4
Jack squeezed Kevin's hand and nodded at Claire. They moved out of the bushes towards the old
Rennick Road. After waiting for fifteen minutes, Jack decided that it was safe. The approaching daylight had made them all feel better, although he was still miserably worried about his brother. Brown patches had appeared beneath the little boy's eyes and he stared listlessly into space for minutes on end, even when Jack would shake him to stay alert. Since the pylon, he would allow no such repetition of carelessness. Claire remained watchful, automatically marking their rear when Jack focused on the path ahead.
They watched the road and scanned the trees that ran along either side until they were sure that it was safe. They stepped out of the cover afforded them by the dwindling outskirt of the forest.
Movement to the left alerted Jack immediately but it was too late. A huge, blonde man in military fatigues stepped out of the shadows in front of them. He reached for Jack with a bloody club of a fist, his huge jaw dropping open to allow the voices to pass through him and at the teenage boy. Claire screamed. Kevin fell to the floor in a foetal ball. Jack was lifted clear off the ground.
The voices filled the forest with corruption causing Claire to plaster her hands over her ears. It was no good. She ran at the soldier, screaming. The man's hand flew at her throat and held her there, squeezing the life out of her. From inside the claustrophobic house of pain she now inhabited, she saw another soldier step out the trees behind the monster that held them now. This one held a rifle.
"No you fucking well don't," the second soldier said in a calm voice, raised the butt of the rifle and smashed into side of their captor's head. Jack fell next to his brother and immediately checked that he was unhurt. Kevin would not respond. Jack burst into tears. Claire crawled away from the second soldier's boots sobbing and gasping, her throat on fire.
"It's going to be alright, son," the soldier reassured Jack. "Lemme see 'im now. 'E's probably sufferin' a bit o' shock." Granger lifted the tiny boy off the grass and said: "Come on kids. My vehicle’s nearby. Let's get you safe."
As they followed the man who had introduced himself as Granger, the word safe resonated through Jack's head. Safe, safe, safe-
5
As he plummeted towards the water he saw traffic on the other bridge- the Old Bridge, way off in the distance. The cavalry, he thought and hit the water.
It was as cold as he remembered from the previous evening when he had been thrust into the water by the creature that had been Davies. He opened his eyes in the water expecting to see nothing but was surprised by the fact the river afforded enough light to see the distant weir. He pushed his legs hard and headed toward the light. Figures swam against the backdrop of the light he thought and then realized that they were in fact reeds that had been disturbed by the current. He squinted in the gloom.
There she was.
Mary floated face down in the water.
Weaver kicked his legs until she close and reached for her. A hand snaked out of the reeds and yanked him downwards. He looked at the figure that had lurked there and saw with horror that it was an old woman. She howled soundlessly at him in the water, revealing a gummed, turtle-like mouth. Her nightgown billowed around her revealing her withered limbs. Repulsed, Weaver kicked her in the face with his boot heel and she released her grip before floating away into the darkness.
In three powerful breast strokes, Weaver had Mary. He pulled her against him, her dark hair dancing wildly around his face and kicked for the surface. They broke the surface and Weaver held her face in his palms and kissed her blue lips. Mary's eyelids fluttered and she looked at him.
"David-" she managed before her jaw began to shudder with the coldness of the water.
Weaver smiled at her and kissed her face. She was alive. On the periphery of his vision, Weaver saw Collins scampering down the embankment. Weaver kicked for the river bank, guiding Mary before him in much the same way that he had been pushed across the river in the death of the previous night.
"She's alive!" Weaver shouted to the policeman. "I need you to-"
Weaver was pulled viciously back into the water. Irresistible hands tugged at his legs with such fury that he took water into his mouth before he had a chance to take in air. He had the impression of many presences around him, of limbs encircling his body and, as he was drawn inexorably to his death, the voices soothed him.
He was, after all, coming home.
In the distant light, Grant ran ahead, as he always did, refusing to wait for his young friend.
Then there was nothing but the darkness beneath Measton.
6
Mary screamed his name as Collins pulled her out of the water but he would not allow her to go back for him. Collins had seen them from atop of the bridge. Underwater forms moved smoothly against the current towards Weaver and Mary getting closer and closer even as he had hurried to the water's edge. Mary saw Weaver go under and into the reeds. His arms trailing back towards her if he were reaching upward. She tried to make out his face but she could not.
And then he was gone. Back into the circle, back into the ring and the circle closed, a shining golden band.
.
Always, always, always.
*
Epilogue
Susan watched the day break and saw that the rain had stopped. The clouds were separating and, for the first time in weeks so it seemed, the sun poured through the bay window and onto her minimal walls. Sirens wailed in mournful harmony in the distance and the thrum of helicopter blades passed over the Crescent and on to the heart of the town. Behind her the television continued to emit a monotonal, off-air hum. Perhaps it would come back on soon and tell them all what to do next. She hoped so. The world had gone mad. Someone needed to make sense of it all.
She turned to head for the shower but paused as the sun hit the top of David's painting. How stupid she had been to fear a picture. She moved carefully to the painting and pulled it away from the wall, allowing the dust sheet to fall away. She lifted it to eye level and turned it to face the light.
The canvas was awash with green and brown swirling strokes but that was all; it was a muddy backwash with no subject or point of focus. Susan blinked in confusion.
The reaching figure with the inscrutable face was gone.
*
Table of Contents
Dedication
Part One The Bridge
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Part Two The Land of the Green and the Grey
Chapter Five
Chapter six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Part Three Floodlands
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Part Four Beneath Measton
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Epilogue
The River Dark Page 54