Hurricane Gold (7 page)

Read Hurricane Gold Online

Authors: Charlie Higson

BOOK: Hurricane Gold
5.88Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

‘It’s like an underground room,’ said the boy. ‘It’s not used any more. Dad bricked it up, said it was dangerous. But we found a way in last summer.’

‘How do we get there from here?’ said James. ‘Do we have to go outside?’

‘Yes.’ JJ nodded his head sadly.

‘We can’t go out there,’ said Precious.

‘We have to,’ said James. ‘Even if it wasn’t for the gangsters it’ll be a lot safer than staying in the house. The storm is tearing the place apart.’

‘I am
not
going out there,’ said Precious tetchily, back to her old self.

‘We don’t have any choice,’ said James. ‘Any minute now they’re going to come looking for Manny.’ He turned to JJ. ‘Once we’re outside, how far is it to the ice house?’

‘Not far. You could get there in less than a minute.’

‘You feeling brave?’

‘Yes,’ he said quietly, though James could tell that he was lying.

James looked at Precious. ‘And you?’

‘It’s not bravery,’ she said. ‘It’s stupidity.’

‘Sometimes,’ said James, pulling her out on to the landing, ‘there’s very little difference.’

The three of them struggled along to the stairs, which had been turned into a waterfall. The rain was coming in and pouring down them, creating a shallow lake in the hallway.

‘We can’t risk going to the front door,’ said James. ‘If anyone came out of the study we’d be done for.’

‘Then what?’ said Precious.

‘We’ll climb down the tree,’ said James.

Before she could stop him, James went over to where the top of the tree jutted in through the broken window. It was pitch dark outside now so he couldn’t see how bad the storm was, but the noise of it was worse than ever.

Don’t stop to think. Don’t talk about it. Just do it.

‘Be careful,’ he said pushing his way past the fronds. ‘They’ve got sharp spines, and –’ The rest of his sentence was plucked away by the wind.

James could not have prepared himself for just how awful it was outside. The trunk of the tree, which was resting at a 45-degree angle, was sharp and slippery at the same time and the wind thrashed him, like a team of men with broom handles. He clung on with all his strength and slid slowly down.

A lightning strike hit a chimney, which crumbled, spilling bricks down the side of the house. In the brief instant of brightness James saw JJ scrambling to get a hold on the trunk above him.

James shouted some words of support but they were lost. He had to concentrate on not falling off himself as he inched his way downward and the next time he looked up there was no sign of JJ, but Precious was out of the window.

James dropped the last few feet and found JJ huddled behind a low wall. He had evidently fallen off but the ground was so soft and sodden from the rain that he didn’t seem to be injured.

At last Precious joined them, fighting for breath, her pretty dress ruined. The three of them had to cling on to each other so as not to be blown away. The air was loaded with flying rubbish and something gave James a nasty, stinging slap in the face.

He put his mouth right next to JJ’s ear and shouted as loudly as he could.

‘Which way?’

JJ pointed. They were going to have to move across an open stretch of lawn.

This was suicidal madness. James knew it. He closed his eyes. The noise was terrible. The rain forced its way into his nose, his mouth, his ears. He felt like he was drowning.

He held on to one of JJ’s hands and Precious took the other.

‘Lets go,’ said James, and they stood up.

7

You Have to Laugh

 

Half-crouching, half-crawling, leaning into the wind, they fought the storm inch by inch across the lawn. James and Precious had hold of JJ and they dragged him between them, the rain drilling into their faces, blinding them.

James thought that if they could only just ignore the wind and rain and keep putting one foot in front of the other, keep moving slowly forward, they would eventually make it to safety. They had gone no distance at all, however, before they were blown off their feet and sent spinning and tumbling over the lawn like fallen leaves. They ended up tangled in a hedge that was somehow standing up to all that the elements could throw at it. They wriggled through to the other side and saw that if they slithered on their bellies and kept their heads down they could use the hedge as a windbreak. The bottom of the hedge was in a small dip where the rain was collecting. The ground had been churned into mud and the three of them splashed along on their elbows and knees.

But the hedge soon ran out and when they reached the end James tried to see where they were. The rain was pouring down his face. There was so much of it, it was like being underwater. His body was bruised all over. JJ managed to crawl up next to him. The little boy was coming off worst of the three of them. He looked like he’d been put through a mangle.

‘Where do we go?’ yelled James and JJ tried to get his bearings.

A lightning strike lit the garden bright as daylight for an instant.

‘There!’ JJ screamed, pointing across the lawn. ‘That dark patch. There are bushes.’

The mound of shrubbery was less than 30 feet away, but it might as well have been 300. With no cover they would be exposed all the way. James looked to see if there was any other available shelter and spotted a white-painted gazebo that had until recently been covered in rambling roses. All that was left were a few tattered stems. The framework was set into a semicircular stone wall that looked just tall enough to offer some protection.

