Storm Horse

by Nick Garlick

  “What are we going to do?” Renske said.

  “We’re going to go and get him,” Flip said.

  Renske’s face paled. “Out there?”

  Flip knew exactly how she felt. The thought of walking out into The Yellow made him nervous too. Actually, it terrified him. “We’ve got no choice,” he replied. “We can’t leave him. What if he gets stuck? We have to go and get him back.”

  Renske nodded. The breeze blew her hair back and forth across her face. “But I’m frightened,” she said.

  “You don’t have to come. You can stay here.”

  “That’d frighten me even more. Standing here watching you.”

  “Then we’ll go together,” Flip said. “And we’ll only walk where Storm’s walked. If the sand supports him, it’ll easily support us.”

  Renske looked doubtful. “Do you promise?”

  Flip nodded. “I promise.”

  “All right,” she said. “But you have to hold my hand.” When he hesitated, she added, “I promise I won’t ever tell anyone you did.”

  He smiled and took her hand.

  Together they set off down the slope. But they hadn’t gone more than a few paces when they heard footsteps behind them and turned to see the Ghost Girl darting down the side of the dune. She ran straight past them and stopped in Storm’s tracks, staring off at the faint figure of the horse in the distance.

  “You can’t come!” Flip said.

  She ignored him and started walking.

  “I mean it,” he repeated, letting go of Renske and running after her. “You can’t! It’s dangerous!”

  All the Ghost Girl did was walk faster.

  “All right,” he said, realizing that the longer he stood and argued, the less time they had to get Storm back, “you can come. But only walk where Storm’s walked. That way you know it’s not quicksand.”

  The Ghost Girl rolled her eyes and nodded impatiently, as if to say she knew all that and why didn’t they just get going!

  So Flip took Renske’s hand again and the three children set off across the empty plain. The only sound was the pad of their footsteps on the sand and, from far ahead, the soft thump of Storm’s hooves. Every so often he would stop and sniff the air and the ground in front of him, then change direction. He never looked back or paid any attention to their calls to stop. Flip began to wonder if the horse was testing him, to find out how far he’d go and what he’d risk to get him back. Whether that was true or not, Flip realized he’d do anything to save Storm—anything to keep him safe.

  And he kept walking.

  He didn’t realize how far they’d come until he turned around and saw that the dunes where the Ghost Girl had joined them were little more than a blur on the horizon. When he turned back, it was to see Storm disappear behind a mound of collapsed bricks.

  They’d reached the remains of the village.

  There wasn’t much to see. A few walls were still standing, poking up out of the ground like big cracked teeth. Beams of rotten wood, turned gray by the sun and the wind and the rain, lay in a tangled heap at the end of what had once been a street. A pile of splintered roof tiles creaked and snapped when he put his foot on it. And everywhere, all around them, were thick drifts of sand piled up against any surface that would stop them. It looked like yellow water lapping silently over the village remains.

  They were all alone in a deserted village in the middle of a silent, empty landscape.

  AT LAST, STORM had stopped. He stood still behind one of the crumbling walls, watching the three children. The breeze ruffled his mane.

  “Now what are we going to do?” Flip asked.

  “What do you mean?” asked Renske.

  Flip pointed at the wall and the piles of tumbled brick and wood on either side of it. “We’ve got to go over that to get him. Whichever way we go, he’ll probably just run off in the opposite direction.”

  “If we had something for him to eat, he’d stand still,” Renske said.

  Flip looked at their surroundings. “There’s nothing here to eat.”

  That was when the Ghost Girl stepped forward. With a shy little smile, she tugged two stubby carrots from her pocket. She handed them to Flip, who edged closer to Storm and held them out carefully on the palm of his hand. Just as carefully, Storm leaned down and began to eat.

  Breathing a sigh of relief, Flip lifted his other hand to take hold of his mane. But in all the excitement, he’d completely forgotten that he was carrying the halter.

