GENESIS (GODS CHAIN) (7 page)

Walking
aimlessly along and talking with enthusiasm about their computer games,
Scott and Cameron
suddenly heard a loud cracking noise
.
The boys stopped.
The noise had
c
o
me from somewhere inside the thick bushes
.
They
peered at the branches but could see nothing in the dark shadows
.
T
he boys stared into each other
’
s eyes for
what seemed like
a
long
moment
.

‘Let’s get out of here!’ Cameron shouted
,
and they both bolted along to the end of the pathway
,
both nervously laughing as
they
jumped onto the main street
.

Straight ahead of them
was
“the cross”
, which was
a cross roads
that split the antiquated village centre and
led to
all the
different parts of the shire
.
H
ere at the cross were all the usual amenities
—a
small supermarket, student hostel, estate agents and bank, paper shop, Italian restaurant, family butchers and several taverns.

Meanwhile,
Charity
laughed in amusement at her own prank as she dropped a broken branch to the ground.
She
had been watching
the
boys pass by her hiding place
as she
st
oo
d out of sight
in the cent
r
e
of the tall bushes
, where the branches were thicker and there was some free space
.
How odd her laughter seemed to sound
,
muffled by
the dense
branches—
no one could have guessed she was waiting inside.

Charity then
,
for no particular reason, began to
fe
e
l
somewhat
uneasy
.
S
he
realized that she
was all alone,
that
everyone had left school
...
but the mood was more than just that
.
She was overcome with
a strange sensation, a sort of unexplained dread and an awareness of being watched
....

A
larm bells
rang
in her head
and
the girl suddenly jumped out
of the bushes
and onto the path
.
Running quickly after the boys, she never looked
behind her.

If she had, she might have seen the dark shadow that stood
where she had been only a moment
before—a figure that bent slightly
and picked up her snapped branch.
Silently standing there for a moment
, the shadow
mov
ed
away
, deeper into the darkness
and back under cover
...
.

Standing next to a public hostelry, Scott and Cameron looked to a small café
that was
attached to
Ma
uch
ine’s
new Italian restaurant. Both the
restaurant
and the tavern were built on
H
illtop
R
oad
,
and both establishments adjoined the
c
ross.
Violin music drift
ed
through
the air as did the delicious aroma of Italian cuisine. Everyone who pass
ed by
smiled, listening to the irate chef arguing
with his prep staff
about
the
herb sauce for this evening
’s
menu.

The
c
hurch dominated the village centre, constructed in large red sandstone blocks and perfectly positioned. With
a green-
slated roof
covered with
a light moss
, the church had a venerable sort of
run
-
down appearance.
A
g
othic tower soar
ed
upwards
from the centre,
featuring
a short spire at each
its
four corners.
This godly structure could be seen for many miles around.

A large clock face was set in each side of the tower and above the large
-
arched
,
vented belfry
, which was
made of wood.
T
he fine mechanics
of the church clock
had never broken down or stopped
or slowed—the gears
kep
t
perfect time
,
thanks to the village’s elderly watchmaker, chiming the hours
with noisy
church bells
on
Sunday morning
s
and
holidays
.
Underneath the clock
s
and belfry levels were beautiful stained glass windows
,
each set in
to
the
church’s
stone
walls
.
The road
split around the church; to the
right and downward through
an alley behind
the church
squatted
the dilapidated Masonic
lodge
and castle ruin.
There hadn
’
t been any masons living in the village for many years.

Standing at the
c
ross
and
looking east, the road went out of the village
and up
towards the
hilltop
,
past Crows Wood
,
through
Kirkland
’s farm
,
and then further onwards to the lowland hills about five or six miles
away
.
Beyond th
e hills,
the route led out of the shire and further into the country
side
.

‘I don’t want to go home yet
,
’
Scott announced,
standing at the village cross.

Cameron nodded.
‘I know what
!
Let’s go up to the
Prophet Monument
,
’
he suggested,
pointing the way up to the main road.

Scott was a little scared of the monument, but he felt a rush of excitement run through him.
‘It’s
supposed
to be haunted
,
’
he reminded his friend.

‘Yeah!
It’ll kill some time,’ Came
ron
urged
.
‘
D
on’t be a pratt.
Come on!’
he ordered
with a mischievous smile
.
‘We can go right to the top of the tower and look through the telescopes!’

‘
Yeah, o
k
...
it might be a bit of a laugh!’
Scott nodded slowly,
excitement building inside
him.
It’s
Ma
uch
l
i
ne!
he reminded himself.
Nothing
ever
happen
s
here,
anyway
.
It
’
s time to
take a few risks
!

Laughing and joking on their way up the long road
, Scott and Cameron
g
a
v
e
e
ach
other courage
to follow through on their
dare
.
It was late afternoon and the daylight was dimming quickly with each minute that passed
.
Scott noticed a policeman’s tall shadow silhouetted against the inside of the station window
;
the constable was nodding and speaking to someone.
It was old
Drew Kirkland
—
his
red
tractor was parked outside.

The
Prophet’s
Monument was not the tallest built
,
al
though it had the highest vantage point.
It dominated the top ridge to the north
;
like a citadel it watched over the village. Beyond th
e monument,
the roads ran away west and north to the hamlet of
Crookedholm
and
the
larger town of Irvine on the coast and the busy commercial
c
ity of Glasgow
to the north
.