Crik (31 page)

Suffocating darkness wrappe
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Jack. The absence of light did not disturb him as much as the knowledge that the darkness itself was alive.

The sound of rain grew louder, invading the dark, before he felt the raindrops dampen his hair and clothes. First only a few spots hit him, then so much rain came down he felt saturated, clogging his pores like cold wax. The rain filled his senses, making it difficult to breathe as the torrent drove into his face. Raising his hands against the downpour, he spied shades of grey mixed with the black, to reveal hard outlines. They stood square and looming. Everywhere he looked more shapes came into slow focus. At first, the animals appeared as blurred circles and sickles atop defined squares. An owl, larger than any bird he had ever seen, sat looking over his head, its wings folded behind its back in quiet contemplation. Standing with one paw raised stood a wolf and farther back a dog with a stone bone in its mouth. He recognised them at once.

Turning about he came face to face with Yang. His shadow, reaching forward, pinched his arm. Flinching, Jack pulled away. Yang mirrored him; he even held the same arm as Jack. Although they stood the same height, and shared the same width, for the first time Yang, having feet, stood separate from Jack.

‘I know these gravestones.’ said Jack. ‘This is Long Sleep cemetery.’ He knew he was right. The owl headstone belonged to Willow Temper, the old woman who left Bill a ton of books when she died.

Lightning lit up the world in a blinding flash. He remembered how Yang had stood in his bedroom, with his hair standing on end during the last electrical storm he had seen. Another lightning bolt lit up the sky.

Looming behind Yang stood another tomb. This burial place was both larger and more ominous than the other graves atop the hill. A hooded figure stood holding aloft a stone noose. The Hangman, he thought with a stab of fear.

‘Am I really here?’ Could he run down the hill away from the graveyard? If so, what would stop him from sprinting home to surprise his mother? Had Yang brought him home?

Yang shook his head, as a misshapen form walked past. The smell of earth and rotten vegetables assailed Jack’s nostrils. Holding his nose, he looked up at the huge frame of the figure as it approached the hangman’s tomb.

One huge hand lifted high. Its fingers, appearing more like tree roots than flesh and bone, slipped free from the overhanging sleeve of the white shirt that covered its humped back. Standing only as tall as the Giant’s waist Jack felt panicked. Hitherto, the Giant had failed to see him, yet at any moment that could change.

The tomb’s stone door shattered in a loud explosion of dust and marble as the Giant brought his hand crashing down. The roots and leaves dangling from the Giant’s head shook at the impact. Striding forward, the darkness inside the tomb swallowed the Giant whole.

The rain thrummed around Jack, bouncing as high as his knee. Scared, he remained still, unsure of what to do. Dare he also enter the tomb? Remembering the cramped interior, he knew he would crowd the Giant. Somehow, Yang had brought him back to the night the Giant had buried the egg. By remaining in the rain he won’t understand Yang’s purpose. Wiping the water from his eyes, he walked over the rubble-strewn entryway.

The lid of the coffin creaked on rusted hinges as the Giant, with clumsy hands, yanked it open. Sound of tearing cloth cut through the air as the Giant’s shirt caught on the wooden lid. Watching the white fabric drift into the coffin brought Jack face to face with Mr Hasseltope. He looked fresher than Krimble. The cheeks were sunken, and Mr Hasseltope’s eyes were two dark pits above a grin that showed too much teeth; it would not have surprised him if the old hangman sat up.

The same dead fox Jack had noticed the first time he entered the tomb lay curled on Mr Hasseltope. That morning he had carried the egg of the demon in his pocket. He checked to see whether he somehow still had the golden egg. Relief at only finding a smooth pebble and a piece of string left him lightheaded. Lifting the fox from the hangman, the Giant laid down the animal with reverential care. Seeing the hangman in silent repose brought back Grandpa Poulis’s words, "He liked to see ‘em twitch."

‘You should’ve waited.’ The voice came from behind Jack, making him jump.

The Giant twisted around, looking through Jack, with its many eyes, at the newcomer.

Jack gasped as Mr Dash, Long Sleep’s grave keeper, entered the tomb.

The grave keeper twirled a set of large keys around his bony hand. ‘It’s hard with the storm; if you had a bit more light you’d have seen that the door had a keyhole. Now this will stir everyone up tomorrow, that’s for damn sure.’ The grave keeper shook his head as though he had dropped a pie he had spent two hours preparing and stepped into the crypt. ‘I’m guessing, after the initial ruckus, the girls wouldn’t want anything to do with this business. The boys on the other hand. He may even be among them. He’s smart; I hope he doesn’t tie tonight’s event with his change in a couple of days.’ Mr Dash lit a lantern. ‘Mr Hasseltope was always good to me,’ he said. ‘I never sat idle for long when he was about.’

