While the Storm Rages, page 14
‘Delilah!’ he yelled, though he had no idea why. The snake was hardly likely to call back. In fact, he only found the sack by accident, tripping over it as he groped instinctively. As his feet made contact with the hessian, he felt the lump inside it kick back. Was she trying to bite him? Noah wasn’t scared though, only relieved. Relieved that Delilah was still alive, because if she wasn’t then he had no doubt that Big Col would kill him as well, regardless of who was to blame.
The next problem was how to get both the sack and himself off the boat. The flames were incessant now, so high and vicious that Noah had no idea which way the gangplank lay. He strained into the fire, trying to get a view of something, anything that offered help, even if it were a glimpse of the river on the wrong side of the boat.
But it was fruitless. All he knew was that he was surrounded, and the only thing he could do was take a guess and hope for the best.
As he tried to lift the sack, he realised the next of his problems. It was too damned heavy. It may have been the smoke in his lungs affecting his strength, it may have merely been his own puniness, but no matter how hard he strained, he could not lift the sack on to his back.
How had Big Col done it? He’d carried it halfway across London and back for Pete’s sake, so surely Noah should be able to lift it? What was wrong with him?
He tried again, and again and again, but whilst he might have raised it past his knees, he simply could not get the leverage needed to hoist it on to his back.
Once more, he thought, ONE. MORE. TRY. But as he strained, a new flame erupted from below deck throwing Noah on to his front, and on to the sack, and causing Delilah to hiss through the hessian.
Noah screamed, he couldn’t help it. How long did he have? How long till the flames hit the fuel line or the oil in the engine? How long till he was blown heavens high?
It wouldn’t be long. Seconds maybe. So if he was going to do this, it had to be now. NOW!
He pulled himself to his feet, and planted them either side of the sack. Where the idea had come from, he had no clue, he just knew that if he couldn’t carry the sack, then he had to at least try to throw it.
He’d seen athletes do it on the Cinema newsreel, those Scottish hammer throwers, veins practically exploding from their necks as they cast the lump of iron further than was humanly possible.
He didn’t have to throw the sack that far. All he had to do was clear the flames and Maudie’s flank. Even if the sack caught the flames a touch, then the river would douse it before any kind of damage was done to Delilah.
He could do this. He had to.
With every bit of strength he had, he gripped the sack and, ignoring the flames and sparks nipping and biting at his exposed skin, he hauled it to shin level and began to spin.
It wasn’t easy. He was tired, and dizzy and flustered, plus there was precious little space on the deck that wasn’t already alight. His lungs burned, as did his skin, but he didn’t stop, he couldn’t, he daren’t, all he could do was build every bit of momentum he had, until, dervish-like, he spun so hard that his arms and the sack were at a right angle to his body.
He had no idea if he had enough momentum, not to mention strength left in his body to do what he needed to do. He had no idea if Delilah could possibly survive the shock of what he was about to do, or even the sudden drop in temperature, but he couldn’t think about that. He was simply giving the animal the best chance of survival that he could.
This was it: the moment, do or die, so with one final spin and a cry that rumbled deep from the depths of him, Noah let go, and the sack (and Delilah), went flying.
37
Temperatures on the riverbank were far from cool either.
Neither of them could believe what Noah had done. Big Col had been wide-eyed in shock as Noah raced aboard the boat, and had to hold Clem back from following her friend. Clem in turn, had enough about her to grab Winn’s collar, as she knew the dog would follow her master anywhere and everywhere, regardless of the danger.
All they could do, was stand and yell, imploring Noah to ‘get off’ and ‘come back’, though Big Col peppered his demands with somewhat stronger language.
‘What is he doing?’ Big Col demanded.
‘Saving your pet!’ Clem replied, tersely.
‘I didn’t ask him to.’
‘No, but you didn’t run back on there yourself either, did you?’
‘He didn’t give me the chance!’
They bickered on, temperatures soaring, Winn barking madly and Frank joining in howling as well. The kittens, sitting on Samson’s back still, dug their claws into the donkey in worry, which started him braying as well.
