Obsidian Pebble

by Rhys Jones

  “Where does that go?” asked Ellie.

  “Fire escape,” Oz explained. “Quickest way down.”

  “Worth knowing for when the mad axe-man calls,” she said with a furtive look at Ruff, who had glanced nervously behind him on hearing the words “axe-man.”

  Oz walked forward a few steps along the landing and stopped before a huge oak door. He pushed it open and, as if on cue, it creaked magnificently. They stepped across the threshold into a large, dark space. Ruff tried the wall switch, but nothing happened. The only light came from thin beams of moonlight slanting through the windows on the eastern wall. Oz flicked on his torch and made his way to the centre of the dorm. He pushed a couple of plugs into extension leads and instantly the lamps he’d arranged lit up the dormitory. What was revealed was a room that spanned the length of the building. Yards of oak paneling lined the walls, upon which hung a variety of old paintings and photos. Long, dusty strings of cobweb wafted in the draughty corners, adding nicely to the room’s eerie air of abandonment.

  “Take a look at this,” Ellie called to the other two as she peered at one of the photos. The boys joined her and stared at a faded black and white print of the very room they were standing in, but lined with twenty-two beds just like an old hospital ward. “Must be what the dorm was like.”

  “Wow,” Ruff said. “Not exactly private, was it?”

  In the centre, near the lamps, Oz had laid out three folding chairs and two foldaway tables, one bearing a flat-screen monitor and his Xbox.

  “There’s a toilet block at the far end,” Oz explained. “The lights do work in there, just in case you were wondering.”

  Ruff stood surveying his surroundings, open-mouthed. “This is absolutely buzzard,” he said, grinning.

  “What films have you got?” Ellie asked.

  “Fangman and Revenge of Fangman,” Oz said.

  “I brought Toy Story.”

  “Toy Story?” Oz laughed.

  “Just in case we need cheering up,” Ellie explained. “You know how nervy Ruff gets.”

  “Hang on, I thought you were the one that said that Halloween was a load of cobblers.” Oz grinned.

  “Yeah, but I suppose if anything could happen on Halloween, it’d happen in a place like this, wouldn’t it?”

  “Hey, look at the ceiling.” Ruff craned his neck upwards and Ellie followed suit.

  Richly decorated wooden beams ran from east to west, red, green and blue chevrons adorning their sides. Between, on the plaster ceiling itself, detailed paintings of birds and weird-looking buildings and symbols filled the space. The effect was striking and original.

  “Yeah, downstairs is like that, too,” Oz explained. “It’s the sixteenth-century equivalent of wallpaper, or so my dad told me.”

  “It’s so cool,” Ellie said. “And to think it’s lasted all that time.”

  Oz nodded.

  “I wish I had a long-lost uncle who would leave me something in his will. Wouldn’t it be great if it’s your sixteenth birthday and a crusty old lawyer bloke turns up with a crinkly yellow envelope full of stocks and bonds and stuff worth zillions?” Ruff was looking at the ceiling, but his eyes were seeing something else altogether.

  Oz didn’t really know what stocks and bonds were and neither, he suspected, did Ruff. But they sounded really impressive.

  “As if that would ever happen to anyone,” Ellie tutted.

  Ruff threw her a baleful, sulky look. “It sort of happened to Oz, didn’t it? His dad, anyway.”

  “Yeah, well, getting something like this dropped in your lap isn’t exactly like winning the lottery, you know,” Oz said, not wanting to let Ruff and Ellie argue. “It costs loads to run and takes ages to clean. And even the draughts have draughts.”

  Ellie stared at him. “You’re not thinking of leaving, are you?” she asked, horrified.

  Oz grinned. “Not if I have anything to do with it.” He’d hoped they’d like the place, but to see them both so impressed had made his day. “Come on, let’s get the food up here.”

  With the heaters on, it was quite cozy within their little den. They sprayed on a few more boils and let fake blood drip off their stuck-on scars, but soon Ruff had Fangman up on the screen and they began tucking in to Mrs. Chambers’ brilliant food. Ellie enjoyed dipping spoon-shaped bits of bread into the brain pâté more than anything else, while Oz had at least half a dozen freaky fingers. Mrs. Chambers had deliberately put some marzipan in their middles because she knew Oz couldn’t resist it.

