The Rainbow Man Page 10

  “It was just a story,” snorted Greg.

  Sailors washed overboard in storms and rising up...looking for—

  “Maybe he’s after revenge for something?” offered Daniel, recalling some of Greg’s dad’s tales himself.

  “Hold on a minute.” Jill dragged yet another book across. “The Amazonians have always associated rainbows with malign spirits that cause harm, and spread diseases. Listen to this: ‘In the Amuesha language of central Peru, certain maladies are called ayo…ayoa’…’”

  “What?” asked Greg.

  She shot him an annoyed look. “Give me a break will you, I don’t speak fluent Peruvian. ‘Ayona’achartan,’” she finished, speaking slowly, but making sure she got the words right just to spite him. “That means ‘the rainbow hurt my skin’.”

  Daniel thought about the sick people at the hospital—the people who’d come down with diseases recently. Vincent, too; perhaps he hadn’t been poisoned by ordinary means. Maybe just one look or… or a few words—like the ones back there on the rugby pitch—were enough? It felt like they were making headway at least, but not quite there yet. Something about all this didn’t quite add up.

  None of it explained John’s motives. Nor did it explain his fear of the cold. The dead were by their very nature cold, weren’t they? And didn’t spirits actually make a place colder when they were around?

  They flicked through several more books, taking in mythologies from places as far flung as Southern Garbon in Africa (who believed the ancestors of humans—which they called Freesians—arrived on this planet via rainbows) and Siberian Shaman (who thought that people could ascend to the sky spirit world by way of a rainbow). All pieces of the puzzle, but nothing that fitted, nothing creating a complete picture. Until Daniel turned the pages of the mythology book he was holding.

  It was so simple, he wondered why it hadn’t struck him before. “I know what John is,” Daniel declared with the kind of certainty that made Greg and Jill both sit up and take notice. “I know what he is, and how he got here.”

  “How who got here?”

  The voice startled them, making them jump. None of them had noticed Miss Thickett sneak up behind the trio, now standing next to a bookshelf and peering at them over her half-rimmed spectacles. “I thought you children were working on a school project?”

  There was that word again: children.

  “We… we are,” said Jill, attempting to keep the quiver from her voice. Miss Thickett now had a very strange expression on her face, and was cocking her head, staring at them. “It’s… it’s a history project.”

  “We have to find out how the first settlers reached the island,” Daniel added, thinking fast. “It’s kind of linked to what my brother Mikey’s doing in his class, creating a model of the town.”

  Miss Thickett nodded. “Then you’re looking in the wrong place. You want local history, not general history and culture.”

  “Okay,” said Daniel. The librarian turned and waited while they followed her to the “correct” section. When they’d dawdled in there long enough, Miss Thickett keeping a watchful eye on them this time from her post at the counter, they got up and left, thanking her for her help.

  Outside, and around the corner, Daniel produced the book again that he’d been reading—and had stuffed into his backpack while Miss Thickett hadn’t been looking. Shorepoint library didn’t have anything as sophisticated as an electronic alarm system—those running the library had a hard enough time getting people in to borrow books, let alone steal them—so he’d felt confident it wouldn’t be noticed. Unless of course Miss Thickett went looking.

  Daniel opened the volume again at the page he’d found, and saw the expressions of understanding dawn on first Jill’s, then Greg’s face.

  “It makes a kind of sense now, doesn’t it?” he said, and they had to admit it did. As insane as it sounded, that seemed to be the only possible answer. “Now all we have to do is figure out a way to stop him,” Daniel said, finally.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  THINGS ESCALATED QUITE DRAMATICALLY after they found out, as if a dam had burst somewhere and there was nothing to hold events back. There was also a feeling in the air, an electricity, as if something was coming. As if things were building to an inevitable conclusion.

  The first thing was they spotted the bunting as they made their way back through town. “What’s going on?” Greg asked them both, as if they knew. Jill was more practical and stopped someone in the street to ask, a local builder by the name of James Godfrey who was carrying a ladder.

