The pink dust was gone, but stood on the pavement twenty yards away were Patty and Tom. They were reading through Tom’s notebook and hadn’t noticed Ben and Alex burst onto the street.
Alex called out, but they didn’t hear. Ben noticed Alex smile and shake his head. The relief lit his face. They jogged over to the errant couple. Ben was amused by Patty’s tartan and tie-dye style. I’m sure she’ll tell quite a tale, he thought.
Only, when they got nearer, they still weren’t spotted. Tom and his grandmother continued to study the next set of story pages.
‘Tom!’ shouted Alex. There was no reply.
They were now stood on the same pavement. It allowed them to see that although Tom and Patty were there, they were not fully realised. Not wholly complete. Ben stood on the opposite side to Alex, and in a slight crouch he was able to make out Alex’s outline through the torsos of the other two huddled together, sharing a notebook.
Alex went to put his hand on his son’s shoulder, but it went straight through. They were like holograms. Alex dropped his hands to his knees, hanging his head.
A chap walking his dog came by, and gave Ben and Alex a quizzical look, but didn’t seem to notice Patty and Tom. However, the terrier was whimpering slightly, paused near Tom’s feet and sniffed uncertainly. ‘Come on, boy,’ said the man, giving a gentle tug on the lead. It was clear he didn’t see the two in the middle and was a bit confused by his dog’s need to check out a blank space. With a bit of a yank, man and dog got going again.
Ben helped Alex upright. ‘I think this is a good sign,’ he said.
‘How? How can this be good? They’re here, but they’re not here.’ There were tears in the man’s eyes. Patty and Tom were fading in front of them.
‘I think it means they’re in the story, further on from here. This is like a shadow of what happened, or a print, made by the dust. Only we can see it.’
‘Yesterday you said there were witnesses who saw them cross the park. Other people saw wolves. Why are we the only ones to see this bit? It doesn’t make sense!’
Ben shrugged. ‘It’s been borne from the imagination of an eleven-year-old boy. I don’t think it has to make true sense. My theory, for what it’s worth, is that we can see what others can’t because we’re becoming part of the story. The closer we get, the more chance we’ve got of breaking through the pages.’
The remaining outline of Tom closed the cover of his book and began to walk away with his grandmother. Alex groaned. His cheeks were streaked with tears.
‘It’s alright,’ said Ben. ‘We’ll catch up to them.’
‘It’s not that,’ he said through the sniffles. ‘Look at him. He’s walking.’
They had a last look before the pair faded completely.
Alex’s phone rang in his pocket. ‘It’s Charlotte,’ he said, wiping his face. He turned his back on Ben to take it.
Ben tried to take stock of what was going on. Yesterday they were further away, and only saw the aftermath of what was happening in the story. However, the wayward couple had been sighted by strangers, so this holographic echo of the two of them that was only meant for certain eyes was a new development. He thought he was right with his theory though – they were reading the story, they were literally following the story, so it meant more from the story was closing in on them, as they closed in on it. He thought back to the near miss with the wolves. It could get more real the deeper they went.
In fact, if they were to successfully reach Patty and Tom, they needed to be swallowed up by it at some point. Either that or just wait helplessly and see if the two of them got through to the end safely. He knew that the Hollidays wouldn’t be up for that option. He just hoped that Tom had written a happy ending.
The issue now though, was where to go next. They could walk in the direction that the shades of Patty and Tom had gone and hope for more pink dust…
Alex came off the phone. He looked visibly redder.
‘What’s up?’ asked Ben.
‘There’s been a man round at the house. He said he’d be back shortly when I’m home. Apparently I’m expecting him.’
‘I take it from the look on your face that you’re not expecting anyone?’
He shook his head. ‘He said he was from a debt management company. He knew all about my struggling business and wilting finances. God knows how. He told Charlotte stuff that I hadn’t even got round to telling her yet.’
‘Ah. That’s awkward.’
‘Yeah, but that’s not it. He’s left her a business card. You’ll never guess the company name. Greensphere.’
