Fourth Horseman by Kate Thompson

room.
    ‘Dad?’
    I could hear him moving around upstairs.
    ‘I’m going to bed,’ he called back.
    ‘Bed? But it’s only eight o’clock.’
    ‘I know. I’m just exhausted. All that driving and everything.’
    I went halfway up the stairs. ‘I made coffee. I want to talk to you. I’ve had an idea.’
    He came to the top of the stairs. In a sickly-sweet, understanding voice he said, ‘Can’t wait to hear it, sweetheart. In the morning, though. I’m just too tired now.’
    I was furious, and didn’t answer.
    ‘Sunday tomorrow,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Let’s all lie in. Egg and bacon for breakfast?’
    I drank all the coffee and went into the sitting room, buzzing with caffeine and adrenaline. I stared at the TV screen and saw nothing. Or at least, nothing that was on it. I saw the horsemen. Whether my eyes were opened or closed, I could see them.
    Alex came in, with Javed in tow, at about ten o’clock. They were in a subdued mood and both of them slumped down in front of the telly with me.
    ‘What’s this?’ said Alex.
    I hadn’t the slightest idea what I was watching. ‘Oh, it’s just … something,’ I said.
    ‘We lost the match, thanks for asking,’ said Alex.
    ‘Oh, did you? Who were you playing?’
    ‘Warwickshire. I was lbw for seven,’ said Javed.
    ‘It was a bad decision,’ said Alex. ‘Everybody said so.’
    ‘No, bad decision or not, I should have had my bat there and not my pad. I wasn’t seeing the ball.’
    ‘Well, don’t get depressed about it,’ I said. ‘You’re not the only one who had a bad day.’
    ‘Why?’ said Alex. ‘Did Dad not find a virus?’
    I had almost forgotten about that. ‘He did, actually,’ I said. ‘Listen, you two. Have either of you been talking to anyone?’
    ‘What about?’
    ‘About the squirrels, duh. The project.’
    ‘No, duh. We haven’t. We’re not allowed to, remember?’
    ‘Can’t Javed speak for himself?’
    ‘I haven’t told anyone,’ said Javed. ‘I’ll swear on anything you like.’
    ‘Why?’ said Alex. ‘Has something happened?’ I debated briefly with myself about whether or not I should tell them. But Dad had let me down and I badly needed to talk to someone about it.
    ‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘Something has happened.’
    We trooped through into the kitchen and Javed, who couldn’t bear the tea that Alex made, put on the kettle and stood guard over it. I knew I could trust the boys. I asked them not to tell anyone, but I didn’t have to swear them to secrecy or anything dramatic like that. I just poured it all out, about seeing the riders, first one and then two. I described them as well as I could. They listened quietly, and Javed managed to make a fine pot of tea without clattering anything and disturbing the mood. I could tell they were a bit suspicious to begin with, wondering whether I was pulling their legs or telling a long shaggy dog story, but when I explained my new theory, about the animal rights activists, they seemed much more inclined to believe me.
    ‘Maybe it was a hologram,’ said Alex, stirring sugar into his tea.
    ‘Why would someone make a hologram of two riders?’ I asked.
    ‘I don’t think holograms really exist like that, do they?’ said Javed.
    ‘They do in Star Wars ,’ said Alex, who was keen on science fiction.
    ‘There’s no way you can go into a shop and buy something that beams two horses into the middle of a wood,’ said Javed.
    ‘I wouldn’t be so sure,’ said Alex. ‘They can do anything these days.’
    ‘Maybe,’ I said. ‘But why would they choose riders?’
    ‘True,’ said Alex. ‘Not the right style for the animal rights people if you ask me. Bit on the subtle side.’
    We all agreed with that, and ruled out activists, for the time being at least.
    ‘So what else could it be?’
    ‘Something from another dimension?’ said Alex.
    I could hear the radio faintly from Dad’s bedroom. He often went to sleep with it on, though I was willing to bet he