13. The Black Shadow
Next morning, Lewis closed the last of his exercise books, put his pencils in his pencil case and pushed the neat pile of homework to one side with a sigh of relief. Thank goodness that was finished, he thought, looking at his watch. He’d timed it nicely; it was just about lunchtime. His spirits lightened as he went downstairs to the kitchen for Mrs Sinclair had promised to make him a chicken curry and the smell was drifting tantalizingly through the house.
As he pushed open the door, he saw that the small kitchen television set was on and from the sound of the commentator’s voice, there was yet another disaster taking place somewhere in the world.
“There’s been a terrible accident on the Forth Bridge, Lewis,” Mrs Sinclair said. She was stirring the curry but her eyes never left the screen.
Lewis gasped. “That’s near here, isn’t it?” he said, looking at its distinctive shape. He’d seen pictures of it and knew it lay close to Edinburgh.
“Aye. Two trains collided and half of one train is hanging off the bridge. The carriages are full of people and they’re scared that the whole train might slip down into the water with them all in it!”
“Gosh! That’s awful!”
“Here,” she said, spooning a generous helping of curry over a gleaming mound of white rice, “have your lunch at the kitchen table and you’ll be able to see what’s happening.”
Lewis ate the curry absent-mindedly, his eyes fixed on the TV screen. It was really quite frightening. Even the commentator was affected as stumbling groups of passengers were led along the tracks from the wrecked trains. Lewis could hear the tremble in his voice as he described the rescue attempts that were being set up to try to get people out of the carriages that had slipped off the bridge. It was going to be a dangerous operation as the whole train was balanced so precariously that the slightest jerk might send it toppling into the water. Helicopters were of no use as they couldn’t operate so close to the bridge. All in all, he didn’t seem too confident of the outcome.
“Oh, my goodness,” Mrs Sinclair jumped up as part of the train hanging crazily from the bridge gave a dreadful lurch. They could hear the people in the carriages screaming. “How on earth are they ever going to rescue them?” she said, twisting her hands.
“I …” he searched his mind for a reason, “I can’t watch,” he said. “It’s too frightening. I’m going out, Mrs Sinclair.” And he pushed his plate to one side and dashed up the stairs to his room.
“Casimir!” he snapped at the bathroom mirror. “Show yourself to me.”
Casimir appeared. “Casimir, did you see what was happening on the television downstairs?”
“Yes, of course, Master.”
“Listen, There’s no way that anybody can save the people on that train. The two end carriages are hanging over the water and if anybody tries to climb out they’ll send the whole lot crashing into the Forth. Can you save them by magic? Or something?” he asked hopefully.
Casimir looked at Lewis consideringly and sighed. After hundreds of years imprisoned in the well at Al Antara, he thought sourly, it had to be a do-gooder like Lewis who had released him! Still, he mused, rescuing the people on the train might do much to relieve the crashing boredom of the schoolboy’s totally uneventful life. He bent his mind to the task and instantly came up with a solution — for he had, as it happened, quite enjoyed reading Lewis’s comics with him. “What if I were to turn you into Superman or even the Black Shadow?” he offered. “The Shadow, I think, would be more suitable as you’re so young. How about it? All in black, wearing a mask and a cloak with stars on it?”
Lewis sat up straight, his eyes suddenly shining. “What a fantastic idea, Casimir,” he gasped. “The Black Shadow! But … can you really make me fly?”
Casimir looked at him exasperatedly. “Of course I can,” he said shortly. “I’d hardly have suggested it otherwise, would I?”
And, in an instant, Lewis changed completely. He looked in the mirror. There he stood, looking slightly taller than normal, but the spitting image of the Black Shadow.
He swirled his cloak experimentally before pressing down on the soles of his feet to see if he could really fly. Excitement gripped him as he lifted gently off the carpet and soared into the air.
“Use your arms to change direction,” Casimir recommended hastily as Lewis, cloak flapping, headed straight for a solid-looking wardrobe.
“This is great, Casimir,” he said, changing direction and ducking frantically as he almost hit the light shade. Landing beside the window, he pulled it up so that he could scramble out onto the sill and, trying to ignore the drop to the street, took a deep breath.