“We’ve still got time,” I murmured
Justin’s fingertips hovered over mine. “If you believe that, Oh, why are your hands shaking?”
I dreamed again that night and woke up with my mother’s voice ringing in my ears and Justin’s arms around my shoulders.
“He’s hungry for the world,” I muttered.
“What does that mean?” Carefully, as if he thought I’d bite him, Justin smoothed my hair out of my eyes.
“I don’t know.” I shuddered and gripped his arm. “But if someone in the V club wasn’t involved in your death, I’ll be an appetiser.”
“What’s going on?” I clutched my Oyster Card, unwilling to commit to swiping it. The bus was packed with more than double the usual number of commuters.
The driver glared at me, obviously harassed and impatient to be moving. “Central Line’s down.”
I glanced at the door, wondering whether to jump back off again, but a crowd had gathered behind me, anxious to get to work. I’d have to shove my way through them and there could be ghosts anywhere. I hugged my chest and my pulse pounded. My hand felt as if it was bleeding, as though the Mark were a real injury, worsening with every hour. I had told Justin we had plenty of time but I didn’t believe it. I couldn’t take another Mark.
But was it safer to stay on the crowded bus, or try and get to school another way?
My breath shortened and a sharp pain in my chest made me drop my bag. I felt as if I was being buried alive, as if grains of sand filled my mouth and nose, and pressed down on suddenly aching limbs. I gasped for air.
“Get a move on.” Angry voices shouted from outside and the people began to press in on me. I couldn’t stay on the bus, it was too crowded: I’d suffocate.
Wobbling, I scooped up my bag and backed out of the vehicle, earning myself an angry tut from the driver and furious grunts from the commuters I shoved aside in my rush to escape.
I could barely see, but I had to watch every face, I had to see who wasn’t carrying a briefcase when they ought to be, who was reaching for me through the mass of heaving shoulders.
It was too much, how could I check every single face?
A pointed heel came down on my foot and I cried out. Tears worsened the situation even more. Finally I burst through the crowd and yanked my bag out behind me. It came free with a suddenness that knocked me off my feet, but I still scrabbled backwards in the pavement grime, desperate to be away from the crowd and find clear air.
But the air didn’t clear, my chest continued to thump with the panicked hammer of my heart and I couldn’t take a breath without feeling as if I was stabbing myself in the lungs. The world started to go grey, but I couldn’t let it. I had to keep watching, had to keep away from the ghosts.
I gripped my chest, as if that would free me from the weight that bore down on me. It didn’t help. Was I having a heart attack? What happened if I died and I was still carrying a Mark?
“Taylor, what’s going on?” The voice was familiar and I focused on it gratefully. I couldn’t answer. All I could do was keep trying to breathe and forcing my heart to keep beating.
“I think I’ve seen this before, OK, my aunt used to do this.”
I shook my head, still unable to see past the grey veil that had covered the world. “My heart,” I rasped.
“You’re having a panic attack, Tay. You have to keep breathing.”
“Trying,” I gasped.
“You need a paper bag or something. But I can’t get you anything, you have to do this yourself.”
“Too many people.” I was blind and I could be surrounded by ghosts with no way to know and no way to run. My pulse fluttered like a hummingbird in flight and in the distance a dog barked angrily.
“Tay, listen to me, I’m not going to let anything happen to you. There aren’t any ghosts right now, I’m watching. You just have to concentrate on breathing.”
“J-Justin?” I inhaled desperately. It had to be him; he was the only one who knew about the ghosts.
“It’s me. Come on, Tay, in and out, in and out.” He grabbed my hand and squeezed it as he took over responsibility for making me breathe. He was going to keep the ghosts away. I was safe.
Gradually my pulse slowed and my heart started to beat more ponderously. As the sand receded from my mouth and nose, my vision cleared and I saw him watching me with concerned eyes.
“Freak.”
As the world came back into focus I saw that I was blocking part of the path, businessmen were stepping over me to get to the bus queue. Muttered insults propelled me to my feet. I grabbed my bag and staggered to a bench. Justin followed, his eyes darting, taking seriously his promise to keep the ghosts at bay.
I sagged onto the sun-warmed slats. “What are you doing here?” I rubbed my eyes, ashamed that he’d seen my breakdown.
Justin took one final look around then sat beside me. “I’ve been walking you to school, alright. Just, you know, making sure you were OK. Keeping the others back.”
I blinked. “Others?”
He nodded. “There’ve been one or two like me. I ran them off.”
“I didn’t know.”
“I didn’t want you to.”
We sat side by side in the sunshine.
“I guess I’d better get to school. I’ll miss first period even if I walk fast.” I hoisted my bag on my shoulder. “Are you coming with?”
Justin grinned and his hair caught the light, like black gold. “I’ll take you to the gates.”
As we walked, the final entry in Oh-Fa’s journal kept pace with us. I heard it in a blend of Justin’s voice and my mother’s and knew for certain that it would not be much longer before I had my answers.
It is over.
I am alone in the camp with no map to show me the way back to civilisation. I will finish this journal. Then I will pack my treasure with what provisions I can and attempt to make it home. Although I do not deserve to see my daughter I will owe her an explanation when the time comes.
As I finished my last journal entry the Professor entered the tent and forced me outside.
“Murderer.” I spoke with fervour.
The Professor gestured with the gun. “I don’t care about that. As for you, die out here, or take your chances in there. And don’t even think about turning on me, unless you think you can find the way back to civilisation alone.”
Left with no choice I reluctantly took the gun. Then, half in a daze, I pressed my right palm to the back of the Professor’s hand. An unnatural effervescence seethed beneath my skin and when I pulled my hand free, the Mark imprinted by the Sunbird’s touch was gone. Now it lay over the Professor’s tendons like a spider pressed in a natural scientist’s book.
The Professor gestured impatiently. “Get on with it.”
Fearfully I looked into the shadow coating the fourth step. Then I frowned at the mathematics of the situation; hadn’t I been able to see five steps before?
And now there were only three. The shadows were advancing.
The Professor, determined to send me into the tomb, shoved me from behind. I wriggled sideways and pointed to draw his attention to the Darkness that now spilled into the camp.
Titus barked. He scampered towards the living shadow that blotted out a body length of sand and stopped at its edge, claws working furiously to keep him out of the boundary. He snarled continuously, a low sound of menace, and the Professor retreated. “What is it?”
I shook my head and watched the Darkness follow the Professor’s movement.
For his part the Professor ran for his tent. “Make it stop.” At his feet blackness reared like smoke, thicker and darker than the smog I had seen on my journey through London.