by Tony Telford
‘Or just me and Drae,’ suggested Matty.
‘Or what about if we just ’ang round ’ere for a while and keep watch?’ said Jean. ‘If ’e’s there, ’e’ll come out eventually, won’t ’e?’
Draemon groaned. ‘We could be waiting hours, man.’
Miri looked at me. ‘What do you think?’
I leant back against the wall and watched the top of the factory tower sail through gaps in the mist. Something wasn’t right about this, I just knew it.
‘Come on, Pearly,’ grumbled Draemon. ‘Time for thinking’s over.’
‘Just give her a minute,’ said Matty quietly.
What would he do when he saw us on his doorstep again? Would he be surprised? That seemed quite likely. After all, how could he know that Sarah had told me about Veronica Hart and even given me ‘her’ address? And he couldn’t be tracking us with that phone now, because we’d left it at the house. So maybe, just maybe, we’d have the advantage over him this time. Then again…
Draemon came right up to me. ‘Listen,’ he said softly. ‘Your little dog’s probably in that house. That’s why we’re here, right? I mean, I don’t wanna alarm you, but she could be sick, she could be in pain—’
I closed my eyes. ‘I know, Drae, I know.’
‘So why are we waitin’?’
I sighed and pushed myself away from the wall. ‘Okay, then, let’s go.’
We walked in silence up the hill towards Newland Crescent. At the corner, Matty pulled up his hood and crouched to tighten his shoelaces. ‘Soon as you get round the corner, run, okay? Fast as you can. Give him as little warning as possible. Hook, can you and Jean stay here and keep lookout again?’
I don’t think either of them minded keeping clear of that house. ‘ ’Ere, Pearly,’ said Jean. ‘You’d better take my phone. And just be careful, will you? I’m so worried.’
Drae peeped round the corner. ‘Oi, it’s clear now. You ready?’
‘Ready as we’ll ever be.’
‘So you’re sure it’s three-eight-five?’ Matty asked me one last time.
‘Yeah, I’m sure.’
‘Okay, man, let’s go!’
As soon as we stepped round that corner we went for it, sprinting like maniacs right down the middle of the road. It was about 300 yards to the house. Matty got there way before the rest of us and was already banging the doorknocker when we pulled up, puffing and gasping. We waited two, three minutes but there was no answer. Matty knocked again. Nothing. I lifted the flap of the letterbox and peered inside: an empty hallway, red carpet, old wallpaper, a picture in a fancy frame. Matty knocked even louder. Still nothing.
‘You sure this is the house?’ asked Draemon.
‘Definitely,’ I said.
Matty tried the door handle. Locked. He looked quickly up and down the street. ‘Okay, Drae.’
‘What’s happening?’ I asked. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Just get away from the door,’ said Draemon, waving his arm. We shifted to one side of the porch. Then Draemon took half a dozen steps out into the street, swung round on one heel, and launched himself, head down, full speed, at the door. Microseconds before he reached it, he lifted his head, sprang into the air and twisted, so that the whole side of his body, from shoulder to thigh, slammed into the door at the same moment. There was a huge CRACK, and then a long, ragged, splintering sound. For a few seconds Draemon stayed slumped against the door and I thought he’d really hurt himself. But then he straightened up, grinning devilishly, and exchanged a casual high-five with Matty. The door had been completely wrenched away from its frame.
‘Oh my God,’ Miri whimpered. ‘People must’ve heard that.’
‘Get inside, quick,’ said Matty, cool as you like.
Draemon swung the shattered door back against the inside wall and we all piled inside. In seconds he’d wedged the door back in place. Then, for what seemed like several minutes, we all just stood there, listening to the silence and gaping at our new surroundings—the tatty old carpet, the faded wallpaper, the dark painting in its gold frame, the little hall table with an empty white vase. Overhead, an old-fashioned light-bulb burned in a grimy yellow shade. By the door a black umbrella leaned against the wall like a big scrawny crow.
Miri was pale and wide-eyed. ‘I don’t like this, Matty. I don’t like this.’
