Altitude

by Niel Bushnell

  Bet she’s going to see Long Bone, Becca thought as she sprinted after Tam. What does she have that I don’t? What’s so special about her?

  Everything had changed in the last few weeks since bloody Long Bone had started talking to Tam. Tam didn’t call any more, they barely talked at all, and as Becca felt her friend slipping away from her, it terrified her. Without Tam the world felt vast and hostile. She was losing the shelter of her closest friend. Being alone was too much to bear.

  Tam was running too fast now for Becca to keep up. She turned another corner and was gone. Becca stopped, catching her breath. Christ, Tam was fast! She leaned over, spitting phlegm onto the pavement, wiping her chin.

  She straightened again, thinking about giving up and returning home, when she spotted movement at the edge of the wood, just beyond a metal fence. There, in the long grass, was Tam, getting up and disappearing into the trees.

  What the hell was she doing? Tam never went into the wood.

  Becca edged closer. Her top clung to her back, sweaty and uncomfortable. She squeezed through the gap in the metal fence and stopped just inside, staring at the entrance to the wood. The little path disappeared between the trees. Inside was dark and hidden. There was no sign of Tam. Becca hesitated, feeling scared, not understanding why, then forced herself to enter the shadowy opening.

  She hated it here, full of flies and slugs and rotten things. But she welcomed the cooler air as she ventured deeper into the wood. Maybe it wasn’t so bad in here after all. Then the damp smell of piss caught her nose and she coughed, disgusted. Someone should burn this dump to the ground.

  She’d lost sight of Tam again. Becca swore to herself as she padded along the hard earth path. Either side, branches clawed at her, slowing her down.

  She stopped to check her phone but there was no signal here. It was like somewhere out of the last century. Reluctantly Becca continued, curiosity overcoming her desire to get out of this place. She followed the path, listening, watching, hoping to spot Tam somewhere ahead of her. A flash of colour caught her attention, an unnatural blue in a clearing just ahead.

  Becca slowed, watching Tam, not too far away. What the hell was she doing? Her friend was stood still, her eyes closed, her arms outstretched to her sides.

  She was about to call to her when something happened that made Becca gasp; Tam floated just above the soil, like something out of a horror movie. The vision of her friend lifting into the air terrified her, choking her scream to nothing. Shocked, Becca fell backwards, scratching her shoulders against the hard bark of a tree. She ignored the flash of pain as she watched Tam’s body rising towards the trees like she was possessed. She felt she was a witness to something demonic and evil.

  Instinctively she reached for her phone, her hands shaking, and she began to record what she saw.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  After an avalanche of ignored text messages and calls Becca had finally given in. The silence was even more unnerving than the constant cries for attention.

  Tam thought about calling her, or sending her a text, but the longer she left it the harder it got. It had been days now. Too long. She stared at her phone, wondering what to do.

  ‘Everything OK?’ Mum asked.

  Tam glanced up, pulling herself out of her daydream. ‘Yes.’

  The noises of the hospital invaded her mind: beeping machines, half-heard conversations between patients and their visitors, a phone ringing down the corridor. She looked up and saw Dad propped up in bed, wires feeding into his arms. He was asleep, snoring gently. What was the point in visiting if he was just going to sleep all the time?

  ‘Can’t you just put your phone down for five minutes?’ Mum moaned.

  Tam glared at her then put it in her pocket. She looked out of the windows, letting her eyes trace the contours of the landscape. In the distance she could see the green of the wood, tempting her to visit. She hadn’t been there for the last three days. It wasn’t the same without Abigail. She still hadn’t heard from her, and Tam didn’t want to go back without her.

  She was aware of Mum sighing. Tam turned to face her. ‘What?’

  ‘We could chat,’ Mum said, grumbling.

  ‘What about?’

  ‘I don’t know. Anything.’

  ‘OK.’

  Mum sighed again and shook her head. ‘You’re in your own little world lately.’

  ‘I’m not,’ Tam protested feebly, knowing Mum was right.

  Mum inched closer, whispering through her teeth, ‘I’ve had to drag you here to see your dad. Anyone would think you didn’t want to see him.’

