The Taken (27 page)

Paul looked at Simon for a second, then reconciled the unspoken and turned back to the window. Maybe a few days ago the idea of his friend sleeping with the cousin that was like a little sister to him may have upset him, but not anymore.

Now, if anything, it seemed to give him a tiny shred of peace that at least two people had found some comfort in the night. His eyes had more focus in them at any rate.

“Maybe someone lent her some dry clothes?”

Alice Moore, her eyes hollow, silently drifted past them with a tray of white cups.

“Have you seen Alex?”

The old woman shook her head, barely pausing, 265

and Simon grabbed two mugs, handing one to Paul. His insides were itching, frustration building. Where could Alex be? And if she’d gone out, why hadn’t she woken him? The coffee was tepid, but he drank it.

“Look mate, let’s go and see if she’s gone up to the Roses’ place. They may even have got that radio working overnight. Why don’t we do that and then go and wake your mum up? Surely if she’s still sleeping that’s a good thing.” And I need to know what’s happened to Alex. I need to know where she is. Or where she isn’t.

His unspoken concern must have echoed loud, because Paul turned away from the window, really seeing his friend for the first time. “Why the hell would Alex have gone out without telling us?”

“That’s what I want to know. She’ll be up at the Roses’. She must be.”

Paul nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, of course she is. But you’re right. Let’s go there before waking mum.” His voice was slightly jittery and Simon knew he wasn’t the only one suddenly concerned about Alex’s whereabouts.

Downing their coffee, Simon sought out both their coats from the heap by the door while Paul signaled Crouch over.

“We’re going to see if Daniel Rose has got the radio working. I think Alex might have gone up there already, so we want to catch up.”

Crouch shrugged. “I haven’t seen Alex come downstairs. I thought she was still sleeping. But then again, I’m so tired I don’t think I could see my hand if it was waving in front of my face.”

“If my mum wakes up, tell her I’ll be back in ten minutes or so. Doesn’t seem like anyone’s sleeping for long.”

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Crouch’s grin was worti but sympathetic. “Tell you what I’ll do. I’ll get some toast and fresh tea and take it up to her.”

“Thanks, mate.”

“Not a problem. All part of the service.” He paused, a little awkward. “You know, she’s been a good friend to me over the years, regardless of whatever she may have done in the past. She’s a good woman, your mum. They don’t make them like that anymore.”

Paul’s face tightened with many emotions, but Crouch turned away before he was forced to speak. Simon hoped that his happy-go-lucky friend of only days before hadn’t gone forever, but looking at the man beside him it was hard to believe otherwise.

“You ready?”

Paul nodded, and they headed out into the rain.

The water was running in streams through the crevices and dips in the worn, steep road and Simon gazed at the purple sky as they carefully trudged up the slippery hill. “Just how long can this rain keep going?”

“I don’t know. We’ll probably have to build a fucking ark to get out of here.”

The bitterness had crept back into Paul’s voice. “Maybe it’ll be quicker than waiting for the police.” He sighed, letting some of that rancidness ebb away. “I really picked the wrong weekend to bring someone down to meet the family.”

Raising an eyebrow, he almost smiled. “It’s not always like this, you know.”

Simon grinned back, relieved to know that somewhere deep inside his friend a tiny flash of humor still pulsed. “Glad to hear it. I don’t know how my family will compete if I ever have you to visit.”

Paul let out a snort, but as they approached the 267

house Simon wondered just how much Paul was laughing inside. He rang the doorbell. Nothing happened. He tried again.

“Try the knocker.” Paul’s voice was quiet, almost a whisper, all humor now gone.

Simon banged the old metal hook down hard against the wood. The few seconds of silence seemed to last forever. Shit. Oh shit.

“Can we force it?”

Simon shrugged. “We can try. If it’s just an old lock and key then we should get in without too much of a problem, but if there’s a Chubb lock on, then we may have to find another way in.” He appraised the solid wood in front of him.

Reaching forward, he grabbed the handle firmly and twisted it, pushing inward, expecting to feel the rattle of the locking mechanism holding him back. Instead the door swung smoothly open, inviting them in. Taking a hesitant step forward but staying on the street side of the entrance, he pulled the door back a little and peered at the locks, running his fingers over them.

