The Fury

by Alexander Gordon Smith

  ‘But we could take the car,’ said Cal, standing up, already excited. ‘Stop outside the gates until we hook them, then drive fast enough to stay away but slow enough to pull them along. We could be in and out in a few minutes, if we can find the café or whatever.’

  He looked at Jade and she shrugged. Chris was shaking his head but he was licking his lips, too. Brick’s face was as hard as his name, his eyes glowering.

  ‘Brick?’

  ‘Don’t know. It’s too dangerous. We should give it a few days, think about it.’

  ‘We don’t have a few days,’ said Cal. ‘Tomorrow, we should do it then. It’s Sunday tomorrow, there will be nobody there.’

  ‘I hate to break it to you, Cal,’ said Jade. ‘But tomorrow is Monday. If we’re going to do this, we need to do it now.’

  ‘Now?’ he said, and suddenly the idea of leaving Fursville and breaking into a factory seemed utterly ridiculous, completely impossible. ‘Maybe you’re right, Brick, maybe we should think about it some more.’

  ‘You think?’ said Brick, flapping his arms and making chicken noises. ‘Not such a tough guy now, are you?’

  Cal took a step towards the bigger boy, his fist bunched.

  ‘Go fu—’

  He never got the chance to finish as the top of the carousel exploded, sparks flying from the rows of broken bulbs. He ducked down, shrapnel slicing through the hot air, stinging his skin like mosquito bites. Daisy was screaming, crumpled in a heap as an electric rain dripped down on her. A screeching noise rose from the battered ride, winding up into an old-fashioned song that was so out of tune it sounded like something from a nightmare. The horses were moving, lurching forward then halting; all the while a deafening, grinding roar emanated from the machinery beneath them.

  ‘Daisy!’ Cal ran for the steps but Brick was already there, hoisting the girl in one arm and Adam in the other. He almost fell as he clattered back down, his face twisted into a grimace. Jade was legging it, her hands over her head.

  There was a second explosion, this time from overhead. Cal looked up to see the big wheel shake, unleashing a monsoon of dirt and dust and metal shavings so thick that it turned day into twilight. One of the few remaining carriages tore loose, crashing into the booth that sat below it and firing out another deadly barrage of broken glass. The structure juddered, squealing so loudly that Cal slammed his hands to his ears. Daisy squirmed free of Brick’s grip and ran over to him, hugging him tight.

  ‘What is it? What is it?’ she sobbed.

  From the other side of the park there was an almighty crunch, wood splintering. An ugly fist of smoke thrust up towards the sky. Cal could hear more music now, coming from everywhere, a hundred different tunes that clashed with each other. It was so loud, so confusing, that it was making him feel seasick. And there was laughter too, laughter and applause like in a game show, like there was a crowd watching them. This was what terrified him the most, because it was an impossible sound. It had no right to be here.

  Chris was yelling at him, pointing at the pavilion, but the hurricane of noise swept his words away. The carousel was spinning faster now. The horses looked wild, like they were about to leap right off the platform and stampede through the park. They looked as if they were coming alive.

  The whole park was coming alive.

  Cal suddenly understood what Chris was yelling.

  ‘Marcus,’ Cal said. He saw Brick’s confusion, and shouted, ‘It’s Marcus. He must have got the electrics working.’

  ‘The what?’ Brick called back, dropping Adam to the floor. He broke into a run, heading for the back of the park. ‘Stupid, stupid idiot!’

  The big wheel shuddered hard, another wave of dark matter spiralling down from its skeletal frame along with half a dozen metal spikes which thudded into the path. A siren rose up, a blaring air-raid noise that was coming from the pavilion.

  ‘It’s okay, Daisy,’ Cal said. The girl was clinging on to him so hard it hurt. He could feel her whole body shaking. ‘It’s just the electricity, it’s come back on.’

  ‘They’re going to hear it,’ she said. ‘They’re going to hear it and come and kill us.’

  ‘They’re not, they won’t, there’s no one close enough.’

  He prayed that he was right. If he wasn’t, if people came to investigate, then they were all in serious trouble. Daisy looked up at him.

  ‘But I can see it, Cal, in my head. They’re going to come.’