  “Good isn’t it? It’s for the celebration.”

  “Celebration?” asked Daniel, drawing up alongside them.

  “Yeah, we’re giving John the key to the town. Well, the island, really. A good old fashioned celebration is just what we need right now, wouldn’t you say?” Godfrey laughed, then continued on down the street with his ladder. No doubt he was off to help with more of the bunting, or even a banner or two.

  “John has been busy while we’ve been doing our research,” Daniel said. They found out from quizzing a few more people that the ceremony was due to take place tomorrow at seven, and that all the townspeople were invited. “I wonder if on some level they know,” Daniel mused. “Maybe they’re trying to appease him somehow.”

  “If they are, it won’t work,” Jill said matter of factly.

  “No,” Daniel agreed.

  They visited the police station next, but Yeats wasn’t around.

  “We really, really need to speak with him,” Daniel said.

  Weeks shrugged. “He was here earlier on, but I haven’t seen him for a while. He’s probably helping with the preparations for tomorrow. It’s going to be such a great evening. Even I’m going!” said the old policemen.

  Now Daniel knew something was wrong. It would take a stick of dynamite to get Weeks out of that chair, out of this station.

  That or a fire.

  They took another walk around town to look for Yeats or his car, but couldn’t find them. They did, however, spot John, chatting with a group of people. He was pointing as if directing operations. They got out of there before they were seen. “No way Yeats would be helping with any of these kinds of arrangements. Not after what we talked about yesterday,” said Daniel.

  “So what are we going to do?” Greg was biting the side of his fingernail; he only ever did that when he was really concerned about something. “We need his help.”

  “Perhaps we should try and phone someone off island,” suggested Jill.

  Greg took out his mobile and pressed a few buttons. “Looks like local networks only.”

  “That figures,” said Daniel.

  “We have to try and warn people, get them to see reason,” said Jill.

  “I don’t see how. His hold’s pretty strong,” Daniel pointed out. “You didn’t even see the full picture till you were beaten over the head with it.”

  “Then what?”

  “I don’t have the faintest,” confessed Daniel.

  Jill said that they should at least try to get through to their own families, and so they each went home and promised to keep in touch, then meet up again with a few more ideas about where to go from there. At least Daniel knew John wasn’t at his place if he was in town.

  When he opened the door, walking cautiously through, he heard the TV. But as he came further inside, he saw only his mother, on the couch. This was it; like Jill said, they had to at least try and warm their loved ones about John. “Mum?” he began, “shouldn’t you be at the surgery?”

  Lorraine Routh didn’t turn her heard, barely even acknowledged her son’s presence as he ventured further into the room. She was staring at some daytime soap—she never watched those, ever—as if it was the most fascinating thing she’d ever seen. “Mum… Mum, are you okay?” Daniel placed himself between her and the TV, but she didn’t even flinch. She was more spaced out than he’d ever seen her, and when he looked behind him, down at the coffee table, he saw why.
There was a needle, empty now. Daniel sucked in a breath. He picked it up, to look at it, but also knowing Mikey could get hold of it just lying around like that. His mother would never do anything like this in a million years: either it had been done to her, or yet again it was the influence of John.

  Daniel shook her by the shoulders and she attempted to look at him, but she was somewhere else, eyes glazed over. She wouldn’t hear his words about John, even if there was a slight chance of reaching her.

  Leaving her on the couch, Daniel tried the house phone, in the vain hopes that he might be able to contact the outside world on that. He couldn’t even get a dialling tone. Whether it was the same with all the phones, or just theirs—as John was staying with them—he had no idea, but it made him feel even more cut off than before. Daniel tried jabbing at the buttons, to see if he could get a reaction out of the phone that way.

