Mindscape

by M. M. Vaughan

  “Sorry to bother you,” said Daisy, “but there’s a bit of a problem we need your help to sort out.”

  Without answering, Ron leaned over her, peering up and down the corridor before suddenly turning and running to his locker, where he began to quickly and efficiently prepare himself for action.

  “What is it? An intruder? A fight? You’ve found a suspicious device?”

  John watched calmly from his armchair as Daisy walked into the room looking alarmed.

  “No—stop! Nothing like that. I . . . I just have a question I wanted you to answer.”

  Ron stopped dead.

  “Oh,” he said, sounding very disappointed. He placed the flashlight and walkie-talkie back in the locker and unbuckled his utility belt as John gave a small laugh.

  “What’s the question?” asked John, turning his head to look at Daisy.

  “We were all just trying to work out something,” said Daisy, and then she began to describe a scenario involving a school of jellyfish, a submarine, and an army of ninjas.

  Chris, meanwhile, set to work. As Daisy distracted them, Chris looked over to the control panel for the cameras, positioned on the opposite side of the room from the television, and pressed the pause buttons for the elevator camera and the ones upstairs and looking outside. Chris zoomed out with his mind and looked at the video screens. He breathed a sigh of relief. Everything looked normal, the only clue being the tiny clocks at the bottom of every picture. Chris would just have to hope that they wouldn’t choose to take a closer look.

  “No, Ron, you’re mistaken. You’d have to take care of the jellyfish first, then the ninjas,” said John, who was now, Chris noticed, standing up. Chris looked over at the blue light in the corner, the one that alerted Ron and John to anybody using the elevator, and found the small wire coming out from the box. Concentrating, he watched the wire begin to twitch slightly and then pull against itself slowly, getting tighter and tighter until the connector suddenly popped out loudly and landed on the table with a small clank.

  Chris snapped his head round to get a view of Ron and John and saw, to his great relief, that they were completely distracted by the argument that was beginning to develop.

  Chris turned to face Daisy, who was standing impassive as the two men argued in front of her, and as quickly as he could, he entered her Reception.

  “It’s all done,” he said, passing the message into her mind.

  Daisy looked around at the screens, nodded, and turned back to Ron and John.

  “Okay, well. Never mind,” she said brightly. “I’ll go back and tell the others that you don’t know.”

  Ron looked aghast. “Of course we know—just John here is not listening to reason. We’ll talk to you in the morning.”

  “Okay, thanks!” said Daisy, rushing out of the room and closing the door behind her, smiling as the two men continued their argument in loud voices.

  “They’re going to be arguing all night,” said Daisy as she turned the corner to meet Chris. “We did it.”

  “We haven’t done anything yet,” said Chris, remembering the last time he had left the school building without permission. That time, he had thought he was in the clear from the very beginning, only to find Sir Bentley waiting for him upon his return. Tonight, although he was being much more careful and had the added bonus of Daisy’s help, he still wasn’t going to let himself get complacent.

  The two of them rushed over to the elevator doors and stepped into the dirty, cramped kitchen. Chris moved to let Daisy pass and watched as she pressed her thumb over the kettle’s switch, as they had agreed.

  “Run as fast as you can once you get outside,” said Daisy as the room they were in whooshed upward. “I’ll go straight back downstairs and use my Ability to fast-forward the tapes. As long as nobody suspects anything, there’ll be no reason to check the tapes.”

  Chris, who already knew all this, nodded. He zipped his jacket and waited for the room to come to a stop.

  “Go now—and be careful,” said Daisy.

  Chris turned to run, and then, just as he was about to step out of the doors, he stopped.

  “Thank you, Daisy. I really appreciate—”

  “Thank me when you get back,” interrupted Daisy. “Now go!”

  Chris smiled and broke into a run.

  • • •

  Chris stepped off the bus and onto the busy pavement. He had worried, when he and Daisy had been planning the night, that people would notice a twelve-year-old milling about on his own, but the throngs of people were too busy enjoying their Friday night to notice him, let alone to try and work out if he was accompanied by an adult.

