The devils footsteps, p.14
The Devil's Footsteps, page 14
Adam sighed. ‘Why did you come here, Bryan?’ he asked, sounding resigned instead of angry now. And that hurt even worse.
‘For . . .’ Bryan trailed off. There had been an answer to that question once, hadn’t there? Reasons, a purpose, something he was sure of. Looking into his brother’s face for the first time in five years, all that had faded away.
‘You don’t know.’ Adam smiled faintly in cynical amusement, and sat down.
‘Why are you here?’ Bryan found himself asking.
Adam spread his hands and indicated himself. ‘I got nowhere else to be, Bry.’
‘But you’re . . . but you’re dead. You’re gone. Passed on.’
‘I’m not passing anywhere, buddy, I’m stuck right here.’
‘Stuck . . .’ Bryan’s jaw tightened. ‘The Dark Man.’ The steel of his resolve began to return as he remembered the true reason for his return to the woods.
‘Him . . . and you,’ Adam told him quietly.
‘Me? Adam, I didn’t— I—’
‘I’m not really dead, Bry,’ his brother told him. ‘You know that. The Dark Man’s got no power, not if you don’t give it to him. He makes the world that you believe in. And you don’t believe I’m really dead.’
‘I know you are,’ Bryan objected. Of course he knew it; he knew it in every breath, every nightmare, every second of memory. Every footstep that could no longer be taken without the Dark Man’s rhyme returning to him.
‘You know it’ – Adam shrugged and smiled – ‘but you don’t believe it.’
‘I believe it,’ he said slowly.
‘And yet you’re sitting here talking to me.’
‘You’re . . . you’re not—’
‘Not what? Not real?’ Adam asked mildly. ‘Do you actually still believe in real and not real, after everything that’s happened? You should know better.’
Bryan frowned. ‘What . . . what do you mean?’
‘What’s real, Bry?’ Adam asked. ‘Me, you? The Dark Man? This clearing? Any of it?’
‘I’m real,’ said Bryan, although it was the only one on that list he could be truly confident of.
‘You mean you think you’re real.’
‘Isn’t that enough?’
Adam snorted. ‘OK, we’ll say you’re real. What about the rest of it?’ He leaned forward. ‘Tell me what’s real, Bryan.’
Bryan saw his own face reflected in the eyes of his brother. The two were an echo, even more alike than they’d been five years ago. He wondered if his parents had seen the resemblance. He wondered if it hurt.
He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling a desperate urge to block it all out for just a second. ‘I’m real,’ he repeated, more firmly. He opened his eyes again. ‘And this is real.’ He stood up, and looked around at the clearing. ‘Maybe not what we see, but . . . everything. What happened. That’s real. You were here, and then you were gone, and maybe that’s partly my fault or maybe it isn’t, but you were gone. And you’re never coming back.’
Adam stood with him, and smiled again. ‘So that’s reality, is it? Sounds like a fun place to live.’
‘It’s been a barrel of laughs,’ said Bryan dryly.
‘So make it different.’
‘I can’t,’ he snapped, frowning.
‘Sure you can.’ Adam held out his hand, palm upwards. ‘This is the Dark Man’s place, Bryan. He decides what’s gonna be real. I’m part of his world now. If you kill him, you kill me for ever.’
Bryan shook his head, a short, sharp gesture of denial. ‘You’re already dead.’
‘I don’t have to be. He bends reality, but you get to shape it. You can make it different. You can make it so it was always different. He makes the whole world look away from Redford; you think he can’t do the same for you and me?’
His hand was still held out, unwavering. Bryan looked at him, silent, unmoving.
‘Take my hand, Bryan. Take my hand and walk away, and it can all be like it never was. Just take my hand.’
Bryan looked at him. And Adam smiled.
XXIX
Adam’s eyes were huge in the glowing sunlight. His lips were slightly parted in a mischievous smile, the one that always made you grin right back even though you knew it meant he was plotting some kind of trouble.
And Bryan looked at his outstretched hand and thought, It can all be like it never was.
Would it really be that easy? Was this his prize for coming here and facing down the Dark Man?
