Mindscape

by M. M. Vaughan

  • • •

  The cool summer wind hit Chris as soon as he stepped out onto the roof—a flat gray terrace that spanned the entire length of the building below and was surrounded by a stone balcony, on top of which were the enormous flames rising from stone urns that Chris had spotted upon his arrival.

  Chris, however, barely took notice of any of this, for as soon as he stepped out the door he saw Ernest. Ernest, however, appeared not to have seen him. He was standing only a few feet away from Chris, wearing a pair of jeans and a dark blue T-shirt, but his arms were by his side, and his attention was focused at a point somewhere ahead in the distance. Chris turned his head to follow the direction of where he was looking, and his heart stopped.

  On the other side of the gray expanse, standing on the wide stone rim of the balcony, her hands bound and her hair wild in the wind, was his mother.

  “CHRIS!”

  Chris saw the look of terror on his mother’s face, and he forgot all about Ernest standing beside him. He was about to break into a run when Ernest spoke.

  “One more step and I throw your mother off.”

  Chris snapped his head round and saw that Ernest was still facing his mother, the familiar blank stare on his face. And then a thought occurred to him.

  “You can’t do anything to her that will guarantee her death. Your Ability won’t let you.”

  “I’m not looking at her,” said Ernest calmly. “I’m looking at the balcony she’s standing on. One false move and it shatters, and even your Ability isn’t strong enough to stop me when I’m already focused.”

  Chris took a deep breath. “What do you want me to do?” he asked, keeping his eyes on his terrified mother.

  For a moment, there was silence, and then, without losing his focus, Ernest answered him.

  “I want you to jump.”

  Chris felt his heart beat faster and panic rise up in him. “I’ll die.”

  “Exactly. You’ve got ten seconds to jump, and your mum lives. Don’t do it, and you both die. Ten . . .”

  Chris’s mind rushed through every bit of training that he had had as he tried to come up with a solution.

  “Nine . . .”

  The building was flat fronted, so there was nowhere other than the ground to land on.

  “Eight . . .”

  His mind couldn’t view itself as an object, which meant he couldn’t use his Ability to stop himself from falling.

  “Seven . . . Six . . . Five . . .”

  He could try to use his Ability on Ernest, but because he was already focused on the stone, it was unlikely Chris would be fast enough to stop him.

  “Four . . .”

  He didn’t have enough time to get across the terrace to stop his mum’s fall.

  “Three . . .”

  Or to get back down to ground level.

  “Two . . .”

  He started to walk across to the stone balcony.

  “One . . .”

  There was only one thing: If he could just distract Ernest for a moment, he might be able to use his Ability to make his mother fall forward.

  “Okay! I’ll do it: Look!”

  “NO! CHRIS!” his mother screamed.

  Chris began to climb up onto the stone balcony slowly, but Ernest didn’t turn his head.

  “Too late, Chris.”

  Chris snapped his head round in panic and tried to focus his mind on his mother, but Ernest had meant what he’d said: It was too late. The gray stone beneath his mother’s feet suddenly exploded into a vast fountain of grey splinters. Chris’s mother screamed as the ground beneath her disappeared, and her eyes widened as she realized what was happening. Then, just like that, she was gone.

  “MUM!” Chris jumped down and ran faster than he had ever run. “MUM!”

  “She’s gone, Chris,” called Ernest.

  Chris knew that Ernest was right, but he didn’t stop running, hot tears suddenly streaming down his cheeks, not thinking about anything but the look on his mother’s face, until he reached the wide gap of the broken balcony. Knowing that Ernest would repeat what he had just done if he so much as touched the balcony, Chris threw himself down, barely registering how wet it was in spite of the dry weather, and looked out over the edge, terrified at what he was about to see.

  As soon as Chris looked down, he saw the body of his mother lying facedown far below him. For a moment, Chris lay on the floor, frozen in horror. A hot surge of anger and grief welled up inside him.

  “And now it’s your turn.”

