LEITH AND THE LURKING EVIL
Chapter 9: Accident

I MUST HAVE FALLEN asleep - or maybe just blacked out from the overload of excitement - because when the cabin door crashed open, it was dusk.

It didn’t occur to me that I’d missed lunch, and therefore lost out on a chance to talk to Mavis. That didn’t matter now. Adam would tell me all I needed to know.

For once, it wasn’t Ant who had come bursting in without knocking. It was Pippa. She was crying. “Leith, wake up - it’s Jane!”

“Huh?” Down below, Ray was stirring.

“Jane?”

“There’s been,” said Pippa, trying not to blubber, “an accident.”

“Whaaaaaat?” Ray rose off his bunk. With his face starting to swell, he looked both funny and frightening.

“The rope,” Pippa blurted, “at the river - it broke. She must have been swinging on it. They’ve taken her to a hospital.” She broke into fresh sobs.

Ray and I did our best to comfort her. Although he didn’t say so, I could tell Ray was shocked by what had happened to the girl who, only a few hours ago, had been the only one to come to his aid.

I could still see Broody swinging on the rope over the steep embankment and dropping with a plop into the river, and how keen Jane had been to try it.

Be careful what you wish for, our dad often said.

Escape, Adam had said.

That night, they showed a double bill, Robocop and Blade Runner; but my thoughts kept drifting from androids to Adam Python and our midnight meeting. Tonight, I would replace out what was really going on at Camp Damble. I wondered if Adam had taken my letter. I assumed he must have, but why? I would associate something sneaky like that with Mut or Ant, but both had been on the hike. Although he was obviously a control freak, I couldn’t picture Dr Grieg tiptoeing through the empty cabins, going through everyone’s stuff. Maybe one of his stooges? Not Mavis. Possibly Jekyll. Suddenly his name reminded me of jackal, the scavengers of the wild. He was brassy enough and crazy enough to do it, and not the type to apologise if he got caught. If anything, he’d stick a shotgun in your face and tell you to have a nice day!

OK, so the letter thief was probably Jekyll - I hoped he would enjoy reading about himself - but where did Adam fit into all this? I kept coming back to him ... and the Black Bungalow. Who was he? What did he know? Could I trust him?

I’m going to have to, I thought, as I made my way through the forest that night under an indigo sky. I had a set of keys in my pocket. If things got hairy, I could always make a fist around them and punch my attacker’s lights out.

Unless you run into Headless Henry - he doesn’t have any lights to punch out!

The Black Bungalow, as I approached, loomed low and menacing, like an animal ready to pounce. A panther, I thought. Something silent and powerful. Again, jackals came to mind.

I shivered. And held my breath as the bungalow’s only door started to open. There were windows set at ground level, but these were dark and barred. Yellow light stabbed inky grass as the door opened wider. Must be Adam - he’d somehow gotten inside!

I wanted to run to the open door, to jump in triumph, to get inside before we were discovered, but it’s just as well I didn’t. Because at that moment, a man stepped out. Dr Grieg!

I stepped back into the shadow of the building, feeling the reassuring solidity of cold stone at my back. I was certain I could not be seen. Even so, my breath was hot and shallow in my narrow chest. So, like the passive people in the poem, I didn’t do anything. I just stood there, up against the wall, like a pinned butterfly.

Dr Grieg turned. For a moment, I was sure he’d seen me. I froze. And prayed that he hadn’t noticed, because if he had, I’d be pinned for sure by the thing in his hand - a huge, glinting syringe, looking in the moonlight like something Dr Frankenstein might have used to stop a monster.

A bird screeched.

I gasped.

Dr Grieg turned in the direction of the sound - both sounds - my direction. He stood perfectly still for several seconds, just listening to the night. Like a dog, I thought. Like a vicious, super-intelligent Jack Russell terrier. The sort of thing Mr Koontz (a.k.a. Leigh Nichols) might write about.

Apparently satisfied that the screech did not represent a threat, Dr Grieg turned away. He switched out the light, closed the door and locked it, then started back toward camp.

I waited until I could no longer see him (maybe he’d doubled back - maybe he’s creeping up behind you with that needle!) before I dared step out of the shadows. I’d secretly been hoping Adam would still show up. I’d been right on time; it was after twelve now. Either he had decided not to come or he’d gotten here early, seen Dr Grieg arrive, and been scared off. I couldn’t blame him.

Whatever the reason, Adam wasn’t here.

My one consolation was that I was here - at the Black Bungalow - close enough to touch it. Without Adam’s invitation, I might never have come. The least I could do was take a closer look.

I moved slowly around the building, looking for another way in. When I got to the door, I tried it, but the place was locked up tight. I continued to walk around the low rectangular slab, hoping to replace a broken window or a back door left conveniently unlocked, the way they do in books, but no such luck. Apart from the lazy hum of the air conditioning (could somebody still be inside, maybe sleeping?) there was nothing to suggest anyone had been here in days.

As it had first appeared, the barred ground-level windows provided the only other possible entry point to the bunker. If you were from Lilliput, adept at cutting glass and could see in the dark.

I dropped to my knees and tapped lightly on the glass. Louvres. You could kick one in and slide the others out. The frosted glass offered privacy, not security. But the bars felt sturdy. No way were they going to pop out just because I wanted them to. Still, I was tempted to break the glass - just to get a peek inside would be a thrill.

Except that would alert Dr Grieg when he came back that someone had been here. And worse than that, I had no means of penetrating the darkness - no torch or matches. They could have the treasure of King Tut’s tomb down there and I wouldn’t be able to see it.

I heard something, or thought I did, and spun around, my eyes nearly popping out of my head as I stood there a moment, unable to believe what I was seeing (like maybe meeting Bigfoot and knowing it wasn’t just some guy in a monkey-suit) as I came face to face (well, not exactly face to face) with the one, the only, the legend himself - Headless Henry!