The Stuff of Nightmares

by Malorie Blackman

  ‘How d’you get them to stand up without a base?’

  ‘Guess my name and then I’ll tell you.’

  And the wind grew fiercer.

  All at once a peculiar thought struck me. Icy fingers began to stroke all over my body.

  ‘Your name …’ I turned my head slowly. ‘Your name is …’

  M had taken off her mask. Her whole face was alive and glowing with joy. ‘I knew you’d get it,’ she laughed happily.

  The wind died. Not a murmur, not a whisper of it was left. But still M’s hair writhed and slithered around her head.

  ‘Medusa …’ It was the last word I ever said.

  ‘Congratulations, Perry! Or would you rather I called you by your full name? And it’s such a romantic name. A name that always brings out the best in me.’ Medusa’s laugh tinkled like a tiny bell in the still evening air. She stepped up to me, the newest statue in her garden. ‘Perry, I know you can hear me deep inside your stone tomb. All my statues are alive, deep inside … for a while. Get used to your new home, Perseus – you’ll be here for a long, long time. Sooner or later your heartbeat will slow, and then it will cease. But I think in your case it will be later. Much later. But, Perseus, I can guarantee one thing: you’ll pray it was otherwise …’

  And with one last satisfied smile, she ran across the lawn and up the stone steps to rejoin the party.

  14

  HA! I ACTUALLY laughed out loud. And the sound snatched me up and dragged me back to the train. I didn’t know about the other visions but I knew what I’d just seen about Perry wasn’t true. Medusa! Medusa was just a legend. She didn’t really exist. And even if the legend had an iota of truth to it, Medusa sure as hell didn’t exist nowadays. Perry’s encounter had to be imagination.

  Why were some of my visions so real, while others, like those of Miss Wells and now Perry, seemed so … far-fetched? Medusa! What next? Wolverine running for American president?

  ‘What’s so funny?’ asked Rachel.

  ‘You are,’ I told her. ‘D’you know, you actually had me going until Perry’s dream.’

  Rachel looked at me but said nothing.

  ‘What is it? Some kind of hypnotism trick?’ I asked. ‘You’re good – I’ll give you that.’

  ‘I’m not trying to trick you,’ Rachel denied softly.

  ‘But you really expect me to believe that Medusa comes after Perry just ’cause of his name? Please!’

  ‘The dreams you take us into are nothing to do with me,’ said Rachel. ‘And I told you before, some dreams show what is to come; some are just dreams, nothing else.’

  ‘Look, I don’t know what your game is but I’m not playing,’ I told her belligerently.

  Now that I knew it was some kind of hoax, I was determined to focus on the task at hand – like getting the hell off this train.

  ‘Which game would you prefer to play?’ Rachel asked me coldly. ‘Mine or his?’

  And she turned me round to face the end of the carriage. Where the shimmering light was before, there was now the translucent, misty form of a man. At least, I think it was a man, but it was more like a ghost forming before my eyes than anything else.

  Ghosts and shadows …

  They were on my list of things that scared me the most.

  I wasn’t out of this nightmare yet.

  ‘Now, d’you want my help or not?’ Rachel asked.

  I couldn’t speak, could hardly think. All I could do was feel the fear inside eating me up as I watched the shadow struggle to become more tangible. And it was a struggle, I could see that much.

  ‘Get us away from here, Kyle,’ Rachel whispered.

  ‘How?’

  ‘One of your friends. Lose yourself inside the dream of one of your friends. Then he’ll never find you.’

  I turned and looked at Perry, at Steve, at Joe. But I couldn’t think myself into their dreams again. It was as if their minds had closed a door against me. Beside me Rachel was beginning to breathe more heavily, as if panic were beginning to set in with her too.

  ‘Kyle, hurry …’

  I backed away, stumbling as I did so but managing to remain on my feet. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Roberta. I thought of her dream and found the way was still open to jump back into it. So those were my choices. The Marauders from Robby’s head or that thing at the end of the carriage. No contest. That apparition was after me. Against the Marauders, Robby stood a chance – even if it was only slim. What chance did I have against Death? I closed my eyes and leaped. And somewhere along the way, Rachel leaped with me.

  15

  Roberta’s Nightmare

  MARAUDERS!

