They heard him scuttle down toward his house, getting slower as he reached the end of the road.
“He’ll never do it,” Robert said.
“Yes, he will.” Emma grinned at Tom. “You played that just right. He’d have done anything he was told. You had him in the palm of your hand.”
Tom felt sick. He’d made Warren do what he wanted. Instinctively, he’d known the right things to say and the right tone of voice to use, to tap into the fear that dominated everything Warren did. He’d understood him.
It was like a lead weight in his mind.
22
“NATE’S ... dead?” LORN SAID SLOWLY.
She said it for them all because no one else could speak the word out loud. The cavern was silent with the shock of it.
Cam nodded and closed her eyes for a moment, exhausted by the effort of telling them. For almost half an hour she had been talking about the journey, ignoring questions and explaining everything that had happened, in order. She was very pale, except for the jagged red wound running down her face.
And she’d told less than half of it. They still didn’t know what had happened to Robert.
Bando wriggled closer to Lorn, and Annet began to cry quietly, with her face in her hands. Twisting her fingers together, Lorn tried not to picture how Nate had died. Tried not to think about the hot, stinking breath of the hedge-tiger and how its black eyes must have sharpened suddenly as its yellow teeth snapped together.
It was Perdew who broke the silence. “Is Robert dead, too?” he said harshly.
Cam rolled her head sideways, looking to Zak for an answer. He let his eyes travel around the cavern, from the big stack of new wood to the padded blankets Lorn had made out of white floss. He gazed at the fresh green leaves they were eating and the little sacs of juice piled into snail shells beside Annet. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse and dry.
“You didn’t collect all that food yourselves, did you?”
For a moment it sounded as though he was talking about something completely different. People glanced uneasily at each other, and Perdew shifted impatiently, wanting his question answered.
And then—Lorn understood. The thought came so suddenly that she realized it had been there all the time, at the back of her mind. She’d been pushing it away.
“It’s Robert, isn’t it?” she said. “He’s the one who brings the food.”
Zak didn’t answer. Nor did Cam. But the others stared at her.
“How can it be Robert?” Ab said. “It’s impossible.”
“No, it’s not.” Lorn struggled to keep her voice steady. “Don’t you remember why they all went on that terrible journey? Robert was trying to get back to—what he was before. And he’s done it. He’s stopped being small.”
There was a breathless, disbelieving silence. Then Cam nodded slowly—and the cavern exploded. People pushed forward, talking and laughing and shouting, breaking the circle to get as close as they could to Zak and Cam.
“Is it true? Is it really true?”
“How did he do it?”
“Why was it only Robert?”
“What about us?”
“What do we have to do—?”
Lorn found herself on her own, outside the crowd, looking at people’s backs. Why are you all so desperate to be big? she wanted to yell. Why can’t you stay like this?
Their heads were full of pictures from before, from the lost time that was too dangerous to think about unless Zak made them do it. But inside her own head, there was nothing. Only darkness.
We don’t remember, she wanted to shout. We look forward. But she knew that no one would listen to that now. For the first time since Zak brought her into the cavern, she felt as if she didn’t belong. As if she would never belong again. Robert had left and gone where she couldn’t reach him, and now all the others wanted to leave, too.
And she couldn’t want that. She didn’t know how.
She slid backward out of the broken circle, desperate to get away from the voices and the questions and the terrible desire. Grabbing a bundle of bat furs, she made for the entrance tunnel, not following any plan, but acting instinctively. Taking the nearest escape route.
As soon as she pulled out the branches, she began to feel the cold. By the time she was halfway through, her skin felt as though it was shrinking around her. She was shivering uncontrollably, and her teeth knocked together, every breath drawing icy air into the very center of her body. When she came out into the woods, she was already chilled, right through to her bones.
Outside, it was even colder. The earth was covered with sharp white crystals that hurt her feet as she clambered over them. I can‘t, she thought. I can’t—And she nearly turned back.
Then a breath of wood smoke came drifting down toward her, and she realized where she could find some heat. Following the scent of the smoke, she turned and clambered up toward the little hole where it escaped from the cavern.
Even there, the ground was very cold, but it was warmer than anywhere else. Spreading a couple of furs underneath her, she wrapped the others around her body, drawing a fold across her face to keep in the warm breath. Only her eyes were left uncovered. She stared out at the cold from inside a cocoon of fur.
The woods were beautiful and strange. The cold white crystals edged each separate clod of earth and every bare twig. They outlined the stray, brittle leaves still hanging on the great trees and coated the dead stems of the small ones.
If she lifted her chin out of the fur, she could see her own breath eddying out into the air, like the smoke from the brazier. For the first time, she wondered where it came from, thinking how it went in cold and came out warm. She imagined a labyrinth of dark tunnels inside her body where the change happened slowly, magically. Time after time.
Drawing another breath of the icy air, she lowered her head to blow it out over her cold fingers. And as she did that, something came drifting up from the bottom of her mind. Something fainter than the smell of wood smoke, harder to grasp than the breath itself. A voice that spoke right from the center of who she was.