The largest eyes, dotted around the face of the Giant, reflected Mr Dash, yet Jack saw neither he nor Yang in those black orbs.

‘Well this is a messy business,’ said the grave keeper. ‘Best get it done.’

Hunching over, the Giant tore open the dead man’s burial shirt. Pulling back his huge hand, a stray finger caught the coffin’s red lining. Jack watched as the lining folded to cover the fox. Bloodless, the skin had grown purple and black over the hangman’s stomach.

‘I’d rather do this inside the tomb than at one of the graves down beside the river,’ muttered Mr Dash. ‘Dirty business down there. Though blaming the river for washing out the dead folk, always satisfies the curiosity of the children,’ he conceded. ‘Where is it?’

The roots, covering the Giant’s mouth, twitched, making its leaves rattle. Jack found the sound rather harmonious.

Mr Dash nodded. ‘Fine.’

Reaching out, the Giant let its hand hover over Mr Hasseltope’s stomach. The hangman’s bruised abdomen moved, reminding Jack of fish swimming just beneath the surface of water. A bulge formed beneath the suspended hand.

‘It’s waited a long time,’ said Mr Dash.

The Giant’s leaves rustled in response.

‘I know,’ said Mr Dash. ‘It had to regain its strength. Still, this one has taken its merry time.’

The hangman’s stomach burst, releasing gases that had lain trapped for years. Craning forward Jack gasped as he saw a golden egg rise from the ruptured innards. Both Mr Dash and Jack gagged on the foul smell, while the Giant continued to peer down at the egg. Jack started to retreat, when a firm hand held his back. Turning he saw Yang barred his way.

The egg continued to rise, revolving as it gained height. A flap of skin had roped itself across the circumference of the egg. It rose higher and then the skin fell back with a plop. Jack paled at the sound. Patiently the Giant waited for the rising egg to touch his hand, when it did, a light flashed across the Giant’s palm. The light faded to reveal, zigzagging across the egg, a silver line.

‘We can’t leave him here like this,’ said Mr Dash looking down at Mr Hasseltope. ‘The tomb has kept our old executioner rather fresh all these years.’ The grave keeper stroked his chin as he contemplated what to do. ‘You’d best carry him to the river. The water will carry him away, or the fish will gorge themselves before any of the kids can discover him.’

After placing the egg in the sack, the Giant hoisted Mr Hasseltope easily over its shoulder.

A soft thud drew Jack’s attention to the floor, where he discovered the hangman’s noose lying on the cracked marble. Mr Dash hunched down to retrieve the rope. To Jack it seemed as though the grave keeper wanted to keep the killing tool, but then, with a delicate touch, he lay the noose on the silk pillow.

If Mr Dash knew about the Giant and the demon, who else knew? The Village Elder, Mr Gasthem, with all his bugs scurrying through the village, he must know. Who else knew about the Giant fetching demons into the village? His neighbour Miss Mistletoe, or perhaps Dr Threshum, who knew more about the inner workings of a body than anyone else. With all his stories, could Grandpa Poulis remain oblivious to this most damning secret? Would his mother keep this from him? Not wanting to believe his suspicions, he nevertheless suspected her. Violated by the thought of someone he trusted bringing the egg into his home, when he was a baby, made him want to cry. Let them all love their inner demons, he thought, gritting his teeth until his jaw ached. Refusing to allow the creature’s supplicating Talent to beguile him, gave him strength to fight his unwelcome guest.

Stepping away from the exit Yang walked through Jack. Shuddering, as though he had jumped into a lake during November, Jack gasped in shock. Standing close, his shadow had pulled back its eyelids, fixing him with golden eyes, dissected by a jagged silver line. The shine of the eyes defined Yang’s cheeks, giving them form for the first time.

‘This is who you are,’ said Jack. ‘Hatched from an egg the Giant brought to my house. You aren’t my shadow.’ He looked down. ‘How can you be, you have feet and the ability to do what you want. Everything you do is what you want,’ he sighed. ‘You’re your own creature, to go and do as you please. Why don’t you leave me alone? I don’t want you. All my life, you and those who know in my village, have used my ignorance.’ Clutching the coffin with a cold hand, he continued, ‘When I die, will the grave keeper meet the Giant in my tomb? To give an unsuspecting kid a troublesome shadow so that you may live. How many other boys and girls have you lived in before me? Will there be others after me?’ His voice broke with emotion. Would the cycle ever end? ‘I call you Yang, what did the others name you? Black, like Bill’s wolf, or Inky, or perhaps you were always so bothersome they just wanted you to Disappear.’ He laughed. ‘I should start calling you Go Away instead of Yang. What do you think?’

