Portent (30 page)

    'Are we ready?' he asked, the significance of the simple question not lost on Diane.

    She nodded and, unnoticed by Josh who was already scooting towards the door, touched a hand to Rivers' cheek. He caught her fingers and held them briefly before allowing them to drop away.

    'It's going to be fine,' he said, with no conviction at all.

    As they passed through the hotel's comfortable lobby the man now on duty behind the receptionist's desk bid them good-day and introduced himself as the owner.

    'Will y'be sightseein' or will y'be walkin' this afternoon?' he enquired. 'Because if it's the sightseein' from your car, ye'll be fine, but if it's the walkin' ye'll be needin' something stronger on your feet.' His heavy brogue was barely comprehensible to Josh, but he followed the hotelier's pointing finger.

    Rivers looked down at his tan sneakers also and then at Diane, who nodded her head in agreement. She had provided walking boots for herself and Josh, but had nothing at Hazelrod suitable for Rivers.

    'Now, if ye don't mind my suggestion, there's a wee store doon the road where they'll find something for ye.' The hotelier, a strong-faced man with a nose and cheeks full of broken veins, grinned broadly. 'On th'other hand, ye kin tell me to be mindin' ma own business.'

    'No, you're right,' said Rivers. 'We came away in a rush. I'll take your advice.'

    'It's just that the tracks tend t'be rocky and the moorlands are treacherous here and there with the bogs. We've had some awkward mists appear with this kind o' weather too, but as long as ye don't wander from the main paths ye'll be fine.'

    They thanked him for his concern and drove down to the store he had mentioned. Rivers emerged five minutes later wearing a tough-looking pair of walking boots, his jeans tucked into their tops. He tossed his sneakers into the back of the car as he got back into the driving seat.

    'Sure you don't want me to drive?' Diane asked, anxious that his leg might be causing pain after such a long journey.

    'Better that you keep a lookout with Josh. If he reacts to anything at all, let me know and we'll investigate. Okay, Josh?'

    The boy's enthusiasm had faded. He observed the hills beyond the town gravely and said, 'I'm a little bit afraid.'

    As Diane reached over and pulled her son towards her, Rivers, too, stared at the distant hills. The summer's sun had burnt much of the rugged slopes to a golden brown, and the weighty, yellow-tinted clouds that hung over them diffused the light to a mellow glow. Yet there was something ominous in the landscape, an idle broodiness that was unnerving. Rivers was afraid too.

    

    

    He drank brandy, Diane sipped white wine. They were in the hotel's spartan lounge bar, with Josh sound asleep in the twin-bedded room he shared with his mother. Every ten minutes or so, Diane quietly looked in on him, then rejoined Rivers at their table in the comer of the bar.

    They examined the map spread out before them yet again as if attempting to sense some clue therein.

    'I didn't expect us to find him right away,' said Rivers, straightening a crease in the paper. 'One afternoon of searching doesn't mean very much.'

    'Josh seemed so certain before we started.' Diane ran her fingers over the terrain as if a braille message might be contained within. 'He was weeping with disappointment when I put him to bed.'

    'Tomorrow he'll be rested and maybe more receptive.'

    'But he was so sure of the area.' She withdrew from the map and glanced around the bar as though there might be someone there who could help with their hunt. The room was full, although not crowded, and conversations were conducted in moderate tones, for the hotel was the kind used by dedicated ramblers and climbers rather than fun-seeking tourists. The local sights were the fun, but much of it had to be earned by some hard walking, whether around loch sides and moorlands, or along mountain tracks. The bar next door, used mainly by locals, was livelier and occasional bursts of laughter would drift through.