Warm breath in the cold black room, blowing onto
stiff fingers ... The warmth is a thing you can trust,
like sweetness in the mouth and strings that wind
together....
Like the colors that move in the air and the sounds that
come from up above ...
... life, Jim, but not as we know it ...
... where everybody knows your name ...
The sounds come down, and the lips and tongue move in
the dark, trying to make those patterns ...
But without any noise... shhh, hands over the mouth ...
No noise, only the patterns ...
“Lorn?” Zak said, from somewhere far away. “Lorn, you’ll die if you stay there.”
She opened her eyes and came swimming up out of the dark place where she had been. Zak was standing over her, propping himself on a stick. His face was yellow and tired, and he was leaning heavily, swaying slightly as he looked down at her.
“You shouldn’t be out here!” The shock of seeing him sent Lorn shooting back into the ordinary world. “You’re not strong enough. You should be in the cavern.”
“Come with me then.” Zak held out his free hand.
She jumped up and took it quickly because she was afraid that he would fall. But he was looking hard at her, and his blue eyes were sharp and clear. She knew he wouldn’t be distracted into thinking about himself.
“I can’t go back,” she said. “I can’t bear it.”
“Can’t bear what?” he said. But she could tell that he knew. That he was pushing at her to say what she meant.
And because it was Zak, she told him. “I can’t bear the way they’re all remembering. Wanting to go back. How can I share that? There’s nothing in my head except here. If I’m not in the cavern—then I’m nothing.”
“No memories?” Zak said. “Are you sure?”
; “Nothing I can understand. Nothing that makes sense. Only—”
She stopped because she wanted him to finish the sentence for her. She wanted him to tell her about the voice in her head, to say that it was nothing to worry over.
But all he said was, “Pick up the blankets.”
The moment she had them, he began to move down the slope, very slowly, leaning on her arm so that she had to go with him. Step by step they made their way back to the cavern entrance, but as they knelt down to go in, Lorn caught the noise from inside. The others were still talking all at once, laughing with excitement. Letting go of Zak’s arm, Lorn tried to draw back, but he caught hold of her hand and wouldn’t let her go.
“If things don’t make sense, that means you need to find out more,” he said. “If you run away, you’ll never figure it out.”
Lorn bent her head, mumbling at the ground. “Suppose I’m better off not knowing?”
“I’ve never thought of you as a coward,” Zak said.
His voice was so weak now, that she could hardly hear it. Getting him back into the cavern was more urgent than anything. She waved her hand at the entrance tunnel. “You go first. Then I can give you a push if you need it.”
He gave her a wry, sideways smile, but he didn’t argue. Going down onto his belly, he slid into the tunnel, pulling himself forward with his arms. He managed without any help, but when he stood up inside the cavern, he was staggering with exhaustion. Lorn slid out after him and jumped up, putting a hand under his elbow.
“You shouldn’t have come out,” she said.
“If I hadn’t come, you would have died.”
She knew he was right. She would have slipped into a frozen sleep, with that strange, familiar voice going on and on in her head. One of the patterns you can trust... Like sweetness in the mouth and strings that wind together... It wouldn’t have taken long to die out there in the cold. Zak had saved her life.
But it had taken all his energy. He was leaning heavily on her arm now, looking toward the corner by the brazier.
“Come on,” Lorn said. “We’ve got to get warm.” She started to lead him down the cavern.
“There you are.” Perdew looked around as they went past. “So you weren’t in the storeroom after all?”
“What?” Lorn stopped and stared at him. “What are you talking about?”
“Oh, it was Bando.” Perdew grinned. “You know what he’s like. He noticed you weren’t in the cavern, and he got it in his head that you had to be down in the storeroom. For some reason he went charging down there to get you back.”
“So where is he now?” Lorn said sharply.
Perdew shrugged. “Still down there, probably. Blundering around and knocking over all the grain heaps. Do you want me to go and find him?”
“No. No, I’ll have to go.” Lorn looked quickly at Zak. “I’m sorry—”
Zak just nodded and slipped his arm out of hers. “Off you go,” he said gently.
She was off immediately, not waiting to explain to anyone. They could ask questions when she came back. What she had to do now was find Bando, as fast as she could.
Let him be in the storeroom. Please let him still be there.
She had no idea how long he’d been down there. But she knew exactly why he’d gone. The moment he thought she was in danger, he would have been off to rescue her.
Don’t let him be in the tunnel. Let him still be blundering around.
He couldn’t have found the opening. He couldn’t. Not in the dark, with no one to show him the way. He would have had to feel his way all along the wall to find the right stone. Surely he wouldn’t have done that?
But when she ran down into the storeroom, she knew at once that she was wrong. There was no one else in there. And even from the bottom of the ramp, she could feel the cold air seeping in.
The stone had been moved and the secret passage was open.
23
THEY’D ARRANGED TO LEAVE ROBERT’S HOUSE TOGETHER, at half past one. Tom lay on his bed, fully dressed under his duvet, and waited for the right time to sneak out and meet the other two.
He had no trouble staying awake. He felt as though he would never sleep again. Not now that he knew about the girl under the floor. They must all be in it together—Mr. and Mrs. Armstrong and Warren, too. What were they doing? Why did they keep her there?
