The Black Room

by Gillian Cross

  And then he’d given her leash to Emma. Of all people.

  She started barking reproachfully, straining at the leash and growling when Emma bent down to talk to her.

  “What’s gotten into her?” Robert said. “She’s such a friendly dog. What’s she got against Emma?”

  Tom tried not to remember all the times he and Helga had shadowed Robert and Emma. The times he’d muttered and grumbled in Helga’s ear. Hag! Bite her ears off, Helga! Chase her into a bog! Rip up her tights! Helga might not have understood the words, but she wasn’t stupid. She knew exactly what Tom thought about Emma.

  What he used to think.

  “She’s going to ruin the whole plan,” Emma said crossly. “Do something, Tom.”

  There was only one thing Tom could think of. He edged cautiously up to Emma. “Sorry about this, but it’s the quickest way.” He gave her a huge grin and then put a tentative arm around her shoulders.

  “You might as well do it properly,” Emma said briskly. Without letting go of the leash, she turned around and gave him a quick, hard hug. “Do you think she’s got the message now?”

  Somehow Tom managed to catch his breath. “I hope so,” he said. And then—in case Emma took that the wrong way—“Just don’t snap. She won’t like that. Be nice to me.”

  “That’s going to be really tough,” Emma said. She grinned. “Anything to keep the dog happy, though.”

  “She’s not called The Dog. Her name’s Helga.” Tom bent down and gave Helga a pat. “Go with Emma now. All right? She’s a friend.”

  Helga gave him a wary look, but she stopped pulling at the leash. She watched as Tom and Robert climbed onto their bikes and let them go without anything more than a whine.

  “D‘you think she’ll be all right?” Robert looked back anxiously as they cycled away.

  “She’ll be fine,” Tom said. “She’s been on buses before.”

  “I didn’t mean Helga. I meant Em.”

  That was a new one. Robert looking after Emma. Tom tried not to laugh.

  “No need to worry about Emma,” he said. “We’re the ones taking risks. We’ll be lucky if we get through this without being caught.”

  ONCE THEY’D HIDDEN THEIR BIKES ON THE WASTE GROUND, they were up on the embankment in a couple of minutes. Immediately, Robert began to thread his way through the brambles and the tangled hawthorn bushes. It took Tom a while to realize that they were following exactly the same track they’d used on Saturday night.

  “How can you remember?” he hissed next time they stopped. “It all looks the same to me.”

  Robert grunted. “Practice. Now shut up, or someone’s going to hear us.”

  He didn’t stop again until they were level with the top of the cypress trees. Then he took out his phone to let Emma know they’d reached the back of the Armstrongs’ house.

  “Hang on a minute,” Tom muttered. “Let’s have a look first.”

  It was a shock to see the conservatory looking so—ordinary. He’d been thinking about it for thirty-six hours, almost without stopping, and it had grown and distorted in his mind, turning into an evil cartoon full of dark shadows and threatening corners. But it was just a conservatory. The windows were clean. The floor was polished. The furniture was neatly arranged, with the chair pushed in at the table and the television standing square in the middle of the red rug.

  But the television was still running, with nobody watching it.

  The French windows leading into the house were slightly open. He tried to peer past them, into the shadowy room beyond. He could just make out a couple of sofas and a table, but it was too dark to see any details.

  Robert was watching him. “Ready?”

  Tom nodded and began to work his way down the slope toward the fence at the bottom. It all seemed quite different in the daylight. He couldn’t believe that they’d been brave—or stupid—enough to risk going over the fence and into the garden. He looked through a gap in the wood, but all he could see was the side of the rock garden.

  Then Robert slid down, too, and they crouched side by side, waiting for the sound of the doorbell.

  They heard Helga first, barking as she came down the road. Then the crunch of Emma’s feet on the gravel path and the sound of the doorbell. It was impossible to see who answered the door. They just had to hope there was no one else in the house.

