I remember Donte had been so worried that my sketchbook would be beyond saving. He had been much more concerned about that than the fact that he, too, was soaked to the skin. He was so sweet. I smiled now at the memory, and I felt a tingle of excitement thinking about how, once the storm passed, I would go and meet him.
I wasn't used to people worrying about me. It had always been the other way round, especially with Mum. But Donte did, and I wasn't sure what to do with that.
I gripped my portfolio and hurried down the hill toward the forest and the shortcut to Maggie's house.
When I reached the trees, rain pelted against the leaves. I heard the faint crunch of gravel and the sound of snapping twigs. A cold tingling pricked the back of my neck. I turned quickly, curious to see who else was out here so early in the morning. There was no one in sight.
Strange,I thought to myself. I gripped my portfolio tightly. The air felt charged, like something was about to happen.
The road was still a deserted grey ribbon that trailed into the leaden embrace of storm clouds. The serenade of birds that alwaysaccompanied my morning walks had dropped away to silence without me even noticing. The last vehicle I had seen was the milk van passing about ten minutes ago on route to the village for its morning deliveries.
“Stop being so paranoid,” I whispered.
I shook from the cold. I walked faster, gripping the handle of my portfolio with numb hands. The rain became a deluge, blown horizontally by the wind.
Through the gaps in the trees, I glimpsed angry clouds streaked with lightning. This was one storm I didn't want to be caught in. Wiping the rain from my eyes, I doubled back and returned to the road. I glanced uneasily at the turbines emerging from the low clouds like monsters from another world.
Always stay clear of the wind farms in storms! My mum would say. I’d laughed at her once. I wasn’t laughing now.
I increased my pace. My heart jumped every time I heard the rumble of thunder and saw the flashes of lightning.
Less than an hour ago, I'd demanded that my stepdad stop treating me like a child, yet here I was, afraid of a thunderstorm. That thought sobered me up a little, and I tried to get my frayed nerves back under control.
I'd barely quelled my fear when a shard of lightning struck one of the turbines. A deafening explosion resonated from the blades, which began to wobble and groan before my horrified eyes. The tower seemed to sway and driven by primal fear; I bolted away as it slowly began to crumble.
This wasn't real. It couldn't be real. Things like this happened in disaster movies, not in the middle of a village storm. But the shriek of metal screeching apart told me otherwise. Oh my God, I had to run.
Lightning struck the turbine again. The centre erupted in flames, and the blade head began to crackle.
I knew the turbine wasn't going to hold for much longer. I ran as fast as I could, but a loud snap caused me to turn. I watched in terror as the cables fell away. The pylon head broke off and tumbled onto the hill, bouncing down the slope toward me.
I cried out and bolted away, the pylon's groans and creaks echoing around me. My senses screamed at me to move faster. I gasped for breath. My heart hammered so painfully in my chest I thought I'd have a heart attack.
Something brushed my cheek, soft, feather-light, impossible but my attention was focused on the shriek of twisting metal and the roar of the collapsing tower. Too frightened to look back, I envisioned the enormous blades inevitably slicing me apart. The rain stung my eyes, my legs felt heavy and slow, I stumbled.
My heart jumped as the sound of the large blades grew closer. The winds rose, propelling the turbine toward me with terrifying speed. I screamed for my life.
With a sense of dread, I realised I wasn't quick enough to escape it.
Again, I felt something brush against my cheek. A silhouette materialised ahead of me in the middle of a lightning flash. I instantly recognised the silhouette as the outline of a man. He was tall, well over six feet, and stood with his legs slightly apart. He was utterly still while the storm raged around him. He didn't blink, didn't shift, just stood there watching me.
Green eyes blazed from a strongly chiselled face framed by a thick sweep of fair hair catching a copper glint as it blew in the wind. He was both handsome and disturbing. Had I seen him anywhere else, I would have been attracted to his striking Byronesque looks. He looked like he stepped out of one of the portraits of Lord Byron that I had studied at the gallery in London.
His clothes, a long green frock coat seamed at the waist, breeches, high black boots and loose white shirt—seemed to befrom a different era. His gaze met mine for a fraction of a second, before he thrust his hands toward the collapsing turbine blade.
Everything morphed into slow motion, the turbine abruptly stopping in mid-tumble. The silence was even more frightening than the combined din of the lightning strike and the turbine collapse. I didn't know what terrified me more, the disintegrating turbine or the calm, magical stranger who'd stepped from thin air.
I didn't know if the man was real or if he was another dream, but it hardly mattered. I only knew I had to get away so the turbine didn't kill me. I fled in terror.
As I ran, I pulled my phone from my cardigan pocket to call the police. My fingers fumbled to press nine-nine-nine, and in my panic, I misdialled, and the call dropped.
Out of nowhere, two more silhouettes flashed and transformed into men dressed similarly to the green-eyed stranger.
I didn't wait for them to get closer. Gut-churning, primal fear propelled me to run faster. But it wasn't fast enough. The first man moved with unnatural speed and blocked my path, and when I tried to evade him, he reached out and grabbed my arm.
"You really should watch where you're going," he said with a grin. "You nearly ran into me."
His stare was so piercing that I felt he could read my thoughts.
