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12 year old Nathan Franklin discovers a mysterious bottle that may solve all his problems. |
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Djinn by Max Kedder© Copyright © 2012 by Max Kedder All rights reserved. This book/short story or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. The Beginning: And so it came to pass, King Solomon, the greatest king of antiquity, discovered that the nine precious jewels of light, the Alihatan An-Nur had been stolen from the royal treasury. Solomon had first seen the Alihatan An-Nur when they were held in a rainbow and had become bewitched with their beauty. He had called forward the eight kings of the Djinn and bade them bring him these jewels of light as a gift for his wife, Kemanutthe, daughter of the Pharaoh. Only seven kings bowed before their master as the eighth had abstained and they duly sent their angels to pluck the jewels from the rainbow. A shadow fell across the world as the jewels of light were taken but Solomon did not care as he was under the spell of the Kemanutthe. When Solomon discovered the theft from his treasury he again called upon the eight kings of the Djinn, the masters of all angels, and commanded them to find the culprit. Only seven Djinn sent their angels to cast about Solomon’s kingdom but were unable to find the thief. Shortly after, Solomon was visited by Puabi, the Queen of Ur, one of the biggest and richest kingdoms to the north east. She had heard of his misfortune and gifted Solomon a gold ring upon which was set a large diamond. The queen told him that the ring had the power to control all the angels and demons of the earth. At once, forsaking his own god, Solomon prayed and called upon the ring to summon Asmodeus, the king of demons. Asmodeus appeared and Solomon commanded him to find the being responsible for stealing his jewels. Asmodeus clapped his clawed hands together and a Djinn appeared in a pillar of flame. “Your name?” commanded Solomon. “Al Kassim, my lord.” The Djinn did not appear to be frightened. “Why are you stealing the Alihatan An-Nur from my treasury?” “The jewels contain the light of the world, my lord and should be returned to the sky where they came from. As you have stolen them so have I. No mortal, whether king or slave should possess them.” King Solomon became angry with Al Kassim and imprisoned him in a vessel made from the sands of the desert, bound with gold and sealed it with his blood to be held captive for 100,000 years. He had Asmodeus place a curse upon the Djinn that he could not be released unless freed by a mortal whose life had no meaning. Upon his release he must offer his liberator three wishes before he would be free of all debt and burden to his gods. Asmodeus was fearful of Solomon and despised all mortals but did as Solomon bade him and cast a spell upon Al Kassim, but secretly added another spell that would ensure the end of all mankind. Solomon had Asmodeus cast the vessel into the depths of the sea where it would remain hidden forever and forgotten by time. Chapter 1 Nathan Franklin was just an ordinary boy, twelve years old ordinary, the sort of boy you might not even give a second glance to, the quiet and unassuming sort. Nathan hated drawing attention to himself because that inevitably led to trouble and no matter what he did, trouble always found him. He sometimes felt like he had a giant arrow sign hanging over him, blinking in red neon shouting “HERE HE IS!” As twelve year old boys went, Nathan was short; short enough that he was called names like midget, short-arse, titch and shrimp – and that was on good days. He had a haircut that was a disaster ― a high sided pudding-basin cut that went all the way around. It wasn’t fashionable or indeed, had ever been in fashion, but fashion was the last thing on his mother’s mind as she cut it for him at home. When Mrs Franklin made a mistake and got the ‘wobbles’ from the gin, she would try to even it up and his hair became progressively shorter so in the end she would resort to using the small mixing bowl from the cupboard next to the sink, plonking it on top of his head and cutting off whatever hair stuck out. Unfortunately the bowl had slipped to one side and his hair line was an inch higher above one ear than the other. Nathan’s mother would ‘tut’ as she cut and would finally stand back and squint critically at her handiwork, tongue stuck out in concentration and then sigh “That will have to do,” But she had saved herself £10 from the barbers which could be used on more important things ― like gin. Regrettably for Nathan it was a haircut guaranteed to bring him attention. What was left of Nathan’s hair was brown; his eyes were brown and he was thin and very pale. To make matters worse Nathan had a squeaky voice that hadn’t broken yet, a voice that would betray him at the worst moments, like having to speak up in front of the class or when girls spoke to him. He wore glasses. Not up-to-the-minute designer ones you understand, but big, thick black plastic ones, like Buddy Holly. He had been called ‘speccy four-eyes’ for so long it no longer bothered him. He was just as likely to answer to ‘speccy four-eyes’ as to ‘Oi, loser!’ Nathan was shy and quiet and he bothered no one and he was just as happy not to be bothered. Unfortunately Nathan was a target. A perfect target… and the bullies knew it. Out of all the kids at Gardeners Secondary School Nathan was the easiest to pick on and Nathan Franklin had a nickname at school. The other kids called him Frankie, which was not short for Franklin, but short for Frankenstein. The bullies didn’t know that Frankenstein was the doctor who created the monster and not the monster itself, but Nathan was pretty sure that if he pointed this out he would regret it. It was the small details like this that irritated Nathan, not irritated but made him angry, really angry, when the others tried to be mean but made stupid mistakes and then they looked stupid but they didn’t know it and he couldn’t point it out for fear of a beating. The cretins. But it was an impotent rage, a rage that could go nowhere but inwards. Nathan lived in a semi-detached, two-bedroom council house whose once cream coloured frontage was dirty and where the plaster render was peeling. The front drive was covered in weeds and the small garden that looked on to the street was littered with rubbish. The gate was off on one rusty hinge and it squealed horribly. The Franklin’s neighbours on the right were a large family (it was a mystery how they all slept in two rooms) that constantly screamed abuse at each other. They threw things at each other and would often let their two Staffordshire bull terriers do their business in the Franklin’s front garden and delighted in shouting out obscenities at Nathan. Nathan hated raised voices and would hunch his shoulders around his ears protectively and ignore everyone. He was morbidly fascinated by the news on television and would watch in horror the droughts, floods and natural disasters that happened every day. He secretly felt that this was Mother Nature’s way of saying that enough was enough, humans were a pestilence. What Nathan could not fathom was the wars going on around the globe and the children and innocents who died. Though he didn’t know the name of it, he pondered deeply the mystery of man’s inhumanity against man and started to despair. Despite his ordinariness, and despite his miserable existence, Nathan lived in an astonishing world populated by dragons, ogres, two-headed Martians, spaceships, lasers and dinosaurs. His escape from life was his head. His head was the cinema screen of his soul where he was Captain Dirk Cromwell, where he day-dreamed of being a hero in never ending battles on far-off planets, battles of a galactic magnitude where he always won, where he was always the hero. Always. During the last couple of years Nathan had started to look at other kids around him and after comparing himself he was vaguely aware that he was odd, that he didn’t fit in. He felt he should make an effort to be more like them but trying to ‘fit in’ seemed to take a back seat to the pressing urgency of the next adventure in his head, something far more important than anything else going on around him. Nathan’s school work was just below average. He was the student where the phrase ‘could do better’ was invented for. Even the teachers at Gardeners Secondary School couldn’t help themselves but to pick on Nathan as an example of everything a student shouldn’t be. Nathan was scruffy. Not intentionally so, but it was difficult to take the time to dress yourself when some of the most epic battles in the Diredoom Dominion demanded your full attention, or if your parents had forgotten to wash your clothes or, they hadn’t bought you any socks for months and the ones you had were full of giant holes, or, for example, when the Arganotrox Army needed a leader and Nathan was it… and as for wearing odd socks, Nathan wore odd socks because he simply wasn’t interested in socks. Odd socks worn by average children nowadays is trendy, it shows them to be edgy and different, it makes them stand out; on Nathan it just made him stand out. He was constantly nagged to tuck in an errant shirt tail or straighten his tie. His school trousers would often be three inches too short and his shoelaces were always undone. And then there were the girls. Nathan noticed girls, but in a fearful way. They were merciless, standing in groups at the corners of corridors like a pack of sharks waiting for an errant sardine. They would fall silent as Nathan approached and then as soon as he hustled past they would snigger and burst out laughing and call out things like “Hey Frankenstein, where’s your boyfriend?!” or “Hey Frankie, who cut your hair? Was it your mum with a knife and fork?!” Emily Dudeck from class 8H was particularly savage. “Oh my GOD! Look at him!” she cried. “Look at those shoes! What happened, did you escape from a circus?!” Nathan glanced down at his battered shoes where the sole was coming away from the uppers and it would flap as he walked. He had tried rubber bands but that didn’t last long. Now he was using sticky tape and for the moment it was working. Nathan would ignore the bullies as much as he could but this seemed to infuriate them more and they would reserve their full vitriol and scorn for him as he walked to the bus-stop to go home after school. But Nathan was oblivious to it all. He buried his anger deep, so deep that even he wasn’t sure if he was angry. He figured they would get bored with him soon enough, but the more he ignored the bullies the worse they became, as bullies are wont to do. They wanted to break him. They would trip him up or push him from behind. The Anderson twins made his life unbearable, one would kneel on the ground behind Nathan while the other would push him, sending him toppling over the Anderson boy on the ground and then one day Scotty Connolly in Year 9 got him behind the chemistry lab and gave Nathan a hiding ― for no good reason other than Nathan was Nathan and had a stupid haircut. Scotty Connolly was big and Nathan was left dazed and crying on the concrete, glasses scratched and thrown to one side. He picked himself up and when people, teachers and students, saw him they offered no sympathy. The teachers told him to clean himself up; he was a disgrace to the school. Fellow students made mock pitying noises and chicken noises and said things like, “Aww, did little diddums fall over?” They didn’t really care, and of course, some of the worst offenders were the other geeky kids in school. They relied on Nathan to get picked on, so they wouldn’t. After all, he was Frankenstein the Dork. And Nathan ignored them all. He dried is tears, wiped his nose on his sleeve and got up and limped off to battle hoards of sinister Storgon lizard beasts on Tyco where the Gardeners Space Academy was under attack and Captain Dirk Cromwell came along in the nick of time and saved the space cadets puny hides and basked in their adulation and praise. There was nothing he could do but to endure the taunts. He didn’t want to fight. In the beginning he used to wonder why people would be so nasty but then he came to realise that a lot of people were just that way, nasty. Maybe they had bad lives themselves and wanted to take it out on someone else. Maybe they felt weak and ineffectual and wanted to feel strong by bullying someone else. Maybe they were just born cruel. Nathan had often thought long and hard about people being horrible to other people. The news stories showed only the wars over religion, the famines in far off countries and constant civil war where women and children were killed as often as the soldiers and civilians. Bullies came from all over the world and seemed to be programmed to prey on the weak and they felt stronger when they were together in groups…and this bothered Nathan a lot. Chapter 2 When he got home after school his mother, Mrs Franklin, gave him an odd look from the sofa where she sat in her dressing gown. She’d had a long day of watching the television and had even had to pop out to the shops to get some more cigarettes; she was exhausted. “Are you okay Nate?” she slurred. She was drunk again, wreathed in horrible smelling cigarette smoke with the television blaring. His mother chose cheap cigarettes because ‘the bloody Government was taxing us to death ― us, the poor people who could least afford it. It was bloody criminal!’ Nathan just climbed the stairs and said quietly, “Yes mum, I’m okay.” “How was school?” she called as an afterthought, the sort of thing mums are supposed to ask. “Great,” he said. Mrs Franklin didn’t even hear the last answer as she poured another gin and tonic, cigarette in hand. “I’ve not had time to make tea today so you’ll have to make do with sandwiches or something when you’re hungry.” Nathan thought that his mother probably loved him in a strange and distant way but he felt that she saw him as an inconvenience rather than a child that she could nurture and dote on. Nathan wasn’t hungry because he knew that the only sandwiches he would be allowed to make on his own would be jam or peanut butter because anything else would be too messy and his mother ‘couldn’t be doing with clearing up after him all the time, didn’t he know what a bugger of a day she’d had?’ and he would bet his last light-sabre that there wasn’t any ham or eggs or bacon in the fridge or even the odd pork pie. There was never anything in the fridge, just bottles of tonic water and a large bottle of Gin or Vodka, the only concession to the family’s five-a-day was a dried up lemon and a couple of olives — but there was always plenty of white bread from the supermarket. It was always the ‘saver’ type, the sort that was thin, tasteless and doughy. Nathan’s dad, a long distance lorry driver, only came home after ten in the evening and was usually gone by seven in the morning, a fleeting ghost. He was a slip of a man, short like his son with a hint of smile in the corner of his mouth. On the rare occasions he did see Nathan he would give him an awkward “Hey” in greeting, like a stranger in the house. He sometimes asked how things were going at school but more often than not he would be at the kitchen table reading the paper ― even if it was a week old. That was his father’s escape. Nathan’s home life was quiet but interspersed with mum’s screaming barrages of drunken abuse and invective at his father, telling him what a useless dad and husband he was. Nathan knew, as only children in difficult households could know, that his dad stayed away as much as possible to avoid winding his Mum up. His dad wanted a quiet life while his mum was frustrated with hers and took it out on Nathan’s father. All the plans they had made as newly-weds had evaporated within a few short years. Over time his Dad had retreated into his work and mostly ignored the shouting from his wife. Up in his bedroom Nathan got out his homework and made a start on Maths. His room contained a simple low bed, a table and chair and two shelves that had some old toy figures on them from when he was younger, a time when things were probably better. He would often stare at the figures and try and dredge up memories of a better time, like in the movies where everyone had perfect families – but those memories never came. In one corner was a small wardrobe that had a few clothes in it and buried in the bottom of that wardrobe was his small collection of comics. Nathan was not a brilliant academic but he wasn’t stupid either ― just average. He had stopped asking his parents a long time ago to help him with is homework and he didn’t get much help from his teachers either. His head of year, Mr Lacey, had taken Nathan to one side and told him that he would have to “…just get on with it like everyone else. Didn’t he know that there were other students who genuinely needed help?” And that’s what Nathan did, he got on with it. Nathan did not have computer. Everyone at school knew he didn’t have a computer. It wasn’t because he didn’t want one but because his parents said he didn’t need one. “You don’t need all that computer malarkey, if you want to find out something go to the library,” said his mother, though that didn’t stop her having the latest smartphone and a computer tablet and going on all the social media sites. Unlike many children that Nathan knew, he liked reading. Nathan loved fantasy and adventure stories. He enjoyed science fiction and stories of derring-do where the hero saves the day and there was always a winner. He longed for the olden days where he thought that men had been gentlemen and women had been damsels waiting to be rescued from distress or their honour protected or they were there to be saved from huge, ferocious dragons. Chapter 3 Nathan took his mother’s advice and found his local library and it was a revelation. The library became his personal sanctuary; his hideaway. He would often go there early on a Saturday morning waiting for the doors to open. The regular librarian, Mrs Hardy, was a formidable woman in her fifties with perfectly coiffed hair and a pair of thin spectacles that hung down her large bosom from a gold chain. She saw this scrawny boy waiting every Saturday to be let in, eyes averted. Despite her stern demeanour something about Franklin drew her to him. Perhaps it was because she hadn’t any children of her own. The first day she had seen him she saw him looking shell-shocked in the science fiction section, staring at all the titles. “Are you looking for anything in particular young man?” she asked quietly looking down the slope of her bosom. Startled, Franklin had pushed his glasses up his nose and mumbled something. “Speak up boy, I can’t hear you,” she said not unkindly. “Um…” She noticed a book in his hand. “Ah, A Princess of Mars, 1912 edition. Good choice. Edgar Rice Burroughs at his best. John Carter and Barsoom. A good old swash-buckler.” Franklin studied the cover. A Conan-esque character with a giant sword battled a monster with a scantily clad female in an alien landscape. “May I borrow this one please?” Franklin held the book to his chest as if the giant librarian would snatch it back from him. “Of course you can, this is a library,” and then Mrs Hardy did something she had never done before with a child. She showed some kindness. Her features softened and she bent down to Franklin’s level. “You can even borrow up to twelve books at a time.” Franklin gasped in wide-eyed wonder. And then smiled; a smile that transformed his whole face. Mrs Hardy smiled back, an action that transformed her normally dour face too. “Why don’t I help you choose some books - what do you like to read?” And so an unlikely friendship was formed. From that day forward Franklin was hooked. He loved the smell of the books and he would curl up in one of the window bays and would soon be shiny-eyed with wonder as he read epic science fiction sagas written by Arthur C. Clarke, Brian Aldiss, Robert Heinlein and Ray Bradbury. He revelled in the books by Tolkien, Stephen R Donaldson, CS Lewis and Orson Scott Card. He would stagger home under the weight of the tomes bursting with excitement, knowing that he could be lost for days in the larger-than-life stories, locked safely away in his room. That evening, at nine o’clock, when he was sure that his mother was too sozzled to move off the sofa, sitting in a cloud of cigarette smoke with the TV blaring in front of her, Nathan made his way quietly down the stairs into the kitchen. He didn’t turn the lights on and just used what light came through the door from the hallway. He found some bread, peeled two slices from the squidgy packet and then found a plastic tub of baked beans in the cupboard. It was out of date, a fact he knew without looking at the expiry date because all the food in the house was days, weeks or even months past its ‘use by’ date. The microwave had broken weeks ago and he wouldn’t have used it anyway because he didn’t want his mother to hear him banging about in the kitchen and then she would feel she had to come in and make awkward conversation with him. There would be equally awkward silences and eventually she would stagger back into the front room and collapse onto the sofa while reaching for a drink and then suddenly start to get angry over some minor thing and start shouting. Sometimes her anger escalated into his mother hitting him, usually a slap around the face, comparing him to his father, or she would get a shoe and hit him with that. She was always sorry afterwards, sometimes crying over what she had done ― and Nathan endured it stoically because he had no choice and then it became normal. Nathan peeled off the film lid from the plastic pot and poured the cold baked beans onto his slices of bread on a plate and wolfed them down with his hands, not because he was hungry but because he wanted to be as quick as possible. As he put the plate quietly into the already full sink, the kitchen was suddenly flooded with white neon light as his mother came in to get more tonic water. Nathan jumped. It took her a few seconds to realise that her only son was there. “Oh, Nate, you gave me a fright! What are you doing creeping around the kitchen in the dark?” Nathan looked at the floor. “Nothing really, just made some dinner. I didn’t want to waste electricity and give you a big bill.” His mother stood there swaying gently in her dressing gown, cigarette in one hand; drink in the other, a perplexed look on her face. “Have you been fighting?” “No.” said Nathan. “Well you’d better get that dirt off your face then.” Nathan gave a start and put a hand to his cheek under his glasses where he knew it was bruised. Mrs Franklin went over to the fridge and got a small bottle of tonic out and poured it, fizzing into her glass that was already half full of gin and ice. She added some more gin for good measure. “I have some good news” she said brightly, only slightly glassy eyed, “Next week is the start of the summer holidays and your dad has booked us in for a week in a luxury caravan park in Cornwall. You’ll love it. It’s only a five minute walk to the beach and me and your Dad will have some time for ourselves, try and mend some fences, me an’ him. What do you think?” Nathan thought he’d rather be roasted slowly over a Cradatian lava pit by Ortoid savages then fed to their beast-like Volatiles. He was floored. A week! A whole seven excruciatingly long days cooped up in a caravan with his parents, drunk and screaming at each other! His mother continued. “I thought you’d be pleased,” mistaking his look of horror for happy gratitude. Chapter 4 One week later they were on their way to Perranporth in Cornwall in their battered 1980 Ford Granada. Nathan and his parents had set off at seven in the morning to avoid traffic jams. An hour later they were in one of the biggest traffic jams of the year on the M25 and his mother was already blaming his dad for the situation. Nathan sat in the back of the car sharing the back seat with bags of holiday necessities and a pile of library books on his lap. Mrs Hardy had been sympathetic. Over the last eight months she had come to know this misunderstood boy and she had delighted in Franklin’s reviews of the books he had read. They shared ideas and opinions and she was genuinely sad for him as she had begun to find out the torment that Franklin went through at home and school. “Never mind poppet,” she said, using an endearment that she didn’t even use for her husband Mark or Sebastian, her Yorkshire terrier. “I’m sure the time will fly by in no time. Here, I’ve found a couple of books you might like. Try this one; it’s called Eager by Helen Fox. A bit different to what you normally read but it’s important to realise that science fiction is as wide as the universe.” she ruffled his bowl cut. The drive to Cornwall had not gone as planned. “Sat Navs Derek’, that’s why they’ve been invented, to avoid this sort of cock up.” Nathans dad looked straight ahead, gripping the wheel tightly and ground his teeth, “I remember you saying, not so long ago Sarah, that Sat Navs were not to be trusted as we’d end up somewhere like France.” His mum tutted in annoyance and lit a cigarette, rolling down her window. “Do you always have to take me so literally?” She stared out the window at the stationary traffic. “Bloody hell, I’m dying for a drink.” To make things worse it had been predicted to be one of the hottest days of the year ― and they had no air conditioning. The trip from London normally took six hours. Six hours of sitting in a tiny car stuffed with their belongings, full of cigarette smoke and listening to alternating periods of silence or gentle static from the radio that kept dropping it’s stations, this was followed with long periods of shouting and arguing from his parents. Nathan tried to block it all out by reading a science fiction novel but reading in a moving car made him feel sick. Eight and half hours later they got to Perranporth at three thirty in the afternoon. The caravan park was as dreadful as Nathan thought it would be. The entrance from the road was partially hidden by undergrowth and a faded and dilapidated sign in blue and yellow welcomed you to ‘Sunny Widdle Haven’ – Where All Your Dreams Come True, it said in a subscript. As they drove through the entrance Nathan thought to himself, ‘Uh Oh, this looks like trouble.’ Rough looking kids were running around screaming, playing catch and thumping each other ― the girls as well. One particularly large ginger boy with freckles spotted him as they drove past and sized him up. Nathan recognised the look and just knew that Ginger was going to make his life a misery. The caravan park sat in three acres of fields perched atop a cliff with a rickety wooden fence running along the edge to prevent the holidaying kids plunging to a certain doom on the rocks and beach below, but this didn’t seem to stop the caravan kids from climbing all over it anyway, despite the bright red signs warning vacationers of a perilous death if they went anywhere near the edge. The long caravan that Nathan and his family had hired was beige and dark brown on the outside and a 1970’s electric orange on the inside. It was basic and had two bedrooms, a tiny kitchen area and a stand up shower room with a toilet. The lounge area had a small, square wooden table scarred with a million family dinners and cigarette burns. Bored kids with nothing to do when imprisoned in a metal container on rainy days had carved rude words with their ballpoint pens. The table had been varnished many times in dark brown, obviously to compliment the nauseous orange that coloured everything else. A small TV sat forlornly against one wall, bent aerial sat drunkenly on its top and a side window enabled Nathan to note with some alarm that the large ginger kid was staying in the caravan opposite. Ginger saw Nathan looking through his window and smiled a slow grin laced with all sorts of malice. He pointed two fingers at his own eyes and then pointed them at Nathan as if to say ‘I’ll be watching you’. Nathan’s mother stood with her hands on her hips and surveyed her small kingdom and then turned to face her husband as he struggled into the caravan with bulging black rubbish sacks stuffed with their supplies of food and clothing for the week. Nathan definitely heard the clink of a bottle or two in there. “Jesus Derek, I cannot believe you think that this is luxury. 