In fact, the only thing to break them from their noisy quarrelling, was the incongruous sight of Delilah’s sack, one corner smoking furiously, cutting through the flames before plummeting into the river.
Despite the shock, it galvanised Big Col into action. He kicked off his boots before sprinting towards the river, and belly flopping gracelessly into its depths.
As his head emerged, coughing and spluttering, he saw ripples on the surface some twenty yards away. Thrashing wildly, he made progress, desperate to reach the sack before Delilah breathed her last. But as he edged nearer, and his lungs burned with the exertion, a bomb fell from above: a bomb in human form, arms and legs flailing, voice squealing as Noah landed on Big Col’s back, sending them both plummeting.
Disorientation followed. Which way was up? And where was the sack? It was way too murky to make anything out, and as Noah and Big Col both broke the surface, their heads spun furiously for a sign of the sack.
‘Left, left, LEFT!’ yelled Clem, pointing the way, and Noah kicked on, arms windmilling until he found himself on top of the ripples, Big Col still some yards behind. Noah didn’t wait though, there wasn’t time, and after a huge gulp of breath, he broke the surface one final time, vowing not to return until the sack was in his grip.
The river surface kicked and spat back, then went quiet, the only noise from Big Col as he caught up, panting, his sodden clothes threatening to pull him under whether he liked it or not.
‘Where is she?’ he shouted uselessly. ‘Where’s Delilah?’
But Noah could neither hear, nor see from beneath the surface. It was too dark for a start, and the water too grubby. All he could do was flail his arms in every direction in the hope of striking lucky and brushing the sack.
Panic rose in him, and also in Big Col. It had been too long. He had no idea how long a snake could breathe underwater. Big Col did the only thing he could, which was keep himself above water, because if Noah did make it up, he had to be ready to help.
Seconds dragged by; Big Col tried dipping his face into the water but felt nothing but panic and claustrophobia. If he couldn’t manage the briefest of moments, then it was stupid to expect a miracle from someone else. In fact, maybe he shouldn’t be worrying about his pet at all, but hoping that Noah himself was all right. Suddenly there was an eruption beside him. So close and so volatile that he was submerged briefly himself. As his eyes opened and stung, Big Col was left with the most wonderful of sights: two outstretched, dripping wet arms raised to the heavens. It didn’t matter that the head they belonged to was still underwater. All that mattered was that the hands attached to the arms were holding Delilah, or as much of her as was humanly possible.
Big Col gasped.
‘Is she alive?’ he shouted, though Noah’s head remained underwater. He looked for a sign. Was she breathing? He couldn’t tell? Moving even? She wasn’t. Her tail fell limply back into the river. It wasn’t even as though he could look for her blinking, as he knew full well she had no eyelids. Despair seized him instantly, until... he saw it! A flick of the tongue. Small, but definite. She was alive. And tasting the air. Her head turned to him feebly and she flicked again, like she knew he was nearby.
At that moment Noah managed to force his head above water, his chest hacking and ejecting everything he’d swallowed. He felt disorientated and faint, but he daren’t let his arms bend or relax. The snake had been underwater too long already, and he feared what would happen if she was submerged again.
‘Take her!’ he gasped, arms levering towards Big Col. But despite his exhaustion, Noah still saw the expression change on the other boy’s face. The joy and relief that Big Col initially wore, seemed to slip from his face the second he held Delilah.
‘What do you think you were doing?’ He spat, breathlessly. ‘Throwing her overboard like that?’ He seemed hysterical to Noah. ‘I mean, you know she’s sensitive to cold temperatures. And pythons can’t swim, you fool!’
Had Clem been in earshot, she’d have put him straight: told him that actually, some species of pythons waited in shallow water to catch their prey. But Clem remained on the riverbank, her attention torn between the boys in the water and the frantic animals beside her.
‘I thought you’d be pleased!’ Noah said, flabbergasted.
