Chapters 1 And 2

PROLOGUE

THE BRIDGE Monday 30th December 7.53 p.m.

e park near where I lived was a beautiful place. Not too small, but not so large you didn’t know it well. at sort of park. It wasn’t especially well known, occupying a lesser-trod area, surrounded by fences and narrow streets that made it seem smaller than it was. e park had an air of being underrated about it, of being a secret place. Trees of all kinds stood proudly around and the paths wound around the landscape having become, in time, slightly concealed amidst overgrowth. A small lake at the bottom of one of the biggest hills in the park was a mysterious pit of deep, dark water, surfaced with moss and water-lilies, surrounded by bushes and nettles. In winter, it could sometimes freeze over and become something of a dark, fragile ice-rink, ridden with weeds and other wildlife. Shimmering in the sunlight that burst through the trees. e park was something of two halves. More or less in the middle, there was a steep drop, down to what was once a railway line. e ravine divided the park cleanly into two and the only way to get from one side to the other was by crossing the bridge. e bridge was our place. An arching structure of brick which stood tall and powerful amidst the innocuous backdrop, it was around forty feet high, I’d say, though I couldn’t be entirely sure. Sometimes we would see people down below, usually at night, but it was, more oen than not, just deserted down there. Another world. When I was a bit younger, and the thrill and curiosity of early teenagehood was alive within me, I’d embarked upon a risky journey down to see what it was about. I went alone and at night, something that seemed an adrenaline rush to me as a fearless, naïve thirteen-year-old boy, but in reflection ever since had always seemed foolish in the extreme. I just wanted to know what it was like below the bridge, to know what it was like down there. It was nothing too special. Dark and empty, enveloped in depthless shadow, portions illuminated by the moonlight. Ageless graffiti lined the walls. Pink, red and blue. White, green, purple. Mostly illegible but still artistic and vibrant. A sign of life. It was sort of boggy in places and there were bits of moss growing up the walls. Crumpled cans and cigarette packets from times past lay strewn in the ditch. e bricks, dark and worn and old, grew vaguer and vaguer to the eye the further up you looked. e arch loomed over you. Whenever we used to get to the bridge on our way to school, we would stop and lean over the edge, stare down at the depths and the concrete below and out at the distance. Take a minute or two or three to admire it all. Never did I get bored of it, never did I yearn for something more, a better sight, a different slant. It was all I wanted, somewhere for us to go. To be. is was our place, our base, our home. Now though, tonight, it was just me and the bridge and the view. I stood, leant and stared at the blur of lights, the lights we had gazed at as one before but never again could. ey lit up the sky, illuminated the world, signified being. And the buildings, homes to these lights, spread across the horizon, all different heights but collective equals. Masters of the skyline. It was always a comfort to marvel at the untold beauty of the earth and its skies. Even the industrialised landscape looked attractive; everything just worked, day in, day out. ings happened, time went on. It never slept. We’d always come to watch the lights. Let them take us away, whisk us into another world. Of contentment, of happiness. Somewhere where nothing mattered, only that we were all together. Somewhere where for those fleeting hours, we genuinely could let go of the tribulations and challenges of life with equanimity. Somewhere we felt free. It was the first day I’d been back in the park since it happened. Since everything ended for good. Something about the fact I’d never see the place in quite the same way made me feel a strong sense of sadness, of mourning. I knew, deep down, that little would ever be the same. We wouldn’t stare at the lights or the sun or the gravel below. Take lazy walks through the park. We wouldn’t do those things. ose days were gone.

