Free Toxic Treacle by Echo Freer Page B

Every dark shadow between them seemed to be filled with lurking terror. Standing in the road, Monkey felt exposed; vulnerable, yet afraid to seek refuge. There were no street lights here, even though it was two hours before Shut Down. It was quiet too; scarily quiet - as though no humans inhabited the place. Although some lights were on, he could hear no chatter from the cottages; no laughter, no doors closing, or info-screens blaring out. He didn’t like it. He was beginning to wish he hadn’t come.
    There was a rustle behind him. He jumped, then froze; waiting. He breathed again as a fox leapt over a gate and loped down the middle of the street, dragging a dead chicken in its jaws. Monkey’s heart was beating rapidly and his tongue felt as though it was stuck to the roof of his mouth with fear. Funny how brave he could be in the face of an enemy hood but, here he was, crapping himself over a fox! He tried to smile at the irony but it felt as though his mouth was set in concrete. This was stupid, he told himself. He needed to get out of here. He didn’t know why he’d come in the first place. If Tragic wanted to disappear, that was his lookout.
    At that moment, the door of a cottage, slightly ahead of him on the other side of the street, opened and a group of nurturers came out of the house. He moved away from the road, into the shadows of a gateway and watched. There were four of them and, as they stood in the doorway, the yellow light from the cottage lit up their faces. They were nodding. The one facing him looked very serious. As the door closed, one nurturer went back inside while two walked off towards the village green, but the one who had had her back to Monkey turned and headed towards him. He gasped when he saw her. It was Jane.

Friends Reunited
    Relief coursed through him and he ran towards her but stopped when he saw the look on her face. It wasn’t the warm, welcoming expression he was used to. In fact, it was nothing short of terror.
    â€˜Mickey?’ Jane whispered, her eyes darting from side to side, scouring the darkness around him. ‘Are you alone?’
    â€˜Yes.’ He saw the tension ease in her eyes.
    â€˜What are you doing here? How did you find us?’
    But, before he could answer, she put a finger to his lips, took his arm and led him towards one of the smaller cottages down a side lane. She let herself in and Monkey noticed that there was no iris scanner on this door, just a simple, old-fashioned keypad to open it. Once inside, Jane indicated for Monkey to wait in the narrow hallway that led straight to the staircase while she lifted the latch and entered a room to the side. A warm glow spread out into the hall and he could hear whispering. Then Tragic came to the door.
    â€˜Monkey!’ He put his arms out and patted Monkey on the back. ‘Good to see you. Good to see you.’ There was something odd about Tragic’s manner. He did look genuinely pleased to see his friend but he was cagey, too. Monkey couldn’t quite make him out. ‘So, how d’ya find us?’ he went on in a stilted tone, only giving half his attention to Monkey, as though he was listening to something else, or for something else.
    â€˜I got your note,’ Monkey replied.
    â€˜Good, good.’
    And then, as though Tragic and his nurturer had been up to something, Jane appeared and Tragic visibly relaxed and ushered Monkey into the room with the fire.
    â€˜Come and get yourself warm. Do you want something to eat? How d’ya get here?’
    The room was sparsely furnished with a cooking range and a sink at one end and a couple of Jane’s paintings on the wall. In the main body of the room, were three simple wooden chairs and a table in front of a large, open fire that was more than welcoming to Monkey’s frozen hands and feet. Sometimes Vivian lit a fire at home but wood was in short supply, so it was usually only on special occasions. Mickey