  “Hello,” Emma said, very high and loud, to make sure they heard it. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I’m doing a sponsored cycle ride—”

  That was their signal. They hauled themselves up and over the fence at top speed, getting down into the cover of the cypresses as soon as they could. Robert stayed there, watching, but Tom ran forward and tried the door of the conservatory.

  It was locked.

  He wasn’t exactly surprised, but he was disappointed. He and Robert had no chance of sneaking in while Emma was at the front door. They’d have to leave it all up to her. All he could do was give her a chance.

  He took out the little, high-pitched whistle that he used to call Helga in the park. Bending as close as he could to the conservatory door, he blew long-short-long, just as he always did. He wasn’t quite sure how Helga would react, but he knew she would make a fuss. She was a very excitable dog.

  There was an eager yelp and then a shout from Emma.

  “Maisie! Come back!”

  Helga obviously didn’t respond to that. She wasn’t meant to. She was meant to race into the house, to give Emma an excuse to follow.

  It was good in theory—but they hadn’t realized that all the inside doors would be open. Helga made straight for the conservatory and the sound of the whistle. She appeared suddenly between the French windows, knocking them wider apart as she flew through, and Tom just had time to fling himself to the ground before Emma and the woman came racing in after her.

  He cowered against the bricks, sure that the woman would spot him. Inside the conservatory, Helga was going crazy, jumping up at the windows and barking as loud as she could. Even above the noise of the television, Tom could hear the thuds as her body landed against the glass. Any moment now, the woman would look through the window to see what Helga was after.

  But it didn’t happen. The woman didn’t seem to be interested in anything except getting rid of Helga. Tom could hear her flapping around and shouting ineffectually.

  “Get out of here! Shoo! Go away!”

  Emma was calling, too—from the other side of the conservatory. “Here, Maisie. Good dog. Come here.”

  None of that had any effect, of course. Helga just grew more and more frantic. Tom couldn’t see what was happening, and he didn’t dare lift his head to look. He just hoped nobody was going to hurt Helga.

  Emma started giving instructions. “Try and keep her up by the window. Then I can sneak around and get her collar. No, don’t look at me. You’ll give it away. just keep shouting.”

  Tom heard their voices through the wall, mixed with the noise of the television. He lay with his face against the bricks, feeling angry and frustrated. Emma hadn’t had time to look at anything inside the house after all. And he and Robert had come all the way along the embankment for nothing.

  Helga’s barking changed, and Tom guessed that Emma had caught hold of her leash. There were yelps of protest as she was dragged away from the window. Then the French windows were closed firmly, and the sitting room door was slammed shut.

  So that was it. Helga had bolted into the house and been recaptured—and they hadn’t found out anything at all. What a waste of energy.

  Tom turned around to crawl back to the hedge—and saw Robert at the conservatory door. It’s locked, he mouthed. You can‘t—But Robert ignored him and pressed the handle down.

  And the door opened in front of him.

  19

  “SHHH!” LORN SAID FRANTICALLY. “BE QUIET!” SHE reached up quickly and put a hand over Bando’s mouth. “It’s a secret.”

  But Bando was nearly as frantic as she was. He grabbed her hand a
nd pulled it away. “You mustn’t go through there, Lorn! The monster will get you!”

  “Shhh. It’s all right,” Lorn said. “I’m safe. Nothing happened.”

  “But it might.” Bando wasn’t going to be silenced. “You mustn’t do it. You mustn’t go in there again.”

  “OK, OK,” Lorn said hastily. “We’ll block up the hole. But only if you keep the secret. Is that a deal?”

  Bando hesitated.

  “Come on.” Lorn shook his shoulder gently, wheedling now. “Don’t you trust me?”

  “Of course I do,” Bando said.

  “And you promise not to tell anyone?”

  Bando hesitated again, and Lorn thought he was going to refuse, but he didn’t. He gave a long sigh and said, “I promise.”

  “Good.” Lorn tried not to sound relieved. “Let’s block up the hole, then. Help me with the stone.”

