by James Erith
Gus smiled. He loved a girl who meant business even if it was clear she had no idea about survival. And, he supposed, if there really was to be a disaster, this girl had the whole thing planned – that’s if she wasn’t completely crackers.
Archie scampered up the steep bank, pulling himself up on the longer tufts with his hands and using his studs to give him grip. At the top of the bank he caught his breath and looked about. A huge roll of thunder shook the ground as he watched Isabella being marched off the football pitch by a couple of adults. People were streaming away, pointing skywards.
Wow. What a mental couple of minutes. He couldn’t believe his strength and the fact that he had actually hit someone and then thrown two guys two or three metres as easily as if they were pillows. He shook his head; Archie de Lowe, most laidback human on the planet, had hit someone. Archie smiled. And the odd thing was, it hadn’t felt so bad. Was it the strange glass of water left by the ghost?
He spied the alleyway and ran over, the studs of his boots clacking on the stone beneath him. He thought for a minute about taking them off but wondered whether there was any point.
This Cain, he thought, this ghost, couldn’t really exist, could it? He peered down the alleyway and saw two shapes.
A sudden burst of lightning brought the pair to light and he could make out Kemp’s red hair and another figure beside him bearing a long coat and a kind of trilby hat. Archie’s heart pounded. They were making their way towards him.
OK. OMG. Wrongo. So what if Cain did exist and Kemp had got there first. Was this a good thing or a bad thing? Oh hell!
Archie shrank down, wondering what to do, and wiped the sweat off his forehead. He needed to think fast.
As he crouched down, urging his brain into action, Archie was struck by a thought. Cain was blind, wasn’t he? He’d gone on about the fact that he didn’t have any eyes – like the Ancient Woman, so if Cain was talking to Kemp, perhaps Cain couldn’t see him. Using the same logic, another thought struck him: what if Cain thought Kemp was him! But the ghost couldn’t get it that wrong, could he? I mean they were completely different.
Archie stood up from behind the wheelie bin so that only his head might be seen. Kemp was about ten paces away and Archie could definitely make out that the figure next to him was a ghost by the simple fact that he didn’t have any shoes on and his face was covered – rather oddly, he thought – by a scarf. A crackle of lightning fizzed above them and, from the light it threw out, Archie was able to see – just for a flash – Kemp’s face. It was a picture of utter terror.
Archie gasped and his heart thumped like a drum.
Kemp had seen him – his eyes widened, and for a brief moment their eyes met.
Kemp and Cain moved nearer and nearer. All the while Archie could discern the ghost’s words like “power” and “magic” and “strength”. Archie was stunned; did Cain think Kemp was him?
By the look of things, he did – although Kemp looked deathly pale.
A dark thought dashed into his mind: wouldn’t Kemp be dying to get all of those things – power, strength and magic? Then Archie realised that the ghost was holding Kemp tightly around his left arm. Was Kemp moving them slowly out into the open or was it the other way round? Who was moving who?
Archie listened harder as they stopped just the other side of the wheelie bin.
He heard Kemp’s quivering voice. ‘Tell me again about the Prophecy. I need to be absolutely certain before I make my final decision.’
Cain seemed unimpressed. ‘Did you not listen, Archie?’ he complained.
Archie gasped. Cain did think Kemp was him! So what was Kemp playing at? And why was he asking Cain to tell him about this Prophecy one more time – it seemed a pretty odd thing to do. Was it for his benefit?
‘I need to be perfectly sure,’ Kemp replied.
‘Very well.’ Cain turned his head to the sky as though sniffing it. ‘But a shorter version. We are running out of time.’
Archie stole another look at Kemp from around the corner of the wheelie bin. When he caught sight of Kemp’s face, tears were streaming down his cheeks. Archie recoiled. Why? Why was Kemp crying? Was he trying to tell him something?
