And the World Changes by A M Kirk (classic books for 12 year olds .TXT) 📕

blood, blood everywhere, gushing from his nose. The thing in his head is killing him now, or he has killed it. So much blood!
His mother awake, crying out. His father saying “The pain in my head!”
The narrow Ayrshire road cuts quite steeply down a valley side. It is pitted and eroded at the sides and has been resurfaced many times, making it a rough ride. The car’s speed picks up.
In his pain and panic some deep instinct tells John to stop the car, for God’s sake stop, and his foot presses then pumps the brake pedal and it comes to him then that the hydraulic fluid pipes must be leaking or cut and his left hand flies to the handbrake but the pain is crushing him now. The car hurtles down the poorly surfaced, angled road and Mark’s mother’s screams rise above the battering noise of the wind and the rain and then at the foot of the hill there is a bend and a tree, a tree thrown into dark relief by the bouncing beams from the car’s headlights. The shallow ditch beside the eroded edge is crossed and the low hedge smashed apart and for a brief, frighteningly brief instant of time the car leaves the ground and then in sickening, deadly, final quick-motion comes the crash.
The car strikes the tree with a brutal bang, and it breaks, crumples, folds in upon itself. John’s rib cage hits the steering wheel and bones crack, his lungs and heart are pierced by their shards. He grunts once as the air is driven from his lungs and his face turns to the side, even after his head has bounced off the collapsing windscreen and he knows, he knows he is to die and he sees his wife’s fear-filled face as the pain engulfs him completely and he wishes - oh, how he wishes! – that he could see the child he could have loved so much.

**********
In the barn tears roll down Mark’s face leaving grimy traces. His fingers curl into fists.

**********


24 Awakening

The sun began to sink in the sky.
The cooling air grew thick about him as dusk closed in and deepened, wrapping the barn around. Lights came on in distant farms and isolated houses. The glow of the city began to be noticeable over the hedgerow. Big-bellied planes curved overhead, bending their path over the Campsie Hills on the long slow descent to Glasgow Airport miles to the south-west. Police helicopters and flying ambulances come and go over the motorway and the scene of carnage.

**********

Carrie had had an idea. The guy who gagged her had not bothered to search her. Maybe he thought old Alice Cooper, or whatever his name was, had already done it before he brought her here. But in any event, she could feel the pressure of her mobile in her jeans pocket. If only there was a way now to turn the damn thing on! It was awkward, but it might just be possible to edge her way over to the table corner and somehow manoeuvre her pocket into a position where she could press her jeans against the table to exert enough force to switch the thing on… Hell, she thought, in the general and incontrovertible absence of seventh cavalries, it sure was worth a damn try.
Janette had been remembering some of the other dark moments of her life: John’s horrible death and the plunging depression following it; her own parents’ death not long after that; the moments in her career when she felt like just throwing it all up and clearing out – and all of those times Mark had been there, unknowingly helping her to maintain equilibrium. Mark, even though he had no idea of it, had been her support. She wished she could tell some of this to Carrie, but the gag was too tight around her mouth and all she could manage would be incoherent meaningless sounds, so it was pointless trying.
She watched in puzzlement as Carrie abruptly started to bump and shuffle her chair in the direction of the wooden table by the wall. What on earth could she be up to? Carrie clearly had some purpose in mind.
“Come on, Marky, come back,” she formed the thought clearly in her mind. “If ever we needed magic, it’s now!”

**********

Suddenly Mark’s lungs sucked in a great gasp of air. His chest rose like a bellows and slowly the air was released. His eyes opened and he took in his surroundings. He saw and smelt Miller’s gun lying in the dirt. His hearing has cleared up totally and he was instantly aware of the rooks settling down in their nests in the trees to eastern side of the barn, and he registered the faint scampered tracks of a small creature on the dirty ground. He shivered in the evening air but his body readjusted quickly and then he no longer felt cold. He heard engine sounds from the distant town. The gave him an idea. He carefully sat up, still clearing his throat. Slowly he levered himself to his feet, feeling life return to his limbs. Life… and more than life. He understands now that as he has journeyed towards the truth he has been approaching some inner well-spring of energy. And there is knowledge he can reach into, knowledge like a furious roaring waterfall all around him.
His imagination was all he needed to tap into this raging power.