  Chris snapped his head round, blinking to get rid of the tears forming, and saw Ernest standing by the open doorway leading back onto the stairwell. He raised his hand to show Chris that he was holding a large red container. Chris couldn’t immediately work out what it was, but then Ernest leaned down and picked up a lantern. Chris looked down at the dark wet patch he was lying on, and suddenly he knew exactly what was about to happen. He jumped up and began to run, but before he had taken even three steps, Ernest raised the lantern and threw it to the ground in front of him.

  Chris watched in horror as the dark patch of ground in front of Ernest that he had already guessed was gasoline exploded into life and flames began to shoot across the ground, winding their way back and forth across the terrace, creating a vast, snaking wall of fire.

  “Good-bye, Christopher Lane.”

  Chris looked up to see Ernest pouring the last of the contents of the canister in his hand at the foot of the doorway. Ernest looked up, and for a brief moment, the two boys locked eyes. Then Ernest turned, and Chris saw him take a step down just before the lanterns at the foot of the doorway exploded, engulfing in fire Chris’s only chance of escaping.

  Chris’s eyes went down to his feet, and he saw he was standing in a dark puddle of gasoline. Panicked, and seeing that the flames were quickly approaching, he ran over to a small dry patch. Looking in the direction of the approaching fire, he let his eyes lose focus.

  For a moment, the line of flames briefly faltered, but try as he might, Chris’s Ability was no match for their sheer power, and they fought back, rising even higher into the air before rushing once more toward him. Chris looked at the giant wave of fire as it rose up above him, and he staggered back, his mind desperately trying to push it away when, all of a sudden, just as he was giving up hope, the flames suddenly parted. Chris looked up.

  His eyes widened and, for a moment, his heart stopped.

  There, standing in the doorway under an arch of flames, stood his friends. Daisy, Philip, and Lexi. And they were all staring intently at him as they pushed the flames away—their minds working together.

  “What . . . ? What are you doing here?” he asked.

  “WE CAN’T HOLD IT MUCH LONGER,” shouted Lexi. “RUN!”

  Chris didn’t have time to think. He rushed forward through the narrow path that had been carved out for him as the intense heat and flames closed in on either side. He was nearly at the door when he heard the sound of Rex’s voice coming from the staircase.

  “He got away! He’s coming!”

  Chris could see the panic on Lexi, Daisy, and Philip’s faces as he sprinted forward, but they kept their eyes on the flames, determined to keep the path open long enough for Chris to get through. And then, just as Chris was about to pass the final wall of fire, his friends were suddenly pushed forward with a force so violent that they all fell to the ground, and from the doorway emerged Ernest.

  The fire suddenly roared back into life, and Chris lifted his arms to cover his face as the flames began to reach in toward him. He took a deep breath and was focusing every last bit of energy he had on creating a gap to get through when he heard a dull creaking sound below his feet.

  Chris looked down and saw the cracks in the concrete, and when he looked back up, he saw that the flames had parted and Ernest was staring at the floor. Chris didn’t stop to think: He let his eyes lose focus, and before Ernest had a chance to react, he was thrown upward into the air and landed at the foot of
the stone balcony. His head slammed down on the concrete with a loud thud, and then he was still.

  “Quick!” said Daisy, appearing at his side, “the roof is about to cave in.”

  Sure enough, Chris turned and saw the crack in the floor that Ernest had created. He took one last look at the body of Ernest lying on the ground, the flames whipping around him in a frenzy, and he broke into a run.

  Rex and Sebastian were standing at the bottom of the small stone stairwell as Chris, Lexi, Daisy, and Philip rushed down. Deeply focused, they were holding back the fire that had already taken hold of the surrounding wooden paneling until Chris and the others reached the bottom step, and then the six of them all turned and ran off, the sound of the glass lanterns shattering behind them.

  “YOUR MUM IS OKAY!” shouted Sebastian.

  “WHAT?” shouted Chris, thinking he must have misheard. He had seen her body lying on the ground.