He crouched down and listened to Cain’s deep, powerful voice. ‘There is a great shift that occurs every now and then in the way of life, Archie,’ the ghost began. ‘Humans, who are at the top of this chain, evolve slowly but every now and then there is a big change. A change in physical attributes, a change in relation to surroundings, the infinite and beyond. The processes of these changes are shown in the form of dreams. The dreams that start this process have been given to you and your siblings. These dreams are the Prophecy of Eden, for you are the Heirs of Eden, the anointed ones.’
Archie’s gut turned. JEEZ. Anointed ones! From their dreams. Why – why them? He remembered the strange creature above Daisy – he had been right all along – it had been giving her dreams. But it didn’t make it any easier to understand.
The ghost coughed and carried on. ‘It is complex – this is not the time to tell you the ways of the universe. All you need know is that the Heirs of Eden face fearsome challenges.’ He turned his face to the sky. ‘The first of which begins with a terrible storm aimed entirely at you. If any of you do not survive the storm, it will rage for forty days and forty nights and wash out the world, bit by bit.’ Cain sucked in another lungful of air. ‘When the waters recede there will be a different world with a new beginning.
‘I tell you now. You children stand little chance – there is no ark to save you, nor any place you can go that you will not find yourselves shot at by lightning or washed out by torrents of rain. The earth will slip down hillsides, the rivers swell and trees crash down. There is nowhere you can hide. I do not tell you this with any joy, but the storm was designed when men were strong and lived long and knew how to fight with nature through other means, like magic. You are about to enter a time you are not equipped to cope with. Do you understand?’
Kemp nodded and his eyes bulged. ‘Why?’ he asked.
‘Aha! Young man, the Prophecy is a measure – a test, if you like, to see if the people on this planet are ready to move into a new age, a new age of human enlightenment – the next step – if you like. The Prophecy was designed to test the strength, courage, intelligence and skill – to see if mankind is ready.’ Cain stopped for a moment and chuckled. ‘You and your sisters, the Heirs of Eden, must survive until sundown. On the absurdly small chance that you make it, the destructive force of the storm will cease...’ Cain tilted his head skywards. ‘There is no more time,’ he barked. ‘It will break in a few moments.’
Now Archie was trembling. Everything Cain said rang true; he’d seen it in his dreams, though of course it had meant nothing. And Isabella had been right all along!
Archie could hear Kemp’s voice, strangely muffled saying, ‘So … there’s little hope for me and my sisters.’
‘There is always hope, young man,’ the ghost replied. ‘But in comparison with the thickness of a rainbow, the chances that the three of you will survive are but an atom wide. You are a child. You have neither the strength nor the skills to combat what lies ahead. You know no magic and you do not understand nature. What chance do you have?’ He paused for effect. ‘None. That is why you must join me now, Archie. The world will be washed away, but I offer you the chance to escape through me. You have the opportunity, through me, to start again. All I need is the use of your body.’
‘And will this help save your mother?’ Kemp stammered.
The ghost seemed a little surprised. ‘Yes, as I told you. You have seen her and you know that she holds a great secret within her that others seek to destroy. By joining me, Archie, she will be saved. I guarantee it.’
Cain was laying on the charm. His persuasion intoxicating. ‘Here, the suffering will be great but together, Archie, we can build a new future. I am nearly useless without you and you are helpless without me.’
Kemp looked over a
t Archie whose terrified face had risen from the other side of the wheelie bin. ‘But I still don’t understand,’ Kemp whimpered.
Cain growled. ‘These things are beyond your understanding. Open your mind; you have seen it in your dreams.’
Suddenly, Kemp tried to make a run for it. He attempted to loosen the grip on his arm by charging at the wheelie bin. ‘GO!’ he screamed at Archie. ‘RUN!’ But the ghost held him tight and forced him to the floor. Kemp whimpered in pain.
The ghost moved into Archie’s path in front of the entrance to the alleyway and began to unfurl the scarf that covered his face. ‘I see,’ he began. ‘There is another one.’ He sniffed the air. ‘And one of you is Archie. You have tried to deceive me,’ the ghost said calmly.
‘So there is a choice. Archie, if you choose to come with me, the world will be saved. My mother will be saved. You will be saved. If you run, you die.’ He released Kemp who fell to the floor. ‘Which will it be?’