**********

In the darkening little room adjacent to Logan’s bedroom Janette and Carrie look up from their separate positions and exchange meaningful glances. They somehow know, and are thinking the same thought: he’s alive! He’s on his way now!
Each feels hope rise suddenly within.
Carrie balances herself precariously and levers herself against the table corner. As she falls back to her sitting position she smiles as much as the gag will permit. It’s worked. The phone bleeps on and is ready for action.
Okay, she thinks, I’m bound and gagged but my phone’s now working. What now, Einstein? What the hell do I do now?

**********

Jacqueline was astonished when her husband’s head lifted from the dining room table where it had been slumped this half hour. Little Sally was still sleeping peacefully in her cot and Jacqueline had muted the home-cine sound so as not to disturb either husband or daughter.
“Jackie?”
“How are you feeling now?”
“Jackie. Something’s happened. I feel it. I sense it.” He was rising from the table with a vigour Jackie hadn’t seen for some months. “Something incredible.”
“What? What is it?” She was following his movements with concern as he strode into the hall.
“I don’t know!” He came back in, holding his jacket. He grinned. “I don’t know! But I have to go to Stirling. Right now. It’s… I just have to.”
“But Chris – “
He hugged her a crushing hug, grabbed his phone and keys from the table and was heading for the door.
“Trust me,” he said, “what is happening now is going to change everything.”
“What on earth do you mean?” replied Jackie with gentle skepticism.
Chris laughed. “It’s all right. I’ll call you later.”
And he was gone.

**********

Mark stretched, almost languidly, feeling a strange new kind of strength flowing through every particle of his flesh and bones. He picked up the gun and tucked it into the belt behind his back – but he did not think he would find a use for it. He opened the barn door and stepped outside. There was flurry of drowsy disturbed activity from the rook colony but they quickly settled down when no threat was apparent. The evening was cool now and clouding over from the south.
He thought about his mother and Carrie. He knew where they were. Carrie’s phone was like a beacon for him. It was logged on to its server network and Mark could imaginatively plug into and access every particle of the information it contains. This was part of what the Soros had enabled him to do.
He turned towards the town in the near distance. There, he knew, he would find what he needed. Mark lengthened his stride and eased into a gentle jog as he reached the small C-class road.
The clothes and shoes newly bought for him that afternoon were not chosen for their athletics suitability. Nevertheless Mark covered the three kilometers in less than twenty minutes and slowed as he approached the town centre with its shops, open coffee bars, pubs and small gatherings of local youths. The time was nine o’clock and it was still not fully dark. His bedraggled figure walked with apparent confidence down the High Street.
“An camping gear shop is what I want,” he muttered to himself, and it was not long before he had located one.
Mark only had to pass his hand over the lock and it opened, the alarm rendered useless. Inside, he changed into warmer clothing. He rejected the more American-style rugged checked shirts in favour of a t-shirt and a fleecy garment. Trail boots and waterproofs came off the racks. A rucksack was found in which he put a torch, batteries, some camping gear, supplies of dried, easy-cook food, and the General’s gun. All the while he munched some high-calorie snacks.
He left the shop but ensured no one saw him and he used his power to re-lock the door.
Along the street was an autoteller. He stretched out his power to disable its camera and over-rode its computer system to enable him to “borrow” a couple of hundred euros. You never knew, he thought, he might need some cash for a meal or a room, and he would pay it back as soon as he could. He didn’t like stealing, but needs must!
Down a side street he found a fast Honda motorcycle, a 200cc. Not too powerful to be a monster to control, but not too feeble to lack speed. The fact that he had never actually been on a motorbike before did not cause him concern. He had ridden a friend’s trail bike and another friend’s quad on several occasions and the principles had to be much the same, he reasoned. A pass of the hand and the central locking opened right up. A hand on the steering column and the ignition fired, and a little tug was all that was needed to overcome the steering lock. Another theft, and another property owner he would one day have to make it up to.
Through Kilsyth and up the narrow road that leads past Berryhill and Denny Muir, over Carron Bridge and a stop at the old inn there. As he sauntered through the inn door, he could have passed for a walker just coming off the hills. The fact that his clothes were brand new and unstained was not noticed.
He looked old enough – just – to order a beer, but contented himself with bottled water. He felt he had time, so he ordered a toasted sandwich and ate it in silence, in the open lounge area, from which he heard raucous laughter issuing now and then from the bar. Apart from the waitress who brought