Max Gilbert

by Simon Clark

  The fanfare sounded again. All the UFO army had been despatched to UFO heaven; GAME OVER flashed up with a score of 2000.

  "That's the first time you've won, isn't it?"

  "Yes." He gazed at the flashing figures. After months of failed attempts, suddenly it seemed easy. And dull, really.

  Now he wanted a-what was the word Dad used to say over and over at the old house?

  CHALLENGE.

  Yes, he wanted a CHALLENGE.

  When he thought of his toys all spoiled by sea water, it still hurt inside. But again David thought of what his dad had said about the sea-fort. He said it would cost a lot of money. That for a while they wouldn't be able to buy many treats. They would have to sacrifice some things they liked. But in the end the sacrifice would be worthwhile.

  96

  The loss of his favorite toys still hurt him; he had nearly cried.

  ... but the sacrifice would be worthwhile.

  The green numerals of the clock radio glowed 11:11 across the caravan bedroom. Chris lay flat on his back, one hand pillowing his head. By his side Ruth lay sleeping on her stomach. The only sounds were his wife's gentle breathing and the faint hiss of the surf. Shuu-shshu-sh...

  Exhausted from the day's work, his eyelids began to grow heavy in the comfortable darkness of the room. He tried to resist sleep, wanting to enjoy the flow of the day's memories. He would never have believed that hard labor could be so satisfying.

  He glossed over memories of David's odd behavior. Deliberately leaving his precious toys and Superman comics on the rock to be washed away by the waves. Kids do funny things. Hadn't he once taken to swallowing small pebbles when he was five years old? God alone knew why.

  Shuu-shh-shuu-sh-sh ...

  Chris's eyes closed.

  He dreamed:

  The tide had rolled out. This time it had not stopped. It had rolled back somewhere beyond the horizon.

  Now there was only a plain that had once been the bottom of the sea. Starfish and shells gleamed like stars in the sand. Here and there, seaweed patches, green and wet-looking, the size of football pitches.

  He walked out across the plain.

  As he approached an expanse of seaweed he noticed a ship in its center. How long had it lain at the bottom of the sea?

  He ached to take a closer look. This was the kind of mystery that every schoolboy loved. The sunken ship; the anchor hanging from a rusted chain, brown kelp stuck to the funnel. Was there treasure in the hold? Get closer. Read the name painted in white across the stern. See what's inside.

  He walked across the sand toward the ship. He was about to climb onto it when, in his dream, he noticed Ruth standing beside him.

  "Careful, Chris," she whispered, "there are poisonous snakes in there."

  98

  Chapter Fourteen

  They woke up hugging one another tightly; the clock flickered to 12:39.

  "I love you, Chris. Hold me."

  "You're not tired?"

  "Mmmm," breathed Ruth. "But I'm too hungry to sleep."

  "Hungry?"

  She kissed him firmly on the lips. "Hungry for you. Make love to me."

  His heartbeat quickened. Kissing her hard, he pulled her nightie up higher, up over her breasts, which were firming and rising in the cooler air. He kissed each breast, then ran his tongue across the hardening nipples.

  "Oh ..." She pulled his head against her bare breasts. "Do anything you want to me. Now."

  David sat up in bed rubbing his eyes with his fists and yawning. It must be very late. No television sounds or voices, so his mum and dad were in bed.

  He looked across the room, his eyes adjusting to the dark. Oh no. The headless boy was there against the wall again.

  He pressed his knuckles into his eyes.

  He wanted to shout. But his dad would be mad if he had to get out of bed at this time. He'd come in saying: "David, how many times have I got to tell you? It's only your dressing gown. Take it down if it frightens you."

  It always did frighten him. The headless boy. A dark humpy-backed shape. He risked a glimpse.

  Ye-essss ...

  It was getting closer.

  He kicked his way out of the quilt and stood up. Managing to cover both eyes with one hand, he walked forward with the other outstretched.

  Headless boy. You won't get me. Headless boy, how did you get that way? Heard a funny joke? And laughed your head off? Ha! Ha!

  David kept up the flow of nonsense thoughts to stop his imagination from supplying too many scary pictures.

