‘The Tornado Cha …’ I managed.
I flew out the bushes like a rocket, swerving wildly into the empty street and almost toppling over. I gasped. Orlaith had completely transformed my bike – it was like riding on a cloud. The speed was unbelievable. With every stroke I surged forwards, cutting through the wind like a razorblade, the wheels responding to even the slightest movements of my body. I’d never felt anything like it. All of a sudden I found myself standing upright on the pedals, as high as I could manage, the cape fluttering ghost-silent round my shoulders.
‘A daredevil,’ I cried, almost a laugh. ‘I’m doing it. I’m doing it!’
Up ahead, the others flickered in and out the streetlights like moths, through the sleeping village streets, past the broken and boarded-up houses that lined the empty roads of Barrow. I glanced at the rows of identical houses, at the people hidden inside, and almost felt sorry for them. They had no idea how this felt – to be outside, riding bikes in the wind, with no one to know but us. To chase a tornado. I felt more terrified, and more free, than I had ever felt in my entire life.
We slipped across the green and down the road that led out into the valley. There were no streetlamps here, and we cycled in pitch black, threading the bikes against the wind that flooded into the valley. The hills lay ahead, a black wall stretching across the landscape. The red lights of the distant stormtraps glimmered in a row on top of them. Above them the night sky was moonless and thick with dust. Somewhere out there was the tornado, heading towards the village.
The others came to a stop up ahead. I gripped on the brakes, and pulled up beside them.
A roadblock lay ahead. I recognised it immediately – my parents and I had driven through it when we first arrived at Barrow. It was a small guard’s hut, with a thick metal barrier that stretched from one end of the road to the other, painted bright red and surrounded by warning signs. It had taken two guards to lift the barrier from its stand and let us through. Now, of course, the guard’s hut was empty. The sign behind it creaked and swung in the wind.
YOU ARE NOW LEAVING BARROW:
THE SAFEST VILLAGE IN THE VALLEYS.
!!!WARNING!!!
IMMEDIATE DANGER OF BEARS AND
TORNADOES AHEAD.
INCREASED LIKELIHOOD OF SUDDEN,
TERRIBLE DEATH.
ANY CHILDREN WHO STEP BEYOND
THIS POINT WILL BE SENT STRAIGHT
TO THE COUNTY DETENTION CENTRE
IF THEY MAKE IT BACK ALIVE.
Orlaith turned to face us, her eyes glimmering fiercely above her mask.
‘Where we stand now,’ she said, ‘is the last point before we violate the most serious Storm Law in Barrow. Leaving the village.’ She looked at us. ‘Are we all still in?’
We nodded quickly, as if we didn’t want to think too much about it. The wind howled down the valleyside towards us. The tornado was getting closer.
‘Right,’ said Orlaith. ‘Well, let’s just get it over with, then.’ She turned to the metal barrier. ‘I guess we’ll have to find a way of lifting this up first …’
Pete calmly stepped forwards, and with the slightest of grunts took the great metal barrier in his hands and lifted it off the stand. We all oohed in admiration. Pete turned back round with a sheepish grin, holding the barrier in his arms like it was a nice pet rabbit.
‘Thanks Pete,’ said Orlaith. ‘Right, let’s get out of here before my dad—’
She suddenly stopped, and swung round.
‘My dad!’ she gasped. ‘Wait – did anyone see him?’
Her voice was tight with panic. We looked at each other blankly. There had been no sign of him at the green.
‘That doesn’t make any sense,’ said Orlaith, confused. ‘We should have seen him …’
We glanced at each other nervously.
‘Maybe he went a different way round?’ suggested Ceri.
Orlaith frowned. ‘Like where? It’s a tiny village!’
I shrugged. ‘Maybe he took a back road on the way round, and we missed him?’
Orlaith shook her head. ‘Then … where would he be now?’
A pair of headlights suddenly appeared behind me.
I swung round. There, flying towards me and getting closer every second, was Officer Reade’s car. Before I could even think of moving, I startled. My whole body froze from top to bottom. I realised there and then that the car was going to hit me – all I could do was watch it happen. It was over in seconds. I saw Officer Reade’s eyes widen and his foot slam down, and heard the screech of his brakes, and –
WHAM.
