It started off as a normal day in Hailsham. People walked past the mayor’s house to get to work; some hurried if they were late. The two children of the mayor opened their window to the sunshine and got dressed for school. The smell of eggs and bacon drifted upstairs. The children rushed down to the dining room to get to the food first. Their mother was just putting down the steaming plates, sizzling with bacon, as the children ran to the chairs. Their mother yelped and said, “Deary me! Slow down you two. It’s not a running contest!”

The children were already gobbling down all the food and ignored their mother. Exasperated and still muttering under her breath, she walked back to the kitchen. Their father, dismayed by their behaviour, entered the dining room in his favourite suit and scolded the two children.

“Jimmy, Bob, you should apologize to your mother right now! That was very rude of you to ignore her like that.”

The boys spluttered, “Sorry!” in between hot, salty mouthfuls, gulped down at speed.

Now, you may wonder why this town was called Hailsham. It seemed like a perfect little town, with sunny mornings. But during the afternoons, the hail came with a vengeance every day. It tore up the lawns and dented cars. The blue skies of heaven turned to dark red. Hell and demons in their shells cracked open upon hitting the green world. Some people, that didn’t find shelter in time, found themselves knocked unconscious and had to be dragged away by senior students, wearing steel helmets, who patrolled the area. Pupils returned home either bruised or tired from carrying steel umbrellas all day. Kids said that the Russian and Chinese had satellites full of refrigerators to create hail and bomb the town.

This day, the hail came with a particular vengeance, and with it came a thick fog – so thick you couldn’t see your hand, even if you were waving it around your face. As Bob and Jimmy returned from school, they had to move cautiously along the town wall under the cover of their umbrellas, feeling their way with their fingers on the cold stone. In one part, the wall had crumbled away, and it was here that two children were lost – Bob and Jimmy. Feeling the wall dissolve beneath their touch, a gap opened up and they fell through. Thank goodness they were holding hands the entire time, or they would have been separated. In unison, frightened at being outside the town for the first time in their lives, they shouted loudly, “HELP!! SOMEONE HELP US!!”

But sadly, nobody heard them. The boys wandered blindly for a moment, defending themselves against the bullets of hail, before agreeing that the safest strategy was to walk in a straight line. That way they could simply turn around and find their way back – or so they thought.

Suddenly, there was a loud, “POOF!”

The boys looked around in wonder. A bloody hell had transformed into a paradise. There were trees everywhere, with lush green grass and a variety of wild animals, all grazing in the grass together. Bob looked at Jimmy with a mischievous glint in his eye. “How ‘bout we explore a bit, eh Jimmy?”

“You sure? It seems a bit strange we came poofing out of the hail and fog.”

“Oh, come on! You a scaredy cat?”

“Fine.”

Jimmy was still mumbling under his breath when his brother exclaimed and pointed at a yellow orb with patterned indents everywhere. It was swarming with what looked like flies, but they were more beautiful and had yellow stripes over their bodies. Bob put his finger into the orb and scooped out something yellowish. He put it right in his mouth… Jimmy stared in amazement. After a moment of silence, he fell into hysterics. “AAH! You’re going to get poisoned!

“Relax. I read about this. It’s alright to eat. In fact, it’s yummy. Have some!”

“AAH!”

“Stop screaming!”

“No! AAH! LOOK!” And Jimmy pointed behind Bob’s shoulder to a dark shadow in the sky before turning tail and running away.

Bob became aware of a dull, menacing vibration that was growing louder with every second. He slowly turned his body and saw a dark, flickering mass of threatening energy hovering ominously over his head.  Letting out an almighty scream, Bob legged it after his brother, his little legs hitting the ground at the rate of a machine gun. In the distance, he saw a shiny blue river, shimmering in the sunshine at the bottom of a slope. He headed for it with the harsh, metallic sound of the bees relentlessly following.

