Voices in Stone (15 page)

I shrugged. He probably had, but I don’t much listen to his how-to-conspiracy lessons. I ate the cake while Stu scanned and clicked through page after page after page.

We stayed like that, just the sound of Stu huffing and tapping on his keyboard, and the buzzing of a fly, this really fat one, which was droning around the room in circles. It started to get on my nerves, the way it buzzed a circuit
from the ceiling to the lamp, then for the computer screen. The next time it came near, I made a grab for it, but it dodged me easily, so I picked up a piece of paper and crept towards it. It was sitting on Stu’s desk, cleaning its legs. I lifted up the paper, swiped as hard and fast as I could.
Whack!

Stu jumped nearly out of his chair, but the fly buzzed up to the ceiling and started circling again.

“What are you
doing
? Now I’ve lost my train of thought!”

“That fly’s really annoying me.”

“Well you won’t catch it that way! It’s a matter of time perception.”

He waited for me to ask what he meant, and when I didn’t he leaned back in his chair and told me anyway. “You think time is something fixed and steady. Seconds, minutes, hours. But that’s just
your
perception: Gray time. Eighty-odd years of it, a hundred thousand heartbeats, and then you die. Now that fly, he only lives a few weeks, so you probably think he feels his life is short.”

“How do you know it’s male?” I asked.

Stu shrugged. “All right,
she
feels
her
life is short. But she doesn’t!” He smiled, proud of himself. “Because her perception of time is different to yours, so she thinks her
life lasts as long as yours does. She
perceives
a second as an hour, an hour as a month. Her weeks of life are like eighty years to her.”

“I don’t see what that has to do with me being able to swat the fly.” I couldn’t help arguing back. Stu makes you like that.

“A second for you is like an hour for a fly. So she’s got plenty of time to see your big slow hand coming and get out of the way. A fly doesn’t even have to rush; for them it’s like avoiding a tortoise.”

He went back to his typing, and I let the fly buzz. But I’ve thought about it since, especially after what happened. How we’re all travelling along our own piece of time, every living thing on earth, each at our own speed.

An interesting observation, but organisms from this planet perceive time in a similar manner, even if they do so at different speeds.

And what if they’re not from this planet?

That is another matter entirely.

I watched Stu clicking on a couple of the web pages for ages.

“Have you found anything?” I asked eventually.

Stu clicked another page, then stopped. “No. Time to go into the darknet.”

That was kind of exciting, because Dad talks about the darknet a lot, how it’s this underworld of the internet, where everything’s secret and nothing’s traceable. How you can’t get in unless you know the special routes and passwords.

“What’s your access point?” I asked Stu, trying to sound like I knew what I was talking about.

“Well, there’s a website—” He stopped, and looked at
me with narrowed eyes. “Nice try, but I know your dad wouldn’t want me telling you that.” He waved his hand, shooing me back.

“Oh come on!”

Stu folded his arms, refusing to do anything until I was right across the other side of the room. “I’m sorry, Gray, but the darknet isn’t for mucking about in. It’s not funny cats in there. In the darknet, everything’s for sale, even humans.” He looked at me. “And the people aren’t nice; they won’t care that you’re a kid.” He paused. “Or they might care too much.”

“So why are you going in then?” I muttered. “If it’s so bad and full of psychos?”

Stu grinned. “Because the main thing on sale in the darknet is information. Stolen credit card details, stuff hacked from mobile phones or scavenged out of people’s bins. Identities, bank accounts, government secrets. You name it, you can buy it, if you’ve got enough cash. Not that I would, of course, since I’m not a criminal.” He sighed. “Most stuff is out of my price range anyway, but I should be able to afford an identity check on this Dr Harcourt.”

I had to spend ten slow minutes in the corner, before Stu whistled to himself.

“Interesting.”

“What?” I took a step nearer, trying to see, but Stu closed off the web page, leaving nothing but his screensaver. Which was a picture of himself Photoshopped into
Doctor Who.

“The prices on her are astronomical – you’d need to be a millionaire to afford them.”

I sagged, feeling a bit hopeless. “So that’s a dead end?”

Stu shook his head. “Actually, it tells me a lot. If the prices are that high, it means someone is paying to stop the information being sold.” He smiled. “And I’ve got other ways of finding things out.”

He shooed me away and carried on tapping. After a while he leaned back, put all his fingertips into his hair and scratched thoughtfully. Little flecks of white appeared on his shoulders.

“Nothing, nothing, nothing.” Scratch, scratch. “Makes me think maybe she isn’t a real person.”

“What? Like a robot, or a zombie takeover?”

