Chapter 20 – Inferno
The doors opened again and Jerome Lake lumbered through. The SFO team were oblivious to his presence. They were clutching their ears, rapidly blinking to try and restore their vision, and groping around trying to maintain their balance.
Jerome grabbed the nearest officer, SFO Ducat, and hurled him through the same broken window via which Shelley had been sent to his death. He picked up Ducat’s fallen taser. Still at the bottom of the stairs, SFO Dunne had been the least affected by the stun grenade, although her ears were still ringing and there were stars and sunspots before her eyes. But she could make out the form of Jerome Lake. She had Gann’s taser in her hand, and she fired. Again she hit the mark. Jerome reeled back against the doors and collapsed, thrashing, onto the floor.
Outside, James had successfully managed to save Ducat’s life in the same way that he had done for Reddington. This time it felt easier and he’d been able to give Ducat a softer landing. James knew he couldn’t wait any longer.
“I’ve got to get up there,” he told his parents. He wasn’t looking for permission this time, just approval.
“Then you’re taking me with you,” Roger decided.
But James had made up his mind. If highly-trained police officers were getting thrown out of buildings, he didn’t want his father up there.
“Sorry, Dad.”
He closed his eyes, felt the slight popping of his ears, and when he opened his eyes they were instantly assaulted by tear gas. He started coughing; his vision was blurred. He couldn’t breathe. What kind of hell hole had he dropped himself into? He should have been back in the corridor outside Windsor Ward, but it felt like he was inside an Icelandic volcano. He tripped on something and fell to the floor.
On the other side of the building, a red fire door crashed open and SFO Nowak burst into the corridor, pointing his taser first left, then right, until he was sure there were no more hostiles lying in wait.
“Clear,” he confirmed. Lucas, Dillon, Djarbi and DI Stannard emerged into the corridor. Stannard moved into the lead position.
“Windsor Ward is this way,” she pointed ahead of them.
Nowak moved in front of her again.
“Sorry, Ma’am. Please continue to give directions, but let us do our jobs. This is what we’re trained for.”
Stannard reluctantly agreed, but she couldn’t help imagining the words ‘cannon fodder’ instead of ‘Police’ stamped on the back of Nowak’s helmet and body armour.
They proceeded carefully down the corridor. The doors to all the wards were closed, which made Stannard feel even more nervous that someone could be lurking behind any one of them. The corridor was long. It seemed to go on forever. The problem with a taser was that it only had a maximum range of ten metres. Which meant you had to be practically on top of the target before you could use it. Each of the SFOs also had been issued with a Glock 26 sidearm, but had been instructed not to use it except in the direst emergency.
“What was that?” whispered Lucas. The whole company came to an abrupt halt. Stannard bumped into Nowak, who swore in Polish.
“What?” asked Stannard. She couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary.
“I saw something at the far end of the corridor,” Lucas insisted. They all looked again. Lucas was right. SFO Smith, from Stannard’s previous expedition, stepped out into plain sight. He was holding a bottle in his hand, which was full of a clear liquid, with a rag in the top and the rag was alight.
“Molotov cocktail,” shouted Nowak. “Take cover”.
The team kicked open the door to the nearest ward and dashed inside as the home-made explosive came flying through the air towards them. It fell short by about ten metres, but exploded on contact with the floor. Flames leaped into the air; glass shards scattered across the corridor. Moments later and another Molotov cocktail landed just ahead of the first with another loud bang. The SFO team remained safe in the ward, awaiting their opportunity.
There was the sound of running footsteps, and then a third bottle went flying just past the entrance to the SFO team’s ward and exploded. They were now effectively caught in the middle between two fires: one between them and the roof stairs; the other between them and Windsor Ward. Nowak peered out into the corridor. The fires were spreading but they were still passable. Suddenly the sprinkler system activated and water started pouring out into the corridor. The team waited a few seconds and another explosive whistled past the door, heralding another eruption of flame and glass.
“Go!” shouted Nowak. They ran out, single file, into the corridor, tasers at the ready. Smith was standing at the end of the corridor, also holding a taser. He was too far away to either shoot them or be shot himself. Nowak’s plan was to charge him down. He hoped that if Smith fired, the taser bolt would bounce off his body armour. Nowak would then pop his taser into Smith’s leg. Failing that they’d simply bundle him to the floor by sheer weight of numbers.
Nowak’s feet splashed in the puddles that were forming on the floor of the corridor. He must keep his feet. The water from the sprinkler was blasting straight into his eyes, but he kept going.
When Nowak was less than 15 metres away, Smith raised his taser. Let him fire thought Nowak, waste his shot. He kept running. Too late, he realised Smith’s plan. Smith fired, then dropped his gun and ran.
The taser bolt flew out of the gun and hit the floor. The electricity was instantly conducted through the river of water that had formed in the corridor. The rubber-soled shoes that the officers wore should have protected them from the electricity blast but in his moment of panic Nowak tried to stop, skidded, and lost his footing. He fell into the water. The others promptly tripped over him and ended up sliding along the wet floor. Each felt the jolt of electricity send every muscle in their body into contractions. They thrashed around like over-excited children playing in a paddling pool.
Stannard felt as though she had been punched in the stomach and then run over by a bus. She was only half aware that the sprinkler system had cut out. There was another deafening explosion and she had a vague impression of light and heat somewhere close to her.
Sam sniffed the rose that Philip had given her. She leaned forward and placed it under his nose, hoping it might stimulate his senses.
“It’s beautiful,” she said to him. “That was... very kind. You know, Nina said that the reason why you always talked to me was because you fancied me. Is that true? If it is, you could always tell me that yourself, you know.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, girl,” said Mrs Randerson, contemptuously. “He may have taken a shine to you because you are pretty. But Philip could do so much better. Philip has a life plan. He will pass all his exams, go to Oxford and he will marry a girl from a good background. One who will make a suitable wife for him.”
“You do know Catherine Middleton is now taken, don’t you?” replied Sam, sarcastically. “Honestly. It’s no wonder Philip is staying in his mad dream world. Maybe he doesn’t want to follow the path that you’ve got mapped out for him.”
Mrs Randerson’s face looked like thunder.
“I have warned you before about your rude behaviour, young lady, and I mean what I say. It’s about time I taught you a lesson that you won’t forget. Dennis!”
Mr Randerson marched over to Sam and took hold of her right wrist. She hadn’t been expecting it, and he lifted her bodily off the chair. She pulled back but with her plaster casts on she couldn’t move her legs quickly enough and ended up pitching to the floor. Mr Randerson still had hold of her right wrist, so she only had her left hand to break her fall. The rose fell out of her hand as she fell. She felt stunned and, with the clumsy casts on, she felt beached, like a whale.
Sam tried to pick herself up. She craned her head and saw Mrs Randerson bearing down on her. The woman raised her hand and brought it down sharply on the back of Sam’s head. The blow had an unlikely amount of force. Despite her strength and powers of recovery, her head felt like it had just exploded
. She saw stars. She tried to lift herself up again, but a second blow knocked her straight back down.
“You wicked, evil girl,” stormed Mrs Randerson. “You’ll never have my Philip. Never.”
Less than twenty metres away, lying in a corridor, James Blake was also trying to recover his senses. The burst of water from the sprinklers that had flooded the corridor had helped to revive him and dampen down the tear gas. He picked himself up to find that he had tripped over a body. He recognised Sergeant Blunt from the ground-floor reception area. He could tell from the twisted angle of the man’s neck that the sergeant was dead. Once again, James felt a wave of nausea. He had seen more death and tragedy in the past week than anyone should see in a lifetime. He backed away from the body. With his head above the level of the dissipating tear gas, his eyes and his head quickly cleared. A noise from further along the corridor made him look up. An SFO team emerged into the corridor, wearing gas masks and pointing tasers.
