by P B Kane
“What kind of surprise?”
Jill told her it was a secret, then asked the same question of Daniel when they were out of earshot. He told her he had some ideas, but wanted to meet up with Greg first.
They did that at his house mid-morning, where Greg—who’d been alone since his mum went off to the shops to buy something nice to wear that evening—had had an idea of his own. “Wood from my dad’s workshop,” he told them. “We can make some stakes.”
“This isn’t one of those video nasties you watch,” Jill pointed out. “John isn’t a vampire.”
“I know that,” Greg snapped, “but I remembered overnight, I saw it on a horror TV show once. It works on his kind, as well. See, sometimes watching that stuff comes in handy.”
Daniel shrugged. “It can’t hurt for protection, I don’t suppose.” They had precious few weapons against him as
it was.
They went to the adjourning workshop, and Greg dug out some bits of driftwood that looked about the right length, then proceeded to carve the ends to points using one of his dad’s tools. He was just finishing off when they heard something pull up outside and the door to the workshop opened suddenly. Greg dragged them both behind a bench, pulling them down. “It’s Dad,” said Greg in hushed tones.
“I thought he was still in jail?” whispered Jill.
“So did I.” Greg risked a look. “Wait, he’s just grabbing some of his stuff.” He ducked down again quickly, almost seen by the large, bald man. Thankfully, Greg’s dad seemed preoccupied.
The door slammed again, and they let out their collective breaths as they heard footsteps walking away from the workshop, then an engine gunning into life. “That was close. He must want them for something to do with the celebration,” Daniel mused. “All hands on deck.”
“I guess,” replied Greg. “But if he’d caught us…” He didn’t have to finish that sentence after the man’s performance at the rugby match. At least it was some compensation to know that his father wasn’t acting normally. None of the inhabitants of Shorepoint were. And the three of them were the only people who knew… or rather suspected… why.
“Can we get out of here now?” asked Jill, whose face had drained of all its colour.
“Just a second,” said Daniel, nodding down into one corner of the workshop. “Do you have a bag we could put that in?”
Greg followed the nod and smiled. “I think so.”
They headed off to the police station again after that, partly to see if Yeats was around again, but also to see what had happened with Greg’s father. They found that most of the people held in custody there were in the process of being released. “John’s vouched for them all,” Weeks told
the friends. “And it would be such a shame for them to miss the ceremony.”
“Who’s authorised all this?” asked Daniel. “Where’s Sergeant Yeats?”
“Not seen him today,” Weeks admitted. “McLean’s been taking charge in his absence.”
“He what?” said Jill, stepping forward.
Weeks laughed, seemingly oblivious as to why Jill might be opposed to this. “Now what’s all the fuss about, little lady?” he said.
“Fuss? That creep put my cousin in the hospital,” snarled Jill. “And I’m not a little lady.”
Weeks pouted. “Definitely not a lady, that’s for certain. Look, I’m sure it was all just a big misunderstanding,” he assured her. “John said as much when he visited.”
As if sensing he was being talked about, McLean appeared then. He walked up through the corridor that led into the station proper. “What’s all the shouting about?” he asked. “I’m going to have to ask you lot to keep it down out here.”
“Keep it down…?” Jill lunged forwards and it took both Daniel and Greg to hold her back.
“Not now,” Daniel said in her ear. “And not here. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. He hasn’t since John spoke to him at the wedding.” Then, louder, he said, “She’s just excited… about tonight.”
Both men smiled and nodded like it made perfect sense. After they managed to wrestle Jill outside, Daniel said: “We’ve got to focus on John right now.”
“How can you say that? You haven’t even seen Lily, Daniel!” Jill was crying, and he put a comforting hand on her shoulder, much to Greg’s chagrin. Daniel withdrew it again, conscious of the fact he was being glared at.
“I know, I know. But it won’t do anyone any good if we get put in the jail instead. We have to make the people see John for what he really is, and we know where most of the island will be tonight, don’t we?” His friends nodded. “But we do need help. We need Yeats.”