Splash! He dived in and stayed under the water for several seconds, his eyes tight shut, wondering if he was safe. Unable to hold his breath any longer, his head finally burst out from under the water like a breaching whale, shining droplets of water cascading back into the river. Without opening his eyes, he waited for the mass of bees to descend on him. Several seconds passed but nothing happened. He dared to crack open one eye only to see a giant furry animal looking at him with a cocked head. In his hand was the honeycomb and the bees were buzzing around the animal and stinging it profusely. The bear let out a deep, curious grunt just as there was a loud bang. The bear gave a surprised look before slowly toppling over like an old tree.

In the distance, stood a shocked-looking Jimmy, and along the riverbank was a deeply lined man with dark, sharply focused eyes, slowly lowering a dart gun from his shoulder. He wore black braces over a thick, red shirt, and denim trousers over large brown boots. His hair was thick and wavy under a padded cap with fur-lined flaps over his ears.

“What do ya think ya doing?” shouted the man. “You could’ve been killed! Come on! Let’s go before the bees get riled up again! Swim towards me and get out.”

Bob tried to form some words but only succeeded in blowing bubbles across the surface of the water and swallowing mouthfuls of the cold, greenish liquid. Silently, therefore, he obeyed the man and started to swim downstream. Jimmy, paralyzed until that moment, sprang forth and ran towards the bank where the man stood.

“Hey mister! Can you help us? We’re a bit lost…”

The man twisted his head and saw the grubby, lanky figure of Jimmy bounding towards him, the boy’s hair bearing the evidence of the undergrowth he had been hiding in.

“Where are your parents?’ shouted the man. “I haven’t seen you round the town.”

At that moment, Bob reached the bank just below the man’s feet and pulled himself out. He lay exhausted for a moment before Jimmy spoke for both of them.

“We’re not from around here, we’re from Hailsham.”

“Hailsham? Well, my my! And what brings you here?”

“We somehow fell through the wall on our way home from school. The hail was worse than ever and there was thick fog. Why’s it so sunny here? I don’t understand.”

“Well…” he hesitated before continuing, “you’ve got a lot to learn.”

The sun was still blazing when the man led the two boys into the local town. Jimmy and Bob gazed up in amazement at the beautiful buildings. Smiling faces greeted them wherever they went. Birds sang, flowers grew strong and bright, and the town itself seemed relaxed and content.

“Wow!” exclaimed the boys. “This place is so nice. I can’t believe you get to live here every day. And there’s no hail!”

The man, who they learnt was called Adam, smiled and his eyes crinkled as he said, “This is my town, Blossom Hill – and it’s the best!”

Soon, they came to a large house on a corner with pillars round the door. It made Jimmy and Bob think of their own home back in Hailsham. They needed to get back. Their parents would be worrying about them. They looked up hesitantly at Adam. Bob spoke first.

“Adam, we ought to be getting back now. It’s been great coming to your town, but …”

Adam quickly interrupted them, “No, no, no. I’ve got someone you ought to meet.”

With that, they turned the corner and arrived at an old stone house set back from the road.

“Come in here,” he beckoned.

At the door of the house, the boys noticed a bronze knocker in the form of a lion. Adam looked at them, winked, and sharply knocked against the door three times. Immediately the door opened. A hunch-backed old lady with soft, shiny brown eyes greeted them.

“Hello, Adam. And who do you have with you?”

“These two need your help. They’re from Hailsham.”

The lady’s back straightened and her eyes looked attentively at the boys.

“Well, come on in and have a cup of tea,” she said gaily. “Make yourselves at home in the sitting room just there and I’ll go through to the kitchen and put the kettle on.”

Jimmy and Bob found themselves in a small, dark room with latticed windows looking out to a sea of nodding roses beyond. The scent in the room was sweet and the boys noticed a large vase of flowers placed on a piano behind the door.

“Come on, now. Sit down.” The old lady bustled into the room with a tray full of cups, plates, and delicious-looking cakes. “So, you’re from Hailsham? Do you like it there?”

“It’s okay but this place is so much better,” said Bob.

“I used to live there when it was called Flower Hill,” the woman said slowly, gauging if the name evinced any reaction from the boys.