James immediately raised his hands. He didn’t want to be mistaken for the enemy.
“Don’t shoot! It’s me, James! James Blake.”
SFO Dunne was now leading the two remaining members of the squad. She lowered her taser slightly, enough to indicate she wasn’t going to shoot James, but she didn’t lower it completely. She wasn’t taking any chances. Which was just as well. The team had been so focused on James Blake in front of them that they had forgotten to keep checking behind them. The reduced angle of vision in the respirators prevented them from noticing Emma Venton stepping out into the corridor from the ward next to the stairwell. James saw her and shouted a warning.
SFO Campbell was the last in the line. Emma ripped the gas mask off his face and swatted aside the taser. She was about to club him down, when suddenly she was lifted into the air.
The three members of the squad staggered back in amazement. They could see Emma floating harmlessly a metre off the ground, but they couldn’t quite believe it. Dunne looked at James. He was holding his hand forwards like a magician. She had no idea how, but she was sure he was doing this. He had just saved Campbell’s life. Dunne decided to take no chances. She raised her taser and shot Emma Venton. Emma looked like a puppet on a string being made to dance as she convulsed in mid air. James lowered her gently. She was immobile.
“I won’t ask,” said Dunne.
“Thanks,” said James. “Come on. Windsor Ward is this way.”
He heard a whistling noise behind him. As he turned around, he caught sight of something flaming and fast moving. It hit the wall close to his head and exploded noisily.
The only explosions Sam could hear were those in her head. She knew she was stronger than the Randersons, but she found herself unable to move. Mr Randerson was standing one side of her with his foot on her back, while Mrs Randerson stood the other side, just out of reach of Sam’s arms, and cuffed her viciously across the head again. The attacks were so frequent that there was no opportunity for her to gather her strength and her senses to fight back.
Dave Sturn and Dr Soames looked at each other, then at Chief Superintendent Harden. Harden seemed to be swaying slightly. Dr Soames took a chance. He rushed forward to grab Mrs Randerson’s outstretched hand. She was phenomenally strong and she swept him aside easily. He crashed into the wall. When he came back for more, she clubbed him down to the floor. He lay next to Sam, his lip bleeding and a nasty red mark across his cheek.
Dave Sturn had made a dash for Jasmin. He tried to undo the bonds that strapped her to the bed. Only now did he see that her left wrist had been handcuffed to the rail. He rushed over to Harden. The policeman appeared not to notice him. Dave Sturn began searching Harden’s pockets for the key to the cuffs. Harden ignored him.
Mr Randerson steadied himself as he tried to avoid Sam’s flailing arm. In doing so, he trod on the rose, which had fallen to the floor. He momentarily looked down upon it. What was his son thinking of, giving a precious rose to so common a girl? He ground it into the floor with his heel. Then, for just a second, he felt a wave of dizziness. It passed, and he put his foot back on Sam’s spine. Mrs Randerson continued her violent, frenzied attack on Sam, her eyes wide with anger, foam and spittle coming out of her mouth
Philip woke up and, for the first time in nearly a week, he saw the world through his own eyes. He didn’t know what was going on. His mind was hazy. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t feel anything.
He could hear his mother shouting. It was a familiar sound. He turned his head very slightly. Even that was agony. He could see his mother striking someone on the floor. He couldn’t turn his head far enough to see who it was, but somehow he knew it was Samantha Blake.
Philip felt horrified. Suddenly he had a series of fleeting visions and memories. He had that feeling that many people get when they wake up from the deepest of sleeps and the most vivid of dreams and wondered if those events had really happened. The difference was, somehow, he knew that it all had. The last thing he remembered from his dream was the rose crushed under his father’s foot, and the soft, sweet words from Samantha Blake.
He tried to speak but the feeding tubes in his mouth prevented him from doing so. Nevertheless, as he woke up, everything changed.
In the nearby corridor, SFO Smith prepared to throw his remaining Molotov cocktail at his colleagues. He pulled back his arm, and then felt a wave of dizziness. He dropped to his knees and fell sideways. The bottle containing the alcohol and the burning rag fell from his grasp. The liquid spilled out as the bottle rolled along the corridor and finally came to rest as it bumped into a series of oxygen cylinders stacked against the wall. The alcohol caught fire, and flames began to lick at the cylinders.
DI Stannard tried to speak, but couldn’t. Her tongue felt thick and she couldn’t move her mouth properly. She found herself being lifted up off the floor. SFO Nowak put his arm under hers and around her waist.
“Come on. We have to move!” She looked around. The other officers were picking themselves up off the floor. In the minutes that she had been disorientated, the fires seemed to be spreading. The Molotov cocktails had proved stronger than the sprinklers. Walls were on fire, light fittings were exploding and the smoke was getting thicker.
Stannard could feel her legs again. She managed to put one in front of the other. Then again. With each step her co-ordination returned and the fear of death gave her the strength to move faster and faster.
Chief Superintendent Harden found himself clutching a chair for support. There were stars in front of his eyes and he had a terrible throbbing pain in his head. He thought someone was going through his pockets, but he couldn’t be sure. He felt nauseatingly dizzy, like he’d been spun round and round on the spot.
Mrs Randerson felt her head clearing and discovered that she was standing over the prone body of a small, blonde girl, while her husband had his foot on the creature’s back. The girl on the floor was writhing around, apparently trying to protect her head. She looked up at her husband, Dennis. He returned her gaze, blankly.
“I… What is going on?” she asked. She looked at Philip, and saw his eyes were open.
“Philip! You’re awake.” Mrs Randerson stared at her son, but made no move to approach him.
Finally, seeing her window of opportunity, Sam rolled herself out from under Mr Randerson’s foot and into a sitting position. She gripped the edge of the plaster cast on her left leg and pulled. The cast ripped apart in a shower of white dust and a smell of stale sweat. Her leg looked pale and pinched. There was no sign of any scarring, bruising, or bone sticking through her skin. She quickly tore off the second cast like she was opening presents on her birthday. Her right leg looked fine, too. She checked them both again. She almost squealed with delight. She kicked her legs in a swift bicycling motion. They felt strong and powerful. She jumped to her feet, for the first time in what seemed like an eternity. She knew how very, very lucky she was.
Mrs Randerson was still staring at her son. Mr Randerson was rubbing his head.
Sam h
elped Dr Soames to his feet. Then she hurried over to Jasmin Sharma, took hold of the handcuffs and snapped them. She removed the woman’s leg shackles with equal ease.
Jasmin pulled the gag from her mouth.
“Thank you, thank you, sweetheart, thank you,” she struggled to her feet and hugged Sam. “Although tomorrow I’ll be interviewing you and asking how you did that!”
“Do you want me to hang on to that gag?” joked Dave, winking at Sam.
“Ha, ha,” said Jasmin. “Now shut up and let’s get out of here. But keep your camera rolling.”
Along the corridor, James and the CO19 team stood looking at the fire between them and Windsor Ward.
“We’ve got to go on. It’s not that bad,” said James. Which was true, but it was obvious that the fire was spreading rapidly. SFO Dunne nodded. They dodged the flaming wall and reached the T junction at the end of the corridor. Dunne saw SFO Smith lying on the floor, surrounded by flames. She rushed towards him and picked him up, aided by Campbell. That was when Dunne spotted the fire engulfing the oxygen containers and realised what would happen next.
