by Emma Newman
Titus frowned as he considered the Boy’s behaviour. He suspected that the Boy’s words and actions were a pattern … a habit, similar to the way that he checked all of his pockets before he left the house to make sure he had the most important things, just like Lyssa had taught him. Then there was a flash of intense emotion as the longing to be with his sister surfaced briefly before he put it aside to concentrate on the task in hand.
“Never heard that name before,” Jay commented.
Squeak shook his head. “No, cos Eve’s a girl. Only boys here.” He said forlornly, “I miss Eve.”
“How did she open doors?” Titus asked. “Did she have a key?”
Squeak shook his head. “No, she didn’t need one.” He looked up at Titus. “She was special.” He looked concerned all of a sudden. “But you mustn’t tell anyone! It’s secret–keep it down and quiet, in your belly.”
He swallowed hard again, waiting for Titus to do the same, which he did to allay the Boy’s fears and encourage him to speak more. Titus consciously filed the information about Eve away; it interested him greatly, but he didn’t want to focus on that. “Did you see another girl there? A bit taller than me, with eyes like mine?” The Boy shook his head and the brief hope that Titus had harboured faded quickly. “What else do you remember?” The Boy went back to chewing his sleeve. “What about the bad people–what were they like?”
Squeak looked fearful again at the mere thought of them. Titus saw this but still wanted to pursue it, his goal taking precedence over the child’s emotions.
“They kept the doors locked,” he whispered. “Kept me in the room. Did bad things.” The shaking started again, this time more intense.
Titus didn’t let that change his line of enquiry. “What things?”
The Boy chewed fiercely on his sleeve, staring into space just past Titus’ shoulder. He decided to change his tack.
“What did they look like?”
The Boy’s face scrunched up. “Don’t want to talk about them.”
“But it’s important,” Titus pursued.
“Sayin’ stuff about them won’t bring them ’ere,” Jay said reassuringly. “I got my blades, see? If they even come close I’ll kill ’em before they even see you.” He patted the hilts of his knives and Squeak looked at them. “If you tell us what they look like, I’ll know who to kill, won’t I?”
“But most of them are very big,” he whispered. “Much bigger than you.”
This piqued Titus’ interest. “Do they have square heads?”
The Boy nodded, huddling back further into the corner of the doorway, glancing around the square as if they might arrive at any moment.
Titus began to get excited. “Have you shown him the picture of the Giant?” he whispered to Jay.
Jay shook his head. “He gets freaked out about stuff too easily,” he whispered back.
Titus turned back to Squeak. “The people with square heads, did they breathe strangely, like this?” He tried to sound like he was wheezing, thinking hard about Zane’s description of the Giant and what he saw in the dream.
Squeak nodded more quickly, eyes wide. “You know them!”
Titus shook his head. “No, but my friend has seen one.”
“All of them were like that apart from one.” The Boy shuddered. “He was the worst.”
Titus held out the photo of Zane’s father that he’d held hidden in his palm up until this point. “Did he look like this?”
Squeak looked down at the photo and drew in a sharp breath that lodged in his chest. An expression of absolute terror leeched away the little colour in his cheeks and he froze in a paroxysm of fear. He couldn’t tear his eyes from it, and Titus felt a brief triumphant thrill at the fact that his private theory had been proven. But then something very strange happened that took him by complete surprise.
One moment he was watching the Boy’s reaction; the next it was as if he were in a small grey room with featureless walls and a solid metal door that was set flush into the one opposite where he was. It was exactly the same as the one in which he’d seen Lyssa imprisoned in the dream, but this time it was like he was lying where Lyssa had been. The door was closing, and he realised that someone had just entered. He was lying on some kind of bed, and when he tried to move, he realised he was strapped down. He couldn’t think; his mind was flooded with the purest feeling of terror as he heard footsteps approaching him.
The man was dressed in a white coat. His hair was dark with a peppering of grey, his small beard neatly clipped. He looked just like he had in the photos, only paler and older. If it hadn’t been for his blue eyes, he could have been an older version of Zane.