  ‘That’s not fair.’

  ‘Isn’t it? Do you want to be here, Tam?’

  No, she didn’t. Her eyes moistened and she looked down.

  Mum put a hand on her knee, squeezing it twice. ‘This is hard for all of us . . . but it’ll be easier if we can get through it together.’

  Tam glanced up; Mum was smiling, trying to look positive, but her eyes were teary as well.

  ‘Do me a favour,’ Mum said. ‘Go get some chocolate for us to share. We can eat it before your dad wakes up. He doesn’t need to know.’ She found some money in her purse and gave it to Tam.

  Tam took the coins, feeling like a stupid little kid. Still, at least it was better than sitting here and feeling uncomfortable. She took her time walking to the lifts, looking in at the beds of each ward as she passed. The hospital was busy at this time of day, full of chat and laughter, but even now it seemed grim and depressing. What must it be like in the middle of the night?

  The lift doors opened with a judder and Tam entered. Visitors crammed in to fill the space around her, cocooning her from the rest of the world. The lift descended, rattling as it went, until the doors pinged open again. The other visitors filed out, leaving Tam alone.

  ‘Going up?’ an old man asked her from outside the lift.

  ‘No,’ Tam replied, stepping out of his way.

  She walked towards the entrance and the little newsagents she’d passed on the way in. The breeze of fresh air lured her outside. She rested there in the glare of the afternoon sun, watching the smokers just ahead of her. An elderly woman in a nightdress sat on a bench. In one hand was a metal pole supporting a drip-fed bag of fluid; in the other was her lit cigarette. She seemed content, puffing smoke into the air, coughing intermittently, letting the sun warm her face. Tam smiled to herself, then turned towards the newsagents.

  The little shop was busy with customers filling the narrow space. She edged towards the counter, looking at the rack of chocolate. She picked up a bar of Galaxy – she knew Mum liked that – and joined the queue at the counter. As she waited, her mind adrift, something caught her attention. On the counter was the local newspaper, the Herald. She didn’t bother much with newspapers – she’d never seen the point of them – but something on the front page drew her towards it.

  The main headline was about a town councillor accused of child abuse, but beside it was a small banner that read: Flying girl? Pictures inside.

  Tam’s stomach turned over. She snatched the newspaper and flicked through it to page eight. Spread over most of the page was a series of photos, six in all, showing the dark shape of a girl flying up through the trees. Tam’s heart pounded: it was her. Someone had taken pictures of her flying in the wood. The images were blurred and distant, and her face was just a blob of dark colour, but Tam knew it was her. She could barely focus on the article below, her hands shaking.

  ‘Are you buying that?’ the man behind the counter asked in a gruff voice.

  Tam nodded quickly, putting the paper down as she rummaged in her pocket for enough money. She dropped the coins on the counter and grabbed the newspaper, rushing towards the door.

  TWENTY-NINE

  Abigail sat in the counsellor’s waiting room with her mum, going over in her head what they might say in today’s session. She’d had her doubts about doing this but things did seem to be getting better. This whole mess had brought them clo
ser than they had been for years. Her mum seemed more confident, although she still had bad days and she drank too much. That was Aunty Cath’s fault, keeping her up till all hours talking, laughing and drinking. Still, at least the talking was helping, and maybe the drinking was as well. One problem at a time, Abigail thought.

  Mum was looking at her phone, distracting herself with Facebook. From time to time she’d show Abigail a picture or a comment that amused her, or shocked her, or annoyed her. Abigail listened, nodded and smiled.

  In front of her was a low table with a selection of magazines. There was nothing there that Abigail wanted to read so she leaned back, resting her head against the wall and closed her eyes.

  She pictured herself in the wood, alone at first, and then with Tam. The image made her happy and she looked forward to collecting her phone from the shop later. Her mum liked to treat her after the sessions. Usually it was a coffee and cake, or clothes shopping. Today they’d get her phone back and Abigail could connect with Tam again. It had been only a few days but it felt like for ever. At least her mum hadn’t been too angry about her getting it wet in the wood. One advantage of parents breaking up.

