Free Secret Heart by David Almond Page A

and was silent for a long time, and Joe watched him, and relaxed, and knew that once again he had found a stranger who was also familiar.
    “I don't have many words,” said Hackenschmidt.“I grunt and growl and howl. My body has been my expression all these years.”
    Silence again. Hackenschmidt lowered his eyes.
    “Step onto my hands,” he whispered.
    He knelt and spread his two hands flat before Joe's feet.
    “Go on,” said Hackenschmidt. “Step onto them. Stand still. Trust me, Joe.”
    Joe stepped forward and stood on the great palms.
    “Imagine you're part of me,” said Hackenschmidt. “Imagine you grew out of me.”
    Joe breathed deeply as Hackenschmidt lifted him. He tottered, and he reached out to Hackenschmidt's shoulders, but the hands beneath his feet tilted and shifted to keep him in balance.
    “Trust me,” said Hackenschmidt.
    Joe relaxed. He rose higher. He felt how Hackenschmidt responded to him, supported him, understood him. Hackenschmidt lowered him again, set him on the floor again.
    “We'll let no harm come to you,” he said.
    Joe breathed calmly.
    “The tiger came for you,” said Hackenschmidt.
    “Yes.”
    “Did you see me as well? In the darkness, between the houses and the wasteland. Did you see me there?”
    Joe spun back into his dream. He stood at the window, stared out at the massive figure in the Cut.
    “Did you hear me?” said Hackenschmidt. “Tiger! Tiger!”
    “Yes,” said Joe. “I thought I was as-asleep, but…”
    “Me too. I snuffled and snored through it all, Joe Maloney. You saw Hackenschmidt, but there was no Hackenschmidt. Hackenschmidt was in his dreams.”
    Joe sighed. He closed his eyes. He brought to mind the tiger, the glittering eyes, the hot, sour breath, the harsh tongue, the great curved teeth. He looked at Hackenschmidt, at Corinna.
    “I…I saw you. I saw the t-tiger.”
    “Yes. Hackenschmidt was in the dream of Joe Maloney. Joe Maloney was in the dream of Hackenschmidt. The tiger was the one that prowled between us, the thing that crossed from dream to dream. The tiger was the one that found you out and brought you to me. You understand?” Hackenschmidt shook his head. “Me neither, Joe.”
    Joe couldn't go on with this. He floundered. His head reeled. He closed his eyes. Skylarks burst out singing deep inside. He dreamed of being lifted from the sawdust ring, soaring through the galaxy, hanging far off in the endless blue of sky. He felt Hackenschmidt's great hands cradling his head, felt the great thumbs stroking his brow, heard the low whisper.
    “Joe. Joe. Joe.”
    “Where you gone?” Corinna said gently.
    He came back down to earth.
    Hackenschmidt held him.
    “You've come home, Joe,” he breathed. “That tiger's gone out prowling many nights, through all the wastelands and little towns we've been these past few years. Night after night I've dreamed him finding nothing, nobody. He's prowled through simple total darkness, seen by no one. Till now. Till you.”
    He smiled.
    “The tiger brought you home, Joe. I'm so happy that we found you. Now show me what you did.”
    “Eh?”
    “Climb up again. Jump again. Go on.”
    “Go on, Joe,” said Corinna. “We think he was mebbe a flier in another life, Hackenschmidt. We think mebbe he and me was together.”
    “Yes. That's possible. That would explain a great deal.” He held Joe's shoulders. “You don't remember it, though?”
    “N-no.”
    “Ah, well. Go on up.”
    Joe climbed. Hackenschmidt held the ladder tight beneath him. He climbed through the net, to the platform. Stood there, clinging to the pole. Stared into the empty air that could do no harm. Tried to imagine a world with the tent gone, just empty air going on forever and forever. Could not imagine it. Closed his eyes and the tiger came, withits stench, its growl. Closed his eyes and the voice of Hackenschmidt came.
    “We need a boy with the heart of a tiger. We need a hero. We need you, Joe.”
    Joe teetered.
    “Now