by Jeff Povey
The black oil mingles with the Ape’s rich red blood as he manfully tries to get himself into a sitting position. ‘Told you, told you I’d get them all.’ But his breathing is laboured and he has turned very pale, and perspiration is running into his eyes.
The boat is still taking on river water and it won’t be long before it’s dragged down into the murky depths.
Free of the Black Moths, Other-Johnson springs to his feet and is already moving fast for Billie.
But Johnson jumps in his way. ‘Don’t touch her!’
Other-Johnson, talons fully extended, skids to a stop.
‘That’s my girl.’ Johnson gestures to Billie. Protective. Heartfelt. Loving. ‘That – is my girl,’ he repeats.
I know it’s an act because Johnsons aren’t great liars. In fact, the term ‘great liar’ is all wrong anyway. If people know you’re great at lying, then by definition you’re not great at all. But Billie hears what she so desperately wants to hear and slips into a deep swoon. She has found her heart’s desire.
Johnson knows that to attack her now would mean the end of everything. He takes a quiet breath and finally looks my way.
Our eyes meet.
The boat sinks further.
Please let Non-Ape kill whatever is in the water and charge to our rescue. He’s been underwater for minutes now but surely his massive lungs can hold gallons of air.
I’m desperate to tell Johnson all the things I should have told him from the very beginning. But I can’t, not in front of Billie.
The thump of his heart tells me he wants to hear it but his eyes say no.
‘See you in another life, Rev.’ Johnson touches his finger to his temple and then cocks it my way.
And with that Johnson turns to Billie. ‘We’ve got a road to hit.’ He takes her in his arms and kisses her full on the lips.
The boat receives a giant shunt. A wave hits it and turns it towards the riverside. But the anchor holds the pleasure cruiser in place so all the wave really does is push the front of the boat until it’s facing the riverbank.
The kiss ends and Billie looks breathless. ‘This is where we get off, Johnson,’ she tells him.
‘I’ve got this . . .’ The Ape’s voice is barely a whisper now as he sinks onto his back, hands cupping his slashed stomach. His breathing is shallow, barely audible.
Billie takes a cruel delight in this. ‘You’ve got nothing.’ She laughs and takes Johnson’s hand in hers. ‘I’m the one with everything.’
I look back to Johnson. And probably for the first time in his life he has true fear in his eyes.
I can’t let him do this. We have to keep fighting. We have to. He sees it in my eyes, the raging, desperate desire to have one last attempt at bringing Billie down. But he slowly, silently, shakes his head.
‘Goodbye,’ Johnson mouths to me.
The boat rocks again. Come on, Non-Ape, c’mon! The wave rises and settles as the hull fills with water. ‘Where is he?’ I transmit to Other-Johnson.
‘I can’t reach him.’ His telepathic voice is panicked, fearful.
‘I’m not letting you do this, Billie.’ I can’t help myself. The one thing I’ve learned is to never give up.
Billie knows this and fixes me with the deadliest look of all. ‘Spend time fighting and your precious gorilla’ll die. He’ll fall into a coma and never wake up.’
‘This is nothing,’ the Ape pants as he tries once more to get to his feet. But he can’t do it. He hasn’t got the strength. His hand slips in his own blood and he crashes back down to the deck.
Billie looks to Johnson, revelling in the sweetest of moments.
‘Let’s go. We can walk in the fields again.’
Other-Johnson transmits a thought to me. A simple courageous thought. ‘Your call, Rev. I’m with you whichever way you want to take this. Make your move and I’ll move with you.’
The Ape’s breathing shallows and I know for certain he will die if I don’t help him.
‘Billie, please!’ I beg.
Her metal teeth light up her mean smile. ‘It’s your choice, Rev. You can try and save Johnson or the Ape. But you can’t save both.’
To Be Continued . . .
The apocalyptic detention continues in . . .
The Ape is dying, Johnson is with Billie and Rev is about to be rocked to her core. Nothing can prepare her for the astonishing truth of what is really happening. A realisation that will change her life forever and leave her alone and with nowhere to run.
But Rev is Rev, and if there is one thing she’s learned, it’s that you must never, not ever, give up . . .
Acknowledgements
It’s lovely to think that an author is the only person that matters when writing a novel, but I can assure that’s far from the truth.
So first and foremost, huge thanks to my editor Jane Griffiths whose good taste and wisdom remain matchless. My agent Valerie Hoskins played her part as always, but special mention must go to Sara Moore and Rebecca Watson for their invaluable input. And obviously to my wife Jules who all but shredded the first chapter and told me to start again.
Thank you also to all at Simon & Schuster. But most of all thanks to all of the children and teachers etc. that I spoke to last year. Too numerous to mention by name, but you know who you are and I hope this book meets with your approval.
As ever, if you happen to love either Johnson, Tom Wiggins remains the real deal.