Stu glanced at me. “Fake persona. A cover story. Good
enough to fool your average web search, but here in the darknet…” He hummed the
Star Wars
theme tune to himself. “Let’s try another way. Tell me the names of your classmates, the ones who went into the quarry site with you.”

I went through everyone I could remember and he tapped away, but it was obviously getting nowhere because he got grumpy.

“Useless. Nothing and nothing.” He glared at me. “Is that all of them? What about that girl? Daughter of Gil’s girlfriend. Isis something.”

“Dunbar,” I said. “But she wasn’t even in our group, she didn’t go into…” Stu was tapping as I talked, and then he burst out laughing.

“What?”

Stu shook his head, like it was a really good joke. “If I put her name in, I just get stuff on Mr Dunbar.”

“Her
dad’s
in the darknet?”

“No! It’s a coincidence. She’s just some girl you know, and Mr Dunbar is, well, he’s a Mr Big. Supposed to be high up in the Organisation – there’s stories about him you wouldn’t believe, but never any evidence of anything.
He’s very good at covering his tracks. My own theory is it’s a code name, not a person. A cover for lots of different agents.” He sucked through his teeth. “Nothing to do with this though…” He stopped, clicked back through a few pages. “Or… oh! Why didn’t I think of it before?”

“Think of what?”

“Who has the money to keep information about Dr Harcourt out of the darknet?”

I shook my head, I mean, how would I know?

“The Organisation!” He got up and hurried into the hallway, grabbing my coat. “Let’s go!”

“Go where?” I followed him. “I thought we were waiting for Dad?”

Stu shook his head. “We need to be at the quarry, gathering evidence! If this is to do with the Organisation, I might be able to find something out, get a lead on them!” He was practically hopping with excitement, probably imagining himself getting some kind of super-freak medal for being the one to unmask the Organisation, or whatever.

But going to the quarry; I thought my heart would stop. “No, no way! That’s where all this started, and you want me to go back there?”

Stu shoved my coat at me. “Don’t you want to find out what’s wrong with you? How can you unless you’re willing to take a few risks?”

“You don’t even know it
is
the Organisation!”

Stu made a noise. “Pfft! I know their fingerprints when I see them!”

“I don’t want to!”

Stu shook his head. “You’re my canary, literally in the mine. I need to see if you drop inside your cage.”

“Oh, great.”

He was practically dragging me out of the door. “Please?” he wheedled. “They’re only hallucinations. They can’t actually hurt you, can they?”

I stared out at Stu’s garden, and the street beyond. It looked so ordinary, but I knew that as soon as I took a step out there they’d know, somehow. The ghosts, or zombies, or whatever they were. And I didn’t believe Stu about them not being able to hurt me, or that they were only hallucinations. But if I didn’t face them, would my life be like this forever? Too scared to go outside?

I knew I couldn’t do it by myself. Stu was no use, he was already off on his own thing, chasing secret societies
and conspiracies and Mr Dunbar… Oh.

That’s you, isn’t it?

I have revealed some things to you because you’ll forget them anyway. But certain information, like the answers to these questions, I will not give.

You’re only a boy, Gray, not an agent.

Cally had to work at Crystal Healing in the afternoon, and Isis was alone in the flat.

“You wanted me to get a job, so this is what happens,” Cally said as she went out.

“You can’t just leave,” said Isis, taken aback by this new, hard Cally. “You always tell Gil you can’t leave me alone.”

“Well I can’t get a babysitter without any notice, can I?” answered Cally. “And I can’t afford not to work, not now.” The door clunked heavily behind her.

Cally was punishing Isis for what had happened in school, but in her own odd way: by leaving Isis alone. Isis went to the sofa and sat staring at nothing. After a minute or so, she slapped one of the cushions.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she shouted at it.

Angel’s head poked out from the arm of the sofa, her neck melting into the fabric. “You dint ask.”

Isis glared at her, trying to sort out her tumble of thoughts.

“We going to have a baby brother,” said Angel happily.

Cally and Gil’s baby. Meaning she and Gray would be… what? Stepbrother and sister?

“And Gil will be my stepdad,” she said gloomily.

“Brothers and sisters and a whole new daddy,” said Angel.

“I don’t want a new dad!” said Isis.

There was a sound from behind the sofa, a rasping cough tinged with embarrassment and scented with mildew.

“Ahem. I apologise for interrupting during such a delicate conversation but…”

Isis twisted around to see Mandeville, who was hovering in the kitchen doorway, his feet not quite on the carpet.

