The Arrival by Kieran Fanning

Author:Kieran Fanning [Fanning, Kieran]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: anonymous
Published: 2024-04-15T00:00:00+00:00

14

Even though Markie and the lads were long gone, Declan remained in the shed. He’d told them every single detail: the arch, the electricity, the boy. Everything.

When he’d finished his story, nobody spoke. Everyone looked to Markie but all he could say was, ‘Let him go.’

Gazzer cut the ties around his wrists and ankles and returned his phone.

Then they left, leaving Declan alone in the shed with his thoughts, and the smell of his own urine.

He’d been terrified. He’d imagined being left alone in the shed all day, and maybe into the night too. Revealing the secret of the tunnel had banished the gang, and the fear. But in its place, guilt and self-loathing crept in.

How weak he’d been. How easily he’d given up the secret. Sarah’s dad told him not to tell anyone… He hated himself, cursed his lack of courage. He’d betrayed Sarah. He’d betrayed the boy. He’d messed up—

The phone in his sodden lap beeped.

Sarah. He’d already missed a message from her about two hours ago wondering if he was around.

The latest message read: ~ The boy has woken up. He wants to talk to you.

Declan stood. His legs ached from sitting, his wet jeans cold and clammy on his skin. He wants to talk to me?

He rubbed his wrists where the cable ties left angry red bracelets. How does he even know about me? Sarah must have told him. But what would he want me for?

The shed door creaked open when he pushed it. No sign of anybody.

He texted Sarah.

~ I’m on the way.

She replied, ~ Come to main gate. There will be a security pass ready for you.

As he headed along the snow-covered dunes, the cold air froze his wet jeans. He really should go home and change, but he didn’t have time. The boy who was waiting on him had arrived without warning—he could disappear again as quickly.

He made his way back up the road, turning left at St. Ita’s and down past Sarah’s B and B to the tunnel gate. As he made his way through limp and sagging tents, rubbish and smoking barrels, the weary campers looked up at him from their smartphones, steaming mugs and bowls of rice. Nobody tried to stop him, nobody asked him where he was going. Everyone looked too weary and cold to care.

At the gate, a security guard eyed him with suspicion.

‘My name’s Declan. I was told there’d be a security pass here for me.’

The guard nodded, went into his cabin, and returned with a plastic card on a lanyard. Declan put it around his neck while the man opened the gate and gave him directions towards the main tunnel.

All the times he and the gang had spied on this site from the trees—a hive of activity—and now it lay silent and dead. He had so many worries in his head that he didn’t know what to do with them. Should he be worried about what the gang would do? Should he be worried about what

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