The Rise of the Phoenix Read Online Free PDF Page B

hopefully for some form of help. Rain lashed down on her already red face. It was cold, each droplet stinging like tiny whips. “Maybe we can find somewhere to call your dad. He put these wheels on. He can come and take it off.”
    “There was a house that way,” the boy said and pointed. “Maybe they have a phone we can use.” They didn’t use these roads often. One side was thick with woodlands, lakes, and places he was forbidden from going to. On the tops of the stone walls were signs. Each of them issued warnings to Humans , ‘Keep out’ or ‘Enter at your own risk after dark.’ He knew what those meant. At night, these places were used by Others to run and hunt. He didn’t think there were any out there now. Not in the light. But he watched and hoped all the same. Like a kid looking for Bigfoot in the woods.
    He had seen Others before, but never up close. His dad wouldn’t allow it. Said they were dangerous. “They should be eradicated,” his father had spat. “They’re like bacteria germinating and wanting to just destroy us.” The boy wasn’t sure about that. Maybe they just wanted to be happy. Whatever it was they wanted, he thought many times how great it must be to be able to turn into an animal, or to use magic. His dad had told him stories about Other children, and how they never lived very long. Especially not if the Humans could help it. That had made the boy sad, not happy like his father wanted. They were just children. With mums and dads.
    “We should walk,” his mother said. She lifted the spare tyre back into the boot and locked it, but she didn’t take the jack away.
    “It’s just this way,” he told his mother, and she followed him.
    It turned out that it wasn’t as far as she had thought. Maybe fifteen minutes. Her shoulders had slumped in relief at seeing the gate and the driveway to an old farmhouse. There were chickens in the front on one side and a goat on the other. Other than that, it didn’t look like it was a working farm. His mother unlatched the gate and lifted it from its muddy pit to swing it open.
    The house was set far enough back so that if the residents were looking, they’d have had time to inspect their uninvited visitors. But perhaps they weren’t looking and didn’t care.
    His mother knocked on the door. She lifted the knocker and banged it down three times. For some reason, the boy had expected to hear the yapping of a dog on the other side. There was none, but he heard movement from within. Yet no one came to the door.
    “Maybe they’re ignoring us,” the boy whispered after a minute or so.
    “Maybe,” his mother said. “We’ll try once more.” She raised her hand to the knocker again, but just then the locks on the other side engaged and the door opened a crack. A man scowled at them through the opening. He must have been in his forties, at most. He stared at them, not saying a word. The boy’s mother stepped back and instinctively took the boy with her. She rested a hand on his shoulder and encouraged him to back away.
    “I’m sorry. We didn’t mean to disturb you,” she said, hastily turning to walk away.
    The boy didn’t follow. The man at the door, he was Other , that was the problem. But he wasn’t afraid of them.
    “Our car broke down,” he said.
    His mother turned on her heel, eyes wide, hissing his name in reprimand.
    “Would we be able to use your phone to call my dad? We can't get the bolts off.”
    The man stood straighter then and opened the door properly. Just behind him stood a boy. He was young, maybe around the same age, or just a little older. He had the beginnings of his first moustache. It made the boy jealous. His own hair was blonde and all he managed was a few wisps of hair that no one could see. But the boy in the house had dark hair and a distinct line above his upper lip.
    “I can come and take it off for you,” the man said. “Change the tyre?”
    “That would be great,” the boy said on his mother’s