Fire Djinn

Finn, Georgie and Fred sat by the camp-fire, staring into the flickering gold flames. Around them, the deserts of Dubai stretched out for hundreds of miles, a kingdom of sand, apparently empty. The sickle moon cut a crescent into a night as dark as sin. Cold stars burned in the heavens, gazing down upon the earth like a million watchful eyes. The wind that had screamed through the dunes earlier, whipping sand into the their faces had died. Save for the whisperings and cracklings of the fire, the night was eerily quiet. The silence of the listener not the sleeper.

Fred’s parents were camping in the next Wadi, so the children felt quite alone, which is just how they wanted it.

Finn stared intently into the flames. It was funny how the flickering fingers seemed to form images; a hand which then became a nose, lips and eyes. The burning branches framed the outline of the face. Finn stared into those eyes. It almost seemed as if they were staring right back at him. Finn froze suddenly.

‘What?’ asked Georgie, instantly alert.

‘Thought I heard something. A voice,‘ answered Finn.

‘Hallucinating,’ pronounced Fred, reclining in the sand, polishing off his fourth brownie. what happens in the desert he added sleepily.

Finns stared into the fire, unconvinced. The silence and the darkness seemed to deepen around him. His head suddenly felt as if it were vibrating. Threat. Threat all around. Finn’s fighter’s senses were screaming. Something was there. Veiled by darkness. Finn leapt to his feet, reached towards the fire to grab a burning branch as a weapon, but before he or Georgie could raise an arm to fight, they were hurled backwards. They were unconscious before they even hit the sand.

The words came first, cutting through the night, sliding into their heads:

‘Help me. Free me. DarkFighters have me. Imprisoned… end… earth… people… dead… Lightfighters… Free me. Stop them…’

Then the images: a palace, glittering with lights… a hole in the ground… the palace blowing apart… a hurricane of flames erupting from the earth… the heat on their faces, the scorching shamal of the desert in August, only a million, billion times worse… heat, awful liquefying heat… bones melting, blood vapourising… the inferno roaring on … over sand, over sea, over mountains… nothing and no-one left, just ashes and smoke as the planet burned.

Finn woke screaming, eyes careening; camp fire, not inferno. Tent intact, glowing in the firelight. Normal . So far. Bodies on the sand.

He leapt to his feet and ran to them.

Fred and Georgie lay motionless on the sand, legs and arms askew as if they had been flung by an overwhelming force.

‘George! Fred! Wake up please.’ He shook Georgie’s shoulder, pulled at Fred’s arm. Nothing. Heart pounding with fear, he lowered his ear to Georgie’s chest and listened. A heartbeat. Thank God. Fred had one too, but they both lay immobile, trapped in unconsciousness.

He ran for his backpack, pulled out his mobile, began to dial Fred’s parents. The phone refused to work. Refused to event turn on, though Finn had left it on. It was dead, and no amount of pushing buttons and thumping it against his thigh would bring it back to life.

He took out the walkie-talkie and tried that. Dead too. A great scream rent the air. He wheeled round, dropping the walkie-talkie.

Georgie was sitting up, screaming. Finn rushed over.

‘It’s all right, George. It’s all right.’ He grabbed his cousin, then recoiled in horror. Her eyes had rolled back in her head. All it showed was the whites. Then, to her side, Fred woke with a blood-curdling scream. His eyes too had rolled back in his head.

There was hysteria in the night. Madness too. Finn could feel its fingers creeping over him like a contagion…