Keeping Holiday (12 page)

“Here,” Dylan said, “hold my hand instead. Use your other hand to feel for the wall. It’s got to be right here somewhere!” Dylan and Clare moved in ever widening circles, both of them feeling all around them for the wall. Five minutes passed, ten, maybe fifteen—no wall yet. “This is
crazy
,” Dylan mumbled. “It was just an alley. There were buildings on both sides. And it was morning on a sunny day. Now the walls are gone, we’re in a wide open space, and it’s pitch dark.” He was silent for a moment. Then Clare felt his fingers go cold, and he asked, “Clare, which direction were we going?”

“I don’t know,” Clare replied in a voice so small that it did indeed sound as if the darkness had crushed it.

Without a word, Dylan and Clare began to walk again. They felt that they could not just sit there in the darkness. Trying to get
somewhere
was better than doing nothing. So they walked, feeling their way with their hands in front of them, the way blind people might. Before each step, they felt the ground in front of them with their feet to be sure of it. The cousins might as well have had no eyes at all, for all the use they were. Even as a small child, Dylan had never been afraid of the dark. But Clare was right; this was a different darkness than any he had ever known before. It seemed to have a life of its own. Dylan felt that the darkness knew they were there and that it did not wish them well. Just as cold has a way of creeping into your bones, so it seemed to Dylan that this darkness wanted to get inside of him, to be a part of him—or to absorb him into itself.

The cousins had inched along in the crushing darkness for what felt like hours when Dylan noticed that his eyes had begun to play tricks on him. He could see what appeared to be a tiny pinprick of red light. Even though he realized that this was just one of those spots your eyes see sometimes when they’re closed or when it’s very dark, he stared at the tiny red dot. At least it was something to look at. Suddenly, he felt Clare’s hand tighten in his own. “Dylan! There’s a light!” she whispered in excitement. “Or something.”

“Or something” was right. The children had quickened their pace. As they approached the light, however, they saw not exactly a light, but a patch of deep red color, faintly glowing. Without saying anything to each other, both Dylan and Clare slowed their steps. Somehow, the red glow did not seem much friendlier than the intense dark. Soon the children could see that the glow came from a torch held in someone’s hand. Their hearts sank when they recognized the torchbearer. It was Mr. Smith. Neither of them trusted his pleasant face or his smooth voice any longer.

“Oh, my, look who’s here,” he said now, as though he were surprised to see them. Dylan and Clare both felt sure he had been looking for them. “This darkness is much too dangerous for you to be wandering about in,” he continued. “Were you looking for something?”

“We were looking for the wall,” Dylan answered, coldly. As he spoke, he looked around by the torch’s glow. There was no wall to be seen.

“Well,” the man smiled agreeably, “of course you didn’t come in here in the first place to find a wall. What were you looking for when you came in?”

“The candle shop,” Clare replied.

“Wanted some light, did you? Well, this is your lucky day. I’m going to show you that life in here, yes, in this very darkness, can be so glorious, you’ll never want another candle. If you’ll follow me, I’ll lead you to some folks who will show you what I mean.”

“I don’t trust him,” Clare whispered to Dylan.

“I know, but what choice do we have? Maybe the people he’s talking about will know how to get to the candle shop. Let’s just go see,” Dylan whispered back.

So the children set off in the eerie glow of Mr. Smith’s torch.

As they walked, he chattered good-naturedly. “I think you’ll like the D Der’s,” he began. “That’s what I call the people I’m going to introduce you to. They’re very sensible. You’ll like that about them. They’re able to look at things realistically, and then choose the best course. And they’re always happy. The D Der’s know how to enjoy life. They don’t miss a thing!”

As he chattered on, Dylan and Clare became aware of noise up ahead. It sounded like a party. They heard voices, music, and laughter. The closer they got to the noise, however, the less they liked it, and their initial relief at hearing human voices faded. Dylan and Clare realized that while many of the voices laughed, others cursed. The laughter itself, lacking any note of joy, contained a mocking, jeering ring. The music had a sinister pulse to it. Dylan felt Clare tug at his hand. He stopped.

“Hold it,” Dylan said. Mr. Smith stopped. Maybe it was a shadow from the flicker of the torch, or maybe a trace of impatience flitted across his face. He still sounded pleasant, though, as he said, “What is it?”

“Who did you say these people are?” Dylan asked.

The man chuckled. “Oh, I just said I call them D Der’s. Those are just initials, you know.”

“Well, what do they stand for?” Dylan wanted to know.

“Darkness Dwellers.” The man said it quickly, and hurried on. “They are so good at making the best of things, you can’t imagine. They’ve made such a nice place—a nice
real
place, not like a pretend Holiday. They have so much fun! They enjoy every possible pleasure. You can’t help but enjoy life with the D Der’s. They’ll show you how to have a good time—a great time, every day. You’ll never—”

“Darkness Dwellers?” Dylan interrupted. “You mean these people live here in this darkness?”