  “DAISY SAW HER FALLING. SHE SLOWED HER DOWN BEFORE SHE HIT THE GROUND. SHE’S FINE.”

  Chris turned to Daisy as they ran through the corridor. “Is that true?”

  Daisy nodded.

  A wave of relief and gratitude suddenly soared through Chris, and he stopped, tears running down his face.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  “You can get us presents later. Just stop blubbering and let’s get out of here,” called Rex. “We can’t stop now.”

  Chris could hear the creaking of the floors above, but he couldn’t move. All he could think about was his anger at having nearly lost his mother and how much it had hurt, and how it had felt to think that he had lost all his friends. He had thought he was completely alone. And then he thought about how Ernest must have felt losing his only brother, and everything about the way that he had acted suddenly made sense. At that very moment, any anger that Chris had felt toward Ernest completely vanished. Chris looked up at the others, who were all staring back at him impatiently, and realized what he had to do.

  “I’m going back.”

  “WHAT?”

  “I’M GOING BACK TO GET HIM!” said Chris, already running back down the corridor toward the orange glow of the approaching fire.

  “CHRIS! STOP! NOOOO!”

  Chris turned to face his friends, who were all looking up, their eyes wide with fear. His eyes followed theirs up to the ceiling, and he saw the chandelier above them shaking violently. They all threw themselves backward as the ceiling suddenly collapsed in front of them with a huge crash. The lanterns that had been lining the corridor shattered, and Chris watched as the flames took hold of everything around them until he could no longer see anything ahead of him but fire. There was no going back.

  Chris rushed up to the small staircase, its walls ablaze, and ran up the stone steps. He stepped out into the air and looked over to where Ernest was lying.

  The flames were almost on top of him.

  “ERNEST!”

  Ernest remained motionless. Chris looked down at the fire directly in front of him and began to push it back, one section at a time. Every time the flames would part, he would step forward and then the flames would close in behind him. He repeated it, taking one step slowly forward at a time until, at last, he reached Ernest.

  “Ernest! Wake up!”

  Chris leaned down and shook Ernest’s body until, finally, Ernest opened his eyes. For a moment, Ernest didn’t seem to know where he was. He looked at Chris blankly, and then his eyes widened and he lifted his head to see the wall of fire behind them. He looked back at Chris.

  “You came back for me?”

  “We have to get out of here—the whole building is about to collapse.”

  Chris stood and pulled Ernest up.

  “I don’t understand,” said Ernest.

  “I killed your brother, and I’m so sorry, Ernest. I really am. I never meant it to happen, but I know why you blame me and I understand. You can hate me as much as you want, but I can’t let you die too.”

  Chris grabbed Ernest’s sleeve and tried to pull him forward, but Ernest was rooted to the spot. Chris turned to him, and it was only then that he realized Ernest was crying.

  “Come on,” said Chris, gently. “We’ve got to go.”

  “You came back for me,” he repeated, his voice breaking. “I killed your mother, and you came back for me.”

  Chris looked at the cracks running from the hole where part of the roof had already fallen through, and then at the flames circling closer. He grabbed Ernest by the shoulders.

  “My mum didn’t die. She’s fine—the others stopped her with their Ability.”

  Ernest looked up at Chris in disbelief. “Really?”

  Chris nodded, and Ernest broke down, his shoulders shaking with heaving sobs.

  Suddenly, the floor beneath Chris’s feet moved. Chris looked down in horror as he saw a crack appear, and then . . .

  CRASH!

  Chris and Ernest, jolted back into reality, looked up at the doorway and saw that the area of concrete roof in front of it had fallen through to the floor below and that the fire, which had taken hold of the floor below suddenly gushed up into the air like a huge orange fountain as the rest of the floor slowly began to crack open.

  The two boys looked down at the widening gap by their feet and then up at each other. They had only seconds left before they fell to a certain death. Without any time to think, both boys jumped up onto the stone balcony and watched as the ground opened up where they had just been standing, stone crashing down into the flames below. They stood up, balanced on the stone ledge, and faced each other.

