A Place Called Perfect (8 page)

CHAPTER 17

Deadly Cold

“Come on,” Boy whispered, after an eternity in the dark, “I think they’ve gone asleep.”

Violet got up and, keeping her left hand against the wall, tiptoed after Boy. As they neared the bottom, light trickled up from a doorway below. Violet held her breath; any sound could wake the sleeping Watchers. Boy, a little ahead, entered the room. She followed suit though every sinew told her to run. She would show Boy she wasn’t a girly girl.

The room was large and cold. About twenty rope hammocks dotted the cavernous space hanging from hooks in the stone ceiling. Most were empty except for three, which were occupied by sleeping Watchers oblivious to their intruders. Violet passed a heap of upturned wooden crates in the middle of the room where a card game was laid out ready to play. The place was really messy, lots of large black shirts, enormous black trousers and giant leather boots created obstacles in the middle of the floor. It was definitely a boy’s room. Violet held her nose to block out the sweaty stench and picked her way past.

“Down here,” Boy whispered, ducking into a passageway.

Though it was dark Boy didn’t dare light the torch still held in his grasp, so they moved quickly along keeping close to the wall. They had been travelling a while when they reached a crossroads.

“Which way?” Violet whispered.

“I don’t know. Does either of them give you a feeling?”

“What do you mean a feeling?”

“I don’t know, like do you think your Dad might be at the bottom of one of them?”

Violet walked to the entrance of the first passage. She stood for a minute, walked down a little then turned and came back. Shrugging she walked to the next entrance.

This time a chill slithered up her spine and grabbed the air from her throat. Arctic winds wrapped her like snake would it’s prey, and howled round the space. It was like all her blood had frozen as if she was dead. Terrified she sprinted back to where Boy stood waiting.

“This one,” she stuttered, pointing to the first passage, “not the other one. Definitely not the other one.”

Boy smiled at her odd behaviour as he followed her down the first passage. They’d been walking for a while when voices reached them from a little ahead. A group of men were approaching from the other direction. The pair frantically searched for a hiding space. The walls were solid. There was nowhere to go. The voices were getting closer, Violet tried not to panic. Thinking quickly Boy grabbed her arm and raced back the way they had come.

“Hey you’s!” a voice roared from behind.

Violet’s legs turned to lead, her heart was racing but she wasn’t moving fast enough. Her pursuer pounded the stones just a few paces behind. With each step he was closer. Suddenly someone grabbed her top, yanking her backwards. She squealed. Boy turned and sprinted towards her, the torch held high. A sharp cry filled the air as he brought the wooden object down heavily on her attacker. Her legs reawakened. Grabbing Boy’s hand again they flew back through the passageway. Now the rest of the gang joined the chase and had almost caught up to them when the pair broke onto the crossroads and ducked down the second entrance. Their attackers came to an abrupt stop. Violet looked around unsure she believed her ears.

Three Watchers stood laughing at the top of the tunnel. They remained there mocking for a minute then turned and disappeared. Violet pulled sharply on Boy’s hold.

“They’ve gone Boy. They’ve stopped,” she panted.

“You sure?” he replied running back a little to check.

“I saw them. They stopped when we turned down here. There’s something about this place…” she trailed off wrapping her arms tight across her chest to combat the sudden cold.

“We’ve no choice,” Boy said, “We have to go on. We can’t go back. They’ve seen us now.”

Violet nodded and followed his lead. The path became extremely dark. She moved closer to her friend. A mist seeped into the tunnel filling the stone space. It’s icy tongue licked Violet’s skin. She searched out Boy’s hand in the darkness. He was shivering.

“Are you okay?” she whispered.

He didn’t respond.

“Boy please you’re frightening me. Where are we?”

“Do you hear them?” his voice was weak.

“Who?”

Violet moved closer wrapping herself round the top of his arm. Someone was watching them. She looked behind but could see nothing in the thick black.

“Do you hear the voices Violet?”

Boy sounded desperate, urgent.

"
What voices? It’s just the wind. Please Boy you’re scaring me.”

“They’re crying. I think they’re crying Violet.”

“Who’s crying? Please Boy stop it!”

There was a rustle behind her. Violet panicked. Letting go of Boys arm, she sprinted for the light that trickled into the tunnel ahead. Within moments she broke out into open space and collapsed at the waist to catch her breath. Something creaked loudly and she sprung upright. An old iron gate rose from the mist in front of her. Hanging loosely on it’s hinges it swung in the wind.

“See Boy,” she said, jumping up and down, “that’s what you heard, an old gate!”

He didn’t respond, his face was as white as her mother’s starched sheets. He was scaring Violet so to steady her beating heart she ignored him and looked around. The gates hung from two crumbling stone pillars covered in moss and ivy that were part of a surrounding wall. The wall reached to Violet’s chin and she had to hoist herself up on her arms to peer over it. Tall stone structures floated in the mist beyond. The gates creaked loudly again pulling Violet’s attention.
             

“No please stop Boy! Don’t…it’s a graveyard” she stuttered, jumping down from the wall.