“Move,” she ordered Campbell. “Come on, move. Drag him. Quickly, before those cylinders blow.”
The third SFO, Jenkins, grabbed Smith’s feet and the three of them hauled Smith back the way they had come, pulling James with them.
James looked back at the cylinders. Beyond them, at the end of the corridor, he could see another CO19 team staggering around the corner. He recognised DI Stannard.
He stopped, and started waving at Stannard.
“Get back!” he shouted. “Explosion. Big explosion.” He kept pointing at the oxygen cylinders.
Stannard and the others seemed to have registered what he was saying as they ducked into another ward.
James dashed back round the corner to rejoin his team. They faced another problem. The flames in this corridor were spreading rapidly so they would not be able to hang around here for more than another couple of minutes. On the other hand, the cylinders were liable to explode any second and, when they did, they would take most of the corridor with them.
In Windsor Ward, oblivious to the impending disaster, Sam took a deep breath, went up to Mrs Randerson and put her hand on the woman’s arm, hoping to offer some comfort.
“It’s ok, Mrs Randerson. He’s awake. Philip is awake. We’re all ok.”
Mrs Randerson ignored her and continued to stare at Philip. Philip tried to pull the tube out of his mouth but he could barely move his arm.
Sam helped him. She looked back at his mother, puzzled as to why she wasn’t happy.
“Mrs Randerson, it’s all right. Philip is awake.”
“All right? All right?” said Mrs Randerson, scornfully. “How is it all right? You were right. He did all of this,” she pointed at her frail, immobile son. “Look at what he has done to us all! Look what he has made me do!”
“Mother,” croaked Philip.
“Don’t call me ‘Mother’! I’m not your mother any longer. Not after what you’ve done.”
“Mrs Randerson, please,” Sam pleaded. “He didn’t know what he was doing. It wasn’t his fault, not really.”
“He doesn’t need you making excuses for him. He’s every bit as bad as you and the other children. After everything we have done to try and make him a good person, this is how he repays us.”
“Well, what about you?! What you’ve done?!” exploded Sam. “He dreamed you were a monster because that’s how he sees you. What have you done to him all his life to make him think that?”
Mrs Randerson stepped forward to slap Sam again, but this time Sam caught her hand. Sam met the woman’s angry gaze with defiance.
“Now I can see what you’ve been like,” said Sam, with genuine regret. “And he’s not controlling you now. This is all you.”
Mrs Randerson backed away, but she showed no contrition.
“Please,” Sam tried one more time. “It’s not too late. I know that if I felt that I’d nearly lost my mum, if she just told me she loved me, that would be all I’d need.”
Mrs Randerson looked down at her son.
“I’m sorry, Philip. But some things are unforgivable.” She picked up her handbag and took her husband’s arm. Philip’s eyes followed her, pleadingly. A tear rolled down his cheek.
He tried to speak, but whatever he was about to say was drowned out by the sound of a deafeningly loud explosion. The floor shook.
James and the CO19 team were knocked off their feet by the shockwave of the blast. Masonry was blown down the corridor, sections of the ceiling collapsed, there was smoke and dust everywhere and a huge ball of fire stripped the walls clean of paint.
“We’ve got to get out of here with the injured,” shouted Dunne.
“What about my sister and the others?”
“I’ll go on for them. My team will get you out of here.”
James shook his head. The corridor between them and Windsor Ward was now a wall of fire. Dunne must be incredibly brave, but it would be suicide. Only he could get through to the ward.
“No. You can’t make it. But I can. Please. Let me do this. I won’t be hurt. You must get your team and everyone else out. You must. Radio Mrs Stannard. Make sure she knows to do the same. I’ll get the others out, I promise.”
“But how?”
“Like this,” James smiled and disappeared.
He materialised in Windsor Ward. At first he wasn’t sure if he had got his landing right, because all he could see was smoke and his senses were swamped with the sound of the fire and people screaming and shouting.
He managed to get his bearings. He could see now that the doors to the ward had been blown off by the force of the explosion in the corridor. There were flames licking at the inside wall. Everyone except Dr Soames and Sam had moved to the back of the ward to try and find some kind of safety, and to breathe in fresh air through the broken windows. His sister and Dr Soames were standing around Philip’s bed, perhaps in the vain hope that they could protect him.
“Sam!” he yelled over the noise. Sam looked up when she heard his voice, and ran and hugged him.
“You’ve got to get us all out of here!”
“Yeah, I know, that’s why I came,” he shouted. “Ready?”
Sam realised that he was going to take her first.
“No. Not me. The others first. Take them.”
“Why?”
“I might be able to stop the fire. If I don’t, Philip’s going to die. We can’t exactly move him, can we?” She pointed at all the life-support apparatus. James realised she was right. He had no idea if or how Sam would be able to stop the fire, but they could both do so many seemingly impossible things now that he was prepared to accept it.
James approached the group by the window. Mr Randerson was holding Mrs Randerson’s hand. She was staring at Philip with an unfathomable expression. Chief Superintendent Harden was on his mobile phone, trying to arrange for fire crews to tackle the blaze and rescue them. Dave Sturn was filming, while Jasmin Sharma was dragging the unconscious Nurse Winter over to the window.
Another explosion elsewhere in the hospital shook the building to its foundations. A section of the ceiling collapsed near the doorway. It encouraged a belch of flames into the ward, and a bed caught fire.
James briefly worried about what his father would say about his children publicly displaying their powers. But he had no choice. Dave Sturn put his camera down to help Jasmin with Nurse Winter. James took his chance. He stood behind the reporters, put his hands on their shoulders and willed himself outside.
They landed in a deserted section of the hospital car park, close to where the helicopter had taken off. Before Jasmin or Dave knew what had happened or could turn around, James had disappeared again.
In the 24/7 Interactive News van Lolly had seen all she needed to. Dave Sturn’s abandoned camera was relaying a side-on view of Windsor Ward.
So this kid Philip was the reason for all these events at th
e hospital. Her father could not have foreseen that, but he would be delighted by this turn of events. She was fairly sure that Philip had no connection to the project, so it was just a freak occurrence that the boy had got these powers. Serendipity, you might say. The answer, perhaps, to a lot of her father’s problems.
She needed to get a blood sample from Philip. So she would have to get up to the top floor. First things first, though. She disconnected the feed from the camera. The police would suddenly see their live pictures go down. She wanted to delete all the footage that Sharon had been recording, but had no idea how. It would be simpler just to destroy everything. She held up her hand in front of the computer. The plastic started melting, microchips began sparking and fusing. An acrid stench filled the air. With her other hand, Lolly touched a sheaf of papers. It burst into flames. That should be enough to get things going, she decided. She didn’t want the entire van to explode until she was well away from it. She opened the door. Nobody was looking in her direction. She started one more fire for luck, and then made her way discreetly to the back of the hospital.
Sam was barely aware of James’s disappearance and sudden reappearance in the ward. She was walking carefully to the door, hands out in front of her, like she was blindfolded. She could feel the heat from the flames as she approached, and yet it didn’t seem to hurt. She concentrated on the bed and the wall that was engulfed in flames. She imagined the fire going out. Nothing happened. Bum! She thought she could do this. Baby steps, she thought. Something smaller first. She concentrated just on the bed. Just the flames on the bed. She remembered when she’d set fire to her bed in the lift. Within seconds, the flames were extinguished. She had done it! She tried the wall. The same result. The fire was no longer raging in the ward.