  “Do you trust me?” asked Chris.

  Ernest nodded. “Do you trust me?” he asked back.

  Chris nodded. He knew that they were both thinking the same thing.

  Without another word, the two boys let their eyes glaze over, and facing each other, they jumped off the roof of Darkwhisper Manor, both falling gently as they slowed each other down with their Ability.

  • • •

  Chris landed on the soft grass with a dull and painless thud, never taking his eyes off Ernest until he, too, fell to the ground gently.

  “We made it!” said Chris. Ernest looked back, and his face, suddenly soft and free of all anger, broke into a smile. They looked up at the building behind them, flames flying out of the broken windows, and then they heard a shout.

  “RUN!”

  Chris looked up, and the last thing he saw as he and Ernest turned to flee was John running toward him across the lawn. Then he heard a huge explosion and felt himself being thrown up in the air.

  • • •

  “Chris. Chris! Please wake up.”

  Chris moaned. Every part of his body ached, and his head throbbed with pain.

  “Chris, darling. Please, wake up.”

  Chris was sure he could hear his mother’s voice, but it sounded different, like it used to sound when he was a little boy. He wondered if he was dead, but, if he was he wasn’t sure why he was feeling so much pain.

  Slowly, Chris opened his eyes.

  “Chris?”

  Chris stared up at his mother and saw that she was crying. He lifted his head slowly as she placed her arms under him as support. Behind her, Chris saw Daisy, tears also streaming down her face and Lexi comforting her.

  “Don’t move,” said his mother. “An ambulance is on its way.”

  “Is he . . . is Ernest okay?”

  Chris tried to sit up so that he could look around, but a pain shot through his leg and he sat back down.

  “I’m fine,” said a voice. Chris turned his head and saw Ernest standing next to him, unhurt. “Thank you. You saved my life.”

  Chris looked up at Ernest and smiled. “It’s the least I could do,” he said. Then, as his friends fussed around him, he lay back in his mother’s arms and let her stroke his hair as they waited for the ambulance to arrive.

  • CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE •

  “You may not feel like it right now, but you are a very lucky young man,” said t
he nurse, writing something down on the chart. “You could have been killed, by the sound of it.”

  Chris nodded and smiled. He looked down at the plaster cast around his ankle. “How long before it comes off?”

  “The fracture’s not too bad. We’ll see how you go, but we can probably take it off in a month or so.”

  Chris reached up to his forehead.

  “Don’t touch it,” said the nurse, telling him off gently. “We don’t want that cut to get infected. I’ll get a bandage now to cover it up.” She smiled, closed the chart, and walked out of the room.

  Chris was about to lie back on his bed when Sir Bentley appeared in the doorway.

  “Can I come in?”

  Chris nodded.

  “How are you feeling?” asked Sir Bentley, walking up to Chris’s bed.

  “Okay. They gave me some painkillers, so it doesn’t really hurt anymore.”

  “Well, good. I’m glad to hear it. That was quite a stunt you pulled last night.”

  “I know, I’m sorry,” said Chris.

  Sir Bentley shook his head. “No, I’m the one who should be apologizing. If we’d listened to what you were trying to tell us, this whole thing might have been avoided.”

  “I don’t think so,” said Chris. “Ernest was pretty determined. How is he?”

  “He’s fine. Just a few bruises.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “He’s in Myers Holt. We took him there last night after we made absolutely certain that he was telling us the truth when he said that he wasn’t going to hurt anybody.”

  “Was he?”

  “Yes. He agreed that the others could look inside his mind and check. According to them, he was a very different boy before his brother died. It sounds like his focus on revenge was the only way he knew how to deal with his grief. After what happened last night, it seems that all the anger has gone. In fact, he doesn’t hold any resentment toward you at all—quite the opposite. How about you—how do you feel about him?”

  Chris thought about everything that had happened. “I think we’re a lot alike—I even think we could be friends. I know why he did what he did, and I don’t blame him. I think, if it had been me, I would have felt the same.”