Kemp looked utterly petrified – his face red, his cheeks streaked with tears. He caught Archie’s eye, and stared at him – imploring him, begging him to understand. And then Kemp began to speak very slowly. ‘Kemp, you are my only friend,’ he said, ‘and not long ago, I swore – on my life – that I would never hurt you or your family. I failed.’ Kemp’s eyes opened wide, desperate for him to understand.
Archie frowned. What was Kemp talking about? Had Kemp worked out that the ghost was blind?
Kemp began again, ‘Run Kemp; save yourself. GO!’
‘Uh?’ Archie said, still confused.
‘Yes, Kemp – you moron – get out of here! Get to safety.’
Archie stared at Kemp.
And then Kemp said it again. ‘Look, Kemp, you great big oaf. Go now while there’s still a chance. Leave this to me, but promise me one thing.’
‘What?’
‘Look after that fishing rod.’
‘Fishing rod?’
Kemp couldn’t believe Archie. ‘Blimey Kemp, how stupid are you?’ he said. ‘Go! Now. Run you idiot – GO!’
Archie stared deep into Kemp’s tear-stained eyes and could see a spark of light. Deep down, both suspected they were doomed, but Archie was sure that Kemp was trying to tell him that while there was even a tiny slither of a chance Archie had to try and make it through to dusk.
Archie curled his fist into a ball and punched his friend lightly on the shoulder. He winked and mouthed the words, “Thank you”.
‘So long, Archie,’ Archie said, ‘see you in the next world.’
And taking a deep breath, he turned and ran for his life.
25
Cain’s Body
Daisy dragged herself up and flicked a fleck of mud off her shorts.
What a crazy match; her being kicked to bits, Sue screaming at Isabella, Isabella going mad again and screaming at everyone else, Archie missing a total sitter and then beating up the opposition like a prize-fighter – and getting sent off – deafening thunder crashing overhead, lightning fizzing – everything so loud.
Her head was ringing.
She noted the ref looking at his watch. And now, with the last kick of the game, she had a chance to win the match. Boy, pressure kicks don’t come much bigger than this, she thought. Better make it a good one. I’ll curl it over the wall – the floodlights are so poor it’s got every chance.
‘Come on, Upsall. Come on, Daisy de Lowe, you can do it,’ roared the small section of crowd still remaining before starting the repetitive chant of ‘D-D-L, D-D-L, D-D-L’.
Daisy bent down and rubbed her tired, bruised legs and drew her hands through her muddy blonde hair. She fixed her boots and as she did so she selected a slightly raised patch of turf on which she carefully placed the ball, which glowed like a full moon.
She stood back and studied her route to goal. Twenty, twenty-three yards? Perfect – just as she’d practised time and time again with Archie. She rubbed her eyes and concentrated hard on the ball. It was now or never. Everything she’d ever played for came down to this one shot.
She sucked in a large mouthful of air and blew it out, her eyes focusing on the ball so intently that she felt she could actually see the entire trajectory of the ball and the precise spot of where to kick it.
The whole atmosphere, the crowd and the rumbling sky for a moment seemed to disappear leaving a strange quiet.
The referee blew his whistle.
It was time to step up and smack it.
‘It has started,’ the ghost said, his hat angled upwards towards the sky. ‘Something more powerful than you can possibly imagine has begun.’ He raised an arm towards the lightning and thunder. ‘If you want to see your friend for the last time, follow his path. I doubt he will last long. You too may run now, but you would be a fool, Archie.’
Kemp moved to the end of the alleyway, wondering if he should run for it. People were scattering everywhere even though the players were still on the pitch.
He watched as Archie hared towards the steep bank and went out of view as he vanished down it. He reappeared, running flat out, waving his hands in the air. By the way people were looking at him, it was as if he was screaming at the top of his voice. Now he was sprinting onto the football field.
Kemp shifted his gaze. Daisy was striking a free kick and …
CRACK!
