She breathed a sigh of relief. Just like Boy, part of her didn’t want to come back here either. The memories were haunting. She’d first spoken to Powick down in this place, when the nurse had ordered Hugo the zombie Child Snatcher to capture her. She shuddered as they passed the entrance to the cell she’d been held captive in with Conor and Beatrice.
A way down the tunnel, natural light cast a circle on the ground and Violet stepped into it, onto an unusual stone-tiled floor. She looked up; a circular patch of sky hung a long distance above her head. She bent down and rubbed dirt from the stones, revealing a small letter in the corner of each tile. Together the floor tiles amounted to a full alphabet.
“It’s U then P, isn’t it?” Boy said.
Violet nodded as she remembered figuring out the code with Jack.
Boy pressed on the square marked with a U. The tile gave way under his pressure. Then he reached for the P and pushed it too. The platform they stood on shook and Violet braced herself quickly as the floor shot upwards towards the sky.
“I can’t believe we’re back,” she whispered as they broke out into the Outskirts.
She scooted nervously across the platform and there was a dull thud as she jumped off onto the grass. Boy followed behind and the pair raced for the cover of the old twisted tree nearby.
As Violet settled her back against the knotted wood, she shivered. Everything was quiet – eerily so. Not even birdsong filled the morning sky. She remembered Powick and Hugo and the awful things that had happened here before. Her stomach churned, and for the first time, she wasn’t sure they were doing the right thing.
Boy and Violet crouched by the base of the old twisted tree, which stood tall and bleak by the side of an overgrown road. To their left was Nurse Powick’s cottage and to their right a barren field. Two stables stood lonely at the other side of the field, once home to Powick’s three zombies Hugo, Denis and Denise.
The first time Violet had seen the zombies, they’d been strapped to the back wall of one of the stables. She remembered with horror the deep purple and green marks that mottled the creatures’ skin, so decayed in parts she could see bare bone beneath. She remembered the metal bars that traced their legs and arms like an outer-skeleton, enabling them to move, and the battery packs that powered the undead. She also remembered the smell of rot.
Violet shuddered. “Maybe we should check the cottage first?”
Boy nodded, standing up.
“Let’s get this over with!” he sighed, crossing the road, Violet a few paces behind.
Unlike the first time she’d seen it, Powick’s cottage now showed slight signs of neglect. The tidy yellow fence needed some repairs, the surrounding garden, once neat, had an overgrown lawn and the rose bushes were a little wilder than Violet remembered.
Boy pushed open the squeaky wooden gate and walked down the red brick path dotted with weeds.
“Looks like nobody’s been here for a while,” Violet whispered.
The yellow front door was open, leaves and dirt holding it ajar. Red and black tiles chequered the hall floor just as Violet remembered and the same stained glass lantern hung from the low ceiling. She stepped into the first room on their right, following Boy.
Just inside the door was a stubby table, its mahogany legs sawn off. It had once been laid with miniature cutlery, and tattered stuffed toys sat round it as though waiting for dinner, but now only a single tiny teaspoon rested on its surface. A cream stove stood unlit on the far side of the room, a solitary, bandaged bear resting against it as though forgotten.
They stepped back into the hallway and entered a room a little ahead on their left.
The space was empty except for a single bed squashed into the far corner. All of the tiny hospital beds and battered children’s toys that had once filled the floor had vanished. The ice-cream cone patterned curtains still hung in the window, though now a little greyed by dust.
Violet returned to the hallway and looked at the steel double doors ahead, a complete contrast to the warm decor in the rest of the house. Part of her didn’t want to go through them, as she remembered what they had concealed.
“Come on.” She faked confidence and walked forward – the doors swung open easily when she pushed them.
As they closed behind, the smell hit first. She coughed and pinched her nose. Boy gagged beside her. It smelled like the fridge in her house did once when some meat lay forgotten at the back – but this was so much worse. Violet wondered if a zombie’s loose finger had rolled into hiding and festered there.
