"I've got a bike out back," Stuart interjected. "A scrambler. It will get you over rough ground." You ridden one before?"
"A long time ago." Church glanced out of the window one final time and then he was racing off with Stuart.
They hauled the bike through in seconds. Church threw Ruth the car keys before he jumped on, fired it up and positioned it in front of the door.
The desperation in their shared glance masked their emotions, and then Ruth said quietly, "You can count on us. Take care."
Church smiled, lowered his head and nodded to Stuart. There was a freezing gust as the storm blasted in, then Church popped the clutch. He had to fight to keep it upright in the wind and for a second he thought he'd lost control as the bike bounced down the steps of the porch. But then he righted himself on the puddled road, snatched on the accelerator and roared off without glancing back.
He didn't need to check if the Huntsmen had seen him. From his back came a roar of jubilation that rose above the noise of the storm; the hunt was on. Hooves clattered like gunshots. The horses shrieked like banshees and the dogs howled as one, ready to be loosed on the prey.
Church was shaking with terror. The only conscious thoughts that flared in his mind were images of him being torn apart by savage jaws, but his motor instinct took over, guiding the scrambler along the road at full speed.
No horse should have been able to keep up with such a powerful bike, but he could hear the thunder of the hooves and the wild whoops of the riders drawing closer. He allowed himself one glance back, but the image of the Satanic Hunt bearing down on him was so terrible he knew he would not be able to look again.
He swung the bike off the road in the futile hope that the rough ground might slow the riders, but he knew in his heart it was only a matter of time. The wheels chewed up grass and mud as he roared out into the heart of the moor. While the storm whipped him from side to side, the bike sloughed around as it countered the dips and hollows that made the going so treacherous. Even with the headlamps on full beam, Church could barely see the outcroppings of rock which he knew could be the end of him.
The hollers and whoops of the riders became almost sounds of nature, caught on the wind, soaring up to the clouds, filled with the passion of the hunt, the lust for blood. And then, from the midst of them, came a low, mournful sound that seemed to suck all other noise out of the air. Church shivered. It was the hunting horn of the Erl-King.
Church gunned the bike over a rise so fast both wheels left the ground. Somehow he kept it upright when it landed. The countryside had grown even wilder, and just as he started to wonder how many miles he had put between himself and the pub, the ground suddenly disappeared beneath his feet and he was falling in darkness. He had only a few seconds to question what was happening as the engine roared out of control, and then his head hit something and he plunged into unconsciousness.
chapter ten
the hunt
uth and Laura choked back their emotions as they sprinted across The Green Man's car park, which now resembled an abattoir among the burning wreckage of several cars and a minibus. The few survivors were slowly beginning to stumble out from underneath vehicles or the deep shadows where they had been hiding, transformed by the shock and horror into scurrying animals, wide-eyed and dumb.
They were relieved to find the Nissan had not been harmed during the Hunt's attack. Ruth jumped into the driver's seat and sparked the ignition, releasing the clutch before Laura had time to settle in. She was thrown back into her seat as the tires screamed and whirled on the spot, sloughing the car around the park before it roared on to the road.
"Yee haw," Laura said mutedly.
Heading in the opposite direction to Church and the Hunt, Ruth found the road signposted for Buckfastleigh, ten miles away. She was surprised she didn't feel more scared. Instead, she felt a cold determination to do the right thing, and an awareness for the first time that what they had to achieve was more important than everything; even her own life.
She glanced secretively at Laura who was slumped silently, half-turned to look out of the passenger window. Ruth was surprised to see she wasn't taking it well at all. Her face was white and strained, turned even ghostlier by the bleached blondeness of her hair, and her cheeks were streaked with tears. A tremor ran through her body and Ruth noticed she had her hands tucked between her thighs to stop them shaking.
"We're going to get out of this," Ruth said supportively.
"Sorry, you must be thinking I care about your opinions," Laura replied without turning her head.