Facing down the Dark Man? When did you do that? You haven’t finished—
He didn’t need to finish. He’d come here to lay the memories of his brother to rest, and instead he’d found something greater, something it would never have occurred to him to hope for. The chance to put the clock back and change those five years to the way they ought to have been.
Five years without the guilt and the nightmares and the jumping at shadows. Five years with parents who remembered things, who cared, who acted as if they were alive. Five years growing up with Adam.
It was such a fragile fantasy that he hardly dared imagine it for fear he might break it. A world where Adam’s room was a place you were shouted at for entering, not a warped kind of museum with everything in boxes. A world where Adam’s old bike in the garage had been casually tossed out, because after all it was only a bike. Maybe there would be a new one in its place, a racer, fit for a boy of fifteen.
He and Adam would be at school together. Adam would be two years above him, thinking about his exams – except Adam wouldn’t be thinking about them, because he never did. And there’d be homework, and the two of them would both be at the table at eight o’clock in the morning, furiously scribbling maths answers over their Cheerios because they hadn’t done them the night before. There wouldn’t be any homework done the night before, because Bryan wouldn’t need to do it – he wouldn’t need that excuse to hide himself away in his bedroom, that desperate search for anything that might stave off the dark thoughts.
He and Adam would always have better things to do than homework, even if they were stuck indoors. They’d probably have a computer, or the latest games console, because their parents would still care about things like Christmas and birthday presents.
The house would never be silent as the grave; Adam had never been able to deal with silence. He’d have music – some kind of loud, pulsing music, probably chart stuff because Adam was in with the in-crowd. And Bryan would have his own music too, and he wouldn’t use his headphones to block the world out as he did now; he’d increase the volume to compete with Adam until their parents yelled at them both to turn it down.
Their parents would shout up the stairs for them to come for dinner the way they always used to, instead of his father’s quiet, unassuming shuffle to his bedroom door. There would be four places at the dinner table, and a person to fill each of them. They would never eat in silence, but in a storm of continual chatter, stupid jokes and moans and groans about the dreadful days they’d all had.
Except they would never be really dreadful days – he knew what those were like, and in his world with Adam there wouldn’t be any.
Most of all, with his brother by his side again he’d never be so completely isolated as he had been. For five years he’d drifted through the world like a ghost, seeing people, even talking to people, but not touching them, not really connecting with them. Other people lived in the world, but Bryan was only passing through, unable to find any kind of anchor, anything to make him solid again. In all that time, he’d never felt any more alive than Adam was.
Not all that time. He remembered, almost with a start, that the past couple of days had been different. He’d met Smokey and Jake, people who were bound to him, people who lived in the same half-real world as he did. There had been laughter, and sparks, and the adrenaline of actually doing something, having a goal, something to fight for.
He felt a pang, but then he reminded himself that there was no reason that had to go away. It wasn’t as if bringing Adam back would make them disappear. If they remembered him in his new, Adam-occupied world, they’d still be his friends, they’d be happy for him. And if they didn’t remember . . . well, he could make friends with them again. Somehow he knew instinctively it would be easy, this time round.
Adam was still looking at him, eyebrows cocked in a faintly quizzical look. Bryan’s heart was suddenly grasped by the fear that if he thought too long about this offer, it might be cruelly snatched away from him, and he raised his hand to take Adam’s . . .
And stopped.
‘What?’ said Adam, sounding more surprised and amused than irritated with him.
And Bryan suddenly remembered.
Smokey, Jake . . . Nina. Lucy Swift. Jeanne Wilder. A thousand other names that he didn’t know and probably never would. Names meticulously noted down in Jake’s binder of maps and clippings. Names emblazoned on the front pages of newspapers, pictures stuck up on telegraph poles and the doors of the mall.
Slowly, he drew his hand away from Adam’s. ‘I . . . this isn’t why I came,’ he said hesitantly.
‘What?’ Adam’s face contorted in confusion, and the first signs of annoyance. ‘What the hell does that mean?’
Bryan backed away a few steps, shaking his head. ‘This isn’t why I came, Adam,’ he said painfully. ‘It’s not what this was about.’
