Part 8 (1/2)

TWELVE.

First came hunger. She opened her eyes beneath that sc.r.a.p of carpet. Lying beside her was Carter. He groaned. So he was hungry, too. After lying inert for hours, not moving, not talking, not anything, not even having the desire to move, suddenly she couldn't stay still. April fought at the carpet that covered her as if it was an attacker. The hunger pangs surged inside her. Once more they weren't confined to her stomach. That ravenous craving spread out from her belly along her nerves to her fingertips.

How can you feel hunger in your fingers? But she did. Her longing to eat pounded through every nerve ending. Eat, eat, eat. That's all that mattered.

'I know you're hungry,' Carter murmured, his gold-tipped teeth glinted in the gloom. 'But take it easy.'

'How can I take it easy? I'm going to die if I don't get something to eat.'

'Those Berserkers might be outside. Then you'll be breakfast.'

'Shut up, Carter. I want to get off this b.l.o.o.d.y island. I can't stand being like this. Feel my hair, why is it so sticky all the time?'

He was barely a silhouette as he climbed to his feet. A grunt escaped his lips again as he pressed his palm to his stomach. 'I'm hungry, too, but you can't let it take control.'

'Oh, G.o.d,' she gasped as the emptiness gnawed her. 'What's happening to me?'

He put his arm around her. 'April. Trust me, sweetheart. I'll look after you.'

'I'm dying.'

'You're not. Remember what we did yesterday?'

'Uha I'm not drinking puddles. I've got to eat proper food.'

'What is proper food?' His eyes were compa.s.sionate.

'I don't know what you're talking about,' she snarled. 'Just please find me something to eat! I'm losing my mind! It's all I can think about.'

'But you're not thinking about bread, or apples, or pastries, are you?'

'Carter, shut up! And get your hands off me!'

'Okay.' He stood back. 'We do what we need to to stop the hunger then we'll talk.'

April's fiery glance raked the cottage room. Those three Misfires were there - two men and a woman. Once they'd been smartly dressed. Now their clothes would suit a whole fright of scarecrows. They'd moved since April saw them last. Instead of sitting against the wall, the Misfires had walked to the door, but it must have been a grindingly slow process. If those things were in motion it must have been no faster than the velocity of a minute hand as it creeps around your watch face. They appeared to be in the process of leaving the room. Meanwhile, April's nerves blazed like she had a crimson furnace inside her head. She wanted to scream, stamp her feet, anything to vent some of that tension that crucified her.

'Take it easy,' Carter repeated. 'We don't know if those lunatics are outside. If they see us, they'll attack.'

Enough! she thought, unable to delay another second. The word food could have been a series of explosions detonating inside of her. She pushed the Misfires aside. One fell against the wall and stayed there. Another slammed back against the floor.

'April, be careful.'

She tore open the door then hurtled along the hallway to the front door. A second later she was through it and racing along that tunnel of greenery. This time the night was how it should be. Dark. Very dark. Trees were indistinct shapes. There was no weirdly bright moon in the sky. She ran across bare earth, the word food pounding inside her head. Food, food, fooda Not at any price would she drink from that sordid tidal pool again; such an act of humiliating debas.e.m.e.nt made her burn with shame. I'll find proper nourishment and eat like a human being. That was the last rational thought before her mind cleared again. She groaned. She didn't want to do this. She couldn't believe she was performing this act. But here she was on her hands and knees sucking tepid water from the beach. The pool left as the tide retreated had evaporated to leave a solution rich in salt. It p.r.i.c.ked her lips as she drank. That saltiness was the living, pulsating soul of the water. She wanted to ingest more than her body could contain. She swallowed vast draughts of it; sometimes the quant.i.ties were so great they spurted out of her mouth again. As her surroundings resolved themselves from the gloom she saw Carter kneel beside the same pool to gorge himself.

