Blood Crazy (16 page)

We joined the Selby Road and headed north. We saw no one. In the back the girls fell asleep. In low voices Sarah and I talked.

‘It's going to be dark before we reach Eskdale,' I said.

‘We won't try and do it in one day. Dave plans to camp for the night once we're away from the major towns.'

‘Sarah, do they know what killed Rebecca?'

She shrugged. ‘Martin's sure it wasn't contagious. The two that went with her are fine. The guess is that it was some kind of blood poisoning from the cut on her finger.'

‘Talk about babes in the damn wood. We don't know anything, do we? Probably your average GP would have diagnosed what was wrong with Rebecca and saved her bloody life with an injection. I mean, are we going to blunder round dying of 'flu and measles and rickets?'

‘We're going to have to learn, Nick.'

‘Maybe what we will learn is that we don't have a hope in hell … I keep thinking what those two girls did in the barn. Had they the right idea? Quit while you're still healthy. In five years time are we going to be covered in lice and boils and be digging in the shit for worms to eat?'

Her voice was small. ‘I don't know, Nick. We can only try.'

Reaching Eskdale should have been a pleasant drive through the countryside. Now it had become a dangerous journey through a new world I called the Madlands.

We were just kids who didn't know shit. The place was lousy with madmen who, given half a chance, would strip the skin from our faces. We'd no weapons, and even if we had we wouldn't know how to fire the damn things.

The world was just plain mad, bad and dangerous. And I was scared. My eyes darted from left to right just looking for monsters to jump out and gobble us whole. Even at rest stops when I closed my eyes all I saw was the mad staring light-bulb eyes of Slatter's father, or the Singing Sisters gliding out of the darkness with golden halos. Then the ear-stabbing crack of the ropes snapping tight.

‘Nick … Are you all right?'

‘Yeah.'

‘Do you want me to drive? You look on edge.'

‘I'm okay. What's wrong?'

‘Nothing. I was just telling you there's another one of the patterns made by the Creosotes in the field across there. It looks like a stick man made out of foil plates.'

I shivered, goose bumps raised like boils on my arms. ‘I don't know about you, Sarah, but I'm just about ready to believe in this Creosote-communicating-with-God business.'

‘I know the feeling. It's because we're frightened. We start looking for simple answers. Martin Del-Coffey said: Take away civilization from a man and you aren't left with a man without civilization, you are left with a completely different animal.'

‘It'll take more than a teeny philosopher to get us out of this crap in one piece.'

‘It
will
take more than that, Nick. But we have to remember not to allow fear to take control of us. Martin said we must be aware strange things will happen to us mentally. We've all gone through a harrowing ordeal, we've seen terrible things, people literally torn to pieces. We're frightened. For a while we are going to live in constant danger. It's inevitable that more of us will die. Consequently we will become more irrational, we are likely to become extremely superstitious; probably even paranoid.'

‘What's that mean? Paranoid?'

‘In a nutshell, we're going to be afraid of our shadow. And we're likely to irrationally blame people, even things, for our misfortunes, like the Nazis blamed the Jews for all their problems and how the—'

‘You're beginning to sound like Del-Coffey.'

‘But don't you see he's right? He's trying to make us understand what will happen to us. It's like you get 'flu and your doctor tells you what symptoms to expect. Fever, aches, weakness. We're going through nothing short of a nightmare. There'll be a psychological impact on us with its own symptoms – superstition, irrational fears, paranoia. But if we know the symptoms we can deal with them.'

I asked her suddenly. ‘Are you on the Steering Committee?'

‘Yes. I am.'

‘You're Rebecca's replacement?'

‘No … Dave asked me, that's all.'

We drove in silence for the next twenty minutes. Then without apparent reason the convoy stopped suddenly.

A minute later Dave came springing down the line of vehicles.

‘Nick … We've a problem.'

I followed him back to one of the trucks. One glance at the steam hissing from beneath the cab told me what was wrong.

‘The radiator hose has split,' I said. ‘I told you it was cracked when I was checking the vehicles back at the farm.'