‘Shush,’ hissed Matty, nodding towards the door at the other end of the hall. Below it you could see a faint, rosy glow. Get out, a voice was saying in my head. Get out while you still can. But already we were moving down the passageway, every breath, every rustle of our clothing ridiculously loud, as if amplified by the greasy walls and the low, dingy ceiling. At the end of the hall, Matty stopped and put his ear to the door, frowning as he listened. Then, in one silent movement, he turned the handle and gave the door a tiny, gentle push.
Slowly, the door swung back to reveal a large, almost empty room. Heavy black curtains were drawn across the window and all the ceiling lights were off, and yet the room was filled with a faint pinky-golden light. The only piece of furniture in the room was a high-backed leather office chair. It was turned away from us, and for a moment I felt sure someone was sitting in it, but a second look showed it was empty. The chair was facing a wall of video screens, twenty or more them, all black and silent. There was a smell, too—something sweet and musky, like incense, or maybe some kind of drug.
Matty took three steps into the room, stopped, turned to the right, and froze, his eyes fixed on something out of our sight. We stepped inside and followed his gaze. In the far corner of the room there was the strangest contraption I’d ever seen. It looked a bit like a washing hoist, with a big pole in the middle and about ten horizontal arms radiating from the top of the pole. But the whole thing was gold—tawny, shimmering gold. The central pole was crowned by a big tangled mass of golden wire, like some kind of crazy antenna, but what really caught my attention were all the things hanging from the arms—hundreds of brightly coloured little things that twinkled and shone like ornaments on a really weird Christmas tree.
‘What the fuck is that?’ murmured Draemon.
‘It looks like real gold,’ said Miri.
Matty glanced up at the ceiling. ‘The lights are coming on.’
He was right. Gradually the room was getting brighter. And the golden tree thing was glowing more brightly. We edged closer to it. The tangle of gold wire at the top of the pole was like the model of an incredibly complicated molecule, with hundreds of coloured beads threaded here and there on the loops of wire. The golden arms, about six feet long and attached to the pole at a height just above my head, reminded me of the wings of electricity pylons. Each arm must have had at least three or four hundred trinkets hanging from it, all tied with strands of fishing line.
I let my eyes wander through the forest of gently swaying trinkets. Every single one was different: a little gold teapot, a crystal scallop shell, a toy trumpet, a ruby earring, a tiny black machinegun, a silver galleon with swelling sails, a harlequin finger-puppet, a model of the Taj Mahal, a golden skull the size of a walnut, a three-inch zeppelin made from coloured cellophane, a porcelain doll’s mask with a plume of blue feathers, an origami helicopter, a yellow plastic lion, a replica of a human brain inside a glass soap bubble, a shaggy little vulture, a bronze dragonfly with wings made from splinters of green glass… I shivered as I remembered the little gold llama that I’d found in my pencil case. Then I noticed the marble—a beautiful blue and gold marble spinning slowly at the end of a long piece of fishing line. I fumbled in my satchel, fished out the marble that I’d found in my room and held it with trembling fingers next to this other one.
‘Look, Miri,’ I whispered. ‘I found this in my room the night I left home. It’s the same as that one. Can you see? They’re the same.’ She looked at me with puzzled terror.
Time faded. The others wandered off around the room, but I couldn’t drag myself away from the golden tree. I had to squeeze in against the wall to see
the ornaments at the back: a tiny golden samurai, a feathered snake, a little kite made from toothpicks and tissue paper, a shiny green beetle with a pin through its head. Then something else caught my eye—three black buttons low down on the back of the central pole. I wouldn’t have seen them if I hadn’t squeezed round by the wall. I bent to read what it said on them. The top one was marked ‘HUST’, the middle one said ‘DRY’, and the bottom one was ‘SHRIPH’.
‘Only one door in here,’ I heard Miri whisper. ‘And only two in the hall. So how—’
Suddenly there was a deafening chaos of noise. Draemon had found a remote control and turned all the TVs on at once. Every screen was showing something different—movies, quiz shows, football games, nature docs, cookery programmes, adverts, news—and everything was at full volume. It took Drae a good minute to find the mute button.
‘Jesus, Drae,’ said Matty in the silence.
‘I think my heart nearly stopped,’ said Miri, holding her side.
