by Geoff Palmer
‘What ...?’ Tim blinked.
She raised a finger. ‘Manners! What’s not wanted in politeness-town.’
He stared at her, incredulous. ‘But I can’t find her!’
‘Your sister, Timothy, is playing truant. I’m very disappointed.
‘Wha ... I beg your pardon?’
‘And surprised, frankly. I’m disappointed and surprised. I thought she was a good girl. Apparently not. Hanging round with those two! I’m very disappointed.’
She wasn’t making any sense and, seeing his confusion, Cakeface continued.
‘Your sister,’ she said, as though her behaviour was his responsibility, ‘is hanging around with a rum crowd, a very rum crowd indeed. Mandy Paterson and Cheryl Wick.’ She shuddered. ‘I half-expected those two to take advantage of this morning’s little excursion, but I did not expect it of your sister.’
‘You mean Coral’s wagging?’ Tim could barely keep the relief out of his voice.
‘I have information that she was seen hanging around town with those two reprobates not half an hour ago,’ she glowered at him, her soft jowls forming a double-chin from which little wisps of powder escaped to dust the collar of her blouse. ‘There will be consequences, Timothy, you may tell her that. Consequences.’
Tim let out a sigh of relief. Wagging! And he’d been so worried.
Pausing at the door, he turned and asked about Alkemy and Ludokrus.
Cakeface blinked for a moment as if trying to recall a distant memory. ‘Oh... er... their uncle came to take them away,’ she replied.
His relief evaporated. A black pit seemed to open beneath him. ‘Did ... did he say why?’
‘Some ... sort of problem at home,’ she said, blinking again.
It suddenly occurred to him that the Sentinels might be modifying her memories as she spoke. If so, perhaps he could give them a little extra work ...
‘I find him a bit hard to understand,’ he said. ‘Mr Kattflapp, I mean. What with being foreign.’
‘Yes ... he is difficult, isn’t he? But the children translated for me.’
He stared at her. It was true! It was like he was actually talking to an alien.
She beamed at him. A cold shiver ran down his spine and he found himself backing from the office, his heart fluttering. ‘Oh,’ he said. ‘Right ...’
There were more impatient yells from the bus.
‘I ... I’ve got to go,’ he muttered, racing out to a chorus of shouts and jeers.
As the bus door hissed shut an awful feeling settled on him like a weight. If the Sentinels had messed with Cakeface’s memories of Alkemy and Ludokrus, perhaps they’d also messed with her memories of students playing truant ...
Tim burst from the bus the moment it pulled up outside RAGS. He scanned the street in every direction, but there was no sign of Coral. No sign of her at all.
30 : Unlucky Break
Coral screamed as she plunged through darkness, convinced she was about to die. Her last half-hour flashed before her like a dream and she had a sudden vision of Tim, standing where she’d left him, in a patch of dappled sunlight down by Quail Creek.
She’d crept back to school, keeping to the trees on the opposite side of the road. Direct approach was difficult because of the clear view from the principal’s office, so she’d been forced to go a long way past, dart across, then return, keeping close to the gorse that ran along the western boundary.
She stayed with the gorse till she was opposite the end of the classroom block. From there she planned to sprint across the open playground to the entrance by Room 3. It was the safest way to approach unseen and that, she reckoned, was essential. She was convinced that the nature hike had been a ploy to empty out the school and give Cakeface free reign to do whatever she wanted.
A movement in the corner of her eye made her turn towards the old prefab tucked away at the edge of the grounds. There the late morning sun outlined a shadow moving about inside.
Heart racing, she paused. The prefab was supposed to be out of bounds. If everyone else was down at Quail Creek it could only mean ...
She edged closer, keeping to the cover of the gorse.
Suddenly the sound of a closing door made her freeze. A second later a dark figure appeared at the front of the building, striding away and heading for the school. She hurled herself to the ground in case it glanced back, glimpsing as she did so a tall, imposing silhouette; one that moved with confidence and wore a skirt.
‘Cakeface!’ she hissed.