He kept walking and had almost disappeared into the fog before Violet followed him. She had no choice. Slowly she pushed open the gate, her heart pounding. A path led through the middle of the graves. It was overgrown in weeds, and to distract her imagination she counted them as she walked past the gravestones.

“1 dandelion, 2 daisies, 2 dandelions…Ouch”

Something sharp ripped through the skin on her forearm. She looked up suddenly and screamed. A dismembered hand sat impaled on a wooden stake. The skin was purpley blue and green pus poured from the maggot-made wounds. A roughly scrawled sign was nailed to the stake below.

KEEP OUT IF YOU KNOW WHAT’S GOOD FOR YOU!

“Please Boy. Please can we leave!” she cried into the fog.

Her fear raised Boy from his trance and he raced back to her side.

“Violet, are you okay? What’s wrong?” he panted.

She pointed to the sign just as a shadow moved out from behind a tombstone ahead. Boy grabbed her arm and pulled her roughly down onto the soggy grass
, using a stone cross as cover.

“Stay here,” he mouthed silently.

She nodded, her voice stolen. Just as Boy was moving she grabbed his sleeve pulling him back.

“I have to check it out,” he shivered, shaking her off, “I’ll be back in a minute. I promise.”

He was gone. She was alone.

‘Everything will be okay. Everything will be okay.’

Something brushed off her shoulder. She jumped back suddenly and stumbled to the side before losing her balance. A hand reached up to break her fall and she grabbed for it in the darkness.

“Oh Boy. You scared me,” she gasped, turning around.

Hollow eye sockets stared at her from a mutilated skull.

She screamed and darted forwards. Tripping over something she fell into a sea of maggot-ridden bodies. Bones cracked breaking under her weight as she crawled across the masses of dead people. Finding solid ground, she sprinted for the wall that surrounded the graveyard and scrambled over the top into mossy grass on the other side.

A blinking streetlamp yellowed the mist and she stumbled across the balding lawn towards it. As she got closer her fear subsided and her thoughts shifted into a world of problems. Images of rotten skin, maggots and bone flew from consciousness and she became clouded in worry. What if her Mam didn’t love her anymore? Maybe it had nothing to do with Perfect, maybe her mother hated her. What if her Dad disappeared on purpose, maybe he had another family or maybe he didn’t love her either and that’s why he left?  She blamed the Archers for everything when really it was her own fault. Her heart sank, pulling heavily on her chest and before she realised it she was on her knees. Every bad thought imaginable ate away at her mind until her life felt bleak and she couldn’t see an escape.

She looked around for Boy. The mist had thickened. She couldn’t see him. He’d left too or maybe he’d been attacked in the graveyard and his half eaten body lay with the others. Everyone that meant anything had gone. They’d abandoned her. Pulling her knees towards her, she wrapped her arms around her legs, shielding herself from the outside. Soon the mist cocooned her from the world. She cried. For her Mam and Dad, for the friends she’d lost, for Boy and his lack of parents. She cried for all the things she had ever heard about in school, like the floods in Pakistan, the starving children in Africa and she cried for herself. This was how Boy found her.

“Violet,” he panted, sitting down beside her, “I was looking for you.”

She didn’t look up. She was angry with him and definitely didn’t want him to see her crying.

“Where were you?” she stammered, “You left me.”

“I’m sorry,” he pleaded, “I didn’t leave you. I went to see what the noise was. I thought it was George Archer.”

“But you left me, with…those bodies.”

“I’m sorry Violet. I didn’t know. If I’d known I’d never…” he trailed off.

“Who are they…who did this?” she quivered, rocking back and forth beneath the street lamp.

“I…I don’t know Violet.”

The pair sat shoulder to shoulder in silence. The mist grew thicker and a distant rumble of thunder filled the skies.

“Violet,” Boy whispered a while later, “Please look at me.”

“I know,” he said, wiping his red eyes, “It’s this place. It brings out every bad thing you’ve ever thought. I heard about it before but I never believed the stories.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll show you,” he said, standing up to pull his friend gently from the soggy grass.

They walked together through the mist. Soon large trees loomed out from the fog dotted round a small park. Like winter trees
, they had no leaves. Their barren branches clawed against the stormy sky. The park was filled with clay, the only green from grass tuffs that hung round the base of the trees. About twenty rows of strange plants lined the clay from one end of the park to the other. The heads of these odd flowers were bent over as if sheltering from a driving rain so it was hard to recognise them. They were about the same shape and height as sunflowers but something so happy didn’t fit in this landscape.

Derelict houses hovered lonely and grey in the mist just off a potholed road that surrounded the park. Some of the homes had no windows, others no doors and more still were half built.The wind whistled through the empty shells rattling the steel fencing that lined the roadway.

“It’s the Ghost Estate,” Boy whispered.

CHAPTER 18

The Ghost Estate

“Ghosts?”

“That’s what they say. I heard some men in No Man’s Land talk about this place but I thought it was just another story. It’s exactly how they described it.”

“What is it?” Violet asked.

