pointed her free arm ahead of her, closed her eyes and allowed it to guide her.

  Soon the feel underfoot of soft wet turf made way for hard gravel. They followed it, but every step was tricky and they couldn’t be sure exactly where they were going. Isabella rubbed the ground every so often with her foot to feel the hard path underneath. By the time they reached the bridge, the children were cold, soaked through and exhausted. And, more worryingly, water was spilling out of the river at an alarming rate—up to their ankles and rising fast.

  ‘Bind—tighter—scrum!’ Isabella yelled, ‘We’ve got to move together, rhythmically, in time. I’ll count.’ She realised they couldn’t hear her so she signed with her fingers: ONE, TWO... THREE and then she flicked out her thumb.