  The midnight-blue overalls which covered their entire bodies struck fear into my heart. The Marauders were the only ones – that I knew of, at any rate – who could survive the rain. And it was because of their uniform. I’d never met anyone who knew how they did it, or where their uniforms had come from in the first place. There were rumblings about the Marauders being someone’s private army but no one knew whose, or even if the rumours were true. Marauders arrived without warning and left destruction and chaos in their wake. I ran for the trapdoor between the water tanks and let myself into the cellar, careful not to fold the lino right back so that it would flop over the trapdoor once I had closed it. The last sound I heard was banging on the door, then the sound of wood splintering. I didn’t wait to hear any more.

  Down in the cellar I forced myself not to panic, although I thought my heart would explode out of my chest. I felt for the knife I always kept on me, reassured by the cool feel of it in my hand. I was armed at least. But hell! I’d never killed anyone before. I’d never had to. What I’d said to Carter was a lie. There was muted shouting and crashing above me. I looked up as if trying to see through the ceiling. Carter … Was he all right? Had they killed him yet? I should’ve stayed with him – but if he was dead then I’d be dead too by now. What could I do that Carter couldn’t? I was smaller, younger, not as strong. More muted sounds. I wasn’t even sure if they were voices. Now everything was quiet. In some ways that was worse than hearing noises.

  Looking through the darkness, I decided that the wisest thing would be to keep out of sight until the Marauders left – or came down into the cellar, whichever happened first. Slowly I felt my way along, arms outstretched, to what I thought would be the ideal spot behind two columns of boxes that I remembered. Very carefully, so as not to knock them over, I inched my way around them. In the space behind the boxes I could stand up straight without being seen from the trapdoor and I had just enough room to kneel but not to sit. I felt safer, but not safe. I counted the time passing by listening to my heart hammer.

  Did I doze off? I’m not sure, but I was suddenly keenly aware of the sound of the trapdoor opening. The half-light created by the open door spilled to just in front of the boxes I was hiding behind.

  If they came down into the cellar …

  ‘How much food do you have down there?’ The Marauder’s voice was harsh, rasping.

  ‘About enough for six months, maybe a year,’ Carter replied.

  I pursed my lips in relief. With Carter still alive maybe I stood a chance.

  ‘And it isn’t contaminated?’

  ‘Only some of it.’ Carter had informed me on my first day that none of the food was contaminated. I understood why he lied.

  ‘Bring us some food,’ the same voice demanded. ‘And no tricks or I’ll peel your flesh myself.’

  ‘I’d better go down with him, Captain. He might have weapons stashed down there,’ said another voice.

  ‘Good idea,’ the captain agreed. ‘Abel, make sure you watch him closely until I return. I’ll search the rest of the house. There may be others hiding, in spite of what this man says. Once we’ve eaten we’ll tie him up and you can help me fix the comms box so that we can contact the others. This building will make a good base.’

  ‘What about him?’ Abel asked.

  ‘What about him? He has no valu
e except as a cook.’

  ‘He said some of the food was contaminated.’

  ‘He lied. If it was tainted, why would he keep it? I’ll wait until the chief arrives. He can decide what he wants to do with this one. Until then he can feed us.’

  If it was down to Carter’s culinary expertise to save him, he wouldn’t stand a chance. I heard footsteps moving in different directions. One set came down the cellar steps, walking in my direction, then stopped.

  ‘If you have anything of value hidden,’ the Marauder Abel said silkily, ‘tell me where and I may persuade the captain to let you live.’

  ‘May don’t make it,’ Carter said.

  ‘May is all there is. Think carefully. A chance of life against no chance at all. It seems reasonable to me.’

  ‘That’s because you’re on the persuading side of that knife. Try seeing it from my position.’

  More footsteps. I could see them now, to my left. Abel had most of his back to me. Carter was just visible beyond him. I poked my head out from the side of the top box. Carter’s face was bloody and bruised and swollen. An almost imperceptible start told me that he’d spotted me. Anxiously I licked my lips, wondering what I should do next. Carter moved closer to Abel, who rapidly backed away, waving the knife in his hand. Carter stepped forward again. I shook my head frantically. Once again Carter stepped forward and once again Abel backed away in my direction. By now the Marauder was less than a metre away from me.

