The Nightmare Game

by Gillian Cross

  “Not if he comes back, too,” Doherty growled. “You can’t stop that, can you? We have to keep everything secret—and that means not telling Warren.”

  Warren didn’t know what they were talking about. He glanced around at Emma, hoping she might explain, and she stared hard at him.

  “Can we trust you?” she said. “If we tell you, will you promise to keep the secret?”

  How could he promise without knowing what it was? That felt like jumping blindfolded off a cliff. No, said his brain. Don’t do it.

  Only—what would happen if he didn’t?

  He turned around, wildly, to look at Magee, remembering that steady hand on his back. “What should I do?” he said. “What’s the right thing?”

  “It’s your choice,” said Magee. “No one can make it for you.”

  There was nothing reliable anymore. No list of regulations to tell him how to act. Warren closed his eyes and took a leap into the dark.

  “All right,” he said. “I promise.”

  “Let’s get going then,” said Emma. She glanced at Magee. “What is it we have to do?”

  “I told you,” said Magee. “You have to go there and call her. That’s all. Except—wait a moment.”

  He went quickly into the bedroom and came out with an old gray blanket, pulled straight off the bed. Rolling it up, he held it out to Emma.

  “You’d better have this. Just in case something does happen.”

  Emma looked at the blanket for a moment and then tucked it under her arm. “All right,” she said. “But I still don’t really know what we’re doing. How do we call her?”

  Magee gave another of his strange little smiles. “You just call her name,” he said. “That’s all. If you need anything else, you’ll have to ask Warren. He knows all about it. Only—he doesn’t know that he knows. You’ll have to help him work it out.” He opened the door and stood back, to let them through.

  Emma went first, with Doherty close behind. Tom signaled to Warren to follow them. Stepping into the hallway, Warren heard Tom mutter to Magee.

  “What are you? You’re not like me.”

  “No, I’m not,” Magee said softly. “But you might be like me, one day. If that’s what you want.”

  And then he let Tom out and shut the door.

  24

  WITHOUT WARREN, THEY WOULDN’T EVEN HAVE GOT THERE. They’d used up most of their money already, catching the bus to Magee’s apartment. When Robert put his hand in his pocket at the bus stop, all he found was a handful of pennies. Tom was no better off, and Emma had nothing at all. Mrs. Armstrong had taken her backpack, with everything in it.

  “No—no, it’s all right,” Warren said quickly. “I can pay for everyone.” He pulled out a note and flapped it in front of them. “That’s enough for us all.”

  Robert looked at the money in that fat, pale hand and wished he didn’t have to take it. But it was their only chance of getting there before it was completely dark.

  “Thank you,” he said gruffly. He wished Warren would stop looking at him in that wide-eyed way, as if he was some kind of freak.

  He’d want to know everything now, of course. As soon as they were on the bus, he would expect them to explain where Hope was and why. Robert didn’t know where to begin.

  Your sister’s in another hole in the ground. She chose it instead of coming back to the one in your house, even though it’s smaller. Much, much smaller.

  Warren was never going to believe that. He probably wouldn’t even believe when they showed him. He wasn’t clever enough to understand—you only had to look at his face to see that.

  As soon as the bus came, Robert jumped on. He went straight down the bus, leaving Warren to buy the tickets, and sat next to a fat woman with a screaming toddler on her lap. At least he could avoid the questions until they were actually there. He didn’t want to talk to Warren. He wanted to think.

  All the others were focused on getting Hope out of the cavern, because she was the only person they knew down there. But it was different for him. He couldn’t help thinking about Bando and Cam. About Annet and Shang and—and every single person who had helped him and shared with him and been his friend. Was he going to take away their chance to be saved?

  What was right? How could he possibly choose?

  He saw Emma come down the bus to sit next to Warren. How could she bear to be near him, after what he’d done to her? Warren sat with his head down, frowning, and Emma didn’t speak to him. But when they reached the stop at the side of the park, she touched his arm.

  Warren jumped. “We’re getting off here?” He looked around, startled, as if it was the last kind of place he had expected.