  All in all, it was a brilliant night.

  Ellie had them in stitches as she explained how she’d accidentally broken the nose of her taekwondo teacher the week before because he’d sneezed just as she was practising a head kick. Ruff, meanwhile, obviously deeply scarred by spending a week outdoors helping his dad paint the chalets, kept on about how cold he’d been.

  “I swear I saw a penguin on the lake, and one morning there was this humongous dollop next to the perimeter fence which looked moistly fresh. I think it definitely must have been polar bear poo and not anything to do with the caretaker’s Alsatian like my dad said it was.”

  “Ugghh,” Ellie said, and quickly put down the freaky fig roll she was about to bite into. “Why do you have to be so disgusting?”

  Oz didn’t hear Ruff’s response because he was laughing so much. He’d known Ellie since the age of four. They’d attended the same playgroup and were in the same class at Hurley Street Junior School. Gwen and Ellie’s mum, Fay, were friends, so Oz and Ellie had virtually grown up together. He knew he could trust her with just about anything. Funnily enough, despite only knowing Ruff for the seven weeks he’d been at Seabourne County, Oz felt much the same way about him. He only wished that Ellie did, too. But on this Halloween night, he couldn’t think of anywhere else he’d rather be, nor anyone else he’d rather be with.

  They’d all seen Fangman half a dozen times, yet when the ghoul crept into the bedroom to steal the hero’s little sister, Oz thought he saw Ellie inch her chair a little closer to his own. Fangman Two was almost as good and they munched on fried spiders—which were really splayed-out bits of crispy bacon—and slurped on marshmallow eyeballs until the DVD finally came to an end.

  “What time is it?” said Ellie, stifling a yawn as the credits rolled on the second film.

  “Fifteen minutes to the witching hour,” Ruff said.

  “And what’s supposed to happen then?” Oz asked.

  “Dunno, but that’s when it all happens in the films, isn’t it?”

  “My mum says that the real witching hour is half past three in the morning,” Ellie said knowingly.

  “Buzzard,” Ruff retorted, “you’d think they’d all be asleep by then.”

  “Tell you what,” Oz suggested, “why don’t we turn all the lights off and just sit by the windows? See if we can see anything outside in the moonlight.”

  “Yeah,” Ruff agreed, hopping uncomfortably. “But first I need the loo. Oh, and we’re out of Coke, by the way.”

  “Oh, no,” Oz groaned. “I left the other bottle in the fridge.”

  Ruff and Ellie looked at him, grinning expectantly, as he hurried out and down the atrium stairs, muttering to himself as he went.

  “And while you’re at it, get Revenge of the Gargoyle Ghoul. I left it in your bedroom,” Ruff yelled after him.

  Oz ran back down the staircase, through the kitchen—where his mum had left all the lights on—and went quietly upstairs to his bedroom to fetch the DVD. Ruff’s room was next to his, but on the other side was the locked door to his dad’s study. Oz glanced at it wistfully. It had been like that for over two years now. Ever since his dad had died. One day, when his mother felt strong enough to open it up, he would explore that room and examine all the weird and wonderful things his dad had brought back from his travels. One day.

  Back in the kitchen, Oz tried to be as quiet as he could, but he had to move some dishes in the fridge to get at the Coke and grimaced as they clink
ed together. As he backed up with his hands full, the door thudded shut, causing the dishes to clink alarmingly once more and a couple of fridge magnets to fall clattering to the floor. One, shaped like a pink slice of cake, was there to hold the corner of a calendar up on the fridge door. This week’s page had scribbles all over it, like “order four pints milk,” and “hygienist—9 o’clock.” But without its magnetic support, the corner of the calendar had sagged drunkenly downards

  It wasn’t the noise of the dishes, nor what was written on the calendar that made the breath suddenly catch in Oz’s throat. It was what was revealed on the sheet of paper behind the calendar that suddenly drew Oz’s horrified stare, made him gasp and his stomach lurch.

