by Tom Hoyle
The instant he put the music back on he was surrounded. Shadowy, vague shapes appeared. He could hear growling, then barking, getting sharper and louder.
Dogs. His worst fear.
His eyes were blurred and he couldn’t blink them away. Yelping and howling, ever closer. The shapes became more like people, but not quite people . . . they were hunched over, with bent legs and arms.
Max could see their hair – dogs’ hair. Their faces: DOGS’ HEADS.
What’s happening to me? I’m going mad.
They were around him, jostling, barking furiously – slobbering against his face – making his heart race. Terror bolted through him like lightning. He tried to shout for help but it emerged as a strangled gasp.
They were inside his head, the noise echoing in his brain. He tore at his own face. He barked and howled like a wolf. He put his paw to his face and felt bristly fur.
He bit his hand and shook his head from side to side, trying to shake his arm from his body.
Max fell to the ground.
When he woke up, he was 260 miles away.
Max wasn’t the only one. Eleven other children were taken in the second half of that year.
Champion Swimmer Goes Missing .
Brilliant Young Musician Disappears .
School Maths Genius Vanishes Without Trace.
Other papers carried similar stories. An artist, a computer designer, a linguist (seven languages) and a writer all disappeared without a trace. All were aged between fourteen and sixteen. All were considered prodigies – the best of their generation.
They were taken by people willing to wait for the ideal opportunity to take the right person. It was important that no talent was missing.
When Max awoke, he could see eleven other captives. But there was one place remaining. A central place. A thirteenth place.
Those who had taken Max had a very strong belief about who must fill it. Someone who had already proved himself unique.
‘Let me out! Please, please, let me go. I’ll do anything.’ Max hammered on the glass. ‘Please!’
They wanted him to be happy, but they wouldn’t let him go. He had to stay until they could all make the journey.
CHAPTER 4
OLIVER (FRIDAY 31ST OCTOBER 2014)
At lunchtime, Asa sidled alongside Adam, his face knotted with worry. ‘Adam, mate, I have a crisis.’ Asa was often having crises. Three-quarters were girl-related, and most of the rest were to do with clothes.
‘Yeah? Has Rachel discovered the size and shape of what’s in your pants?’
‘No, she hasn’t.’ All sorts of thoughts were bubbling up in Asa’s head. ‘Well, maybe she has.’
‘Ah. That is a crisis.’
Asa looked Adam right in the eye. ‘Biology. After lunch. Mrs Cook. Homework. Not done. Me no comprendo. You’re my only hope.’
‘No way!’ said Adam through his teeth. ‘You’re not copying mine.’
‘Adam, man, you’re my saviour. And you copied my history last week.’
‘I got a detention for that, you idiot. I’m telling you, you’re not copying mine. No. Can. Do.’ He put his hands up in a double-stop signal. ‘Look: mine’s a copy of Meg’s with a few mistakes thrown in to make it look genuine, which I got as long as I didn’t let you anywhere near it.’
‘That girl wears the trousers in your relationship.’ Asa’s face had the cheeky look that usually preceded something rude, but another thought soon occurred to him. ‘In that case, I’ll have to copy Leo’s. Greedy bastard. Come on – I’ll have to get to the shop: his price has gone up – it’s a Dairy Milk and a Galaxy. You’d think I’d get a reduction as his best customer.’
Going out of the school grounds was strictly forbidden for anyone below Year 12, but Adam and Asa had made the journey a handful of times, despite the warnings and threats (and alleged dangers) associated with such an expedition. As they headed across the playground, Megan and Oliver walked towards them.
‘Hi, Meg,’ said Adam. ‘We’re just going for a walk.’
She immediately looked suspicious.
‘Yeah,’ Asa added, ‘just off for a bit of fresh air.’
Megan was about to do her best to stop what was obviously a trip to the shop, when Oliver mentioned that he would like to join them on their walk.
‘You’ll be fine with us,’ said Adam, pleased to take Oliver with them. ‘Nothing can go wrong.’
‘Look after him,’ Megan said, smiling.
