Читать книгу The Kid Who Came From Space - Ross Welford - Страница 16

When people find out that Tammy and I are twins, they sometimes go, ‘Ooh, are you psychic?’, which is so daft that we developed this routine. I would go, ‘Yes, of course we are. Tammy: what number am I thinking of?’ And whatever number Tammy said, I would then say, ‘Dead right! Wow!’

Well, we thought it was funny, anyway. It actually fooled Tammy’s new friend Nadia, but she’ll believe anything.

So no: we’re not psychic. But that evening, when I saw Tammy’s bike at the side of the road with its lights still on, I knew something was wrong. I felt a lurch in my stomach, and I stopped my bike next to hers. A cold feeling spread from my neck and down my back exactly as though someone had dropped ice inside my collar.

‘Tammy!’ I shouted, not so loud to begin with, as, although I knew, I couldn’t be certain something was wrong, if that makes sense. ‘Tam?’

The moon was still low and obscured by thick cloud, and when the sky is like that, Kielder is darker than you can possibly imagine, the only light coming from our bicycle lights.

‘TAMMY!’ I yelled, and cocked my head to hear, but there was nothing. The wind was so light that it made no sound at all as it passed through the bare trees.

Tammy’s bike had stopped near to an overgrown path that leads down to the reservoir and the little jetty where Tammy and I play the throwing-stones-as-far-as-we-can game. I grabbed the light from the front of my bike and started down the path.

It makes no sense, I told myself. Why on earth would she go down here?

‘Tammy! Tam!’ I kept calling.

The path is quite steep down to the lakeshore, and I kept stumbling in the dark until I got to the little beach of shingle and rocks. I stared out over the inky blackness of Kielder Water, and that’s when I heard the noise: a low drone, getting higher in pitch.

OOOOOOMMMMMMMM ooooooooommmmmmmm.

The noise was sort of like an aeroplane, but definitely not an aeroplane. It was sort of like a motorboat, but definitely not a motorboat either; and there was nothing to see. Here, right next to the water, the sky appeared a little clearer and the cloudy moon gave off a little bit of grey light. I narrowed my eyes and stared out over the lake, where a column of mist had appeared, stretching high into the sky, hanging for a few seconds before it dispersed on the breeze.

There was a smell too. A bad smell: very faint, like bad body odour and blocked drains, but that was soon taken by the air as well.

Perhaps she had come down to the lake to do some stone-throwing practice? Was that why she always beat me, because she practised in secret? I knew that was a daft idea, but I think I had already started to panic.

My heart was pounding with fear as I scrambled back up the path to where Tammy’s bike still lay with its lights on.

I yelled her name again, desperately hoping she would come out of the woods that line the road. She would say, ‘Eth-aaaan, for heaven’s sake, what are you shouting for? I just went into the woods for a pee’ or something like that.

But she didn’t, and I knew I had to get help. I took out my phone but there was no signal. There hardly ever is around here. Step out of the village and you might as well be in 1990.

I climbed back on my bike and started to pedal as fast as I could to Scottish Sheila’s house, shouting ‘Tammy!’ all the way until I was nearly hoarse.