  “That’s where we lost Hope,” Emma said. “Didn’t your father tell you?”

  Warren shook his head, staring apprehensively into the woods. For a moment, Robert wondered what Mr. Armstrong had said to make him so frightened. But he wasn’t going to ask. He walked briskly down the bus and stepped out onto the pavement.

  As the bus pulled away, they went into the woods, following the path in single file, with Robert leading the way. When they reached the hedge, he stepped off the path and turned along the ditch. It was almost dark now, and the sky was completely clear. It was going to be a very cold night.

  If they didn’t rescue Lorn now, the winter was likely to kill her, too. Then she wouldn’t be able to help anyone.

  They had to call her.

  When they were level with the tunnel entrance, he stopped, looking across the ditch. “We’re here,” he said in a flat voice.

  The hedge bank was a shadow in front of them, with the black twisted bushes of the hedge rising out of it, almost completely leafless now. Warren stared ahead for a second and then looked around wildly.

  “Where?” he said. “I don’t understand. Where is she?”

  “Hang on,” said Tom. “I’ve got a flashlight.”

  They never did that. They never used flashlights in case people came to see what was happening. But they’d taken so many risks already that one more didn’t seem to matter. Robert didn’t protest as Tom took out his little flashlight and switched it on.

  The beam was weak and narrow. Tom had to hunt for a few moments, shining it up and down, before he found the right hole in the bank, among all the other almost identical holes. When he’d worked out where it was, he held the light steady on the entrance.

  “There you are,” he said evenly. “That’s where she is.”

  For a second, Warren looked bewildered. Then an expression of horror came over his face. “You’ve killed her,” he whispered. “You’ve killed her—and buried her in the park.” He sounded terrified.

  “Of course we haven’t killed her,” Robert said impatiently. “Why would we be bothering to do this if we thought she was dead? She’s alive, under the earth, but she’s very, very small.”

  “How small?” Warren whispered. He could hardly get the words out.

  Robert lifted his right hand into the light, holding the thumb and forefinger a half an inch apart. “You don’t have to believe it,” he said. “But I’ve been there. I know it’s true.”

  Warren stared at the fingers without moving, as though he’d turned to stone. After a moment, Emma touched his arm.

  “It’s all unbelievable,” she said gently. “When Robert and Tom first told me you had a room under your conservatory, I thought they were being ridiculous. But that was true. And so is this.”

  “And, anyway,” said Tom, “what have you got to lose? We’re only asking you to call Hope’s name. Nothing difficult.”

  But it is difficult, Robert thought. Were they meant to make a loud noise or call softly? One after another, or all at once? Who was going to begin? He glanced at the others, feeling stupid and embarrassed. And afraid, too, in an odd, irrational way.

  “I suppose we’ve just got to—go for it,” Emma said awkwardly. She knelt down carefully and called in a low voice. “Hope? Are you there?”

  Nothing ha
ppened. She called again, repeating the name for almost a minute, but when she stopped, nothing had changed. The dark woods were still, except for the noise of cars beyond the trees.

  “Let’s do it together,” said Tom. “That’s what Magee said.”

  He knelt beside her and the two of them called in unison. “Hope! Please come. Hope!”

  The sound sank into the earth and disappeared among the dark intertwined branches of the hedge.

  Of course nothing’s happening, Robert thought bitterly. It was never going to work. We can’t save Lorn, and she won’t be alive to save the others either. Magee just wanted to get rid of us, so he sent us here to make fools of ourselves.

  He shook his head angrily, trying to blot out the mocking, cynical voices in his mind. To stop himself thinking about them, he crouched down quickly on Emma’s other side. Without waiting for the others, he called into the darkness.

  “Hope!”

  As soon as he’d said it, he knew that he’d used the wrong name. Because it wasn’t Hope he wanted—that pathetic, stunted girl with her matted hair. He wanted Lorn, his friend. Lorn, who’d risked her life to save him.

  Leaning forward, over the ditch, he called again. “Lorn! You can’t stay there. You’ll freeze to death. Please come out. Lorn!”

