He became aware of a light source up ahead, glimmering softly, like an underwater lamp. The light was greenish, swamp-like, and it did not look comforting. It was, however, more promising than this massive darkness through which they were currently trawling, like deep-sea divers cut off from their rope tethers.
They pushed on, and as the light became closer — that’s how it felt; like the light was drawing near to them, rather than the other way round — he felt Simon’s hand flailing at his own before grappling with his fingers and gripping him tightly.
“It’s okay, mate,” he said, not feeling okay at all. “I’ve got you.” Yes, he had. Simon and Brendan had him… but who the hell had Brendan? Was he also holding somebody’s hand? Someone who was not one of them? Was he being dragged towards the green light, trusting in some spectre to lead them to safety?
The three men stumbled into the green light, as if they’d entered a doorway and emerged from the sea onto dry land. Marty expected to be dripping wet. He even ran a hand across his shaved head, as if he were drying his scalp.
“Where are we?” Simon voiced the question for the three of them, much as he’d been the self-appointed mouthpiece of the gang in his youth.
Around them, all they could see were trees. A thick, dense screen of leaves and interlocking branches, through which was filtered that odd green light. Marty glanced around him; the patch of concrete they were standing on was surrounded on all sides by mirrors, reflecting trees that were not there: ghost trees, a phantom forest, a wilderness of the imagination.
“This can’t be real.” Brendan sounded as if he were trying to convince himself. “It’s not… it’s a dream.”
“I can’t speak for you two,” said Marty, “but I’m wide awake.”
As Marty watched, a shape flitted through the trees. Or, more precisely, it moved quickly through the open space beyond the trees. He could not make out what it was, but the shape was small and agile. When he saw it again, he became convinced that it was standing upright, on two legs. Yet it did not seem entirely human.
Almost there…
“Jesus.” He was afraid, yes, but beneath the fear was a sort of relief: they’d come a long way for this, and if they had encountered something normal, something natural, it would have been anticlimactic. To confront the weird, the magical, made sense. This was what they’d all expected, after their nightmares had gradually worn away at their sense of reality over the past few days.
“Where are we?” This time it was Brendan, and he sounded like a child, a little boy lost in the woods.
The clicking sound had stopped as soon as they’d entered the green light, and it had not resumed. Perhaps this was a place of safety, somewhere they could regroup and think about what they should do next. The light shimmered, as if the branches shifted in a breeze, and despite the feeling of being shut in, and the mirrored screens, Marty felt certain that they were near a portal that would allow them to enter another place, a place that was outside.
But how can that be? he thought. How can we be outside and inside at the same time?
The light flickered through the gaps in the greenery. The shape — the figure, because that’s surely what it was — moved at the periphery of his vision, more slowly this time, as if it wanted to be seen.
“What is that?” Simon moved a couple of paces to his left and raised his hand. The green light dappled his skin. “There’s somebody there.”
Brendan moved, too: he turned and faced the two of them. “It’s a girl,” he said, his face reflecting green. “It’s the girl. It’s Hailey.”
The space in which they stood seemed to surge and swell, as if the revelation had triggered some kind of response. The area grew larger, its boundaries pushed away to allow them more room to manoeuvre. The darkness was forced back where it could not reach them.
The girl’s face manifested in the leaves, becoming clearer as Marty stared. It was as if her features were forming from the vegetation, her eyes and nose, her small, curved mouth, her hair, all coming together organically from the life around her. She was smiling. Her eyes were green, like tiny round leaves.
“Hello again,” said Simon. His hand — still raised — hovered in the air like a bird: a pale, pink hummingbird.
The girl’s smile grew wider.
“It’s been a long time.” Simon sounded relaxed. It seemed that he was taking all this in his stride, simply accepting the weirdness in a way that Marty could only envy. He clutched at his side. His passenger was moving again, straining at the envelope of his skin.
“Hello, boys,” said the girl. Her voice held the traces of a faint buzzing sound. Again, Marty thought about the sound of hummingbird wings — a light rasping quality which was not at all unpleasant. He’d definitely heard that voice before; the same words had come from her mouth twenty years ago, when she’d appeared at their side, holding back the darkness just as she was doing now, but by less sophisticated means.
“What are we supposed to do?” Marty said.
“I’m afraid you’re stuck there.” She smiled again.
“Stuck where? Where exactly are we?” Brendan said.
“Where you are isn’t where I am. I’m here on one side, and you’re on the other. But the place you’re standing is in between. It’s not one place or another. It’s no place, really.” She moved backwards, and only then did Marty realise that the soft buzzing sound was not in her voice: it came from her wings. The girl — Hailey — was hovering in place on oversized hummingbird wings, but they were the same colour and texture as the trees behind her.
“How can we get where you are? We have business over there, you see.” Again Simon’s voice was calm; he must have detached himself from the moment in order to deal with the situation.
“You need a doorway. The last time, you were the doorway — all three of you. Your hurt and your pain, the fact that you all yearned for something more than what you had, something better, allowed you to set foot here.” She was still smiling. It was beautiful. “But that doesn’t work this time. It needs something more.”
“And where is ‘here’?”
She shook her head. “Oh, where I am has many names. I suppose the best way to explain is to tell you a little story.” She moved closer towards them, away from the screen of trees — which, Marty now realised, was thin, only two-dimensional. “Are you all listening?”
Marty nodded. His friends did not speak, so he assumed they’d done the same. They were all hypnotised by this beautiful girl, and her wondrous smile, and her amazing wings…
“Listen,” she said. Then she told them her tale:
“When the first man dreamed, this place was born. It has no name, yet mankind has called it many things. We who dwell here call it Loculus — ‘little place’. There are no other places, not really. There is only here.
“Loculus. The little place.
“This place is a container for dreams, a burial niche for them when they have nowhere else to go. Whenever you have a dream, or an idea, and nothing comes of it, that energy comes here. All energy is neutral in Loculus, and for a long time a sense of balance was achieved. Then human dreams turned sour; as Man evolved, became stronger, his dreams turned grander, and more foolish, and more easily spoiled. A lot of them went sour, like a vat of milk left out in the sun.”
Marty felt a small, empty part of him fill up with this knowledge. He knew that the girl’s story was true.