  Chris walked quickly through the noisy streets toward the club—a route he had memorized and walked through in his mind many times already. At Daisy’s suggestion, they had worked out where Ms. Lamb and Charles would probably be arriving from and chosen a bus stop on the opposite side of the club, a little farther from the venue than necessary, so as to minimize the chances of Chris bumping into them. Nevertheless, Chris was on full alert as he made his way past the takeout restaurant and pubs, weaving in and out of the slow-moving crowds, always keeping an eye out for the sight of Ms. Lamb, Charles, or the pale boy—but thankfully, none of them appeared.

  The Hell Club, it turned out, was hard to miss. A gigantic uninspiring lump of a building, it sat in the middle of a patch of green that was barely visible beneath the thick black soles of the hundreds of people waiting to enter.

  “Oi! Get out of the way, runt.” A large hand suddenly appeared on Chris’s shoulder, and he turned his head to look up and saw an enormous man with a tall green mohawk wearing a jacket made almost entirely of metal studs.

  Chris didn’t say anything as the man pushed him to the side and stomped past him, followed quickly by a terrifying group of people wearing skeleton masks. Chris felt very young, very conspicuous, and, he had to admit, a little bit scared. That surprised him, and he tried to remind himself that he had the protection of his Ability if he needed it, but it wasn’t as much comfort as he had thought it would be, having never found himself in a crowd like this one before. Completely surrounded, Chris was finding it impossible to get a good view, and he was getting increasingly nervous that he might find himself face-to-face with Ms. Lamb without notice. Deciding on a change of plan, he retreated quickly to the other side of the road and slipped into a dank-smelling doorway that was hidden behind a line of people waiting to buy fish and chips.

  Chris leaned back on the door and, unable to see over the heads of the people talking in front of him, let his eyes glaze over and used his Ability to look around unnoticed in order to plan his entry.

  The crowds, Chris noticed, were quickly beginning to get agitated. As his mind scanned over the top of the tightly packed group outside the venue, he saw a couple of bottles being thrown in the direction of the entrance, and then the chanting started.

  “LET US IN! LET US IN!”

  Chris’s mind moved over to the entrance and saw four large security men jostling with the front row of the chaotic line, all the people pushing their way forward in the direction of the closed doors.

  Chris watched, for a moment forgetting that he was supposed to be coming up with a plan, as the door suddenly opened and the face of a surprised-looking attendant appeared briefly before disappearing under the stampede of people rushing forward.

  It was quickly obvious to Chris that any concerns he might have had about finding his way in were unnecessary—the system for checking tickets, if there ever had been one, was completely forgotten as the crowds, yelling, whooping, and making strange screaming sounds, pushed their way in. Chris looked past the thick black outer walls of the building and was suddenly transported into an enormous, darkly lit room that was quickly filling with people spreading out across the entire floor, as if the crowd were a river that had broken its banks. Chris looked around to find a hidden vantage point—he was certain that anywhere in the venue would be close enough for him
to access Ms. Lamb’s mind, no matter where she should choose to stand. His mind swooped upward, and there, up some stairs, Chris found the perfect place—between a pillar and some sound equipment, next to a staircase that led down to an exit door. Just in case.

  Now that he had a clear plan, Chris’s nerves vanished. He let his mind return to his actual surroundings and noticed that the crowd was beginning to thin. Chris knew he didn’t have much time if he wasn’t going to find himself walking up to the entrance alone. Even his Ability wouldn’t be able to prevent raising the suspicions of all the passersby if they were to see a schoolboy walking unaccompanied on a Friday night into a heavy-metal concert. He had to act quickly.

  “Excuse me,” he said, surprising the couple standing in front of him, who had been deep in conversation. They stepped back, and Chris ran through, scanning the people from left to right until he found a group large enough to hide among.

