by Tim O'Rourke
“I meant what I said, Mila,” he whispered. “I do love you.”
Did he want me to tell him that I was in love with him too? I did love Flint, what was there not to love? He was handsome in an offbeat kind of way and had a body to die for. But I wasn’t sure I was in love with him. There was a difference, wasn’t there? With my heart racing, I pulled Flint down over me. I felt his body against mine and shuddered. Wrapping my arms about his back, I pulled him closer still, easing my knees up and apart. I felt Flint sink between them, then into me as he caressed my neck, shoulders, then chest with soft kisses again.
He moved his hips so slowly at first the sensation was maddening, making me feel kind of crazy inside. He had always made me feel like this, ever since that first time in that deserted barn we had found in the fields at the furthest reaches of town. I had lost count of the number of warm summer evenings we had spent together, making love in the light of the fading sun that filtered down into the barn through the gaps and holes in the broken roof. But had it really been love? I had never thought it had been, but perhaps it had been all along. Perhaps the feelings I felt when I was with Flint were feelings of love and I just didn’t know it.
What else could they be? Flint made me feel happy. More happy than I could ever remember being. I felt that sense of happiness now as Flint and I made love before the fire. And there was that word again – love. Whether it was true love or not, the feelings washed over me as Flint began to move his hips faster and harder. I lost my hands in his ash coloured hair, raising my own hips off the blankets, pulling him into me – only wanting the feelings that he stirred deep inside of me to grow stronger and more intense with every passing moment. It was those feelings that helped me forget – helped me blur the pain that I felt at my parents leaving me alone. It was those feelings of bliss that masked the sense of abandonment I felt inside. When I was with Flint, I didn’t feel so alone anymore. Perhaps it was those feelings that Flint stirred deep inside of me that I truly loved and not the man who created them.
Crying out in an explosion of joy, we held each other tight, locked as one as those feelings of intoxicating bliss consumed me. With my heart racing and skin feeling as hot as fire, Flint rolled onto his side, holding me in his arms. With our bodies coated in a fine sweat, we glistened in the firelight. I lay and watched the rise and fall of Flint’s chest as both of us gasped for breath. When my heart had started to slow, I kissed Flint softly on the cheek.
He turned his head to look at me.
“Come with me,” I whispered.
“Where?” he asked, eyes half shut and looking sleepy.
“To the village of Shade,” I said, resting my head against his shoulder.
“I can’t leave,” he said, eyes closed now.
“Why not?” I asked.
“Maze needs me. I help to keep it safe,” he said.
Rolling onto my back, I looked up to the ceiling at the ancient wooden beams that crisscrossed it, and sighed. Flint had achieved his dream. He had become a night-watchman and was helping to keep his hometown safe. I had yet to fulfil my dream. I had yet to find my mother and father and the young woman some said saved us humans.
“I’ll go to the village of Shade on my own then,” I said, believing that I was talking to nobody other than myself.
“No, you won’t,” Flint whispered, wrapping his arms tight about me. “I’m not going to let you out of my sight.”
Within moments, I could hear the gentle sound of his breathing as he drifted to sleep. As the fire began to die, the room fell into darkness. At dawn, and as the first murky rays of sunlight fell through the window, I gently eased myself from Flint’s arms. Dressing in the clothes that had now dried before the fire, I looked down at Flint as he slept amongst the blankets on the floor. Very careful so as not to wake him, I kissed him gently on the cheek.
“I love you, too, Flint,” I whispered, before sneaking from the house.
As I made my way across town, I didn’t look back once at the house. I daren’t. I feared that if I did, I might not ever reach the village of Shade, and that was where I was heading.
Chapter Eleven
I couldn’t set off to the village of Shade at once. I would at least need to pack some rations and clean clothes. And to be honest, I didn’t actually have any idea where Shade was. I hadn’t the faintest clue as to how far away it was or even how I was intending on getting there. What if the village was on the other side of England? I had never left my hometown of Maze and there were even parts of it that still remained undiscovered by me.
I knew my uncle kept maps in the desk drawer where he sat and wrote his articles for the newspaper. So I could look at them and get my bearings, but that would mean I’d have to head home first. It was still very early and the sun was not fully up, so I might be lucky enough to creep inside, get some supplies together, check out the maps, and set off for Shade before my uncle woke. It wasn’t that I wanted to sneak away without saying goodbye, but I knew just like Flint would’ve, if my uncle caught me, he’d find some way in stopping me from going. But nothing would stop me now. I had made up my mind. I would leave Maze and go in search of this village and find my parents. I would discover the truth about what happened to them. It was also my chance of undertaking some investigative journalism of my own for once.
In the cold morning breeze, I headed down the road that led out of town and toward my uncle’s house. The road was narrow and winding, and on either side sat unploughed fields. As kids, Flint and I had made a scarecrow and stuck it in a nearby field. It still stood, after so many years, albeit that crows had come and pecked out its button eyes. But if I screwed up my eyes and peered hard enough I could see its tilted frame in the distance. Once I had left Maze, would I ever see it again – would I ever see Flint again?
