Eden Chronicles Box Set Books 1-3

by James Erith

  Then, quite unexpectedly, the globe spun on its head, showing a less orderly but unmistakable colouring of red dots weaving through the heart of Africa all the way down to South Africa.

  Now the globe spun again as day broke across the Eastern shore of America.

  All three men stood up.

  ‘Pause it there!’ Solomon said, his voice quivering. ‘Thank you, Dickinson.’ He faced his cousin. ‘Now, if my theory is correct and the infection has spread at night, as we sleep,’ he said, his brow furrowed, ‘the next bit should be rather interesting.’

  As the line of darkness gave in to the light of morning, following behind, like a red wave, came thousands of tiny dots. And as they watched, Ebora quietly swept across the Americas, North and South, quite literally as day follows night.

  When the animation finished the three men remained in silence for a considerable time.

  ‘So, Ebora comes at night?’ Stone said.

  ‘In waves,’ Solomon agreed, mopping his brow.

  ‘Maybe it’s a biological agent, triggered by the dark?’ Dickinson added.

  Solomon hummed. ‘I see where you’re coming from, but does it really add up? Ebora originates from Upsall, spreads around as you’d expect with no particular order to it and then, two days later, it follows a strict pattern. As though something has taken it on—’

  ‘Maybe there’s a night particle—?’ Dickinson added.

  ‘A night particle?’ Stone coughed. ‘Come on, lad. Even I know there is no such a thing. More likely, someone’s taken a flight from here to New York and it’s spread hand to mouth—’

  ‘In a day? It’s impossible, Charlie. You know that.’ The headmaster said, sitting down. He removed his glasses and dabbed his eyes.

  ‘Now, who would like to hear my theory?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m all ears,’ Stone replied with a heavy drip of sarcasm.

  ‘You’re going to find it hard to believe, Charlie, but hear me out. First of all though, here’s a riddle for both of you. What goes by night, has many forms and is given to all people?’

  ‘This is no time for riddles, Solomon.’

  ‘Actually, yes, I think it jolly well is.’

  ‘Ghosts, spirits?’ Dickinson volunteered.

  ‘No. Nice idea. You’re in the right kind of area.’

  ‘This is ridiculous—’

  ‘Rain!’ Dickinson said.

  ‘Wrong! ... although in one sense you are, I suppose, absolutely spot on. Here’s a clue. What does the riddle have in common with Sue?’

  ‘Are all your classes like this?’ Stone said, flatly.

  ‘She had a dream about the storm?’ Dickinson said.

  Solomon clapped his hands. ‘Now we’re getting somewhere. Yes, she dreamt about the storm. The answer to the riddle is, “Dreams”.’

  Stone clapped slowly. ‘Bravo. Where the hell is this going, Solomon?’

  The headmaster was on a roll. ‘We know that Sue had a premonition. And it was so clear and so frightening that it even made her friend scared out of her wits – scared enough to chart weather sequences from around the world. And then, lo and behold, her dream came true. In fact, everything about it came true! So what I’m saying is this: either she has some kind of psychic powers or, perhaps, she was given that dream.’

  ‘Oh, bloody hell,’ Stone tutted. ‘What – by freaking aliens?’

  Solomon shrugged. ‘I don’t know! But what I do know is that throughout the world, come nightfall, the one common factor irrespective of creed and gender and race and animal type ... and anything else that sets us apart from one another, is that we sleep and therefore we ... dream.’

  Stone took his feet off his desk, stood up and paced around the room, scratching his chin. ‘Am I right in thinking that you’re saying little alien bugs are flying about dishing out dreams?’

  Solomon shrugged. ‘I don’t know. It is simply a theory. But we haven’t got anything else, have we? And Ebora isn’t caused by a lack of hygiene or spread by vermin. It is something else, Charlie. We may have to contemplate running with some distinctly unsettling propositions if we’re to get to the bottom of this.’

  Stone harrumphed. ‘Dickinson, what do you think?’

  The young officer had gone a little pale. ‘I think it’s utterly brilliant, sir.’

  Stone rolled his eyes. ‘Brilliant? Bollocks to that. Brilliant? So, what do you think I should do? Ring up the President of the United States of America and tell him to order his people not to go to sleep, in case they bloody well dream?’

