Leave the Last Page (13 page)

‘No, but I guess it might as well be. It's not on your stick now. Let's get in the car and I'll show you; it's not far.'

He looked up at both Patty and Ben. ‘This is nearly over.'

WHEN THE LINE WENT DEAD, ALEX PUNCHED IN THE NUMBER THAT ALLOWED YOU TO TRACE THE CALL. He read it out to Charlotte, who jotted it down.

‘That number's familiar,' she said, and pulled her mobile out of her pocket. She scrolled through the contents until she found what she was after. ‘It's Tom's old school. They rang us from Bolton Road Primary.'

‘Then that's where we're heading,' said Alex, reaching for his car keys.

*

Daniel Fields had been pacing around the house, keen to get moving. With all the technology around him out of whack he felt a little bit lost, and wasn't happy with the notion of having to rely on others. Still, what was he going to do? Just go out on his bike and ride around town, hoping to bump into dad?

No, he had a little more to go on than that. From his father's notes he had gleaned that the story was the key to communication, and although those in pursuit always seemed one step behind the central players of this game, they could rely on the story pages to keep them updated.

And then Dad, in the story now (he believed that completely), was trying to communicate with him. Only, without a notebook of narrative to fall back on, it was the story of their relationship that was coming through. It was the words only they shared that had found the right frequency and broken through the technological crash.
Dan the Man. Danny-Boy.

Five minutes ago, his phone had sounded with the tone that indicated a text, but there had been nothing there. However, whenever he tried to navigate around the functions and applications on his phone, it would always take him back to the Maps facility. There was a map open of the town, but a part of town he never really ventured into. There was a pin in the map. When he tried to click it for more information, nothing happened, but he could neither move or delete the pin. And when he tried to do something else with the phone, it always came back to the same map function.

Around the pin wasn't much help either. There were street names nearby, and a primary school not far to the south of the pin, but where it was positioned was right in the middle of a huge, blank area, with no street names or landmarks, just a void. He supposed it could be fields or a park, but they were usually labelled, and tended to be unlikely in the middle of such a built up area. Also, the blank space was uniformly circular, surely impossible when it came to town planning. Streets just stopped dead when they got to the circumference of the empty circle. It looked like a big chunk of that part of town had been wiped, and replaced with…nothing.

But there was a pin in the middle of it, and Dan thought that was where his dad was, or at least where he was heading.
Me too,
he thought.

The doorbell rang, and Dan slid across the hall to answer it. His grandad was on the doorstep. Jimmy Fields was a short but stocky man. His hair was slicked back and slate grey, and his weathered face pulled up on one side in a squint like he was permanently grimacing in pain from a toothache. ‘Hello, Daniel. You ready to go and get your father out of whatever trouble he's found himself in?'

Dan looked past his grandad and into the street. ‘We're going in
that
?'

*

‘Watch out for broken glass,' said Ben. ‘Just brush it onto the floor.' Patty had taken the back seat, but Tom sat up front, to help navigate Ben to wherever they were going.

‘Where to?' Ben asked. In Tom's story the characters had found the path to their nemesis just behind the theatre.

‘It's not far from here,' said Tom. ‘Just back on the main street and about a minute's drive. It's a place called
No Through Road
.'

Ben smirked. ‘That's not a real street name, Tom.'

‘It is. I saw it in my dream, and I know where it is. I've passed it before in the car.'

‘No, what that means is, when a street doesn't lead anywhere, only to the houses that are on that address, and you can't drive
through
to anywhere else, they put up a sign saying
No Through Road.'

Tom shrugged. ‘Kildark's lair is on
No Through Road
.'

‘But the street will be called something else.'

Tom wasn't for backing down. ‘Well, today it's definitely called
No Through Road
.'

Patty spoke up from the back. ‘Ben, you're forgetting that none of this needs to make true sense for it to actually
be
. You've seen that first hand. Tom's mind created this topsy-turvy world that we're currently in, and if he says his dream told him that's the way to go, I think we believe it.'