“Oh, yes,” Mr. Smith nodded pleasantly. “And it’s a wonderful thing. They’re smart enough to realize
what would happen if they ever got out into the light. But it’s not like you think. They have their own lights that they’ve made for themselves, like mine here,” and he waved his torch. “The D Der’s have every comfort, every happiness.”

“What
would
happen if they went out into the light?” Clare asked.

“Why, everyone would see what they’re doing. That wouldn’t be good,” and the man shook his head.

“What
are
they doing?” asked Dylan.

“Ah-ah.” Mr. Smith waved his finger at Dylan. “That would be telling. You’ll find out soon enough. Just trust me; I promise you’ll like it just as much as they do.”

“I don’t think so,” Dylan said, just as Clare was saying, “Dylan, I don’t want to go with him.”

“What? You want to keep looking
in here
—” and Mr. Smith gestured widely with his torch—“for candles?” And it did sound ridiculous when he said it. “You’ll never get out of this darkness, you know. That’s the whole point of darkness. You can’t see in it. You can’t find anything. You can’t tell where you’re going. You’ve only been here a very little while—what will you be like days from now? Think about that.” (Both children
had
been thinking about that, and they did not at all care for the thought.) “You’d be much better off learning from the D Der’s how you can make a home, a wonderful home, right here—without candles.”

“My idea of a wonderful home is not living in pitch darkness for the rest of my life,” Dylan answered firmly. “Not even with a bunch of your weird little red lights. I’m sure there’s a way out” (but he wasn’t), “and we’re going to find it.”

“Suit yourselves,” the man snapped, not at all pleasantly this time. He turned on his heel and strode off, the darkness growing deeper and heavier by degrees as the red glow went away with him.

When it had finally disappeared altogether, Clare said to Dylan, “Are you really sure there’s a way out?”

Dylan was not at all sure of any such thing, but he wanted to encourage Clare. “There’s got to be a way out,” he replied. “The cave seemed every bit as hopeless as this does, and we got out of there.”

“Right,” Clare agreed. “You have no more idea of the way out than I do. But I’m glad you said we wouldn’t go see the D Der’s. That can’t be the solution! Listen to them.”

The children listened to the distant shouts. For all that their guide had insisted that the Darkness Dwellers were happy, and for all that the children still heard laughter, something in the laughter sounded strained, distressed even. “I wonder what they
are
doing that they don’t want anyone to see,” Dylan muttered.

“Let’s go,” was Clare’s only reply.

Refusing the pleasant-faced Mr. Smith and avoiding the D Der’s had given Dylan and Clare a new burst of energy. Resisting the easy way had made them feel brave, and they moved off into the darkness with fresh hope. All too soon, however, the darkness resumed its steady pressure, and they felt their hope shrinking. At last it began to seem to Dylan that he had been walking in darkness all his life. His weary legs stumbled with every other step, and his eyes burned with strain because they would not stop trying to see in the dark.
And who knows if we’re even going in the right direction,
he thought.

Just then Clare said, “Dylan, I’ve had it. I can’t walk anymore.”

“Yeah,” Dylan said flatly, stopping. The two sank to the ground. There was nothing to lean on, since they had never found the wall, so Dylan stretched out on the ground. Clare did too, saying, “What if someone comes through here? They’ll never see us, and they’ll walk right over the top of us.”

Dylan meant to answer, but went to sleep before he could.

Dylan and Clare awoke at the same time. They had no way to know how long they had slept or whether it was night or day. The darkness had not changed. They sat up and rummaged in their bag for something to eat, which they ate listlessly, with no appetite. “I guess we might as well walk a while?” Clare suggested.

Dylan thought
Why? What’s the point?
but he didn’t say it. He just rose wearily to his feet and reached for Clare’s hand. Far, far in the distance, he thought he saw, just for an instant, a quick, small flash. He stared, but it did not reappear.
Just
my imagination,
he thought.
Of course.
He sighed. But there it flashed again—maybe. He peered ahead, waiting, and saw a longer flash. “Clare,” he said cautiously. “Do you see anything? Besides darkness, I mean.”

“You mean like some quick flashes?” she answered. “I was afraid I was seeing things.” The two watched as the flashes came more and more often and grew larger and longer. Soon, the flashes had become a steady light, small, but clearly coming in their direction.

“What if it’s
him
again?” Clare asked. “Will we go with him?”

Dylan thought with distaste of the eerie red glow, the nasty little man who only seemed pleasant, and the evil sounds of the Darkness Dwellers. But then he thought of the steady, crushing, unrelenting darkness and wondered how long he could bear it. Clare was waiting for an answer. “I don’t know,” Dylan said simply.