Voices in Stone - Emily Diamand Page 0,56

as I got in the car, they went. And vanish if I go inside a building.”

“Interesting. Any other patterns you’ve noticed?”

“They’re getting worse. I mean, the first time was just this one little boy, but today…”

I hadn’t been able to outrun them, no matter how fast I ran.

Stu nodded at the rear-view mirror. “And you say your friends have had similar experiences?”

“Yeah. And Jayden and Gav both saw something weeks ago, like me, but they didn’t say.”

“So this started some time ago, and has been slowly getting worse?”

“No, actually it was getting better until this weekend, when me and Isis went to the standing stone. Since then it’s gone crazy.”

“Everyone’s seeing images of themselves?” asked Stu.

“Yeah. No. I mean, Gav and Jayden did, but Isis didn’t and the Year Sevens in the welfare office were all crying about ghosts, but they didn’t say anything about them looking like themselves.”

Stu grunted. “Forget them. Ghosts don’t exist. But these friends seeing the same as you, were they on the school trip to the quarry?”

I nodded.

“Ha!” Stu slapped the steering wheel with his hand, and the car wobbled again. “I knew there was something going on up there. Now we’re getting closer!”

After that, Stu drove so fast and dangerously I thought he’d kill us both. He couldn’t wait to get home and start investigating. But at the same time, being a freak himself, he took it seriously. When we arrived he got out of the car first, opening his garden gate and front door so I could make a run for it from the safety of his car to the safety of his bungalow.

And then we were in the hallway, and I was meeting his wife.

How can Stu have a wife? I still don’t get it. She had a soft, smiley sort of face and short, curly grey hair. She looked like anyone you’d see in a shop, like someone’s nice granny. I mean, she was wearing a fluffy yellow jumper.

“… and now he’s getting hyper-real mobile hallucinatory experiences!” Stu was talking really fast at her. “I’m theorising it’s the result of low-dose exposure to psychoactive compounds with a delayed onset, possibly triggered by some environmental factor…”

The hallway was painted magnolia, with a pale blue carpet. Every bit of furniture and every ornament was dusted and sparkly, and it smelled of furniture polish and lavender, instead of the fags and BO that Stu emitted.

Stu’s wife didn’t seem to be listening to him. “They sent you home?” she asked me. “You don’t look so well – do you want some cake? I made lemon drizzle yesterday, and there’s a good chunk of it left.”

Stu stopped ranting to tut. “The school said he was feeling sick. You can’t give him cake!”

“I don’t feel so bad now,” I said. “I’m sure I could eat some, thank you.”

“And so polite.” She smiled at me.

“We’re going into the study,” said Stu.

His wife rolled her eyes. “He doesn’t want to do that, surely? It’s very stuffy in there. Why doesn’t Gray just watch telly and wait for his dad…”

“Because this is an emergency!” shouted Stu. “We can’t just sit around…”

“Stu,” his wife said sternly.

He lowered his voice and muttered, “Sorry.”

“He gets excited, that’s all,” she said to me. “Now, do you want cake and telly?”

“No thank you,” I said, even though it sounded good, because Stu was right, it did feel like an emergency. If I didn’t sort out what was happening to me, my head was going to explode.

“Well cake at least,” she said, going to get some.

Stu’s study was more what I’d expected of him, and totally different to the rest of the bungalow. The curtains were drawn, the walls were covered in shelves, and the shelves were filled with books and stacked-up paper. Broken-looking electronics equipment, old magazines and newspapers were lying about everywhere. Dead computers sat in various corners, including this prehistoric one that must have been made in the 90s. There was a narrow gap through to Stu’s desk, and on that was a really flash-looking laptop, a printer, a monitor, the tower of a desktop, a shredder and more papers stacked in a leaning pile.

Stu noticed me looking at the broken computers. “I can’t throw the old ones away, not once they’ve had the Database on them. Even wiped, there’s ways of getting the info out again. Can’t risk it falling into the wrong hands.” He switched on the laptop and sat down. “Right, let’s start with UK-Earths. What was the name of