Candleman

by Glenn Dakin

  ‘It’s dead down here,’ Chloe said. ‘There’s nothing more we can learn. Come on, let’s try another level.’ She pointed upwards.

  They retraced their steps, glad to get away from the eerie graveyard. Halfway back across the mire, Theo stopped next to a colossal upturned tree root and glanced back. He clutched at Chloe and pointed over the mists. There, on the memorial where they had so recently stood, was the impish silhouette of a smoglodyte.

  ‘That was close!’ Chloe hissed. They backpedalled behind the tree root and stared. The single figure sprang up, waving its arms wildly. In moments the memorial stone was swarming with smoglodytes.

  ‘What are they doing?’ Theo wondered nervously.

  ‘It’s sweet the way you think I know everything,’ snapped Chloe. ‘How the heck do I know? They aren’t there to lay flowers, that’s for sure!’

  For a horrible moment Theo had the impression the swarm of smoglodytes was heading their way. Then he was certain of it – they were.

  ‘Come on!’ he said, wading away as fast as he could. Chloe didn’t need any persuading. The mist over the mire hid them pretty well, but there was no point in taking chances. They struggled back to the foot of the great stairway.

  ‘Straight up,’ Chloe ordered. They ascended, their wet clothes weighing them down. After a few minutes, Theo peered out across the vapours and was sure he could see tiny heads bobbing up and down, a whole troop of smoglodytes heading towards the staircase.

  ‘They’re on to us!’ he called up to Chloe. ‘What now?’

  ‘We keep climbing!’ she said.

  Theo felt sick. He had collapsed on to his knees on the second landing. This was the level he and Chloe had used before, to escape from the Dodo. Chloe listened at the circular hatchway.

  ‘Let’s get in here. I know it like the back of my hand. I’ll find a place to rest up before we do any more spying! The Society of Good Works might even have a canteen down here. We can disguise ourselves and get a bacon sandwich.’

  Theo knew she was joking, trying to make him forget his exhaustion. She made a last, vain attempt to listen through the hatchway, then opened a glass plate over the central plaque that activated the door.

  For a moment Theo thought his eyes were playing tricks on him, but a steady gaze removed all doubt. Even through his thick gloves, his hands had started to glow faintly.

  ‘Don’t open it!’ he hissed. ‘There must be somebody on the other side!’

  It was too late. Chloe had already activated the hatch.

  The shaven-headed brute of a guard looked shocked as the doorway sprang open, revealing two bedraggled intruders. He pulled a gun from a shoulder holster, but Chloe leapt through the hatch, grabbed his wrist and smashed his hand against the wall. The guard cried out, but did not drop his gun. He grabbed Chloe with his free hand and hurled her to the floor.

  Theo threw himself through the hatchway. The guard swung a fist and smashed Theo back through the hatch without taking his eyes off Chloe, whom he had identified as the dangerous one of the two. Theo stumbled to his feet and tore off his gauntlets. A flicker of pale fire played around his fingers. He gulped. Was he really going to use his terrible power again? Would it even work for him this time?

  Chloe was trying to struggle to her feet, but a ruthless boot sent her sprawling back across the ground. Theo, climbing back through the hatch, saw a trickle of blood on her cheek.

  He stared with horror at the brutality of the guard as he fought Chloe. It was now or never. Concentrating on his hands, he tried to summon the power. He dug deep into his heart and mind, like a runner asking his body for a final effort in a desperate race. Suddenly his fingers began to burn brightly with a ghostly flame.

  ‘Bad luck, lady,’ the guard growled. ‘Orders from the top say don’t bother taking any prisoners!’

  He raised his gun. But he never pulled the trigger. Theo had dived forwards and touched the guard’s trailing fingers. The Foundling froze like a statue. His body became engulfed in a green glow. Two bulging eyes stared in terror before they melted and flowed down the man’s cheeks. The heavy blue overalls bubbled, shredded and streamed away. The gun clattered to the ground. The Foundling was soon a pool of warm pink slime on the tunnel floor.

  ‘Oh, wow,’ Chloe gasped, staring at the smoking remains. She then swore, using several words which Theo had never heard before.

  ‘Nice one, Theo. Now I can see why Foley was so scared of you,’ she whispered. She wiped blood away from her lip, tossed her hair out of her face. ‘I mean, hearing about it is one thing – actually seeing it is another …’

  Theo looked away from the guard’s smoking remains. Grim faced, he pulled his gloves back on.