“I don’t really know. I heard them say it’s a place of loss and sadness. They said it’s where all lonely souls go.”

“Go to do what?”

Thunder boomed overhead making Violet jump.

“Can we leave Boy please?” she begged, pulling on his sleeve.

Boy led the way quickly across the park. A sudden movement caught Violet’s eye and she stopped.

“Boy look,” she shivered, pointing at one of the flowers.

It’s petals were closed as if it were asleep. Each petal was delicate, translucent and tiny thread like red veins patterned their surface. She could see right
through the petals to the centre of the flower. Something was moving at rapid speed inside. She bent down to investigate when a huge clatter echoed through the empty estate. Boy grabbed her arm and they ran for cover behind the garden wall attached to one of the empty houses.

“I think it’s just the steel fencing. The wind must have blown it over,” Boy panted, after a few minutes, “Come on let’s get out of here.”

Violet was about to move when she ducked back down behind the wall pulling Boy with her.

“There’s something inside the house” she whispered, “Something moved I swear.”

Quickly she crawled across the garden and ducked in under the sill of the main window.

“What are you doing?” Boy whispered, angrily joining her side.

“I’m going to have a look, I have a strange feeling…”

She held onto the edge of the sill and inched herself up to peer through the window. A red bulb hung in the centre of a cement room casting the walls in bloody tones. Rows and rows of small potted plants filled the floor space. The plants were similar to the ones in the park but smaller. Boy tugged on her leg.

“What?”

“Do you see anything?”

“I’m not sure…” she whispered, turning back to the window.

Suddenly she ducked back down.

“What is it Violet? You’ve gone white!”

“It’s…it’s…”

“It’s what?”

“It’s eyes, pots and pots of eyes. They’re growing eyes Boy!” she shivered.

Unable to understand, Boy pulled himself up for a look.

“It’s eyes,” he gasped, falling back down, “It’s eyes. Lots and lots of eyes. They were staring at me.”

“Those bodies, in the graveyard,” Violet trembled, “none of them had eyes.”

“But why would anyone want dead peoples eyes Violet? Why would anyone want eyes at all, it’s terrible, horrible, I don’t even want to think about it!”

They sat under the window ledge in silence. A thought played with Violet but she couldn’t grasp it, the Archers, Perfect, the glasses, her Dad...

“My Dad,” she said, sitting upright, “my Dad is here Boy. He’s here in this place.”

“Ssh,” Boy whispered, looking anxiously around, “what makes you think that?”

“It’s the eyes. The Archers asked him to come and work here because he’d won an award. I remember reading about it in “Eye Spy” I thought it was disgusting. It had something to do with eye transplants.”

“But why would the Archers want eye transplants and using the eyes of dead bodies Violet…imagine you’d never be able to see with all the maggots!”

“All I know is that Dad is here. He has to be and we have to rescue him. Please Boy you check that side of the estate and I’ll check this one.”

“Really…on your own?”

“Yes, I’m not a girl you know!”

“Well you are actually,” Boy smiled, then turned and crawled back across the garden.

Violet shivered as he dashed for the other side of the park. She was on her own.

Quickly she crawled across the garden to the next house. Inside there were more rows of eyes. They grew from pulsing veins rooted in pots of dark red clay. The pots bubbled over in blood. Pools of the gruesome liquid seeped across the floor as if a million people were murdered in the room. Small plastic tubes inserted into the side of each pot were connected to a large barrel of blood in the corner, which was feeding the mass of eyes. Her stomach churned as she rested her back against the wall of the house. She was going to vomit. Bile ran up her neck stopping short of her mouth. She steadied then continued her trip across the gardens until she reached the next house. There was another room of eyes but still no Dad.

Suddenly a loud bang shook the estate. Her pulse raced as George Archer strode out from one of the houses across the park towards Boy. All air escaped her lungs. Boy was caught. He had to be. She clambered onto her feet and as quietly as possible followed after the taller twin.
Boy was across the park on his hands and knees looking in another window. George Archer had seen him too.

What could she do? She was powerless. What use would it be if they were both caught? Maybe Boy had to get captured? They might take him to where they were keeping her Dad. She could rescue them both.

George Archer slowed as he reached the wall of the house. Boy was oblivious. Violet wanted to shout but she couldn’t. Her friend turned just as George Archer was upon him. The huge man pulled something from his pocket and sprayed Boy in the face. Within seconds he was unconscious. George Archer threw the lifeless body over his shoulder and turned. Violet just managed to hide inside the belly of a rusted old barrel. Moments later, large leather shoes strode past her for the second time that day.

Quickly she crawled out and followed, her legs shaking. She had to be strong. She ducked behind the half built wall of a house and watched as George Archer pushed open the door. When the solid wood slammed firmly shut, Violet jumped to her feet and raced around the back of the house. Double glass doors gave a better view inside
, and she watched George Archer carry Boy’s lifeless body up the stairs. A few moments later he was back down without her friend, and disappeared out the front door. She raced back round the front to catch his willowy frame return across the green. This was it. Her moment.