Kill Fish Jones (16 page)

The man felt her eyes turn in his direction and automatically put the bag down on the counter. Fish grabbed it just as the woman came up behind him, clutching a daily paper. Then he ran.

Fish kept going for an hour, his breath huffing in and out like hot knives and his heart pounding like hammers on an anvil. He paused only once, to eat half the chocolate and drink half the juice, but even so he was still thirsty and hungry. He wanted to keep something for later, so he put the rest of the chocolate in his pocket. He tied the plastic bag round the juice as tightly as possible so that it wouldn't leak through the straw and jammed the carton in the other pocket. Then he got going again, wanting to put as much distance between himself and the newsagent as possible.

The day was turning into a scorcher. Fish kept to the shade where he could, but his T-shirt was already damp with sweat and his scalp prickled with it. He was jogging along in a kind of daze. It was as if the dark sparks had given his fear fuel, and he was weighed down by so much of it that his brain had to protect him somehow, to build a wall between him and the ocean of terror that threatened to overwhelm him, or he would crumble. The faint grey strands that dimmed his vision were still there, weaving a misty web around him. The more frightened he was, the darker they would grow.

He did not think that the curse demon would suddenly attack him, for he had begun to believe that it could not catch him up while he was on the move. It would wait until he had stopped, and then it would know instinctively where he was and it would find him. And then the battle for his life would begin.

But more immediately he was horribly afraid that the man from the newsagent would come after him, would cruise up and down the motorway until he saw Fish struggling along the banks. Then he'd stop and get out and no one would come to help because no one paid much attention on a highway. And before he knew it, Fish would be crammed into the man's car, stolen away to be tortured and killed for fun, and the things watching deep inside the dark sparks would really be awake then! The thought turned his insides to liquid.

His other terrible fear was for his mother, but all he could do was cling to the words of the paramedic,
repeating them over and over to block out the fear that her injuries were worse than they appeared. Or that at this very moment doctors might be hurrying her to an operating theatre for vital surgery, that she might … might … He stopped, overtaken by a fit of the shakes.

Well, anyway, the paramedic had said that she would be all right. She needed some care and attention, but she would be
all right
.

When the trembling calmed down he started to jog again, but it was a loose, wobbling jog, as if all his joints were rubber.

And then, on top of all that, he was afraid for himself. Not just because all this running away might simply end in death at the hands of the demon, but because he would have to face it all on his own. Since Susan had been rushed off in an ambulance, Fish had come to understand what it felt like to be alone. Not just lonely for company, but truly alone, with no one to go to for help, or to talk things over, or simply to be there, a buffer between him and the universe. It wasn't just that he had no friends to help him, it was more than that. He couldn't go to the police or any of the network of support organisations set in place for lost children or people in danger. Even the help of strangers was out of reach. Right now, the universe was vast and dangerous and ganging up on Fish. It was an unfair fight.

All he could do was try his best to survive. And he didn't know how long he could go on surviving for. Surely the demon would get him eventually? It had
said it would, and its words had a ring of certainty. He couldn't evade it forever, and it clearly wasn't going to give up and go away. The knowledge filled him with despair.

Which brought him to his last and most personal fear, the one he didn't even want to think about. So he didn't. He stopped again and stood, head down, gasping for breath.

A car pulled over into the lay-by. The door opened.

‘Hey, are you all right?'

Fish jolted upright. He stared, his shaking legs forgotten.

‘You don't look so good.' The woman stopped a little way away from him and smiled. She was wearing a blue dress and Fish wondered hazily if it was the same woman who had come into the newsagent's at exactly the right time.

‘I was just driving by, you know, and I saw you and thought, That kid looks sick. So I thought I'd stop and check you were OK. I can get help if you need it.'

Fish opened his mouth to speak, but his eyes were wet and he couldn't say anything.

‘I've got some water.' The woman turned back to her car, her blue dress cool against the hot grey road.

Fish stared at her. In the sunlight she was so radiant it hurt his eyes. As she moved into the shadow of the trees he could see that most of the shine was her own.

‘Here.' She handed him a bottle of water, one of
those with the top designed to drink from. Fish took it, his hand still shaking. She watched him gulp it down. The water tasted unbelievably sweet.

‘Don't take too much at once, right.'

Fish nodded and paused, a trickle running down his chin.

‘Where are you going?'

Fish thought quickly. He didn't want to tell her about the cottage because it was a long way away and she might feel like she had to give him a lift or something. And however much she shone, however bright she was, Fish didn't want to accept a lift from her. She would ask questions and the answers would be lies. And she would know. In fact, Fish thought, she might already know, even though he hadn't said a word.

‘Stoney Cross,' he said, picking the next landmark on his journey. He knew the name from the map and it didn't look far.

She nodded. ‘Well, you don't have to walk to the next turn-off. I know Stoney Cross, and once you leave the duel carriageway the road doubles back. You'll save yourself a hard slog if you cut across the fields from here.' She pointed to the dip and rise of the land on Fish's right.

While she talked, telling him the way, Fish drank some more. He still couldn't take his eyes off her. She wasn't a child obviously, or one of those people who were still children inside even when they were grownups. She didn't look like someone bereaved either, and
she was older than he would expect a newly-in-love person to be. Besides, the shine was brighter than all of those. Brighter and whiter.

‘I'm on my way to pick up my husband,' she said, almost as if answering his questions. ‘Every year his work sends him off on some training course or another, as if he didn't know pretty much all there is to know about banking by now!' She smiled at Fish as he finished drinking and held out the bottle. It was empty.