Draemon was watching the screens. ‘Hey,’ he said. ‘Look at this.’ Miri and I went and stood next to him. He pointed to the screen at the bottom right corner. It showed a barren, stony plain under a bleached sky, like Mars, or central Australia. The camera was fixed on this one view, and nothing seemed to be happening at all. ‘Just keep watching,’ said Draemon. After a few seconds you could see something in the distance. Someone was walking across the plain. As they got closer I thought I recognised that loping stride. Yes, it was O’Hare. And there was Boo, trotting along at his side, a short rope tied to her collar. They came closer, closer, right up next to the camera, and then passed out of sight.
‘Is that him?’ Miri asked. I nodded.
‘Keep watching,’ said Draemon.
The camera stayed fixed on the stony plain. After a few seconds you could see someone else approaching. No, it wasn’t someone else. It was O’Hare again, with Boo at his side. Once again they came right up to the camera before passing out of sight. And then it happened again. And again. And again. It was like a horrible dream.
‘Turn it off,’ I said. ‘Turn it off.’ Draemon thumbed the remote and the screens all died at once.
A knocking sound made us turn. Matty was on his knees at the other end of the room, rapping at different places on the wall. ‘There’s something here,’ he said.
We hurried across. ‘Listen.’ He knocked low down on the wall. It was hollow.
‘Panel,’ said Draemon.
Matty shook his head. ‘No, not a panel. It’s a door.’
‘How do you know?’ asked Miri.
‘I just know. Thing is, how do you open it?’ He ran his fingers over the wall. ‘No handle, no keyhole…it’s got to be remote.’
‘The TV remote,’ suggested Drae. ‘Maybe he’s wired it up.’
‘No, hang on,’ I said. ‘There are some buttons on that tree thing. On the back of the pole.’
The others all stared at me for a moment. Then they shot across to the tree.
Matty leaned right in amongst the trinkets. ‘“Hust”…“Dry”…“Shriph”.’
‘Press the top one,’ I said. ‘Press “Hust”.’
He thought about it for a moment. Then he pushed the button. There was a whirring noise, and the arms of the contraption began turning very slowly, like a merry-go-round. All the trinkets clicked and clacked as they swung against each other. Matty reached in and pressed another button, or maybe the same one. The arms slowed and stopped. Then, in the silence, somewhere far above us, there was a short, high-pitched sound, like a hooter, or the screech of a bird, or maybe a cry.
We all stared at each other.
‘My God, what was that?’ said Miri.
‘What button did you just press?’ I said to Matty.
‘The middle one—“Dry”.’
‘Try the bottom one.’
He hesitated.
‘Go on,’ I said impatiently. ‘Press it!’
He pushed the button marked ‘SHRIPH’. There was a sharp ‘clack!’ and the panel in the wall swung inwards, revealing a small, dark hole. It was a little doorway.
‘I can’t believe this,’ said Miri.
Draemon grabbed the torch from my satchel and shone it into the hole. Crowding round him, we could see a tunnel sloping down, about three feet high and ten yards long. At the end of it there was another small door.
Miri was almost crying now. ‘I’ve had enough of this, Pearly. Please, Pearly. We’ve gotta get out of here. Are you listening to me?’
I snatched the torch from Draemon and began climbing in through the opening. Matty seized my shoulder and tried to pull me back. ‘Don’t be stupid.’
‘Let go of me, Matty,’ I said. He shook his head. I turned and looked him full in the face. ‘Listen. Boo could be down there, and no one—not you, not anyone—is going to stop me trying to find her. Have you got that? Now, let me go.’
He swore, but released his grip. ‘All right, but I’m coming too.’
‘And me,’ said Draemon.
‘No,’ I said. ‘One of us at a time. It’s safer. Wait till I call you. If there’s any trouble, go and get help.’
Miri was really crying now. ‘This is crazy. This is all wrong. We shouldn’t be here, Pearly. We shouldn’t be doing this.’
‘The phone,’ said Draemon. ‘Have you got the phone?’
‘It’s in my pocket.’ And before they could stop me again, I got in over the rim of the doorway and started crawling down the tunnel, still holding the torch in my right hand. It was colder in here. The rough concrete floor of the tunnel cut into my palms and knees. The walls and ceiling, made from sheets of dull grey metal, were icy to the touch. I wondered if the tunnel had been here when O’Hare moved in, or had he built it himself?
