by James Erith
The referee blew his whistle.
It was time to step up and smack it.
‘IT HAS STARTED,’ the ghost said, his hat angled upwards towards the sky. ‘Something more powerful than you can possibly imagine has begun.’ He raised an arm towards the lightning and thunder. ‘If you want to see your friend for the last time, follow his path. I doubt he will last long. You too may run now, but you would be a fool, Archie.’
Kemp moved to the end of the alleyway, wondering if he should run for it. People were scattering everywhere even though the players were still on the pitch.
He watched as Archie hared towards the steep bank and went out of view as he vanished down it. He reappeared, running flat out, waving his hands in the air. By the way people were looking at him, it was as if he was screaming at the top of his voice. Now he was sprinting onto the football field.
Kemp shifted his gaze. Daisy was striking a free kick and …
CRACK!
With a deafening roar, a massive thunderbolt flashed out of the sky right on top of Archie. Kemp’s heart missed a beat as he watched Archie fall to the floor like a ragdoll, his body spasming one moment, still the next.
Smoke drifted out of his friend.
Kemp recoiled and collapsed. Everything the ghost had said had happened; the sweet paper, the lightning in his own image in the cloud and now the thunderbolt aimed at Archie who lay dead on the ground.
Archie didn’t deserve this; laidback Archie with his scruffy hair who was always late for everything. Archie who didn’t really do anything; harmless, quiet Archie, his fishing pal, the only person he’d ever told about his parents. And he’d sent him to his death.
Kemp turned to find Cain directly behind him.
‘I am nothing more than a sad ghost. I was stripped of my flesh and bones, but not my spirit. It means that I cannot move or touch with any great purpose, so I require flesh and blood to partially restore me. This is where you come in – where you can help me. I cannot do it alone.’
The ghost removed his clothing until all that was left was the overcoat that covered his body and the hat on his head. He sniffed the air around Kemp who felt a coldness on his face and stumbled; was he going to be … eaten, or have the life sucked out of him? He felt dizzy and sick and paralysed with fear.
‘Rest assured,’ the old man said softly, ‘I know you are not Archie. I have no intention of taking your life, only borrowing it for a little while. When my work is done and my mother is saved, I will put you back near this very spot. That is my solemn promise. But nature’s curse is upon us.’
The ghost took a step towards the quivering body of Kemp. ‘You must freely decide if you will help me. You must choose now. I doubt you will get such an offer from the storm.’
KEMP FACED him head-on for the first time. All he could see was a transparent gap beneath his hat. His teeth were chattering. ‘If I don’t—?’
‘You’ll almost certainly die or be drowned in the rains or in the landslides or the tsunamis which will sweep through the land destroying everything—’
‘Will you kill me?’
‘Kill you?’ the old man chuckled. ‘No. As I said, I’m just going to borrow you for a while. Why would I kill you when my purpose is to save so many? You must trust me.’
Kemp looked up at the sky. It was fizzing with electricity like an angry nest. A terrible boom rattled every bone in his body moments before a thunderbolt smashed into a nearby chimney pot. Terracotta splinters showered them.
His head shook.
He stared down the path, readying himself to run. But as his eyes focused on the dark shadows between the buildings, he found himself looking at a familiar face. It was Gus Williams laden with shopping bags! They locked eyes for several seconds before Williams simply ran off, as though someone had called him away in a hurry.
‘Dreamspinner!’ the ghost barked impatiently. ‘Open up. It is time to go!’
‘Wait,’ Kemp croaked. ‘What do I have to do?’
‘Put on the coat and hat that covers me. Quickly.’
Kemp’s mind was made up. In a flash, he threw both of his overcoats to the ground and moved in close. As he did, he felt a strange coolness wash over him.
‘Ignore that I am here,’ the ghost said as Kemp fumbled. ‘Put it on, like you would any other.’
Kemp grabbed the collar of the coat and pushed in his arm, amazed by the sudden intense freeze that enveloped it. Then his other arm slid in. Kemp had a wonderful feeling of enormous strength building up in him as though he was being filled with electric charge.