Pushing those thoughts from my mind – I knew I would only spook myself – I made my way up the path to the front door of my uncle’s house. I couldn’t see the glow of any lanterns inside so I guessed my uncle was still asleep in bed. Taking a key from the pocket of my jeans, I opened the front door and stepped inside. The house was gloomy and cold. A few remaining embers glowed red in the fireplace, thin tendrils of grey smoke disappearing up the chimney. I suddenly felt hungry, but I had no time to stop and eat. I would pack some food to take with me and eat as I walked. But before I did any of that I would need to find those maps my uncle kept tucked away in his desk drawer. Crossing the living room, I made my way into what he called the Editor’s Office. I smiled at the sign he had fixed to the door with those very words written on it. I had given it to him once as a present – I think he had mentioned that it was his birthday. I had found a small, flat piece of wood in the yard and written the words across it with a pen. My uncle had been so delighted by the present that he had nailed it to his office door.
Being as quiet as I could and using only my fingertips, I pushed open the door and stepped inside.
“I wondered when you would be back.”
I looked up and gasped. My uncle was sitting in a chair on the other side of the room. A small lantern burned at his feet. He looked tired and suddenly very old. I had no real idea of how old he actually was. Forty-five perhaps? If so, this morning he looked a lot older.
“Uncle,” I said, trying to mask my surprise at seeing him. “Why are you awake so early?”
“I haven’t slept,” he said, watching me as I entered the room.
“Why not?” I asked, although I knew why.
“Where have you been?” he said, getting up, and coming across the room and throwing his arms about me. “I’ve been worried half to death. Haven’t I told you how dangerous the streets of Maze can be at night?”
I was surprised by his sudden display of affection. It wasn’t that my uncle hadn’t been a caring man, but I could only ever remember him hugging me so fiercely a few times before. The first time had been when I had cried in the shack as a little girl when believing that my parents had disappeared because of what
I had said to them, and the other two occasions I’d been unwell.
“I’m fine,” I said, hugging him back. “Really I am.”
“Where have you been then?” he asked, setting me free from his embrace.
“Just walking around…” I lied. “Thinking about stuff.”
“Look, I’m sorry about what happened last night,” he said.
“I’m sorry, too,” I smiled, and I really was. I didn’t want to hurt my uncle. He had been like a father to me.
“You have nothing to be sorry for – it’s been me who has been keeping secrets,” he said. “You had every right to be angry with me, Mila. I should have told you what had happened to your parents, but I was scared.”
“Scared of what?” I asked. I couldn’t imagine such a big man ever being scared of anything.
“Scared that you would go in search of your parents and I would lose you, just like I lost them,” he said, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down in his throat.
I took a deep breath before I said what I needed to say next. “I am going to look for my parents. I’m going to go to the village of Shade.” I screwed my fists tight as my stomach knotted at the thought of the confrontation that was going to come.
“Okay,” my uncle simply sighed.
“Okay?” I breathed, feeling as if I had been shoved hard in the chest. That wasn’t the response I’d expected from him. Some kind of quarrel at least. “I thought you would try and persuade me not to go…”
“And could I dissuade you?” he asked, looking right back at me, his face drawn-looking in the pale light that was now spilling into the room from the window.
“No,” I whispered, looking over his shoulder at the desk where I knew he kept maps of England.
“So how then do I stop you?” he shrugged. “Lock you in your room forever? No. What would be the point? You’re not a little girl anymore. And that’s what I’ve had to think long and hard about as I sat here through the night. You’re no longer that little girl who used to sit in the shack and chatter away while I printed the newspaper – you’ve gone and grown up. It’s just taken me sometime to realise that. I should’ve told you about your parents sooner and I’m sorry that I didn’t.”
Although I welcomed it, I still couldn’t believe my uncle’s sudden change of heart. “I’m sorry I grew up,” I smiled, stepping forward and taking one of his hands in mine.
“I’m glad you have,” he half-smiled back at me, although I couldn’t help but notice the slightest tinge of regret in his voice. “You’ve grown up into a strong and very beautiful woman and I’m very proud of you.”
No one had ever said anything so nice to me before, and I fought back the tears that I could now feel stinging at the corners of my eyes. Swallowing hard, I said, “I didn’t mean what I said last night. You’re not a coward and I’m grateful that you never went and looked for my parents. If you had then I might not be standing here right now with you. I’ve only become the woman that I have because of you… because you were brave enough to take me on, give me a home, look after me when I was sick and teach me so much more.” I thought of the man that Flint had saved me from last night and added, “Other men could’ve hurt me – could’ve walked away – left me to survive on my own – but men like that are the cowards, not you.”
“Thank you,” he nodded, sliding his hand from mine and turning away. I saw his powerful shoulders hitch up and down, twice. “When are you leaving?” he asked, his back still to me.