The gazebo wasn’t directly on the way; it would mean zigzagging. They would first have to cut diagonally across to the left, into the wind all the way, and then come back to the right. But it was a better bet than striking straight out across the lawn.

James gestured to the others.

‘Wait for a lull in the storm,’ he shouted. ‘Then we’ll make a run for it.’

The wind was mainly blowing one way, but it kept swirling and switching direction. In these brief lulls, when it was making its mind up which way to go, there were moments of calm, lasting a few seconds at the most.

James waited, listening for a dip in the deafening roar, feeling the hedge as it strained and flapped next to him.

There.

The noise dropped. The hedge fell still.

‘Go!’ he shouted, jumping to his feet and grabbing JJ’s arm.

He ran for it, hoping that Precious was with them.

Halfway there the wind came back with renewed fury and, to his horror, James saw the gazebo tear loose from its foundations. The whole structure came rolling and bouncing towards them. James threw himself to the ground, hurling JJ into the mud, and the gazebo flew over their heads.

He looked round. Precious was by his side.

‘That was close,’ he yelled and she nodded. ‘Think you can try again?’ Once more she nodded.

They struggled to their feet, both holding tight on to JJ, but he lost his footing and was plucked up into the air like a kite.

‘Don’t let go,’ James shouted and they managed to pull the poor bedraggled boy back down to earth.

‘We’ll have to crawl!’

And crawl they did.

It took them ten minutes. Ten long, hard, painful minutes – rain and mud slicing into their faces, bits of tree, stones, broken wood and roof tiles whizzing past and occasionally crashing into them. At last they reached what was left of the gazebo and huddled below its broken wall.

The next leg would be easier. This time they would have the wind behind them, but they would still have to be careful not to get blown over or pushed too far along.

James couldn’t look at the other two. He didn’t want to see the hopelessness and fear in their eyes. Instead he just took hold of JJ’s hand again. It felt tiny and cold and fragile.

‘Let’s move,’ he said and set off, letting the wind carry them along. It was almost like sailing a boat, or crossing a river with the current. They were nearly flying; they bounded across the lawn with giant strides and hurtled into the shrubbery. Precious crashing in next to them in a mad rush.

They had made it this far.

James went after JJ as he scrabbled across the earth beneath the bushes to a small brick construction like a chimney top. There was a hinged wooden board covering the opening. James pulled it open and JJ wriggled inside. James made sure Precious got in safely then followed her down, pulling the board shut over his head. There were metal rungs set into the wall and James groped his way down until he felt a solid floor beneath his feet.

It was dark down here and quiet and unexpectedly dry.

After a few seconds there was the scraping of a match and then an oil lamp’s glow illuminated the room.

They were about 20 feet below ground in a round, windowless chamber with a domed ceiling. The walls were built of tightly packed stone blocks.

‘What is this place?’ said James.

‘Before electricity they used to store ice down here,’ said JJ proudly. ‘It’d stay cold all year.’

‘Where did they get the ice from?’ said James.

‘They’d bring it down from the mountains,’ said JJ, ‘cut from frozen lakes and ponds.’

James smiled at JJ. ‘Well done,’ he said. ‘They’ll never find us down here and we can sit out the storm in safety.’

‘We built a den,’ said JJ and he showed James a pile of old mattresses, blankets and cushions.

‘Perfect,’ said James and JJ gave a great, happy grin.

‘We could have been killed,’ said Precious.

‘Yes,’ said James, ‘but we weren’t. Isn’t that a good feeling? The gods are smiling on us today.’

‘Smiling on us?’ Precious gave a bitter snort of laughter. ‘Well, I would hate to see what happens when they’re angry.’

‘We’ve been lucky,’ said James. ‘Isn’t that enough?’

Precious shook her head. ‘This is terrible,’ she wailed. ‘Just terrible. Look at my dress, it’s ruined. I just got it a week ago. It’s by Jean Patou of Paris.’

James couldn’t help laughing. The dress looked like a bundle of wet rags.

‘Maybe you should have worn a swimsuit,’ he said. JJ laughed.

Precious gave them both a filthy look. ‘Why did nobody try to help us?’ she said. ‘The servants? Why didn’t they help?’

‘What could they do?’ said James. ‘Those gangsters had guns. Maybe they
did
try to help. You don’t know. What was in your father’s safe anyway?’

‘All his money,’ said Precious. ‘Everything. He doesn’t trust Mexican banks.’

James laughed again, but he stopped abruptly when Precious slapped him hard on the face. ‘How dare you laugh at us,’ she said and the next moment she burst into tears. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘But I’m so scared. I don’t know what’s happening.’

‘Don’t worry about it,’ said James. ‘I’m scared too.’

He wiped his face and his hand came away bloody, but it wasn’t his own blood. He realised that Precious’s hand was bleeding.

‘Are you all right?’ he asked, nodding towards the wound. She hadn’t even noticed the cut before, but now that she did she let out a sob and went very white. James looked at himself and saw that he was also covered in small nicks and cuts, probably from climbing down the palm. He had scratches all down his front and he felt truly battered.

