The Nightmare Game (24 page)

 

“ONCE UPON A TIME, THERE WAS A GIRL WHOSE FATHER KEPT HER DOWN IN a hole in the ground.”

From high on the shoulder of the great
THING
she'd built, Lorn listened to her words dropping into the silence. As she said them, she knew that she was telling the right story, at last. The one she knew and understood. Her voice grew stronger as the power came to her.

“Was the girl really precious and beautiful? What do you think? Down there, in the dark, she couldn't learn the things that other people do. She couldn't run or jump. She didn't know how to sing or argue—or even to speak properly. All she could do was make twisted patterns out of her own hair.”

She paused for a moment, controlling her anger. If she let it loose now, she would ruin everything. The story had to be quiet, right up to the moment of shock. The moment when she lit the fires. Until then, she must tell it softly, softly. . . .

“Every day, for a few brief minutes, she was pulled up above the ground.” She closed her eyes, remembering the dazzling light and the terrible sickening fear. “Her parents pushed food at her and forced her to try and walk. And her brother gibbered at her, calling her nonsense names.”

(
Prongo Hamster. H.Poor-garments. H.P.Strange-Room.
)

“No one ever told her she was meant to be special. She thought they kept her hidden because she was ugly. Stupid and clumsy and bad. Why else would they shut her away from the rest of the family, when they kept her brother up in the light with them?”

She could feel the warmth of the snail shell wedged next to her. Everything was ready now. The monstrous shape was made. Its two eyeholes were stuffed with white fluff. The embers in the shell would burst into flame when she blew on them. All she had to do was make sure the others understood.

That
he
understood.

“Maybe Zak was right,” she said. Sounding every word clearly. “Maybe the man did put his daughter into the hole to protect her. In the beginning. But he never told her she was precious. And, in the end, he kept her there because he thought she was
his
, and he couldn't bear to set her free. That's what ruined and stunted and crippled her. And do you want to know what it did to
him
? Do you want to know what she saw, when the hole was opened and his arms reached down to drag her out? Do you want to see?”

She was shouting now, but it was all right, because she was there, at the right point. She'd told them everything she could—and now she was going to show them what it was like. Wrapping a blanket around her hands, she picked up the snail shell and blew on the glowing embers.

“He came like a
monster
!” she yelled. “Like a terrible giant! Like
THIS!
”

Tipping the snail shell forward, she held it against the back of the great, hollow eyeholes. Instantly, the fibers inside burst into flame and, for the first time, the dark tunnel was filled with light. The fibers flared wildly, revealing the crowd of people and the hidden space that arched high above their heads. And in the very center of the light, like a shape half seen in a nightmare, loomed the great pillar of earth that she had built.

She knew how it must look to the dazzled eyes in front of her. Peering down from the shoulder of the monster she had made, she could see the others gazing up at it, awed by its size and terrified by the fire.

They understood at last. She could see them struggling to stay detached and calm, but they couldn't do it. The great earth shape compelled their attention, forcing them to see what she saw—a shadow that was too big to be seen clearly, because it dominated everything.

The wild fire flamed in the darkness, burning away Zak's cruel distortion of reality. Leaning forward into its light, she shouted down at them all.

“
Now
do you know which is the right story? Do you see why the robbers had to take the girl from under the floor?”

The heads below her turned toward her voice—and
his
head turned with them. She saw the shock on his face as he saw her for the first time. He took one step forward and then stopped, staring up in disbelief.

And she stared back at him. Looking down from the shoulder of her monstrous image.

“MAGEE,” SAID TOM. “WE HAVE TO GO AND FIND MAGEE.” HE was shaking so much that he could hardly speak the words.

Emma had no idea what was going on. One moment Mr. Armstrong had been standing over her, shouting at Tom and insisting that she was Hope. The next instant—for no reason that she could see—all the conflict had fizzled out. Mr. Armstrong stepped aside, in a polite, bewildered way, leaving Tom staring down at her, like someone who'd just had an electric shock.

