by Peter Laws
‘Potentially, yes.’
‘And what’s the latest on Micah? Any new theories?’
‘So far we’re still classing it as a domestic. Or at least not some big satanic conspiracy. We found more stuff in his locker at school, but it was very pro-Church. Old paintings torn from books of Jesus healing the sick, walking on water. The usual stuff.’
‘And were the eyes torn out?’
‘Jesus, no. The disciples, yes. The Pharisees too. Everyone but him, basically.’
Matt blinked. ‘So, he’ll piss on altars and upturn crosses, but he leaves Jesus as he is.’
‘It’s rather inconsistent, isn’t it?’
‘And he uses an ancient biblical language when he tries to kill his dad.’
‘Which he learnt online. We found it on a thumb drive in his school locker. Mostly Jesus stuff. His files were like a shrine to the guy.’
‘Any other pictures on there?’
‘A few. Some celebrities. Quite a few politicians.’
‘Don’t tell me, he’d scribbled the eyes out.’
‘Not quite. He’d just pasted a black rectangle across their faces.’
Matt started tapping a rhythm on the side of his desk. ‘Okay, so he smashes his laptop, takes out the fuses to his TV and XBox …’
‘Ahem … you’re assuming he cut the cables. What if his dad did it? Did you consider that?’
Matt blinked. ‘Actually, no. I didn’t.’
She waited. ‘Look, maybe this is more than a domestic issue and maybe it isn’t. We’ll find out when Reverend East wakes up. Until then, it’s not like anyone else is in danger.’
Matt ignored her. ‘I’ve been thinking about what Micah said to me. When he grabbed me near the train. He said he was scared of me … of all of us …’
‘Course he was. He was on the run.’
‘No, he called me … a demon. Said I was empty inside or something. He wouldn’t look me in the eye. And he …’ Matt stopped. His eyes widened. ‘He said … he wanted to stop the father.’
‘Well, he didn’t manage it, did he, cos his dad’s going to be fine.’
Memories slipped into focus. The pounding of rain on the shoulders of Matt’s jacket, the rumble of the death train cutting an eager line through rain. The fear in Micah’s eyes as he stared at Matt’s chest and called him … hollow. That was it. Hollow. ‘He didn’t say he wanted to stop his father … He said the Father.’
‘You think there’s another dad involved?’
‘The Father, Jill.’
She looked confused, then suddenly twitched. ‘Oh … hang on. You mean—’
‘God the Father.’ Matt grabbed a notepad and scrawled a few words down. ‘Offhand, I can’t think of any belief systems who venerate Jesus but hate the Father. Do you?’
She shrugged. Looked at her watch.
He jotted some more words down:
My father, my father … why have you murdered me?
‘As fascinating as this is’ − she coughed − ‘I’ve got another call coming in. But thanks for your um … input. I’ll be in touch.’
‘Okay, but—’
‘Glad you’re okay, Matt. Bye.’
The screen vanished into blue.
Matt looked at his notepad and chewed his lip for a moment. He took the pen, scrawled a hard circle around his words and tore the sheet off.
Pro-Jesus, Anti-Father.
He grabbed the edge of the table and pushed his chair back. The wheels rumbled across the hardwood floor, something he often did with Amelia when she sprang up onto his lap. He’d perfected the distance now, and so the chair came to a sliding stop in perfect reach of his many bookshelves. He stood up and slid his finger across the spines, fingertip rattling as he went. He stopped on his section on cults and new religious movements. There were at least fifty books in that section.
He pulled the first copy out.
‘Here we go.’
He was fourteen books and three swigs into his third coffee when his mobile started ringing. He frowned and tapped the screen. It was Bowland again.
‘Miss me?’
‘Matt, hi. What are you doing for the next hour?’
‘Why?’
‘It’s David East. He’s awake.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Ever scrambled closer to the farmhouse, gasping for air. The front door flung open with a hammering crash while Uncle Dust and Milton bundled out onto the porch steps, both with shotguns.
‘What’s all the squawking?’ Milton shouted while his mum and Pax stood behind him, white-faced.
Dust rushed down the steps. ‘Ever, are you hurt?’
‘There’s …’ he could barely breathe, ‘… there’s a … there’s a … Hollow at the gate. It’s got Merit. It’s dragging her away.’
