The Beast of Seabourne (39 page)

This time, Soph didn't wait for Oz to ask.

“Hamish McClelland was working on a thesis,” she explained in Oz's head. “Druidic and Bronze Age settlements in the Black Mountains. He spent a lot of time exploring this area in particular.”

Oz didn't need to ask how Soph knew all this stuff. If McClelland had used some of the university computers in his research, Soph would have found it.

“Yeah,” he said to Ruff, in answer to his original question. “I reckon we will.”

Ruff stared at Oz, his mouth open and on the verge of protest, but there was no chance to discuss it further, because Mr Skelton chose that moment to stick his head through the tent flap.

“All right, you two?”

“Yes sir,” Oz and Ruff answered at the same time.

“Right. Chop, chop. Let's give the girls a hand getting their stuff set up, and then we can get some soup warmed and settle down for the night.”

To be fair to Miss Arkwright and Mr Skelton, they got the campsite organised with great efficiency. Soon, everyone was sitting around the fire, hands clasped around mugs of hot soup, all layered up in fleeces and anoraks, some of the girls with just their eyes showing between wrapped scarves and snug woolly hats. Skelton kept up a constant stream of encouragement about how it could have been a lot worse if they'd broken down on the motorway. Even Miss Arkwright saw the “fun” side of it all, as she suggested they have a sing-song.

Oz listened to the noisy, excited chatter around him and said nothing. He knew that, while everyone else was gearing up to tuck themselves into sleeping bags, for Ellie, Ruff, and him the night was only just beginning.

Hastily arranged toilet facilities were put in place, though many of the girls, horrified by the thought of having to do anything in the open, preferred to suffer, until Miss Arkwright explained carefully that if they then decided they needed to go in the middle of the night, she did not want to be woken for guard duty. She fully intended to be fast asleep—thank you very much.

Soup finished, everybody retired to their two-person tents, each of which was equipped with a battery-operated storm lantern hanging from a ceiling hook on the arched tent frame. Oz looked over the campsite and saw the lanterns throwing grotesque, jostling silhouettes against the tent walls. He ducked inside and unzipped his sleeping bag. The sleet had begun again, and large wet snowflakes whispered against the tent fabric; those that settled slid down in wet rivulets. Ruff stuck his head out for one last look and said, “Think the stuff ‘ll stick?”

“Maybe if the temperature drops, it will.”

Just then, a shape appeared, and Ruff retreated to make room for Ellie's head.

“Smells lovely in here,” Ellie said.

“Ruff had curry for lunch,” Oz explained, wrinkling his nose. “I may need oxygen at some point.”

Ellie giggled.

“How's Bernice?” Oz asked.

“Calmed down a bit. But she's totally paranoid about wolves. Says she's read about them coming back into the English countryside.”

Ruff tutted and shook his head. “That's rubbish.”

“Anyway, I've just unpacked to find that Macy's borrowed my rugby shirt again without telling me.” Ellie growled. “Can I borrow one of yours to sleep in?”

“No problem,” Oz said. He rummaged, found a spare in his rucksack, and threw it to her. Ellie didn't leave immediately. Instead, she dropped her voice to a whisper. “I'm not mad, am I? I mean, we're not really in Cornwall, are we?”

“Black Mountains in Wales,” Ruff said in a throwaway fashion, as if it was an easy mistake to make.

“And to think Soph did all this.” Ellie shook her head.

“Gets even better. At some stage, we're going looking for McClelland,” Ruff said darkly.

“Really?” Ellie asked. “That is so cool.” The excitement in her voice earned her a baleful glare from Ruff

“Yeah.I'll come and get you, okay?” Oz said.

“So, what's the plan?”

“Soph will work something out,” Oz said, sounding more confident than he really felt. Truth was he had absolutely no idea how he was going to sneak out of the camp in the dark, with Arkwright and Skelton on guard duty.

But Ellie seemed satisfied enough with his answer as she nodded and ducked out. Oz watched the beam of her torch bobbing up and down as she ran across the clearing to her own tent. Skelton stood outlined next to the fire, to which he was adding wood, at the same time urging everyone else to “settle down, if you will.”