  The carousel lurched, the mirrors on the central post shattering. One of the horses jolted so much that its post snapped, the plastic animal bending out at an angle as it rotated. The pole caught on the pile of rubble next to it, peeling the horse from its mount and depositing it on the ground. Cal grabbed Daisy and pulled her away.

  ‘It’s going to be okay, Brick will sort it out.’

  Another shower of sparks ripped from the top of the carousel, dropping like a curtain, then the machine ground to a halt. The tune got slower and deeper before dying out completely. Gradually, the rest of the chaos passed, leaving the park quieter than it had ever been. Cal straightened, breathing a sigh of relief like a tornado had just passed overhead. His heart felt like it had received a sudden surge of electricity too, palpitating. He put a hand to his chest to steady it.

  Adam had run over and was gripping Daisy with the same force she was holding Cal.

  ‘You alright?’ he asked them. ‘You didn’t get hit by glass or anything?’

  They both shook their heads. Daisy was looking at something that nobody else could see, her eyes flicking back and forth. Her skin had gone so pale that it was almost translucent.

  ‘It’s just in your head,’ he said, stroking the hair away from her eyes. ‘Don’t let it scare you.’

  ‘But I can see it,’ she said. ‘They’re going to—’

  And that’s when the screaming started.

  Daisy

  Furyville, 4.07 p.m.

  They were coming from the pavilion – muffled screams that were somehow louder than the deafening chaos that had just faded. Daisy clung on to Cal’s arm, her head a constantly churning madness of ice cubes.

  ‘Who is that?’ said Cal as another shriek tore through the air. Even the birds had stopped singing, as if they were afraid of what was to come.

  The scream was nothing like the ones in the movies, it was desperate and broken and insane and weak and strong all at the same time. It made the inside of Daisy’s skull tickle, the blood in her ears roaring like there was an ocean flowing through them. Adam was crying into her chest, his skinny arms locked around her. Cal swore, running his hands through his hair. Chris was beside them, ghost-like. Neither of them knew what to do.

  ‘Wait here,’ Cal said to him. ‘Make sure they’re safe.’

  ‘No, man, we should stick together,’ Chris said. ‘If it’s the ferals, we shouldn’t split up.’

  Cal nodded, prying Daisy loose.

  ‘Okay, stay with me, yeah? Stay close, and keep hold of Adam.’ He looked at Chris. ‘Grab a weapon, mate, we might need them.’

  Both the boys scrabbled in the rubble, picking up metal poles of different lengths. Cal tucked his beneath his arm, taking Daisy’s hand and leading her towards the pavilion just as another awful screech pierced the walls. They ran past the locked main entrance, almost bumping into Jade as they tore round the corner.

  ‘You okay?’ Cal asked her. ‘You screaming?’

  She shook her head, turning her wide eyes to the fire door. Daisy heard a scuffling of feet, then Brick appeared from the other direction. He was holding Marcus by the scruff of the neck and he looked angrier than Daisy had ever seen him. They marched down the side of the pavilion, Brick giving Marcus a shove. The younger kid fell, sprawling in the dirt.

  ‘That’s Rilke,’ Brick said. The screams were louder here, squeezed from the fire door as if they were trying to escape whatever was inside. An ice cube clinked to the top of the pile: the restaurant, and a shape that moved inside it – bright and
dark at the same time. Don’t go in, please don’t go in.

  ‘What’s happening in there?’ Jade asked.

  ‘Whatever it is,’ Brick said, ‘I hope she’s screaming in pain.’

  Marcus was on his feet again.

  ‘It started when the electricity came on,’ he said. ‘Sorry, by the way. I didn’t think all that would happen.’

  ‘We should—’ Cal had to stop as more screams tore the air in two. ‘Come on.’

  ‘You serious?’ Brick asked, moving in front of the fire door. ‘Let her suffer.’

  ‘We don’t know what it is,’ Cal said, toe to toe with the taller boy. ‘For all we know it could be another one of us in there, someone who wandered in when we were out front. Rilke might be doing something to them. You think about that?’

  Brick obviously hadn’t, because after chewing on it for a second he stood to one side.

  ‘We might even be able to grab some food while we’re up there,’ Cal went on. ‘If she’s distracted.’