Tom spoke. ‘And I know what a sign like that normally means, Ben. It means
Dead End.
I think that's the point: we're near to the end, dead or otherwise.'

Ben sighed, but it was followed by a grin. He admired the fight in this boy. It was easy to forget that he was only eleven. ‘Okay. No Through Road
.
Point the way, Tom.'

Tom had been right in that it was barely a minute's drive away. Ben had pulled back onto the main street and then three blocks later he was turning left, back into a residential area. He pulled up by a side street, at Tom's request. ‘There it is.'

The actual address was Mort Lane, which supported Tom's idea about death or endings. Above the sign was another that did read, as promised, No Through Road.

‘I think we walk from here,' said Tom, getting out. The others followed, Patty heaving a little as she lugged her handbag and steadied herself with her stick.

I mustn't forget that she's older
, thought Ben.
I'm the policeman. I have to take the threat on, not these two.
Then he thought about his father, and his own son: like these two, a generation either side of him. He never thought of his dad as old, and he was probably the same age as Patty. He always thought that Dan – once you chipped away at him – was pretty resourceful, much like Tom. He made a mental note to do better by both of them, once he got out of this crazy situation.

‘Shall we?' said Patty.

They walked down Mort Lane, which was quite a tight street made up of stone terraced cottages with very small front gardens. Cars were parked wherever they could fit, which meant that there was only room on the road for one vehicle to drive along at a time. It was quiet now. Because the parked cars straddled the pavement too, there was hardly room to walk there so the three of them took the road and walked right down the middle of it, like gunslingers.

They could see the end, and they could see that what was there wasn't typical of Mort Lane on any other day.

They got the impression that there probably used to be a detached cottage at the end of the lane, by the quaint stone wall with the wrought iron gate, the metal washing line posts, and the start of a crazy paving path. But beyond the first couple of feet of it, and the overgrown lawn beside it, normality had been ripped away. There was a large, gaping hole where the cottage once stood, and in its place, a gritty, dusty road that led off into the foreseeable distance. The land either side of the road looked barren and dead.

‘I hope the homeowners were at work when their cottage disappeared,' said Ben.

‘And I hope we get it back for them before they come home,' added Patty.

Tom glanced around at the other houses. No twitching curtains, no signs of life. ‘I think it's just us until this thing is over.' He took out his notebook. ‘The next bit of the story is in here.' He skimmed over the pages. ‘I remember it now. It ends okay for everyone!'

He handed it to Patty. ‘I'm sure it does, dearie, because you're a sweet-natured boy who wouldn't write a terrible ending for anyone.' She looked down at one of the pages and smiled. ‘But I don't think we need to read it any more. We've seen enough to know that this can take a different turn very quickly.'

Ben agreed. ‘We make our own future,' he said. ‘I think it's better we don't get swayed by false hope. Remember, nobody got stabbed in your version of the story.'

‘You got healed though,' said Tom. ‘With bum cream.'

Tom and Patty chuckled. ‘You knew!' said Grandma.

‘I read the tube.'

‘I put it on my elbow!' exclaimed Grandma. ‘I wonder if it knew the difference?'

Ben interrupted, referring back to the pages. ‘I just don't think we need to know what happens. This morning I thought that would help, but now I'm not too sure. How about you just leave the book here? We don't need distractions.'

Tom considered this. He tore out all the pages, all but one. ‘I'll leave the last page in there, just in case.' He tucked the virtually empty cover inside his jacket.

They opened the gate with a squeal, and stepped from the long green lawn to the drab dirt of the new road. Tom knelt and weighed down the loose leaves of his story with a rock. ‘For Dad. I know he'll come.'

Patty gave him a hug once he stood. They took the next few steps together. There were a couple of signs up ahead. One read:
No Through Road
. The other, in the exact same font as the sticker, said ‘Highway To Hell'.

‘He's toying with us,' said Patty, jabbing her stick into the ground with frustration.

