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ALEX DROPPED THE REMAINING PAGES AT THE SCREECH OF A HORN.

Both he and Charlotte dived sideways for cover, fearing a collision with whatever was quickly approaching behind them. They heard the squeal of brakes, and the sense of something very large, very close.

A second or so later, it was clear that any threat of impact had passed.

Slightly winded, Alex got to his knees and shuffled over to Charlotte. ‘Are you okay? Are you hurt?'

She sat up, breathing quite rapidly, brushing dust and small stones from her palms. ‘No, I'm fine. Just shock I think. What's going on?'

A solid, squat man stood over them. ‘Really sorry about that. Only just saw you in time. Count yourselves very lucky. It's just that there's something really important I've got to do, and I'm in a bit of a hurry.'

Alex looked up into the older man's face. ‘Us too,' he said.

*

Tom didn't have time to give his grandmother an answer. The wind started to howl around them and grit and dust bombarded their faces. They stumbled around as they tried to find cover, only to then be confronted with grass that tried to grip at their ankles. Arms protecting their eyes, they pulled and yanked their feet up high, pulling up stubborn clumps of turf with each step, resembling an ungainly jig.

It was then that Tom realised that they had nothing. All along this adventure they had been able to utilise the things around them, the things that belonged to the real world, in order to keep the perils of the story at bay. But now they were well and truly in it, they had nothing with which to defend themselves. No electric cables, no fire extinguishers, no skipping ropes.

They'd walked right in to Kildark's world and left themselves exposed.

Ben grabbed the collars of both the Hollidays and dragged them away. There was a dip in the earth that he'd seen earlier, a hollow that would offer them some sort of shelter from the dust storm. They dropped down into the dip. Thankfully the terrain was more sandy here and the creeping grass had less opportunity to take hold.

‘What do we do?' shouted Tom. ‘What have we got?'

Through squinting eyes they looked from one to the other, searching for inspiration. There was only one object that had made its mark so far that had travelled into Greensphere with them. Grandma Patty held up her walking stick with an air of triumph. ‘I think this means it's my time.' She pointed to one of her stickers.

‘Hawkwind?' asked Tom.

‘Nothing wrong with a bit of space rock! Give us a leg-up, Ben!' With a bit of a heave, Ben pushed Patty out of the hollow. She stood on the lip, and with a lunge forward, thrust her stick up into the sky.

It was unmistakeable, although something that Ben could safely say was a sensation he had never felt before. Even so, unmistakeable.

It was the beating of wings.

Like a blast from giant bellows, clean and crisp air rushed past them and took the storm with it. Somehow Patty remained on her feet as the pulse from invisible giant wings buffeted her with wave after wave. Ben and Tom looked up over the edge of the dip, their faces level with her Converse boots, and saw that the storm was all but gone.

And saw the Kildark creature howl in frustration ahead of them.

Ben laughed. ‘She's something else, your grandma!'

‘Yeah, she is,' replied Tom, as he clambered up to join her. ‘That was pretty cool, Grandma.'

‘Nah. It was a breeze!'

Their eyes turned to Kildark. His makeshift office had completely disappeared, save for the desk that had somehow managed to stay in place, with all the adornments still on it. He stood in front of it, guarding it.

Patty reached into the top of her tie-dyed shirt. ‘The other thing we've got from our adventure is this.' She pulled out a cord that had the key on it that they'd found in the cracked rock of the fountain. ‘I'll wager that opens that little silver box.'

‘Maybe,' said Tom. ‘But it already opened the box that had the ivory dagger in it.'

‘So you're still assuming this is a normal key?' She shoved it back into her clothes. ‘Come on!' They marched off in Kildark's direction.

By unhappy coincidence, the thing that had once been a man had in its oversized hand the very dagger that was normally sheathed in an ivory tusk, and that had once been buried in Ben Field's stomach. At the sight of it, Ben could feel a twinge in his gut, but didn't know whether or not that was just because of the association or whether it meant something terrible was about to happen.

Kildark exposed his piranha teeth as he grinned. He pointed the dagger at the three of them and yelled: ‘Kill them!'

