The Nightmare Game

by Gillian Cross

  Right: The Magee Man

  21

  “MAGEE,” SAID TOM. “WE HAVE TO GO AND FIND MAGEE.” HE was shaking so much that he could hardly speak the words.

  Emma had no idea what was going on. One moment Mr. Armstrong had been standing over her, shouting at Tom and insisting that she was Hope. The next instant—for no reason that she could see—all the conflict had fizzled out. Mr. Armstrong stepped aside, in a polite, bewildered way, leaving Tom staring down at her, like someone who’d just had an electric shock.

  She didn’t understand any of it. All she knew was that she was still a prisoner—and it was getting more and more frightening.

  Her throat was already sore from yelling, but she opened her mouth and yelled again. “Rob, are you there? Rob! I need you!”

  Wonderfully, he appeared in the hatch, pushing Warren and Mrs. Armstrong out of his way. Jumping down through the hole in the floor, he scuttled toward her, crouching under the low roof.

  “What’s going on? Are you all right, Em?” Then he saw Tom and Mr. Armstrong. And Emma, with her cropped hair, lying tied up on the floor. Cautiously he stopped, trying to work out what was happening.

  Tom looked around at him. “We have to go and find Magee,” he said again.

  “Untie me first!” Emma croaked. “Please, Rob—”

  “Of course we’re going to untie you,” Robert said fiercely. He pushed at Mr. Armstrong’s shoulder. “Don’t try and keep me away from my sister!”

  Mr. Armstrong stepped back, with a vaguely puzzled expression. “So that’s who she is. I wondered what she was doing down here.”

  “What?” Robert was completely nonplussed. “You know why she’s here. You kidnapped her.”

  “Oh dear,” Mr. Armstrong said. “I’m afraid that must have been my wife. Excuse me.” He squeezed past Robert and headed back to the hatch.

  “What’s going on?” Robert said wildly. “What’s happened?”

  Tom shook his head, as though he was working out how to reply. But Emma interrupted, before he could say anything.

  “Just get me out of here. Please. I can’t bear any more. You’ve got to get me out.” Her voice cracked, as if she might start crying.

  Instantly, Robert was on his knees on the ground beside her, fumbling at the knotted cords. “Of course we’re going to get you out. Hang on, Em. I’ll get rid of these and then I’ll get going on the tape. Don’t just stand there, Tosh. Come and help.”

  But before Tom could join them, there was a scraping noise overhead and a shadow fell across the hatch. Emma recognized what was happening straightaway.

  “They’re trying to shut us in! Stop them! Don’t let them fix the trapdoor down!”

  Robert had never reacted so fast, not even on the basketball court. He was down at the other end while she was still shouting. Vaulting up through the opening, he hit the trapdoor with one shoulder, knocking it out of Mrs. Armstrong’s hands and sending her staggering backward. Then he heaved himself out into the conservatory and sat on the door.

  “I’ll stay and keep the entrance open,” he called down to the others. “Tosh—get Emma free as fast as you can.”

  It had to be that way around. Tom would have been too light to stand up against Mrs. Armstrong as she threw herself back toward the hole. Using all her weight, she charged at Robert, trying to knock him back into it.

  She was completely hysterical. Robert pushed her away, but she came at him again, screaming to the other Armstrongs to come and help her. “We mustn’t let them get away! If they do, we’ve lost Hope forever! We’ve got to keep them here!”

  Warren was hovering wretchedly, just out of Robert’s reach. He took a step forward and then jumped back when it looked as though he might get hit. But Mr. Armstrong didn’t move at all. He just stood by the door, with a faint, disapproving frown.

  Down in the black room, Tom had undone the cords that tied Emma down. He’d started working at the parcel tape, using his keys to cut through it. It came off in untidy strips, leaving sticky patches on her clothes and pulling painfully at her skin. Once or twice she caught her breath with a small, involuntary moan, but she wouldn’t let Tom slow down.

  “I make a noise—ignore me. Just get this horrible stuff off, as fast as you can!”

