orange and then the lights extinguish one by one. After that everything happens almost too rapidly to register. Within the space of two seconds the entire rig has vanished, sucked silently beneath the waves.
Then darkness. It’s as if it had never been.
‘I told you,’ whispers Bethany. ‘I told you. It’s started.’
The link lost, the screen flutters and goes blank. Before I can stop her, Bethany has seen her opportunity. She grabs Calum’s uniformed arm through the window and pulls him close, bringing his ear up to her mouth. He recoils from her grip, but she clings on to his sleeve. ‘Your big day’s arrived!’ she croaks hoarsely. ‘Are you
In that instant, I can see he has recognised her. Wrenching himself away, the young usher darts off through the parked cars, shouting into his headset.
‘Well, thank you, Bethany,’ sighs Frazer Melville. ‘I guess there is no plan B.’
He’s right. Yellow-clad ushers are appearing from all directions but there’s nowhere to run. Especially for someone who can’t even walk. It isn’t even worth discussing.
‘If that was a pre-shock, how long have we got left?’ I ask him, trying to keep my voice level. The pins and needles seethe in my legs.
‘No telling. But I’d say an hour at most. It will move at the speed of a jumbo jet.’ His voice is so quiet and calm that it’s almost reassuring. ‘From what I’ve seen of the structure of the hydrate layer, and what’s beneath, the next landslide will be catastrophic. A tsunami’s propagation velocity is equal to the square root of the acceleration of gravity times the depth of the water.’
I swallow. My throat is parched. ‘Is that how a physicist says goodbye?’
He shuts his eyes and doesn’t speak. I can feel a long desperate howl welling inside me. Seconds later five ushers have formed a ring around the car. From behind them a woman’s voice calls out, high and shrill as an alarm system, ‘Over there, in the grey Nissan! It’s that girl they’re looking for! Bethany Krall! She’s got the Devil in her, I saw it on TV!’
A throng of people is gathering around us. Most are men, and the expression on their faces covers the full range from fear to disbelief to mistrust to menace to rage. Some are shouting abuse. Swiftly, I clunk the doors locked. Terror makes a clenched fist of my throat: I try to swallow but I can’t. Frazer Melville is staring straight ahead. ‘This way!’ someone yells. More faces peer in, some thrust right up against the front windscreen. Hands hammer on the roof of the car, clamouring for us to open the doors. ‘Over here! The girl’s in the car!’ ‘Bethany Krall.’ ‘Leonard Krall’s daughter. Abducted.’ A tall security guard with a broad handsome face materialises, and signals to the onlookers to stay clear of the car. Reluctantly, they move back. The guard positions himself in the empty parking space next to us, legs apart, arms braced, but makes no eye contact. It seems he’s waiting for backup. He looks confident and professional: a man who enjoys his job because he’s good at it. Not that Bethany’s aware of him. She has netted her fingers over her stubbled head and she’s rocking back and forth like a distraught baby trapped in the prison of its cot, her face and neck sequined with sweat.
Frazer Melville exhales in resignation.
‘It was a pit,’ murmurs Bethany, uncoiling herself but still clutching her head in her hands. Something about the dreaminess of her voice makes me feel alert to what she’s saying. ‘They threw him in and put a stone over and sealed it with wax.’
‘Who are you talking about?’
‘Daniel. They threw him in the pit with the lions. But the next morning he was still alive.’
My heart starts thudding fast. Too fast. Something needs deciphering. I put my hand to my chest to quell it. ‘Why, Bethany? Why didn’t the lions eat him?’
Her smile is almost languid. ‘Because they weren’t hungry for meat.’
Outside, I’m aware of a man parting the crowds. He’s fifty-ish, silver-haired, dark-suited. Some kind of authority. A stadium official, or a preacher, at a guess. He’s flanked by four or five younger men, all black and Asian, in sober suits and bright ties. ‘Why weren’t they hungry for meat, Bethany?’
‘I guess they wanted something else. Something you couldn’t eat.’