  ‘Perhaps you can see now why I wanted to keep it secret for as long as possible,’ he said anxiously. ‘I mean, even someone as brave and crazy as you isn’t going to want to hang out with a freak who can melt people to death!’ Instead of feeling triumphant after the fight, he just felt miserable.

  ‘Nonsense, Theo,’ Chloe said, pulling herself together. ‘In fact, you’re just the kind of friend a brave and crazy person like me needs.’ She smiled, and for the first time – in a very long time – Theo felt as if everything was going to be all right.

  ‘And don’t worry,’ Chloe added. ‘What else could you do? Would you rather we were both lying here dead?’ She closed the door-hatch and looked around with her habitual caution.

  ‘No wonder you’re such big news.’ Chloe’s mind was racing. ‘A boy born with a real life death touch. If the Society of Good Works could study – maybe replicate – your power, the world would be in serious trouble.’

  ‘Well, don’t forget they put me in that Mercy Tube every day. You must have seen that on your spying missions at Empire Hall.’

  ‘Of course!’ Chloe gasped. ‘I guess the world must already be in serious trouble.’ She started to pace ahead into the darkness. ‘Thanks for saving my life by the way.’ She grinned, glancing back over her shoulder.

  They were unlucky. The network was no longer the quiet catacomb Chloe had so often slipped through before. Now it was a hive of activity. She knew how to keep to the shadows, but there were precious few shadows left. Arc lights, rigged to mobile generators, shone brightly on scenes of great industry. Chemicals were being unpacked by Foundling slaves, measured by Society scientists, supervised by members of the Board.

  One of the underground canals that had been disused for decades was now busy with small boats laden with drums of chemicals. Chloe noted that a team of Foundlings were pouring sacks of a pale grey powder straight into the water.

  ‘What are they up to?’ she wondered. Drawn by all this enemy activity like a moth to a flame, Chloe sneaked in too close to discover what the chemicals were. She was spotted, her shadow thrown against a cavern wall by one of the electric lamps.

  ‘Intruders!’ squawked the hysterical voice of Lord Dove. ‘Get them!’

  Chloe cursed. ‘Retreat!’

  She tried to lead Theo back the way they had come, but a group of guards was marching down from that direction.

  Theo’s hands flickered with light. Chloe grabbed him by the coat and dragged him down a side passage.

  ‘We’ll be OK,’ she panted. ‘There’s always a secondary hatch near a major doorway.’ She soon spotted what she was looking for up ahead.

  ‘Open it!’ shouted Theo, hearing echoing footsteps getting nearer. Chloe looked in dismay at the hatch. It was welded shut, sprayed with a red ‘L’ and adorned with a bar-code sticker.

  ‘What are they doing?’ she cried out. She had been banking on this exit – now there was only one other way to go.

  ‘Follow me and don’t look back,’ Chloe said. She sprinted down the passage to their left. It opened out into a long brick tunnel, with a culvert of black water trickling down the middle. ‘Faster!’ she shrieked, as an ear-splitting crack reverberated around them and a bullet whined off the brickwork nearby. They rounded a corner, momentarily s
afe from attack.

  ‘Oh no!’ Chloe gasped. She was staring at the tunnel ahead. It was bricked up, with fresh mortar dribbling from the cracks, and also sprayed with an ‘L'.

  ‘What is that?’ Chloe gasped. ‘What does “L” stand for?’ Now she led Theo down the only remaining tunnel, running along a narrow ledge above the increasingly wide black stream.

  ‘We’re heading towards the main canal,’ she shouted. ‘On the borders of the gulag!’ Theo recalled she had mentioned the gulag before, but its significance escaped him. Another bullet ricocheted through the tunnel, burying itself in a wall not far behind them.

  ‘This is it!’ said Chloe as they reached a pair of archways. ‘All we have to do is –’ She stopped dead. Marching footsteps were echoing down one of the two ways ahead. Coming towards them.

  ‘That sounds like a lot of people!’ Theo said, dismayed. His hands were luminous with pale green flame, but he knew in his heart that he could never take on such a large enemy force.

  ‘Faster!’ shrieked a familiar voice from down the tunnel. ‘We can cut them off if we’re quick!’

  Theo felt his stomach churn. That voice belonged to Dr Saint.

