Black Feathers (22 page)

Reading the book made him remember his own nightmares anew. With the recollection of a lifetime of bad dreams, all the strength he was gaining would evaporate. Who was it that his parents were suggesting he should go and seek out? Were they telling him to find and confront the very devil himself? Or was it simply a man they wanted him to find?

One thing Gordon knew for sure was that he was just a boy. A boy alone and without any influence. All he could do was try to find this man, as he had been asked to do. What he suspected was – and the more he thought about it the more sense it made – that many people were out there searching for this Crowman. Sending many might ensure at least one of them succeeded. Probably, they were boys and girls his age because they’d be less likely to be suspected and caught. Perhaps children all over the country had received letters or instructions just like this from their own parents and were searching for the Crowman right now, just as confused and frightened as he was. Thinking about it this way made it easier to live with what he had been asked to do.

After every reading of the scrapbook, he sealed it, the letters and his own diary inside the Ziploc bag that he’d brought from home. He stowed it all at the bottom of his pack. He knew Brooke and her father had been through his stuff but he doubted they’d studied it, and it was best they didn’t see any more, best they trusted him right now, until he was strong enough to move on alone.

Until?

Who am I trying to fool?

Gordon was fully healed and fit right now. The wound in his leg no longer gave him any pain and the muscle had ceased to be stiff and unresponsive. He had a feeling he was heavier than he’d been before his escape through the tunnel, and he was certainly stronger. Each trip out with John Palmer proved his increased fitness and stamina. Nothing slowed him now, no hill or marsh or thicket. He seemed able to negotiate the landscape without it sapping his energy. Quite the opposite, in fact; the more time he spent outdoors, the more the landscape fed him. Sometimes his body hummed with power and enthusiasm, and he was tempted to run fast and long just because he was certain that he could. All this in just a few days.

No, there was no excuse for staying other than his infatuation with Brooke and his fear of walking the land alone in search of the Crowman. What sane person would
want
to do that?

But the more he considered his situation, the more he had to accept that it was time to take responsibility for himself. If finding the Crowman was the one way he could save his family, he had to begin now.

He came to this decision as he sat alone by the stream one afternoon. Resolved, he stowed his diary and scrapbook in the pack, slung it over his shoulder and walked the short distance back into the camp. Brooke was busy at the cook pot, adding wild parsnips and herbs to a stew of rabbit and pheasant. Gordon scanned the camp.

“He’s gone off somewhere on his own,” said Brooke.

“Oh. Everything all right?”

Gordon felt himself to be at the root of every problem or disagreement, no matter how small.

“He can’t show his emotions around me,” said Brooke. “He’s too… closed off. I’m sure he thinks that if he ever let go of his feelings to me, he’d cry for a week. So he goes off and cries alone somewhere from time to time.” She stood up and brushed her hands on the seat of her trousers. “It’s nothing you’ve done. Well, not directly anyway. Having you here reminds him there’s a world out there. The one we left behind. Trouble is, he can’t let go of how it used to be and who he was.”

“What about you?” asked Gordon, placing his pack on the ground between them.

“I’ve done my best to put the past behind me.”

She sighed, and the strength went out of her usually upright, noble posture. Gordon saw for the first time that she had been playing the role of a woman and now she was reverting into girlhood. Stuck between being a boy and being the man he needed to be was such similar territory that he felt an unhealable sadness for Brooke. The woman would always carry the little girl within, a little girl who had been hurt and could never grow up because of it.

She was speaking to him, telling him her story with great openness before he’d fully registered what she was saying.

“We were attacked in our home. I didn’t realise it until then, never even thought about it really, but we’re wealthy. At least we used to be. I didn’t realise because there was nothing to hurt me and nothing to worry about. I’ve thought about that a lot ever since.

“Every day you could see more and more people living on the street, but I never understood what that meant. We had food. We had petrol. We had heat and running water. All because we had money. Mum and Dad used to walk through town as though they were shrinking. As if they didn’t want anyone to notice them. I know why now.

“When you spend money, people notice. If your clothes are clean and smart, people see it. And so many people are going without things now that they hate you if you have what they need. Dad was an investment banker and that probably made people hate him even more. He stopped going into the local pub and Mum started ordering everything we needed online or over the phone. Then they took me out of school and hired a private tutor for me. Jenny Latham. She was lovely. She was there the day they came into the house.”