A distant rumble reminded her that the rest of the building was a different matter. The fire could be spreading throughout the hospital by now. If it had taken her this much effort to put out a small fire, how long would it take to put out this towering inferno?
Everyone had seen James’s teleporting trick. Harden had insisted that everyone else be taken to safety first. Dr Soames had refused to leave his patient. Mrs Randerson demanded that she be rescued next. James took a Randerson in each hand.
“Goodbye, Philip,” said Mr Randerson. Mrs Randerson did not speak. They vanished with James.
He was back within moments, and took the sleeping Nurse Winter next. When James returned, he could see that Sam was making little progress with the fire in the hallway. As fast as she was extinguishing flames, they were coming back at her.
“It’s too powerful, dear,” protested Harden, trying to get close enough to Sam to pull her back, but the heat from the flames was overwhelming. He could see Sam’s nightdress was smoking but, unbelievably, she was unharmed.
“Please, come back from there, you might not be able to stand it yourself for too long,” Harden warned.
“He’s right,” shouted James. “You might be able to stop some of the fires, but you can’t stop the building collapsing.”
The flames were swirling around Sam. The oxygen-rich atmosphere was giving the flames greater intensity. Somewhere, more oxygen cylinders must have exploded or been ruptured.
Dr Soames grabbed Harden.
“You must get help in here now. He’ll burn to death,” Dr Soames pointed at Philip.
Harden looked out the window. The fire crews were already assembling on the ground far below them.
Harden turned to James.
“Can you get the boy out?” he shouted.
“I can take him, but I can’t take all the equipment.”
“How long will he last outside of that machine?” asked Harden.
Dr Soames just shook his head.
Yet another explosion rocked the building and a new wave of flames blasted the corridor. Sam was overwhelmed by a ball of fire.
“No!” shouted James, reaching out. Sam felt herself pulled backwards into the ward by an invisible force, just as the ceiling in the corridor collapsed in a cloud of masonry, dust and smoke. Sam’s nightdress was only smouldering. She picked herself up. Her skin was glistening and she was covered in soot.
A second chunk of the ceiling in the ward came crashing down, this time on Harden. Dr Soames checked him.
“Another blow to his head. He’s in bad shape. James, you must get him out of here.”
James crouched down and touched Harden on the shoulder. More of the ceiling came down. On impulse he grabbed Dr Soames’s leg too and the three of them disappeared.
Sam and Philip were left alone.
“It wasn’t really me, I promise,” croaked Philip.
Sam turned around. Philip looked frailer then ever.
“I know it wasn’t,” she tried to reassure him, taking his hand again.
“But it was like... I could see so much. I could see in people’s heads. I didn’t know what it all meant, and I couldn’t control it. Things just happened. Things I wanted to happen. Things I really didn’t want to happen.”
“It was a bad nightmare. Try not to think about it.”
Sam wished there was some food left that she could give Philip, but he probably wouldn’t have been able to eat it anyway.
“I just wanted to be safe,” Philip was summoning up all his strength to talk to Sam. “And you,” he insisted. “I thought I was protecting you. You and James. I knew you were in danger. I knew I would be too when they found out. That’s why I wanted to bring you up here. To shut the world out. To stop anything or anyone getting at us.”
“Oh, Philip. No one was trying to get at us,” Sam assured him.
“You’re wrong. This wasn’t an accident,” said Philip. “She made it happen.”
“Who?” asked Sam, totally confused now. Was Philip delirious?
Philip shook his head.
“I… I’m not quite sure. People with powers. They can fight against me, stop me getting into their heads. Like you and James can. But I could still see her. She came to the hospital. She came to find you and James. She’s...” he almost managed a smile. “Wicked, as my mother would say. A wicked girl.”
James materialised with Dr Soames and Chief Superintendent Harden behind a police car, close to his parents. He had been careful to keep his landings out of sight of cameras and onlookers. Although given how many people had seen him do his thing, it hardly seemed worth the secrecy.
“James, you must take me back,” demanded Dr Soames, angrily.
PC Nelson, close by, saw them and came running over.
“The Chief?” he said incredulously. “How’d you get him out?”
“He’s fine,” said Dr Soames dismissively.
“Have the other teams got out?” asked James quickly.
“Blunt’s team, what’s left of them, are out. But the helicopter is still hovering over the roof waiting for Stannard’s team. We’ve lost contact.”
James looked. Sure enough, the helicopter was circling above the building.
Nelson was looking too. James took his chance and faded away.
“I don’t know who the girl is,” croaked Philip, realising he was using the last of his energy just talking to Sam. He knew he was dying, but there were things he needed to tell her. “She didn’t know about me. I was an accident, you see. I should never have had powers. James gave them to me by mistake.”
“What do you mean?”
“The bombing. The flames. Our bodies were stuck together. We had to be surgically separated. His blood mixed with mine. He... infected me with his power.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I’m smart,” said Philip, and smiled. “But the girl. You must watch out for the girl.”
“Do you mean Emma Venton?”
“No. Not Emma. I controlled her. She had to do everything I said. It felt good in my dream. No. There’s another girl out there. She came for you. I saw her. No one else knows about her. I couldn’t read her mind clearly, but I know she caused the car bomb. She knew it wo
uld trigger your powers. She knew it would affect just you two. She didn’t care about the rest of us. And she doesn’t know about me. You must watch out.”
James landed beside Sam.
“I’ve got to get you out,” he said, simply, putting his hand on her shoulder. He looked Philip in the eye.
“I’m sorry, Philip. I really am.”
“No! I’m not leaving him,” insisted Sam.
James concentrated. He would take her anyway. But something was wrong.
“I can’t take you,” he said in surprise.
“Your powers make you strong enough to resist,” said Philip. “Ask me another one,” he laughed weakly at his own joke. “Am I funny enough?” he asked Sam.
Sam nodded, feeling tears well up in her eyes again.
“That’s why I couldn’t control you,” Philip explained. “But he’s right, Sam. You must go.”
“Sam, there’s no time,” urged James. “DI Stannard and her team are still trapped in the building. I have to look for them. I have to.”
“Then go. I’ll be all right.”
“No. You have to go, Sam,” sobbed Philip. “Don’t die.”
Sam wiped away her tears with the back of her hand and shook her head.
“It’s ok, Philip. I’m staying with you,” she insisted. “The fire can’t hurt me.”
Sam knew that wasn’t true. The fire itself may not hurt her, but the building was collapsing. If she got caught under falling masonry, or the building fell down with her in it, even she may not recover.
She took hold of Philip’s soft, weakened hand. He was fighting back his own tears.
“Thank you,” he said, simply. “I didn’t want to do this by myself.”
“You’re not.” Sam kissed his hand. All around them, fires blazed. Sam held them back as best she could.
James nodded. There was nothing he could do. He couldn’t even take Sam by force.
He had to get to the roof first, then he’d come back for her. The problem was he had never been to the roof before. He’d only seen it from the ground. He would just have to take a chance that he could reach it.
James concentrated and disappeared.
He landed one foot above the roof and dropped to the ground like a stone. He quickly picked himself up. The helicopter was circling overhead. James saw the open door to the roof exit and ran for it. The stairs were full of smoke but there was no fire. He felt his way down the wall and opened the door to the corridor.
