The Power of Five Oblivion

firestorm. The muzzles of the machine guns were flashing white. We drew to a halt. Jamie looked stunned. Perhaps he was blaming himself for all this. It would have been even worse for him, if he thought that this was his fault.
    “We can’t rest,” the Traveller said. His lips moved and I read the words without properly hearing them. “We have to keep going.”
    We continued down the hill. I was becoming more uneasy all the time. What was there here for us? A stagnant river and a houseboat that couldn’t move because, long ago, we had eaten the horse that pulled it.
    Another blast. More screams – but distant now and less often. There were fewer people to kill. Thankfully, we seemed to have been forgotten. And it was pitch-dark down here.
    “What happened to the lights?” I asked.
    “I blew up the generator,” the Traveller said. “Now let’s move…”
    I saw the river ahead of us, a black ribbon that picked up some of the reflections from the fire. The water had no current. It was oily and dead. I smelled it too. For years now the river had had a thick, unpleasant odour, which in its own way warned you to stop and go back the way you had come. As we reached the quay, I tried to convince myself that we were on our own, that nobody had followed us. But I didn’t believe it. It was as if the night were alive and watching us. It wasn’t going to be as easy as this. They weren’t simply going to let us slip away.
    “Where now?” Jamie asked.
    There wasn’t much of a choice. If we went straight ahead, we’d fall in the water and drown … if we weren’t poisoned first. There were a couple of buildings – an old warehouse and the harbour master’s office, which had been converted into someone’s home. We could follow the towpath to the left or to the right. Either way, it ran out after a time, disappearing into nettles and mud, which of course had been allowed to happen quite deliberately.
    “This way,” the Traveller pointed to the right.
    “Wait a minute,” I said. My hearing had returned.
    “What?”
    “There’s someone here…”
    The Traveller stopped and looked around him. It was almost black down here, everything just vague shadows and shapes. His hand had dropped to his waist and I saw that he was carrying a weapon, a machete or some sort of sword. I knew that it wasn’t me that he was worried about. He was staying close to Jamie, watching out for him.
    “You’re wrong,” he said.
    “I heard someone.”
    And that was when the policeman appeared out of the darkness. I saw his hand rise to his shoulder and a second later, he had flicked on a torch which was strapped there, leaving him free to cradle the machine gun which was aimed at us. The powerful beam leapt out, dazzling us. The policeman had lost his helmet and visor but I still couldn’t make out much of his face. He was in total command. There was nothing the three of us could do. He could cut us down where we stood.
    “Stay where you are!” he grunted. A voice crackled somewhere inside his helmet and he spoke into a microphone that curved round in front of his lips. “I have them…”
    “Where are you?” It was the woman from the helicopter.
    “At the church,” Jamie said. It took me a moment to understand that it was he who had spoken. He was staring at the policeman. There was something strange about him that I had never seen before, although somehow, I knew what was happening. Jamie had powers. He had already told me that. Now he was using them.
    “They’re at the church,” the policeman said.
    He knew that he had lied. It hadn’t been what he wanted to say. He was struggling to break free of the spell or whatever it was that gripped him. His hand tightened on his weapon and I was certain he was going to shoot us right there. But then I heard a soft footfall, coming across the quay. Someone was rushing out of the darkness behind him and as the policeman became aware of the danger and turned, he was struck down from behind. The policeman fell. George was standing over him, holding the cricket bat he had just used to knock the man out. I had no idea how he had got there or if he had been waiting for us all along.
    “You have to go, Holly,” he said.
    “You’re coming with us, George.”
    “No. I can’t.”
    He looked down and I saw the dark stain on his shirt. He had been shot or he had been cut or maybe he’d been hit by shrapnel from one of the missiles. I had no idea how he’d managed to make his