Day of the Predator - Alex Scarrow [143]
‘Ma says we cain’t talk to no strangers, mister,’ said the boy holding the rock.
Liam drew up a few yards short of them. He hunkered down on his haunches and offered them a friendly smile. ‘Well now, my name’s Liam, Liam O’Connor. So I suppose I’m no longer a stranger.’
Both boys nodded at the unfailing logic of that.
‘I’m Saul. This here’s m’ brother Grady.’
Saul looked at him. ‘You sound funny,’ he said. ‘An’ you got strange clothes. Where you from?’
‘Ireland,’ said Liam.
The boy looked at his face curiously. ‘What’s wrong with you, mister?’
Liam shrugged, bemused by the odd question. ‘Nothing’s wrong with me.’
‘You sick or something?’
He really didn’t have the time for this. ‘No, I’m perfectly fine.’ He gestured at the rock Grady was trying to keep from his prying eyes. ‘What’s that you got there, lad?’
Grady hid the rock behind his back defensively. ‘Ain’t nothin’.’
‘Oh, come on.’ He inched a little closer. ‘Is it money? Did you find some money up there?’
‘No.’ Grady shook his head warily. ‘Didn’t find no money.’
‘It’s just some words on a stupid stone,’ said Saul. ‘Somebody made a message on a stone.’
Liam offered them a look of mild interest. ‘Really? How interesting. Can I see?’
Grady shook his head. ‘It’s mine.’
If he’d been a bit smarter about this, if he’d thought ahead, he’d have brought something to trade – a cool toy, a pack of baseball cards, a bag of sweets or something, even some …
Of course. He suddenly remembered he had on him something way better than any of those. Something either boy couldn’t fail to be entranced by. ‘Hang on,’ he said, digging into the thigh pocket of his tattered shorts. It was in there somewhere still. He’d … ah, his fingers found the sharp edge. A moment later he pulled out a four-inch-long fishhook-shaped object. He held it out in front of him and their eyes widened. ‘It’s a claw,’ said Liam. ‘A real dinosaur claw.’
Saul’s and Grady’s jaws dropped open synchronously as four young eyes admired the vicious-looking nicks along the curved edge of the claw.
‘See, I just found it this morning, up the river, so I did. I heard you can find all sorts of fascinating old things along this river. Want to hold it?’
Both their heads nodded vigorously.
‘We could swap,’ said Liam. ‘You can take a look at my claw … and I’ll look at that message stone of yours.’
‘Sure,’ said Grady quickly, the passing fascination with his curious find more than trumped by the four-inch glistening claw dangling from Liam’s fingers. He passed his rock over without another look at it. ‘Message don’t make no sense to me anyways.’
He reached out for the claw.
‘Careful, it’s quite sharp,’ said Liam.
Grady took it off Liam and then hunched over, turning his back on his brother.
‘Hey! Grady, lemmesee too.’
Grady shook his head. ‘My stone, my first look-see.’
‘Aw, come on, lemmesee! Lemmesee!’
Liam found a boulder nearby and let himself stiffly down on to it, ignoring their squabbling. As he turned the flat nugget of dark slate over in the palm of his hand, his heart silently skipped a beat.
Jay-zus … there you are again. After all this time. My silent messenger.
There it was, his own handwriting, reversed and faintly embossed with web-thin ridges and grooves of rock compressed and preserved by time.
‘You’re right,’ he said, looking up from the rock, ‘the words make no sense at all, do they?’ But Grady wasn’t listening. He was entranced by the vicious-looking claw and too busy fending off Saul’s grabbing hands.
‘It’s just a load of gibberish,’ he said, a knowing half-smile spread across his face.
‘Wanna swap, mister?’ asked Grady. ‘My stone for your claw?’
Liam shrugged as casually as he dared. ‘I dunno … my claw’s a pretty good find an’ all –’
‘Please …!’ The boy dug deep into the pockets of his own trousers and produced a wooden yo-yo. ‘I’ll throw this in for extra!’
Liam made a show of interest in the toy. He’d had one just like it back in Cork: large, cumbersome and one he’d never managed to get on with.