  He looked at Chris, nodding. Chris nodded back, his metal bar raised, then the two of them ducked into the darkness. Brick cursed, following them in on his hands and knees. Daisy looked down at Adam. He was shaking his head, still crying.

  ‘Don’t be scared,’ she said. ‘We’re safer if we’re all together. They’ll look after us.’

  He resisted for a second, then let her lead him to the door. She crouched down, squeezing through the gap. After the blazing sunlight the corridor was extraordinarily dark. She couldn’t breathe under the weight of the shadows, but when she turned to try and escape Adam was in the way, Jade already pushing through from outside.

  A shriek echoed down the corridor, so much louder now, so much more real. Daisy opened her mouth, a scream of her own rising fast, cut off when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

  ‘Come on,’ said Cal. ‘Stay with me.’

  They huddled together as they passed through the dust-thick light of the foyer and up the stairs. The restaurant was in sight when the next scream cannoned out, the doors rocking in their frames with the force of it, flakes of ice spiralling to the frozen floor.

  ‘What the . . .’ said Brick. ‘We should get out.’

  While we still can. Daisy realised they were all thinking it. There was a crunch from inside Waves. Something big slammed into the other side of the wall, a huge crack splitting the plasterwork and making them all stagger back – Marcus almost tumbling down the stairs. A cry, howled out with heart-breaking strength:

  ‘Schiller!’

  ‘Whatever’s happening, she deserves it,’ said Brick, retreating. ‘She can go to hell for all I care.’

  Crunch. Dust rained down from the ceiling. Rilke called out her brother’s name again.

  ‘Ah screw this,’ Cal said, taking a step back. Daisy thought he was going to leave, but he was just getting a run-up. He threw himself at the doors, yelling as he kicked out. The wood splintered but they didn’t open. He did it again, and this time they flew apart to reveal a world turned inside out.

  There was light in the restaurant, a flickering glow that was definitely fire, but which was too cold and too bright for a candle. In its uncertain grip Daisy could see that the restaurant had been trashed, every single table and chair upturned, most splintered into pieces. There was barely a patch of floor that wasn’t covered in rubbish.

  Rilke knelt in the middle of the room as though she were praying, her legs folded beneath her. The flames were reflected in her wide, unblinking eyes, and in the rivulets that ran down her cheeks, making her look like someone burning up from the inside. Her mouth gaped open. Without warning the scream came again – not from Rilke but from something else. It was like a needle sliding into Daisy’s brain. Adam let go of her, collapsing to his knees with his fingers in his ears, and it took all her strength not to do the same.

  The source of the light was moving, fast, the shadows in the room sweeping in wide arcs. A shape flew across the restaurant, bathed in weak flames. It thumped into the far wall and dropped to the floor, struggling like a dying bird. It wouldn’t stay still, launching itself into the air again before Daisy could make any sense of it. It ploughed through an upside-down table, blasting it into splinters before flailing out of sight.

  ‘Rilke?’ Cal yelled into the room. ‘Get out of there!’

  Her head swivelled round, staring right at them. Daisy understood that Rilke wasn’t scared. There was something else in her expression: part fear yes, but part sick, gleeful excitement too. It was utterly insane. She smiled at them, a grin that belonged in a madhouse. All the while the fire moved, chasing shadows as it hurled itself from wall to wall.

  ‘Rilke,’ Cal said again, his voice an empty husk.

  ‘Don’t you see?’ the girl called back. The shape dropped in front of her, the flames dulled now but still covering it like a flickering blue skin. It was a body, its arms wrapped around itself, its legs splayed out at unnatural angles, like they were broken. Its head was tucked into its chest, but Daisy had no difficulty working out who it was.

  Schiller.

  The boy arced his back, his mouth splitting open and unleashing another scream. The inferno raged, too bright to look at. He thrust himself from the ground so fast that he slammed into the ceiling. One of the panels snapped loose, crashing down beside Rilke. She didn’t even notice it, her eyes locked on her brother as he flapped upside down against the top of the room, as if gravity had suddenly been reversed.

  He slid out of sight, and Daisy found herself taking a step forward. Her terror was now so extreme that she could barely feel it, it could no longer register. She felt Cal’s hand around hers, both of them walking through the door together because they had to see, they had to know what this thing was.

