9

by James Phelan

  This one’s for Malcolm—JP.

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Previously

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Copyright

  PREVIOUSLY

  Sam is shocked when Alex rescues him from Solaris at Berlin Zoo, however Solaris escapes with Xavier’s Gear.

  After Sam has recovered, he goes with the Professor to Paris to meet with the Council of Dreamers. While in Paris, Sam finds Zara, the next of the last 13, creating an evacuation at the Louvre museum so he can meet her. He must convince Zara of their joint quest but is wary of her Enterprise Agent parents interfering.

  Eva and the others work to hide Sam’s identity as unwanted publicity of his adventures has brought him to the attention of the international authorities.

  Alex waits anxiously to share what he knows about Stella with the Enterprise Director. At the Enterprise, he learns more about how the race for the Dream Gate is disrupting the world’s dreaming patterns. When he discovers that Stella is undertaking a covert mission in Austria, his concerns deepen.

  At the Council meeting, the Councillors are divided. Sam is confronted by one vocal critic, Mac, who walks out, taking many of the Council with him. The Professor urges Sam not to lose focus and to pursue his dreams with Zara.

  Sam and Zara find her home ransacked, and they seek help from Zara’s father, who assures Sam he only wants to protect her. He fights off Hans’ men as they flee to the Council, only to find signs of foul play and the remaining Councillors gone.

  Forced to the top of the Eiffel Tower with both Hans and Solaris in pursuit, Sam and Zara BASE-jump from the Tower and miraculously manage to escape. They drive to da Vinci’s workshop in the French countryside to find the Gear Zara has dreamed of.

  Stella bombs the Academy in attack helicopters, mercilessly killing and injuring students and Guardians. Eva and the others fight bravely but their friend Pi dies in the attack.

  Racing to stay ahead of their enemies, Sam and Zara find the Gear but are ambushed first by Mac and then Solaris, who steals both the Gear and the Bakhu machine. Hans has paid off the local police and takes them prisoner. There is no-one left to help Sam now …

  01

  SAM’S NIGHTMARE

  Smack. I swat the mosquito from my arm. Then another and another.

  The guy opposite me laughs, then says, ‘Welcome to Brazil, Sam.’

  I look around. A river. A boat.

  ‘Um, thanks,’ I say, surprise in my voice.

  ‘I’m Pablo,’ the man says. We shake hands.

  ‘Don’t I know you from somewhere?’ I say, trying to place the older man’s friendly face.

  ‘We saw each other, recently, but did not properly meet. It was in Paris.’

  ‘Aha—I saw you at the Council!’ I say, making the connection. ‘You’re one of the Councillors.’

  ‘Yes.’

  I look around to get my bearings. We’re on a boat—a big, old ferry, stuffed with hundreds of passengers and tonnes of cargo, riding low in the brown water of what must be the Amazon River. The walkway where we stand is busy with passengers hurrying and pushing up and down the boat. Vendors have set up little shops on board, selling food and drink, trading wares and playing card games with customers. It’s a small floating village, chugging its way along the epic waterway.

  I’m dreaming.

  ‘Why am I meeting you here?’ I ask, adjusting the straps of my backpack over my shoulders after someone bumps past. ‘No offence, but you’re not who I was expecting.’

  ‘I am here to tell you about this,’ Pablo says, warily taking a plastic-covered map from his bag.

  I recognise the map, and I instinctively look up at the staggered decks above us, making sure no-one is eavesdropping.

  ‘I have studied this,’ Pablo says, tapping the map. It is one of the maps I discovered with Gabriella inside the book-box from the Vatican library. This is a photocopy or print-out, but definitely shows the same familiar lines and shapes. ‘I’m afraid it is not much help. But …’

  ‘But?’

  ‘Perhaps with the right guide.’ Pablo looks from the map to me.

  ‘And that’s not you, is it?’ I ask. ‘So who? Who do I need?’

  ‘I think only you know the answer to that.’

  ‘But I—I don’t know anyone in Brazil …’ I reply.

  Who could possibly be my guide here?

  I absently look at those around me, as if the answer will present itself in one of these faces—faces that all seem to turn towards me.

  Why are they all looking at me?

  ‘They sense you’re afraid. You are looking for help and searching it out among them. You are starting to … change things, to alter them.’

  I look around again—I can’t see anyone who looks like they could help me, although all the faces, old and young, are still looking back at me. The more I look, the more they stare back. The sky suddenly clouds over and the wind picks up a chill.

  ‘This … this doesn’t feel right,’ I say, backing away from the rail until I feel the solid timber wall behind me. The on-board commotion has dulled—they’re no longer going about their business, no-one is talking.

  A panic rises inside me. ‘Pablo—what’s going on here?’

  ‘Sam, it’s OK. This is what happens when you start steering things. Come, follow me,’ Pablo says, and we make our way through the subdued crowd to the stern of the big weary boat, above the churning of the paddles in the water. It is so quiet now, we could almost be alone.