  Chris ran over and slipped into the middle of the moving group, who were shouting and pumping their fists in the air. Chris kept his head down and tried to walk at the same fast pace as them, but the group stopped suddenly and the man behind him stumbled on top of him.

  Chris felt the wind knocked out of him as he fell to the ground. Disoriented, he tried to push himself up but then felt two large hands grab him and lift him back on to his feet.

  Chris looked up and saw a huge and terrifying man with a tattooed face staring down at him.

  “Very sorry about that,” said the man. “Are you okay?”

  Chris nodded, his breath slowly coming back.

  The man, apparently not thinking anything of a boy suddenly joining his group, put his hand on Chris’s shoulders and began to lead him forward, protecting him from the crowd, which was getting increasingly aggressive as it neared the entrance.

  “Stick with me. It’ll get better once we get past the doors,” the man shouted as the crowd closed in around him.

  Chris heard a frantic voice to his right as the crowd rushed forward.

  “TICKETS, PLEASE. I’M SUPPOSED TO BE TAKING TICKETS! TICKETS?”

  Ignoring the voice, the man, who still had two hands firmly on each of Chris’s shoulders, pushed his way toward the doors. Chris was carried forward by the people around him, bodies pushing against him so that he could barely breathe, but then, suddenly, the crowd began to disperse. Chris stumbled forward, taking deep gasps of air, as the tattooed man leaned down to face him.

  “You okay?”

  Chris nodded.

  The man smiled and put two thumbs up in the air.

  “Good. Enjoy the show!”

  Chris didn’t have a chance to thank him before he walked off chanting “DEATH SCREAMERS” as he made his way to the front of the stage to join his friends.

  • • •

  Chris quickly darted over to the wall and made his way up the stairs onto the gallery level, where already at least a hundred people were milling about, shouting loudly over the booming background music.

  Checking that nobody was looking, Chris sidled up to the pillar he had seen from outside and slipped behind it, quickly crouched down on the sticky black floor, and found himself looking down on a perfect view of the floor below through the railing next to him. He checked his watch. It was eight thirty.

  The venue was now packed to capacity, and Chris scanned the tops of the peoples’ heads looking for Ms. Lamb but she was nowhere to be found. Sure that she was not already inside the venue, he kept his eye on the entrance directly below him. Suddenly, the crowd erupted into a deafening cheer. Chris turned his head and saw a mass of flashing lights coming from the stage as four men appeared wearing black leather trousers with what Chris hoped was fake blood covering their heads and bare upper bodies. They rushed toward the front of the stage and started screaming at the crowds. Chris didn’t have to guess how they had come to choose their name.

  Chris watched, fascinated, as the drums started beating, the electric guitars began screeching and the entire crowd below him began to jump as one. The lead singer raised his arms and began to sing.

  “RIVERS OF BLOOD! TEARS OF DOOM! . . .”

  The whole crowd sang along, shouting at the tops of their voices. A man rushed up on stage and dived backward onto the crowd. Chris leaned forward, watching as the man was carried around the room by the crowds beneath him, the music being played louder and faster until, finally, he was set down by the entrance, cheering and jumping.

  Chris watched as the man began to muscle his way back into the crowd, probably to do it again, when suddenly Chris spotted them. There, only a few feet below him, was Charles, wearing an elegant black coat, and Ms. Lamb, dressed, Chris noted with a shudder, in a tight black leather minidress and black boots that were laced up to her knees. Both of them had a look of horror on their faces, as if neither of them could quite believe what they were hearing. Chris wondered how long they had been there.

  He ducked back to hide, then, figuring that they wouldn’t be able to see him in the darkness, even if they were to look up, he inched forward and pressed his face up to a gap in the railing.

  Ms. Lamb looked to be arguing with Charles, gesturing toward the doors they had just come through, but he ignored her and, dragging her by the arm, pushed her forward into the crowd until they were completely surrounded.

  At least, thought Chris as his eyes glazed over, there’s no chance of her hearing any ringing in her ears with all this music and screaming. He tried to relax as the view around him faded away.