  He stood up. ‘I can just imagine it. The Brits have a plan for the Ebora, this deadly virus they’ve unleashed on the world. It’s called “Stay Awake”! Gee, they’ll say, why didn’t we think of that?’

  Stone’s cold eyes bore into the headmaster. ‘In my humble opinion, Solomon, that has to be the most unhelpful crappy piece of advice I’ve ever heard.’

  Solomon eyed him curiously for a while and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. ‘Charlie, you’re an excellent police officer with outstanding qualities, but sometimes I do think you really are one of the stupidest people I have ever had the misfortune of stumbling upon.’

  Stone glared at him.

  Solomon continued. ‘You must realise that if what I’m saying is anywhere close to the mark, then what we’re witnessing, right now, is some kind of alien or extra-terrestrial threat to us as a race. We may well be being led into extermination.’

  Stone chortled. ‘Wiped out? Don’t be silly. Humans always find a way.’

  ‘Hear me out, Charlie. You just said we haven’t got an answer. Face it, our brain functionality does not allow us to think of anything outside of our general programming. If you ask me, my dear chap, something sinister and world threatening was opened up in Upsall. This power – or whatever you want to call it – is not only lethal, but without precedent. And, like it or not, it would appear to me that there are only three people in the world who know anything about it. My guess is that those three just happen to be the de Lowe children.’

  Stone shook his head. ‘They’re bloody kids. Kids causing trouble with something they don’t understand. That’s my guess.’

  ‘But so what if they’re kids, Charlie? It makes perfect sense. Their minds are open and not closed – like yours, mine and most of the human race. Take a look at the boy, Kemp. What happened to him wasn’t an accident of the storm: those burns, his malnutrition. They weren’t the result of Ebora. And then, quite suddenly, he disappears off the face of the planet, leaving a puff of ash. In my opinion, he’s a part of this too, Charlie. And it’s something we cannot fathom.’

  Solomon paced the room like a lecturer. ‘Remember the stained glass windows of Upsall church? They clearly showed that after rain, comes pestilence. And Dickinson neatly pointed out that the terrifying storm cloud evaporated at the exact moment the sun went down. The question is, why didn’t it continue on to pulverise the rest of the country? Something made it stop, which is why it moved on to the disease. We are being beaten and battered by something brilliantly clever, Charlie. And, it is utterly ruthless.’ Solomon sat down. He needed a drink.

  ‘Have you quite finished?’ Stone said, as he chewed a fingernail and spat it out over the floor. ‘Thank you for that huge load of complete shite. Let me remind you of a couple of things. Firstly, that I run the show round here, and secondly, I do not need any jumped-up loony theories about aliens and dreams. Do you understand, headmaster? What I need is proper, logical solutions and I need them now.’

  The headmaster smiled at him wearily. ‘As I said, it is a theory, that’s all. Please don’t forget that all I am trying to do is help you. I lost most of my students in this disaster and I, too, intend to get to the bottom of this one way or another.’

  Stone acknowledged him with a wave of his hand. ‘Dickinson, did you get the results of the ash from Kemp’s disappearance?’

  Dickinson sorted through some emails on his computer. ‘Ah, here. Inconclusive,
I’m afraid,’ he said, looking up. ‘The carbon dating machine appears to have broken down.’

  Stone swore. ‘What does it say?’

  Dickinson read on. ‘Well, the results that came back said that the ash was over a million years old. That the boy somehow – combusted—’

  ‘Kemp burnt himself to death?’ Stone spat. ‘Incinerated into a small pile of ash in the toilet?’

  Dickinson smiled. ‘Hence why they think the machine is faulty.’

  Solomon sensed his moment. ‘Look, if I can get into that house of theirs, maybe I can find out if there’s anything that might match what I found in the church. Surely it’s worth a try?’

  Stone eyed him curiously. ‘Yeah, alright. Take the girl with you. She knows them well enough. But on one condition: you only go if they’re not there. I don’t want you interfering if and when we find them. Is that clear? Our team will be there shortly after dawn. They’ll be back by midday. You’ll know by then.’