I was flung backwards through the air, and landed hard on the cold earth that lay beside the road. The breath was slammed out of me, and as I swung back my helmet came down against the tarmac with a sickening crack.
For a while – or what seemed like a while – all I could do was lie still and make out the different sounds around me. My heartbeat. The wind howling across the fields. A car door slamming.
‘Oh no!’
And then suddenly the adrenaline rushed through me and I gasped in a freezing clutch of air. My ribcage swelled and deflated against the ground, and my brain reeled. I had just been hit by a car. And something about my head felt wrong – very wrong.
I pushed myself up, and looked down. There were things on the ground around me where I had landed. Lots of things. I reached out and picked one up.
It was a shard of plastic.
‘My helmet,’ I muttered.
I touched the top of my head. There, instead of smooth plastic, I felt a set of jagged edges where the helmet had shattered apart. My head underneath was completely unharmed. A hand suddenly grabbed me and flipped me onto my back. Officer Reade looked down at me, bent over in the sickly glow of the headlights. He looked terrified.
‘Oh, thank God,’ he gasped, his face flooding with relief. ‘Thank God! I thought you were …’
He suddenly stopped, and heaved me to my feet. The hardness came back to his face in an instant.
‘Are you insane?’ he cried. ‘What the hell are you doing out here? I could have killed you, you … you idiot!’
He flipped round to the others. They stood frozen to the spot. Pete was still holding the barrier in his arms, trembling from head to toe.
‘What is this?’ he shouted. ‘The tornado’s the other side of the hill, and you’re all standing in the street, in the middle of the night – dressed up like flipping Batman?’
His whole body had clenched with anger. The others stared at him, their terrified eyes the only part of their face visible above the masks.
‘Get in the car!’ he screamed. ‘And take those stupid costumes off! When I find out who you are, you’re all in serious trouble!’ He pointed a finger at Pete. ‘And as for you – put that barrier back, right now!’
Pete squeaked in terror, and swung round.
CLANG.
The next thing I knew, Officer Reade was slumped onto the tarmac beside me.
The four of us looked at his motionless body in horror. Pete stopped, and turned back round. He looked at us, then at Officer Reade, then at the barrier in his hands. He took a moment to work out what had happened, before crying out and dropping the metal pole on the ground like it was burning red hot. Orlaith suddenly ran forwards and knelt beside her father.
‘Dad! Dad! Are you OK?’
‘Uuurgh …’ Officer Reade gurgled.
She turned him onto his back. He had been knocked out cold. On top of his head was now a small, straight cut where the barrier had hit him, an angry lump forming rapidly around it.
‘Oh no,’ said Orlaith. ‘Oh no, oh no, oh no …’
The radio in the car let out a sudden burst of feedback.
‘Officer Reade,’ came a loud, crackly voice. ‘Come in, Reade – we need an update of your location, please.’
Callum’s eyes widened.
‘What do we do?’ he said, desperately. ‘What do we do?’
None of us said anyt
hing. We didn’t even move. Our gaze was fixed on the Barrow Truancy Officer that we had just knocked unconscious. We tried to work out how we could explain what had happened. To work out how much trouble we were in now. To think if there was any way of fixing it, of turning back time, of undoing what had been done.
‘Reade,’ repeated the voice on the radio. ‘Come in, Reade.’
Officer Reade’s eyes suddenly blinked open. ‘Orlaith? Is that you, Orlaith?’
We looked at each other. Of course, we knew there was no way of undoing it. It was too late for that now. There was only one thing left we could do.
‘Reade?’
The five of us turned and leapt onto our bikes, and without a word we flew through the open barrier and up the hillside, away from the village and the terrible mess we had made, charging towards the tornado as fast as we could.
14
The County Officers
By the time we finally came to a stop, Barrow was far behind us. We had no idea how long we’d been cycling for. The forest around us was alive with wind. Tree trunks groaned and their branches flailed, fighting against the gale that blew mercilessly down the hill. The tornado was close now. Very close.
