A - Echoes - Prologue

Prologue

The rain pelted against Barry Marsh's windscreen, making the world
outside seem like some lost underwater kingdom. The fields that
stretched out on both sides of the road rippled, floating lazily and
indistinctly like seaweed buffeted by a gentle underwater current.
Realising it was five o'clock he flicked on the radio, hoping to hear
some traffic news, but there was only a persistent, crackled whining
that soon made him wince. He slipped a cassette in instead, and was
instantly soothed by the perfect melodies of Mozart.
He normally enjoyed driving, but this was a complete nightmare. He'd
been involved in a meeting up in the north, and to be quite honest,
it'd been totally pointless. Hardly worth the three hour journey, and
the endless lines of tail-lights that had winked laughingly at him on
the motorway. A lorry had lost control and jack-knifed across the
carriageway. Several cars had braked too late and ploughed straight
into it.
So he'd turned off and stopped in a lay-by, pouring over his road atlas
until he found a suitable detour. Or so he'd thought.
It was over an hour ago that he'd left the motorway, and he was
completely lost. He'd tried to stay on the comfortingly red A-roads,
but had taken a wrong turning, and now it seemed the roads were getting
narrower and narrower. There was nothing to get his bearings from. No
villages, no tall steeples, and certainly no signposts. Just these
endless, flat green fields that blurred and shifted behind the droplets
of rain quivering on his windows.
He longed to get home, to sit in the warmth while his wife brought him
a glass of scotch whisky and his daughter scampered around the house
lost in her wide-eyed world of imagination. Susan was seven, and Barry
always looked forward to seeing her at the end of their road, patiently
waiting for his car to turn the corner so she could jump in and ride
the little distance home. Before he'd become a father, he'd always
worried that he wouldn't know what to say to any child he had, or how
he'd behave towards her. But that had never been a problem with Susan.
He loved being with her.
Anne, his wife, was different. By the time he got home, she'd normally
have drunk several glasses of vodka while she was cooking, and would be
all over him like a lovesick schoolgirl. He didn't mind that, of
course, but why did she always have to be drunk to do it? Why couldn't
she let her real personality show through? There were big problems just
around the corner, and he wasn't sure he was up to dealing with
them.
A white shape loomed up suddenly on the right. He slowed to a crawl,
hoping to see some clue to where he was. He leaned over and peered at
his atlas lying on the passenger seat, and then wound his window down.
Drops of rain pattered into the car and a cold breeze brushed his face.
He shivered.
The white shape was a cottage, square and nondescript,with four windows
and a central door, like something out of a cartoon. It had only looked
white against the darkness of the fields and the sighing sheets of
rain. It had become grey over the years, like old bone. Not the sort of
place I'd like to live in, thought Barry Marsh.
He was about to stop the engine and open his door when he saw movement
from the top right-hand window. He looked up, squinting against the
sting of the rain, and saw an old tattered curtain being pulled open.
Harsh white light glared on bare walls.
He looked straight into the eyes of a strangely-pretty young girl. Her
hair was golden, and seemed to be on fire in the light, but it was lank
and unbrushed, and hung over her forehead in ragged curls. Her eyes
were wide and blue in her pale face, and she was mouthing silent
words.
Without a moment's hesitation, Barry slammed his foot on the
accelerator and skidded off down the lane, his tyres struggling to make
contact on the greasy surface. He looked quickly up into the rearview
mirror, and saw that a shape had run out of the house and was standing
still in the centre of the lane, exposed under the driving rain. He had
felt an instant of complete panic. Those eyes! They'd looked right into
him, touching his thoughts and poking deep into his mind. He'd felt his
heart begin to race. If he'd have stayed there a moment longer, who
knows what would have happened.
The lane swung sharply around a stand of tall poplars, whose tops were
being lashed violently by the wind, and then the house was out of
sight. The land dipped towards a dark blur of trees and houses, and
Barry realised he'd finally returned to civilisation. There was a main
road running along the bottom of the valley, and he was soon speeding
along it, happy now that he was finally making progress towards
home.
Stupid, really. Fancy being afraid of some lonely little kid! He was
just jumpy because of this nightmare bloody journey. Oh to be
home!
He looked in the rearview mirror and froze in terror when he saw the
little girl sitting in the back seat, staring at him with her intense
blue eyes.
There was silence for a few seconds, save for the monotonous humming of
the engine and the hissing of the rain as it pelted down from a
darkening sky.
"You frightened me," she said. Her voice was hesitant, as if she rarely
spoke out loud. "Your thoughts are too loud for me, and your car is
frightening my friends in the fields. I want you to stop."
Barry slammed his foot on the brake and the car skidded, swerving
ninety degrees and then buckling as it was smashed by a heavy goods
vehicle roaring up from behind.
It exploded into flame.

To be continued tomorrow...