‘I think I’m hurt too,’ said JJ in a small, quiet voice. Sure enough, there was a nasty gash in the little boy’s thigh.

‘Have you got anything in here we can clean that with?’ James asked.

‘Like what?’ said Precious.

‘I don’t know,’ said James. ‘Antiseptic, alcohol, clean water…’

‘There’s nothing,’ said JJ, sadly shaking his head.

‘Never mind,’ said James. ‘The rain should be clean enough. Once the storm passes we’ll sort you out, but we should bandage it at least. We don’t want to get any dirt in the cut. Precious, tear a strip off your dress.’

‘I will do no such thing,’ she protested.

‘You said yourself it was ruined,’ said James. ‘He’s your brother, help him.’

‘Turn away.’

‘Oh don’t be so silly,’ said James and he stepped forward, snatched up the hem of her dress and tore off a long strip where it was already frayed.

Precious said nothing, but James felt that if he hadn’t been attending to her brother she might have hit him again.

He soon had JJ bandaged and Precious tore off another strip to put round her own hand.

JJ sat quietly on a pile of cushions with his back to the wall, looking very young and very small. He was obviously terrified and the shock was just starting to show. James felt sorry for him, and knew how lonely he must be right now. He put a blanket around him and the boy looked pathetically grateful.

It was cold in here, but the lamp gave off a feeble heat and the three of them huddled round it, lost in their own thoughts. Outside, muffled by several feet of earth, the storm was a distant rumble and clatter.

James eventually fell into a fitful, feverish sleep. When he awoke some time later he was coughing and his whole body ached. He got up and stamped about the place to try to force some life into his muscles. It was only after a while that he noticed that he couldn’t hear anything.

There was a tiny glimmer of light coming down the ventilation shaft. He hobbled over, his stiff joints creaking.

He looked up. Sunlight.

He climbed the rungs and gingerly pushed the door open.

Bright sunlight.

Warm sunlight.

He crawled out.

The storm had passed. He had never been more pleased to see a clear blue sky. He fought his way through the wreckage of the shrubbery and stumbled out on to the lawn.

He turned his face up to the sun and let its energy fill him as he breathed in fresh, clean air.

It was good to be alive.

He went back to the shaft and called down to the others. Soon they emerged, blinking, into the daylight, and Precious even managed a smile.

Her smile soon died, however, when she saw what the storm had done. There was hardly a tree left standing, the garden looked like a battlefield and the house was badly damaged.

Inside it was worse; water and debris had got in everywhere and there was a fetid, damp smell.

Apart from three frogs and a lizard in the hallway, there were no signs of life. The staff seemed to have all left, as had the five intruders, leaving a large ragged hole in the study wall where the safe had been.

Precious sat down on the stairs and wept.

‘What are we going to do?’ she said.

‘We’re not going to sit around here feeling sorry for ourselves,’ said James. ‘That’s for sure. We’re going to go down into the town. Somebody there will be able to help us.’

‘Will Dad come for us?’ said JJ.

‘If he can,’ said James. ‘If he can find somewhere to land. If he didn’t get caught up in the storm.’

‘If, if, if…’ said Precious. ‘You don’t know anything.’

James sighed but said nothing. Instead he turned on his heel and went back outside into the sunlight.

Presently the other two joined him. Precious looked sullen and grumpy, JJ looked anxious.

‘What’s that on the lawn?’ he said.

James looked where he was pointing.

‘Maybe all the servants didn’t leave after all,’ he said.

‘What do you mean?’ said Precious.

‘I think that’s Alonzo,’ said James.

They walked over.

Sure enough, it was the elderly servant. He was lying on the lawn, half-hidden by a mess of leaves and branches.

He had either died from the blow to the head or he had drowned. James didn’t have the stomach to try to find out how. Mercifully the old man’s face was hidden from them.

JJ stared with fascinated horror at the body. He had never seen a dead person before.

It wasn’t the only body they saw that morning.

On their way down into town they passed several collapsed buildings where weeping families were digging in the rubble. It was like the aftermath of a war. Everything was flattened and smashed. People were wandering around in a daze, not knowing what to do. Here and there were awful reminders of what might have been; flags and bunting from the carnival, wrecked floats.

The town centre was worse; most of it was under about a foot of water. The drains had not been able to cope and the sea had surged inland bringing wrecked boats with it. It was as if someone had simply picked up the town and shaken it.

To make matters worse, fires had broken out. The locals were working together to try to deal with them, but there seemed to be no one in charge.

Other books

Braced to Bite by Serena Robar
The Silent Tempest (Book 2) by Michael G. Manning
Land of Marvels by Unsworth, Barry
June by Lori Copeland
The Well by Elizabeth Jolley
Hearts Under Fire by Kelly Wyre and HJ Raine
Larger Than Lyfe by Cynthia Diane Thornton
Born to Be Wild by Berg, Patti