  ‘What’s going on?’ I ask again. ‘What is this?’

  Pablo looks at me carefully. ‘It is as you thought, Sam,’ he says. ‘You are in a dream. Your dream. And you brought me into it. You brought all of this into it—it’s your creation, where your subconscious mind knows you need to be.’

  The sun is retreating to the edge of space and the river starts to churn and bubble. The water eddies around the boat like some sort of giant water monster is down there.

  If this is my creation, then how do I control it? How can I stop what I know is coming?

  ‘Sam, you need to relax …’ Pablo says. ‘Don’t fight it—go with it.’

  I try to calm myself. The world around us returns to as it was before.

  But I feel a shiver of fear run through me.

  Oh no … if I have imagined all this, what else will I conjure up?

  Solaris.

  ‘Sam, you need to stay calm and in control, or else this will turn into a nightm–’

  There is a loud, powerful engine noise from down the river somewhere behind us and P
ablo stops talking. I search the horizon and see movement, squinting to make out the details.

  ‘It’s a boat,’ I say, ‘a speedboat.’

  Could be anyone … but they’re sure in a hurry to catch up with us.

  ‘I think … I think it’s a friend,’ I say. The sun re-emerges and the birds start squawking again.

  ‘Good, you are not giving into your fear!’ Pablo says over the rising noise of the approaching speedboat engine. ‘Remember, you can control everything that happens in here and just as easily, you can lose control. Either way, it’s up to you.’

  Pablo pulls a small set of binoculars from his bag and brings them to his eyes.

  ‘Ah,’ he says, then passes them to me.

  I look—focus to find the little craft gaining in our wake. There are nine men in the speedboat—no, eight men, and a woman. The woman I know. It’s Stella, the leader of the rogue Enterprise Agents.

  ‘OK, not friends,’ I say, handing the binoculars back, pleased to see that all else around me is remaining calm and normal.

  Maybe I can steer this dream. Stella or not, I can’t go until I’ve got what I’ve come for.

  There’s a new sound coming from the direction of the jungle. A small speck has materialised into another boat, smaller, further away and slower, but also heading towards us.

  Pablo suddenly looks anxious. ‘Sam, it’s too late. This must end now.’

  ‘What?’ I ask, looking away from the approaching boats.

  ‘Wake up.’

  ‘Why? How do I do that?’ I ask. ‘How can I make myself wake—’

  There’s a hollow-sounding cough and then I see a missile streaking up from the first speedboat. It shoots high into the air and then breaks apart, revealing several smaller warheads that all race down towards the ferry.

  ‘Quick, Sam!’ Pablo says. ‘Find us a way out of this before it’s too—’

  KLAP-BOOM!

  My whole world is cloaked by fire and smoke and heat, enveloping me as I am thrown onto my back by the concussive wave. Through the shimmering heatwaves I see a dark figure watching on from the shore, the form as shifting and menacing as the flames that lick at my heels. I cannot see his face, but I sense that he is happy.

  No!

  I try to get to my feet. My breathing is ragged, panic rising from being surrounded by flames.

  Not this, anything but this.

  The fire eats hungrily into the wooden structure of the boat. The wall, the floorboards, the ceiling above, are all cracking and groaning in slow disintegration. We are sinking.

  Where is Pablo?

  I am in the water, gulping breaths between mouthfuls of smoke and raging water. A lifebuoy floats past, just out of reach.

  I am under the waves.

  I see hands reaching down for me, twisting fingers searching through the water. I resurface briefly, gasping desperately for more air. Through blurry, water-stung eyes I can see someone reaching out to help.

  As my head sinks below the flaming waves for the last time, the small boat drifts further away and I stare, defeated, at letters stencilled on the lifebuoy as it, too, floats away. The water surrounds me, crushing me as I look up at the fire above. But below there is only—

  Silence.

  02

  SAM

  ‘Don’t look down, don’t look down …’

  Sam looked down.

  ‘Oh, man.’

  The ground was at least eight storeys below.

  Damn you, Hans. I can’t believe I’m doing this.

  Come on, stay focused. Gotta find Zara, gotta get out of here. Wherever here is.

  Sam clung tightly to the side of the building, his fingers fighting for purchase in a tiny crevice in the slippery stone facade. It was raining, and nothing more than the tips of his shoes and fingers were keeping him from falling from the top floor of the apartment block. He measured the distance to go and was relieved to see that he was nearly at the next window across, which at least had a decent ledge on which he could stand and rest for a moment.

  ‘OK, Sam, you can do this. Easy does it …’ he said as he edged along the tiny lip of stone on the outside of the building.

  Sam slipped, reaching out just in time to grab onto the steel railing outside the nearest window. He held on with one hand, panting for breath, trying to stay calm and summon the strength and focus needed to haul himself up. He looked down, beyond his dangling legs. The windows were in a row, with several now directly below him. It would be easier to drop to the next window ledge, to get down the building that way, but he couldn’t do that.

