Blood Water (3 page)

Feeling lazy, Sean slept most of the following morning.
After lunch the rain eased up a little, and by then he was
desperate to get some fresh air; he felt like a prisoner.
Mum would be home from the hospital at about three,
so he had over an hour of freedom before she got back
to insist that he should rest. He needed to get out, but
he was also curious to see how high the river had risen.
He put on his jacket, then his boots, opened the back
door and stepped outside.

It looked like the end of the world had begun. Water
streamed over the slabs in the back garden and large
muddy pools had already drowned the flowerbeds. The
sky was unbroken grey clouds. The weather reports had
been right: this was really bad.
God
, Sean thought.
If it
goes on much longer we'll all be submerged
.

Although the rain was definitely stopping, the water
was taking a long time to drain away into the already
sodden ground. Sean locked the back door, then turned
and splashed his way to the gate, stepping onto the
driveway and looking to see if there was anyone else
around. Unsurprisingly, there wasn't. He crossed the
end of the cul de sac and went down the small path that
led to the main road, hoping no cars would race through
the deep puddles by the kerb and soak him.

As he passed the hospital and the New Inn, he wondered
how much damage the rain might do, and if it
would be permanent. It wouldn't be the first time the
river had burst its banks, but it had rarely reached the
high street. If it did so now and flooded the shops and
houses of Orchard Wells, they would be in trouble.

When he reached the petrol station he was able to
see the bridge and the river, and what he saw made him
stop and stare. The river was far higher than he had
expected; it raged under the arches of the bridge and
was no more than a metre from the road. The foaming
muddy water swirled as it hit the bridge; large branches
and foliage were sucked under the torrent to emerge in
pieces on the other side. He'd seen the river high, but
never this high.

He walked on and saw a crowd of people gathered
by the bridge, marvelling at the spectacle. As he moved
among them he watched them shake their heads and
laugh or just stare at the water surging past. He looked
up into the sky and groaned as the rain resumed; how
long would it be before the water rose up over the
bridge? It had already swamped more than half of the
field on the side of the river he'd just left. On the other
side, the town side, it was nearly up to the car park of
the Bridge Hotel.

After Sean's eyes had taken in enough, he walked
on over the bridge, and instead of continuing up the
high street he turned and followed the path along the
river, towards the park. He couldn't take his eyes off the
raging water, mesmerized by the little whirlpools. Two
women with small children passed him, the children
giggling and whooping with joy at the swollen river,
their mothers markedly less impressed. Sean looked up
to see lighter patches in the sky. Perhaps the sun would
make it through after all.

As he entered the park, he kept his eye on the river.
A huge branch bobbed above the surface of the torrent
as it was hurtled downstream. He watched it until it
disappeared from view, then walked on, turning right
by the pagoda, where the river met a stream. The stream
was also swollen and muddy, the water rushing by. Then
he saw something that made him slow down and stop.
There was movement between the trees on the slope
leading down to the water. It looked like someone on
his hands and knees, crawling slowly up the muddy
bank away from the swollen stream. He seemed to be in
a bad way. He was drenched, hair and clothes dripping
as he struggled up the slope.

Sean continued to stare, slack-jawed, at the figure
several metres below him. Finally he shook himself and
started to stumble down the sodden slope towards the
figure at the bottom. He didn't quite know what he was
going to do when he reached him. It would be hard to
help anyone up the wet, slippery bank, but if he left him
and went to get help he might fall back into the stream.
Sean held onto branches and tree trunks as he made his
way down, terrified of losing his footing. When he was
a couple of metres away he stopped. The figure was no
longer moving.

The man was now lying face down on the muddy
ground. Sean swallowed and started to shake. Was he
dead?
God no, don't let him be dead!
But maybe Sean
could still save him . . . Just as he was trying to work out
what to do, he heard a low, drawn-out moan; it grew
louder and the man started to raise his head.

As he caught sight of the face, Sean's concern turned
to shock, then repulsion and fear. The man's skin looked
yellow, sagging and corpse-like. His eyes were bloodshot,
and had what looked like blue specks in them, though
it was hard to be sure from this distance. His eyes held
Sean's for several seconds; then he coughed and vomited
into the long grass. Sean backed away instinctively, his
own stomach heaving at the sight of the man emptying
his. Before turning away he noticed that the vomit was
red, like blood. This man was in a bad way, and it was
nothing to do with the flood. He was trying to stand
up, but seemed to have lost all sense of balance: he
swayed on his feet and toppled over again. Sean wanted
to go down and help him, but all that stuff the man
had brought up had put him off. He could smell it now
too – strong, pungent, with a distinct metallic tang that
could have been the blood.

