by Mike Revell
“No, and I’m not going back there anytime soon if I can help it. Seth, listen. None of this makes any sense. How long have we been here?”
“Six months. So what?”
“Think about it. No one could build a camp like this in six months. Not with the Darkness to contend with. The Marshal’s lying to you, Seth. He’s lying to all of us.”
His mouth hung open, moving soundlessly. “What?” he said finally, shaking his head. “You’re kidding, right? The Marshal’s the only reason we’re still alive.”
“Look, if I’m wrong, you can chuck me out into the storm for all I care. But I’ve got a plan, and I know it can work. I just need you to get me to the radio tower. And . . . I need Iris with me. Send us in the direction of the tower when we go Hunting. Just this once. Please.”
I didn’t dare break eye contact. I didn’t want to give him any excuse to turn me down.
“Okay,” he said, in this high voice that made it sound like even he couldn’t believe what he was saying. “Just this once. But on one condition. I’m coming too.”
33
I heard it before I saw it.
A marker pen squeaking, kids whispering, chairs rocking.
The world spun, turning upside down. I spread my arms to keep my balance, clenching my eyes tight shut, willing it to stop.
A burst of laughter rang out, and I opened my eyes.
I scanned the classroom for a familiar face, but these students . . . they weren’t in my class.
They weren’t even in my year.
The teacher narrowed his eyes at me. “Can I help you?” he said. One minute he would have been looking at his usual class, and the next I was there, staggering round like I was still half-asleep.
“S-sorry,” I said, finding my way to the door. “Wrong class.”
The corridor was empty. Everyone would be in a class.
I tried to remember where I’d been before, but everything was so vague.
Deep breaths. Take it slow. I’m back. Everything’s okay.
I opened my timetable. I was supposed to be in English.
Walking slowly to avoid the groggy wave I knew was waiting to wash over me, I found my way to B corridor. Any second, I expected Mr. Barrow, the head teacher, to walk around the corner and bust me for being out of class.
I opened the door to the English class, trying to think of an excuse for being late. The whole class stared as I stood there in the doorway. I scanned the room and found Danny sitting at the back. He frowned at me, and I could almost see the cogs whirring in his brain.
“Sorry I’m late, Miss,” I said. “I was in the nurse’s office.”
“Oh.” Mrs. Cole paused by the whiteboard, pen in hand. “I could have sworn I marked you down as present,” she said, the wrinkles on her face crumpling. “Or was it the other way around? Have . . . have you been in school all day?”
“Yeah,” I said, as nonchalantly as possible.
“How strange,” she said, staring at me for a long moment. Then she shook herself. “Okay, well, take a seat, Owen. We’re just doing some more Shakespeare.”
Normally I’d hate that sentence, but it felt so good to be called Owen again that I walked into the room feeling happier than I had in ages.
“There we go,” Mrs. Cole said, noting the look on my face. “At least one of you is showing the excitement this text deserves!”
I took a seat next to Danny and slid my textbook out of the bag. It felt odd working at such a new-looking table, one that was clean and didn’t creak like an old boat when you leaned on it.
“You were there, weren’t you?” Danny whispered.
“Yeah,” I said.
“Did it work? Did you find the plane?”
I nodded. “But I jumped back before I could take the black box to the hill.”
“What about your dad? Is he all right?”
“I don’t know. I guess I’ll find out after school.”
When I got home that afternoon, I walked slowly up to the front door. I waited there, not wanting to go in. I wasn’t scared—just nervous. I kept picturing Dad smashing up those paintings, falling to his knees in the shed surrounded by all Mum’s work. But he’d started writing again. He sent me back in. I just hoped that it hadn’t all been for nothing.
I was standing at the door for so long that Dad saw me and came to let me in.
He smiled, and it wasn’t just the half-smile, it was the nearly real smile. Relief flooded through me, and I couldn’t stop beaming even if I’d wanted to. Because it was working! The plan was working.