He could see DI Stannard lying on the floor only a few metres from the door, covered in rubble. He counted six other officers with her. It looked like some of the officers had been trying to carry other members of their team. They must have been attempting to evacuate when the ceiling fell in on them. The fire was behind them, but spreading rapidly, and the corridor was full of smoke.
One woman was conscious and was vainly trying to free herself from the masonry. James picked his way through the rubble. Another section of ceiling collapsed, but the route to the exit was clear. If he could free them they would be able to make it to the roof and escape via the helicopter, while he went back for Sam.
James could feel the adrenalin pumping through his veins. His confidence was sky high and he was determined not to fail. He focused on the largest chunks of masonry first. It never occurred to him they might be too heavy to move. A large slab rose slowly off DI Stannard. James sent it flying into the fire. It was followed by a collection of broken brickwork. Soon, chunks of ceiling, plaster and masonry were flying apart and scattering across the corridor. In less than a minute the CO19 team were free.
“Thank you,” groaned Stannard, as James helped her up.
“The helicopter is still waiting for you,” urged James. He looked at the remainder of the team. Four of them had recovered consciousness and were picking themselves up.
“What about you?” asked Stannard.
“You know I’ll be ok,” said James. “I have to go back for Sam.”
Stannard nodded. Her team were ready to go. The ones who could walk were carrying those who couldn’t. She led them back towards the exit. James watched them go. He was about to teleport himself back to Windsor Ward when something caught his eye.
Was he seeing things? The haze of the heat and the smoke made it hard to focus properly, but he was sure he could see someone through the flames. A girl. How had she got up here? His first thought was that she needed rescuing, but something about her seemed very wrong.
She must be a couple of years older than him. She was wearing a smart school uniform and she was striding through the fire as if she were on a catwalk.
“Hey!” James called out. “Hey, you ok?”
The girl stopped. She was probably only about 20 metres ahead of him. As a wave of smoke passed, for a split second, James had a clear view of her. She was the prettiest girl he had ever seen. She looked like some kind of supermodel. But she was standing in the middle of the inferno with not one long, glossy, dark hair out of place. She wasn’t even sweating. Now James could see that the blaze was swirling around her but not touching her, which must account for why her clothes didn’t catch fire. She seemed to have the same control over fire as Sam, except she was better at it. It was amazing. She gave James a wink and a smile, and carried on sashaying through the blaze until she was swallowed up by the smoke.
James was unable to follow her. Who was she? She wasn’t part of his class, or even his school, he was sure of that. If only he’d had his phone, he could have taken a photo. He was beguiled. A girl who had similar powers to him and his sister, and who was totally hot. Quite literally!
He remembered Sam. He had to get back to her. The other girl was obviously able to take care of herself.
Philip’s life-support system was flickering. The power was failing. The ward was ablaze. Sam seemed to have forgotten about the fire and was unaware of the melting chunks of ceiling raining down on the ward.
Philip was sobbing, but his quiet dignity in the face of his final fate caused Sam to be overcome with emotion. She couldn’t stop crying.
“I’m proud to be your friend, Philip. I know you’re going to a better place.”
“Tell my mum and dad that I love them,” he asked, managing a weak smile. “And,” he added, trying to lean forward. “I think you are attractive.”
Sam laughed.
“I think you are, too,” she nodded vigorously. “You make me laugh.”
“I’ve got to go now,” he sank back into his pillow. “You have to as well.” He started sobbing again. “Tell them all I’m sorry. Tell them I’m not a bad person.”
“I’ll tell them you’re beautiful,” promised Sam.
Philip smiled for the last time. He closed his eyes. His hand went limp. Sam didn’t want to let go, but the fire was everywhere now. She had to get out.
Sam backed away towards the door. There was a crash and a section of the ceiling collapsed in the place where she had been sitting moments ago. Masonry fell on top of Philip’s already lifeless body.
Sam felt numb, but totally in control. She felt more focused than ever before. She extended both her hands and concentrated, imagining herself sucking in the fire that raged in the corridor. She walked into the blaze. As she approached, the flames around her were extinguished.
She felt exhilarated as she used her power, but she could see now that the whole roof was collapsing. She had left it too late. She could survive the fire, up to a point, but if the building collapsed and the force of the blaze overcame her ability to use her powers, she’d be dead.
“Sam!” cried out James. He was behind her, standing in the doorway of the ward. They ran towards each other.
“You ok, Little Sis?”
“Ok, Big Bro,” she replied, relieved and exhausted.
Holding each other tightly, they faded away.
Moments later, Lolly emerged from the fire. She entered Windsor Ward, saw Philip on the bed and casually removed the large chunks of rubble that had fa
llen on him. Swiftly, she disconnected Philip from the life-support machine, lifted his body off the bed and left the ward. Time to ask Daddy for a lift.
Chief Superintendent Harden had recovered in time to see the police helicopter lift DI Stannard and the CO19 team to safety. Fire crews were already trying to tackle the blaze, although mysteriously the fire seemed to be going out of its own accord. Even more mysteriously, another helicopter swooped in across the London skyline and landed on the hospital roof.
“Who is that?” demanded Harden. The helicopter was unmarked and unidentifiable. It rested on the burning rooftop for only a few seconds and then lifted off again, disappearing into the sunset away from the City.
Epilogue
Monday 13 June
Roger Blake glanced in his rear-view mirror once again and saw his children asleep on the back seat of his Volkswagen Passat. They had their headphones in their ears and were leaning slightly towards one another. Roger felt a strong wave of gratitude that they were safe and well and in his charge once again. He looked across at Yvonne, who had been turning round in her seat every five minutes to make sure they were all right and that James hadn’t disappeared. Yvonne smiled at her husband with relief and moved her hand over to rest on his leg.
They were driving along a series of country roads in Suffolk, heading for Roger’s parents’ farmhouse.
Roger’s mobile phone rang. Yvonne answered it for him.
“Mrs Blake?” said the voice. “It’s Chief Superintendent Harden.”
“Hello, Chief Superintendent,” said Yvonne, slightly nervously.
“Nothing to worry about, Mrs Blake, I just wanted to make sure you were at your in-laws’ house ok. And to pass on my thanks to you and your children once again. As I’m sure you can appreciate, we have a number of... shall we say... loose ends and complications to sort out. Explaining the events of the past few days has not been easy.”
“No, I can appreciate that,” replied Yvonne, warily. She was scared of what was going to happen to James and Sam. She had no idea how many people had seen them use their powers.
“I will have to come and see you soon, I’m afraid,” Harden added. “But for the time being, please, just look after James and Sam, and rest assured that I will do everything I can to protect them from any media attention.”
“Thank you, Chief Superintendent. How are things back in London?”
“Well, it took the Fire Service most of the night to bring the hospital fire under control, and it was the devil of a job evacuating all the patients. I’ve spent the whole morning with the Commissioner trying to sort out what happened and what to tell the Press. I know we can count on your discretion?”
“Of course. Thank you, Mr Harden.”
“Goodbye, Mrs Blake. Enjoy your rest.”
Yvonne ended the call. Roger had heard every word.
“I think Harden’s a good man. He could have made things difficult for us, but he’s gone out of his way to help.” He remained thoughtful for another few seconds. “But I still don’t like it.”
“I know what you mean,” agreed Yvonne. “So many people saw what the children could do. And a high-profile story like that... People are going to be asking questions for a long time over what happened, and who did what to whom. What are we going to do?”