It started in his fingers, moved up his wrist, through his elbows, to his shoulders. All too soon it was spreading down through his loins and into his legs and feet. It was as if a thick liquid, like freezing treacle – stuffed full of power – was coursing through every vein, into every muscle and sinew.
Kemp drew the coat across his chest and the curious feeling leeched towards his heart and lungs.
Now he cried out and stretched his arms wide as the ice-like treacle rushed into his vital organs and washed through his body. He shouted out a cry of pure ecstasy, his cries echoing back off the old houses.
Kemp only had one more thing to do. He lifted up the hat and pulled it down over his head. Very quickly he could feel the cold charge oozing up his neck and through his mouth. For a few seconds, he shut his eyes, enjoying the extraordinary tingling sensations of the liquid ice entering his brain and slowly dispersing through the back of his skull, tickling parts he never knew existed.
Then the surge of power rounded the skull and headed towards his eyes.
When it flowed into his eyes, everything changed.
With a rapidity that took him completely by surprise, Kemp felt a searing pain enter his head, and it grew like a balloon filling with air.
‘What’s happening?’ he screamed. ‘It’s burning me ... MY GOD, my eyes!’ He desperately tried to pull off the hat and wrestle out of the coat, but it was too late, they were stuck on. ‘My head’s being blown apart. What – have – you – done – to – me? Help me! HELP!’
The ghost chuckled as Kemp carried on screaming.
‘Welcome to me,’ Cain said, his voice laced with triumph. ‘Welcome to the burnt-out body of Cain.’
TWENTY-SIX
THE STORM BEGINS
Confusion reigned as players and spectators ran hard towards the cars and houses above the football field. Screams filled the air.
Archie blinked, opened his eyes and tried to focus. His head was pounding from the noise of the blast and he smelt burning hair. When his eyes focused, all he could see was a burning net and smouldering goalpost.
Daisy sprinted over. ‘Archie! Winkle!’ She kissed his forehead. ‘Thank God!’ she said, cradling him. ‘I thought you were toast. Say something – are you hurt – can you move?!’
Archie smiled dumbly and mumbled several inaudible words. Then very slowly he moved his arm and rubbed his eyes. His fingernails were black and smoking.
Daisy carefully pulled him into a sitting position. ‘Your hair’s gone all … all spiky—’
‘ARCHIE!’ Isabella screamed as she tore across the pitch to him. ‘Please, Archie.’ She ran directly over and placed her hand on his forehead. She felt for his temperature, then checked his pulse and inspected his tongue.
He smiled weakly.
‘PHEW! I can’t believe you’re OK – you are OK, aren’t you?’
Archie nodded, but his eyes were not focusing right.
‘My strips must have saved you!’
‘UH?’
‘The strips I made you put on your boots.’ She handed him a bottle of water. ‘Daisy, why don’t you get the tracksuits, while I make sure his internal organs are functioning.’
Isabella gave Archie a short examination and declared that Archie was well enough to take a couple of little sips. Daisy returned with their tracksuits and she slipped into hers before helping Archie into his.
‘Victory!’ Is
abella said, ‘You did it!’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Daisy scoffed as she pulled Archie’s top over his odd hair.
‘I’m not,’ Isabella replied. ‘The ball’s in the net. It was blown into the goal. You scored!’
Daisy didn’t know whether to hit her sister or cry. ‘No,’ she said furiously. ‘I missed and Archie got fried. Look at him – it’s a miracle he survived.’ Daisy felt a dullness consume her; her limbs were tired, sore and defeated. She could hardly bear to look at her sister.
‘He’s fine, aren’t you, Archie?’ Isabella cried. ‘Anyway you’re wrong. Admittedly your shot was heading towards the corner flag but the lightning bolt deflected the ball into the goal – I swear it. The charge of particles must have generated a force to hit it in precisely the right spot to divert it without blowing it up. It’s a miracle. It’s the goal of the millennium—’
‘Shut up! Please,’ Daisy said sharply. ‘Stop it, Bells.’
Coach was running over towards them and he went straight to Archie where he spent some time checking him over.