  She could hear the shouting overhead, and she was terrified that Robert wouldn’t be able to keep the hatch open until she was free. As soon as her hands were loose, she began to help Tom, wrenching handfuls of sticky brown tape away from her legs.

  That hurt even more. Her legs had gone numb, and when the feeling started to come back she had to bite her lips to stop herself from crying out. But she went on pulling at the tape as fast as she could.

  “We don’t have to get it all off,” she muttered. “Just enough for me to walk—”

  Tom made an odd, doubtful noise in his throat. She didn’t know what he meant—until she tried to stand up. Immediately, her legs buckled and she hit the ground.

  “You probably need to wait a bit,” he said.

  But Emma wasn’t having any of that. “If I can’t walk—then I’ll crawl. I’m not staying in here a moment longer.”

  She dragged herself across to the hatch, calling out, “Pull me up, Rob. Get me out!”

  But before Robert could move, another voice intervened.

  “Let me help you,” Mr. Armstrong said politely. “I’ve had many years of practice.” He came across to the trapdoor and knelt beside it, both arms reaching down into the hole.

  Mrs. Armstrong stopped screaming and stared at him. Gazing up from below, Emma could see the shock on her face. And she could see Warren, too, frozen and terrified.

  “What have you done?” Mrs. Armstrong whispered. “What have you done to my husband?”

  Nobody answered. Mr. Armstrong and Robert heaved Emma out of the hole and onto the only chair in the conservatory and she sat there, silently, rubbing her legs and blinking in the light.

  It was the first time Robert had seen her properly. “Your hair!” he said. “Oh, Em—they’ve cut off your hair.”

  “It’ll grow back,” she muttered. “Don’t fuss. Just get me on my feet and take me home.”

  With Tom and Robert supporting her, she managed to stand. As they started toward the front door, Robert looked back at Mrs. Armstrong.

  “Don’t even think about following us,” he said. “If we ever see you again, we’ll go straight to the police.”

  Maybe we ought to have done that in the first place, Emma wanted to say. But she had no breath to spare. She was concentrating on getting her legs to work. By the time they reached the bus stop, she could almost manage on her own.

  “Better put on my coat,” Robert said, “if we’re going on the bus. You’re covered in bits of tape. And what’s that on your back?”

  It was one of Warren’s peculiar scraps of paper, caught on a sticky patch where the tape had been. Emma reached around to take it off and pushed it into her pocket. Then she took Robert’s coat gratefully, zipping it right to the top and pulling up the hood.

  Two minutes later, they were sitting on the bus, heading into the city center. Emma leaned against the window, feeling the cold glass on her cheek. “Do you think the Armstrongs will give up now?” she said. “Do you think it’s over?”

  Robert frowned. “How can we tell? They’re so weird, aren’t they? Look at Mr. Armstrong just now. What was going on with him?”

  “No idea.” Emma shook her head. “When you came, he was in a frenzy, saying I was his daughter and he wasn’t going to let me go. And then he just—changed. When he looked at Tom.”

  “What did you do, Tosh?” Robert said lightly. “Scare him witless?” Tom was in the seat in front. When he didn’t answer, Robert leaned forward and prodded him in the back. “Hey, what’s the matter? Aren’t you talking to us?”

  “It’s not that.” Slowly Tom turned around. “It’s just—I think I know what happened to Mr. Armstrong. But I don’t want to say anything. Not till I’
ve talked to Magee.”

  “What’s it got to do with him?” That didn’t make any sense to Emma.

  “He—” Tom hesitated and then shook his head. “No. I really need to talk to Magee. I’ll go around to his apartment as soon as we’ve taken you home.”

  Emma sat up straight. “Oh no you won’t. Not on your own, anyway. If you’ve got to do it, then Rob and I are coming, too.”

  “You need to go home and recover,” Tom said. “After what you’ve been through.”

  “If I go home, I’m not going to get away in a hurry.” Emma grinned suddenly. “Even Mom’s going to ask questions when she sees me looking like this. If we’re going to see Magee, it has to be now.”

  Robert and Tom looked at each other, doubtfully.

  “You don’t have to come,” Robert said. “Tosh will be fine with me. You need to have a rest, Em, and get back to normal.”

