Deadly Games

by Anthony Masters

  “I didn’t like that wave.” David sounded uneasy. “I didn’t like it at all.”

  Chapter Eight

  The Tilley lamp glowed comfortingly as David and Jenny clambered off the escalator. The tunnel had various directional signs, a list of stations on the same line and another lamp flickering a little further on. They hurried towards the welcome light, descending gently all the time, the acrid smell becoming stronger. A mountain of cardboard only half concealed a sleeping woman and the twins crept past her, not wanting to attract attention to themselves before reaching Sid.

  But no matter how careful they were, and how sharp David’s torch beam, the twins tripped over the feet of a newspaper-wrapped figure who sat up, alarmed and cursing.

  “We’re sorry,” gasped David as his beam played on the stubbled face.

  The man was quite young but he looked haggard and thin.

  “What are you kids doing here?”

  “Looking for Sid Lennox,” said Jenny.

  “You shouldn’t be mixed up with the likes of him.”

  “Why not?” asked David aggressively.

  “Because he’s crazy, that’s why. Always on about missions and kids and – ” He paused. “What are you doing, following him around? The Roxy was bad enough, but down here …” The young man stared at them in concern. “Do your parents know you’re associating with him?”

  “Yes,” said David. “Sort of. ”

  “You mean they don’t know.” The young man looked at the twins discerningly. “Come on, you can tell me. I used to be a teacher before I went on the road.”

  “Why did you go on the road?” asked David boldly, hoping to distract him.

  “Because I bust up with my girlfriend and I couldn’t bear to go on without her. I loved her so much …” David and Jenny exchanged glances, startled by his frankness, temporarily forgetting their fears. “I didn’t have the guts to top myself so I drifted. Always moving on – to nowhere at all. I s’pose I’ll go down the coast next week. I like the sea in winter.”

  Jenny’s eyes were full of tears and David had a large lump in his throat.

  “I’m so sorry,” whispered Jenny.

  “Don’t be sorry for me,” said the young man abruptly. “There’s no need.”

  “It’s just that – ” Jenny laid a hand on his shoulder and he didn’t flinch away. “There isn’t anything to say,” she finished.

  “We have to help Sid,” said David shakily. “He needs us and … ” He paused, knowing the explanation was impossible. “We’re worried he might die.”

  “Him?” The young man laughed a cracked laugh. “He’d survive the crack of doom.”

  “Is he around?” persisted David.

  “He’s down on the platform – with his rat.”

  “Rat?”

  “He’s got a pet one. Always comes to him down here. Filthy thing called Gumbo.”

  “That’s all we need,” muttered Jenny.

  “Why the name?” asked David curiously.

  “He found it with its mouth all swollen up – been trying to gnaw its way through something or other. I’ll say this for him, Sid worked on that rat all night, massaging its lips, holding it down – ”

  “Yuk!” said David.

  “And he managed to save it. The weird thing is that the rat seems to have remembered Sid. It comes to him every night he’s down here. Can’t understand it.”

  “And you don’t believe in missions?” said Jenny, half to herself.

  When the twins eventually found him, Sid was tucked up in a blanket and covered in newspapers, wheezing, with his back to the wall. There were another couple of Tilley lamps on the platform, but it had still been hard to find him in the darkness, with the old track yawning below them if they made a single false step.

  “I saw her last night,” he said before Jenny or David had time to say anything. “I saw that woman. Garland.”

  “Where?” asked Jenny uneasily.

  “Walking beside the track.”

  “Did you see May or Leslie?”

  “No. I never seen them down here – not since I gave up the trains. Only on the screen of the Roxy.”

  “So it’s the first time you’ve actually seen Mrs Garland since the day she disappeared?” asked David.

  “I seen her,” he repeated.

  “Did she see you?”

  “She gave me a kind of wave. She looked pretty fierce, like – as if I was interfering with some business of hers. Nasty business.”

  “We’ve seen her too,” said David.

  “Where?” asked Sid, looking even more afraid.

  “Up on the escalator. She waved at us as well.”