The front entrance to the prefab was visible from every classroom in the school but the back, boxed in by gorse, was perfectly private. She clambered up the side of the building, trying to peer in through the grubby windows, but they were set too high and there was precious little footing. All she could manage was a glimpse of the tops of ancient blackboards, but at least she gained a layout of the building.
It consisted of two classrooms separated by a small enclosed porch. That led to a cloakroom about four metres wide. At the back of the building this space had been made into a narrow store room connecting the two classrooms.
‘Hello?’ she called faintly. ‘Anyone there?’
Nothing.
What now?
If they were tied up they might hear her but be unable to respond. If only she could somehow look inside ...
Looking around she caught sight of an opening in the gorse on the northern boundary. That must be the famous Gap, she thought, tiptoeing over to investigate. And there, just inside the entrance, almost buried in low weeds, was exactly what she was looking for.
The discarded length of four-by-two was heavy and awkward and a little rotten at one end, but perfect nonetheless. She dragged the timber, grey with age, round to the back of the building where, with all her strength, she raised one end high enough to rest it on a window ledge.
She took a breath and stepped gingerly on to the narrow beam, throwing out her arms for balance. The higher she rose the more it wobbled, but she took her time and concentrated on each step.
At first all she could see was the exposed roof beams of the deserted classroom. Then a haphazard tangle of desks and chairs came into view, stacked at the back of the room.
A gust of wind stirred, forcing her to stoop and steady herself. Then, as she straightened and took another step, she saw a pink backpack lying amidst the tangle of chairs.
Her pounding heart surged. She stepped forward, straining for a better view, but the sudden shift in weight was too much for the ancient plank and it snapped with a dull crack, throwing her unceremoniously to the ground.
She lay there, rubbing her bruised hip and elbow, barely aware of the pain. She’d found them. She’d found them!
The front door was the only way in, but the entrance itself was sheltered by a little porch. She had no choice. She ran to it, expecting any second to hear an angry cry from the direction of the school, but none came.
The entrance was unlocked. A stout padlock hung open on its hasp. Whoever had been there was planning to return. She’d better hurry.
The cloakroom was just as she’d expected; dingy and dusty. The floor, once polished wood, was now much scuffed and scored, and a musty-smelling yellow paint flaked from the walls.
The doorway to the classroom on the right stood open. Its bare walls were a mouldy green and a single string of collapsed balloons hung from one of the rafters. Below it sat an orderly arrangement of desks and chairs, as though its students had popped out for lunch a hundred years ago and never returned.
The door to the classroom on the left was shut. She paused, her hand on the handle, then caught sight of a curious wooden circle resting against one wall. It was almost as high as the door itself, and perfectly round. Marks in the dust suggested it had been rolled there recently, and its edge seemed freshly cut — or rather burned — though by what means she couldn’t imagine. ‘A laser?’ she wondered, then realised with a shock it was actually a section of the wooden floor.
Easing
the door open, she saw at once where it had come from. The second classroom was missing a circular section of its floor.
She tiptoed to the edge and peered down, but the blackness below was inky and complete.
A metal hoop ran around the inside of the hole and was clamped to a small, dark, banana-shaped object. She knelt and touched it, feeling a faint vibration. Its surface was smooth and featureless except for a slowly winking red light at one end.
The door behind her quietly clicked shut. She leapt to her feet and seized the handle, expecting to find it locked, but it swung open easily. The cloakroom outside was empty. The old building creaked. The wind?
As she turned she noticed the outer door was now closed too. She tiptoed back and tried it. Whoever had left it open must’ve returned and locked it. That was close! She might be locked in but there were plenty of windows to escape through. At least she hadn’t been discovered.
Back at the hole she whispered a quiet ‘Hello?’ then started back as a light flickered on and a set of stone steps appeared, leading down.
She stared at them. Very strange! They looked like broad flagstones — the sort of thing you’d find in an ancient castle, not here, under an old school building. ‘Hello?’ she called again, but there was no response.