  But Emma had no intention of being left out. She squared her shoulders and tossed her head, as though she still had hair to flourish. “I’m in this up to the neck, as much as either of you. And if Magee can explain what’s going on, I want to be there to hear him.”

  22

  I must find Magee. He’s the only one who can explain. I have to talk to him.

  That was the only thought in Tom’s head. What had happened to Mr. Armstrong—what he’d done to Mr. Armstrong—was so frightening that he couldn’t concentrate on anything else. And no one except Magee would understand. He had to get to Magee’s apartment as fast as he could.

  The three of them caught the bus into town and walked from there. By the time they reached Stepney Square, Tom’s heart was beating so fast that he could hardly breathe. As they went up the stairs from the street, he had to stop halfway, holding onto the wall. But his determination didn’t waver.

  I’m not going away without seeing him. If he isn’t in, I’ll just sit on the landing and wait.

  There was no need for that. Magee was in. He opened the door immediately, as soon as Robert knocked. Tom drew a long breath and met his eyes, full on.

  His head was full of words, but as soon as he saw Magee he realized that he didn’t need to speak any of them out loud. Whatever had happened to him, Magee knew, just by looking at him.

  “Welcome,” Magee said softly. “It’s time to talk at last.”

  “It certainly is,” Robert said impatiently, not giving Tom a chance to reply. “We haven’t got any more time for riddles. We need straight answers now.”

  Magee’s eyes flicked sideways, taking in Emma’s filthy clothes and her ragged, cropped hair. “I can see that,” he said. “But don’t worry. You’ll get them.”

  “Not out here, though.” Emma took a step forward. “Can’t we come inside?”

  Her voice sounded brisk, as it always did, but Tom could feel the tension behind the words. She was tired and hungry, and the last twenty four hours had shaken her badly. In spite of that, she didn’t flinch under Magee’s eyes. Lifting her head, she stared straight back at him.

  After a second, he smiled and nodded. “Glad to see you’re all right—in spite of that thuggish hairstyle. Yes, you can come in.” And he stepped aside, waving them through the door.

  The inside of the apartment was completely unexpected. Tom was imagining a magician’s den, full of candles and purple velvet drapes. But it was cool and bare, with very little furniture and blinds at the windows. The front door opened straight into a small living room with a glass table and two shabby armchairs. A ginger cat was curled up on one of the chairs and it lifted its head warily as they walked in.

  “I’ll fetch some stools from the kitchen,” said Magee. “George doesn’t care to be disturbed.”

  He went through a door on the far side of the room and they heard him clattering around for a few moments. When he came back, he was carrying a stack of cheap plastic stools with a plate balanced on top of them.

  “I thought we might have some shortbread,” he said easily, putting the plate down on the table. “Don’t wait for me. Help yourselves.”

  Emma looked hungrily at the shortbread, but none of them bent to take a piece. They stood awkwardly, close together, while Magee arranged the stools in a semicircle, facing the empty chair. He took one of the stools himself and waved a hand, inviting them to sit down.

  Emma sank quickly into the empty armchair. “This feels like the most comfortable seat in the whole world.”

  “You’ve obviously been somewhere very uncomfortable,” said Magee.

  “She was kidnapped,” Robert said roughly. “Kept in a hole under a conservatory floor. I think you know the place.”

  It was almost a question, but Magee didn’t answer it. Instead, he asked one of his own. “So how did she come to escape?”

  “We guessed where she was,” Robert said. “So we went to rescue her. And then Tom—and then Mr. Armstrong—” He stopped.

  Magee’s head turned slowly. “I thought it might be something like that,” he said. “Can you tell me what happened, Tom?” His stare was so piercing that it hurt.

  Tom looked down to avoid it. “I didn’t mean to do anything,” he muttered. “I just meant to grab Emma and take her out of there. But when I saw all the Armstrongs together, I couldn’t bear it. There was too much pressure. I just—” His voice died away.

  Magee didn’t let him stop there. “You just—what?” he said.

