David Gilman - The Devil's breath

Carried into a storm-blasted lullaby, the swaying helicopter rocked him this way and that. But the frightening sensation of being at the mercy of a tremendous storm was not what Max felt. Part of him inside had stepped through that place again. His shadow-form had left him on the floor of that bucking helicopter and glided across the darkness that had settled over the land. Now he could feel his feet gripping rock as he ran, hard, unyielding in his determination, and he smelled the musty warmth of another animal nearby.

He ran into the night, instinct guiding him; his lungs burned; his eyes searched for the unseen quarry. Being earth-bound could not help him. And what was less than a thought-beat away became reality. The scudding clouds had taken the rain with them; now there was only the wind, but the wind was second nature to him. He no longer felt the hard-edged stone beneath him; now the sky was his domain.

He saw the steel bird that sheltered in an enclave of rocks, a safe haven from the storms. It sat unmoving, its wings silent. The sword and shield tattooed on its body were defiant in the night.

A movement caught his eye. A blackened shape loped across the rocks where moments earlier he had run, and he heard the familiar whinnying call. The dog-creature stopped. It had gone as far as it could on the clifftop. Max circled. The jackal looked upwards at Max as he heard his own keening call in response.

The lightning that crackled down from its hidden place above the clouds illuminated the mountains-ghostly veils of mist tearing away from the rock face. The concrete bridge between the two mountains. Images repeated themselves from his memory-the dark cave in a black night. He hurtled ever closer. Trying to understand.

The cave was a shape that moved. A man. Big and square-shouldered. He held a dully glowing light in his hand. A control. Some kind of remote device. And as the man held his arm out towards the stone towers that controlled this bridge across the night, Max knew he was at the dam.

Gates in the dam wall began to open. Far below, the white spume of the river’s overspill was already hurtling through the valley floor. As the floodgates opened wider, a tremendous force of water spewed out. The power seemed even greater than the storm that now punished the land on the horizon.

Was it instinct that made Shaka Chang turn and look upwards? Was it his unfailing ability to know when danger was close? It made no difference. He spun on his heel as Max fell ever faster, directly at him.

It was Shaka Chang’s turn to realize he was finished. Whatever it was that screamed out of the night sky in a near vertical dive shimmered through the darkness. His reflexes didn’t fail him as he smashed a hand through the air, and he connected with talons. The attack stopped him from completing the code on the remote control that would have fully opened the floodgates. He grappled, felt the bite of claw on his hands and arms. He dismissed the pain, but the attack caused him to drop the device, which arced away from his bloodied hands.

One hand grabbed the safety rail to counterbalance his lunge for the remote. The blood on the steel barrier was like oil on glass, and his bulk and weight carried his momentum forward. In his moment of disbelief he felt the breath of ice-cold water flare in his nostrils as he tumbled over the edge. Caught by the thundering torrent that he alone was responsible for, he was snatched and pummeled into oblivion. His scream was unable to escape his final gasp for life.

Max slept for two days. When he woke up he had a ravenous appetite. The private room in the military hospital was basic but comfortable, and the food they brought him was enough for two men.

The doctors insisted he should eat before they allowed anyone to visit him, but they assured him that his father was safe and being cared for and that!Koga had come through his operation.

Once he had scoffed every last morsel, he eased himself achingly onto the cold linoleum floor. His reflection in the bathroom mirror told him that someone had bathed him. His hair, longer than usual, left a pencil line of white between his scalp and a dark brown tan. Now that the dirt and ingrained grime had been scrubbed off, he could see the cuts and bruises he had sustained; some would leave permanent scars. It didn’t matter. What he wanted more than anything right now was to clean his teeth. They felt as though they were caked in cement.

No sooner had he got a mouthful of foaming toothpaste than Sayid barged into the room, and cuffed him round the back of the head. “You’re a bloody hero, mate. I’m gonna eat out on this for a long time to come.”

Max stopped himself from choking and spat the toothpaste out. “I’m OK. Thanks for asking,” he said.

“Oh yeah. How are you? You were out for the count. Couldn’t wake you.”

“I feel as though I’ve been run over by a steamroller.”

“Yeah, you look taller. So, what do you reckon? Freebies forever?”

“Odds are, the powers that be will shut the whole thing down and no one will say anything. Imagine the scare stories that could come out of this. No one would ever fill a kettle again.”

Before Sayid could argue, Kallie tapped on the door. “Up and about, hey? Next time, go on a guided bus tour, will you, this was too much trouble.” She kissed his cheek, which made Sayid examine the walls a bit more closely.

Max was wearing boxer shorts, but when she looked at him he felt uncomfortably naked. “They said I could come through. Thought I’d say hi. Feeling OK?”

“OK.”

“Yeah, I bet. You did all right.” She smiled. It seemed a hell of a compliment.

“Listen, Kallie, you did wonders out there. I mean, getting me down on the ground and everything.”

“Nah, it was nothin’. You didn’t need me, you’d have sorted it out. Even a monkey could fly one of those things.”

He smiled. It felt good to see her again.

She helped herself to one of the apples on the bedside table. “Pa’s got himself in a state. Says I’m not to be trusted flying around on my own, so he’s grounded me, literally, for a few days. Just long enough to make sure you Brits leave the premises quietly. Want to see!Koga? He’s doing great.”

“Absolutely. Dad first, though.”

“Doctors are doing their rounds, Max,” Sayid said. “Mr. Peterson’ll come and get us when they’ve finished.”

Max grabbed a T-shirt and pulled on a pair of shorts. He winced as he tugged them on.

“That cut on the top of your leg will take a while to heal,” Kallie said. “!Koga told us everything that happened. I reckon you must have done it when you fell into the Devil’s Breath.”

Max nodded. “I suppose it’ll take me a while to put the bits that hurt together with the time when I did it.”

Something didn’t sound right. The cut on the back of his leg was high up. Just below the cheek of his backside.

She smiled as she saw him realize. “Look, I’ve got a brother at home, there’s only one bathroom. They were short of nurses! Everyone was running around, looking after your dad. All right?”

“You washed me? All over?”

She shrugged.

He blushed.

“Gross,” said Sayid.

The military hospital was in a small town where mainly army personnel lived. It was where they took soldiers injured in battle. A quiet, little-known place with an airstrip that seeped out of the desert at one end and disappeared into the trees and scrubland at the other. The perfect place to keep secrets.

!Koga had never worn pajamas in his life, but the military nurses had insisted. Now he sat with the window wide open, his jacket undone, the heat touching his skin. Anything less would be worse than a prison cell for a boy who had never slept under a roof before. There was little sign of the operation he’d had, other than his shaved head and the dressing that covered the surgical wound, and he looked as skinny as ever.