  ‘Good,’ Solomon said. He stood up, thanked Stone and Dickinson, and let himself out.

  Outside the door, he exhaled loudly.

  If the children were there, as Stone suspected, then there was no way he could get the de Lowe’s away from the cottage before the soldiers arrived at dawn. And if his theory had any weight, well, then what?

  DICKINSON SAT DOWN. ‘Persuasive – your cousin. I like him. I wish my teachers had had his charisma.’

  ‘But not very useful on a practical level, I’m afraid,’ Stone said. ‘Bloody lunatic if you ask me.’ He scratched his creased brow. ‘Play that recording again. There’s a bit towards the end that I didn’t quite understand – it’s been nagging at me. Something he says doesn’t add up.’

  Two can play at this game, Stone thought.

  Dickinson clicked back towards the end. Then back a little.

  ‘Yes. That’s probably about right. OK, let it roll.’

  The recording came to life, filling the room.

  ‘Sue, do you know of anything that might somehow link this storm or the Ebora with Upsall School or with any of your friends?’

  ‘No, not that I’m aware of.’

  ‘And does Gus know of anything, anything at all, Sue?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  - long pause -

  Then, not so loudly:

  ‘Murder? ... In the village …?’

  Stone leant in. ‘What’s going on there, Dickinson? Did she mouth something to him?’

  Dickinson ran it back and they listened again. ‘It’s like they’re sort of having another conversation, separately.’

  Stone put his hands behind his head and exhaled. ‘Is there a chance, Dickinson, that Solomon and Sue are taking us for one BLOODY great big ride? Why do I have a very deep suspicion that underneath this Ebora disaster lies some kind of murky secret?’

  ‘What do you want me to do, sir?’

  ‘Go with the crew at dawn. Watch, listen – find out all you can. And believe you me, when we get those kids I’m going to shove so much electricity up Archie-bleeding-de Lowe’s backside that his hair will be standing erect for the rest of his life.’

  His COBRA hotline buzzed.

  ‘Mark my words,’ he continued. ‘Sometime soon they’re going to have to come running out of their burrow and when they do, I’ll be there.’

  Dickinson strode towards the door.

  ‘One more thing, Dickinson: I want you to personally radio me when you get to that cottage at first light, understand? I want you to be my eyes and ears.’

  Stone picked up the receiver. ‘Stone,’ he said. He listened for a minute, cringing at the sharp tones cutting down the phone.

  ‘Secretary of State,’ he said, trying not to express his irritation. ‘No, I didn’t realise you’ve had the Americans demanding to send in their troops, nor coming here to find the cause of Ebora. Please remind them that the best help they can give us is in areas such as forensics and molecular science—’

  He listened to the shrill voice on the other end.

  ‘Then it seems to me,’ he said, ‘that we could do with them helping to keep the peace, not in threatening to blow the hell out of Yorkshire, or any place else they suspect.’

  The Secretary of State spoke at length again.

  Stone responded. ‘On that matter,’ he said, ‘I have a lead in regard to Archie de Lowe and his sisters. Nothing certain, but I’ll know more in the morning when my team have swept through their cottage. I’ll call you at eleven with an update.’

  Stone replaced the phone and mopped his brow.

  It was out of control. The world was in crisis. The Americans now blamed Middle Eastern terrorist groups for planting Ebora and destroying the west, the Chinese were blaming the Russians and the Europeans were blaming the Americans who were ready to decimate the North of England with a very, very big bomb in order to stop its spread at source.

  Stone shook his head. It was already too late for all that.

  He thumped the table. Everything would be a good deal easier if they could just find Archie de Lowe.

  NINETY-ONE

  ISABELLA’S POWER

  The twins were by the track, near to the courtyard, when they heard Isabella screaming.

  Daisy and Archie looked at each other, then Mrs. Pye.

  ‘It’s Bells,’ Daisy said. ‘Something has happened.’ They rushed inside following the noise up the stairs. As they turned into Old Man Wood’s room their eyes met a quite extraordinary sight.

  For from the crack in the door they saw Old Man Wood’s mushroom-littered body levitating in a cocoon of swirling pink light coming from Isabella’s hands.