They went to the sergeant’s house next, and knocked on the door. His car was still outside, but there was no answer to their insistent rapping. “I don’t understand this,” said Daniel, cupping his hands and trying to see through the windows. “Where is he?”
“It looks like we’re on our own then,” Jill said, as they finally gave up and began walking away again. Then she stopped and turned to them. “Holy water… do you think we should get some of that?”
“Now who’s talking about vampires?” Greg scoffed. “That’s The Lost Boys, that is.”
“They also use it in exorcisms, genius,” she replied. “And I thought… well, all that talk of spirits…”
“I’m not sure it’d work on John, but…” Daniel shrugged again. “We can always combine it with another one of my ideas.” He showed them inside the bag and they grinned, following his line of reasoning.
“To the chapel it is, then,” said Jill.
“I just hope there isn’t a christening going on,” mumbled Greg under his breath.
While the entire town of Shorepoint (or those who were still able, although many of the sick also pitched in) prepared for that evening’s events, Daniel, Jill and Greg did the same. They had a rough plan of action, but as Daniel was quick to remind them, they should also be ready to improvise.
“Is anyone else scared?” Jill asked as they packed everything up in their bags.
“I’m not,” Greg told her, but the dry swallow that came afterwards said otherwise.
“You’d be crazy not to be,” Daniel said. “We’ve never actually seen John mad, but we’re about to really make him angry if all goes to plan.”
From another hiding place, they observed the preparations coming to their end, and the start of the celebrations. John appeared on the main street at about half past six, with Susan walking behind. Flowers, chocolates, and streamers were thrown in front of him. It was like a parade or something, the kind you might see for a royal wedding or coronation, only on a smaller scale. And for what? For someone they’d only known a few weeks. Someone they still didn’t really know, who’d come into all their lives and left devastation in his wake.
The crowds followed John then on his walk to the Town Hall, where the ceremony itself was going to take place. Where the Mayor would give him the freedom of the town and island... not that he didn’t have that already.
Dark clouds were chasing away the sun, as if reflecting the mood of the three friends, but it was doing nothing to dampen the people of Shorepoint’s spirits.
“Come on,” said Daniel, and they followed too—making sure they weren’t seen, flitting between buildings like ninjas. The whoops and cheers of the onlookers were deafening, and soon all they could see of John was his hand as he waved to his loyal “subjects.” TV cameras were capturing the procession as well, and Daniel spotted that local reporter again, giving a commentary.
“That’s good,” he turned and whispered to the others. “It means there’ll be coverage inside as well. It means the cameras will record what we’re about to do. We should be able to reach everyone on the island, that way. No doubt they’ll all be watching.”
On the procession went, until everyone started piling into the hall: a big white building with a wooden roof, at the centre of the town. In fact some had been known to call it the “Heart of Shorepoint.”
; When it was relatively quiet outside, the trio crept closer to the hall and looked through the windows. The place had been similarly decorated: with ribbons, balloons and more streamers filling the big hall itself. People were taking their seats inside, while up at the front John was shaking hands with the short, stocky Mayor.
“All right,” said Daniel, turning. “It’s now or never. Are we ready to do this?”
Greg and Jill nodded. He held out a hand and they both took it.
“All for one and one for all,” said Daniel. “Right?”
“Right…” echoed Jill and Greg.
“Right,” said another booming voice behind them. “What’s all this then…?”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
THE DOOR OF THE TOWN HALL WAS KICKED IN, and the three friends thrown inside.
Greg’s dad towered over them, grunting. He hadn’t discovered them back at his workshop, but he’d definitely made up for that now. Perhaps he’d been assigned as security, thought Daniel, though quite why John would need that in a community which practically worshipped at his feet (it was a terrifying idea) was beyond him.