We wouldn’t have the park and the bridge and the lights to rescue us. To free us when we needed freeing. We wouldn’t have that. Not any more. at life line was gone. My thoughts faded away as I heard so footsteps approaching. It was my best friend, Damon Milburn, approaching from the distant darkness. In moments he had reached the bridge. He stopped several feet away from me. His face, moonlit, was an inexplicable combination of sadness and determination to be strong. He smiled a small, difficult smile and blinked slowly. ‘I was wondering if you’d be here,’ he said finally, his voice vague and lost. Struggling, I forced a smile. ‘I missed this place.’ ‘Me too.’ ‘Did you have a nice Christmas?’ ‘No,’ said Damon, smiling a little at his honesty. ‘Me neither. Police, interviews...’ I trailed off. ‘Yeah.’ ‘Haven’t seen you since... since...’ ‘I know,’ he said, as though to protect me from finishing the sentence. He inhaled the night’s air and looked out to the distance. I looked too, hoping to feel the way I used to. But I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. ‘It’s different now,’ I said, with difficulty. ‘How do you mean?’ he whispered, looking back to me. ‘Without her.’ He breathed in and shut his eyes for a moment. ‘I do know, Luke.’ ‘It’s not the same.’ Damon nodded slightly. ‘It’ll never be the same again.’ ‘No.’ ‘And there’s nothing we can do.’ ‘No.’ ‘We just have to live with it,’ he said quietly. ‘We’ll see her again one day, though, won’t we?’ I said, my voice’s steadiness crumbling towards the end of the sentence. ‘One day.’ ‘Yeah, one day.’ ‘We will, Luke. One day, we will see her again.’ And then we stood, about ten feet apart. Strangers of the night in our place. Our alien place in the alien world. rough my pained eyes I saw his own worn, broken mien. en, at a slight pace, he came to me and wrapped his arms around me. I felt a release within me, like I’d just reached the surface aer a long time underwater. And out of nowhere, seemingly, emotions seemed to flood home, explode like fire, and we stood, together in tears, holding onto each other.

AGAINST PROTOCOL

BIRTH OF THE STORM

CHAPTER ONE

BIRTH OF THE STORM 6 weeks earlier e sky was grey, weather cold. November rain spat lightly, barely making impact. Lost to the wind. When I woke at exactly half seven, I got myself up reluctantly almost straight away and the day began. Just like any other. Showered by seven-forty, dry two minutes later, dressed by ten to eight and finishing breakfast on the turn of the hour. en, at five past eight, the doorbell rang. I got up from the sofa, le the living room, picked up my bag from the alcove by the stairs, unhooked the keys from the wall and opened the door to reveal Keira Black, standing in the doorway, waiting. Like clockwork. ‘Morning,’ I said with a smile, stepping out into the dismal outdoors. ‘It’s raining,’ Keira pointed out, hoisting her umbrella into the air. I feigned surprise. ‘Is it really? I hadn’t noticed.’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘No umbrella for you then,’ she said, smirking a little, before going on to skip away. It was scarcely raining, so the denial of space under Keira’s brolly was hardly filling me with fear. Yet I played the game, for it was something to liven up the morning. Giving chase, I bolted aer Keira shouting friendly threats. We had been play-fighting for a couple of minutes when, seemingly out of nowhere, it began to seriously pour. One minute, it was spitting lightly, the next it was torrential. Rain lashed on the ground, the walls, the cars; sloshed through the trees and collected in the dripping drainpipes. It was time to play dirty. ‘Okay - okay, Keira!’ I started loudly as she protected herself on the other side of a parked car, shaking her head like some sort of catwalk model to flick her hair back. ‘You’re the best, I’m the worst, you win, I suck at life...’ ‘Never a truer word said, dear Luke,’ she replied, ‘but you’re not having the umbrella!’ I was starting to get seriously wet. ‘Oh, go on, please!’ I said with a hopeful grin and, to my astonishment, it worked. My powers of persuasion, seemingly, knew no bounds. She was giving in far too easily. She came back around the car to the pavement, gave me a warning look, then allowed me shelter. We walked side by side, mostly protected by the umbrella as the wind and rain raged ever-stronger around us. Aer a while, I could tell Keira was growing tired of having to hold the umbrella higher than usual to accommodate my height. ‘What a fucking disgusting day,’ she said irritably. I looked at her sympathetically, sighing in agreement. ‘Yeah. You look fed up. Oh, come on, here ... let me hold that for you. Let me ...’ And I gained control of the umbrella. She let go, I grabbed it. ‘Let me ... run away!’ And off I sprinted like a little kid, a hysterical Keira screaming behind me, ‘Luke Wright, get back here NOW!’ But I was far too quick for her. Weaving through cars, turning on the spot, dodging her when on occasion she did get close enough. ‘Luke! Give me back my FUCKING UMBRELLA! Argghhhh!’ I had never seen Keira run so fast in her life, nor had I experienced her scream any louder or higher. ‘Sorry? I CAN’T HEAR YOU!’ I shouted behind me as I sprinted. ‘ARE YOU OKAY KEIRA? THIS RAIN IS JUST SO - DAMN - LOUD!’ ‘I’M GOING TO KILL YOU! STOP OR I’LL - I’LL - AGGGHHHHHH! - LUKE, I MEAN IT!’ I twirled around a car, stopping to let her catch up a moment looking a bit confused. ‘What ever is the matter?’ Her eyes seemed to widen to an unthinkable degree, before narrowing with fury as she stood in the downpour. ‘Give me my umbrella,’ she said, a dripping mess. ‘Oh!’ I said. ‘Er - no.’ And, bursting out laughing, off I ran. Keira started screaming again, making an increased effort to catch me. I simply sped up to accommodate. 3