“We’ll just have to hope that Harden can come up with explanations that don’t involve Sam or James. But Harden will be under pressure. Everyone will be demanding answers. They’ll want an arrest over the coach bomb and the fire, and he’ll have to face questions over his part in it all. He’s in a tough position. He can hardly say he was brainwashed by a comatose 14-year-old boy. So what will he say?”
“Maybe the Randersons will get the blame? It kind of is their fault.”
“Can’t see that sticking, though. They may be mad as bicycles, and were even before Philip brainwashed them, but no one is going to believe they are terrorists. We’ll just have to hope he gets a lead on who set off the bomb.”
They lapsed into silence. There didn’t seem to be much else to say about that. They drove over a bump. Sam and James woke up at the same time, realised they had been drifting closer to each other in their sleep and pushed each other away in an exaggeration of grossness.
“Are we there yet?” asked Sam.
Roger smiled. Would she ever grow out of that?
“Twenty minutes,” he assured her.
“I had a horrible dream,” Sam muttered.
Roger felt saddened. Poor thing. After what the two of them had been through, they would have nightmares for some time. Hence the reason for staying out in the peaceful countryside away from everything. His plan was that they should stay for the whole summer. Maybe longer. He wanted to wait for the media to grow very tired of the story.
“I dreamed about Dr Soames,” Sam sighed. “He had me in a cage and he was doing experiments on me, like I was a laboratory monkey.”
“You are. It’s the hair,” cracked James, and received a strong punch in the stomach from his sister for his troubles.
“Soames isn’t like that,” protested a winded James.
“You weren’t there when he was talking to me,” Sam fired back. “He creeped me out. It was like he couldn’t wait to run tests on me to find out why I’m the way I am. I don’t want to see him again.”
“You won’t, sweetheart,” said Roger.
“Will I be able to go to Philip Randerson’s funeral?” asked Sam.
Roger swallowed hard.
“I don’t think that will be possible, darling,” said Yvonne. “There’s going to be a memorial service for all the victims of the coach bomb, but let’s wait and see shall we?”
Sam didn’t feel happy with the answer, but let it go for now.
“What are we going to do all summer at Nan’s house?” asked James. “I mean, I love going there and seeing them. It’ll be great. But all summer?” James had already been giving some thought as to how he could use his new powers, and he wanted to do it in London. Suffolk was too quiet.
“You both need a bit of time to get over what’s happened,” replied Yvonne. “And also we have to try and figure out how you got your powers. I think Grandad might be able to give us some answers. The important thing is, you’ll be safe. I promise you, nothing is going to harm you again.”
In a trendy bar in Central London, Jasmin Sharma gratefully received an enormous cocktail from the waiter. Dave Sturn took his pint. They clinked glasses. Despite losing the footage from the showdown in Windsor Ward, they had still been able to deliver an amazing series of news reports for 24/7. The only fly in the ointment, and a temporary one as far as Jasmin was concerned, was Chief Superintendent Harden. He had warned them both not to reveal any of the details of those final moments in Brent Valley Hospital, with particular reference to how James Blake got them out and whether Philip Randerson had special mind-control powers. Already, 24/7’s legal team were trying to work out what they could and couldn’t say.
“To Sharon Sweet,” said Dave, thinking of their colleague found dead in the support van.
“To Sharon,” said Jasmin, who had already written a glowing epitaph for her, even though she had barely known her.
“Evidence is the main problem,” concluded Jasmin, looking at her phone. “Oh, here we go. Harden has just released a statement,” she announced, waiting for the web page to load. “He says that the hospital fire is related to the coach bombing, and they have a lead. I bet he doesn’t,” she added. “Oh and get this. Harden is basically saying that mind-bending drugs were released into the air supply of the hospital during the fire, causing mass delusions. A neat way of explaining the super shenanigans. Countering that will be difficult without evidence.”
But in her current good mood, boosted by a massive pay rise, nothing could ruin Jasmin’s afternoon. She downed the cocktail in one.
“I think I need to sleep for a whole day. Then I’ll try tracking down the Blake kids.”
Her phone buzzed.
She’d had a text message. She didn’t recognise the number.
‘You are one of the lucky ones for now. But if you value your life, don’t start talking about what you saw in the hospital. Think I’m joking? Watch your own news channel.’
She showed it to Dave.
“What does that mean?” he asked gruffly. Was someone threatening them?
Jasmin looked around. The bar had a television, showing MTV. She called over to the waiter, who she knew fancied her, and asked him to switch over to 24/7. It was impossible to tell what was going on at first because the camera was rolling and shaking all over the place. It looked like a scrum.
“What the hell is happening?” asked Jasmin, cursing herself for not being there, wherever there was.
Roger Blake’s car rolled up the long, dirt-track drive of his parent’s farmhouse. His mother, Barbara, had heard the car and was already at the door, smiling and waving. She hurried over to give Sam and James hugs and kisses as they got out of the car.
“Hi, Nan,” said James, trying to be cool. Not easy when your grandma won’t stop kissing you. James laughed. He loved his grandmother. Sam flung her arms round her grandma and would have been quite happy to stay there for the rest of the day.
“I’m so happy you’re here, and you’re safe and you’re ok. I worried I’d never see you again!” Barbara gushed, through both tears and smiles. She finally hugged her son and daughter-in-law.
“I’ve already prepared your rooms for you,” Barbara fussed. “And Larry has put a TV in them, although I don’t think he’s set it up properly, but I’m sure you can do that.”
“Thanks, Nan,” James grinned, cheekily. “Quite hungry as well. Any chance I could have some lunch?”
“Lucky for you that there is chicken pie in the oven as we speak,” announced Barbara. “Oh. I’m so pleased to have you all here. I’m sure that only good things will happen to you from now on.” She couldn’t stop smiling. It had been nearly three months since she had last seen her family.
“Where’s Dad?” asked Roger Blake.
“Last I saw, he was still trying to get the TVs to work, but I’m sure he’ll be down in a minute.”
Sure enough, Larry Blake emerged into the midday sunshine. Larry had a bullish, optimistic face, but he never looked healthy. He struggled to walk more than a few metres before needing to catch his breath. His complexion was always grey, and he had the look of a once very fit man now wracked with illness. At this moment, even his optimism looked dented. In fact he scared Roger with the haunted look on his face.
“Dad. What’s the matter?”
“You’d better come see,” said Larry, in the thick Chicago accent that he had never lost, despite having lived in the UK for 50 of his 70 years. He led the way into the house. The enormous TV in the lounge was already on and showing 24/7 Interactive News. A male reporter was standing outside Scotland Yard.
“... news, and such an unexpected, shocking twist of events, which turns this whole affair on its head. Chief Superintendent Harden, who led the investigation of the terrorist bombing of the Ealing school coach, and who was involved in the fire and siege at Brent Valley General Hospital, has now himself been killed. The police car that he and his driver were in was blown up only minutes ago.”
The footage on the screen showed some shaky mobile-phone footage of a police car on fire in a London street.
“We understand that neither officer survived. Scotland Yard has not yet commented on the incident, but it does feel like all hell has broken loose here in London. There are police cars everywhere, sirens, and a general feeling of panic. Crucially, this happened less than twenty minutes after Mr Harden released a statement to the media, claiming he had a lead on the Ealing car-bomb incident. What we don’t know is if this has happened as a direct result of that statement. What is even more alarming is that – on mainland Britain – a senior police officer can be killed in this way. Inevitably, the speculation is that terrorists committed this atrocity. I suspect the ramifications will not be known for some time.”
The Blake family stood watching the events in stunned silence. Yvonne had her hand over her mouth and needed to sit down. Roger felt very weak all of a sudden.