Ben started. ‘Wait, but that’s-’
‘-I know. But here’s the important bit. His name is Eric Kildare.’
‘Kildare? What did she say he looked like? Tall, black hair, long face?’
‘That sounds about right. Is that your man?’ Alex head sunk a little when Ben confirmed that he thought it was. He must have driven there straight from the warehouse.
It looked like they had their next destination already picked out for them. Finding the man in the black suit had seemed the right next step; they just hadn’t counted on it being so close to home. Literally.
Ben knew that Patty and Tom had read the next bit of story – he’d seen an echo of them doing it. He wondered now whether or not he and Alex had missed an opportunity to lean over and see some of those pages themselves. He’d rather have read some of what was coming next instead of going in blind.
In the end that didn’t matter; Alex was already heading back to the car, eager to get back to Charlotte. They were definitely going to have to tackle the next step without knowledge of the story.
And this time, they were more than likely going to find themselves caught up right in the thick of it.
GREENSPHERE QUEST by TOM HOLLIDAY
PART FOUR
Tom scowled. Kildark was their worst enemy and yet he was pretty cool with all his projections and monsters, as well as all the stuff that he could do with his powerful magic. Unlike Helena, he was a master wizard and that meant he could counter more or less anything they threw at him. Pretty cool but pretty dangerous.
Helena mumbled something rude about Kildark under her breath, and spoke, in a strange whispery voice, a secret incantation for some sort of spell. “Ahidahumcorbarria!” she yelled afterwards.
“And that means?” asked George.
“That means that I can work out where Kildark is going,” she replied as she closed her eyes. “Oh no,” she added. “Snuggerthang Museum!”
*
Meanwhile Kildark was blasting things open, from rocks to barn doors, while riding on a surprisingly fast, furry spider.
“Oh ho ho ho ho!” he chuckled. “The demonic nightmare tooth will soon be mine!” As he came to a halt outside of Snuggerthang Museum the spider happily chomped up a fellow unwary master wizard. Kildark paid no attention to this, but approached the doors and pounded against them with his huge fists. The door was battered in and Kildark strode into the room of precious snuggerthang fossils.
For those of you who do not know, snuggerthangs were big dragon dinosaur things, sometimes with, sometimes without wings, that could breathe different substances like fire, ice, poisonous gas, acid, all depending on the colour of their skin. There were many different types, like regular dinosaurs. But they became extinct 2000 years ago. However, one very threatening snuggerthang – the Tyranna Snuggerthang – had a dangerous tooth, dangerous in more than one way…
As he entered, ten security guards armed with crossbows ran to meet him. “Freeze, or we shoot!” they demanded.
“NO!” Kildark yelled. His booming voice knocked every guard off their feet, sending them flying into the stone walls. When he was satisfied that they weren’t getting up, he walked forward.
There it was: the bones of a T-thang. The creature’s skeleton stood on all fours, filling the hall. It was 20 feet tall with long sharp teeth and a tail like a shark. It was 30 feet in length and had spikes like a
hedgehog that were thicker than a person’s arm.
Sure enough, with no one to stop him, Kildark reached up with one of his huge hands and elongated arms, and broke out the dangerous tooth from the snuggerthang’s bony bottom jaw. “This will help me set my trap!” He held it up and stared at it, smiling. “The proper name for this tooth is the demonic nightmare tooth of the T–thang!” He yelled in triumph and left through the entrance, or what was left of the entrance.
He arrived back at his spider. Only the boots of the other wizard were left. Kildark saw in the distance, to the far left of the museum, George and Helena approaching. “You will never catch me!” he yelled, as he rode his spider along the cobble road.
CHAPTER TEN
TOM AND GRANDMA PATTY WERE WAITING TO CATCH THE BUS. She felt that the next stop on their adventure would more than likely be in the town centre or thereabouts, considering that it should be a public place if it matched the story. That meant they were a good hour’s walk away.
‘Although we’re feeling sprightly at the minute, there’s every chance the story could wear a little thin in places.’ She tapped her walking stick against his legs. ‘And we know what that might mean.’
