by Tim Flanagan
The path wound through dense old woodland. The trees on either side were tall and blocked out a lot of the light from the sky, preventing them from being able to tell if day had turned into night. They all grabbed a fallen branch or stick, knowing that they might need a weapon for protection.
The woodland was eerily quiet. No birds made a sound; no insects foraged amongst the fallen leaves. They felt tense as they crept along the path, not wanting to betray their presence by talking. They were twitchy and nervous, constantly checking behind them, as well as scrutinizing the shadows amongst the branches of the trees for signs they were being hunted.
Eventually the dense covering of trees began to thin as they approached a small clearing. Other trees had been pushed aside to give one tree a greater prominence and presence.
'Wow,' said Peter. 'I've never seen a tree so wide!'
They stood and stared at a tree that wasn’t as tall as those behind it, but the impressive thing about it was the sheer width of the trunk, wider than any they had ever seen before. Old, gnarled and covered in grey-green moss - this was the Druid's Oak. It looked like a giant foot of an elephant, lined and ridged, but solid and unmoving. Seeing the size of the tree for themselves, they could understand why the roots of the Druid's Oak could stretch so far beneath the ground.
Peter sensed something behind them. He turned and saw what the others could not. Glittering between two ash trees, as if it had been caught and stretched between their twisted branches, was another portal to the Underworld.
'At least you wont have far to get back to your own world,' he informed Lady Flora. 'There's a portal between those two trees.'
'Then I hope we succeed,' she replied.
Stepping off the path she trod carefully between the cowslips and ferns towards the thick twisted bark of the oak. She placed her hand on the old tree and listened.
'It is old and frail. There is not much life left in it,' she reported to the other two.
'Will nature be strong enough to fight and succeed?' asked Scarlet as she placed a hand on the dry bark too. She could hear nothing more than a faint noise, like the wheezing of an old man in a deep sleep.
Peter stood beside Lady Flora. He placed a hand on the tree in the same way as the other two, but felt and heard nothing, so removed it immediately. He nervously looked into the sky desperately, hoping not to spot a creature.
'Do that again,' Lady Flora said to Peter.
'But nothing happened, I didn’t hear anything,' he said.
'On your touch it was like opening a door to a room full of people all talking at the same time. Your ability to see portals also helps to open the gates of long forgotten and even longer used paths between these great and ancient plants. Please, I need you to touch the tree again so that I can talk through it.'
Peter nodded and placed two hands firmly on the tree trunk once more. Again he couldn’t hear anything, but he watched the facial expression of Lady Flora. Her mind flashed at lightening speed through the vast tubes within the tree trunk, narrowing as she dived deeper and deeper into the earth, until she burst into a hundred million separate sparks of electricity that travelled along the fine root system miles beneath the surface. Each spark fluttered into the joining roots of other plants, gathering information and inciting support. The strain on Lady Flora immediately began to tell. The colour of her skin began to fade and turn grey.
There was a rustling sound amongst the leaves of one of the neighbouring trees. In a world of silence, any sound was enough to cause the hairs on the back of Scarlet and Peter's necks to stand on end. They both turned in unison and stared up at a large shadow partially hidden amongst the branches at the top of a Beech tree.
Scarlet grabbed a large thick branch and held it in front of her. 'We have to protect Lady Flora whilst she wakes the trees up.'
Peter nodded and grabbed his stick too.
The shadow pulled itself through a gap in the branches and stared down at the humans. In the diminishing light, the single white eye glowed brightly back at them. The creature chirped playfully then leapt out of the tree towards the children. It swooped down, arching the leathery wings and thrusting its hooked feet forward ready to sink them into its prey. The two children stood their ground and waited for the creature to approach, then swung their sticks in a frenzy trying desperately to strike the creature.
It turned tightly in the small clearing and gained some height in the sky. Using its speed together with gravity, the creature dived towards them once again, ready to attack. Peter jumped out of the way, but Scarlet swung her thick branch at the creature, glancing its side slightly and knocking it off target.
An ear piercing scream cut through the night air. The creature took a few seconds to regain control of its flight but once it had it turned, ready for a third attempt. The activity and noise had attracted attention from other creatures. The tree tops around them had become alive with numerous chirping sounds and screams. An immeasurable number of black bodies seemed to dirty and darken the green canopy of the woodland, with every eye trained on the humans.
The children looked desperately in every direction.
They were surrounded.
Everywhere they looked the trees shook with excitement as the creatures anticipated the imminent kill. At its third attempt, the creature dodged the children's sticks, but managed to grasp one in its claws, which it dropped as it circled round once more.
A glow on the horizon drew Scarlet and Peter's attention.
Somewhere in the distance a white glow raced across the sky towards them. As soon as they had seen it, the light had sped past them, onwards to other parts of the sky.
'The light of the White Knight,' muttered Scarlet.
'He has done it,' said Lady Flora as she let go of the tree. She looked pale and drained as if she had aged many years during the short time they had been there.
'Then let's call on nature to fight back,' said Scarlet.
