The Burning (45 page)

I
t was long past the hour when darkness should have fallen but it was as though the sun had stopped sinking. Instead it hung low in the sky, blood-red, just above the sea. The dark water was veined with pink streaks which stretched all the way to the shore, spattering the sand and the rock face with a strange light
.

The light was even more unnatural as a result of the huge arc lamps that had been set up along the beach. They fired powerful beams against the cave’s entrance, where mechanical diggers were still working to remove the fallen rocks. As half a dozen generators hummed and rattled, people swarmed across the sand like ants: rescue workers, medical personnel, and others whose roles were a little harder to define
.

Men and women who seemed answerable to no one, who wore dark glasses, despite the absence of conventional sunshine
.

A makeshift office had been quickly set up a little further down the beach, along with an emergency room, where the staff were getting ready to receive wounded, or worse
.

There was just as much activity a hundred metres offshore, where boats manoeuvred through the wreckage of a vessel called
HOPE
and the helicopter which had crashed into it. The explosion and the fire that followed had been intense and pieces of both craft were still smouldering. Lights from the rescue boats cut through a thick curtain of smoke which hung across the surface of the water
.

Already, aviation experts were arguing about exactly what had caused the tragedy, but it seemed likely that the freak tornado, reported by local weather stations, had sucked the chopper down and caused the pilot to lose control. It was just unlucky that the aircraft had crashed directly into the boat – an accident no one could have predicted
.

They had searched in vain for survivors, and now divers were working to recover bodies
.

It was far quieter on the cliff top. It was darker here too, and a variety of night creatures had begun to move around, poking through the scrub and grass in search of food
.

Lizards, rats, snakes, a small fox…

A gentle wind danced through the long grass where, eight or ten metres back from the cliff’s edge, a small patch of soil began to shift and fall in on itself. A large beetle scurried quickly for cover as the movement increased and the soil gave way
.

And a fist punched its way up from the earth
.

Out in the open, the tightly clenched hand seemed to glisten in what little light there was. After a few moments
,
the first insects started to settle – mosquitoes and gnats – drawn by the sickly sweet scent. But they were gone again as soon as the fist began to move
.

Once the blistered, honey-covered fingers had started to uncurl and claw at the cool night air
.

I
n 2007, while excavating a group of caves on the Atlantic coast of Morocco, an international team of archaeologists discovered the remains of a Neanderthal tribe. The scientists were astonished when further research showed that some of the specimens’ teeth and bones were those of a different species: more like
Homo sapiens
, who were previously thought to have arrived long after the Neanderthals had died out. The evidence suggested that in North Africa, this new species of human had coexisted, and possibly bred, with the Neanderthals.

Archaeologists continue to argue about what caused the genetic and behavioural shift, but all agree that
something
happened to trigger the development and spread of modern man across Europe.

Some kilometres south of the caves, in the town of Essaouira (formerly known as Mogador), tucked away in a narrow backstreet, there is a cafe called La Triskalla. The sign of the Triskellion hangs outside. They make delicious crêpes…

Read an exclusive extract from the next
book in the
series.

Available spring 2010

M
olly Crocker stared across the yard to where the boy was working, cursing herself as she spilt the lemonade and reaching for a cloth to clean up the mess. When she looked up again, the boy had moved out of her line of sight and there was a large bee butting gently against the window from outside
.

Zzzzz … dnk. Zzzzz … dnk
.

Molly thought it was a bit early for bees, but it wasn’t a complete surprise. Everything was going haywire with the climate these days. Global warming was never out of the news
.

She was careful not to spill any more as she carried the lemonade outside, down the steps from the porch and out across the front yard to where the boy was painting one of the fence posts
.

“Here you go,” Molly said. She handed the cold drink across. “Looks like you could do with this.”

The boy, whose name was Levi, had been working at their place for the last couple of weeks. He’d mended the roof on
one of the barns, fixed the gate on the paddock where Molly’s horse was kept and done some basic plumbing inside. He was sixteen, Molly guessed – about the same age as she and Dan were – and according to their mother, the Aboriginal tribe he belonged to had been living in the area for over forty thousand years
.

Levi drank half the lemonade in one gulp. “Thirsty,” he said
.

While Molly waited for the glass, she stared around the compound. It was isolated for sure – their closest neighbour was seven kilometres away and it was half an hour in the truck to the nearest shops – but it was a nice place to live. They were only ten minutes from the sea and got to go surfing after school or ride horses in the hills whenever they fancied it
.

Debbie, their mum, and Mel – the woman who shared the house with them – reckoned they were lucky
.

That they all had a pretty good life
.

Molly wiped the sweat from the back of her neck and tried to remember how long they’d been here. Was it two years? Something like that…

Levi handed back the glass. “Thanks, Rachel.”

Molly blinked. The glass slipped from between her fingers and shattered on the ground. “Excuse me?”

At that moment, Dan waved from the other side of the yard as he walked back to the house. Levi waved back enthusiastically. Called out, “Hi, Adam.”

Molly watched as her twin brother stared back, confused
,
and walked back to the house a little faster
.

“What did you call me?” Molly asked
.

“I called you by your name,” Levi said. “Your name is Rachel, but you’ve forgotten. You’ve forgotten everything.”

Molly stared. The boy was making no sense, and yet … something was swimming forward from the recesses of her mind. Something was struggling to come into focus
.

“I think maybe you should go,” Molly said
.

Levi didn’t move. “It’s good that you forgot; that you all started a new life. It was the only way you could stay alive. But now it’s time to remember again.”

“You’re crazy,” Molly said. She turned at a noise from the house and saw Mel and her mum marching quickly towards them across the yard. Dan was walking nervously a few metres behind. Mel was carrying the shotgun
.

“What’s my name?” Levi whispered
.

Molly stared, held by the boy’s intense green eyes – funny how she’d never noticed that they were green before – and saw a beach
.

An explosion and a boy running. Rocks falling and a ball of flame rising high into the sky. She felt desperately sad for no reason, and the word came out of her mouth without her brain telling it to. “Gabriel.”

The boy smiled
.

“Hey!” Mel was shouting as she, Dan and Molly’s mother got closer. She raised the shotgun. “Get the hell off our land right now. And don’t come back.”

“You’d best do it,” Molly said
.

“I need you,” he said. “You and Adam.”

“Need us for …
what
?”

Mel and the others were only a few steps away. “Didn’t you
hear
me?” Mel screamed
.

“There are people in the shadows,” the boy said. “They’ve stayed hidden for a long time, working quietly to destroy you – all of you.”

Molly nodded. She could feel the danger and remember the urgency and the pain. She remembered running and running…

“You’ve been hiding for a long time, Rachel, but it can’t go on for ever. It has to stop. It’s time you came out of the shadows.”

“Why?” Molly said. She hadn’t been aware of the clouds gathering, and the first fat raindrops felt cold and heavy. “Why now?”

The boy’s eyes darkened. “Because they’re coming…”