New Title 1 (7 page)

***

It had gone dark far too quickly for Ratty and
Izzy
. The mantle of fog around them took on an even more eerie aspect at night. Even though it was hard to see anything in daylight, at least the hazy illumination gave a sense of security; but at night, all sense of reality departed with the sun. Noises took on an unfamiliar resonance; the call of an owl was a wailing banshee, branches creaked with primordial timbre and the wind cast sibilant spells.

Izzy
had gone unusually quiet after the episode with the fox; she jumped at the slightest sound. Ratty couldn’t blame her. He felt scared himself in case they ran into the armed men. He didn’t have a clue who the men were, but they seemed to have the advantage of being able to navigate and see in the fog. Knowing they possessed this superiority made Ratty feel naked, vulnerable and helpless.

He supposed they could be hunters, shooting for sport, but hunting what?

The fogs pervasiveness only heightened
Ratty’s
misery. His clothes were soaking wet. So were
Izzy’s
. With her hair plastered to her face, she still looked beautiful to Ratty no matter how dishevelled she was. Even though she teased him, Ratty felt an unspoken attraction between them. He was now of an age where friends of the opposite sex began to lose their familiarity; became creatures of mystery.

“What’s that?”
Izzy
asked, peering through the darkness.

Ratty narrowed his eyes, straining to pierce the gloom. He could just make out a luminous shape looming out of the fog. “I’m not sure,” he whispered, too afraid to raise his voice in case the hunters were near by.

They crept closer to the luminous structure, watching it slowly acquire the shape and form of a white painted farmhouse. With the first floor towering above the fog, the walls absorbed the moonlight, giving the ground floor an eerie lustre like a spectral lighthouse. Closer to, Ratty saw the front door was hanging off its hinges, and a couple of windows were broken. The state of the property suggested no one lived there, and Ratty and
Izzy
squeezed through into the living room. Ratty shut the door behind them.

“At least it’s dry in here,” he said as he wiped his face on his sleeve and stifled a yawn.

It was too dark to make out very much but he could see the building had been gutted; even the fireplace had been ripped out. He tried a light switch, but nothing happened. With
Izzy
following silently at his side, they walked carefully through the living room, floorboards creaking into life. Every sound made his heart lurch as he panicked that it would alert someone to their presence. What if someone was hiding upstairs, waiting to pounce on them? He knew it was stupid, that there wasn’t anyone there, but he couldn’t shake the notion. The men had scared him more than he realised.

Through a door at the far end of the room they found themselves in a hallway. Light flooded down the stairs and putting his fears aside, Ratty ascended, drawn to the light like a moth to a flame.

The moon beamed down, surprisingly bright after the time they had spent in the dark. From a first floor window, he could see the fog glowing around the building like a magical sea.

“We should be all right here,” Ratty said as he turned and walked into a bedroom, the partially collapsed ceiling of which lay in a heap of plaster and wooden slats on the floor.

“All right for what?”
Izzy
asked, scowling.

“Just, you know, all right. At least we should be able to dry off.”

“And then what?”

Ratty shrugged. He didn’t know what to say. He had never seen
Izzy
looking so lost and forlorn. She was usually strong and resilient. He wanted to say something to encourage her, but words failed him and so he walked away to search the house for anything they could use.

When he came back with some tatty sheets, he noticed
Izzy
standing looking out of the window.

“What’s that?” she asked.

Ratty stood beside her and looked where she indicated, just able to make out what appeared to be lights in the distance. He also heard a faint humming sound, carried on the wind like a sibilant lullaby and he remembered the man mentioning a generator.

“It looks like a farm or something,”
Izzy
said.

It was the ‘or something’ that worried Ratty.

Too tired to worry about it now, Ratty took the Swiss army knife from his pocket. It had been a birthday present from his granddad. Looking at it reminded him he hadn’t seen his granddad in ages and he felt a sudden pang of sadness.

After cutting the worst of the mouldy patches out of the material, he laid the sheet flat, and even though she pulled a face,
Izzy
crawled beneath the mouldy bed linen, too tired to complain.

Lying next to her, Ratty could smell the coconut aroma of
Izzy’s
hair; amazed that he was so close to her, he began to think that getting lost in the fog might not be so bad after all. He debated whether to put an arm around her, but decided against it. He lay listening to her breathing and the house settle until his eyes began to close and sleep laid claim.

He didn’t know how long he slept, but it was still dark when he was abruptly woken by a noise and his eyes sprang open like shutters. Momentarily disorientated, he wondered where he was; then the memory returned.

The light of the moon was just enough to allow him to see and he surveyed the room, settling on the dark area where the ceiling had collapsed. He held his breath, straining to listen when he heard voices outside.