“Things are afoot. At your school and throughout the area. Underfoot, to be more precise, so as your spirit guide I thought I should tell you that—”

“This is all your FAULT!” Isis shouted, kneeling up on the sofa. “Why couldn’t you leave me
alone
?”

Mandeville floated back, a frown crinkling the peeling skin of his forehead. “I fail to see…”

“Wasn’t it bad enough that I nearly
died
in the summer? Now you’re trying to ruin my
life
!” Being excluded, her argument with Cally, the shock of the news of the baby; it poured out of her at the nearest target, crashing straight for Mandeville. “All this time going on and on about the wisdom you’ve got, but as soon as you get the chance you say the most horrible, stupid thing ever! You frightened the whole school, and now I’ve been suspended and everyone
hates
me!”

“Well I’m sorry, my dear, but I really didn’t intend…”

“Don’t call me ‘my dear’! I’m not your dear, I’m not anything to do with you!”

Mandeville floated further back, seeming to decay a little as she watched, crumbling and fraying around his edges.

“But you are my medium, the channel through which…”

“No.” Isis stood up, her hands clenched. “I’m not doing it any more. You said I’d help people – well what about
me
? How does it help me?”

“You’ll be rich, famous and doing all manner of good,” pleaded Mandeville. “You can’t turn your back on your powers. I’ve been waiting all my life and all my death to find a true psychic, such as yourself.”

She picked up a cushion, wanting to throw it at him. “Is that really all it is to you? When you were alive, was your ambition to be a
ghost
?”

“Well, I…” Mandeville shook his head, a cloud of dust swirling out into the air. “I’m not sure. I can’t remember…”

“You’re a dropped sock!” she said.

“Pardon?”

“You said it yourself, don’t you remember? How you felt like the main part of you is already gone, and you’re just a leftover of hopes and dreams, the bits your soul didn’t really need.” She glared at him, hating him in that moment. Glad to have someone to take this day out on. “
Remember
?”

“I’m not just a leftover…”

“Yes you are!” she cried. “You said a psychic sees what’s really there – well that’s what I see looking at you! A stupid bit of nothing, who’s never done anything but bring bad things and make my life worse!”

Mandeville was almost translucent. “Is that really how you see me?” His voice was hardly more than a whisper in the air.

She nodded fiercely, adrenalin and fury fizzing in her blood.

“I shall go then. I will not burden you with my presence again.”

“Go on!” But she was shouting at nothing, because Mandeville had already faded, not even leaving a damp smell in the air.

“Good!” said Angel, her face embedded in the sofa arm. “He horrid!”

“Oh…” Isis slammed her hands on the fabric. “You’re as bad as each other!”

Angel vanished, leaving Isis alone. For a few minutes anger pumped through her, justifying what she’d said and done. But as it faded, she began to see her actions in a less flattering light.

“Mandeville?” she whispered. “Angel?”

But there was no reply. She was alone, sitting on the sofa, her legs pulled up and her arms around her knees.

She was lying on the sofa, half worn-out from crying, when the downstairs buzzer rang.

Maybe it was Cally?

Isis got up slowly and went to the front door. Cally had probably forgotten something for work, and her keys too.

She pressed on the intercom button.

“What?”

“Let me in! You’ve got to let me in!” Gray’s voice shouted through the little speaker.

“What are you doing here?” Isis said in surprise. “Shouldn’t you be in school?”

“Just open the door, please!”

She pressed the second button, releasing the lock for the main entrance downstairs.

After a brief pause, the intercom buzzed again. Gray was almost screaming now. “Open it, please!”

“I’ll come down,” she said. “It doesn’t always work.”

She opened the door and ran out into the hallway, skittering down the stairs to the foyer. Through the wire-reinforced glass of the front door she could see Gray pressed against it, punching with balled fists.

She turned the latch and Gray fell through the door,
his face pale and slick with sweat, breathing heavily.

“You took your time!” he gasped.

“What’s the matter? What’s going on?”

He looked ill, frightened.

“Things have got worse. Way worse,” he said. “It was bad when I left school, but now they’re everywhere. Following me, shouting stuff. Loads of them, seems like hundreds.”

“Who’s following you?” asked Isis, confused. “Is it a gang or something?”

“Not a
gang
!” He gave her a look, like she was being an idiot. “And it’s not just me. Jayden and Gav too, people in our year. School’s gone crazy. People are losing it all over, running around screaming.”

A cold slick feeling spread over her. “Because of what I did, because of the seances?”

Gray shook his head. “No! I mean, actually, I don’t know about Year Sevens seeing ghosts in the loos – maybe that
is
you? But I’m seeing me. Hundreds of me. Old, young, and the worst are the ones… I mean, they look like mirrors. I don’t know what they want, but they don’t give up, they just keep coming.”