“The lock’s got the snib down to keep the latch off. They’ve got a chain here.

Why haven’t they used them?” Maybe the Roses figured that a little thing like a locked door had no chance of keeping Melanie Parr out, so why bother? Or maybe like the rest of us they were too damn tired to remember a little thing like securing their home.

Paul pushed past him and into the house. He stared down at something out of Simon’s view for a second before signaling him in. “You’d better take a look at this.”

The cozy warmth of the house made Simon’s stomach turn as he looked down at the body of Ada Rose

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discarded in a heap by his feet. The sudden tightening in his heart surprised him with its ferocity. In the short time he’d known them, he’d formed a strong attachment to this elderly couple with their no-nonsense country ways. His breath caught in his throat.

Looking at the smallness of her form, his vision snagged on a nearby footprint.

Following it backward, he saw several like it coming down from the stairs.

Small. Childlike. What a surprise. What was it that had made the footprints, though? Water? It looked too dark. His brain wandered slowly through the possibilities, protecting him from the worst. “What is that? Mud?”

Paul knelt down and touched the mark, rubbing the substance between his fingers with distaste. “Blood.”

Legs moving almost without his permission, Simon took the stairs two at a time, climbing through the house to the small radio room at the top, his thoughts in a whirl. Maybe Daniel locked the door. Maybe he didn’t know what had happened to his wife. Maybe he just hadn’t heard them knocking. Maybe, maybe, maybe. And maybe you should grow up and face the truth. The old man’s dead. You know it.

Yeah, he did know it, but as he burst through the small door of the attic room, the twisted reality of Daniel Rose’s death hit him in glorious Technicolor.

There was blood everywhere. Nothing in the room was untouched. He could feel the heat pulsing out from Paul’s body as he joined him, the two of them sharing the small space of the doorway, neither of them moving, just staring at the shrunken old body collapsed on the desk. Simon’s stomach heaved as he realized that the sweet smell that filled the air was that of the old man’s blood so richly spread about them.

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Static blared out of the radio and both men jumped.

“Jesus.” Simon stared at Paul as the roar turned to a crackle, then turned into distant words.

“Did you see? Did you understand?”

Paul shivered. “Who the hell is that? Are they talking to us?” Paul’s voice was barely a whisper.

Stepping carefully toward the sticky pink machinery, it seemed to Simon that the walls of the tiny room were moving inward, forcing him to draw in deeper breaths of the blood-impregnated air. His stomach turned. Was he breathing in fine particles of Daniel Rose’s cold lifeblood? Heat rushed to his face. Get over it, Watley. You ‘ve seen worse than this. This is no time to develop claustrophobia.

Its just one more death, no different from the vicar and sure as hell no worse than Kay Chambers. And so what if the tiny, tinny voice sounded too much like a child to be anything else? It wasn’t as if that should be any great surprise after the past forty-eight hours.

Still, his hand shook visibly as he gently lifted Daniel Rose’s cooling wrist and moved it away from the Transmit button. No. Maybe no different. But one more. And how many more are we supposed to be able to deal with before we all crack up? He breathed deeply before pushing down the button. “Hello? Hello, is there someone there?”

Simon looked at the small knife embedded deep into the old man’s neck, the blood congealing, threatening to glue it crustily into place before long. All that came back at him was static. Paul stepped up beside him. “Who was that?”

Simon shrugged, lifting his hand away from the microphone. “I’m not sure.” They stared at the machinery, and then the words came again.

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“Did you see? Did you understand?”

The words seemed more distant this time, and when the other voice came through it was so faint it seemed to be traveling across faraway universes. But despite its quiet, it was heart-stoppingly recognizable.

“I’m not sure. I saw him take you. I saw what happened. The Catcher Man is real, is that what you wanted me to see?”

Paul gripped at Simon’s sleeve. “Alex. That’s Alex.”

His heart freezing and dripping cold into his guts, Simon knew he was right.

That was her voice and it sounded like it was coming from far, far away. Alex was gone somewhere, and he had a feeling it was a place where he and Paul wouldn’t be able to follow.