  “I—” Tom scrabbled for words to describe it. “I looked at Mr. Armstrong and I thought of the place. The way you told me to. And then I pushed with my mind, and suddenly—”

  Faltering again, he lifted his head and saw everyone staring at him. Robert and Emma looked completely bewildered, but Magee was nodding.

  “You found the power,” he said softly. “You felt the trap they were in, with all its pain and anger. And you found out how to break through and set them free. Well done.”

  “What do you mean?” Robert said irritably. “What trap? What did he break?”

  “He broke the pattern,” said Magee. “The situation that was ruining all their lives. He tapped into the power of that pain and used it. To play the game.”

  “The game?” Tom burst out. That was the last word he would have used. “How can you call it that?”

  Magee smiled. “I call it the Rescue Game. Or sometimes Magee’s Cure. Because it makes things better. And that’s what you did. You saved them, Tom.”

  Emma was still looking baffled. “Who did he save—apart from me?”

  “He saved all the Armstrongs,” said Magee. “And especially Mr. Armstrong.” He looked at Tom again. “Isn’t that right?”

  No, it’s not, Tom wanted to say. It’s WRONG. It must be wrong to interfere with someone’s life like that. But he wasn’t sure anymore. What he’d done, down in the black room, had broken the obsession that imprisoned all the Armstrongs. Wasn’t that a good thing?

  Robert was frowning, trying to understand what Magee was talking about. “I don’t get it,” he said. “What does he mean? What did you do, Tosh?”

  How could he be so obtuse? Wasn’t it obvious by now? Tom was almost angry as he spelled it out. “I did what Magee did to you. I shrank Mr. Armstrong. Pushed him out of the life he was living and dumped him down on the ground, on his own. To live or die.”

  As soon as he’d said the words, he saw that it hadn’t been obvious at all. Robert and Emma looked horrified.

  “That’s impossible,” Emma said. “You’re not like that, Tom. You’re good. You care about people.”

  “Of course he cares about people,” Magee said wearily. “That’s the whole point. Why do you think he has headaches and blurred vision and bruises all over his body? That’s what happens when you care too much—and you can’t do anything to help.”

  “I wasn’t like that before I met you,” Tom said gruffly. “Not the bruises and the headaches and everything. What have you done to me?”

  “I recognized you,” said Magee. “The first time I saw you, I knew you could be like me
. All you needed was . . . sharpening up a bit. Once I’d done that, it was only a matter of time before you discovered the power.”

  “I don’t want power!” Tom said fiercely. “Whatever you did, you’ve got to take it away. I just want to be an ordinary person.”

  Magee shook his head. “Your eyes are open now. You can see into people’s lives. There’s no going back on that. From now on, you have to live with the pain that brings. Or heal the pain by playing the Rescue Game.”

  “You mean I’m going to be like this forever?” Tom said. “For the rest of my life?”

  “It gets easier,” Magee said gently. “Once you understand how much you’re helping people.”

  Robert almost exploded. “Helping people? How can you call it that? Don’t you realize what it’s like, down there in the cavern? They spend their whole lives struggling to protect themselves and stay warm and find enough to eat. And then—when it gets really cold—they die.”

  “But everything they do has meaning,” said Magee. Suddenly his eyes were alight. “What does it matter if their lives are short? Every single moment is significant and intense and vital. Isn’t that better than what they’ve left behind?” His eyes sharpened, fixing on Robert’s face. “Are you trying to tell me it wasn’t better for you?”

  “I—” Robert hesitated and stopped.

  Tom could feel his angry confusion. And he understood what was holding him back. Robert had changed, down in the cavern. He’d grown stronger and braver and more confident, shaking off the fears that had held him back before.

  Wasn’t that a good thing?

  Emma was watching them both. Frowning, as though she was trying to puzzle things out. “Let me get this straight,” she said slowly. “Are you telling us Mr. Armstrong is down in the woods, Tom? In the cavern?”

  Tom nodded. “I think so.”

  “He’s down there now?” Emma said. “The way Robert was?”

  What was the matter with her? Why couldn’t she take it in? “That’s right,” Tom said. “I know it’s hard, but you’ve got to believe it, Em.”

  Emma frowned again. “So he’s down there with Hope?”