  The blinds at the open window rattled as someone moved through the waiting room, distracting Abigail from her thoughts, and she opened her eyes. Her mum was watching her, smiling. She blushed slightly, embarrassed.

  ‘What?’ Abigail asked with a nervous grin.

  ‘Sorry, I was just looking at you,’ her mum said.

  ‘I know that. What for?’

  ‘Just because.’ Her mum chuckled and looked down at her phone.

  Abigail rolled her eyes, then looked back at the table in front of her. There was something new there: the local newspaper. She picked it up, wondering who at the newspaper would be best to contact about her plan to save the wood. Then she gasped as she read the front page, her spine tingling.

  Her mum looked up. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘This town councillor,’ Abigail bluffed, gesturing to the main headline. ‘Disgusting.’

  Her mum tutted her agreement, then returned to her phone.

  Abigail swallowed. Her throat had gone dry. She turned the paper away from her mum and opened it on page eight. Six photographs showed a girl flying in the air.

  Tam. It had to be Tam. Abigail felt sick. She read the article twice, trying to take it in. But it was no good, none of this made sense. Tam had told her she wasn’t going to fly again. But these pictures . . .

  She had to talk to Tam.

  THIRTY

  Becca waited in the front room for the newspaper boy to deliver the paper. It would be in tonight’s edition, she was sure. But she’d told herself that yesterday as well. Maybe it wouldn’t be in, maybe they wouldn’t bother using her pictures at all, maybe they’d just decide it was a stupid story and not bother with it. But the journalist had emailed to say they would print it. It had to be in tonight.

  Anticipation rattled through her, making her leg shake. She was excited, but she couldn’t tell if that was good or not. Part of her thought this was a great idea, a way to get Tam talking to her again. She’d be glad of the publicity, she’d be famous and Becca would be there to share in it. She would be the one who told the world about the girl who could fly. But part of her was less certain. There was a nagging voice inside of her, small but growing, that thought this might be a mistake, that maybe Tam wouldn’t want all the attention. Still, she hadn’t mentioned her name, so what harm could come of it?

  Even so, there was another part of her that wanted Tam to be discovered. What Becca had seen had terrified her, a sickly unnatural image that festered in her mind. Tam wasn’t normal, not any more. Everything was different now. Maybe the only way back was for Tam to be discovered, for her identity to be known. Then maybe she and Becca could go back to being friends again, without Long Bone. Like they used to be.

  A dark shape passed by the window and Becca jumped up from her seat to see who it was. It was the paperboy. Becca’s stomach tensed as he opened the gate and walked up the short path to the door. She rushed to meet him, pulling at the paper as it appeared through the letter box.

  Becca took a breath, opening the folded paper to see the newspaper properly.

  There it was! On the front page.

  Becca felt herself blush. She took the paper to the room and sat down, turned to page eight and slowly read the article.

  THIRTY-ONE

  As soon as Abigail collected her repaired phone and they were sat down in the coffee bar, she switched it on and saw the multitude of messages and calls from Tam.

  She sent off a quick text immediately:

  Just got messages, sorry phone’s been broken. Saw the paper!! Am with Mum, will call ASAP x

  Abigail waited patiently, thinking how she could get away. She hid her frustration behind a fixed smile while her mum sipped on her coffee.

  ‘You must have been thirsty,’ her mum noted, glancing at her empty glass.

  ‘I suppose so,’ Abigail replied.

  ‘You want another?’

  Abigail shook her head urgently. ‘No, no, I’m fine.’

  Her mum returned to her coffee. Behind her a man sat reading the paper. That article was following her.

  ‘I thought that went well today,’ her mum said as she dabbed her mouth with a napkin.

  Abigail smiled. ‘Yeah, me too.’ She glanced back at the newspaper.

  Her mum leaned in closer, breaking Abigail’s line of sight. ‘You seem a bit . . . distracted. Everything OK?’

  Abigail smiled reassuringly. ‘No, I’m fine, Mum, just a bit tired, I suppose.’