Brooke stopped, her eyes focussing on a place of memory. She seemed to lose her way, but Gordon didn’t want to let the moment go. He wanted to know what had happened, of course, but he also knew it would be good for Brooke to tell the story. Otherwise it would be locked inside her the way it was locked inside her father.

“Who were they?” he asked.

His voice was a whisper, but it was enough to bring Brooke back to the present, drawing the thread of the story with her.

Brooke cleared her throat.

“We don’t know for sure. Dad has his suspicions. They must have known us, or known him at least, because they all wore balaclavas. They arrived in a big white van and Mum opened the door when they pulled into the driveway. She thought it was a delivery vehicle. Six men jumped out. Well, four men. Two of them were… smaller. Just kids really. They didn’t bother with the door. They smashed the downstairs bay window and climbed in. Mum was running for the kitchen when they caught her. I always think it was the knife block she was going for. That’s what I’d have used if there’d been time.

“The two who’d knocked Mum down dragged her upstairs. I was up in my Dad’s office doing maths problems and talking about boys with Jenny. It all happened so quickly. I saw them dragging Mum to her bedroom before we slammed the office door and put a chair under the handle. It didn’t hold for long. I went to the window to see if we could jump down, but I didn’t have the guts. By the time I’d decided that, they’d broken through the door.

“Two of them had taken Mum, which left two men and two boys in the office with us. Jenny grabbed Dad’s letter opener – it was only ivory but it was still enough of a weapon to make them back off. I snatched a pair of scissors from the pencil holder. Better than nothing. The men spread out so that they could come at us from all angles. Every time they made a move, Jenny slashed the air with the letter opener, making them jump back.

“I noticed a few things about them. Long belts with extra holes held up their jeans, and their wrists were bony. They weren’t proper thieves either. They way they hesitated, you could see they hadn’t done this before. They lacked confidence. Thinking back now, I suppose if Jenny and I had rushed them then, waving our silly weapons in their faces, they might have backed out of the way and we could have run out of the house. But I couldn’t have left Mum, not even using the excuse of calling for help. Anyway, we were terrified so we didn’t try to charge through them. We just held them off. And then the men who’d taken Mum arrived in the office too. After that we had no chance.

“They came towards us and the next time Jenny slashed at them, one of them caught her hand and twisted the letter opener out of her grip. Then they trapped her hands behind her back. The same thing happened to me except I started kicking and screaming and banging my head to make them let go. They lost their grip on me a few times. I broke one man’s nose with the back of my head, kicked another one who got too close right in the balls. He dropped to his knees and didn’t come near me again after that. But they did get me and it only took a minute or two. The feeling of those scrawny arms and bony fingers around me. It was horrible.

“They took us into Mum and Dad’s bedroom. Mum was tied up with dressing gown cords and her cheek was bleeding. They’d tied a scarf around her mouth to keep her quiet. When I looked in her eyes I could see she was already close to breaking. Her breathing was all wrong and she didn’t seem to recognise me. They tied us up with bits of clothes too. I don’t think they wanted us out of commission for long, but they hadn’t brought any rope with them. I saw what they were doing from out of the bedroom window. They were taking the food. Everything we had. Tins of soup and fruit. Pasta and rice. Even what was in the fridge. They took all of Dad’s wine and spirits too, filling plastic boxes they’d brought with them in the van. I looked for a licence number but the van had no plates.

“The boy who’d been left to keep an eye on us saw me looking out of the window, and realised everything I saw made it more likely they’d be caught. He came across the room and pushed me down onto the floor with Mum and Jenny. But not before I’d seen them shut the van’s doors. They hadn’t taken anything that I would have considered valuable – the TV or the stereo or games console. It only struck me later that they probably lived somewhere without electricity.

“They all trooped back up the stairs and began taking our clothes then. I just couldn’t believe it. They took coats and jumpers mainly, things to keep them warm. They took my stuff and Mum’s too – they must have been collecting for their women. They even took the blankets and duvets and some of the thicker curtains.

