Fall of Hope (Book 1): Real Heroes Don't Wear Capes (11 page)

Bobby
nods as he glances across the road to the front gardens. He searches
the hedges and gates as the cloud passes away from the sun and brings
the warm rays back on his skin.

Something
doesn't feel right.

“
Well,
I was seeing this wolf-like animal with raggly fur, matted with
blood. I guess I knew it wasn't real because it was too small to be a
wolf. Anyway, it grabbed this little girl who was playing on her
scooter outside. She was singing that old
Fleetwood
Mac
song,
'You can go your own way'. I don't know why, maybe she raided her
parent's collection, or something, but it was booming out from the
ear phones. The birds were scattering across the sky in all
directions, but they were completely silent. There were no cars, or
people making noise—just that song and her singing over it. The
wolf came out of nowhere with bloodied saliva dripping from its jaws,
then bam!”

Bobby
flinches as Danny claps his hands to emphasise his point.

“
It
dragged her off by her leg. She was wearing white socks with purple
dots and frilly bits around the tops. The one sock turned red as its
teeth sank in, then her screams filled the air. She was screaming and
gargling—this terrible noise I still hear sometimes. Then my
eyes went dark around the edges. ”

He
drops his lips into a frown.
“
The
wolf was growling and shaking its head. When it bit harder on her
leg, blood went flying in every direction. And you know what? No one
came to help.”

Pulling
his hand from the wall, Danny examines the light pink tissue against
the usual pasty skin. The scar stretches from his thumb to his
knuckles. The bumps and groove still show across the top of his hand
and palm.

Someone
was there in the summer of 2010 when Molly Mason was gliding down the
street on her princess scooter. Someone impeded her and a pitbull. He
never brags about it—he rarely even speaks about it—but
Bobby knows Danny often wonders what would have happened if he
weren't turning the corner at that moment. The dog must have freed
itself from the owner's garden because the rope was still around its
neck and trailing behind it as it ran. From its open and foamy jaws,
crimson spittle spilled into its fur and decorated its teeth. Danny
described it as looking “like it had just mauled something.
Perhaps a rabbit, or a neighbour’s cat.”

Bobby
never asked him if the dream came first; he only had to look in his
eyes to know the truth.

Was
it fate, or a premonition?

He
cannot say, but Danny refers to it as luck.

One
thing still startles Danny about what happened—the Walkman in
her pocket carried on playing through the attack. The earphones flew
from her ears as she fell backwards and screamed. When Danny fell to
shield her from the jaws, he could hear, “I'd give you my
world. Open up, everything's waiting for you.” Those lyrics
still wind around in his mind like a damn roller coaster.

“
What
kind of kid listens to Fleetwood Mac, anyway?” That's all he
says about it to conceal the true astonishment bubbling on the
inside.

Talking
about roller coasters, Danny also dreamed about the fairground that
comes to the Common twice a year.

Bobby
loved when the fairground came because Benji would take him. They
would walk around with candy floss and play in the arcades all day.
Benji would try the claws until he won Bobby a teddy, then have
shoot-outs in the zombie booths. Going on the ghost train wasn't
scary with him because he would let him link arms and hold his face
against his shoulder if it was too scary. Bobby thinks about the
picture in the kitchen of them at the front entrance with the roller
coaster in the background. Visiting there was the best times in his
life and he almost tears up at the thought.

Like
everyone else, he and Danny took the bus to the Common that year.
Upon arriving, it was obvious something was different. Usually cars
parked across the field and people crowded the area, coming and
going. Yet, on this day more people than usual crowded the entrance.
The atmosphere was different, especially from when he went with his
brother. It wasn't full of excitement and joy, but thick with
confusion.

No
rides were bashing or clanging together, nor were any bells ringing
inside the arcades. He could hear no screams, or the creepy music
they played around the ghost train to add suspense. Instead, people
were standing around with their faces in their hands. Many were
staring at the floor, or glancing around with desperation and
longing. The place was sombre—a severe contrast to every other
time.

It
was July 15th—a week until the summer holidays in 2011. After
that, they would be in Year 5— a year of coursework before
their GCSE's.

Bobby
hadn't enjoyed rides since Benji died. Yet, Danny said they were
going to release some steam before the real hard work began, so he
agreed to go.

As
they made their way through the crowds, it became evident something
terrible had happened—the ambulance in front of the Ferris
wheel confirmed that.

Five
days earlier, Danny confessed to having a “daydream”
about a kid falling from a fairground ride. Danny claimed he fell
into a doze while in History class, but Bobby is doubtful. It is out
of character for Danny to do anything rude like that on school
grounds. He would never admit that seeing the Welsh girl falling from
a ride was a vision though.

