Dead Water

by Tim ORourke

Page 12

 

  I pulled my wings tight about us. “Me too, but Murphy is going to be sorely pissed if we keep him waiting much longer. ”

  “I guess you’re right, but. . . ” Kiera trailed off.

  “But what?” I whispered.

  “Once we leave here, things are going to change,” she said. “I get the feeling that we’re coming to the end of our journey in this pushed world. I get the feeling that everyone will continue on from here, while I’m being led down a dead end. ”

  “I won’t leave you here,” I said. “If you stay, I stay. We’re like a pair, a team. We’re like a couple of old bookends. ”

  “Not so much of the old,” Kiera grinned up at me, slapping my stomach with the palm of her hand.

  “C’mon, we should start heading back,” I said, unfurling my wings.

  We dressed without speaking. The glass of my blood stood on the tree stump next to the flowers. It had gone thick and black like treacle. I hooked it out with my finger. The congealed lump splattered to the ground, turning the snow pink.

  “Ready?” I asked, looking over my shoulder at Kiera.

  “All set,” she smiled, pulling her coat tightly about her slender frame.

  Reaching out, I took her hand in mine and led her back through the wooded area and towards the field. At the treeline, I could see the row of caravans in the distance. “C’mon,” I said, heading back across the field towards them.

  Murphy was waiting. He stood propped against the bonnet of the car, pipe dangling unlit from the corner of his mouth. He looked at how Kiera now had her arm hooked through mine.

  Before he’d had the chance to say anything, the campsite owner appeared from around the side of the kiosk. He had a spanner in his hand and I guessed he had been fixing the broken cigarette machine.

  “Found him then?” he said, looking at Kiera.

  “Huh?” Kiera asked.

  “Your friend here,” he said, nodding in Murphy’s direction, “has just been telling me how Gabriel often wanders off and gets himself lost. ”

  Cheeky bastard, I thought, glancing at Murphy. He simply shrugged his thickset shoulders at me.

  “That’s right,” Kiera agreed with the campsite owner. Doing her best to hide a smile, she looked up at me and said, “Gabriel was lost, but I’ve found him again now. ”

  The campsite owner came towards me.

  Then, talking as if I wasn’t there at all, he sighed and said, “Poor fella. In the daylight, I can see he ain’t exactly normal. He’s got that vacant look behind the eyes. I can tell he’s not too tightly wrapped. ” Then, reaching into his trouser pocket, he produced a bar of chocolate. “Go on, son, take it. It’s a little treat. I’m sure your social worker won’t mind me giving it to you. It is okay if I give him some chocolate, ain’t it?” he said, glancing at Kiera.

  “Sure,” Kiera smiled. “Take the chocolate from the nice man, Gabe. ”

  “You’re enjoying this aren’t you?” I growled at her. Turning to face the campsite owner, I added, “You can stick your chocolate bar right up your fu. . . ”

  “We should be going,” Murphy suddenly cut in. “Gabriel is starting to get upset again. ”

  “I think you’re right,” Kiera said, guiding me by the arm towards the car. “Say goodbye to the nice man. ”

  “The nice man can go fu. . . ” I started to say.

  “Thank you for the use of your caravans,”

  Murphy said, cutting over me and approaching the man. He took hold of his hand and pumped it up and down.

  “You’re welcome,” the owner said, glancing over Murphy’s shoulder as Kiera shoved me onto the backseat of the car. “Perhaps you could give this to him later, when he’s calmed down a bit. ”

  “Sure,” Murphy smiled, taking the chocolate bar. “I’m sure he’ll love it. ”

  Turning, Murphy made his way back to the car and climbed in. Kiera jumped in next to him and slammed the door shut. Not wanting to waste another minute, Murphy shoved the car into reverse and steered it back down the lane and towards the road. The tyres crunched over the snow as the car lurched left then right. The campsite owner watched us go, then headed back towards the kiosk and the broken cigarette machine.

  “I s’pose you two think you’re funny?” I snapped, once we were back on the road and heading away from the campsite.

  “I’m sorry,” Kiera smiled, glancing back at me.

  “It’s like being in the company of Laurel and freaking Hardy,” I said.

  “Oh quit your complaining,” Murphy grunted, tearing at the chocolate bar wrapper with his teeth.

  “Hey, that was meant for me,” I said, leaning forward in my seat and trying to grab it from Murphy.

  “It’s mine,” Murphy barked, shoving my hand away. “Besides, you didn’t want it. If I remember rightly, you threatened to give that poor guy some kind of rectal examination with it!”

