‘Someone please! Please, help!’
Sadie hauled herself up into a crouch, pressing her hands down into the mud. She ignored the stinging in her palm and the burning in her ankle. Was it Tom? Her first instinct was to go and help, but if they did capture Tom, wouldn’t it be better if she were still free?
Kim saw her waver and tugged at Sadie’s shoulder, holding her back. ‘I don’t wanna get shot Sades, please.’
Then the screaming started. It was a noise neither of the girls had ever heard, or even imagined to exist. It was the sound of someone who no longer feared anything, because the worst was already happening to them.
Before she even thought about it, Sadie was running, ignoring her bad ankle. Kim was behind her. The screaming continued. Sadie’s feet sank in the soft riverbank. Brambles scratched at her shins. The rain made her dress tight and heavy.
Then, up ahead, she saw it. A dark shape behind the spiny branches of the tea tree. The shape shook, flexed and took off uphill, uprooting small trees and shrubs as it ran. Sadie stopped, transfixed, until it disappeared behind the broad trunk of a Karri. Nobody was screaming anymore.
She pressed forward along the bank, edging around the tea tree. That was where they found Vincent. Most of him, anyway. He had been torn open and his insides were strewn upstream. His throat was ragged and bloody and his pale eyes rolled back in his head.
‘What is that?’ Kimberley asked, catching her breath. Realising, she vomited into the river.
The thing had ripped through the hillside. Sadie knew what this meant. The Minotaur was alive. It had followed them here, perhaps swimming upriver from the coast. It was still on the hunt, still tracking that taste of blood from a Cottesloe laneway.
‘It’s coming for Tom,’ she told her retching cousin. ‘Maybe Jake too.’ Her jaw set and her chin rose. ‘We have to warn them.’
19
THE HUMAN DEFENCE LEAGUE
There were three of them, each shouldering a shotgun. The men—boys really—circled the house, looking serious and enjoying it.
Sadie and Kimberley crouched behind the generator shed. The corrugated walls shivered and hummed in tune with the engine; hot, oily air lurked in a dizzying haze.
‘I am totally going to die in this rain,’ Kimberley said. ‘Can’t we just tell them we give in and go home? You know, game over.’
Sadie ignored her. She was wondering how she could cause a distraction and get into the house to stage that impossible rescue. Could she ask Kimberley to run screaming into the bush and hope the guards followed? What about the generator? Could she blow it up somehow?
Yeah, right. Sadie Miller: explosives expert.
Shaking her head at herself, Sadie glanced towards Tom’s abandoned 4WD. Something moved behind the backseat. A dark head appeared in the tinted glass, then disappeared again. Heather. She was lying down when they were forced out of the car and, it seemed, she had stayed put.
‘No way,’ Kimberley whispered. ‘That is so typical. We’ve been getting killed and chased and drowned and she’s just been lying around listening to music.’
‘Wait here,’ Sadie said.
It was only a few metres from the edge of the bush to the car, and Sadie was willing to chance it. She already had a plan. Well, half a plan, but it was a start. She waited for one of the men to pass the fender and then darted to the left rear wheel. She figured she had about thirty seconds before she was in clear view. Reaching up, she popped open the rear door and jumped in to lie across the back seat. The door clicked shut behind her.
‘Heather,’ she whispered, ‘it’s Sadie. Don’t move.’
‘Sadie?’
‘I did just say it was me.’
‘I had to pee in a Coke bottle.’
‘Okay…’
‘And my iPod’s out of batteries.’
‘Heather, shush. You’ve had driving lessons, yeah?’
‘Dad banned me. I reversed into a phone box.’
It took a minute for Sadie to explain her plan. Actually, it took about ten seconds, but convincing Heather took a lot longer. Closing the door behind her, Sadie dropped down to the mud. She watched one of the men disappear around the side of the house, checked she was alone in the clearing, and ran back to Kim.
‘Okay,’ Sadie said, squatting down beside her cousin. ‘I think I’ve got it sussed.’
Kim said nothing. Her eyes were wide and she was trembling.
