by Tim ORourke
Page 2
‘Don’t just sit there – shoot them!’ William wailed.
‘Shoot them?’ Zach shouted. ‘Shoot them with what?’
‘Those things!’ William said, glancing down at Zach’s waist.
Zach looked and to his amazement, he was wearing a thick leather belt with holsters. And each housed two weird-looking crossbows. Unlike crossbows they were made of wood, and looked more like two small crossbows.
‘Where…what…how did they get there!?’ Zach yelled over the sound of the high pitched neighing coming from the creatures up front.
‘Does it matter where they came from!?’ William wailed. ‘Just shoot them or we’re gonna die!’
Looking into William’s magnified eyes; Zach could see fear brimming in them like tears.
‘Okay, okay!’ Zach said, fumbling for the crossbows. ‘But I don’t know how to shoot!’
‘What’s to know? You just pull the trigger!’ William grinned at him, then faced forward and howled, ‘faster I’m telling ya! Move faster or I’ll be feasting on your lazy hides for me supper!’
The stagecoach lurched from side to side like a baby taking its first steps. Standing, Zach took aim, but before firing a shot, he wobbled and almost lost his balance. The stagecoach hit an uneven piece of ground and lurched forward, its back wheels lifting from the earth. Staggering like someone in the dark, Zach fired one of the crossbows releasing a shot that went whizzing over the head of his companion.
‘Not at me! Them! Your s’posed to be shooting at them!’ William shouted, jabbing one of his long, bony fingers in the direction of the macabre looking hoodies.
‘Sorry!’ Zach said, regaining his balance. The crossbows thundered in his fist like cannons, this time in the direction of their pursuers.
Small razor-sharp looking stakes shot from the end of the crossbows and screamed through the desert sky. One missed but another smashed into one of the skeletal-gorilla’s huge thigh bones. A spray of chalk-white bone erupted into the air like an exploding flour-bomb. The skeletal-gorilla stumbled and rolled forward, crashing into the hard packed ground, throwing its hooded rider into the air. The gorilla shattered on impact with the ground and disintegrated into splinters.
‘I got one! I got one!’ Zach roared, taking his eyes off the creatures that charged at them.
‘Stop looking at me and keep your eyes on them!’ William warned, but his warning came too late. One of the hoodies drew level, its skeletal-gorilla shoulder-barging the stagecoach.
The back of the vehicle spun to one side, sending Zach flying over the edge of the coach. Corkscrewing through the air, Zach squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the explosion of pain to tear through his body as he hit the ground that raced below. But the pain never came. Opening his eyes, Zach blinked as the cracked earth whizzed past just inches from his face. Glancing upwards, he saw that one of his boots had been caught in the frame of the stagecoach.
‘Help me!’ Zach roared, hanging upside down on the outside of the carriage.
Despite the terrifying situation Zach found himself in, the first thought that raced across his mind was:
Where did those boots come from?’ Where are my trainers?
Looking to his right, the gigantic fists of one the dead gorillas smashed into the ground next to him like a sledgehammer. Gritting his teeth, Zach twisted his body to face the approaching beast. Dust blew up into his eyes like gunpowder. Squinting, Zach raised his left arm and took aim.
Almost blind, he squeezed on the trigger and his arm recoiled like a rattlesnake, as the stake exploded from the barrel of the crossbow. An ear-splitting screech cut through the air as the sharp wooden stake whizzed towards the gorilla and its rider.
Opening his eyes, Zach watched the beast tumbling out of control across the desert, crumpling like the bonnet of a car in a head-on-collision. The hooded figure slammed into the desert floor; its black robes fluttering in the wind like a downed raven.
‘Gotchya!’ Zach screamed with relief.
Looking-up at his entangled boot, Zach could see his foot coming loose. Realising he was in danger of falling to his certain death beneath the wheels of the carriage, Zach roared up at William, ‘Hey! Help me!’
There was no reply.
Sensing that he was going to have to save himself, Zack looked around in desperation, searching for something, anything to grab that would help him lever himself back on top of the carriage. Seeing the handle of the stagecoach door, he grabbed for it like a drowning man. Knowing that if he could reach it and get the door open, he could climb inside to safety.
Holstering his crossbows and, using what little strength he had left, Zach arched his back and tried to pull himself forward. Clenching his teeth and eyes watering, Zach managed to heave himself up. Fingers clawing for the coach door handle inches from his grasp.
‘C’mon!’ he yelled aloud, willing himself on.