    While Diane was putting Josh to bed earlier, Rivers had taken the opportunity to chat to the plump middle-aged barmaid, and then the hotelier himself, who had wandered through. His questions were necessarily vague, but the hotelier assured him that the glens and hillsides were dotted with lonely abodes, the inhabitants of which were rarely seen from one year to another. Many of the croft cottages were now deserted, bleak hardship a discredited mistress in this day and age. Certainly there were still those who lived a life apart, reclusives who shunned civilization and most of what it offered, but these people were generally known only by their closest neighbours, and 'closest' could mean several miles away. The post office or the town's grocery store, which still made deliveries to some of the more remote parts, might be of some help, 'but then ye'd nid a name,' McKay, the hotelier, had advised. Rivers offered no explanation for their search, nor was any sought; they did gaze at him with some curiosity, though, as he made his way back to his table.

    Rivers lit a cigarette, then reached into his jacket pocket for the tin pill box he carried there. He swallowed two pills with an adequate amount of brandy, then inhaled on the cigarette as though it were part of the ritual.

    'Are you supposed to drink with those painkillers?' Diane was watching him doubtfully.

    'No, but somehow it makes them more effective.'

    'I'm sure that's only in the mind.'

    'Yeah, like a lot of things.'

    She stiffened and he added hastily, 'Hey, I didn't mean anything by that. They say all pain is in the mind anyway, so maybe alcohol helps me to forget.'

    'Tony used to say he drank to help him remember.'

    'Remember what?'

    'How much he enjoyed being drunk. His sense of humour was morbid at the best of times.' She looked down into her lap, avoiding his eyes. 'This isn't going to work, is it?' she said quietly.

    He couldn't find the words immediately to reassure her and he noticed tears glistening in her eyelashes.

    'We haven't given it a chance yet,' he said, laying his cigarette in an ashtray and lightly touching her arm.

    'We've driven for miles and we've walked and walked.' Her fingers wiped away a tear before it fell. 'I suppose I just assumed Josh would lead us straight to this man. Have we been foolish all along, Jim? Have we been carried away with our own stupid imaginations?'

    'A few days ago I'd have said yeah, no question. Now I'm not so sure.'

    'But you're not certain.'

    'How can I be? Let's just say my mind's been opened to ideas I'd have considered crazy before.'

    Her cheeks were damp, but she managed a flicker of a smile. 'You're a good man, Jim,' she said.

    'No, I'm a curious man. The truth is, I've gone along with you and Hugo because I've got nothing to lose and maybe-just maybe-something to gain.'

    Her expression asked the question, but he gave a shake of his head. 'I don't know yet, that's the hell of it.' His smile was grim. 'Sometimes I wonder if it's not only the world that's-changing but people too. Maybe I'm looking for more than just an old man with white hair.' He shook his head again, perplexed by his own thoughts. 'Maybe,' he added as a footnote.

    

    

    Later, she called Hugo from the phone in Rivers' room so that Josh would not be disturbed.

    'How is she?' he asked as Diane replaced the receiver.

    'Little change. Bibby's still with her at the hospital and she'll stay with Eva overnight. Oh Jim, what can we do?'

    Rivers left his chair by the dressing-table and sat next to her on the bed. 'If she's no worse it's a good sign.'

    'That's what Hugo said. But why is she sleeping like this? Josh says someone is holding her, but how can that be possible? How can a dream hold on to someone?'

    Rivers might have put the same questions to her, but he had no desire to upset her further. Instead he put a comforting arm around her shoulder and said soothingly, 'You need to rest. We'll cover a lot more ground tomorrow and knock on every door we come to if necessary.'

    She turned to him, burying her head against his neck. 'What if we do find him and he can't help? What if he's real enough, but has no power to help Eva?'

    He felt a shiver run through her as though how incredible their undertaking was had finally hit her. He pulled away and lifted her chin. 'I'm the unbeliever, remember?' He kissed her, gently at first then, when she responded, he pressed his lips harder against hers and his arms held her tight.

    Although Diane was vulnerable in her despair, she was also anxious. She broke away and he let her go, aware that the timing was all wrong, that her emotions were already stretched to the limit. Concern for her child could not allow for other distractions.

    'I'm sorry,' she offered.

    He brushed a lock of hair away from her cheek. 'No need. You've got enough on your mind.' He drew her to her feet. 'Get some sleep now-we've got a heavy day ahead of us tomorrow.'