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‘BASTAAAAARD!’ I considered Keira might have been breaking several shrieking records. Within minutes, we’d reached the park and I had decided enough was enough - I was out of breath and so was she. So I waited for her to catch up. She was drenched from head to toe and giving me that look that friends give you when you pull a prank, that I-can’t-believe-I-fell-for-that-I’m-going-to-kill-you look. I couldn’t help but laugh as she approached, and could tell I would live to regret that. I was being hit thick and fast in the arms. Even though Keira, supposedly, only had two arms, the rate at which she was moving them suggested otherwise as her fists flew from all directions. I laughed because she couldn’t hurt me, and also because of how downright hilarious she looked in her rage. An expression of frenzied disbelief passed over her face and she lunged at the umbrella, seizing it from me and pulling it down brutally, before utilising it in a fresh attack. With an admirable ‘hit-till-it-hurts’ mentality, she screamed inaudible words in a dripping fury. I decided to give in, my pain threshold weakening. ‘Okay, okay!’ I said, and she hit me again. ‘Ow! Okay, stop!’ ‘Look at me, you fucking ... fucktard!’ she screeched berserkly. ‘I look like I’ve just had a shitting bath! You do realise the looks I’m going to -’ but she could not go on. A look of utmost fear, terror even, had befallen her. Struggling to speak, she uttered, ‘my ... my hair!’ She placed a shaking hand slowly to it, breathing a tad erratically, then her eyes widened as the reality of what was happening (and how bad it was, presumably) dawned on her. ‘Karen’s not in today!’ she cried, her voice having entered a new pitch level I was sure probably didn’t exist. ‘She won’t have her stra- straightner morning is off ... it's never going to dry!’ ‘Straightener morning?’ I said, thoroughly aghast, losing what little sympathy I had had. ‘All the girls straighten each others’ hair ... it's a thing! Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god.’ ‘What ever will you do?’ I said robotically. ‘Go home?!’ she bellowed back at me. ‘Don’t be stupid,’ I replied hastily, raising my eyebrows in surprise. ‘It’s a thing!’ she cried. ‘A thing?’ ‘Yes, Luke, a thing we do. You’ve seen it, don’t you know what I’m - oh, do you know what, why am I even trying to ... why am I even communicating with you? You’re a sadist! Sadist!’ ‘I know what you’re on about, but you do a “straightener morning” every morning, Keira. Every single day.’ ‘Not on rainy days, Luke. NOT ON RAINY DAYS!’ Demented. ‘AND DID YOU NOT HEAR ME SAY KAREN’S NOT HERE?’ ‘Well it’ll teach you a lesson, get a key cut for her locker tomorrow.’ ‘Teach me a lesson?’ Keira repeated incredulously. ‘I don’t know if you just think this is funny, or -’ ‘You’ll dry, chill out,’ I said dismissively. ‘Look, the rain’s pretty much stopped.’ I smiled simply at her for a while. She couldn’t believe her ears - or eyes. ‘What are you looking at me like that for?’ I said in a voice of faux shock. ‘Come on, let’s go!’ We walked together through the park, like we did every day. When we got to the bridge, we stopped and leant over the edge, staring down and out. It was, aside from the rain, quite a nice winter morning. e air felt crisp. is morning we didn’t speak much at the bridge. Sometimes we just didn’t, it didn’t mean anything. Sometimes just the view and the presence of the other was enough. Eventually, we got bored and carried on our way. Checking my watch, I saw it was twenty past eight. Just as ever. Even though we got to the bridge doubly quick because of our chase in the rain, we still le it bang on time, without even thinking about it. Force of habit, I guess, but still a bit strange. Soon enough we were out of the park, back into the dull streets and the usual rush of cars; rustling of leaves and kicking of stones and empty cans was abound. ‘Feeling drier yet?’ I said with a smirk. 4

