THE POWER AND THE FURY

by James Erith

  ‘You can do better than that, sexy Sue.’ He pulled a serious face. ‘William Rufus, heir of William the Conqueror. Shot by an arrow by a noble who thought he was a total nob-end. Succeeded by Henry, as in Henry One, also a son of the Conqueror, who sat on the throne for a middle-age marathon of thirty-five years.’

  Sue shrieked. She couldn’t believe it. ‘Gus, you’re brilliant at this. Why are you such an idiot in class?’

  Gus shrugged. ‘Low tolerance to teachers—’

  A loud clunk stopped them in their tracks. Gus raced up to the bow step. ‘The Joan Of has hit the roof,’ he yelled. ‘Here we go.’ Gus ducked his head inside the canopy. ‘I hope you’re ready for this. Pass me that long bit of wood and sit at the end. And Sue...’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Whatever you do, please don’t scream – it really won’t help.’

  Gus had never really expected the water to rise quite so high, nor so fast. In fact he was pretty sure they’d stay in the boathouse quite safe from anything outside. Now, it was very different. He grappled with the piece of wood, eventually holding its base, and thrust it up towards the corrugated sheeting directly above. Come on, you little beauty, you’ve got to move. Nothing happened. He changed his tack, trying to lever the roofing off. Move, you little sod, he murmured, as he pushed the wood with all his might.

  But, as he pushed, he noticed that the entire building had begun to move of its own accord. Gus stopped hammering on the roof and watched as the shed began to lift up and drift off into the flooding all on its own. He couldn’t believe it. He wondered if, incredibly, the buoyancy of their boat had given buoyancy to the whole building – and now it had gone adrift with them inside it. That, or he was suddenly immensely strong.

  The only thing he knew for sure was that the whole unit was moving very quickly into the swollen floodwaters. As far as he could tell, they were safe. In fact, he rather suspected they were safer than any place they could otherwise have expected to end up in – so long as The Joan Of wasn’t rotten. He ducked down under the canopy. Sue was crying hysterically.

  ‘Everything ship-shape and dandy, Capitan,’ he said, saluting.

  Sue looked confused. ‘What’s happening, Gus, I’m scared.’

  Gus shrugged. ‘I pushed the roof and the entire shed came away. Funny thing is, I always suspected I had superpowers.’

  ‘Is it … safe?’

  Gus looked at her blankly. ‘Truthfully? I’ve no idea, but so far, so good. Now, how about another brainteaser.’ He sat down and put his legs up again. ‘Can’t wait all day.’

  Sue peered up at him. She simply couldn’t believe his brazen attitude to the disaster unfolding around them. The boat lurched and her eyes widened. But Gus rubbed his eyes and yawned.

  ‘You are ridiculous, Gus Williams. I don’t know how you do it.’ She took a couple of very deep breaths as if to control herself. ‘We’re on the verge of plunging into Armageddon and you want another teaser, Gus?’

  Gus nodded. ‘Yeah. Absolutely.’

  ‘Good Lord.’ She took a deep breath. ‘OK. Physics question – you said you were good at physics, right?’ He nodded. A question popped into her head. ‘Where does bad light end up?’

  Gus put his feet up on the seat in front, confidently, grinning like mad, which Sue later discovered was a sign that his brain was working. ‘OK,’ he began cagily, ‘either it’s in an ohm?’ Sue giggled but shook her head. ‘OR,’ and there was quite a long pause. He clicked his fingers, ‘In a prism?’

  Sue clapped her hands. ‘Brilliant! You big strapping genius.’

  Gus was bursting with pride. Big, strapping and genius – in the same sentence – from delicious, sexy Sue; he hardly dare tell her he’d read the answers in a magazine at the dentist. ‘One for you,’ he said. ‘What did the male magnet say to the female magnet?’

  Sue burst out laughing. ‘I’m seriously attracted to you?’ She turned purple on the spot.

  Gus caught her eye. ‘Not bad. Want another try?’

  Sue shook her head. ‘Tell me.’