“I can’t believe it,” Sam whispered. “Poor Mr Harden.”
“We were just talking to him,” said Yvonne, blankly. “Roger, what does it mean?”
“It means we’ve got a lot of trouble,” answered Larry Blake, bluntly.
“Larry!” admonished Barbara. “Not in front of the children.”
James Blake was still watching the television. They were showing mobile-phone footage of Harden’s car on fire, obviously taken by a witness shortly after the explosion. It was on a loop. James couldn’t look away. And then he saw it. Clear as day.
“Her. It’s that girl,” he pointed.
“What girl?” asked Roger Blake, puzzled.
James jabbed at the television screen, right where Lolly was standing on the street, clearly visible in her green school uniform. It was obvious now. She was watching events dispassionately and texting on her phone, whereas everyone else was milling around in panic and confusion.
“I saw her,” insisted James. “I forgot about it until now. She was in the hospital, walking through the flames just like Sam did. She looked at me. Then she disappeared into the fire. It was like a pop video. She was beautiful,” he added.
“Oh, trust you!” snapped Sam, who was upset over Harden’s death. Then something clicked. “Wait. Philip told me about a girl. Before he died. He said there was a girl and that she was coming for us. He told me she caused the car bomb.” Sam looked around to see if the others were taking in what she was saying.
“How did Philip know this?” asked Roger.
“He said she came to the hospital. He said he could read her mind, sort of.”
“Sort of?” queried James.
“Look, I don’t know do I?” snapped Sam. “Philip seemed to know a lot of stuff. He could read minds. He said she had caused the bomb because somehow she knew it would give us our powers.”
“So this girl was trying to give you powers?” asked Larry Blake intently. “She staged the whole bombing just to give you powers?”
Sam shrugged. “That’s what it sounded like.”
“We must find out who she is,” urged Larry Blake. “This is important. This changes everything.”
“It does?” said Yvonne, worried.
“Sure it does. Before, we assumed that the twins being caught in the bombing was an accident. But if what this Philip kid says is true, then the whole thing was set up. It means that this girl,” he pointed at the TV screen, “knew all about our kids. She knew that they could get powers. She knew exactly what it would take to make sure they got them. And she went to all the trouble of blowing up their coach with all their friends on it, just to do that. Don’t you see? Someone out there knows all about James and Sam, and they want them for some reason.”
Roger Blake started pacing. His father was right. Someone knew all about his children and his family. They were in terrible danger.
“Dad. You have to tell us everything you know about how the kids got these powers.”
Larry Blake made a placating gesture with his hands.
“I will, Son. I will. But first things first.”
“What are we going to do?” asked James, who was still staring at the repeated images of Lolly. It was impossible to make out her features because the footage was too blurry, but the clothes and the poise were unmistakable.
James and Sam’s new phones buzzed simultaneously. They had identical texts.
‘Hope you enjoy your holiday. I’ve been clearing up your mess in London. I’ll come and see you soon. There’s so much to do isn’t there? Keep practising the powers. Love L x’
They showed the texts to their family.
“It’s horrible,” Sam shuddered. “Is it from your new girlfriend?” she asked James.
James pulled a face.
“It’s going to be ok, kids,” Larry Blake put his arm around his grandchildren. Instantly they felt better. There was something very positive and reassuring about Grandad.
“Your dad promised you that you would be safe here,” he drawled. “And he was right. Your old Grandad may be a bit slow around the park these days, but he knows a few tricks and has friends he can call on. If anyone out there thinks they can mess with my family, they’re dead wrong. If someone is stupid enough to come for you, they’re going to have to take on the whole damn Blake family to do it. Bring it on!”
To Be Continued...
Further Reading
Breaking news on 24/7 Interactive News:
www.247-i-news.com
Dedication
Thanks to my wife Rebecca for all her help, support and professional proofreading services. Thanks also to my Mum, Dad, Brother and, in fact, my entire wonderful family who encouraged me to write, be imaginative and to pursue my dreams.
I love you all very much.
Special thanks to my cousins, Darren and Laura, for being the likenesses of James and Samantha, the heroes of the book. You are very cool. True super heroes, the both of you.
If you want to see what the Class Heroes look like, visit www.classheroes.com
Acknowledgements
Thanks to lots of people for helping and supporting me in the writing of this book. I’ve already mentioned my wife, Rebecca, for her proofreading and editorial services, and my cousins for ‘posing’ as James and Samantha.
Thanks also to Graham Cleaver and Nathan Butters for their feedback and appraisal of some early drafts of the first three chapters. The insight they gave me was invaluable in rewriting and reshaping the book. Thanks also to Graham for his editorial services.
I’d also like to thank my friend and business partner, Andrew Butters, for his research and expertise in ebooks, which sparked off the creation of this book series and made me realise what could be achieved in the epublishing revolution. Also, in that respect, thanks to Derek and Lindsay Pollard for their advice and insight into the power of social media.
I’d also like to acknowledge the support and friendship of Terry and Gail Cleaver in their knowledge of the book world; and James Cooper for his insights into the realm of TV journalism.
I’d also like to thank Peter and Caroline Thompson (and Rebecca again!) for their help on making the 24/7 News videos, which you can see on www.247-i-news.com. Caroline is a superb actress and the four of us had a top time filming the clips.
I think the Class Heroes logo and the cover design for the book is amazing, so thank you to Andrew and Heather Clarke for their incredible work in coming up with such a striking image. It really gives the book series its own distinctive tone and feel.
Thanks also to the incredible Andrew Skilleter, for his wonderful artwork on the Class Heroes website. This is the image based on my cousins, Darren and Laura, and really helps to make the characters feel real. Seeing them in the painting, so lifelike, makes the world that the characters inhabit feel that much more vivid.
Lastly, thanks to someone who I have never met; the author who made me want to write books in the first place: Terrance Dicks. His books probably took up a large percentage of my childhood. Thank you for the happy memories Mr Dicks! You’re a star.
Class Heroes Book 2 – Out Now!
Class Heroes book 2: What Happened in Witches Wood is available now. Read on for a free sample…
Prologue
Wednesday 26 August, 2009
“I’m scared,” whispered Asha.
“What of?” Simon whispered back.
“It’s called Witches Wood for a reason, isn’t it?” Asha flicked her eyes in one direction, then another, as if she expected ghosts and ghouls to leap at her from out of the darkness.
Simon Brown shivered. He wasn’t scared, he told himself, but there was something eerie about these woods. That’s why he had brought Asha here. What could be more exciting than sitting on a lonely wooden bench, buried deep in the mysterious Witches Wood?
The night was warm and moonlit, but the thick canopy of trees always left the wood feeling murky, cool and damp, even during the hot summer days. The stream that ran past the bench created dancing reflections and shifting shadows.
There were goose bumps on Asha’s bare arm. Simon hoped that it wasn’t just as a result of the midnight chill or supernatural fears.
“So?” Simon asked, keeping his voice low.
“So it’s supposed to be haunted.” Asha virtually mouthed the words and Simon could only just hear her.
“Why are we whispering?” asked Simon in a normal voice. “We’re the only two souls for miles around.”
Asha laughed. “We hope!”
She looked beautiful in the moonlight. Simon leaned in and they kissed. A long, sensual, urgent kiss bordering on the reckless.
Simon felt a number of sensations sweeping his body. He was the luckiest boy in the whole world. Simon wasn’t religious, but he did offer a silent prayer of thanks for the change in his life’s fortunes. And it was all thanks to Asha Bailey. Kind, beautiful, generous, loving, sweet Asha. Or Hot Ash, as he liked to call her.
