'That thing thought you were someone important.'
Tom stared into the depths of the fire, saying nothing.
Marsh jumped up, trembling with relief. 'That were fine-you bloody well did it! You saved me!' He shook all their hands forcefully, unable to contain himself. 'I'll tell you what, the only thing I've ever loved in my life was the land. Then when farming went through all those rough years, I felt like I'd got nothing. But when something like this happens, it makes you think, don't it? About what's important an' all.'
Veitch watched the farmer like he'd gone insane. 'I reckon you need a bloody good sleep, mate.'
'Oh, ah, I'll tell everyone about what you bloody did,' Marsh said adamantly.
Church turned to Tom. 'And that little devil's going to be spreading the word too. Looks like we're going to get us a reputation.'
Chapter Thirteen
They ate at first light while Marsh slumbered heavily in what must have been his first good rest for weeks. After Veitch had collected eggs from some chickens roosting just off the yard, Tom plucked some new nettle shoots out of an overgrown patch that had obviously once been the garden and scrambled them all up. He claimed it had been a popular Anglo-Saxon dish, and although Veitch ate suspiciously, it tasted remarkably good. They left Marsh enjoying his sleep and were out of the house by 7 a.m.
Church suggested their first aim should be to find some transportation. With technology unreliable, Tom didn't want to risk trains, and buying another car was out of the question.
'Looks like we'll have to rely on the comfort of strangers,' Church said. 'Hope you're all good at thumbing.'
Their first ride took them into Tavistock where they convinced a farmer collecting supplies to let them travel on the back of his truck. He was just trundling west past Liskeard when Church noticed the direction of the lamp flame had turned to the north-west. Angry with himself for not paying more attention, he forced the others to jump off the truck as it slowed at a crossroads. By the time it was out of sight they were already regretting their decision. Ahead of them lay the bleak expanse of Bodmin Moor, rising up in sludgey browns and grey-greens beneath a lowering sky.
'How bad can it be?' Veitch said. 'It's half the size of Dartmoor and we're already bang in the middle of it.'
'Bad enough if the weather changes,' Church said, checking the slate clouds that were backed up over the moor. 'And the weather out here can change in a minute.'
'Oh, you're a bleedin' wilderness expert are you now?' Veitch said. 'The sooner we start, the sooner we finish.'
Church grinned at Veitch's bluntness-he had already warmed to their new companion. They chatted aimably for a while, but their conversation faded the further they got out into the moor. The higher the land, the stronger the wind, and although they were in the first burgeoning days of spring, it had a bite to it that reminded him of winter. At least there was a single-track road they could follow which made the going much easier than stumbling across the uneven turf and gorse. Half an hour after leaving the main road they might have been in a different world; there was no sound of civilisation, just the howl of the wind, no stink of car fumes, just the damp, cloying smells of nature.
'How are you doing, city boy?' Church said with a grin.
'Sorry, mate,' Veitch deadpanned, 'I'm too soft. I should live in a rough place like you to harden myself up.'
'What you need is a few archaeological digs on the North Yorkshire moors. That'd put hairs on your chest.'
They continued a little way and then a thought came to Church that he had wanted to mention the previous night. 'You handled that gun pretty well at the farm.'
'I told you I was a bit of a villain. I'm not proud of it.' There was a long pause before he added, 'There's lots I'm not proud of.'
'Last night, that devil-'
'I knew you'd ask sooner or later. He called me a murderer.'
'Are you?'
Veitch looked away. 'Bang to rights.'
'Do you want to talk about it?'
'I haven't so far, not to anyone outside the family.' He thought for a moment, then said, 'Fuck it, you might as well know what you're getting in with. You know that building society raid where my brothers got arrested? Well I was in on it too. We knew it was a bleedin' mistake before we set out, but once you start thinking about something like that, it's like it's got a weight of its own-it just carries you along. There were lots of times we could have pulled out, but we'd go to bed and when we got up in the morning it was still on. We were desperate, you know. We'd been listening to all those politicians who told us we could have anything, only we didn't have anything. We had nothing. And just like we thought, it started going wrong from the moment we went in there. But we could have got out, you know, if I hadn't screwed up. We'd all got masks on. Brendan was up there at the counter, Mitch was covering him with his shotgun. I'd got a gun too and then it was like I heard this voice in my head, or just behind me or some shit. It said, `He's going to get you' or something like that.
'Anyway, I turned round and I caught this bloke moving out of the corner of my eye. And I just let him have it. Don't ask me why. I've thought about it a million times and I can't explain it. It wasn't like me at all. But there it was. Blam. Blood, guts and some poor bastard dead. I ran like hell-Brendan and Mitch took the rap. My own brothers banged up because of me! I wanted to give myself up, but they wouldn't let me. Said it'd make it even worse for them if they knew I was inside too.' The weight of emotion in his voice made Church regret bringing the subject up. 'They didn't blame me for a minute and that just killed me! I wished they'd made me suffer for being such a fuck-up, like they should've done. So they go inside, and I'm just eaten up by what I did to that poor bloke and my own family. And I wasn't even allowed to pay my dues for it.'
Church clapped a supportive hand on his shoulder. 'It sounds like you're paying for it now.'
'But it's not enough, is it?'
'I reckon what lies ahead for us, Ryan, will give you plenty of opportunity for payback.'
'I've never done the right thing in my life, ever, even when I tried to. But I'm going to make up for that somehow.'
Church decided to turn the conversation to Tom so Veitch could have a break. He was amazed at how quickly the man had recovered; even the scars on his temple had healed. 'What about you, Tom? Are you going to break the habit of a lifetime and tell us what that devil's message meant to you?'
There was a long silence, and when Church glanced up he saw the strangest thing: Tom was trying to speak, but it was as if he couldn't control his jaw. No words would come out, and in the end he turned away in frustration.
'Are you okay?' Church asked, concerned. But Tom dismissed him with a wave of his hand, his eyes focused on the road ahead.
In the cold dark before dawn, Shavi slipped away from the camp and lost himself among the trees. He could sense the sun coming in a way that still surprised him, although he had discovered his odd sensitivity a few months earlier. It was just one of several subtle changes which, inexplicably, had been thrust upon him overnight at the same time that the change came upon the world, a transformation that was so distinct at first he thought he was suffering some sudden, debilitating brain ailment. There were the psychic flashes which he initially thought were hallucinations, but which he came to recognise as precognitive, or visions of distant events. The odd sensations he received when he handled objects were as if he could feel what had happened to them in the past. And he seemed to understand what animals were thinking, although he didn't know if it was an increased awareness of their rituals and routines, or if he were actually picking up what was passing through their heads. It was all still quite unfocused,