Ruth returned her attention to the dark road ahead; if Laura felt she was better internalising her fears, there was no point wasting her breath.
Two miles further on, Laura broke her silence. "What's going to happen now?"
"We meet up with Church-"
"We're not going to meet up with Church, you stupid bitch. It was a suicide run. You know that."
Ruth did know it, but she hadn't allowed herself to think about it. Now the idea that Church might be dead made her feel like she had a cold, hard rock lying on her chest. "There still might be a chance. He said it himself: these days we live in a world where anything can happen."
There was a hopeful hush and then Laura said, "Okay. But say he doesn't make it back. What then?"
"Then we carry on with what we have to do. Find the remaining talismans-"
"Smart plan. Except for one thing. Church took the Wayfinder with him when he left. It was stuffed in his jacket."
Ruth dropped her head briefly in despair. She couldn't believe how stupid they'd been. Without the lantern, they'd never find the talismans. And without the talismans, everything was lost.
"So we better hope he does get back to us," Laura said emotionlessly.
For ten minutes they drove in silence, wondering how the fate of the world had come to be placed on their shoulders, filled with despair at the mess they had made of it, when Ruth said suddenly, "I feel strange."
"You've only just noticed?"
Ruth focused on the unnerving sensation which seemed to be buzzing underneath her skin. A second later she saw something red glowing nearby and froze in fear, instantly thinking it was the eye of some lurking beast. When she realised it was a vehicle's rear light she laughed nervously at how the mundane was now the last thing she considered.
A large white Transit van was pulled up on to the verge. One of the rear lights was broken and it seemed to have a flat; someone was hunkering down trying to change the wheel by torchlight in the driving rain.
Ruth's heart told her to stop to help, but her head warned her it was too much of a risk. But as she drove by, the buzzing under her skin grew unbearable, as if an infestation of insects were burrowing there; she could tell from Laura's sudden jerk and expression of discomfort that she was feeling it too. Then, without warning, the lights went off. Ruth slammed on the brakes, her heart pounding.
"What's going on?" Laura hissed fearfully.
The lights came on after a long beat, but just as Ruth was about to engage the gears once more, they flashed off and on five times in quick succession.
"The electrics are going crazy," Laura said. "Just drive. We can't risk sitting here. Or maybe I should get out and paint red and white circles on the roof?"
Something nagged at Ruth's mind. The headlights were fine now. She glanced in the rearview mirror to see whoever had been changing the tire was now standing in the road, silhouetted against the van's lights, staring at them. All she could tell was that it was a man. She listened to the rhythmic clack of the windscreen wipers, hit the accelerator, but the car didn't move.
"Come on," Laura said anxiously. "You're too young to have Alzheimer's."
"No," Ruth said thoughtfully. "There are new rules now. We have to start operating by them."
"What do you mean?" Laura glanced over her shoulder to see if the van's driver was approaching. "He's just standing there," she said with obvious relief.
"Instinct. Coinci
dence," Ruth continued. "We have to listen to things talking to us."
"What kind of things?"
"Unseen things." She caught her breath, hoping she was right. "That strange sensation we both felt-that was our instinct telling us to be aware, not to miss something important. And the lights. One long flash, five short. Not an accident. A message."
"A message," Laura repeated with a sneer. "The car's talking to us. Shall we give it a name?"
"Not the car. Life. The world. Whatever makes all this tick. The player behind the scenes." Thunder rumbled ominously and lightning danced across the horizon in a breathtaking light show that beat anything created by technology. This time Laura stared at her curiously, without mocking. "There are supposed to be five of us who make a stand," Ruth continued. "Five who become one, something greater than the sum of the parts." She turned to look at the figure in the road who was stock-still despite the storm, staring at their car.
Laura followed her gaze. "Or he might just spout hair and fangs and tear us apart the moment we get out of the car."
Ruth shivered; Laura had instantly lanced the doubts she had tried to put to one side. Every rational thought told her not to get out of the car; it was hard to fight years of conditioning for something so intangible as a whim.