  Once, when things had been very bad, before she’d started the medicine that had helped make her better, Oz had tried asking his mother what exactly was wrong with her. It had been a particularly bad dressing-gown day of constant crying and not eating, and Oz had felt more than usually helpless. With a huge effort she’d looked up at him, sensing for once his desperation, her face full of pleading, her voice a hollow whisper.

  “Since Michael has gone, it’s like there’s this old black dog that keeps following me around, Oz,” she said, shivering. “He’s always there no matter what I do to try and shake him off. And whenever I look at him he makes me feel so sad and lonely.”

  Oz had gone to the window and looked outside. There’d been no sign of a dog, but when he’d finally managed to get back to Mrs. Evans’ class at Hurley Street Juniors, he’d drawn an ugly old black mutt in felt pen. At the end of the year, he’d taken home all his artwork and promptly forgotten all about it until, months later when she was better, Mrs. Chambers had found the drawing and pinned it up on the fridge door; she fixed the calendar over the top of it to hide it and explained that this could be their signal. If ever she was beginning to feel sad again, she’d shift the calendar so that some of the dog was showing. And if Oz thought that she was acting strangely, he could do the same. She’d called it their early warning sign. Mostly, the calendar hung square over the picture. But sometimes Oz had come down to the kitchen in the morning and found that a bit of the dog’s ear was showing, or perhaps half its head, and he’d known that he’d have to be careful and not stress his mother out too much.

  He looked at the badly drawn bit of ear again now and breathed in and out to let the ripple of anxiety fade. It was just a kid’s drawing under a calendar, after all, wasn’t it? A calendar that was too thick to be held in place by four rubber magnets, which had a tendency to slip if you closed the fridge door too hard. It was stupid to think of the ear as an omen of any kind. After all, his mother hadn’t moved the calendar for months now, and she was fine; she’d just made brain pâté, for cripes’ sake. He was not going to let a little thing like that spoil the night.

  He repositioned the calendar to hide the drawing completely, put the fridge magnet back in place and pushed all the business about the black dog to the back of his mind.

  Through the kitchen window the night beyond looked inky and solid, the only lights coming from the backs of the smaller houses in Tottridge Street. He imagined being in one of those tiny houses on a night like this with Ellie and Ruff. Yet no matter how hard he tried, he knew it just wouldn’t be the same. It wouldn’t have ceilings that looked like they should be in an art gallery, or a chandelier with a hunting falcon as its centrepiece. In other words, it just wouldn’t be Penwurt. He held on to that pleasant thought as he made his way back to the dorm.

  * * *

  He decided to set his watch alarm for half past three as he climbed up the staircase, so he put the Coke bottle down to adjust the settings. There was no sound at all in the atrium as midnight approached, but outside the wind moaned as it gusted around the stone walls and beams creaked as the old place resisted the elements. Oz finished adjusting his watch and reached down to pick up the bottle when a noise made him start.

  Footsteps.

  Oz looked up suddenly. Maybe Ellie wanted something else from the kitchen. More likely it would be Ruff. But there was no one there.

  He started to climb the stairs again. Must have been his imag… Oz stopped and stood stock-still.

  Soft and deliberate and sounding very near, the footsteps came again.

  The hairs on Oz’s arms stood instantly to attention. He swivelled around. The atrium was empty. Except for the faint moaning of the wind, the only other noises he could hear were the hammers of his heart pounding out a drum roll.

  Then they came once more. This time they were distinctly louder.

  Oz tilted his head to try and pinpoint exactly where they were coming from. Not above. Not below. Oz realised he was standing on the step below the first floor landing. Whatever was making that noise was behind the wall separating him from the rooms beyond. Someone or something was walking across the floor in one of those rooms, rooms that had been locked up for years. He craned his neck to listen. The noise had died. He took another step forward just as something tapped on the wall right next to where he was standing.

  Oz jumped and almost dropped the Coke bottle. His pulse took off like an Atlas rocket and he had to stuff his fist in his mouth to stop from crying out. He leapt up the remaining stairs and through the oak door into the dorm. The shock must have shown in his face because Ruff frowned the minute he entered.

  “What’s wrong with you?” he asked.

  Oz put his quivering fingers to his lips and tiptoed across to where Ellie and Ruff were sitting with the Xbox switched on.

