Connor Clover and the Lost Children (Book 1)

by Helen Oghenegweke

CHAPTER NINE

  The Secret Hideout

  Connor, Deana and K followed Sparkie back into the van and waited. Connor had no idea what would happen next but he sat in the back next to Deana, watching Sparkie and K in the front.

  No one made a noise as Sparkie pressed an orange button. Headrests sprung from the back of their seats. Deana jumped in surprise.

  ‘Oh, no!’ she screamed, trying to undo her seat belt. ‘Not this!’

  ‘Keep it on!’ urged K, his voice serious.

  ‘What’s going on?’ whispered Connor, staring into Deana’s petrified eyes.

  ‘We’re going to become invisible!’ she screeched.

  ‘Invisible!’ Connor gasped. ‘Is it so bad?’

  To Connor’s surprise, the van spun in a complete circle. ‘This is okay’

  ‘You haven’t experienced anything yet!’ Deana squealed, grabbing his hand.

  ‘Ow!’ Connor tried to wriggle free from Deana’s grasp, but she’d squeezed tight, as if in a clamp. No matter how hard Connor begged her to let go, she continued holding it fast, staring ahead and whispering a prayer. The van jolted and rumbled, increasing in speed. Connor filled with panic.

  ‘We are changing to a new vibration. We will be operating on a new frequency. Don’t fight it. Go with it. It’s going to spin much faster in a minute or two!’ Sparkie squeaked, mimicking a choirboy.

  And sure enough, as Sparkie warned, the van proceeded to spin faster. Connor cringed. He tightened his stomach. He grunted and gritted his teeth. His cheeks were flapping and his head stuck fast to the headrest. Nausea overwhelmed him as the van continued to spin. At this moment, the van and a washing machine on full spin, shared little difference.

  Sparkie’s face became partially hidden since his beard mimicked a winter scarf. His hat levitated above his head whilst still attached by the suction caps on his temples. These suction caps were so powerful they stretched his skin to maximum capacity.

  During this time, Deana produced deranged animal noises and her fingers were fixed on Connor’s own. At this point, her fingernails sunk into his flesh. After a horrendous two minutes, the van slowed before coming to a standstill.

  ‘Now, it wasn’t so bad.’ Sparkie smoothed his beard.

  After the spinning, Connor belched and covered his mouth. ‘Why aren’t we invisible?’

  ‘We are,’ grinned Sparkie. ‘Since we’re operating on the same frequency as one another. It’s why we can still see each other.’

  K blinked in an effort to refocus, as everything had blurred

  ‘Are we okay to continue?’ Sparkie noticed Deana’s closed eyes. ‘Deana?’

  She opened her bloodshot eyes and screeched, ‘Don’t ever do that again!’

  ‘Ah, it’s good you’ve woken,’ Sparkie smirked and pressed the orange button, which controlled the headrests. They swiftly disappeared and Deana’s head flopped backwards.

  ‘Ow!’ she complained.

  But Sparkie had already exited the van.

  When Deana peered at Connor and saw his expression she lowered her head.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ she whispered, taking tissue from her pocket.

  ‘Your make-up has smudged and you look like a clown.’

  It had in fact stained her cheeks with black tears.

  Deana corrected her appearance, unaware of K watching her.

  ‘You’re beautiful without make-up.’

  ‘Oh, stop it!’ She blushed and a small grin appeared.

  Further into the wood, they were in a place far distant from the threatening fire. A carpet of damp vegetation covered the woodland floor; leaves in a golden array of different tones Stepping from the van, Connor slipped on the slimy leaves before sinking into the mud.

  ‘Urgh!’ he grunted.

  From inside the van, Deana chuckled and leapt from the step of the van, missing the soggy patch of mud, which Connor stood in. But where she landed her foot sunk deep too. Connor laughed at her. Deana scooped some mud and threw it at him. A large lump landed with a splat, right on his cheek.

  ‘Deana!’ he squealed, wiping his face.

  But Deana didn’t linger. If she knew Connor, he’d return the gesture. So she dragged her feet from the mud and dived to a tree for shelter. A moment later her face peered from behind the trunk.

  ‘Bit old to be playing hide and seek, aren’t you?’ he shouted.

  With force, Connor lifted his feet, making squelching sounds on removal. Thick mud stuck to his feet, making them heavy and uncomfortable.

  His sole intention to pay Deana back for her dirty trick became sidelined when his fingers flew towards the van door and instead of touching the van, travelling through the transparent material. For a few seconds he left it in the same space where the fish swam, amazed – until Sparkie warned him.

  ‘Quick! Take it out, Connor!’

  Connor gulped as a plump, grumpy fish swam straight towards his fingers. Fighting against a strong sucking force, he wrenched it free before the fish snapped its jaws.

