Mammon (4 page)

IN THE CALM
of early morning, Joe was flying.

He passed a dying star, its brilliant shards of purple light beaming out from the fiery core.

He felt the tingle of ice particles, a ring that orbited a lonely world. Voices cried from that space, calling to him.

Mercy.

The dark bubble that carried him couldn't shut out those voices. They rose from the planet's core in dark, murky waves. He turned away, tormented by the collective agony.

A tunnel lay ahead. Made of thunderclouds, moving, illuminated against the blackness of space by ripples of lightning that charged up and down curved walls.

He floated at its entrance. It would take him to eternity, but he wasn't ready to go there yet.

And so, he woke.

Opening his eyes, he stared ahead. The light in his room seemed strange. His limbs felt jump-started, as though electricity had coursed through them, shocking him back to the real world.

Joe blinked again.

Something dark and shadowy hung above. He squinted. Yes, it was something black but shimmery. It sat strangely against the pure, fresh light of dawn.

He shot up, sitting rigidly. Gasping.

A sphere with grey clouds as wide as the ceiling. Every few seconds, lightning rippled up and down its walls.

He laughed. He was still dreaming.

He sat, just staring at it as the room became lighter. The house began to hum with the whistle of the kettle, the clunk of pipes in the bathroom – but the sphere remained.

Was it waiting . . . for him?

Joe lifted a finger to touch the edge of the cloud. Just air. What did he expect, though? He pulled himself up on to his knees, staring up in awe. ‘What the hell is it?' Again, his finger brushed the circle's edge. It was like touching dust motes sitting on rays of light. He lowered his finger; the cloud wobbled and expanded like clay on a potter's wheel, spinning, contorting, growing.

What if it grew into something uncontrollable? Sharply pulling his hand away, he ducked his head sideways. The ceiling was still up there, on the other side.

He jumped, startled by two loud knocks. ‘Joe! Time to get up!'

‘Okay, Mum!' He crept around the edge of the bed, almost on tiptoe, investigating the strange entity.

Inside the sphere: darkness. Like camping in the country beneath overcast skies. An endless, gloomy path, lit up only by the slivers of lightning that danced along the walls.

Walls! How could it have walls? It wasn't even solid! He rolled a tennis ball between his fingers like a giant worry bead. No way was he putting his head in there.

He stared into the black depths for a few seconds – and then threw the ball.

It was sucked into the sphere. Joe gasped. ‘That was fast.' Eyes still pinned on the swirling clouds, he leaned back and fumbled around his desk until his fingers touched the computer mouse; his eyes darted back and forth as he waited for the screen to warm up.

‘Okay.'

He lifted the webcam, holding it at the sphere's edge. ‘Here goes.' Slowly, he pushed the camera through the cloud, peering sideways to watch the screen.

A loud screech and the camera was jolted from his grasp. Sparks charged up and down his spine. On shaky legs, he backed away and stood against the wall. Joe watched the cloud as it hung there, as unassuming as before.

Except it had eaten his camera.

The computer screen revealed nothing but static.

He crept over, crouched before the monitor and pressed play.

At first it was just darkness. Then – and he guessed the camera spun wildly at this moment – an eyeless creature, bony, teeth bared, swam through the blackness, claws extended. At first it moved with such speed it resembled a milky smudge. The thing observed the camera passively but then lunged, the mouth stretching impossibly wide. The last thing the camera saw was a row of long, sharp teeth.

Then, static.

He was sitting down. He didn't remember sitting down. Trembling, he clicked the mouse again. The face resembled nothing he'd seen on earth or within the ocean depths; it wasn't a horror-movie monster, nor comic-book creature feature. Eyeless cavities, a body of chalky bone. What seemed to be a massive ribcage. Long jaws, like the snout of a hound dog if all its flesh and blood were stripped away. Epic teeth.

His chest ached from his relentless pounding heart. What was that thing? Where did it come from? Any minute now it might decide to take a chunk out of him.

