I turned away from the piano and left by the other door, the one facing away from the square. I couldn't go back into the town, because I had no place in it any more, and I had no other home to go back to. The only place that would ever feel like home was myself. However much I hated living there, no other door would open.
Though it was still daylight in the square it was dark the side I left by, dark and evening like the first night we came. I didn't bother to go back for any of my things. I just left, and knew that I would never return.
* * *
I followed a dark path that ran along the side of a mountain until it turned into a deserted supermarket carpark, the pavement wet with recent rain. A faint wind sent newspapers shuffling along the walls and sailed leaves like boats across the black puddles. It was still night and there was nothing in the carpark except a broken guitar and a supermarket trolley. I started to walk on, but suddenly the trolley started to move and I decided to follow it.
The trolley moved slowly because one of the back wheels was broken and whirled round. I walked beside it, smelling rain and fallen leaves, and as I walked I began to feel a little better. The moon was full above us, poking out intermittently between thick and stormy cloud, and the dark land was utterly silent except for the sound of my feet on the path, and the occasional squeak from the trolley's limping wheel.
Then we were in streets, a residential area from an old-fashioned Neighbourhood. Ancient streetlights towered above us, shedding weak pools of green light on the mangled pavements. It was extravagant and intense like a moodily-lit movie set, but it was real, three-dimensional. We continued forward between banks of houses where the windows were all dark and all the curtains drawn. There was nobody there. I tried the locks on a few of the old-fashioned wheel-cars, but I couldn't open them, and the handles were cold. I wasn't surprised: I understood this place. The trolley cruised on in front, and I followed.
We reached a dead end and came to a brick wall, grey and high. I tried to climb it but there was nothing to get a hold on, and I just slithered back to the ground. When I turned I saw that we were by a canal.
The trolley set off down the path by the side of the water and I walked behind, looking up at the old dark warehouses and hearing the soft lapping of the water against the sides. One building was a little frightening, a huge white old hulk that looked as if it had once been a hotel or a strangely ornate factory, squatting massively beside the sluggish water. There was something unpleasant about it, but I couldn't work out what it was. Nothing happened as we passed it, so maybe it was just paranoia.
The trolley slowed and stopped and I saw that there was a playground by the canal. The swings and roundabouts moved in the half light as if people were on them, and a large metal rocking horse with a rather odd head swayed gently back and forth. A small sound was coming from somewhere in the playground. Leaving the trolley by the canal, I went to investigate.
I walked carefully amongst the swings and roundabouts, through thick leaves and long grass. It was a small playground. It wouldn't take me long to find whatever was making the noise. It was a sort of chittering sound, which was good. Or not as bad as it could be, anyway. Once I went to find out what was making a crying sound in a playground like this and round the base of a tree I found a crop of evil babies. I've seen them since, and they're getting worse.
I saw that on the other side one of the swings was rocking back and forth as if someone had just climbed off. I walked slowly along the wall, peering under seesaws and roundabouts, and as I progressed the sound got a little louder. I hoped it wasn't going to be anything bad. The stuff in the ghost town had been enough for the time being. Not frightening, but solidly depressing. I hadn't thought properly about Rafe for a while, and I didn't want to now.
There was a bench on that side, and a dark shape underneath. I went up to it carefully and crouched down to see what it was. It was Alkland.
The Actioneer was curled up tightly, and the sound I'd heard was that of his teeth chattering violently. His clothes were wet and his hands were clasped rigidly over his face, shutting everything out. The knuckles were white and glaring, muscles vibrating from the force of his grip. I reached out and touched him gently on the shoulder. He flinched and curled into an even smaller ball.
'Alkland,' I said quietly. 'It's me. It's Stark.'
Very slowly one of his hands began to move, like that of a child who is afraid to look in case the bad thing is still waiting for him. I guessed that he must have had a pretty tough time since we came in. You always do, for some reason: it's a bit of a downer even for me. The hand moved just enough for one eye to peek out behind it.
'Stark?' he said, very, very softly.