‘OK, Mum,’ said Asa, who kept talking as they wandered across the playground. ‘Oliver, you’re gonna have your first lesson into the dark side of Gospel Oak.’
Adam took over, his arm on Oliver’s shoulder. ‘Oliver, let us show you the three S’s.’ They went down some steps and passed what used to be bike sheds. A few boys and girls with black hair and pale skin were hanging around. ‘ Skivers . If you want to bunk off a lesson, this is the best place to come.’
The trio were met with blank stares and silence.
After the disused weather station they passed a tatty brick-built bungalow. ‘The old caretaker’s house,’ said Asa. On the far side were two entangled couples. ‘ Snoggers .’
One of the girls opened her eyes and saw the passing trio. ‘Hi, Asa, Adam,’ she said in a brief pause. One of the boys waved.
Ahead there was a narrow opening in a line of bushes and a bit of worn grass that indicated a track. Inside there was a sheltered area about eight feet square. Boys and girls from Years 12 and 13 sat on logs. ‘ Smokers ,’ said Adam.
‘Adam, dude,’ said one of the boys.
Then they dashed into the shop, which was right next to the track’s exit. ‘You break my heart,’ said Asa as he saw Adam buying some liquorice, obviously for Megan.
Oliver had been quiet for most of the journey, but now he spoke up as he looked out of the window. ‘That blue Toyota was in the school car park earlier. Same number plate. And I saw the driver in assembly.’ The car was reversing into a space opposite.
‘You’re right,’ said Adam, exchanging impressed nods with Asa. ‘It’s Mr Baxter out to buy a packet of fags.’
They paid very quickly – the shopkeeper keen to assist regular customers – and ran.
Adam and Asa handed in their work to Mrs Cook. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘This looks good.’ The boys were very pleased with themselves.
Infectious diseases had started off as a topic with lots of potential, but most of the class had long since lost interest filling in worksheets and copying from the board. Adam and Asa had somehow evaded the seating plan and were together on the back row, behind Megan and Rachel.
‘Great scenery,’ said Asa, just loud enough to be overheard, as Rachel bent over to get something from her bag.
The lesson – a double – had reached that happy point, about halfway through the second period, when Adam and Asa realized that the interest of the few, and the general misbehaviour of the many, made it possible to get their phones out.
‘Candy time,’ said Asa as he started playing his latest obsession. Upright textbook as a shield, Adam was risking Angry Birds Star Wars when he heard Oliver.
‘The majority of infections start as asymptomatic,’ Oliver was saying. Megan and Leo seemed to understand what this strange language meant. ‘And the book isn’t right about Japanese encephalitis. It comes from pigs more often than birds.’
‘Ha!’ said Adam, leaning over to Asa. ‘That’ll put a sock in Leo’s gob. Oliver knows it all.’ He glanced at Asa’s phone; now he certainly wasn’t playing a game – there was an image of a very attractive woman wearing not very much. ‘LDR?’ he asked.
‘Yep.’ Asa was admiring a picture of Lana Del Rey. ‘Fit. And look at this.’
Oliver’s detailed explanations of diseases receded into background noise. This time it wasn’t Lana Del Rey. It was a blonde girl on a beach, topless.
‘Great tits!’ said Asa.
Adam nodded and grinned in enthusiastic agreement.
&nb
sp; Somewhere in the distance, Oliver again corrected Leo on a point of detail.
Then—
‘I’ll take that.’ It was Mrs Cook, plucking the phone, image still on display, from Asa’s hand. Megan and Rachel flanked her as she peered at the screen. ‘You two are disgusting. You’re coming to Mr Sterling’s office right now.’
Adam could feel his face redden as Megan looked up from the picture and shook her head, lips tighter than usual. ‘But – it – we –’ he stammered.
‘They suddenly popped out,’ mumbled Asa, searching for the right words to plead with Mrs Cook. ‘I mean popped up. I mean . . .’
Phone first, held at arm’s length like a dangerous specimen, Mrs Cook marched the boys to Mr Sterling’s office. She outlined the course of events with worrying accuracy.