Oz looked at his watch. It was eleven PM. He zipped up the tent flap again and turned to see Ruff was already tucked up. He squeezed himself into his own sleeping bag, and as he felt the warmth begin to settle in around him, he threw Soph a mental question. “Hope you've got a plan.”

“I will monitor activity in the encampment. Once it is safe, I will wake you.”

“Okay,” Oz said, immensely relieved that he could leave that bit to Soph. At least he didn't have to set his watch alarm or depend on waking up at the right time. He trusted Soph totally. After all, against all the odds, she'd actually brought them here, and still no one except Oz, Ellie, and Ruff was any the wiser. Oz switched off the lantern, shut his eyes, and tried to let his mind go blank, but it was far from easy. He lay there, hearing the muffled noise of the gusting wind and the gentle, rustling caress of sleet hitting the tent roof. Outside, only the dancing red-and-yellow flame from the fire was visible. He shut his eyes. Behind his lids, all was dark.

He thought of McClelland; perhaps he'd lain in exactly the same spot, waiting to get out and explore the mountain so he knew it like the back of his hand. So that he'd know where to hide when someone came after him. Outside, the wind moaned again, and despite Oz's worry over what the night held in store, despite knowing that Gerber, too, was aware of what McClelland's movements had been, the soft hissing of the sleet and the wind's moaning lament lulled Oz into a fitful, dream-filled sleep.

The corridor had a brick wall on one side, but the other was glass. Through it, Oz could see his own bedroom. Rowena Hilditch was sitting on his bed, laughing uproariously. Except that this Rowena Hilditch was not the one he was used to seeing. Her hair was white with black streaks, and her eye shadow was plum-coloured, but her body had changed into that of a huge, fat bird.

Oz recoiled in horror and saw her smile nastily and wriggle her plump body. It was only then he saw there was someone else on the bed beneath her, trying desperately to squirm out from under her bloated torso. Oz glimpsed the Fanshaw twins and Pete Williams and Mrs Williams. Then another head popped out from under the feathers and Oz recognised the curly brown corkscrews instantly. Fighting and spitting, Ruff yelled, “Oz, call Soph. Get Soph to help.”

Oz reached into his pocket but felt his stomach lurch as his hand closed on emptiness. His eyes shot up to the small table next to his bed. There sat the obsidian pebble, dark and out of reach. He pummelled the glass wall, but all that did was make the Cuckoo laugh even louder. Oz yelled and shouted, but it was no good. He let his hands slide impotently down the glass, unable to look at the torment his friends were suffering anymore. Then he heard the hissing noise. He looked up. There, up on the corridor ceiling, a gargoyle with Bendle's face grinned down at him while out of its flared, pig-like nostrils jetted a stinking green gas.

Oz looked desperately back at his friends being squashed by the Cuckoo, but the gas was already reaching him, stinging his eyes and catching in his throat. He started coughing and spluttering, ducking low to avoid its manure stench, his sleeve over his mouth, knowing he had only seconds to react. He took a deep breath of air, wiped his watering eyes, dragged himself to his knees, and caught one last glimpse of his friends. He couldn't do anything except run and save himself. Yet even as he turned away, he saw Ruff open his mouth in a pleading, desperate scream…

Oz jerked awake from the nightmare, momentarily disoriented by the pitch-blackness around him. He saw a blurry glimmer outside from the dying campfire and remembered where he was. Above, a thin, silvery glow grew and dimmed again as the moon emerged from behind a cloud and then was covered once more. The brief moment of illumination was enough to show Ruff still asleep a few feet away. Oz's nose felt icy cold, and he exhaled, feeling the cool sweat from the nightmare already drying on his forehead. That was definitely one for the scrapbook, all right. Ruff's scream had sounded so real, so—

It came again, a screech of terror piercing the darkness like a javelin. But this time it was followed by a flurry of noise outside. Oz could hear the slithering of tent material, mingled with violent shuffling and animalistic grunts. Then another shriek rent the night. Oz pushed himself clumsily out of his sleeping bag and shook Ruff awake.