Us… he needs protection because of us. The realisation would have been comforting, if they hadn’t gone and got themselves caught. Some ninjas they were…
The giant of a man had appeared behind them outside, making far less noise than before and holding a lethal-looking chisel in his hand. “Dad?” Greg had exclaimed.
“I asked what was going on here, then?” the man growled, his eyes practically slits.
“Nothing… we were just—” Greg began, but his father didn’t even let him finish.
“What’s in those bags?” asked the man, his voice even gruffer than before. “Give me that.” He reached for Greg’s, but the boy pulled it back instinctively.
Greg’s father covered the distance between them in a stride, bringing the chisel up, brandishing it like a weapon. Daniel moved forwards, but was barged to the ground. He knocked over Jill in the process, like a domino. As Greg’s father came even closer, his son shouldered his own bag and put up his fists. Greg’s father had laughed, then tossed away the chisel and brought his own fists up—which were three times bigger. It was a distorted mirror of all those times the man had rough-housed with him, tried to teach Greg to box. Except this time they all felt the threat; knew that it wouldn’t just be play-acting. All the times Daniel had wished that he could swap places with Greg, to experience what he had, and now he was just glad this wasn’t him. That he didn’t have to face what came next.
As he was backed up against the wall, fists still in a defensive position, Greg finally threw a punch. His father blocked it with ease and it bounced off the man’s huge forearm. He let the second punch land, however, just to show Greg that his blows were useless. It glanced off the man’s chin. Greg’s father drew back one of his own fists, but hesitated, cocking his head. Some part of him somewhere must have recognised this was wrong, that he would be hurting his own flesh and blood.
His fist opened, but just when they all thought he was going to let Greg go, he reached out and grabbed his son by the neck, lifting him. Jill was already up, and delivered a swift kick to Mr. Welles’ calf, but he didn’t appear to feel it. He did turn though, gathering her up with his other hand.
Then, somehow, he also had Daniel. That was when he’d dragged all of them to the front door of the hall, near enough breaking it down and pitching them inside.
The whole room turned as one at the commotion, the Mayor peering down the length of the room. John’s speech about how welcoming they’d all been since he arrived was rudely interrupted.
“What’s the meaning of this?” demanded the Mayor, rushing forward to the edge of the stage.
“Found them outside, up to no good,” Greg’s father answered, tossing in their bags as well.
“Up to no… How dare you, children!” the Mayor spluttered. “You’re going to be severely punished for this.” He turned to John. “I’m really so very sorry, truly I am.” Daniel thought he was going to get down on his knees and beg for mercy. John merely grinned. “I’ll see to it your parents reprimand you harshly.”
“T-That’d be a good trick,” Daniel said, rising from the floor. “Wouldn’t it John? Do you want to tell them where my mum is, or shall I?”
“It doesn’t matter,” John replied, and Daniel felt the anger rising in him as well now. He looked across at Greg, who was in no fit state to help. Jill was just gawking open-mouthed at the scene. It was up to him alone to show them all.
Daniel began hobbling down the middle aisle. Behind him, he knew Greg’s father was making to stop him, but John shook his head. “Let him come. I want to hear what he’s got to say.”
“Can’t you see what he’s doing?” Daniel shouted, casting his eyes over the audience. “What he’s been doing since he got here?” The TV cameras were following him, but instead of making him nervous, he actually felt that bit braver. No one had listened to him, but now he’d make them all listen—just like John had done. “He’s poison. He’s turned all of you against each other, brought disease and misery and—”
“He brought us all happiness, boy!” the Mayor barked.
“At first, maybe. But it was all an illusion, misdirection. A trick. He made you feel better so you’d fall that much harder! And he’s still doing it!” Daniel pointed at John accusingly. “Look at him! Just look at him, will you? Really look.”
They all turned to face John, eyes forward. But while they did that, Daniel cast a glance back towards his friends and nodded. This wasn’t exactly what they’d discussed, but he was close enough now, had bought enough time. Greg snapped awake and offered his bag to Jill, who rose quickly and tossed it up towards Daniel.