  Gus looked quite serious. ‘From your backside,’ he began. ‘I thought you were repulsive. However, from the front I find you rather attractive.’

  Sue clapped her hands and laughed as Gus punched the air.

  Suddenly, a terrible noise, like the body of a car scraping along a road, stopped both of them in their tracks.

  Gus slipped out at the front. Then he dived back in and dashed toward Sue at the rear. ‘Move up front,’ he ordered.

  Sue shuffled up as Gus headed out of the canopy at the bow.

  Seconds later, he reappeared and, without hesitating, sat in the middle of the boat and grabbed the oars. He started to row, pushing the oars in to go backwards, as fast as he could.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Sue cried.

  ‘Our time has come. The Joan Of has landed.’

  With a terrible crunching noise, the back end of the shed began to lever high into the air as if the nose had plunged in to the water. Gus took a deep breath. ‘We’re on our own. Let’s pray that The Joan Of holds together.’

  With a massive effort, Gus continued to row the little boat backwards, creeping under the raised end and out into the river. For the first time, the rain whammed into the canopy and the boat rocked in the water. The sound was deafening. Sue screamed.

  After a couple of minutes, Sue bravely put her head out as far as she dared and tried to survey the scene. But the only things she could see were faint outlines of cars, wood and sections of plastic, bobbing along beside them.

  She ducked under the canopy, her face ashen.

  ‘Everything alright?’ Gus yelled, noting the distress in her face.

  She shook her head. ‘Isabella, Daisy and Archie are in this – with no protection,’ she yelled back. ‘They haven’t got a hope.’

  ‘They’ll be fine,’ he yelled back. He looked down. ‘Sue,’ he screamed, his voice only just heard above the sound of the rain smacking down on the canopy. ‘Get a bucket and start bailing!’

  36

  A Leap Of Faith

  When Isabella surfaced she noticed a big difference. The water level was near to the ledge and it was almost dark. She pulled herself out and sat down, her feet dangling in the pool. She shivered and stretched her hands out in front of her.

  There was something else and she couldn’t think what it was. Then it struck her. The rain had almost stopped! It was like a miracle and she smiled through chattering teeth.

  The remains of her clothes stuck to her like cold, soggy slime and she still had to make it through the night. How was she going to do that? The temperature would drop – it always did at about this time of year – and there was no hope of a warming fire.

  In the next breath, her thoughts turned to Daisy and Archie. There had been three huge thunderbolts, one designed for each of them. Why, she had no idea, but it seemed right, even if it was absurdly illogical and absolutely terrifying.

  She shuffled along in the darkness and called out their names.

  ‘Archie. Daisy – are you there?’

  She listened, but heard only the swishing sounds of the running water beyond.

  Again and again she called out and listened.

  But no reply was forthcoming.

  Archie had no idea what he might land on: rock, mud, a piece of wood, an old section of metal? But a broken leg was preferable to being fried to death by a lightning bolt.

  To his shock – and relief – Archie, with Daisy over his shoulder, had landed in a pool and sank down to the very bottom at the exact moment two lightning bolts smashed into their previous position. The brutal force of the energy splintered the rock, sending shards and pebbles and larger stones flying towards them, shaking everything to the core. Archie stayed down, holding Daisy, cradling her head for as long as he dared until her eyes opened wide as if she was on her last reserve of oxygen.

  Archie winced as the first stone hit him on the shoulder. Then he felt himself being pepp
ered as if from a machinegun at close range. He had to get to the surface to breathe, to get Daisy out. As he rose to the surface, a large rock whacked him on the head. He fell back into the pool and saw stars.

  The pool and the torrential rain were blurring. Now he saw Daisy. He imagined the branch spinning in his head, like a ride at the fairground. The feeling accelerating.

  With a last effort, he pulled himself over towards the rocks and, feeling his feet touch firm ground, he pushed Daisy up as far as he could. Her body slumped and fell on what he desperately hoped was a safe place.

