Free Sleepwalkers by Tom Grieves Page B

was a clear night. The stars were out.
    ‘Toby. Come down, please,’ the anxious teacher’s voice broke through again. He opened his eyes and stared out at the dull water below. But he didn’t step back down to safety.
    He just laughed.
    ‘Toby, please, it’s not safe.’
    No one saw him jump. No one heard the whoop of joy as he fell. No one was there to watch him sink. And sink. And sink. The rocks pulled him down. And as he sank, he continued to giggle.
    Toby watched the water from the bridge. It offered up no clues.
    Deeper and deeper. The light soon snuffed out.
    Toby stared down and felt tears welling in his eyes. He felt hot, his breathing shallow.
    Soon he needed air. He struggled to loosen the arm-straps. But they were too tight and the bag was too heavy. He hit the bottom hard. Glass and jagged rocks attacked his bare feet.
    He blinked the tears away and was scared to close his eyes again. But he forced himself onwards. Downwards.
    And then there was no air left. He writhed and struggled, finally getting one arm free from the anchoring backpack. But it was too late. He screamed, the bubbles rising and vanishing above him. He fought as the cold began to close him down, suffocating him with its cruel, clinical strength. The backpack finally fell from his trapped arm. Too late. As he pushed upwards, the cold and dark took him. His head spun, his lungs burned, and the darkness sucked him in.
    ‘Toby. Please. Come down. You’re scaring me.’
    He was surprised to see Anna there. She seemed so out of place with the things in his head. But he liked her for that and she had a kindness about her that he felt he could trust.
    ‘I get these nightmares,’ he said. ‘Well, I think they’re nightmares, but sometimes they’re so real, so real, I’m not sure. Sometimes I wake up and I still think I’m dreaming, like I can’t even remember who I am. Mum says lots of people are the same. Is that right?’
    ‘I don’t know. Maybe …’
    ‘Do you ever dream?’
    ‘Of course.’
    ‘Dream like it’s so real that, you know, that it can’t not be true. Do you ever?’
    ‘Sometimes. Maybe.’
    He nodded. She was not like him. Okay.
    ‘I was here. I was down there and then …’
    He took a step back to safety. Anna, clearly relieved, went to him.
    ‘Miss, what’s the longest you can stay underwater? If you held your breath and, you know … How long?’
    ‘I’m not sure. A minute? Maybe two. Three?’
    Toby considered this. Nothing made sense.
    ‘Impossible. Dream. Must be.’ He saw how concerned she was and it only made him feel worse. ‘Sorry, Miss. I’m, we’ve wasted … sorry.’ His head fell. She pulled him to her and he was grateful for the contact, muttering ‘sorry’ over and over.
    ‘Can we go back to school, please, Miss? Don’t want Dad to …’
    He didn’t need to finish the sentence. Anna led him back along the bridge. Toby walked stiffly, his injuries hurting more all of a sudden. As they walked, Anna stopped, seeing something glisten in a puddle, and she leaned down to pick it up. She peered at it.
    ‘Well, look at that,’ she said.
    Toby’s eyes widened. She was staring at his tiny camera, the one he’d attached to his belt the night before, holding it up to the light, staring at it unknowingly. ‘I thought it was just a button.’
    Toby’s mouth twitched with surprise and excitement. He reached out and took the camera from her – she handed it over without question – and he stared at it in his open palm,cold and wet. She had found it and had not hidden it from him. This woman, who none of the other kids cared about or noticed, had uncovered the proof that he’d been searching for. He lunged at her, hugging her tight without explanation. And he didn’t let go.
    ‘Okay Toby. Toby, that’s enough now.’
    But he didn’t move. He knew he’d have to tell her more soon enough and wondered what this might mean for her. But while he could, for that tiny fantastic