The Taken (28 page)

His glasses slipped slightly down his nose, blurring things for a moment before he took one hand casually away from the handlebars and pushed them back, the bike barely wobbling as it speeded up. He hated the glasses. Yes, they meant he could see the blackboard at school, and yes he could sit at the dining room end of the lounge and still see what was going on on the television, but what his mum and dad didn’t realize was the sheer horror of becoming a four-eyes, a spec-head, when you weren’t one of the geek squad. His mum said they looked nice. Made him look grownup.

The thought of her made him smile, but she didn’t get what school was all about.

No grownup did. It was about football and friends and the playground. It definitely wasn’t about seeing the blackboard. But as it 275

turned out, he’d had the glasses a couple of weeks now and the teasing hadn’t been too bad. He’d been made fun of a bit in the changing rooms, but then when he’d back talked old Mr. Stevens until he looked like his face was going to explode, all was well again. It had cost him an hour after school cleaning graffiti from all the desks and he’d been yelled at by his dad, but it was worth it. His status had been restored. No one would be calling him four-eyes again.

He turned into Mayberry Crescent and pedaled past three small children crouching by the gutter, staring into it at something that held them in wonder, chirruping quietly to each other. They didn’t look up as Alan raced by, his head lost in his own thoughts. Maybe they’d have fish and chips for tea tonight. That would finish off what had turned out to be a pretty good day just about right. And since Mum had gone full time as the doctor’s receptionist, what had been a once-a-month treat was getting to be more than once a week, and that was fine with him. His stomach rumbled with the thought.

Turning onto Queen Street, he stayed close to the curb as he rode. The sun was like a giant spotlight filling the end of the road, and he had to keep his head down because without sunglasses there was no way he could look into it. Even after one glance, sun spots danced in his vision. The wheels of parked cars loomed ahead and he pulled further into the road to ride alongside them.

Ahead he could hear a car engine traveling toward him, but he wasn’t concerned.

The sun was in front of him, not the car, and the road was easily wide enough for the both of them to travel through safely. It was only the sound of the engine, its roar, that made him ever look up at all. The car sounded like it was going fast,

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too fast for this thirty mile an hour zone in which most people did more like twenty.

Instinct raised Alan’s head and the bike wobbled. Time turned into mud, sliding slowly around him. The car was much closer than he’d thought, too close to him, and it was too far over, far too far over on his side, and as he stared, the sunshine like a halo around the hulk of metal, he could see the man behind the wheel staring at the woman in the seat beside him, one hand raised as he shouted at her, oblivious to the road and to Alan.

The parked cars formed a barrier from the curb, and realizing there was nowhere for him to go, Alan felt his heartbeat pound to the rhythm of the sliding mud.

The passenger who’d been staring out the window, trying to ignore the tirade coming at her, turned to snipe back, her gaze freezing as it fell on Alan, and as he stared into her eyes and saw the scream forming in the O of her mouth he knew what was going to happen, they were going to hit him and there was nothing he could do about it, and then time speeded right up again and he squeezed his eyes shut. …

It wasn’t the impact of the car that forced Alex out of the boy and to her observer’s position on the other side of the road. Nor was it the sickening series of crunches as his body hit the pavement, the bones shattering into his organs. That she was prepared for. It was the pain. The sheer awful pain. For a moment or two, she lay there inside his pulped body against the hard ground, neck twisted sideways, staring unmoving, incapable of moving, at the wreck of his bike that lay about twenty feet away—only got it at Christmas, dad is 277

going to kill me—and his New York baseball cap that fell somewhere in the middle; then his brain registered the pain and she couldn’t take that or the scream inside his head.

Suddenly, she was out. Across the street, barefoot in her mother’s dress.

Watching. The car, which had briefly paused, screeched away to its own future and somehow Alex knew that one day the woman in the passenger seat would take her own life because the boy had just disappeared. When the sound of the tires had faded, it seemed that everything was still and silent in the aftermath. From where Alan lay, she could make out wet slapping sounds, which she knew was the scream inside him trying to get out. He should be unconscious. He should be unconscious or dead.