The man was dying – Sean knew this instinctively. He
attempted to get up again but just slumped back to his
knees. He was clearly in great pain and struggled to speak.
The words Sean could make out seemed meaningless.
Then the man vomited again, this time violently and
for a long time. Sean couldn't understand how anyone
could hold so much in their guts.

Convulsions rocked the poor man's body. He glanced
pleadingly up at Sean, shook his head, then his eyes
rolled around and his mouth gaped open to give a
low moan and a sound like a distant hissing. Sean
could only watch in horror as something black and
slimy wriggled out of his mouth; it slid out, then fell
with a splash into the foul mess the man had just
disgorged.

He rose to his feet, staring at Sean, and said: 'The . . .
the centre . . . ' before falling backwards into the raging
water with a huge splash.

Sean was all set to rush to the water's edge to try
and help the man out – but then he noticed the black
slug-like thing move. In two minds, he glanced at the
ferocious torrent and realized that he couldn't have saved
the man anyway – even if there had been any life left in
him. He looked down again – and screamed as the black
thing started sliding, snake-like, towards him . . .

Sean panicked and turned, scrambling up the bank to
get away from the creature and back home as fast as
possible. Then he could tell Mum and Dad what had
happened and let them decide what to do. But would
they believe him after the way he'd been behaving since
the run? They'd think he'd imagined it all – and he
wouldn't blame them. But that was something to worry
about later; right now his main concern was getting
home – it seemed the waters were rising by the minute.
He managed to climb back up to the path, getting his
clothes filthy in the process, then jogged away from
the bank, past the pagoda, and back in the direction
of the bridge, his breathing laboured and his mouth
dry. He had to stop for a moment or two when a
throbbing began in his head followed by a wave of
nausea.

The pain reminded him a little of what he had suffered
just after collapsing at the end of the race. Then, it was
due to dehydration, but now it had to be something else.
Perhaps he still hadn't fully recovered from the ordeal.
He leaned over, his hands on his knees and took several
deep breaths. Images flashed before his eyes – the
course, the other runners, the iron railing flying
towards the grass, the black car, Mum and James
rushing towards him, concerned, and the oxygen
mask going over his mouth time and again until he
began to feel better. Dizziness came and went, as did
the pain, and it was several minutes before he could
think clearly again.

He stood up straight, looked at the park around him
and was suddenly overcome with a sense of dread about
what he'd seen by the edge of the stream – had any of
it actually happened? Against his better judgement he
walked briskly back and looked down the slope towards
the water. He couldn't tell from where he stood if there
were any marks in the mud – there were no signs of
vomit. But he wasn't prepared to go back down, so the
doubt would have to remain for now. But could he
really have imagined it all? It had all seemed so vivid.
The sight, the sound, the smell. Weren't a lot of dreams
convincing though?

He gave up worrying about it and made his way back
down the path. A figure carrying a large black umbrella
was approaching, head down so that Sean couldn't see his
face properly. As he drew closer, however, he recognized
his form teacher. Mr Phoenix might be wondering why
Sean was outside in the rain and not at home resting,
but it was too late to turn round or hide now.

'Sean?' Mr Phoenix asked.

'Hi, sir.'

'Shouldn't you be at home? I thought you were
recuperating after what happened on Sunday.'

Sean didn't have time to think up a decent story,
and he'd always found that honesty was the best
policy with parents and teachers, regardless of the
consequences. They always managed to find out the
truth in the end.

'I was going mad in my room so I decided to get some
fresh air before Mum got back. Wish I hadn't now.'

'I see,' Phoenix said. 'Well, you should probably head
back before she catches you. Fresh air is one thing, but
dehydration can really upset your system. You should
rest.' He started to walk on, then stopped and added:
'What do you mean you wish you hadn't? Did something
happen?'

'Well, I think I might have had a pretty vivid
hallucination just now.'

'Really?'

'Yeah. I thought I saw a man crawl out of the river
and fall back in again.'

'Are you sure it was an hallucination?'

'I think so. He looked like he had some disease or
something. He vomited this black thing, then fell back
into the river. It was mad, you know . . . It seemed real
but . . . Couldn't have been.'

