The devils footsteps, p.12
The Devil's Footsteps, page 12
XXIV
‘Oh, come on, Bryan.’ Adam scowled impatiently as his younger brother scuttled to keep up.
‘Wait!’ pleaded Bryan. His legs were short compared to his brother’s, and going down to the park with Adam wasn’t like walking with Mum and Dad. Adam was supposed to be looking out for his little brother, but he preferred to run on ahead, darting across the streets without the slightest fear of traffic and expecting Bryan to do the same.
Adam was never afraid of anything, and Bryan hated that because it meant he had to be the same. Embarrassing yourself in front of your schoolmates came and went, but show yourself up in front of Adam and he’d remember it for ever.
‘C’mon, we have to hurry! Mum’ll be here soon.’
At the age of ten, Adam was far too old to have parents hanging around the whole time, cramping his style. Their corner of Redford was a quiet enough little place, and they were allowed to ride their bikes or go down to the park if they stuck together, but their mother didn’t like to go too long without checking on them. Bryan thought that was pretty OK compared to some people’s parents he knew, but to Adam it was criminally restrictive.
Bryan was still – although he’d never admit it – a little nervous about being out alone. Not because he was scared, but because he was sure Adam was going to do something stupid or crazy, and how was he supposed to stop him? Now, as he chased his brother downhill towards the park, he was troubled by the sight of the wrought-iron gates barring their way.
‘The gates are shut, Adam. Why are they shut?’
Adam made a ‘duh, how thick are you?’ face. ‘’Cause somebody shut them?’ He reached for the nearest gate to give it a push, but Bryan hung back.
‘I don’t know, Adam,’ he said uneasily. ‘What if the park’s closed or something?’
Adam sneered at that with the full force of his ten years of worldly wisdom. ‘No one’s gonna close the park, Bry. Come on.’ He shoved the gates open in a rattle of metal, and Bryan didn’t have any choice but to follow.
His unease deepened to near panic as he saw that the park was completely empty. No parents with babies, no other kids, no teenagers playing football . . . It was as if they were the only two people left in the world. He grabbed his brother by the arm. ‘It is closed, Adam, I told you!’
‘It’s not!’ Adam scowled, shaking him off. ‘And who cares if it is? We’ve got the whole place to ourselves.’ He grinned suddenly, wickedly pleased with himself. ‘Let’s go into the woods,’ he said.
‘Adam, we can’t!’ Bryan objected. They weren’t allowed in the woods on their own. And he didn’t want to go there, anyway. He hated the woods.
His brother’s voice became more sneakily persuasive. ‘Come on, Bry, let’s go into the woods,’ he begged. ‘Come on, it’ll be so cool. What are you afraid of, Bryan? Mum and Dad won’t even know. We can sneak in and be back before they come and get us. What are you afraid of?’
Plenty, but nothing Bryan could explain to his brother. ‘They’ll be here any second,’ he said instead.
‘No they won’t, we’ve got ages,’ Adam casually shot him down. He allowed his mouth to curl into a mocking grin. ‘You’re not chicken, are you?’
There was only one possible answer to that.
‘No!’
Adam grinned wider. ‘Well, come on, then!’ He sprinted off towards the woods. And Bryan followed. Because . . . well, what else?
Bryan had never been in the woods before without his parents, and he didn’t like it much at all. Even in the bright sunlight, there was something menacing about the way the trees seemed to close in on you, funnelling you in one direction so you went where the trees wanted you to, not where you wanted to.
But he couldn’t exactly tell Adam that the trees were out to get them. That he’d be hearing about until he was a hundred and two. Instead he whined, ‘Adam, where are we going?’
‘Getting scared, are you?’
‘No! I just—’ Bryan stopped abruptly as he nearly ran into his brother. ‘What is it?’ His voice came out higher than he’d have liked, with an edge of panic, but for once Adam didn’t notice.
‘It’s just some kind of clearing or— Oh, wow!’ Adam’s entire face lit up.
