The Fury (39 page)

For as far as he could see, the world was an ocean of ruin; a landscape of rubble and plundered earth, rent and broken all the way to the distant factory. Even that hadn’t escaped unscathed, pillars of smoke rising in front of the glowering sun like prison bars. Dust was still falling, a rain of dirt and blood and bone which pattered onto the vast grave that had once been Hemmingway.

Every part of Cal was in pain. He thought his nose might be broken, and there were welts over his face and neck where the ferals had torn at him. One of his fingers was bent at an odd angle, too sore to touch. He cradled it against his chest. He should be grateful, because he was alive. But he wasn’t. The cost of his survival was too great. It wasn’t just the town that was gone. Everything he knew had been irrevocably changed.

It took him a moment to find the courage to look round. The first thing he saw was Schiller. The boy sat on the path, his legs curled up to his chest, no trace of the flames or the wings or those star-burned eyes. He was shivering, and his sister crouched beside him, her arms locked around his shoulders. Jade and Marcus stood close by, holding each other.

Brick was on the other side of the path, next to Adam. He was holding something, and when Cal realised it was Daisy he pushed himself up, stumbling over to them. The girl was deathly pale, an ugly, gaping wound in her shoulder. But she was alive. Her soft, shallow breathing filled him with such an overwhelming sense of relief that he didn’t notice the ice until he touched her.

She was freezing.

He pulled his hand away like he’d had an electric shock. Her skin was pearled with frost, and the chill that emanated from her was like a winter breeze.

‘Daisy?’ he whispered, stroking her cheek. ‘Daisy? Can you hear me?’

‘She isn’t answering,’ said Brick, his teeth chattering. The tears had frozen in the corners of his eyes and on his cheeks, hanging there like glass beads. ‘It’s just like Schiller.’

‘She’s changing,’ said Rilke matter-of-factly.

‘She didn’t want this,’ said Cal. ‘Make it stop.’

Rilke shook her head.

‘None of us can make it stop. Didn’t you
see
him? Don’t you understand what we’re capable of?’ She laughed, a chuckle of amazement. ‘It was wonderful. Schiller saved you, Cal, he saved all of us.’

He had. There was no doubt about it. Without him, they would all have been trampled into the dirt. Rilke’s twisted logic battered against his mind. Was she right? Was this really why they were here? To uproot all of humankind, to purge their species from the face of the earth. He looked out across the wasteland that Schiller had created. Only it wasn’t a wasteland. It looked more like a field which had been ploughed and furrowed, which was ready for something new. And the peace that hung over it, free of shouts and screams and sirens. It was truly perfect.

And yet still that nagging doubt, the feeling that Rilke was wrong, that she was making an awful mistake.

‘Daisy will be okay,’ said Rilke. She got to her feet, hooking an arm under her brother and hoisting him up. Schiller smiled at her, just a boy again. But that power was still there, his to call on. Cal knew this the same way he knew that he too would someday go cold, and that something terrible would break through his soul. ‘We’ll all be okay. You’ll see, Cal. It might take a day, it might take a week, but you’ll see.’

‘It doesn’t hurt,’ said Schiller, his voice weak and quiet, almost exactly the same pitch as his sister’s. After seeing him burning through the sky, ravaging the earth, Cal could make no sense of the young boy before him. ‘It’s like . . . like there’s something in your body, but it doesn’t control you, it doesn’t force you to do anything. It just makes you strong, it keeps you safe. Don’t fight it, it’s . . . it’s . . .’

He obviously couldn’t find the word, but his rapturous expression said everything.

‘But it told you why we are here, didn’t it,’ said Rilke. ‘To wage war with humanity.’

Schiller’s eyes fell, scouring the ground for a truth he couldn’t quite find. Rilke’s grip on him tightened, so hard that Cal saw the boy wince.

‘Tell them, little brother.’

‘Yes, that’s why we’re here,’ he said, trying to break away. But for all his new-found power he couldn’t find the strength to free himself from her. His eyes met Cal’s and there was fear in them, fear and a heartbreaking sadness. ‘That’s why we’re here.’

Rilke started walking, her brother taking small, cautious steps like someone using his legs for the first time. Marcus ran to the boy’s other side, looping Schiller’s arm around his shoulder and taking his weight. Jade finished the procession, brushing her hair from her eyes and glancing nervously at Cal.