‘Sorry,' he said.

‘You needed it.' As she reached towards him, the silver bracelet around her wrist glinted in the sunshine. The sunlight combined with her own radiance made her look translucent, a woman of crystal. Light made solid.

Fish shivered and was glad that she didn't touch him when she took the bottle from his fingers. She may not have been a demon, but she was just as terrifying in a different way.

She walked a few steps and then turned back. Standing there in her blue dress with her yellow hair and the shine flooding through her, she looked as luminous as an angel in a stained-glass window. Her eyes fixed on him. They were so full of sapphire light that being caught in their gaze was like falling into a vast blue infinity from which you might never get out. She smiled.

‘Remember now – go across the fields until you see the barn, then get on to the road and you'll be there.'

Fish nodded, but she was already in her car. The engine roared into life, drew forward a little way, paused
for a moment then was gone, swept into the river of traffic.

He stood and watched for a while, puzzled. But then there was no reason why he should be. After all, he was only a kid. He could hardly have seen everything that the hidden world had to show him. Look at the curse demon. He had never seen one of those until yesterday. Maybe she was just one of many something elses.

He turned it over in his mind, wondering what other strange and terrifying things might be out there that he hadn't met yet. Then he turned his face to the fields and started to run all over again.

Ten minutes after he had gone from view, a car cruised up the road, going as slowly as it could. Inside it was the newsagent, his eyes like chips of ice, scanning the roadside as keenly as if he were looking for a favourite toy. He didn't guess that his target had taken a different route and was well away across the fields by now. So he found nothing.

This time.

The fields went on for a little way after the barn, but eventually Fish got back on to a narrow, winding road in the middle of nowhere. A mile or so down it he spotted a large monument to one side, surrounded by grass and overhung by tall trees.

He veered towards it and dropped to the ground. Leaning against the rough stone, he dug out the last of the chocolate, which he finished quickly. He saved the juice as the water had quenched his thirst enough for now.

Next, he pulled out the road map and studied it. From everything the woman had told him, he should be near the village of Stoney Cross by now. He craned his head backwards to look at the monument. Sure enough, it was a huge cross, roughly hewn from some grainy golden stone and standing about twelve feet high from the ground. The actual cross part rose from a solid base that was taller than Fish and it was this base that he was leaning against. Fish stared up at the monument for a few seconds, then smiled. This was Stoney Cross, all
right! The village must be further on down the road. He studied the map, getting an idea of the land and which way he should go after the village.

Glancing at his watch, Fish saw that it was exactly midday. Everything was quiet and peaceful and nothing moved, apart from a lone aeroplane speeding towards the horizon. He stared up through the green and gold canopy over his head, his mind moving on to Susan. This time he could see that his mother was where she needed to be, in hospital with doctors and nurses who would do everything they could to make sure that she was safe and cared for. So, in the dappled shade of Stoney Cross, Fish faced his last horrible fear. The personal one, the one that made him feel faint with terror.

He looked down at himself.

Seeing nothing but his own skinny chest wrapped in a T-shirt that was torn and dirty and far too big for him, Fish drew in a wobbly breath full of relief. He must not let himself sink into despair and be crushed by a shadow-snake, or they would both be lost.

Now, gazing at the fish outlined on the no-longer white material, Fish smiled for the first time that day. Leaning back, he kicked off his trainers to let his sore feet feel the air. Sitting here in the dappled shade under the trees, he realised that he was feeling a lot better. The fears that had dogged him since this morning hadn't all gone away, but they seemed more like things he could deal with rather than things that would crush him. It had something to do with the peacefulness of Stoney Cross
and something to do with the shining woman and the long, cool drink of water. All of it had stolen the fire from his fears and damped them down to a manageable level. Closing his eyes, he let the soft air flow over him. He had no idea how long it would take him to reach Crow's Cottage, but he wanted to get there before nightfall. The cottage, unlived in for some time now, would be showing the signs of neglect, and he wanted to face any lurking demons of dirt or decay while it was still light. So he wouldn't stay long at Stoney Cross, however nice it was to sit in the warm with the gentle sounds of the world buzzing about his ears and to keep his nightmares at arm's length for a while.

But he could afford a short rest and so he stayed for five minutes, and in that five minutes his eyes closed and Fish fell asleep.

For the thousandth time Grimshaw asked himself why a lost chronometer didn't automatically return to its Avatar instead of its Architect. It was a stupid question, because he already knew the answer.

It was punishment. Punishment for being a pathetic no-hoper who couldn't kill his Sufferers and who even went so far as to actually LOSE the main instrument of his craft. An Avatar without a chronometer was like a bus driver on a bicycle, a dentist with a toothpick, a … a …

He stopped and groaned out loud, this time with
the pain of an injured spirit rather than injured flesh. On top of his spiritual misery and his still aching bones, Grimshaw's paws were cut to ribbons and hurting horribly. He just wasn't designed for walking. Still he kept going.

At last, after what seemed to Grimshaw like several lives' worth of walking, he found what he was hoping for. A huge lump of grey stone by the road, looking spectacularly slab-like in its dullness. Its top half was roughly hacked into the shape of a cross. Too weary to feel relieved, Grimshaw dropped down on to the dry cracked earth. He needed to rest, and this was as good a place as any. Just as he leaned back against the base part, underneath the cross, everything blinked as Limbo updated itself. Which meant it had to be midday.