'Luxury' caravan you said.” His mother put ‘luxury’ in inverted air commas with two fingers of each hand. Nathan knew that this was going to be a humdinger of an argument by the way his mother’s voice started to rise in pitch. His father dumped the bags on the floor as his wife got into full flow. “Really, you are bloody useless and this is bloody awful. It’s enough to make me want to have a drink!” she said waving her hands about to take in the inferior ordinariness of the interior. “Christ I need a fag n’all.” “Tough. This is all we could afford; if you cut down on the fags and the booze and got a job we might have been able to afford something a bit better,” replied Nathan’s Dad. “Anyway, we’re here now and we might as well make the most of it. You said you didn’t mind a bit of ‘roughing it’, doing some camping you said. Seriously, this’ll be fine. They’ve got evening entertainment and a swimming pool. Why don’t you have a drink and relax while I do all the unpacking and putting things away? We wouldn’t want you to strain yourself lifting one of these really heavy, massive bags now would we?” Nathans mum started to go red in the face. “Don’t you start Derek Franklin! You know I’ve got a bad back! Anyway, what about you, you bloody useless ingrate?...” She trailed off, one finger wagging at her husband and then she darted to one of the bags and rummaged around eventually surfacing with a bottle of gin which she held aloft triumphantly. “Too sodding right I’m going to make the most of it. If we’re going to stay in this dump I might as well start early.” With that she twisted off the cap and took a slug straight from the bottle. Nathan ducked out and jumped off the stairs of the caravan straight into the formidable stomach of Ginger who was passing by with a football in his hands. Nathans actions knocked the ball from Ginger’s hands and Ginger immediately shouted, “Hey! That’s my football you div. Go get it!” His horizontally striped t-shirt added to his wideness while his shorts looked slightly too snug. Ginger stood a foot taller than Nathan and was impressively freckled. Nathan mumbled an apology and went to retrieve the football which had rolled under another caravan into inky shadowed blackness caused by the hot white light of the sun. As he nervously went under the caravan, worried that any minute it would slips its wooden blocks and come crushing down on him, Ginger kicked him in the backside, hard. “That’s for knocking my ball away. Now hurry up dork or I’ll have something else waiting for you when you come out.” Nathan scooped the ball out into the sunlight. Ginger picked it up and laughed as Nathan stayed where he was under the caravan and watched the fat, freckled legs walk away. Ginger looked back and called out, “Nice haircut by the way!” Nathan got out from underneath the caravan and brushed himself down. His mother slid open a window in their caravan opposite and bluish cigarette smoke rolled out. Drink in one hand, cigarette in the other she surveyed him coolly. “Really Nathan, can’t you just try and get on with people for once?” Nathan realised she must have witnessed the whole thing. She softened a bit. “Why don’t you go into the town and see what’s about? Get some money off your feckless father and buy something to eat. It might be a while before I sort all this mess out in here,” and she slid the window closed again. Nathan didn’t reply but thought he’d do anything to get out of there. He skipped around the caravan to find his father sitting in the car, engine off, doors open in the baking heat, sipping a warm can of beer. “Alright Nate?” He held out the can to Nathan in fatherly companionship. Nathan shook his head and pushed his glasses back up his nose with one finger. “Mum says I have to ask you for some money so I can go into town and buy something to eat.” His Dad grunted. “Of course she would. At this rate she’s going to have a coronary from all the massive amounts of doing bugger all that she does.” Nevertheless he fished out two pound coins from the dashboard and handed them to Nathan. Nathan thanked him and as he walked off towards the main entrance of the campsite his Dad called out. “Next time hit the ginger kid if he gives you a hard time!” Nathan mumbled under his breath, “Yeah, like that’s going to happen.” Chapter 5 The walk into the town centre took fifteen minutes in the broiling high temperatures. Despite being almost five o’clock waves of shimmering heat danced from the pavement as holiday-makers walked around in flip flops and brightly coloured shorts. As Nathan walked down the narrow main street he caught a glimpse of the sea between two buildings. The water was smooth and flat like molten white metal. Nathan took a deep breath of the tangy brine and caught a subtle whiff of sun tan lotion. Shading his eyes with his hand he scanned the shops along the main street. Store fronts bristled with fishing nets, colourful inflatable toys, postcards, towels and buckets and spades. Other shops boasted cream teas or famous Cornish Pasties, and then he saw an old fashioned looking ice-cream parlour. Blazoned above the doorway in orange neon against a black background a sign shouted ‘Nifty’s Pure Cornish Ice Cream – come get some!’ Nathan didn’t need telling twice. He hurried across the road toward the glass fronted shop. There was a queue of people buying cones and tubs of the delicious ice-cold sweetness. Nathan surveyed the flavours. Forty of them! He loved ice-cream. Clutching his money in his hand, Nathan stood patiently in the queue and examined all the flavours available on a notice board. He was finally served by a surly man in a white apron splattered with strawberry sauce. He looked like he should be in a butchers shop. Nathan dithered over which flavour to have, Lemon & Lime Meringue or Peanut Butter Caramel Swirl? Raspberry Double Dip or New York Cheesecake? Licking his lips he decided to have Vanilla Fudge Chip and Strawberry Kiwi Swirl, both flavours in a tub. The unhappy shop assistant piled the ice-cream high and then holding the ice-cream treat in one hand he stretched the other out and asked for £4.80. Nathan realised with horror that he didn’t have enough money. Red faced with embarrassment Nathan dodged out of the shop and raced the short distance to the beach empty handed, £2 still in his hand and an empty ice-cream pang in his stomach. Disappointed, he trudged across the sand past a rowdy pub and got to the main part of the beach. The beach was huge. The biggest beach he had ever been to in his life. Actually, it was the only beach he had ever been to in his life. The sand was fine and yellow, the tide was out and the breaking waves were a thin white line in the distance that seemed miles away. Nathan started walking towards that distant horizon. A cool breeze blew in from the ocean and to his right Nathan could see people kite surfing much further away across the sands, multi-coloured Parafoils dancing and darting up and down. Behind him large dunes tufted with coarse sea grass rolled away. He estimated the beach had to be at least two miles long. After a few minutes he realised he looked out of place in his bell-bottomed jeans, dirty trainers and t-shirt. Gaudy wind breaks that were horizontally striped in red, orange, yellow and blue had been hammered into the sand to shield people from the wind as they roasted themselves under the sun’s rays in their bikini’s and swim shorts. Nathan watched as young children raced for the ocean with body-boards clutched under their arms squealing with glee. He sat on the warm sand and took off his trainers and socks and rolled up his jeans to his knees. He revelled in the soft sand, squidging it between his toes and glanced up at the sound of predatory white seagulls hunting for people’s discarded food scraps, wheeling and circling like hunter drones from the Killian Nemesis Saga. As he got closer to the surf, trainers and socks clutched in one hand, he could hear the boom of the waves pounding the shore and watched in silent admiration as body-boarders and surfers wiped out in boiling waves of greeny-white foam, sunlight glinting from the water cascading and sluicing from the smooth surface of their boards. Occasionally a brightly coloured board with a picture of a shark or a tropical Maori design would rocket upwards out of the surf minus its rider. To his left, a cliff wall jutted out over the sea. At its base a jumble of boulders and rocks, slimed green with seaweed and pimpled with barnacles, sat drying in the sun’s heat. Some of the boulders looked as big as houses, a landscape that wouldn’t have been out of place on another planet. He looked nervously up at the cliff face towering majestically above him. It didn’t look safe; the chalky crumbling walls were a pale yellow shot through with huge striped bands of brown and orange. At the top of the cliff he could see a small wooden fence running along the length of it and realised that that was where his caravan park was, the flimsy wooden line that was meant to prevent people tumbling to their deaths. He involuntarily looked for bodies at the base of the cliff. He was relieved and disappointed at the same time when he didn’t see any. He then spotted dozens of people picking their way through the rock pools and boulders without a care in the world right under the cliff face. Nathan reasoned that if he was going to die under a massive avalanche of tons of chalky rock then at least he wouldn’t be dying alone. Putting his trainers back on, he stuffed his socks into the pockets of his jeans and eagerly jumped gazelle-like from rock to rock and started to explore. Well, Nathan thought, it was gazelle-like as far as he was concerned but judging from the alarmed looks he was getting from people it probably looked more like a stick-insect on a pogo stick. Further along the base of the cliff Nathan came to a shallow rock pool that was four feet across and filled to the brim with clear seawater. This small body of water had been marooned and isolated as the tide went out leaving a strong salty smell. Strands of brackish looking seaweed, dark brown and slimy, sat motionless in the bottom. Rocks and stones and bits of colourful shell littered the sides while bunches of mussels hogged the edges of rocks around him. Bent over his new found treasure, Nathan could feel waves of heat reflected from the cliff face above him. He got down onto his stomach on the warm rocks around the edge and became hidden from the rest of the world. His glasses slipped off his nose into the water and he fished them out, putting them into a back pocket. Alone, the sound of the waves receded and Nathan became totally absorbed with his new domain. Within the cool depths of the pool Nathan could see tiny shrimps, small crabs and dozens of miniature translucent fish, their presence only given away by the black dots of their eyes. He became transported to an underwater realm populated by giant squid and war-faring denizens of the deep, all ruled over by Neptune, the king of the sea. A rock became a giant blue whale devouring entire floating cities; seaweed became the tentacles of a vicious black octopus that suddenly battled with the blue whale. The translucent fish became armies of alien submarines unleashing torpedoes of doom on peaceful pods of starfish grazing on marine vegetation. Over there were dozens of small snail tanks rolling through sandy battlefields — and throughout all this Nathan was the General, the architect, the God who could build cities at will and destroy them in a blink. He commanded armies and invented alien worlds populated with creatures and beasts on a whim. Nathan didn’t think he’d ever been happier. A sudden squawk from a seagull brought Nathan back to the present and he jumped up. He was startled to see that the tide was starting to come in to reclaim his borrowed kingdom and that the once-yellow sun had dipped a few more degrees towards the horizon. He quickly made his way back to the beach and was further dismayed to see that many of the hordes of people had gone, leaving behind the detritus of a day out at the beach. Worried that he would be in trouble for being late, Nathan hurried back to the caravan park. He needn’t have worried; his mother was sunburnt and comatose on a sun-lounger. Dressed in a white T-shirt, bikini bottoms and a floppy straw hat, she lay with her mouth open, snoring while the drink she had been holding lay on its side in the grass, contents lost forever. Her legs and arms were a deep, angry pink colour and her nose was practically glowing. Nearby his father, also sunburnt and shirtless, was bent over a small disposable tinfoil barbecue, sausages and burgers on standby next to it. A large pile of spent matches on the coals showed that he had only just got the charcoal going and smoke was creating a thick cloud. Coughing, he noticed Nathan and came over. “You alright son? You’ve been gone for hours, it’s almost dinner time.” “Yes dad, sorry I’m late. I was down on the beach playing.” His dad didn’t seem to notice the remark and carried on talking. “Never mind, mercifully, your mother’s been passed out for the last hour or so and didn’t notice you were gone.” His dad glanced at her indifferently, “Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?” he said to no one in particular. He seemed to notice Nathan again for the first time. “Better get yourself cleaned up and put some cream on the back of your neck, it’s burnt, you silly beggar. I’ll wake sleeping beauty here and we’ll get the nosh on the barbie.” His dad smiled at him. “Guess you and me will have to make this holiday work if we want it to be a holiday eh? It’ll be just like the old days.” Nathan smiled back, “Yes dad,” though they had never had a holiday and he thought to himself ‘What old days?’ He went into the caravan and washed and changed. There wasn’t a lot of clothing to choose from as it seemed his mother had only remembered to bring a few of his things so he ended up in a pair of his grey school shorts and a pale blue t-shirt that was a few years old with the faded word DISCO printed large across the front in rainbow coloured lettering. Chapter 6 At nine o’clock that evening, after Nathan had finished pushing bits of scorched sausage around his plate, his mother and father announced they were all going to the Fun Palace to ‘have a bit of a boogie’. Nathan protested that he was tired and would rather stay behind and watch TV. “Rubbish, don’t be such a misery guts Nate, you’re coming with us,” his mum admonished, “We’d be awful parents if we left you here on your own.” Nathan didn’t bother to point out the irony. Very reluctantly he stepped out with them into the twilight and they headed towards what Nathan could only see as certain humiliation. Nathan’s parents walked slightly apart, dressed in white t-shirts and matching denim shorts. Their sunburnt faces and limbs were glowing and they moved stiffly. Nathan’s mum lit a cigarette and plumed smoke into the air. As they strolled along other groups and families streamed from their caravans and tents towards the brightly lit Mecca that was the Fun Palace. There were whoops and hollers from young men already drunk, screams and squeals from young women who were as equally drunk as the men and yells and shouts from kids playing tag. Nathan felt there was a certain tension in the air, he couldn’t put his finger on it but he imagined that it felt a bit like just before a riot kicked off. From the outside, the Fun Palace looked anything but fun. It was a large wood and brick building with strings of naked light bulbs running along the edge of the roof giving it a cheap, carnival feel. As they pushed through the door a wave of sweaty heat and tumultuous noise slammed into them. It was like a reverse Tardis thought Nathan, massive on the outside and tiny on the inside. There were small round tables and chairs crammed together, dotted with plastic bowls of crisps and half-drunk bottles of beer and glasses of wine. To the right, on one side was a bar with a mob of impatient people clamouring for the attention of the sole bartender who, judging from his acne spotted skin couldn’t have been more than seventeen. To the left was a small stage lit by blue-white halogen spot lights. On the stage, an overweight woman wearing a very tight and shiny electric-pink leotard was singing out of tune to a karaoke song. The speakers struggled to cope and her singing came out scratchy and distorted. Huge sweat marks pooled out from beneath her armpits and breasts. In front of the stage was a small dance floor that was already over-crowded with four people on it. Nathan’s father shouted, “I’ll get some drinks, you two find a table!” and he joined the back of the throng trying to get to the bar. Nathan could already see that all the tables and chairs were occupied. His mum started to bounce along to the music that came thundering from the stage as she danced over to a small area where a shelf ran along a wall. Nathan was sure that every single pair of eyes in the place must be watching them and people were sniggering behind their hands but when he sneaked a look most people were oblivious to them. Abandoned drinks and cocktail stirrers littered the small shelf. Near the toilets Nathan spotted Ginger and a few of his friends having a go on an arcade machine that had a machine gun. Ginger was pulling the trigger and shouting while his friends egged him on. Luckily Ginger hadn’t seen him yet. Nathan’s Dad arrived with the drinks and pushed aside empty glasses to find space for theirs then realised that he’d forgotten to get some crisps. He pushed his way back through the noise to the bar. Conversation was impossible. Suddenly the woman in pink finished her song and the music died. The comparative silence was deafening and dancers jigged on the spot waiting for the next song. There was some desultory clapping before a heavily sweating man dressed in a tuxedo, jumped on to the stage with a microphone; a purple spotlight gave him a Dracula–like tint. He spread his arms wide to encompass the whole room and beamed a wolfish smile at all the people. “Good evening Ladies and Gentleman! I’m sure you all enjoyed Rebecca’s rendition of New York New York. ― so good they had to name it twice; luckily she didn’t sing it twice.” There was raucous laughter from the crowd. “Now don’t be shy, if you think you can carry a tune, hop on up here and give the ‘ol karaoke some welly!” Nathan’s mother shrieked, “Me! Me!” and skipped and dodged her way through the tables to the stage. The compere’s eyes widened in alarm and he held the microphone out in front of him like a shield. Nathan’s mother grabbed the mic and panting said, “Hi. My name’s Sarah!” Under the purple spotlight her sunburn took on a deep crimson, like raw meat. Nathan’s mother turned to the screen of the karaoke machine and flicked through a list of songs and found one she liked. Within seconds the opening chords to Whitney Huston’s ‘I will always love you,’ pumped out and Nathan’s mum, Sarah, had finally found her niche in life. There were startled looks, spilt drinks and whispered comments behind backs of hands as the first words were screeched out. Eyes closed, Sarah leant back into the song and ‘gave it some welly’. Nathan hunched his shoulders and tried to make himself smaller, not wanting to be associated with the strange woman on stage who was murdering a famous song. Back at the bar Nathan’s dad was simultaneously laughing and trying to catch his wife’s eye as he mimed a ‘cutting his throat’ gesture to tell her to stop. It was too late, she was in full flow. At last the song finished and there was another stunned silence. Sarah stood with her eyes closed for a few moments then opened them, a big smile on her face. There was one slow hand clap from Nathan’s Dad. Quickly, the compère jumped onto stage before Nathan’s mum had a chance to sing another one. He grabbed the mic roughly from her hands and said with a forced smile. “Wow, that was really different! Thank you Sarah, for your interpretation.” He ushered her off the small platform where she made her way back to Nathan and his father, her eyes shining with triumph. The compère gestured at another man who was hovering over a small mixing deck and CD player. “Now; we’re going to liven’ things up a bit and fire up the old dance floor with a bit of Abba! You can’t go wrong with a bit of Abba.” Nathan’s mum snorted with delight, downed her glass of white wine in one go and grabbed her husband’s hand and pulled him towards the dance floor as the first bars of “Waterloo” belted out. Nathan watched as the tiny dance floor rapidly disappeared under gyrating and sweaty bodies. This was as much fun as going to the dentist, he thought. After five minutes he couldn’t stand it any longer and headed for the door. He was halfway out when a push from behind sent him flying out into the court yard on to his bum. Ginger stood there sneering down at him with two other boys. Nathan picked up his glasses and looked at Ginger, guessing him to be about thirteen. “Oi, numpty, nice T-shirt; fancy dress is it? Like your shorts… Ooh, is that a wig too? ― nope, sorry; that’s your real hair.” The three boys burst out laughing. It was now dark outside but the naked light bulbs made it almost like daylight. “Don’t tell me;” said Ginger, “your mum was so bad at singing that you had to run for your life? That’s why we’re all out here!” and the boys burst out laughing. Nathan could feel his face starting to go red. He felt angry, a white hot anger - but then his shoulders slumped as he realised he was never going to do or say anything, he just wasn’t brave. Sensing easy pickings, Ginger stepped up to Nathans face and looked down on him. His breath smelt of coca cola and chocolate. “I thoughts you was a loser the minute I saws ya’. I think you could do with a beating, jus’ for bein’ a loser and for that dodgy haircut.” He stepped back. “C’mon loser, let’s see what you got,” and he raised his fists. The two other boys started to chant, “Fight! Fight! Fight!” Nathan swallowed in fear; his eyes locked on the fists of the fat boy. Suddenly a girl’s voice rang out, bouncing off the walls of the Fun Palace, “Oi, porker, back off!” All heads turned to find the source of the additional threat. Behind the boys stood a girl, slim with shoulder length black hair, hands on hips. Dressed in jeans, cowboy boots and a red cowboy shirt, she was about the same age as Nathan but slightly taller and wore glasses. She glared at the boys, Ginger in particular. “Go pick on someone your own size, you bully.” Ginger laughed in mock fright, “Ooh, a girl. I’m really scared, what happened, lose your horse?” Ginger’s cohorts chuckled as well. The girl didn’t seem scared at all, her voice was even and controlled, “Last chance pork chop. I’ve got three brothers and I ain’t scared of you.” Ginger faltered a second, her coolness wasn’t the reaction he was expecting, but then under the eyes of his friends he stepped towards her. The girl took a swift step forward and slapped him hard, open handed, across the face. There was a sound like a pistol shot. Ginger’s backup boys gasped in shock and Ginger himself bent forward holding two hands to the side of his face that had now gone red. “Hey, what did you do that for!?” he said with a muffled and plaintive cry. “For being a bully, now hop it before I give you another one,” she said menacingly, fists bunched. Ginger and his friends backed away and stumbled off towards the caravans. The girl turned to Nathan, “You alright?” Nathan nodded back in mute surprise. The girl turned as the door to the Fun Palace opened and a blast of stale hot air and music broke the silence. A couple came out lighting cigarettes and laughing, bottles of beer in hand. The girl gave Nathan one last look, smiled, then turned and headed off into the night before Nathan could thank her. Still rattled by the close call from Ginger, Nathan went back to his caravan to watch a bit of television on the small TV set before turning in for the night. His thoughts settled briefly on the girl in glasses. No one had ever stood up for him before. She must be touched in the head. The night air was hot and heavy and crickets were making a frantic chirruping sound. It smelt like rain. Looking up at the sky Nathan couldn’t see any stars; just a deep black and a profound stillness of the air. After getting into bed he was soon asleep. His dream-filled slumber was interrupted by his parents coming back at two in the morning singing at the top of their voices, very drunk. The door to his room banged open as his father checked on him and then there was lots of exaggerated ‘shush-ing‘ sounds as his parents fell giggling into their room just centimetres away. As Nathan dropped back into his dream world of Cyborgs, dinosaurs and lost cities the last thing he saw was Ginger leering over him, impossibly fat and impossibly tall, like a ginger Godzilla. Chapter 7 The next morning everything was different. Nathan woke early at five o’clock to black clouds, low and pregnant with rain. It was daylight outside but dark and moody and in the distance he could hear rumbles of thunder. His parents were still asleep so he quickly got dressed into baggy jeans and a long sleeve top as the temperature was noticeably cooler. The campsite was also still asleep. He ran out, down the field to the rickety fence at the top of the cliff and looked out to sea. The ocean was a deep, angry blue with white capped waves rushing inshore and where the water met the sky it was a dark purple, like a bruise, dramatically lit by lightening every few minutes. Below him, the huge beach was empty save for the speck of a lone dog walker who was hurrying to the car park as he watched. Nathan felt there was something still not right, but he felt strangely exhilarated. He swallowed three times to try and equalize the pressure in his ears; it felt like it did when he was under water at the swimming pool. As he continued watching there was a brighter flash of lightening on the horizon and then a slow-deep roll of thunder. It was close. Suddenly the hairs on the back of his neck stood up on end and a massive column of lightening hit the rocks at the base of the cliff where he stood. The flash blinded him and he could instantly smell ozone. The explosion of light was immediately followed by an enormous bang and crash of thunder that shook the ground he stood on. The after-glow of the lightening flash was imprinted on his retina every time he blinked. The ominous clouds seemed low enough to touch and as Nathan leant over the fence and scanned the rocks for where the lightening had struck he could feel the first drops of rain, big and fat, detonating around him. As he turned to run back to the caravan he caught site