  “Things are speeding up,” wheezed Sid. “Happening too quick for me.”

  “We’ll help you,” said Jenny comfortingly. “We don’t think Mrs Garland is an enemy. At least, I hope she isn’t. We saw her up on the screen too – and then she was standing outside our house.” The words rushed out almost like a confession, for she knew Sid was far more prejudiced against Mrs Garland than they were.

  “What did she say?” demanded Sid.

  “Not a lot,” replied David. “But she was suspicious – and she said it was dangerous.”

  “Did you mention me?” Sid was beginning to look afraid.

  “No,” said David firmly. “But we’ve got to go down the tunnel,” he added. “Right now.”

  “Not with Sid in this state,” Jenny snapped. “He’s not fit to go anywhere – except back to hospital.”

  “I’m not going there,” he muttered. “No chance. Dave’s right – we ought to get up that tunnel.”

  “She could be setting us a trap, of course,” said David uneasily.

  “We’ve got to stop seeing her as an enemy.” Jenny tried to be more optimistic. “We’ve got to get Mrs Garland to trust us.”

  “I’m coming with you.” Sid completely ignored her. “I’m not giving up until we find them kids.”

  Jenny sighed. Then she saw the chance of a bargain. “Sid?” she began.

  “Yeah?”

  “Suppose this is the right time. That there can be some kind of solution at last. That we’ll find out what really happened – what they need from us now.”

  “Yeah?” said Sid again, looking impatient.

  “Well, if we’re to help you, you’ve got to do something for us. Otherwise neither of us’ll go with you.” Jenny gazed at David threateningly, willing him not to disagree with her.

  “You’ve got to come.” Sid was immediately agitated. “You’ve got the sight,” He paused uncertainly, knowing Jenny was in a strong bargaining position. “What do you want me to do?” he asked, suddenly looking helpless.

  “When all this is over, you’ve got to promise to go to the hospital and get better.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well?”

  “Is there more?” he asked sullenly.

  “And that you’ll stop living in awful places and go into a hostel.”

  “I couldn’t ever do that,” replied Sid slowly. “I’m a man of the road. I need my freedom.”

  “He’s right,” said David. “Can’t you see?” he appealed to his twin.

  Suddenly she did. Jenny realised that the old habits were too ingrained for Sid to give them up, but she was determined to hold out for the hospital.

  “All right,” she said reluctantly. “But you’ve got to go back to the hospital and give yourself a chance.”

  “OK.” Sid reluctantly agreed to the compromise. “You win.”

  But Jenny wasn’t paying attention any longer. Instead, she was staring down at something that wriggled horribly among the newspapers. When David flashed his torch down, there was a tearing, ripping sound and the head of a huge, bewhiskered rat poked through.

  They gazed at the thing in silence, too horrified to move, and the rat stared back at them with narrow, hostile eyes and bared its broken, yellowed teeth.

  Sid smiled. He stroked the rat’s head comfortingly a
nd it seemed to relax a little. “These are mates,” he said softly. “Nothing to worry yourself about.” He looked up at the twins. “No need for you to worry either.”

  “Worry?” said David, his voice trembling slightly. “I’m not worried.”

  “I am,” admitted Jenny. She gazed at him in distress, unable to describe in words how terrifying and disgusting she found the rat.

  Sid was quite unmoved. “This is Gumbo,” he wheezed. “She’s not only my best mate but what’s the betting she’ll give us safe passage through the tunnel?”

  David and Jenny privately thought that sounded extremely unlikely.

  Gumbo buried its head in Sid’s many layers of pullovers and appeared to go to sleep. It doesn’t look much of a guide, thought David and shuddered at the very idea of touching the rat’s grey fur. It must be diseased, thought Jenny, watching Sid askance as he gently picked up Gumbo and put it in the large pocket of his overcoat.

  “Once we get in the tunnel, I’ll set her loose,” he said and the twins trembled at the thought, imagining the rat brushing against them, maybe sinking its yellowed stumps of teeth into their ankles.