  And it still didn’t work. Of course not. How could it be that simple? He’d had to make a long, dangerous journey to get back to his full size. He’d seen Nate die and risked his own life crossing the road. Wasn’t that how it had to be? Wasn’t the suffering the price you had to pay?

  “Lorn!” he called into the shadows, again and again. Hearing his voice start to crack.

  What was Warren doing? Glancing over his shoulder, Robert saw that he was still standing behind them, like a lump of lard. Probably laughing like crazy inside his head. The three of them must look ridiculous, kneeling in the mud and talking to a hedge.

  “Magee said you had to do this, too,” Robert hissed savagely. “Come on.”

  Warren stumbled forward and lurched down onto his knees next to Robert. “What do I do?” he muttered.

  What had Magee said? Warren knows all about it. Only—he doesn’t know that he knows. Huh! That made about as much sense as the rest of it. Robert turned his head slightly, just enough to see Warren’s fat face. “You heard what we were doing. Just join in and call.”

  “Oh. Yes.” Warren cleared his throat nervously. Then he looked sideways at Robert, waiting for him to start.

  This is farcical. How can it change anything? Let’s just get it over so we can say that we’ve done it. Robert tried to ignore the heavy sound of Warren’s breathing as he called again.

  “Lorn! Where are you?”

  Tom and Emma joined in. “Hope! Hope—come out.”

  And after a second, Warren added his voice to theirs, sounding stiff and unconvincing. “Hope. Hope, we’re calling you. Come here, Hope.”

  Nothing. They waited, holding their breath and staring at the hedge bank, but nothing had changed. Except that the bank had grown darker while they knelt there. The air around them was colder and the little circle of light from Tom’s flashlight looked more and more feeble and pale. Robert could feel the chill of the earth seeping into his body.

  “How long are we going on with this?” he muttered. “We’ve done what Magee said, and it hasn’t worked. I can’t bear much more.”

  “Let’s give it one more try,” said Emma. “Just so we know we did the best we could.” She gave Warren an encouraging smile. “Give it all you’ve got.” Sinking back on to her heels, she called in a low, intense voice. “Hope! Please come.”

  Obediently, Warren joined in. “Hope? Are you there? Hope—”

  Tom was on the verge of calling, too. But he stopped suddenly, catching his breath. “There’s something wrong,” he said abruptly. “I can feel—”

  “Someone watching?” Robert looked around sharply.

  “No. Nothing like that.” Tom hunted for words. “It’s more—a sort of obstacle. As if—”

  “Yes?” said Robert. And then, when he didn’t answer, “Oh, go on, Tosh. Don’t fool around. What kind of obstacle?”

  “Someone’s holding something back,” Tom said hesitantly. “When we call Hope, someone’s not really doing it.”

  “But that’s silly.” Emma shook her head. “You’ve heard us all. How else can we do it?”

  “Warren knows,” Robert said. Speaking the words that kept going around and around in his mind. “Warren knows all about that—but he doesn’t know that he knows. He’s the one who’s holding back.”

  “But I’m not—I can’t—what do you want me to do?” Warren said frantically. “I called her, just like everyone else. I called—”

  “—just like everyone else,” Emma said slowly. “But you’re not like the rest of us, are you? You’re her brother. And you like playing with names. You like—wait a minute.” She was still wearing Robert’s coat and she began to hunt in the pockets, feeling for something.

  “What is it?” said Robert. “What have you got?”

  Emma took out a crumpled piece of paper and pulled it straight. “Quick, Tom. Shine the flashlight so I can see if I’m right.”

  Robert leaned closer, trying to read what was written on the paper. It looked like a list of nonsense to him. MY OTHER DAME . . . MARY THE DEMO . . . MEMORY DEATH . . . But Emma ran her finger down it and then turned on Warren.

  “They’re all me, aren’t they? All anagrams of my name.”

  “I—I—” Warren was stuttering so much that he couldn’t speak.