‘Can you do anything with it, Nick?'

‘It depends how bad it is. Like I said, we've no spares. What you can do is get me a couple of eggs.'

‘Eggs?'

‘It's okay, Dave, I don't want to eat them. If the hose isn't completely ruptured I'll crack the eggs into the radiator and they'll seal the leak. With luck that'll get us as far as the hotel.'

He went to get the eggs while I lifted the flap. Steam billowed out around the convoy. The hose wasn't beyond the point of no return yet. While it cooled I grabbed a couple of buckets and went in search of water.

‘We're not far from the River Ouse,' Dave told me. ‘It's just across that field there. Do you need any help?'

‘No, thanks.' The truth was I wanted some time by myself. The suicide of the girls was beginning to bite.

I pushed through the gap in the hedge and crossed the field to the river. It took just seconds to fill the buckets but I grabbed a few minutes to sit on a rock and watch the water go by.

The river was a good fifty yards wide. Birds swooped down low over it to peck midges from the air. Somewhere a fish jumped with a splash. The peace was relaxing and as the minutes passed the world didn't seem so frightening any more. I began to look forward to reaching the hotel. Maybe I would end up sharing a room with Sarah.

As I stared at the water I heard the whistle.

I knew that sound. My head came up sharply, my eyes searched the far banking until I saw them. A man and woman stood there at the edge of the river looking back across at me.

Dad waved. ‘Nick! Where on Earth have you been? We've been looking for you for days!'

A bullet couldn't have winded me more.

‘Nick,' called mum. ‘Are you all right?'

‘Yes.' My voice felt as if it didn't belong to me. ‘I'm okay. What about you? Are you—'

‘Nick, we can't hear you properly. Work your way downstream and cross at the bridge.' They began to walk along the far bank, waving me to follow.

‘Hurry up, Nick,' shouted mum. ‘We can't wait here.'

‘What's happening?' I called. ‘Where are you going?'

‘We can't talk now. We've got to go.'

‘But what on Earth's happened? Dad … Dad …'

They didn't stop. Mum looked back and shouted. ‘Have you heard the news, Nick? It's marvellous, isn't it?'

‘What news? Mum … Dad … Come back, I don't know where you're going. Come back!'

As I followed them through the bushes alongside the bank I nearly ran smack into Curt.

‘What's wrong, Nick? Why you running?'

‘I'm following them.'

‘Who?'

‘Those, on the other side.'

‘Why? They're Creosotes, they'll kill you.'

‘They're not damn Creosotes, they're my parents.'

He looked at me, scared. Just then I looked pretty wild and he must have wondered if I'd gone over the edge into the wonderful world of Creosotedom too.

‘Dave … Dave sent me to find you, Nick. They need to get going. There are some Creosotes following us back up the road. Another ten minutes and they'll be here.'

‘Piss off.'

He stood and stared at me, his lips flapping.

‘I said piss off!'

Just then I wanted to feel my fist smack into that Sloppy Joe mouth. I snarled and made a run at him.

He cried out like he'd been kicked and scrambled back up the field to the convoy.

I ran along the river bank looking for mum and dad. They were gone. This time it hadn't been a dream – they were real. It would've
been better if they'd jumped up and down screaming they wanted to kill me. They hadn't. They just seemed like my down-to-earth parents who'd heard some exciting news. Like the time they burst into the house to tell us that they'd won the TV in the prize draw.

Were they mad? Were they sane? I did not know.

Dave found me sitting on the bank, flicking pebbles into the water.

‘You okay, Nick?'

‘Yeah, so-so.'

‘I heard that you've seen your parents … Are you sure it's them?'

‘Positive.'

‘You gave Curt a scare, you know? He's blabbing his eyes out.' Dave's smile was kind; he squatted beside me and began flicking stones too. He talked in a matter-of-fact way for a while; he told me how he'd returned home after the camping weekend to find his two brothers dead in bed. There was no self-pity.

I hated myself for hating him.

‘Curt said there were some Creosotes down the road.'

