by Steve Voake
As Cal stepped back in alarm, Eden brushed past him and put her own ear against the door.
‘It sounds like a child,’ she said. ‘It’s saying it wants to be let out because it’s frightened of the dark.’
Cal immediately felt his fear replaced by anger; anger that Jefferson had lied to him, that he could take a child and lock them away in the name of scientific research.
‘Don’t worry,’ he called, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the keys. ‘We’re coming.’
As he tried first one key and then another, the voice became more urgent, whispering, Hurry, hurry, you must let me out, and as he finally found the right key and fitted it into the lock, the voice whispered, I have been waiting so long for you, Cal, and Cal thought how strange it was that the child should know his name.
Then the door swung open and he saw that the voice didn’t belong to a child at all, but to a tall man standing in the shadows. His white, smiling face seemed all too familiar and Cal immediately recognised the top hat, the green frock coat and the shiny black shoes from the drawings in his notebook.
‘Hello, Cal,’ whispered the man. ‘Remember me?’
Then he stepped out of the shadows and held up a pair of long silver scissors.
‘I hope you’re not going to scream,’ he said. ‘But I think you probably will.’
Cal felt the shadows swirl and then Eden shouted, pulling him backwards and slamming the door shut. He heard footsteps across the floor and Eden screamed at him to run but he had seen the size of the man and knew he could never outrun him. And so, as their footsteps echoed down the corridor, he found himself standing in the first room, fumbling with the lock. Then the cage door was open and the dog was out, snarling past him and hurling itself into the corridor. And suddenly Cal was out beneath the stars with Eden beside him and they were running through the trees and into the forest. And all he could think of was that he should have listened, should have listened to her in the first place, but now it was too late and the darkness had found him and now they were going to die.
Branches cracked underfoot.
An owl rose from the trees, hooting out a warning before flapping away into the night. Cal heard the gasp of Eden’s breath and the thump of her footsteps as they pushed deeper into the forest, desperate to get away.
‘Cal!’
For a moment Cal thought that the man had caught up with them, but as he spun round he saw that Eden had tripped over a tree root and was sprawled across a layer of pine needles, the shotgun lying on the ground next to her.
‘Cal, help me!’ she cried, and Cal was afraid, knowing that the man could not be far behind. Grabbing her beneath the arms, he pulled her roughly to her feet, dragging her against a tree before pressing himself against the bark and turning his head to see if there was any sign of the man. But all he saw was the outline of the pines, and the dark shadows beneath their branches.
‘We can’t stay here,’ he whispered, trying to keep the fear from his voice. ‘We have to keep going.’
Eden bent down and massaged her ankle.
‘How is it?’
‘It’s fine. It’s just a knock.’
Cal saw how she winced when she put her weight on it, but he wasn’t about to argue.
‘All right,’ he said. ‘Let’s go.’
Eden slid the empty shotgun beneath a fallen tree and they stumbled blindly onwards, not caring what lay ahead, only wanting to put as much distance as they could between themselves and the man with the pale, bloodless smile. Cal felt the pine needles scratching his skin and as they went deeper into the forest the trees thickened until the glow from the stars faded and there was no light at all.
‘Cal, wait!’
‘I’m over here!’ Cal answered, listening to her moving through the undergrowth. ‘I’m here,’ he said again, more quietly now, scared that someone might hear. And then, in the darkness, he sought out Eden’s hand, because he was afraid of being alone.
‘Do you think we lost him?’ Eden whispered, so close that he could feel her heart beating.
‘I don’t know,’ said Cal. ‘I think we should keep going for a while.’
‘Who was he?’ breathed Eden.
‘I don’t know,’ said Cal. ‘Although I recognise him from somewhere. I think I’ve dreamed about him. And I kind of … drew pictures of him.’
‘You did what?’
‘I know. I’m still trying to get my head round it. But I think Jefferson may have taken him from my dreams. He’s dangerous, Eden, That’s why we have to keep moving.’
‘OK,’ said Eden. ‘But I think we should go back and check on the dog.’
‘What?’
‘It wasn’t angry at me at all. It went for the guy when he came out of his cell. It saved us, Cal. I just want to know it’s all right. It was yelping like mad when we left.’
Cal shook his head, amazed that she could be thinking of the dog at a time like this.
‘There is no way we’re going back there now, Eden. The dog will be fine. That guy is crazy, OK? He wants to kill us. We have to get out of here.’
As they went deeper into the forest, the darkness thickened around them. Whenever a dry branch cracked underfoot they stopped, frozen with fear, listening for signs that someone was following them. Cal slowed down until he could feel Eden’s breath on the back of his neck, then advanced step by careful step, his hands held out to protect himself from whatever might be lurking in the blackness.
After a while he found that his senses were so heightened by fear and the lack of vision that – between the scratch of branches and the rough bark of the trees – he became aware of something else; of blood pulsing beneath his skin and the warm night air moving above it. And because he could no longer see where he ended and the world began, he started to feel that somehow the world itself was aware of him. As if even the air knew that there was only this thin layer of skin separating him from the rest of the world and everything in it.
