Circle of fight

CHAPTER 13

Mission Coke took quite a while. I gave each weapon a couple of applications. It didn’t necessarily matter that I took a while, because I figured that the longer I stayed in the house the safer I’d be. The later it got the less chance there’d be of people wandering around the corridors. I was hoping the guy I’d seen had gone to bed and that there weren’t too many more after him.

But also I was a little afraid to open the door again. It sounds crazy, but for half an hour or so I felt quite secure. In that short time the room almost became my space. A little world where I could work away secretly, without interruption, and forget what was on the other side of the door, and even forget why I had come to the house in the first place.

Reality’s always waiting for you though. Even when you think you’re hiding from it really cleverly, it still ambushes you sooner or later. The time came when, with a sigh, I turned off the light, opened the curtains and went back to the door. ‘Here we go,’ I thought, except that there was no we, only one poor I. I took a breath, thought of all the people who were sustaining me right now, Bronte and Jeremy and Homer and Lee and Fi and even Jess and probably the spirit of Robyn and Corrie too, and slid out into the corridor again.

There was now a strip of light under a second door, the one next to the guy I’d seen earlier. I ignored that and turned to the door just down a little way and on my right. The thought of opening every door in the house disturbed me, but I couldn’t think of any other way to go about this. I squeezed the handle and nudged it, listening carefully. I decided on the spot that I’d try a new policy. I’d open each door and see if I got a Gavin vibe. If not I’d close it and continue. I just had to trust that when I opened the right door I’d know it.

This room was much darker than the previous one. There was no way I could tell what was in there but I thought that I could probably tell what wasn’t in there, and what wasn’t in this room was Gavin.

I went on up to the only other room at this end of the building. I hoped to God he was in here. I really didn’t want to be in this house much longer. I hoped we weren’t operating on Murphy’s Law, or whoever wrote the law that the last room you look in is the one where they’ve stored the hostage. But this room felt cold, like no-one had been in it for a long time.

Time to go to a different part of the house.

The other light had gone off again. I didn’t feel like exploring those rooms now that I knew at least two of them were occupied, and at least one of those by a non-Gavin. Would have been funny if the guy’s name was Gavin. Funny but irrelevant. I suppressed that thought and moved down the stairs. They seemed to creak more going down than they had going up, and that’s saying something. Again I tried to take big steps, and I waited a long time between each one in the hope that anyone listening might have gone back to sleep before I made another of these awful rusty-hinge noises.

At the intersection I looked down the corridor to the right. Nothing. I got to the three doors up the other steps without too much drama. Those stairs didn’t creak nearly as much. Of course Gavin could easily have been in either of the rooms where I’d seen lights. But I gambled that he wasn’t. I wouldn’t like to share a bedroom with Gavin, and I figured they might be feeling the same way.

That left the door straight in front of me. I put my ear to it for a few moments but could hear nothing. I knew I wouldn’t, but I was trying to delay the awful moment when I would have to open the door. I was much more nervous with this one than I had been with the ones behind me, because I knew the odds of someone being in here were much higher. If two out of three were occupied, it raised the chances for the third one.

My throat was now so dry that I could have driven a Landrover down it. It wasn’t just my throat though, suddenly it was my whole mouth area, from somewhere up in the nostrils, and it went right down into my chest. My tongue felt so huge and thick and heavy that if someone had spoken to me I don’t think I could have answered. I already had one hand on the doorknob, but now I took a firmer grip, turned it and, for the fourth time that evening, squeezed a door open.

Someone was in there. I knew that at once. Mostly it was the feel of the air, which was heavy and humid. The kind of atmosphere that only a human can create. As well, I thought I could hear breathing. But I’m not sure if that was just my sixth sense, which was working pretty hard by then.

Now my problem was even harder. I’d found out that someone was in the room, sure, but I realised that had been the easy part. The real problem was now beginning. Who was it?

I honestly didn’t think it was Gavin. If I was relying on my senses, well, I had to trust them. Somehow the room felt too heavy. A little kid like Gavin — something in me felt that the air, the atmosphere, would be lighter. But I still had to be sure. I didn’t want to have to come to this room a second time. The trouble was that I didn’t trust my instincts enough.

I had no hope of seeing much, as I was now in the stomach of the house, or to be more accurate the chest, and there were no lights anywhere. But it’s amazing how much you can pick up without even knowing you’re doing it. I was sure now I could hear a kind of breathing, and equally sure it was coming from my left. I started to inch over there, using my feet to suss out each bit of floor, at the same time raising an arm in front of my face in case there was a mobile, or some other unexpected obstacle, hanging from the ceiling. My left foot, probing carefully, came into contact with something soft, maybe some clothes, and I did a little detour until I was on clear carpet again.

My stomach was getting pretty queasy, with being in this room, so close to a complete stranger, and for all I knew pushing his underwear around with my toe. But I had to keep going. I felt something with my hand that was a regular shape, not like the soft stuff on the floor. I ran my hand to the left and then the right, and could tell by the different layers that it was a bed, with a mattress, and at least one blanket.

By now I had a little night vision, even in this very dark room, and could make out a shape under the blanket. It looked quite big, but Gavin was getting quite big too, and I started to think it could possibly be him. Now I had to let my fingers do the looking. Leaning forward a little, I forced myself to lift the blanket and wiggle my left hand in. I made it creep across the sheet, until it touched skin. My whole stomach flipped over at that point and I nearly threw up. I even made a retching noise and had to clamp my mouth shut to make sure nothing came out. I realised I was touching a hand, and had the dreadful idea that the man would suddenly grab me and haul me forwards. But it was a man. I was sure of that much. I could feel his thumbnail and knuckle, thumb or finger, I couldn’t be sure which, and they were definitely too big for Gavin.

I retreated the way I’d come, remembering to avoid the pile of soft stuff on the floor. Out in the corridor again, I closed the door behind me. I felt really weak now, and had to lean against the wall for a moment. Those awful minutes in the bedroom had drained me. I knew I couldn’t go through that again in every room of the house.

I was stuck for ideas, but I went along the corridor that seemed to lead into the next building. It was quite long, with no doors or windows, and I was sure that I was now in the house next door. At the T junction I turned left. There were two doors here, one of which looked like a very small room on the right, and another straight ahead, which could have been anything.

But something else was on the left. It was a little ladder. And looking at that, my Gavinometer suddenly started to register. I had the feeling that at last I was close.

I didn’t hesitate, but started up the ladder. I couldn’t see what was at the top, but once I got there I realised it was a funny little alcove, on a landing, and there was a door at an angle, and a smell of fresh sawdust. I found a handle and turned it, as certain as I could be that Gavin was on the other side. But I got no further. It was locked. Of course. It would be. A million curses ran through my head. Then I remembered the obvious, and groped around some more. I let out a sigh of relief as my fingers felt a yale key securely in its lock. I turned the key and turned the handle and pressed the door open.

It was pretty stinky. A wave of smell rolled past me, stinging my eyes. I blinked, then went in. The smell was familiar. Then, standing a metre inside the room, I heard breathing. The sound of people who are asleep must be as distinctive as their voices when they are awake, because I knew that breathing, and I knew that my long journey had resulted in success. Somehow, miraculously, I’d travelled all that way and found, in the attic of this old house, in a city I’d never visited before, in the middle of the night, my little brother.