“Forget your key?” Dad said.
“No. I was just thinking.”
“About what?”
“Just stuff,” I said.
I couldn’t tell him that I was thinking about the story. About how I nearly messed up everything just because of football. Mr. Matthews is always saying we need to have a short-term memory. If you made a mistake, you forgot about it and moved on, and maybe you could do better next time. I had to put football well and truly out of my mind now.
“I’ve been writing again,” Dad said, as he let me into the entrance hall. “I thought I’d be stuck forever, but the words are flowing.”
“That’s great!” I said. Then a sudden thought hit me. “Do . . . do you know how it’s going to end?” I tried to look innocent, as if I didn’t know anything about Jack or Iris or the Darkness.
Maybe if he told me more about the story, it would help me stay alive next time I jumped in. Maybe it would help all of us stay alive . . .
“No,” he said. “To tell you the truth, I don’t. I like finding out what happens while I’m writing. But I’ll let you into a secret,” he said, leaning closer. “I think there’s a big death coming up.”
My mouth dropped open.
A death?
My heart turned into a war drum beating louder and louder. I wished I’d never asked him. I wished I could invent a time machine just to go back and punch myself for thinking that question in the first place.
“Are you okay, Owen?” Dad said. “It’s just a story.”
Yeah, just a story. A story that I was living. A story where I could get hurt—where I could die. “I’m . . . I’m fine,” I lied.
The writing may have been healing Dad, but right now it was the opposite for me. If I died in the story, what would happen to me here? Would I come back? Would I just stop existing? A tiny voice chirped up in the back of my mind, telling me not to jump. I could fight it again. I could force myself to stay here.
But I shut it down. I couldn’t stop now. I’d come too far. And anyway, maybe I would be all right. It was Dad’s story, but I was the one living it. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. I had the tracking device, and I had a plan. Seth had agreed to let me go to the tower. All I had to do was try not to die in the process.
34
Dazzling light—
Clamoring voices—
The world around me swirled into focus and I blinked back tears, trying to steady myself. Dad’s words echoed in my mind again. I think there’s a big death coming up . . .
Maybe it would be better if I didn’t go out after all. No. I couldn’t think like that. I had to finish the story. I was so close now. This was it: my chance to help Dad once and for all.
I felt the cylinder still tucked away in my pack. I just hoped getting to high ground would be enough for Icarus 1 to pick up the signal . . . they’d be able to locate us and send their airship. I’d reunite Jack with his dad.
Seth was waiting for us at the edge of camp, like always. Most of the Stormwalkers were there too, ready to make the most of the daylight pocket—however long it lasted.
“Okay,” he said, when it looked like everyone had arrived. “The Darkness hasn’t been playing nice lately. The Scholars don’t think the light will last long. Try not to stay out longer than forty minutes. Listen for the siren. Keep your eyes and ears open, and stay safe.”
He reeled off names, giving peop
le directions to go in. Places where we might still find useful equipment, or locations where the Darkness had shifted the landscape and brought new bounty with it.
“Jack, Iris, Dillon,” he said at last. “You’re with me. We’ll go toward the tower and see how far we get. Any sign of Darkness, we’re coming straight back. I don’t s’pose you’re actually going to tell me the reason for all this?” he added in a low voice, when it was just us left.
“I don’t want to jinx it,” I said. “But you’ll see.”
With that, we ran off toward the radio tower, which loomed on the highest point of the horizon. The way we moved reminded me of how birds flew on long journeys. The bird at the back would fly to the front, taking the pressure off the leader. They kept cycling like that, so they could stay airborne for longer.
Seth ran in front, but after a minute whoever was at the back took his place. We passed long-dead glowroot meadows, no longer glimmering blue green, but plum colored and lifeless.
I didn’t know how long we ran like that—scrambling over rocks and skidding down sweeping slopes, gradually getting closer to the hill with the tower on it—but every time we stopped for a breather my throat felt like sandpaper and my head pounded.