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Holding Callum’s hand, Alex was amazed at how strong her legs felt as they clambered through the trees up the steep bank. Not only her legs, but her whole body seemed changed. Healthy. Whole.

“Am I still dying? I feel different.”

The little boy gripped her hand with his cold one. “There is no death here. No death and no life. Just in between. Like us.”

Something in his words made her shiver. Limbo. They were in limbo. Despite her renewed health, the atmosphere around them seemed sickly, from the smell of the rain to the green hue. How long had Callum and the other children been here?

Glancing down at his serious and desolate face, Alex wondered for the first time in months if perhaps there was something worse than death. To be stuck here, stagnating for years.

“Is it always like this? I mean, is the in between always in the woods?”

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“No. Sometimes it’s just the storm. It’s always raining. Sometimes it’s a place I can’t even describe. An empty place.” A dark shadow passed across his face and Alex hoped it was somewhere she wouldn’t have to see.

From behind the trees ahead of them, two children stepped out. The small hand in hers tightened as Callum stopped suddenly. Alex recognized them immediately.

They were the girl and boy that had been playing patty-cake in the street. The boy stared at her, his face hard and angry under his baseball cap. Raising one finger, he waggled it at Callum.

“She shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t have brought her here.”

Callum pulled into Alex’s side, but didn’t hide behind her, and Alex could feel his quiet determination. She was glad of it, because as much as she wanted to, she didn’t understand what was happening. The girl in the old-fashioned tunic dress took a step toward them. “She doesn’t belong here.” She smiled. “Melanie won’t be happy with you.”

Callum stepped forward, his head at least a foot shorter than hers, but his chin held high. “She belongs here more than the ones Melanie brought. They’re alive.

Proper alive.”

“She’s going to be so mad with you. You’ll be paying for this for a long time.

Forever.” She looked at the boy and they snickered. “Poor little Callum.”

Alex stared at the two children, the blackness in their eyes that went right through their souls. What had happened to them to destroy their humanity? Was it this place? Was it whatever they’d gone through before they got here? Or was it just being so close to Melanie’s poison that had done it?

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Looking into their almost malevolent young faces, pale and sick-looking in the green light, Alex had a terrible moment of realization: most of the children in these woods, including these two and Callum, had been in between far longer than they had been in the real world. How much of their lives did they even remember?

Probably only the final terrifying events. Jesus, and then they’d been trapped here. Even with their cruelty writ large on their faces, Alex felt sorry for them. Somewhere deep down in those twisted caricatures were lost children whose only fault had been that they were too scared to die. That thought gave her strength. Who cared if she didn’t know what the hell was going on? One thing she did know was that Pete and Laura were in these woods somewhere and she didn’t want them contaminated by it any longer than was necessary.

“Where are the children from the village? What’s Melanie doing with them?” Her tone was authoritative. Whoever they were, she wasn’t going to be intimidated by some lost children. There was nothing they could do to her compared to what Ian had done and the cards fate had dealt.

The boy snickered, the baseball cap keeping the constant rain off his glasses, but still Alex could see the slick water on the skin of his face. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Yes, yes I would.” Resisting the urge to slap him hard in the face, she reached forward and grabbed his shoulders, ready to shake it out of him. The minute she’d gripped him she felt the world sharply shift, and just before her surroundings slid away, transformed to bright sunshine, she heard Callum call out excitedly, “You’ve got to see!” Taking a deep breath, she let herself go, straight to the inside.

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*

His legs were pumping hard as Alan pulled away from Archie’s house, the bike roaring into life beneath him. He was going to be late for tea, but who cared?

Archie’s dad had brought home one of the new game machines from Sony, where he worked, and it was ace. They wouldn’t even be in the shops for at least another year, and him and Archie had got to play on it for hours. It was going to be almost too cool talking about it in school.

His prized New York baseball cap kept off most of the glare from the low afternoon sunlight, but he still had to squint to make out the curves of the road, his mind still somewhere between the game and the here and now. Maybe Archie would invite him again tomorrow and they could get to the next level and see what the little hedgehog could do then. Archie’s dad had said he could only have it at home for the one night, but you never knew, he might forget to take it back to work.