With a quick glance in the direction of the school, she went to take a step and realised at the last moment that there were no steps there at all. They were some sort of illusion or projection, and now she was plummeting through space and utter darkness to what must be her certain death. Drawing one last breath, she screamed with all her might.
31 : Watch the Birdie!
Tim burst from the bus and raced into RAGS.
‘Glad, Glad, have you seen ...’ The figure at the counter turned and he stopped in his tracks. Gladys Smith had been transformed into a frumpy teenager.
He stared as the girl worked the inside of her lip stud with her tongue while staring back at him. There were more studs in her nose, one in her left cheek and half a dozen in each ear lobe.
The girl nodded toward the back of the shop but Tim was so transfixed he didn’t react until a hand touched him on the shoulder.
‘Hello Tim Townsend,’ a familiar voice said. ‘Have you met Brittany?’ Glad proceeded to the introductions. Brittany Blessed was Rambob’s daughter from across the road and worked part-time in both RAGS and RAM.
The bus tooted as Tim repeated his enquiry and Glad shook her head. Brittany was able to report that her dad had chased Mandy Paterson and Cheryl Wick from Rata Area Merchants earlier that afternoon, but there’d been no one with them.
Tim looked helplessly at Glad. ‘Something’s happened to her,’ he croaked.
‘Perhaps your aunt and uncle picked her up ...’ Glad began, then saw Tim’s anguished face. She turned to her assistant. ‘Give the Townsends a bell, Brit. Pretend you’re a friend of Coral’s. No point worrying them unnecessarily.’
Tim couldn’t help himself. It all came tumbling out. ‘Something happened to Alkemy and Ludokrus. Coral went looking for them. Now she’s gone too. Something awful’s happened. It’s the Sentinels. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do!’
His mouth wobbled as he gulped in air. Then, to his horror, he burst into tears.
Glad, completely at a loss, knelt down and gave him a comforting hug.
Though they were out of sight of the bus, the volume of hoots and jeers suddenly increased and Tim came out of Glad’s embrace to find Stormin’ Norman standing in the doorway, staring at them with his mouth open.
‘She’s not home from school yet,’ Brittany announced, putting down the phone.
Glad bit her lip and stared at Tim. Another toot and more shouts from the bus brought Glad to a decision. ‘Tell you what, let’s tell Errol I’ll run you home. Then you can tell us all about it, eh?’
* * *
It was clear that neither Norman nor his mum believed a word of it, but they were quiet and polite and let him finish his story, only interrupting occasionally to repeat a word here and there: ‘Spaceship?’ ‘Time batteries?’ ‘Nanomachines?’ For his part, Tim kept his voice level and steady and tried to ignore the glances he saw the pair of them exchange.
They were sitting in the lounge of the house that backed on to RAGS. The breeze from the open French doors jangled a wind chime hanging on the porch.
‘You remember the motor scooter the first day they turned up?’ Tim turned hopefully to Norman. ‘Remember the instruments? How they didn’t look quite right?’
Norman screwed up his face. ‘Not really ...’
‘Let’s stick to your sister,’ Glad said gently. ‘You both saw her leaving Quail Creek.’ They nodded. ‘And you haven’t seen her since.’ They shook their heads. ‘And you say Mrs Millais said she was hanging round town?’
‘But she’s lying,’ Tim said. ‘I know she is. I tricked her. She said Albert took Alkemy and Ludokrus away, and I said he was hard to understand cos of his accent, and she said yes, they had to translate for him. But he doesn’t have an accent. He speaks perfect English.’
‘Well,’ Glad said, ‘I wouldn’t know. I’ve never met the chap.’
Tim swallowed and blinked at her. He wanted to shout at the top of his voice that he was telling the truth but the louder he shouted, the madder they’d think him.
‘All right,’ Glad said slowly. She reached into the pocket of the old bush shirt she wore like a jacket and took out a bunch of keys. ‘Tell you what we’ll do. We’ll take a spin around town, see what we can see, then, if there’s no sign of your sister, I’ll run you home. Ten-to-one she’s there already — got a lift with someone or hitch-hiked or something.’
