He felt something in his forearm where Sandy had touched him. Itchiness and pain but a sweetness too. He was in the driving seat of the Renault, having just parked it in Heather’s garage, down the lane to the side of her house. When Heather came back from the pub they showed her the news, decided to hide the car. First, Heather backed an old brown campervan out of the garage, then Lennox drove the car in.
The tingling in his arm increased as he got out the car and Heather shut the garage door. It spread up his arm and across his chest. He pictured electric worms swimming through his blood. Then the sun dimmed for a moment and he was underwater or in space, somewhere impossible. He heard their voice, panicky and urgent. He leaned against the garage for a moment then opened his eyes.
‘They’re in trouble,’ he said.
He was amazed the campervan worked, it was an ancient relic. He watched Heather drive, Ava in the seat between them. It was only five minutes to the beach car park, then they walked through the trees, over the dunes and Lennox’s breath caught in his chest as they came over the final rise.
A council flatbed truck was backed up next to Sandy, three guys in grey overalls negotiating a pallet onto the sand. One of the guys went back to the truck and lifted out three shovels.
‘Shit.’ Lennox sped towards them, the women behind.
The wind picked up swirls of sand from the beach, complicated patterns, dancing like the grains were alive. As he reached the waterline he could see choppy waves out to sea, white edges on the breakers, the island solid amongst the wash.
‘Hey,’ he shouted.
The workmen turned, each with a shovel in hand.
‘What are you doing?’
He reached the flimsy barrier fluttering in the wind. He stared at Sandy, they were paler than before, grey lines on their skin, which had lost its sheen. He thought for a moment they were already dead, but then who messaged him back at the garage?
The nearest council guy nodded. ‘What’s it to you?’
He was in his forties, squat and solid, tattoos on his neck. The two other guys behind him were younger, baggy overalls making them look like kids dressing up.
Lennox looked at Sandy. ‘Leave them alone.’
Tattoos guffawed theatrically. ‘It’s a fucking dead octopus.’
‘They’re not dead.’
Tattoos shook his head, tapped the handle of his shovel. ‘Kid, we’re just doing our job. Loading this thing up and taking it to some guys at the university.’
‘Shame,’ said the lanky guy behind, nudging his shorter mate. ‘Would be nice fried up with salt and vinegar.’
Ava and Heather arrived and Tattoos gave them the once over. ‘What is this?’
‘Just hang on,’ Heather said.
Ava was catching her breath.
Tattoos glanced at his watch, shook his head. ‘We’re already late for the next job. What’s this got to do with you?’
Lennox felt his arm tingling again, saw a faint ripple of light run up Sandy’s body. ‘They’re not dead.’
Tattoos rolled his eyes. ‘Fuck this, come on, lads.’
The three of them slid the pallet alongside Sandy’s body. Shorty dug out some sand from near Sandy’s head.
‘Stop.’ Lennox ducked under the tape and started dragging the pallet away.
‘The fuck,’ Tattoos said, dropping his shovel and pushing Lennox away.
He was twice Lennox’s weight. Lennox ran to Shorty, grabbed the head of his shovel and yanked it out of his hands. He gripped it over his head like a weapon.
‘Lennox, wait,’ Heather said.
He couldn’t let this happen, had to protect Sandy.
Tattoos put his hand out. ‘Take it easy, lad. You don’t want to do something you’ll regret. Maybe we need to get the police.’
Lennox glanced at Ava, who shook her head. That was the last thing they needed. He felt the weight of the shovel across his shoulders as it wavered in the air.
Tattoos ran at Lennox like a rugby player and barrelled into him, knocking him towards Sandy and the two guys, the shovel flying from his hands into the waves. They staggered back together, Lennox’s lungs empty. They were about to land on Sandy but Lennox managed to lurch to his left, knocking Lanky’s legs as he thudded into the sand with the weight of Tattoos on his chest. Lanky lost balance, tried to stay upright, but fell face down on top of Sandy and began convulsing like lightning was passing through him, arms and legs flailing, torso shuddering.
Shorty watched in horror. Lennox was on the ground with Tattoos still on top of him, Ava and Heather wide-eyed behind the tape. Eventually Shorty grabbed Lanky’s ankles and dragged him clear, turned him onto his back. Tattoos untangled himself from Lennox. Lennox saw Lanky’s face, burn marks on his cheeks, his overalls scorched and discoloured.
Shorty pressed fingers against his neck. ‘No pulse.’
‘What?’ Lennox said.
Tattoos turned to him. ‘What the fuck did you do?’
‘Me?’
Tattoos scuttled over to Lanky, pushed Shorty out the way and checked for himself. He shook his head and began CPR, pushing hard on Lanky’s chest. He turned to Shorty. ‘Call an ambulance. Now.’
Shorty had his phone out.
Tattoos glanced at Lennox and the women as he kept pumping Lanky’s chest. ‘And the police.’
Lennox looked at Sandy, saw another faint wave of brightness and shadow move along their body.
Shorty was on his phone.
Lennox looked at Ava and Heather, then they turned and ran towards the car park, ignoring the shouts behind them.