Free Creeping Terror by Justin Richards

roadblock, Ben and Rupam were able to get out of sight beyond the bend in the road.
    ‘How far is it to Templeton, do you think?’ Ben wondered.
    The sword was now strapped to the back of Rupam’s rucksack, sticking out either side. It almost hit Ben as Rupam turned. ‘No idea.’
    ‘Hey! Careful with that.’
    ‘Sorry. I think that was a sort of outer checkpoint. We’re further out than the satellite image showed.’
    ‘And those soldiers didn’t seem to think they were fighting the Second World War,’ Ben added.
    They slowed to a walking pace as soon as they were out of sight of the roadblock.
    ‘How do you do it?’ Ben asked after a while.
    ‘Do what?’
    ‘Remember things.’
    ‘Oh, that.’
    They went on in silence. They seemed to be walking forever. It was difficult to get any idea of where they were because high hedges now rose on either side of the narrow road. Ben wondered if Rupam was going to answer his question or not. Maybe he’d offended his friend in some way.
    ‘I just wondered,’ Ben said after a while. ‘Sorry.’
    ‘No, that’s OK. I was trying to think of how to answer. You can train yourself to have a good memory. But I just sort of do it. There’s …’ He paused, frowning. ‘There’s a place I go,’ Rupam said at last.
    ‘A place? To remember?’
    ‘Not a real place. It’s inside my mind. In my imagination. It’s always been there. Maybe it was somewhere I used to know. I …’ He laughed suddenly. ‘I can’t remember.’
    ‘You remember everything,’ Ben joked. Except, of course, it was true.
    ‘Yes. But I mean I can’t remember a time when Ididn’t remember everything, when the place wasn’t in my head.’
    ‘This place – how does it work?’
    ‘It’s like a big house. Bigger than that – enormous. A palace. There are so many rooms, and there’s a garden too, with lots of areas. And there are things in the palace. All the things I want to remember. It’s not like a movie I can replay – some people remember that way. There’s no set sequence to it. I put things in the rooms of the palace.’
    ‘What, like lists of things? Stuff we have to learn? Whole books?’
    ‘Yes. Or things that jog my memory rather than the actual things to remember. I say I put them there, and some of them I do, but others just are . If I read something, then afterwards it’s there – whether I choose to put it in or not.’
    Ben nodded. It sort of made sense. People kept notes, or tied knots in their handkerchiefs to remind them of things. That was sort of what Rupam did, only in his mind and on a grander – and more successful – scale.
    ‘But don’t you have to remember which room it’s in?’ Ben asked.
    ‘I just know. I go to the right room in my head and what I need is in there. So, if I need toremember the look on your face when you saw Madam Sosostram change, I go to the third room on the left down the corridor from the stairs on the third floor.’
    ‘And the look on my face is in there?’
    ‘There’s a photo album,’ Rupam said. He was staring into space as they walked. ‘It’s on a small table beside a bookcase. I turn the page and there’s your expression. Like a photograph. Looking back at me.’ He laughed. ‘You should see it!’
    ‘Maybe I will,’ Ben told him. ‘Maybe one day I’ll come to your memory palace and you can show me round.’
    ‘No,’ Rupam said sharply. ‘No – never go there. There are some rooms that you don’t want to see. Some rooms even I don’t want to go into.’ He quickened his pace. ‘Some rooms I wish did not exist. Rooms you might never leave.’
    From his tone, Ben could tell the conversation was over. He wasn’t sure if he should have asked or not. He looked round, half expecting to see Sam, half expecting her to tell him it was OK. But she wasn’t there. Ben hurried to catch up as his friend rounded another corner.
    Rupam had stopped. He was standing in front of a high, dense hedge that was growing