Coldbrook(57)

‘We call them zombies,’ she said, looking at Drake again. He was dressed in simple clothing, his hair was long and unkempt, yet his eyes sparkled with intelligence. His caution during their conversation was proof of that.

‘We used to as well,’ he said, ‘before they became real.’

‘Before?’

He blinked and looked away, unwilling to divulge anything.

‘I’m not here to cause harm,’ Holly said.

‘I know that,’ Drake said. ‘Now, will you eat with me? You must be hungry.’

‘I am,’ Holly said. ‘What is it?’

‘Rabbit, sauté potatoes, mushrooms, spring carrots. Basic but good. In your honour.’

‘My honour?’ she asked. But she could not smile. She looked at the food. ‘Nothing I don’t know, I hope.’

Drake put some food on a plate for her and smiled at her hesitation. ‘Excuse me,’ he said, picking a shred of meat from the plate and eating it.

‘So you’re not trying to poison me. Thanks. But I have so many questions,’ Holly said.

‘Us too. Now eat. You need your energy, and you’ve come—’

‘A long way,’ she said. And then Holly realised why she thought she recognised this man. He could have been Jonah thirty years ago, thirty pounds lighter, and with a life of struggle already behind him.

Her mind was in a spin.

Holly ate, and the food was wonderful. There was a freshness to it that was usually found only in the best restaurants, or in home-grown food. But after the fifth mouthful she thought of Melinda and had to concentrate so she could swallow without vomiting.

‘You’ve been through something horrific,’ Drake said. ‘I’ll do whatever I can to help.’

‘Thank you,’ she said. She took a drink of water, then sat back.

‘You didn’t bring any equipment through with you,’ he said.

‘I came through in a rush,’ Holly said, realising that he knew all this anyway. They must have been watching her from the moment she stepped through the breach.

Drake had guided her to a cave lined with wood panelling and light blue fabric. The ceiling was bare rock, but the furnishings were comfortable and functional. A fire burned in a pit in one corner, smoke rising to a hole in the ceiling. There were light switches here too – and power points, and a phone socket – but they all looked redundant. The basic arrangements seemed incongruous set among this evidence of technology.

There was a bed against one wall, and several curtains hung from wires against the opposite wall, forming what Holly took to be a storage area. She guessed that it was Drake’s room – many items were scattered around, some of which she could identify. There were also several pairs of leather shoes beneath the bed, along with a few smaller and more delicate footwear items.

‘Your Earth . . .’ Drake said. She could sense his eagerness to ask, but she doubted that it exceeded her own.

‘What did you do to me?’

Drake sat back again and averted his eyes. ‘Our doctor carried out some tests.’

‘What kind of tests?’

‘She’s a female doctor, very gentle,’ Drake said, not answering the question.

‘You say this is Coldbrook?’ Holly asked. ‘In the United States?’

‘That’s an old name for our country, but yes. And you’re from Coldbrook, too?’

Holly nodded. She looked at the patch on his jacket again, the three interlocking circles that was so similar to her own Coldbrook symbol.

‘We tried to guard the wound you made in the land,’ Drake said. ‘But one of them must have—’

‘One of your furies.’

‘They’re not our furies.’

‘So one of them must have what?’ Holly asked.

‘Gone through. I’m sorry.’ He stared at her for a moment, and then picked up some more meat.

‘I don’t know how bad my world is,’ Holly said. Drake would not look at her. ‘Do you know?’

‘No,’ he said. He stood and turned, and she knew that he was lying.

‘Drake?’

‘I need to make arrangements. I’ll be back,’ he said. ‘We can’t keep you locked up in here.’

‘Drake, what’s happening there? Tell me if you know.’

‘I don’t know,’ he said again, but still he would not look at her.

‘God help us,’ she whispered. And this time Drake did look, freezing where he stood by the heavy wooden doorway, his eyes wide.

‘You obviously haven’t met the Inquisitor yet, so I’ll allow you that.’

‘Allow me—?’

‘God,’ he whispered. Then he slammed and locked the door behind him. He hadn’t really answered any of her questions.

There was plenty of food left, but Holly was no longer hungry.

‘So what’s next?’ she asked the silence. ‘Bad cop?’

It was Drake who opened her door again half an hour later, and he had two women with him. One of them carried a tall glass of wine, another a bowl of berries, bearing them like gifts.

‘This is Moira,’ Drake said, and the short, muscled woman who’d accompanied her on the stretcher smiled a greeting.