As the lightning lit up the night, Yang pointed to the far wall of the tomb. Drawn on the stone was the drawing Jack had first seen with Bill.

‘I’ve seen it before.’

Yang insisted, pointing at the drawing.

Crudely drawn, the worn sketch had much of its prior detail rubbed away. Cracks had intruded on the pictures, cutting the drawn boy in the first picture in two. The drawings remained as Jack had recalled. First, the boy standing amongst the trees waving, the second showed the arrival of the demon and the boy’s fear. ‘There’s nothing new here,’ he said.

Yang stabbed the final image with an elongated finger.

Passing over the two pictures, he settled on the third image of the boy happily carrying the demon on his shoulder. ‘I told you,’ said Jack, ‘I remember seeing this before.’ Then, through Yang’s finger, he saw something he had missed the first time he had been here. On the ground, waving up at him lay the shadow of the boy. The boy had his arms at his side. Whoever this boy was, he had also had a living shadow.

‘Is that you?’

The golden stare did not flicker as Yang continued to study Jack. Then when Jack was about to repeat the question, Yang gave him a wave.

Taking a hurried step back, Jack tripped against the coffin and fell inside with a scream.

Krimble’s angry calls for Yang to release him, replaced the sound of the rain against the walls of the tomb.

‘I don’t know why you’re screaming so much,’ said Bill, ‘Yang could’ve let you drop when you were up there amongst the clouds.’

Wiping furiously at his eyes, Jack found his skin was no longer damp from the rain. Dumbfounded, he looked around at the glade in the Wold, where Inara and Bill crowded Krimble, who Yang held upside-down by his shoe. The Giant, Mr Dash, and the tomb, on that long ago night, had vanished.

Looking behind him, he saw the Yang highlighted by the red lantern light waving at him.

Soot stained lantern
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, with coloured glass, lay strewn at Jack’s feet. Rubbing away his sleep with a hurried hand, he sat up. Cursing the sun glinting off the red glass, he turned aside to find a herd of deer surrounding them. That they were dead didn’t seem to affect anyone, but him. The one Bill chose to pet at least had fur, some roaming the field were little more than skeletons.

‘You’ve been busy,’ he said to Inara.

‘It’s not that hard to know where they’re buried,’ said the girl, holding Mylo close. ‘Now that I know what I’m capable of it’s only a matter of concentrating.’

He chose not to ask whether they had screamed like the others; he already knew the answer. He noted a number of fawns amongst the deer. They remained close to their mothers, who in turn kept a wary vigil. Did the dead fear predators? A fox had risen, and no doubt other predators since then. Although the open cavities under them suggested the dead didn’t eat, other instincts must govern them.

A small shape hurried amongst the returned denizens of the Red Wood. Watching, Jack spotted a flash of gold. He tried to catch another glimpse of the precious metal as it danced between the hooves of the dead animals. It raced amongst the deer so fast he only saw a glimmer of gold.

‘The Ghost Walkers will want to know where these have all come from.’ Jack raised his gaze. ‘I’m surprised they haven’t already investigated.’ After experimenting with his demon, he didn’t want to tell the others what Yang had shown him last night. Still fuming at their lack of caution, he tried to put their betrayal to the back of his mind. What Yang could do scared him. How powerful were their demons? He could try to hide the full extent of his Talent from the Ghost Walkers, whereas Inara’s power was everywhere. ‘Will the Ladies look kindly on having a herd of dead animals running through their metal wood?’

‘They’re dead themselves,’ Inara pointed out.

Shaking his head Bill said, ‘No they’re not. Just because they leave their bodies doesn’t mean they died during the night. It’s just their Talent, like Yang, or me controlling Black.’

‘But they are dead,’ said Inara. ‘The villagers killed their bodies while they walked in the woods. They hung them from the tree before they could return and wake, leaving them with nowhere to go. The Ladies were once Ghost Walkers, now they are only ghosts. I don’t think they’ll object to seeing animals return to the Wold, do you?’

Long Sleep cemetery had many graves. Some, like Mr Hasseltope, rested within tombs, some dotted the hill, with poems written on headstones, to mark their place. Another, older site, lay within a basin of dirt, nothing grew over those graves. Despite time having faded the chalk on a single standing stone set amongst the clearing, the words "Ghost Walker", still declared its damnation. The Village of Crik had always had secrets, Jack thought with disgust. Did his mother know about the demon? That question haunted him. He pictured her sitting over his cot, humming a lullaby, while the Giant laid a golden egg on his blanket. Did she wait to see it hatch? Had she seen the demon wriggle into his toothless mouth?