‘WOW-ee,’ he whistled. ‘That’s one lucky escape, young man. I thought you were brown bread for a minute. It looks like the Gods spared you – you may feel a little groggy, but you’re gonna be alright. Try standing if you can.’
Archie smiled and, with the aid of a person on each side, he stood up.
‘How do you feel?’
Archie grinned. He couldn’t quite hear or see them, but he was improving by the second.
‘That’s the match-ball in the net, isn’t it, Coach?’ Isabella asked. ‘I’ve taken a picture of it on my phone – for safekeeping.’
Coach clapped his hands. ‘You’re right! Looks like we ruddy well won. We’re only the bleedin’ champions!’ He slapped Daisy on the back, almost knocking her over. ‘Quite amazing ...’ But he stopped mid-sentence and turned to the sky, his tone serious once again. ‘Listen, if you think you can make it, Arch – you’d better get off now up that funny track to your cottage. Otherwise I’ll give you a lift back, via the school.’
‘Don’t worry, Coach. We’ll get him back in one piece,’ Isabella insisted. ‘I promise – it’s not so far. Anyway, you’re not that bad are you, Archie?’
Coach eyed them. ‘You sure? You’d better get going then. Best scarper before another of them thunderbolts gets us.’ He patted them on their backs. ‘And fast as you can! I reckon it’s going to bloody piss down.’
Coach skipped off towards the car park singing loudly. Then he yelled back at them. ‘Great goals, Daisy and bloody brilliant hairdo, Arch. You’re legends!’
ARCHIE WAVERED a little and Daisy caught him. ‘You really think we can get back home?’
Archie was trying to say something. But it came out slightly askew.
‘What is it?’ Isabella said softly.
‘Storm! Go,’ he replied.
Angry rolls of thunder boomed around them.
‘Is anyone else finding this very loud?’ Daisy asked. ‘I’ve had to put tissue in my ears. Look!’ And she pulled out the paper. Suddenly Daisy’s face went pale.
Isabella spotted it. ‘What is it?’
‘I think there’s another in-coming thunderbolt.’
‘What!’ Isabella said.
‘RUN! NOW!’
They grabbed Archie round the shoulders and set off.
‘I can hear the particles gathering in the cloud, I think. Sounds like a build-up of collisions.’ Daisy stopped. ‘DIVE!’
A moment later, a massive crack tore across the sky and unleashed a lightning bolt that smashed into the exact spot where, moments earlier, they had been huddled together. The ground smouldered.
‘Bloody hell,’ Isabella whispered, her knees buckling. ‘That was close. It’s like it’s after us.’
‘It is,’ Archie mumbled. He closed his eyes and tried to work more saliva into his mouth. ‘We have to survive ... until dusk.’
‘That’s exactly what Sue was yelling about,’ Isabella said. ‘Survive till sunset.’
‘Where do you get that nonsense from?’ Daisy said. And then she twitched.
Isabella noticed. ‘What is it, Daisy?’
‘Another one – I think I can hear it!’
They reached the tree and slipped under the branches.
‘We should be safer here.’
Daisy held her hands over her ears as a couple of tears rolled down her cheeks. ‘My God. Here it comes!’
A lightning bolt smashed into the branches. The children screamed as a huge branch sheared off and crashed a couple of metres away.
They ran out hugging each other.
‘OH, NO!’ Daisy cried.
‘What now!?’
‘It’s like ... a power shower has just been switched on.’
A warm wind swirled and nearly blew them off their feet. Then the first few large rain drops like mini water balloons began to plummet out of the cloud.
‘We need to move, NOW!’ Isabella cried. ‘This is the storm from hell we predicted—’
‘Predicted?’ Daisy yelled.
‘Yeah, Sue and I ...’ Isabella’s voice trailed off. ‘OMG,’ she said, ‘we’ve got about five minutes before this playing field becomes a river.’
‘Oh, that is simply marvellous,’ Daisy yelled.
Isabella and Daisy put their hands under Archie’s armpits and folded his arms across their shoulders so he was properly supported.
