POWER AND FURY

by James Erith

All that talent, he thought, gone to waste. And I could have prevented it.

  ‘I am so terribly sorry.’

  Sixty-Seven

  Archie Holds On

  Archie stared at his watch. It had gone four. When was sunset; five, half five?

  He’d hauled himself onto the log and found his twin. Now he cradled her in his arms.

  ‘Hey, Daisy,’ he said, sheltering her face. ‘Don’t give up on me. There’s only a little while to go, you know. And I’m going to keep you alive, if it’s the last thing I do.’

  He ran his cold hands over her face.

  If he was cold, then she was icy.

  Softly, he massaged her heart. He didn’t know why, but it just seemed the right thing to do. ‘Please, Daisy, you’ve got to come back. Don’t you dare back out now. I don’t know what I’d do without you. If you go, we’ve all had it. Everyone, not just us.’

  Her eyes flickered and the corners of her lips turned up.

  Thank goodness, he thought. A spark.

  He’d keep talking, and, somehow, he had to keep her listening.

  ‘Right, here’s what we’re going to do,’ he said. ‘I’m going to pick you up and start carrying you over these rocks and stuff, okay?’

  Very gently, he picked her up and negotiated footholds in the debris. One step followed another, each one swaying, each a desperate act of concentration.

  Every so often he studied her face to make sure she was still with him before carrying on. He leapt from one rock to the next, disregarding the rain, disregarding his burden, worrying only about the next step.

  As he climbed, he carried on talking. He spoke about what was going to happen and how safe they were going to be in only a little while. He chattered about anything else he could think of.

  When he ran out of things to say, he started singing.

  The first song that came into his head was a song their mother had taught them when they were young. With chattering teeth, he sang it as best as he could. When he forgot the words, he hummed it, his voice shaking with cold.

  After a few minutes, Daisy’s eyes flashed open. He looked down at her and smiled, trying to hold back his tears while he continued humming.

  He felt her tensing. Her eyes opened wide, telling him something.

  What was it?

  Her eyes rolled back.

  Archie tensed.

  NO! NOT ANOTHER ONE!

  Instantly, Archie tossed Daisy over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift. He reached the top of a boulder and tried to see beyond it, but saw only the steady veil of rain.

  ‘Daisy!’ he cried out, ‘I’ve got to jump and I don’t know where we’ll end up. If this goes badly, just remember that I love you. You’re a cool girl, sis.’

  He had no more time.

  Archie sucked in as much air as he could. He closed his eyes, bent his knees, and jumped as high and as far as he possibly could into the dark unknown.

  Archie had no idea where he might end up, but a broken leg was preferable to being flash-fried to death.

  They splashed in a pool and sank down to the bottom, at the exact moment two lightning bolts smashed into their previous position. Their brutal force displaced shards, pebbles, and larger stones. Everything shook. Water fizzed, the currents jabbing at every nerve-ending in their bodies.

  Archie stayed down, holding Daisy and cradling her head for as long as he dared. Suddenly her eyes opened wide.

  Archie thrashed to the surface and winced as a stone hit him on his shoulder. Another whacked him on the head. He let go of Daisy and felt his mind begin to drift away.

  The pool and the torrential rain were blurring together.

  He saw stars spinning.

  Daisy was accelerating away from him.

  With one last effort, he pulled himself up but his head spun so fast that in no time he felt himself go, his body slipping away to a place of softness and light.

  A feeling of warmth enveloped him, like a comfort blanket brimming with love, holding him tight.

  With his last breath of consciousness, Archie had the wherewithal to reach up and grasp a hand-hold. And then his mind slid into the darkness of a black and deep abyss.

  Sixty-Eight

  A Leap Of Faith

  Shivering, Isabella remembered their last holiday as a family, skiing, high up in the Alps.

  Beautifully hot with a bright blue sky, at lunch she had stripped off her jacket, thrown off her hat, and ditched her long johns, giving them all to her mother who crammed them into a rucksack.

  They’d jumped on a chairlift and headed up to the top of the mountain. Halfway up, the chair had stopped and swayed in the air. They stayed like that for ages. An hour, maybe more.

  Then, the weather had changed.

  First, the clouds blew in, followed by an icy, biting wind and horizontal snow.

  She sat there, freezing, with nothing but her father’s arm around her to protect her. In the seat behind, her mother was holding the bag with her clothes. An hour later, every bone in her body ached, from the top of her head to the tip of her toes.

  She remembered how it took two hot chocolates before she could move her jaw open enough to say anything.

  What she would give for that hot chocolate now.

  What had her father said?

  Keep moving, girl. That was it. And if you can’t keep moving, hug someone. Hug them nice and tight.

  A warm feeling filled her as she remembered how Archie thought this was the perfect excuse to go around hugging people. Everyone had thought him rather cute; even, momentarily, Daisy.

  Isabella tried to smile. Now out of the rain, the cold had begun to creep into her like roots of frost knitting into soil.

  She needed to move. Using her hands as a guide, she felt for a jagged, protruding rock so that she might get a decent foothold. She found one, lifted herself up on it and then fingered another further up. She’d done enough climbing to know that planning a route up and making sure one’s feet were stable were the keys to success.

