They’ve talked all the way here without managing to say very much. The words are taking up space, filling up time, keeping them from thinking. Stupid stuff. What they prefer in sandwiches. Which crisps are best. The worst weather they’ve played out in. The longest they’ve ever stayed awake. The earliest they’ve got up. The ultimate animal they’d have as a pet. What they would call that pet. Anything but the things that worry them. He doesn’t want to talk about the father he’s left in the garage, or the thing he left Father with, or the things he’s seen in the graveyard, or Vic Sweet, or any of that, not yet, not for a little while. She doesn’t want to talk about Granddad or graveyards or Eight balls or what Caleb just did or Vic Sweet, not yet, not for a little while.
‘I’d call him Dave,’ she says.
He considers this. ‘I’m not sure Dave’s the kind of name that suits a giraffe.’
‘I think that probably depends on the giraffe.’
‘What, like they’ve got personalities?’
‘Well, yeah. There’s grumpy giraffes and happy giraffes and crazy giraffes, and ones that like dancing.’
‘You’re sure about that?’
‘Yeah, they love it. They just keep it hidden in case the other giraffes find out.’
‘What’ll they do if they find out?’
‘You don’t want to know. They can get really ugly.’
There’s an image in Caleb’s head that he may never forget. ‘I thought some of them were meant to be nice.’
She’s solemn as she imparts the terrible truth. ‘They can change. All nicey-nicey one minute, the next they’re vicious monsters.’
They’ve reached the gates, and the laughter dies away. There’s still a big enough gap to climb through; no one’s bothered to fix it yet.
In daylight Pernicious House is less threatening, though it remains austere and cold. Caleb’s walked into a broken memory, a dead recollection, all of its guts torn out. He and Misha are the only souls in this place. Everything other than scenery has been removed. Life, sound, action, all long gone. Lonely. This feels like a lonely place. Pernicious House is dead and alone.
There are no twin headlights swinging about, nothing to chase. Last night these grounds were lively.
It’s a long walk over the front gardens and up the flight of stairs. The gravel underfoot snaps and pops, louder than space dust in his mouth.
There’s not even any traffic to hear.
Caleb tells himself that he’s not freaked out. He’s really not.
‘If she shows herself, we run. Not too fast. And not into any ditches.’
‘Har har. Funny. Not.’
‘Now that you’re a tough guy, are we breaking in here or what?’
‘We’re not breaking in anywhere. Come on.’ Round the side of the mansion they go again, but not towards the gardens. He leads her to a second building behind the main house, smaller but equally ornate. Pernicious Hall, built solely for hosting the largest of banquets, the finest of parties, the best of performances. Caleb remembers being in there, perched on Mum’s knee, overwhelmed and drowning as an orchestra played. It was meant to be an outdoor performance, but rain as heavy as any this summer threw itself upon them, and as the day’s visitors were ushered into the Great Hall, the old man warned them the music might be a tad louder indoors, and there was no tad about it. The sound swallowed up the air, it throbbed behind his eyes.
At the top of the stone staircase leading to the entrance, under the broad, elegant arch, he sits, back to the pillar. Misha sits opposite, legs curling up under her dress.
Beyond the courtyard is the lawn, which runs for a hundred yards before ending in an abrupt drop-off, like a large slice has been lifted away. Then there are swathes of trees, a resplendent green patchwork grown strong from the canyon. Past them, crowds of flowers laze along the slope on the other side. Then there are fields, golden and yellow, rolling like waves of molten treasure.
There are no graveyards in this view.
‘Read it to me,’ she says, and he does.
I imagined the fires of Hell nearby, stoked by the Devil. The thin air burned in my throat. I expected to turn a corner, see flicking flames around which demons danced.
My heart almost gave out when I realised we really weren’t alone down there.
As we flitted past yet another chamber, I saw a figure within. In the next there was something struggling on the floor. The next, a slithering mass pulling itself from a hole in one of those columns.
I saw these things. They’re real. They’re down there. Now, in those tunnels. God alone knows how many have risen from their graves.
‘Evelyn!’ shouted Landy. ‘If they get you there’s nothing I can do! You’ll wish I killed you first!’
One of those dirty, greasy creatures tested its voice, a crackling rasp that sounded like dry skin snapping. I was ready to throw myself on the ground, see which one laid hands on me first, Landy or the corpses.
A split-second before Evelyn’s gasp of joy, I tasted fresh air. It was the finest breath that has ever entered my lungs. She grabbed my hand again, but this time I needed no spurring.
We rounded the corner. A dead end! Then I saw the ladder, and Evelyn wasted no time climbing it. Neither did I. Nothing will move you faster than the fear of dirty, greasy dead hands reaching for your ankles, the fingers rotted down to taloned bones, tearing at your flesh.
I kicked out at hands that weren’t there. I’d left my calm, rational self far behind in those tunnels.
Evelyn dragged me up the last few rungs. We were out! I had no idea where we were, and I still don’t. Somewhere at the back of the graveyard I think. We were amongst trees. Evelyn didn’t give me much chance to think about it. She took the lantern off me and dropped it with hers before we were off and running again, despite how much my legs ached. I understood that out in the open those lanterns would have made us easy to spot and track, but as we ran helter-skelter along barely-there tracks, scratched at by branches, snagged by thorns and creepers, I wished desperately for some form of light. My heart pulsed hard in my head. One trip and I could smash my face in. One trip and I’d be caught. That monster of a man, his bellows chased us out of those tunnels, a troll spat out of the very earth.
