‘Ahem!’ She stared at him indignantly.
‘Not that you’re old!’ He was floundering a little. ‘You’re…mature! And wise!’
‘Let’s just read a bit more of this story shall we, before I feel tempted to crack you on the knuckles with my walking stick!’
They settled back into the story. Once they’d finished the pages that were written on, Tom carefully tore them from the notebook. ‘Just in case we haven’t got time when…things happen. I want to be sure I can leave them for Dad.’
‘Very wise. And mature.’ Now it was Grandma Patty’s turn to look into the impenetrable darkness of the warehouse corners. Skittering and scratching noises could be faintly heard, and the occasional movement of small black shadows became apparent as her eyes adjusted. ‘There are some strange and wondrous things in that part of the story, dearie. Who knows what we’re going to be facing next.’
GREENSPHERE QUEST by TOM HOLLIDAY
PART THREE
As they walked on there was a rocky cave in the distance. Shelter, thought Helena. “Hey George, let’s go to that cave!” George nodded and agreed.
However, once they got closer a huge fiery rock came out of the sky and went flying into the ground just behind them, landing with an almighty thud and filling the area with a cloud of dust.
“AGH! WHAT?!” George yelled as they ran into the small cave. The walls of the cave were very slimy and the floor was made out of copper ore. There was a circle of daylight at the far end of the cave. The roof was very low in places and they had to crawl to get through to the other side.
As they emerged from the cave they saw that they’d ended up on a beach covered with many huts made out of sticks and straw.
Suddenly, the sea filled with a huge monstrosity. “One of Kildark’s monsters, I bet,” growled Helena through gritted teeth. The monster was seaweed green with a pink face made out of squid skin. It had sharp teeth and pale blue eyes. Finally, its hands were big, grey, menacing hammers. George closed his eyes instinctively as the huge steel shapes plunged towards them.
Just in time, Helena grasped George’s sleeve and ran across the beach pulling him away from danger. The edge of the hammer just missed George’s shoe as it struck the sand.
As this happened, a green skeleton came from nowhere. It smashed its bony hand straight into the top of the other monster’s head. Because it was squishy, the force of the punch caused its head to squash and its eyes popped out because they had no room. The monster sunk back into the sea with a huge splash.
George yelled, “We’re saved!” At that precise moment the green skeleton glared at George. Almost every bone on its body had splinters driven into them, covered in blood red goo from previous brawls. It had filthy, yellow, glowing eyes. It was an incredible size and could smash a hut in two.
George screamed and yelled, “I am DOOMED!” Then waited in horror as the super-sized skeleton fist plummeted towards him. At that precise moment a jar full of electric eels went flying into its huge eye. It was completely shocked and started to shake. As it fell to the ground its bones burned into ashes. All that was left was the shattered glass of the jar.
George turned to see Helena smiling and wiping her brow. She had saved him yet again. “Where the heck do you get all of this stuff from?” George asked, with his mouth wide open.
“I basically just teleport it from my tower to my hand,” she replied, making a wiggling gesture with her fingers. “I have different magic words for different things, but I don’t reveal them to anybody.”
“Awesome,” George whispered.
As they continued along the beach there was a mysterious dark hole in the sea, a bit like a whirlpool, thirty yards away. They went to investigate.
As soon as they got there, a huge face appeared above the sea with those all too familiar blood red pupils.
“What now, Kildark?” asked Helena.
“I just wanted to let you know that I think you are destroying my BRILLIANT MONSTERS a tad too easily.”
“One of them defeated the other one. You shouldn’t send them two at a time.”
“I know that now! Anyway, I have devised a GENIUS PLAN to stop you,” Kildark explained.
“Oh, and what is this ‘genius plan’ you have come up with?” asked George.
“Simple FOOL,” Kildark smirked with a smug expression on his ugly face. “I have decided to stop sending them to kill you. Instead, I will kill you in a different way when you get to my secret evil lair!” He then added, “See you there, FOOLS!”
Kildark laughed loudly as his face disappeared beneath a nearby wave.