Time for it to go.

When he turned back, the sphere was gone.

* * *

GRACE SAVOURED THE RICH
, sweet smell of tea and jam- smothered toast.

Her mother poured a cup of tea and pushed it towards her daughter with a bemused smile. ‘Sleep okay, honey?' Grace warmed her hands against the cup. She felt groggy from oversleep. ‘Did it rain overnight, Mum?'

‘No, not yet. But it'll come soon. I can smell it.'

A tousled head of dark curly hair moved past the window that overlooked the back garden.

‘What's Joe doing?'

Delicately, Mum picked crumbs off her plate. ‘I told your brother to get started on the garden.'

Grace watched the crumbs disappear. ‘When's Dad back?'

‘Around four.' Mum sipped her tea.

‘Have you told him about Joe getting in trouble?'

‘No, not yet. We can talk properly when Dad gets home.'

Grace gulped her tea, flinching as the hot liquid scalded her throat. She padded over to the sink and rinsed her cup.

‘Not hungry?'

‘Not really.'

Her mother smiled and frowned at the same time. ‘You still won't tell me what's wrong?'

Grace hesitated, her mind weighing it up. It would be good to spill her worries out. But . . . no. Joe had seen that boy, and he was in denial. Nobody would believe her. ‘I'm okay, Mum. Honest.' With a forced smile, Grace made her way upstairs for a shower, feeling like a coward.

* * *

JOE CURSED AS
another gust of wind barrelled through the leaves, scattering them over the grass again. ‘Damn it!' Flailing uselessly, he tried to flatten the leaves only to be undermined by another gust. ‘Oh, come on now! This is getting stupid!'

He peered upwards. Mum had gone to pick up Dad, Grace was probably in her room. Nobody could see him in the backyard. Now would be a good time.

Again, his fingertips began to tingle.

Curiosity overcame fear.

And there were leaves to get rid of, anyway.

‘Okay.'

He threw another glance at the house, took a breath and focused on imagining the cloud.

Perhaps he needed to say something, like a spell. He opened his mouth – but the air in front of him had already changed, darkening, like a mini thunderstorm.

In the afternoon light, the sphere seemed even more surreal. He gazed at it, well aware that thing was in there.

‘Let's give it something to eat.'

Quickly, he raked up a clump of leaves and shunted them inside the sphere. Shovel after shovel went inside until his arms ached.

‘Wait a minute . . . why am I working so hard?' Extending a forefinger, Joe pulled on the bottom edge of the cloud; obligingly, the sphere expanded, nearly touching his feet.

Joe grinned. ‘Much better.' He held the shovel close to the edge, watching leaves pick up and fly into the hole like a sharp wind had got behind them.

Laughing maniacally – the situation was crazy, after all – too late he noticed the sudden pressure on his neck. With a pop, his chain was gone – Celtic cross and all.

‘Crap!' Throwing down the shovel, Joe gazed into the hole. Within the hovering, wispy leaves he saw the silver links and cross also floating. But too far to reach in . . .

He couldn't lose it. Mum would kill him.

But that thing was in there.

Too bad. Steeling himself with a deep, calming breath, he stepped inside.

As he took tiny steps forward, he struggled to adjust to the sensation. Sure, he was walking on something, but it didn't feel as though there was anything there.

He glanced back. Thankfully, he could still see the windswept yard. ‘Okay.' Joe reached forward and snatched the chain, taking its links tightly between his fingers.

The skin on his neck began to prickle: a warning.

He froze.

The bone creature hovered, staring at him just like it had at the camera, claws outstretched evenly on each side.

Joe closed his eyes, breath trapped in his throat, heart hammering.
Well, I guess this is it
, he thought to himself.

But silence followed. He slowly opened his eyes. Pure darkness lay ahead, punctuated, of course, by the flashes of lightning – but no more leaves, no monster.