‘Not so hard, Grandma.’ Tom said, clutching the top of his thigh.
‘Not so soft, Master Tommy.’ They were sat together in the bus shelter.
‘I’m not being soft, I just don’t want you hitting me with the stick!’
‘You seem a little grumpy; what’s up?’
He didn’t really want to tell her. Truth was, he was more than a little bit scared. Not necessarily of the way his story creations were coming alive and posing mortal threats. It was more the real danger of the world as it was. He’d been blown away behind a set of patio doors, glass flying past his face. How close to losing an eye? He’d used the electricity from live cables to defeat the monster tramp; had he got that wrong he could have easily electrocuted himself. That was all more frightening than fantastical creatures, somehow.
‘I’m okay. Maybe thinking too much.’ He pointed to another sticker on her walking stick. ‘Mastodon? Isn’t that like, a prehistoric elephant or something? Spooky, seeing as we’re after a dinosaur tooth.’
‘You know what I’m going to tell you, don’t you?’
‘They’re a hard rock band?’
‘One of the hardest.’
‘Like a boulder then!’ Grandma gave him a little smirk. Another thought popped into his head. ‘Hey, didn’t there used to a band called T-Rex?’ He thought he’d seen a Best of…CD in his dad’s collection.
‘Hmm…music for little girls in pigtails.’
‘Oh…okay.’ He thought it might be worth moving the conversation on. ‘So, do you think we’ll find a dinosaur tooth?’
‘If we do, it won’t be in a museum. The town doesn’t have one. There are a few peculiar little shops around that sell just about anything you can imagine, even someone with your imagination. We’ll try them.’ She stood up and stuck out an arm, but winced a little as she flexed the elbow. ‘Come on – our chariot’s here.’
The number five double-decker bus pulled over. They each ascended the high step and paid their fare. The bottom level was pretty full. A young man seated near the front stood up and offered Grandma Patty his seat. She scoffed at him but in a well-meaning way. ‘You’re joking, aren’t you? We’re going upstairs to the back seat! Come along, dearie!’ She and Tom scurried up before the bus got moving again.
*
It took ten minutes to get into the town centre. A short walk from the bus station put them in the middle of a busy precinct of shops. Tom knew it well, but it seemed to look a little different from his new upright position compared to being sat in a chair. He did, somewhat bizarrely, feel a twinge of loss for Dodge. I hope he’s found his way back to Mum and Dad.
Grandma Patty waved her stick towards a side street. ‘There’s a place down there that might be interesting.’
The place in question was called Odds, Sods an’ Things. It was a singled fronted store with a large window crammed full with all kinds of bric-a-brac, arranged in no logical order. Tom could see lava lamps, Punch and Judy puppets, a twin-necked guitar, a wall-mounted singing fish, and a collection of painted ships and aeroplanes, amongst other things. No dinosaur tooth. Grandma Patty was looking beyond the wares and into the shop. ‘Doesn’t look like there’s been a disturbance.’ She nodded to the notebook in Tom’s hand. ‘If it’s anything like the story, we should have just missed him.’ She scanned the street around them, looking for any other signs of mayhem. Nothing looked out of place or affected in any way. She turned back to the shop. ‘Let’s hope he hasn’t been up to too much mischief, but instead has left us a juicy clue.’
Tom, still looking in the window, watched steel marbles on wire continuously clang into each other on a desk toy. ‘Or we’re at the wrong place.’
‘Or we’re at the wrong place. Let’s find out, shall we?’ A little bell tinkled as Grandma Patty pushed the door open.
Inside, the store was long and thin. The walls were floor to ceiling with shelves, crammed with all manner of memorabilia and trinkets. Like the window, there didn’t seem to be any logical order to it. Along the centre of the shop ran a line of cabinets with glass displays on the tops. Tom could only see the first one at the moment: there was an oversized, ornate smoking pipe in it, resting on a red velvet mound. At the end of the long room was a bare desk, except for an old fashioned till. A bespectacled and balding man sat behind it. He stood, and as they walked further into the shop, he slid out from behind his desk and inched towards them. Tom and his grandma were looking at what seemed to be a crocodile’s foot encased in a giant marble, when he sidled up to them.
