Clay by David Almond

stars.
    “It’s still bliddy crazy,” I said.
    “I know,” he said. “But mebbe the craziest things are the truest things of all.”
    He grinned while I thought about his words.
    “Look,” he said. “Here’s a really crazy thing.”
    He reached down into the grass verge at the pavement’s side. He ripped the turf open and tugged out a handful of soil. He spat into it. He spat again. He held it in the pale pool of light cast by a streetlight.
    “You as well,” he told me. “Spit into my hand. So a bit of you is in it. Do it, man.”
    I spat into the soil. He worked it with his fingers. He spat again, told me to spit again. I spat again. The soil was damp and pliable. He rolled it on his palm: a fat wormy thing, a sluggy thing. He raised it to his lips.
    “Move,” he whispered. “Live.”
    He held it on his opened palm.
    “Tell it, Davie,” he whispered. He raised his eyes to me. “You got to,” he said. “Go on. Tell it to move. Tell it to live.”
    I felt so stupid. I couldn’t speak; then the words came out.
    “Move…. Live…. Move…. Live….”
    “Be tough, Davie,” said Stephen. “Command it.”
    He passed his hand before my eyes.
    I spoke again.
    “Move. Live.”
    And the thing moved. It started to squirm on Stephen’s palm in the silvery light.
    “See?” he whispered while we watched in wonder. “The power is in you, Davie, just like it is in me. You’re one of the special few.” He smiled. “Go on, touch it,” he said. “Touch your creation, Davie.” And I reached down, and I felt the thing squirming beneath my fingers. “This isn’t an ordinary thing for ordinary folk,” he said. “You understand that, don’t you? Do you think your mate Geordie’d be able to do this? Do you think that lass’d be able to do this?” I said nothing. I felt it move like there was life in it, like there was spirit in it. “Course they wouldn’t,” he said. “It’s only you, Davie. You and Stephen Rose.”
    He let it fall back to the earth, and it lay there in the gathering dark, a lifeless clod. He wiped the dirt from his hands.
    “Really crazy, eh?” he said. “But really true. Do you agree? Do you believe?”
    How could I
not
believe?
    “Yes,” I said. “But how can we do it?”
    “That was just a little bit of easy magic. We can do lots more together. Lots more true and crazy things. That’s what the angel was on about.”
    “What did she say?”
    “She said that my strength and your strength isn’t enough. She said we’ll also need the strength of the Lord to help us.”
    I met his eye.
    “The strength of the Lord?” I said. “How the Hell do we get that?”
    “You get it for us, Davie. You get the body and blood of Christ and bring it back here. It’s your task.”
    He smiled.
    “You’re the good altar boy, Davie. You got to steal the body and blood of Christ.”
    “An angel told you to tell me to do
that
?”
    He shrugged. He looked at me dead calm, like he was daring me again to believe him.
    “Aye,” he said. “She did. Angels work in mysterious ways, Davie.”
    “And what good will it do?”
    “It’ll help us make a…”
    “A what?”
    He studied the sky, the thickening stars.
    “A creature, Davie. A thing that will stand up and walk beside us and protect us.” He laughed. “A monster!” He breathed the words into my ear. “A bliddy monster. A thing that’ll terrify Mouldy and brutes like Mouldy. A thing that would even kill him for us, if that’s what we told it to do.”
    I glanced at the house.
    Come out,
I said inside myself.
Get me away from this.
    “When’s your next Mass?” said Stephen.
    I searched my memory.
    “Sunday,” I said.
    “You got to do it then.”
    He slid something cold and metallic into my hand.
    “Put them in this,” he said, “and keep them safe.”
    It was a small round silver locket.
    “Will you do it?” he said.
    He looked into the sky.
    “The precious beings is looking down on us,” he said. “Mebbe one