The huge steel sheets that clad the walls were bare, no longer covered in gruesome images of wounded bodies on the battlefield, and only one metal wheeled table remained, a selection of sharp utensils left to rust on its shiny surface.
“Can we leave?” Boy was pale. “I don’t like it here!”
“I forgot you didn’t see this place before,” Violet replied. “This is where Powick made her zombies. There was a body on one of those tables when…”
Boy’s face went a sickly shade of green and he dashed through the second set of steel double doors at the far side of the room. Violet raced after him, afraid he was going to puke. Boy stopped on the frayed orange carpet, bent over as though catching his breath.
“It’s okay, we’re in the caravan now,” she felt the urge to whisper, “where Tom had you hidden—”
“I remember!” he snapped.
She fell quiet. When Tom had kidnapped Boy and hidden him there, the run-down caravan had been packed to the brim with boxes full of teddy bears and dolls, but now everything was gone. The small space was empty.
“Powick and Tom can’t just have vanished, can they?” she said, confused. “I mean, they have to be somewhere!”
“You never listen, Violet.” Boy sidled past the narrow kitchen work counter towards the door. “Everyone told you the Outskirts was empty!”
“But Tom’s got to be close. I saw him and so did Anna! Where’s he living then?”
“You saw him?” Boy stopped, his hand on the white plastic door handle.
Violet froze. She hadn’t meant to let that slip. Her friend stared at her, waiting for an answer.
“I…yes, I saw him. The same night Anna did. That’s why I was in the Ghost Estate – I followed him there.”
Boy looked annoyed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I didn’t want you to…” She stopped. She couldn’t tell him about her plan, not now anyway. “…To be upset.”
“But you brought me here, Violet. Didn’t you think this would make me upset?”
Boy grunted, shouldering open the stiff caravan door, and raced down the steel steps onto the lawn.
“I’m sorry, Boy,” she said, catching up to him.
He didn’t reply as he walked round to the front of the cottage and stared over at the stables.
“If they’re empty,” he nodded across the field, “we’re going home.”
She guessed that the stables would be just as empty as the cottage. But they couldn’t go home, not yet. Her gut told her there had to be some clue to Tom’s whereabouts out here.
Violet trotted ahead of her friend, crossing over the road to the well that gave access to the tunnel they had come through earlier. She jumped up onto its platform, needing to think. She could see the whole of the Outskirts from this central position. Apart from the stables and the cottage there weren’t any places to hide here.
So where could Tom be? He’d run towards the graveyard the night she’d seen him. He had to have come back to the Outskirts.
She looked ahead. In the distance, a little down the overgrown lane, was a forest. She’d seen it before, but it was the only place in the Outskirts she’d never been.
Boy pulled himself up onto the platform beside her.
“They checked the forest too,” he said, stealing her thoughts, “and found nothing. Dad said it was like a maze in there.”
The grass grew thick and heavy on the lane, covering over mos
t of what must once have been a proper road. Her eyes fell on a small worn path meandering through the grass where the blades had been stamped down or broken through regular use. It wound its way from the well towards the forest.
“Look, Boy!” She pointed. “There’s a trail worn on the roadway as if someone walks there all the time!”
“That could be from the Committee search!”
“No it couldn’t! They only searched here once or twice. I’m sure it’d take more than that to wear a path in grass. Can we just follow it, please?”
He shook his head. “No, I said just the stables and if there’s nothing, the dare’s over! You said we were just checking the Outskirts!”
“That’s still the Outskirts,” she argued. “I don’t see new signs anywhere, so the forest is included in the dare! And anyway, it’s not for me, Boy, it’s for Town. What if everyone’s in trouble just like the note said?”
“Town is perfectly fine, Violet, and you can’t just make up the rules!”
