Authors: Lee Weatherly
Dad smiled at me as he pulled up at the kerb. ‘Right, have a good time. When should I pick you up?’
I looked away, fumbling to pick up my carrier bag. It had my D&D book in it, with a jacket thrown over the top. ‘Oh – that's OK. Mr Traner is going to give Jo and me a ride home.’
‘All right. Ring me if you need a ride, though.’
I kissed his cheek and dived from the car, starting
up the walk. And his car stayed where it was. My footsteps echoed through my brain as I stared at the front door, growing larger and larger.
Dad, drive away, please!
But he just sat there in the car, watching me. Oh,
god,
what was I going to do?
I didn't have a choice. I rang the bell and stood clenched on the front doorstep while it reverberated inside.
The door opened. Mrs Traner stood there, her dark hair gleaming in the light from the hallway. ‘Oh! Hello, Emma.’
Behind me, I heard Dad drive away. My shoulders sagged. ‘Hi, Mrs Traner.’
‘Debbie's not here, I'm afraid; she's at the Sports Centre with her dad.’
‘Oh! That's too bad – I mean, I just came by to – to get a book I lent her, but if she's not here, I can come back tomorrow, or – or maybe get it from her at school.’ I backed away a step, clutching my bag and grinning in sheer relief.
Mrs Traner glanced up the street. It wasn't really dark yet, though the streetlights had come on. ‘But wasn't that your dad who just dropped you off?’
‘No, I took the bus. So, um – thanks anyway, Mrs Traner; I'll see you later.’ Before she could say anything else, I turned and walked briskly up the street. When I was out of sight, I ran for the bus stop.
‘Right, now that Emma's
finally
here, we can get started.’ Sheila leaned across the dining table and tossed me a sheet of paper. ‘This is the character you're playing,
OK, Emma? Usually you'd create one especially for you, but it takes a while, so we thought you could just play one of my old ones, from our last campaign.’
Everyone was eating pizza. I helped myself to a slice as I studied the sheet, which was broken up into dozens of categories like ‘name’, ‘species’, and so on. I was playing an elf called Tania, who was a rogue. That's the bit I could make out; the rest was in hieroglyphics.
Ski took out a plastic box of fluorescent green dice, and scattered them on the table. I stared as they clattered and bounced. They were all different shapes – a pyramid-dice with four sides, an almost-round onewith twenty.
‘Right,’ he said quietly, flipping his blond hair out of his eyes. ‘Who's ready to play Abby's game?’
Ski's low voice read the story to us, telling about the Evil Esmerelda, and how we had to save the Holy Eye. Then he took us into the dungeon, describing stairs and passageways and cold, bare walls. I listened intently, trying to see it in my mind.
‘You're in a tunnel; it branches off to the left and to the right. To the right, there is only darkness. To the left, you hear the distant sound of maniacal laughter, and the echo of footsteps running away from you.’
‘We'll follow the footsteps!’ Sheila's pointed face was tense with concentration.
‘OK. It's dark, you can't see anything.’
‘I'll cast a light spell,’ put in Rob.
‘
You
can see anyway – you're an elf; you can see in the dark,’ whispered Gail in my ear. I nodded,
vaguely remembering something about that from the
New Player's Handbook
.
Sheila's mum came downstairs and poked her head in. ‘Sheils, I'm going to the store, OK?’
Sheila gave her a wave without looking at her. A second later the front door closed.
Ski glanced down at Abby's game. ‘OK, Rob – you cast light, and now you can see emptiness before you; a shadowy expanse stretching away into nothing … all is silent.’
Suddenly everyone seemed to be looking at me. I stared back at them. ‘What?’
‘You need to check for traps,’ said Gail.
‘Me?’
Rob nodded, taking another bite of pizza. ‘You're the rogue; it's your skill.’
‘Oh, right.’ I rubbed my hands on my jeans under the table, trying to hide how nervous I was suddenly. ‘OK, I'll go along the passageway and check for traps.’
‘Roll a d-twenty,’ said Ski.
What? I shook my head in confusion, but Sheila pressed a dice into my palm; the almost-round one.
I rubbed my thumb against the smooth plastic. ‘Um, do I want high or low?’
‘High,’ said Rob and Gail together.