I’m still watching the man. A preacher, I’m sure. After a brief exchange with Calum, who points in our direction while conveying his story in a hectic rush, he stalls for a second. Then he strides over to the guard and questions him, gesturing at the car.
I look at Bethany urgently. ‘What was it the lions wanted, then?’
She shrugs. ‘They were all trapped in a pit. Daniel was trapped but the animals were trapped too. What would you want? The lions didn’t eat him. He survived.’ She coughs and blinks.
‘So what are you saying, Bethany? We go into the den, is that it?’
She gives a tiny nod.
‘What’s happening?’ asks Frazer Melville.
‘We’re putting smiles on our faces,’ I say, opening my door. ‘And getting out.’
By the time the preacher has finished talking to the guard and is coming over to confront us, I’ve reclaimed possession of my wheelchair and transferred into it. People stare openly and without shame as I effect the manoeuvre. But I don’t care. What the lions wanted was what I want now. And will do anything for.
I roll forward and greet the man with a smile, offering him my hand. He doesn’t take it. ‘I’m Gabrielle Fox.’ But it’s not me he’s interested in. He wears his revulsion for Bethany on his sleeve, like a badge of honour. His eyes are blue, piercing and oddly triangular. ‘We’ve brought Bethany Krall.’
‘So I see,’ he says. ‘She’s a child we’ve heard a lot about in this community. A child we’ve prayed for.’ Bethany hangs her head, and Frazer Melville puts a fatherly hand on her shoulder.
‘In that case I’m sure you can guess why we’ve brought her here today.’ I keep smiling. He lifts his well- groomed face in question. ‘As you probably know, I’m her therapist. Bethany and I have done a lot of talking. She’s been doing some soul-searching, as you can imagine.’ His appraising glance flits between me, Frazer Melville and Bethany. ‘She knows what she’s done. She isn’t denying her past. But she wants to ask her father’s forgiveness. We heard that Leonard was praying for Bethany here, so we came.’ This seems to throw him. He opens his mouth to speak but thinks better of it. Taking advantage of his confusion I press it further, trying to engage him. ‘She wants to come back to God, don’t you, Bethany?’ She looks blank for a moment. Her pupils are dilated and her eyes unfocused and shuddering, as though the recent convulsions have cauterised the optic nerves. But she nods in affirmation. ‘She wants to be part of the Rapture.’ I lower my voice. ‘She was just telling me the story of Daniel in the lion’s den. That’s how she’s feeling right now. A bit nervous. Aren’t you, Bethany?’ She inclines her head and I force my smile further. ‘Understandable. But she’s a brave kid. She’s ready to face up to what she’s done. I’m proud of her.’
‘Behold, I show you a mystery,’ says Bethany mournfully.
The preacher says nothing, but I sense inner machinery working at speed.
‘As a man of God, you can’t deny her this chance,’ I urge loudly. ‘Not today of all days.’
A murmur spreads among the ushers, and seeps back through the hanging crowd.
‘Can you confirm this?’ the preacher asks Frazer Melville. He seems determined not to address Bethany directly, as if any communication with her might infect his soul. I can sense Frazer Melville computing the situation.
Like me, Frazer Melville pitches his voice to reach as far as possible. ‘Yes. So I understand. Bethany and Gabrielle have done a lot of work. Covered quite a bit of ground.’ He has judged his tone well: man-to-man frankness. ‘Emotionally and spiritually.’ He nods, as if judging and then confirming his own words. ‘Yes. I’d definitely say they’d done a lot of spiritual work. Bethany’s genuinely after forgiveness. I mean, why else would we be here?’
We all look at the preacher. He’s hesitating.
It’s Bethany who breaks the silence. She is addressing the crowd as much as the preacher. ‘Let me ask you what you think Matthew meant in chapter six, verses fourteen and fifteen.’ A small shiver passes along my shoulder blades. Her voice is different: persuasive and assured. She is unmistakably Leonard’s daughter. ‘Can I remind you what he said? He said,
