Mo Hayder - Pig Island

'All right?' I said, ready to pull my sweatshirt back on. 'Get the picture?'

She stepped back, smiling dreamily, her eyes still closed. 'Yes. I get the picture.' She opened her eyes. 'Joe?'

'What?'

'I can't wait to get to the mainland. I think I'm going to love it.'

I stopped at Blake's cottage — still no sign of a posse ponying up and coming for me — and got my rucksack, shoving in my camera and some water. The wire-cutters were still at the bottom, but we didn't need them to get through the gate — Sovereign used a key she'd stolen months ago. She was in a good mood, light-hearted, and the trip was much easier than it had been the night before. Even with white fingers of mist sidewinding through the trees the path up to the gorge was smooth and unchallenging. We passed the first gargoyle.

'Mum's idea,' said Sovereign, giving it a dirty look. She skirted it like it might bite. 'You see them and think they're sane parents, but trust me, they've got secret freak bones a mile long. Sorry, but you can't take Mum seriously. I mean, all that stuff about the devil and mine shafts — I ask you.'

There're things she can't understand,' I said, keeping my voice low, I don't know why. I didn't want to discuss this on our way to Malachi's land. That's what ninety per cent of my work is about, thinking about things people can't explain.'

'There are things she needs to drama-queen off about, more like.'

We came out on to the ledge and suddenly the misty drizzle of the forest vanished, leaving the sky above the gorge hot, dry and cloudless. The land below looked parched, the light so bright you had to squint. Sovereign wasn't interested in the view, Malachi's escarpment, wavering in the heat. She took a right along the ledge and walked fast, breathing hard, waving her hands as she talked. 'That's why I put the pentagram on the pig. Never thought everyone would fall for it.'

I stopped in my tracks. 'What?'

She turned back to me. 'Don't look at me like that — I know I made things a whole ton worse, but I just had this, like, uncontrollable itch to freak her out.'

'And the pig?'

'Nope.' She shrugged, turning and starting up the slope again. 'That really did happen. Found it in the mantrap. And the stuff about the camera too — Malachi really did rip it down.'

'Is that why he got a restraining order on the village?'

'It wasn't just me, it was everyone coming over here and bugging him. But I think the trap was the worst. Think of it: I might have caught him wearing his strap-on tail.'

We went almost half a mile, dwarfed by the huge red letters at our side, until we reached a dried-up streambed cutting into the escarpment. 'Blake was lying when he said there was no way down,' she said. 'He just doesn't want you going across there and getting caught on Malachi's video.'

We half climbed, half slithered down the streambed, sending sprays of pebbles ahead of us. At the bottom you could feel how big the place was — the land seemed to go on for ever, chemical drums grouped in piles all over the place, rusting and falling apart, the yellow decals with their skull and crossbones flashing in the sun. Underfoot, the ground felt dead rubbery, like you might sink into it at any moment, and the few trees dotted around were dead and dried up, their naked branches fingering the sky like scorched scarecrows, one or two rattly dead brown leaves clinging to them.

Every now and then Sovereign paused and stared up at the video cameras on the far slope, her hand shading her eyes from the intense white light. 'I swear, Joe, if we get caught on camera Blake's going to kill us.' She kept stopping and starting, changing her mind and heading off at an angle, or even reversing her footsteps. It was so hot I had to keep wiping my face with the bottom of my T-shirt. But at last, when my watch told me two hours had passed, we slipped under the range of the video cameras and began to scale the opposite slope.

The fence glinted from between the trees above, the pigs' heads like strange, luminescent patches against the thick green leaf cover. It was a much gentler slope than on the centre's side, and it wasn't long before the parched yellow land began to give way to a slatier rock and vegetation: first, patches of heather and plantain, then stubby grass and the occasional wild flower. We arrived suddenly at the fence — before we knew it, it was less than ten feet ahead of us and rose at least fifteen in height. At the top, peering down at us from the trees, was a pig's head, a halo of flies circling it, like a stain in the air. Its eyes had been eaten away by decay and maggots, but the teeth were still there, big and bare, like polished bone. The smell that had drifted across the island the day before was stifling now. I cleared my throat and ran my tongue round my mouth. Malachi, oh, Malachi, I thought, is this where you get up to your little rituals, you mad old bastard?

'Hmmm,' said Sovereign, brazenly, looking up into the trees inside the fence to where hazes of midges wafted among the trees. A weak breeze came off the sea and ruffled the branches. 'You don't suppose he's put cameras inside the fence, do you?' She squatted down and craned her neck up at the tops of the trees, narrowing her eyes. 'Hello, Malachi, you old bonehead. Come and give it to us. Show us your strap-on tail.' Beyond the fence the undergrowth was so thick that I couldn't see more than a few feet — everything in there hung eerily still, like the heat of the day was trapped in the heavy leaves. There was no flicker of movement, just a low-level buzz of insect life deep in the trees that made me wonder about stagnant water.

'I've never been this close,' she said, 'not since he put the fence up. He might be dead for all we know, in the trees somewhere — decomposing.' She stopped. 'Joe?'

I didn't answer. I had straightened, my chin up, staring intently over her shoulder.

'What is it?'

I put a finger to my mouth, my eyes locked on the enclosure, and slowly, disbelievingly, turned my head a bit to one side, wondering if I was seeing a trick of the light. Past the alarm tripwires, beyond the heavy-duty fence, something paler than its surroundings lay on the ground. It was the size and shape of a large snake, and the colour of weathered human skin. It seemed to emerge from the leafy shadow of a large tree-trunk. The hair all over my body stood up like a cat's.

'Joe?' Sovereign was whispering. 'He's behind me, isn't he?'

I blinked. 'Yeah,' I whispered.

'He's watching.' She lowered her voice until it was almost inaudible. 'Isn't he?' She turned slowly and stared into the forest, to where the trees beyond the wire fence were silent and still, only the haze of insect life moving in patches through the shadows, while the strange piece of flesh lay inert on the ground. 'Oh,' she breathed. 'Oh.'

Silently I fumbled my camera out of the rucksack and crouched next to Sovereign, hastily fitting on the lens and pulling off the cover. Maybe flesh has a way of communicating its authenticity through channels and senses we don't know anything about — because I was certain, I'd have put money on it, we were looking at something living. I raised the camera and was focusing when, suddenly, the tail gave a small twitch. Just like a cat. It twitched again, and next to me Sovereign leaped to her feet, breathing hard.

'Fuck fuck fuck,' she hissed. 'Did you see that?'

Her voice alarmed the creature. The tail twitched again, then slid away into the trees and disappeared with a rustle, leaving nothing but leafy patches of shadow and sun.

'Shit,' I said, lowering the camera and staring at the place where it had been, trying to make sense of the light and shade.

Next to me Sovereign was backing away, whispering in a shaky voice, 'What the fuck was it? What was it?'