Lady Flora kissed Scarlet on the forehead. 'I never realised the ancient network would be so weak. It has been asleep for such a long time that it is difficult to wake up. I must become part of the network, merge with it totally and live within every cell, leaf and branch that is part of it; otherwise the plan will not work. Help me into that crevice where I can sit amongst the Druid's Oak.'
Scarlet didn’t quite understand what she meant, but she held Lady Flora's hand, making her steady as she placed the toe of her shoe into a deep crack in the oak's bark and lifted herself to sit in the tree.
Overhead another wave of white light rippled across the sky. The creatures had taken flight from the trees and were trying to outrun the light, no longer interested in the humans. They seemed to be flying erratically and disorganised, some of the creatures would clash in mid air with their siblings and fall in a tangle of wings and claws to the ground.
Lady Flora positioned herself in the junction of the Druid's Oak where the trunk split. The green robe that covered her body seemed to merge with the green moss of the tree. She joined her hands together as if in prayer, placed them against the tree trunk then rested her face against them using them like a pillow.
'Make the future better by not forgetting the ways of the past,' Lady Flora said to Scarlet as she closed her eyes. For a moment it looked as if Lady Flora was just sleeping amongst the tree, but as Scarlet and Peter watched, her robe began to stiffen and dry, her skin paled further into grey and the tree claimed her body as part of itself.
Instantly the world changed.
The plants seemed to shine brighter and stand taller than they had before. A breeze blew through the trees at Burnham Beeches that sounded like a deep sigh of the world waking up. The creatures that were trying to outrun the light were shaken from the tops of the trees, smothered in hawthorn bushes and swallowed into the ground.
The woodland was alive and fighting back.
Scarlet and Peter watched as, with every pulse of light, the creatures began to vanish from the planet.
Sc
arlet looked up to the crevice in the tree. She was sure that she could still see the outline of Lady Flora, but it faded with every moment. She placed a hand gently on the bark of the Druid's Oak and listened. She could hear millions of voices all talking at the same time, and every one she recognised.
34. The Final Showdown
‘Shoot through the glass and aim at the guards as soon as they stand up to fire,' Tracker instructed Steven. 'That will give our friends in the corridor a chance to move forward and take advantage. The two guards that are reloading can quickly be overcome.’
Steven nodded.
They stepped back from the glass window and took aim at the two people that were currently crouched down loading their guns. As soon as they stood that would be the cue for them to fire whilst the other two would momentarily have empty guns.
They waited.
The guard's guns released more their bullets into the corridor. Every shot was agony for Steven and Tracker as they realised it might have killed another survivor. As bullets from the few armed survivors lodged themselves into the bookshelf in front of the guards, large splinters split from the wood. As soon as their cartridges were empty, the guards crouched down beneath the furniture whilst the other two jumped up ready to continue the defence of the room.
‘Now,’ Tracker whispered.
As soon as he said the word, they both pulled their triggers and two bullets span along the long barrels of their rifles and cut through the night air. As soon as their metal tips struck the glass panels of the doors they shattered into a million pieces, but did nothing to reduce their momentum as they continued into the Council Room. Although the guards registered the shattering of glass, they had no time to react. As one of the bullets struck a guard he was thrown forward, the bullet lodging itself into his shoulder. As he fell forward a shard of wood that had splintered from the book shelf slid effortlessly into his throat. The second bullet struck the other guard in the thigh, instantly causing him to collapse to the floor. He dropped his gun and clutched at his leg.
Wanda and the other remaining guard suddenly panicked. They had never considered an attack could come from behind them. They both fumbled desperately with bullets and magazine cartridges trying to push them into their guns as fast as they could.
Tracker kicked what remained of the external doors into the room causing them to slam against the internal walls shattering what little glass remained inside their frames. Both Tracker’s and Steven’s guns were aimed at Wanda and the other guard who, knowing they could not fight back, put their guns on the floor and raised their hands in surrender.
Cautiously some of the survivors began to creep along the corridor towards the double doors. A pool of sticky blood was accumulating around the slumped body of the guard that fell onto the splintered wood. The survivors with guns moved forward and also pointed them at the two unarmed guards. Some climbed over the bookshelf, searched the guards and removed any other weapons they had.
‘Where's the American?’ Tracker asked Wanda as she was pushed into a chair.
‘He’s not here,’ she replied with a look of disgust on her face. She examined the features on Tracker's face and slowly they began to register some recognition in her memory. ‘I know you from somewhere.’
Steven walked around the room. He stood next to a highly polished dining table where the occupants had been eating. ‘He was here,’ Steven shouted to Tracker. ‘Six plates of food, but only five people. But where could he have gone?’
‘You should be dead,’ spat Wanda. ‘We left you and your friends out for the creatures! How…?’
‘Your leader hasn’t told you everything. There are ways to survive alongside the creatures.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘This is not the only community of survivors,’ explained Tracker. ‘There is another that we know of where everyone is free, safe from the creatures and growing. You and everyone else here are just part of the American’s plan for control.’