  Sparkie patted Connor on the back. ‘You’re lucky he didn’t bite you. He’s a nasty little blighter – almost had my finger off once. When he’d finished with it, it hung by a thread.’ Sparkie lifted his index finger to show Connor a thick white scar. ‘But I arrived at the hospital in the nick of time and they sewed it back on.’

  Connor swallowed hard. Without Sparkie’s warning, he’d have a finger missing by now.

  Sparkie, chuckling with relief, pressed a small remote control dangling from a necklace. Connor watched in disbelief as the van miniaturised to the size of a matchbox vehicle.

  ‘How on earth –?’ gasped Connor, wrinkling his nose.

  ‘Don’t ask,’ said Deana.

  ‘This van fits in my pocket.’

  Sparkie walked off, leaving Connor staring and shaking his head. K caught up with Deana and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, giving her a squeeze. Grinning, Connor stumbled after them, aware of the love floating in the night air.

  ‘He’d better be here,’ muttered Sparkie.

  Connor expected to spy a hut or shed amidst the trees, yet nothing but more woodland welcomed them.

  ‘Keep quiet now. Follow me and don’t make a sound,’ ordered Sparkie, his face serious.

  By now, they were slipping on the damp, decaying leaves as if they were amateur ice skaters. Watching their footing, they avoided the muddiest areas. Hiking a little farther through the woods they came to a large oak tree; a slanted gravestone rested against it.

  ‘Here we are,’ announced Sparkie.

  ‘It’s a gravestone,’ observed Connor, unimpressed.

  The cold gravestone was tilted forwards at a slight angle and covered in a soft green moss. Sparkie gave the gravestone a little push. It shifted a fraction.

  ‘This is Tookar’s secret hideout,’ declared Sparkie. ‘Tookar spends more time here than anywhere. Especially if he senses trouble.’

  ‘I didn’t know he had a secret hideout,’ gasped Deana. ‘Why didn’t anyone tell me?’

  ‘Because it’s a secret!’ groaned K.

  Connor scratched his head. ‘So, is he a vampire or something? I mean he doesn’t live in a coffin for specific parts of the day, does he? It would explain why he came after me in the dark.’

  ‘No, he’s not a vampire,’ chuckled Sparkie.

  ‘But how can anyone live here?’ Connor wrinkled his face. ‘I mean – it’s not what I’d call a homely place, is it?’

  Sparkie tapped the slab of stone. ‘All in good time, Connor – K, help me. Time to put your muscles to good use.’

  Sparkie stood one side of the heavy slab of stone, leaving room for K beside him. ‘Push it upright. Stand back you two.’ Sparkie waved his hand. Deana and Connor moved to watch the two men heave the gravestone.

  The scent of burning fumes wafted through the woods, drying Connor’s throat. Tentacles of smoke twisted feebly through the cluster of trees. Connor shivered. Eerily, the smoke rese
mbled mist as it circled the old gravestone. Another prevailing scent in the proximity came from a semicircle of tall and dominating pine trees surrounding the old oak tree. Grunting with exertion, K pushed with all his strength, whereas Sparkie appeared relaxed and, although he looked to be pushing, Connor suspected the crafty old man simply rested on the stone, while K performed the majority of the work. His strength alone caused the slab of stone to move, as he heaved with effort. Deana gasped as the ground cracked open before them with a deep rumble. Gradually, the gap widened to such a width the entrance to a secret tunnel became revealed. Cobbled stone steps led deep below the ground vanishing in darkness.

  ‘Yes!’ cried Sparkie, excitedly. ‘It’s opened!’

  ‘It would have opened quicker, if you’d assisted me,’ K growled.

  ‘I’m getting old – my muscles aren’t like yours.’ The old man slapped K on the back with such force, it sent him reeling into the dark chasm below.

  ‘K!’ Deana squealed in fright.

  ‘You’re strong enough to me,’ K’s voice echoed from the abyss below.

  ‘Sorry,’ called Sparkie. ‘It was harder than intended.’

  Grumbling, K rubbed a bruise on his arm when the others joined him.

  ‘You poor thing,’ cooed Deana.

  ‘Hurry inside. Someone might be watching us. Definastine has spies everywhere.’

  ‘But we’re invisible,’ Connor reminded him.

  ‘We might be invisible – but the ground isn’t,’ Sparkie reminded him. ‘Not to mention our voices. Come on. Let’s get moving before we’re found – though the enemy wouldn’t get far in this place as these tunnels form a labyrinth, riddled with traps. Don’t be scared, I’ll be your guide. I know this place well.’

  Connor froze. He wasn’t keen relying on someone else for directions. What if he became lost? What if he came across one of those traps Sparkie had mentioned?

