Grimsdon (8 page)

CHAPTER TWELVE

‘What are you going to do with
that?'
Xavier looked up at the pointed snout of the fish.

‘Wave it ... threatening ... to spook ye. Never come back,' the old man stammered.

‘Do you think it's working?'

‘Not yet.' His face creased. ‘Soon maybe.'

Xavier swerved his head around the fish and jumped to his feet. The man stumbled back, holding the fish out like a sword. ‘Don't come near ... intruders ... trespassers. What do you want?' He squinted. ‘Are you real?' He leapt forward and pinched Xavier's arm.

‘Ouch!' Xavier rubbed at his sleeve. ‘A little bruised but, yes, we're real.'

‘I'm Isabella and this is Xavier. We didn't know anyone was here. We needed to hide from the men who were after us.'

The man calmed a little. ‘Men?' He sniffed. ‘Haven't seen any for a while, eh, Snowy?' He turned to the bear again. ‘Not lately. Thought they gave up. Thought everyone did. Alone. All alone...'

He again fell into incoherent mumbling.

Isabella stepped closer. ‘Who are you?'

‘I ask the questions!' The old man thrust the fish in her direction, but it slipped from his hands. Isabella ducked just in time. It slammed against the wall and slid to the floor.

‘Ooops. Sorry. Slippery ... tasty, but slippery. Apologies.' He wrung his hands.

‘Go on then,' Xavier said. ‘Ask your questions.'

He opened his mouth, then closed it. ‘Got none.' He flopped into a red, freying armchair and laughed quietly – until he sprang upright.

‘Fish. I'll cook fish.' He raced over, picked up the flung fish and brushed it off. ‘Tasty. You watch.
Mmm mmm.
Best ever.'

He tore clumps of pages out of the ripped book and twisted them into long strips. Isabella went to stop him but Xavier held her back. He wedged the strips between pieces of wood, and the fire was soon filling the stove.

Laying the fish between two pieces of steel mesh, he tied the corners with wire and placed it on the flames. He sat in his lounge chair, a proud grin across his grizzled face. ‘Tasty. You'll see.' He tore some more pages and twisted them into strips.

Isabella snatched her arm away from Xavier. ‘You can't burn books.'

‘Can,' the man replied. ‘Just did.'

‘But it's not right. They're ... books.'

‘They burn well. No other use for 'em.'

‘You could read them. Learn from them.'

The man burst into a throaty laugh that shook his body. ‘Too late for that. Wrote lots of 'em. No good. Might as well burn 'em.' He shook his head.'

‘You're an author?' Xavier asked.

‘No, I'm...' He grabbed the handle of the wire mesh and held the fish in the air. ‘Can't remember...' He shrugged, flipped the fish and put it back on the fire. ‘I warned 'em. About the water. No-one listened.'

‘You wrote about the floods?' Isabella asked.

‘Yes, yes, yes. Books, articles. Lots of us did. All scientists.' His bushy eyebrows sailed up his forehead. ‘That was me. A scientist. Ha! Ask Snowy. He'll tell ye. Told them what they needed to do. Didn't listen. Said it couldn't happen. Ha!'

His body slumped; his eyebrows and voice lowered. ‘A few listened, not enough.' He picked up a book. ‘If no-one listens,
no point talking.'

‘You knew the floods would happen?' Isabella asked.

He nodded. ‘We had proof.'

‘And the government knew?'

‘They asked me to...' He clicked his fingers, searching for the word. ‘Write! To
write
a report. Told 'em there's more water today than at any other time in human history. Told 'em the city wasn't prepared, needed to rebuild the barriers. They seemed convinced, then said no! Just like that.' He frowned. ‘One year later, floods hit. My plan needed ten months. Sad waste.'

He leapt from his chair again. ‘Fish's ready.' He took it off the fire, removed the upper wire mesh and held it out to Xavier. ‘Try that.'

Xavier gingerly tore off a piece and nibbled a small corner. ‘It's good.' He threw the rest into his mouth.

‘Huh!' The old man again broke into laughter and held the fish out to Isabella. ‘Miss?'

‘Thank you.' It was smoky and tender. ‘Who are you?'

‘I'm...' The old man stopped. ‘Snowy?' He looked to the bear, stroking his beard. ‘Don't know. Huh! Forgotten.' He threw some fish into his mouth. ‘Not all bad ... The fish are bigger, juicier. Never ate 'em before all this.'

‘How did you know about the floods?' Isabella asked.

‘Studied the ... the ... what do you call wind and rain and clouds?'

‘The weather?' Xavier suggested.

‘Yes, the weather, that's it. Studied it for years. Found the book and the astrolabe. Proved it all.'

‘The astro-what?' Xavier asked.

‘Astro
labe.'
He pointed to a globe made of multiple layers of metal rings with intricate markings on each one. ‘Trend estimation, finite differences, partial differential equations, weather patterns, cycles of stars and planets, Babylonians, Aristotle. Fascinating.'

Xavier raised a sceptical eyebrow at Isabella. ‘Yeah, fascinating.'