‘Then let's go find him,' said Tom.

They headed off, leaving the signposts behind them.

*

Kildark knew that they were coming; he could sense it. He'd also picked up a lot about what was going on; the picture became clearer the closer it got to completion. He knew that he was brought here by the boy's story, and he knew – like in anything constructed from the mind of children – it was expected that the bad guy would lose.

But then he also felt that it didn't have to be that way, that he could do something about it and change this particular destiny.

He watched the land around him turn sour and poisonous. The dirt bubbled with sticky tar and the grass and fauna seeped pus and sweated with decay. He was most impressed when the black car that he had driven down this long and desolate road, once he left it, shuddered with life and sprouted eight hairy ebony legs; he cackled with glee when the headlights multiplied into numerous green, unblinking eyes; he laughed heartily when the exhaust shot out webs rather than fumes. He liked this world that was terraforming around him.

And he knew that if he could beat the boy and destroy his book…destroy
him
, then he would get to keep this patch of dark world, and rule from it, until it all around it turned into a black realm of sorrow and anguish.

Two of my favourite words,
he thought.

Hurry along, little boy.

THE WORLD AROUND THEM HAD BECOME COMPLETELY UNRECOGNISABLE.

The land was sick with a purple weed that seemed to drip a mucus-like sap. Where grass did break through it was oily and slick. The dirt road beneath their feet was largely dry and dusty like powdered bone, but occasionally they'd stand on a spot that bubbled with heat and the threat of what smelled like sulphur.

In the distance they could see rickety houses on stilts, as quiet and deathly as those on Mort Lane. ‘Welcome to Greensphere,' said Tom bitterly.

‘It isn't particularly green, dearie,' replied Grandma Patty.

Ben turned around and walked backwards a few steps, and pointed from where they'd come. ‘Look.'

There was no sign of the row of terraced cottages even though they hadn't walked so far that they should be out of view; they were completely surrounded by a new and treacherous world. ‘I can't believe I'm saying this,' said Ben. ‘But if we don't win this thing, I think this is what the world is like from here on in.'

Tom hung his head. ‘This is all my fault.'

Patty shook his shoulder. ‘No it isn't. If this goes belly up it is
my
fault. I believed in the old tales my mother used to tell me about the power in a last breath, and lord if she didn't make that come true. None of us could predict that the combination of her desire to get everything out of her last moment, and your fertile and vivid imagination, would lead to such an adventure as this, but I made it happen, so if it all goes wrong, it's my fault.'

‘Fair enough,' said Tom. ‘Dad's going to blame you anyway.' They both laughed.

Ben pointed up ahead. ‘Well isn't that a strange sight in this bizarre world?'

A couple of hundred yards ahead was a building. It was strange because it brought back the familiar in this most unfamiliar of settings. It was a square brick building with a flat roof. It had a large front window that would allow them to see right in once they got a little closer. There were posters and stencilled writing on parts of the glass also. There was also a large banner heading above the window and the metallic door. This was a commercial property, and the name of the business was
Greensphere Finances
.

As they got closer they saw the newly laid paving stone leading to the door and the decorative gravel that surrounded the building. They could also read a name painted on the window:
Eric Kildare.
Ben reached into his pocket. He had the business card that the man had given him earlier; sure enough, Greensphere Finances had premises on No Through Road. ‘He's playing a game,' said Ben.

‘Well then let's go inside and play the game with him,' said Patty. ‘Are we all ready?' With a squeeze of a hand or a pat on the back they knew that they were.

They pushed open the premises door. A little bell tinkled as they entered.

*

Alex and Charlotte Holliday pulled up in the primary school car park. As they stepped out they could hear a noise coming from within; a shout. Alex pointed to an open fire escape door and they both ran across the tarmac to get there.

Inside they saw a scene of some devastation. There was smashed glass from a broken window, a melting and stinking projector on a wonky trolley and a huge crack running through the polished wood floor. And there was the head teacher tied to a chair with skipping ropes.

