Alice makes a snarky face. “The padlock wasn’t closed, you wanger.”
She holds it up in her hand.
We stare in silence. It has come to this. It takes the girl with the
concussion to see what’s right in front of our noses.
“I dunno,” she mumbles. “Sometimes you losers like making things
more complicated for yourselves.”
Smitty lets out a peal of laughter and claps Alice on the back as he
pulls the gates open.
Everyone is buoyed by our success, and once we’ve re-wrapped the
chain around the gate behind us, we hurry with newly strong legs over
the expanse of snow that separates us from the castle door.
The dark hulk of the castle crouches above us, the light from the
single window casting an orange glow at our feet. We climb a few shallow steps up to the door. The window is too high to see in; there’s no
curtain, but the glass is latticed with thin strips of lead. Not exactly
prison bars, but way better than we could have hoped for. If we get in,
there ain’t no way any Undead are gonna follow without some kind
of missile launchers, and I haven’t seen them pull that particular trick
just yet.
Smitty tries the huge, round handle. It’s obviously just for show.
“Maybe we should ring the bell first?” I point to a discreet metal buzzer
to the side of the door. “We don’t want to scare whoever’s in there.”
Alice is already leaning on it. We wait, straining to hear approaching
steps. Smitty presses his ear to the door.
“This is where the mad axman who lives here slices me through the
face from the other side of the door.” He grins at me.
“Don’t,” I say. Seriously, it could absolutely happen today.
Smitty tries banging on the door instead. Alice sinks to the ground
again, little Cam starts to whine in his sister’s arms, and Pete casts more freaked-out looks in the direction of the lane. But nobody comes to the door.
“So we go in the back.” Smitty is already walking away.
“No!” Lily calls out. She puts Cam down and gets a plastic bag out of
her pocket, lays it on the snow-covered step, and sits. “We’ve gone far
enough. You go round the back. When you find a way, come and let us
in, aye?”
Smitty is fine with that. Alice and Pete are more than fine. I hover
between the two camps; part of me wanting to stay put, the other not
wanting Smitty to go alone. But my pause for thought is enough to
ensure he slips off into the darkness without me. I’ll wait five minutes, I think, then I’ll go after him.
The wind has dropped. As I sit on the step between Alice and Lily,
something tickles me on the nose. I look up; it’s snowing again. Just a
few flakes.
“No,” moans Alice. “Like we need some more of that stuff.”
Cam begins to cry and squirm on Lily’s lap. “Hey now, laddie,” she says
to him softly. “Any minute now we’ll be cozy inside with a canny roaring
fire to sit beside.” He clings to her and she breathes onto his blond head.
“We can make toast,” she continues. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Make
some toast on the fire like we did at Christmas?” she says. The boy nods.
“Who knows? They might have marshmallows in there, an’ all.”
I’m kind of dubious about her giving it the big buildup, but for now
it seems to be working. Cam’s excited by the marshmallows idea. He
squirms out of his sister’s lap and stands at the bottom of the steps,
grinning.
“So, show me how you’re going to toast marshmallows like a big boy,
then?” Lily says.
He holds out his hand like he’s got a fork, bending his knees and leaning toward us like we’re the fire. It’s too cute for words. Everyone laughs, even Pete.
“Watch out!” Lily says, her fingers wiggling like they’re flames. “The
fire’s getting higher!” Her hands move toward him. “Don’t get burnt!”
With a squeal of delight he snatches away the imaginary fork before
her fingers can get too close. I raise my hands, too; the fire just got
bigger. He does the same trick on me, and I leave it until a little longer before the flames rise, to make the joke better. He takes a couple of steps backward into the snow, which is almost waist deep on him. Then it’s Alice’s turn, and when she reaches for him, he retreats farther still, picking his way through our footprints, through the falling snow, his little legs surprisingly fast.
“Careful now!” Lily warns, but there’s no real worry in her voice. It’s
soft snow. He can’t go far and he can’t hurt himself if he falls.
As if to prove the point, he does exactly that as he tries to return to
the steps. He’s on his back, swimming in a sea of the white stuff, giggling his head off. We laugh, too, and I wonder at how Cam can be running for his life one moment, then playing without a care the next.
“He’s a sweetie.” I turn to Lily. “Have you got any more brothers and
sisters?”
“Just him.” She smiles at me. “He’s a right pain at times. You obviously
don’t have a younger brother, or you’d know.”
“No, it’s just me,” I say.
Her face hardens. “Yeah, it’s just us two now. Mam was in the
café . . .”
“I know,” I say. “I’m really sorry.”
“Since we moved here she used to take him there every Saturday
because he liked the milk shakes,” she says quietly. “That’s what we were
doing there.” She shakes her head. “She said it could be our new family
tradition.”
“So where had you been hiding all this time?” I ask gently. “You and
Cam were in the car, weren’t you? And your mum went back in. What
happened?”
Lily exhales loudly, staring out into the dark, and I see her eyes water.
