The House on Willow Lane (Secret Gateways Book 1)

by John Moralee

  “I see ...” he said, but he hadn’t until she said it. The full consequences of the change within him were only now becoming clear. “Does that mean I have the same gifts as you?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  He remembered her touching him when she’d given him some water. She had not worn gloves. “You touched me earlier, didn’t you?”

  “Yes,” she said. “You’re now immune to the drug because your symbiont produces it for you. Unfortunately, you won’t be able to touch ordinary people without making them go into a trance. You’re cursed like me. I’m sorry – but it was the only way to save you. The knife had gone in too deep and done too much damage.”

  Ryan looked at his hands. They didn’t seem any different. It was almost impossible to believe that if he touched someone they would become hypnotised. “It’s weird. I don’t feel any different.”

  “You will when the transformation is complete,” Mira said. “Right now, the symbiont is repairing your internal damage. When that’s done, it will work on the rest of your body, making you stronger. From now on, you’ll have to be careful. Don’t accidentally touch anyone. If you do, you’ll have to be careful what you say. My grandfather will tell you how to behave when he returns.”

  “Your grandfather ... where is he now?”

  “He’s gone out to clean up the evidence of the attack. He couldn’t leave your blood on the path for other people to find.”

  “There is another complication,” Saffron said.

  “What?” Ryan said.

  “Your age,” she said.

  “What about it?”

  Saffron tried answering, but she choked up.

  “What about my age?” he said.

  Mira answered. “Until now, symbionts have only been implanted in fully grown adults. You are the first boy to be implanted. My grandfather doesn’t know if you’ll stay your current age or grow up normally.”

  “You mean I could be stuck my age for ever?”

  “Possibly,” she said.

  “But you’re growing up,” he said. She had grown taller in the months he had known her.

  “Yes – but I don’t have a symbiont. I inherited some of Jonah’s genes. That’s not quite the same as having a tapeworm. You could be different. You could stay young forever like Peter Pan. We just don’t know yet. My grandfather says we’ll have to test you to see if you’re still growing.”

  “And if I’m not?”

  “I don’t know,” she said quietly.

  Ryan thought deeply of the consequences of never growing up. For a few months, maybe a year or two, nobody would really notice, but then the differences would become more and more noticeable. His friends would grow taller until he was smallest boy in his class. They’d keep on growing, maturing. When they were adults, he would be a man trapped in a boy’s body.

  “No, that can’t happen.” He poked himself in the chest, imagining the tapeworm inside. “Are you absolutely sure the thing can’t be taken out?”

  Mira shook her head. “Already the symbiont’s taken over many functions of your immune system. If it were removed, you’d die of your first cold. I’m really sorry, Ryan. If there had been another way to save your life ...”

  “Hey!” Ryan said. “Don’t feel bad. You did the right thing. I’m alive because of what you both did for me. Being like Peter Pan won’t be so bad – as long as I don’t have to wear a green leotard and silly hat.”

  *

  Professor Ravencroft didn’t look happy when he returned, but that was nothing new. The man rarely smiled under the best of times. His hands were covered in blood until he washed them in the kitchen. “Well, I’ve cleaned up the mess. I just hope nobody saw me. Ryan, I’d like to see you alone in my study. We need to talk man to man.”

  There he explained how Ryan would have to hide his new powers from everyone, including his family. Then he discussed what he would have to do if he accidentally touched someone. Finally, he wanted to talk about the problem of Greg Armstrong.

  “I doubt this thug will have boasted of what he did, so that simplifies matters. The trouble is, if he sees you without a mark on your body, he’ll say something then. Before he can do that, he must be taken care of.”

  “Taken care of how?” Ryan asked.

  “You’ll have to wipe his memory of the whole day.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes. You. I can’t risk going out again. Do you have a problem with brainwashing him?”

  “No. I’d love to brainwash him,” Ryan said. “But how am I going to get close enough to touch him? He’ll run a mile when he sees me.”

  “You’ll have to sneak up on him. He won’t be expecting to see you, not after he stabbed you. He’s probably making up alibis for where he was right now. Do you know where he lives?”

  “Yeah,” Ryan said. “Everyone does – so they can avoid going there.”

  “Brainwash him at his home. It’s the place he’ll least be expecting you. Do it immediately.”

  The Professor showed him what to say to a hypnotised person. It was very important he used clear, precise language because anyone under the influence of the powerful drug would obey instructions exactly how they were given. A man would jump off a cliff if told so.

  Ryan had had a thought. “What if I told him to stop bullying people? Would that work?”

  “Yes, it would. He’d obey any commands you gave him. But you must not change his personality. I know how tempting it will be to give Armstrong orders to make him be a better human being. You must resist. You can’t interfere with how other people live their lives. That’s how the Brotherhood works. They believe free will is a weakness. You now have a huge responsibility, Ryan. You could easily take advantage of your new gift, but that would put you in danger and harm others. Only use it to defend yourself from detection, when you have no choice.”

