The Book of Doom - By Barry Hutchison Page 0,52
plan to become friends once we’ve saved the world. Best friends, probably.”
“Well, we’ll see. I’m not really worried about the world. I’m worried about my granddad.”
“Gabriel said he’d look after him.”
“Yeah. That’s what I’m worried about.”
“What about your mum and dad?” Angelo asked. “What happened to them?”
Zac gave a disinterested shrug. “They left. Dumped me with my granddad when I was a few months old and went travelling. Never wanted kids, apparently. Left us alone in a dirty little flat with no money and no income. Haven’t heard from them since.”
Angelo shook his head sadly. “Parents, eh? Yours sound even worse than mine.”
Zac paused. “Well, that’s probably open to debate.”
“Did you want to get back at them?” pressed Angelo. “Is that why you started stealing?”
“No. I started stealing so my granddad and I could eat. And so we could get out of that flat before the damp killed us both.”
Angelo nodded. “Right,” he said slowly. “It’s probably still wrong, though.”
“Yeah,” admitted Zac. “Probably.”
They carried on in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Other figures stood dotted along the shores. Angelo waved to the first few, but when none of them waved back he stopped. Eventually he avoided even looking their way as the boat crept on through the sludgy, slow-moving Styx.
A cold wind whispered across the surface of the water, forcing Angelo to pull his borrowed cardigan tighter around him.
“Bit chilly, isn’t it?” he chittered.
“Ssh.”
“What? Why? What’s the—?”
Zac put his finger to his lips and glared. Angelo silenced himself by clamping his hand over his mouth and the two of them sat quietly, listening for whatever Zac had heard to come again.
Eventually, Angelo moved his hand away. He was about to speak when—
DONK.
They both looked down at their feet. The sound had been faint, but it had been unmistakable. Something had bumped against the underside of the boat.
Zac cut the engine and it coughed to a stop. The boat slowed, but the oozing flow of the Styx carried it onwards. In the near silence that followed, the only sounds were the lapping of the gloopy waves against the boat’s wooden hull, and the distant groaning of the people on the shore.
“What was it?” Angelo whispered as quietly as he could.
Zac shrugged and pressed his finger to his lips again. The sound may have been nothing. The boat could’ve bumped against a rocky outcrop beneath the water, or a particularly lumpy wave might’ve made the knocking sounds. But he wasn’t taking any chances.
“What do we do?” Angelo mouthed.
Zac looked across to the banks of the river. On one side was a throng of ghostly figures, all gawping eyes and gaping mouths. On the other a vast tangle of tall trees all but blocked the way.
“Nothing,” said Zac softly. “Let’s just wait and see what happens.”
Angelo nodded. “OK.”
The boat kept moving along the river, the wood creaking and groaning as the currents pulled it on.
“Can you swim?” Zac asked.
“What? Why are you asking that?” said Angelo, his eyes widening a little in panic.
“Just in case.”
“In case what?”
“In case we have to swim to shore.”
“Swim? In that?” Angelo whimpered. “Are you crazy? We can’t swim in that. Aquaman couldn’t swim in that! Look at the way it’s bubbling. It’s too hot for a start!”
“Quiet,” Zac hissed. “Calm down. It’s not hot, it just looks like it is. I felt it earlier. And no, I don’t want to swim in it, either, and hopefully we won’t have to. I was only asking if you could swim just in case something happened.”
“Like what?” asked Angelo.
There was a thud from below and the boat lurched wildly from side to side. A few metres ahead of them something frothed the surface of the water, then sank quickly out of sight.
“Like that,” Zac whispered.
Angelo’s face was the colour of snow. His hands were gripping the bench he sat on, his fingernails digging grooves into the old wood. “What was it?” he whimpered. “What was that?”
“How should I know? Just stay quiet. Shut up and let me think.”
“Maybe we should pray.”
“I am not going to pray, so get that idea out of your head right now,” Zac growled. “Just... just shut up for a minute.”
There was a low drone from under the water, like the blasting of a foghorn, or the mournful cry of a wounded whale. Something splashed behind the boat. Zac turned, but all that remained was an expanding ring of ripples on the water’s surface.
“I’m going to start the engine again,” he said softly.
“What? Why?