“It’s OK,” Robert said. “Honestly. It was just a stupid dream.”
Emma grinned brightly. “We’re absolutely fine, Mom. You can go back to bed.” She stood in the doorway smiling and waiting for her mother to leave.
It felt disturbingly like bullying. Robert turned away toward the window. As Emma closed the door and flicked the switch, his eyes adjusted and he saw the hooded figure outside, staring up at him.
He felt a brief flicker of pity. Then he remembered Hope scuttling backward in her hole under the floor and every drop of sympathy drained away. That woman down there had helped to keep her a prisoner. Whatever Mr. Armstrong had done—whatever had gone on in that black room—his wife had been part of it.
Abruptly he went across and closed the curtains. “I’m going back to bed. There’s nothing we can do about her.”
He went out and back into his own bedroom, padding across the floor in the dark, without bothering to switch on the light. As he reached the bed, he trod on the trousers he’d taken off the night before.
Something crackled slightly between his toes. Not cloth, but paper. For a second he couldn’t think what it was. He bent down and picked up the trousers, feeling in the pockets. As soon as his fingers touched the crumpled note, he remembered. He pulled it out and turned on his lamp to read it again.
What kept you? Did you meet him again?
He still didn’t understand it. Tom had written the note before he knew anything about the phone calls and the recording. Why would he jump to the conclusion that Robert must have met Mr. Armstrong on the way into school? It didn’t make sense. The question went around and around in Robert’s head as he went back to sleep.
It was only when he woke up in the morning that he realized the note had nothing to do with Mr. Armstrong. Tom was asking him about the man from the airplane.
ONCE HE’D UNDERSTOOD, HE KNEW THAT HE AND TOM HAD TO talk straightaway. In private. It was no good waiting until they were at school, with hundreds of people milling around. He had to catch Tom on his own, while he was out walking Helga.
Robert was up and dressed by seven. He slipped out without telling anyone where he was going and went off to Tom’s house. When Tom came out with Helga, Robert was waiting for him.
Tom looked surprised—and oddly wary. “What’s this about? Has something happened?”
“We need to talk,” Robert said. “But not here. Where are you going?”
“Along the canal.” Tom gave him another odd look, but he didn’t ask any questions. He just set off down the road, leaving Robert to follow.
They reached the bridge and walked down to the towpath. Helga was fizzing with excitement when Tom undid her leash, clearly delighted at having two people to play with instead of one. As soon as she was free, she raced ahead, stopping every couple of seconds to look back and wag her tail.
Tom started along the path, not saying anything. Just waiting for Robert to begin.
“You know that man?” Robert said carefully. “The one we bumped into outside school on Tuesday morning?”
Tom’s eyes were wary. “What about him?”
“You were talking to him on Wednesday night, weren’t you? When you were waiting for us to go and fetch the bikes?”
There was a tiny pause. Then Tom said, “So?”
It was like trying to squeeze a hard, dry lemon. Why don’t you talk to me? Robert wanted to shout. We’re supposed to be friends. You’re supposed to trust me. But he knew that wouldn’t work. If he wanted Tom to trust him, he had to explain.
“I know you think he’s important,” he said. “Because you wrote that note, asking if I’d met him again. I haven’t, but I think he’s important, too. Because—”
Tom was listening now. Watching him with cautious, glittering eyes. “Because what?”
“He was the man I met on the plane,” Robert said steadily. “And when he stared at me, I landed in the cavern. So I wondered . . .”
Tom stopped dead, staring at him. And then he began to laugh out loud.
“What’s so hilarious?” Robert said.
“You think I’ve become a zombie? Without any feelings?” Tom shook his head as though he couldn’t believe it. “You think I’ve changed the way you did?” He was still laughing, but there was an odd, uncomfortable edge to it now.
“It wasn’t funny when it happened,” Robert said stiffly.