‘Pleased? That my pet nearly drowned?’
‘That’s not my fault. It beats being burned alive, doesn’t it?’
‘Neither would’ve happened if you hadn’t put us onboard that death trap of a boat!’
There were so many replies that Noah could’ve given at that point. That he should be grateful either way. That the boat had safely transported them a long, long way towards their destination. Plus the most important point of all: that without his help, Delilah would’ve been dead anyway, the vet would’ve seen to that.
But he had neither the breath in his body, nor the time to voice them, as Big Col made it clear their conversation was over, pushing himself into a backstroke position, where he could rest enough of Delilah safely on his chest. His first kick wasn’t aimed at the water to propel him to land though: it landed as intended, square and flush in Noah’s chest.
Noah had no idea how to respond to that. He was too shocked, but as Big Col bobbed further away, the snake coiled incongruously on top of him, the shock subsided, to be replaced by undiluted fury.
How dare he? He thought. How DARE he?
Noah could already feel, despite the water, his left forearm burning from where the flames had bit and snarled, and who knew what other injuries he’d sustained. He’d only know that once he was dry and his adrenalin levels had dropped.
At that moment though, he didn’t care. All he could see and feel, was anger. And so he swam furiously, in pursuit of Big Col and Delilah.
38
Big Col was no vet. That was evident as he kneeled on the riverbank, chest heaving, Delilah laid beside him as he looked her up and down.
‘She all right?’ asked Clem.
‘Do I look like I know? Can’t you see how sluggish she is? She’s freezing!’ he yelled back venomously.
‘I’m only trying to help,’ she said, turning her attention briefly to Noah, who was pulling himself from the river.
‘Noah. That was so brave,’ she said, offering a hand to get him on his feet. ‘Brave, but unbelievably stupid.’
But Noah wasn’t listening, nor did he accept her help. He’d spent every second swimming ashore letting his anger fester and grow, and it was now at volcanic proportions as he barged past Clem.
‘I want an apology from you!’ he demanded, as he stood over Big Col.
‘You’ll be waiting a long time.’
‘I mean it,’ Noah said. ‘What you said out there. It’s not right or fair.’
Big Col stopped looking at the snake long enough to shake his head disdainfully at Noah, before ignoring him again.
But Noah wasn’t going to let it go. Not like that. He had plenty to say and he was darned if he wasn’t going to say every single word of it.
‘What is your problem?’ he demanded. ‘Because I really want to know.’
‘Only problem I have at the moment is you dripping all over me and my snake.’
‘You know what I mean. For as long as I’ve known you, which is sadly most of my life, you’ve made my life a misery. A MISERY!’
‘A misery? Don’t make me laugh. Because to be honest I’ve barely noticed you.’
‘That’s rubbish and you know it. Soon as school started you went for me. Always bigger, always stronger, always standing over me, poking and pushing.’
Finally, Big Col put Delilah to one side, pulling himself to his feet so he towered once again over Noah.
But for the first time in his life, Noah wasn’t intimidated, or scared. He’d just been onboard a burning boat, just jumped through six-foot flames in order to survive, but more than that, he knew, instinctively, that if he didn’t stand up to Big Col right now, then it would always be this way. And he wouldn’t have that. So he stood toe to toe with the boy, chest puffed out.
‘I can’t help that what I’ve been given is too much for you to deal with,’ Big Col continued. ‘That you can’t cope with it. So let’s finish this now. Because to be honest, it’s too... easy.’ And with that, he pushed Noah, sending him sprawling in the grass.
But Noah didn’t retaliate. At least not in the way Big Col expected. He didn’t rush him, fists flailing. He knew there was no point. The only weapon he possessed that could pierce Big Col was his words. So he chose them carefully.
‘I’ve decided to change your name,’ he said, a wry smile on his face. ‘Because that’s half the problem. Everyone goes on about BIG Col. It’s like you were christened with it or something. It makes you someone to be scared of. But I’m not scared of you. Not any more. So from now on, you’re not Big Col, or even Col. To me, you’re just Colin.’