Bryan squeezed past him, and then his jaw dropped. There, right in front of them in the long, ragged grass, was a trail of stones leading round in a snaking path. He didn’t have to count them to know how many there would be. Thirteen stones. Thirteen steps to the Dark Man’s door . . .
‘Oh, wow!’ said Adam again. ‘It’s really real!’
‘Let’s get out of here, Adam,’ Bryan said. His heart was so tight in his chest that he almost didn’t care if he sounded like a total wimp.
But Adam wouldn’t be swayed. ‘Are you kidding?’ He hopped onto the first stone, and jumped off and on again with a grin. Bryan winced. ‘It’s just like everybody says! One in fire, two in—’
‘Adam!’ he yelped. He could feel it; something building, some dark power growing as his brother casually played with something far, far too dangerous . . .
Adam dropped down from the stone and turned to grin at him. His eyes were so lit up, for a moment they almost glowed, and Bryan took an involuntary step backwards. ‘You’re scared,’ smirked Adam.
Of course I am. I should be scared – we both should – can’t you feel it?
‘No I’m not!’
‘Then I dare you. I dare you to do the rhyme.’
And Bryan was caught. Refusing a dare was the worst thing ever. Adam would spread it all around the school, he knew it. For the rest of his life, he’d be the kid who found the Devil’s Footsteps and was too scared to say the rhyme.
His life wouldn’t be worth living.
‘I’ll do it.’
‘Go on, then.’ And Adam had just stood there grinning, as if it were nothing, as if it were just some stupid little game and not the deadliest thing ever.
But Bryan had taken the dare, and there was no backing out now.
Before he could lose his nerve, Bryan closed his eyes and took the first step forwards. In a rush of dizziness, he felt as if he were standing not on a flat rock in the grass, but atop some great cliff, a thousand metres high.
He didn’t want to say the words aloud, didn’t want to call upon that magic power, but they echoed inside his head all the same. The internal chant kept time with Adam’s mocking voice, sounding at one and the same time as if it came from a couple of metres away and far, far below.
One in fire. The rhythm of the chant bound him, forcing him to move onwards when he didn’t want to. Two in blood. Against his own will, his feet kept going. Three in storm . . . four in flood. Now the voice that chanted alongside the one in his head didn’t sound like Adam at all, but altogether deeper, darker and nastier.
Five in anger, six in hate, seven fear, evil eight.
Bryan felt as if he were frozen with fear, but he couldn’t be, because he was still moving. His eyes were jammed shut, and he no longer dared to even think of opening them for fear of what he might see. His lips curled back from his teeth in a grimace of terror, but he still couldn’t stop himself.
Nine in sorrow, ten in pain, eleven death—
He let out an uncontrollable squeak at that ominous eleventh step, and his eyes flew open. A cold jolt of terror snapped him out of his near trance. What was he doing? This wasn’t just a dare, it was life and death. What could Adam do to him that was worth facing down the Dark Man?
Suddenly, in thinking that, Bryan had control of his own body again. Before the terrible hypnotic power of the chant had a chance to wash back over him, he wrenched himself away from following the pathway, and jumped.
For a moment he was falling, falling . . . And then he was just standing on the ground, because after all, the steps were just stones, a few centimetres high. Weren’t they?
The last remnants of the echoing chant were washed away by Adam’s scornful laughter. Bryan didn’t care about that. He could feel the darkness in this place, a pulsing, terrible sense of evil that was growing with every second. It filled the air, choking him, until he could barely breathe or see or think . . .
He started to run for the safety of the trees, for their last chance at escape. Maybe it wasn’t too late; maybe if he hadn’t completed the ritual the Dark Man wouldn’t notice them . . . He grabbed for his brother’s arm, thinking that surely now Adam must feel it, but he just danced out of the way, still laughing.
‘I can’t believe you!’ he crowed. ‘You’re such a wuss! Oh man, you totally chickened out!’