Ski nodded. ‘You always want high.’
I rolled it, and it skittered across the table, landing with 19 facing up. The others whooped. Sheila craned her head to peer at my character sheet. ‘And with your dexterity bonus, that's
twenty-three,
’ she crowed.
Ski shoved his hair back. ‘OK, you find a trap … are you going to try to disable it?’
I nodded, and rolled again. I got a 17 that time. So Tania was able to disable the trap, and the party crept down the corridor, with the light from Rob's spell flickering around us.
I could almost see the dungeon in my mind, reflected in Ski's voice as he went on with the story. And as he took us through the game's twists and turns and secret rooms, the feeling that this place was familiar came back to me again, stronger than ever.
Think,
Emma,
think
! Secret rooms. A secret place. Just do it like you do with Nat – close your eyes and you'll be there …
Suddenly I saw Abby and me, studying the map of secret places we made when we were nine. Running to one of them, giggling and peering through the fence at it.
‘Hang on!’ I didn't realize I had gasped it out loud until the others stopped playing and stared at me.
‘Emma, what is it?’ Ski leaned forward across the table.
My heart hammered so hard I could barely get the words out. ‘I just thought of something! I think I know where Abby might have wanted to play this, where she might have gone to set it up!’
‘
Where?
’ Sheila clutched my arm.
‘That old house up the road, the one that's been boarded up forever! It's just a few streets from here—’
Sheila's eyes grew wide. ‘The one behind all the trees?’
‘Yes! We used to love that place when we were kids!’ I jumped from my seat, grabbing my jacket. ‘Come on, we have to go there!’
The old house was only a few streets away, hidden by a line of thin, dense evergreens. It was Georgian, I think. Really old, anyway, with half its shutters hanging off and all its windows boarded up.
It had been boarded up for as long as I could remember.
We used to go there a lot, Abby and me, and peer at it through the fence that stretched behind the trees. We could never quite get up the bottle to climb over the fence and explore the house close-up, but we used to make up all sorts of stories about it.
‘It's haunted by a pale woman in white, whose husband killed her,’ Abby would whisper, gripping my arm. ‘He
cut her heart out,
and now she's condemned to wander across the rotting floors for all eternity, wailing …
wheerrre is my heeaaarrrt
?’
It's no wonder that we weren't that anxious to stroll around the place. But that was years ago. Who knew what Abby might do now?
A splintered hole gaped in the fence about a metre from the ground, making it easy enough to get a foothold and climb over, hidden by the trees. We sneaked around the back of the house, stumbling over bits of brick and rubble in the dark. There was a clattering noise as the shadowy bulk that was Gail tripped over something.
‘
Ouch.
This is like being down a mine!’
‘Hang on – I've got a torch on my key chain.’ Rob
fumbled with his keys, and a small pinpoint of light appeared. It didn't help; it just made the darkness seem even darker.
A crumbling stone patio sat at the back of the house. The remains of a campfire were scorched in the middle of it, with empty lager cans lying everywhere. I licked my lips, and told myself there was safety in numbers.
‘I can't see any way in.’ Rob had been poking around the back door, which was locked and boarded up.
‘What about over here, maybe?’ said Ski. Kicking a lager can out of his way, he went over to one of the boarded-up windows. ‘Or we could see inside, at least
– this board is hanging half off …’
Rob joined him, stretching up on his toes and angling his torch against the window. A second later he dropped back down in frustration. ‘It's too high up; I can't tell anything.’
‘Lift me up, and I'll try,’ I heard myself say. My voice actually sounded halfway calm, even though the thought of what I might see paralysed me.
Ski's eyes met mine as he turned around. ‘Come on, then,’ he said, holding his hand out. And even though Rob was taller, Ski was the one who lifted me, dipping his knees down so that he could wrap his arms around my thighs and heave me up.
All right, I admit it – my stomach swung a bit at the feel of his arms around me, and for a split second my brain raced along thinking inane thoughts like,
Would Dad really kill me if I had a boyfriend with a pierced eyebrow
? No, he'd probably just kill me if I had a boyfriend, full stop.
‘Here, Emma, take this.’ Rob pressed the little torch into my hand. I gripped the warm metal, and shoved away everything from my mind except what I was supposed to be doing.