‘They smell, and each one of them tried their damnedest to squish me under their hooves.’

Looking down Jack saw Gold Tail. Wrapping his tail about himself, the mouse didn’t look happy. ‘A fox chased me,’ said the mouse. ‘Lucky for me it limped, or I would’ve had a very short life. Everywhere I go I see more animals. I spent last night defending my hole from unwanted intruders. The rabbits are the worse; you’d think they’d make their own burrows instead of trying to kick me out of my home.’

‘Perhaps you’re living in what used to be their home,’ Inara told the mouse, who sat close to her on a rock. ‘I’m sure there’re plenty of holes for everyone.’

‘I don’t care about plenty of holes, I want mine. It’s been my home all my life; I’m not going to give it up to some filthy rabbit.’ That the mouse had only lived for a day went unsaid.

‘They’d have found other places to burrow by now,’ said Inara.

‘I hope so,’ said Gold Tail. ‘I get cranky if I don’t get any sleep.’

‘You get cranky? Come on? You’re the most even-tempered mouse I’ve ever met,’ said Bill, shifting his glasses. ‘In fact, I’d go as far to say that you’re always delightful company. You never whinge, moan, or complain about anything.’

Gold Tail’s tin whiskers twitched. ‘That’s right. I don’t moan or complain, I just point things out. Like how the morning stinks of rotting meat. It’s enough to dull my tail.’

‘Talking of rotting meat, where’s Krimble?’ said Bill. ‘I haven’t seen him at all. Do you think Yang’s stunt finally rid us of the old git?’

He probably ran to the Ghost Walkers to tell them what has happened, thought Jack. He knew the Ladies would be coming. Not wishing to have five Yangs around him next time he awoke, made him want to hide the lanterns before they arrived. His shadow sat astride a deer, riding the animal through the middle of the vale. The deer carried Yang so far he appeared as a small speck, yet his legs still connected them. Unlike last night, he mused, remembering the dark feet of his twin.

‘Why don’t you turn the dead animals against the Myrms,’ suggested Bill. ‘I bet, after what the Myrms did here, that this entire place is one giant graveyard. I’d like to see those brutes stand up against thousands of undead animals.’

Her fingers thrummed on the ground as Inara listened. ‘These woods had a few packs of wolves,’ she said. ‘Perhaps a couple of lone bears had made their home amongst the trees. Most of the small rodents and deer are more likely to flee than fight.’

‘Make them,’ said Bill. ‘We need to escape. I want to get Black and Silver and leave this Red Wood for good.’

‘There is no point,’ she said. ‘Armoured as they are, the Myrms won’t be troubled by anything I can raise here. Besides, I am not sure of my limits.’

‘Well we have to think of something,’ said Bill. ‘I don’t fancy growing old here like Huckney.’ Slapping the rump of the nearest deer sent the startled animal running down the vale. ‘We only have Justice’s word that the Blackthorn Tunnel is the only way in or out of the Wold. Inara, you told us you could feel the animals running through the Red Wood. If they won’t fight, then send them out to search for other ways to leave this place.’

Jack watched as Inara shook her head, fanning her face with her dirty, blonde hair. ‘I share the sensation of running with the animals, of feeling the wind rush across my face and the stretch of their limb, but I don’t see what they see. I told you before, you can do that with the animals you control, that’s not something I can do.’

‘Try reaching out for Black,’ said Jack. ‘He’s out there somewhere.’

‘I’ll try again,’ said Bill.

Closing his eyes, Bill sank to the ground. His brow furrowed in concentration as he reached out with his mind. Jack wasn’t surprised to see sweat beading Bill’s face. Bill’s eyes shifted beneath his closed lids, as he searched for the only animals still alive in the entire Wold.

‘Nothing,’ Bill finally gasped. ‘I couldn’t feel them anywhere.’

Knowing how disappointed he felt, Jack could only imagine the dejection Bill experienced. He missed having the added safety of the wolves. ‘Try again later,’ he said. ‘They’re probably too far away for you to feel.’

‘Don’t worry Bill. I’m sure Jack is right.’

‘It’s alright for you two,’ said Bill. ‘You have your Talents with you. What can I offer the Ladies to stop them taking me to the Hanging Tree? We need to scram.’