Not that we could get to it.
Ahead of us lay a tree cutting off the only road out of Barrow. It cut off both lanes, blocking a stream on one side and a sodden ditch on the other. The trunk was at least three times our height. There was no way any of us could get around it.
Callum was the first to stop cycling. He took his feet off the pedals and rested his shaky legs on the tarmac, before immediately toppling over and sprawling across the ground like a slug. I quickly followed his example, twitching uncontrollably on the tarmac. Pete slumped his bike sideways and sent Ceri tumbling across the road. Orlaith fell to the floor and wrapped her cape around her head in misery.
‘Oh Pete,’ she groaned. ‘What were you thinking?’
Pete lay on his back, heaving for breath. ‘I … I didn’t mean to …’
He was cut off by terrible roar of wind above us. We looked at each other. It was as if the tornado was laughing at us, at what we had tried to do, at all our failed plans. I pulled my helmet slowly off my head. It was shattered, broken beyond repair.
‘This is so bad,’ I whimpered.
‘It’s worse than bad!’ said Ceri, sitting up. ‘We just knocked out a Truancy Officer!’
Callum sat up to face her.
‘We?’ he snarled. ‘WE! I don’t seem to remember trying to murder anyone with a ten-foot metal pole!’ He pointed at Pete. ‘It was all him! That … that psycho!’
Pete flinched, and then sat still. No one said anything. After a while he got to his feet, and walked silently down the road. Orlaith leapt up.
‘Pete, wait!’ she cried. ‘Where are you going? Come back!’
Callum snorted. ‘Let him go! Who knows – maybe he’ll do us all a favour and disappear into the woods forever …’
Orlaith glowered at him. ‘Leave him alone! It was an accident!’
Callum slapped his cheeks in mock surprise. ‘Oh, of course! It was an accident! Murderous Pete didn’t mean to brain your dad at all! What a terrible misunderstanding!’
Orlaith seethed with fury. ‘Don’t call him that, Callum!’
Callum stamped his feet angrily. ‘I’ll call him whatever I …’
He was stopped by a sudden loud splash behind us, quickly followed by another. We swung round. Pete was striding up the road towards us, water pouring from his sodden cape. We silently watched as he lifted both his bike and mine onto his shoulders, before strolling back to the riverbank with them as easily as if he was carrying a pair of feathery pillows. He threw them into the water. In the stream I could just make out the handlebars of our other two bicycles.
‘Er … Pete?’ said Orlaith. ‘Pete, what are you doing?’
Pete didn’t respond. He marched up the hill towards us, his eyes hardened with the look of a man who knows what he has to do. In a matter of seconds he had lifted me straight off the ground and wedged me under his arm, before striding up to Callum and doing the same. I tried to struggle free, but it was no use – Pete had the strength of a horse. He marched us straight over to the ditch that ran alongside the road and flung us down into the weeds and the muck and the slime.
I emerged, gasping for breath. The water at the bottom was shallow but freezing cold, and the mud lay thick underfoot. In front of me Callum was almost delirious with fear, thrashing about and covered from head to toe in brown sludge.
‘Oh God, I knew it!’ he cried. ‘It’s finally happening! He’s going to murder us! Orlaith, stop him!’
There was a muffled yell from the roadside above, and a second later Orlaith and Ceri landed with an almighty splash in the ditch beside us. Orlaith looked up at the roadside, her eyes wide with confusion.
‘Pete – what are you doing?’ she cried. ‘Stop! Don’t!’
Without warning Pete came crashing down beside us, hitting the sludge like a ship being launched and covering us with a wall of stinking bilge water. We coughed and spluttered, flinging pond scum out of our eyes with both hands. Pete was crouched down low in the water, so that only his childlike eyes lay blinking and terrified above the sludge.
And then we heard it – a car.
We swung round. There, driving up the road towards where we had just stood, was a black van. On the side, in white letters, read the words: COUNTY DETENTION CENTRE.
