Dead of Winter - James Goss [23]
Something grabbed my foot. At first I just thought it was the swell of the icy water.
Then it pulled, and I fell forward, face first into the freezing waves.
The pull increased, dragging me back and down.
I choked on a mouthful of freezing salt water, the waves breaking over my head and pushing me down. No, SOMETHING ELSE was pulling me down.
My left arm was grabbed, wrenching me further under. I could feel myself rushing through the water, feel it flying past in a bubbling rush. I was fighting for air, twisting over and over, down and down and down.
With a struggle, I broke the surface, wanting to scream but just coughing and choking, the sea still burning my throat and eyes. It all seemed so horribly familiar. Why is that?
The mist had cleared. I could still see the shore. I wasn’t so very far away from land. I tried to fight towards it, but something was still dragging me back. Back and down. I couldn’t move.
There on the shore, sat in their chairs, were the Dead. Watching me drown.
I called out to them, over and over.
But they did not move. They just carried on singing.
I felt so cold. So cold and so frightened.
I wondered – was now the time to call on Dr Smith? But how could Dr Smith help me? I got ready to scream out his secret name, but the salt water was still burning my throat and the words just WOULD NOT come out.
The mist pressed in around me, and the terrible thing in the water wrapped itself around me tightly and squeezed. As the breath rushed out of me, I was sucked under. My eyes were popping as the waves spread over my head…
Then a hand grabbed me. A warm, actual hand. And it pulled.
‘Let her go!’ I heard a voice say.
I opened my eyes. Again, it was wonderful Monsieur Pond. He was standing above me, his face stern as a statue, his hand tight around my wrist, pulling and pulling.
Around us the sea churned like a boiling stew. I could see things floating in it and a strange light dancing through it. For an instant it was almost like the waves drew back from us, and I could see all the way down to the wet sand.
Then Monsieur Pond held me tightly, his necktie tangling in my hair.
‘I’ve got you, Maria,’ he said. ‘Come on.’
We waded through the thinning waves, reaching the shore.
There was Kosov. He was standing in front of us, arms folded.
‘Hello again,’ sighed Monsieur Pond.
Kosov nodded. ‘You should have let The Sea have her,’ he said.
‘That was never going to happen.’ Monsieur Pond sounded very firm.
Remember David and Goliath? Kosov looked so large, so fierce, and Monsieur Pond looked so small and so determined – like a tiny puppy facing up to a large wolf. For an instant he stood his ground and I thought he was going to stand and fight.
Then Kosov opened his mouth, and mist POURED out of it.
‘Ooh, that’s bad,’ gasped Monsieur Pond. He grabbed my hand and we ran again.
We were nearly at the hotel, near the top of the cliffs.
We were both exhausted and panting, and soaked to the skin, the ice water freezing on our clothes.
But still Monsieur Pond struggled on, dragging us up and up the stony path. Behind us, I knew, was Kosov, advancing like a golem.
The lights of the clinic looked so warm and friendly and so far away.
Monsieur Pond pushed me forward. ‘Go inside, Maria,’ he said. His face was sad and stern. ‘I’ll deal with… well, whatever that is, I’ll deal with it. Find Amy. Keep running.’
I paused for a second, watching him turn around to confront Kosov, who was gliding up the stiff mountain path.
‘Ah, good evening. Fancy meeting you…’ And then Kosov’s arms wrapped around Monsieur Pond in a great bear hug. Then he turned slightly, dangling Monsieur Pond over the cliff edge.
‘I am warning you,’ gasped Monsieur Pond, legs pedalling furiously at the air. ‘I am an expert in … argh!’
Casually, Kosov let him go. Monsieur Pond vanished from sight. Kosov turned to me.
I screamed and ran, ran for the house.
Somehow, I made it to the door, running and crying. I slammed the door behind me and rested my weight against it, panting. The hallway was so dark I could see