“We argued. Last thing I told her was that she was stupid to bring
us here.”
“So what happened?”
“She’d left her scarf in the café. Dad gave it to her last Christmas.
I told her she should just leave it — like Dad left us — but she went back.”
“I’m sorry,” I say again. “And then?”
Lily pauses, checking to see if her brother is listening. But he’s still
playing in the snow, building a little nest around himself.
“Cam was crying. I turned up the radio really loud, shut my eyes,
waited. When she didn’t come back, I thought she was making a point.
Wanted us to come after her or something. The car heater was on; I must
have dozed off. The next thing I knew, the garage was exploding, and
your bus was disappearing up the hill.”
“Did you stay in the car all night?” Alice is incredulous.
“No,” Lily says. “We went into the café, looked for Mam. Then we
met one of those . . . things, and hid in a cupboard for the night. It was scratching at the door for hours, then it just gave up and went away. In the morning we went back to the car and tried to start it, but it wouldn’t.
I saw you come back in the bus. Thought if we hid on it, you would drive
us out of there.”
“And you left the bus door open,” I say. “Smitty and I thought it was
the zoms.”
“We were in the hold all along,” Lily almost smiles. “Didn’t want to
come out, in case you chucked us off again.”
“Yo
u were brave.” I try to sound reassuring. “You took care of Cam.”
Lily shakes her head. “Should never have been at the café in the first
place. Crap milk shakes in a crap café.”
“Your village was totally infected, by the looks of things,” Pete interjects. “If it makes you feel any better, you probably all would have bought it if you’d stayed at home.”
“Pete!” I gasp.
“Shut up!” Lily scrambles to her feet, incensed. “Cam!” she calls.
“Come here, now!” She turns to Pete. “You should watch your tongue, or
I’ll slap your stupid face!” she spits. “Don’t you ever be saying things like that again around me or my brother, do you hear me?” She glances in the direction of the little boy again. “Come here, Cam! Now!”
“Doggy,” says Cam, from the snow.
“I’m sorry.” Pete is on his feet, too. “I was just trying to be realistic.
I thought it would help.”
“Well, it doesn’t,” Lily says. “Cam! Here, now!”
“Doggy,” says Cam again. “Here, Doggy-Doggy!”
We all turn to look.
Cam is sitting in his nest of snow. And a few feet away is a large,
black, snarling dog.
1 6
Lily half gasps, half yelps, and I instinctively shoot out an arm to stop
her from dashing to Cam. (Starting to get good at that.) He holds out a
stubby hand and wiggles his fingers, as if offering to tickle Doggy under
the chinny chin-chin.
“Cam!” Lily shouts. “Keep still!”
Drool is running from the dog’s chops.
“Shit,” says Pete. “Is it infected?”
“Even if it’s not, it’s angry.” I look for our stuff. Two boards lie at the base of the steps, but if I make move for one of them, the dog might attack.
“Do something!” Alice is cowering behind me.
Looks like Cam is beginning to feel cold and wet in his snow-nest,
and maybe he’s sensing the dog isn’t too keen on becoming best friends.
He begins to grizzle and twist around, looking back to us and holding
up his arms to Lily, asking to be picked up. The dog doesn’t like this, and begins to bark. As Cam flops onto all fours, the dog pounces toward him, stopping just short of Cam’s nest.
“Hey, Rover!”
Before I know what I’m doing, I’ve leapt down the steps into the snow
and am striding away from the castle as fast as I can. I clap my hands.
“Here, boy!”
The dog backs off Cam and skitters around in a tight circle as if chasing its tail. It is acting kind of crazy. And lucky for me, I have its full attention now. It flattens its ears and runs a larger circle around me.
Out of the corner of my eye I see Lily scoop up Cam, and Pete and Alice
go for the boards. They flatten themselves against the door and start
banging on it, calling for Smitty. The dog keeps running around me, as
if it’s herding up a flock of sheep. The snarling has stopped, but the crazy hasn’t. I don’t notice anyone stepping up to create a diversion so that I can get away. Nope, now it’s just the anti-Marley and me.
There’s a creaking sound from the direction of the castle. I see the
door open and Pete, Alice, Lily, and Cam practically fall inside. Smitty
appears in the doorway, confusion writ large on his face.
“What are you doing?” He stares at me, then spots the dog. “Oh, hello
again, old chap! That’s where you got to.” He bends down and claps
his hands. The dog stops running, pricks up its ears, and wags its tail.
Without so much as a glance at me, it trots inside, barely pausing for a
pat on the head from Smitty.
“Problem?” Smitty smiles at me.
“Not at all.” I hurry toward him. “Except that dog wants to munch
on Cam.” I quickly move past him and into the castle. Alice, Lily, and
Cam are hiding behind the door. Pete stands in the middle of a large,
dark hall.
“The dog went in there.” Pete points to the room where the light had
been coming from. He gives a lopsided and proud smile. “I shut the door.”
“Thank god.” Lily shudders. “He was going to attack.”
