GENESIS (GODS CHAIN) Read online

  Scott’s home was one of the village’s original cottages, constructed by master stonemason’s centuries ago and built to last. Those old stones would hold any storm at bay.

  The boy turned his head and looked up at his bedroom wall, towards a mounted, framed photograph that hung there. It was a photograph of his older brother Christopher. Scott’s mind began to drift to a much happier time, when he and his brother played together in the streets of Ayr.

  Christopher had flown the nest at the beginning of this year and had not been in contact with his family for several months. The last they’d heard, he was gallivanting around in South America performing work for some multinational research company, exploring the rainforest for new species of insects....

  Mmmm, what was it called again? A funny name...oh I can’t remember. Something to do with bugs, anyway, thought Scott, quite perplexed with himself. It was a stupid name, he thought, trying hard to remember. The more he tried, the more the memory became like water in cupped hands—dribbling away. Scott was still infuriated that his brother had gone abroad again. Mum still needed him to be here! Didn’t he realise it?

  Scott missed his older brother, a lot. They used to have such great times, wrestling like the pros! Why did we have to grow up?

  The photograph pinned up on the wall was one of Christopher wearing camouflaged trousers and similar styled vest top. What a poser! Scott smiled to himself, wishing that he could be more like his brother. Christopher had always been photogenic—his angular features gave him a kind of rough, model appearance and his somewhat long, marine-styled black haircut, fashioned with thin tramlines, displayed openly a degree of vanity very unlike the papal cloth that he so worshipped. His tall brother held a large spear in one hand and a wide-brimmed green camouflaged hat in the other. Proudly he grinned from ear to ear! A natural pioneer, Chris was truly in his element in the Amazon.

  His photograph was set against a background of dense greenery with lines of large, fat tree trunks. Long sweeping vines and thick creepers covered everything! The lush green and brown foliage was so ubiquitous that it almost grew out in the picture in a cascade of coloured flowers. The picture felt somehow alive!

  Scott’s bedroom walls were painted light blue and plastered with posters of his favourite football team interspersed between posters of wrestling heroes and computer games. There was a small television and an old game console sitting in one corner and a bookshelf with his magazines and several advanced school books on engineering science in the other. The rest of the room was a complete mess—clothes lay on the floor, abandoned after weeks of wear, causing no end of anguish for his mother.

  “Scott!” shouted his mother. ‘Dinner!’

  Yes! His mind leapt into action. Dinner was going to be a favourite of his—cheese burgers and chips! Scott ran down the stairs, almost drooling with hunger.

  ‘What were you up to, son?’ asked his mother.

  ‘Nothing much, Mum,’ replied the boy.

  ‘When are you going to get a haircut, my lad?’ Laughing, she ruffled his thick, dark-curled mop.

  ‘Dinner?’ Scott smiled a little to himself, knowing that he had no intention of anything like getting a haircut.

  ‘You can ask Cammy over to the house tomorrow night provided you tidy your room,’ she granted.

  ‘Aye sure,’ Scott confirmed coolly, still with no intention of tidying his hair or his room. Mum was a complete pushover. Scott attended to his food. His smiling face wiped away, transformed from delight to disappointment, losing all signs of coolness from his youthful composure. He stared at his plate in miscomprehension—boiled potatoes, silverside, and broccoli steamed up at him. ‘Aw, yuck mum!’ he cried. Tonight’s dinner was his worst nightmare on a plate!

  ‘Cheeseburgers tomorrow,’ she promised.

  Later that evening, Scott toyed with a computer aided design project for school. He had already worked up part of a new wind-turbine system, attempting to increase the Betz limit and so reduce the overall costs of manufacture. A young rebel he was; engineering science was one of his true interests, if not his passion, along with computer games, although he had painted some outlandish graphic graffiti on the outer-structure sketch of the turbine, just to annoy his tutor.

  Afterwards, tucked up warm in his bed, Scott listened carefully as the wind outside began to rise, blowing through the deciduous trees over at the manse, scattering single leaves from near-bare branches and flying them through the air until they slammed against his bedroom window. The trees would soon be all nude. Pulling the covers up over his head, Scott drifted into a disturbed sleep.