    She went back into his arms and held him close before going to the door. When she looked back at him before slipping through, her eyes revealed her confusion. She closed the door quietly.

    

    

    Gardenia's face touched his own, an embrace from someone already dead, and Rivers pushed the body away with a scream that was lost in the roar of the aircraft's engines. Gardenia floated to the ceiling, the grin beneath his thick black moustache mocking the climatologist.

    'It ain't so bad, Doc. Dyin' ain't so bad once you get used to it.' The dead man laughed and drifted away to haunt other members of the research aircraft's crew.

    The aeroplane fell again and the storm outside endeavoured to flip it over. This time the pilot didn't seem able to pull it up from the dive and Rivers felt himself pressed back against his seat, his stomach several yards behind him. The plane was going down, down, down, and everyone on board was screaming. He ripped off his headphones, but the noise was worse, the screaming more real, the cacophony of storm and raging engines almost unbearable.

    His head snapped round to look out the window and he saw there was land out there now and it was rising up to meet them, fast, too fast, a great solid mass hurtling itself at the plane which began to revolve sideways, spinning, spinning, out of control, and the screeching from the crew was mingled with the rending of metal as the aircraft began to break up, began to disintegrate under the pressure, shedding a wing and an engine, and Gardenia was floating back to him, only this time he had the others with him, and some were weeping, and some were grinning, and some were looking at him with horror on their faces, and the ground outside was only feet away and drawing closer and closer… and Gardenia and his friends were reaching for him because death had its claim on all of them and nobody should be left out, they were all in this together, all for one, and all for oblivion, and they touched him, fingers already cold even though they were not yet dead, pawing at his face, his eyes, his lips, tugging at his clothes, urging him to give in, to join them in what had to be… and the light shining through them just before the impact, becoming larger, stronger, absorbing the corpses that, apart from Gardenia, were not yet dead, incorporating them in its radiance, consuming them and dazzling him with its glare of absolute purity, entering him and seeping through every tissue and tendon and every part of his flesh and his mind so that he, too, was consumed…

    He heard the crash, the explosion of tons of metal grinding into earth and concrete, and for the briefest moment felt the terrible, the awful, searing pain that seemed to emanate from his leg, but which soon-no, quicker than soon: immediately-dominated every nerve and sensation in his body.

    But the pain's passing was as swift as its beginning as the light enveloped his mind, clearing it of any thoughts and any discomfort, and somehow he was travelling through it, neither sinking nor rising, but journeying in a straight, although indefinable, line and the bliss was immense, the joy was supreme, and the destination was unimaginable…

    And he emerged into peace.

    And this, too, was brief.

    

    

    Just before he woke he glimpsed soft green pastures, pillars of white set among them, and a silver lake with pastel hills and forests behind. An eagle flew over the lake, the beat of its wings silent, its flight slow and sure. He wanted to stay there; if this was death he craved its tranquillity. But a glimpse was all he was allowed.

    The vision faded rapidly, his own consciousness its subjugator.

    Rivers' eyes opened, and someone from the dream called to him.

    He sat up, and the voice that was not a voice but a thought, continued to call to him, its exhortation persuasive even though,the message was obscure.

    He pulled back the sheet and sat on the edge of the bed, remaining there awhile, staring into the shadows, his hand vaguely rubbing at his aching leg. The slight pre-dawn chill caused a shiver, but still he sat there, preoccupied with the dream. The dream and the soundless but persistent call.

    Only light from the slit beneath the door gave the room substance; without it furniture and Rivers' own naked body would have been lost to the void. Suddenly he became active, switching on the bedside light and snatching up his jeans lying on the twin bed opposite. He dressed quickly and silently, not wishing to disturb Diane and her son next door. Collecting the car keys from the dressing-table he lightly padded to the door and opened it. Light from the hallway was uncomfortably bright and took a second or two to become used to. Closing the door behind him with as little noise as possible, he crept down the corridor, away from the hotel's small lobby and towards the rear fire door. He slipped the bolts and stepped outside.