She didn't understand any of it. All she knew was that she was still a prisoner—and it was getting more and more frightening.

Her throat was already sore from yelling, but she opened her mouth and yelled again. “Rob, are you there?
Rob!
I need you!”

Wonderfully, he appeared in the hatch, pushing Warren and Mrs. Armstrong out of his way. Jumping down through the hole in the floor, he scuttled toward her, crouching under the low roof.

“What's going on? Are you all right, Em?” Then he saw Tom and Mr. Armstrong. And Emma, with her cropped hair, lying tied up on the floor. Cautiously he stopped, trying to work out what was happening.

Tom looked around at him. “We have to go and find Magee,” he said again.

“Untie me first!” Emma croaked. “Please, Rob—”

“Of course we're going to untie you,” Robert said fiercely. He pushed at Mr. Armstrong's shoulder. “Don't try and keep me away from my sister!”

Mr. Armstrong stepped back, with a vaguely puzzled expression. “So that's who she is. I wondered what she was doing down here.”

“What?” Robert was completely nonplussed. “You know why she's here. You
kidnapped
her.”

“Oh dear,” Mr. Armstrong said. “I'm afraid that must have been my wife. Excuse me.” He squeezed past Robert and headed back to the hatch.

“What's going on?” Robert said wildly. “What's happened?”

Tom shook his head, as though he was working out how to reply. But Emma interrupted, before he could say anything.

“Just get me out of here.
Please
. I can't bear any more. You've got to get me out.” Her voice cracked, as if she might start crying.

Instantly, Robert was on his knees on the ground beside her, fumbling at the knotted cords. “Of course we're going to get you out. Hang on, Em. I'll get rid of these and then I'll get going on the tape. Don't just stand there, Tosh. Come and help.”

But before Tom could join them, there was a scraping noise overhead and a shadow fell across the hatch. Emma recognized what was happening straightaway.

“They're trying to shut us in! Stop them! Don't let them fix the trapdoor down!”

Robert had never reacted so fast, not even on the basketball court. He was down at the other end while she was still shouting. Vaulting up through the opening, he hit the trapdoor with one shoulder, knocking it out of Mrs. Armstrong's hands and sending her staggering backward. Then he heaved himself out into the conservatory and sat on the door.

“I'll stay and keep the entrance open,” he called down to the others. “Tosh—get Emma free as fast as you can.”

It had to be that way around. Tom would have been too light to stand up against Mrs. Armstrong as she threw herself back toward the hole. Using all her weight, she charged at Robert, trying to knock him back into it.

She was completely hysterical. Robert pushed her away, but she came at him again, screaming to the other Armstrongs to come and help her. “We mustn't let them get away! If they do, we've lost Hope forever! We've got to keep them here!”

Warren was hovering wretchedly, just out of Robert's reach. He took a step forward and then jumped back when it looked as though he might get hit. But Mr. Armstrong didn't move at all. He just stood by the door, with a faint, disapproving frown.

Down in the black room, Tom had undone the cords that tied Emma down. He'd started working at the parcel tape, using his keys to cut through it. It came off in untidy strips, leaving sticky patches on her clothes and pulling painfully at her skin. Once or twice she caught her breath with a small, involuntary moan, but she wouldn't let Tom slow down.

“I make a noise—ignore me. Just get this horrible stuff off, as fast as you can!”

She could hear the shouting overhead, and she was terrified that Robert wouldn't be able to keep the hatch open until she was free. As soon as her hands were loose, she began to help Tom, wrenching handfuls of sticky brown tape away from her legs.

That hurt even more. Her legs had gone numb, and when the feeling started to come back she had to bite her lips to stop herself from crying out. But she went on pulling at the tape as fast as she could.

“We don't have to get it all off,” she muttered. “Just enough for me to walk—”

Tom made an odd, doubtful noise in his throat. She didn't know what he meant—until she tried to stand up. Immediately, her legs buckled and she hit the ground.

