• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

'You can sneer,' said Mr Haigh. 'But you should look to yourself and consider the state of your soul.'

'It's people like you,' said his wife, 'who brought this down on us.'

'Tearaways, vandals, barbarians, savages, heathens.'

'Listen, I ride a motorbike, all right,' said Zack, irritated. 'That doesn't make me Attila the Hun. I earn my wages and I pay national insurance just like you.'

'There's a reason for all this,' said the vicar.

One thing that worried me was that he might be right about that.

Later –

'He was mad,' said Gillian. 'John's Dad. That's why he did it. He didn't know what he was getting into. You saw that.'

Gillian and I were alone, away from the seating area, scavenging.

'He saved your life,' I said.

That made Gillian angry. She couldn't understand.

'Why should John's Dad save my life. I wasn't anything to him.'

'Duty?' I suggested. 'He was in the army.'

She shook her head.

'My old man would never ... '

She didn't finish the sentence.

'Do you think Martian will be all right?' she asked.

Her eyes were big and wet. Sometimes, it's easy to forget that she's a child too. She's no more capable than any of us.

'It'll never be the same,' I said. 'But he'll go on.'

'Why should we go on?'

'Because if we don't there's no point to what his father did.'

'I'm cold, Susan.'

'So am I.'

Later —

The original idea was to shelter in the Wimpy Bar until we got our wind back or the blizzard died down, then set off down the High Street again. The storm showed no sign of letting up, and it became obvious that this refuge wouldn't be safe for much longer. A long crack appeared in the thick glass windows. A sheet of ice oozed under the door, thick and shiny and purposeful.

'We should leave,' I told Gillian and John. 'Soon.'

'Where have you got to go?' asked Zack.

'Susan's grandfather,' Gillian explained.

Zack raised his eyebrows.

'He can help,' I said, not sure even as I said it.

A section of glass fell in and snow cascaded.

'I'll come with you,' said Dolly. 'We should get Malcolm out of here. He won't be safe with them.'

Dolly nodded at the Haighs.

'You can't leave,' said Mrs Haigh. 'You're on duty. I still haven't had my Wimpyburger and chips.'

'I should tell you what you can do with your Wimpyburger and chips, but I won't since these are unusual circumstances.'

Dolly put on her cloth coat and wrapped a scarf around her peroxide tower of hair.

I took off my slicker and gave it to Malcolm, tucking it tight around his chest and legs, stuffing Cowboy Gonk inside his jumper, giving him a bird's breastbone.

I'd be all right in just my duffel coat and the Wimpy overalls.

'We should pray,' said Mr Haigh. 'For Deliverance.'

'You can pray if you like,' said Gillian, kindly. 'It can't hurt.'

'There's a way forward, to Salvation,' said Mrs Haigh. 'We've discussed it, and now it has come to the moment. We must cut out that part of our society that has so offended God that He has visited this Judgement upon us.'

The vicar's wife had the bread-knife. Dolly had put it down to tie her scarf.

Mrs Haigh snatched Malcolm from me and held the blade to his throat.

'It's the fault of the Young,' she ranted.

'With their pagan music, irreverent ways, provocative clothes and rebellious attitudes,' explained the vicar. 'We fought a War for you, you know. You ought to be grateful.'

'This Judgement is upon You!'

I didn't know what they were thinking. It was the usual grown-up game of Let's Pretend, with rules that weren't disclosed to the Young.

'I think you should calm down, Mrs H,' said Zack. 'You don't want to do anything you'll be sorry for later.'

The serrated edge of the blade pressed into Malcolm's skin. He was a neat little boy, not a scruff. His hands were knotted around the bulge of Cowboy Gonk.

'The child is an Abomination, an Unbeliever ... '

'Malcolm's family are C of E,' said Dolly. 'Like you.'

Mrs Haigh looked up to the ceiling, held up the knife and declaimed 'Unto you, O Lord, I sacrifice