‘Cal! Cal!’
Eden’s urgent whispers broke into his thoughts.
‘What is it?’
‘I hear something.’
Cal stopped and listened.
At first all he heard was the wind in the trees. But then he heard the rush and whisper of something else and realised that it was the sound of water.
‘Come on,’ he said.
As they got closer, the trees thinned out and the darkness lightened until they saw the shapes of branches and roots and the glitter of stars overhead.
‘Look,’ said Eden, ‘over there.’
She pointed through the trees and Cal saw a mountain stream, flowing over rocks and stones towards the valley.
Although Cal was still afraid, there was something about the sight of running water that lifted his spirits.
‘It’s beautiful,’ said Eden, and for a few moments they stood beside it in silence.
Then Eden turned to Cal and nudged him.
‘You know what we should do?’
‘No. What?’
‘We should build a shelter.’
‘What for?’
‘Because that’s what you do when you get stuck in the woods. It keeps you warm and dry.’
‘I’m already warm and dry. And anyway, we should keep going. The guy, remember?’
‘Cal, there’s no way he’ll find us now. We had a head start on him and we’ve been all over since then. Even we don’t know where we are.’
‘I know, but—’
‘I just think we’re better off trying to find a way out of here in the morning when it’s light. And a shelter’s better than sleeping out in the open.’
Cal stared at her.
‘You really want to build this shelter, don’t you?’
‘I really do.’
‘Were you in the Girl Guides or something?’
‘Girl Scouts. Troop leader.’
In spite of himself, Cal smiled.
‘You don’t say.’
He looked arou
nd.
‘So what do we have to do, exactly?’
Eden smiled back.
‘Watch and learn,’ she said.
Twenty-One
Cal was amazed at how skilful Eden was, considering that the only tools she had were her hands. First she searched around until she found a fallen branch, stripping off the side growth until she had a piece of wood the thickness of her forearm. Pushing one end through the layer of pine needles into the soil below, she wedged the other end against a tree trunk to form a triangle. Then, with Cal’s help, she broke off some of the lower branches from the surrounding trees and leaned them, fan-like, against the central branch. Finally she laid more branches horizontally across before weaving them all together.
‘There,’ she said when they had finished. ‘What do you think?’
‘Not bad,’ said Cal. ‘What do you do for an encore?’
‘I go inside and lie down,’ said Eden. ‘Coming?’
Cal followed her inside, breathing the sweet smell of pine sap as he covered the entrance with branches and lay down beside her.
‘This doesn’t feel real,’ she whispered. ‘I feel as if I’m going to wake up any minute and my mom will be standing there, asking me what I want for breakfast.’
‘Do you wish you were back there?’ asked Cal. ‘Back at the camp, I mean.’
‘Of course. Don’t you?’
‘Kind of. To tell you the truth, none of my life seems real anyway.’
‘What do you mean?’
Cal thought for a moment, trying to find the right words.
‘Sometimes my life just feels like something I don’t have any say in. People telling me, Do this, Do that. It’s like I’m watching myself in a film, where all the lines are already written. But out here, I’m away from all that. There’s no one organising my life or telling me what to do. I just … am.’
Eden propped herself up on her elbow and turned to face him.
‘Cal? You remember when we were walking up the trail before?’
‘Yeah. What about it?’
‘You told me they weren’t your real parents. And then you just kind of clammed up.’
‘That’s because it’s not very interesting.’
‘I’m interested.’
‘OK. I’m what they call a child looked after. What they used to call a foster kid. Which basically means I get to stay with a new family for a while until they decide they’ve had enough of me. Then I get sent back to the residential centre until they find someone else.’
‘Huh.’
Cal could almost hear the click of Eden’s brain cells as she tried to make sense of it. ‘So why can’t you just stay with one family?’
‘Because I don’t want to. What’s the point? I know it’s not going to last.’
‘How?’
‘Because I’ve been there before. Foster parents are there to look after you until you get a family that wants to adopt you, that’s all. And I was going to be adopted by this family one time, and I was all set to go with my suitcase packed and everything, and then the social worker comes in and sits me down and says, basically, it’s not going to happen.’
‘Why not?’
‘I don’t know. They split up or something. And after that, I thought, you know, what’s the point? You get all ready, thinking someone’s going to come along and make your life better. And it’s not true. No one’s going to do that. Ever.’
‘Someone might,’ said Eden.
‘No,’ said Cal, ‘they won’t. Which is why I don’t bother getting to know them any more. And it’s why I like being out here, away from all that stuff. It’s too complicated.’
‘What about me?’ said Eden.
Cal was puzzled.
‘What about you?’
‘You’re getting to know me, aren’t you?’
‘That’s different.’
‘How is it different?’
‘Because you don’t expect anything of me, that’s why. You know that when all this is over, we’re going to go our separate ways.’
‘Like life, you mean.’
‘What?’
‘When it’s over, we go our separate ways.’
Cal frowned.
‘Are you making fun of me?’