‘You’ve got to move your legs, Arch,’ Isabella implored. ‘HURRY!’ she screamed, forcing the pace. The rain intensified as the wind blew in several directions at once. In no time, in front of them, on top of them, and behind them, a wall of water sluiced out of the heavens, pounding them, beating them hard on their heads and shoulders and backs. Isabella removed her coat and draped it over their heads. For the moment at least, it acted like a shelter.
‘Where’s the bridge?’ Daisy shouted above the din of the rain. ‘I can’t see ANYTHING!’
Isabella slowed and stared at the ground. Water heads downhill, so it’s got to be this way. If we get to the path, we’ll find it. Without knowing why, she pointed her free arm ahead of her, closed her eyes and allowed it to guide her.
Soon the feel underfoot of soft wet turf made way for hard gravel. They followed it, but every step was tricky and they couldn’t be sure exactly where they were going. Isabella rubbed the ground every so often with her foot to feel the hard path underneath. By the time they reached the bridge, the children were cold, soaked through and exhausted. And, more worryingly, water was spilling out of the river at an alarming rate – up to their ankles and rising fast.
‘Bind – tighter – scrum!’ Isabella yelled, ‘We’ve got to move together, rhythmically, in time. I’ll count.’ She realised they couldn’t hear her so she signed with her fingers: ONE, TWO ... THREE and then she flicked out her thumb.
‘Where’s the bridge?!’ Daisy screamed, before suddenly losing her footing. She screamed again as Archie hauled her to her feet.
Isabella shook her head, imploring her to keep going. ‘DON’T FALL OVER.’ She turned to Archie to see if he understood. He nodded.
Isabella counted each agonising step, the force of the water gaining by the second, pushing hard at their legs. Every breath was a struggle and their heads were bowed from the pressure bearing down upon them.
Isabella had no idea where she was headed. She simply trusted her hands and, as if by a miracle, they guided her to the rail. She breathed a deep sigh of relief. They shuffled onto the bridge, still huddled together, their feet searching for the wooden boards.
Daisy suddenly went stiff, holding the others back. She turned to the others, her eyes bulging.
Collectively they realised what she meant.
‘RUN!’
They scampered up to the brow of the bridge, Daisy leading the way holding Archie’s hand on one side, when suddenly she dived, hauling Archie forward with all her might.
Bits of wood splintered around t
hem, the noise deafening. Daisy picked herself out of the water, her feet grateful for the feeling of land, and discovered Archie next to her. He was fine; but where was Isabella?
Daisy called out but it was hopeless; she wouldn’t be heard over the din. As she listened, the only thing she could hear was the roar of the rain and rushing water flushing everything downstream.
TWENTY-SEVEN
ISABELLA DISAPPEARS
Isabella found herself slipping and falling. The water took her as her world went blank. When she came to, her body was numb from the shock of the lightning bolt and, although she hadn’t received a direct hit, every nerve and sinew tingled like a spectacular case of pins and needles.
She coughed and gasped for breath, spluttering and ejecting the water trapped in her lungs. Her hands and feet kicked, her arms and legs moving faster than she could have possibly imagined just to keep her head above the torrents. Already, her feet were unable to feel the bottom of the river – had the water climbed so high in such a short time?
The problem was finding enough oxygen to breathe. There wasn’t a single bit of air anywhere. Her hand touched something and she grappled with it and tried to pull herself up. But it was a loose root and it fell away.
She plunged back under the surface and was pulled down river. When Isabella rose to the surface, she wondered how long she could keep floating helplessly like this and how far she had travelled.
She needed to touch down on the cottage side of the river. If she made land on the valley side, she was surely doomed – there would be little chance of crossing. Treading water as best as she could, she did a quick calculation: if the water was running from the moors down into the valley, she had to land on the right side as it flowed towards her. Isabella kicked hard until she could feel the water pushing her and then twisted to the right with all her strength, swimming at an angle into the current.
Moments later she touched on something that felt like a shrub. She put her feet down and was relieved to find herself waist high. She scrambled across the bush, her legs getting scratched to bits, and kept moving until her feet hit on solid ground.