With a light feeling in his limbs and nerves pooling in his gut, Joe turned and walked quickly back out of the sphere's entrance. His feet touched the grass. He heard a car pull up in the distance.

Again, the sphere appeared to be resting, waiting.

He scratched his neck. A tunnel on the inside, but a sphere on the outside. He shook his head. Too weird.

Grace's voice broke the silence. ‘Joe! Dad's back!'

He stared at the sphere.
Go away, now
, he willed.
The clouds subsided into nothing. He ran his chain links through trembling fingers.

‘It's mine to control.'

* * *

‘
HI, DAD.' GRACE
let her father pull her into a tight hug. He smelled of aftershave with a hint of motor oil. Like Joe, he needed a trim – his dark fringe bounced into his eyes. Grace smiled. ‘You look as if you've been living wild for six months.'

Her father pulled a mock expression of hurt. ‘Wow, thanks a lot, honey. Anyway, how are you?'

Grace pulled back, avoiding his eyes. ‘I'm fine, Dad.' She felt the burn of her mother's stare. ‘I've already told Mum that.'

‘Mmm,' her father said, narrowing his eyes. ‘Some- thing's up.'

‘Honestly, Dad. I'm fine.' What else could she say? ‘Stop going on about it.'

Stretching his arms out, her father yawned. ‘Okay, okay!' He gave her a curious glance as he headed towards the kitchen.

Grace flopped on to the couch and pressed a button on the remote control. From the kitchen, the sound of cups and saucers clacking against each other nearly drowned out the TV. Her mother pressed a teabag to her nose, inhaling appreciatively. Mum's happiness was like a vapour, thick in the air. Dad was home. It was good for everybody.

Joe wandered in.

‘Hey, buddy!' Dad looked up and grinned. ‘Got some sun, I see!'

‘Hi, Dad.' Joe leaned down and embraced his father briefly. ‘Want to have a look at the bike?' His eyes twinkled.

‘Give your dad a chance to have a cuppa, Joe.' His mother sank into her chair and smiled at her husband, who squeezed her hand.

‘It's okay, Suse. I'll run up for a quick shower and we can all have some tea in the garage while we admire Joe's work.' He smiled at Joe. ‘And we can have a chat too, son.'

‘Sounds good, Dad.'

His father got up and moved slowly through the living area, pausing to blow Grace a kiss. Smiling, she caught it and pressed against her cheek.

Slowly, Joe walked over to the window and stared into the back garden as the kettle whistled away. Oh, yeah. They were gonna talk, all right.

* * *

‘BIKE'S LOOKING GOOD,
son.' Joe watched as his father moved around to look at the other side. ‘You've been doing a great job, keeping it up.'

‘Thanks, Dad.'

‘So . . .' his father began to wipe the fuel tank with circular strokes. ‘What's been up at school?'

Joe's face dropped. ‘Mum told you.'

His father took a deep breath. ‘Yep. Things like this, I need to know.'

Joe picked up a wrench and tapped it against his open hand. ‘You would've done the same thing.'

‘No, not these days. Okay, okay, so I cracked a few heads when I was your age. If he'd said something like that about Aunt Diana, then I would've found it hard not to smack him. You and I – we share a short fuse. But you've got to learn to control it. Don't repeat my mistakes.'

‘It's not that easy.'

‘I know. But revenge is a bad idea. It leads to consequences that you might not have thought of. Trust me, son.'

They stared at the bike for a few seconds.

‘Dad, there's something I need to tell you.'

With a smile, his father stood back to appreciate the shine off the fuel tank. ‘I'm all ears.'

Joe hesitated. His father looked over. ‘What's the matter?'

‘Oh, it's weird. I had this dream. I was in space, and . . .'

‘What, son?'

Joe gazed at his father's face. How could he explain it? ‘When I woke up, it was like the dream was still going on.' He shoved his hands into his pockets. ‘Even though I was awake.'