  Schiller was rolling against the ceiling now, looking like he was trying to put out the flames which burned from his skin. That fire gave off no heat, and it didn’t spread. It did the opposite, in fact, leaving sparkling crystals of ice wherever it touched. It was sucking the warmth from everything, feeding on heat and light, devouring it. He cried out again, ripped from left to right and slammed into the far wall.

  Rilke’s brother wasn’t the only shape in the flames, Daisy realised. There was something else there, faint but unmistakable. Unmistakable but impossible. Impossible but real. It stretched out from Schiller’s hunched shoulders, unfolding gracefully, longer than the boy’s whole body. It swept down with incredible force, blasting debris from the floor and propelling him across the room. Schiller screamed again, the sound cut dead as he struck the other wall, hanging there like a rock climber as that shape beat frantically.

  It was a wing. A single, flaming, beautiful, terrible wing.

  ‘Don’t you see?’ Rilke said again, still looking at them.

  The flames flickered, fading again, and Schiller collapsed to the floor. He cried out, trying to crawl towards his sister before disappearing inside another inferno, that same swan-like wing pushing from his back, hauling him into the air. Rilke laughed as she watched him go, a sound like cut glass.

  ‘Isn’t it obvious what we are?’ the girl went on. ‘What we’re becoming? What we’re meant to do?’

  Nobody answered. How could they? Schiller flapped towards the window, tearing at the boards. Sunlight trickled in but it had no power here, cowering before the living flame. His single wing beat and he was hoisted up to the ceiling again, then slammed back to the floor with just as much force. Daisy didn’t know how he could still be alive, but he was, his face knotted into a mask of pain, of confusion, as he tried to climb to the window again.

  ‘You have to make a choice,’ said Rilke. ‘You have to embrace this, embrace our gift, or turn your back on it.’

  She got to her feet, walking unsteadily towards the door. Her hands were held out in front of her, no gun in sight. But she was still dangerous, Daisy knew, more dangerous than ever. Her brother railed behind her, drowning in fire.

  ‘We are all changing,’ Rilke said. ‘We
have been chosen. Look at what Schiller is becoming. It will happen to all of us, don’t you see that, Daisy?’

  And Daisy did see it. It was suddenly clear. Marcus had been right all along, and yet he’d been so wrong too. She looked at Cal, feeling the last of the warmth drain from her, snuffed out. Rilke was telling the truth, they were all going to change.

  ‘The ferals, they’re not the ones who are possessed,’ Daisy said, staggering back, wanting to cry but unable to remember how. Cal reached for her but she stepped out of the way, towards the stairs. ‘They’re not the ones with the demons inside them.’

  Everyone but Schiller was looking at her, waiting for her to finish, to state what they all now knew.

  ‘We are.’

  Brick

  Furyville, 4.19 p.m.

  Brick couldn’t take his eyes off Rilke’s burning brother.

  The boy was quiet again, those blue flames simmering from every pore. He lay on the floor, his head turned up. Even his eyes had ignited, pockets of impossible light. Brick thought he would go mad if he stared into those eyes for too long, the same way you could go blind by looking right at the sun. They weren’t Schiller’s eyes, they belonged to something else – a form that Brick could almost make out in his shimmering, dancing second skin.

  Daisy was right. Schiller was possessed.

  ‘Daisy, wait!’ Cal was yelling after the girl but she was gone, her footsteps fading. The rest of them stood there, paralysed by the cold fire from Schiller and the intensity of Rilke’s gaze. Cal turned to her, his face grey. ‘You’re mad; you’re off your goddamned head.’

  But she wasn’t. What she was saying made a terrible kind of sense. Brick doubled up, feeling the world begin to come apart. Reality was like a house of cards – strip away enough of what you know and the rest of it collapses.

  ‘You don’t have to listen to me, Cal,’ said Rilke. She had to pause as Schiller erupted again, like somebody had flicked a gas hob from the lowest setting to the highest. The boy’s faces – both his and the one in the flames – howled together as that hideous wing punched out and launched him into another lopsided flight. ‘You just have to use your eyes. Look at what he is. Listen to your head and tell me you don’t feel it too.’