“I know. I’m sorry.” Tom gave him a rueful smile. “I’m only laughing because—well, you couldn’t be more wrong. There’s no Tiny Tom out there in the park, hiding under a heap of leaves. I’m all here. So you can stop worrying.” He looked up the path. “Hey, Helga!”
Snatching up a stick, he threw it for her, obviously meaning to end the discussion. But the stick flew sideways, erratically, over the canal. It dropped into the water with a splash and Helga jumped in eagerly, paddling toward it.
Tom made a small, irritated sound under his breath. Helga was too small to jump back up on the bank by herself. When she came swimming back, he had to bend down and haul her out. By the time she landed on the towpath, they were both wet and Tom’s hands were covered in mud.
Robert looked at him. “You didn’t mean to throw the stick there, did you?” he said quietly. “What’s the matter with you?”
The moment the words were out, he knew that was the question he should have asked in the first place. Tom was suddenly very quiet.
That didn’t matter. Robert knew he would get an answer if he waited. They turned and walked silently back along the towpath and up the steps onto the road. Tom didn’t speak until they had almost reached his house.
Then he said, “I can’t see properly. It was like that at the practice, too. I get—distractions.” He frowned miserably.
Robert had no idea what he was talking about. “What sort of distractions?”
Tom shrugged. “Well—remember that boy we passed on the way here?”
Robert vaguely remembered seeing some kid in a hoodie coming the other way. “What’s he got to do with anything?”
“There’s something black inside his head. I don’t know what it is, but I can still see it, like a filthy cloud. And I can feel it, too.” He pressed a hand to his side, just under the ribs.
Something slid into place in Robert’s mind. “That girl,” he said slowly. “When we were fetching the bikes back. Were you seeing weird things then as well?”
Tom pulled a face. “When I first heard her voice, I could hardly breathe. That was the first time it gave me a bruise.” His voice was completely matter-of-fact, as though he was talking about something ordinary, like measles.
“You ought to go and see a doctor,” Robert said uneasily.
“A doctor?” Tom looked at him as if he’d gone mad. “What use would that be? I’m not ill.”
“So what’s all this stuff about getting bruises and seeing things that aren’t there? Are you trying to tell me that’s normal?”
“Why not?” Tom said irritably. “Have I got to be ill just because I don’t see the same way as you do? The things I see are real.” He stopped for a second, as though he was making a decision. Then, very deliberately, he added, “And Magee says it’s going to get worse.”
“Magee?” Robert said warily.
Tom watched him, waiting for him to understand.
Robert was all set to argue, when suddenly he did understand. The realization knocked the breath out of him, so that he could hardly speak. “It’s him, isn’t it? The man from the plane?”
Tom nodded.
Robert frowned. “So—have you seen him again? Is that how you know his name?”
“That’s who I was talking to yesterday,” Tom said. “Outside the park.” Helga whined, pushing her nose into his hand, and he patted her head without looking down.
“You should have told me,” Robert said angrily. “We need to get hold of him and ask him some questions. He’s the only person who might be able to explain what’s going on. He might even help us save Lorn
and the others. Before it gets too cold.”
They’d reached Tom’s house now. He opened the front gate and let Helga into the garden. Then he paused, blocking the way.
“Magee’s not—like you think,” he said. “You can’t just ask him questions and get answers. He’ll only say what he wants to say.”
Robert scowled. “So what did he say to you? Or aren’t you going to tell me that either?”
Tom ignored the jibe. He was very pale now, quite unlike his normal, cheerful self. “I couldn’t tell you before. It was too—too—” He stopped and spread his hands, hunting for the right word. “When he stared at me, it was like—like having him inside my mind. And when we met outside the park, he said, You can see like me, can’t you? And you want to do something. He knew exactly how I was feeling.”
“Didn’t you ask him anything?” Robert said impatiently.
“Of course I did.” Tom grinned ruefully. “I said, I don’t like seeing into people’s heads. How can I make it stop? And he just laughed and said, It’ll get worse before you find that out. You need to know how to help them.”
