Spares - Michael Marshall Smith [107]
“Come, please,” said the voice then, and I saw that there was indeed something standing beside an outcrop of rock about twenty yards in front of me. At least I thought it was that far; the figure, if that’s what it was, seemed surprisingly small.
I stared at it, trying to work out what to do. No point in running; if I’d been seen, I’d been seen. I’d managed to outrun Yhandim and Ghuaji mainly because they hadn’t been properly into space when I spotted them. Also because I can run like fuck when I’m scared shitless and have a head start. I was absolutely confident that whatever was standing by the rock now would be able to catch me within yards.
I stood cautiously, took a couple of steps forward. The figure nodded in encouragement and remained by the rock, waiting.
I decided I might as well walk forward into doom rather than catch it in the back.
The thing was indeed small, but it was only when I was within a few yards of it that the flickering light settled into something recognizable. At first I didn’t see a figure, as such, but an area of space which was simply darker than its surroundings—as if its grip on the world was limited to casting a shadow upon it.
Then it resolved into a little boy, about ten years old and dressed in the strange conglomeration of rags and straps that Gap children wore.
He smiled and held out his hand. I just stared at it. Staring seemed to be about the limit of my powers at that moment. When I realized he was expecting me to take it I stepped backward, suddenly sure that this was a trap of some kind, or maybe a hallucination. Gap children aren’t insubstantial, like the villagers had been. They look real, or very nearly so. You can see them, and catch them, which is why… take it from me, you just can. For this one to look like it did there had to be something wrong with it.
The child didn’t say anything, or make any move toward me. It simply stood patiently waiting for me to make my mind up. It was that which made me decide that it probably wasn’t a trap—or that if it was, it was too clever for me to resist. I put my hand out tentatively.
At first I couldn’t tell when it met the boy’s, because his hand was thin and made of smoke; but then it seemed to gain a little solidity and grasped hold of mine. It was like holding a handful of water just above body temperature, and also reminded me, for some reason, of the first time I’d taken Suej’s hand to bring her out of the tunnel at the Farm.
The boy turned away from me then, indicating with his head that I should follow. Breathing shallowly, wondering what I was letting myself in for and just how much it was going to hurt, I allowed myself to be led.
While we walked I didn’t think of anything. I watched and waited for whatever was coming next. Gap children didn’t come to strangers, unless they had no choice. I couldn’t imagine why this one had come to me, or where we could be going.
It turned out that we were simply moving to the other side of the hillock. There, the child stopped and looked at me. Making a small motion with one of his hands, he turned away again. I raised my eyes to follow his gaze.
There must have been two hundred of them, maybe more. For the first few seconds they seemed limitless, stretching into the forest for miles like pebbles on a rock beach. Then I saw that they stopped more or less where the forest light faded into blackness fifty yards away.
It was a group of Gap children, all standing motionless in blue light. Rank upon rank of them, shadowy and barely there, and all of them staring at me. I heard a soft rustling and slowly turned to see that another group had come silently up behind us, almost as many again.
As far as I could see, in all directions, I was surrounded by silent children.
You never saw more than three Gap children in a group; they came and went in small handfuls. During the war, we hadn’t even been absolutely sure they were younger versions of the villagers. Some people believed they were a different style