  “Don’t mind her,” said Sid, seeing their fear and revulsion. “Gumbo’s a mate.”

  But the twins weren’t sure they wanted to be mates.

  “How far have we got to go?” asked David.

  “’Bout a mile, through just one other station, and then we’re at the end of the line.” Sid seemed more confident now. “Hockley and Hockley Creek were closed down a few years ago now.”

  “How long will it take us?” Jenny was still thinking about Gumbo.

  “Half an hour, maybe a bit more.”

  “I don’t know if my torch will hold out,” said David.

  “I’ll take the Tilley,” said Sid. “That’ll last us.”

  Jenny knew they should phone their parents before they set off on this dark journey, but it was too late now. And besides – what could they possibly say to reassure them?

  Slowly and cautiously, stepping over several sleeping figures, David, Jenny and Sid, with Gumbo in his pocket, stumbled towards the tunnel. Then they clambered down to the old track that was rusting away beside them and began to walk into the greater darkness of the tunnel, which seemed to have a physical density, as if they were pushing their way through an immense build-up of dank air.

  Jenny took the Tilley lamp from Sid and began to lead the way, shuddering as she heard a squealing noise behind her and biting back a scream as the warm, furry body brushed past her legs.

  “Just released Gumbo,” said Sid. “Now we got us a guide.”

  “Do we need one?” asked David bleakly. “All we have to do is to follow the tunnel.”

  “But who knows what’s ahead?” Sid replied vaguely. “Whatever the danger – Gumbo will suss it out for us.”

  Chapter Nine

  After about five minutes, the journey began to seem endless. The clammy weight of the darkness, the sudden scampering and squeakings around their feet, the soft brushing of other furry bodies, all combined to make their progress daunting.

  But Sid didn’t seem to share the twins’ revulsion; he walked along behind them, wheezing but also whistling under his breath in an, irritatingly tuneless way.

  Jenny came to an abrupt halt and David cannoned into her. “What did you do that for?” he complained. “I could have knocked into that lamp and then – ”

  “Shush!”

  “What’s up?” asked Sid. “What’s going on?”

  “I think I saw something move,” Jenny whispered.

  “Gumbo,” said Sid. “She’s keeping an eye on us, like.”

  “Or any of her hundreds of mates,” muttered David as another soft, scurrying body brushed past him.

  “No.” Jenny’s voice was sharp with fright. “It’s not a rat. It was on the wall.”

  “It?” demanded David. “What do you mean, it?”

  He could see his twin’s shoulders were trembling violently. Then the whole tunnel came alive with blinding white light and the long, lean rats ran for cover.

  Shadows leapt from the walls and they could just make out shapes moving, running.

  “It’s the Roxy all over again,” said David. “But bigger – wider.”

  Not only were the walls of the tunnel lit but so was the ceiling, rather as if they were in the middle of a huge, curving screen.

  Then the shadows became more distinct. A boy was running down a platform. He was tall, with long blond hair flying behind him, and was dressed in a T-shirt, jeans and trainers. He had a broad, handsome face but his dark eyes were wide with fear. Jenny thought he must be about their age. Behind him hurried Mrs Garland, shouting, waving her hands.

  Then the roaring sound seemed to burst through the walls of the tunnel, echoing so insistently in their ears that it hurt.

  “Alan!” screamed Mrs Garland. “You’ve got to stop.”

  There was no one else on the platform. A clock showed twelve and the twins knew instinctively that it must be midnight and that something terrible was going to happen. Gradually the roaring sound became louder and louder, until it drowned the. footsteps and the cries of Mrs Garland.

  Jenny suddenly realised a tube train was thundering out of the tunnel and the boy was running towards the edge of the platform.

  “Alan!” Mrs Garland’s cry was as desperate as it was commanding. “You’ve got to stop!”

  But he didn’t, and as the train came clanking and crashing into Hockley station, Alan dived under its wheels. Screams mingled with the metallic squeal as the driver applied the emergency brakes. David and Jenny could see Mrs Garland running, and now they could see May and Leslie, standing at the very end of the platform.