‘See anything you like?’
‘Not that, for a start,’ said Patty. ‘Get much interest in those, do you?’
‘You’d be surprised at people’s taste.’ He looked at Grandma’s outfit. ‘There’s no guessing what folk like.’
Tom grinned as he inspected the next display cabinet. It was an old toy robot with a key sticking out of its back. He put his hand on the glass.
‘Don’t touch that!’ snapped the old man. ‘It’s not meant for children!’
‘Ermm…it’s a toy robot?’
‘It used to be. Now it’s an antique.’
Grandma Patty interrupted. ‘Anyway, that’s not the kind of thing we’re after. I’m interested in…well, teeth. Anything made from teeth, or maybe bones. Something fossily perhaps?’
Tom jumped in. ‘And has anyone been in already today and bought something like that?’
The old man gave them both quizzical looks. ‘Well, aren’t you two a pair? Teeth indeed! And you rolled your eyes at a crocodile’s foot!’
Grandma Patty thumped her stick against the floorboards. ‘So do you have anything?’
He pushed his glasses up his long nose, then scratched the tip of it. ‘I think I have a goat’s skull, but that’s about it.’ He stared off into the light from the windows. ‘Let me think…’
Tom and Patty stepped further into the shop, browsing shelves as they went. ‘I don’t think we’re in the right place,’ said Tom.
‘What the blazes!’ yelled the old man. He strode towards the front door and left the premises. As Tom and Patty followed, they saw him staring into his own shop window, or rather at it.
The name of the shop was stencilled onto the glass, and that was what he seemed to be looking at. When they got outside they understood his confusion. It didn’t read Odds, Sods an’ Things any more. Instead it said Odds, Sugs er thangs. They glanced up at the larger wooden sign above the shop. It read the same. Then they looked back at the glass. The stencil now read: Snuggerthang.
‘We’re at the right place,’ said Patty. ‘Back inside everyone!’ The old proprietor protested but with the help of her stick she ushered him over the threshold. ‘Now then – who else has been in today, and what did they buy?’
He seemed a little dazed.
‘I’ve…I’ve had visitors today, but nobody has bought anything. What did you do to my-’
‘Is anything missing?’ asked Tom.
‘Not that I know of.’ Then his eyes widened a little. ‘Bone, you say? Teeth?’ He moved towards the back of the store, Patty and Tom in tow.
The last case along the centre aisle was not made of glass, but in fact was a wooden box. Elephants were delicately carved into the surface. ‘I’ve got an idea of what’s in here, but I haven’t got the key to open it,’ said the old shopkeeper. ‘I daren’t force it open because the box is so beautiful, and I just haven’t got round to finding a locksmith I can trust…’
‘Allow me,’ said Patty. She took the key from around her neck, the one from the fountain. It didn’t look like it was going to be the right size, but as she held the metal next to the opening, it changed its shape and slipped into the slot perfectly. It turned with a satisfying click.
The old man stared agog, but then laid his hand flat on top of the box so that Patty couldn’t open it. ‘Allow me, please.’ Gently, he eased the lid open. ‘Just as I expected,’ he said.
An ivory tusk lay on blue velvet, a jewelled hilt protruding from the flat end. ‘It originated from India, probably around two hundred years ago. Of course, it’s not something you should be selling these days – ivory. That’s why I couldn’t allow just anybody to open the box. Now I’ve seen it though, it definitely isn’t for sale.’ He reached in and lifted the hilt, then secured the tusk with his other hand. He pulled gently on the hilt. It came free of the tusk, revealing a shining, silver blade. It was a beautiful yet deadly thing. He pushed it back together then returned it to the velvet. ‘Not for sale,’ he repeated. ‘However, if you’d like a buyer for that key of yours…’
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