  Now his head spun so fast that in no time he felt himself go, his body slipping away to a place of softness and light. A feeling of great calm washed over him, a warmth – a comfort – like a cuddle brimming with love in the arms of someone who truly adores you.

  With his last breath of consciousness, Archie had the wherewithal to reach up and grasp a rock. And then his mind slid into the darkness of a black and deep abyss.

  Isabella wouldn’t give up. Deep within her, she sensed they were near, but it was so hard. She was so tired, so cold, so hungry. She knew she had to pull herself together. Come on, she told herself, no time to be lazy; look for them. A thought kept returning: what if they were a few feet away and died in the night because she couldn’t be bothered? She crawled along the ledge as far as she dared, all the while making sure she kept a firm grip of the surface, and calling out for them in turn, ‘Daisy’ and ‘Archie’. Then she listened, but every time, there was nothing, just the lapping of water splashing up against the rocks.

  Had Daisy and Archie been blasted to smithereens by the bolt? Had they been swept away? What if they had never been close but found their way home? She knew that was impossible. She ran her hand through the water and then through her hair, removing the strands that were stuck to her face. With defeat threatening to overwhelm her, she dragged her aching body to the rock face, out of the drizzling rain.

  The problem now was survival. She had all night to wait out until the dawn of a new day.

  She shivered, her lips quivering involuntarily as she stared out into the darkness. Occasionally she heard a sound like a groan but it was hard to tell if it was the crunching of metal on metal, like cars or sheds being washed down the river and colliding with each other, or whether it was from people or animals. Tears built up and an overwhelming sense of sadness began to leach into her, her feeling of helplessness almost complete.

  As if in response to her cries, a tiny sliver of light appeared on the lip of the horizon and threw a grey light over the water. Isabella peered at it and, for a short while, thought that she must be dreaming. It looked so beautiful, like the gentle sparkle of light catching the rim of a silver bracelet. She blinked and shook her head. The moon? It was moonlight!

  Now, instead of the pitch darkness, she could distinguish the outlines of the boulders and the ledge and. looking up, she could make out the sheer sides of the rock face curving above her. She scoured the valley and was struck by a curious sight; a dull, watery reflection, gently flickering, which extended on and on in front of her.

  As the moon rose, its brightness lifted her spirits further; now she could walk where before only crawling was possible. A renewed sense of hope swept through her – maybe she’d be able to find a way out. She scoured the ledge. The round boulder she had leant on before the lightning struck was reduced to rubble, save for several large chunks that had been hewn into rough, awkward shapes. But the area behind it seemed unnaturally dark.

  She approached, wondering if it was a result of the strike – perhaps it was the exact spot where the lightning had smashed into it? With every footstep, she grew more curious, her feet crunching through the debris. Was there something behind it, something hollow and open, or was her mind playing tricks on her again?

  She sidled closer, gently pushing on the split sections that might be unstable, until she found herself peering up at a perfectly symmetrical entrance. It was a cave.

  Without hesitating, she placed one foot ahead of the other and, holding on to the side, she made her way in.

  Isabella tried to see what was inside. A breeze was blowing out of it, and for a moment she caught it on her face – warmth? Hot air?

  Cautiously, she took another step, hoping that her eyes would adjust to the moonlight. Oh, how lovely and warm it was, like being in front of a hairdryer. But how come? This bit of rock wasn’t thermal, like a volcano – or was it?

  Isabella was about to take a further step in when she heard a strange cry from near the ledge. Her heart skipped a beat. Daisy? Archie?

  She scanned the area but found that the ledge was only just higher than the river and it was hard to tell where one stopped and the other started. She heard it again, a groan followed by a cry and a tiny cough.

  Her heart beat faster as she scoured the ledge again. She concentrated, feeling that if she could find one of them, she might very well find the other.

  She ran to the right, urging her eyes to peer deeper into the night sky.

  Nothing.

  She walked cautiously to the left.

  Nothing.

  In front of her, all she could make out was a blob. A blob, almost black in colour, like so many of the other rocks and bits of debris. As she approached it, the blob stirred. Isabella’s heart leapt. She was there in a second.