  ‘If you move again, I’ll kill you,’ Abel said harshly.

  I sidestepped the boxes and crept towards the Marauder, every bloodcell in my body screaming at me to get back, to duck down and hide. Ignoring every grain of sense I had, I moved slowly and carefully, desperate not to make a sound, but Abel must’ve heard me, or sensed me. His head whipped round. He immediately turned back to Carter, but although he was fast, Carter was faster. He lunged forward, throwing his arm around Abel’s neck while his other hand covered the Marauder’s mouth. Abel struggled like hell, making Carter spin so they were both facing me. Abel didn’t keep still for a single second. I stood petrified, my knife in my hand. Carter tried to get a grip around Abel’s throat and head, but every time he tried to adjust his grip, Abel tried to yell out a warning to his captain.

  Carter hissed at me, ‘Do it. For God’s sake, do it. I can’t hold him much longer.’

  I took a deep breath and, after briefly closing my eyes, thrust the knife into Abel’s stomach, twisting it upwards towards his heart. My hands were almost instantly wet and warm. I pulled out my knife, more reflex than considered action. I stared into Abel’s eyes, which were wide with a strange surprise. Carter let the Marauder slip to the ground. I knew he was already dead but Carter wasn’t taking any chances. He twisted the man’s neck, then pulled the body to one side of the boxes where it wouldn’t be seen. He cursed when he found that Abel, unlike most Marauders, had no gun. I looked down at the body, my heart still fearfully pounding inside me. I’d killed someone. I’d actually killed someone. Even though I knew it was us or the Marauders, I still wanted to cry. I’d killed someone …

  ‘Carter, I’m going to be sick,’ I whispered, my hand over my mouth.

  ‘Not yet, boy,’ Carter hissed at me. ‘Wait until we’ve killed the other one.’

  You had no choice, Robby, I kept telling myself. It was him or you.

  The thought helped some, but not much. I swallowed hard, then went on swallowing until the bile that kept filling my mouth stayed down. We crept up the steps to the kitchen, where Carter armed himself with a knife in either hand. I wiped my sticky red hands on a rag that was probably supposed to be a tea towel. I kept wiping them – still faintly red but now dry – on my jacket as we crept upstairs, staying away from the middle of each step to avoid the creaks and groans of the wood beneath our feet. I’d never been upstairs, but I was too frightened to be curious. The captain was moving about in one of the rooms. Carter turned to me, pointing at himself.

  ‘Your bedroom?’ I mouthed silently.

  He nodded. Quickly but silently he moved to the other side of the open door. He pointed at me, then inside his room, indicating that I should go in first. I mean, sod that for a game of soldiers! I shook my head angrily, not impressed with his idea of using me for bait. Carter started making threatening faces. I shook my head again, but he looked like he was about to leap across to where I was standing and throttle me, so I tiptoed into the room when the captain had his back to me, hoping that Carter’s plan was a good one. The man was searching through an old-fashioned chest of drawers, snorting with disgust when all he found were clothes – and not terribly clean ones at that.

  A floorboard creaked under my foot and I froze. Too late. The captain turned sharply. One look at me and he rapidly reached for the gun around his waist. In a heartbeat it was out of his belt and already moving upwards, pointing towards my chest. And I couldn’t move. All I could do was watch death rush inexorably towards me. But something whizzed past me and I watched as, almost in slow motion, the captain clutched at the knife that had just sliced its way into his chest, before crashing to the ground. Carter didn’t wait for me. He ran over, relieving the captain of his gun before turning furiously back to me.

  ‘What the hell did you think you were doing? Were you going to stand there and watch him kill you?’

  I didn’t speak until I was sure I wasn’t going to disgrace myself by throwing up. ‘Sod off, Carter!’ I snapped. ‘I knew you had my back.’

  ‘You shouldn’t’ve relied on that. Suppose I didn’t?’

  ‘But you did. So what’s the problem?’

  ‘You are, Robby. When’re you going to learn that you can’t rely on anyone but yourself? You can’t trust anyone else.’

  ‘I trust you.’

  ‘More fool you then,’ Carter snapped. ‘Now I want the truth. How much longer is the rain going to last?’

  ‘Another twenty-four hours.’ I sighed. ‘Then I’ll be on my way.’