‘Get back here, Evelyn! Get back here now!’ He screamed so loud I was sure that something must tear in his throat. ‘Both of you! Get here now!’
That voice gave me energy I didn’t think I had. I would run until my lungs exploded before even thinking of surrendering to that howling animal.
Evelyn led us on a baffling route, darting left and right and over fences and through trees and anywhere that provided at least some cover. She stopped so suddenly that I bundled her over for a second time, and didn’t we make a tremendous crash as we fell through a hedgerow? We ended up on our sides, facing each other, her breath hot on my face. ‘You have to go,’ she said, ‘and don’t argue.’ I tried to argue. Instead she picked herself up and bade me do the same. ‘He hasn’t seen you, he doesn’t know who you are. At the end of this path you’ll come out behind the school. No, no buts, don’t worry about me, I can deal with him, I’ve been dealing with him for years. Go, now! He’s coming!’ She pushed me towards the path. I grabbed her hand to take her with me, but she resisted. And Landy’s shouts were getting closer. ‘I know him better than anyone!’ she insisted. ‘I know what I’m doing, I promise!’ Then she was gone, shouting at Landy to ‘Go away!’ so he would follow, so she could lead him away from me.
I have never forgotten the last touch of our fingertips.
I ran, keeping low, looking over my shoulder over and over again. When I reached the school I stopped looking and kept moving. I was reduced to a jog, but I refused to slow any more than that. I had something to do, and I didn’t think I’d have much time to do it in.
As I expected, the Landy house wasn’t locked. The monster man had been in too much of a hurry to dish out some punishments. I found a satchel, went to Evelyn’s room, filled it with most of the books she’d hidden under her bed, carried the remaining two under my arm, and the whole time I thought of that open trapdoor leading down to the cellar, to those tunnels and the dusty, greasy creatures that shuffled around in the dark.
I couldn’t get out of that house quick enough.
But I didn’t leave the graveyard, not straight away. I’m only so much of a coward. I lay low, keeping out of sight while watching that house. I wanted to see her come back. I wanted to see Landy, if he would return dragging Evelyn along by the neck or if he’d be alone. I watched to see the dead rise from the tunnels and spill out into our world.
I saw none of these things.
That house was silent for hours. I was left alone, cold and tired, with only assumptions for company. I told myself she was leading him the merriest of dances, and he was still chasing her somewhere in the night, maybe in big circles. I imagined that the creatures weren’t coming out because they were awaiting their Master’s return. I told myself to believe in Evelyn, that she could deal with him, because she would never lie to me, would she? My Evelyn.
I would hunt her out the next day, and she’d have a frightening tale to tell, and together we’d work out what to do next.
At some ungodly hour, then, I headed home, and in the absence of sleep I read a book.
Caleb lowers the journal. He wants to look at Misha, wants to see her reaction. Her gaze is diverted towards the drop-off and beyond. He wonders what she sees. Is it the girl, running, running but eventually caught? Or is it the boy, sneaking home with books and fear? Or are her thoughts elsewhere, back home, beneath the floorboards?
Her chin is set firm, like she’s ready to fight. ‘Your Gramps is an old man now, right?’
‘Yeah. Properly old.’
‘All of this happened years and years ago.’
‘Yeah.’ Decades ago. What an odd thought. Caleb’s only a little more than a decade old himself. Decades just don’t makes sense to him.
‘So either the tunnels collapsed or got sealed up. I’ve never heard of them or seen anything that might have come out of them.’
‘We haven’t finished the journal yet.’
‘So what? You said yourself Landy’s house got knocked down and replaced. There’s no cellar, Caleb. No trapdoors. Or if there is, somehow I’ve never seen it, and unless it’s been hidden under the rug in my bedroom all this time, then I really don’t know where it could be.’
‘What about that guy?’
‘Which one? The one you left in the garage with your dad?’ It isn’t said with venom, but its still got fangs. ‘That didn’t dig itself out of the ground. Not dirty enough. That was something else. You’re getting distracted by old stories when they don’t really matter. There’s a lot to deal with right now.’
‘Gramps gave me this for a reason; he wants me to read it…’
‘And we’ve read it, and it was great, but I don’t know what you want us to do with it. We can’t go down there even if we wanted to. We’ve got stuff going on right now that we don’t know what to do about. There’s Neuman who could be anywhere, and Crosswell’s going to be a real pain in the arse, and Vic Sweet’s going to get his gang to kill us, and Granddad’s not far from raising the dead. There, I’ve said it. You wanted to ask, I know you did. It’s been killing you. Well, there it is, that’s what you saw. He’s trying to control it so they all come up at once. The old coot’s totally crazy, and Crosswell and the others are just as bad or maybe worse because at least Granddad’s excuse is that he’s mad, and you know what, Caleb? Do you know what? Once we’re done here, you get to go home. Your Father’s there, I know, and that’s terrible for you, but you get away from it all. You close the door behind you, and leave the world outside, and it’ll be like all the monsters are miles and miles away. When I go home, I’m right in the middle. I sleep with monsters all around me. And then Granddad wants to go out playing with them.’ She stands, and he has a feeling she might take a run-up and kick him in the head. ‘This is all a big scary adventure for you, Caleb, but for me this is life, every single day.’ She walks off, heading towards the broken gate. Caleb scrambles to his feet. ‘Don’t bother,’ she snaps. ‘I need to get home before Granddad comes hunting.’
And so Caleb is, once again, alone. Just a boy and a journal.