Jimmy was looking at a photo on the piano of the woman. She was much younger and had her hand on the shoulder of a boy around 12 years old – roughly the same age as them. The boy was wearing some sort of school uniform.

“Who’s that? He looks familiar,” Jimmy said.

“Ah, that was one of my best students. His name was John Bentley, and he was in year 8 at a school where I used to teach.”

“That must be our father!” spluttered Bob.

“So, you’re John Bentley’s children, are you? I thought I saw a resemblance!”

Adam looked suggestively at the woman.

“Do you think this might be a good moment to tell them why you left Hailsham?”

The woman sighed and looked around at the three of them.

“Sure. It’s probably time you knew…”

Slowly, she sat down and smoothed the skirt of her dress before she began.

“Some 30 years ago, the government decided to test a machine on the town of Flower Hill. The purpose of the machine was to imitate a hailstorm which could be used to weaken the defences of enemy locations. It’s ingenious really. You can bombard those you want to control all you want, and they can’t blame you. It’s a natural disaster after all, and considering all the news about climate change, dramatic and horrific changes are becoming commonplace.”

The children were shocked, speechless. Bob spluttered,

“But that’s ridiculous! There’s no way the government would do that! It’s against the law!”

The woman raised an eyebrow and said,

“And who makes the laws?”

Bob’s face turned bright red and flustered.

“Well… Even if the government makes the laws, they can’t break them!”

The woman replied calmly,

“They can if…”

“Why didn’t my father go with you?” interrupted Jimmy suddenly.

The woman sighed again and picked up the picture of her and their father before answering despairingly, “Your teenage father had just met your mother, and your mother’s grandfather didn’t want his granddaughter to leave Flower Hill. The change in weather was sudden and dramatic, but the government said it was doing everything it could to help with climate change. Your great grandfather was sure things would soon change and that the hail wouldn’t last too long. People like me, without family ties, mostly decided to leave. The weather meant that we could no longer go out in the afternoons and some people were getting injured. Your great grandfather was killed soon after the hail started. A huge stone knocked him to the ground, and he remained unconscious for many hours before anyone found him.” Looking directly at Bob and Jimmy she said, “As you know, when the hail is heavy, it’s impossible to see properly.” She continued, “Before your grandfather’s death, he had made his granddaughter promise to stay in Hailsham, and he never gave your mother his blessing for her to go.”

“So where is this machine?” demanded Jimmy. “And why has no one tried to stop it?”

“Beyond the next valley is a wasteland. There’s an old disused water mill there that gangs used to store their weapons and booty in before the government cleared it and arrested the criminals concerned. I think that the machine must be housed there because many years ago I tried to find it and could hear strange grinding and thumping noises as I approached the mill. There was a new padlocked gate on the track, and something told me not to go any closer.”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” asked Bob

The woman responded, “I did, but nobody believed me! They thought I was bonkers!”

She chuckled bitterly before looking up at Adam, and the warmth of her smile reminded the boys of the soft centre inside their favourite biscuits.

“But Adam did!” she said triumphantly. “And ever since, he’s been hunting in that area to find out who visits the machine and how it’s maintained.”

“That’s how I found you…” interrupted Adam. “The machine is about a 30-minute hike up the river from where I met you. That’s where they get the water from – the river. But how the machine turns it into hail is still a mystery. From my investigations, we now know that there’s no one about the place at weekends, but we’d need a small army to break in and dismantle the machine, and at the moment there’s only me… Hang on!”

Adam sat up now, and in his eye there was an even brighter twinkle than before, which the children didn’t think possible.

“I just got an idea!” said Adam. “Didn’t you say your dad was the mayor of Hailsham? Do you think he’d believe us? And could he get some support from the town?”

The boys exchanged glances. Jimmy looked hopeful, but Bob frowned.

“I dunno. I don’t think he would. Why would he? It’d sound like a fairytale. Like something we’ve made up.”

The old lady got up and walked across to a cupboard and took out a blue, shallow pot with daisy-like flowers painted round the outside. Bob looked curiously at the pot and asked,

“How’s that going to help us?”