  The moment Storm saw it he backed away. His hoof crashed down on a roof tile, which flew into the air in splinters. Flip covered his eyes. Renske dived behind him. The Ghost Girl ducked sideways, stumbled on a chunk of wood, and fell against the bricks Storm had been standing behind. They shivered and creaked. Then, with a groan like a rusty window creaking open, they collapsed in a cloud of dust and chips of broken masonry.

  This was all too much for Storm. He spun around and galloped away to safety. He stopped twenty paces off, twitching his tail from side to side and snorting with fear.

  Only then did Flip notice the Ghost Girl.

  She was lying on her side with her right leg buried beneath a section of the collapsed wall. Even though there were tears in her eyes, she still hadn’t made a sound.

  Flip knelt next to her and started tossing bricks aside. Renske helped him. When they were finished, all three of them stared down at the Ghost Girl’s ankle. It was red and swollen. Together, they helped her to stand up, only to watch her take one step and fall straight down again.

  A sudden gust of wind, much stronger this time, made Flip look around. The sky behind them to the north had now grown even darker. He could see gray bands of rain falling far out to sea. That didn’t worry him. What worried him was that the tide was coming in, and coming in quicker than he’d thought possible, just the way Aunt Elly had said it would. When they’d started out onto The Yellow, the sea had been out of sight. Now he could see the wind blowing spray off the tops of the advancing waves.

  “We’ve got to go,” he said.

  “But she can’t walk,” Renske said. She’d seen the approaching sea too, and her eyes were wide with fright. Despite the heat, her teeth were chattering.

  “Then I’ll help her,” Flip said.

  “And Storm?” Renske said.

  Flip looked over at the horse, still standing off at a distance, watching them carefully.

  “We haven’t got time to catch him. We have to get away! He’ll just have to follow us.”

  “But what if he doesn’t?” she said.

  Flip shook his head and didn’t answer. The thought of what might happen to Storm was too horrible to contemplate. But the two girls were his first responsibility. He had to make sure they were safe. So he bent down, helped the Ghost Girl to her feet, and put his arm around her waist. She hopped forward for three paces before losing her balance and collapsing in the sand. Flip landed on top of her.

  They tried again and went another four paces before she fell. Flip decided to carry her piggyback. She wasn’t heavy and it worked for a while. But by then, after all their walking and running to catch Storm, Flip was tired. Very tired. So it wasn’t long before he stumbled and fell. As he got to his knees and glanced back, he saw that the incoming tide had already swallowed up all trace of the deserted village. Waves were lapping at the path they’d taken just over one hundred yards away. A cold lump of fear grew in his stomach as he realized that they wouldn’t get off The Yellow before the sea engulfed them. One glance at Renske and the Ghost Girl told him they were as scared as he was.

  A sound at his back made him turn. Storm was standing over him, staring down into his face. This time, when Flip stood up and reached out to him, the horse didn’t run away. He came closer and let Flip wrap both hands in his mane. Then he lowered his muzzle until it rested against the boy’s forehead.

  “You came to help us,” Flip whispered, “didn’t you?”

  He lifted his head and gazed deep into Storm�
��s eyes. Storm gazed calmly back. His breathing was slow and steady and wonderfully reassuring.

  “But if you do help,” Flip said, “then you’re going to have to do something you don’t like.”

  Storm peered patiently down at him, as if he could understand every word being spoken. Flip could see the two girls giving him funny looks but he didn’t feel silly. He’d grown so used to talking to Storm by now that it felt totally normal.

  “You have to let someone ride on you,” Flip said. “And it’s not me. It’s the two girls.”

  “He won’t do that!” Renske protested.

  “Yes, he will,” Flip said. “Because I’ve asked him.”

  Very slowly, he led Storm over to the Ghost Girl, reached down, and helped her to her feet. He told her to lean against Storm, then cupped her good foot in his hand, took a deep breath, and heaved her up into the air.

  Storm’s head twitched as she landed on his back. He took a step forward and then a step backward. He swung his head around to glance at the Ghost Girl.

  And then he stood perfectly still.