There was only one person in his life who called Big Col that, and he did it with such regularity and disdain that to hear it from someone other than his father, left the boy enraged.
‘Don’t you call me that,’ he hissed, fingers curling into fists.
Noah knew he’d crossed a line. Not because of the fists. He’d seen and felt them on many occasions already. It was the look on Col’s face. Murderous.
It didn’t matter that his pet was lying sluggish on the grass, unclear as to whether it would live or die. Big Col only had eyes for Noah. It was as though he were looking at someone else, someone he hated with a passion that far exceeded his feelings for Noah.
But it was too late to take the words back. Noah couldn’t, and didn’t want to. He’d meant every single one of them, which meant he had to accept whatever came his way.
‘Are you sure you want to do this?’ Noah said to him, as calmly as he could. ‘Because we didn’t ask you to come along, but we let you, despite everything you’ve done to us in the past. But I’m warning you, Colin. This is your very last chance. Hit me one more time and you’re on your own. You might make it to the Duchess’, but you won’t make it alongside us.’
Noah stood proud, not allowing himself to tremble outwardly: not when the boy moved closer, not even when his fist flew back, then forward, leaving Noah sprawled on the ground, nose pouring.
Big Col said nothing. Not a word to either Noah or Clem. All he did was remove his sodden shirt and carefully wrap Delilah up in it, before stomping away and out of sight.
‘He’ll be back,’ said Noah, spitting blood through his teeth.
‘You think so?’ asked Clem.
‘He’ll have to. He’s walking in the wrong direction,’ he said, before frowning up at the sky. ‘And anyway, that’s the least of our problems.’
For once, Noah was right. They had nothing left to sail, nowhere left to sleep, no water and no way of catching any more food. And to cap off the bleakest of days, the humidity had now reached breaking point and the clouds suddenly burst.
It rained. Biblically. If ever they needed an ark it was now, but it was too late. What was left of Queen Maudie was sinking, quickly, into the Thames.
39
It didn’t rain for forty days and nights, but it felt like it.
They didn’t sleep, not really, there was too much to think about: Maudie and what Dad would say, never mind Mum. Big Col and the fact that he hadn’t returned, not even to put himself on the right path.
All they could do was hunker under the biggest tree they could find, wearing their pets like furry blankets (though fortunately, for comfort’s sake, Samson stayed on his feet beneath the canopy).
While the animals slept, the humans didn’t, raindrops landing incessantly on their faces, puncturing what sleep did come their way. They tried to catch the drops on their tongue, to take the edge off their thirsts, but of course it was never enough. Noah even tried to shape the largest leaf he could find into a cup, which again failed miserably. He sat there and cursed, how could there be so much water without there being a way of them capturing it.
The only consolation was that the moisture eased his burns a little, as all night long they remained a searing reminder of how close he’d come to serious injury, or worse.
When the rain finally did stop, the sun was already up, heating the land, making the moisture rise steamily up to the heavens. It would’ve been an intoxicating sight for both of them had they not been so dog tired, thirsty and hungry.
‘At least we don’t have to eat fish again for breakfast,’ Noah said, trying to make light of Col’s absence, though in all honesty, he’d have eaten anything at that moment. Jumping through fire and hammer-throwing snakes in a sack was hungry work, it would seem.
‘Do you think he’s going to be all right?’ Clem asked.
‘Colin?’ he replied, remembering his vow.
‘Well, the snake as well, obviously. It really wasn’t moving much, was it? I don’t know what Col will do if it gets even colder, especially as he’s hardly got a sense of direction.’
‘No, but they’re not our problem any more,’ Noah huffed, pulling himself to his feet, wincing at a burn on his wrist. He looked at the rest of his exposed skin, not quite believing that he’d come through such an event so relatively unscathed. ‘We can’t waste all our energy worrying about him. All that matters are the animals we have left. First thing we need to do is eat, and the second is get walking. How many miles do you think it is to Windsor?’