“You probably need to wait a bit,” he said.

But Emma wasn't having any of that. “If I can't walk—then I'll crawl. I'm not staying in here a moment longer.”

She dragged herself across to the hatch, calling out, “Pull me up, Rob. Get me out!”

But before Robert could move, another voice intervened.

“Let me help you,” Mr. Armstrong said politely. “I've had many years of practice.” He came across to the trapdoor and knelt beside it, both arms reaching down into the hole.

Mrs. Armstrong stopped screaming and stared at him. Gazing up from below, Emma could see the shock on her face. And she could see Warren, too, frozen and terrified.

“What have you done?” Mrs. Armstrong whispered. “What have you done to my husband?”

Nobody answered. Mr. Armstrong and Robert heaved Emma out of the hole and onto the only chair in the conservatory and she sat there, silently, rubbing her legs and blinking in the light.

It was the first time Robert had seen her properly. “Your hair!” he said. “Oh, Em—they've cut off your hair.”

“It'll grow back,” she muttered. “Don't fuss. Just get me on my feet and take me home.”

With Tom and Robert supporting her, she managed to stand. As they started toward the front door, Robert looked back at Mrs. Armstrong.

“Don't even think about following us,” he said. “If we ever see you again, we'll go straight to the police.”

Maybe we ought to have done that in the first place,
Emma wanted to say. But she had no breath to spare. She was concentrating on getting her legs to work. By the time they reached the bus stop, she could almost manage on her own.

“Better put on my coat,” Robert said, “if we're going on the bus. You're covered in bits of tape. And what's that on your back?”

It was one of Warren's peculiar scraps of paper, caught on a sticky patch where the tape had been. Emma reached around to take it off and pushed it into her pocket. Then she took Robert's coat gratefully, zipping it right to the top and pulling up the hood.

Two minutes later, they were sitting on the bus, heading into the city center. Emma leaned against the window, feeling the cold glass on her cheek. “Do you think the Armstrongs will give up now?” she said. “Do you think it's over?”

Robert frowned. “How can we tell? They're so weird, aren't they? Look at Mr. Armstrong just now. What was going on with him?”

“No idea.” Emma shook her head. “When you came, he was in a frenzy, saying I was his daughter and he wasn't going to let me go. And then he just—changed. When he looked at Tom.”

“What did you do, Tosh?” Robert said lightly. “Scare him witless?” Tom was in the seat in front. When he didn't answer, Robert leaned forward and prodded him in the back. “Hey, what's the matter? Aren't you talking to us?”

“It's not that.” Slowly Tom turned around. “It's just—I think I know what happened to Mr. Armstrong. But I don't want to say anything. Not till I've talked to Magee.”

“What's it got to do with him?” That didn't make any sense to Emma.

“He—” Tom hesitated and then shook his head. “No. I really need to talk to Magee. I'll go around to his apartment as soon as we've taken you home.”

Emma sat up straight. “Oh no you won't. Not on your own, anyway. If you've got to do it, then Rob and I are coming, too.”

“You need to go home and recover,” Tom said. “After what you've been through.”

“If I go home, I'm not going to get away in a hurry.” Emma grinned suddenly. “Even Mom's going to ask questions when she sees me looking like this. If we're going to see Magee, it has to be now.”

Robert and Tom looked at each other, doubtfully.

“You don't have to come,” Robert said. “Tosh will be fine with me. You need to have a rest, Em, and get back to normal.”

But Emma had no intention of being left out. She squared her shoulders and tossed her head, as though she still had hair to flourish. “I'm in this up to the neck, as much as either of you. And if Magee can explain what's going on, I want to be there to hear him.”

That was the only thought in Tom's head. What had happened to Mr. Armstrong—what
he'd done
to Mr. Armstrong—was so frightening that he couldn't concentrate on anything else. And no one except Magee would understand. He had to get to Magee's apartment as fast as he could.