“Straight away,” I said.
“I guessed as much,” he said, heading across the room to his desk. He pulled open the top drawer, and as if he had been able to read my mind all along, he took out a large map and unfolded it. Placing it flat on the desk, he pointed one thick finger in the centre of it. Then, with a haunted look on his face, he said, “This is where the village of Shade is at.”
Chapter Twelve
I crossed the room and joined my uncle at the desk. I picked up the lantern and set it down, casting light over the map. It was dog-eared and stained yellow in places. There were some small tears and it was frayed in places around the edges. Written across the top in black writing was the word ENGLAND.
“Is the map old?”
“Very,” my uncle said. “It was made before the vampire and werewolves war.”
Slowly, I dragged one finger around the coastline of the country illustrated on the map. Some of the map had lines drawn across it in red pen. “What are these places that have been marked red?”
“Those are parts of England that don’t exist anymore,” my uncle explained without looking up.
“What – they’ve disappeared?”
“Not disappeared, just inhospitable,” he said. “They’ve been left barren and bleak. No one ventures there – no one dares.”
Looking down at the map, I could see that some of the towns had had more red lines slashed through them, and someone had written new names underneath. One of the towns had been called Northampton, but a line had been drawn through the name and a new one written underneath. It now read Nandland. There was another, near to the coastline and I could see that it had once been called Swansea, but had since been renamed Shorith.
“Why have some of the places been renamed?” I asked my uncle.
“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “I’ve studied this map for years and never figured it out. Some of these places are hundreds of years old – they just change I guess – get new names.”
“What’s that big area there?” I asked, pointing at a large, dark, mushroom shape on the map.
“A forest,” he said.
Peering over his shoulder, I said, “It looks like it was once called The Forest of Dean but at some point renamed The Lethal Pines.”
“I wouldn’t go into that forest if I were you,” my uncle said, glancing up at me.
“Why not?”
“I’ve heard rumours that people have gone into those woods and got lost – never been seen again,” he said, his voice just above a whisper.
“Sounds like the village of Shade,” I said, that sense of curiosity and adventure growing stronger deep inside of me.
“Mmm,” my uncle said thoughtfully. Then dragging his thumb over the map, he said, “This is where we are in Maze and this is where you’re heading.” His thumb came to rest on a small green area on the map. There wasn’t any other towns nearby that I could see. The village of Shade seemed to be miles from any place else.
“What are these thin black lines?” I asked. They seemed to run just north of the village.
“They’re railway lines,” he said.
“Are there trains?” I asked. I’d never seen a train or travelled on one.
“Some say that trains still run in places, but I’ve never seen any on my travels,” Uncle Sidney said.
I followed the thin black line north as it stretched over what looked like a mountainous region called the Brecon Beacons. There were no towns marked on the map close to the railway line. The nearest one I could see was a place called Misty Grange and that was set some distance away on the other side of the mountains. It was strange and amazing to see all these places that existed beyond the town that I had grown up in and had never known. Places that I now might see and explore.
“Now, pay attention, Mila,” my uncle said, as if reading the dumbstruck expression on my face.
“Sure,” I said, shaking romantic thoughts of adventure from my head.
“The village of Shade is about 100 miles from here to the west,” he said. “You’ll pass by two towns, Thunder Bay and a place called The Twisted Den. I’ve never visited either of them.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“The streets of Maze at night are like walking through a holiday camp compared to the shit that goes down in those two places,” he said, fixing me with a serious stare. “Go round them, not through them, okay?”
“Okay,” I nodded.
“Don’t be tempted into those towns for any reason,” he impress
ed on me. “Promise?”
“I promise,” I assured him.
“Not all towns have night-watchmen like Maze,” he said. “Many towns are still places of chaos and anarchy. They have yet to find their way.”
“So what about the village of Shade?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” he said, leaning away from the map and standing up. “No one really knows much about it.”
“No one?” I cocked an eyebrow at him. “Hasn’t anyone ventured into the village in all these years?”
“If they have, they’ve never been seen or heard of again,” he said.
Chapter Thirteen
“It’s not too late to back out,” my uncle said as I swung my rucksack over my shoulder and headed for the door. “I won’t think any less of you if you decided not to go.”
“I’d think less of me,” I said, stopping at the door and looking back at him. He stood at the foot of the stairs that led up to the small bathroom and two bedrooms. He looked smaller somehow, as if part of him had been swallowed up.
“I could come with you,” he said, taking a step forward.
“No,” I said, shaking my head gently. “This is something I have to do alone.”
“What about Flint?”
“What about Flint?” I asked. It was the second time he had mentioned his name. How much did he know about us? I could feel my cheeks glowing warm again.
“You’ve been friends since you were kids, right?” He eyed me.
“So?” I asked.
“Well, you’re still friends with him now – very close, aren’t you?” He offered a knowing smile.
“How do you know?” I asked, hating myself for turning scarlet before him. I’d never felt so embarrassed in my life.
