Gran and the Kidnapped Boy

The boys were after him. What was he doing, this weirdo with the funny hair and no shoes?  "We're coming with you!" shouted John and he and Robbie slid off zigzgging down the path where they'd been many times before. He moved at an amazing rate in his bare feet and they were glad the blades helped them keep up.

     In no time they reached the shore and had not met the artist in the way back up, thankfully. The boy, Moses,  made his way to the deserted fish sheds. He slowed and looked round at them, "Go away. I am going back," he said.

     "Where though. Where are you going?  Tell us, Moses. Be a pal," said Robbie.

     What is that?  Keep away, I am going."  He was nearing the middle shed. They could hear a faint sound, like whirring machinery.

     "Is there something in there?"asked John surprised.They hadn't heard anything earlier. The noise increased.  Moses was now at the point where they had tried out the new watch. He stopped, holding the black disc in front of him.

     The sound, now more of a humming, seemed to be coming from it. The boy turned his head and looked from one to another. "I---" he hesitated.  "John and Robbie."  He just said their names. They were puzzled. John put out his hand. Moses shook his head and turned away. His shawl, drooping from under his arm, slithered from his hold and a corner of it fell to the ground. At once, both of them bent to retrieve it, thinking perhaps of tucking it in for him.

    They picked up the edge of the coverlet and Moses said, "No!"  At the same time they heard the humming growing as if it were all around them and they had a funny sinking feeling like you get when the football belts into your stomach, during a match.