  “Hope likes patterns,” Emma said excitedly. “And so do you—but you make yours out of letters. When she gave you a braid for your bag, did you give her something back? Did you jumble her ordinary name and make her a new one?”

  “That’s the one you should be using,” said Tom. “Because that’s what you call her in your mind. Come on. What is it?”

  “No,” Warren said. Very fast. “No, it’s nothing. I can’t—

  “Of course you can,” Robert said impatiently. He reached across and took the flashlight out of Tom’s hand. “Come on. If you don’t tell us—”

  He twisted around and pointed the flashlight at Warren. He didn’t really mean to threaten him. He just wanted him to know that he had to tell them his private name for Hope. That there was no chance of keeping it secret. So he pointed the flashlight straight at Warren’s face.

  And he saw—terror.

  Warren’s mouth was frozen open and his eyes were staring. He couldn’t have spoken if he’d wanted to.

  He can’t be afraid of me, Robert thought. Not like that. He can’t.

  But he was. There was no escaping it. Robert recognized the fear he’d felt himself when he saw his friend Nate in the hedge-tiger’s jaws. The fear that had paralyzed him when he lay flat on the road, tiny and defenseless, as a gigantic car roared over him in the dark. To Warren, he was like that. A monster too huge to escape from, too big to fight.

  That’s not fair. That’s not how I am.

  But it was a waste of time to think like that. There was only one way to stop frightening Warren. It felt like the hardest thing he’d ever done, but he made himself turn the flashlight, to show his own face.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. Trying to look as though he meant it. Trying to mean it. “I shouldn’t have bullied you. I just—” The words were true, but saying them to Warren made them as bitter as ashes in his mouth. “I just can’t bear the idea of losing her. But I will, unless you help me. Please, Warren. Please call her properly.”

  “I—I—” They could hear Warren breathing hard in the dark. Struggling to speak. “They’re all stupid,” he said at last. “I just can’t—”

  I’ll do anything to get her back. Robert had thought it inside his head a million times. But he hadn’t thought it would be so hard when it happened. He hadn’t expected it to be so painful. “Please,” he said again. He reached out and touched Warren’s arm, turning the flashli
ght just enough to see him.

  Warren still looked afraid. But now his mouth was trembling. “Her name isn’t very good for patterns,” he said. “Not like Emma’s. I kept making new ones, and she liked that, but they’re all stupid. You’ll laugh.”

  “No, we won’t,” Emma said gently. “I promise we won’t.”

  Robert tried to imagine what it must be like to be so afraid of something like that. “We won’t laugh,” he said. “Just tell us. What do you call her?”

  Warren took a long deep breath and looked down at the ground. “I call her H. Poor-Garments,” he mumbled. “Hoprag Monster, H.P. Strange-Room, Prongo Hamster, Honest Program, Graphomonster . . .”

  Long before he finished, he was in tears.

  25

  FROM THE SHOULDER OF THE GREAT EARTHEN PILLAR, LORN looked down at her father and knew that she was safe. He was smaller than the image she had made—and too clumsy and heavy to climb its steep, high sides.

  When she leaned forward to see him better, the flaming eyes threw her shadow long and dark across his face. He knew who she was. She could see that in his eyes. And she could see that he understood the image, too. That it had shocked him.

  He’d heard her story.

  The others were shocked, too. Annet was gazing up at the monster, white with disbelief, and Perdew’s mouth was tight and twisted, as if the sight was painful. All along the line, the faces Lorn knew so well—the faces of her friends—showed that they were seeing what she meant them to see.

  Except for Bando, of course. He was frowning angrily and clenching his fists, but he didn’t really understand. “I would have rescued that girl!” he said fiercely. “If I’d been with the robbers, I would have broken the door down and saved her! I would have killed her father!”

  It was true. He would. And if that was the kind of justice she wanted, all she had to do was point a finger and shout. He’s there! He’s standing next to you! Still caught up in the story she’d told, Bando would have turned and seen—what she wanted him to see. He would have lashed out, using all his massive, simple strength, confident that what he was doing was right.