‘Get me out of here!' she squealed.

Alex quickly began to untie her as Charlotte tried to soothe her. ‘It's okay, Mrs Aziram, you're safe now.'

‘I can't believe they left me tied to this chair! I told them I was sorry!'

‘Sorry for what?' asked Charlotte.

‘Hitting your son across the face with a fire extinguisher.'

Alex paused what he was doing. Then he pulled the ropes tighter. He ignored her yelp. ‘What did you say?' he asked, stepping back to look at her.

‘Ah…that makes it sound bad. I don't actually recall that happening, but they told me that's what I did.' She relayed to them everything she knew about what had happened, either from her memory, or from the explanation of her behaviour she had been given by Ben and Patty. ‘So it wasn't me, you see? It was like I was hypnotised or something.'

‘
Or something
is right,' said Alex. He nodded and went back to untying the ropes.

Charlotte looked around her at the mess. ‘Was Tom okay? Other than you braining him, was he hurt?'

Mrs Aziram smiled for the first time that day. ‘Your boy was very brave, and very sensible. I saw how warm and caring he is, and what an intelligent young man too. I'm just sorry, Mrs Holliday, that I never saw it sooner, when he was in my charge.'

‘That's because you only saw his chair,' Charlotte replied bitterly. ‘It took that to be missing for you to actually see a person and not just a quota for your school.'

Mrs Aziram hung her head a little.

Alex, having finished with the ropes, surveyed the ground for story pages. ‘Do you know if he left his book here, or parts of his story?'

‘I just know that they left, and left me tied to a chair –
until September
said the older woman. Your mother, Mr Holliday? I can see the resemblance.' The head teacher stood and stretched her limbs.

Charlotte took up the conversation. ‘We've had that part of the story, Alex, remember? He read it to us over the phone. That was about beating this old witch at a show – no offence.'

‘Some taken.'

‘And then when they left…' Charlotte looked around. ‘Through back stage doors, the road to that man's
lair
was just behind.'

‘Behind the school, you think?' asked Alex. ‘It's all houses and terraced streets isn't it? No wait, there is something else, not quite barren and dusty, but
open
.'

‘What?' asked Charlotte.

‘Come on!' said Alex. He took off towards the fire door and Charlotte followed.

Mrs Aziram, shaking her head, took hold of the wonky projector trolley and wheeled it towards the cleaners' cupboard where it belonged.

*

Eric Kildare was sat at large pine desk. There was a telephone, a laptop, a coffee cup that said
The Boss
on it, and an ornate silver box on four taloned feet. ‘Good afternoon, folks. How can I help you?'

‘You could disappear,' said Ben.

Kildare frowned. ‘But I've only just opened for business. Do you like where my premises is situated? If you look outside you'll see my little empire is growing.'

‘It stinks,' said Tom, matter-of-factly.

‘How rude, but I guess that's what you have to expect from little boys. What about you, Grandma? Have you got more sense about you?'

Patty stood with her arms out in front of her, hands crossed on the top of her walking stick, like it was a cane and she was dancer about to give it a little kick and start a routine. She looked poised. ‘We've come for my mammy's necklace. You took it by foul means. Now we want it back. If you just hand it over we can forget everything else.'

Kildare rested his long fingers on the silver box. ‘Ah, well, you see, I've grown quite fond of the pretty trinket, and I'd be loathe to give it back unless I got something in return. I'm a business man after all – I can't be out of pocket.'

‘What do you want?' she asked.

‘It's quite simple: the boy's story. This thing is almost done, so it will soon be of little value. I would just like it as a souvenir of our adventure together.'

‘That's not good business, if that's really what concerns you,' said Patty. ‘The necklace is valuable.'

‘Oh, I know it is. I wonder if Tom knows it though. You see, Tom, the necklace is
very
valuable, and when your great-grandmother died, it was passed on, but not to the stick-wielding maniac here-'

‘Oy!'

