The Infinity Bridge

Part 3

6.

The village of Almston glistened with rain as Sam and Nick hurried through its narrow streets. The picture postcard thatched cottages became eerie and threatening in the dark. Sam felt like he scuttled through some vintage horror movie, what with the lightning and thunder. He half expected a line of pitchfork wielding villagers to rush down the road at them.

They paused next to the tiny village chapel for Nick to talk with one of the villagers. Nick was less certain of the way to Annie’s house in the dark. He asked the villager directions, whilst the man’s dog snuffled and whined in the rain.

Sam shivered as the wind whipped against him. Over the wall of the churchyard he could see the air shimmering. It looked as if the rain was avoiding the distortion that floated six feet off the ground. Sam could see a very different landscape inside the shimmering shape, as clearly as if he were watching a bright plasma TV. There were two men on horseback, hair braided and colourful, riding across a wide prairie. They carried long spears and arrows and their features seemed oriental.

‘Sam, are you all right?’ Nick asked.

‘Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?’ Sam replied.

‘Okay, okay, take it easy. You were just spacing out a bit.’

He can’t see it, can he? Sam thought. He glanced at the dog. It was regarding the distorted air with fear.

But the dog can.

For the first time in his life Sam felt reassurance. A warm glow flickered within him and he grinned at Nick.

‘You know where we’re going to then?’

‘Yeah, sorry. It’s down Bar Lane, about ten minutes walk. The house is next to Almston Woods. It’ll be muddy.’

‘That’s why I wear boots,’ Sam laughed and the two set off again through the rain.

***

The visibility on Bar Lane was terrible. The rain came down in sheets around them and lashed into their faces. Nick had to remove his glasses, which didn’t exactly reassure Sam. They switched on their torches as they progressed from the tarmac onto gravel.

‘Nick, earlier, with Aunt Gaynor...?’

‘Welcome to my life, Sam. I know it’s a vital part of adolescence to clash with your parents, but she really doesn’t help matters. It’s as if whatever I do isn’t quite right for her. She couldn’t care less about my grades, about all the stuff I achieve at school—she’d much rather have a delinquent for a son.’

‘Like me?’ Sam said. ‘Don’t be so certain. You don’t want my stress.’

‘No, maybe not. But I’d be happy with a swap of mothers. I can’t see us ever sorting out our differences.’

They’d reached the gate to the house. Its skeletal frame loomed above them, like the rib-cage of some mythical beast. The gate was open and so they passed through and along the long drive.

The house was huge and old, a wide pale stone building dating from centuries before. There were no lights on, although there were two cars in the drive. Almston Wood abutted the garden wall only a dozen yards from the house. It looked dark and sinister in the storm.

‘No one in,’ Nick commented, as they approached.

‘Someone’s been here though.’ Sam pointed at the cars’ tyres. All of them had slashes in them. The precision of the cuts was almost surgical.

Nick turned to Sam in alarm. ‘Sam, this isn’t safe.’

‘Come on, it’s safer than I was this afternoon.’