  It was as he was standing there that he felt a hand on his shoulder. He jumped, startled, whirling around, and ready to use the needle in his hand as a weapon if he really had to. Luckily, it was Susan, who pulled back.

  “Easy Danny. I didn’t mean to startle you.” He looked down and saw Mikey there, holding her hand, and he quickly hid the needle behind his back. Neither of them seemed that bothered by the sight of his mum, virtually catatonic on the couch. It was symptomatic of what was happening generally. Nothing weird was fazing anyone these days.

  “You… erm… you didn’t. I mean—”

  “Who were you talking to?” Susan had that same strange look in her eye as Miss Thickett earlier on, cocking her head in the same way.

  “N-No one. I don’t think it’s working.”

  “Ah,” said Susan, again not finding that at all odd. “Had a good day out with your friends at the library?”

  Daniel hadn’t told anyone where he was going, or who with. It all lent weight to the notion that John now had a network of interconnected spies on the island. “I… I guess,” he told her.

  “Did you hear the news? I expect you did. About John? About tomorrow?”

  Daniel nodded slowly, looking down at Mikey—who was twisting round to see the TV.

  “Isn’t it great? Just what we need.” The exact words of Godfrey the builder.

  “Listen,” Daniel began, changing the subject. “You probably want to go off and help with everything. I can watch Mikey for you for a little while.”

  Susan cocked her head a second time. “Why would you want to take Mikey? I thought you didn’t like looking after him?” Her words hurt, not because she was questioning his motives, but because she was basically right. He didn’t really enjoy looking after his little brother. Or hadn’t, before.

  “I never said that.” Daniel’s tone was a little too defensive.

  Susan looked him up and down. “Hmm. No, I don’t think so, Danny. I think I’ll watch him for now. It’s what John would want.”

  He wanted to say, “I couldn’t care less what John would want, give me my brother.” But getting angry would only tip her off more. Instead, he tried talking to Mikey directly. “Hey, what about it, Shrimp? Want to go and play? Maybe explore or something?” He held out his hand.

  Mikey turned and gaped at him, then just shook his head. “I’m going to wait for John. He’s gonna help me finish my model tonight.”

  Daniel gave a resolved nod; he knew it was no use trying, especially with Susan present. But he also knew he couldn’t leave either his mum or Mikey alone here…

  He told Susan he was going to his room, and locked the door, same as he had done ever since John had gate-crashed their place. He pushed the chair up against the handle, took out the hammer, and sat on the bed crossed-legged. Next he texted his friends to let them know what was happening and to say he’d see them tomorrow to talk tactics. Then he took out the book he’d stolen from the library, and began flipping through the pages again, searching for something, anything that might provide an insight into dealing with John.

  That night he would get to know his enemy as best he could. He would try and find a way of fighting him, as terrifying as that prospect was.

  Because if he and his friends failed, Daniel knew that this whole community would pay the ultimate price.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  DANIEL STAYED UP MOST OF THE NIGHT. Whenever he felt tired, his eyelids growing heavy as he scanned the pages of the book in front of him, he remembered that John might be in the house—though he hadn’t actually heard his return. That didn’t mean anything, of course: Daniel’s usually excellent hearing was selective where John was concerned.

  Once or twice during that long, long night, he thought he heard a creaking on the landing outside his door. He’d even adjusted the chair wedged against the handle a few times, but nobody even tried the handle.

  He must have nodded off again at some point, because the sound of whispering roused him. Strange words he couldn’t quite make out—and which he thought were being spoken through that door. They stopped when he snapped awake on the bed, shaking himself.

  It was early when he got up—barely even light—not woken by Mikey’s cartoons but knowing the kid would probably be up soon to watch them. Then he’d do what he hadn’t been able to last night. Packing his book and hammer away again in his backpack, where it clattered against the torch, he removed the chair, undid the lock as quietly as he could, and stepped out onto the landing.