The woman answered wistfully,

“Well, your father made this pot on the day of his graduation and gave it to me. If you show him this, he’ll know it’s from me and will believe your story. Just don’t drop it, okay?”

“You can count on us.”

Adam stood up and stretched.

“You boys ready? We best get on our way before it gets dark. And we need to see if your father can help us as soon as possible.”

Adam led the boys to the flint-grey stone wall and said, “This must be near the place where you two popped out of Hailsham. Do you think you can find the hole?” Jimmy and Bob scampered over the rough ground towards the wall, excited to be going home.

“At least there’s no fog or hail now,” they shouted back over their shoulder.

“We found it!” exclaimed Jimmy. “Do you think we can get through?” he continued, looking at his brother.

“I don’t want to go. I don’t want to leave Adam.”

“Hey, you two. Are you okay?”

“I think so,” said Jimmy, “but Bob here wants to say thanks for everything. You’ve been so good to us. We sure hope we’ll see you again soon.”

“Well, that’s kind of you to say,” answered Adam smiling. “I’ve enjoyed getting to know you two. Now, help each other and look after that pot!”

As the boys clambered up the rocks and felt their way through the crumbling hole, they suddenly disappeared from view.

Once running down the streets they knew so well, Bob and Jimmy felt a warm feeling pass through their bodies. Even though it rained hail every day, it was still their home and they both had fond memories of growing up there. They rushed home through the alleyways because the main streets were too crowded. Bob wondered out loud, “I wonder why there are so many people on the streets today?” Jimmy came to an abrupt stop, causing Bob to almost drop the pot.

Jimmy stared at the wall and said forlornly, “Because of that,” and tilted his chin towards a large poster with their faces on it. Bob turned and slowly looked up. Under their faces, in big, bold letters, was the word ‘Missing’.

“We’d better hurry home,” he said to his brother. “Mum and dad must be so worried.”

Bob yelled for his mother as he ran up the garden path and Jimmy pressed the buzzer repeatedly. Moments later the door was opened, and their mother let out a shriek. Her dark, round eyes filled her face. Her mouth dropped open.

“You two are in so much trouble! Where on earth have you been?” she cried.

Before the boys had a chance to reply, she continued, “I’m calling your father right away. He’s been searching for you. Three hours!” And with that, she rushed back inside and grabbed her phone. The two boys stood sheepishly next to her, listening for the response of their father down the phone. They winced as a high-pitched, ranting voice – unmistakably, that of their father – exploded from the other end.

“W-w-we can explain, Mom,” spluttered Bob.

Their mother swung round and looked fiercely at him. “You’d better do!” she said bitterly. “Do you have any idea…?” and with that she burst into tears, rivers of pent-up worry streaming down her tired face. Without thinking, the two boys, leaving the precious pot on a side-table, ran to her and squeezed her tight, their arms wrapped around the waist they knew so well. Unable to speak, she bent over and kissed their two small heads, before burrowing her face in their hair. Just then, their father stormed over the threshold and strode down the hall towards them. As he saw them, he drew to a halt and took in the scene. His own anger and anxiety gave way to gratitude that at last they were home. Softly, almost under his breath, he said, “Welcome back, boys!”

The boys looked up and, suddenly energized, ran towards their dad. He opened his broad arms to give them a bear hug and they almost jumped into them. Words streamed out of the two boys’ mouths, mixing and vying for attention. A warm, deep chuckle rose from their father’s throat. He sighed and looked up smiling towards their mother. “They’re home!”

Just then, his eyes spotted the old woman’s pot on the table and his face froze. Slowly, he asked, “Where did you boys find that pot?”

The two boys looked nervously at each other, not knowing where to start. Bob began to open his mouth, but his words gave way to a large yawn.

“Get to bed and you’d better explain all this to us tomorrow,” said their father firmly.

The next morning, as the boys finished dressing and went downstairs, they found their father and mother already waiting for them. The blue pot, with its fresh white daisies painted around the sides, was sitting innocently in the middle of the table.

“I believe you two boys have got something to tell us,” said their father solemnly.

“We met your teacher,” said Jimmy.