“On their next trip upstairs they came into my parents’ bedroom and stood there silently, their eyes peeping through their balaclavas without any expression. But I knew what they were thinking. They looked at each other as if waiting for someone to make a decision. The boy who’d been making sure we didn’t escape had been keeping an extra-close eye on Mum. From time to time he’d gone over to her and checked her gag to make sure she could breathe OK. He’d also checked the bindings at her wrists and ankles, and I’d seen his skinny hands touch Mum’s feet and linger on her calves through her tights. But he’d always backed away after a few moments. He was the one who edged forwards again and knelt beside my Mum. He stroked the hair from her eyes and face and touched the cut over her cheek. Mum’s breathing suddenly quietened and her eyes widened. She looked right into his eyes and the boy looked down and away.

“But even though he couldn’t meet her gaze, he couldn’t stop his hands from exploring her. It was like watching a devotee touch a goddess. His fingers were… reverential, somehow – first holding the material of her dress and then feeling the soft flesh beneath. When he touched her breasts, she flinched and I had to turn away.

“They moved Jenny and me into my bedroom and tied us together back to back. They left us there and closed the door. But I could still hear my Mum trying to scream through her gag, trying to make them stop.”

Gordon heard all this as a story, something that wasn’t real and could never have happened. And yet, he knew it could. He knew it
had
. It shamed him. Like the boy who’d broken the trust between human beings by touching Brooke’s mum, Gordon looked down and away. He didn’t have the right to hear any of this.

“They were careless in the end. Spent too long with my mum when they should have taken their spoils and run for it. As it was, Dad came home. We all heard his car turn into the driveway, and Jenny and I heard the raiders thumping down the stairs to get out to their van and away. Dad says he knew what was happening the moment he saw the van. These kinds of robberies had been taking place a lot. Instead of coming into the house, he ran to the garage and got his shotgun. By the time the raiders came out of the house, he was armed. He shot one of them in the leg. It was the boy who’d first touched Mum. They grabbed the boy and threw him bleeding into the van. As they backed out of the drive, Dad blew out one of the wheels. They drove away on three tyres and one rim. The Ward caught all of them a couple of miles down the road, but the boy died of blood loss.

“Nothing happened to Dad. These days, defending the home is one right we do still have, but the families of the thieves have all sworn revenge – especially the boy’s father. They were all living in a derelict building in town, pooling their goods after each raid. Now the families are on the run. And we’re on the run from them. Dad reckons they’re not country types, don’t know how to survive on the land. He thought we’d be safest far away from town.”

“You left everything?”

“All of it. Dad said, ‘What price could you put on our lives?’ He’s got stuff, money and things, hidden away, but the house is there now for whoever decides to squat in it until we get back.”

“What about your mum, Brooke?”

“She couldn’t come with us. She’s with my grandma in Cornwall. Dad says it’s the safest place for her.”

“And you and your Dad are just going to live out here in the countryside forever?”

“I don’t know what we’re going to do. Move on, probably. And then keep moving until he can think of something. Maybe we’ll find a new home somewhere else and Mum can come and live with us again.”

Gordon wanted to do something, to say something at least, but what words or actions could answer what she’d told him? The kiss he’d given her before going off with her father to check the snares: it was a kiss for him more than her. Now she needed to be held in the strongest and most sincere way, something just for her, and Gordon couldn’t make his body work to give her that comfort. He wasn’t worthy of her pain. Encouraging her to talk had seemed like a good idea to begin with. Now he knew it was folly – his desire to do the right thing by others neutralised by his inability to deal with the realities of their need.

But he couldn’t just stay silent and stand still in the vacuum her words were creating with every passing second. All he could do was tell the truth. It was pathetic-sounding to his ears but it was better than nothing.

“I can’t believe what you’ve been through, Brooke. I don’t think I’d have the strength to deal with that.”

“It’s not about strength. It’s about not having a choice. I miss Mum but I’ve got to look after Dad. He thinks he’s the strong one, my protector, but he’s the one who has to hide every few days when he breaks down. I don’t know what he’d do if he was on his own. I think he’d just give up. Everything he’s ever worked for and everything he’s loved is either gone or damaged. There’s no fixing any of it. I’ve got to keep him going until he can start something new, find something worth living for.”

“What about you? You need a future too.”

Brooke’s face was blank, almost as though she didn’t understand.

