DARK COUNTY by Kit Tinsley Page A

hyperthermia.
    ‘There is one thing they allow me to do, though, Paul, they allow me the chance to save one soul, a single survivor. I’ve chosen you, Paul, you can escape what’s coming.’
    The tramp let go of his arm and Paul staggered backwards. He fell back against the railing and only just managed to stay upright. He couldn’t feel his arm. It was like it was frozen solid. He gasped for breath, trying to fill his lungs. It had felt almost like he was drowning. The tramp approached. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a large gold coin. To Paul, it looked like something from a pirate film.
    ‘Here’s your chance, Paul,’ the tramp said smiling, showing his blackened teeth. ‘I know you’re a gambling man, so you’ll take the chance. You only get one, though, that’s it and then I’m gone. So what’ll it be, Paul, heads or tails?’
    Paul didn’t know what was happening, his body was still reeling from that frozen grip the tramp had put on him. He was just starting to get a pins and needles feeling in his arm as it came back to life.
    ‘Heads,’ he said.
    The tramp nodded and flicked the coin high into the air. It went spinning upwards, disappearing into the darkness of the night. It was a moment that seemed to last forever, time slowing down, the night was strangely silent.
    Then the coin came crashing to the ground. The sound was deafening, like a hammer hitting an anvil. Paul covered his ears to protect them from the sound. The tramp stepped over and looked down at the coin.
    ‘You’re a lucky man, Paul,’ he said. ‘Now get out of here.’
    Paul didn’t need telling twice. He set off running, not even thinking where he was going. The tramp began to laugh, the sound carried with Paul until he reached the sand of the beach, then abruptly stopped. Paul was panting from the run. He turned and looked back at the pier. The tramp was nowhere to be seen, despite the fact that the spot they had been stood in was well illuminated.
    Paul shook his head, he found it hard to believe that the whole thing had actually happened. Perhaps it had been some kind of hallucination. Perhaps he was losing his mind. It would not surprise him, with all the stress he was under anyone would snap. The problem with this explanation was that his arm still felt cold, nowhere near as cold as it had been, yet still cooler than the rest of his body.
    He tried to remember the things that the tramp had said, but they had seemed like delusional ravings, Paul had been too scared to truly let the words sink into his mind. He remembered that he had won a coin toss, and that meant he was saved, but he had no idea from what.
    He walked down the beach, towards the sea. It was low tide, and as everyone who has ever been to Skegness knows, that means a long walk to the sea. He stood there in the cold sea breeze, smelling the salty air, hoping it would clear his head. He had real problems. How was he going to get away from Baz? He did not have the time to be worrying about the crazy talk of some mad tramp. He needed a plan and he needed one quick, he looked at his watch and saw that it was nearly midnight, he only had about nine hours to get away, before Baz came looking for him.
    He stood at the line of the sea. It gently lapped at his shoes as the tide began to turn. He looked down at the gentle foam, and saw something. Every so often in the water he saw small flickers of blue light, about the size of a pin prick. The first few times he thought it was his imagination, or a trick of his eyes. Then he saw them again, and again, and again, thousands of them blinking bright blue in the dark water. He looked up and down the line of the beach. They were everywhere.
    He bent over and stuck his hand into the water, which was cold but not as cold as the tramp’s grip had been. He swilled his hand around in the water, seeing the blue flashes brighter as he did this. When he pulled his hand out of the sea, it was covered in a gelatinous clear