  Headless boys are big asses-

  They've got no ears for their glasses ...

  Still shielding his eyes from the figure, David reached out for the dressing gown.

  He clutched at something smooth and cold.

  Instantly his mind said WET.

  A wet, headless boy from the deep blue sea.

  Got a kiss for David; if you can find my mouth.

  Shouldn't be cold and smooth.

  It's the silly wall, he thought, relieved. Caravan walls are plastic.

  His hand swept to the left, catching the dressing gown. Roughly he dragged it from the hook. The headless boy just became a naff old dressing gown that he never wore anyway. Screwing it into a ball, he threw it into the corner of the bedroom, then hopped back into bed to lie looking up at the darkened ceiling.

  Abruptly, he sat up. He had heard a sound. It seemed to come from the caravan wall just behind his head. He thought hard.

  There were no rooms on that side of the wall. The sound came from outside.

  He heard it again. A soft grating. Like something sliding across the cobblestones.

  Set above his bed was the curtained window. All he had to do was kneel up and look outside.

  David knelt up in bed. Then he lifted the curtain.

  "Oh, Chris ... I can't believe you're doing that to me. Uh ..."

  He felt her hands around his head pulling him to her tightly.

  He could smell her, taste her; his body felt alight. He wanted to hold her so tightly that they fused into a single living being.

  "That's beautiful. Oh, harder ... Don't worry ... You're not hurting me-ah ... That's it. Mm-mer ... Harder ... Don't ... Oh, yes."

  His breath came in bursts, his heart a hard pumping engine. Yes. He felt enormously powerful, a towering colossus above her, with the power to make this woman cry out or chew her knuckles in ecstasy. She was his; she would do anything.

  She panted words breathlessly. "Oh ... I love it, I love it. ... You're breaking me. ... Oh, I'm breaking in two. ..."

  The pumping engine had taken over. He gripped her, feeling her sobbing gasps hot on his throat. He wasn't in control. That engine inside of him pounded on and on and on. Whatever happened now, it would have nothing to do with him.

  The first thing David saw when he lifted the curtain was a face.

  His eyes widened.

  Its eyes widened.

  He opened his mouth.

  It opened its mouth too. It had big white teeth with a definite gap at the front.

  He smiled. Then tapped the glass. The face smiled back.

  "Ree-fleck-shun ... Ree-fleck-shun."

  He looked out into the courtyard which was flooded with cool moonlight. It lit the skips that his dad would have to fill with rubble tomorrow morning.

  Through the open gates he could see the waves all twinkling and foaming across the causeway.

  High tide. Now the sea-fort had become a little island

  once more.

  Tonight the sea looked black in places. A bit like black cherry jelly.

  Something broke the surface of the water. Then immediately disappeared again. He leaned forward, pressing his nose to the cold glass. Things were moving about in the water. Maybe they were the seals his dad had told him about. He stared hard, certain they would show themselves again.

  "Chris ..." She breathed a deep, sobbing breath. "Don't stop, don't stop."

  Her fingernails dug shar
ply into the back of his neck; her legs were wrapped tightly around him, her heels forcing themselves into his back in a series of spasms.

  He had never experienced love-making like this before. Her ferocious passion only excited him more. Their bodies clashed together. She held the two of them together, grinding at him. It was as if she were making that desperate bid to force him so deeply into her body that they would permanently merge into one-like two figures made from moist clay, pressed together to be molded into a new form. He panted. He kissed her violently; the salt on her breasts bit into his tongue. There was no seafort now, no sea, no coast, no Manshead, no nation, no world, no universe. Only the two of them, meshing together, joining into a single pounding being. A huge heartbeat thundered in his ears. Faster and faster.

  Now he was no longer conscious of moving his body. He did not own it. It moved faster and faster, like a mechanical hammer, untiring; beating out an ancient rhythm that was as old as life itself.

  An explosion was building in his body. She bit hungrily at his neck. An unearthly sweet pain-he desired it; he wanted it to pierce his body from head to toe. The explosion rose inside him.

  She panted. "Do it. Now ... Break me! Ah!"