'Yeah, I reached out my hand. 'Come on: let's go'
More cautiously than I would have believed possible, like an advertisement for the whole concept of caution, Alkland slowly came out from under the bench. As I helped him to his feet he kept casting slow searching looks around us, peering towards the corners of the playground.
'Have they gone?' he whispered, when he was finally upright.
'Who?'
'The babies.'
'Oh shit. You saw them.'
He nodded, rubbing his hand across his lip.
'Have they gone?'
'Yes' I said, 'they've gone. Listen.' The park was silent, apart from rustling leaves. 'No crying.'
He listened, rubbing back and forth. I'd expected him not to look good here, but it was worse than I'd banked on. Large patches of his face had a variegated green tinge and in places it was a virulent shade of purple. Seeing the babies was a terrible thing to have happened to him straight off. He stopped rubbing his lip.
'No crying' he said.
I led him out into the park towards the canal. Unfortunately the trolley was spinning slowly round in a perfect circle, which was the last thing Alkland needed at that time. He cringed up against me, whimpering. I made sure his eyes were covered and closed my own.
When I reopened them the trolley had disappeared. Alkland looked up and stared at the empty path.
'How did you do that? Look, Stark, where the hell are we? What is going on? What is this? Where the fuck are we?'
'Come on' I said. 'Let's get out of here. And steady on with the language.'
It looked as if we were stuck with night for the time being, and also with the canal. It was quiet and fairly sane, so I was happy with that. I was even happier to find that I had some cigarettes. Alkland trailed alongside me, still casting glances behind. Then he pointed in front of us.
'What's that?'
It was a gondola, actually, coming gracefully towards us down the canal, describing gradual arcing circles.
'There's no one in it, there's, oh God: it's full of bugs.'
'Ignore it' I said. 'It'll be behind us soon.'
'Where are we going?'
'Well, to a degree we'll have to wait and see. Ah.' Suddenly we were in a forest, on a gravel path wide enough for us to walk abreast. 'This looks promising.'
'What's going on?' he wailed. Huge trees stood in ranks on either side of us, massive branchless trunks that shot straight up to blend into the black sky. Alkland put his hands on his hips and stood facing me petulantly.
'Tell me, Stark.'
I carried on walking, and after a pause he followed.
'It's not a good idea to talk while you're on the move' I said, truthfully. 'It's distracting, and we want to stay where we are for the time being. Are you hungry?'
The Actioneer frowned.
'Yes, I am, actually' he said, as if surprised that his body could be finding time for so mundane a sensation.
'Good. Concentrate on that for the time being.'
We walked for another fifteen minutes along the forest path. Twice an owl hooted in the trees, but apart from that it was quiet and very peaceful.
'Hold on.'
I turned to see the Actioneer bending down to tie up his shoelace. He straightened and stared at me tiredly, looking forlorn and damp.
'Are you okay?' I said.
'Yes and no, as you would say.' Then he twitched and peered into the dark behind me, frightened. 'What's that?'
I turned and looked. At first there was nothing to see, only a faint rustling sound, then I made out a dim pale shape coming towards us down the path.
'Don't make a sound' I whispered to Alkland. This is nothing to be afraid of. Stand close to me and be very quiet.'
He stepped quickly towards me and we waited.
Within a minute the shape had taken on more definition. It was a young woman, aged about twenty, dressed in a neat skirt and white blouse. She walked slowly towards us down the path.
'Stark'
'Shhh I said.
The woman glowed gently, a white light that encased her from head to foot, muting the colour of her clothes and skin. She was looking straight ahead, eyes focused on the middle distance. About three yards in front of us she stopped. Alkland's hand gripped my arm tightly, but he didn't make a sound. The woman talked for a few moments, spoke as if to someone standing by her side, though no sound reached us. Then she laughed and carried on walking. She passed us and continued down the path into the darkness between the trees. Before Alkland could ask me anything I started walking again, quickly, so that he had to concentrate on keeping up.