  *

  Only three hours had passed since he was technically dead, but Ryan felt more alive than he ever remembered, full of boundless energy, when he said goodbye to Mira and the Professor. He felt as though he could run a marathon without breaking into a sweat. Not only had the stab wound gone, but also so had every little scar he’d got in other incidents. Ryan stopped at the top of Willow Lane and stared at the streets as if for the first time, looking around at the sky and the ground, amazed at the clarity of everything.

  “What’s wrong?” Saffron asked.

  “Nothing,” he said. “I feel great. Saffron, you won’t believe what I can see. I can see things in focus much, much further away. Can you see those birds on that telephone wire?”

  Saffron nodded. “Just about.”

  “What colour are they?”

  “Um, I don’t know. There are just black blobs to me.”

  “I can see them clearly even from this distance. I can see the brown and orange markings on their wings. I could probably count their feathers. I can also hear clearer and smell better. The Professor told me my senses would improve, but I had not idea it would be like this. It’s like I was living in a black and white world, but now I can see in colour. In a weird way, I should be thanking Armstrong for stabbing me because now I feel like an updated version of myself: Ryan Brewster 2.0.”

  “That’s good, I suppose,” Saffron said uneasily. “But remember what you can’t do because of him. You’re no longer able to touch people. And you might be stuck as a boy forever.”

  “Yeah, I know.” His anger returned. “The Professor told me Armstrong needs to be brainwashed. Let’s find him before he causes major trouble.”

  *

  Greg Armstrong lived in an ugly tower block casting an evil shadow over everything beneath it. Ryan and Saffron decided to split up when they got there. He would go up to the flat alone, while she watched outside, in case Armstrong wasn’t at home. That way she could warn him if he was coming. Armstrong’s flat was on the seventh floor. Ryan took the lift up. With his newly improved senses, the smell inside of rotten rubbish seemed a hundred times more unpleasan
t. He held his breath all of the way up. The lift doors opened onto a grey-painted corridor covered in vile graffiti. He could hear the sounds of televisions and human voices. He stopped at the door of Armstrong’s home, noticing a peep-hole. He rang the doorbell and made sure his face couldn’t be seen through the fish-eye lens of the peep-hole. To prepare himself, he pulled back his sleeves, readying his hands for touching Armstrong. He knew he would have to be quick surprising him.

  Unfortunately, Greg Armstrong didn’t open the door. A small, overweight woman did. Her hard face was devoid of any humanity. A cigarette was between her lips. The family resemblance was uncanny. The flat reeked of unwashed dogs and her cheap, sour perfume.

  “What do you want?” she said angrily.

  “Mrs Armstrong?”

  “What’s it to you, kid?”

  “I’m looking for Greg.”

  “You are, are you? Me, too. He’s not here.”

  “Do you know where he is?”

  “No. The rotten lousy kid’s runaway after stealing me credit cards and all me cash.” Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You’re not one of his gang. What’s he steal from you?”

  “It doesn’t matter if he’s not here,” he said. “Have you called the police?”

  “Yeah, but they don’t care. They just told me to cancel me cards. They won’t even look for him unless I file a missing persons report, like I can be bothered with that.”

  “Where could he have gone?”

  “I don’t know and I don’t care. Good riddance, I say. I’m better off with him gone. He was always stealing off me. Just like his father.”

  She was about to close the door, but he couldn’t let her. Moving quickly, he reached out and touched her. She froze immediately. He wiped her memory of his visit, then hurried away, meeting up with Saffron at the street corner.

  “The good news is Armstrong won’t be a problem. He’s gone. He must think the police will be after him for what he did to me. As long as he doesn’t find out that I’m not dead, he won’t come back. He’s probably half way to London now, thinking he’s a fugitive from justice.”

  Saffron sighed in relief. “Let’s hope he never comes back.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Let’s get out of here.”

  They took a bus home. Ryan walked with Saffron to her door. Again, he thanked her for saving his life.

  “I was really scared,” she admitted. “I never thought I could feel so helpless. Every second I was waiting for the Professor felt like a million years. Promise me you won’t die ever again!”

  “I promise,” he said. He stepped closer to hug her, but suddenly remembered he could not. He lowered her arms and smiled awkwardly. “I – uh – I guess I’ll see you tomorrow at school, okay?”

  She nodded. “Bye, then.”

  “Bye, Saff.”

  Ryan ran home before it got too dark. He could smell the cheesy pizza on the coffee table from as far away as the front door. He could also hear the buzzing of electricity in the lights and plug sockets. Upon his arrival, he entered the living room and found Rachel and his mum watching the TV. Not wanting to behave strangely, he slumped in a chair and asked his sister what was on.

  “A new American situation comedy,” his sister said. “That guy is spy, but his family don’t know it.”

  His mother seemed to be enjoying for once, so he didn’t interrupt any more. Her eyes were slightly unfocussed because of her medication. He wished he could touch her and make her well. Could he do that? Would it make her better? Could he erase the pain of losing dad? His mum was staring at the screen, smiling at the jokes, barely aware of his presence. He tried to get into the programme, but something was different with the screen. When he concentrated, he noticed a flickering as the picture updated line by line, an effect he had never seen before. He was able to see the pixels being refreshed as though time had slowed down. Time had not slowed down, but his improved senses were aware of the flickering effect. Normal human eyes did not notice the effect, but his were evidently much more sensitive. Watching TV will never be the same, he realised. The flickering was giving him a headache.

