The Midnight Palace - Carlos Ruiz Zafon [69]
When Isobel opened her eyes, she saw a tall black silhouette standing in front of her, a figure without a face.
‘Someone has come for you,’ the invisible face whispered. ‘Let’s not keep him waiting.’
Immediately two burning pupils lit up, flaring in the dark. Grabbing her arm, the figure dragged her through the tunnel. After what seemed like hours of an agonising walk through total darkness, Isobel at last made out the ghostly shape of a train. She was hauled towards the guard’s van and didn’t have the strength to resist when she was flung inside and heard the door being locked.
As Isobel fell onto the charred floor of the carriage, a sharp pain seared through her belly. Something had gashed her badly. She groaned. She was seized by panic as a pair of hands took hold of her and tried to turn her over. She shouted out and came face to face with a dirty exhausted boy who seemed even more frightened than she was.
‘It’s me, Isobel,’ whispered Siraj. ‘Don’t be afraid.’
For the first time in her life Isobel let her tears flow freely as she hugged the bony, frail body of her friend.
BEN AND HIS COMRADES stopped under the clock with the drooping hands on the main platform of Jheeter’s Gate. All around them was a vast landscape of shadows and faint slanting light that filtered through the steel and glass dome.
From where they stood, the five youngsters could envisage what Jheeter’s Gate must have looked like before the tragedy: a majestic luminous vault held up by invisible arches that seemed to be suspended from heaven, above rows and rows of platforms arranged in curves, like ripples on a pond. Large noticeboards announcing departure and arrival times. Elaborate newspaper kiosks made of carved metal with Victorian reliefs. Palatial staircases rising through steel and glass shafts to the upper levels, with corridors seemingly hanging in mid-air. Crowds strolling about its halls and boarding long express trains that would take them to the furthest reaches of the country … Nothing remained of all that splendour, only a dark broken shell.
Ian noticed the hands of the clock, distorted by the flames, and tried to imagine the magnitude of the fire. Seth had the same thought; they both avoided making any comment.
‘We should separate into groups of two. This place is immense,’ said Ben.
‘I don’t think that’s a good idea,’ replied Seth, who couldn’t get the image of the collapsing bridge out of his head.
‘Even if we did split up, there are only five of us,’ said Ian. ‘Who would go alone?’
‘I would,’ replied Ben.
The others looked at him with a mixture of relief and anxiety.
‘I still don’t think it’s a good idea,’ Seth insisted.
‘Ben’s right,’ said Michael. ‘From what we’ve seen so far, it will make little difference whether we’re five or fifty.’
‘A man of few words, but always so encouraging,’ Roshan remarked.
‘Michael, you and Roshan could search the upper levels,’ Ben suggested. ‘Ian and Seth can check this floor.’
Nobody seemed prepared to dispute the assignment of locations. One area seemed as unattractive as the next.
‘What about you?’ asked Ian, already guessing the answer. ‘Where are you going to search?’
‘In the tunnels.’
‘On one condition,’ said Seth, trying to impose a modicum of common sense.
Ben nodded, listening.
‘No heroics or any other such nonsense. The first person to notice something must stop, mark the place and return to look for the others.’
‘Sounds reasonable,’ Ian agreed.
Michael and Roshan also nodded.
‘Ben?’ Ian asked.
‘All right,’ Ben murmured.
‘We didn’t hear you,’ Seth insisted.
‘I promise,’ said Ben. ‘We’ll meet back here in half an hour.’
‘Let’s just pray you’re right,’ said Seth.
SHE WOKE INTO a nightmare. As she opened her eyes, Sheere vaguely remembered her vain attempts to free herself from the relentless grip of the fiery shape that had pulled her through a maze of narrow