‘It’s not about this?’ Adam was shouting now. ‘It was always about this! What do you mean, it’s not what you came here for? You came here for me!’
‘Yes. I did,’ Bryan agreed slowly. ‘I came here for you.’ He took another, firmer step away. ‘And that’s where we’re going wrong, because you’ve got me thinking like I came here for me.’
Adam followed him, grey eyes dark and blazing. ‘You’re not making sense.’
‘Maybe not, but I think I’m right.’ He carried on edging backwards. ‘I didn’t come here to make it better, Adam. I didn’t come so we could stick a bit of plaster over the wounds and pretend it never happened. I came here to make it stop.’
‘You can do that,’ Adam told him earnestly. ‘You can put it back the way it was.’
‘I know. But that’s no good. It has to be better than the way it was.’
The Dark Man’s deal was so tempting . . . to have Adam back, to live his life the way it always should have been . . . but that wasn’t enough, was it? That didn’t bring it to an end. He would be OK again, but what about everybody else? All the other families who’d lost people, all the others who were going to lose people . . .
He could have Adam back. He could have Adam back, but only if he gave up the battle; only if he turned round and walked away. Only if he left the Dark Man to continue as he’d always done, stealing Redford’s children, sucking the life and soul out of the town.
Adam’s eyes narrowed. ‘You don’t want me back. That’s what you’re saying.’
‘I can’t have you back,’ Bryan said, the words hurting as much as he knew they were true. ‘That’s what I’m saying.’
‘You can,’ Adam insisted urgently. ‘Bry, aren’t you even listening to me?’
‘I’m listening,’ he said slowly. ‘I’m listening even harder than you think I am.’ He stopped. ‘If the Dark Man dies, so do you – that’s what you said.’
‘I’m in his world now, Bryan,’ Adam reminded him. ‘Only you can pull me out.’
‘And I can only do it if I walk away and let him go. That’s right, isn’t it? That’s the price. There’s no way to get rid of him without . . .’ He faltered slightly. ‘Without getting rid of you.’
Whatever shadow of Adam lingered in this place, whether it was false or real, it was all that he had left. If he should somehow truly wipe the Dark Man out, remove his influence from the town for ever . . . then Adam would be lost too. He couldn’t be free of the Dark Man without giving up everything he had left of his brother.
‘Let him go?’ Adam echoed in disbelief. ‘Bryan, what the hell d’you think you’re doing? You think you can fight him?’
‘I think I am fighting him,’ Bryan said quietly. ‘Thirteen steps, Adam.’
Thirteen steps to the Dark Man’s door, won’t be turning back no more. The line that had echoed through his mind a thousand times, a million, suddenly sounded different. That was what he’d been doing all this time: turning back, retreating into the past. Living the same sunny afternoon, again and again and again. Locked in a circle.
Just as those kids who’d been murdered all those years ago had been locked in their last moments, reliving the nightmare even beyond death. They’d pulled the whole town with them into the terror of living under the shadow of the Dark Man. Because they couldn’t let go.
Sooner or later, somebody had to let go.
He looked across at Adam. ‘The Dark Man makes everybody face their greatest fears – well, I know what mine is. I’m afraid of admitting it’s over. It’s over, Adam. It’s over, you’re dead, and it’s too late. It doesn’t matter how many times I drag myself back here, I’m not gonna be able to save you. And it’s time to stop trying.’
‘You’re giving up?’ said Adam harshly.
‘I’m moving on.’ Bryan looked at his brother, and smiled sadly. ‘I’m sorry, Adam. I’m sorrier than you’ll ever know. But I didn’t kill you, and it’s not my fault, and I can’t bring you back. I’m sorry.’
He turned away. And took the final step.
XXX
There was a rushing sensation in his ears and in his head, as if he were falling from a great height. Flashes of images assailed him, too fast to be sure if they were real or only his mind painting random shapes. Memories of Adam, moments with Smokey and Jake, nightmares of the Dark Man . . .