We pulled up beside one of the lamps we’d passed the first time I’d gone Stormwalking. In the Darkness, it would have flickered on automatically, but now it was off—as gray as the sky around us. Seth climbed a nearby rock, watching the horizon for any sign of the storm, but it was still quiet. The only sound was the noise the breeze made picking its way through the ruins, stirring up sand and dust.
A sudden flash of movement made me jump.
“What was tha—?”
Something smashed into me, sending me sprawling on the ground. Wheezing, I tried to stand up, but strong white hands were pinning me down.
With a hiss, the thing slashed at me. Its talons swiped within inches of my face. I cried out, but not because of how close it was.
Because I knew that face.
Seth slammed into the Dreamless, tumbling with it over the rocks. I scrambled to my feet, desperately gulping air into my burning lungs.
“Run!” Seth gasped, blocking a swipe with his forearm. “Get to the tower!” He collided with the Dreamless again, tumbling out of sight.
“It’s him,” I said, the words sounding dead on my tongue. Iris tried to drag me away, but I pulled free. “It’s him!” My throat tightened. I couldn’t breathe. Didn’t they realize? He saved Iris on my first day in camp. He tried to help me. And now he was here, red-eyed and frothing at the mouth. “It’s Quinn. They’ve . . . they’ve made him Dreamless.”
Iris grabbed me again, and this time my legs jolted into life.
“Where’s Seth?” I said. “We need to go back for him.”
Quinn . . .
They’d done this because of me. It was all my fault.
“We need to get you to the tower,” she yelled. She didn’t let go of my arm. “It’s like you said, it’s now or never. Seth can look after himself. Come on,” Iris muttered, “move!”
The ground sloped up, changing from lumpen road to jagged, rocky mounds. Tears stung my eyes, so I fumbled with my hands, gripping onto anything that could take my weight.
“It’s not far,” Iris said. Her face was strained, and white, so white.
Dillon didn’t say anything at all, his face a determined mask.
And then we were up, and ahead of us now the flickering green glow of the power station pierced the dull gray of day. I was already digging in my pack, feeling for the cylinder. I held tight on to the cold metal and lifted it out, raising it as high as I could. I sprinted up to the building. The others rushed after me, bending over to catch their breath.
This was the highest point for as far as the eye could see. That was why they’d built the tower here in the first place. It had to work . . . it had to.
“What’s that?” Dillon gasped. “What . . . what are you doing?”
This was what I was here for. This was what I had to do. Not just for me and Dad. For Iris, and Dillon, and Seth, wherever he was. For Quinn, so he hadn’t been turned for nothing.
“We’re supposed to be Hunting,” Dillon said. “There’s nothing here. We should keep moving.”
“Just wait,” Iris hissed.
She was looking up into the sky expectantly. Maybe I had to do something. A button I’d missed, or some switch. I held the cylinder up, examining it closely. But there was nothing.
“Come on . . .” I whispered.
I was so sure it would work. It had to. I thought it would be automatic, always on—a constant pinging radar. I thought if we could get it out of the Darkness, if we could get it up high, they’d be able to find us. This had been my idea. I’d brought them up here, away from the very things they were supposed to be finding.
A sudden screech rang out, gripping my heart.
No . . . no, not now.
I turned slowly, dreading what I was going to find. It was there on the horizon, just like the first time I jumped into this world. It rose up, painting the sky jet black. Then with one last sickening cry, it sped toward us.
35
“Darkness,” Iris growled.
“We need to go,” Dillon said. “I don’t even know what we’re doing here.”
“He’s right,” Iris said. “It’s okay, Jack. We can try again. We’ll find a way. But we can’t stay here.”
“It’s got to work,” I muttered, holding the cylinder high again. I wished I’d paid more attention to the TV when that plane show had been on in the kitchen. I could remember everything about it—the crashes, the explosions, everything they’d said about the black box—except how it worked. I thought getting the device to high ground would activate it, but nothing was happening.