CHAPTER SEVEN
ALEX PUSHED HIS PHONE AWAY FROM HIM, DEFEATED.
He was sat in the kitchen, still in the clothes he had worn the previous day. He’d managed a couple of hours’ sleep on the couch but nothing more. Weak sunshine seeped through the blinds; it was half past eight in the morning. He could hear Charlotte in the living room on the house phone, talking to hospitals and hostels, anywhere where their son and Alex’s mother might have turned up last night.
Alex had been having different phone conversations though. He’d spent the last forty minutes trying to salvage the business deals that were now slipping through his fingers like sand. He had refused to commit to any meetings today, let alone drive to London. Of course, there were other small companies that offered what he did, and now their product looked more appealing to the buyers. It meant that one by one the offers were falling away.
In a make or break week for his company, it was pretty much in pieces already. It was only Thursday.
What he hadn’t told Charlie though was the scale of the investment he had put into the business. He gazed around his kitchen and wondered whether they’d be able to afford to live here in two months’ time.
None of that mattered though. All that mattered was getting Tom back.
There was a knock at the door. Charlotte answered, but Alex knew before he heard the voices who it would be. Fields said he would be around bright and early and he was true to his word. The police were treating it as a runaway situation and a vandalism case, and therefore not worth the time of a detective, particularly as there was an adult member of the family involved and nobody appeared to be in peril.
And yet here he was.
Charlotte and Detective Fields joined Alex in the kitchen.
‘Ben’s here,’ said Charlotte.
‘I heard. Morning.’ Ben? Calling him by his first name now, are we? I suppose he’s not our detective any more. ‘How do you think you can help us if we’re not a case worthy of official police time?’
‘I’ve taken a couple days’ holiday. They let me do it as I was in between cases. I’m going to help you find Tom and Patty.’
‘That’s great, but why?’
Ben was holding the pages of Tom’s story. ‘I want to show you something. It was my son, Daniel, that put me on to this. I can’t get him off his computer and the internet, but for once it came in useful.’ He pointed to the slight oval smudge on the first page of the story. ‘See this? I know what did it. Your grandmother, Aisling Cleary, put her lips to the paper, but of course we knew that yesterday afternoon. What I’ve learnt since is that it was her last breath that she put into the page.’
Alex was sceptical. ‘How can you possibly know that?’
‘Daniel showed me a website last night: lastbreath.com. It subscribes to the theory – a theory I didn’t know even existed – that the final breath a person has contains a power that is very rarely channelled. In the past it’s been documented that if a person passed peacefully, observers felt that they could almost sense the deceased moving forward to heaven. More likely is that the final moment is the power of the last breath entering the room and then dissipating.’
‘You expect me to believe that?’ said Alex. ‘What evidence is there?’
‘The website had some case studies. One man in Colombia expelled his last breath via a kiss into his wife. The cancer she had
that was efficiently killing her disappeared overnight. Another, a lady in Spain, blew onto the crucifix on her rosary beads and the metal has been too hot to touch ever since. A Russian boy was lying on one of his stuffed toys when he died; a cat I believe. Seems the toy came to life; the cat stayed with the family for twenty years.’
‘That is absolutely ridiculous. Are you listening to this rubbish, Charlotte?’
‘I am, Alex. What makes you believe in this so much, Ben?’
‘There was another case study. A fellow in Ireland. Died with paper over his mouth, paper he’d been writing on. He’d written down all the wishes he had for his family, almost like it was the story he wanted for their lives. And guess what?’
‘All their dreams came true!’ exclaimed Alex, mockingly.
‘No,’ replied Ben, ignoring the scorn in Alex’s tone. ‘Not their dreams. His wishes. They weren’t all pleasant either. Some had nice things happen to them, financially, health-wise and such. A couple of others met untimely ends.’
‘In accordance with his wishes,’ said Charlotte.
Ben nodded. ‘That’s some last will and testament. Your grandmother was Irish, right?’
Alex threw up his arms. ‘Oh I see! So she must have heard about this, is that it?’ He turned his back on the others and stared out of the window.
