Read Online The Truth is Dead by Marcus Sedgwick, Marcus Sedgwick - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Marcus Sedgwick, Marcus Sedgwick
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he said finally. “It’s an unsettling time for us all.”
Throughout this period, while most governments appealed for calm, the two superpowers continued to raise the temperature. In an address to the world President Reagan not only denied all involvement in the moon strike, but even went so far as to suggest that the Russians had been attempting a surprise attack on American defence satellites. One which had ended in a cosmic disaster for us all. As each side had primed their nuclear arsenal to take flight, I asked if we should prepare a fallout shelter. In response, Dad turned to me as if emerging from a dream, and said it was too late for that.
I was at school when Mum first returned to pick up some things. I knew she had been here as soon as I walked in. Her perfume hung in the air and the cat was at his bowl, finishing a treat of canned tuna.
Then, late last night, she came back again. I was in bed when I heard the key in the lock. Normally at that hour I’d have been asleep but, what with the high winds, I was wide awake.
I heard her close the door against the gale, and then her voice calling softly for my father. I wanted to get up and see her. I really did. I was just worried that by padding downstairs, somehow I would scare her away. A moment later, my parents were speaking in the kitchen.
It struck me then that Dad hadn’t shown any anger about the situation. He wasn’t like the president, whose emotions were quite clear each time he made a broadcast. Reagan didn’t shout or beat the desk with his fist, but you could see it in his face. From a tension in his jawline to the way his eyes pinched when he outlined the American position. My dad didn’t carry that kind of fire within him. Once he had stopped weeping, there was nothing left.
As I listened to them from my bed, it sounded as if my mother was doing all the talking. At one point I even heard some words.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“I’m just sorry.”
The storm that night was more ferocious than anything we had experienced. It raged so hard against my window that I was too scared to climb out and peek through the curtains. I just pulled my duvet over my head, and prayed the house would not be blown to bits.
Now, as sunrise sees the winds subside, I look out and catch my breath. Trees have come down everywhere, bringing power lines with them, while somewhere in the distance I can hear a voice droning through a megaphone. Weirdly, though, the street is deserted. I switch on my radio, if only for some company, and that’s when I hear about the emergency measures.
“Dad!”
Grabbing my dressing-gown, I rush across the landing to the main bedroom. If the government really have ordered troops onto the street, there’ll be no school today for sure. I don’t pause to knock. I throw open the door and then stop in my tracks.
I’m surprised to find the cat curled up at the foot of the bed. My father is sound asleep, but what leaves me reeling is the sight of the woman in his arms. Her head is resting upon his shoulder, with her palm flat on his chest. She opens her eyes and looks at me. At first, we just gaze at one another.
“We’ve been ordered to stay inside,” I say eventually, blinking back tears. “It’s chaos out there.”
Just then, from somewhere over the hills, we hear the crack of gunfire. The sound takes a moment to decay, as if refusing to fall silent.
“Things will never be the same again,” says Mum in barely a whisper. “All we can do is hope that we’re over the worst.”
ONE GIANT LEAP
Philip Ardagh
In July 1969, Neil Armstrong became the first man to walk on the Moon…
There are countless monuments to the memory of US astronauts Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin, with hundreds in the United States alone. The best known must be the Apollo 11 Memorial in Washington DC, and the Armstrong–Aldrin statue at the Kennedy Space Center. There are, of course, no graves in Arlington National Cemetery, where one would
Throughout this period, while most governments appealed for calm, the two superpowers continued to raise the temperature. In an address to the world President Reagan not only denied all involvement in the moon strike, but even went so far as to suggest that the Russians had been attempting a surprise attack on American defence satellites. One which had ended in a cosmic disaster for us all. As each side had primed their nuclear arsenal to take flight, I asked if we should prepare a fallout shelter. In response, Dad turned to me as if emerging from a dream, and said it was too late for that.
I was at school when Mum first returned to pick up some things. I knew she had been here as soon as I walked in. Her perfume hung in the air and the cat was at his bowl, finishing a treat of canned tuna.
Then, late last night, she came back again. I was in bed when I heard the key in the lock. Normally at that hour I’d have been asleep but, what with the high winds, I was wide awake.
I heard her close the door against the gale, and then her voice calling softly for my father. I wanted to get up and see her. I really did. I was just worried that by padding downstairs, somehow I would scare her away. A moment later, my parents were speaking in the kitchen.
It struck me then that Dad hadn’t shown any anger about the situation. He wasn’t like the president, whose emotions were quite clear each time he made a broadcast. Reagan didn’t shout or beat the desk with his fist, but you could see it in his face. From a tension in his jawline to the way his eyes pinched when he outlined the American position. My dad didn’t carry that kind of fire within him. Once he had stopped weeping, there was nothing left.
As I listened to them from my bed, it sounded as if my mother was doing all the talking. At one point I even heard some words.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“I’m just sorry.”
The storm that night was more ferocious than anything we had experienced. It raged so hard against my window that I was too scared to climb out and peek through the curtains. I just pulled my duvet over my head, and prayed the house would not be blown to bits.
Now, as sunrise sees the winds subside, I look out and catch my breath. Trees have come down everywhere, bringing power lines with them, while somewhere in the distance I can hear a voice droning through a megaphone. Weirdly, though, the street is deserted. I switch on my radio, if only for some company, and that’s when I hear about the emergency measures.
“Dad!”
Grabbing my dressing-gown, I rush across the landing to the main bedroom. If the government really have ordered troops onto the street, there’ll be no school today for sure. I don’t pause to knock. I throw open the door and then stop in my tracks.
I’m surprised to find the cat curled up at the foot of the bed. My father is sound asleep, but what leaves me reeling is the sight of the woman in his arms. Her head is resting upon his shoulder, with her palm flat on his chest. She opens her eyes and looks at me. At first, we just gaze at one another.
“We’ve been ordered to stay inside,” I say eventually, blinking back tears. “It’s chaos out there.”
Just then, from somewhere over the hills, we hear the crack of gunfire. The sound takes a moment to decay, as if refusing to fall silent.
“Things will never be the same again,” says Mum in barely a whisper. “All we can do is hope that we’re over the worst.”
ONE GIANT LEAP
Philip Ardagh
In July 1969, Neil Armstrong became the first man to walk on the Moon…
There are countless monuments to the memory of US astronauts Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin, with hundreds in the United States alone. The best known must be the Apollo 11 Memorial in Washington DC, and the Armstrong–Aldrin statue at the Kennedy Space Center. There are, of course, no graves in Arlington National Cemetery, where one would
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