‘If they try to take you, they’ll have to take me with you,’ said Jack. The thought of the Ghost Walkers marching them to the tree with the bowed branches wasn’t exactly appealing, but he meant every word. He wouldn’t let them take Bill away from him.

‘And me,’ said Inara. ‘We won’t let anyone face the Ghost Walkers alone.’

‘I preferred it when the wolves were hunting us,’ said Bill, falling back against the rough ground. ‘At least we knew what they wanted to do with us. My grandfather told me a story once about a little boy who kept a hamster in his room. Everyday the boy fed and cared for his pet. He started feeding the hamster cake instead of seeds. Fruit cake, even cake smothered in chocolate. Eventually, the hamster grew so fat he stopped running on his wheel. The day he stopped spinning the wheel, the boy took him out of his cage and fed him to his cat.’

‘Nice story,’ said Inara.

‘I just hope we can sneak away before our wheel stops,’ said Jack.

‘I’d give that cat indigestion,’ said Gold Tail. ‘Though I’m glad the lummox is away tinkering in the wood. I saw him carting away huge shards of metal before the rabbits appeared. He’d no doubt enjoy making a cat with that hammer of his.’

Having the new denizens taking over the Wold won’t please Huckney. The Red Wood was his home, and in one night, they had changed it. Jack wondered whether animals had still roamed the Wold when the Myrms brought Huckney and his father here.

‘We’ve got a visitor,’ said Bill.

Turning Jack saw a solitary Ghost Walker drifting over the coarse ground. Her light burned a deep amber, with wisps of yellow and blue along the ends of her floating dress.

‘I hope that’s not Kyla,’ said Jack. He looked down at the discarded lamps, certain the Ghost Walker would see them.

As the figure grew closer, they recognised Justice. She held aloft a squirming rabbit. The rabbit, in worse repair than Mylo, looked a horror of rotted flesh and bone. Even with its wasted muscles the rabbit continued to kick out at the Ghost Walker, something Jack couldn’t blame the critter for doing.

‘These things surround the Rainbow Lake,’ said Justice, reaching them. ‘Hundreds of them hopping around, making a nuisance of themselves. This loathsome creature,’ she held out the rabbit with no ears, ‘is incapable of hopping, it instead drags itself around. They seem to seek something; what that is no one knows. Perhaps a home that isn’t there anymore.’

‘A home taken away from them,’ said Inara.

Jack held his breath, waiting for Justice’s reaction to Inara’s rebuke. The Ghost Walker’s smile didn’t lessen his anxiety. In fact, his nerves tightened further as Justice’s smile spread.

‘No doubt they had a warren around the lake many years ago,’ agreed Justice. ‘Times, however, change, and with it those who once ran amongst the grass and trees will find themselves – displaced. The Wold is no place for rabbits and deer.’ She looked around at the stumbling herd. ‘This tin mouse is what the Wold has become.’

‘The rabbits tried kicking me out of my home last night,’ repeated Gold Tail.

‘As they would,’ agreed Justice. ‘They remember, but they don’t understand.’

If Inara could stand she would have shouted in Justice’s face as she said, ‘You killed them when you came here. This entire place has suffered under your control. You took away the trees, and the grass these animals needed to survive. With the Hedge Wall surrounding the wood, they had nowhere to run. Those who died an unnatural death at your hands deserve a second chance at life.’

Justice’s lingering smile wriggled like a worm caught in the sun. ‘This is no way for them to live, child. They can’t eat or feel their hearts beat as they run.’

‘Do you?’ asked Inara.

‘Your fathers killed us.’

‘And you killed them,’ said Inara pointing an accusing finger at the surrounding deer. ‘Do you want me to return them to the graves you dug for them? Will that be enough to hide your shame? You’re no better than those men who took your body to hang from the tree.’

‘Inara,’ cautioned Bill.

‘No Bill, she needs to hear this,’ said Inara. ‘You made the Red Wood. There’s no life here, just an imitation of what lies beyond the Hedge. Everything here is cold and harsh. The rust may paint the Wold red, but the blood is on your hands.’

‘Look at this rabbit,’ said Justice, lifting the rabbit higher. ‘Without any ears does it hear? Half its ligaments have decayed, making it impossible for it to run. Its eyes are sunken. Do you envisage this as life?’

‘The Red Wood is a graveyard,’ said Inara, scratching Mylo’s one remaining ear. Jack noticed the rabbit leant into her hand. Did the rabbit enjoy having its ear stroked? ‘There’re thousands of residents under our feet,’ she continued to say. ‘You wanted me to use my power, and so I have. I’ll continue to use it. I don’t intend to stop until all those killed by you, and your pets, have returned.’