'Where was this?'

'Past the pagoda, down the bank by the stream.'

'Well,' the teacher said, looking down the path behind
Sean, 'maybe I'll have a look just to be sure, but you'd
best be getting home. I won't say anything about seeing
you as long as you give me your word you'll stay indoors
until you're back at school.'

'I will, I promise.'

'Good. Right, you take care then.'

'OK.' Sean set off, but a second later the teacher
stopped him again.

'Sean!'

'Yes?'

'I forgot to warn you – the bridge is flooded now so
you'll have to find another way across. Is there anyone
who can give you a lift? Could be quite a journey.'

'The bridge is flooded already?'

'Yes. The river's still rising. I came down to take a look.
I've already phoned the school to recommend sending
everyone home early.'

'Oh, right . . . I'm sure I'll find a way to get back.'

'All right, but if you have any difficulty go up to the
school, OK?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Right.' And with that the teacher walked on.

Sean adjusted his hood to protect his face from the
rain, then hurried on along the waterlogged path.

When he reached the bridge, he was amazed to see
that the water had swamped the road. It was swelling by
the second, and was beginning to make its way up to the
high street. He quickly headed for the video rental shop,
where a crowd had formed. Cars had stopped on both
sides of the river, the drivers staring, bemused, at the
water, some unable to go either forwards or backwards.
Just then, a police car arrived; two officers got out and
started ushering everyone further up the high street.
More people were stopping to marvel at the approaching
tide. Some leaned out of windows; some interrupted
their shopping to come and see what all the commotion
was about. Somewhere a child cried out in excited
glee.

The river was now a monster, a terrifying one, and it
looked like there was no stopping it.

Although he was worried about the flood, Sean's
primary concern was getting home – it would be
difficult as the only direct route from Orchard Wells'
high street to the suburbs was now under water. There
were back roads from the other end of town that would
get him there, but it would take all day if he had to
walk. He needed a lift. Then he remembered that his
brother had said he'd be finishing college early today
and might go for a swim afterwards. If so, his car would
be at the pool.

Sean turned and headed up the high street, taking
a left at the library, then over a small bridge that was
dangerously close to the rising stream, and into the
swimming pool car park. He scanned the vehicles.
There were people chatting on their phones, no doubt
informing loved ones of the situation. Others were
getting into their cars and driving away while they still
could. He checked each parking space, his eyes sweeping
the vehicles, until he found it – a red Ford Fiesta
with one hubcap missing. His brother was still there.
He made for the entrance to the building and went
inside.

Mr Phoenix scanned the path and the bank leading
down to the water's edge for signs of disturbance; soon
enough he came upon muddy footprints and trampled
grass that he guessed had been left by Sean. He looked
down through the trees to the brown, swirling water
below, reluctant to go near it, but interested enough
in Sean's story to see if there was any truth in it. The
boy believed he'd been hallucinating after what had
happened to him on Sunday, but maybe someone really
had come to harm.

Mr Phoenix made his way slowly down the slope,
using the trees for support when he slipped, but he soon
reached the water and saw signs of a recent disturbance
in the mud. It was hard to tell if anyone besides Sean
had been there. He looked around for any sign of vomit,
but could see nothing except . . . In the grass to one
side he glimpsed something dark and slimy. He moved
closer and looked down, trying to guess what it was. It
looked like oil, only thicker, more viscous, and gave off
an awful pungent smell. He squatted down to take a
closer look but had to turn away as the smell of vomit
assailed him.

Suddenly he saw movement in the grass on the other
side of the rough path: something was making its way
towards him. He waited to see what it was – a rabbit,
he guessed – but the grass stopped moving and nothing
appeared. He walked over to the spot, crouching down
to get a better look. In the thick tangle of grass and
twigs lay something shiny and wet, long and dark – an
eel perhaps. Whatever it was, he didn't really want to
touch it, and he was about to leave it be when it shot out
from its hiding place and attached itself to his face.

He cried out, more in revulsion than fear, and fell
backwards onto the muddy ground, scrabbling madly
to remove the thing from his face. It had contracted its
body now so that it was shorter and fatter, like a slug,
and though he pulled at it with both hands, it wouldn't
come away. He yelled in panic as he felt it slide its way
down from his nose and cheeks to his mouth, the smell
making him gag. He didn't want it near his mouth,
didn't want to taste it. He turned and crawled over to
the edge of the stream, splashing water into his face in
the desperate hope that it might remove the creature,
but it was still sliding down and was now above his
top lip.