  She took his hands and laid them underneath it, guiding him as he lifted it into place. When it was there, he stroked the front surface, feeling how the stone fitted into the wall. Lingering over the pointed lump that stuck out at the front.

  “Feel that,” he said “It’s like a handle.”

  Lorn wanted to stop him from thinking about the stone. She turned away from it and changed the subject. “What are you doing down here, anyway? Were you looking for me?”

  “Yes, I was. I—” For a moment Bando sounded vague. Then he remembered—and his voice came alive with excitement. “Yes! That’s it! I saw you come down here. When I was by the woodpile. So I came to get you—but I then couldn’t see where you were—”

  “Never mind that,” Lorn said quickly. “Just tell me what’s going on.”

  Bando gave a delighted laugh. “They’re here! Perdcw’s gone to fetch them into the cavern.”

  “Who’s here?” Lorn had no idea what he was talking about.

  “Cam!”

  “What?”

  “And—someone else, too.” Bando was so gleeful that he could hardly get the words out. “They’ve come back!”

  Lorn forgot how tired she was. Robert, said the voice in her head. Oh, Robert. She started across the storeroom—and then had to go back because Bando was shouting that he couldn’t see the way. Catching his arm, she dragged him toward the ramp, peppering him with questions as they went.

  “So what happened? How many of them have come back? Did they get where they were heading?”

  “I don’t know.” That was the only answer Bando seemed to have. “I just heard Perdew say——and then he asked where you were. So I came to get you.”

  Lorn hauled him up the ramp. When they came out from behind the brazier, the others were all up at the far end of the cavern, crowded around the entrance. She raced toward them.

  “Oh, there you are!” Dess said over his shoulder. “They couldn’t get past the branches by themselves. So Perdew’s gone to help them.”

  Lorn caught her breath. “They’re very weak, then?”

  “I think so.” Dess pointed into the entrance tunnel. “Look.”

  Perdew’s feet were just visible now. He was crawling backward out of the entrance tunnel, moving very slowly and carefully. Dragging someone after him, awkwardly, by the shoulders.

  Shang and Ab went in closer, to help him and to take the weight. As they bent down, Lorn saw that it was Cam they were lifting. She was pale and unconscious, and her face was completely white, except for a long, raw wound that ran down one cheek and under her jaw. When Shang and Ab lifted her up, her arms fell loosely over theirs. Lorn was shocked to see how thin they were, and she stepped forward and touched one. It was cold under her hand.

  “Bat furs!” she said quickly. “Get her down by the brazier and warm her up. She needs people under the covers, too. You, Annet. And Tina on the other side.”

  They moved fast. Half a dozen of them went down the cavern with Cam, and Bando and Dess moved into place to help with the next person. Lorn stayed where she was, watching Perdew dive back into the entrance tunnel.

  Robert ... she thought again.

  But it wasn’t Robert. It was Zak.

  When they lifted him out of the tunnel, he looked old and dead. His face was waxy and his mouth hung open. Lorn shouted frantically at Perdew.

  “Get him warm! Take Bando with you, and get him under the furs.”

  She turned back, peering eagerly into the entrance. But it was empty now. There was no one else coming into the cavern. Nate wasn’t there; nor was Robert.

  Only Cam and Zak had come back from the journey.

  They laid the two of them side by side, near the brazier but not too near. Lorn made sure Zak had furs, too, and people to warm him with their body heat. Even though he didn’t look as if he would ever move again.

  Cam was almost as weak. Lorn crouched in front of her, gently rubbing Cam’s cold hands. She tucked them into her own armpits and felt the chill seep through her body.

  “Wake up, Cam,” she said softly. “You’re safe now. Wake up and tell us what happened.”

  Perdew was leaning over Zak, cupping his face in both hands. “Can you hear me? Open your eyes, Zak.”

  It was half an hour before either of them responded. But in that time, gradually, the color came back into their faces. Lorn could see their joints loosening and easing as their bodies grew warmer.