‘You okay?’ I stopped and looked back. The others were watching me from the doorway.
‘Yeah.’ My voice echoed strangely around me. It was like being inside a tin can. I crawled on until I reached the other door. It was ajar. I pushed it back and shone the torch on bare floorboards, a chair, a bed.
I clambered in, stood up and ran my hand over the wall till I found the light switch. A naked bulb flared into life overhead, revealing a white, windowless, low-ceilinged room. The narrow bed and the cheap folding chair were the only furniture. Sheets and blankets lay on the bed in a crumpled, twisted pile. On the chair, which stood next to the bed, there was a small black book, a pencil and a little wooden chess set. On the wall to my right there was a big empty fireplace. To the left of it, in the corner, a tall mirror covered part of the wall. I picked up the book and flipped through its thin, mottled pages. It was in some foreign language with incredibly curly letters. Halfway through there was a cheap cardboard bookmark with a picture of Father Christmas.
I put the book down and looked around me. No windows, no pictures, no ornaments. It was more like a prison cell than a bedroom. And so cold, too. The fireplace hadn’t been used for ages, by the look of it. I listened to the wind muttering in the chimney. It was the only sound.
A movement in the corner—I cried out, then realized it was just my reflection in the mirror. Huge dark eyes stared back at me from a white face.
A moment later I heard someone crawling down the tunnel. Matty’s head appeared in the doorway. ‘You all right?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Was that you calling just then?’
‘Yeah—it’s nothing.’
He climbed in. ‘I told them to wait back there. Miri’s really scared.’ He looked around. ‘My God, do you think he sleeps here?’
As I opened my mouth to reply there was a noise, a soft thud or clunk, in the corner, near the mirror. No, behind the mirror. Without a word, and almost as if we were obeying some kind of signal, we edged towards the mirror. It was only when I was standing right in front of it that I saw the small black button on the wall.
‘Look.’
We leant forward to read the tiny white letters on it.
‘BRIB.’
&nb
sp; ‘Jesus—’ Matty gave a nervous laugh. ‘Go on, it’s your turn.’
I reached towards the button, hesitated, then quickly pressed. The mirror shivered and the whole section of wall that it was attached to slid noiselessly to one side. Dank air breathed over me and I found myself looking through a narrow doorway into a huge and silent darkness. I raised the torch. Near us, on the floor, the light fell on coils of wire, broken crates, an upturned trolley, bits of rusting machinery. Farther off the beam was lost in blackness.
‘The old factory,’ whispered Matty.
Something fluttered high above. I shone the torch up and the beam caught flashes of pink, fleshy wings. Bats.
I stepped through the doorway.
‘For Christ’s sake,’ hissed Matty. ‘Are you mad?’
‘Stay here, then,’ I whispered. ‘Or go and get help.’
Cursing, he followed me in. We took a few steps into the darkness. The floor was littered with thousands of bolts and screws and broken bits of iron, and there was an awful, sickly smell of oil.
Matty put his mouth near my ear. ‘At least wait till I get Drae. You don’t—’
‘Shh!’
I’d heard something. I snapped off the torch and we waited, listening to the dark. Silence, except for the steady plink, plunk, plonk of dripping water. We tried taking a couple of steps but it was no good, we were helpless without the torch.
Then the noise again. Tapping, that’s what it was, soft tapping. And another sound, a faint jingle. Keys? A bunch of keys?
But now silence again. This time we stood for ages, hardly daring to move. I was shivering from head to foot, and not just because of the cold.
Matty tugged at my sleeve. ‘Come on,’ he whispered. ‘Let’s go back.’
I shook him off and began moving forward again. My eyes were starting to get used to the dark now and I could just about see my way around all the pieces of old machinery. Matty must have thought I’d gone mad, but he stayed with me.
In the middle of the chamber, where the floor dipped, there was a big wide pool of water or some other liquid, as still and shiny as a black mirror. As I was stepping round it I caught sight of my reflection. I paused. Below the other me, far below, I could see the roof of the building with rows of girders and the grey square of a skylight. Midway down, in the dizzy space between me and the roof, there was a kind of balcony with a railing. Something was there at the rail. Someone was there.