‘It's all written here.' He pulled a tattered book from a nearby shelf. It had a faded red cover with frayed threads. ‘Highly prized. Very rare. Certainly not for burning.'

Isabella took the book and carefully turned the fragile pages. They were filled with drawings of moons and stars, ancient astronomy equipment, graphs and charts with scribbled notations.
‘Le Previsioni,'
she read.

‘Means “Predictions”. Written a thousand years ago.' The old man tweaked the bear's cheek. ‘Caused a stir, eh, Snowy?'

‘You knew the floods would happen because of a metal ball and a thousand-year-old book?' Xavier asked.

‘Old things can be good.' He drifted into mumbles and half-laughter.

‘So you predict things like Nostradamus did?' Xavier asked.

‘Yes, but I'm better looking than him.' He laughed and slapped his knee.

‘Can you give us a prediction now?'

His head fell forward and he became serious. ‘You'll laugh like they all did.'

‘We won't,' Isabella said. ‘We promise.'

The old man sighed. ‘The Skelene is coming.'

‘The Skelene?' Isabella asked.

‘A sea monster.'

Xavier laughed. Isabella gave him a death stare.

‘Told you you'd laugh. People laugh when they're scared.'

‘I'm not scared, it's just a little ... impossible.'

‘They said the floods were impossible. Look at us now.' He jumped up and scurried between two rows of shelves. ‘Many have seen 'em. Many believe.'

‘What's he doing?' Xavier asked.

‘Shhh,'
Isabella whispered.

‘Ouch.' There was a clunk of falling books.

‘Are you okay?' Isabella asked.

‘Yes. Fine. I...' His voice fell away before he reappeared with a large leather-bound book. He sat on his chair and opened it with a groan. ‘In Norse legend, the Skelene rose from the deep.' He flicked through the pages, searching. ‘Floating quietly on the waves. Sneaky thing. Sailors thought it was an island, but when a ship came close the Skelene pulled it under, ate everyone on board. Here!' He pointed at an illustration of an oval-headed beast with bulging eyes wrapping its many tentacles around the hull of a ship.

‘Really?' Xavier sat back in his chair and crossed his arms.

‘It's all in here.'

Isabella read the title:
‘A Natural History of Norway
by Erik Pontoppidan, Bishop of Bergen, 1752.'

The old man turned through pages of sea creatures resembling serpents, giant finned dragons and colossal squid. ‘Ziphius, Pristis, Physeter, Architeuthis...'

‘And these are...?' Xavier asked.

‘Sea monsters,' he answered, as if he were asking for one sugar in his cup of tea.

‘Of course.' Xavier shook his head.

‘Based on sailors' stories.'

‘The ones who weren't eaten,' Xavier reminded him.

Isabella poked her elbow firmly into Xavier's side.

‘Hey!'

‘They usually stay away from the mainland but, with rising seas and flooding, they're moving. Drawn by currents.' His voice softened and he hugged Snowy. ‘Punishment for what we let happen.'

Xavier stared at him. ‘Sea monsters? Alive and well in Grimsdon?'

‘Never used to be.' He shook his head. ‘Everything's changed.'

‘You don't think you just need to get out more? Take in some fresh air and get a bit of sun?'

Isabella leant forward on her chair and kicked Xavier in the shins.

‘They created whirlpools, called Skagarag. Dragged ships to the bottom of the the ocean.'

Isabella read from the book: ‘Even the most experienced sailors feared the Skelene. Often, descriptions of the beast were sketchy, partly because of its size but also because the sailors who had seen her were so traumatised by the experience that they often lost the power of speech or simply fell into a crazed delirium from which they never recovered.'

‘And you believe this because it's in a dusty, old book?' Xavier asked.

‘And because of the fish.'

‘The fish told you?'

‘No,' the old man laughed. ‘Fish didn't tell me. I can't talk
fish.
That would be crazy.'

Xavier shook his head and looked to Isabella. ‘Yeah, crazy.'

‘Last few months, fish've been leaving.'

‘Maybe they're off on their summer holiday,' Xavier offered.

The old man leant forward and whispered,
‘They're scared.'

Xavier whispered back.
‘Of what?'

‘The Skelene, o' course.'

‘You're basing your theories on a bunch of fish who have brains the size of a pea.'

‘Fish've been around for five hundred million years. Humans much less. Look at the mess we've made.'

‘Why are you here?' Isabella asked.

‘Floods.'

‘I mean, why are you still here? Why didn't you get out when the rescuers came?'

‘It's peaceful. No phones. No traffic or bad televsion. I...' He turned away, picked up his bear and shuffled to the window in his slippers. ‘You can leave now.'

‘I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ... Can we come back?' Isabella asked. ‘We have a friend who I know would love to meet you.'

Xavier shot her a wide-eyed look.

The old man remained at the window, staring, not answering. He held Snowy to his cheek. They began to leave when Isabella snuck one last peek and noticed he held a photo in one hand. It was of a woman holding a small, laughing girl. Isabella took the apples from her pocket and held them out. ‘I'm sorry we broke into your home.'

The man quickly shoved the photo into his pocket. He turned and froze. His wrinkled face creased even further, as if he had no idea what he was looking at.