‘-Your great-grandmother left a will, and in it, it says that the necklace belongs to you once she dies. It is a very,
very
valuable necklace, that will take care of all your father's financial worries and leave plenty left over for your promising future, Tom. So if I'm doing a deal, I'm doing it with you.' He grinned toothily. ‘I want your story.'

‘I don't have it any more,' said Tom. ‘I've spent the last couple of days ripping pages out of it and leaving them for my dad. They'll be all over the place.'

‘But you do have the cover, eh, Tom? And one last page in there. You always leave the last page blank when you write a good tale, don't you? Just in case.'

Tom gave an involuntary shiver and put his hand to his jacket, across his heart. ‘Just in case.'

Ben noticed. ‘Just in case
what,
Tom?'

Kildare stood up and they all took a step back. ‘Just in case he wants to write a different ending. Little boys like good twists and turns in stories, and they don't like it when people who read them second guess what's going to happen in the end. Tom here leaves the last page in his notebooks, because sometimes he crosses out the last scene in his stories if people work them out, and then he writes another,
more grisly
, ending.'

Patty turned to her grandson. ‘Tom? Is he right? You said the story ended well for everybody.'

Tom shrugged. ‘It does. They always do. Always. So then people start getting bored of reading my stories. Dad got bored. So when I could see that someone was going to guess what came next, I would sometimes change it.' His shoulders slumped slightly as he tucked his hands in his pockets. ‘I changed a lot of my other stories, just in case dad went back to read them like he promised, only this time he'd be shocked and excited by the endings. More like the books and films that he likes.'

Ben put a hand on Tom's shoulder. ‘Tom, what books and films does your dad like?'

Tom's voice was raspy when he spoke. ‘Horror.'

Kildare extended his extremely long arms and his hands grew wider. He shot them out, piston-like, so that they rammed against the walls of the square office. With a huge crash the walls blew outwards and the ceiling flew off into the bruised sky.

The three of them fell backwards, straight through the space where a wall used to be and onto the gravel. The grass nearby twisted and coiled and grew, reaching out to try and grab them. Ben yanked them both up before the sickly blades could take hold.

The man in black stood before them, limbs elongated, face stretched out into an oval, his protruding jaw revealing oversized, sharp teeth. His blood-red eyes narrowed. This was
Kildark.

‘Tom!' Grandma Patty shouted. ‘Did you cross out the last bit of this story? Did you? What ending have we got coming to us, boy?!'

*

Alex knew where he wanted to get to but couldn't seem to find the right entrance. He knew of the place but had never actually been there. ‘It has to be around here somewhere,' he mumbled.

‘There!' said Charlotte. Alex slammed on the brakes.

They had stopped at the entrance to a narrow side street. A sign read:
No Through Road
. ‘This won't be it,' complained Alex.

‘I know, but look,' said Charlotte. ‘Isn't that Ben Fields' car?'

Parked half on the pavement was the dented Ford that belonged to the detective. ‘Has it been painted?' enquired Alex.

They got out to take a closer look. There were flames along each flank and a spear head painted on the bonnet; things that hadn't been there when it had been parked outside of the Holliday's home earlier. Only, as they looked, they could see the paint beginning to fade, the more sedate blue coming back to the fore. ‘It means it's not part of the story anymore,' said Charlotte. ‘Does that mean the story's over?'

‘Or does it mean they're just not coming back?' Alex looked down the narrow road of Mort Lane. ‘What is that? There, at the end?'

The couple could see two lines of terraced cottages, but at the end of the lane there was a wide open space where the sky was darker, turning purple. It looked like a festering wound. ‘I think we've found the way in,' said Alex.

They walked down the road to the very end where they found a gate that looked like it previously opened up to someone's house, but now was the entrance to a dank and desolate landscape. There was the smell of rot in the air.

It was Charlotte who saw the rock first. Her hand to her nose, she had just happened to look down. ‘Good boy, Tom!' She knelt and picked up the story pages.

Alex took a deep breath as he leaned over her shoulder. ‘Let's see what comes next.'