of a yellow-orange glow on the rocks below. He stopped to look again. At first he thought someone must be tending a fire but then he could see that it was where the lightening must have struck, the rocks still glowing from the heat. The increasingly heavy rain made it difficult to see clearly and then he thought maybe the lightening had struck a large piece of drift wood and set it on fire. By the time he got back to his caravan he was cold and soaked. The rain was heavy and relentless and in the caravan the noise was deafening as the rain hit the plastic roof like machine gun fire. By four o’clock in the afternoon the rain had started to ease off a little. His parents had gone to the Fun Palace to play Bingo and Nathan had spent the day on his bed reading his back catalogue of science fiction comics he had insisted on bringing with him. Issue 6, Magazine 11 featured his favourite hero, Captain Dirk Cromwell saving planet earth from an invasion of giant Orachonids. At 4.37pm exactly, it stopped raining. Not a tapering off of rain drops but a complete cessation. Nathan knew the exact time because it suddenly went quiet and the first thing he did was look at the time on the wall clock. Jumping up, he reverently placed his comic back on the pile next to his bed and pulled on his shoes. Racing down through the field onto the rain slicked streets, he headed for the beach. The sky had lightened but was still grey. He could feel the heat of the sun trying to burn its way through the blanket-like clouds of cotton wool above his head. There were very few people about and as he hit the rain pocked sand he noticed the first rays of sunshine streaming through a hole in the clouds like a laser beam. It hit the rocks under the cliff face where he had been the day before and illuminated them like a stage in a theatre. Nathan quickened his pace. He didn’t know why, but he ended up running. Panting from his run, he saw that he was still alone on the rocks, everything still rain-slicked from the downpour. With one quick glance at the cliff face to make sure it wasn’t about to come crashing down, Nathan turned his attention to the boulders and their hidden pools. As he hunkered down between the rocks he found a small green crab and was about to pick it up when he suddenly remembered the lightening flash from the morning. Crab forgotten, he looked up to get his bearings then scrabbled over the rocks to where he thought the lightening had struck. Sure enough, he found a large boulder the size of a car that was split in two, blackened about its surface like it had been on fire. The rock sat in a large pool of water about three feet deep. Nathan jumped from the edge of the pool onto a smaller rock and rubbed a finger onto the cracked rock to see if the soot would come off but the blackness seemed to be part of the exterior. He put his palm on the rock to see if it was still hot, but it was disappointingly cool. Looking around he couldn’t find any evidence of logs or drift wood that might have been hit by the lightening and set on fire to explain the orange glow — unless it had been the rock itself. Shrugging, he crouched at the base of the rock and examined the pool. Almost immediately he saw it, a bottle under the clear water, wedged between a large stone and the base of the split rock. He could only see the bottom of the bottle and some of the side. What caught his attention was that the bottle was not a normal looking bottle. The bottom was not round and flat like a normal wine bottle, this one was cone shaped, like a rocket. The glass was a deep blue, not a shiny glass blue but a dull, flat matte blue and around the base of the cone shape was fine metal wire which on closer inspection looked like it might be made of gold. The wire had been scrolled and bent and worked in to fanciful shapes and was like a basket holding the bottle. Most of the bottle was obscured by sand but Nathan could just see some of the neck which had a dark substance around it. He knew he wouldn’t be able to reach it with just his hands. A stick! That’s what he needed, he thought. Looking around guiltily he saw that he was still alone. The sun was struggling to burn its way through the thick cloud but the odd ray or two was beginning to light up the beach despite the late afternoon. Casting about the immediate area Nathan was disappointed not to see anything useful he could use to lever the bottle out from under the rock. He scouted slightly further afield and soon came across a long weathered tree branch, about six foot long. Perfect. Slipping and sliding, but with a single-minded determination, Nathan hauled the branch behind him to the rock. It was not a big, thick branch but Nathan wasn’t big himself. With his tongue stuck out in concentration like his mother, Nathan wedged the tip of the branch under the rock near the bottle and pumped it up and down. Almost immediately he could see that this wasn’t going to work, all he was doing was splashing the water. He needed a fulcrum, something he could put under the branch to make it act as a lever. He spotted a lump of smooth stone half buried in the sand close by and dug it out. Panting with exertion he rolled the stone into the water at the base of the rock and using the branch he pulled down on the wooden lever. Nothing happened. He was simply not heavy enough and the boulder was too big. There was no way round it, he would have to get into the pool of water and dig the bottle out. He sat on a flat rock and took his trainers and socks off and rolled up his jeans as best he could to his knees. He took off his t-shirt and lumped it on the rock with his shoes. Walking into the pool he was surprised to find it quite warm. The water came almost up to his hips at the deepest point and his rolled up jeans immediately became soaked. Steadying himself against the side of the rock with one hand he leant down and submerged his other arm to the shoulder and scrabbled around for the bottle. The tips of his fingers brushed the side of the bottle but he knew that unless he went under water he was not going to be able to get it. As he was making another attempt a voice made him jump. “Hello, what have you got there?” With a guilty start he snatched his hand out of the water and shading his eyes from the now shining sun, he looked for the source of the voice. Standing on another rock above him was the girl from outside the Fun Palace who’d given Ginger a slap. In the daylight Nathan could see she was quite tanned. She was dressed in white shorts and a white T-shirt with red writing that said YOLO on the front. Her jet black hair was in a ponytail, secured with a scrunchie and electric pink flip-flops finished the look. Nathan looked down at the water and muttered something. The girl jumped down easily from the rock and landed next to Nathan who was still standing in the pool of water. “You’ll have to talk louder than that kiddo.” Nathan muttered again but a little louder, “Bottle.” The girl looked into the water at the base of the rock where Nathan had been fishing about, “Bottle, where?” She bent down closer to the water and saw what Nathan had seen. “Wow! that looks old. Is it stuck? Hey, maybe there’s a message in it, you know, like when people write stuff, put it in a bottle and then chuck it in the sea. Do you want me to help you get it out?” The look of panic and alarm on his face was enough for the girl to hold up both her hands in defence, “Fine, fine I’ll just watch.” Now Nathan was in a dilemma. If he stayed and tried to get the bottle out and failed the interfering girl would know where it was and might comeback another time and get it for herself – and he’d look like an idiot. If he managed to get the bottle out in front of her she would know about it and tell other people and then other people would take it away from him. If she helped him and they both got it out then she would want a share of whatever money it might be worth, because as sure as Captain Kirk was the best star ship captain that had ever lived, Nathan knew that this had to be worth something. The girl saw his indecision and offered him a gentle smile. “I’m not bothered about your bottle you know. If you want to keep it, that’s fine. I was just offering my help, that’s all.” Chronically self-conscious, Nathan crossed his arms over his white chest and whispered, “Okay.” The girl raised a quizzical eyebrow and slightly exasperated said more sharply than she meant, “Okay what? Okay I help you, or okay I just watch?” Nathan found the directness of the girl unnerving. He spoke a little louder. “Help me.” “Please,” he added. The girl smiled and stuck her hand out. “Emily.” Nathan reluctantly took her hand and shook it like he was holding a dead squid. “Nathan. But people call me Nate.” Emily studied his face for a moment then assumed an air of leadership. “Right Nate, what have you tried so far?” Nathan indicated the branch lying at his feet. “That’s it. It didn’t work.” Emily hunched down again and looked at the bottle under the water. “Let me try.” Emily shook off her pink flip-flops and Nathan stood back catching a faint whiff of perfume or body spray. He liked it. She first tried reaching the bottle with her arm but even stretching with the water up to her armpit she was six inches short. She eyed the branch. “Maybe if we both used our weight on the rock it might move.” The look on Nathan’s face said he was doubtful but Emily didn’t notice it as she was already hauling the branch into position. From the way she picked it up Nathan could see she was a lot stronger than he was. Emily pushed the branch into the same position that Nathan had had it in before and steadied it as Nathan got under the branch to hold it. They then both lowered the branch down and added their weight to it. Both of them dangled from the end, bobbing up and down. Emily giggled and Nathan almost laughed as well. Suddenly the branch snapped and they were both dumped into the water. Emily squealed and Nathan spluttered and they climbed out of the pool. They sat laughing and Nathan suddenly realised he was enjoying himself, an unfamiliar sensation. Emily’s laugh trailed off as she looked out towards the shore line. She shaded her eyes against the early evening sun, brows furrowed in concentration. “Tide’s coming in.” Nathan shaded his eyes too and saw what she meant. The water was a lot closer. “Bother.” Emily pulled out the broken half of the branch from under the big rock and then peered into the pool of water. “I think we’ve loosened it!” she said excitedly. Nathan crouched down too, “Maybe we can use the branch to push it out?” Emily stood in the pool up to her knees and looked at the incoming tide. “There’s no time, I think it’s stuck. I’ll try and reach it with my hands and pull it out. I’ll just have to get wet.” Nathan felt a twinge of inadequacy. He should have offered to do that first. Emily had to almost lie down on the edge of the rock pool and then slowly reach into the water. Her shoulder went under and then she stuck her head into the pool. Nathan could see that she had touched the bottle but sand had been disturbed and clouded the water. She came up, black hair plastered to her scalp, her top soaking wet. “I can touch it, and it’s wiggling a bit, but it still seems quite stuck. If you get down there with me I think we can both get it out.” Nathan looked down at his wet jeans. Emily chided him “Don’t be such a sissy, they’ll dry off soon enough ― or you can just take them off,” she added slyly. Nathan went bright red. He couldn’t remember what underwear he was wearing. It was definitely either Star Trek or Dinosaurs. Without saying anything he took his glasses off and got into the water, jeans still on, and then took a deep breath and stuck his head under water. Emily did the same. Nathan opened his eyes and immediately came up again frantically wiping at his face. “It stings!” he spluttered. Emily waited patiently for Nathan to calm down. “Just keep your eyes closed and feel for the bottle.” He gave her a sceptical look but took another deep breath and went under. Eyes closed he groped around in the sand and put his hand against the side of the rock. He touched Emily’s hand and quickly moved on and then found what he thought was the bottle. Emily had the bottom of the bottle. Nathan felt blindly along to the top and managed to put two fingers around the neck. Together they wiggled and pushed and pulled at the bottle. Nathans heart was hammering in his chest as he began to run out of air. They must have been under water for ages, though he knew it was only seconds. Suddenly the bottle came free. They both popped to the surface like whales, blowing and wiping their faces. The bottle lay in the sand at their feet. “Yay!” exclaimed Emily. Nathan put his glasses back on and bent down and picked it up. As it laid there they could both see that it was undeniably no ordinary bottle. In the dry air the glass was more of a smoky grey and blue. The glass itself had small bubbles within it hinting at an older form of glass making. The gold filigreed wire was fused to the glass and closer inspection showed that it had been worked into shapes and figures, almost lifelike and dancing. None of the figures were recognisable as human or animal. The neck and the top of the bottle was covered in a thick, black looking substance that was hard and acted as a seal. Emily took the bottle from Nathan and held it up in front of the last rays of the sun. She tilted it this way and that. The bottle’s surface had a dull matte sheen and it was difficult to see what was inside, but there was something in there. It swirled like liquid but slowly, like honey and smoke. Even when the bottle was held still the contents appeared to slowly eddy around its confined space. “That’s interesting,” she said, “This gold looking stuff almost looks like writing, sort of Arabic looking. It can’t have been in the water too long either because there are no barnacles. What do you think?” Nathan took the bottle back. He shrugged. “I don’t know, I’m not really familiar with Arabic writing but you’re right about the barnacles.” Emily gave him a big grin that showed white, even teeth then went serious. “My uncle is Egyptian – on my dad’s side. He’s in the army fighting in some place called Sinai.” She smiled again. “Well come on then, let’s open it and see what’s inside.” Goosebumps raced up Nathan’s arms and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and he hugged the bottle protectively. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” As he said those words one half of his brain was almost screaming, ‘Whatever you do don’t open the bottle!’ and the other half was yelling ‘Open it! Open it!’ and yet deep down he knew without a shadow of a doubt that the bottle was not good news. But Emily was practically hopping up and down with impatience, her top and shorts soaked through. Nathan’s jeans were cold and stiff with wet salt water and a light breeze had sprung up and he shivered. With uncharacteristic firmness, Nathan made a decision. “It’s late, let’s wait until tomorrow. We can bury it somewhere safe on the beach among the rocks and then come down after breakfast and have a proper look.” Emily nodded in agreement but then frowned. “I think you should take it up with you to the camp site. What if there’s a really high tide? A rock could break it or it could get washed back out to sea or someone might even stumble across it.” Nathan considered this scenario for a second then nodded too, “Okay, but we’ll still come back to the beach and open it here.” Emily took the bottle from Nathan again and looked carefully at the substance that coated the top and neck. “It looks like some sort of wax or plastic. Look here,” she said pointing at part of the neck, “there’s some sort of writing or marks in the stuff.” Nathan had a look too. Sure enough there appeared to be some deliberate marks in the dark red/black waxy covering, but he couldn’t make head or tail of them. Emily wiped the sand and wetness off her hands on her shorts. “We’ll need some sort of knife to get that stuff off. I’ve got a penknife I can bring.” Nathan looked at her and thought ‘Of course she’d have a penknife.’ He turned to look at the incoming tide that was less than a hundred yards from them. “Let’s go.” They headed higher up towards the cliff face that was now a deep orange colour from the sunset. At the base of the cliff he stopped to look at the sun begin its rapid descent beneath the waves. Oblivious to Emily, he revelled in the colours and was momentarily transported to another universe where he stood in splendid isolation upon a barren lifeless world watching a huge orange sun go supernova, dipping over the horizon. Emily coughed, “Are you okay?” Nathan flushed red again, “Yes,” he muttered, “just looking at the sunset.” Emily glanced over her shoulder at the Earth-bound sun and gave a delightful little laugh, “Oh, you old romantic!” Nathan could feel himself burning up with embarrassment and started walking rapidly up the hill across the sand towards the main road, Emily following. As they walked Nathan’s face went through a range of expressions as he tried to say something. Emily saw him struggling. “I don’t bite.” Nathan looked at her sideways and then staring straight ahead he shoved his hands in his pocket and said, “Er, thanks for last night, outside the Fun Palace.” Emily shrugged. “No worries. I can’t stand bullies…” she paused, “…do you get bullied a lot?” Nathan nodded, “yeah, but you get used to it…almost don’t notice it,” he said quietly. Emily punched him lightly on the arm, “All you have to do is stand up to them once. They’ll remember.” “Easy for you to say, I’m not very strong.” Emily looked him up and down. “Yeah, but if you get picked on just go crazy. They’ll soon leave you alone.” Nathan shrugged. “If only.” They walked in comfortable silence for a minute. “Your uncle in the army, what is he fighting for?” Emily’s brow wrinkled in thought. “I’m not sure; my dad said that the government was trying to stop some rebels from taking over. It’s all really boring and far away. Why do you ask?” Nathan shrugged, his face suddenly serious. “I don’t get it - people killing each other all the time. What’s the point?” Emily stopped walking and put her hands up in surrender as they reached the entrance to the caravan park. “Whoa Nate, I don’t know and so long as it’s not here, I don’t care.” Chapter 8 Back at the campsite Nathan headed for his caravan, bottle cradled in his arms. Emily called after him. “How early do you want to go down there?” Nathan paused. If they went too late there would be loads of people there on the beach. Too early and his parents might question what he was up to. Then he realised that they would probably still be in an alcohol induced coma early in the day. “I’ll meet you at the gate to the campsite at 7am.” Emily smiled, “Great, are you going to the Fun Palace tonight? If not there’s a bunch of us going to play Run Outs and King Ball in the dark later — if you wanted to come.” Nathan had seen other kids play countless versions of Run Out but had never played himself. It looked too rough and tumble for him. “No thanks, not tonight.” He realised this sounded lame, “There’s an old episode of Dr Who on tonight that I haven’t seen before,” and as the words left his lips he knew that this sounded even worse, especially since he’d never missed one in his life. Emily raised an eyebrow and skipped off, “Whatever. See you at seven.” Nathan watched her go and was startled to realise she was the prettiest girl he had ever seen. He dashed the thought from his head. No girl was ever going to be interested in him. By now it was almost evening but the sky was still bright with late summer light and as Nathan walked between the other caravans towards his own a voice behind him made him stop. He didn’t turn around. “Oi, four-eyed loser! Where’s your girlfriend? Are you allowed to be out on your own?” There was a general chortle from two or three boys. This was the unmistakable voice of Ginger. Nathan remembered Emily’s advice, but decided that cowardice was the better part of valour and ignored them and took another step away from them. “Hey, dipstick! I’m talking to you!” Nathan turned. Ginger stood there, feet apart and fists bunched by his sides, obviously still humiliated by his run in with Emily from the night before. Ginger took a step closer, as did the two boys with him. “What you got there dork?” With a start Nathan realised that the bottle he was holding was in plain sight. He hugged it tighter and his voice broke and he squeaked. “Nothing, it’s mine.” Ginger instinctively knew, as all bullies knew, that whatever his victim was holding, it was precious to him. “Give us it here. I just want to have a look.” It came out as ‘Gissit ‘ere’. Similarly, Nathan knew, as all victims of bullies knew, that if he gave him the object he would never see it again. “No!” Nathan said this in a much louder and more forceful voice than he had intended, but it still came out squeaky. For Ginger this confirmed the value of the object Nathan was holding. He grinned with spite. “I’ll give you five seconds douchebag or I’m gonna take it.” The two boys with Ginger had fanned out either side of him in anticipation of Nathan running. Nathan contemplated his escape route. Whatever he did they would catch him. His shoulders slumped resignedly and he held out the bottle. Ginger laughed and he turned to his two mates to share Nathan’s defeat. A spark went off in Nathan’s brain, a primeval chemical that flooded his body. He was not going to give in to this bully. The bottle suddenly felt heavy and warm. Nathan clinched the bottle tight to his chest like he was in a rugby match and bolted away from the trio. He fled straight ahead then jinked left and then right between caravans. Already his throat was raw with effort as he took in deep breaths. Ginger and his buddies were caught by surprise. Ginger yelled and then all three took up the chase. Nathan could hear them behind him getting closer and closer. Dodging around families having barbecues, Nathan pirouetted around young kids on their bikes and skateboards and he ran through an impromptu football match. Racing down the narrow space between two caravans Nathan spied his own caravan ahead. He surged forward and managed to throw the bottle through the window of his caravan before taking off to the right. Seconds later Ginger came around the corner and saw the feet of Nathan disappearing towards the Fun Palace. Shouting again, Ginger and his mates spurred on. Nathan ran out of steam at the steps to the Fun Palace. It was already busy with the after dinner crowd going in to mangle more songs. Bent over, panting and heaving, hands on his knees, Nathan tried to catch his breath. His thighs chafed from his wet jeans. He couldn’t go any further. As Ginger and his posse careered down the path towards him and stopped in a tangle in front of him, Nathan’s Dad came out from around the corner stuffing a packet of cigarettes in his pocket. He saw Nathan and came over just as Ginger got to within striking distance. “Hi Nate, you having fun?” initially mistaking the hunt as a game of tag. He saw the look on Ginger’s face and then Nathan’s and immediately understood the situation. He put himself between the boys and turned to Ginger, who was almost as tall as he was and looked coolly into his eyes. “You appear to be a trouble maker, sunshine.” Ginger, still puffing from his run, didn’t look away but smiled with no warmth. “We’re just having a bit of fun, is all.” He glanced at Nathan. Nathan was now standing, getting his breath back. Ginger noticed he didn’t have the bottle and looked quickly on the ground for it. Not seeing it he turned and looked back at Nathan’s father. “It’s alright, we were going anyway. Nancy-boy here didn’t want to play; the wimp.” The other boys laughed. Nathan’s father remained in front of Ginger and said very quietly, “If I see you near him again we’re going to have a problem.” Ginger flinched and took a step back. “Nah we won’t, you can’t touch me, that’s child abuse and I’ll have you in prison.” Nathans father kept his calm gaze, “You stupid boy. I don’t have to touch you. I’ll go and make sure that you and your family are thrown out of the camp ― and everyone will know it’s your fault.” Ginger weighed the words then silently turned and gruffly punched one of his mates. “Let’s go.” Nathan’s father turned to his son, “You get a lot of that don’t you?” Nathan shrugged and pushed his glasses up his nose, “You get used to it.” His dad appraised his son, almost seeing him for the first time. “You okay Nate? You want to come in and have a drink?” he said nodding towards the doors of the Fun Palace. Nathan shook his head, “No thanks Dad, I’ll just go back to the caravan and watch some TV.” His father ruffled his hair, “Okay. But if that kid has another go, you have my permission to hit him back, alright?” his father said with mock sternness. Nathan gave him a reassuring smile and headed back to his caravan keeping a wary eye out for Ginger. If only it was that simple, he thought. Back in the caravan Nathan found the bottle on the floor. It looked like it had bounced off the sofa first. The thick glass had protected it. He carried it to his room and laid it on the bed. Turning on a bedside lamp Nathan held the bottle up to the light source and tried to see what was inside but it was the same as when he and Emily were on the beach. All he could see were eddies of what looked like a milky liquid inside. Nathan let out a big sigh and put the bottle under his bed. He almost felt it was essential he opened the bottle right there and then but something deep in his heart stopped him. It was fear. He turned on the TV and managed to catch the beginning of an old episode of Aquila but the signal reception made it almost unwatchable. In bed he heard his parents arguing as they came home. His mother sounded very drunk and she stormed into their tiny bedroom, slamming closed the flimsy door. His father called out, “Alright Nate, you in bed?” Nathan mumbled loud enough for his dad to know he was there. He heard his father grab a beer from the fridge then sit on the small sofa and turn on the TV. Chapter 9 That night his dreams were dark and turbulent; filled with boiling clouds of black smoke, flashes and sparks of red embers. Towering columns of rock dominated the horizon and unseen creatures scurried and darted through the impenetrable dark fog, the sound of their claws skittering on stone, plainly audible. Nathan tossed and turned in his bed, moaning and muttering. There was something in those shadowy clouds stalking him. At first he thought that it must be some kind of dinosaur, a T-Rex maybe, but he soon realised that this was not like anything he had dreamt of before. This was something bigger, stronger and something else… evil. With a jolt he sat up in bed fighting for breath, eyes wide. His bed covers were on the floor. Looking out of the window he could already see the first streaks of dawn beginning to light the sky. His bed side clock said 4.41am. He checked under the bed. The bottle was still there. Damp with perspiration Nathan quietly towelled himself off, put on his glasses then got in to a fresh pair of too-short jeans and a T-shirt that had a the slogan ‘Kiss My...’ and then a cartoon of a donkey from behind looking over its shoulder. Nathan got the bottle, grabbed a blanket and went out into the early dawn and sat on a folding camp chair with the blanket wrapped around him. The bottle sat on his lap protectively covered with a corner of the