Through the Tiger's Eye (11 page)
The tall one stopped staring at the gun and moved closer to the window. Something about the way he held his body, peering through the bars at the dawn light, reminded Lucy of a catapult, stretched tight, aching for release.
Then Lucy realised what was wrong: where were the other children she had seen being marched through the gates? In a rush, that urgent, hunting feeling was strong again. Instinctively, she headed for the door and down the hallway towards where her own room would be if she were at home. No dragon vases stood guard but the door at the end was unmistakable. She opened the door – and then saw why no one had bothered to lock it.
An enormous wooden contraption, like a picture frame, took up one whole wall of the room. Sleeping children lay curled together like puppies on the bare floor in front of it, each wearing a collar around the neck. With a jolt, Lucy saw they were chained to the bottom of the frame.
Only one was awake, standing in the centre of the room, as close to the open door as her chain would allow. She had intense dark eyes and matted dreadlocks, and was wearing a sack like a toga. Suddenly, as a shaft of sun lit up the room, a tiger appeared next to her. A tiger rug, just like Lucy’s, was stretched tightly across the wooden frame – but it wasn’t finished. Only half the rug was there. The rest was just a series of criss-crossed threads, ready for wool to be woven through them. Lucy stepped towards the little girl and saw that in her tightly clenched fists she held gold, red and green threads.
She also saw the distinctive diamond pattern of a python winding between the tiger’s paws; and beside it, the bright gold of a monkey, much, much brighter than the monkey on their rug at home.
Rahel appeared at her side.
‘Give me the keys,’ hissed Lucy.
She saw a flash of acknowledgement leap like a spark between Rahel and the little girl, before Rahel turned back to Lucy, holding out the keys. As Lucy’s hand closed on them, Rahel didn’t immediately let go. Her gaze held Lucy’s for a long moment. In her dark eyes, Lucy suddenly saw something she hadn’t understood before: a vast, sad knowledge, and a kind of emptiness, as though Rahel had hollowed herself out to make room for everything she knew.
‘See,’ her look seemed to say as she held out the keys to Lucy, ‘this is what I know’.
She let go of the keys and Lucy dropped her gaze and fumbled, looking for the right one. The little girl touched Lucy’s arm. Her skin felt like paper. She pointed to a key. The padlock snapped open, letting the chain rattle to the floor. Lucy bent to shake the closest slumbering child.
‘Wake up!’ she hissed. ‘We’re getting out of here!’
But the little boy didn’t stir. Lucy felt a touch on her arm again and met the little girl’s eyes. She was shaking her head.
‘They will not wake,’ hissed Rahel. ‘We must come back again. We have run out of time!’ Still holding the gun, she moved to pick up the little girl but Lucy got there first. Holding the tiny body close, she felt the sack, harsh and scratchy, on her skin. She gave the sleeping children another desperate glance, made a silent promise – and ran.
When Lucy reached the hall, Rahel was standing outside, pointing the gun at the slumbering bodies of the soldiers, beckoning Ricardo and Toro and the two strange boys to come past. The tallest hesitated for a few seconds, looking longingly at one of the guards’ guns, but he must have decided it was too risky to grab it from its holster. He kept going. Lucy followed them down the hall, clutching the child in her arms, dodging bodies and bottles. She plunged down the stairs into a pale, eerie dawn.
Ricardo and Toro were waiting at the gate.
‘Ricardo! Get T-Tongue! I left him at the hole in the fence.’ Ricardo looked wonderingly at the girl in her arms, but obeyed her. That was a first. Rahel arrived at the gate and began to padlock it but, on a sudden impulse, Lucy stopped her. She put down the child and pointed at the remaining guard, still snoring near the fire, with empty wine bottles scattered about him.
‘Let’s lock him in.’
Rahel’s eyes widened and she nodded. She signalled the two bigger boys and they all walked back to the guard. Rahel put down her gun and they grabbed his arms and legs. He was out cold. He didn’t stir, even when they accidentally dropped him as they dragged him through the gate.
Lucy picked up the little girl and turned to see Rahel pocketing the keys, the guard locked behind the fence and the gun safely back in her possession. She flashed an unexpected grin at Lucy and then they ran for their lives across the clearing as the sun burst into full light, as bright and clear as a diamond.
From the safety of the jungle, Lucy dared to look back. Staggering to his feet, face pressed incredulously into the wire fence, was a guard about to have the worst hangover of his life. A hangover, but no gun. And no keys. He looked as if he were seeing a ghost: a white-faced ghost in Grandma’s green Ninja pants, carrying a small child. Suddenly elated, Lucy grinned at him and he slid back onto the ground.
But Lucy’s elation was short-lived. On the other side of the clearing, a stumbling figure crashed through the undergrowth. He stood swaying, looking from Lucy to the guard locked up behind the fence, and back again. His eyes locked on Lucy and, as he advanced towards her, arms stretched out like a zombie, Lucy saw clearly a ring of black bruises on his neck. After what that snake had done to him, maybe he
was
a zombie: one of the walking dead. Except he was more like the wobbling dead. He kept staggering off at a tangent and then would turn around in circles until his eyes locked on Lucy again and he kept coming.
Lucy took off and caught up to the others almost straight away, crashing into a bruising tangle of arms, legs and skulls. Ricardo, in the lead, had ground to a halt because the Tiger-cat had leapt out of the jungle directly into his path, forcing a people and puppy pile-up. Bodies were sprawled everywhere, much to the delight of T-Tongue, who was licking Ricardo’s face.