Sadie felt something hard bite into her shoulder. She heard the shotgun click.
‘On your feet,’ Jason hissed, then he whistled sharply and shouted towards the house: ‘I’ve got two of them here!’
They had all been pretty nice about it, Tom thought. There was friendly banter as they were led into the cool mansion, and a dumpy woman in a paisley dress had offered him and Jake tea. Tom had looked at Jake, unsure if taking tea was the sort of thing you did when someone had a gun pointed at you. Jake nodded.
Alan sat in the corner of the large kitchen, with the shotgun on his lap. Whenever Tom glanced at him, he smiled, so Tom stopped glancing. Jake didn’t look at anyone.
There were at least twenty people in the place. It was two in the morning but new smiling faces kept appearing in the kitchen doorway. Everyone seemed excited to see them. Small clusters of pyjama-clad children gathered and waved and were shooed away by the woman with the teapot.
According to the clock above the stove, it was about two fifteen when a grey-haired bloke in a short-sleeved white shirt came in and sat at the kitchen table. No, that wasn’t quite what he did. First he got down on both knees and bowed to Jake.
‘We are truly blessed,’ he said, as the woman poured everyone another mug of tea. Jake didn’t say anything.
There was something familiar about this new bloke, Tom thought. He was probably in his seventies, but he had kept himself fit. He moved with the confidence of a wealthy man and spoke like Tom’s dad, sure everyone was interested and not caring if they weren’t.
‘My name is Steve Cooper. I’m the founder of our little society here. We’ve been waiting for you.’
Steve Cooper. The name was familiar too.
Jake sat back in his chair, folding his arms. ‘You have something of mine,’ he said.
‘That’s right. We hoped it would bring you to us.’
‘Me?’
‘You or someone like you. You see, Lord—’
Jake twitched. ‘Don’t call me that.’
‘Sir, then.’
‘Call me Jake.’
‘Jake.’ Steve seemed disappointed, but only for a second. ‘You see, Jake, in 1964, I wrote a book called Gods & Monsters. Perhaps you’ve read it? At the time, I considered it a work of fiction. Science fiction, to be exact. The premise was that Gods had once walked the Earth, but humanity had done something to anger them. I won’t spoil the ending for you.’ He smiled, revealing good teeth. ‘Now, when the Gods left us to our own devices, they left behind a few guardians. Ambassadors, if you like. Does this sound familiar?’
Jake shook his head. ‘I don’t read modern fiction.’
‘You’re Stephen Cooper,’ Tom said. ‘I read those horror books of yours when I was a kid. Skinpricklers.’
Steve nodded graciously. ‘Always good to meet a fan.’
Tom didn’t say what else he now remembered. The stories from school, that Stephen Cooper had gone crazy and started his own cult. Stories that now appeared to be true. The author’s smile was friendly enough, but his eyes were steady and intense. He didn’t seem to blink.
‘Strange as it might seem, I always thought of the book as mere fantasy. I didn’t realise until years later that it was a gift. The Gods speak through me.’
Yeah, Tom thought, stone cold crazy.
‘At first there were just a few letters
. People from all over the world, saying they’d had the same dreams. Of course, I dismissed them as delusional. But then people started to come to me. A man travelled all the way from Miami to tell me he’d met a demi-god, living in a motel. To my shame, I called the police. Then six months later, a woman appeared on my doorstep. She was an archaeologist from a Greek university. She told me about the Minoans, an ancient civilisation swallowed by the sea. That was when I stopped doubting. I’d never been religious, but this wasn’t faith, this was proof. Proof that Gods had once moved among us, that they would come back, and that we were all in danger.’
Tom looked at Jake, wondering how seriously he should be taking this. Jake sipped his tea.
‘More and more people came to me,’ Steve continued. ‘By the 1990s, we had the funds to buy this place, to establish a refuge from the end days. We even thought of a name for ourselves—the Human Defence League. Then, just months ago, a man called Vincent approached me. He’d read my book. He said that the final battle was coming. But there was more. An ambassador from the Gods, one of the Old Ones, was still alive. More than that, he was actually living in Perth. Can you imagine our excitement? This was our chance.’