'Urgh!' he cried. He got back to his feet, tried once
again to wrench off his unknown attacker, then slipped
and fell backwards into the water. The intense cold, the
ferocious current and the incredible roaring force of
the water claimed him.

* * *

Sean knew the boy working behind the reception desk
at the swimming pool.

'Hey, Ed, is my brother still in the pool?'

'Nah, he got out about five minutes ago.'

'Ah, great, I'll wait for him.'

'Hey, Sean, is it true that the river's flooded the
bridge?'

'Yeah . . . News travels fast.'

'Dad phoned. He said I should probably let everyone
in the pool know.'

'Yeah. They'll have to go the back way up the hill.
That's why I came to find James. I can't get home
without him.'

'Oh, yeah. Why aren't you at school then?'

'Oh, long story . . .'

'Is it to do with the race?'

'Yeah. Still feeling a bit— Ah, here he is.'

James was coming towards the reception area. When
he noticed Sean, he looked confused. 'What are you
doing here? You should be at home.'

'I haven't got time to explain. The river's flooded, it's
over the bridge and into the town.'

'Bloody hell.'

'Yeah, so we have to go home the back way.'

'All right, let's go. I've got to pick up some things
from work. It won't take long though.'

As they went out into the car park, James took his car
keys from his jacket pocket and looked up into the sky,
which was still disgorging the seemingly endless rain.
'So why were you in town?'

'I had to get out for some fresh air. Thought I'd
manage an hour or two before Mum came home.'

'But it was raining.'

'I didn't care.'

'So is the flooding really that serious?'

'Yeah.'

'Why didn't you go back over the bridge before it got
so bad?' James unlocked the car and they got in.

'I was in the park and I . . . saw something really
weird,' Sean said, buckling up his seat belt.

'Weird?' James started the car and checked his mirrors
before driving towards the exit.

'Yeah. I saw this guy crawl out of the water – I don't
know how, the current must have been really strong
– but anyway, he crawled out, looking really bad, and
puked this black stuff out and then just fell back into
the water.'

'Are you serious?' James pulled out of the car park
and headed up the hill past the small woodland path
where Sean sometimes walked with his friends.

'Yeah, but I think I must have hallucinated it . . . I
mean, it doesn't make any sense, it's mad. And I've been
seeing some really strange stuff since the . . . you know.'

'Yeah, but what if you did see it? We should probably
tell the police.'

'No, it's OK, I met Mr Phoenix from school when
I was walking back to the bridge. I told him what
happened. He said he was going to check it out.'

'Weird thing to hallucinate.'

'It wouldn't be a proper hallucination if it made sense
though, would it?'

'I dunno. Shit, is this storm ever going to end?'
The windscreen wipers were on full now, but the rain
was so heavy that they were struggling to shift enough
water to allow James to see the road ahead. 'If the bridge
is already flooded and the river's coming up into the
town, what's going to happen if the weather doesn't ease
off soon?'

'I don't know,' Sean replied. 'But even if the rain
did stop now, the shops and houses would still be
flooded.'

They both shook their heads in bemusement.

'Maybe it's global warming,' James said. 'Or maybe
it's just a freak storm.' He kept moving his head from
side to side in order to see through the splashing of the
wipers. 'This guy you saw . . . did he say anything?'

'Er, yeah . . . I think he said "The centre", or something.
I don't know what he meant though.'

'The study centre maybe?'

It was only then that Sean made the connection
between what the man had said and the Lake Byrne
Study Centre, where his brother worked part time. It
must have been the muddled state his brain had been in
since the run.

'I could check everything's all right there when I go in
to get my stuff,' James said. 'You never know, they might
be missing someone. It might be the guy you saw.'

'I really doubt it.'

'Why?'

'This guy looked like he should have died days ago.
He was like a zombie or something. His skin was all
yellow and his eyes were red. He had sores all over his
skin . . . and no one should puke black stuff like that.'

'Jeez, I hope it really was an hallucination.'

'Yeah. This thing came out of his mouth too. It was
like a massive slug or a snake or something. Really gross.
Made me turn and run.'

'I'll bet. Well, maybe we'll find out whether what you
saw was real when we get to the centre.'

Sean didn't like the idea. He didn't want to find it
was real. He wanted to believe he'd imagined the whole
terrible thing.