  She was going to leave them to sleep, but Cam stirred suddenly and opened her eyes. Slowly her head turned, looking around the cavern. Then her jaw moved awkwardly. When she managed to speak at last, her voice was as rough as bitter-nut bark.

  “Anything ... to eat?”

  Annet brought some hot mash, and Lorn lifted a little and put it to Cam’s lips. Cam sucked the food off Lorn’s fingers, but after a few mouthfuls, she turned her head away and fell asleep.

  Lorn lowered her onto the bundled furs and then swiveled around to look at Zak. He was still unconscious, but Perdew had raised him up, to help him breathe. He was half lying and half sitting, propped between Shang and Bando.

  Bando was frowning nervously. “That’s what they look like when they’re dead,” he whispered.

  “Nobody’s going to die,” Lorn said firmly. Willing it to be true. “They’ll be all right when we’ve gotten them warm and given them some food.”

  She put a hand on Zak’s forehead. It was colder than she had expected, clammy and damp.

  “Wake up,” she said. “You’re home now, Zak. You’re safe.”

  His mouth tightened, infinitesimally. Slowly his eyelids lifted, and Lorn found herself staring straight into his eyes. They were blue and very clear, and she could see her own face reflected in the pupils, small and distant, like a face looking up from the bottom of a pit. His eyes sharpened, focusing on her face. Looking at her.

  And it felt ... it felt like ...

  A hand on her head, moving gently. Not making patterns, just smoothing her hair while she stayed still and still and still, keeping the feeling. To remember afterward, down in the dark.

  “Zak?” she said uncertainly. “What’s happening? Do you know—?”

  But his eyes closed again before he could answer her.

  20

  TOM AND ROBERT KNEW EXACTLY WHAT TO DO. EMMA HAD made them practice it over and over again, all Sunday afternoon, until it was fast and slick. They could manage the whole thing in ten seconds now.

  The television first. They lifted it up, with its table, moving it smoothly to the left. The instant they put it down, Tom fell on his knees and started rolling up the red rug. His fingers felt fat and clumsy, and there was a depressing, discouraging voice whining away in his head (There’s not enough time—she’s going to come back and catch us—how can Emma keep her away?), but it didn’t slow him down. After all their rehearsing, the actions were automatic.

  As soon as the rug was rolled back enough, Robert started undoing the rotating catches that held the lid in place. There were four of them, sunk into the wood, one on each side. He swung them open and slid his fingertips under one ed
ge of the lid. Tom finished rolling the rug and leaned forward to help him. Together, they lifted the heavy lid out of the way.

  And the black space opened up in front of them.

  It was much bigger than Tom had expected. Bigger and deeper and darker. The air inside was stale and squalid, smelling of earth and mold and cheap air freshener. Robert took a flashlight out of his pocket and shone it down at the bottom of the hole. It was covered with black plastic, ripped in a couple of places, and it was too far down to reach from where they were.

  “Look quickly!” Tom muttered. “We’ve got to get out of here.” He knew it was stupid to speak, but he couldn’t stop himself. This was the dangerous, unpredictable part of the operation.

  Robert made a face at him and then leaned farther into the hole, angling the flashlight left. There was a quick rustle from that direction. And then silence.

  Rats, Tom thought. He went down flat on the ground, sticking his head into the opening and looking along the shiny plastic. Beyond the pool of light from Robert’s flashlight, he could see more space, going back all the way to the house. He reached up and took the light so that he could shine it to the far end.

  And he saw—something.

  Someone.

  There was a crouching figure huddled into the far corner, close against the foundation of the house. Its head was turned away, and it had both hands pressed tightly over its mouth. But, above the hands, he could see the glint of its eyes looking sideways at him.

  “Hello?” he said softly. Stupidly. He could hear his voice shaking.

  The head shifted slightly, turning farther away. The eyes couldn’t see him now, but the creature’s whole body was tense. Until that moment, Tom hadn’t been able to tell anything except that it was human. Now he could see that it— she—was a small, thin girl, maybe seven or eight years old, with pale skin and peculiar, matted hair.