“You do it all the time,” she said, stubbornly jumping off and following the trail. “They’re my rules anyway, Boy. A dare is a dare – if you go home now I’ll tell Jack and everyone how you backed out!”
She didn’t look around but could hear his feet stomping through the grass behind her.
“The dare is over when this track stops. Okay.”
“Deal.” She smiled.
Boy brushed straight past her and strode towards the forest. Violet trotted to keep up with his pace.
Soon the worn grass trail took them under the thick forest canopy. The morning light almost totally disappeared above them, blocked out by branches.
Violet tensed.
“You’re the one who wanted to come here.” Boy shrugged, sensing her unease.
“I’m grand,” she lied.
After a while they reached a pile of felled trees, blocking their path, and the worn grass trail came to an end.
“Dare over!” Boy smirked, turning around.
Violet rushed forward, trying to rescue the search, and clambered onto the log pile. “I bet the path continues on the other side of this lot!”
She panted, struggling upwards until she lay flat on her belly at the top. She looked down and wobbled, grabbing the sides of the trunk beneath her for balance. Boy seemed a lot smaller from this height.
“Well?” he called.
Violet shuffled around slowly so she was facing away from Boy and pushed off her stomach onto her knees. She trembled, trying to stand up for a better look.
Suddenly the tree trunk twisted under her footing. She gasped, stumbled and fell, tumbling head first towards the ground.
Everything slowed as if time had lost its hold. The tree trunks parted, unleashing a large mass of rope from within their depths to engulf her.
Time resumed and Violet was catapulted skywards, caught like a fish in a net.
Violet was curled tight in a ball, constrained in the rope net, her knees almost touching her nose. She tried to unfold her legs but her small prison twirled round and round, making the world below her spin. She looked up. The rope holding the net was looped over the thin branch of a nearby tree, which was now straining under her weight.
“Violet!”
She looked down, struggling for breath as her head spun. She couldn’t see Boy anywhere. The ground looked miles away as it zipped past below.
“Boy?” she called.
“Down here!”
The net began to slow its cycle and she could just see Boy waving up from the path.
“What happened? How did I get here?” Everything seemed a blur.
“I don’t know,” he called. “I heard a click and saw you fall. It happened so fast. I thought you were a goner, then the net sprang out of nowhere! It was pretty cool!”
“Not exactly what I’d call it!” she replied as the branch creaked above. “What if the tree won’t hold my weight, Boy? I need to get out!”
Her heart pounded as panic robbed her of air. She wriggled to free herself, sending the net into another wild spin.
“Calm down!” Boy shouted. “Don’t move. I’ll figure something out!”
“Calm down?” she wheezed. “I’m caught in a net up a tree!”
“Just breathe, Violet. I’ll get you out.”
He began to search around him as she closed her eyes and slowly forced breath in and out of her flaring nostrils. Soon the rhythm steadied her rapidly beating heart and the gentle swaying began to soothe her.
“What are you looking for?” she called, her eyes still firmly shut.
“Not sure,” he replied from what sounded a distance away. “I thought maybe I’d find a sharp stone to cut through the rope but there’s—”
“Powick’s house!” she blurted, her sudden movement rocking the net once more. “The rusty knives in her operation room!”
“It might take a while?” He seemed unsure.
“Just go!” she insisted.
“Okay, I’ll be as quick as I can… Oh, and if I’m late back you don’t need to hang around!”
Her friend burst into laughter as he sprinted off along the path, his footsteps pounding the forest track. Violet might have laughed too had she not been caught up in the clutches of a tree.
As Boy’s steps faded into the distance, the silence seemed huge.
A breeze blew through the trees; the leaves rustled. As Violet swung above the ground, her mind spun. Why was the net trap here? And who had set it?
Suddenly, heavy footsteps stomped through the undergrowth below her. Someone was mumbling.
It couldn’t be Boy, he’d never be that quick, and anyway the sound came from the opposite direction. She froze. Whoever it was had just stopped beneath her.