His brain made lurid pictures of Mr. Armstrong, blown up to the size of a giant, with the girl standing in the palm of his hand. She stood and stretched, ready to run away, and his fingers closed around her, one by one. Not crushing her, but coming together like bars, to keep her where she was. Tom saw her tiny, pale face peering through the gaps between the fingers—until Mr. Armstrong’s other hand moved across in front of it, stroking his curled fist.
You’re mine. I’m keeping you safe. I won’t let anything hurt you.
It was a terrible picture. Tom couldn’t wait to wrestle those fingers open and snatch the girl away. She had to be rescued. If they couldn’t get her out themselves, tonight, then they had to call the police. That was clear.
But were their plans good enough? Would they be able to do it?
It felt impossible, and horribly dangerous.
By QUARTER PAST ONE, HIS PARENTS WERE ASLEEP. IT WAS easy to slide out of bed and down the stairs. The only tricky part was getting his bike out of the shed without making a noise. He did it slowly, being supercautious, and that made him late. It was just after half past one when he reached Robert’s house.
Robert and Emma were already out on the pavement, a little way down the road. They both had their bikes, and Emma was wearing a bulging backpack. Tom knew what was inside that. They’d made very careful, detailed plans.
The three of them set off across the city, cycling one behind the other, without speaking. The streets in the center were eerily empty, with all the shops shuttered and the office blocks dark and silent.
Even when they reached the development, there was no one on the streets. There were lights in some of the houses, but it was too cold for loitering outside. Tom’s fingers were almost numb, and when he touched the bare metal of his handlebars, it stung like fire.
They stopped just before they reached the Armstrongs’ street. Robert unzipped Emma’s backpack and took out an oilcan. Then he went ahead on his own, leaving Tom and Emma with the bikes.
“He ought to have gone along the embankment,” Emma muttered under her breath. “It’s too risky going through all those gardens. There might be dogs. And he’s so clumsy.”
Tom thought of Robert creeping along the street. Diving down the side of the nearest house and moving silently from garden to garden. “He’ll be fine,” he said reassuringly. “You haven’t seen how good he is now. And he’s only got to cross a few fences.”
“How long will that take?”
Emma was trying to sound brittle and detached. A week ago, Tom would have thought, Leave him alone, you hag. But it was different now. He took a random guess, to comfort her.
“He should do it in ten minutes. Easily.”
Emma looked at her watch and nodded briskly. “All right. We’ll take a look in ten minutes. Now we’d better be quiet—unless someone comes along. We’ll talk then, so we don’t look suspicious.”
Yes, ma‘am, Tom thought. But he didn’t say it.
It seemed a long ten minutes, with nothing to do and no talking. Emma looked at her watch a dozen times. After nine and a half minutes, she pushed the bikes at Tom and went to the corner. She came back very quickly, and when she spoke, her voice was shaking.
“The side gate’s ajar. You’d better go.”
Until that moment, Tom hadn’t thought about leaving her alone in the dark. Suddenly he imagined what it would be like for her, waiting on and on, with nothing to do but look at her watch. “Do you want to go instead of me?” he whispered.
“No!” It was almost too loud for safety. “We have to stick to the plan. Get going.”
“Well—shout if there’s
anything wrong.” Tom wanted to tell her not to be frightened, but he didn’t dare. He just passed the bikes over to her and went quickly and quietly around the corner and into the Armstrongs’ street.
It was after two o‘clock now, and all the houses were dark. He hurried down the road, trusting that no one was looking out at him. When he reached the far end, he stepped off the pavement and onto the grass in front of the Armstrongs’ house.
Five slow, careful steps took him up to the side gate. He pushed cautiously at it, hoping that Robert had remembered to oil the hinges as well as the bolts. It opened as silently as a gate in a dream, and he stepped through it into the darkness of the back garden.
All the conservatory blinds were pulled shut, but around the edges he could see a glimmer of cold light from the television. The sound was turned down, but he could hear it faintly from outside. There was no sign of Robert, though—and nothing to show whether Warren had turned off the burglar alarm.
Tom’s heart was beating so fast that he could hardly breathe. For a second, he was sure that the whole thing was a delusion. How could there be a room under the floor? How could there be a girl hidden down there? It was impossible.
Then he realized that he could hear the television only because the conservatory door was slightly open.
He crept up and put his eye to the opening. In the light from the television, he saw Robert on his knees on the red rug, with the side of his head against the floor. It took Robert a second to realize that Tom was there. When he did, he beckoned vigorously, pointing to his ear and then down at the ground.
Tom knelt down and listened. For a moment the noise of the television distracted him. He put a hand over one ear, to shut it out, and put the other ear against the floor. Through the wood, he heard a faint, high humming. Not a tune, but a long, wordless note that moved unsteadily around the same pitch.
It was true. There really was a girl down there.
Robert put a hand on Tom’s arm, pulling him up. He tapped at his watch and then pointed to the television. Tom knew he was right. They had no idea what to expect when they tried to get the girl to move, but it made sense to open up the black room as quickly as possible.
The Black Room Page 13