For a few seconds nothing happened, almost to the point where it was going to feel a little awkward and nervous laughter would inevitably take over, but then there were battle cries from behind them and from the sides.

They whirled round to see three distinct mobs approaching them, like they'd been lured in and caught in a pincer movement. They were largely men, but with one or two women, all with furiously angry faces but the lifeless eyes they had seen in Mrs Aziram. Only, there had been just one of her, and there was probably fifteen or so of these.

They were dressed rather smartly for maniac hordes, albeit dusted with the storm and splashed with blotches of infested mud. They also brandished metal sticks, mainly raised above their heads, ready to crash down on their victims' skulls.

They're golf clubs
, thought Ben, as he braced himself for attack. He dodged to the left as a zombified golfer swung his club into the ground where he'd just been stood. The grass caught up around the club's head, which meant the owner struggled to lift it back up. It gave Ben the second he needed to punch the golfer in the face and send him flying into the hollow.
Into a bunker!
realised Ben.

Then a pair of arms grabbed him from behind. He struggled and shrugged them off, but it meant he'd taken his eye away from what was in front of him. The head of a club caught him on the forehead and blurred his thinking. A white bolt of pain seemed to split his head in two.

Patty was duelling with three golfers at once, much in the same way as she had taken on the head teacher. She focused hard on her stick and tried to ignore the ache in her hip. It thrummed with power in her hands, and every blow she landed was a successful one. Still, if she defeated three, three more soon filled their places, and the original attackers did not stay down for long. Her hip felt worse. She soldiered on through gritted teeth.

Tom found that being right in the thick of the story, right in the heart of it, gave his legs supernatural agility and strength. He instinctively knew that he could spring away from attacks, leap over his assailants if necessary, and if he managed to land a kick, well, they went flying. The thing that
he
had brought with him into the story was the power to walk, run, hop, skip and jump, and it meant he was managing to elude capture and keep the golfers at bay with impressive dexterity.
But that's all I am doing,
he thought.
Keeping them at bay. And they keep coming back.
He somersaulted over an onrushing lady golfer.
How do we finish this?

Then he felt the sharp jab of a club in his back, and his legs went from under him.

Patty took a blow to the forearm which made it difficult for her to raise her stick. She switched it to her left hand, but it just wasn't as potent. They were smashing it back with increasing fury. Her knuckles throbbed from repeated whacks and hits.

Ben's eyes were watering. He'd been struck just behind the ear, and although he'd wrestled a club from one of his attackers and was swinging gamely, his co-ordination and balance were affected, and a crack to the knee – from an overweight man in a diamond-patterned sweater – landed him on his backside. Two golfers jumped at his shoulders and pinned him down.

He knew the others were being beaten too. This was it.

As he thrashed in vain on the floor, grass wrapping itself around his limbs, Kildark loomed over him. He passed the curved blade from hand to hand. ‘I think it's time to finish what I started earlier. Your interference with this story is just about done.'

A golfer tore at Ben's clothes, exposing his chest and his throat. Kildark cackled. ‘Let's see you heal from this!'

The air suddenly filled with noise; the shriek of a horn and the reverberating squeal of a straining engine. From over a hump in the landscape a bright blue double-decker roared into vision. It crashed down yards from Ben, sending golfers scrambling for cover. Its front wheels bounced up as it righted itself. The brakes joined the cacophony of noise as it slid to a halt, but not before striking the fleeing Kildark and sending him cart-wheeling backwards.

Ben sat up, tearing himself away from the grass. He glanced up at the front of the bus.
Not In Service
was written across the information window, along with the number:
000
.

Ben's father, dressed in his driver's uniform, stepped off the bus. ‘You look like you're in a spot of bother, Benedict.'

Ben picked up his club and took a swipe at a marauding golfer, knocking him off his feet. ‘How on earth did you find me, Dad?'

Dan appeared on the first step of the bus behind his grandfather, holding up his iphone. ‘I got your signal, Dad!'

A golfer made a lunge for the bus doors. ‘Careful, Daniel!' said Jimmy Fields, flicking out a swift jab and knocking the dull-eyed man out cold.