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‘No. I look and feel like some sort of exorcised corpse.’ ‘You don’t look bad.’ ‘I look awful!’ ‘It’s not really much of a difference,’ I said, and this was half the truth. I realised in this context this was probably more of an insult to Keira than a compliment, and was about to try and correct myself, but it appeared she hadn’t heard. But it was true; Keira looked good regardless of whether she was wet or dry. She was just one of those people who was naturally beautiful. Of course, I never told her. ‘Oh, my hair, bloody hell. It’s never going to dry,’ she said, as though that was it for mankind, running her hands through it in complete despair. I watched it drip with moderate amusement before taking the initiative and opening Damon’s gate. Every morning on the way, Keira and I would pick up Damon and we would walk, as a three, the rest of the way. Our friendship was unparalleled in its brilliance, at least in my eyes. We worked as a three, and nearly every day travelled to and from school together. Did as much as we could in between together. Laughed and talked and cried together. It was twenty-five past eight. I rang Damon’s bell, heard shouting inside and looked round at Keira who stood by the gate fiddling with her hair with a concentrated expression. Typical. Soon enough, Damon had opened the door. ‘Hi,’ he breathed, looking slightly dishevelled as usual. I glanced behind him and saw Damon’s mum in the kitchen with her hands waving in the air as though stress was killing her, and realised a speedy exit was the wisest decision. ‘Hey,’ I said. ‘Ready? ‘Err, yep,’ said Damon. He called a goodbye back to his Mum ‐ who, from what I could see, was going into a meltdown ‐ and closed the door. His attention soon focussed on Keira. ‘What’s up with you?’ ‘She’s wet,’ I said, knowingly stating the obvious. ‘Really? Shit, seriously?’ Damon’s sarcasm was no surprise. I smiled. ‘Yup.’ ‘And he’s bone dry, see?’ Keira pointed out bitterly, motioning to me. ‘Bastard stole my umbrella to save himself.’ I bit my lip, and I could tell Damon found it amusing too. ‘But you look so good when you’re wet,’ he teased, practically mirroring my previous thoughts. If Damon was anything, he was honest. Spoke his mind, and said the most embarrassing, forward things to anyone, things I wouldn’t dare say. Acted before thinking, fought for any cause he felt passionate for. It was his nature. At times a blessing, others a curse. ‘Oh, thanks,’ said Keira, glaring at him. Damon pulled an odd face. We arrived at school ten minutes later, like we did every day. Eight thirty-five on the dot. Twenty five minutes to registration. I’m not sure why we were so punctual to everything, it’s just the way things were. It had been that way for so long. Repetitive. Samey. e form room was pretty packed when we arrived, as usual. No one batted an eyelid as Keira walked in, drenched from head to toe, though this could have possibly been down to the fact that much of the room appeared this way also. Soaked. I guess I would have been had Keira not brought her brolly. ‘See, no one’s looking at you Keira, even though you are a dripping mess ‐’ ‘Luke!’ Keira said at once, with a thunderous expression. ‘Just shut it, will you?’ For a moment I thought I’d gone too far. en she smirked at me. I was in the lunch hall, paying for a packet of crisps and a chocolate bar when I saw Keira through the window. I fished my wallet from my trousers while looking at her, unzipped it and handed the dinner lady a one pound coin. Keira was with a boy I didn’t recognise, who, from what I could see, was being more than forward with her. His hands were reaching in all sorts of places. Off limits places. Confused and slightly mortified, I stared. Keira’s face bore an expression of intense annoyance and violation. ‘Your change,’ bleated the dinner lady. 5