I’d . . . I’d failed . . .
“Let’s go!” Iris cried. She grabbed a flashlight from her pack, holding it ready, and slid back down the uneven, sloping rocks. Shoving the cylinder into my pack, I rushed after her, drawing my own flashlight. But the ground was uneven and slippery. Clacking and tumbling, the stones gave way, and I skidded down the hill. My foot caught on a rock. I threw out a hand to stop myself falling, grazing my palm. Iris and Dillon helped me up.
“It’s okay,” I said. “We can make it.”
But as soon as the words came out, I knew it was a lie. My legs were wobbly. The Darkness was getting too close. There was no way we’d be able to get back to camp, not before it reached us, and I wasn’t sure how much protection three small flashlights could offer.
“The lamp!” Iris cried. “Quick!”
Heart racing, I sprinted in the direction she pointed, not daring to look back. I didn’t need to know how close the storm was getting—I could hear it, hear it chittering, hear it whispering madly.
In the distance, the camp’s siren wailed, letting everyone know of the danger. But we were hundreds of yards away, and the Darkness was too fast.
In the back of my mind, memories rose up—images of Mum in hospital with wires sticking into her skin and machines all around her . . .
No—
I smashed the image apart, refusing to let it take hold—
I couldn’t afford to let the Darkness get to me. Not now.
I ran, the blood thundering in my ears, and flicked the flashlight on, sending its beam stabbing back over my shoulder. The storm cried out in protest as Iris and Dillon did the same. Come on, I said to myself, willing my legs to move faster, come on . . .
And then we reached the lamp. It clicked on and a high-pitched shriek split the air again as the clouds whipped away, swirling out of reach. The Darkness surrounded us, leering angrily, but for the time being at least we had our own bubble of protective light.
I put my hands behind my head to open up my lungs, and breathed deeply. It was only a short sprint. It couldn’t have lasted very long at all, but it felt like forever. Dillon hunched over as if he was going to throw up. Iris turned toward me, breathing
heavily, her cheeks flushed red.
“Are you okay?” she said.
“Yeah,” I panted. I looked around at the blanket of impenetrable black. Menacing lights flickered wherever I looked, in the shape of faces. “What are we going to do now?”
There was nowhere to go—nowhere that didn’t involve fighting right through the storm.
Then I remembered what Dad said before I jumped. An idea came to me, surprising me by how ready I was to try it. I thought I would be more scared, but I wasn’t, not now. I might have failed at communicating with Icarus 1, but maybe there was still something I could do to help. They said the Darkness fed on fear, didn’t they? That was why it dragged those memories out of me. That was why I could hear Mum’s voice whenever it got close. Well, I’d seen some scary things in my time. Things no kid should ever see.
“You need to find Seth,” I said, dropping the flashlight on the ground. “Make sure he’s okay.”
“What do you mean, you?” Dillon said. “And why are you dropping your flashlight? You’re coming with us.”
The storm reached out an inquisitive tendril, which sizzled in the light from the lamp and pulled back. Fresh screeches rang out, splitting the sky.
“Grab Iris and get ready to go,” I said, unclipping my Hunter’s pack. It was so much easier to breathe with the clasps open. Yes . . . Maybe this was why I was here. I’d give it fear. I’d give it more fear than it had ever had in its life.
“What are you doing?” Iris demanded, rounding on me.
“I’ve got a plan,” I said. It was so much effort trying to talk over the storm. I didn’t tell her that all I could think to do was to try something stupid and hope for the best. Maybe it could buy them some time to get to the next light, to get back to camp, instead of following my crazy idea.
“Jack—”
“Get ready to go!” I shouted, summoning all the strength I could. “I’ll distract it. You said it feeds on our fears—well, I hope it’s hungry.”
“Jack, no!” Iris cried. “I won’t let you!”