A few minutes later the forest stopped, and we were on a high dark hillside which shaded down into a wooded valley. I led the Actioneer along the path down the steep hillside.
'Pretty' he observed, surprising me.
It was, in fact. In the darkness the green of the steep hills bounding the narrow valley was a rich dark emerald, and though it was cold and rain was hanging in the air, it felt safe, like some elvish kingdom.
'Yeah' I said. 'This is okay.'
At the bottom of the valley the path ran by a stream which gurgled quietly and reassuringly. It led into a small village. Though all the houses were dark it wasn't like the area I'd passed through earlier. It wasn't about alienation. It was just quiet and old.
'Right' I said cheerily. 'Somewhere along here we may well find an inn. Look out for it.'
The village was very small, no more than twenty cottages long, and we were out the other side of it within a minute and without seeing any lights. I was beginning to think that I'd made a mistake when I noticed that the last house on the right, which stood slightly apart from its neighbour, had a dim light glowing from one of the rear windows.
'Looks like it's not an inn, just a house,' I said.
'What is?'
I motioned to him to be quiet and walked up to the house. 'Just go with it,' I said, and knocked on the heavy old oak door.
There was a pause long enough for Alkland to say my name once more with a heavy, pendulous question mark after it and then the door was flung wide, spilling a yellow glow of warm light out onto the path.
'Well I never.' The speaker was a middle-aged woman, fat and jolly, rosy-cheeked and wholesome. 'Don't just stand there! Come in, come in!'
I shepherded Alkland, whose eyes were completely round with unarticulated confusion, in front of me. The woman bustled along ahead, leading us though a dim corridor to a room at the back where the welcoming light blazed. It turned out to be the kitchen, with a huge table in the middle and a few rough-hewn wooden chairs around it. In one of them was the woman's husband, a huge rustic bear of a man. He rose when we entered and grinned at us, rubbing his beard shyly.
'Well who's this then?' he said in a voice that was gruff and rural, but welcoming.
'Visitors!' exclaimed his wife. 'Been out all evening, by the look of you, eh?'
'Yes.'
'Nasty old night,' observed the man sagely, coming over to shake our hands. His hand was huge and warm, the skin dry and comforting, like the memory of your father's hand.
'Look at you' the woman said to Alkland, poking him in the stomach. 'Soaking, you are. And hungry too, I'll be bound?'
Alkland, surprised into a smile, nodded at her.
'I am a little' he said.
'Well go on then, sit yourselves down there while I make us up some tea. Come on, Henry, you go out and get some more logs for the fire.'
The man grinned at us, picked a battered old hat off the back of his chair, and opened the back door.
'Her wish is my command' he said, winking, before going out into the night and closing the door behind him.
Alkland stared after him, his eyebrows fighting hard to climb off the top of his face.
'There you go' said the woman, setting two enormous mugs of tea down in front of us. 'Get those inside you while I find something for you to eat. Go on now.'
I took a sip of the tea, which was wonderful, strong and sweetened with honey. Alkland drank too, and I could almost see the warmth stoking his body, fading the colours in his face until they were barely noticeable. I knew the balm would only be temporary, but it was good to see all the same. The woman busied herself round the enormous old iron stove, clanging utensils and singing loudly to herself as she happily set about rustling something up.
I turned back to face Alkland, who was sitting looking at me with an expression which clearly said that he had no intention of uttering a single bloody word until I explained something.
'Okay,' I said, leaning on the table. 'Where do you think you are?'
'I have no idea. Not a clue.'
'What happened?'
'Well' he cradled the mug against his chest, savouring the warmth. 'It was as you said. I heard you say something and then suddenly it was cold and I felt as if I was made of heavy water. Then I woke up, and it felt as if no time had passed, but I knew it had. I was in that playground, and I couldn't see you anywhere. I was very frightened because everything started to move without anyone there, and then I heard the sound of crying and so I went to find out what it was.' He stopped, and put the mug back on the table, his hands trembling violently.
'Bad break, running into them.' I said.