  David looked out. There, slap bang in the middle of the causeway, was a-

  He jumped, startled. He'd not expected that. Shocked, he covered his face with his hands. For a moment he thought of calling out. But these days he was trying to be a brave boy.

  Maybe it was ... Maybe it was just a ...

  Slowly, so he could just peep through them, he opened his fingers, bit by bit.

  On the causeway, just beyond the gates, standing as if it were a sunny day in the park, was a man.

  But there was something odd about him.

  He did not move. He had a white face. A very, very white face which had startled David.

  And the man with the white face stared at David in the window.

  Just then he had the strongest feeling that the man wanted David to go to him. It was like being called by your mum or your dad-you just felt you had to do it.

  You must.

  But David wasn't allowed out of the caravan at night on his own. Too dangerous.

  Too scary.

  All alone in the dark.

  But the man wanted him.

  The man did not move. And now the waves were washing around his legs.

  Wasn't he wet?

  But David couldn't see his feet in the water.

  A little boat maybe? A raft?

  He felt alarmed.

  He had a feeling in his stomach. Like when he had the nasty dream about the wormhole under his bed. This was nastier somehow.

  And the man was calling.

  Calling him down.

  Time to go, David.

  Time to see the man on the water.

  His sweat-soaked pajamas were sticking to his skin. They felt cold.

  What was he doing here?

  He looked around him. The sea-fort walls were like cliffs, shooting up into the moonlit sky. Why was he standing in the courtyard in the middle of the night? The cobbles felt cold and gritty under his bare feet. The caravan lay behind him; the door swayed open in the breeze. Why wasn't he back there nice and snug under his quilt?

  Then he remembered. That man had wanted to see him. That was all he knew.

  The man with the hard white face stared. He did not move.

  Even though David was frightened, something inside him wanted to go.

  He had something that David wanted. Just what, he didn't know. But he wanted it so badly now.

  He wanted ...

  Now ... Give it to me!

  I bought it. It is mine!

  David heard his own voice-demanding, demanding, demanding.

  He had nearly reached the gates. One swayed, creaking on its rusty hinges. The breeze was fresher here, the hiss of the surf louder over the causeway.

  The man's white face shone. It shone brighter than something reflecting mere moonlight.

  Would David have to touch that smooth face? Now he could see dark patches where the man's eyes should be.

  I've made the swap. I let my toys get washed away into the sea on purpose. We had a deal. I don't have to give anymore. That's the rule, you don't have to give anymore once you've made the deal. Spit on my palm, shake hands.

  Now the face towered above him. Big and around and white and hard. Like the man in the moon.

  Too soon, David. Too soon.

  David stepped out of the sea-fort and onto the causeway. A wave licked his toes.

  "If we hear it again I'll go see what it is." Chris pulled his wife close. Even though it was dark, somehow he knew she was smiling. She kissed him on the chin.

  "If we don't ..."

  "Then it's the same again for you, my dear."

  He chuckled, feeling deliciously relaxed. The sheets were a tangle beneath them but he couldn't care less.

  "It's nearly two. We'll have to sleep sometime."

  "We will ... Sometime." He ran his fingers down her spine. "Blast," she murmured. "Did you hear it?" "It'll be a seagull."

  "Or a seal. I don't want it raiding the dustbin. I'll just check." She nipped the end of his nose with her teeth. She sat up in bed and raised the curtain. Her sudden yell stabbed his ears. "David!"

  Mark Faust sat on the dunes, watching the sea-fort by moonlight.

  Waves rolled in over the beach in a soft roar. He'd watched them creep over the raised causeway, turning the sea-fort into an island. The sea-fort itself loomed against the moonlit sea like a beached battleship. The breeze ruffled his hair and he shivered slightly, feeling the hairs on his arms rising up on end one by one.

  The sight of the place always did that to him. He remembered the first time he had seen the sea-fort. And he knew what lay just a few hundred yards beyond it in ten fathoms of ocean.

  Through the sea-fort's big double gates he could make out the caravan that the family lived in while they converted the stone heap into a hotel. Jesus ... A hotel ...

  He shook his head.