A familiar smell of rot snaked up Violet’s nose. Goosebumps pimpled her skin. Terrified, she forced her eyes open a sliver. Two large zombies stood on the forest floor below, glaring up.
She squealed as one of them made a lunge upwards for her, its fingers just grazing the rope. The net swayed across the path away from them.
Thinking quickly, she reached over her head and grabbed the knot at the top of the net, pulling herself up and away from the creatures. Her arms shook, shivering in pain, as she clung on tight.
Both zombies were fitted with the same steel frames as Nurse Powick’s creations. Familiar stitch marks and patches of teddy bear fur traced their features. Terrified, Violet looked around for something that might help her.
The taller zombie jumped again, his grunt animal-like. He narrowly missed the bottom of the netting. She shifted her weight in one direction hoping to make the net sway. It worked and slowly she got into a rhythm, flying forwards and backwards in a large arc across the path as the zombies clawed for her.
One of the creatures wore ragged black pinstriped trousers and a once-white shirt; both items hung loosely from his bruised figure. He was missing a large chunk of grimy grey hair, which had left a deep crevice in his scalp.
The other zombie appeared to be female. A string of dirt-caked pearls decorated her sinewed, purple neck. Her skirt was frayed, and her once-cream lace blouse was missing an arm, torn off at the shoulder.
Strange eyes bulged from their gaunt faces. Violet was sure they were eye plants, just like Hugo and the others had been given in place of their own eyes. The translucent skin-like petals flapped in anticipation every time she swung near them.
These had to be Priscilla Powick’s creations too.
From experience, she thought the creatures weren’t all that intelligent. Hugo had never appeared to be able to think for himself and only ever did what he was instructed. She reassured herself she was safe. They would never figure out how to get her down.
Then she felt sick. She remembered the stable in the Outskirts and its three screens, connected wirelessly to the eyes of each of Powick’s zombies, enabling the woman to see whatever her creations did. What if the nurse was watching now?
Violet’s lungs contracted, her brea
th a wheeze. Her mind began to race. Where was Boy?
She closed her eyes and willed the zombies to disappear, repeating over and over in her head that this was all just a bad dream, one that she’d wake from any moment now.
After what felt like ages, the thud of their continuous jumping stopped, the smell cleared and Violet opened her eyes.
They were gone.
Her relief only lasted moments – she was sure they’d come back. She had to get out. Searching for solutions, she spotted a small dot on the horizon. Boy. She jumped around in the net, trying to get his attention. He needed to hurry up.
“How you hanging?” he shouted getting closer.
“Shush!” She tried to signal him to be quiet.
He grinned, waving back. There was something in his hand. “I got a knife,” he called, wielding it about.
Violet looked over her shoulder and listened, sure the zombies would hear them. Boy had reached the pile of tree trunks and already climbed to the top by the time she turned back.
He strained onto his toes, grabbing the bottom of the net in his fingers.
“Don’t move,” he ordered.
“Quick, Boy!” Violet pleaded, checking over her shoulder again.
“Thanks for the thanks!” he panted, red-faced. “I’ve just run the whole way to Powick’s and back for you!”
“There were zombies here! Two of them,” she blurted.
Boy stopped cutting. His eyes locked with hers. “But… what…who…how?”
“Keep cutting,” she insisted, checking round again. “They were just like Hugo, metal frames, eye-plant eyes, everything! They came out of the forest! They have to be Powick’s too!”
“Is this just another way to keep me out here, Violet?” Her friend grunted as he sawed at the net.
“What? No…just hurry!” she insisted, too scared to be annoyed.
He hacked a hole big enough for Violet to squeeze through. She dropped onto the logs, then scrambled to the ground and raced for cover in the forest. Her clothes and skin were ripped by the gorse bushes that traced barrier-like along both sides of the path. Beyond the gorse, the forest floor was soft and mossy, muting their footsteps.
The Battle for Perfect Page 5