‘Jesus.’ Milton cocked his shotgun, and span towards Pax. ‘It’s got your little girl.’
Pax was slow, but not so slow that she didn’t understand this point perfectly. Her hands flew to her face, and a horrible moan burst through them. Then Prosper was in the doorway, booming and stomping, ‘Then get her back!’
Boots pounded dirt and Ever ran with them. He looked back and saw Pax wriggle and yank herself out of Mum’s grasp. She came running despite Mum’s yelling for her to stop.
Ever saw the skies change above them. Each new step made the clouds turn dark and heavy. Swirling and throbbing with the evil that lived above them. He pictured the Hollow dragging Merit into a car and clawing her eyelids open as she kicked and screamed. Soon she’d have no choice. The thing would make her stare too long and she’d change for ever. No matter how annoying Merit was, this was not what she deserved. Not in the slightest. The fear in him, which consistently ticked and throbbed, started winding into something else, something even deeper. He felt … fury.
How dare they, he thought. How dare those filthy, twisted losers take her away? What right do they have?
They reached the gate in thirty seconds and slammed their hands against it, panting, but the dirt track looked empty simply because it was empty.
‘It was right there.’ Ever jabbed a finger at the ridge. ‘It grabbed her by the hair and it had a car too. A big white car—’
That made the adults look at one another.
‘White car?’ Pax said. ‘White car … white car?’ She let out a howl of despair then dropped to her knees by the gate, sobbing uncontrollably.
Prosper kicked the gate hard and it swung wide open, then he hissed them all into silence. Though for Pax to stop, it took a hard slap from the back of Prosper’s hand.
‘Shhh. Everybody shut up and listen.’ He pressed a sharp finger on his puckered lips. ‘An engine. Just over the ridge. Shhh.’
Milton lifted his shotgun ready to rush forward, but Uncle Dust shoved the barrel up and away with his. ‘It’s no use, Milton. What if he’s halfway down the track already?’ He quickly tugged the van keys out of his pocket. ‘Come on. It’s the only way to keep up. Pax, take Ever back to the house … and pray!’
She was still sobbing on the grass but even Pax knew the power of prayer. She clambered to her feet and went to take Ever’s hand, to guide him back.
‘No,’ Prosper pushed her arm away. It made her yelp. ‘He’s coming with us.’
‘I don’t think that’s a very—’
‘Don’t fight me, Dust, not today. He comes with us …’ Prosper said. ‘And Milton drives.’ Dust waited, then tossed the keys to Milton. Ever saw them whizz in a high tinkling arc until Milton plucked them out of the air. They clambered inside, Uncle Dust and Ever in the passenger seat and Prosper in the back. He hammered his palm against Milton’s seat. ‘Move.’
The engine burst into life and Dust immediately reached over to check Ever’s seat belt was tight. The tyres sprayed dry mud all the way to the top of the ridge, and they saw it soon enough. Just like he’d told them. The white car was a little way down the road, facing towards them. Only now its wheels were spinning because it’d hea
rd them coming. The wheels locked in a hard turn, and dirt filled the air.
Milton shouted over the growling van. ‘Bloody hell, it’s him. It’s Bill.’
‘Don’t you call it that,’ Prosper barked. ‘Now move.’
The white car was off, rattling down the dirt track while old rubbish from the dashboard showered onto their knees.
Ever pointed at the car. ‘Look! It’s got a cage in the back.’
‘He used to keep his dogs in that.’
Ever looked at Milton, confused, while Prosper pressed a sharp whisper into the old man’s ear. Milton stopped talking.
‘But … but …’ Ever was frantic. ‘Is she in the cage? Will we need a key?’
‘Breathe, Ever,’ Dust said, as the engine wailed around them. ‘She isn’t in the cage. She’s in the front seat. I can see her hair bobbing.’
‘Faster!’ Prosper tapped a skittish rhythm on the seat. ‘Get alongside it.’
Dust frantically turned the window handle and the wind rushed in.
Ever’s fringe started dancing. ‘What are you doing?’
Dust hung his head from the window, hair blowing wild, then he cocked the shotgun over his forearm and slid the barrel forward.
Ever called out, ‘You’ll hit Merit.’
‘Quiet, Ever. I’ll try for the back tyre. Just get me closer.’