Mr Sterling waited until Mrs Cook had left the room. He didn’t know how to make the picture disappear from the screen so put it face down on his desk. He asked all the usual questions that didn’t really have answers. ‘Why were you not concentrating?’ and ‘Don’t you want to learn?’ and ‘Are you unaware that phones are banned in lessons?’
Adam and Asa answered everything with apologies.
‘And what lesson was this in?’ he asked.
‘Sorry,’ said Asa.
‘Biology,’ said Adam.
Mr Sterling glanced at the picture as he handed the phone back. ‘Evidently.’
CHAPTER 5
ABBIE (PAST AND PRESENT)
‘You can’t cross without paying respect to us, and that means money. Now.’ He held out his palm.
The wasteland was easily the fastest route home from the centre of town. ‘Yeah? And you three psychos are going to make me, are you?’ Abbie Hopkins sneered. Her blue eyes, narrowed and fierce, glared from boy to boy.
The middle boy, holding a stick, was emboldened by having his mates on either side of him. ‘Pay now. Or else . . .’ He tapped the stick in his palm.
It was a stupid territorial matter. No one was allowed to pass through this wasteland without giving respect to the gang leader. The boys were fourteen- or fifteen-year-olds playing at being gangsters.
‘Just show respect ,’ said the scrawniest of the three in a voice that was not quite broken. ‘This is our land.’ He kept glancing at his mates.
‘Or maybe we’ll make you give us something else . . .’ Now it was the tallest one on the right, who really fancied himself. His square jaw and broad shoulders meant that he was the only one with any hint of menace. He looked at Abbie’s tight grey T-shirt and shoulder-length blonde hair.
Their victim snarled. ‘I’ll give you my knee in your balls so hard they’ll pop out your eyes.’
Victim? Abbie stood with her head on one side, showing no fear at all: a stand-off with three boys on one side and one girl on the other. Fair odds , she thought.
She tried going left, but was blocked, so shoved the boy backwards with both hands. He caught one foot against a piece of metal and sprawled on to some bricks. He looked up at his mates, silently urging them to do something.
Without warning, the stick came towards Abbie, catching her on the chin. Instinctively her hand went up to the wound, returning covered in blood.
Before she could react, all three boys ran, fast. From a safe distance away, they whooped and gestured rudely.
‘Come back here . . . Come on! I’ll take you on all at the same time!’ Abbie hurled a series of insults at them as blood ran off her chin and dripped on to weeds.
That was how she got her scar. She was thirteen at the time.
The next three years had not been easy for Abbie. Her father’s work took him away from home for long periods, and it was during one of these times that her mother became sick, going from slender to skinny, and then becoming pale and weak. It was after two months that the doctors used the term cancer , but that word was never said again. ‘Six months to a year to live’ actually turned out to mean a scraping-down-a-blackboard decline over about two years until finally life was wrenched from her.
At the funeral, Abbie was surprised by how little she knew of her parents’ friends – and how little she knew about her dad.
Abbie thought it was stupid having a party after the funeral. She spent a while shrugging off embarrassing adults simpering the same unhelpful drivel, then went up to her room and listened to ‘One’ by Metallica over and over again until everyone left.
‘Abbie, come down,’ called her father. ‘We need to talk.’
Half-eaten pork pies, cake wrappers and other detritus of the party were left scattered around. ‘Yeah?’ said Abbie, turning up the depressing music her dad was playing.
Her dad pressed stop. ‘Now is the time for us to think about the future.’
She looked at her dad. He was virtually a stranger. ‘OK.’
‘I’m into something at work and want to see it through. It’ll mean some time away. Maybe a month or so. You can stay with Uncle Brian and Aunt Anne. You like them.’ Uncle Brian and Aunt Anne were the type who still went to Ibiza in their fifties.
‘Sure.’ Abbie wondered what was going on behind her dad’s heavy-lidded eyes. ‘OK.’ She turned and went towards the photo albums that were lying on the table. These were the old pictures – the ones that weren’t on the iPad. The front page had a photo that had been taken at school when her parents were not even Abbie’s age. Everyone else was looking at the camera, but her mother and father, arms around each other’s shoulders, were only smiling at one another.
