Dead Water Zone - Kenneth Oppel [2]
A group of children had gathered around him, and a few moved in close, their small, curious hands brushing his clothing, then suddenly darted away, as if frightened.
Then he heard it, too. The dull thumping became a roar as an unmarked helicopter slewed through the air. It slowed and rotated overhead, hovering like an insistent insect. Paul kept going. The helicopter floated lazily along to one side, as if keeping pace with him. For a few panicky seconds, he wondered if it might be police, sent by his parents. But he knew it couldn’t be. Besides, it wasn’t a police helicopter.
A rock struck soundlessly against the machine’s underbelly. Moments later, the helicopter veered up and away and was gone.
It was a few minutes before Paul felt confident enough to try for directions again. He saw a gaunt man perched on a crooked wooden pole, weaving a wire into a tangle of electrical cables. Stealing power. Paul could hear the ominous hum of the overloaded transformer.
“Jailer’s Pier?” he asked hopefully. “Can you tell me how I get there?”
The man’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.
“Jailer’s?” he asked belligerently.
“Yes.”
“What d’you want to go over there for?”
“I’m looking for someone,” Paul said nervously.
“Ain’t no one there.”
The man turned away as if their conversation had reached an end.
“Look, do you know the way?”
The man hawked disdainfully into the water.
“Suit yourself.” He pointed.
He was lost.
The jetties were closed in on both sides by abandoned shacks, bolted sloppily together from splintered planks and rusted sheets of corrugated metal. Sometimes he lost sight of the water altogether. But all he had to do was stand still and he could feel the lake’s sway beneath his feet.
He’d told his parents he was going to stay with Sam. Of course, they’d assumed he meant at the university. They were probably only half listening anyway.
The alleys narrowed even further. He was lost, and now he was losing the light. Sam would snicker if he knew. Sam could have given him directions, sent a map, something! What was this, some ridiculous test? A game? Or maybe, thought Paul, he just doesn’t want to see me.
Deep shadows seeped across the alley. He was desperate for directions now; he’d ask anyone. He’d even fork out another fifty. But he’d seen very few people in the last quarter of an hour. Ain’t no one there, the gaunt man had said. He was supposed to be meeting Sam in ten minutes! How long would Sam wait? What if he left? How would he find him again in this place?
He started walking more quickly. There were no streetlamps; he hadn’t known it could be this dark at night. His scalp prickled—he felt he was being watched. He glanced over his shoulder and thought of the helicopter. But his mind was already conjuring up other dangers, horrifying encounters around this corner, then the next. Faces looming out at him from hidden doorways, sudden cackles of laughter in his ear. How had he let it get so late?
Creaks and groans rose up from the planking beneath his feet. He was turning the sounds into footfalls, heavy breathing. He broke into a jog, the knapsack slapping against his back. There was someone following him, someone just out of sight, someone right behind him!
He couldn’t bear it any longer. He whirled on the balls of his feet. No one. You’re freaking, he told himself angrily. You’re doing this to yourself.
But he couldn’t silence the alarm that played in his head. He swallowed, feeling the sweat cooling against his skin, then tilted his face up. Something had just moved back from the roof’s edge. He ran.
Ahead of him, a dark shape leaped across the alley to the opposite rooftop and was swallowed up in darkness. Paul slowed down. He didn’t want to go too close. He didn’t want anything jumping on his head. It could have been a bird or a large cat. It had seemed bigger, though, with a more human shape. That might have just been his imagination playing with the lines. Whatever it was, it was fast.
His eyes swept the rooflines, stopping at a long, angular shadow.