She looked out of the door. “I can’t see anything.”

He stayed back. “You can only see them when you go outside.”

She looked at the road and the houses lined up along it. There was nothing out of place. “But ghosts aren’t like that,” she said. “Half of them haunt buildings.”

“I didn’t say they were ghosts!” snapped Gray.

“Then what are they?”

“Go and see for yourself,” His words were sharp, but his face was desperate and pleading. “Gav and Jayden think it’s poison; Stu has a load of crazy theories. I thought you might be able to see something we can’t?”

She put her foot over the threshold, anxiety trembling up her leg. Mobs of ghosts had sometimes chased her after Cally’s seances, frantic to be heard.

“Please,” Gray said. “I’ll hold the door so you can get back in quick.”

A man with his hood pulled up was walking along the road, but there was no one else.

She took another step, and now she was out on the pavement. A flash of colour on the ground caught her eye: a flicker, like a rainbow sparkling away from her foot. Then it was gone.

The man gave her a short wave, as if he knew her, but his face was shadowed by the hood of his anorak.

Was he one of them? One of the things Gray was talking about?

He was coming straight for her, his gait furtive, as if he didn’t want to be noticed. As he got closer, she saw there was nothing about him that looked like Gray, and then there was the strand of long grey hair curling out from inside his hood.

“You were at Gil’s house that time,” she said. “You’re…”

“Shhh!” He flapped his hands at her. “Don’t say my
name
!”

“Why not?”

Stu pointed up at the windows of her building, then vaguely at the air. “You don’t know when they’re watching. Listening.”

“Who?” Were they in the air, these ghosts?

She noticed another flash of colour from the corner of her eye: like seeing through tears, except she wasn’t crying.

“I can’t tell you out here!” said Stu, pointing at the flats. “CCTV is everywhere. We live in a surveillance state!”

Isis glanced back but couldn’t see any cameras, only Gray peering out of the door of the flats.

“Are they there?” Gray called.

She shook her head, but then another flash of colour flickered, this time along the pavement, like a goldfish in dark water. It curved in a wide arc away from her, or maybe towards her, it was hard to tell. Another colour in the stones, green this time, swirled around her then darted away, and almost at the edge of hearing she heard a wordless sound, like the wind through leaves.

“Can you see anything?” asked Gray. He’d stepped out of the flats, his face anxious and sweat-sheened.

“I don’t know…” Slivers of colour sliced through the tarmac, like oil on water. Were they just a trick of the light? She looked down at the paving slab beneath her. Was it moving?

Suddenly everything twisted, upside down. For a moment she was looking at herself from underneath: the soles of her shoes, her dangling fingertips, her body foreshortened by the strange perspective.

“Look out!” shouted Gray. His hand was on her arm, pulling her into the flats. She stumbled with him through
the doorway, coming out of the ground and back into her body.

“They were all around us!” gasped Gray. “Worse than ever! They reached out, grabbed hold of you.” He sounded close to terror. “Didn’t you see?”

Stu came through the door, looking pleased. “I told you. Psycho-active contamination. Think of it as brain poisoning. Like when the US government wanted to create supersoldiers and gave them loads of drugs.”

“Is that meant to make me feel better?” snapped Gray.

Isis looked back through the doorway. Gray was scared of these… whatever they were. Had they really grabbed her? And if it was ghosts, why were they pulling her into the ground? Were they dragging her back to their buried bodies?

A true psychic sees what’s really there. She’d thrown that back at Mandeville; now she had to use it.

She took a step outside and tried to concentrate. Her brain was showing her colours and whispers, swirling in patterns around her feet, but that wasn’t really what she was seeing.

“What’s up with her?” said Stu behind her. “Why’s she
squinting that way? Are you sure she isn’t contaminated like the rest of you? Just because she didn’t go right into the quarry…”

“Shhh!” said Gray. “She’s…” He paused, then muttered, “Psychic.”

“What is
wrong
with you, Gray?” said Stu. “Have you swallowed a gullibility pill or something?”

Isis shut him out, focusing on what she could really see. But her mind kept shying away, as she fumbled for the truth.

A boat lost at sea.

An abandoned child, frightened and alone.

A hand reaching for her own, out of the deep water.

She shook her head. None of those were right. She went deeper than words, feeling it in the hairs on the back of her neck and the shiver in the soles of her feet, while Stu ranted about the impossibility of ghosts.

“We need to get there,” she said, cutting through.

Gray looked at her. “Where?”

And she was certain, just as she had been in the woods. Here was a part of the message she could understand. “The quarry.”