“He’s got you pegged, hasn’t he?” Robert said. Tom was a sucker for trying to help people. “But it’s all nonsense, Tosh. What could you possibly do to help that girl where we hid the bikes?”
“I asked that, too,” Tom muttered. “But he wouldn’t tell me. He laughed and said, When you’re ready, you’ll know. And then he went.”
“And you let him go? Without any way of finding him again?”
“Oh, I know where to find him,” Tom said mildly. “He gave me this.” He put a hand in his pocket and pulled out a little white card.
MAGEE, it said. 17A STEPNEY SQUARE.
ROBERT WANTED TO GO THERE STRAIGHTAWAY, BUT TOM PERSUADED him that they ought to wait until after school.
“If we keep skipping school, people are going to start asking awkward questions,” he said. “A few hours won’t make any difference, and if we go this afternoon, Emma might come, too. It’ll be better with three of us.”
Grudgingly, Robert agreed. “Let’s tell her at break. She might have some good ideas about what we need to ask.”
That was what they both expected. But they were completely wrong. When they told Emma, she didn’t waste time thinking up ideas. She hit the roof.
“Are you insane? You don’t know a thing about this Magee man. I can’t believe you’re planning to go off to this address he’s given you. It’s as stupid as going to see someone you’ve met on the Internet.”
“There’ll be two of us,” Tom said. “Three, with you. And Robert’s taller than he is. Come with us, Em.”
“No,” Emma said. “No, no, no! Things are crazy enough without that. I’m not getting mixed up with anything else. I told you. I just want a bit of normal life. If you’re determined to go, you can go on your own.”
“There’s nothing to be frightened of.” Robert couldn’t think why she was being so awkward. “What could possibly happen?”
“Suppose he attacks you?” Emma said.
It was all Robert could do not to laugh in her face. “He’s only a man—shorter than me. Why should I be afraid of him, when I survived being grabbed in the nightbird’s claws?”
“That was different,” Emma said. “I mean, I’m sure it was terrifying, but if Magee does something it’ll be—” She stopped.
“Real?” Robert said spikily.
Emma went red. “That’s not what I meant ”
“Yes it is.” Robert’s voice was cold. “You think Lorn and the others are less important because they’re small. You think they can’t feel things the way we do.” He turned away quickly, picturing his friend Nate in the mouth of the hedge-tiger. That death was more horribly real than anything Emma had ever seen. And I did it. I persuaded him to come on the journey. The breath in his throat almost choked him.
“It’s OK,” Tom said quietly, from behind him. “Don’t worry about what Emma says. We can go without her.”
Robert had an uncomfortable sense that Tom knew exactly how he was feeling. He pushed the thought away and squared his shoulders.
“Of course we can,” he said. “And we must. We have to go.”
He was absolutely convinced that Magee understood what was going on. And no one else did—except possibly Zak, who seemed to have all kinds of mysterious knowledge. But there was no hope at all of talking to Zak. Not ever again. They had to find Magee.
Secretly, Robert was still hoping that Emma would give in and go with them. But when they met her at the school gates, at the end of the afternoon, she clearly hadn’t changed her mind. She scooted up on her bike looking cross and prickly.
“Well?” she said. “Have you given up your stupid plans?”
“What do you think?” Robert said stiffly.
Emma shrugged. “All I can say is, don’t go inside the apartment if you know what’s good for you.”
Tom was watching her face. “Won’t you change your mind?” he murmured.
“I told you. I’m going to have a normal weekend.” Emma tossed her head. “Shelley’s having a party, and I’m going to stop over at her house.”
“Shelley?” Robert couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “I thought she was an airhead.”
Emma shrugged. “So? At least I can spend a few hours without thinking and worrying and having the world turned upside down. I just need a rest from it all.”
Robert was too annoyed to answer. He watched in silence as Emma cycled away out of the gates.