‘You don’t have a choice,’ said Rilke as she walked patiently by her stumbling brother’s side. ‘No matter where you go, no matter what you do, the same thing will happen. People will try to hurt you, and you will fight back. They won’t leave you alone. They can’t. It’s in their nature. And that rotten, violent, corrupt nature is why we’re here. We got it wrong; it isn’t their Fury that will change the world, it’s ours.’

She looked down at Brick, the warm, gentle smile never leaving her face.

‘Just think about it. Try to imagine what this world will be like when our job is done.’

Cal
could
imagine it, nothing but sunshine and peace.

No no no no no
, the protest railed, a drumbeat in his skull.

‘Look after her,’ Rilke said, stepping onto the ocean of dirt, her feet kicking up clouds of black ash which had once been buildings and cars and people. ‘It will be easier for you when she wakes.’

‘Where are you going?’ Cal asked.

‘Nowhere, and everywhere,’ was her answer. ‘When you’re ready, you’ll know how to find us.’

Cal watched her walk into the reddening sky with her flock – Schiller, Jade and Marcus – the dust of the world raining down at their feet.

‘We need to go too,’ said Brick. ‘This place will be swarming soon. We should find somewhere safe.’

Safe
. Rilke was right. There was nowhere safe any more. They would be hunted wherever they went. Cal looked down at Daisy, radiating coldness, her eyes iced over, her small face expressionless. He wondered where she was, and what she could see there. He wondered if she knew what she would become when she woke.

‘Yeah,’ he said, getting up. ‘You’re right. Let’s go. My mum’s car’s still down the beach, by the toilets. We can use that. You want me to carry her?’

‘I’m okay,’ Brick said, struggling to his feet with Daisy in his arms. He shuddered with the cold, his words billowing from blue lips. ‘You take him.’

‘Come on, little guy,’ said Cal, scooping up Adam, wincing as pain lanced down his broken finger. The boy didn’t react, staring at something only he could see. ‘Don’t worry, it’s gonna be okay.’

‘No it’s not,’ said Brick. ‘Whole planet’s going to hell.’

‘Thanks. Way to make him feel better.’

‘Up yours,’ Brick said, but there was a glimmer of a smile in his eyes. It spread to Cal, and even though it had no place here it felt good.

‘You really are an asshole,’ he said through a grin as they staggered across the park. Brick looked around, sighing. Then he turned back to Cal.

‘I know.’

She had always thought that death would be peaceful, a place of infinite calm and quiet.

But Daisy stood inside a kingdom of fire and ice, of relentless movement and noise. She was at the junction of a billion different lives, the joining place of worlds. From here, she could see everything.

She had been shot, she knew that much at least. They had been inside the park, Fursville, running from the police. Then she’d felt like she had been struck by a sledgehammer. She couldn’t remember hitting the floor. It had been more like she’d fallen
through
it, through the skin of the real world and into what lay beyond. She’d been like Alice tumbling down the rabbit hole, only what she was looking at now was no Wonderland.

And there was no sign of her mum and dad. She’d hoped at the very least they’d be here waiting for her.

It’s because you’re not dead
, something said. Was that her own voice? She couldn’t be sure, everything was too chaotic.

‘Who’s there?’ she called out. ‘Where am I?’

No answer. She focused on the wheeling shapes around her, all inside ice cubes just like the ones in her head. They made no sense, countless flickering images and muddled sounds in each one.

‘Daisy, can you hear me?’

The voice seemed to cut through the rest, and with it one of the ice cubes grew larger, groaning and cracking like an iceberg as it filled her vision. It was Brick, his copper hair glowing in the sun, his clothes ripped to tatters and covered in blood. It seemed like his chest was on fire, an orb of blue flame which sat where his heart should be. He was holding something in his arms, a tiny shape whose head lolled, whose eyes were open and unseeing.
It was
her
, she realised. But she wasn’t scared, because she too had a smokeless inferno inside her chest – one that burned even brighter.

It’s them. That’s where they live
.