  “What is it?” Ellie asked.

  “Turn that off and listen,” Oz commanded in a whisper.

  “O-oz,” Ellie said with an accusatory stare.

  “Shhh. This is not a wind-up, honestly,” Oz whispered again. “Just wait.”

  They did. For a very long thirty seconds until…thud… thud…thud…thud.

  Ruff’s eyes became instant dinner plates. “What the buzzard…?” he whispered.

  “Sugar! Are they…?” Ellie asked.

  “Footsteps? Yes, they are,” Oz said.

  “Whose?” breathed Ellie.

  “Dunno, but they’re coming from downstairs. From rooms that have been locked up for as long as we’ve been here.”

  Oz, Ellie and Ruff stared at each other in speechless wonder. It was Ellie who broke the stalemate.

  “Sounds like Hidden Haunted Houses of Great Britain got it right, then,” she said in a whisper edgy with excitement.

  Ruff shook his head but he, too, kept his voice low. “There’s probably a perfectly normal explanation.”

  “Is there?” Oz asked. “Like I said, as far as I know those rooms have been boarded up for years.”

  “Maybe it’s your mum playing a trick on us,” Ruff said waveringly.

  “Mum? You heard her. She was more nervous than anyone about us coming here. She’s on emergency standby to come and rescue us, remember? No way is that my mother.”

  “Then who is it?” Ellie asked.

  “Or what is it?” Ruff mumbled.

  Ellie shook her head and rolled her eyes.

  “Well, there’s only one way to find out, isn’t there?” Oz said finally.

  “You’re not going to go looking?” Ruff asked, horrified.

  But Ellie’s face lit up at the suggestion and she reached into her pocket for her mobile. “We totally should. I’ve got three megapixels on my camera phone. We’d make loads of money if we got a picture of it.”

  “Wait a minute,” Ruff said. “If it isn’t someone trying to scare us, then maybe it’s burglars.”

  “What’s there to burgle?” Oz said with a scornful laugh.

  “Okay, but we don’t know, do we?” Ruff pressed on. “I don’t think it’s a brilliant idea to just barge in like a cow in a crystal maze.”

  Ellie frowned.

  Oz explained. “He means bull in a china shop.”

  “It could be really dangerous,” Ruff went on. “In Spirit World Three, there’s this gho
ul and…”

  “Xbox games again, Ruff?” Ellie said, her head tilted in a scathing glare.

  “Loads of these games are based on real legends,” Ruff said defensively.

  “I’m sure they are,” Ellie said, “just as I’m sure that you’re just a little bit scared.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re not a bit scared, too.” Ruff glared back.

  Ellie just smiled at him.

  Ruff shook his head. “All I’m saying is that we ought to be really careful. Maybe I should stay outside on watch, just in case.”

  “Okay, fair point,” Oz said. “But there are three of us. What could possibly happen to the three—”

  The muted thud of more footsteps filtered up from somewhere beneath them once again and Oz never finished his sentence.

  “So how do we get in?” Ellie whispered, her eyes glinting with anticipation.

  Oz grinned. He took a couple of steps back the way he’d come before turning back to the other two, who were staring at him questioningly. “I know where the key to the padlock is,” he said. “Stay here.”

  Chapter 2

  The Ghostly Footsteps

  The key was on a key ring hanging behind the door of the cupboard under the sink in the laundry room. Oz met Ellie and Ruff on the stairs outside the padlocked door on the orphanage’s first floor landing.

  “So, what’s the plan?” Oz whispered.

  Ellie shrugged and sent Ruff a disparaging glance. “If we’re doing this we’re doing it together, according to him.”

  “But I thought—”

  Ellie shook her head. “Ruff’s too stubborn to stay outside even though I pointed out that I’m the one that does martial arts if anything does happen—”

  “Yeah, but it was never my idea to go looking anyway—”

  “Okay, okay,” Oz said. “We’ll all go.”

  As quietly as he could, Oz slid the key into the padlock and felt the mechanism click smoothly open. In seconds, he had the chain on the floor in a serpentine loop.

  “This door is bound to creak,” Ellie whispered a warning.