  ‘OK, so we go this way,’ Chloe said, a strange look of resignation on her face. She pointed Theo to the black mouth of the only tunnel left available to them. Theo was surprised when Chloe reached out and held him by the hand.

  ‘Don’t be afraid,’ she said.

  ‘Why should I – or shouldn’t I – be afraid?’ Theo asked in his smallest voice.

  Chloe spoke in a reverent hush. ‘This is the way into the gulag. Home of the Eighty-eight. Nobody sane goes down here. Ever. But look on the bright side,’ she added as they plunged into the darkness. ‘Our enemies won’t be following us.’

  Chapter Nineteen

  The Eighty-eight

  ‘They’re dead, sir.’

  The party of Foundling guards stood grimly before the tunnel entrance. Dr Saint received the news calmly, a cold glint in his eye.

  ‘Who is responsible for this act of ultimate kindness?’ he asked.

  ‘They are,’ replied Captain Hope, the leader of the guards. He was an ex-soldier, tall, red-faced, with narrow grey eyes. He saluted Dr Saint, army style. ‘The intruders have doomed themselves. They were caught between my group and yours. It was certain death or capture – so they chose that tunnel, sir. Went into the gulag.’

  ‘Was there a definite identification?’ asked Mr Nicely, cutting a slightly quaint figure in his wellington boots. ‘No chance of a mistake?’

  ‘No – it was the Vessel. I can confirm it myself,’ Lord Dove said.

  ‘I tried to wound the other one,’ Captain Hope added, ‘the female agent who was with him – but she knows the network too well. They escaped and fled down there.’

  Everyone’s eyes turned to the forbidden tunnel. Dr Saint drew Lord Dove to one side.

  ‘Theo wouldn’t know about this hellhole!’ observed Dr Saint. ‘But she …?’

  ‘Hard to say,’ commented Lord Dove. ‘We know little about her. So far, most of our agents sent to intercept the pair have been killed or hospitalised. We think she’s part of Norrowmore’s “Modern Vigilance”. He may not have told her anything about the old days, the wars, the Eighty-eight … You know how deucedly secretive he always was.’

  ‘So they came down here to spy on us and accidentally ran into the one place they couldn’t possibly survive,’ Dr Saint reflected with a hint of satisfaction. This tragic event was not without its convenient side. In the last ten years he had ordered several expeditions into the gulag in an attempt to clear the Eighty-eight out. Not a single one of his men had ever returned alive.

  ‘She was a very smart agent,’ Lord Dove said. ‘Knew our tunnels pretty well. But the preparations for the Liberation completely caught her out. Remember – we’ve sealed nearly all the hatches, as you directed.’

  Lord Dove’s face was drained, full of anxiety, even though he was reporting excellent news. A little nerve was pulsing under his left eye. His violet bow tie was slightly askew after the unaccustomed chase through the tunnels, and his white suit splashed with filthy water from the culvert.

  ‘What’s the matter, Dove?’ Dr Saint asked sharply. ‘You seem distressed by this turn of events.’

  ‘Well, if the Vessel has passed beyond us,’ Lord Dove began, eyeing the black mouth of the tunnel, ‘then isn’t the Liberation rather, err … off?’

  ‘Poppycock,’ said Dr Saint. ‘The power of the Vessel has been sampled, analysed and recreated by science.’ He loomed over his colleague. ‘I performed the transfer myself, in the Mercy Tube,’ he revealed. ‘The power is now contained in me!’

  Lord Dove looked pale. ‘Do you – do you realise what this means?’ he stammered.

  ‘What’s the matter, Dove?’ Dr Saint asked. ‘Shocked at my initiative? In awe at my boldness? Of course I know what it means! After all these years of awaiting the return of the Candle Man, I have handed him his ultimate defeat – I have become him!’

  Lord Dove went white and staggered backwards, away from the triumphant figure of his leader.

  ‘Dr Saint?’ said Mr Nicely, stepping smartly between his employer and the cowering Lord Dove.

  ‘What is it, Mr Nicely? Why must I be interrupted? Confound you, man!’

  Mr Nicely made an apologetic bow. ‘Sorry, sir, but I thought you might like to know. Your face is melting.’

  ‘OK, now I can’t see anything,’ Theo whispered. Not a glimmer of light penetrated from the corridor they had left. The pair were in pitch-blackness; only the echoes of their footsteps told them they were surrounded by the usual stone walls.