  The problem was visibility. Combined with the numbness in her fingers, it meant that she couldn’t determine if her grip was true. She slipped back and landed with a wet thud on the ground. Isabella shook her hands vigorously out in front of her, and slowly the blood began to return. She jogged on the spot, the wet remains of her trousers sticking to her legs, and rolled her head on her shoulders.

  She needed to search further along.

  Once again, she followed the face of the rock, guided by her hands, her legs now knee-deep in the water. A little further on, she found the perfect spot; an outcrop of stone concealed by bushes.

  Moving them aside, she found two easy steps. She pulled herself up, placing one foot carefully on the first step, then, hugging the rock, she tested her weight slowly on the next. It felt solid, as if purposely carved out of the rocks.

  Her arms searched around trying to find another foothold. She levered herself up and did the same again, noting that the steps curved around. She climbed until she realised she was on a flat ledge.

  With the rain driving at her, she had lost her sense of direction. She sat on the ledge trying to fathom the angle of the steps in relation to the rock face. She crawled on her hands and knees in the direction of the cliff face, scanning for any sudden gaps or boulders. Aside from pebbles, it felt smooth.

  She edged on further before she realised the rain was subsiding, then it ceased altogether. She wiped water from her face and leaned into a big, round rock. Isabella felt strangely elated, as if she’d solved a tricky equation.

  She examined the boulder, and figured that it sat directly under the cliff face, with the incline protecting her from the rain.

  But how would she get out? The logical answer was to head high up to the right, towards Eden Cottage. The light was failing fast, though, and the rain still wasn’t letting up. Maybe she’d have to stay put until the morning. At least, she’d be out of the rain.

  Anyway, hadn’t Archie told them the stor
m would continue until sunset, or some nonsense like that?

  Two lightning bolts suddenly blasted out of the sky. They were directed just beyond the landslide, where she’d come from.

  She hardly had a chance to react, only to duck down.

  What if those were for...?

  In a heartbeat, she threw herself off the ledge, just before a huge charge spat out and smashed into the exact spot she’d been standing.

  Isabella tumbled into the water.

  She sank as low as she could go, amazed at how much the water had risen in such a short time. She stayed underneath as long as her lungs could hold her, hugging the cliff face, as splinters of rock and stone punched the pool like deadly shrapnel.

  When Isabella surfaced, she noticed a big difference in her surroundings. The water level had edged close to the surface of the ledge, so that instead of climbing the stairs, she simply pulled herself out and sat down with her feet dangling in the pool.

  She shivered in the near-darkness, her heart thumping wildly.

  She realised what the difference was. Drizzle! The torrents of rain, the endless pounding, had almost gone.

  With the quiet came an enormous sense of relief.

  She smiled through her chattering teeth.

  The remains of her clothes stuck to her like cold, soggy slime, but she still had to survive through the night. The temperature would drop, as it always did at about this time of year, and there was no hope of a warming fire.

  In the next breath, her thoughts turned to Daisy and Archie. There had been three huge thunderbolts; one for each of them. Why—she had no idea, but it felt right—even if it was absurdly illogical and absolutely terrifying.

  She shuffled along looking out in the darkness.

  ‘Archie. Daisy!’ she yelled ‘Are you there?’

  She listened, but heard only the swishing sounds of the running water beyond.

  Again and again she called out, trying to hear a response.

  No reply was forthcoming.

  Deep within her, Isabella sensed they were near, but it was so hard and she was so tired, so cold, so hungry.

  Come on, she told herself, no time to be lazy; look for them. A thought kept returning: what if they were a few feet away and died in the night because she couldn’t be bothered?

  Isabella crawled along the ledge as far as she dared, all the while making sure she kept a firm grip of the surface, calling out for them in turn ‘Daisy! Archie!’.

  She shivered, her lips quivering involuntarily as she stared out into the darkness. Occasionally she heard a groan, but it was hard to tell if it was the crunching of metal on metal, like cars or sheds being swept down the river and colliding with each other, or whether it was the desperate cry of people or animals.

  Tears built as an overwhelming sense of sadness flowed over her. Her feeling of helplessness was almost complete.

  As if in response to her cries, a tiny sliver of light appeared on the lip of the horizon and threw a grey light over the water. Isabella peered at it and, for a short while, thought that she must be dreaming. It looked so beautiful, a gentle sparkle of light catching the rim of a silver bracelet. She blinked and shook her head.

  The moon? Moonlight.

  Now, she could distinguish the outlines of boulders and a flat ledge. Looking up, the sheer face of the cliff carved above her like a prison wall. She scoured the valley, observing a dull, ever-changing watery mirror that gently lapped in front of her.

  As the moon rose, its brightness lifted her spirits further.

  She noticed how the round boulder she had hidden underneath before the lightning struck had been reduced to rubble. Where it once stood, an unnaturally dark hole beckoned her in.

  Isabella approached. With every footstep, she grew more curious.