‘Get up! Zombie!’ Lucy screamed. But the only one who seemed to understand was the Tiger-cat, who, tail lashing, sprang off the main trail, onto the overgrown track leading to the tunnel. Lucy would never have found it on her own. She heard a crashing and stumbling from the clearing.
‘He’s coming!’
Lucy, still holding the little girl, grabbed Ricardo’s hand and dragged him to his feet, then plunged into the jungle after the Tiger-cat. Branches whipped at her face but she didn’t stop, desperate to keep up with the Tiger-cat, her eyes locked on the two distinct white spots on the back of each feline ear. If she lost the Tiger-cat, she was sure she would never find the tunnel.
Then heavy raindrops began to fall. Within a few seconds, the bright sun had dimmed and the jungle steamed as rain teemed down. Lucy slid to a halt, struggling to see the tunnel. She heard a low growl and suddenly, there was the Tiger-cat, sitting calmly out of the rain in the black entrance. Lucy skidded gratefully inside and finally let go of Ricardo’s hand. Panting hard, water streaming down their faces, the rest of the ragged party piled in. When Lucy looked back the entrance was closed again. All she could hear was the driving rain, falling just in time to wash away their footprints. All she could smell was the pungent jungle air.
Lucy found her torch and scanned the assembled company. The new boys’ muddy faces revealed exhaustion and fear. That was understandable. They were standing in a big black tunnel to nowhere. The little girl was clinging to Lucy’s leg like a baby koala. Only the animals seemed unconcerned. The Tiger-cat was fastidiously washing itself, licking a paw and rubbing it over ears and face. T-Tongue had finished shaking water over everyone and was sniffing excitedly around the tunnel.
The Tiger-cat stopped cleaning itself, padded up to Lucy, and began rubbing against her legs, purring loudly. The little girl shrank behind Lucy, pressing fearfully against the wall of the tunnel. The Tiger-cat was being affectionate, but nothing could change the fact that it looked like a miniature man-eater. Lucy glanced at Rahel and surprised a smile. She at least looked happy, even though she was wet. And she still had a good grip on that gun.
There was no point standing around. Lucy hoisted the little kid up and began walking. Wet, the sack was even scratchier, and the girl’s hair smelt strongly. She had only taken a few paces, when the black air erupted. Lucy felt a rush of wind and something nameless and horrendous whooshed past, touching her head. She dropped to the ground, her cry bouncing off the walls. The tunnel reverberated with screams from the others, but the child in her arms still didn’t make a sound.
Lucy shone her torch up. What she had thought was a solid brick roof was in fact a huge cavern. Her beam picked out the flapping wings of several huge black bats, before they swept away into the darkness.
‘Great. That’s all we needed. Dracula!’
‘Those creatures touched my head,’ said Rahel’s voice from behind Lucy.
‘Me too!’ yelped Ricardo.
The torch revealed a honeycomb of smaller caves in every corner of the main cavern.
Don’t think about what might be hiding in there
, Lucy told herself. Resolutely, she stood and marched on the main track towards their den. All she could hear was her own ragged breathing and several pairs of scuffling feet. She felt herself calming down. Gradually, her heart stopped pounding. After a while, the sound of their steady footfalls was oddly soothing.
‘Wait for me,’ Rahel’s voice called out, from a long way behind. Lucy stopped and shone the torch backwards. Rahel trudged slowly out of the darkness.
‘I am extremely exhausted,’ she said, as if to excuse herself. ‘It is hard to keep up.’
The dank tunnel air pressed close as the little party moved off again.
Just put one foot in front of the other
, Lucy told herself, as the weight of the little kid began to tell on her arms, but the rhythm was almost hypnotic and Lucy felt her mind drifting. Then something crystallised in her mind:
time and the weirdo things it was doing
. This morning the moon had set too soon, and the sun had come way too early at the jungle jail. And early yesterday morning, when they first came through the tunnel, the sun had only just started to come up at home but it was already broad daylight at the jungle jail, with the sun shining down strongly on her head when she crawled out to get the rope. And it had been so hot! It didn’t add up. Lucy stopped suddenly and Ricardo stomped on her heels.
‘What are you stopping for?’ he said. ‘It’s morning and Grandma will be getting up. And I’m hungry.’
‘Actually, the sun’s not even up,’ Lucy said. Her torch showed the door to the cubby and suddenly the little kid in her arms felt hugely heavy. She put her gently down on a chair and lit all the candles again. The little girl just sat there silently with her big dark eyes fixed, first on Lucy, then on the matches, the candles and the Tiger-cat, washing itself all over again.
The two new kids stole inside too, silent shadows – but not Toro. He had the hang of things. He pounced on the Cocoa Puffs before Ricardo had a chance. Rahel was on the case too. She grabbed plates from the picnic basket and Lucy got out all the spuds and spinach pies. There was silence while everyone looked at the loaded table. Then, as though the food referee had blown a whistle, everyone started eating, even the little girl.
Lucy watched their faces. She decided the little kid looked about three years old, the same age as her nephew Jamie, but remembering how small Toro was for his age, maybe older.
Rahel touched her arm, leaning backwards in her chair to look at Lucy’s face.
‘I must thank you for your presence,’ she said, in her strange formal way, as though she was picking words out of the dictionary. ‘I, too, was very intimidated by the soldiers.’
‘You didn’t look it!’ said Lucy. ‘I thought I was going to wet myself when the Wobbling Ponytail Zombie started chasing us.’
‘Wet yourself?’ Rahel sounded puzzled.
Lucy realised she had blundered and went red.
‘You know, pi— Oh, forget it. I was really
intimidated,
anyway,’ she finished lamely.