He held something in his hand, something narrow and sharp, filled with clear liquid. He pushed the air out of it with the plunger and Titus felt himself begin to struggle frantically, hearing a boy’s high pitched voice begging the man to stop, and realising with confusion that it was coming from his lips.
“Shhh,” Dr Shannon said gently. “Just a little scratch, it won’t hurt a bit.” He smiled, which sent Titus spiralling into an abyss of fear, somehow knowing what was going to happen next.
There was a pinch on the back of his hand, and a horrible feeling of cold fluid racing into his veins. No matter how hard he struggled, he couldn’t stop the feeling of numbness beginning to spread as his cries died in his throat.
“There there,” Shannon was saying softly, smiling all the while. “See, soon you’ll be asleep.”
But he wasn’t, and he knew he wouldn’t be. He felt his eyes become glassy, unable to move them away from the doctor’s smile. His body was utterly limp, no matter how much he willed it to try to break free. He could feel the straps holding him down, the pressure of the bed against his body. All physical sensations were still present, but he was simply unable to move. Then a hand reached over, shutting his eyelids, and there was the sound of the door opening, a harsh mechanical wheeze, and loud metallic footsteps entering the room.
“He’s ready,” Shannon said.
There was the sound of something being opened and the scrape of metal against metal as some kind of instrument was pulled out of something. Then the awful sensation of something beginning to slice into his arm.
Titus screamed and found himself stumbling backwards, arms flailing, heart pounding painfully in his chest.
Jay grabbed his arms and held him up as he almost fell. “Titus!” he yelled. “Titus! What the hell happened?”
Titus looked around, utterly confused and bewildered to find himself in Jay’s square, and not in the grey room. He struggled to regain his composure but let Jay hold his shoulders, as his legs were like water beneath him.
“Are you alright?” Jay said, trying to make eye contact with him.
Titus looked past him at Squeak who was staring into space, eyes wide, distant and terrified. Titus knew where the Boy’s mind was trapped, realised what had just happened. He’d shared his memory; somehow it had penetrated his mind and he had experienced it with the same intensity. And now the Boy was replaying that memory over and over again, unable to break out of it.
“Say something!” Jay urged and shook his shoulders a little.
“I’m ok, I’m ok,” Titus said, trying hard to break away from remnants of the flashback. He forced some distance between himself and the emotions that still echoed inside him. He reminded himself that it didn’t happen to him, that it had been a memory, someone else’s memory, nothing more.
“I gotta get Squeak inside,” Jay said, looking round the square. “I don’t want the others seeing him like this. He’ll be like it for a while, it’s ’appened before. I’ll talk to you later.”
He gently let Titus go, who staggered a little and then braced his hands on his knees, lowering his head to get some more blood into it.
Jay picked Squeak up gently and carried him away, cradling him tenderly as the Boy shook violently.
Titus noticed the photo lying on the ground nearby where he must have dropped
it. He picked it up, stuffing it quickly into his back pocket, checking that neither Jay nor any of the other Boys saw what he was doing. He paused to take a few more deep breaths before making his way home on shaking legs that hardly felt like his own.
Chapter 23
OF UNKNOWN ORIGIN
All that evening, Titus sat alone in his house, not rising from the sofa to light candles when the darkness closed in around him. When Zane called round he ignored the knocks on the door, staring up at the ceiling that had disappeared into shadow. He remained almost motionless until sleep drew its veil over him.
Zane also lay awake for some time after going to bed, his mind just as active as his friend’s and thinking about the same person. He wasn’t surprised when he was pulled into the dream room to find Titus waiting for him.
“I called round but you weren’t there,” Zane said, relieved to see him. When Titus didn’t respond immediately, he frowned. “Is Erin coming too?”
Titus shook his head. “I don’t think she’s asleep.”
“She’s at the Red Lady’s,” Zane replied. “Maybe some-thing’s going on there.”