  **********

  As Scott walked to school the next morning the wind was still quite strong and breezy. Black crows flew through the air haphazardly, pitching loftily above and then quite unpredictably diving down in steep swoops, squawking as they flew past his ears. The hand held school bell swung up and down, clanking metallically and waning in the gale as Scott walked aimlessly through the open iron-barred gates of the school, unperturbed by the mentors who waved with great urgency to all the stragglers.

  The school had been a primary school for many years but, due to the declining population of the village and subsequent decrease in school roles, most of the younger kids received their schooling from a much larger school in a nearby town. Scott’s school had been converted into a very successful grammar school for some of the area’s most talented young students. Located remotely in this secluded village, far enough from the media mainstream, seats here were very limited and only for a few exceptional or privileged students. This suited some well-to-do parents, who pulled strings to include their children, while other youths, like Scott, were simply of exceptional ability, and of course the educational body was obligated to provide a certain number of places for students who lived in the local community. They would all have to pay, of course. Scott was blissfully unaware of the personal sacrifices his mother made to keep him at the school.

  Like most other buildings in the area, the school was built with red sedimentary sandstone, mined from nearby quarries centuries ago. Stone masonry was evident throughout the village, although the masons’ fine skills and trade secrets were no longer in use. The majesty and intricacy of these projects have never been surpassed by today’s modern mode of construction. The main school building and outer stone structures bore enigmatic messages with detailed inscriptions describing the hidden story of their intricate and esoteric works.

  The long main building stretched the length of the sizable school grounds, and contains about twenty or more large classrooms for learning languages and mathematics, there were science and engineering labs and music wings, a gymnasium, a dinner hall, a few large teaching huts, an administrative office and a staff room. The school was filled with over a hundred very gifted students from all parts of the United Kingdom.

  For all its antique exterior and sixteenth century features, the school was an equal balance of old and new, well furnished with modern fittings and fixings. The school also integrated various state-of-the-art communications equipment, including satellite-dishes discretely hidden by well-cultivated foliage at the rear of the school grounds.

  Encircling the school was a high stone wall about a metre tall providing privacy and seclusion for the students. The only exception was at the front of the school, which housed a short, red sandstone dyke which was only a few feet high and topped with tall green-painted iron bars. The students would chat while sitting and standing on the edges of the sandstone wall, holding onto the iron bars that separated them from the rest of the world. Within the walls were lovely and well-tended gardens, maintained by the old school janitor, who was affectionately known by some as “Creepy”.

  On the facing front wall of the main building there was a large carving of a stone shield up at the apex of the roof. The shield bore the stonemason mark and the year of construction. Scott looked up with interest at the square and compass marking carved inside the stone shield as he approached the front d
oor. It said the year it was completed...sixteen hundred and something...? It was difficult to make out from ground level.

  ‘Hi Scott.’ Scott’s friend Cameron walked down the sloped grounds to meet him, appearing from behind another group of kids who jogged towards the building. The school ground was a busy place.

  ‘Hi Cammy. Want to come over for dinner?’ Scott smiled engagingly.

  ‘Sure! I’ll bring Zombie Killers, too.’

  ‘The one with one head shot kills?’ Scott said excitedly. ‘The demo looks so cool!’

  ‘Brilliant!’ Cameron agreed.

  ‘Mmmph, quite sick really,’ came another young voice from behind. It was their science teacher, Miss Davies. ‘Scott and Cameron, can’t you boys think of anything better to talk about, something more constructive to do in your spare time? What about some extra science homework? Would that do?’

  Embarrassed, the boys ducked their heads beneath their shoulders and scurried into the school.

