by James Erith
Dr Muller nodded and nudged the Prime Minister gently to the side. ‘If it is the start of an epidemic, Prime Minister, you are aware that you have been in an infected area and you must go through a de-contamination programme? For safety’s sake, I urge you to do this at once and leave immediately after the press conference.’
The Prime Minister cocked his head. Years of being in the firing line of politics had given him a nose for judging people. ‘Is there something you haven’t told me, doctor?’
Dr Muller shifted and drew the PM and the Commissioner out of earshot. ‘So far, we’ve only been able to reach a small number of people – namely those from Northallerton. We have no knowledge of the situation in the smaller villages which have been all but eradicated.’ He frowned as his voice fell to a whisper. ‘Early reports indicate that animals too have been found with plague-like symptoms almost identical to the human condition.’
‘What is the relevance of this in relation to the outbreak?’
‘Well—’
The Prime Minister stared at him open-mouthed as the truth hit him. ‘You’re saying that the disease – or whatever it is – is wiping out everything in its path.’
‘Perhaps … we can’t rule it out,’ the doctor replied. ‘As I mentioned, these are only rumours and, of course, we don’t know how the virus spreads – who is likely to catch it – or the conditions of infection. It could be—’
‘Why was I not briefed about this?’ the Prime Minister snapped. ‘Have COBRA been notified?’
‘There’s a unit heading towards the village of Upsall – they left this morning. They are due to report back this afternoon.’
‘God have mercy upon us,’ the Prime Minister said under his breath. ‘Isn’t this the place where the storm started?’
‘Indeed. Satellite recordings show that the weather system came from directly above the village—’
‘Yes, I heard it was unlike any other storm formation ever recorded. What do we know?’
‘As far as we’re aware, it’s the location of a well-known local school that inhabits an old monastery and the village is a popular tourist attraction for walkers in the summer. My cousin happens to be headmaster there. Man called Solomon.’
The PM pursed his lips. ‘We need a thorough investigation of this place, and I mean thorough. Anything suspicious, anything ever recorded – police records, hospital records – must be analysed and re-analysed. We’ll need details of farms, cattle stocks, any previous outbreaks of disease, bird populations … anything and everything.’
‘I have a team working on it already,’ Stone said.
‘Good. All survivors must be brought into the containment area and questioned. We need answers and quickly – like yesterday.’
The commissioner nodded.
‘And pardon the pun, Stone, but leave no stone unturned. If this Godforsaken crisis cannot be explained by usual methodology, we need to work on something outside the box. Understand? And if the storm and the disease both spilled out of Upsall, then I want to know why. Is this perfectly clear?’
Stone smiled. ‘Yes, sir. I understand completely.’
The Prime Minister nodded. ‘Call on anyone – and I mean anyone you need in order to assist you. Let nothing get in your way. As far as I’m concerned, Stone, you have whatever power you need to get the bottom of this.’
SIXTY-FOUR
ISABELLA MAKES A DISCOVERY
For a considerable time, Isabella remained under her bed covers, waking up. She’d slept like a log. She sat up and rubbed her eyes before stretching her arms out and yawning. There must be a reason for all these odd things, Isabella thought. I’ll work it out logically, starting with Sue’s dream and then go through everything I can remember. Then, when I’m done, I’ll present a logical, scientific report to the others.
As she headed downstairs for some porridge, she grabbed her notebook and a pen and began to think hard about the chain of events that led up to where they were now.
She decided to concentrate on what she had discovered from the others, write it down and then work out which bits were linked and why they were connected. She opened her notebook, took the lid off her pen and began to write.
A LIST, OF WHO IS / ISN’T IN MY DREAM(S).
PARENTS:
Not involved. Definitely remember seeing them, but can’t place them anywhere.
Daisy hasn’t mentioned them and Archie nothing. So they are fairly hopeless in not being here to help!!!