Titus leant against the edge of the table, trying his best not to reveal how uncomfortable he felt, but Zane was too sensitive.
“I spoke to Mum,” he began, thinking that Titus was reluctant to ask him. “Dad left when he found out she was pregnant. He never came back. She doesn’t know where he is.”
“I do,” Titus said quietly, flatly.
Zane blinked. “What?”
Titus forced himself to look at Zane. “I didn’t know whether to tell you or not. But it seems wrong not to, now that we’re here. Do you want to know?” After a brief pause Zane nodded. “He’s in the Unders.”
Zane opened his mouth to speak but no words emerged. Finally he managed to force the question out: “How do you know?”
“Squeak, the Boy who’s scared of you, told me,” Titus replied coolly, not betraying a hint of there being any more to it. “He’s scared of you because you look like your dad.”
“But … but why be scared of him?” Zane whispered hesitantly, not even sure he wanted to know the answer.
“Because he hurt him. He frightened him. He’s helping the Giant. Your Dad is helping the ones who have Lyssa … the ones who are hurting her.”
Zane shut his eyes, his hands moving to clutch his stomach as it twisted into a spasm of nervous pain. “Oh … oh …” he mumbled as he tumbled from the dream and woke curled into a tight ball in his bed.
He sat up and lit the candle at his bedside, the flame growing tall and bright in the still air, outlining in amber the tears rolling down his cheeks. He got out of bed, slipped his dressing gown and slippers on as the tears fell with fat splats onto the rug. Taking hold of the candle holder carefully, he padded out of his room and crossed the living room towards his mother’s door. But as he was about to knock on it softly, he was interrupted by a loud pounding on the front door behind him.
“Miri! Miri!” Jay yelled through the wood and Zane heard the creaking of his mother’s bed as she rose quickly.
Frantically wiping the moisture from his face, he went to the door and opened it as his mother emerged in her thick woollen nightgown. Jay rushed in, battering the flame of Zane’s candle with the sudden movement of air, a small figure in his arms who was dressed in the same pale blue pyjamas as Zane had seen the other new Boy wearing the day he was found. Zane shuddered violently and took a step back. Something about the Boy frightened him, something unseen, subtle, inexplicable.
Jay laid the boy on the sofa as Miri hurriedly lit candles and lanterns around the room. Zane steadied himself as his vision began to shift in a way that was now becoming familiar. The boy’s blue aura was very pale and it was clear that he was having trouble breathing. There were other areas, one on his left arm that was hanging down limply over the edge of the sofa, where the aura was practically gone. There was a sense of something odd, something chilling about this boy, just like the other.
“We just found him,” Jay panted, holding his side in discomfort as Miri knelt by the sofa and began to check the child for injuries.
The boy was as pale as the first snowdrop in spring and his hair was so short that it was little more than a dark fuzz over his head. He was thin, with gaunt cheeks and dark circles around his closed eyes. He was older than the other new boy, appearing to be around nine years old. His breathing was laboured, with a disturbing rattling sound that emanated from his chest with each exhalation. There was a large bruise fading on his left upper arm.
Zane began to approach but then stopped and just stared, shaking slightly. Behind him, Titus appeared at the front door, wanting to see what the noise was about. He entered silently, unnoticed by those already in the room as he closed the door quietly behind him.
Miri took the boy’s pulse and watched his breathing. “Jay, build up the fire. I need some boiling water. Zane, get me the large glass bowl from the kitchen and a tea towel.”
Zane didn’t move, and just as Miri was about to repeat her order more loudly Titus said, “I’ll get it!” making her jump as he hurried through the room into the kitchen.
Titus reappeared at the doorway, bowl in hand, and watched Zane moving over to the sofa fearfully, lips pale, eyes wide and fixed on the child.
“There’s something inside him,” Zane muttered, coming to kneel next to his mother.
“What?” she asked, now checking that the boy’s mouth was empty and lifting the pyjama top up to the boy’s chin so that she could listen to his chest more closely.