Even though there was none of that searing moonlight she could identify the outline of the willows behind her. And here she squatted on a beach of grit, amid pools left by the tide. There were sc.r.a.ps of broken seash.e.l.ls along with the larger exoskeletons of crabs with their articulated legs and pincers. Twenty paces away the river lapped the beach. Beyond that, a vast plain of water stretched toward the horizon. This time she could see artificial lights. There was a string of golden blobs that marked some industrial complex on the mainland. An oily flame burning in the darkness suggested that it might be an oil refinery. Adjacent to that, a vast diffuse glow formed a reddish dome on the horizon. That had to be the million-plus lights of London. Now it seemed an ethereal place to April Connor. A fairy citadel that lay beyond her reach. A Brigadoon glimpsed from afar, yet always unattainable.

Far away came the clump of thunder as she reached down and pulled her remaining sandal from her foot and tossed it toward the river. Even in her present condition with the ripped dress, the mane of sticky hair, the aversion to sunlight, it was downright crazy to walk round with one foot bare, the other clad in a muddy sandal.

She squatted by a little depression in the sand that was no larger than a dinner plate. It held a couple of pints of water covered with a brownish sc.u.m. The aroma reached out to her as if it had exhaled a salty breath. She cupped her hand then scooped some of the cloudy water to her lips. Hmmma evaporation had left the small pool even saltier than the others. This was satisfying as homemade soup. She quickly drank half of it with such relish she sighed.

'Carter,' she hissed. 'Carter?'

'Uh.' He couldn't stop himself drinking.

'Leave that. This is better. There's more salt in this one.'

His face wore an expression of grat.i.tude as he scrambled across, knelt down, then like a cat lapping from a bowl put his lips to the precious liquor and drank every last drop in five seconds flat.

'If you select the pools carefully you can find the ones that have evaporated more than the others. Those have more salt.'

'And drink right down to the bottom. It's saltier, but don't disturb the sediment.'

Here they were swapping tips on drinking out of tidal puddles like they were a couple of wine connoisseurs discussing the merits of the latest Merlot.

'Carter,' she said. 'What is it about salt? Why are we addicted to it now?'

'Just the way things are. Look, there's another one.' He dipped his finger into a little pool then licked the digit from knuckle to nail. 'You're right, smaller is saltier. You first.'

She gave him a smile of grat.i.tude. The raging hunger pangs had eased. Cupping her hand, she scooped it to her lips. 'Hmm. Nice.' Then her pleasure gave way to unease. 'Carter?'

'Don't you want it?' He eyed the puddle thirstily.

'What's gone wrong with the world? When I first arrived the moon was so bright it hurt to look at it.'

He couldn't stop himself staring at that pet.i.te body of water that was so rich in salt. 'The world hasn't changed, sweetheart. We have.'

'If that's the case, then what have we become?'

He was fascinated by the pool. 'Finished?'

'For now.' She could have drunk it a hundred times over but now her mind had cleared after the feeding-frenzy she needed answers. Carter was still too fixated on that little treasure trove of salinity to be interested in anything else.

'Why did the sun hurt when it touched us? When we hid under the carpet I couldn't feel my heartbeat, why's that? And when I breathe it's so irregular that it doesn't seem like breathing. It's as if it's respiration through habit rather than necessity. And didn't you-'

'What's that?' He jerked his head up. 'Did someone just walk across the beach back there?'

April looked in the direction Carter was staring. A hundred paces away were a line of dunes.

'We're exposed here,' he told her. 'We should've used the other beach.' Despite his sudden wariness he scooped another palm full of water to his lips.

We're salt junkies, she told herself. That's what we are. We've discovered a new form of addiction.

Then she heard a thud-thud of feet moving quickly across dry earth. She tried to target the sound. A scurry of movement came from bushes at the edge of the island. Rather than seeing individuals there was a suggestion of furtive flitting amongst the vegetation.

'Come on,' he hissed. 'Back to the house.'