SUE:
Hasn’t appeared in my dreams – WHY NOT?? So why did she have a dream … friend??
Is she relevant? Probably. Don’t know why.
She predicted the rain and knows about something we have to do … according to her, it’s our fault! Why are we to blame for the rain? Don’t think so – IF SO, HOW?
Something else about clues … ? in Eden Cottage. Have to find something. What? Tablets? Paintings?
Is Gus involved – NO. (Don’t think so.)
OLD MAN WOOD:
VERY VERY important.
Crops up all the time. Seems to be more than one of him, but why oh why would Old Man Wood want to be in my dreams??
Resplendix Mix is weird (but amazing). From an apothecary, apparently (they don’t exist). Need to get a sample. His funny apples are a bit weird, too.
Somehow found us in the rain. HOW WAS THAT POSSIBLE???
Looks freaked out by what’s going on. But not bothered by the ridiculous pool and Resplendix Mix.
Why did he laugh when doing the Bible quiz?
How old IS he?
MRS PYE:
Comes into it at some point (I think) though is it actually her? Something not quite right about her. Don’t know what it is.
ANCIENT WOMAN:
Vital to the whole thing. Daisy’s common dominator (!!) but keeps on being killed. Mainly by Archie. URGH? No idea why. She seems lost, desperately ill and frail.
Where is she from??
THE CAVE: (According to the twins)
Paintings on the wall similar to Sue’s comments about finding … what - tablets? (according to D). V Odd healing water.
Gears on stairs and boulder at top. Must have been designed. But WHO designed them and WHY?
DAISY:
Can hear acute things like lightning bolts forming and see astonishing detail, (though is she making it up?) Scientific explanation: Electrical charge from lightning bolt altered nerve motors in these areas. Eyes and ears suffered semi-permanent damage?
Also, utterly convinced that cave paintings are relevant ... D was dead? All V. odd.
ARCHIE:
Moved the boulder – though would it have gone anyway?
Hair stiff and wiry like a mace club. Scientific explanation: A mix that happened when the lighting struck between the particles of the football and lightning strips we gave him.
Very freaked out by murder of Ancient Woman.
Knew about sunset and rain ceasing. HOW? Did he dream this or … ? Seems to know something else.
Is a bit lost and has doubt.
ISABELLA READ her list and realised that she still had no idea. It struck her that she needed to interrogate Old Man Wood and quiz him relentlessly until he gave her proper, reasonable answers.
She’d start by grilling him about Resplendix Mix, which was both real and yet totally extraordinary. Then she’d ask him what he knew about the Creation story and also try to figure out how old he was.
Why not run a couple of tests on the Resplendix Mix to see if she could identify some of its properties? But then she realised she’d need a lab and light and heat and test tubes and all manner of things.
Realising her frustration, she thumped the table and threw her notepad across the room.
She’d just have to find out what she could, and prove – beyond doubt – that these were freak events that they were caught up in and nothing else.
And then she remembered that the old man said he’d been dreaming too. Perhaps she’d ask h
im about that as well.
ISABELLA TOOK off up the main wooden stairs towards his room and knocked on the solid oak door. ‘Old Man Wood, are you there?’ she began. ‘I really need to talk.’
There was no reply. Isabella knew he wasn’t in. When he was at home, either huge snores would reverberate through the door, or he’d be padding about, or rustling a newspaper on his great big bed; or the curious odour of pine-scented smoke from his homemade pipe with its strangely reassuring woody aroma would drift into the corridor from under the door.
Isabella waited a moment longer and turned the door handle. She peeked behind her, entered the room and closed the door. In the middle sat Old Man Wood’s great bed. She tiptoed over the musty little carpets and jumped high in the air, landing in the soft pile of the feather-down duvet and cushions.