Asha sighed contentedly. She was sitting on Simon’s lap, her bare legs dangling over the edge of the wooden bench.
Simon Brown tried to control himself, but he couldn’t stop his hands from moving underneath Asha’s soft, white cotton top.
She responded by running her hands up and down his back. Her gentle touch sent shockwaves of pleasure up his spine. Her sweet scent made him giddy. This was blissful agony. He brought his hands around to her stomach and then up the side of her body. He must stop. It was a perfectly romantic night, but was a wooden bench in the middle of Witches Wood really the right place for their first time? He hadn’t intended to go all the way with Ash tonight, but if he didn’t keep himself in check, that’s exactly what would happen!
“Can you believe we’re doing this?” she murmured in his ear.
That's really not helping me, he thought, pulling away, slightly breathless. Must think about something else! Quickly!
He had turned 16 nearly four months ago. By the age of 12, most people in Helmshall St Mary had written him off. He’d heard that in the village pub they’d started a sweepstake on when he would end up in prison. Only his mum and Asha had believed in him.
So, for their, hopefully amazing, ‘first time’, Simon had imagined conjuring up a luxury hotel room, taking Asha to dinner and dazzling her with his sophistication and treating her like a princess. He’d imagined it a lot. If only he had money…
Just doing it here and now reminded Simon of the person he used to be, the village scumbag who was into drink, drugs and petty stealing – even from his own mum. Simon had spent many nights sleeping rough in this wood and in bus shelters. Not anymore. Asha had made him wake up and stop being a selfish, stupid idiot. Asha was special and she deserved the best.
The second time could be in the wood though! That would be fun.
They’d come to Witches Wood because they wanted to be alone. His mum was a good person, but she was the busiest busybody in Suffolk and Asha’s parents were strictly religious, so going to each other’s houses was torture.
Asha’s eyes glowed with love. Her shy smile made Simon’s heart pound. They stared at each other longingly. How could she fancy him? She had flawless black skin, a cute smile and an overall kittenish quality. She was simply beautiful. And more than that, she was just such a good person. Whereas he was pale, pasty, wiry and he always thought his head resembled a coconut.
“I hope she doesn’t mind,” said Asha, suddenly earnest.
Simon looked puzzled.
“Who?”
“The girl,” explained Asha, pointing at a brass plate screwed into the back of the bench. Simon hadn’t noticed it before, and he didn’t really care now.
Asha read out the dedication on the plaque.
“‘In loving memory of our daughter, Kather
ine Bethany Blake, who tragically drowned in this stream. Wait for us in Heaven. 4 March 1971 – 5 August 1987.’ She was only 16! Oh, that is so sad!”
“I wish we were in Barbados sitting on the beach near your grandparents’ house,” whispered Simon, trying to change the subject. He wanted to keep it romantic, not maudlin.
“Except my grandparents would be watching us like hawks,” laughed Asha. “My parents are liberal hippies compared to my grandma.”
“I’d love to meet them someday.”
“I’d love you to, too. I think my parents are starting to get the message about you. They hated you at first, but now they’re realizing that you’re a good person.”
“Do you think?” asked Simon, not convinced. “To most people in the village, I’m a loser.”
“They’ll change their minds eventually. You did really well in your exams. I bet nobody expected that, but you worked so hard for them. And now you’ve got that internship at G-Netik!”
Simon loved how she was so proud of him.
“Now that’s pretty impressive,” she added. “That’s where my parents would love me to work. G-Netik is huge. Biggest pharmaceutical in the country, probably the world. Honestly, when I told my parents, you could actually see it in my dad’s eyes. He was like, ‘That’s superb Asha’. He used his extra serious voice too.”
Simon laughed at Asha’s impression of her father.
“He said, ‘We always thought that Simon had it in him to turn himself around.’ And for them, that’s a biiiig compliment. You might even get to meet Sir Michael Rosewood. Even my Mum has a thing for him. He is good looking, although not as good looking as you.”
Simon laughed again. It felt good. Not so long ago the only highs he experienced were chemically induced. He hadn’t touched that stuff for 13 months and 4 days.
“Your parents have been very supportive,” reflected Simon. “I didn’t expect them to give me a chance. I thought they’d just look at me and assume I’m some kind of waster, who’s only interested in boozing, doing drugs and seducing their daughter.” Simon felt himself welling up. “So they were one-third right,” he cracked, trying to lighten the mood again.
Asha began stroking his face.
“They know how it feels to be judged. They remember what it was like when they first moved here.”
She broke off as Simon began kissing her neck. She pushed her hand through his tousled dark hair, then stroked his cheek. The skin that had once been drawn and pockmarked was now fresh and supple again.
“Ohhh!” groaned Asha, in frustration. “It’s so unfair. It’s past midnight and I’m going to have to get back or they will freak.”
“I don’t want to go,” Simon held her tighter and started stroking her legs.
Asha squealed.
Simon felt like his heart would burst.
“I want to stay here all night, with you.”
“Me too,” groaned Asha, moving closer to Simon to kiss him.
Simon closed his eyes and waited for the touch of her lips and her tongue.
Instead he nearly suffered a heart attack as Asha let out a scream that could have woken the dead.
She leapt off Simon’s lap, missed her footing and fell to the ground. Simon tried to struggle to his feet. His pulse was racing and he looked around desperately to try and work out what had caused the look of horror on Asha’s face.
Then he saw it. He backed away. It was impossible.
Simon had never seen a ghost before, but he didn’t doubt for a second that that was what was in front of him. It looked like a girl. She was crouched in the stream, soaking wet, her long blonde hair a tangled mess. She had come from nowhere! She was wearing a full length, white nightdress. Her skin was pale, almost translucent. Simon blinked, and when he looked again he could literally see right through her. She looked like a faded photograph. There, and yet washed out.
Simon choked on his own scream. The girl was rising up from her crouched position.
She lifted her head up and there was a bright-red gash on her temple. The blood seemed very real. Not pale or transparent like the rest of her body but thick, red and vivid. It was flowing freely over her white nightdress.
Asha carried on screaming as she struggled to get to her feet.
Simon found himself rooted to the spot in fear.
Asha backed away from the apparition and pulled Simon with her.
“We’ve got to go. Run. Run.”
“Pleeeeaaase,” wailed the ghostly spectre, casting around blindly. For a second she seemed to vanish from existence and then she was back again.
“Where am I?” she asked, pitifully.
Was it Simon’s imagination or was the ghost sobbing?
“Leave us alone,” pleaded Asha, tears running down her face.
The girl was standing upright now. She finally made eye contact with Simon. She started climbing out of the stream and up the shallow embankment. With every step that she took closer to them, Simon and Asha took a step back.
“Help meeeee,” cried the ghost, arms reaching out towards the couple.
If she had been alive, she would have been about 14 or 15. She might even have been pretty. Her hair was flattened to her face by the water from the stream. Her nightdress was sopping wet and she left puddles of water behind her. Blood was still pouring out of the cut on her head.
Simon retreated again and tripped over a tree stump. He hit his back on a stone and yelled out in pain. Asha helped him to his feet as the pale ghost took another insubstantial step towards them. Simon cried out, with fear this time, and he closed his eyes.
When he opened them, the ghost had gone and he was left with just Asha, who was clutching him tightly, sobbing and talking; and he didn’t hear a single word that she said.
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