Page 21 of The Tourist

Then darkness.

CHAPTER 11

I knew I was awake but thedarkness hadn’t passed.

Had it worked? Had the jumpworked?

Look, I didget lost now and then, you know. There were jumps in time, hiccupsin the process. Sometimes I passed so quickly through someone, theybarely had time to gasp or wonder at the sudden heartburn. Or Ihopped between many, over a short period of time. Or I moved alonga chronological timeline, but mislaid a few hours along theway.

But I’d never really gonecompletely… missing.

That was how this felt.

Time waspassing but I wasn’t involved. I lay—or sat, or stood? Who thebloody hell knew—and things happened around me. But I never saw orexperienced ’em. All I could feel was a fierce, unfamiliardetermination and such a strong mental barrier that I couldn’t seemto break through.

And darkness.

There was notrace of Ricky around me. Nor was Dan like this. Dan didn’t havethis bleak self-control, this mental resistance. This doggedrepression of everything within him.

Where was I? Who was I?

Like dawnseeping in from under a half-drawn blind, awareness started to easeits way in.

Arrogance, anger, pain.

Need.

Cruelty.

***

“Ricky.” Ispoke quietly, but I was startled by the harshness of my tone. Myvoice echoed off surfaces that were cold and bare. There was noreply, though over in the corner of the room, something stirred.“Wake up.”

The shadows inthe corner were settling into recognisable shapes. My visioncleared, the way clouds would drift across the moon at night. Wallsof rough stone bricks, a concrete floor. No windows, no naturallight. Boxes and crates piled high like adult versions ofchildren’s building bricks. Rounded barrels, their sides swollenand black in the semi-darkness.

And a man, huddled besidethem.

“Ricky.” Iwas stricken by the cold anger behind my words, the attempt to hideit with a near-playful tone. It seemed grotesque in this setting. Ipushed that thought immediately away. My body was still, my minddetermined. If there were any doubt or uncertainty, I wasn’t awareof it. “Ricky, answer me. Acknowledge me.”

Fuck.

Touristsdidn’t always have an easy ride. I didn’t always get my choice ofdestination. And it looked like, this time, I’d badly misjudged myjump.

I knew who Iwas, of course. Where I’d landed, unwilling and unscripted. Out ofthe proverbial frying pan, I’d have said. That was if my sense ofhumour had remained—inside Calder.

The huddledman gave a soft exhalation of breath like a whimper. “Calder, g-getaway from me. Let me go.”

I frowned. Adisappointing response. Though had I expected him to accept thesituation more readily? His imagination had never matched my own.“You’re not exactly imprisoned, Ricky.” I glanced over at the doorto the cellar but it was securely shut. There was no sound fromanywhere else in the building. The bars and shops were closed, andvery few people would dawdle on the street at this time of night. Idoubted there would be any disturbance, either from outside or inthis dark, chilly room.

Or in my resolve.

Ricky shifted,maybe testing his legs. He probably couldn’t control them as wellas he’d hoped. “Where am I? W-what the fuck have you done tome?”

I smiled.Then, when I realised he probably couldn’t see me very clearly, Istepped towards him. I was impressed to see him flinch but resistthe urge to shuffle back. Mind you, there was little space for himto move. The barrels pressed against him on both sides, stackedhigh above his head. It was a neat arrangement, allowing me to seeall of him, yet keeping his gaze fixed on me alone. It had taken mea while to think of it, but not long to execute.

“Ricky, Ihaven’t touched you. Well, except to bring you here. And you werewilling enough to come with me, don’t you remember?”

“No.” His eyeswere unfocussed, his hands shaking. “I don’t remember…”