Screwing his eyes shut, he made one last grab for the handle and to his utter delight and relief he felt his fingers curl around its metal surface. Then someone gripped his wrist, yanking his hand free.
Snapping open his eyes, Zach looked up into William’s hairy-face.
‘Have you lost your mind?’ Zach yelled, ‘Do you want me to die!’
Staring at Zach with his huge fiery eyes, William grinned.
‘Stop ya whining’ he said, yanking on Zach’s wrist and pulling him back to safety. ‘You can’t open the carriage door. If you do she’ll die!’
‘Who will die? Who’s she?’ Zach asked bewildered.
‘You’ll see,’ William replied through his crooked smile. ‘Faster!’ he yelled again, pulling on the animals’ manes.
Plucking the crossbows from his belt, Zach noticed that not only had he been fitted out with a crossbow holster and thick brown boots, he was also wearing a long black coat that flapped around his knees.
‘Where did all this stuff come from?’ he shouted.
‘It doesn’t matter now! I’ll explain later!’ William yelled, refusing to take his eyes off the fast approaching forest that loomed ahead.
Looking back over his shoulder, Zach was ready to take aim again, but was surprised to see the hooded figures slowing down on their skeletal looking-gorillas.
‘Why are they slowing down?’ Zach asked.
‘Because we’re heading for the forest!’ William said.
‘Why won’t they enter the forest?’ Zach pushed him.
Taking his huge eyes off the approaching tree line and flashing his broken teeth at Zach, William said, ‘Cos’ of the dead people!’
Turning, William yanked on the creature’s manes and sped into the forest.
Chapter 3
As her younger brother stepped through the doorway on the beach, Anna Black peered over the top of the duvet and watched her bedroom door swing open.
She knew at once who was about to enter the room by the tall shadow that spilt across the wall like a splash of black ink. Creeping from behind the door, Uncle Fandel almost seemed to glide across the room on his freakish long legs. Balanced on one of his bony hands was a silver tray. From her position on the bed, Anna couldn’t see what was on the tray – she didn’t need to – she knew that her Uncle was bringing her afternoon dose of medicine.
Placing the tray on the dressing table, Uncle Fandel surveyed Anna with his beady-black eyes. Without taking his eyes from her, he opened a small wooden box. From it, Uncle Fandel removed a yellow spiky object, which was about the size of a dice. Taking a glass of water from the tray, Uncle Fandel held them out towards her.
‘I don’t want it,’ Anna croaked, her throat still feeling blistered and sore from the spiky tablet she had been forced to swallow that morning.
‘Don’t be stupid,’ her Uncle coaxed, thrusting the weird looking pill towards her lips. ‘It will make you feel better. ’
‘They make me feel worse!’ Anna protest
ed, pulling the duvet up over her mouth.
Seeing this, Uncle Fandel’s thin bloodless lips twisted into a grimace then contorted into a smile, as he tried to mask his displeasure. Gripping the spiky tablet between thumb and forefinger, he placed the glass back onto the tray and eased himself down onto the bed next to his niece.
‘You must take your medicine Anna or you may well die,’ he said in a soothing voice.
Eying him with suspicion, Anna looked at his tall narrow forehead and the nets of wrinkles that circled his deep set eyes.
‘What’s wrong with me?’ she asked him.
‘I’m not sure,’ he said. ‘I’ve consulted all of my medical books and I’ve never seen anything quite like it. Strange. Very strange,’ he added, his tongue darting from between his lips.
Anna thought back to the day she had first become ill. It had been the day that her Uncle Fandel had made the long drive with her and her brother from their home in Milton Keynes to his isolated cottage in Cornwall. She remembered it well because it had been the day after they’d buried her parents.
It had started with stomach cramps, and they had felt as if some creature had been let loose inside her and was tearing away at her innards with razor-sharp claws. Then the headaches came and they were so severe, she wondered if her head wasn’t going to explode.
But her Uncle Fandel had come to the rescue. He was a doctor after all, well not so much a doctor but a medicine man. Her father’s brother hadn’t been around much as she had grown up, spending most of his time travelling weird and wonderful countries. On his return he would visit her father claiming to have found a cure for this and a remedy for that.
‘This will make me rich beyond my wildest dreams!’ he had once screeched at her father, holding aloft a bottle, which looked as if it were filled with nothing more than dirty bath water.
‘What does it do?’ Anna’s father had asked from behind his newspaper.
‘What does it do? What does it do?’ Uncle Fandel whined. It’s a cure!’
‘For what?’ Anna’s father asked. Again, he didn’t look up from his newspaper.