‘Did you ever have any girlfriends other than Mum?’ Abbie asked.
‘No.’ The word sounded like Of course not .
Abbie flicked through the pages. Uniform turned to casual clothes, school to university, and then to their first small house – but the two of them were always together. Finally, pictures began to include Abbie: the three of them very close, on beaches, in amusement parks, on a hilltop.
Things had been different before the illness came.
Abbie wasn’t just trying to say the right thing; she meant it when she said, ‘We’ll never forget Mum, even though she’s dead now.’
Her father flinched, then frowned. ‘Dead?’
‘Yes. She’s gone. She died!’
‘No. You’re wrong,’ her dad muttered, turning away.
‘She’s not dead. I think I know where she is.’
ONE MONTH LATER
The sitting room was lit solely by small candles along the windowsill and running down the middle of the table between the two men.
A slim but imposing man turned over cards with strange runes drawn on them. ‘She’s thinking of the special place you went to on holiday.’
Abbie’s father leaned forward. ‘Isla Canela in Spain,’ he muttered.
‘Yes,’ the man continued in a partial trance, his eyes shut for a few seconds. Another three cards were flipped over. ‘There is interference, but your wife is saying something about water.’
Abbie’s father laughed. He remembered the pool, the sea, the water park.
‘She says that there is water where she is, on the “Golden Planet”. Lakes and rivers.’ He paused and ran his thumb down his cheek, then turned another card. ‘She says that there are only a few other people there.’ His hands went flat on the table, white at the tips as they pressed hard.
The only sound was the faint dancing of the candles until Abbie’s father whispered, ‘Is there anything else?’
‘Yes,’ the man replied. ‘She says that she will love you, always. And that your daughter must not know of any of this yet.’
Yes , he thought. This is complicated enough. Abbie wouldn’t understand.
CHAPTER 6
A GOOD SHOT (SATURDAY 1ST NOVEMBER 2014)
Asa’s birthday party was a small but friendly event. ‘I thought about a huge house party for all the local girls,’ he said to Adam and the others, ‘but felt sorry for you saddos.’ Oliver had been invited along after pressure from Megan to include the new boy.
The
y had been paintballing a few times before, but never to Alpha Force. All of the usual traditions were observed: it was a misty dull day, huge muddy puddles formed a moat around the check-in hut and the place was staffed by laid-back twenty-somethings. Rachel declined the breakfast of burger smothered in tomato ketchup, but all four boys and Megan wolfed them down. ‘Do you have any muesli?’ asked Rachel.
Megan found it awkward holding a gun again after the events of last year, but as the layers went on – collar and combat suit and waistcoat and gloves – it became an increasingly surreal experience.
Deep Darth Vader tones came from inside Adam’s helmet: ‘The force is with you, young Meg.’
Asa, in his black costume, was striking a ninja pose, waving his arms in front of Leo and Oliver. Then he put his hand on his heart and went down on one knee in front of Rachel: ‘I am here to protect you.’
Rachel’s gunslinger stance made it clear she felt that she didn’t need protection.
The marshal explained that they would be playing against another small group, a six-a-side football team. Their opponents were sixteen and it looked like an unequal contest. The girls claimed not to care about the outcome, but Adam knew that they were as keen to win as he was. Asa was downbeat and thought the competition was a bad idea, especially when Naresh – captain of the football team, whose preparation involved changing his T-shirt, revealing a knot of muscles – said that good-looking girls were an advantage because they tended to be better shots.
The first game involved having to defend an old church. Adam rolled around in mud and threw himself across floors. He was being braver than the others realized: four large bats were drawn on the sides of the hardboard steeple, and even their cartoon features made him shudder a little. He hated bats. Megan was a very good shot, found an excellent vantage point and spent most of the game picking off the opposition as they left cover. The church was defended.
‘Nice one,’ said Asa.
Going on the attack in the second game wasn’t as easy. Adam was hit in the neck, Leo was hit almost everywhere (including the most painful place of all), Rachel in the chest, and Asa returned entirely yellow, claiming that Naresh had kept on shooting unnecessarily. Only Oliver and Megan seemed unscathed.