“Okay…” said their father processing what his son had said.

“Yeah, she’s great…. She lives in Blossom Hill,” Bob continued, waiting to see the effect of this information on his father.

After a moment of silence, his father raised his eyebrow and said, “How do you know about that place?”

“’Cos we went there – by accident. Yesterday, we fell through a hole in the town wall while coming home from school. We met a man named Adam and he took us to your teacher. She told us that the government installed a machine to spew out hail on us every day. Adam suggested that you could gather up all the people of Hailsham to help attack and destroy the machine.” The boys looked eagerly at their father, looking for a reaction, but there was none. He glanced at their mother and then at the boys.

“How can I believe you?” he asked.

“Isn’t the pot proof enough?” said Bob. “Your teacher said it would be!”

“It wasn’t climate change, Dad. It was the government. It was all some huge experiment. But it needs to stop,” said Jimmy.

Their father looked again at the pot and the memory of a young teacher’s face, that had always encouraged him and taught him to do what was right, blended with its curved sides.

“She sure was a good teacher,” he muttered. “The best.”

He stood up. “But I can’t just get the entire town to follow me to some place no one has ever seen or heard of before, based on a story that seems like a fairytale.”

He paced up and down the room for a while, his eyes flicking from left to right as his mind went through possible scenarios and ways he could convince the town.

“People are going to be frightened about going out of Hailsham. They’ve been in lockdown for so long. The government has got everyone so scared about freak storms.”

“But there’s no such thing as storms outside Hailsham!” exclaimed Bob. “At least not the violent storms we get. They’d be safe, honest.”

“We’ve got a lot of convincing to do!”

“Why don’t you call a meeting in the town square and ask for volunteers to come out of the town in the morning before the hail begins? If you boys can take us to where you think we should be safe from the hail, that might change everything,” suggested their mother softly.

“We could open the old town gate and our family could lead the way. If they see we’re willing to bring children with us, they might think it’s safe to follow.”

“That’s a great idea, mum!” shouted Jimmy with delight. “I bet some of our friends would come too – if their parents would let them…”

Called by a gong sounded in the marketplace and kept especially for assembling the people in case of an emergency, crowds of townspeople gathered excitedly in front of the town hall.

“The day before yesterday,” announced the mayor, “my children found a hole in the wall that led to a paradise. They have told of a machine near a town, which some of us still remember called Blossom Hill. This machine is what is causing these hailstorms, and so,” he looked at the residents more intensely now and shouted, “WE NEED TO TAKE DOWN THIS MACHINE!” Thunderous applause and whoops of delight arose from the crowd.

The speech was a success. First ten, then twenty, then a hundred people followed them through the huge wooden gates that had been shut for so long. By 11 o’clock, almost all the residents of Hailsham had left the town. Some had even brought a few of their belongings with them, including crates of wine and champagne. When they arrived at the clearing where Bob had eaten the honey, it was already 11:50. There was no shelter anywhere and the people were getting anxious. Their eyes darted around nervously as they wondered, “Are we going to get pummelled by hail or are we going to be safe?” They stared at their watches. With each tick, tick, tick the minute hand got nearer to twelve. At 11:59 the entire group fell silent. At five seconds to twelve o’clock, someone looked up at the sky in despair. The silence was intense.

Time seemed to stop. The priest was muttering prayers under his breath. Then… a shout. “IT DIDN’T COME!! IT DIDN’T COME!!” The shout echoed in the clearing and the priest looked up, mouth agape, and one by one the people cheered, “Ya! We’re FREE!!” Tears flowed and bottles of wine and champagne were opened. No one could believe that the skies had stayed blue, and no hail had fallen. Men, women and children danced and laughed with joy and hugged each other. Some of them were chanting, “No more hail, no more hail!” Others grabbed each other’s hands and skipped round in a circle, crying again, “We’re FREE! We’re FREE!”