"So do you have enough faith in yourself?" Laura said. "Or is there still some sense in your head?"
"Look at him-he feels it too," Ruth said, trying to convince herself.
"Or else he just smells meat."
"Stop it." Ruth rested her hand on the gear stick, tightened her grip.Just drive, she told herself. Don't be crazy. Laura's right you can't risk everything on a notion.
She glanced back once more, then turned quickly and flung open the door. Laura's protests were lost as she threw herself out into the wind and rain, shielding her eyes with her arm. She took a few steps to the rear of the car. The man still wasn't moving.
"Do you need any help?" she called out.
In the long moment when she thought he wasn't going to answer, the anxiety returned in force. But just as she was on the verge of leaping back in the car and driving off, he called out, "Please."
Ruth steeled herself and walked forward as confidently as she could manage. With the storm raging around her, it was difficult to see or hear any warning signs; she would be close enough to grab by the time she knew if she had made the right decision.
Gradually his features coalesced out of the stark shadows and light thrown by the headlights. He was Asian, about 5 ft 10 ins, with shoulder-length black hair plastered to his head by the rain. As she closed on him, Ruth guessed he was probably of Indian blood; he had the most beautiful face she had seen on any man. His bone-structure was so finely cut, his eyes so wide and dark, his lips so full, that there was a hint of androgyny. When she was near enough he unveiled a smile of perfect white teeth which was so open she instantly felt at ease.
"Thank you," he said in a soft, tranquil voice. "On a night like this I would not expect anyone to stop to help." He took her hand in both of his in greeting, as if she were a long lost friend; his fingers were long, slim and warm. "My name is Shavi."
Ruth introduced herself and Laura, who had just climbed out of the car, casting a suspicious glance in their direction. "Let's get this tire changed before we all catch pneumonia."
As they eased the wheel off the axle, Ruth asked him what he was doing driving across the bleak moor in a terrible storm at that time of night. "Searching," he said enigmatically. There was a glimmer in his eye that made Ruth feel he knew everything going through her head.
Laura peered over their shoulders, her arms folded. "So are you one of us?" she said bluntly.
Shavi flashed her another smile and Ruth was surprised to see a faint warm response on Laura's face. "Perhaps," he said.
"You're not going to wear out that word, are you?"
"What caused the broken light and the flat?" Ruth asked.
Shavi grunted as the wheel came free and rolled to one side. "Something came across the road in front of me, fast, just a shadow. At first it was on four legs, then two, then four again. You know?" Anyone else wouldn't have understood the meaning of the question, but Ruth nodded; they had all seen the strange shapes lurking off in the dark country night. "I felt the van hit it, but there was no body, no blood. Perhaps it was thrown off the road."
Ruth and Laura both glanced off into the night uncomfortably. "We should finish up here as quickly as we can," Ruth said redundantly.
"I'll keep watch." Laura scanned around, but it was hopeless; the night was so dark and the rain so heavy that they wouldn't see anything until it was upon them.
Although they tried to work fast, the cold drove the feeling from their fingers and the simple act of screwing on the wheelnuts became torturous; there was repeated scrabbling in icy pools under the van for ones that had been dropped. And the more anxious Ruth got about what might be prowling in the dark, the more clumsy she became. But finally, with all of them shivering and sodden, the wheel was changed and Shavi lowered the jack.
There was such a potent inner peace about Shavi that he looked almost beatific, soaked to the skin and battered by the wind. Ruth was convinced her instinct about him was right, but what could she say-we're trying to stop the end of the world; want to cone along for the ride?
At that moment Laura suddenly tensed. She was peering back the way they had come.
"What is it?" Ruth asked.
"Can't you see it?" Laura's voice was almost lost in the wind.
And then she could. There was something moving on the horizon, roiling and churning as if the storm clouds were folding in upon themselves; it was flickeringly illuminated by an odd, inner light as if coloured lightning were crackling within it. The billowing clouds moved towards them. Ruth felt a cold that went beyond the chill of the rain.