With her head propped up by large, soft pillows she lost herself in thought, and stared at the rain tracing its way down the windowpanes. Her attention turned to the beautiful wooden carvings that depicted strange scenes and images of animals and creatures which adorned every upright and joint on the old four-poster bed. She smiled as she remembered how, as younger children, they had spent hours creating outrageous stories with the wooden characters and, now that she thought about it, the carvings were never quite the same from one day to the next. Probably, she thought, just their childish imaginations running wild.
Isabella studied the three wooden panels at the foot of the bed. She couldn’t remember seeing these before. Three panels, each the size of a large, rectangular place mat. The harder she looked, the deeper the array of colours; dark and light reds, pale and ocean-deep blues, soft and rich browns and a mixture of subtle creams and yellows. But overall, if you looked quickly, the wood was light brown.
Isabella pulled herself up and helped herself to a sip of water from Old Man Wood’s glass. Then she lay back again.
Hang on! The figure in the first panel moved!
Oh. No, it didn’t.
She smiled. But as she journeyed down memory lane, she stared at it again and noticed a girl sitting in a bed. She laughed. It looked quite like her, but probably prettier and thinner. Weird or what?
She turned her attention to the second panel, the wood lighter in colour than the others. The harder she looked the clearer she could see another girl lying down, somewhere where the sun was shining. The girl sunbathing but lying in snow in between three fat, rather deformed, trees.
Isabella felt a little jealous. How nice to feel the sun, she thought, but odd that the girl was semi-naked in snow. Just as Isabella lifted her head to see what else was on the bed-head, she detected a movement in the panel.
It changed! It definitely changed. She laughed nervously. Come on, Isabella, don’t be an idiot. Bed panels don’t move. She shut her eyes and lay back. But a part of her brain wouldn’t let the imagery go.
She looked again and it was still. She breathed a sigh of relief.
Then the image moved again.
In shock, Isabella felt her head going numb. She stared, her bottom lip hanging, forgetting to breathe.
At length she exhaled. ‘It’s moving. It’s really moving … like a …’ she muttered. Isabella sat bolt upright, shut her eyes and swung her legs off the bed. ‘Like a … telly.’
She walked past the wooden panels and over to the window where she sat down in Old Man Wood’s armchair and shook her head. She must be seeing things.
After a few minutes, she reaffirmed that she was normal. There was nothing wrong with her eyes or her brain, and although her stomach felt hollow she took herself back to the bed.
She lay back, closed her eyes and then slowly opened them, hoping like mad that she’d been seeing things. But, to Isabella’s horror, the girl in the wooden relief stood up, walked first one way and then the other before heading towards the frame of something that resembled a large greenhouse.
Isabella felt sick. However much she didn’t want to believe it, she couldn’t tear her eyes away.
The girl, now clothed, walked into this strange looking area where, across the floor, lay another object, rather like Old Man Wood’s old-fashioned garden roller but with a flat ledge, like a table. If it wasn’t a roller, what was it?
Isabella rubbed her eyes, swung her legs off the bed again and this time faced the mirror above the fireplace. She looked deeply at her reflection, particularly at her eyes. Then she pulled her hands up to her face and slapped each cheek as hard as she dared.
‘OW!’ she cried, surprised by the force. ‘Wow, that hurt,’ she said, rubbing her cheek, feeling a little foolish.
‘OK. I’m real and this is real and that slap was definitely real,’ she said to her reflection. ‘So how has Old Man Wood managed to do this?’ she continued. ‘Is he a secret agent, a spy? Does he work for a space agency or something?’ Isabella laughed. Old Man Wood as a spy, hilarious. Spaceman – even more hilarious. She walked across the room and lowered herself into his armchair.
A frown filled her face and her eyes narrowed. What if he’s a … a wizard, or a witch doctor, or an ALIEN?
A thrill swept through her. It would explain the Resplendix Mix.
Isabella returned to the bed, full of trepidation, and settled back in the cushions. She closed her eyes and then half opened them, hoping the images had gone. They hadn’t.
So, this time, she sat up and examined the subtle movement of the panels and the more she studied it, the more enchanted she became.