  His sister was looking at him. “Can I have a word with you in the kitchen?”

  “Sure.” Frowning, he followed Rachel out of the room.

  She said nothing until they were in the kitchen with the door closed. “Earlier, I was going to wash your school blazer when I found this in one of the pockets.”

  She showed him the money Ravencroft had given him for the weekly shopping.

  “It’s over a hundred pounds,” she said. “Where did it come from, Ryan?”

  She clearly suspected him of committing some kind of crime. There seemed to be no other good explanation, after all.

  “Are you selling drugs?” she said.

  “No!” he said.

  “Then explain it.”

  “It’s Saffron’s money. She asked me to keep it so her brothers didn’t steal it off her.”

  “Saffron’s money?”

  He nodded. He hoped she believed him.

  “You’re lucky I checked your pockets,” Rachel said. “It could’ve been destroyed in the washing machine.”

  “I didn’t know you were doing the washing,” he said. “But I’ll remember not to do it again.”

  “Good.” She returned it to him. “Keep it somewhere safer, Ryan. Tell your friend she should put it in a bank earning interest. That’s the safest place.”

  “I will,” he said. He went up to his room and breathed a sigh of relief. Looking out of his window at the darkening sky, he noticed the stars appearing over the hills. His newly sensitive eyes detected more than he used to see. One star seemed to be moving too fast. It was a helicopter. As he closed his curtains for the night, he wondered where it was going.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The helicopter was going towards the warehouse where Brother Morgan was answering his phone. The warehouse fell silent because everyone knew who was calling him. Feeling nervous, he flipped open his phone and answered it.

  “I’m here, sir.”

  “You’ve been in Hobley for over two months, Brother Morgan. What progress have you made since our last conversation?”

  The question was a simple one, but the answer wasn’t. His team had collected a huge amount of data ... but they had not located Ravencroft or the black-haired girl.

  “We’ve eliminated a great deal from our inquiries, sir.”

  “You’ve eliminated a great deal from your inquiries? That sounds like the answer of a politician avoiding giving an answer. Yes or no - have you found Ravencroft?”

  “No, sir.”

  “And the girl?”

  “Not yet, sir. But I’m confident -”

  “Shut up. I’m not interesting in excuses. Excuses are for losers. I gave you two things to do. Two things, not a million. But you have failed miserably at both. Tell me, what should I do with you, Brother? Should I have you whipped to death?”

  “No, sir. Give me more time, sir. I have been trying to locate him, but we did not have much to go on, sir. The CCTV from the traffic cameras proved useless because the local council had not repaired the broken ones. Those that were working didn’t store pictures of the taxis because the tape was recycled after 24 hours. We could not find out which direction the taxis left the station, which meant I had to start at the beginning. I have sent agents to every local school, looking for the girl. They have removed all of the ones on my list as not being the right one – so it looks like the girl doesn’t go to a local school. My men are making discreet house to house inquiries in the guise of repairmen. Every day we get closer to isolating where they are hiding. I feel like it won’t be long now, sir. I am making progress – quite progress, as you ordered. You didn’t want the enemy knowing of our presence, which is exactly how I am investigating. Please give me more time.”

  “Time? You’ve had plenty of time. My patience is running out. I’m an extremely busy man, but I am now going to take time out of
my schedule to personally handle this matter. I’ll decide what I’m going to do with you when I arrive, Brother.”

  Morgan was left listening to the dead line.

  *

  Unknown to the residents of Hobley, a virtually silent and invisible helicopter was flying over their town. Inside, Gideon Hunter closed his phone and looked down through his window. The town looked so small from his altitude it was hard to understand how his subordinate had failed to find Ravencroft. Hobley wasn’t exactly a big city like New York.

  “Is this where you’ve been hiding all those years?” he said, smiling to himself. He was not impressed. It was a small, insignificant town with no distinguishing features. Its streets were chaotically arranged like the web of a drunken spider. As an American, he preferred the organised grid-pattern road system of places like Washington DC. He spoke to the pilot. “What’s the ETA?”

  “Seven minutes, sir.”

  “Land on the roof,” he instructed.

  “The roof, sir?”

  “The roof. I want to test the security.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  The helicopter touched down gently. His bodyguards climbed out while the rotors were still blowing a strong wind. They set up a defensive perimeter with rifles fitted with night scopes. He followed after a minute. The helicopter lifted off a few seconds later, returning to London. There was one exit from the roof into the building. His men caught the internal security by surprise, as they had not expected anyone to enter from above. His men took control of the warehouse in under a minute. As he entered the warehouse, a highly embarrassed Brother Morgan met him. Morgan grinned nervously, pretending he was happy to see his boss. Gideon Hunter could hear Morgan’s heart thumping in the silence that descended.

  “The security of this building was a joke,” he said. “What if I had been the Alliance? You’d all be dead or captured.”

  “I will see to it my men are reprimanded, sir.”