Kill Fish Jones (7 page)

As they headed to the front door to wave Jon off, Fish noticed a loud whining noise that he hadn't
registered before, though he got the feeling that it had been going on for some time. When he opened the door he immediately saw what it was. Some men were high up in the tree outside Marsha's house, busily shearing off branches.

Jon shook hands and said goodbye, giving Fish a long look and a thoughtful smile. Fish knew that look; it was the one he got from people who had worked out that he knew things that they didn't, and who felt that what he knew was somehow
important
.

‘Whatever happens to me, I wish the three of you well,' he said. Then he turned and walked down the path and out of the gate.

They watched him go. At least Fish did until he caught sight of a by now familiar shape lurking under a rhododendron bush. Horrified, he turned his eyes back to Jon and saw death gathering over his head in a silver cloud.

It all happened very fast.

In a nearby garden, the boy kicked his football for the last time. Instead of going over the hedge to land in next door's flower bed, it hit a stone at exactly the right angle to bounce left, strike the gatepost, hurtle through the air and land smack in the face of a youth on a motorcycle coming down the road. The startled youth lost control and the motorcycle went into a short skid, crashing into the back end of the truck, which in turn shunted into the tree. Happily for the men from the council, they were attached to the tree by a safety harness, but unhappily
for Jon Figg, both of them, simultaneously, lost hold of their electric saws.

The ragged-toothed, shining blades swooped through the air, arcing over one another as Fish yelled, ‘GET DOWN, JON!' at the top of his voice.

He was just a fraction too late.

Fish sat quietly, watching while Susan answered the policeman's questions. In between consoling Marsha, the policewoman checked on him once or twice to see if he was all right. He smiled at her and nodded, though he was not all right at all. Fish's world had always been a strange and difficult place, alive with things that nobody else could see, but now it had become more than that. It had become full of death and the terrible fear of loss.

And more. Since Jon's death a faint shadow had begun to coil around his mother's body like a misty scarf. He knew what it was. Despair, or at least an Avatar of despair. If it was allowed to grow, it would darken and thicken until it became a demon in its own right, a cold, grey shadow-snake twined so tightly around her that it would crush her soul. He had seen them before, woven around,
and through,
people in the street. The people with dead eyes and lonely faces.

At least the creature didn't have eyes yet. He hated it when the things he saw could
see him right back
. He worried that when it had grown enough to have eyes,
it would have got such a firm grip on his mother that it would never let her go.

On top of all this, Fish was keeping a careful eye out for the curse demon. He knew instinctively that it would always be there at the kill, so that meant they were safe as long as it stayed away. Even so, every unexpected movement made him twitch inside and whenever he had to do anything he kept bumping into the furniture because he was so busy trying to watch everywhere at once.

When the police had gone and Marsha had come out of the bathroom, they all sat for a moment.

‘Right,' said Marsha eventually. ‘You two had better get a move on if you are going to the shops.'

‘Why? Why, Marsha?' cried Susan. ‘It's too big, too far beyond our understanding. Wherever we go, it will find us. We could keep running and running until we die of exhaustion, but we will never escape. You can't get away from fate, everybody knows that.' She ran her fingers through her hair and gazed hopelessly at the table.

Fish watched in agony. He knew what was tearing her up inside most. Because she had helped to disturb the bones of a dead man, her son was going to lose his life. She would see Fish die and know that by her actions, however innocent they had been, she had killed him. And that knowledge was just too much for her to bear.

Twined about Susan, the shadow-snake thickened. Fish shuddered, wanting to stop it growing, but not
knowing how. For a moment he thought he might tell his mother the truth about the things he could see, about the curse demon and the shadow-snake. But what good would it do?

And then Marsha came to his aid.

‘That's dying talk, dear,' she said firmly, leaning forward to look Susan straight in the eyes. ‘You might as well tie a noose around our necks. I mean it! Maybe you're right, but all we can do is try, and right now we haven't got a moment to lose. What just happened to that dear man is proof of that, if nothing else! We must be on the road by the end of the day. It's the only chance we've got!'

Susan blinked and looked over at her son. The shadow-snake was still there, draped around her shoulders, but she gave him a crooked smile and as she smiled it seemed to fade a little.

‘Are you up to it, Fish?'

Nodding, Fish stood up. He could have cried with relief. Marsha was right. If they were to survive, they had to swallow their horror and sadness, and act.

While Fish and Susan were at the shops getting the things they would need, Marsha first gathered together enough clothes and bedding for them all. Then she went into the kitchen to pick up a kettle, some saucepans and a few odds and ends. As she worked she talked to Reg, sometimes in her head and sometimes out loud. If Fish
could have seen her now he would have noticed that the silvery shine around her grew brighter as she worked.

Sitting on the windowsill, his gently waving tail draped out of the window that he had pushed open just a moment ago, Grimshaw watched patiently.