Ben continued, undeterred. ‘I believe that your mother, knowing that your grandmother had moments left, arranged for her to breathe her last against the first page of your son’s story. It could have been either one’s idea, that I don’t know, but what is clear is that the events in your son’s story are happening. Patty and Tom aren’t making it happen – the tale is coming to life.’
‘Giving our Tom the adventure he craves,’ added Charlotte.
Alex turned round. ‘I see the parallels, yes. The broken fountain, other things, whatever. But my mother’s doing that, surely?’
‘Your mother didn’t make us see those frogs yesterday-’
‘-Coincidence-’
‘-And your mother didn’t arrange for me to be chased by a pack of wolves last night, either. They disappeared in front of my eyes, but not before leaving dints and scratches on my car. Go outside and have a look if you like. I think if they had caught me they would have killed me. These story pages, Tom is leaving them on purpose. For you two. They’re his postcards. Helping you keep up with what he’s doing. We need to study what we’ve got and look out for the next one. Hopefully we can catch up with them soon.’
Alex turned to Charlotte. ‘Do you buy all this?’
She shrugged. ‘What other option do we have?’
Alex looked at Ben. ‘So why do you want to help us so much?’
Ben took a moment’s thought before answering. ‘I have a son too. He isn’t missing like yours, but sometimes he might as well be. He lives with his mum most of the time which doesn’t make things any easier. Your Tom’s story is the first thing we’ve shared in a long time, and to be honest, seeing how interested he was in it made my week. He wants to see how this plays out as much as I do.’
‘I’m glad you’re finding something positive out of our trauma,’ said Alex bitterly.
‘Alex, enough,’ said Charlotte. ‘Ben, I am glad, because it means you’re helping us when you didn’t have to. We need all the help we can get.’ Her eyes filled with tears. ‘I can’t believe it’s not even been a full day yet. I miss him so much.’
Alex went to Charlotte and gave her a hug. He looked over her shoulder at Ben. ‘Sorry, detective. Your help is appreciated.’
‘It’s Ben, please. I’m off duty, remember. I’ve got some ideas from Tom’s story that I think we might look at. Do you have a computer with internet access?’
*
Ten minutes later they were all sat around Alex’s laptop ready to look up key words from the pages in a search engine. ‘The Dragon and Key pub got me thinking. Would Tom have ever seen that name or sign before?’
‘I doubt it,’ said Charlotte. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever taken him there. The park I mean, not the pub.’
Ben nodded. ‘That’s what I thought. He couldn’t have known about it to put it in his story. So how did that happen? Sheer coincidence? Not likely.’
‘None of this is likely,’ said Alex, but he wasn’t complaining, just stating a fact.
‘Now, that pub is on Tarleton Street. If I searched for it yesterday, I’m sure there would have been some reference on the web to the Dragon and Key. Today though…’ He typed the information into the laptop, but there were no search matches found. ‘If I alter it a little…’ He deleted the “and key” section from the search.
They found a pub on Tarleton Street. It was called the Red Dragon. A photo showed it to be in the precise location as the one they were looking for.
‘How is that possible?’ asked Charlotte.
‘And look at this,’ said Ben. He searched for the park itself. He found a site that had a number of photographs, including one of the fountain itself. ‘When you asked me yesterday, Alex, was it a horse statue that was damaged I told you it was a dragon. It was broken but I saw a dragon head piece and a stone wing with my own eyes. But look.’ The fountain of the photograph was in the shape of a horse rearing up on its hind legs out of some waves. ‘I wonder if it had already started to change back when you turned up. You saw bits of horse where I had previously seen dragon.’
‘That’s…amazing.’ Alex looked closely at the image. It was definitely the same park.
Ben continued. ‘The story gave us frogs and wolves, and they were there, but they disappeared as the effect of the story faded. The Red Dragon pub and this horse fountain changed, perhaps only for those of us involved, for the time that it mattered. But I bet if we go back this lunchtime, it won’t be The Dragon and Key that’s open for business.’