  ‘Don’t whisper,’ said Chloe loudly, still holding Theo’s hand. ‘Ghosts like that. It gives them more power. We have to act as if we’re in broad daylight. I think we can get through here alive if we don’t let this place mess with our minds!’

  ‘So are the Eighty-eight ghosts?’ Theo asked, feeling his way by running his free hand along the rough stone wall. He had never been in total blackness before, and it was not a welcome experience.

  ‘I don’t know for sure,’ Chloe said. ‘As usual, old Norrowmore kept me in the dark.’

  ‘Good one,’ interrupted Theo.

  ‘That’s the spirit,’ Chloe said. ‘Keep your morale up. I have managed to glean a few clues. There were terrible events down in these tunnels once. The Eighty-eight were victims, I think – left down here to die. They died all right, but they didn’t exactly … go away.’

  Theo felt a sense of dread creeping over him.

  Crunch. He stepped on something brittle. Chloe struck a flame from a cheap lighter in her pocket. It was very low on fuel.

  ‘Human bone,’ she said, studying the remains. ‘Shin, I think.’ They crept forwards. Theo’s feet clattered against something metallic. Chloe struck another light, saw a gun and picked it up.

  ‘Police specialist firearm: Heckler and Koch semi-automatic. About five years old. That’s interesting.’ She sounded flat. ‘Norrowmore warned me the Society of Good Works might also have connections in the police.’

  Theo’s toes kicked another collection of bones.

  ‘OK,’ Chloe said, with forced casualness. ‘This is a crushed human skull. Compacted from all sides at once. Hard to do, but effective. Nice.’

  ‘Ghosts don’t crush skulls,’ Theo said. ‘From what I’ve read in my story books, spooks scare, they don’t kill.’

  ‘The Eighty-eight might,’ Chloe said quietly, laying the gun back by its owner’s side.

  ‘Shouldn’t we keep that?’

  ‘Well, it didn’t do these guys any good, did it?’ Chloe replied. ‘Anyway it’s out of ammo. Whoever these people were, they died in here firing off all the shots they had left. It didn’t help.’

  Chloe’s lighter suddenly sputtered and ran out of fuel. Theo quickly grabbed her hand, not wanting to be alone in the dark. They crept slowly along, Chloe feeling the wall to her
left.

  ‘We’ll come to something soon,’ she reassured Theo. ‘An old fungus globe, or a shaft letting in light from above. Just you wait. Trust me – I’m good with tunnels. I –’

  Chloe suddenly screamed. She plunged downwards, letting go of Theo’s hand.

  ‘Chloe!’ Theo cried. There was no reply. She had been swallowed up by the dark. He cried her name out once more. Again there was no reply. Fear clutched at his heart. He was left standing alone in utter blackness. He stood still, afraid to move. He had to remain safe – he mustn’t disappear like she had.

  He took a deep breath and called her name over and over again. The echoes resounded mockingly. It seemed to take forever for the last whispers to fade away. Even then, Theo seemed to hear her name replaying itself over and over in his tired brain. Chto-eee.

  Finally he gave up. Shouting and screaming wouldn’t do any good. He had to keep his head or all was lost. He needed information – he needed to know where she had disappeared to. Slowly he sank down on to his knees. He felt along the ground in the darkness and his fingers came to a ledge – a hole or shaft in the floor. Chloe had stepped right into it, that much was clear. But where was she now, and what on earth was Theo to do?

  For a moment he gave in to despair and buried his face in his hands.

  Desperately, he fought back panic. It’s happened, Theo thought. I’m alone.

  Alone, he reflected. How often during his incarceration at Empire Hall had he craved to be out here, in the real world, on his own, making his own decisions – free. Now his wish had been granted in the most terrible circumstances imaginable.

  For a moment he let the dread overcome him. He knelt, waiting for something awful to happen to him, but it didn’t. He expected the Eighty-eight to come and rip the flesh from his bones. That didn’t happen either. His thoughts began to clear. At least I’m still alive. It’s not over yet.

  He didn’t want to let Chloe down, he didn’t want to let the Society of Unrelenting Vigilance down. He thought of Sam and Magnus – how much they had risked to help him escape. Their hopes, their ideas, were all he had left. Chloe might be lying injured, not too far away. His first task was to find her.