  Later that day, in the science laboratory, Miss Davies waxed poetic on her special subject—Chemistry. Although she was only twenty-four years old and no taller than most of her students, Miss Davies’s enthusiasm for chemical equations made her seem quite old to the students. The laboratory also seemed old, although it was filled with modern equipment. The windows were tall and wide with painted wooden frames, topped with long poles with brass hooked end catches that could be used to open the windows by a metal loop or latch at the top. The room was hot, despite the brisk fall weather, and all the windows were wide open as the Bunsen burners burned blue at full blast.

  Charity Fludd, a young girl who sat in the front of the class, wearily studied the young teacher in her long white laboratory coat as she paced around the lab. Charity felt bored—very, very bored. Her clear blue eyes glazed over as she yawned dramatically and began to braid her slick, black pony tail. Charity was a girl with a brilliant mind and a knack for disguising her true nature; she had always been a little mischievous and now, at seventeen years of age, anybody was fair game to her. She looked across the science lab towards Scott, the boy with the strange second name.

  ‘What’s your stupid second name again, Scott?’ Charity taunted him in the middle of the lecture, longing to be the centre of attention again. Scott looked over at her, seeming slightly embarrassed—colour pulsed into his cheeks. She’s a pain!

  ‘It’s Hrycuik, pronounced Harachook,’ the boy replied in an annoyed voice. Charity laughed at his embarrassment.

  ‘Charity!’ shouted Miss Davies, narrowing her wide brown eyes. ‘You know his name by now, so that is quite enough! Right then, and you too, Hrycuik! Full attention in my direction! Everyone, come up and gather around here at the front! Don’t forget your goggles!’ The students stood and crowded together at the front of the lab.

  The kids all surrounded a wooden bench and peered at the laboratory equipment. They shifted slightly, trying to avoid the heat from the burners. Chemical smells in the room caught the top of their noses and nipped everyone’s eyes. Miss Davies pulled back her long dark hair as she leaned over the experiment. Numerous test tubes filled with different coloured solutions waited in wooden racks beside a Bunsen burner that heated a glass beaker filled with water. The water was boiling furiously!

  ‘Stand back, kids,’ she warned. The students jumped back, giggling and laughing with anticipated excitement.

  ‘I’m making something that makes a loud bang, called Nitrogen Tri-Iodide,’ she explained.

  ‘Yes!’ said Ross, a young boy who particularly loved explosives. Ross had blonde curly hair and sharp features. He was the tallest boy in the class and probably also the maddest! He was always up to no good, but he had a fine mind for business which carried him easily through school. Wanting to share his excitement and energy, Ross nudged Cameron on his back just hard enough to make him stumble off balance.

  ‘Oh! Watch it Ross!’ Cameron exclaimed as they watched the rapidly boiling water. Miss Davies mixed the solution from the various beakers and poured a small bit onto a glass clock dish. Patiently, she blew the solution dry with her gentle warm breath—five minutes later, the solution had completely evaporated, leaving behind it a brown- to black-coloured dust.

  ‘Ready?’ she whispered carefully. The students all murmured, nodding their heads. Taking a fine paintbrush, Miss Davies gently pushed most of the powder into a little glass jar and placed it on a high shelf behind her desk. She dusted the remainder onto the floor near the door.

  ‘Ok, children, go back to your chairs and I’ll demonstrate how this works’. The children rushed to their desks and sat with bursting impatience, talking quietly to one another, staring nervously at Miss Davies, who motioned to them cautiously to move away from the curious dark powder.

  Without any warning, the classroom door suddenly swung open and in marched Headmaster Collins, his long black cloak swishing left and then right. Completely unaware of his imminent peril, the man stepped onto the tiny amount of dust on the floor, and....

  Bang!!!

  An almighty explosion resonated inside the room, momentarily deafening everyone. The poor headmaster jumped so high into the air that he almost hit his head on the ceiling! It was a right picture and a great laugh for the kids as the man catapulted up into the air in surprise. He shouted in terror as he dropped and slipped on the floor, rolling from side to side in panic as one loud bang followed another like Chinese crackers! The children screamed with uncontrollable laughter. The most embarrassed headmaster finally stood and, composing himself the best he could, dusted himself down and tried to recover his dignity. Miss Davies ran over and assisted him, suppressing a secret little smile.

