Down: Pinhole (53 page)

“They’re gone, Ben, they’re fucking gone. What have I done? Why did I bring Arabel and the kids down here?”

Ben started to say something soothing but his phone rang. He took the call when he saw where it was coming from. He listened, said a few words in reply and put the phone back in his pocket.

“That was HQ,” Ben said. “The police are just now reporting a major incident in South Ockendon, about ten miles from here.”

Trevor seemed to know what Ben was going to say. “I know the place. The MAAC tunnels run under it.”

“Apparently a number of residents of a housing estate have been reported missing and at the same time, numerous strangers have been seen to be rampaging through the estate.”

Emily looked up in anticipation when Trevor and Ben came into the infirmary but she became crestfallen at the sight of Trevor’s grief-stricken face.

She couldn’t bring herself to speak so John asked for her, “What’s the matter? Where’s her sister?”

“We’ve got a problem, guv,” Trevor said, his voice quavering.

“What is it?” John asked.

Emily understood right away. “She’s gone, isn’t she?”

Trevor nodded.

“The children too?”

Trevor nodded. “And another woman who was with them.”

“Why on Earth did you bring them here?” she cried. “The energy fields are too unstable.”

“It was my mistake,” Trevor said, mournfully. “It’s on me.”

Ben had snapped a photo of the four men in the canteen on his mobile phone. He showed it to John and Emily.

“Yeah, they were there,” John said. “A few yards from us.”

“Same spot as the canteen, I expect,” Ben said. “We’ve also learned that a short while ago, a number of civilians disappeared about ten miles north of us, from a town lying over the MAAC tunnel. Numerous strangers are reported in the area.”

Emily began to weep. Before anyone could stop him, John ripped the IV from his arm and was standing next to her, holding her by the waist.

“My God,” Emily said, looking up into his sad eyes. “I’ve got to go back.”

“Mummy, where are we?”

When he didn’t get a reply, four-year-old Sam repeated the question more insistently.

His sister, Belle, a year younger, began to cry.

Their mother, Arabel, didn’t have an answer and could only stare in mute shock, for one moment they had been in the canteen at the MAAC supercollider in Dartford, England waiting hopefully to be reunited with Arabel’s sister, Emily Loughty, and the next moment they were someplace very different. But the other woman had a sick inkling where they were. Delia May quickly snatched Belle into her arms and whispered for her to be a good girl and try to keep still.

They were inside a small house, not much larger than a garden shed. With its earthen floor, small hearth, a few measly sticks aglow, and a rank game bird hanging on a hook, it was rougher than most garden sheds. Sam began to cough from the smoky atmosphere and Delia urgently shushed him. There were loud voices outside and Delia, holding the little girl, crept to a window covered by unlatched shutters which were clattering in the breeze. She pushed one of the shutters open a few inches and peered out. Even though she thought she understood what was happening, she caught her breath at the sight. There in the middle of a muddy road, a short distance away, was Duck, her young charge for the past month. He was naked and a much larger man she instantly recognized as Brandon Woodbourne was throttling him. Another young man began beating Woodbourne’s back with a club and soon a motley assortment of other men joined in the melee and Woodbourne ran off, cursing and shouting.

Just then Sam noticed the hanging bird, took a step toward it and began to giggle.

“Look, mum. My trousers fell down.”

His denim jeans were around his ankles and his underpants, lacking elastic, were about to fall from his waist too.

Arabel felt at her own clothes. Her skirt was loose and zipperless, absent buttons her shirt was half-open, and her bra, missing its hooks was flapping underneath. She finally spoke in a trembling voice. “Please, can you tell me what’s happening?”

“We must stay very quiet,” Delia said, standing away from the window. “I think we’re in the place where your sister’s been.”

“I don’t have any idea what you mean,” Arabel said. “I demand to know what’s going on. Where’s the canteen? Where’s the laboratory? Have we been drugged?”

“Keep your voice down,” Delia implored, but Arabel would not be mollified.

There was a wooden door secured by a simple wooden latch. Arabel went for it. When Delia tried to stop her she pushed the older woman aside, undid the latch, and flung the door open hard enough that it loudly struck the side of the house.

Arabel stared out in shock. She repeated the same question as her young son, “Where are we?”

Delia roughly pulled her back inside and latched the door. She knew where they were but she couldn’t make herself say the word. She couldn’t because to say it was to make it real.

She couldn’t say, “Hell.”