“Something … in his chest, his lungs … something bad and wrong,” Zane said, his voice trembling.
He could see the boy’s veins, his heart beating rapidly. But it was the substance, black and unnatural, spreading out like thick spider legs from a lump at the bottom of his lungs, that was clearly impeding his breathing. That dark substance was terrifying–not simply the fact that it shouldn’t be there, but somehow the very essence of it.
“What do you mean, Zane?” Miri asked, disturbed by her son’s behaviour.
Zane didn’t reply, but slowly reached out to lay his hands on the boy’s chest. When he made contact, a ripple of coldness travelled up Zane’s arms, making him take in a sharp breath as if he had plunged his hands into icy water.
Zane knew that he had to get the substance out of him; every instinct he had was telling him that it was killing the boy. Trusting those same instincts, he moved his hands down and pressed his fingers firmly on the boy’s abdomen, just below his diaphragm and the point where the black substance seemed to radiate from.
Zane began to shake as Jay and Miri watched in tense silence. A droplet of sweat ran down his temple as he began to push his fingers upwards towards the boy’s chin, staring at the substance that no-one else could see and willing it to be pushed up too. When his fingers came level with the lump, the cold spread up his hands again, but this time he was ready for it and focused on pushing it away from himself. All the while, the boy was struggling to breathe, his lips starting to take on a blue tinge.
The black lump started to move, as if repelled by Zane’s fingertips, edging away from them like a fearful creature. The dark threads that were spread out through the spongy tissue shrank inwards, retreating to the originating mass. Slowly and steadily, Zane pushed it towards the top of the lungs until it formed a large glob at the bottom of the boy’s windpipe. When it was all in one place, he swiftly pulled at the boy’s shoulders until he was sitting up and darted around Miri to get behind the child. He wrapped his arms around him, made a fist under his ribcage, and pulled hard with a quick upwards thrust.
The black substance shot out of the boy’s mouth in one fat globule, splatting onto the floor at Titus’ feet. The child drew in a huge breath and gasped, coughing and spluttering as the air flooded back into his lungs.
No-one spoke, staring first at Zane and the boy, then turning to look at the black matter on the floor. Zane leant heavily aga
inst the arm of the sofa, trembling. Jay went to examine what had been expelled whilst Miri absent-mindedly rubbed the new boy’s back as she stared at Zane, slack-jawed. The boy struggled to breathe normally, looking uneasily at the blob on the floorboard.
It resembled a lump of crude oil, thick and shiny, unlike anything they had seen before.
“What the hell is that?” Jay asked, but no-one had an answer. Zane peered over at it, keeping half an eye on the boy and his recovery.
“Don’t touch it,” Zane said. “Whatever it is, it’s something nasty.” He realised now that the chill the boy had caused before had been because of this, not the child himself.
“Ugh!” Jay yelled and jumped back as he saw the lump stretch a little and then contract, moving an inch or so like a fat caterpillar. Miri gasped and scrambled to her feet as Titus stared at it in disbelief, frozen to the spot.
It slid again, moving towards the corner of the sofa. Jay grabbed the thick glass bowl from Titus’ hand and slammed it down over it.
“Get it out of my house!” Miri shrieked and Jay frantically looked for something to slide under as the globule continued to inch slowly across the space under the glass. Titus ran into the kitchen and re-emerged with a thin chopping board that Jay took and swiftly slid under the bowl, trapping the black matter securely. He gingerly lifted it up and took it outside as Titus went and collected a lidded saucepan from the kitchen and followed him out.
Miri watched from the door as Titus held the saucepan open and Jay carefully slid the strange black matter into the pot. Titus banged the lid down and put it on the floor, holding the lid on tight as Jay found a large stone and put it on the top, both of them shuddering in disgust.
“That’ll do for now,” Jay said and they both hurried back into the house. “It’s not going anywhere, Miri. I’ll get rid of it. Don’t worry.”
She nodded, and looked at Zane who was slumped against the sofa, exhausted.