He caught it, running forward and dipping his hand inside at the same time.
John was just grinning. And he was still grinning when Daniel pulled out one of Greg’s father’s fishing nets—one of the smaller ones, but big enough to net this particular fish.
Daniel twisted and then cast it ahead of him, so that it landed over John. There was a gasp and several people got up out of their chairs, perhaps in shock, perhaps to try and stop Daniel. But he was running too fast, slipping off his backpack and reaching into it, pulling out the freezer bag, pulling out a tray of ice cubes. Ice cubes made from the Holy Water they’d taken from the chapel. He threw this at John as well, then another tray after that, which exploded as they hit his enemy. There was a scream, and two multi-coloured eyes shone out from the net: turning blue, then green, then yellow, then red. Red, yellow, red, yellow…
More of the islanders got up, rushing into the aisle and blocking Daniel’s view of the stage. The noise was terrific, panicked voices and more screaming. Daniel was knocked sideways, drowning in a sea of legs; both human and chair. It was pandemonium. He grabbed the back of one chair, shouldering his backpack once again. Lifting himself up, he swung a leg over and stood on the plastic seat. He could just about see the stage, see the net there and ice water pooling on the wood… but no sign of John.
Then he smelt it. An unmistakable smell. One that explained more than anything why the people of Shorepoint were panicking.
The hall was on fire. The back near the stage area, the sides of the building… suddenly flames had sprung from several different places at once. Daniel looked back towards the door, spotting Jill and Greg. She was trying to rouse the other lad, as he stood there looking about him again, useless. Then seeing Greg’s dad, who was trying to open closed doors that had a moment ago been kicked wide open by his big booted foot. Now they were apparently locked from the outside.
Daniel stepped down and ran to a window, noticing that others were doing the same. The one nearest him had a handle, but try as he might to pull it down, he couldn’t shift the thing. It was like the handle had been painted over, or fixed with glue.
Islanders to his left and right were having the same trouble, as were those on the other side of the hall. Meanwhile, the flames were sp
reading, bringing with them thick clouds of smoke. Daniel began coughing. Getting back up on a chair, he saw the short, chunky figure of the Mayor stumbling in his direction, pushing the plastic seating aside. “Can… can we get out that way?” Daniel coughed.
The Mayor shook his head. “The…” he rasped. “The emergency exit’s jammed.”
Daniel nodded, got down again, then lifted up the chair. Swinging it with all his strength, he slammed the chair’s legs into the window nearest him. The glass cracked, but didn’t give. Nevertheless, it spurred him on to try again. This time the glass shattered, sprinkling him with shards. He got rid of any lethal-looking pieces still attached to the frame with another sweep. Then, after coughing again, he called out: “This way!”
People began following his voice, but also his lead, attempting to smash windows near them as well. Daniel ushered everyone he could through the gap. He waved his hand to keep them coming, the smoke cutting off his line of sight to everything else. Then he saw Weeks, on the floor only a few metres away, reaching up for help. Daniel went to him, putting the man’s arm around his shoulders… but he was just so heavy. All those years of sitting behind the desk at the station.
There were flames surrounding them now. Daniel either had to leave the man or keep trying. “No one’s going to die today,” he half-barked at Weeks. “Not because of him.” Gritting his teeth, Daniel said a silent prayer and lifted again. To his amazement, Weeks felt lighter this time. Not easy to carry, by any means, but certainly not as heavy. He got him up and struggled with the man to the broken window, lifting him up and out, where other hands were there ready and waiting to ease him through. Daniel followed, the flames hot on his heels. He dived out, his bag snagging on a piece of splintered flame, but then tugging free. Daniel dropped to the ground, landing awkwardly, rolling over, and staring up at the dark sky.
Then everything was dark, and he felt consciousness slipping away from him.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
IT WAS AS MUCH THE RAIN as the gentle slapping of his face that roused Daniel.