Devil's Rock - Chris Speyer [46]
He had no sense of time passing, but eventually the solitude of the ocean that had drawn him out to sea drove him back to the shore. Loneliness swept him like the flood tide back up the estuary to the landing stage where he had left his human self.
Circling, he looked down and was shocked to see that, rather than sitting lifelessly staring, his body was standing, moving, gesturing, talking. It had an independent life, an independent will. While his will was guiding the body of the gull, some other force was inhabiting his body, directing it, animating it. What? Who? Panic gripped him. Could his life somehow continue without him? He wanted desperately to be reunited with his human self, but he was shut out. No longer needed.
Now he saw that there was someone else on the landing stage, a girl. It was Anusha and she was shouting. He flew lower to hear what she was saying.
‘What’s wrong with you? What’s wrong with you?’ she was screaming.
She was keeping her distance, slightly crouched as if ready to run. As he watched, the two figures moved around each other like fighters in a boxing ring.
He heard his own voice say, ‘Come here. I’m not going to hurt you,’ and Anusha say, ‘No, stay away from me!’
What had happened? What was going on? What had he done to her? He felt guilt, horror; like a sleepwalker who wakes to find he has committed some awful crime in his sleep. This was worse, because he was condemned to watch himself menacing his friend with no power to stop what was happening. He was certain also that Anusha could not possibly know that his human body was not under his control.
Then he saw Anusha stumble, tripping on the uneven stonework, and he saw his body bending, heaving up a jagged rock with both hands, pausing for a split second to balance the rock, then rushing at Anusha with a triumphant yell. He dived, shrieking, beating his wings in the face of Anusha’s attacker, driving him back, forcing him to drop the stone. He was fighting against himself, but in that nightmare moment all he knew was that he must give Anusha a chance to escape. Eye to eye with his own body, Zaki saw evil looking out, and that evil thing directed the body to seize a piece of broken plank and lash at him, slashing the air so that he was forced to fly out of reach. But he must keep the attacker’s attention, not let him go after Anusha. He dived again, aiming for the face, again the plank lashed out, but the bird swerved clear and attacked again and again, forcing a retreat. Back they went towards the edge of the landing stage until Zaki saw a look of horror cross his own face as his body stepped back into empty air and toppled slowly, then fell on to the rocks and shingle below.
Three beats of his powerful wings and Zaki the bird was looking down at his inert body lying stretched out below, one leg in the water, the right arm flung out to the side. Dead or alive? He searched for signs of life. Had he killed the body, or the thing in it? Could one die without killing the other? If his body was dead, what then? What did that mean for him? A short life as a seagull, is that all he had to look forward to? Panic gripped him once more, then all his senses lurched and he seemed to be sliding, falling, plunging through total darkness. The world steadied and he was left with a dizzy nausea, like the feeling at the end of a rollercoaster ride. He slowly sat up, then rolled to one side and vomited. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
His hand! His mouth! He was back in his own body! He examined his hands, touched his legs, felt his face. There was a stinging cut on his cheek where the seagull’s beak had found flesh. His head ached. He felt the back of his head. There was no blood, but a lump was starting to rise where his head had struck a stone. He pulled his wet leg out of the water, then tried making small movements. He was bruised and sore,