‘No. I’m saying that just because something’s going to end doesn’t mean it shouldn’t begin.’
Cal shook his head.
‘You’ve lost me,’ he said.
‘I think maybe you’ve lost yourself,’ said Eden. ‘Maybe that’s why you like it out here where no one can see you.’
‘You can see me.’
‘I’m starting to. But there’s a ways to go yet.’
Eden laid her head on her hands and closed her eyes.
‘I hope you get some sleep.’
‘Maybe we’ll find our way out of the woods tomorrow,’ said Cal.
‘Maybe we will.’
When she was asleep, Cal lay on his back and stared at the ridge of branches above him. If he moved his head slightly, he could see the sky through a tiny gap. And in the middle of that vast darkness was a single star, its light scattered through time and space until the last shining remnants fell through the forest into the lens of his eye.
He remembered watching a TV programme which said that the light from a star takes so long to reach the earth that by the time you see it, the star might no longer exist.
He looked at Eden lying next to him with her eyes closed and thought how quiet it was when she was asleep.
Just because something’s going to end, doesn’t mean it shouldn’t begin.
He didn’t know what made her come up with stuff like that.
But what he did know, lying there in the darkness and looking up at a solitary star, was that his heart ached and there wasn’t a thing in the world he could do about it.
Twenty-Two
Cal awoke to a curious metallic sound; precise and surgical. He glanced at Eden, but she had turned away from him and the only noise she made was the soft ebb and flow of her breathing. Fingers of moonlight slid through the branches above his head.
He heard the noise again.
Anxious not to make a sound, Cal sat up until his head was almost touching the branches at the top of the shelter.
Something was definitely out there.
Cal shivered. If he woke Eden, the noise would almost certainly give them away. But if he moved quietly enough, maybe he could slip out without being seen and discover what was out there. Quite what he would do if he found out, he didn’t know, but at least he would know what he was dealing with.
On his hands and knees now, Cal carefully removed the covering of branches at the entrance of the shelter and crawled outside. The temperature had dropped beneath a clear sky and the moon had risen above the trees, bathing the forest in a pale white light.
The trees were stark and unfamiliar in the moonlight, formless shadows lurking beneath their branches. Careful to avoid stepping on any twigs which might betray his location, Cal moved soundlessly away from the shelter and positioned himself behind the trunk of a tree.
Pressing his cheek against the rough bark, he listened.
In the distance, he heard the rush and chatter of the stream.
A mosquito whined in his ear.
Then the sound again.
Snip, snip, snip.
It was fainter now, further away, mixing with the sound of the water.
Realising he had been holding his breath, Cal allowed himself to breathe again, running his tongue over dry lips.
He moved quickly to the cover of the next tree, then the next, listening each time for the clipped, metallic sound to start again. But he could no longer hear it. The sound had stopped.
As he approached the stream, he hid himself behind another tree and listened intently. But all he could hear was a soft breeze stirring the branches and the sound of water tumbling over stones.
The sky was lightening in the east and the stars were already fading; it would soon be m
orning. Cal realised how tired he was and remembered how once, when he was small, he had imagined his room to be full of ghosts. He had watched in terror as the dark shapes crept across his bedroom wall until it had occurred to him that it was only the shadow of the curtains, moving in the evening breeze.
That’s all this is, he told himself. I’m jumping at shadows. Feeling a little foolish, he decided he would get a drink from the stream and then head back to the shelter. With any luck he would get back before Eden woke up and realised he was gone.
Stepping out of the shadows, he knelt on the mossy ground beside the stream and splashed his face several times before quenching his thirst from the leaking cup of his hands. The cool water soothed him but as he wiped his mouth and raised his head he saw – some way off – someone standing in the stream. His first reaction was to run, but then he realised that whoever it was had their back to him, so he stepped back behind the tree again before peering around for a better look.
He could tell from the figure’s height and stance that it was a man, although his hair was long and brushed the tops of his shoulders as he leaned forward into the stream. As the sky grew lighter, Cal saw that the man’s hair was dark brown, almost red, the colour of clay or dried blood and he wore an old-fashioned frock coat, but not the traditional black one might expect; this one was the green of algae in a stagnant pond. On his bottom half he wore a pair of breeches which stopped at the knee, covering a pair of long white socks that disappeared beneath them. As the first rays of sunlight rimmed the distant mountains with gold, Cal could see the man’s white socks beneath the surface of the stream and below them a pair of black, pointed shoes with polished silver buckles.
His coat tails dipped in the water and he moved slowly from side to side, as if he was washing something in the stream.
Cal looked at the black top hat placed neatly on the far bank and knew, with an awful, sickening certainty, that it was the man from his drawings, the same man he had caught sight of in the shadows of the cell, and that the noise he had heard had been the snip, snip, snip of metal on metal.
But what did he want with Cal?
As the sun rose over the mountains, Cal saw dark ribbons twisting through the water and realised that the stream was red with blood. Then the man turned and lifted the scissors he was holding. But they were no ordinary scissors. These were more like shears with long, polished blades as sharp as daggers.