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‘Sorry, what?’ I mumbled, still staring out the window. en I was thumped in the back by some kid in the year above. ‘Hurry up, will you?’ Keira and the boy disappeared from view. e dinner lady looked annoyed when I faced her. ‘Your change, do you want it?’ ‘Yeah, no, thanks, sorry,’ I said pathetically, taking the change and wandering in the direction of the door. I resisted using an obscene hand gesture on the guy who thumped me, before shoving the crisps and the chocolate in my bag and speeding up, almost knocking a year seven over as I exited. Heading up the steps to the area where Keira had stood moments previously, I wondered who exactly that boy was, and what the hell he was doing with my friend. I suddenly found myself feeling very defensive, protective. Was I angry? I couldn’t tell. I didn’t know the full story, I couldn’t judge yet. I doubted it was as bad as I thought. I could hear Keira’s voice. ‘Get your hands off me!’ I made a beeline for the noise and turned a corner. e boy had his hands clamped around her waist, and she was writhing away. ‘For fuck’s sake, get off!’ ‘Let go of her!’ I said, staggered, in a commanding tone, and all eyes were on me. Keira looked relieved. ‘Luke ... thank god you’re ... get off!’ she cried, finally breaking free from his grip. I can’t imagine what my expression was. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ Advancing towards him, I sized him up. He was about my height, a little smaller, but still at least a head taller than Keira. He had short brown hair and green eyes, and looked like the type of person who would be the leader of a large gang. Cocky. Hard. Despite this, he had no noticeable friends with him. He had a smirk on his face, but I wasn’t phased. Keira looked thunderstruck. ‘Who are you? I’ve never even seen you before!’ ‘I’m new here,’ he replied, before offering out his hand. ‘Jack Strong, pleased to meet you.’ Keira stared at his hand as though it were filth. Realising she was not going to shake it, he let his arm transport in my direction. I mirrored Keira’s expression. He stared at me, then looked up and down and up again, and, as though reconsidering, let his arm drop to his side. ‘You’re new here? I see,’ I said quickly, sounding much harder than I knew I was. ‘Well let me let you into a little secret, Jack Strong.’ ‘What’s that then?’ he replied. I glared at him. ‘Not sure what it was like where you’ve come from, but here you don’t do that to people.’ ‘Her knight in shining armour are you?’ he asked, smiling. Calm. Too calm. I raised an eyebrow. ‘Um.’ Keira narrowed her eyes. ‘I don’t need a knight.’ ‘Ha. Yeah, sure you don’t. Anyway, I’ve told you my name, so what’s yours?’ A mix of anger and astonishment on her face, Keira turned to me. ‘Is he actually saying these words? What the hell is this guy on?’ ‘Hey, I’ve lost my phone number, can I have yours?’ Keira laughed. ‘I get it ... you’re ... crazy?’ Jack almost seemed slighted by this comment, his face twisting into an expression I couldn’t quite describe. A combination of upset, anger and something else, something sinister. ‘Crazy?’ he muttered slowly. ‘No. No, I’m not crazy.’ ‘So why’d you grab her like that?’ I said at once. He turned. Quickly, he turned. ‘Look, was I talking to you?’ He pushed me. I pushed him back. He pushed me again. Keira took my arm at once. ‘Come on ...’ Leading me in the direction I had just come from, we headed off, leaving the odd boy standing there. I could sense the unified bewilderment.