“Nah . . . soft old mutt like that?” Smitty says. “Probably just doesn’t
like little kids. Lots of dogs don’t, and who can blame them, frankly?
Anyway, his bed’s in there, he probably just wants some shut-eye.” He
feels around on the wall. “Must be a light switch here somewhere.”
“You took your time,” I mutter. “Couldn’t resist checking out the
entire castle before you bothered to see if we were freezing to death —
or worse?”
Smitty pouts at me, his eyes twinkling in spite of the gloom. “Only the
ground floor. For everybody’s safety.”
If someone was going to appear, they would have appeared by now,
I figure. We’ve made enough noise.
“How did you get in?” Pete asks Smitty.
“By cunning and ingenuity,” he says. “And the back door. It wasn’t
locked, either. People who live in the country do the craziest things.”
“Got it.” Alice hits the lights, and we all gasp.
We’re standing on a polished dark wood floor and the light is coming from a trio of crystal chandeliers that hang from the high ceiling. In front of us is a sweeping staircase, and on the walls hang faded tapes-tries of birds and dogs and horses. There are bookshelves and dressers and sideboards. Little statues and big statues. One of those old-fashioned bikes with one big wheel and one little one. And a huge globe
of the world, the countries painted in yellows and greens, the sea a deep
and stormy purple. Cam runs to it and pushes it, giggling. The colors
blend into one as it spins.
“Careful,” Lily says quietly.
It’s like a movie set. You could have the best parties here.
“Oh my Goth,” Alice says, pointing. “It’s a coffin.”
We move toward it. It’s tall and black, standing on its end against the
wall underneath the staircase. There’s a glass square on the lid.
“A window!” says Alice. “That’s sick.” She turns and looks at us, her
face incredulous. “Do vampires live here?” she whispers.
Smitty giggles. “Wouldn’t you love that? Some pale-faced, doe-eyed
pretty boy to suck on your neck?” He takes a peep into the window.
“Edward’s not home. Sorry, Malice.”
She sticks her tongue out at him. He smiles back.
“Anyway, it’s not a coffin, it’s an iron maiden,” he says.
“Yeah, right,” Alice says.
“Actually, he is right,” says Pete. “It’s pretty cool to see a real one.”
“Weren’t you listening in History, Malice?” Smitty says. “It’s full of
spikes. They used to put you in there and close the lid if you’d been a
naughty girl.”
“Of course I remember,” Alice says. “But who owns one of those things
anyway? And why would you name it after some crumbly old rock band?”
“Some crumbly old —” Before Smitty can rip her to pieces, I interrupt.
The girl is concussed, after all.
“So, show us around,” I tell him. “We need to secure this place before
we can rest up for the night.”
Smitty’s in his element. He grabs a fencing sword, tries it for size,
then tosses it to Pete. “This is more your style.” He finds something that looks like a decorative ax. “Hmm. This’ll do.”
“Yeah,” snarls Alice. “If you wanna lo
ok like some dwarf from
The Lord of the Rings.”
I think he’s quite impressed Alice has even heard of The Lord of the
Rings. Either way, his joy with the ax is undiminished. “Follow me!” he
cries, and takes the door on the left-hand side of the hall. We follow.
“So the layout is symmetrical,” he stage-whispers to Alice. “That
means it’s the same on either side of the staircase.” She rolls her eyes.
“Except for the tower that’s at the back by the kitchen. Didn’t check that, but it’s locked and there’s no key I could find.” He flicks on the light and affects a posh Scottish accent. “This is the drawing room.”
It’s full-on McFancy: blue and green tartan wallpaper that feels
like velvet, a deep carpet, and an assortment of uncomfortable-looking
antique furniture. Next there’s a dining room, with a long polished table
and cabinets full of silver jugs and trinkets. Then Smitty’s leading us
through a kitchen with one of those big farmhouse ovens that look big
enough to cook a whole cow.
“This is still warm!” Alice says, hovering her hands above the stove.
“They’re always warm, those ovens,” Lily says. Cam is in her arms
again. After his burst of activity he’s out for the count and snoring
quietly. “It doesn’t mean anything.”
“What’s this?” Alice lifts a shutter in the wall next to the oven and
sticks her head in. “Urgh!” She clatters the shutter down again,
and wipes imagined dust from her hands. “It’s a secret passage!”
Smitty’s straight in there, shutter open, his head up into the hole,
looking around.
“Nuh-uh,” he says. “It’s one of those old-fashioned moving shelf things
they used to send food upstairs.”
“Dumbwaiter,” I say.
“Kind of random insult there, Roberta.”
“No,” I repeat, “it’s called a dumbwaiter.”
“If you say so, Roberta,” Smitty says. “I’m not smart enough to know.”
Pete shouts from the other side of the room. “There’s a pantry here.
And two fridges full of food.” He holds up a half-empty bottle of milk.
“It’s still fresh.”
“Food! Gimme!” A day ago Alice would not have been seen dead
rushing to get food, but that was a day ago. And once she goes for it, we
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