blanket. His bad dream was already fading as he looked up at the brightening sky. It promised to be another hot one and Nathan started to try and go back over what he had dreamt. All he could remember were dark clouds boiling with something hidden deep inside them. He dozed off in the chair and woke with a start. His watch said it was 6.45am. He ducked back into the caravan and wrote a note for his parents to say that he would be down the beach for the day and quickly made himself a peanut butter sandwich. At exactly seven o’clock he waited by the gate at the entrance to the campsite, the bottle carried in an orange coloured Sainsbury’s bag. People were already up, going back and forth to the shower block or walking dogs. Kids were out on bicycles or kicking footballs about. The smell of frying bacon drifted across the air. Emily didn’t get there until quarter past the hour which slightly irritated Nathan. Emily was oblivious and gave Nathan a cute smile, “Alright Nate, got the bottle?” she asked. Nathan couldn’t help himself and smiled too, “Yeah”, his irritation evaporating as he held up the bag. Emily wore similar clothing to the day before only this time the top and shorts were a deep pink and her top had a picture of a goldfish driving an army tank. Her glossy black hair was pulled back into a ponytail. She pulled a multi-bladed Swiss knife from her pocket, “I remembered to bring this,” she paused, “Nice T-shirt,” she observed, but not unkindly. Nathan self-consciously covered the donkey with an arm. “It was a present,” he mumbled. As they made their way down the hill from the caravan park to the beach in the early morning sunshine the two children soon realised that it was going to be a busy day. From the hill they could already see plenty of dog walkers and joggers. Early bird sun worshippers were selecting the choicest spots on the beach to hammer in their wind breaks and roll out their picnic blankets and towels. In the distance, two miles away at the other end of the beach, dot like kite surfers could be glimpsed soaring and swooping as the owners hung beneath them. At the base of the cliff Nathan and Emily were dismayed to see that the tide was in. It was still a hundred yards from the base of the cliff but all the rock pools, large boulders and potential secret hiding places were underwater, and it wasn’t clear if the tide was still coming in or starting to go out. Emily shaded her eyes with her hand and scanned the beach and cliff face. “Good job we got the bottle out yesterday instead of leaving it, hey?” Nathan nodded in agreement, “Let’s see if we can find somewhere along the cliff,” he said, eyeing an adult and two children picking their way across the rocks towards their position. Emily’s forehead wrinkled, unsure. “What if the tide’s still coming in?” “I don’t think it is. See all the seaweed and barnacles? They only come up to here, a high tide point. I think the water only gets to the cliff when there is a storm.” Emily could see what Nathan meant. There was a distinct line along the rocks and shingle where all the seaweed and ocean debris just stopped after being deposited by the tide. Nathan continued. “Even if the tide continues up it will only get as far has where we’re standing, that gives us quite a bit of beach to ourselves.” Nathan suddenly noticed that Emily wasn’t wearing her glasses. “What happened to your specs?” “Oh, they’re not real glasses, just fashion ones. You know, with plain glass.” Nathan looked mystified. Emily laughed again, “It’s a ‘girl’ thing.” Nathan was beginning to realise that there were a lot of ‘girl things’ that he would never understand. Emily then fished in the front pocket of her shorts and took out a smartphone. She rapidly did some tapping on the screen and then a minute later declared, “Yup, tide’s going out. It will be high tide again at 5.46pm this afternoon.” Nathan grunted in admiration. As the sun started to heat up the sand and boulders around them the two children jumped and skipped over rocks and pools and walked along the cliff face in companionable silence. At various points along the base there were piles of crumbled rock where a mini avalanche had happened. This didn’t make Nathan feel very secure but Emily hummed happily as she negotiated these minor barriers. Emily jumped down from a high bank of shingle on to the wet sand closer to the breaking surf where she spotted a shell. She looked back up at the cliff, craning her neck to see the top, “Hey, I think I can see a cave!” Nathan jumped down next to her and looked back up the cliff too. “No, I can’t see anything.” “There,” she said pointing, “Where that bush is sticking out about half way up. It’s covering the entrance. See? That dark spot behind it.” Nathan looked along her pointed arm and suddenly became aware of how close she was to him. Once he spotted the cave on the cliff side it seemed obvious to Nathan. The opening did not look very big. “You’re not thinking of going up there are you?” She smirked and Nathan raised an eyebrow in question and repeated, “Are you?” Emily was already at the base of one of the mini avalanches scrabbling up the loose material, “C’mon!” she called without looking back. He sighed as he watched her retreating form. He adjusted the orange Sainsbury’s bag, had a quick look to see if anyone was watching and then scrabbled up after her. Emily had found a thin path with almost non-existent foot and hand holds and was climbing with the agility of a mountain goat. Nathan was much more circumspect and very cautiously started climbing, the bottle in the bag swinging backwards and forwards and side to side from his arm. Emily had already reached the bush and suddenly all he could see were her bare legs sticking out. He concentrated on the rock face and started to have fantasies of the entire cliff cascading down around his ears, buried under tons of chalky rock where he would be lost for millennia and become a fossilised hominid. He risked a furtive look upwards and saw Emily’s face almost in front of his. He hadn’t realised that he was almost there. Emily grinned and extended a hand, “C’mon up, the view’s lovely.” Nathan tentatively took her hand and she pulled him in. “Piece of cake,” she said. The cave was not really a cave. It was a large hole in the rock face where a rock or plant had come loose and the elements had finished the job of removing it. The space was large enough for them to both sit cross-legged in but they both had to hunch forwards slightly because of the low roof. The hole was about twenty feet up the cliff and Emily was right, Nathan conceded, the view was pretty good. The bay stretched around in a semi-circle on either side of them as far as the eye could see. Seagulls wheeled and dipped around the breaking surf, looking for crabs and shrimps. Nathan had a quick check and couldn’t see anyone looking up at them. The nearest people seemed to be the man and two small children they had seen earlier; and they were just ants on the sand. The hole they sat in amplified the crashing surf and wind ruffled their hair so Emily had to raise her voice. Nathan noticed that her top and her knees were now streaked with orange chalky clay. He looked down at his own t-shirt and was grimly pleased to see that his donkey was almost covered in the stuff as well. Emily poked the bag, “Let’s open it and see what that stuff is inside.” Nathan fished the bottle out and laid it on its side. It didn’t look any different. Emily picked it up and swished it about to get the contents moving. The gold filigree around the body glinted in the early morning sunlight. Nathan took the bottle and tried to use his finger nails to pick at the thick black looking wax seal. He gave up immediately and handed the bottle to Emily. “The seal is rock hard.” Emily pulled out her pocket knife and unfolded the largest blade. She inserted the tip under the edge of the wax seal and carefully increased pressure trying to snap bits of it off. Emily knew that this was dangerous as the knife could easily snap shut on her fingers. She tried a different tack and folded the blade back in and pulled out a metal spike called an awl. She tried to dig it into the side of the wax with the heavy point but nothing happened. The dark wax stayed that way ― dark and untouched; not even scratched. Emily frowned. “Bum. We’ll have to break it.” “What if it’s worth something? Breaking it will just make it useless.” Emily sat the bottle in her lap, “You’re right. We’ll have to find another way.” She paused in thought. “What we really need is a way to clamp the bottle in place somehow and use a bigger knife.” Nathan looked sceptical, “Maybe it wasn’t designed to be opened.” Emily scoffed, “All bottles are designed to be opened. Why make one that can’t? What can you keep in it that is so precious that you don’t want it to see the light of day?” Suddenly a loud chirruping noise like crickets filled the cave. Emily reached for her pocket and extracted her smartphone. “Hang on,” she said and took the call. “Hi mum. Yep. I’m okay. I’m at the beach. Oh, you’re there too? I’m round the corner at the bottom of the cliff with my new friend, Nate. The one I was telling you about yesterday from the caravan park…yes, that one.” She listened carefully then said, “Rain, what rain?” and looked out to sea. “Oh, that rain.” Nathan followed her gaze. It was still bright and sunny but on the horizon was a thick, dark band of black cloud that was getting bigger as they watched. “Okay, I’ll see you at lunchtime. Say ‘Hi’ to the three trolls. Love you, bye.” Emily checked the time and it said ten o’clock and she put the phone back in her pocket. “Sorry, it was one of the parentals.” Nathan had never heard them called that before. He was still red cheeked at Emily’s description of him as a friend and she had discussed him with her parents. He felt slightly jealous that she had such a loving relationship with her family. “Three trolls?” Emily laughed, “Yep, my three brothers. They’re a real pain but I love them anyway.” Still slightly jealous, Nathan gulped nervously as he peered over the edge. “Let’s get down to the beach and find another way to open this thing.” Emily agreed and put the bottle back in the plastic bag. “You go down first and I’ll hand you the bottle.” Nathan looked over the edge again and blanched, it looked a hundred feet down. “Really? Ladies first.” Emily blew a raspberry, “Very funny. You’re not scared are you?” Nathan nodded vigorously, “Scared. Yes, very scared. No shame in that. You lead.” Emily stroked a stray lock of hair from her ponytail back over her ear. Nathan liked her ears. They were small and perfectly formed. “Men!” Emily rapidly uncrossed her legs, swung them out and turned around to face Nathan, half her body already out over the abyss. “See ya!” and she dropped from sight. Nathan looked quickly over the edge and saw that Emily had just let go and used her hands and feet to control her descent, just sliding down the cliff face. She was at the top of the mini avalanche in seconds. “Throw me the bottle!” she called. Nathan dangled the bottle in the bag carefully over the precipice and judged where Emily was then let go. At the same time a gust of wind spun the bag and banged it against the cliff wall. Nathan held his breath then watched in despair as the bottle and bag tumbled down, banging against the rocks. It landed on the shingle. Nathan knew it was broken. It could not have survived that fall. Emily trudged through the deep shingle and retrieved the bag, opened it to look and then shouted, “No probs. It’s okay!” Nathan exhaled with relief where he had been holding his breath. He then slowly and agonisingly made his way down the cliff face one excruciatingly slow hand-hold at a time. He finally put his feet on terra firma and sweating, turned to find Emily smiling, “About time Evel Knievel.” “Evel Knievel?” “Old school dare-devil stuntman,” Emily grinned. “Ha ha, funny ha ha,” said Nathan drily. Nathan trailed down to the water’s edge and sat in the sand a few feet from the crashing surf and Emily joined him with the bottle still in its bag. “We’re going to have to go back to the caravan park and find something to open it.” Nathan hugged his knees looking out to sea. The inky-black band of cloud was rapidly approaching, already beginning to blot out the sun, though there was no wind to warn of a coming storm. He took the bag from Emily. “Let’s just break the top off. Really, if we show it to anyone they’ll end up keeping the money and fame and we’ll get nothing. We’re just kids.” “What do you think’s in it, champagne or wine? I’ll hold it with the bag and you break it. I think we should just smash it below the wax seal.” Nathan didn’t reply straight away as he figured something out. “I’ve got it! We’ll bury it in wet sand up to its neck. The wet sand will cushion it and stop the whole bottle from breaking. All we have to do is break off the neck and hey presto, one open bottle!” Emily got onto her knees, looked up and down the short stretch of beach to make sure they were alone, and started digging. “Brilliant! I hope it’s worth it, I’ve never tried champagne before.” Within a minute she had dug a hole deep enough. Water slowly seeped into the hole from the sides. Nathan placed the bottle in it then took it out so Emily could make it deeper. The next try found it a perfect fit and they filled in the hole around the bottle with thick, waterlogged sand. “Brill-o,” said Emily patting the sand down around the neck. Three inches of the neck stuck out. They started casting about for a stone to do the damage. Nathan found one and hefted it in his hand for size. Satisfied he looked at Emily. “Go on,” she urged, “You found it, you open it.” Nathan drew his hand back and took careful aim. “I’m going to throw it.” He missed twice and on the