With a deafening roar, a massive thunderbolt flashed out of the sky right on top of Archie. Kemp’s heart missed a beat as he watched Archie fall to the floor like a ragdoll, his body spasming one moment, still the next.
Smoke drifted out of his friend.
Kemp recoiled and collapsed. Everything the ghost had said had happened; the sweet paper, the lightning in his own image in the cloud and now the thunderbolt aimed at Archie who lay dead on the ground.
Archie didn’t deserve this; laidback Archie with his scruffy hair who was always late for everything. Archie who didn’t really do anything; harmless, quiet Archie, his fishing pal, the only person he’d ever told about his parents. And he’d sent him to his death.
Kemp turned to find Cain directly behind him.
‘I am nothing more than a sad ghost. I was stripped of my flesh and bones, but not my spirit. It means that I cannot move or touch with any great purpose, so I require flesh and blood to partially restore me. This is where you come in – where you can help me. I cannot do it alone.’
The ghost removed his clothing until all that was left was the overcoat that covered his body and the hat on his head. He sniffed the air around Kemp who felt a coldness on his face and stumbled; was he going to be … eaten, or have the life sucked out of him? He felt dizzy and sick and paralysed with fear.
‘Rest assured,’ the old man said softly, ‘I know you are not Archie. I have no intention of taking your life, only borrowing it for a little while. When my work is done and my mother is saved, I will put you back near this very spot. That is my solemn promise. But nature’s curse is upon us.’
The ghost took a step towards the quivering body of Kemp. ‘You must freely decide if you will help me. You must choose now. I doubt you will get such an offer from the storm.’
Kemp faced him head-on for the first time. All he could see was a transparent gap beneath his hat. His teeth were chattering. ‘If I don’t—?’
‘You’ll almost certainly die or be drowned in the rains or in the landslides or the tsunamis which will sweep through the land destroying everything—’
‘Will you kill me?’
‘Kill you?’ the old man chuckled. ‘No. As I said, I’m just going to borrow you for a while. Why would I kill you when my purpose is to save so many? You must trust me.’
Kemp looked up at the sky. It was fizzing with electricity like an angry nest. A terrible boom rattled every bone in his body moments before a thunderbolt smashed into a nearby chimney pot. Terracotta splinters showered them.
His head shook.
He stared down the path, readying himself to run. But as his eyes focused on the dark shadows between the
buildings, he found himself looking at a familiar face. It was Gus Williams laden with shopping bags! They locked eyes for several seconds before Williams simply ran off, as though someone had called him away in a hurry.
‘Dreamspinner!’ the ghost barked impatiently. ‘Open up. It is time to go!’
‘Wait,’ Kemp croaked. ‘What do I have to do?’
‘Put on the coat and hat that covers me. Quickly.’
Kemp’s mind was made up. In a flash, he threw both of his overcoats to the ground and moved in close. As he did, he felt a strange coolness wash over him.
‘Ignore that I am here,’ the ghost said as Kemp fumbled. ‘Put it on, like you would any other.’
Kemp grabbed the collar of the coat and pushed in his arm, amazed by the sudden intense freeze that enveloped it. Then his other arm slid in. Kemp had a wonderful feeling of enormous strength building up in him as though he was being filled with electric charge.
It started in his fingers, moved up his wrist, through his elbows, to his shoulders. All too soon it was spreading down through his loins and into his legs and feet. It was as if a thick liquid, like freezing treacle – stuffed full of power – was coursing through every vein, into every muscle and sinew.
Kemp drew the coat across his chest and the curious feeling leeched towards his heart and lungs.
Now he cried out and stretched his arms wide as the ice-like treacle rushed into his vital organs and washed through his body. He shouted out a cry of pure ecstasy, his cries echoing back off the old houses.
Kemp only had one more thing to do. He lifted up the hat and pulled it down over his head. Very quickly he could feel the cold charge oozing up his neck and through his mouth. For a few seconds, he shut his eyes, enjoying the extraordinary tingling sensations of the liquid ice entering his brain and slowly dispersing through the back of his skull, tickling parts he never knew existed.