The coldness of the water was a painful shock, a blast of ice on his hot skin. He stumbled into the water, splashed spray in a wide, glittering arc. Finally, someone was trying to take charge of the chaos. Voices calling questions, and shouting instructions. There were shouts up ahead now, and the sound of an engine. The roots of an ash tree covered in algae crouched at the edge of the water. Still there was too much light glaring off the water, too many shadows, too much random movement. He was a police officer, and everyone was looking to him to do something. He breathed deeply, tried to focus, forced himself to be calm. It felt as though the rocks themselves were screaming. Was it really someone screaming? Or was it just a bird, startled from its roost in the birches on the limestone edge? A whole flock of birds screeching to each other, over and over, a cacophony of despair. What chance did he have of distinguishing anything? No chance. More rocks everywhere, lying half in and half out of the river, worn as smooth as skin. A predator on its perch, scanning the valley for prey. High on an arch of rock another figure hunched, silhouetted against the sky, his face invisible. Cooper had the mad impression that he was some kind of priest, performing a blessing. Nearby, a man stood on the bank, his hands raised, water dripping from his fingers. In the distance, he could see them lining the stepping stones in a dumb row. Sensing the sudden burst of excitement, they milled aimlessly on the banks like panicked sheep.
Dozens of families had been drawn into Dovedale by the hot May bank holiday weather. Who was screaming? Why didn’t someone tell them to stop? There were enough people here by the river. Water foamed around an obstruction, a shape lying deep on the gravel bed.Ĭooper shook his head. A fish popped up to the air, another jumped and splashed across the river. The sun reflecting off the water created impenetrable shadows and glittering fringes of light, caught strands of grass waving below the surface like hair.
The outlines of the Twelve Apostles swayed against the sky above him, jagged stone spires bursting from the hillside like teeth.Ĭooper stopped to swipe the sweat from his eyes, wondering whether he was seeing anything properly. He could hear them stumbling and gasping, crashing into trees, cursing each other. He wanted to put his hands over his ears to block out the noise, to stop the pain of the screaming.īut he knew it would never stop, would never be out of his head again.īehind him, other people were running. The noise echoed off the limestone cliffs, and shrieked among the caves and pinnacles of the dale. And he saw long streams of blood, swirling in the current like eels.Ī hundred yards away, someone had started to scream. As he splashed at the edge of the water, he saw shimmers of steam rising from the wet grass, bursts of foam on the edge of his vision.
All around him, water rushed over stones, pale rocks gleamed under the surface, wet slabs of limestone caught the glare of sunlight trapped in a narrow valley. His breath came ragged and hot in his throat. On the banks of the river, Ben Cooper was running.
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