  Silence.

  ‘I promise, this time tomorrow the rain will’ve stopped.’

  ‘Look …’ Carter seemed uncomfortable. ‘You don’t have to go tomorrow. You can stay an extra few days if you like.’

  Surprise widened my eyes as I stared at him. ‘If you don’t mind, I’ll take you up on that. I’d rather wait until the Marauders have moved on.’

  ‘Fair enough.’ Carter’s face grew hard. ‘But you still sleep downstairs, and no tricks. This time I’ll be sleeping with a gun.’

  ‘Well, when you blow your foot off or worse, don’t look to me for sympathy,’ I said.

  Carter smiled reluctantly. We stripped the dead man of his overalls, then went down into the cellar and stripped off Abel’s too. Carter repaired the front door with some wood from the cellar, using one of the Marauder overalls as protection from the driving rain.

  The next few hours were tense. Even though we closed the shutters, we didn’t dare risk lighting any of the candles and we moved about as little as possible. At every moment I expected to hear a bang at the door or a window shattering. We hardly spoke. Dinner was kidney beans in chilli sauce, warmed up but not really heated on a camper stove. My sleep that night was fitful and fretful but at last the morning came. And no more Marauders. I hoped that the two dead men were an advance scouting party, or maybe a breakaway group.

  Next day we waited for a few hours after the rain had finally stopped, then buried the bodies behind the house. By the time we’d finished I was in a state. I was smelly and dirty and longed to take off my damned strappings. I hadn’t dared loosen them during the previous night, fearing the arrival of more Marauders. It seemed to me that I’d spent most of my time in Carter’s house afraid for one reason or another.

  Two days after the rain had stopped, Carter and I walked for over an hour to the nearest river. I didn’t want to go with him but he insisted. I dreaded getting there. Totally unselfconscious, Carter stripped naked and jumped into the icy water.

  ‘Come on in then. The
water’s lovely!’

  ‘I … er … I think one of us should be on guard in case the Marauders haven’t moved on yet,’ I suggested.

  ‘Good idea,’ Carter called back. ‘I’ll get clean then act as lookout while you have a swim.’

  How was I going to get out of this one? Carter dived down into the water and disappeared. I lay down on the riverbank, closing my eyes against the sunshine. I kept remembering the look on Abel’s face when I stabbed him …

  I must’ve drifted off to sleep because when I opened my eyes, Carter was kneeling over me and I instinctively knew that he’d been there for a while. I stared at him, wondering anxiously at the angry, sombre look on his face. Oh my God! He didn’t know, did he? He hadn’t guessed?

  ‘What’s the matter?’ I frowned, uncertain.

  Carter’s breathing was deep, audible. He stood up quickly and strode off towards the house. I opened my mouth to call him back – after all, he was supposed to act as lookout while I swam – but then I thought better of it. This way was much safer. It was OK - he didn’t know or he would’ve said something. Eagerly I watched him leave. Now I could bathe in peace and without having to reveal the truth to him. Even my fear of the Marauders faded into insignificance at the prospect of taking off my strappings at last. I undressed, then washed the strappings and padding and left them on large rocks by the riverbank to dry. I rinsed Abel’s blood off my jacket and then jumped into the river, my knife still in my hand. The water was so freezing it stole my breath away – but it was wonderful. Luckily, only the rain was lethal. Once the rain stopped, after about an hour the water reverted to ‘normal’ and was safe again.

  Mum once tried to explain the science of it to me, but I didn’t really understand. Science was never my strongest subject. It had been some new chemical weapon designed by X to wipe out Y. Only the weapon, unlike the faction that made it, hadn’t been quite so choosy and had entered the upper atmosphere, spreading around the country and maybe beyond. Mum told me the chemicals were only neutralized after a certain period of time at ground level. So those of us who were left watched the rain and waited for the day when the man-made chemical would be burned out or washed down or made safe in some way. But in the meantime no one went out in the rain. I still remembered when the rain wasn’t my enemy. I didn’t even have to close my eyes to see myself walking, dancing, singing in the rain. I swam to and fro, the knife between my teeth. After at least half an hour I clambered out and got dressed, reluctantly restrapping my chest and wrapping the damp padding around my waist. After that I headed back to the house.