In the woods, unbeknown to the townspeople, Adam was just returning from his hunting trip when he heard the muffled whoops, shouts and singing. He thought to himself, “Must be some men and women who’ve got drunk in the bar fooling around out here in the fields.” Attracted to the noise, he headed off in that direction. He walked into the clearing past all the trees, prepared to tell some drunk people off, but his words were cut short as he saw thousands of people laughing, drinking and dancing. Then his eyes zeroed in on Bob and Jimmy. They were giggling and swinging on the arms of someone he could only presume to be their father or close family friend. A grin spread over Adam’s face, too. This joy was infectious!

“Hey dad. That’s Adam! Look. Over there!” Bob tugged on his father’s arm, trying to get his attention. Finally, his dad looked down at him and then over to Adam. Without hesitation, he strode through the field towards him, his hand outstretched in greeting.

“Hi there! You’re exactly the person we want to meet. My sons have told me all about you and this heinous machine. We’ve got to stop it. Bob and Jimmy are right. Can you help us?”

Adam looked suddenly solemn. He shook the mayor’s hand in his strong, firm grip and then stood back pondering what to say.

“Well now. I’d sure like to, but I don’t think this is gonna be easy. The government’s kept this machine going for over 15 years. It’s clearly important to them. I’ve no idea what sort of defences they’ve got in place. There’s never much activity at the mill on the weekend, but there might still be guards I can’t see, or even booby traps. I have to make you aware that any plan to sabotage the machine could be extremely dangerous.”

“Can you take us to see it?” the mayor responded.

“Sure, but we can’t get too close and it’s going to have to be just a small group. You guys mustn’t make a sound. We don’t want them to know people have found out about it.”

The mayor went back to the revellers and selected around twenty of them to accompany him and witness what he was about to see.

“Okay,” said Adam. “When you’re ready, keep together and follow me!”

The chosen group marched forward and snaked their way through the sweetly scented meadow behind the huntsman. The sun shone down on the green, green grass and fallow deer grazed in the shadow of the woods in the distance. Butterflies, not seen in Hailsham for many years, fluttered happily collecting nectar. Adam steered the group towards the woods so that they could look up at the mill under cover. The chatter of the adults got louder and louder and the tone shriller and shriller as the building came into view. Adam swung round and gestured for them to be silent. He then beckoned them to follow and crept cautiously towards the woods. A constant stream of grey, icy balls shot out through a hole in the roof of the ghostly building, as from the mouth of a cannon. The jet climbed hundreds of metres into the sky and was so violent it looked like lava exploding from the top of a volcano. Adam, accustomed to the sight, was the first to speak. Almost whispering, he told them that, when a boy, he used to come and watch the place all the time, since criminals used the building to store weapons and booty – fascinating to a young boy who already loved guns and adventure. But around 15 years ago, the time the hail started, everyone was told not to go anywhere near the woods because the land was contaminated. It was only the old schoolteacher who was brave enough to ignore the authorities and find out the truth.

As the people trekked back towards to the other residents of Hailsham, nobody said a word. All of them were too shocked to speak. They had been tortured by this hail for years on end. Children’s childhoods had been ruined, stuck in houses every afternoon instead of going out to play. First it was the shock. Then it was the sorrow. And then it was anger that surged and overwhelmed them. Adam, sensing their emotion, said simply,

“We’re gonna stop this. Trust us.”

“You alright?” said Adam to the mayor.

The mayor’s eyes focused on Adam as he said firmly, “Adam, we need to come up with a plan to destroy this machine once and for all.”

Adam nodded grimly and advised, “We’ve got to plan for the worst. It could be heavily fortified and there may well be traps.” He considered for a moment before saying, “I think we should organize everyone into two groups. The first should aim to break in from the side. If they get into difficulties, the second group, headed by you, will be able to mount a second wave of attack. You can try and gain access from the back.”

“And if anything happens to the second group…?” interrupted the mayor.

“Well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” replied Adam solemnly.

“I need to get these people home and we need to do make some careful preparations,” responded the mayor, taking charge. “First, I need to see what weapons we can find and then we need to agree who will be in each group.”

Adam nodded. “Of course. Let’s meet here at dawn on Saturday. You know you have my full support.” And with that the two men shook hands and departed.

