Portent (47 page)

    The wet courtyard was littered with rubble and tree branches. A complete tree leaned against what was left of the stables and rooms above; roof-tiles and bricks lay everywhere. Hugo Poggs' minibus was on its side at the comer of the house, while Mack's old truck was beyond the gates, its front caved in by the oak it had come to rest against. Diane's Escort had vanished, as had the intruders' vehicle, and Rivers shivered when he thought of the storm's power.

    He remembered how they had sheltered together through the night in Hazelrod's hall, himself, Diane, the children, all huddled around Hugo Poggs, protecting him with their own bodies, Bibby's corpse lying only a few feet away. Rivers had thrown the other two dead bodies out into the porch, and now they were gone too, along with the porch itself and its other contents.

    It had been a terrifying night, the worst moments when the cyclone was directly overhead. It had sucked at the house, taking new glass from the windows-and even bricks from the walls. But the storm had not entered and they had remained safe, even though Hazelrod had shuddered and strained around them and branches, leaves and objects had flown into the windows.

    The bodies of the woman called Mama Pitie and the third man who had been with her had disappeared like the other two. And so had Mack's. Rivers wondered where they would be found.

    Incredible though it seemed, those inside the house had all fallen asleep, the twins first, then Diane, and finally Rivers himself. And when they woke, daylight was streaming through the open doorway and they could hear the birds outside singing. It was a sound that Rivers had thought they might never hear again.

    Soon they would have to get a doctor to Hugo, although Josh and Eva had worked their special magic with him only a short while ago, touching his chest, soothing his pain, calming him so that now he was sleeping peacefully. Another crisis might arise when he awoke and realized Bibby was gone from him, but Diane would be there to administer sedatives. They had moved Bibby's body into the living room and covered it with a sheet. The twins had wept over her, but for the moment, as with most children of their age and younger, the new dawn had brought fresh promise to their young lives and the bad thoughts were cast aside. They would grieve later, but for now something had happened to them, something that neither they nor Rivers and Diane understood, but its wonderment was there shining in their faces.

    He thought of the portents, the lights, and knew somehow he had been right: the lights were from the people themselves, their own inner warnings manifested in this strange form through powers that were still beyond mankind's own comprehension.

    He slipped his arm around Diane's waist-an arm that had been broken the night before and was now miraculously healed-and she leaned against him, her hand finding his. They watched Josh and Eva wheel around, their faces upturned towards the other miracle that was in the sky.

    The rainbows were everywhere, graceful arches that stretched for miles and miles, some beneath others, some breaking through their neighbours' gentle slopes, their mixed colours creating new shades and hues, all soft to the eye.

    Their beauty was uplifting and, although Rivers did not know in what condition the world had been left, how many battles such as theirs had been fought that night, he had hope.

    The spectacle of the rainbows gave him that.

    

    

    
'You must teach your children that the ground beneath their feet is the ashes of our grandfathers. So that they will respect the land, tell your children that the earth is rich with the lives of our kin. Teach your children what we have taught our children, that the earth is our mother. Whatever befalls the earth befalls the sons of the earth. If men spit upon the ground, they spit upon themselves.

    
This we know. The earth does not belong to man; man belongs to the earth. This we know. All things are connected like the blood which unites one family. All things are connected.

    
Whatever befalls the earth befalls the sons of the earth. Man did not weave the web of life, he is merely a strand on it. Whatever he does to the web, he does to himself.'

    
CHIEF SEATTLE'S TESTIMONY, 1854