Berserk by Tim Lebbon Read Free Book Online

this alone.
    Nothing he did could bring Steven back.
    “But he’s my son,” Tom said. The sound of his voice in such silence surprised him. He finished the sandwich and tied a knot in the bag.
    The fence was cold.
    The trees whispered above him, though there was no breeze at ground level.
    As Tom crawled on his stomach, the base of the fence scratched at his back on the way through.
    Now this has marked me, he thought, and he pulled himself up into the restricted area.
     
    * * *
     
    Emerging from the woods on the other side, Tom felt completely exposed. He hung back by the trees for a while, looking across the Plain and up at the sky, trying to spot whoever may be watching him. A pair of buzzards circled high up, uncontained by fences and restricted areas. They would see him walking across the landscape, watch as he found the place marked on the map, and whatever he uncovered would be revealed to them as well.
    Soon, Jo would start to wonder where he was.
    Tom stepped away from the trees and set off across the moor.
    He had always enjoyed the moors, his love stemming from the many camping holidays he and his parents had taken on Bodmin. The spring of the ground underfoot, the smell of heather and tall ferns whipped aside by a stick, the thrill of exploration as he and his brother ventured into old surface mines, the wonder of every new pile of ancient rocks or hollows in the ground that contained a sheep’s skeleton, a bird’s nest, or simply a shadow promising more secrets to come. He adored the smell of the place, and the feel of a wild breeze on his face, and the humbling sense that the moor itself was a living entity. It had secrets, that was for sure. As he grew older he had become used to what he knew – the safe countryside where he lived, no risks, no dangers, no sense of true wilderness – but now, walking across Salisbury Plain, he felt charged with the raw energy and mystery of this place. He felt good.
    He paused and took out King’s map. The red X drew his eye, but he looked at the surrounding area, almost featureless and without any point of reference. From the walker’s map he had brought, he guessed that he was now at the bottom right corner of King’s map. The stream would be further on, hidden somewhere ahead of him by the lay of the land. The red X was almost central, and by converting scales he guessed that he had maybe half a mile to walk before he was in the vicinity of the grave.
    “Oh shit.” The full import of what he was doing suddenly hit him. His knees felt weak, his stomach rolled and his balls tingled with fear. What if he was caught? What would he say? How could the truth possibly help him, when it had always been the Army hiding the truth for itself?
    Tom knew that there was only one way to confront his doubt and fears; he moved on.
     
    * * *
     
    He counted his paces. There was little to see on the small map, so the only way he could approximate his location was by estimating how far he had come from the fence. He crossed the small stream, and that at least gave him a point of reference. When he had come over half a mile into the military zone he paused, looked around, consulted the small map again, ran his fingertips over the indent of the red X, and saw something that would change his life forever.
    At first he thought it was a small rock buried in the ground, its matte surface pitted by years of frost and sunshine. There was a hint of yellow to it, and one edge was badly cracked, a thin line of moss growing within. As he moved closer a feeling of dread came down, sending a chill through him even though the autumn sun fought to hold it back.
    It can’t be.
    Tom closed the map, crumpled the piece of paper, and leaned on the shovel as he eased himself to the ground. He reached out to touch the object, but one of the buzzards high above called out. He sat back on his heels and looked up. The bird was circling him, and if he had not been so scared he would have laughed at the