Then they stepped off and all the Fields' men were reunited. Ben lifted his son off his feet and squeezed him hard. ‘Take it easy, Dad!'

‘We felt it, Benedict,' said Jimmy. ‘We felt your trouble. And for once you needed our help.'

Ben put his son down carefully, taking in every dimension of his face. Then he acknowledged what his own father had told him. ‘Thanks a lot, but it's not over yet! Help me get these good people safe!'

Together they helped to throw golfers away from Patty and Tom Holliday. Patty struggled a little to her feet and for once used her stick for its original purpose. Tom had found the strength in his legs again though. ‘This is great!' he said. ‘Three of you!'

‘And a couple more!' said Dan, gesturing to the vehicle.

As the golfers gathered themselves again and got ready for another charge, Alex and Charlotte Holliday jumped off the bus. Alex had a metal pole in both hands; the washing line posts from the cottage garden. He dashed over to Tom and thrust one into his boy's hands. ‘George's metal staff, son. You must have forgotten it.'

Tom grinned up at his dad. ‘You read it! Thanks!'

They turned around and faced a line of golfers together, pushing forward with the posts held out, driving them back with their metal barriers.

With more foes to contend with, whatever spark of reason that remained in their addled minds made the golfers hover with indecision. They hung back, tottering, waiting for a command.

Kildark had been down, but not out. He strode forward, not a mark on him from his impact with the bus. He flicked his long fingers and the golfers scurried away. ‘If you want something doing…'

He glared round at the assembled company. ‘Well isn't this just wonderful? Everyone rallying round, helping each other out at their time of need.'

‘It's over,' said Patty. ‘You've thrown everything you've got at us, turned our worlds upside down.' She swept a hand at the landscape. ‘Changed it even – but here we still stand.'

Kildark smirked. ‘If you can call it standing. How's that hip, old woman? That stick just about holding you up?'

‘I'll live.'

‘Yes, well we shall very much have to see about that. The boy has the book that I want and I am about to tear it from his clutches, and there is nothing any of you can do to stop me.'

‘We can fight,' said Alex, raising the metal pole.

Kildark held out a hand and rubbed thumb and forefinger together. The pole in Alex's hands glowed red. Alex dropped it with a yelp and then shoved his scorched hands under his armpits. The red-eyed man-creature laughed.

‘You can't fight me! I have toyed with you so far. You have been good sport, all of you, but now I grow bored and wish to move on to my next game: taking over this mundane little world of yours.'

They were stood in a rough line, with Tom in the middle. Kildark stepped towards him. ‘We can do this without pain, little boy. Just hand me that book.'

Charlotte stepped in front of her son, but Tom reassured her. ‘It's okay, Mum. I know what to do.' With an arm, he eased her back in line, but then he took her hand and gripped it tight.

She looked down at him. ‘I'm so proud of you, Tom.'

Kildark stepped closer. ‘No more fighting, little boy.'

Tom nodded. ‘That's right: no more fighting. That's because fighting can't beat you.'

Kildark opened his palms in a gesture of agreement.

Tom nudged his dad and made an offer for one of his burnt hands. He took it carefully. ‘Keep going,' Tom whispered.

Alex looked to his left, and, smiling, took his mother's hand.

Tom glanced back at his own mother. She saw what was happening and reached out for Daniel's hand.

‘You see,' continued Tom. ‘I remembered how I made George and Helena beat you in the story, and it wasn't with war.' They were all holding hands now, all eight of them. Taking nervous steps to curve the line, they started to surround Kildark.

‘Oh please!' said Kildark, watching them circle him. ‘You think this is
something?
You think this will
work?
Come on, allow me.' He reached out for Jimmy's and Ben's arms, grabbing them before they could pull away. ‘Don't be scared!' he said as they struggled against him. He thrust their hands together, completing the link, the circle formed around him. ‘There you go, hold hands. Let's have some more of that silly family bonding that you all seem so fond of.' He glanced around at the ring around him. ‘Now you can do a dance, or sing, or whatever you had in mind.'