  “Whatever,” I said, slumping back into my seat, listening to Murphy’s jaws chomp away at the chocolate.

  Kiera looked at me, struggling hard not to laugh. “Oh come on, Mr. Grouch,” she smiled. “I thought we were friends again?”

  “We are,” I winked at her.

  “Does that mean I’ve got to put up with you two wandering around like a couple of loved-up teenagers again?” Murphy groaned.

  “I thought you’d be pleased for us,” I said.

  “I am,” Murphy sighed, “But if you think I’m gonna put up with you two listening to all that romantic crap on Kiera’s iPod, you’ve got another think coming. ”

  “We don’t listen to romantic crap,” I snapped back at him.

  “Yeah, you do,” Murphy groaned. “So if you think I’m gonna listen to hours and hours of freaking Barry Manilow while you two sit and gaze into each other’s eyes, you can forget it. ”

  “I’ve never listened to Barry Manilow in my life. . . ” I started.

  “Don’t you lie to me,” Murphy shot back, eyeing me in the rearview mirror. “I caught you listening to that song once. . . what was it called?

  How am I supposed to live without you? That was it. ”

  “That’s sung by Michael Bolton, not Barry. . . ” I started.

  “It’s all the same to me,” Murphy cut in.

  “And besides, how do you know all this stuff?

  You’re meant to be some blood-sucking creature from below ground. Instead, you spend your time wandering around with your thumb up your arse, listening to songs written for girls. ”

  Kiera started to laugh.

  “What’s so funny?” I asked her with a frown.

  “Nothing,” she said.

  And although I knew it was me Kiera was laughing at, I didn’t care. I was just glad to see her looking happy again. I hoped it would last. I hoped she was wrong about being led down a dead end.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Kiera

  I dozed in and out of sleep as Murphy steered the car high up into the Cumbrian Mountains. Sensing that our journey was nearing its end, I wanted to try and get as much rest as possible. Now that Potter and I had made our peace, my whole being felt more at ease with itself. Had I done the right thing by giving myself to Potter again? I didn’t know, and somewhere deep inside of me, I no longer cared. If what the Elders said was true, and I wouldn’t be going back with my friends, then I wanted to love and be loved by the man who made me happy while I still had the chance. Potter said we would stay together. He said that was his choice to make, but I wasn’t so sure about that.

  With my head resting against the window, I peered through my half-open eyes and down at the landscape stretched below. The sun was setting in the distance, and the white fields looked trapped between a thin strip of bright gold.

  Streams snaked their way through narrow gorges way below. The fresh stream water bubbled and twinkled in the fading light. For the first time in ages, I felt an im
mense sense of calmness wash over me. I closed my eyes and slept again.

  Potter shook me gently awake. I rubbed sleep from my eyes with the backs of my hands. It was dark outside. I peered through the windscreen, trying to get my bearings.

  “We’re here,” Potter said in a hushed tone.

  “The Dead Waters?” I asked, my voice still sounding sleepy. I stretched my legs straight in the foot well of the car and yawned.

  “The forests surrounding them,” Potter said, pushing open the back door and stepping out.

  I shoved against the door with my shoulder and climbed from the car. The night air was cold and crisp. It pinched the end of my nose. I looked up, the sky was black and star-shot. A full moon hung in the sky. It was bright white, with a blue haze shimmering around it. I couldn’t ever quite remember seeing such a full moon. It was perfectly clear and seemed so close I could reach up and touch its cratered surface. Murphy was standing in his carpet slippers by the edge of what was known as the secret forest. In the moonlight, I couldn’t help but notice how drawn and tired he looked. A length of his silver hair had flopped over his right eye. He thumbed it away. I remembered the story he had told me about his life and I wondered if he was standing in the spot where he had said goodbye to Pen as a boy. Had this been the place they’d shared their first kiss? I wondered.

  The fir trees stretched high above us, tall and black in the night. They grew close together like an impenetrable wall, barring our entry into the forest. It was as if the trees were keeping the forest’s secrets safe. The forest had plenty of them. This was the place I had been born. My real mother, Kathy Seth, had given birth to me here as my father had looked on in terror. The forest is where Murphy had snatched up my body and ran to the Dead Waters – the place he dared to try and hide my lifeless body.

  With Potter following close behind me, I approached Murphy.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I nodded, taking a deep breath.

  “Let’s not waste any more time then,”