Steve paused, expectant. Jake gave nothing away. Tom felt obliged to say something.
‘Uh, your chance?’
Steve turned back to Jake. ‘Is he one of your acolytes?’
‘I don’t have acolytes,’ Jake said.
‘We are all your acolytes,’ Steve assured him. ‘That’s why we knew we had to make contact. I knew that, if we went to you, you would turn us away. But Vincent said he had something in his possession—the box of fire—that would bring you to us. It looks like he was right.’
‘Vincent’s never been right,’ Jake muttered. ‘So, I’m here. What do you want me to do for you?’
The question seemed to surprise everyone in the room. The children at the door giggled and the woman with the teapot smiled down into her apron.
‘I think you have things the wrong way round,’ Steve said. ‘It’s more about what we want to do for you. We will worship you. Worship you and your masters.’
‘Why would you want to do that?’
‘To prove our loyalty. To show the Gods we haven’t forgotten them. To beg for mercy.’
Jake nodded and jumped to his feet. ‘Understood. Give me the box and I’ll put in a good word.’
Steve stayed sitting. Alan clutched his shotgun.
‘We can’t let you go, not just like that. You see, Jake, we’ve done our research. We know the rituals of devotion, the ceremonies.’
‘Good for you. But I’m afraid I’m on a tight schedule.’
‘Unfortunately, I insist,’ Steve said. ‘You can have the box, but first we will prove our devotion to you. With worship. And with blood.’
Everyone in the room was suddenly looking at Tom.
‘Don’t be an idiot,’ Jake said. His cheeks were pale.
Steve pushed back his chair. ‘The Gods demand a sacrifice.’
They were taken through to a large hall in the centre of the mansion. Tom was put on a chair. A long rope was tied in a noose around his neck, and work began to tie it to an overhead rafter. Women and children, young men and old, gawped down from first-floor walkways. Part of Tom thought they should be wearing something religious, instead of T-shirts and jeans. Most of him just thought help.
Jake had been bound to a stone pillar with another length of rope. It had taken six of the larger men to hold him down. He now glared silently at Steve, as the old man came down a set of stairs, carrying a battered wooden casket before him. It was little bigger than a jewellery box. Any sharp edges it once had were worn to soft curves. The lid was fastened shut but there was no sign of a latch or keyhole. Tom guessed this was the relic. Jake never once took his eyes from it.
Steve laid the box in the centre of some circular chalk patterns on the slate floor. Then he stepped back from it, with care.
‘Some of us say the box speaks to them,’ Steve said to Jake. ‘In their heads, a quiet voice. Trying to make deals, trying to persuade them to open it.’
‘You won’t be able to,’ Jake snapped. ‘I’m the only one who can open it.’
‘I imagine it plays some part in the final battle?’
‘It started it.’
‘Fascinating. Honestly, the way you said that just then made my spine tingle. To think I was holding something so old, something part of the very fabric of history, past, present and future.’
‘For the last time, this ceremony is pointless,’ Jake told him. ‘The Gods don’t care. They’ve gone and, if you’re very lucky, they’ll never come back.’
‘No Jake. They’re already coming back to us. You can feel them, can’t you? Moving through the night sky, towards us. Ready for battle.’
The rope around Tom’s neck tightened. Panic rose in his gut. This couldn’t be happening. He looked at Jake, waiting for him to do something. Right now, he trusted no one else to do it.
‘When the sacrifice is kicking, we will slit his throat and collect his blood. It shall stand in tribute to our returning masters, proof of our loyalty. You will represent them, bear witness.’
The doors to the hall burst open then and two sunburned men dragged in Sadie and Kimberley. Seeing Tom, Sadie’s eyes widened in horror, but she made the effort to joke.
‘Why are you standing up there?’
‘I’m being sacrificed. To the Gods.’