Two days later, early on Saturday morning, before the sun had risen, a weird trail of residents wound their way towards the meeting place. Some carried kitchen knives and cheese cutters, others broom handles and rolling pins, still others metal pipes they’d ripped up in desperation from disused buildings in order to arm themselves. Ben, the grave digger, had even taken down his grandfather’s antique hunting pistol. Their clothes were varied, too. Most had chosen neutral colours, but some had gone for black due to the seriousness of the occasion. Others had even strapped round, metal trays, used in the local café, to their chests, with leather belts to protect themselves!

Once in the field, miraculously, this strange band divided itself neatly into two ranks. Adam and the mayor had met earlier for final discussions and now came across to greet them. Adam explained that he would lead them there but would not take part in the attack. This would mean that he could monitor what was going on and give directions.

It was cold and damp but no one complained, as the groups huddled in the woods near the mill. Ben offered to lead the first group, clutching his gun beneath his overcoat. A mass of young and middle-aged men surged behind him, focused on the job in hand. Despite their appearance, there was a unity and purpose to them that made their attack seem almost professional. A look and a wink here and there were enough to coordinate their movements.

Ben’s index finger was twitching on the trigger. He kicked open the side door with surprising ease and the assorted group of men stormed into the building. Ben was the last to enter. He looked back at the others in the forest and gave a tight smile. As he ran inside, the door slammed shut behind him. There was a moment of silence before all chaos erupted. Sirens were blaring and there were loud repeated BANGs. Screams and shouts echoed around the building. The mayor’s eyes widened in fear for them as the noise reached him, before narrowing into slits as he held up his homemade spear.

“Adam,” he said purposefully. “If you see any sign of trouble, come and help us. I’ll leave some men behind with you.”

“CHAAARRGE!”

The mayor yelled as he streaked across the wasteland between the forest and the mill.

“I’ve got your back!” shouted Adam, though he could hardly be heard through the commotion of men springing forth and shouting encouragement to each other.

Shrieks of helplessness continued to pour forth from inside the mill.

The second wave attacked from the back as planned. The door here was locked and reinforced so the mayor ordered some of the men to climb up the old mill wheel and up the guttering to the roof. They shouted down that they were at the hole where the hail was jetted up into the sky. Despite the danger, the mayor ordered them to climb down the shaft and try and gain access that way.

He waited several minutes but everything had gone eerily quiet. The mayor didn’t like this at all.

“Adam!” he cried. “ADAM!” louder this time.

He looked over at the forest, but Adam and the men were nowhere to be seen. The mayor’s mouth went dry and his stomach felt sick. A horrible realization came to him that this had all been a setup. That Adam was working for the government all along was obvious now and he had led his people into a death trap.

“TRAITOR! TRAITOR!” shouted the mayor to the trees round about, as he expelled his anger through his lungs. “YOU WERE MEANT TO HELP US!” And then he collapsed his back against the building and hung his head. They were doomed.

He was brought to by a tramping sound and a low blur of voices. Looking up, he saw a black smudge on the horizon to the left of the forest. It gradually got bigger, and colours and shapes began to form. Someone, for these were now clearly people, was holding a red and blue banner. He thought it looked like Adam.

Cautiously, he crept round to the front of the building, staying close to the wall. Adam must have seen him because a roar of a war cry suddenly shot through the air and the people with him began to charge. The mayor sheltered behind the rotten mill wheel, wondering how it had supported the trample of his men’s boots in the attack, wondering how it could protect him from this onslaught.

Bob and Jimmy waited nervously back at their home. A morning had never lasted so long. But when midday came and there was no hail, an electric current of excitement, almost unstoppable, ran through the town. Mothers and children rushed to the town gates and managed to drag them, shaking on their rusty hinges, open.

And what a sight they saw! The mayor, Adam and the old school teacher were leading an army of thousands towards Flower Hill, cheering and singing. The loudest of them all was the old schoolteacher, who seeing the children, ran towards them, arms open wide.

“My darlings, it’s over! It’s really over! You’re free at last!”