  Not yet.

  He had to keep going across, along the outside of this level of the building, to get to the next window.

  Hold on Zara, I’m almost there.

  The rain fell into his eyes. His arms burned from the strain.

  He shifted across, slowly, hand-to-hand, so that he could be in position to swing his legs up to the ledge.

  Sam focused, breathed slowly and closed his eyes. The vision of his nightmare flashed into his mind.

  He jerked his eyes back open and thought about how he’d woken up to find himself locked inside an empty room. Memories of how he and Zara had been kidnapped by Hans crowded in. But he was sure his dream had given him a glimpse of who he was meant to find. But it was so unclear, clouded by flames and water—and fear.

  He had immediately felt the urgent need to get back to the Academy so he could re-enter the dream.

  But what if what Hans said is true? Is the Academy really gone?

  Sam forced himself to focus on the here and now, his precarious situation at the front of his mind once more.

  Get off this ledge. Free Zara. Find out what’s happened.

  He gritted his teeth, hauled himself up and slumped with relief on the window ledge. He paused to catch his breath again.

  Below there were the wet cobbles of an old city street. At da Vinci’s home outside Paris, he and Zara had been bound and hooded and thrown into the back of a van, transferred by their captors last night. The trip felt like it had taken hours so there was no way to know precisely where they now were. It was very early morning, pre-dawn, all quiet, with only a couple of lights on in distant apartment blocks. He could not make out any landmarks.

  OK, let’s do this …

  Sam stood on the ledge. Through the window he could see that this room had its door open, and the light from the hall spilled through the doorway. This room was empty, too—just a single cot bed like the room they’d put him in. The building itself, inside and out, looked old and worn.

  Abandoned, perhaps?

  He looked across at the next window along. Zara had been locked in there—he remembered pausing, hearing her being pushed inside, then he’d counted the paces it had taken to get to his room. The hood had been removed but his hands and feet left bound.

  Now, Sam contemplated the tiny ledge before him—that teeny, tiny lip of wet stone for his fingers and toes, along which he’d counted the paces.

  ‘OK,’ he whispered to himself.

  He looked down again, then took some more settling breaths.

  ‘Come on—I’ve jumped off the Eiffel Tower without a parachute,’ Sam continued. ‘I can do this. One foot after the other.’

  One toe after the other, more like.

  Sam set off, shimmying along the face of the building.

  A car rumbled by below. He couldn’t signal to it for help, not wanting to turn his head down and risk shifting his centre of balance.

  Concentrate!

  He needed to keep as flat as possible against the wall so that he didn’t fall off the building.

  Keep moving, almost there.

  Sam inched along, sliding the toe of his shoe across, meeting it with the other, repeating the process, and when the window with the large windowsill was within reach—

  He stepped out onto the sill. His hands and legs were shaking from the effort. Sam squinted to make out details in the dark room inside.

>   Please be the right room. Is she in there? Maybe she’s been moved.

  Sam could not make out anything in the darkness inside so he swallowed hard, then tapped lightly against the window.

  Nothing. He waited a minute, then tried again.

  TAP, TAP, TAP.

  ‘Argh!’ a face suddenly appeared from the darkness and Sam instinctively leaned back in shock, losing his footing, his arms flailing to make up for the sudden shift in balance. He managed to grab onto the window frame and steady himself.

  Zara looked at him, her own shocked expression breaking into a big smile around her cloth gag.

  Sam pointed at the latch on the window and Zara nodded and shuffled closer. Her ankles were bound and when she reached for the latch, he could see her wrists were still tied too. The windows opened into the room like double doors, and Sam fell through the opening gratefully, tumbling onto the bare floorboards.

  ‘Here,’ he said in a whisper, getting up to untie her gag and then her wrists. His own hands were shaking from the adrenalin still pumping through his body.

  ‘How did you become free?’ Zara asked in her soft French accent.

  ‘With a lot of effort,’ Sam said, undoing the tightly knotted rope around her ankles. He held up his arms in the dim light to reveal dark crimson marks circling each of his wrists. Zara winced. ‘Actually, I used my teeth.’

  ‘You ate through the rope?’ Zara said. ‘Incredible!’

  ‘I’m kidding,’ Sam said, laughing and rubbing the red marks around his wrists. ‘I used a sharp bit of the broken bedframe in my room to cut myself free. So, do you know where we are?’

  Zara shook her head.

  ‘I have no clue either, but I reckon we travelled for hours. Take a look out there.’

  ‘We’re still in France!’ she said, putting her head out the open window.

  ‘You’re sure?’ Sam asked, joining her and looking down at the streets around them.

  ‘The cars, the road—there, that sign!’ she pointed to a sign he could barely make out by the dim streetlight below.