"What is it?" Laura asked.
A second later they heard the sound that others could have mistaken for thunder: the clattering of iron-shod hooves. And then they saw the figures among those swirling clouds, lost then revealed, distant, but bearing down on them.
Ruth whirled and made to run towards the Nissan. "We've got to move. We might still be able to-"
Shavi caught her arm and gently but forcibly held her back. "Take the van with me. It is fast. Turbo-charged."
Ruth glanced at Laura who nodded; there were flashes of wild fear in her eyes. Shavi leapt into the driver's seat and the engine roared into life while Laura hauled herself through the rear doors. The bag with the stone in never left her grasp. Ruth began to follow her, but then shouted, "Wait!" She turned and ran for the Nissan. Shavi had pulled up beside her by the time she had found what she wanted and she jumped into the passenger seat.
"The water's warped your brain," Laura said sharply. "What are you doing?"
Ruth held up a handful of cassettes. "Church's music. I didn't want to leave it there."
Laura eyed her as if she was crazy, but she said nothing; they both knew why she had done it. It might be the only thing they had to remember him by.
And then Shavi slammed the van into gear, hit the accelerator and the van hurtled forward so fast Laura was thrown across the back amidst a hail of cursing. Ruth gripped for support as she was pressed into the seat. She glanced over at Shavi who was as placid as if he were out on a Sunday drive. Of course, Ruth thought. He doesn't understand whats behind us.
"You've got to keep your foot down," she said. "If we're caught, we're dead. Literally."
"I know." He flashed her a smile. "What is it exactly?"
Laura scrambled to the rear doors and pressed her face against the window. "They're getting closer."
"Something that will tear us apart if it catches us." She glanced at him, unsure. "Something supernatural."
He nodded as if what she had said was the most normal thing in the world. "The van should be fast enough."
The engine had the throaty rumble of a big cat and the acceleration was breathtaking, although
the ride was as smooth as silk. But Ruth found it impossible to put her faith in anything technological after seeing science fail so easily.
"Worry more that we should run out of road," Shavi said. "Do you have any direction in mind?"
"Just keep driving until the sun comes up. The Hunt seem to go at first light."
"Definition of an optimist," Laura chimed from the back. "Someone who thinks they can keep ahead of the Hounds of Hell for four or five hours with just a crappy van."
"What would you rather we do? Throw ourselves to the dogs?" Ruth snapped. She looked back anxiously. The figures in the swirling clouds were more starkly defined now, the odd lighting diminishing as they moved closer. There was a flurry of movement around the horses' legs which Ruth guessed was the pack; distantly she could hear their howling breaking through the storm.
"I'm sorry you got dragged into this," she said to Shavi.
He shook his head dismissively. "I was meant to be here."
Ruth eyed him curiously. "Meant how?"
"I was guided here by my dreams."
A snorting noise echoed from the back, followed by some muttering which Ruth couldn't decipher.
"All my life I have had vibrant, colourful dreams," Shavi continued. "Sometimes they were like trips. Certainly not like the kind of dreams other people told me about. I had no idea what they meant, but I always knew in my heart they meant something. And then, a few weeks ago, I began to have the same dream night after night. It was about a dragon, landing on the ground, becoming part of the ground, and lines of blue light spreading out from it in all directions. And then I was following one of the lines to the place where the sun sets. To a big moor." There was a screech of tires as the van slid around a sharp bend, which Shavi accelerated out of like a professional rally driver. "Somehow I found myself on the road where we met and I knew at once it was the right place."
"How did you know?"
"I just felt it."
Ruth couldn't concentrate on talking further; her muscles felt like steel knots and her chest hurt from breathing too hard. Looking back once more, she saw the Hunt had drawn only slightly closer. The speedo said they were doing sixty-plus on the treacherous moorland road, which was a risk in itself, but if they could maintain that speed there was a chance they could keep ahead.
World's End (Age of Misrule, Book 1) Page 24