We sunk down into the filthy water beside Pete, as low as we could bear. The sound of the engine grew louder and louder until it came to a stop on the road beside us. Then came the sound of car doors opening, footsteps on asphalt.
‘Any sign of them?’
The first voice was deep, tired and irritable.
‘Nothing,’ said another voice, sharp and nasal. ‘I told you – they’re all hiding back in the village, no doubt about it.’
‘Humph. Pity,’ muttered the first one. ‘I’d have happily dragged every single one of them back by their ears myself! I mean, honestly – making us go outside in the middle of a bleeding storm …’
We held our breaths, blood thundering in our ears.
Please leave, I silently begged. Please, leave.
But the men above us were taking their time. One of them whistled appreciatively.
‘Well, they won’t have gone any further than that,’ said the second voice, giving the fallen tree trunk a hefty kick. ‘If you ask me, they never even left the village in the first place.’
‘Too right,’ muttered the first voice. ‘I’m telling you – she made the whole thing up.’
We glanced at each other. She?
‘What was it she said again?’ said the second voice. ‘“Tornado Chasers”, wasn’t it?’
The first voice groaned. ‘Right, get this – she comes running into County a few hours ago, covered in mayonnaise …’
‘Mayonnaise?’ said the second voice.
‘Mayonnaise,’ repeated the first voice bluntly. ‘Mayonnaise from head to toe. And not just any mayonnaise – manky, snot-coloured, curdling old mayonnaise. Months it’s going to take me to get the smell out of my office. Months.’
‘What the hell is she doing, leaving the valley and coming to County in the middle of the night?’ the second one cried in disbelief.
‘That’s what I said!’ the first one continued. ‘But she was beside herself – kept saying five kids from her class were trying to escape the village! Said she’d seen them leave Brenner’s storm shelter when she was hiding outside in the bushes. They even made special bikes, she said, and …’
‘Hang on,’ said the second one, cutting him off. ‘She was hiding in the bushes?’
‘Let’s just say it’s not the first time,’ muttered the first one.
Down in the ditch, we glanced at each other. There was no doubt who they were talking about.
‘I mean, honestly, she sounded completely demented,’ the first voice continued. ‘I was going t
o arrest her for time-wasting right there and then – again! – but then we had a call from Reade. Looks like some kids had knocked him out while he was on patrol. So there we go – looks like there was some truth in what the daft old bat was on about!’
The second voice huffed. ‘Five children escaping the village? Bunch of kids sneaking out for fun during curfew, more like it. Making up a load of far-fetched stories about how they were going to chase a storm, end up getting caught by Reade and panicking. They’ll all be hiding at home, crying their eyes out – mark my words.’ He sniggered. ‘That is, unless the bears got them first – right?’
The two men suddenly burst into loud and raucous laughter, as if they were sharing a joke that we weren’t invited to understand.
‘Ha! You’re right,’ said the first one. ‘Let’s head back. Leaving the village to chase a tornado … I mean, honestly. No one’s that stupid.’
The second one snorted. ‘Well, they couldn’t do much chasing now. The tornado passed Barrow half an hour ago!’
The two men laughed again, and with a slam of car doors and the rev of an engine they disappeared into the distance, until the van was finally lost to the wind.
We waited a long time until any of us felt ready to move. We stood up, our faces stained brown, our capes heavy with mud. Only Pete stayed crouched in the water. Orlaith reached out to touch his shoulder, but he flinched away. She looked at him pleadingly.
‘Pete,’ she said. ‘Pete, I never thought that you were actually going to …’
‘Yes, Orlaith,’ he said, looking up at her. ‘You did.’
He stood up to face us. His eyes looked down on us, calm and hurt.
‘Do you know why everyone calls me Murderous Pete?’ he said.
We stood, shocked into silence. I had never heard Pete talk like that – it looked like none of the others had either.
‘They say I killed my parents,’ he said. ‘And that’s why they’re not around any more. Why I just live with my nan.’ His eyes suddenly changed – a flash of anger inside them. ‘That’s what you lot think too – right?’
The Tornado Chasers Page 9