Thinking it might be a search party out looking for them, he started to rise.

Then he remembered the men with guns, and he decided to stay still.

He wasn’t prepared to risk the second option.
 

Whoever those men were, he instinctively knew he didn’t want to be found by them. His heart felt as though it was being pummelled by a blacksmith. Goosebumps prickled his arms.

Paralysed by fear, he stared at the door.

At his side,
Izzy
stirred but didn’t wake.

Ratty shivered.

Downstairs, the front door creaked open.

CHAPTER 5

Ratty couldn’t move. He wanted to wake
Izzy
, but he was afraid that if he woke her, she might scream and alert the men to their presence.

Unable to tell where the voices originated, or what they said, made the situation worse. Lying as still as he could, even his breathing seemed too loud and he was terrified they would hear it.

Downstairs, a floorboard creaked.

Ratty’s
heart missed a beat.

They were in the house.

But what if it really was a search party? It was only natural that their parents would be missing them and be looking for them. The thought made sense, and he had almost convinced himself that the men were here to rescue them, but he couldn’t get the vision of the fox out of his head.

One of the stairs groaned as weight was applied to it.

They were coming up.

As if confirming his worst suspicions, he heard one of the men speak. “I’m going to have a look upstairs. If I find them, get ready to grab ...”

“Hold it, Jock. Roger that control. Over. Come on, there’s a disturbance in the village. Everyone’s needed.”

The stair groaned again and Ratty lay listening as the men walked away. He let out a sigh of relief. It was a search party all right, but he didn’t feel that it would be in his best interests to be found.

When Ratty woke, sunlight had replaced the moonbeams.
Izzy
stirred at his side. She lay with her arm draped over his chest and he was loath to move in case it broke the spell, in case he was still dreaming. He closed his eyes once more, savouring the moment. He had hardly slept after the men left; had been too scared that they would return.
 

“Is that your stomach rumbling?”
Izzy
asked, bringing him out of his reverie.

Ratty opened his eyes. “Yes, sorry. I thought you were asleep.”

“I couldn’t sleep. You snore like a pig.” She took her arm back.

“Thanks.” But he knew she was lying, otherwise she would have mentioned last nights events, which he wasn’t going to talk about in case it freaked her out.

“I’m starving. How are we going to find our way home?” Throwing back the sheet, she stood up.

Ratty couldn’t think how to reply.

Daylight didn’t improve the decor of the abandoned house; in fact it showed up more of its faults. Cracks streaked across the bare plastered walls and cobwebs rounded out any sharp edges like grim coving. Bare floorboards creaked under
Izzy’s
foot, the sound less distinct in the cold light of day than it had been at night.

Ratty cast off the sheet and stood up and went to look out of the window. He stared down at the veil of fog, trying to see if anyone was hiding outside the house. Although the fog was dense, he couldn’t see anyone, and he relaxed slightly.

The sun had already risen, but he wasn’t wearing a watch so he didn’t know what time it was. He looked across to where he had seen the lights the night before, but couldn’t see anything save the omnipresent fog and a smudge of trees that looked like shadows in the mist.
Izzy
came to stand at his side.

“You look filthy,” he said.

“So do you,” she replied.

“We’d better make a move. At least the daylight will help us see a bit better.” Looking at the fog, he was unconvinced by his own words.

Izzy
reached into her pocket and took out a cigarette. She lit it and blew out a steady stream of smoke. “We’re in the shit.”

Ratty bit his lip. He wanted to say something inspiring; something to alleviate their predicament, but the words just wouldn’t come. “Yes, I think we are,” he eventually said. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

The fog lingered outside the front door like a vampire, waiting to be invited in. Stepping into it, the cold chill returned and both of them shivered. Ratty had taken stock of where they were relevant to where the lights had been shining and he thought he knew the way, but now back in the fog, all sense of direction was lost. North, south, east, west, it was all immaterial, just points on a compass he didn’t have. He didn’t even know if heading toward the lights was the best option, but it was the only one they had.

He felt
Izzy
grab his hand, and he took support from her touch. “This way, come on,” he said as he started walking.

***

Chase woke feeling bleary eyed. She had woken numerous times during the night, partly due to sleeping in a strange house, but also because she thought she had heard someone screaming and shouting. She remembered the noise dragged her out of bed to look out the window, but with it too dark to see anything, she guessed she had imagined it. Haunted by the uneasy feeling there had been a mistake with regard the competition still played on her mind and didn’t help.

 
Chase pulled back the sheet and slipped out of bed, shivering at the feel of the cold floor on her bare feet. She walked to the window and drew back the curtains, surprised to still see the fog circling the village like a wolf closing in for the kill. The orange sun sat high above like a bloodshot eye.