  Her mum nodded, finishing her coffee. ‘Let’s get you home then.’

  ‘OK.’ Abigail stood immediately.

  ‘Just nip to the loo first. Won’t be long,’ her mum said as she tidied the table, clearing away their dishes.

  ‘Leave them, Mum, I’ll do it.’ Abigail took the cups from her mum’s hands.

  ‘All right,’ her mum smiled, turning to find the toilets.

  Abigail waited until her mum was out of sight, then she grabbed her phone from her pocket and dialled Tam’s number.

  Almost immediately Tam answered. ‘Have you seen it?’ she asked, her voice a desperate-sounding whisper.

  ‘Yes. What happened?’ Abigail replied. ‘You went flying again?’ Her voice broke for a moment. ‘You said you wouldn’t. Not without me.’

  The line went quiet, just the sound of Tam’s empty breaths.

  ‘You still there, Tam?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Tam . . . who took the pictures?’

  ‘I don’t know, I really don’t know,’ Tam blurted out. ‘Christ, I’m sorry, but you didn’t call me back . . . and then I just went there the other day and it sort of . . . happened. Now I don’t know what to do. What should I do?’

  Abigail glanced at the toilets door. ‘Just stay calm and—’

  ‘Stay calm?’ Tam laughed angrily. ‘Easy for you to say! You’re not the one in the newspaper, flying.’ She sounded like she was crying.

  ‘Look, the article doesn’t mention your name, and the pictures are really bad. You can’t tell who it is. Just keep quiet and act normal and no one will know.’

  ‘But it’s obviously me. You can see my clothes and my hair.’

  ‘Really, you can’t tell,’ Abigail soothed. ‘It’s just one of those silly stories newspapers run from time to time. It’ll be forgotten about tomorrow. Besides, it looks fake to me. I bet it’s Photoshopped.’

  Tam sighed. ‘You’re not funny, Abigail.’

  ‘But that’s what people will think, won’t they? They’ll think it’s a hoax. No one can fly, remember.’

  Tam paused, then said, ‘I suppose.’

  ‘Good. So just stay away from the wood for a while until it all blows over and you’ll be fine.’

  ‘God, I don’t know, I just don’t know.’ Tam’s voice was calmer now, but the sense of fear remained.

  The toi
lets door opened and Abigail’s mum reappeared. ‘Look, I’ve got to go but I’ll call you tomorrow, OK?’ Abigail said quickly. ‘Maybe we can meet and talk it over.’

  ‘OK, yeah.’

  ‘Tam, just remember, it’s only a stupid little local newspaper.’

  THIRTY-TWO

  Tam woke early for once. Since school had ended she hadn’t bothered with her alarm. Every new day started a bit later than the last. She couldn’t remember the last time she was up before ten. But today she’d woken just after seven and dragged herself downstairs.

  ‘Blimey,’ Mum laughed as Tam entered the kitchen. ‘What’s up with you?’

  ‘Nothing,’ Tam muttered. She opened the fridge and drank milk from the bottle.

  ‘Get a glass.’

  Tam wiped the lid of the bottle and put it back in the fridge.

  ‘There’s a few jobs I need doing today, love. I’ve left you a note by the kettle,’ Mum said as she collected her bag and keys. She grabbed a half-eaten slice of toast and walked towards the door. She opened it, about to leave, then stopped and looked back at Tam. ‘Is everything all right?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Tam said coolly.

  Mum sighed, standing there, thinking. Eventually she replied, ‘OK, but call me if you need anything. I’m going straight to see your dad after work so I’ll be in late.’

  ‘How is he?’

  ‘The same. Bit of a restless night.’

  Tam nodded, both of them waiting.

  ‘Right then,’ Mum announced. ‘See you.’ She closed the door and the house fell silent.

  Tam went to the living room, switched on the TV and collapsed onto the sofa. She checked her phone, scrolling through the never-ending status updates. Becca had been quiet for the last few days, and that made Tam nervous. She put her phone down and closed her eyes, letting the noise of the television waft over her.

  ‘. . . seems we have our very own British Supergirl flying over the town of Pondsdon.’