  “That’s good, Storm,” Flip said. “That’s just what we need. I knew you could do it.”

  Then he turned to Renske. “Now you,” he said.

  In one smooth movement, up she went. Storm took another step forward and backward when she landed on his back, but he didn’t try to shake her off. Or run away.

  “And now there’s just one last thing,” Flip said, stroking the horse’s muzzle. “I have to put the halter on you.” He saw Renske staring but there wasn’t time to explain. “I really have to do this, Storm,” he said, unfastening the buckle and lifting it up. “So the girls can hold on to your mane and I can hold on to the rope.”

  Storm didn’t like it. He said so with a lot of snorts and ear-twitching. But as if he could sense the need for it, he let the halter slide up over his muzzle and the strap go over his head behind his ears. Without being asked, the Ghost Girl leaned forward and fastened the buckle.

  Flip attached the rope to the halter and with a gentle tug they were off, trotting back across the sand along their original path. Because their journey out to the village had never been in a straight line, they sometimes had to travel in the opposite direction to the dunes, and when they did, it meant walking back into the incoming tide. The waves rushed and gurgled around their ankles and that was when Flip was most frightened. He couldn’t see where he was stepping. All he could do was hope that Storm could still sense where the quicksand was and avoid it, just as he’d avoided it on the way out to the village.

  Out of the water they went and then back in, sometimes for just a few paces, at others for whole minutes. Up on Storm’s back, Renske clung to the Ghost Girl and the Ghost Girl clung grimly to Storm’s mane. The two of them bobbed around like socks on a clothesline. Flip could see the fear in their eyes, but there was no time to stop and reassure them. As a wave surged around his ankles yet again, he urged Storm into a trot. The sand dunes were coming ever closer, but there was a long way still to go.

  And then the very thing he’d been scared of since setting off happened. His left foot plunged down into the sand under an incoming wave and kept going. Before he could stop himself, both feet were sinking.

  Into a pool of quicksand.

  He held on to the rope. But only barely. Storm stopped trotting when Flip couldn’t move but the horse’s forward motion almost pulled the rope from his hands. His palms burned as it tore through them. Wincing with pain, he wrapped it around his wrists and held tight. Beneath him, the quicksand was still giving way under his feet, pulling him down farther and farther. His knees were now below the incoming waves and still he was moving downward.

  “Go, Storm,” he yelled. “Go!”

  And Storm did. He put his head down, bent his legs, and moved off. The rope tightened and dug deep into Flip’s skin. His arms felt as though they were being pulled from their sockets. But he stopped sinking. Stretching forward, he looped the rope once again around his wrists. By now he was almost horizontal to the sand and water.

  Then, with a strange kind of wet POP he was free, sprawled full length on his front and being dragged through the surf. Urging Storm not to stop, he struggled to his knees, then to his feet, and stumbled on forward beside him. The dunes were dead ahead now and the incoming tide was at their backs. Before he knew it, they were up off The Yellow and on firm, safe ground.

  Flip, completely exhausted, dropped to his knees and let the rope fall from his fingers. Up on Storm’s back the girls were laughing out loud with relief. Storm, who wasn’t even breathing hard, walked over to Flip and bent down to sniff at his face. Forcing himself upright on wobbly legs, Flip wrapped his arms around the horse’s neck.

  “Thank you,” he whispered, pressing his face into the horse’s side. “I knew you could do it. Thank you!”

  Storm gently rubbed his nose on Flip’s face, blowing warm air down his nostrils.

  “And I’m sorry I shouted at you,” Flip added. “You’re not stupid at all.”

  Storm rubbed his nose harder, this time in Flip’s hair, and Flip nearly fell over backward. The girls laughed at that, and this time, so did Flip. Right then, he really didn’t mind a bit.

  Finally, when he’d regained his strength, he took the rope in his hand and led everyone to the farm. Soon they were passing Leila’s field. She ran over to the fence to say hello and followed them all the way along to the gate. Storm nickered a hello back. That made the girls giggle.