The
day after the fairground, the incident was first page news on the
local telegraph. They discovered the ten-year-old girl, who plunged
to her death from the Ferris wheel, wasn't Welsh. Her whole family
were from Coventry and Leamington. However, the photograph the paper
used of the girl must have been where Danny picked up the Welsh theme
from. She was sitting cross-legged on the grass in a white t-shirt.
In her lap was a soft, red dragon with green ribbons attached to its
head and tail.

Glancing
about them now, Bobby wonders why he is bothering to ask Danny any of
this. After all, he's experienced many more similar occurrences.

“
It
wasn't like that though, I'm not even sure it is a real place. It's
impossible,” he says, mumbling the last part to himself.

Danny
scrunches his face to express the words, “what do you call my
dreams—possible?”

“
It
wasn't a premonition—”

“
Luck.”

“
Whatever.
It's not that. Have you ever dreamed of a strange place where you've
never been?”

“
Strange
how?”

“
I
don't know. Unrealistic—something imaginary, like from a
fairy-tale, or fantasy? And then seen this place, not for real, but
in a picture for instance?”

“
So,
what you're telling me is: you had a dream about a place, then saw a
picture of said place, painted by someone you've never met? Now
you're wondering how you could have seen a place that doesn't exist
when you've not seen the painting before?”

Bobby
turns to face the opposite way when he catches something red
disappear behind a bus as it stops at the red light. Bobby spots a
middle-aged woman staring at him out the filthy window. As he stares
back, he catches the movement through the window behind her.

Across
the road, propped against the shelter, he sees what appears to be a
man with a red hood covering his head. His features are distorted. At
first, he believes it's Gage, but the figure is leaner and much
taller, shrouded by a menacing cloud.

As
the traffic light flickers back to green, a cloud of dark fumes curl
around the back of the bus, shielding the window from sight. He knows
Danny is talking to his left, but the words are intangible.

When
the bus drives away, the shelter comes back into view, minus the
figure who was standing there. As Bobby studies the pavement, he sees
people moving to and fro, but no one is in a hood.

“
Bobby,”
Danny growls as a pressure tugs at his shoulder.

He
grabs the wall to keep from tumbling backwards, and mumbles something
about being “miles away.”

Who
was that?

Bobby
swears there was no face within that red hood, but the figure was
staring at him.

It
was just my imagination. Blame the lack of sleep last night.

“
So
now
you
want to find a reason for it?”

Bobby
shakes his head from any thoughts threatening to creep in. “There
must be a reason.”

“
Well,
things influence our minds throughout our lives—objects,
people, emotions, events and places. These things could have all
mounted together to create what you dreamed. With there being seven
billion people on the planet, there's bound to be similarities in
thinking and such, no matter the distance.”

“
But
to a T?”

Bobby
drifts his eyes back over the pavement opposite. He lets his eyes
consume every walk way, wall, bush and any place a person could have
disappeared. There's no sign of whoever it was anywhere, but that
doesn't surprise him because he didn't see the guy move.

“
Perhaps.
Who knows? Maybe the same thing influenced both of you. You could
have both saw the same photograph, sketch, cartoon, or anything, even
if you cannot remember. Even things from childhood could be hiding in
your subconscious. Maybe you saw a film recently, or heard music that
influenced both of you in the same way.”

“
I
h
aven't
watched a film in ages. I fell asleep in the middle of the last one.”

“
They
say we still take in information while we sleep. What was it?”

“
I
doubt it was that unless there are cliffs with white houses on space
shuttles.”

“
Apollo
13?”

Bobby
chuckles and nods. “Yeah, it was on TV.”

“
How
do you fall asleep watching that, hey?” Danny cups his hands
over his face and lowers his voice, “Houston, we have a
problem, Bobby is cracking up.”

“
I'm
serious.”

Dropping
his hands, Danny grins. “Okay.”

“
So
what are the chances of that happening if nothing has recently
influenced me to see that place?”

Danny
turns away, issuing a loud whistle from his moist lips. “So
what you're asking me is: what are the odds of two people from around
the world who have never met, or spoke to come up with the same
idea?”

Bobby's
expression is stoic when Danny turns back to face him. “Yeah.”

“
Geez.
It must be rare, depending on how detailed it is. But judging by the
painting, I'd say it's almost impossible, especially given the time
period.”

“
You
saw the painting?” Bobby jumps down from the wall and wipes his
hands down his trousers.

“
No,”
Danny says as he follows. “But you said a cliff with a white
house, so I'm guessing it’s the dream with the bluebells.”