‘Adam! Please! We gotta go . . .’ Bryan jiggled up and down desperately in the gap between the trees, knowing that if they didn’t run now, something terrible would happen at any moment. Come on, Adam, please come on—
But Adam wasn’t listening. With a mocking grin, he hopped backwards onto the first of the steps. ‘I’m gonna show you how a real man takes a dare, Bry. Follow me – come on, kid, I’ll go first. If anything comes to get us, it’ll get me first, right? Come on, Bryan!’ He took another long backward step. ‘What the hell are you so afraid of?’ Step. ‘You don’t seriously believe this junk, do you?’ Step. ‘You think the Dark Man’s gonna come and get me?’
Bryan was barely even hearing his taunting words. He wanted to scream to his brother that he didn’t get it, he didn’t understand, but he couldn’t force the words out. Instead, he found himself backing slowly away through the trees as he whispered aloud the words he didn’t want to think, the words of power that summoned the Dark Man to collect his sacrifice.
Nine in sorrow, ten in pain. Eleven death, twelve life again . . .
XXV
With an effort, Bryan shook himself free of his memories. He didn’t want to think about that now; didn’t want to think about how he’d been frozen with terror, unable to run after his brother, grab him, drag him, pull him away to safety . . . Didn’t want to think about how his last ever glimpse of his brother had been that terrified split second as Adam turned to face the unfolding form of the Dark Man . . . and Bryan turned to run for his life.
He ran a shaky hand through his sweaty hair, focusing on the park, forcing himself back into the present. The eerie rise and fall of the chant continued, turning what should have been a perfectly ordinary sunlit scene into something immeasurably more creepy. He looked across at the others, and found them both watching him.
‘Bryan?’ asked Jake quietly.
He gave a brisk nod in reply. ‘Let’s do this.’
They walked together towards the trees. Bryan fancied he could feel the world stretching and bulging out of shape, so that the looming woods became huge, and everything else behind them and beside them was shrinking down into nothingness. Yet these woods didn’t feel alien, they felt like Redford, smelled like it – the stench of something that had died a long time ago, and just been left to rot.
He thought of the long ago children from the orphanage. They’d been killed and buried in secret, hidden away so thoroughly that even when the tale was told it wasn’t believed . . . but not without a trace. Whatever had happened here so long ago had left a stain on the history of the town so strong it kept on spreading outwards.
They walked on into the woods. Bryan could hear the eerie rise and fall of the chant up ahead, unquestionably in the rhythm of the words he knew so well, and yet still indistinct.
‘Do you know where we’re going?’ asked Jake, voice barely more than a whisper. They all felt the urge to stay hushed, but it wasn’t the respectful silence that settled over a graveyard or some ancient place of power; rather, the tense, fearful quiet of knowing that there was something out there.
‘Of course I do.’ Bryan spoke with absolute conviction. He knew it in his blood and under his skin. For the past five years it had been there, haunting his days and filling his nightmares, the silent call to return to this place. If he’d been suddenly struck blind and deaf, he would still have found it. Or it would have found him.
Smokey let out his breath in an abrupt gasp as a shape loomed out of the shadows. And then he relaxed. ‘Nina!’ He made to step towards her, but Bryan yanked him back.
Nina looked up at them and smiled innocently. But her eyes were completely blank, flat and white with no humanity in them. She silently beckoned them to follow.
‘What . . . ?’ Smokey stood frozen, caught between seeing his sister’s familiar face and seeing the alien nature those blank eyes betrayed.
‘It’s the Dark Man,’ said Bryan quietly. ‘He’s in control now. His rules. So let’s follow.’
Jake sucked in a sharp breath, but said nothing.
The girl who wasn’t quite Nina led the way in complete silence. Bryan realized suddenly that the chant they’d been hearing all this time had cut out; and yet somehow its absence was even worse. The only sounds were the footsteps and the breathing of the three boys. Literally the only sounds – there was no wind, no birdsong, and though Nina walked the same path they did, her footsteps were silent.