Suddenly it was dark. He couldn’t tell if he was in a huge open space or trapped in a tiny enclosure; the air itself felt heavy, pressing tightly down on him as if he were buried in sand. None of his senses could tell him anything . . . and yet somehow he knew he wasn’t alone. He could sense them out there, a crowd huddled around him like fascinated children.
Because they were children. Children who’d never grown up, but had stayed behind, trapped in their own pain. Trapping everybody else in their pain.
‘Listen to me,’ Bryan said hoarsely. His own voice sounded odd to him, and he wasn’t entirely sure he was truly speaking aloud. ‘You have to . . . This has to stop. It’s done, OK?’ His voice cracked slightly as he thought of Adam. ‘I came here, and I walked along the steps, and . . . I did it. I made it here to find the secret. But that’s not . . . that’s not enough. The Dark Man is here because you’re holding him here. Like I’m holding Adam here. And it’s never gonna end unless you let go.’
His words fell into endless silence, swallowed up. He had no way of telling if anyone or anything was listening.
‘Something terrible happened, and it kept you here,’ he continued. ‘Like it’s keeping me here. It’s been five years and I haven’t gone anywhere. Just . . . living the same thing over and over again, because if you keep going back then it’s not over; it’s not forgotten, either. But you can’t keep living it over and over. You can’t just stay in the same place for ever. Sooner or later somebody has to move.’ Still silence.
‘I don’t want to leave Adam behind,’ he said raggedly. ‘I don’t want to. But I can’t . . .’ He bit his lip. ‘There’s nothing else I can do. I can’t keep coming back. This isn’t the way it’s supposed to be. And I don’t know what happens when you die, and I don’t know where you go or if you’re supposed to go anywhere. But you’re not supposed to be here. As long as you hold onto it, it’s just gonna keep happening, and nobody can get out. I can’t live and you can’t die, and nobody’s going anywhere.’
He fell silent, breathing heavily. ‘Sooner or later, you’ve got to get back up on the trail and go somewhere,’ he said softly.
Bryan stepped forward, feeling as if he were trying to shoulder his way through something almost solid. Abruptly, the pressure ceased, and he fell forward into bright sunshine.
Hands caught him by the elbows. As Smokey and Jake helped him up, he suddenly felt compelled to suck in air, as if he’d been living on low oxygen without even knowing it.
‘What happened?’ Jake asked urgently.
Bryan blinked at him, still off-balance. His eyes were blurry with after-images, and it took a moment to focus clearly in the afternoon sunshine. ‘What did you see?’ he asked.
‘Nothing!’ Jake’s eyes narrowed. ‘You just . . . walked across the stones. Going really slowly, and wobbling like crazy – I thought you were going to fall off.’
‘I nearly did,’ he admitted quietly.
Bryan lurched and nearly fell flat on his face as Smokey abruptly let go of his arm, rushing over to his sister. ‘Nina! You OK?’ he asked urgently. The younger girl was stirring as if gradually pulling herself out of a dream.
For a second Nina’s eyes were unfocused, and then they cleared. ‘Stephen? What are you doing here?’ She frowned.
Smokey’s concern instantly became a detached shrug, as he let go his sister’s arm and straightened his jacket. ‘Nothing,’ he insisted quickly. ‘I’m just here with Bryan and Jake.’
‘Did Mum send you after me?’ she asked suspiciously.
‘Oh, like she would.’
Nina pouted. ‘You guys are always checking up on me. I’m not six, you know. I can go down to . . . the woods . . . if I want to . . .’ Her tone wavered in the middle of the irritable declaration as she took in her surroundings, probably unable to remember exactly how she’d come here and why.
She swung around aimlessly, and her eyes lit up as she saw the trail of stones. ‘Hey, look! I told you there was stuff in these woods. It’s the Devil’s Footsteps stones, just like the rhyme.’
She moved towards them, and Smokey made a panicked lunge to stop her. Bryan halted him with an arm across his chest, looking past him into the shadows at the far end of the clearing. Just on the edge of his vision, like after-images lingering, he could swear he saw faint figures standing watching. ‘It’s OK, Smokey,’ he said quietly. Smokey shot him a nervously sceptical look, but allowed himself to be pulled back.