“I’m still young. I’ve still got time.”

“Time for what?”

“I don’t know exactly. When Dad’s feeling better and we know we’ve found somewhere safe to live, then I’ll… start again.”

Everything she said made giving her a hug impossible. Instead, Gordon looked away through the leafless beech trees, knowing his time with these people would soon be over. He knew he mustn’t get stuck in the past. He had to keep moving and fulfil his parents’ wishes. What they’d asked of him was their only shot at freedom. He might be young and lacking in strength, but he knew he would search until he died if it meant there was a possibility of saving them.

Brooke’s voice and the directness of her question took him by surprise.

“You must have a family somewhere. What happened to them?”

He wished he’d never started all this. But there was no way to back out of it after Brooke had been so open with him.

Where to begin?

“The Ward took… collected them. Wrecked the house. Hit my father. Cuffed them all and took them away.”

Brooke’s expression was pure fascination, though Gordon could see she tried hard to hide it.

“The Ward? What did your family do?”

“I’m not exactly sure. It’s like the Ward think they’re part of some conspiracy.”

“When was this, Gordon?”

“I don’t know exactly. Before I went into the tunnel plus however long I was in there plus however long I’ve been here.”

“Don’t you want to go and see them? At least find out what’s been happening? I mean, the Ward aren’t… you know, known for their hospitality.”

This was the question he hadn’t wanted to answer.

“I can’t go back. That’s what the Ward want me to do. They’re using my family as bait. If I go back they’ll have all of us and that’ll be the end of it. The end of everything.”

“How do you mean?”

“A Wardsman smuggled some letters out. One from my mum and one from my dad. They both said I should get as far away as possible and never go near the Ward. Never trust them. They said if I did come back to find them, they’d be as good as dead.”

“But you can’t trust what’s in those letters. They could have been written under threat.”

“I’ve thought about that a lot. I know in my heart that the letters were genuine, Brooke. And anyway, if the Ward had forced them to write something, it would have been to tell me to come in and save them, wouldn’t it? Then the Ward would have all of us and they’d have won.”

Brooke didn’t say anything for a while. Gordon hoped the conversation was over.

“So what about
your
future, Gordon Black? What are you going to do without your family?”

It was a harsh question. A challenge. He thought for a long time before answering. Could he trust her? After all she’d done for him, after her honesty, didn’t he at least owe her the truth?

“It’s simple, Brooke. I’m going to find the Crowman.”

Horror and delight lit up her face.

“The Crowman’s real? I knew it! I knew you were connected to him.”

Gordon gestured to his pack.

“Only because you went through my stuff,” he said, locking eyes with Brooke. “How much did you read?”

Brooke looked away.

“Hardly any, honestly. I’m sorry, Gordon. We had to find out who you were – to see if we could trust you.”

“Your dad doesn’t trust me.”

“He doesn’t trust anyone.” Brooke’s eyes were suddenly bright with anger. “Why should he, after what’s happened?”

He couldn’t answer. There were no words. He picked up his pack and turned away. Her hand took his arm and he looked back, seeing her rage had become tears.

“Don’t walk away,” said Brooke, finding her smile again. “Tell me more about… him.”

“I don’t really know anything. But my parents said I had to find him. They said he was their only hope.”

Brooke shook her head in wonder, whispering:

“The Crowman.”

She stared off into the trees.

“Do you know anything about him?” asked Gordon.

After a while she came back to herself.

“Not really. You hear good things and you hear bad things. I mean terrible things. I thought it was all just a silly story to start with, but you can’t help wanting it to be true.”

“Why?”

“Because wouldn’t it be wonderful if there really was someone out there with that kind of power?”

Gordon was exasperated.

“What kind of power?”

“I don’t know exactly. The kind that changes the world. The kind that changes the way people think and behave. He’s like this great leader or something. It’s just that no one knows for sure whether he’s good or bad.”

She knows something about him, Gordon thought.

“What does he look like?” he asked.

“No one really knows. But I think he’s very tall. And he wears a long black coat. His fingers are all straggly and he has long black hair too. Some people say he’s like a scarecrow and even the ones who think he’s for the good say he’s terrifying to look at. I think maybe he’s deformed. A man who looks like a raven.”