Hollow Earth Read Online Free Page A
outside.
Why was nothing ever easy? Sandie sighed and pulled her bag over her shoulder. The truthful answers to their questions were frightening ones. But, for Matt especially, having a mum with secrets was perhaps worse than knowing what was really going on. Sandie was exhausted and she really needed their co-operation. She hoped fear would motivate them both.
‘We have to go because those people aren’t coming to see us. They’re coming to hurt you.’
Em looked horrified. Matt glared at his mum. One more thing she was making up, to get him to do something he didn’t want to do.
‘Em, Matt – now . We have to reach Vi and Anthea’s car before they get inside the building.’
The twins turned back to the window and watched the two men and the woman climb the front steps. Grabbing their arms, Sandy pulled the twins away. Matt shook himself loose and ran back.
Three minutes left.
‘Em, get your backpack. Please.’ Sandie stood in front of Matt, imploring. ‘I know you’re angry with me for all sorts of things these days, but this isn’t the time, Matt. There are very dangerous people coming here, and I don’t have time to explain why, but we have to go .’
Matt had hardly ever seen his mum cry except maybe when watching a really sad movie or looking at a painting she was working on, but he didn’t think he’d ever done anything to actually make her cry. He was mad at her – she was right about that – but he didn’t want to make her sad. Not really. Plus, as he watched her eyes fill with tears, he suddenly had a feeling, like a deep kind of drumming in his head, that she was telling them the truth. They were in danger.
‘Does it have something to do with our drawing?’
‘Yes,’ she replied, brushing her sleeve across her eyes, ‘and I promise that once we’re safe, I’ll tell you more. But please, please, be a good boy and just this once, do what I’m asking without an argument.’
One minute left.
The downstairs doorbell rang.
SEVEN
A rthur slammed down the phone and rushed out from behind his desk. He leaned against the door, listening. The lab was strangely quiet, but Arthur was under no illusion that this was anything but a momentary respite from the horror to come.
Quickly, he unlocked a cabinet behind his desk and lifted out a flat, wooden box, the size of a notebook. He shivered as he opened the lid. Inside was a page torn from a sketchbook, the paper scored and bruised with age. The drawing spilled off the edges in overlapping swirls of yellows, blacks and greens, with an angry gaping hole like the mouth of a cave in the centre.
The scratching at his office door had started again. It sounded like tiny talons tearing into the metal frame. Mopping his brow with his handkerchief, Arthur thought about Sandie. In his own way, he had come to love her like a daughter, and betraying the Society so she might escape was the least he could do. He took the drawing from the box and turned it over, running his fingers across the inscription inked on the back.
To our sons and daughters,
May you never forget imagination is the real and the eternal.
This is Hollow Earth.
Duncan Fox, Edinburgh 1848
Arthur returned the drawing to the box and closed the lid. Without thinking too long about his decision, he tore a sheet of paper from his desk pad and began to write:
A high-pitched shriek erupted from the still-deserted lab. Terrified, Arthur watched the edges of his office door begin to melt into light. With no time to waste, he finished the note, grabbed a large padded envelope from his desk drawer and put the note and the box containing the drawing inside.
The perimeter of his door was now a halo of white heat. Through the gaps between the door and the jamb, Arthur glimpsed the hooded monk-like figure he’d seen in the hallway. He snatched a postage label, filled it out and forced the package into a vacuum tube that ran across the ceiling and disappeared into the bowels of the building
Why was nothing ever easy? Sandie sighed and pulled her bag over her shoulder. The truthful answers to their questions were frightening ones. But, for Matt especially, having a mum with secrets was perhaps worse than knowing what was really going on. Sandie was exhausted and she really needed their co-operation. She hoped fear would motivate them both.
‘We have to go because those people aren’t coming to see us. They’re coming to hurt you.’
Em looked horrified. Matt glared at his mum. One more thing she was making up, to get him to do something he didn’t want to do.
‘Em, Matt – now . We have to reach Vi and Anthea’s car before they get inside the building.’
The twins turned back to the window and watched the two men and the woman climb the front steps. Grabbing their arms, Sandy pulled the twins away. Matt shook himself loose and ran back.
Three minutes left.
‘Em, get your backpack. Please.’ Sandie stood in front of Matt, imploring. ‘I know you’re angry with me for all sorts of things these days, but this isn’t the time, Matt. There are very dangerous people coming here, and I don’t have time to explain why, but we have to go .’
Matt had hardly ever seen his mum cry except maybe when watching a really sad movie or looking at a painting she was working on, but he didn’t think he’d ever done anything to actually make her cry. He was mad at her – she was right about that – but he didn’t want to make her sad. Not really. Plus, as he watched her eyes fill with tears, he suddenly had a feeling, like a deep kind of drumming in his head, that she was telling them the truth. They were in danger.
‘Does it have something to do with our drawing?’
‘Yes,’ she replied, brushing her sleeve across her eyes, ‘and I promise that once we’re safe, I’ll tell you more. But please, please, be a good boy and just this once, do what I’m asking without an argument.’
One minute left.
The downstairs doorbell rang.
SEVEN
A rthur slammed down the phone and rushed out from behind his desk. He leaned against the door, listening. The lab was strangely quiet, but Arthur was under no illusion that this was anything but a momentary respite from the horror to come.
Quickly, he unlocked a cabinet behind his desk and lifted out a flat, wooden box, the size of a notebook. He shivered as he opened the lid. Inside was a page torn from a sketchbook, the paper scored and bruised with age. The drawing spilled off the edges in overlapping swirls of yellows, blacks and greens, with an angry gaping hole like the mouth of a cave in the centre.
The scratching at his office door had started again. It sounded like tiny talons tearing into the metal frame. Mopping his brow with his handkerchief, Arthur thought about Sandie. In his own way, he had come to love her like a daughter, and betraying the Society so she might escape was the least he could do. He took the drawing from the box and turned it over, running his fingers across the inscription inked on the back.
To our sons and daughters,
May you never forget imagination is the real and the eternal.
This is Hollow Earth.
Duncan Fox, Edinburgh 1848
Arthur returned the drawing to the box and closed the lid. Without thinking too long about his decision, he tore a sheet of paper from his desk pad and began to write:
A high-pitched shriek erupted from the still-deserted lab. Terrified, Arthur watched the edges of his office door begin to melt into light. With no time to waste, he finished the note, grabbed a large padded envelope from his desk drawer and put the note and the box containing the drawing inside.
The perimeter of his door was now a halo of white heat. Through the gaps between the door and the jamb, Arthur glimpsed the hooded monk-like figure he’d seen in the hallway. He snatched a postage label, filled it out and forced the package into a vacuum tube that ran across the ceiling and disappeared into the bowels of the building
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