Free The Moon Stealers and The Children of the Light by Tim Flanagan Page B

them by a
man called Trent, who had survived the creature attack together with his son
and joined the Bank Community in London . After Coldred had left Steven , Georgia and Tracker at the mercy of the creatures in Greenwich Park , they had returned to the Bank to collect their
supplies. It was then that they noticed the piece of paper tucked beneath the
wiper blade. On it were three letters - IOW. At the time, Steven had instantly
recognised the initials, but as he now looked at the island, he wondered if he
had been right.
    There were no signs of life to be seen.
    What would they do if they crossed the water and found
the island deserted? If the other survivors were not on the island, where had
they been taken? The roads leading toward the dock at Lymington showed signs
they had been cleared, as if a convoy had passed. They had to assume that
Coldred’s survivors had made their way to the Isle of Wight and continue with their plan.
    Steven’s thoughts were suddenly disturbed by the sound
of footsteps echoing off the stone walls of a medieval circular staircase that
wound up the centre of the Keep. Although none of them had been aware of anyone
else arriving at Hurst during the night, they hadn’t had the chance to
search the fortress for other occupants that may be hidden amongst the numerous
rooms and tunnels. The footsteps slowly got louder as the person got nearer to
the top of the staircase. Steven didn’t bother to move, despite being tired
from their trek along the spit, there was also no where else to run. Whoever it
was would soon emerge from beneath the stone arch that led onto the roof.
    Steven gripped the handle of his shotgun and directed
it towards the arch. Survivors were becoming fewer by the day, and the last
thing he wanted to do was threaten one with a gun, but from experience, he knew
that not every survivor was friendly.
    Tracker ducked beneath the arch and stepped out onto
the roof.
    ‘At least the weather’s better today,’ he said as he
stretched his arms.
    Steven lowered his gun.
    ‘Do you think we should make our way across today or
wait for the cover of night?’ Steven asked.
    Tracker remained standing as he looked out over the Solent .
    ‘Crossing during the night would certainly have its
advantages. If there are guards near the port, they will probably be indoors in
fear of the creatures and our crossing will probably go unnoticed.’
    ‘If we crossed at night we couldn’t do it blind. We
would need lights to see the way,’ said Steven. ‘The weather might also get
worse. Storms can whip up quickly along the English Channel . We wouldn’t stand a chance.’
    ‘If we take the opportunity to go during the day while
the weather’s better, we run a greater risk of being seen.’
    ‘I’ve noticed there are several boats that have worked
themselves loose from their moorings and become washed up on the shingle beach.
Anyone watching the Solent might not be so curious about another boat that was
drifting slowly across the water.’
    The morning sky had now cleared and the warm sun was
starting to shine, drying patches of stone that had become soaked by the rain.
After waking Georgia they cooked some bacon on a small camping stove while
they waited for their clothing and supplies to dry. They had laid everything
out in the sun, weighing them down with rocks to prevent them from blowing
away.
    Steven took a gun and walked out of Hurst to survey the surroundings. Outside of the door they
had broken the previous night, was a small jetty. At the end was a boat that
had an open viewing deck to ferry tourists to the fortress from Keyhaven. In
the lakes of water that were trapped between Hurst spit and the mainland, several smaller boats floated
helplessly around the marshy grasslands, others had become washed up and were
grounded on mossy silt banks.
    ‘Steven,’ called Georgia from behind. She was jogging through the doorway
towards him.
    ‘What’s wrong?’
    ‘Nothing,’ she smiled,