‘Just shoot,’ Prosper hollered. ‘Shoot the whole bloody car into hell.’
Praise Jesus, they were catching up, because now he could see into the back of the car. He saw the shocking silhouette of the Hollow’s face through the back window. The curve of its huge nose, the bulge of its buzzing lips. How weird it was, that it could make itself so normal. He thought the Hollow was shouting at Merit or mocking her, but then it reached over to pat her shoulder. He could hear her screaming, even over the engine. Trees and bushes scraped the van.
‘I know this road better than he does,’ Milton laughed. ‘We’ll get the little Judas just you … shiiiiit!’
The white car screeched and missed a thick, roadside tree trunk by what looked like ten centimetres. Milton turned the wheel and skidded. They missed the same trunk by a matter of one.
Defeated, Dust pulled the shotgun back. ‘It was way too bumpy for a clean shot.’
Ever realised something, just then. That this was the furthest he’d been from home since he was little. Even in the terror of it all, he caught snapshots of the landscape and held them in his mind. The terrifying beauty of new scenery. It made him long for a Hollow-free world more than ever. How selfish, he thought, that these monsters keep the world’s treasure to themselves.
‘It’s losing it, look.’ Milton chuckled. ‘It’s all over the place.’
He was right. The white car bounced violently, as the gap closed even more. Ever caught a glimpse of the demon inside. It kept turning back to glare at the van. He threw a hand across his face, but not before he saw the Hollow’s grim face. It swiped a hand across its eyes because it must be gearing up to poison him to … Ever blinked and looked harder … because … because …
No, it wasn’t. That wasn’t poison.
It was crying.
That’s why it couldn’t see straight. That’s why the car was all over the place.
This Hollow was crying.
‘I’ll get it at the turn,’ Milton nodded at a long stone wall up ahead. ‘Last chance before he hits the main road.’
Dust put one hand against the dash, to steady himself. He threw the other across Ever. ‘Just don’t flip his car. Merit might not have a belt on.’
‘She does,’ Milton said. ‘It must have put her belt on for her, I saw her hanging onto it when we almost bumped.’
Ever looked through his fingers. ‘Why would it do that?’
Dust ignored the question. ‘Well still, just be careful in case—’
‘Shhh, this is it.’ Milton cranked the gears, and the van roared like a lion finishing off a gazelle. The van’s bumper nudged the back end of the car. It was only a slight contact, but it worked.
Its wheels span out of control, its entire back end swung to the right, missing the sharp turn, and with a horrific-sounding crack the car pounded directly into the end wall. Then stopped.
Milton hit the brakes. Seat belts sliced into shoulders in the skid. ‘We’re gonna hit!’
In the blackness of his lids, he heard Uncle Dust shout, ‘Jesus, save us.’
Jesus did. The van gouged deep grooves into the track until the front bumper reached the other car. The van tapped its rear lights and stopped.
Milton burst out laughing, ‘Halle-fookin-lujah. That was close.’
The van doors sprang open. The men leapt out. Ever heard birds singing in a nearby tree.
‘Stay put,’ Dust said.
Ever just sat there, gripping his seat belt, watching it all through the grimy windscreen.
The Hollow frantically tried to open its driver’s door, but the door wouldn’t budge because the frame was too twisted. The passenger side looked okay, though – another prayer answered. That’s where Uncle Dust went to first. He flung the door open and in a flash of her dress Merit sprang into his arms, whimpering and holding her shoulder. The Hollow’s arms reached for her, flailing across the gearbox, but her little feet vanished from the car.
Prosper was already at the Hollow’s side, yanking so hard at the driver’s door that the car rocked from side to side. Ever watched Merit run to the van, and as she went to clamber up to get inside she squealed in pain from her shoulder. A deep purple line ran up along her throat, from the seat belt. Her lip was split too, and her chin was quickly growing thick with blood. He helped her clamber up the step and she fell against him, streaming tears and shock, so he hugged her and stroked her hair, and promised himself he would never ever treat her badly again. ‘You’re safe, little one. You’re safe.’
When he looked back up, he got a shock. Prosper was staring back at the van, staring at him. He curled a finger to call Ever outside. ‘You need to see this,’ he shouted.