It wasn’t a noise that made Bryan suddenly look to the side, then, but maybe some movement at the corner of his eye, or maybe just a prickle of a feeling. Child-sized shadows rippled through the trees to either side of the path, as if the four of them were marching in step with an invisible host. The dappled sunlight that made it through the thick network of branches should never have been able to cast them.
Beside him, Jake’s breath hitched, and Bryan knew that he had noticed the shadows too. By a common agreement that didn’t need to be spoken out loud, Jake gripped him by the wrist. On the other side, Smokey did the same; just about the closest you could get to holding hands without looking like that was what you were doing. Not that appearances really mattered, here and now.
Their unnatural escort led them on through the woods. The journey seemed to take a long time, but Bryan wasn’t fooled. The route they travelled could be just as long or as short as the Dark Man chose to make it.
All this waiting, all this ceremony – it was all to allow the chill trickle of fear to build in his chest. He knew that, understood that, but it was working all the same. The Dark Man might be trying to frighten him, but that didn’t mean the fear wasn’t justified.
I’m crazy – we’re all crazy. What are we doing? Why had they ever been mad enough to think they could come to the forest and do this? Whatever ‘this’ was. They had no more idea now how to defeat the Dark Man than they had when they’d begun this. And now there was no more time for thinking.
The woods around him started to look familiar – so familiar, Bryan wasn’t sure if he was still in the present, or locked in the details of the day that had been imprinted on his memory for ever. There was the twisted root he had stumbled over; there was the tree with the gnarled trunk that looked as if it were leaning over to peer down at him . . . And there, there . . . the clearing.
If it hadn’t been for Jake and Smokey beside him, he might have stopped dead then and there, slamming into the weight of five years of nightmares. It didn’t just look the same as it had, it was the same. The world seemed to go spinning dizzily out of control, everything he had seen and done and felt for the past five years fading away into nothing more than a fevered dream. And then Smokey tightened his grip on his arm, and said quietly, ‘Bryan?’
And the moment was gone.
Bryan took a deep, shaky breath, and stepped forwards. Their silent escort fell back, and Jake and Smokey released his arms, as if they knew instinctively they’d reached a point that was his alone to pass beyond.
And there it was, that simple little snaking trail of stones. Stone markers for the graves of children whose names nobody remembered. Thirteen steps, just tiny little hops like a hopscotch game. It would take no effort at all to walk from one end to the other . . . and yet, it would take everything.
The Devil’s Footsteps.
Bryan closed his eyes for a long moment. Images, memories swirled in the dark behind his eyelids. He breathed, slowly, until the dark was all there was, and then he opened them again.
The world seemed to have shrunk, or perhaps it was just that he was seeing nothing but what was directly before him. He was aware of Smokey and Jake and the silent Nina, but only distantly, as if they were the crowd far up in the stands and he stood alone in the centre of the football pitch. And it was down to him to make the kick-off.
He stepped forwards.
XXVI
The world around him buckled and changed. All of a sudden the stillness of the forest glade was shattered as it transformed into a nightmare landscape of black, cracked earth and burning trees. The heat was so intense that his skin began to blister; he felt as if it were melting . . . He let out a yell, suddenly wholly convinced he’d been transported directly into hell.
It’s over, you’re dead, you totally screwed up, and I guess this is what happens to boys who leave their brothers to die—
And then he thought – One in fire. This wasn’t hell. Hell was a trail of stones away. This was only the first step.
And he moved forward.
The clearing snapped back to its previous appearance, and Bryan let out a quick sigh of relief. He was here, he was fine, he was doing it. He’d passed the first test.
But not unscathed. His skin still itched fiercely with the force of the heat that had baked it, and even though he knew he shouldn’t, he had to go for the temporary release of rubbing his arms to soothe them.
His skin felt strange, loose under his questing fingertips. He looked down at his arms, and screamed in terror. His skin was blackened and cracked, oozing thick, dark blood. Heart’s blood. He stood in a kind of numb trance, watching as his life pumped away out of the arteries in his ruined arms. In a matter of minutes he would surely be dead . . .