Tim nodded. It made sense to look for Coral first. And if they couldn’t find her he’d know for certain that Cakeface had lied about that too.
‘OK,’ he said slowly, an idea forming in his mind. ‘But before we go, can I buy a loaf of bread?’
* * *
Glad’s red Mini made burbling sounds as it wound down the hill from Dead Man’s Bend. She drove with focus and precision; and fast.
The car, ordinary looking from the outside, was anything but inside. It was fitted with a sporty steering wheel, racing seats, a roll cage, and extra instruments had been bolted to the dashboard. The seatbelts seemed more sturdy than normal, and the engine had an unusually throaty rumble to it.
‘Mum used to race,’ Norman said with a touch of pride.
‘Yeah, I saw the trophies,’ Tim said, turning to Glad. ‘Why’d you stop?’
‘Oh, a number of reasons,’ Glad glanced at Norman and smiled. ‘Some things are more important.’
The trip round town had proved fruitless, just as Tim knew it would. No one they spoke to had seen a smartly dressed girl with long blonde hair, though plenty had seen the two truants.
‘Maybe we should check the reserve as we go past,’ Tim suggested quietly. ‘Just in case she’s there.’
Glad slowed the car, swung left, and they bounced up the rutted gravel track, stopping in front of the caravan. They got out and looked about. There was no sign of life. No sign of the Cadillac either. But its absence was oddly cheering. If Albert really had collected them from school and brought them back to the spaceship, why recycle the car and not the caravan? He knew Alkemy. She was too methodical for that.
Tim opened the loaf of bread and began tearing it into chunks. Glad walked around the caravan and peered inside. ‘You say they made this out of junk?’
‘Yeah, with their ... calculator thing,’ he replied, scattering the bread about the picnic area.
Glad touched a nasty scrape on one side and muttered, ‘Missed a bit.’
She and Norman exchanged glances. Tim just continued with the bread. A handful of gulls had already spotted the treat and their wheeling cries were drawing others.
‘I know you think I’m mad,’ he said, ‘but I can prove I’m not.’ He walked on a little, spreading the bread wider as more birds landed. ‘See the bush o
ver there?’ He pointed to a tangle of undergrowth about a hundred metres away. ‘There’s a clearing in there where they’ve parked their spaceship, but it’s really hard to get to cos it’s protected by this ray thing. If you try and go there it’ll just make you change your mind and head off in another direction.’ He emptied out the last of the crumbs and stood back looking at the squawking, screeching mass of birds. Hundreds of them. ‘You’re not even aware you’re avoiding it. It’s called a Revolt-O-Ray. Now, watch the birds ...’
With that he suddenly ran at them, screaming at the top of his voice and flailing his arms. They rose in a single mass, wheeling away, heading for the sea. Then, quite suddenly, the flock split in two as if skirting some invisible obstruction. The effect was uncanny as bird after bird circled left or right only to meet up again and form a cohesive flock on the other side.
‘See?’ he said, looking at a pair of astonished faces.
32 : Plunge Into Darkness
Strange things happened to Coral as she plunged to her death. Everything seemed drawn out and she had the oddest thoughts. She screamed with all her might as she fell into the black pit, but her scream sounded muffled, as though her mouth was stuffed with cotton wool. With impact, horrible injuries, or even worse only seconds away she found herself thinking, ‘That’s weird.’
Also weird was the way the wall came out to meet her. The sheer cliff she was plunging down — she could sense its presence in the rush of air past her tumbling body — gradually inclined out from the vertical until she was sliding along it as it eased into a gentle curve. The surface was hard and polished like a gigantic playground slide.
For a second or two the curve flattened out, but she was travelling too fast to stop and hurtled across it out of control. Then it began curving up the other side, steeper and steeper, slowing her until she stopped completely and slid back down a second time. By now, with most of her momentum spent, she was able to throw out her arms and legs and bring herself to a halt.