Sadie’s smile wavered, but only just. ‘Is this what boys do, when you’re left on your own?’ She nodded at Jake. ‘Hey, you remember the you-know-what from the hospital?’
‘Of course.’
‘Cool, because it’s here. It killed Vincent. Well, sort of ate him, really.’
‘It was totally gross,’ Kimberley added. ‘I spewed. Seriously. Big chunks.’
Steve ignored this intrusion. He laid a curved steel blade on a small wooden altar, beside a silver goblet. Then he glanced at the new arrivals. ‘Get those kids out of the way.’
As Sadie and Kimberley were dragged off, Steve kneeled down before the altar and kissed the blade. He murmured some words that nobody else heard. Then he stood and strode across to Tom.
‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘Humanity will survive, because of your sacrifice.’
‘Uh, Jake did say the Gods weren’t watching,’ Tom said quickly. He could barely speak. His throat was tight and his tongue was dry. Sweat stung his eyes. This was really happening. He looked across, with new desperation, at the bound boy across from him. ‘And, uh, Jake does kind of know what he’s talking about.’
‘Wait!’ Sadie ripped her arm free and made a break for Steve. Jason snatched at her hair and yanked her back into him. She bellowed with pain and frustration.
‘Thank you,’ Steve said again and bowed his head. Then he kicked Tom’s chair out from beneath him.
20
EVERYONE DIES
Tom writhed and choked at the end of the rope. His fingers clawed at the noose. Steve knelt down before his altar, stretched his arms out and began chanting. The words were low and round, as if especially crafted for echoing about the hall.
Jake was straining at his bonds. His veins pulsed in his temple.
‘Cut him down!’ he barked.
The chanting continued. Murmured echoes descended from the overhead walkways. Children poked their excited faces through the banisters. Women put out their palms as if checking for rain, and raised their eyes to the ceiling.
Sadie howled. It was a noise she’d never heard before. A noise she’d never imagined she could make. Tom’s head was full of blood, his eyes were aflame. Her best friend was choking to death. Tom. Dying.
She looked to Jake. He was doing everything he could to free himself. She had to do something.
Sadie kicked out backwards at Jason’s shins. He didn’t buckle; his fingers dug into her upper arms. Sadie pulled forward and he simply snatched her back.
‘Soon as this is done, I’m gonna make you regret that,’ he snarled in her ear.
‘Let me go!’ Sadie shouted.
And then Jason gurgled, as if washing his mouth out. He rose in the air and flew over Sadie’s head, into the centre of the gathering. He landed hard on the slate by Tom’s overturned chair and put a hand to his shirtfront. He seemed astonished when it came away covered in blood.
The chanting stopped.
Kimberley screamed.
Sadie turned. Behind her, the Minotaur roared, lifting its scarred muzzle to the ceiling. It was even taller than she’d remembered, and it stank of sweat and seaweed and rotting meat. Its right horn glistened to the hilt with bright red blood.
‘A demon!’
Steve had been lost to a moment’s terror. Now, he was returning to the altar.
‘It comes from the underworld, to test our loyalty to the true Gods.’ He snapped his fingers at Alan, whose startled hands fumbled his shotgun. ‘Kill it!’
Sadie ignored the beast, snatching up Jason’s fallen gun. Shoving it in her armpit, she saw Kimberley shivering on the tiles, transfixed by the Minotaur.
‘Kim?’
‘It’s a monster,’ Kim said, her jaw slack. ‘A cow monster.’
‘Get out of here, Kim. Run. We’ll meet you in the car.’
Kimberley nodded, slowly, never taking her eyes off the creature. Sadie hurried over to Jake and untied his knots.
‘You were a soldier,’ she said. ‘You can fire a gun, can’t you?’
The rope came loose from Jake’s wrist. He grabbed the shotgun from Sadie, pointed it towards the rafter above Tom and pulled the trigger. The report was deafening. Sadie squeaked. The rope snapped at the rafter and Tom fell to the floor. He lay still on the slate, his blue lips pursed.
It’s too late, Sadie thought He’s dead.
Fire in the Sea Page 15