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e day went on. Lunch ended, lessons recommenced. I didn’t have the opportunity to speak to Keira properly again until lesson seven around an hour later. As the class filed into History I joined her at our usual desk at the back. ‘Hey,’ I said. ‘Hi!’ she said brightly. For a while we remained silent while our teacher talked at us for a while, then we were set a ‘group task’ which meant time to chat. ‘at guy at lunch ... what was his name again?’ I asked Keira. ‘I have no idea,’ said Keira, her ears pricking up at the opportunity to do a bit of bitchy ranting, ‘but what a freak! I mean seriously, if you hadn’t come I would have probably had to scream, which would have been so embarrassing!’ ‘Didn’t stop you in the rain this morning.’ ‘You would do good not to remind me of that again.’ I laughed a little. ‘Yeah, but what if we do see him again? He seemed weird, like some evil depraved killer.’ is time Keira laughed. ‘We’ll dodge his knife attacks and run for the hills then!’ ‘Definitely.’ ‘No, seriously, he won’t come back. He comes across as a bit of a ... well a bit of a lunatic, really. You know, the sort who is obviously liked by no one and generally, well, socially inept. He’s incapable of introducing himself normally. He’s a ... he’s a new kid, a nobody. I feel sorry for him, really.’ ‘Lunatic. Right.’ ‘Definitely,’ Keira said, smiling. ‘He’ll move on to someone else tomorrow, no doubt,’ I said. ‘I know, that’s what I’ve been thinking,’ she mused. ‘Do you think we should tell someone?’ ‘I’m not sure.’ ‘I guess it’s not really our problem, and besides he won’t get away with it for long before he’s beaten up or the teachers find out.’ ‘Good point,’ I said. ‘Yes,’ Keira concluded. ‘He’s a nutter, a friendless nutter.’ ‘Indeed he is.’ ‘It was quite funny though, with his lines. I mean, come on: “I’ve lost my phone number, can I have yours?” ‐ it was laughable!’ ‘Disturbingly so!’ I grinned. Aer a pause in which we both considered it all, we cracked up again. ‘Jack,’ she said, suddenly, still laughing a little. ‘What?’ I said. ‘Jack,’ she repeated. ‘at was his name.’ ‘Oh yeah,’ I said. ‘Well remembered.’ ‘Tomorrow,’ announced Keira as we neared Damon’s house, ‘I have another audition!’ Damon sighed. ‘Wonderful.’ ‘Um! Show some enthusiasm ... NOW,’ said Keira in a commanding tone. ‘Okay: wow, that’s great!’ said Damon sarcastically. ‘Yeah! Audition, wow, audition ... WOW!’ Keira smirked. ‘During school hours I suppose?’ he added. ‘As usual, yes.’ ‘Good luck with your exams,’ Damon jibed. Keira’s eyes narrowed. ‘Remind me of your mock grades, Damon?’ Damon, who had looked like he was lining up his next insult, closed his mouth and was silenced. Keira’s expression was one of deep satisfaction. I grinned. ‘What’s it for then, the audition?’ I asked her. ‘Never mind all that,’ she said, as Damon opened his gate. ‘Until tomorrow my friends,’ he said tonelessly, before slumping towards his front door and ostentatiously writhing up against it, scraping away with apparent difficulty in a bid to insert his key in the lock. His

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amusing display was hampered somewhat, however, by Damon’s mother opening the door, causing him to fall flat on his back into the house. Like the good friends we were, Keira and I laughed. Damon’s mother looked down at him as though questioning her involvement in his raising, before waving at us cheerfully and closing the door. ‘Classic,’ I said, still laughing. Keira murmured in disturbed agreement. ‘At least the rain’s stopped,’ she said. ‘Yes, and at least your hair’s dry,’ I said, in an unintentionally derisive voice. Aer a pause, I said, ‘wow, I am really good at sounding mean!’ ‘It’s because you’re just a mean person, Luke. It’s just a fact,’ said Keira simply, opening the park gate. I was a little speechless as I considered her words. Not another word was said until we reached the bridge. ‘So what time will you be in tomorrow? Or won’t you at all?’ ‘Not sure yet,’ said Keira vaguely. ‘Helpful,’ I said. ‘Oh, I know,’ she replied, with a gleeful grin. ‘I take a real pleasure when talking to you in withholding nothing but what you actually want to hear, Lucas.’ ‘at’s funny. You’re a funny girl.’ I bade farewell to Keira ten minutes later and was in my house by quarter past on the dot. Entering the house, I hung my keys on the wall, put down my bag in the alcove by the stairs, and sat down on the sofa in the living room. It was exactly like any other day, almost to the minute. Well organised. I liked it that way. Why should tomorrow have been different?

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