third throw the stone hit the neck with an audible crack. The top of the bottle broke off around the black wax seal and fell on the sand. For a second nothing happened — then all hell broke loose. Chapter 10 The bright sunlight abruptly dimmed as the cloud bank arrived and dark blue/purple smoke billowed out from the neck of the bottle onto the sand around their feet. They both took a step back as the thick smoke enveloped their ankles and then watched as tendrils of smoke snaked towards the sea. There was a huge clap of thunder and a white flash and then very clearly, a green waterspout formed in the sea like a small twister. It was twice the height of a man and it moved rapidly toward the children. As it drew nearer, the smoke on the sand was sucked into the waterspout turning it a dark blue with flashes of purple. The waterspout came ashore, causing a small sandstorm that made the children cover their eyes. Still spinning, the water vortex stopped five feet from them. Nathan and Emily stood still in wonder and fear. “Wow!” breathed Emily. The waterspout collapsed in a rush of roiling sea and foam into the sand and there before them stood a man. He was tall and his well defined muscles glistened with wet, though being wet did not seem to bother him. The man had tattooed pale red skin, was bare-chested and wore loose fitting trousers which were a dark blue and trimmed with gold. His hair was jet black and hung dankly around his shoulders. Around his thick neck was a solid gold necklace with a pendant in the shape of a sun. His wrists were circled with gold bracelets and his fingers were covered in gold rings set with large jewels like rubies and emeralds. The man’s face sported a neatly trimmed goatee style beard and he had deep green eyes. He did not look happy, but neither did he look angry. He eyed the children for a moment and then gave a small bow. His lips did not move but Nathan could clearly hear his deep, powerful voice as he spoke. He looked to Emily who confirmed with a nod that she could too. “Oh powerful masters, I am Al Kassim and I do your bidding.” He bowed deeply again. Nathan noticed that the sky remained dark; he could see white seagulls in the background seemingly suspended in the air, not moving. Behind Al Kassim, the sea appeared to have been frozen; waves at the point of curling and collapsing were motionless like a photograph. “Where did you come from?” asked Nathan, though he knew the answer. Al Kassim looked at the broken bottle at their feet. “I have been imprisoned and bound to that accursed vessel for over two thousand nine hundred years by Asmodeus, the king of demons, young masters. You have freed me and as decreed by King Solomon I owe you a debt. I am able to grant you your desires.” Emily clapped her hands in delight, “You’re a Genie and you have to grant us three wishes?!” Al Kassim frowned, “No, not Genie, I am Djinn, a god from another time…and yes, I can grant you your hearts desires three times as is foretold by the great Al Yazeed, father of the Marid, greatest of all Djinn tribes.” Al Kassim bowed deeply once more. Emily whispered to Nathan, “What do you think?” The Djinn appeared to smile slightly, “You do not need to talk quietly young mistress, as I can hear your thoughts. You are confused and yet excited.” He looked at Nathan. “You, young master seek to explore the possibilities. Some appear to be good and yet others are very dark, a path you may not wish to travel.” Nathan gulped at being so transparent. Emily looked sideways at Nathan. “What does he mean?” Nathan shrugged, “Nothing really.” Al Kassim suddenly clapped his hands and bowed, “It is done.” Nathan looked surprised. “What is done?” Emily smiled nervously, “I think I just got a horse.” She looked around expectantly. Al Kassim spread his arms wide and inclined his head slightly, his black hair falling forwards, “It is as you have wished young mistress. The creature of your desire is now outside your home.” Emily took a step back, “But there’s no one home. We’re all here on holiday!” Al Kassim smiled slightly, arms crossed. “You may choose another desire young mistress.” Nathan looked around the frozen beach. They were all alone. “Do we have three wishes each or is it between us?” “Alas young master, I am able to grant three desires only. You are advised to choose wisely.” Al Kassim clapped again and spread his arms wide, “It is done.” Emily shouted in panic, “I didn’t wish for anything!” Nathan looked at his feet in the sand, hands in pockets. “I did.” Al Kassim crossed his arms over his chest again, his bracelets clinking against each other. “The young master wished for his mother and father to be happy and united once more. This has been granted.” Emily gave Nathan as sideways glance while Nathan fought an urge to run off back to the campsite and check. Emily stood closer to Nathan. “We’ve got one left, what shall we wish for — more wishes?” Al Kassim groaned and said in a bored voice like he’d done it a thousand times before, “A master is granted three desires only. The Marid Djinn are creatures of free will, as are you. We are benevolent and have chosen to lead a life of dignity and respect and to serve and live alongside our human masters. Please do not ask for something that cannot be granted as I will be then unbound and free to return to my realm.” Nathan turned to Emily with a light in his eyes, “Well, we could ask for money, lots of it; or to live forever, or to have a mega-robot so we don’t get bullied. What about a dog, or the latest games console?” Emily grinned, “Yeah, lots of jewellery, hundreds of cats. A motorbike, a castle, — jeez, you know, I don’t know what to wish for.” Nathan looked thoughtful, “An end to war and fighting? Plenty of food for everyone? How about no more religion? That could sort a lot of problems out.” Emily looked doubtful. “No religion? Are you nuts? We need something for us. Money’s always a good one.” Al Kassim looked troubled, “Please choose wisely young masters. An end to all religion can be granted but you may wish to consider the consequences.” “I guess there would be world peace, nothing to fight over.” Al Kassim chose his words carefully, “Religion is not the sole reason that mortal kind has a reason to fight. You may consider greed, disagreements about your different beliefs, fear and even that a nation may think it better and stronger than another. Religion unites a common people, whether for good or bad.” Nathan groped for Emily’s hand. She took it without thinking. “Can Emily and I think about it, maybe choose tomorrow?” Al Kassim took a step forward and the children were able to see that his pale red skin glowed slightly. The rings on his fingers sparkled with their own fire. “It is foretold by the great Al Yazeed, father of the Marid, greatest of all Djinn tribes that your desires are to be fulfilled within the day of a Djinn’s release. That is the way of things. What is your final request young masters’?” Al Kassim bowed again in respect. Emily hopped indecisively from one foot to the other, “Oh bloody hell, I can’t decide!” Nathan was quiet, head bowed, apparently deep in thought. Al Kassim suddenly took two steps back until the sea was up to his knees. He clapped his hands, threw his head back, eyes closed and spread his arms wide. He slowly lowered his head and looked at the children with his piercing green eyes. Bowing his head forward, a look of sadness crossed his face. “Your desire has been granted young master. It has, as was foretold by the wisest of all Djinn, Al Marak, and the most evil, Asmodeus, king of demons and angels, that this wish would come to pass. From my lips to my heart to the breath and hearts of all my Djinn brethren and so to your God ― go in peace.” Al Kassim’s face had a look of resigned sadness. As he uttered the last of his words the water around the Djinn’s feet started to boil and climb up his body until the waterspout formed again and sped out across the sea. Slowly the dark skies lightened and shafts of bright sunlight speared like lasers onto the sea surface and across the beach. The sound of gulls started to intrude and small waves started to curl back up the shingle. A larger wave splashed onto the ornate bottle and sucked and dragged it back into the water. Neither child moved to save it. “What did you wish for Nathan?” Nathan looked at Emily with tears in his eyes and sat suddenly on the sand. “I’m not sure. I just briefly wished that there were no more problems in the world, and then I thought, ‘how can that happen?’ Then I thought, ‘If we were all dead then there’d be no more problems, Earth could start again.’ Then I thought that was silly, and then I panicked and thought of something else ― I wished for a new set of Dr Who DVD’s; but I think it’s too late.” “Well, you must have wished for something because old genie-boy has gone and we’re still here.” She squeezed his hand that she was still holding, “No one’s going to believe us you know.” Nathan stood up and brushed the damp sand from his shorts, “Yeah, maybe you’re right.” He brightened slightly. “Maybe it’s all a dream!” Emily checked the time on her phone and frowned. It had been ten o’clock when she last checked her phone and now it still said ten o’clock. Nathan looked around again. Everything seemed normal. He shrugged. “Yeah, it’s all some crazy dream. Let’s go.” As they trudged back through the sand along the water’s edge Emily’s phone rang again. “Hi mum.” Emily stopped walking, her face shocked. “What? A horse! You’re kidding! Ok, Ok. Where did it come from? No! Alright, I’ll see you later. Bye, love you.” She grinned and looked at Nathan. “Some dream, huh? Mum said she got a call from a next-door neighbour to say that a beautiful chestnut horse was in our front garden.” Nathan didn’t smile back. “Well hopefully my parents are like newlyweds and I’ve got a pile of DVD’s when I get back then.” Emily teased, “So do I, I wouldn’t want us to all die some horrible death just as I was getting to know you.” Nathan blushed again. The two of them scrambled over the rocks back onto the main beach and Emily went to meet her parents and brothers after telling Nathan that she would see him later. Back at his caravan Nathan found his mum and dad outside in deck chairs holding hands and chatting animatedly, a radio played some music in the background. His mum saw him and beamed. “Hi darling, you’re not going to believe this but your dad and I have decided to really give our marriage a go. We know it’s been rough on you lately and we’re really sorry. We’ve suddenly realised how much we love each other and we’re going to make it up to you. I’ve thrown away all the booze and fags too.” Nathan gave a wan smile. His mother looked younger and more radiant and his father grinned from ear to ear. “That’s great you two. I’m not feeling very well so I’m going to lie down for a few minutes.” Nathan’s dad looked serious for a second. “Ok, soldier. You go and get some rest and then we’re all going out to lunch to celebrate.” He looked to Nathan’s mum and wiped his brow and then looked at the sky that was now a white hazy colour. “Wow, looks like it’s going to be a scorcher today!” The music on the radio crackled with static. Nathan went into his small room in the caravan. His dad was right though, it was already very warm. Sweat trickled down the side of Nathan’s temples. He looked around the inside of the caravan. There were no DVD’s; nothing indicating a Dr Who presence of any kind. Slightly panicking, he turned the room upside down. Nothing. Maybe they were back at his house, a giant pile on the living room floor, but as soon as that thought left him he knew it wasn’t true. Nathan climbed out of his caravan window and silently made his way around the back towards the beach again. As he crossed the sand he heard someone calling his name. He ignored it and carried on to the water’s edge where he walked through the surf in his shoes. He ignored the wet sand filling the insides, making his feet drag. He finally stood at a stretch of surf where there was no one else around. Emily came panting up behind him and stood in the water next to him, “Hey, you alright? You didn’t hear me. I was calling you. Our TV and radio have stopped working. I was coming over to see if yours was okay.” Nathan continued looking out over the horizon. “Have you noticed how hot it is all of a sudden?” Emily gazed at Nathan’s face, searching for something. “Yes” she said carefully. “It is hot, but they did say that it was going to be 27 degrees today.” Nathan pointed out to sea. “Look at that. That is not good.” Emily looked out to the horizon where the ocean met the white sky. “I don’t see anything, only a boat.” The sea was flat now, like a mirror. It had a peculiar colour to it, a dark stormy grey with streaks of deep bottle green that was at odds with the bright hazy sunshine of the day. Nathan’s shoulders slumped and he sighed, “Look at the sun. My wish came true.” It took Emily a minute to see what he meant as she shaded her eyes against the glare and then she saw it, two suns, close together, one brighter than the other. She looked at Nathan in puzzlement, “What does it mean?” Nathan stared at Emily’s face, as though seeing it for the first time, “No more bullies…” he paused, “No more violence or fighting. We’ll all be at peace at last.” “How?” Emily asked. Nathan shrugged. “Asteroid, I guess. It’s the only way that the world could end.” Tears streamed down his face, “I’m sorry, what have I done?” Emily clutched his hand. Now she had seen the second sun, the asteroid, she could feel the heat radiating down. “My family…we should tell people…” she paused as she realised how futile it sounded. Tears fell from her eyes too and she whispered, “Just one more wish...” The End
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