Steven looked around the room. Access into and out of the Council Room was through the double doors leading off the corridor, as well as the other pair that Steven and Tracker had burst through. But, at the end of the room beside the fireplace was another door that must lead into an adjoining room. When they had been out on the patio Steven remembered passing another room with two windows facing the garden.
‘This is not a community,’ continued Tracker, ‘this is just a house full of slaves and the American is playing God, choosing who lives and who dies. As soon as you or anyone else isn’t required you will be disposed of. It might be because you get ill, injure yourself, or simply grow old. However it happens you will only be permitted to live for as long as you are useful.’
Steven walked over the plush silk carpet towards the door beside the fireplace. Behind it Coldred could be armed and waiting to fight his way out.
Georgia suddenly stepped along the corridor and appeared behind the overturned book shelf. She looked into the room, saw Steven and spoke to him.
'We've barricaded the external door you put that chair through and we’ve managed to wedge the door closed on the corridor side as well,’ she said.
‘Good,’ replied Steven nervously as his hand reached for the handle of the interlinking door.
‘But… that’s only solved one part of the problem,’ she added. Her voice quivered slightly as she spoke.
They all turned towards the shattered doors of the Council Room that Georgia was staring at. On the patio outside, they could see a crowd of creatures stalking their way up the steps ready to enter the room, excited by the scent of blood that had pooled around the bookshelf.
Tracker could feel the wave of terror and panic that washed over everyone inside the room. He knew that the instinct for most of the survivors would be to turn and run, but unless they secured the room, the creatures would feast on everyone that hadn’t taken an antibiotic.
‘We have to stand together,’ shouted Tracker to the survivors. ‘Grab whatever weapon you can find. We must try and block the patio doors.’
The first creature lurched up the steps, stuck its head through the door frame and sniffed at the blood scented air. Its single white eye darted erratically around the room, assessing the potential victims.
It took a step into the room.
No one dared move or draw the creature's attention. One of the survivors who had taken a gun from one of the guards, quivered nervously. The creature released a low breathy gasp like a muted scream in his direction. The fear it created caused the man's body to shake uncontrollably. The index finger on his right hand contracted in a spasm of fear that released a shot towards the creature. It missed and lodged itself into the ceiling, releasing a shower of plaster dust. With lightening speed the creature turned towards the survivor and with a powerful thrust of its wings lifted itself into the air ready to pounce.
Tracker released a shot from his own gun. The force of the bullet knocked the creature from the air and back out of the patio doors.
But more creatures came.
They began to enter the room together. All the guns began firing, but for every creature they hit, two more replaced it. Quickly the room filled with a sharp tang of acidic juices from injured creatures that had collected on the priceless carpet, dissolving it to nothing more than a moth eaten rag.
Those nearest to the external door were the first to be eaten, overrun by the number of creatures that swarmed into the room. There were so many around the patio doors that no part of the lavishly decorated wall could be seen.
The guns continued to fire, but ammunition was not going to last for very long. Steven, Georgia and Tracker knew the fate of the survivors was rapidly approaching. Maybe they had been wrong to try and lead them to a better future.
Amongst the gunfire and screams of the desperate victims came a new sound. At first it sounded like a low rumble similar to an earthquake far away in the distance. But the sound grew so quickly that it seemed to overtake everything el
se.
The creatures heard it too.
Their animal instincts told them that something unusual was happening. Those trying to climb over the mountain of bodies to get in began to fly away instead. In the gaps that emerged, the survivors could see a bright light, almost like daylight. But, in the panic, they thought their eyes were deceiving them; only moments before the sky had been black. Creatures fell back, no longer interested in the human feast inside the Council Room. Outside the light was so brilliant and white that it illuminated everything to look like an overexposed photograph. The humans squinted as more light flooded into the room. The creatures withdrew and began flying into the sky. Momentarily the white light dimmed, but was instantly replaced by another, even stronger wave. They watched as the creatures fell from the sky or flew blindly into one another. Those that had remained on the ground in the garden seemed to be chirping in a vulnerable way. Some fell down the steps, whilst others stumbled into the plants of the garden.
The humans that remained inside the Council Room watched with amazement. With every wave of white light that passed through the sky they felt an overwhelming feeling of happiness and hope in every fibre of their bodies. The light was like a sponge, cleansing the planet and washing the creatures away.
They then watched in amazement as something else began to happen. The creatures that stood on the grass or amongst the shrubs seemed to be swallowed up by the earth, as easily as if they were standing on quick sand. In the fields that stretched out beyond the back of Osborne House, branches of trees moved violently in a non existent breeze, batting the creatures from their flight towards the ground. Confused and blinded, the creatures lashed out at an imaginary foe, but grey tangles of roots burst through the ground, binding the creatures helplessly before sucking them into the earth.
‘Well that appears to change things slightly,’ said a deep gravely voice from the side of the room. Steven suddenly felt the edge of a cold knife pressing against his throat. He didn’t dare swallow, every slight movement made the sharp blade cut lightly into his skin.