  “You pushed him,” yelled May.

  “I saw you! I saw you push him,” Leslie shouted.

  Mrs Garland was already on her knees beside the edge of the platform. A couple of disembarking passengers leapt out to join her.

  “Alan,” she wept over and over again. “Alan!”

  As far as David and Jenny could see, Mrs Garland hadn’t touched Alan at all. He had simply thrown himself under the wheels.

  Suddenly the images disappeared and the darkness seemed to rise like a damp cloud over the walls until only the Tilley lamp gave a faint but comforting glow.

  “Did you see all that?” David asked Sid.

  “I did.” His voice was shaking. “So that’s the beginning of the story.” Sid’s face was chalk-white in the lamplight.

  “How do you make that out?” asked Jenny.

  “Stands to reason, don’t it? May and Leslie saw what happened – ”

  “But it wasn’t Mrs Garland’s fault,” said Jenny. “I can’t think why they said she pushed him – that boy Alan went under the train of his own accord. He didn’t even hesitate.”

  “There are different ways of pushing,” muttered Sid.

  “But May and Leslie, they said – they meant – anyone would have thought … ” Jenny was getting tied up.

  “Maybe they wanted to blame her.” Sid was reflective. “Maybe they wanted everyone to think Mrs G pushed Alan under that train. Suppose she drove him to it? Suppose she treated him so bad – ”

  “And then she did the same to May and Leslie? Maybe she chased them down here and they went up the tunnel to get away from her,” David reasoned.

  “Unless they wanted to kill themselves too,” Jenny put in.

  But Sid shook his head. “No, they wouldn’t have done that.” He spoke as if he knew them intimately.

  “Why not?” asked David brusquely. “They could equally well haunt the tunnel whether they jumped in front of the train or died somewhere else. What does it matter?”

  “It does matter,” Sid insisted. “They’re lost souls, those two. They’re leading us somewhere. They want to be found.”

  “I don’t see it makes any difference –” David began, but Jenny interrupted.

  “They contacted Sid for a purpose and we
haven’t got to the bottom of it yet.”

  “Where was that children’s home?” asked David. “Was it nearby?”

  “Don’t you know?” Sid seemed surprised. “It was just opposite the station. Place is a chemist’s shop now.”

  “Was Mrs Garland cruel?” said Jenny. “And did Alan die? Die he really die?”

  Sid shrugged. “I haven’t a clue. I’d have told you if I had. It’s all buried in the past.”

  “But who told you where the children’s home was?” asked David.

  “Nell. Who else? She’s been dossing around these streets for years.”

  “She might be able to tell us the whole story,” said David hopefully.

  “Said she knew nothing about them.” Sid clearly dismissed Nell and any help she might be able to offer. “Now let’s move on or we’ll never get anywhere.” He sounded testy and exhausted and his wheezing seemed to have got worse. “Where’s Gumbo?” he asked. “Gumbo! Where are you?”

  There was a patter of feet and the rat emerged into the lamplight, its whiskers twitching. As it looked up into Sid’s eyes, there was a soft, swishing sound in the tunnel and the twins gazed around them, wondering if the images would start flickering on the walls again. But nothing happened. Gradually the swishing became more pronounced, until David and Jenny realised they were listening to a soft but penetrating voice.

  “They hate me, hate me, hate me …” The voice began to whisper, the walls began to whisper – and the whispering surrounded them, just as the images had.

  “It’s her,” muttered Sid. “It’s Mrs G.”

  Gumbo began to squeak loudly and a blast of cold air blew up the tunnel towards them as the tube train approached. It clattered past slowly, allowing them to see into carriages crowded with people wearing the same old-fashioned clothes the twins had noticed on the escalator. Mrs Garland was sitting on a seat in one of the carriages and Alan, May and Leslie clung to one of the handrails nearby. Their voices whispered their way towards Sid and the twins.

  “We’ll get her,” said May, trying to comfort Alan, who was silently weeping. “You’ll see. You’ll see. You’ll see. You’ll – ”