“I’m going home to change,” she called back over her shoulder. “See you tomorrow night.”
It was already beginning to get dark. Robert wondered, for an instant, how Emma would cope if Mr. Armstrong came lurking around the house again. Then he hardened his heart. What did that matter, compared with the risks that Lorn was running every day? Emma might be scared, but she’d survive.
He looked away, nodding at Tom. “Let’s go and see Magee,” he said.
LORN WAS STILL TELLING THE STORY—HER WAY—AND SHE WAS TRYING EVERYTHING she knew to hold the others’ attention. But she could see their eyes wandering. The power wasn’t there and, any minute now, someone was going to interrupt.
It was Annet who cracked first. She stood up suddenly, brushing the dust off her hands. “I’m bored with this. The robbers are just wandering around, moaning about losing the girl. Why don’t they find out why she shrank? And why don’t they do something to get her back?”
How can I tell you that when I don’t know the answers myself? Lorn thought. But she couldn’t say that out loud.
The others all looked as though they agreed with Annet. “It’s time something happened,” said Dess. “When are we going to get to the real stuff?”
Lorn didn’t know how to reply. “What’s the real stuff?”
Dess stared at her. “When the robbers and the old man fight, of course. Isn’t that what the whole thing’s about? I want to know who gets the girl in the end.”
“Why does she have to belong to someone?” Cam said belligerently. “She ought to be free, like the robber girl. That would be a better ending.”
“She’s certainly not free at the moment,” said Tina. “She’s squashed into that hole in the ground. The first thing she has to do is get out of there.”
“Her dad’s going to pull her out, isn’t he?” Shang said.
Now everyone was talking at once.
“—but she’ll still be small—”
“—maybe he can force the robbers to make her big again—”
“—but in Lorn’s story the robbers are the heroes—”
They crowded together, making suggestions and arguing, and Lorn found herself squeezed out onto the edge of the group. Only Zak was still looking at her now.
She looked helplessly at him. “What’s going on?”
Zak grinned. “You’ve let them take over the story. They’re squeezing it like a berry, and the juice is trickling off in all directions.”
“They’ll never do that.” Zak’s grin broadened. “When they’re tired of guessing, they’ll come back to us and ask, What happened?”
“How can we know what happens?” Lorn said wildly. “It’s not over yet.”
“We’re not writing history,” said Zak. “Stories don’t have to be true—they just need to be right.”
Lorn frowned. “So how do I make this story right?”
“There has to be a battle,” Zak said gently. “The robbers have to meet the old man.”
“But they can’t!” Lorn felt herself begin to panic. “You don’t know what he’s like. They couldn’t possibly—”
He was suddenly there in her mind, not a poor old man, but real and terrifying. Frantically she tried to shut the memory away. If she let herself think about him, he would swamp her.
Zak was watching her face. “It’s no good,” he said quietly. “You’ll never be able to end the story unless you let him into it.”
It was easy to say that, but how could she talk about him? How could she ever make the others understand? He was like—like—
All her words failed. He was there, huge and dark, beyond description. His eyes saw her, his huge hands could reach out and grab her wherever she was. When she tried to picture him in her head, she was swamped by a wave of fear that obliterated everything else.
“I can’t—” she said. And then her clenched fist started hitting the side of her face, punishing her into silence.
Zak caught hold of her fist in both hands, pulling it away from her cheek. “That’s why your story doesn’t work,” he said quietly. “You want the robbers to be heroes, but how can they be heroic unless they defeat the monster?”
Lorn couldn’t speak. She stared at Zak, willing him to stop.
But he didn’t. “What’s the monster’s name?” he murmured. “Tell me, Lorn. What’s he called?”
She couldn’t say the word. If she tried to talk about him, he would destroy her.
The others were turning around now, tired of arguing. Some of them were already sitting down again. As they settled back into the circle, Bando came across to Lorn and tugged at her arm.
The Nightmare Game Page 8