Stretching herself, bracing against the pain, she dipped a little back into his thoughts. The mixture of pain and anger made her reel. Oh, he was still so awake in there, awake and in agony and knowing he was dying and How could they have just driven off? how could they have just driven off? and she pulled back again, knowing that he couldn’t even feel her. He was beyond feeling her and there was nothing she could do for him but watch this play out. To see.

It wasn’t long before she felt light rain on her face, the wind bringing it straight down the deserted street, and even though she kept her eyes open this time, she still didn’t see him appear. One second there was only the broken boy on the pavement, and the next, the Catcher Man was standing next to him, his long leather coat blowing out behind him in the wind he carried. The sudden change in weather had made the baseball

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cap dance in the road, and the Catcher Man stooped to pick it up before turning back to the child and crouching beside him.

Even from the other side of the road, his words unclear, Alex felt the pain in her ears as he spoke quietly to Alan Harrison. She knew what he was saying. The words that were truth, but only part of the truth. He was dying. The agony was terrible and it would be for the next few hours. There would be no more games of football or computer games or fish and chips. Only death. Terrifying death. Cold and alone. And then came the choice. That she heard clearly enough. You have to choose. Come with me to the in between with the other children.

Her own anger whipped the wind into her hair, knowing already how the child would accept, knowing how he would become in the long years there and knowing how his family were destroyed in that instant because they would never know, would never know what happened to him, and that would be too much for them to bear. She let out a silent scream of frustration.

From the other side of the road, the Catcher Man looked up, looked straight at her, puzzled, and in his eyes she could see some of Alan Harrison. The boy on the pavement was gone. As was his hat. She wasn’t sure who vanished first, the Catcher Man or her, but the world shifted again and she was back in the wood.

She was still gripping the boy’s arms, and releasing him, she stepped backward.

Her breath was coming fast. The boy was staring at her, and she wasn’t sure if it was dread or awe she saw in his face, but there was less cruelty there, as if somehow a little bit more of his soul had found its way back to him.

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“She’s taken them to the clearing. The ravine, She’s taken them to where the Catcher Man is. He said she could have her revenge.” He sounded like an ordinary boy. He touched his cap almost tentatively. “You were there. I saw you.” Alex would have smiled at him if he hadn’t grabbed the girl’s hand and dragged her running back through the woods, whatever had happened between them too much for him to deal with.

Callum was smiling as she stared thoughtfully after the disappearing children.

“You see, don’t you? You understand? You know how to stop her?”

This time Alex nodded, her voice almost a whisper. “Yes. Yes, I think I do.”

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He feels the ripple like a tug deep inside him, and with a gasp that makes the trees shake he lifts his head, eyes staring out into the clearing. He sees it all in front of him and inside him—the dry clearing, the hub of the storm with Melanie at the center smiling triumphantly as some of the others he’s released from inside tie the girl and the boy who shouldn’t be there to a large oak. The tree is hundreds of years old and has power of its own, as does everything here where once, in the old times, before such things got lost, magic took place.

It’s not what he sees in front of him that sends the echo of disturbance through the vast spaces inside, but what he sees in the events of the past, in one of the choices he has made. Something has changed there. He tugs on each of the threads of time to see which one is vibrating out of tune and then he finds it.

There is a street and a car and a broken boy, all making the moment. But things are not as they were. There is someone else present in the gateway to the in between when he

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is taking the dying boy, and he hears her silent scream threatening to shatter him. Her dark hair flies outward in a rage as they look at each other. He doesn’t understand her anger. He doesn’t understand her emotion or the children’s or Melanie’s. But his lack of understanding is irrelevant to him.