And with that thought the ice cube melted. Another rose in its place, and through it she saw more people she knew. Rilke was helping her brother, Schiller, walk across an endless field of dust and dirt. Marcus and Jade staggered alongside them, their shadows long in the setting sun. They all had flames in their chests too, except Schiller, whose whole body was alight. He seemed to have another shape laid over his own, a figure with blazing eyes and huge, Sphinx-like wings which left glowing trails where they dragged in the ground. Looking at it made Daisy feel scared and excited at the same time.

That’s what they look like when they’ve . . .
She paused until the word
hatched
popped into her head.
Yes, when they’ve hatched
.
They can’t survive in our world, so they have to live inside us
.

The image changed again. Did that mean she was right? Was this a test, maybe? She swept towards Rilke, into the girl’s head, the world unravelling and reforming. This time she saw people, hundreds of them, maybe thousands. Schiller stood amongst them, his face emotionless as he spread his hands and turned those men and women and children to dust. She could just about see Rilke there too, grinning insanely, before the scene was lost in a billowing cloud of ash.

So this is why we’re here?
Daisy said, her heart dropping to her toes.
But I don’t want to hurt anyone. People do sometimes do bad things, and some of them aren’t very nice, but most are kind and funny and peaceful. They don’t deserve to die
.

The same scene again, Schiller slaughtering countless more innocents. Daisy seemed to understand what she was being shown.

That’s what Rilke sees
, she said.
But she’s wrong, isn’t she. We’re not here to kill people, we’re here to save them.

The shadows of the last scene melted away, the ice cubes clinking. Even though she had no body in this place, no face, she still felt like she was grinning.

I knew it!
she told the angel inside her.
I knew you weren’t bad!

Her happiness didn’t last, though. Another image swelled, this one even worse than the last. Daisy knew what she was going to see there, but she could not close her eyes. She felt herself pulled into the scene, battered by a wind that stank of flesh and smoke. The man in the storm hung inside a nest of fractured darkness, his mouth a churning, grinding whirlwind. That same horrid, deafening sound – the endless inward breath – made her skin crawl.

Daisy screamed without sound, struggling to escape. But there was nowhere to go. She could do nothing but watch as the man in the storm opened his arms and more of the world shattered like glass, falling into a bottomless, lightless abyss. It was impossible not to notice how similar he was to Schiller. But this thing was utter evil, the opposite of life. The man in the storm turned his dead, scribble-black eyes towards her and somewhere in that awful sound was a sickening, gleeful laugh. He tilted his corpse hands and even from this distance, even though she was only seeing it inside her head, she could feel the light draining out of her, the happiness and the love. It was leaving her utterly empty.

He’s why we’re here
, Daisy spat, squirming, praying that it was the right answer and that the scene would fade away like the others.
He’s a bad man, and he’s doing something terrible, and we have to stop him
.

Cracks began to appear in the view, a golden glow spilling through them until the man in the storm disappeared in the haze. Daisy walked into the heat, like she was stepping onto a beach in the middle of summer. There was nothing here but light.

Who are you?
she asked.
Are you angels?

No answer. The view didn’t change. Did that mean she was right or wrong? Or maybe she was a little of both. Maybe they weren’t angels, but something else – something that people had caught glimpses of over the centuries and which had been given that name. There were all sorts of things that people didn’t know about yet. Who’s to say that creatures like this couldn’t exist?

Daisy realised that there was a face in the light, so faint that it almost wasn’t there at all. It was devoid of all emotion and feeling, its eyes burning sockets. It seemed to constantly peel apart and repair itself, as though it couldn’t hold its shape for longer than a few seconds. Those blazing eyes looked at Daisy, so much power there that she could hear it in the air like an endless roll of thunder.

This is my angel
, she understood, her terror and her awe like a white heat inside her.

Then, just like that, the light fell apart, the face dissolving into the fading glow. Daisy felt herself pulled away, so fast she left her stomach behind. She landed somewhere dark and cold, but she could feel that creature in every cell of her body, its fire spreading.

Voices, ones she recognised, echoing in the shadows.

‘Which way?’

‘Any way, just get us out of here.’

She would wake up soon enough, and when she did she would be something different, something more. But Cal and Brick and Adam would still be there. They’d look after her. She’d look after them, too. That was her job now, at least until their angels hatched.

And when that happened, they’d all be ready.

Ready to fight the man in the storm.