  The body was barely covered by clothes. It was smeared in dirt intermingled with bloody cuts and angry bruises. The legs and arms were as white as a sheet. Isabella’s heart sank. As she turned the body over, the arms folded round limply and splashed helplessly in a puddle.

  The eyes were closed.

  Isabella screamed. It was as if someone had ripped her heart out. She had never seen anyone look deader.

  It was Daisy.

  37

  Stuck On The Cliff

  At every step, Old Man Wood was forced to hold on for fear of being pulled down and swept away. Twice he lost his footing only to slide fortuitously into a nearby tree. And on another occasion he thrust his axe out and wedged it into a tree trunk. He pulled himself up and hugged the tree like a long lost brother who had saved his life.

  Every so often, Old Man Wood stumbled into a rock he was familiar with or a tree he knew, even when the tree had been uprooted. And from these small signs, he was able to gauge his direction towards the cliff face beneath the ruin.

  The problem building in his mind was getting up on to the ledge. Usually it was done by means of some steps at the base of the cliff. Why they were there, he had no idea, but he knew that by now they had to be submerged. He’d make his way along a rocky seam further up and see if he could climb across and downwards.

  Before long, Old Man Wood was at the point where he needed to start down the steeper, sharper cliff face.

  Old Man Wood faced the rock and shuffled along, happier in his step where the mud gave way to stone. As he angled across the cliff face there were sections that sheltered him from the downpour, while other parts showered him with mud and loose rock. He dug his fingers into every tight crevice and small hole – moving along as carefully, yet as fast, as he dared – unclear of his position, but hoping like mad he hadn’t started too high.

  Shortly, he was able to take stock of his position under a deep overhang where he found a decent foothold. He gulped in huge mouthfuls of air as he leant into the stone. Should he drive a bolt into a suitable crevice so he could attach the rope – just in case?

  He found a hole, delved into his pocket, found a quick release bolt and thrust it in. It expanded instantly and fastened into the rock. He put his weight on it and it held. Good. He tied the rope to the end, and attached the rest around his body.

  As he turned to inspect his next footholds, a huge electrical pulse flashed out of the sky below and to the left of him. He looked on in shock. Then a second bright charge, the noise piercing his eardrums.

  The valley lit up and he saw everything move like a huge grey beast filled with water. Apples-alive, he mutt
ered under his breath as his heart raced. He was too high above the ledge.

  He felt for a footing, making sure his hold was solid. He tested his grip and bent down but, in the very next moment, a huge thunderbolt smashed out of the sky directly into the cliff face beneath him.

  For a second Old Man Wood held on for dear life.

  There they were!

  He could see the children.

  Isabella diving into a pool, Daisy further round, and Archie. But Archie was struggling.

  He had to get down there fast.

  If he tried to scramble down, the overhanging rock extended too far over on one side and there was every chance he’d suffer a serious injury on the sharp edges.

  No, it would have to be a far more radical route. He climbed along as fast as he could, letting the rope out behind him. After several metres he tensioned the rope and started to descend, being careful not to slip and fall. The old man sucked in his cheeks.

  Right, he thought, here we go; nothing like a bit of adventure. He wondered how high he was above the ledge. Six feet? Ten feet? He braced himself and pushed out with his feet. The rope swung out.

  Moments later, Old Man Wood was flying through the air, rain smashing into his face.

  He began preparing himself for the landing. It was going to hurt, he thought. Rather a lot.

  The rope swung out again, this time gaining speed. Moments later, he was back to his starting position, like a pendulum. This time, as he reached the limit of his arc, he noted that the rain had suddenly stopped.

  The shock of the lack of rain, and the fact that the moon now offered just enough light to see below, forced him to hold on and he let his momentum take him out one more time. He was ready to jump. But as he looked down, he could see Isabella directly below him, walking towards a broken rock.

  He swung back, holding on for dear life – but it was one swing too many. The bolt disengaged from the rock, and the rope and Old Man Wood hurtled downwards.