It took a while to untangle himself from Merit, mainly because he didn’t want to leave the van. But Prosper kept shouting for him, over and over. So, he dropped from the cab and his trainers thudded into dirt.
‘Come here, Ever,’ Prosper said.
Dust was frowning. ‘What are you doing?’
‘We can use this moment.’
As Ever walked slowly to the rear of the car, he could hear this hideous voice coming from the passenger seat. His blood ran cold. They even sound like monsters.
‘You can’t do this.’ Its voice bubbled, as if the Hollow spoke with a mouth half-underwater. It made his flesh crawl. ‘You’re all lunatics,’ it spluttered. ‘You’re all mad.’
‘Ever! Get round here.’ Prosper lifted the gun barrel to the car. ‘The only mad one here is you, leper. You could have killed us. Could have killed a little girl too.’
‘She belongs with me.’
‘No, she belongs with her mother. With Pax.’
‘Pax? Pax? What sort of fucked-up name is that?’ the demon sobbed, blood spurting from its broken teeth. ‘You’re sad, you know that? You’re all sad. Couldn’t cope with a bit of suffering in life so you made up a religion to make you feel better. You don’t even know who God is!’
‘Religion?’ Prosper jerked his head towards Ever in a reptile snap. ‘This isn’t religion. This is reality! Now get around here, boy, now.’
Chest heaving, Ever came forward a few steps, and now he could see it all. The Hollow sat crushed into metal, with a steering wheel somehow buried in its chest. Blood was pumping from his throat in a strange, jittery rhythm. He could hear the splash of it. And Ever noticed how the Hollow hardly had any teeth, either. Just a mouth full of gums, sticky with thick blood. Wow, he thought, it’s changing right in front of us. It’s transforming. The wobbling, underwater voice said, ‘Just let me take her home. She’s mine. I’m begging you.’
‘Why should we?’ Ever shouted suddenly
.
The men stared at him and Prosper smiled.
‘Why should we?’ Ever took a step forward. ‘So you can turn her into a demon? Like you are? And fill her with lies? No way.’
Prosper broke into a hard, wheezy laugh, then he motioned for Ever to come closer. ‘Quickly, there’s not much time left.’ He lowered the barrel. ‘Take it, Ever. Take the gun.’
Ever froze.
‘Take it,’ Prosper licked his lips. ‘End it.’
‘Wait,’ Dust called across the roof. ‘Not like this.’
‘Forget the shed …’ Prosper was smiling. ‘He can practise on this one. It’s a gift.’
Ever stared at the shotgun, as Prosper turned the handle towards him. The blood pulsed through his temples while the Hollow slowly turned its head, rasping out air. It raised its face and opened its mouth to a sickening, bloody hole. ‘Connor?’ it said. Then a mad, desperate laugh that caused dark strands to slop from its mouth. ‘Is that you, Connor?’
‘I’ll do it,’ Dust lifted his shotgun high and Ever clamped his eyes shut while Prosper ranted that ‘Ever should be the one’. Then the battling voices trailed off, and all Ever heard was a long, watery breath that seemed to go on for ever. And on that breath was a strange, wet whisper …
‘Wait till they’re asleep, Connor,’ the Hollow said, ‘then run away. You and Merit run and don’t stop till you’re safe …’
When he opened his eyes again, the sky was much, much darker and the wind was up. The Hollow stopped moving and Ever felt his own legs fill up with stone. What frightened him most of all was that this demon’s last act was a wide, mad stare directly at him.
‘Too late,’ Milton said. ‘He’s gone.’
‘My old name … how did it know my old name?’ Ever asked as the dead eyes stared on.
Silence.
‘How did it know my—’
Dust bundled Ever back towards the van, but Prosper was calling out, shouting to the hills, to the world. ‘Ever. Do you know what it was going to do to Merit? Shall I tell you what awful, forbidden things it was going to do to her?’
‘Prosper, please …’ Dust said. ‘Get in the van, son.’
This was the first moment Ever realised that he was crying. And he could tell that he’d probably been doing it ever since he saw the car in the first place. He felt horribly small and hopelessly young, but Uncle Dust was always so good at reading his mind. He dropped to the ground and did exactly what he needed. He covered the back of his head with his palm and rested Ever into his neck. He held him there for a long, shuddering moment. He heard Dust sniff, like he was crying too.