  But they stopped when they entered the yard and saw Aunt Elly standing beside the front door. Uncle Andries was standing beside her.

  And neither of them was smiling.

  FLIP HADN’T GIVEN a moment’s thought to what he would tell his aunt and uncle. But as it turned out he didn’t have to, because as soon as they entered the farmyard, Renske did all the talking for him.

  “Storm escaped,” she babbled. “He ran away when the Mesman Boys tried to ride him and we went after him, all the way to the dunes, and there he was, down on the sand, all by himself, and we had to rescue him because we couldn’t leave him there all alone. I was scared, but Flip held my hand all the way to the village and I didn’t have to worry hardly at all.”

  Aunt Elly was incredulous. “You went to the deserted village? You went out onto The Yellow?”

  “It’s where Storm went,” Flip explained, feeling the grown-ups’ eyes boring into him. “He wouldn’t come back, so we had to follow him. We couldn’t leave him there.”

  “And you took the girls with you?” Uncle Andries demanded, looking angrier by the second.

  “We wouldn’t let him go without us,” Renske said proudly. “We like Storm as well. And you can’t be angry with Flip, because he got Storm to let us ride on his back after the wall fell on the Ghost Girl and the tide started coming in. He rescued us too. He was really brave. And clever.”

  Because of the way Storm was standing, the Ghost Girl’s injured ankle was facing away from everyone. As soon as Aunt Elly heard that she had been injured, she went to the Ghost Girl to take a look.

  “Does it hurt?” she asked.

  The Ghost Girl nodded.

  “Come inside and let me have a look at it.”

  The Ghost Girl shook her head.

  “I won’t hurt you,” Aunt Elly said. “I promise.”

  The Ghost Girl shook her head a second time and tightened her grip on Storm’s mane. Uncle Andries walked over and held up his hand. “Can you push my fingers?” he asked her. “With your foot?”

  This the Ghost Girl did. He moved his hand up and then down and asked her to repeat the action. She did, both times.

  “She can move her ankle,” he said. “So it’s not broken. I think she should go home.”

  “She can’t walk,” Aunt Elly said.

  “I know,” he said. “But she can ride.”

  “On Storm?”

  “Yes,” he said, looking coldly determined. “On Storm. And Flip can take her. I’ll go
with them. That can be his punishment: explaining to this girl’s mother what happened. Renske’s punishment I’ll leave up to you.”

  Without another word, he beckoned Flip to follow him and set off out of the yard.

  THE GHOST GIRL’S home nestled in the dunes not far from the lighthouse. From a distance, with its thatched roof, redbrick walls, and V-shaped line of pine trees at its back, it looked small and cozy. But as they drew closer, Flip saw that the grass at the front was ragged and uncut, the windows were thick with grime, and a child’s bicycle lay on its side by the front door, covered in mud.

  It looked sad and deserted.

  The front door swung open and a woman ran down the path toward them. Her hair was untidy, her eyes were red-rimmed, and her face was drawn. She looked sad and tired.

  “There you are!” she said to the Ghost Girl. “Where have you been?”

  Uncle Andries stepped forward. “Mrs. Elberg,” he said, taking off his cap, “I’m Mr. Bor. Your daughter was with my nephew, Flip. She had an accident. We brought her here as quickly as we could.”

  “Accident?” said Mrs. Elberg. “What happened?”

  “My nephew can tell you,” Uncle Andries said.

  “Some bricks fell on her,” Flip said. “On her ankle. She couldn’t walk. So I put her on the horse.”

  In an instant, the tiredness vanished from Mrs. Elberg’s face. She stepped to Storm’s side, took her daughter’s injured ankle gently in her hands, and probed it with her fingers. Then she turned to Uncle Andries.

  “Mr. Bor,” she asked, “would you be kind enough to carry my daughter inside?”

  Uncle Andries nodded and reached up. This time, the Ghost Girl didn’t protest. She let herself slide off Storm’s back and into his arms. Flip watched him take her into the house and upstairs. A little while later, his uncle returned.