  The creaky floorboards that had served as an early warning system in the night now worked against him, as he tried to sneak along that corridor. The sun might have been getting up as well, but in that passage it was still dark. He felt along the wall, listening out for any signs of movement.

  The door to his mum’s room was open, allowing him a glimpse inside from this angle. He saw the prone form of his mother lying there in bed, though who had put her there he had no idea. All things considered, it was probably the best place for her. Daniel remembered the needle still in his possession, and reminded himself to get rid of it somewhere when he got outside.

  He carried on along the landing, but froze when he reached John’s door. It was closed, but he had no idea whether John was actually in there or not. Maybe he’d stayed over at Susan’s last night, not that her parents would have approved. Or maybe they might? John seemed to be able to get away with anything these days, didn’t he?

  Daniel mentally shook himself, then took the stairs one at a time. He tried to distribute his weight evenly so he wouldn’t make any noise.

  Daniel was surprised to see Mikey already up and watching his ‘toons, though he had the sound down low—practically off. Usually, he’d wake the whole house up with them, but not today. That was John’s influence as well, Daniel would lay odds on it, but there was an unnaturalness about it that made him shudder.

  Mikey cast a look over his shoulder when he sensed Daniel’s presence, but turned back to watch the colourful images on the screen again.

  “Mikey,” Daniel began. “I want you to come with me.”

  No reply.

  “Mikey, did you hear what I said?”

  Nothing.

  Daniel came over and shook his shoulder. Mikey peered up at him. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m watching my programmes.”

  “Mikey, listen to me. You—”

  “You’re not my dad.” Daniel’s own words thrown back at him. “You can’t tell me what to do. I’m not going anywhere with you.” What a difference this past month had made. There was a time when nothing on Earth would have kept Mikey from taking up an offer like this one.

  “I…” Daniel started, then he realised he had absolutely no idea what to say. He did know he needed to get Mikey away from here, though. “I’ve got something better than cartoons.”

  Mikey glanced at him again, one eyebrow twitching, wondering what could ever be better than a huge talking chicken being hit with a mallet. “Remember Mrs. Sullivan? Well, I hear she’s baking today, getting stuff ready for the celebration later.” He couldn’t be sure whether this was true or
not, but would probably lay odds that Jill’s mum was baking some form of treats for John’s “ceremony.” That is if she could bear to part with them herself. “And I think she might quite like you around as an official taster.”

  Mikey considered this, rubbing his chin.

  “You want those cakes to taste nice for John, don’t you?” said Daniel. If it was for John, it was okay—that’s what he was banking on. “Plus which, you’ll get to see Vincent while you’re over there. You know, he hasn’t been very well lately.” And whose fault’s that? “He could probably use a bit of company, Shri…Mikey.”

  Daniel could sense his brother wavering.

  “Come on, you know you want to.”

  He held out his hand again, the same as last night, but Mikey didn’t take it. He did get up and turn off the TV, however, and Daniel let out a huge sigh. While Daniel went to the kitchen to gather a few things, Mikey packed up his model of the town, which he insisted on taking with him

  in a box under his arm. There were just a few final things to do to it, apparently. He wanted to finish it himself to show John later.

  It was still early when they got to Jill’s place, but luckily the Sullivan household were always up at the crack of dawn. Jill took Mikey through to the kitchen and explained to her folks that Daniel’s mum wasn’t feeling great, so could he stay there the day. “You’d be doing John a big favour,” she tacked on the end. Jill had obviously had no luck talking sense to her parents, either.

  “What about tonight?” asked Mrs. Sullivan.

  “He’d consider it a personal favour if you looked after Mikey,” Jill informed her, as if she was relaying orders; Mikey did come from the house where John was staying, after all. “Plus which, someone has to keep an eye on Vincent.” Daniel looked down at the dog, who was actually looking a little bit brighter today.

  The woman pulled a face. “Why can’t you do it?”

  “Because I have to attend tonight. We… we have a surprise for John.”