“Ruff! Ruff! Wake up. Something's happening,” Oz hissed.

“Nnhhh, wha—? What's wrong?” moaned Ruff groggily.

“Don't know, but…”

Oz's explanation was cut short by another caterwaul. Ruff jerked upwards while Oz fumbled for the storm lantern. Its sudden brightness in the tent was almost blinding. Holding it up, he reached for the tent flap zip and yanked it open. The material fell forward, and the rush of freezing air that flowed in made him catch his breath. The campfire embers still burned, but the pool of light from the lantern managed to extend out only a few yards. The noises were coming from directly across the small circle of their encampment.

He could hear other people stirring, and at least four other tents had lights on, but no one had yet ventured out. Across the way, the noise was still frantic, and the cries of fear and protest were continuous now. But the lantern was hopeless. Beyond the edge of its circle of light, the world was coal-black. He realized quickly that the lanterns were the reason for no one having rushed to Ellie's aid. Once switched on, they were more of a hindrance than a help. Instinctively, Oz reached for the switch and turned his lantern off. For a moment, everything went black again, but slowly, the campfire light grew stronger, and there was illumination enough for Oz to see where the noise was coming from. When he finally did, he felt his whole body jerk backwards as he recoiled from the scene.

Directly across from them, one of the tents had been flattened, and a strange chaotic dance seemed to be taking place above it. Inside the tent material, Oz could see arms and legs flailing and punching, while above them, on the outside, two figures fought, one clawing and ripping at the tent material, the other trying desperately to hinder and hold. One of the figures looked definitely human; the other, slightly smaller, did not, and there was something about the shape of its head and the way it tore with powerful arms that sent a wave of horror through Oz. He glimpsed a snout of sorts, though it looked misshapen and frankly… wrong. It was the noise that made bile suddenly rise into Oz's throat and made him gasp. What came to him across the gap were feral snorts and growls mingled with two other voices: one a terrified pleading and screaming, the other more determined and defiant.

And amongst the cacophony, a single clear “Gerrofff me!” emerged, and Oz felt his pulse gallop. He knew that voice, and the sudden recognition made him almost yell out himself.

Ellie.

A tent flap opened to his right. Another lantern emerged, and in its stark light, he recognised Miss Arkwright's anxious, pale face.

“What's going on there?” she said, squinting into the blackness. “Have you any idea what time it is?”

Clueless
, thought Oz. Whatever this was, it was not a prank. Other tent flaps were unzipping, and other bleary-eyed faces, illuminated by the lanterns and thus blinded to events, emerged.

Oz kept his lantern off and heard Ruff struggling behind him, but he kept his eyes on Ellie's tent. He half-crawled out and kicked off the rest of his sleeping bag at the same time. Mercifully, Miss Arkwright's voice distracted the attackers—because that was what Oz had decided they were.

“Who's there?” cried Miss Arkwright again.

The smaller figure above Ellie's tent jerked backwards, its head tilting, but in the dim light, Oz saw it turn. It was too dark to see clearly, the light from the fire too dim for detail, so it was more of a feeling than a certainty. But for a second, Oz thought he saw the fire's embers reflected in a pair of eyes looking directly at him. Then Miss Arkwright called out again, and the moment was gone as both figures turned and ran off into the darkness.

Silver light suddenly bathed the scene. Oz looked up to see scudding clouds reveal a three-quarter moon momentarily glimmering above. The tent lit up, and he was able to duck back in, grab his clothes, and yank on his boots while the flailing bodies inside Ellie's tent kept on flailing. Oz stood up and glanced about him. The moonlight lit up a vast landscape, with dark mounds of moorland stretching off into the distance. While they'd slept, the sleet had turned to a light dusting of snow, which sparkled and glinted like a diamond-studded blanket. Movement caught his eye. Outlined against the snow, running wildly out across a low hill, and disappearing over its summit were two dark figures.