  As they stepped inside, the fungi began to detonate. Daisy and Archie threw themselves behind the door as toadstools thudded into the panels and wall and door like rifle bullets. As the noise died down they poked their heads inside. Isabella, on her last reserves, stumbled and fell against the wall.

  Archie rushed to her, holding her up.

  Daisy followed. ‘What is it?’

  Archie glanced at Old Man Wood’s chest, where the last remaining toadstool glowed from green to white. ‘I think he’s dying,’ he said.

  Suddenly, it grew.

  Archie ran forward and attempted to rip it off but only succeeded in burning his hands.

  Then, without knowing why, he moved behind his sister, extended his arms around her body and directed her wrists aloft. Daisy instinctively did the same so that Archie was sandwiched in the middle, their arms pushed forwards.

  He shut his eyes.

  ‘Be strong, Bells,’ he said. ‘Reach inside and draw out every sinew and fibre – and then go a little bit further.’

  The lagging pink cocoon suddenly fizzled into life.

  With one last, deep breath she screamed:

  ‘OUT ... OUT!’

  She thrust her hands at the fungi and slammed everything she had at it. Archie and Daisy shut their eyes.

  The toadstool quivered and swayed, but stuck.

  ‘More, everyone,’ Archie yelled, ‘Together, all of us. Bells, ONCE MORE ... on the count of three.

  ‘One, two ...

  NOW!’

  A huge volley of power rocketed out from the children’s extended arms, the recoil throwing them against the wall. The toadstool flinched, then swayed and shook, before blasting off Old Man Wood’s chest, circling the room twice like an out of control firework and smashing into the bed panels at the foot of his bed, spraying the room with wood and splinters.

  As the pink cocoon faded, Old Man Wood’s body floated down.

  Archie and Daisy untangled themselves and picked themselves up off the floor.

  Darkness filled the room save for the crackle of fire on the panelling spreading quickly towards Old Man Wood’s bed.

  Isabella lay on the floor, motionless.

  Archie acted fast. ‘Daisy, get Isabella out of here!’

  He ran to the bed and, in two deft movements, lifted the torso of the old man and then hoisted
him effortlessly over his shoulder, his body swamping him like a bear.

  Outside, Archie laid Old Man Wood next to Isabella. He looked over her pale sweaty face, brushed her hair away and gently kissed her forehead. Soft breaths came out over long intervals, her face ashen and her eyes closed but ringed with dark patches, like a panda.

  ‘Hey, Bells,’ he whispered. ‘You did it. You saved him, I’m sure of it.’ He detected the faintest glimmer of a smile. A tear rolled down her cheek. He smiled back and wiped it off. ‘Back in a minute.’ Without hesitating, Archie rushed back in and, wielding a carpet, smothered the flames.

  He ran down the corridor to the bathroom, emptied the contents of the bin on the floor, filled it with water and returned to extinguish the glowing embers. Finally, coughing lightly, he rejoined Daisy, who was dabbing Isabella’s brow with a wet cloth.

  ‘What were those things?’ Daisy whispered.

  ‘No idea,’ he replied. ‘What she did was ... astonishing, utterly amazing! She’s got wicked powers!’ Archie said, staring proudly at his big sister. ‘Awesome.’

  Isabella stirred.

  Daisy offered her a cup of water. ‘Did you know you could do that, Bells?’ she asked.

  Isabella smiled.

  The twins grinned but a groan moved their attention to Old Man Wood.

  Archie felt for the old man’s pulse.

  ‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘It’s like it’s vanished.’

  Archie wiped his nose, holding back his tears. ‘We’re too late.’

  Daisy reached out and took the old man’s hand. ‘I’m so, so sorry, Old Man Wood.’

  For several minutes, Archie and Daisy sat by the old man’s still body.

  Finally Archie spoke. ‘What happens now?’ he whispered. ‘How do we find the tablets without Old Man Wood?’

  Daisy shook her head. ‘I don’t know. We’ve had it, haven’t we?’

  A strange groan came from the floor, like a whiny floorboard. Archie and Daisy looked at one another, then moved their gazes downwards.

  ‘Well, I’m not bloomin’ dead yet,’ a deep, croaky voice said.