‘Please take them.' Isabella held the fruit out further. ‘My friend Griffin grows them.'

The man reached out. His gloves were blackened and worn through at the fingertips. He took the apples as if they were rare jewels.

‘They're delicious. Try one.'

He put it slowly to his lips and took a bite. His face softened. A small laugh escaped from his mouth.

‘We'll go now.' They turned to leave.

‘You can come back,' he said. ‘Can you bring more of these?'

Isabella nodded. ‘As many as you like.'

Xavier made sure they were out of the old man's hearing before he spoke. ‘Are you crazy? Why do you want to come back?'

‘Griffin would love to see the astrolabe.' She paused. ‘And I want to know more about how the floods happened.'

‘Does it matter?'

‘It might. That's what I plan to find out.'

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

‘We're here!' Xavier jumped through the window.

The twins leapt up from the lounge where they'd snuggled under a blanket with Fly. ‘What did you bring back?'

Xavier held out his hands as Isabella climbed in behind him. ‘Nothing.'

‘Nothing? You've been gone for hours!' Griffin lay
The Wizard of Oz
on the table.

‘We met someone.' Xavier sat at the table and took an apple from the bowl.

‘You met someone?' Griffin asked Isabella. ‘Where?'

‘At the State Library.'

‘An adult.' Xavier took another bite.

‘Who was he?'

Xavier screwed up his face. ‘Not sure. Interesting guy to talk to.'

‘You
talked
to him?' Griffin asked. ‘What if he was a murderer? What if he had a weapon?'

‘He did. He tried to attack us with a fish.'

‘A fish?' Raffy asked.

‘That's silly.' Bea laughed.

‘And a bit smelly.' Xavier sniffed. ‘And what if he was an interesting man who cooked us great-tasting fish and knows a whole lot about what happened three years ago?'

‘What was his name?' Griffin asked.

‘He couldn't remember,' Isabella said. ‘But he had an astrolabe.'

‘An astrolabe? A real one?'

‘What's an astrolabe?' Raffy asked.

‘It's like an ancient computer used to predict the position of the sun and planets and–'

‘And the floods,' Xavier added. ‘Along with some kind of ancient book.'

‘What book?' Griffin asked.

‘The Predictions,'
Isabella said.

Griffin sank back into his seat. ‘So it really exists?'

Fly held up her notepad:
What is it?

‘A book written by a philosopher called Galeotto over a thousand years ago. The Church and government accused him of challenging their authority and ordered the book to be destroyed. One man's whole life's work wiped out, just because he suggested the world worked differently than we thought. They say he went mad after that. Philosophers for centuries have suspected secret copies existed.'

‘It seems at least one does.' Isabella smiled.

‘So maybe it was good we spoke to this murderous madman after all?' Xavier finished his apple and slapped Griffin on the back.

‘He still could be a murderer.' Griffin's eyebrows knotted. ‘He's just a much more interesting potential murderer now.'

‘He said he was asked to write a report for the government, but they didn't like what he had to say, so they ignored him.' Isabella's voice softened. ‘He said if they'd listened to him, they could have prevented the floods.'

An uneasy quiet seeped into the room.

‘But he also spoke to a stuffed bear,' Xavier leant in, ‘so I wouldn't rush into believing everything he says. Now, I think there's just enough daylight left for a flying lesson – who's interested?'

‘I am!' Raffy sprang off his chair.

‘Looks like it's you, young man.'

‘Can I come, too?' Bea pleaded.

‘Don't see why not.'

‘Maybe that's not a great–' Griffin's words were trampled by the sounds of the twins racing to the rooftop. Fly closed her book with a scowl aimed at Xavier and went after them.

‘They'll be safe, Griffman.' Xavier winked at him. ‘Trust me, I know what I'm doing.'

Griffin's eyes drilled into Xavier's back as he leapt up the stairs. ‘He's reckless, Isabella, and that's going to get us in trouble one day.'

‘I know he's a bit mouthy.' She looked over her shoulder to make sure the kids were gone. ‘But he helped fight off men who tried to kidnap us.'

‘Kidnap you? When? Are you okay?'

She nodded. ‘It was just a bit of a shock seeing three adults in one day. One had a card saying he was a government agent for a National Resettlement Program.'

‘Resettled out of Grimsdon?'

‘I think so.' Isabella paused. ‘What if the government could have stopped the floods like the old man said? We'd still be in school; you'd be brilliant and topping every class; we'd still go to the movies and the library and Mrs. Gray's bakery...' Her voice cracked. ‘It's getting more dangerous here. Sneaker waves, kidnapping agents, food is harder to find – and then there's Sneddon and his men. Do you think it's time to go home?'

‘This is home.'

‘For how much longer?'

Griffin wanted to hug her, to do something to take away how sad she looked. He wanted to tell her it would be all right, that he'd protect her. That at least they had each other. As he began to lift his arms towards her, she stood up.

‘We better go upstairs or Raffy will stay in that flying machine all night.'

Griffin quickly tucked his hands into his pockets and followed her upstairs.