  • CHAPTER NINETEEN •

  The music blared just as loudly within Ms. Lamb’s Reception as it did outside it. Chris looked around at the jumble of current thoughts that were flying around in the vast room: her dislike of the music, her desire to leave, a disturbing image of her locked in a kiss with Charles, and her coveting the clothes the women in the crowd were wearing. He ran through them all, adrenaline coursing through his veins as he made his way toward the now-familiar wooden door on the other side of the room, eager to find out what he needed to know. Chris turned the handle, opened the door, and stepped out into his teacher’s mind.

  Everything went silent. The music that had been blaring in his ears only a second earlier had completely disappeared, replaced with the thump thump of his heart pounding. Chris, suddenly finding himself at the edge of the vast Gothic city, took a moment to calm down as the dark clouds swirled furiously above him. He looked out over the dark, twisted spires and spotted, in the distance, the building he was looking for—an imposing towered fortress surrounded by a moat.

  Chris ran through Ms. Lamb’s mind with no effort, his Ability sending him breathlessly over the cobbled streets, his sneakers silent as they padded against the dark gray stone. As he ran, he thought about exactly where he was going to go, and in which order, until he found what he was looking for. Knowing so much about her mind already, Chris had decided with Daisy that this would be the best place to start. Then, if he had no success, he would try Charles’s mind. Either way, Chris just wanted to find something, anything, that would prove he wasn’t losing his mind.

  On reaching Language Lane, the road leading up to the Career building, Chris slowed. He looked around as he walked, surprised at the number of languages Ms. Lamb had a knowledge of: German, ancient Greek, Latin, and even Esperanto. He walked past them all until, finally, he reached the end of the road, which opened out over a vast green expanse, a large fortress sitting prominently in the middle, surrounded by a wide band of still, black water. For a moment, Chris thought about swimming across, as opposed to taking the easy route over the lowered drawbridge, but, of course, he didn’t. As he stepped out onto the wide wooden walkway it occurred to him how strange it was that even within the total privacy of someone’s mind, he never broke the rules of normal behavior. He could have sung loudly all the way, cartwheeling along the empty streets, but instead he always acted in the same way he would have if he had been walking outside in the real world. He smiled to himself and made a mental note to ask t
he others if they did the same.

  Chris noticed that the front door of the Career building was open halfway across the battered wooden drawbridge. He didn’t think too much of it. If there was one thing he had learned in his time at Myers Holt, it was that no two minds were the same. Nevertheless, it was the first time he had seen an open door inside somebody’s mind that he himself hadn’t opened, and he slowed down instinctively as he neared it instead of rushing straight in as he would normally have.

  Chris walked up to the end of the drawbridge and stepped out onto the dust floor. He was about to take another step when, suddenly, he froze. There, right in front of him and leading all the way up to the door, were a series of faint but unmistakable footprints. Somebody else had already been here.

  As Chris ran forward and pressed himself up against the stone wall of the fortress, he tried to think of the possible explanations. Perhaps the footprints had been there for a long time, maybe even years. He had no idea how much the landscape might change over time, but without any wind or harsh weather, he couldn’t imagine it changed much.

  He sidled up to the open door and peered into the small crack between the hinges, but it was too dark and the gap was far too narrow—he could see nothing. As he tried to steady his breathing, Chris tried to work out his options. He came up with only two: Leave now or face whoever was inside, if, indeed, there was anybody in there at all. Chris took a deep breath. If he wanted to find out what was going on, he had no choice. Telling himself that whoever had visited was surely long gone, he leaped out from behind the door and into the dark room.

  • • •

  Crash!

  A bookshelf to the right fell to the floor as somebody jumped back in surprise. Chris stood frozen as the figure stood up slowly.

  “You!”

  Chris couldn’t breathe. Even before the figure stepped into the light coming in through the doorway, he knew exactly who it was. Chris had only heard the voice once, but the words “You killed my twin brother” had haunted him ever since.