  She edged closer, testing the cracked sections that might be unstable, until she found herself peering up at a perfectly symmetrical entrance of a dark cave.

  Without hesitating, she placed one foot ahead of the other and, leaning against the side, she made her way in.

  She caught warmth on her face.

  Hot air, here?

  She took another step, hoping that her eyes would adjust.

  It’s like a warm hairdryer.

  Thermal rocks, here, in Yorkshire? Never!

  Isabella was about to take a further step in when she heard a strange cry coming from behind her. Her heart skipped a beat.

  Daisy? Archie?

  She scanned the area but found that the ledge was now only fractionally higher than the river, and it was hard to tell where one stopped and the other started. She heard it again, a groan followed by a cry and a tiny cough.

  Her heart raced as she studied the ledge again. She concentrated and pushed her hands out, trusting them.

  She ran to the right, urging her eyes to peer deeper into the night.

  Nothing.

  She walked cautiously to the left.

  Nothing.

  She repeated her movements.

  To her right, all she could discern was a long shape, like a fat, black branch typical of the debris. She walked straight past it but turned when there was a tiny noise.

  Isabella was there in a flash.

  A body! Face down. Bending down she noticed dirt intermingled with bloody cuts, angry bruises, and tattered clothing.

  They never made it, she thought.

  Isabella’s hopes sank.

  As she turned the frame over, the white arms folded limply and splashed helplessly in a puddle.

  The eyes were closed.

  Isabella screamed as though someone had ripped her heart out.

  In front of her lay Daisy.

  Sixty-Nine

  Kemp Contemplates His Situation

  Kemp felt another long burst of heat on his leg. He grimaced. Reluctantly, he moved his limb and the pain faded.

  The de Lowes had had to save the world? But they were crazy, nutty kids. Never super-heroes.

  Even now, the thought would have made him chuckle, if only he wasn’t so filled with pain.

  Why wouldn’t the ghost leave him alone for just one minute?

  When he yelled, Cain didn’t hear him and didn’t react. He needed food, water, and rest. How long had it been? Five or six hours constantly moving, constantly burned in little patches from head to toe.

  It felt like a week, or a month even. He yawned, and felt his body moving off, his legs clumpy as if made with wet sand. Every time he stopped a surge of intense heat smashed into him and he had no choice but to keep going.

  He could see, although not well. The sickly vapours of singed hair and fried flesh caught at the back of his throat.

  Every sound was muted, like being underwater. Soon, his thoughts turned to death. If he refused to go on, would he burn to death within Cain?

  Seventy

  Stuck On The Cliff

  Old Man Wood was at the point where he needed to start making his way along the steeper, sharper cliff face. He faced the rock and shuffled along, happier in his step where the mud gave way to stone. As he angled across the cliff face, overhangs gave him welcome relief from the downpour, while other parts showered him with mud and loose rock. He dug his fingers into every tight crevice and small hole. Moving along as quickly and carefully as he dared, he hoped he hadn’t started too high.

  Presently, he was able to take stock of his position. He rested under a deep overhang where he found a decent foothold. He gulped in huge mouthfuls of air as he leant into the stone.

  Should he drive a bolt in to the rock so that he could attach the rope, just in case?

  He found a hole, delved into his pocket, and found a quick release bolt. He thrust it in and the metal fastened. He put his weight on it, and the bolt held. Good. He tied the rope to the metal loop, and attached the rest around his body.

  As he turned to inspect his next footholds, a huge electrical pulse flashed out of the sky to his left. He looked on in shock. A second bright charge rocketed out of the
sky from the same place a millisecond later, almost blinding him. His eardrums seared with pain.

  The valley lit up, and he saw everything move like a huge grey beast filled with water. ‘Apples-alive,’ he muttered under his breath as his heart raced.

  He was too high above the ledge.

  He felt for a footing, making sure his hold was solid. He tested his grip and bent down, but, in the next moment, a huge thunderbolt smashed out of the sky directly into the cliff face beneath him.

  For a second Old Man Wood held on for dear life.

  There they were!

  He could see them all, as clear as day for just one second.

  His heart whooped in his chest. He had to get down there fast.

  Old Man Wood picked his way along as fast as he could, letting the rope out behind him. After several metres, he tightened the rope and started to descend.

  He sucked in his cheeks and braced himself. Pushing out with his feet, he flew through the air, rain smashing into his face as he readied himself to land.

  It was going to hurt, he thought. Rather a lot.

  The rope swung out again, this time gaining speed, and all too soon he was back to his starting position like a pendulum. He kicked out, and as he reached the limit of his arc, he suddenly noted that the rain had stopped.

  The shock forced him to hold on, the moonlight offering a shadow of vision over the ledge below.

  He swung out one more time.

  As he looked down, he swore he saw Isabella walking away towards a rock.

  He swung back, grasping onto the rope for dear life. He was wondering how much lower he ought to be when the bolt disengaged from the rock, and Old Man Wood and the rope plummeted down.

  Old Man Wood lay in a heap, his breath knocked clean out of him, pain searing into his ankle and back.

  He gritted his teeth and watched Isabella. Then he heard her scream followed by muffled cries.