  Sparkie yanked hard on a metal lever in the wall, which caused the ground to close with a rumble. Connor jumped as it sealed shut with a loud clank. His palms sweated. His pulse raced. They were now in complete darkness and a soft hand quickly clasped his – Deana. He held her tight. How much farther did they have to travel in these confined tunnels?

  Sparkie stroked the wall. Small circular lights appeared from inside the walls, radiating enough light to guide them to where they were going.

  Wide eyed, Deana quickly whisked her hand from Connor’s. ‘Sorry, I thought you were someone else.’

  Connor laughed. ‘Oh, and I thought you were concerned about me.’

  Deana nudged him on the arm.

  ‘Ow!’

  ‘Serves you right,’ she grinned.

  ‘K, can you erase our footprints from this dusty soil? I broke Tookar’s ancient broom last week. The one he bought several hundred years ago. After all we don’t want to lead any unwanted strays after us, do we? With our footprints gone anyone following us will be trapped and lost down here forever,’ Sparkie grinned wickedly.

  Connor filled with dread not ever wanting to get lost in this place. A long bushy tail, sprouted from the bottom of K’s spine, falling to the ground.

  ‘This’ll do the trick.’ A broad smile appeared on his face.

  Sparkie took charge, leading the way along the sloping tunnel. K swung his tail. They continued walking through narrow tunnels, passing many other routes branching off in various directions. Now and again, Sparkie took another path. The walls were made mainly from red rock with visible tree roots twisting – their strength having broken the hard stone years ago, which arched above their heads. Beneath their feet, a soft red soil scattered the ground, silencing their footsteps as they ambled warily, through the corridors filled with a strong musty, earthy odour.

  It brought back the memories of when Tookar had come into his home, for his odour was the same as this passageway. Deana’s nose also twitched as if remembering Tookar too. The lights quickly dimmed behind them. K remained at the back, religiously sweeping their footprints away.

  It grew surprisingly warm in the tunnel. It wasn’t long before they took off their coats and jackets – except for Sparkie, who already strutted in shorts and a T-shirt. K volunteered to carry Deana’s thick winter coat. She blushed when she passed it to him and when Connor suggested K should carry his jacket as well, he mumbled, ‘No way. Carry it yourself.’

  They’d descended for fifteen minutes, when the tunnel twisted upward. This claustrophobic feeling made Connor remember the occasion when Uncle Dorcus had locked him in a cupboard for the afternoon. He buried the memory. The odour in the tunnel reminded him of a room full of mushrooms – and of Tookar.

  It wasn’t long before the tunnel opened into a circular section. They had a choice of ten other darkened paths. Connor didn’t have a clue which one to pick. Luckily for him he didn’t have to. But before Sparkie made the choice, he halted and knelt, scanning the ground with his eyes. He stroked the soil.

  ‘Oh no!’ whispered Sparkie.

  Connor walked to the other side of Sparkie and noticed strange blue patches soaked into the dusty soil, creating damp clumps of mud. A pile of ashen remains also lay a few feet away. Near one particular passageway, something deep had scratched into the soil, indicating something had been dragged along the ground.

  ‘Good grief! There’s been a struggle. Tookar’s been injured,’ Sparkie rambled. ‘We must hurry on our way!’

  So the pace quickened. K whisked his tail so fast they became overcome with red dust. It reared and pursued them along their trail.

  Gradually the tunnels decreased in width and height. They had to bend either their heads or their knees – K, being a lot taller than the rest of them, did both.

  Tension grew in Connor’s neck, creating an uncomfortable ache. He too had to bend his knees as the burrow decreased in height. His under-used muscles quivered with effort, causing him to hobble.

  After winding through further complicated networks of passageways, where at times they appeared to go round in circles, the dragging imprint in the soil vanished. But another print had been stamped into the dirt – small footprints from a creature with three toes on each foot. One footprint dragged along the ground. So why were they pursuing this creature? They’d surely be better off heading in the opposite direction.

  At this point, further blue spots stained the earth, appearing prominently along the last stretch of passageway.

  The air had become stuffier. The huffing from laboured breathing became more noticeable. Connor didn’t know how far they had travelled but he wanted to rest. He needed to stop due to dizziness. The dust caused them to cough and clear their throats.

  Sparkie mumbled in a world of his own, not talking to anyone in particular. Connor envied his nimble feet as he walked skilfully in front. Minutes later, they came to a small wooden door, designed for a tiny person – possibly a child.

  Sparkie rapped with a rhythmic tapping and waited. No one came to the door, so he turned the handle and pushed it open. A ray of sunlight greeted them.

  ‘What the?’ Connor gasped, peering through the doorway?