If it’s a kind of wooden telly, she thought, then it must have power going to it. She began searching for wires, or a transmitter, or anything that might make a bit of sense. But again, she drew a blank.
Isabella sighed, clambered back onto the bed and returned to her viewing. For some time, the girl in the middle panel sat on the roller-object and nothing happened. Every now and then, her arms were thrown in the air in a familiar gesture that Isabella recognised from somewhere. Then the girl stood up and, with considerable effort, began to pull the roller-object’s handle and, as she did so, a hole opened up where the table had been.
This is more like it, Isabella thought, pleased to see some action. The girl in the panel returned to the space where the table had been and appeared to look at it. Then she knelt down and swivelled as if she was talking to someone.
I’m sure I know that bum, Isabella thought, and the way that body bends forward so easily, like a doll, but who is it?
Isabella moved her attention to the third panel at the end of the bed which, up until then, had remained lifeless. But now that her eyes were accustomed to the colours, she could make out the outline of a body curled up in the corner of a darkened room.
Suddenly she saw a movement – an arm cocked back and then slammed quickly forward.
‘Whoa!’ she cried. ‘What’s that all about?’ She watched again and shuffled closer to the screen. Moments later, the exact same motion happened. She suddenly realised what she was looking at.
‘It’s Archie!’ she whispered, her heart racing, ‘with his stupid throwing knives. I knew he hadn’t got rid of them.’ She watched closer. The figure stood up and there, on the top of his head, were his extraordinary hair spikes.
Isabella put her head in her hands. If that’s Archie, then the middle one … she looked at the picture of the girl in the sunshine again. That bum! Of course! It was … Daisy’s bum!
Isabella clapped her hands together. The third panel is Archie. The middle panel with the roller-object and that lovely bottom is Daisy’s, so the last panel is … she threw her hand in the air and the image on the relief copied her.
It was her!
A strange dizziness started to rush in.
It’s me! Here, in Old Man Wood’s bed!
Isabella stared back at herself, hardly daring to move. A dull ache jammed her brain.
Keep calm, need to think. Come on, brain; what … OK … who was Old Man Wood, really? And why this bed? For spying on them? Why though, for Heaven’s sake? For perving on them? No. It c
ouldn’t be. Old Man Wood wasn’t a pervert, not one little bit.
Perhaps it was a kind of child-monitor while the parents were away? No – way too expensive and ridiculous and impossible.
But why did he have it and what did it mean? Why did it exist?
Her heart thumping, she turned back to the wooden screens. Archie’s arm flashed forward, throwing another stupid knife. By the dinginess of it he’s probably in that horrible old woodshed.
But where was Daisy? On the panel it appeared as sunny, whereas outside, and she looked out of the window, it was dank, rainy and horrible. In her mind’s eye she ran through every place on the farm and by the ruins but no place came close.
She took a deep breath and, totally absorbed by the spectacle, viewed her sister. But a moment later, Daisy disappeared.
One minute she was there and the next … where is she?
A lump grew in Isabella’s throat and her heartbeat quickened. Was the panel faulty?
Suddenly the wooden screen came back to life.
Phew. Panic over!
Isabella breathed a sigh of relief as she watched Daisy scuttle about on her hands and knees trying to move the roller thing.
She’s talking again.
Then Isabella watched as Daisy stood up like a sentry and pointed towards the ground, her mouth open wide as if … screaming.
Slowly, her body lowered into the ground; first her legs, then her chest, until all that remained was her head. Moments later she vanished entirely.
The screen went blank.
Isabella stared at the panel for several minutes, transfixed, until her large eyes filled with tears. But there was no mistaking it; while she and Archie remained on their panels, Daisy’s wooden panel lay empty and lifeless and dull, like an ordinary section of their dining room table.
Daisy, she realised, had quite literally vanished.
SIXTY-FIVE
A BEE AND A LEAF