  ‘That is, quite, enough!’ yelled Mr Collins as he turned to face the class. He fumed his displeasure, his square spectacles steaming up unpleasantly. ‘Forty marks off your house points for...for...’ he gasped and shouted again, ‘for pure impertinence!’ His face began to glow a deeper shade of purple as his blood pressure increased.

  ‘I am so sorry, Mr Collins,’ Miss Davies said soothingly. ‘It was completely my fault, a science experiment, you see...I must have added too much of the compound, the substances together, in...in...’ she stammered, ‘and...and...well,’ she muttered, almost speechless, ‘...and, er, well. Boom.’ There was a small, smothered giggle from the class.

  ‘Yes, exactly’ spoke Mr Collins in a reprimanding tone. Miss Davies’s face screwed up in embarrassment. ‘Could I have a private word with you later in my office, Miss Davies?’

  The students gasped, wondering what sort of punishment a teacher would have.

  ‘Of course, headmaster,’ Miss Davies responded, her voice low and humble. The headmaster left with his cloak swishing, closing the cloak in the door on his way out. After a few tugs freed Mr Collins from the door, Miss Davies turned to the class.

  ‘Well, that lesson went off with a bang...did it not, children?’ The science teacher looked over with a smile at the astounded kids, and the children burst out again into fits of laughter.

  **********

  When the old janitor shook vigorously his heavy, hand-held bell that afternoon, there was a short mad rush out the main wooden door as students ran through the front gates and past the tall sandstone column obelisk, shouting jubilantly their freedom. The old iron bars surrounded the column’s square base; its four surfaces were covered with a patchwork of light green algae and partially eroded engraved writing. The thin obelisk stood gravely within the school gardens, positioned on the edge of a line of trees and shrubs outside the school gates. It was a testimony and a pinnacle to the covenanters who were hanged in the village centuries ago, whose only crime was in reading God’s words for themselves.

  There was still a strong breeze pushing thick, dark clouds across the afternoon sky when Scott and Cameron at last appeared at the school gates and began their usual meandering. With no sense of purpose, the boys took the minor path that led away from the school in the opposite direction to home. The janitor
locked up the large double iron gates of the school behind them.

  ‘What’s the plan for tonight?’ Cameron asked.

  ‘Probably play with my old games console?’ came Scott’s reply as they walked on.

  The back path was fenced on their right, separating them from nearby farmlands and a nervous flock of sheep. Wild, overgrown bushes sprouted on the opposite side of the path, creating a natural border over fifteen feet tall in some places, making the narrow pathway seem private and secure, if a little claustrophobic. The thick shrubbery rustled madly in the rising wind seeming to speak to the boys at times about the coming storm.

  Walking aimlessly along and talking with enthusiasm about their computer games, Scott and Cameron suddenly heard a loud cracking noise. The boys stopped. The noise had come from somewhere inside the thick bushes. They peered at the branches but could see nothing in the dark shadows. The boys stared into each other’s eyes for what seemed like a long moment.

  ‘Let’s get out of here!’ Cameron shouted, and they both bolted along to the end of the pathway, both nervously laughing as they jumped onto the main street.

  Straight ahead of them was “the cross”, which was a cross roads that split the antiquated village centre and led to all the different parts of the shire. Here at the cross were all the usual amenities—a small supermarket, student hostel, estate agents and bank, paper shop, Italian restaurant, family butchers and several taverns.

  Meanwhile, Charity laughed in amusement at her own prank as she dropped a broken branch to the ground. She had been watching the boys pass by her hiding place as she stood out of sight in the centre of the tall bushes, where the branches were thicker and there was some free space. How odd her laughter seemed to sound, muffled by the dense branches—no one could have guessed she was waiting inside.

  Charity then, for no particular reason, began to feel somewhat uneasy. She realized that she was all alone, that everyone had left school...but the mood was more than just that. She was overcome with a strange sensation, a sort of unexplained dread and an awareness of being watched....