Thinking that a hot meal before they set out might do them good, Marsha tried the gas again, but there was still nothing. As she turned the knob to full to see if anything came out, a gust of wind blew in through the window, ruffling the leaves of the lemon plant that lived on the kitchen windowsill. It was right on cue. Grimshaw considered it one of the great mysteries of human existence that
they were never able to get the weather forecast right
, even though the weather's future was one of the easiest to predict. He twitched his tail back inside and tucked it safely round his paws.

Feeling the draught, Marsha frowned. She didn't remember opening the window, but maybe one of the others had. Distracted, she went over and shut it, wondering if she should go around the house and make sure everything was locked up and switched off, ready to be left until they could come home again.

She made a mental note to do exactly that as soon as she had loaded up the van, then picked up the first armful of things to carry out. Unfortunately, she forgot all about the gas ring, still switched full on.

It took a long time to load the van up with all the things she had gathered together. While she was doing it, the gas people finally sorted out the fault.

In the kitchen Grimshaw sniffed, wrinkling his nose and flattening his ears. The gas was back on all right, just as he had anticipated. He could hear it hissing as it poured out of the gas jet that Marsha had left on. The horrible smell would reach Marsha's nose eventually, but not until it was far too late.

When she had finished with the van, Marsha remembered about checking the windows and lights. She started in Reg's attic-room study, working her way down through the second-floor bedrooms, heading towards the stairs. The ground floor and the kitchen would be last.

Grimshaw set his watch to the fourth branch up in the tree across the road, and pressed the send button.

It was nearly five o'clock when Fish and Susan arrived back at the house and they were both worn out. Fish was looking forward to the time when they were on the road. Even though there was no certainty that running away would help, he hoped that the demon wouldn't follow them. After all, the thing had disappeared before Jon had given them the cottage details, so it couldn't know where they were going. But then it was a supernatural being, so perhaps it would know instinctively where its prey was.

‘Come on, Fish, let's get this lot unloaded,' called Susan, interrupting his thoughts. She smiled at her son, but her voice was weary and her eyes were dark.

As Fish turned to help, his heart plunged. He felt rather than saw the demon in the tree nearby, and a glance up through the leaves revealed its hunched shape overhead, tail twisted around a branch. A ripple of fear scurried down his spine and he turned to run after Susan, who had just slammed the boot shut and was heading for the house, laden with bags. Suddenly, the upstairs window slammed open and Marsha appeared, her face deadly pale. Fish sprang at his mother.

Susan dropped the bags. ‘Marsha!' she cried, just as Fish's arms closed around her. ‘Let go, Fish, LET GO! She's in danger!'

Marsha waved her arms wildly. The smell of gas had just that minute reached her and she knew what happened next. There was no time to stop it.

‘NO! Go back! Save yourselves! Farewell, my darlings!'

In the kitchen the boiler clock clicked to 5.00 and the pilot light came on with a pop. Instantly, there was a tremendous boom and a brilliant light so huge that for a second Fish thought they had been struck by a thunderbolt. The world was lit up and a wave of heat sizzled around them. Susan screamed, but her voice was lost in a wall of sound that knocked them off their feet and sent dustbins careering down the road. Up in the tree, Grimshaw was blown off his branch. Only his coiled tail anchored him and kept him from being flung over the houses behind. Glass, dust and splintered wood showered everywhere.

When it was over, Fish lay quivering against the trunk of the tree, his head ringing with the aftershock. Susan was motionless on the ground. When the world steadied enough, Fish crawled over to her, too faint to stand up properly. He felt as if his heart had stopped with fear for her, but she looked up and groaned just as he got there. There was blood on her forehead and cheek.

Even though he felt numb with the weight of Marsha's death, Fish knew that he could not pause to grieve. Any minute now the road would be swarming with police cars and ambulances, not to mention onlookers.

The car was still upright and on its wheels – unlike a couple of others closer to the house, including Reg's van. Grabbing Susan's arm, Fish slammed the boot shut then pushed his mother towards the door of the car. She nearly fell as she scrambled in, but she turned the key in the ignition and the engine ticked over. As Fish ran around to the passenger side, he glanced up. The demon was dangling from a branch by its tail. It wasn't paying them any attention.

Fish threw himself into the car, buckling up the seat belt as Susan took off, swerving to avoid the scattered glass and rubble. Her breath was coming in short gasps and her hands were shaking, but her eyes were clear and fixed on the road.

Fish stared at her, relief washing through him. The shadow-snake that had cast its length around her shoulders had gone, dissipated in a breath as her despair was shattered by something far stronger. Love for her
son. Despair was something she couldn't afford right now. The curse had come a step closer and her choice was clear. Act, or Fish was sure to die.

‘Sorry, Marsha,' she whispered, ‘I have to go. I have to do the best I can for Fish.'

They got to the turn into Park Avenue just as the wail of sirens split the air. Susan put her foot down until they reached the main road and joined the traffic heading north, out of the town.

For better or for worse, they were on their way.