Black Feathers

20

Gordon kept all his clothes on in his sleeping bag. Even his boots. He thought it was unlikely that the Ward would pursue him at night, but if they had an idea of where he was, he supposed they might. Sleep did not come easily. After an hour of fidgeting and shifting, he sat up and wrote an entry in his black journal by torchlight.

One thing he’d overlooked was a mat to lie his sleeping bag on. He counted the cost in broken sleep. But even if he’d been lying in a warm comfortable bed in an expensive campervan with a safely locked door, he knew he would not have been free of the constant pecking of anxiety.

Within the partial hours where he did find rest, dreams awaited him.

He is running. Behind him are all the powers of the Ward. They come in four-wheel drives, on foot, on horseback, even in tanks and armoured cars. Everything about them is grey, even their mounts; their uniforms are suited to their mode of chase. Those on horseback wear riot gear with visored helmets. Those in tanks wear battle dress; the drivers and runners wear their long, double-breasted raincoats, buttoned and belted as always. Archibald Skelton and Mordaunt Pike lead the charge on foot, displaying superhuman speed and holding their pistols aloft.

Gordon is slow because he still wears his rucksack, because he is running through muddy ruts in cropless, barren fields. The soil is so spent from intense farming that it too is grey. The Ward close in and the first bullets sing past him. Gordon’s footsteps get slower, the ground sucks at him. Tears of frustration soak his face.

In a last-chance bid to widen the gap between him and his pursuers, he drops his rucksack. The effect is instant and miraculous. His body is now the very wind itself and he surges forwards, power rising up in him from the earth. His feet barely touch the mud.

He chances a look behind.

Diesel engines grumble to a scream, horses accelerate from trot to canter to gallop, the tanks and armoured cars howl and tear at the dead earth, finding purchase and charging forwards. Skelton and Pike’s feet become a blur. Once again the Ward close in. Tank shells explode to left and right, knocking the breath from him and sealing his ears with concussion. Bullets bite the dirt at his feet.

Gordon leaps, forwards and upwards, reaching for the sky. An updraught takes him, wind smoothes the tears from his face and he spreads his arms wide. He takes flight and rises fast. Looking down he sees the Wardsmen lose the fire of the chase and come to a stop. None can follow him now. As he sees this, he also sees that his legs are now tucked under sleek black belly feathers. His feet are black claws. Looking from side to side he sees his arms are outstretched wings, his wingtips spread like black razorblades. Minor adjustments of his feathers cause him to turn and dive or rise and roll. He is free and soaring up to the heavens, lifting through the clouds which have blocked out the sun for so long.

Above them there is only golden light from a sun so bright he can’t look at it. This light descends from a sky of pure deep blue. Below him now is a land of brilliant white cloud, smooth and pure. He soars, knowing his blackness is beautiful against the white, against the light. Below him he can see his shadow speeding across the surface of the new landscape, keeping pace with every swoop or ascent.

Diving back towards the clouds to touch his own shadow, he flies through the cotton-candy clouds, their mist condensing on his beak and breast feathers. Something hits him and he lurches downwards. He tries to regain his lift by spreading his wings but they are restricted. A mesh has snared him. The Ward have fired their nets up into the sky and caught him. Now, he falls rolling over and over without any control.

Far below, the ground widens and gives up the details of itself like a map and then like an aerial photograph and finally he is hurtling earthwards at terminal velocity. He sees an army of Wardsmen waiting for him and blacks out just before he hits the earth.

Gordon woke to the sound of his own voice still crying out into the darkness. His bed was hard and jagged beneath him and it took a while for him to remember where he was. Anything was better than falling out of the sky into the hands of the Ward. At least out here in his tent he was still at liberty. At least he still had a chance to stay that way.

He rubbed his face. The light was returning. If they were coming for him, they wouldn’t be far away. Feeling bruised all over from sleeping on the rough ground he sat up, unzipped his sleeping bag and stowed it. Within a few minutes he’d taken down his tent and everything else was packed away. He hoisted his rucksack, switched on his torch and entered the tunnel.

Ten paces inside, all traces of ordinary flora were gone. Grass and weeds could not survive the darkness and so he walked now upon bare, well-packed earth. His footsteps were muffled but they echoed away from him into the tunnel’s endless snake-belly. He shone his torch left and right, above and ahead. In the cracks between the bricks grew some kind of damp rot which flaked like white scabs. In other cracks between the ground and the first course of brickwork, fungi grew in incestuous clumps. The air grew thick and tainted. He tasted wet dust on his tongue. The idea that trains had once thundered through this darkness unnerved him a little, even though he knew he was in no danger now. The tunnel’s silence seemed to hold no memory of such powerful vibrations. Although he and Judith had explored the tunnel and even hidden in it before, neither of them had ever walked this far in. Gordon found it hard to keep moving. What if the tunnel collapsed, crushing or trapping him? Two forces fluxed in the darkness: one, like hungry black gravity, sucked him deeper. The other, his fear, and the menacing darkness, repelled him. He willed himself on.

When he thought he’d walked far enough, he dropped his pack and took out everything he didn’t need for his return to the house, before putting it back on, almost empty. His torch lit the way back to the tunnel’s mouth and from there he climbed up the grassy bank on his right so that he could get to the other side of the hedge. That way he could take the same route home without walking along the bridleway itself.

If the Ward were searching for him, he’d see them before they saw him.

From the hedge at the beginning of the bridleway where he’d hidden the day before, the house and garden looked clear. But he watched for a long time before daring to cross the open ground between the hawthorn and the back wall of the garden. It was impossible to open the green door quietly but he did his best, edging and forcing it a few millimetres at a time until there was enough space to squeeze through. Leaving it open was risky, but he weighed it up before moving on. If there was someone in the house right now, he might need to get away quickly. If there was no one there he could close the door again when he left and all would appear undisturbed. He left it open and moved towards the house, far more boldly than he’d done the previous day.

Nothing moved inside – at least, nothing he could see through the windows. Limping slightly, he used the trees for cover instead of crawling. When he’d reached the tree nearest the back terrace he had a better view of the windows on the ground floor and he took his time, now, checking each one for movement or anything out of place. When he was satisfied, he checked the front of the house. There were still no vehicles. Once again he entered the house through the unlocked back door and went in search of supplies.

He was upstairs in the bathroom changing the dressing on his cut when he heard the approach of a diesel engine. It came quickly up the country road, pulled into the entry and ground to a halt on the gravel. Gordon heard the handbrake ratcheted and two doors slammed. He froze. Part of him refused to believe his bad luck; the rest of him slipped into shock. No matter how fast he moved, there would be no getting out of the house. The front door opened and closed as he tied off his bandage and replaced the first-aid kit in the bathroom cabinet.