Dave smiled. ‘Curt's a jittery so-and-so. There's about ten a good two miles away. We've plenty of time. Anyway, I like it here. It's relaxing, sitting by water. Did I ever tell you I once hooked a pike in this river? The thing was the size of a whale. It pulled me in head first. I never did land the thing. It bent the hook out straight as a nail and disappeared.' We laughed and talked some more, then we collected the buckets and walked back to the convoy.

Ten minutes later the convoy was back on the road again.

We drove on through the countryside and I knew before long I would meet my parents again. The question of whether they were sane or not would be answered then … if they tried to kill me.

That afternoon it began to rain hard. The convoy lumbered northwards along twisting country lanes. At three, we pulled off into a roadside picnic area for a rest-break. Under the iffy shelter of some trees we set up the camping stoves.

I went to check on the truck – the hose now sealed with hardboiled egg was holding – then I looked at the mini-bus. The plug had fouled again. I cleaned the thing the best I could. As I worked I thought about my parents. Something had happened to them. What, I didn't know – but they thought it was something marvellous. And I thought about Slatter's mad father, obsessively hunting his own son.

Dave strode busily by. ‘When you've finished, Nick, grab yourself a coffee and something to eat. We're moving on in five minutes.'

‘Dave. I don't think this mini-bus is going to hold out much longer. The plug's fouling every – Dave … Dave!'

He was gone. In his head was his task agenda. The mini-bus came way down the list.

As I walked back through the rain to get my coffee, I saw Sarah confronting Slatter. My heart sank: more shit was about ready to hit the fan.

‘What's bothering you, Slatter?' I asked calmly.

‘I just thought I'd get these so I could see you better.'

‘Slatter. Give Vicki her glasses back.'

‘I always thought you looked like shit, Aten. I just thought I'd take a look through these to make sure … Ah … Yeah. You look like shit all right.'

Sarah said gently. ‘Please, Tug. Give them back to Vicki. She can't see without them.'

Big mistake. Never try and appeal to Slatter's good side. He hasn't got one. And if you admit what he's doing is going to hurt more than he thought – well, that's bleeding Christmas come early for the bastard.

‘Piss off, blondie. I need 'em now.' He leered through his tattoos. ‘Or are you going to ask lover boy to take 'em off me?'

‘Come on, Slatter. The convoy's ready to pull out.'

As soon as the others in the convoy saw what was coming they packed up ultra-quick and locked themselves safely into the vehicles.

We stood like that in the rain. Waiting for someone to do something. I hoped Slatter would get wet and cold enough to simply quit this line of action and get in the back of his truck. He waited, staring me out through the tattooed bluebirds.

Dave's bus sounded its horn then pulled out, the rest of the vehicles following. We were left behind with the Shogun.

‘Come on,' said Sarah to Vicki. ‘Get in the car.'

Anne was already in the back seat. As Sarah sat in the front passenger seat I whispered, ‘When you see me run, get behind the wheel and drive as fast as you can.'

‘No, Nick. Whatever you're planning, don't do it.'

‘Look, Slatter just wants the excuse for a fight. He'll not rest until he's pulped my face. What we'll do is this. I'm going to grab the glasses and leg it for that field there.' I looked in the direction of a ploughed field that resembled six acres of wet chocolate. ‘Slatter'll chase me. You see where the road forks off to the right across the top of the field? Wait for me there. I reckon I can run faster than Slatter. Once I'm in the car we'll rejoin the convoy.'

‘You can't leave Slatter. He'll die out here by himself.'

‘Will he buggery. He'll survive. Only he won't be plaguing us any longer – that's all that matters.'

‘Nick …'

‘Shush, I'll see you later.' I walked back the fifteen paces toward Slatter.

‘Last chance, Slatter. Give me the glasses.'

‘You know, these glasses are starting to piss me off. I'm going to smash them to shit if you don't take them. Here.' He held them out in his great tattooed paw. As he did so, he circled round until he was between me and the car. He'd guessed I'd planned to grab the glasses and run back to the car and leave him here. As it was he put himself just where I wanted him. Now I was nearer to the field I intended to cut across.