The others clustered around Ski, staring up at me. Suddenly I felt almost nauseous with fear. Taking a shuddering breath, I shone the thin ray of light through the window.
Oh god, please don't let me see anything scary
.
At first, all I could make out were old boxes piled on grimy, bare floorboards. I panned the light slowly across the room, picking out tattered shreds of flowered wallpaper, a crumbling fireplace with a broken mantelpiece, pages of old newspapers.
And then I saw what was lying in the corner.
I screamed and dropped the torch, jerking back so violently that Ski almost fell over.
Pandemonium, with everyone screaming, ‘What? What?’ Somehow I was on the ground again, shrieking, ‘Someone's in there! Lying in the corner, all huddled up – oh my god, it could be Abby, I think it's Abby! We have to get in there!’
I took in a quick glimpse of pale, frightened faces. No one was moving, no one was
doing
anything! Half sobbing, I tried to jump back onto the sill, churning my feet to get a grip. Someone pulled me back, and I staggered as I fell back onto the ground. Sheila.
‘Emma,
wait.
Are you sure?’
‘Yes! Someone's in there! We have to get
in,
don't you understand?’
‘Oh, my god,’ whimpered Gail. She pressed her fists to her mouth.
Ski gripped my shoulders, shaking me slightly. ‘
Listen!
If someone really is in there—’
I jerked away from him. ‘There is! Look for yourself! Look!’
Ski's throat moved as he swallowed, glancing up at the window. ‘Right … OK.’
So Rob lifted Ski up, and we all watched while he aimed the torch through the window. Sheila had her arm around my shoulders. I hugged myself, gripping my elbows with my fingernails. When I heard Ski gasp, I knew he had seen the same thing I had.
He looked ready to throw up when Rob lowered him back to the ground. ‘Oh, god, I think you're right.’ He ran a shaky hand through his hair. ‘Um, right, I think we need to call the police. I mean, like, right now.’
Gail was shivering. ‘Can't we go around to the front of the house first? I really don't want to stay here …’
Neither did anyone else. So we went back out to the street, picking our way through the wooded patch again and climbing over the fence. It wasn't nearly as easy this time; my hands could barely grip the wood. And then suddenly there were cars and lights and noise again, and I almost collapsed with the relief of it.
We stood clustered under an amber streetlight while I turned my mobile on. Right away I saw that there were about twelve missed calls from Dad. Which meant that I was in deeper trouble than I had ever even imagined before, but I couldn't think about it just then; I couldn't. I rang the police.
Of course I didn't have PC Lavine's card with me, though, so I had to ring 999. And it took ages to make them understand. I think at first the woman thought I was completely barking – she kept saying, ‘Calm down, take a deep breath. You saw
what
?
’
Finally I was able to explain what had happened in some sort of coherent fashion, and the woman said she'd send someone right away, and to stay where we were. Then she asked for my name. When I told her, there was a pause. I could hear the crisp tapping of a keyboard.
‘Emma Townsend …’ she repeated. ‘Well, that's convenient – we had a missing persons report on you about an hour ago. You might want to ring your dad, love.’
So I had to think about it after all.
I practically got blasted off the phone at first. It turned out that Mrs Traner had rung him, and he had been driving around for the past two hours, trying to find me. He wasn't very happy about it.
I kept cringing, holding the phone away from my ear and saying, ‘But Dad,
listen
—’ while the others watched, looking worried and sympathetic.
Eventually I got through to him about Abby, and he went dead silent. ‘Stay right there, I'm on my way,’ he barked, and hung up.
The others took turns ringing their parents, too, telling them what was going on. Ski looked pale as he took out his mobile. ‘I'm going to get bollocked for this,’ he muttered as he sent a text. ‘I'm supposed to
be at home, being
responsible for myself
while Mum works the night shift.’
The police arrived first, but just barely.
I had thought that they might send PC Lavine and the other constable again, but instead it was two blokes, looking about seven feet tall as they got out of the squad car. I started to cry as I told them what I had seen; I couldn't help it. And then right in the middle of this, Dad's car screeched up to the kerb, parking crookedly behind the squad car. He hopped out with a face like a thundercloud about to split open.
‘Emma, what's going on? What's this about finding Abby?’