‘It’ll be back to the Red Dragon,’ added Charlotte.
‘Exactly. Problem is, we’re a few steps behind, and we’re only getting a, a residue of the story, rather than the full effect. But looking at where his pages end, and what might be to come, I wonder about this.’ He pointed to a phrase in Tom’s story from the last paragraph: Summerbridge volcano. ‘I don’t imagine for one second that we’ve suddenly got a volcano in town, but maybe that name…’
He entered the word Summerbridge in combination with the various districts of the town and the surrounding area. It wasn’t too long before he got a match. Charlotte read the screen from over Ben’s shoulder. ‘Summerbridge Mill.’
‘I know that area a little,’ said Ben. ‘It was once a busy paper mill but it’s been out of action for a couple of years. There are plenty of empty warehouse properties around there too.’
‘Perfect place to bed down for the night, maybe?’ asked Alex.
‘That’s just what I was thinking, and it won’t hurt to look,’ replied Ben. ‘Particularly as I know for a fact that before yesterday that mill was called Sundbury Mill and had been for at least thirty years. I knew of it when I was a kid.’
‘And I bet it’ll be Sundbury Mill tomorrow too…’ As unbelievable as all this was, Alex couldn’t deny the evidence that was mounting up in front of his eyes. His earlier scepticism left him and all he saw now was a plan of action that might lead to his son and his mother.
He stood up taller and made a grab for his car keys. ‘So what are we waiting for?’
CHAPTER EIGHT
TOM WOKE UP ALONE.
He was wrapped up in the dust sheet, but his grandma wasn’t beside him. He sat up and quickly scanned the room. Daylight came through the dirty windows in irregular streaks, but it was enough to see all sides of the long room they’d slept in. It was bare and grimy, and apart from doors, pipework, lose cable snaking around and broken pallets shoved in corners, there wasn’t much to look at. There certainly wasn’t another living soul in there with him.
He jumped to his feet.
Or rather, he tried to. He pushed up with his hands and his brain sent a command to his lowe
r legs to fold up under him so that he could spring up in a second. Except that the legs wouldn’t do as they were instructed. They moved slightly, slowly, but not in the manner he’d come to enjoy the day before. With some effort he got his feet flat on the floor and was able to balance his body sufficiently well to allow himself to ease himself up and stand.
But that was pretty much it. He tried to stride, and barely managed a shuffle.
Adventure’s over then, he thought. Back to square one.
He shouted for his grandma.
Two minutes later Patty came into the room from a doorway behind him. She had a large bottle of water in her hands. ‘Sorry, dear. Just nipped out to the shop for a few bits and bobs. You looked so peaceful I didn’t want to wake you. Have you been up long?’
‘Grandma, my legs aren’t working properly!’ He demonstrated a brief shamble of about a yard. ‘I can’t run.’
‘Curious,’ she said as she strode towards him. ‘Remember, you couldn’t do that much twenty-four hours ago, so don’t be downhearted. Perhaps it’s just because you’ve been asleep. Here: take my stick.’
He accepted the walking stick and leant his weight against it. He used the extra support to lift his feet alternately. ‘Maybe it is because I just woke up. Is that the same for everybody?’
‘Well, it is for me, but I’ve got a dodgy hip. Give it time. Come to think of it, I didn’t need the stick much yesterday, but this morning I’ve been aching.’
‘Do you want it back?’
‘No, don’t be silly, I’ll manage.’
While he was waiting to see if his legs warmed up, he inspected his grandmother’s stick. She really had decorated almost all of its surface. ‘Hey, there’s a sticker here says Green Day. We have that in school every year – we bring in tons of stuff for recycling.’
‘It isn’t the same thing, dearie. They’re an American punk rock band.’
‘Oh, I see. Okay. Hey look, you must be right!’ He twirled a foot around. ‘It’s all coming back!’
Then there was the sound of clicking and electrical humming, and all the lights came on. Tom looked up. Florescent tube lights hung from the high ceiling on rusty chains. He had to pull his eyes away as they burned brighter than he expected.
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