Those things, the human things, hold no interest for him. What interests him is how she got there, and how it is that her presence doesn’t jar the balance like the others do. He knows where she is heading, the way he knows so many things without ever wondering how. Wondering is a human trait and he has never been human. He knows she is coming and he knows she will try and stop Melanie, and if he understood human emotions he would know that the feeling running through him is relief.

The children tied to the tree are crying and he finds looking at them almost painful, their color, their life, too bright for him. But no matter. That would change. Melanie wants her revenge, to recreate the past and make him give them the choice, and when they are in between she can play with them forever. He hopes that after that her desire for revenge will stop and he will be able to gather them in and move the storm. He hopes that will be the case, but part of him is uncertain. Everything is changed, all is unbalanced, and perhaps she won’t stop until all of the villagers are dead. And then? And then will come the battle between them. He reflects once again that maybe he shouldn’t have allowed her power. Not in a place like this. A special place. Staring at it all, the past and the present, he feels himself ache with overwhelming exhaustion, the little girl a leech on all that is his essence, and again lowers his head into his hands.

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“Do you think this rain is ever going to stop?” Paul’s head was down as they made their way back to the pub, stepping carefully on the treacherous, wet road.

His voice was hollow, any glimpse of humor that Simon had heard on their way to the Rose house now buried again in the depths of his soul, maybe forever. Simon sniffed. “Yes, I do. I think it’ll stop when all this shit stops. Although when the fuck that will be, who knows?” His language was slipping into the gutter as it always did when he was tired and frustrated, but this time, adding to it was a deep-seated fear. Not for himself, but for Alex. She had just vanished naked into thin air, gone somewhere or nowhere, and obviously thought that whatever it was she had to do, she could do it without him. Was that what bugged him most?

That she didn’t need him? Examining his feelings he knew that was partly right, but it wasn’t everything. The main thing was just wanting her back in the relative safety of the crowd. The grit that had made her go off 284

on her own was one of the traits that he liked most, but he was afraid for her and he knew Paul was too.

They strode on in silence for a few moments until the vague comfort of The Rock came into view at the curve of the road. Simon glanced over at the woods. They glared back at him, a wall of dark shadows and silence. Just what the hell was going on behind that serene bank of trees? After his and Paul’s experience in there, he knew that the woods were hiding too much that was beyond his understanding, and he couldn’t help but wonder if they were hiding Alex in there too. The other voice on the radio had been that of a child and he would bet everything he owned that it didn’t belong to one of the local children. It seemed that although the strange children visited the village when it suited them, it was the woods they retreated to.

“What are we going to do, Paul?”

“We’re going to get some recruits in the pub and then go back into the woods.

That’s where Melanie died. Somewhere in there. And that’s where Alex, Laura, and Pete will be.”

“Do you think we’ll be able to find them?”

Paul laughed. “God only fucking knows. What do you think?”

Simon said nothing as they pulled open the door. If whoever’s got them wants them to be found, then maybe we’ve got a chance. Otherwise? Probably not a hope.

It was good to be back under the warm glow of the old yellow lights that had stayed on all night, making the mahogany of the bar and wooden floor and tables shine as if just polished. And maybe they had been. Who knew what people had been doing to keep busy and sane? Even if it was just for a few minutes, Simon 285

was pleased to shed his sodden jacket, and it was only when both he and Paul had hung them and got to the bar that he realized how silent everyone was. Crouch was pale behind the bar, his face trembling slightly. Paul didn’t seem to notice and he sighed, letting his weight drop heavily onto a bar stool before looking up at the bartender.

“The Roses are both dead in their house.” His mouth twisted slightly. “No message this time. I guess that little dead cow doesn’t need to leave a signature anymore. God knows where Alex is, but somehow we heard her voice through the radio. Don’t ask me how, because I haven’t got a clue. She’s with some kid. But not Laura or Pete.”

It was only when Paul got no reaction from the silent villagers around them that he noticed that something seemed to be wrong here as well as in the Rose house.