HAUNTED

Chapter Twelve

Now...

Adam was dreaming of hot dogs.

Smiling to himself, he pictured them, piled high on a plate. After all, if he was going to hallucinate, he might as well enjoy himself, right? Trouble was, the more he thought about food, the worse his hunger became.

"Stop torturing yourself," advised his boss.

Adam frowned, and the plate vanished into the darkness. "Thanks," he grumbled. "At least they looked good."

"Too good," said Mac. "You're drooling."

Adam swiped at his mouth in dismay - only to find that it was dry. "Ha ha," he said. "There's not enough water left in my mouth to spit with, never mind drool."

"Got you, though," said the vision, mildly.

"Yes. You're hilarious. I'm so amused." Hunger always made Adam cranky. Sounding off at his boss, however imaginary, made him feel better.

For a little while, at least.

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Then...

Behind him, Adam heard footsteps and angry voices. Too scared to turn around, he ran at full tilt through the darkness. He would have gone right past the staircase in his fear - were it not for the tiny light that quivered there, and an urgent whisper.

"Adam!"

"Leyla," he gasped, skidding to a halt and changing direction. He grabbed her free hand. It was cold, and shaking. "What...?"

"No time," she hissed. "Come on, stupid."

A wild laugh tore from his throat. Leyla tightened her grip and began to drag him down the stairs. The footsteps grew louder. Adam could hear the blood pounding in his ears as they ran together, side by side, two steps at a time until they landed, hard, at the bottom. The shock raced from the soles of his feet right up into his spine - but there was no time to recover. Safe in her own world now, the girl blew out the candle and led him away from danger. Before long, all they could hear were distant echoes, far behind them. Adam paused and bent over, struggling to breathe. Leyla turned on him angrily.

"Why did you do that?" she hissed.

"I wa... I wanted to see," panted Adam. "You were scared. I wanted to help you."

"How did you help me?" the girl demanded, full of fire. "They saw you. And they almost saw me."

He straightened up. "I'm sorry," he told her, eyes wide in the gloom. "I didn't mean to make things worse. But... you came to rescue me. How did you know?"

"I heard you." Leyla turned away, and began to walk down the corridor. Adam trotted after her. "Climbing up the stairs, when I went past. I knew they were there, so I couldn't shout. I went and got a candle. By the time I found you, it was too late. Why did you let them see you?" She stopped again, and he almost bumped into her. "They would have hurt you. Don't you know that?"

"I do," he said grimly. "I saw the gun."

This time, it was Leyla who was startled. "The gun?" she breathed. "What gun?"

Adam laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. I shouldn't have mentioned it. Now she'll be even more frightened. "This is silly," he said, trying to distract her. "Arguing in the dark. Let's go to your room. We'll be safe there."

"I know," she said. "That's the point." But she slipped her fingers back into his when he offered them. Adam guessed that he was close to being forgiven.

In hopeful silence, they hurried down the final corridors to Leyla's sanctuary. Reaching the door, she pushed it open a little too quickly. Adam looked down and saw that she was staring up at him with an eager face. "I made this for you," she said. "Because of the stories. It's a thank you. Do you like it?"

Turning his gaze on the candlelit room, Adam smiled and his heart grew warm.

Leyla had spread a blanket on the floor, like a picnic rug. Scattered across it was all of her precious food supply - bottles of juice, and chocolate bars, and crisps, and muffins, and apples. Moving closer, Adam saw that there was also a card. On the front, she had drawn a picture, copying his style as much as she could. "That looks just like me," he told her. Leyla blushed at the praise. Picking it up, he read the message inside.

To Adam. Your my best frend. Love from Leyla.

Swallowing hard, he managed to keep his face straight. "That's the nicest card I've had in a long time," he told her - and he meant it.

"Okay," said Leyla, shy by now. She dropped down onto the rug. "Want some chocolate?"

"I'd love some."

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Much later, stuffed with junk food until he was close to being sick, Adam leaned back against a wall and grinned at Leyla sleepily. "Consider the stories paid for," he told her. "Not that you needed to do this. I had fun telling them."

"You know so many," she smiled back. "I thought you didn't like stories. Where did you get them from?"

Adam closed his eyes, fighting against his compulsion to hide from the past. "My sister," he told her, with an effort. "Alice."

"The one with the doll?"

"The one with the doll."

Leyla looked at him shrewdly. "But you've got it now. And you gave it to me. So, where is she?"

Instead of giving the girl a direct answer, Adam turned and stared at the little pile of memories on her nightstand. "Where's your mother?" he asked her softly.

"She's resting," said Leyla, just as she had when he met her. And suddenly, Adam heard it. The meaning behind her words.

"Just like Alice," he said.

"Oh." The girl's eyes grew huge in the candlelight. For a long while, Leyla didn't say anything else. Adam waited. The dancing flames grew lower, and the shadows crept in slowly.

"I have another sister," he told her at last, to break the silence. "And a brother. But they're much older than me, and I don't see them any more. I... I miss Alice."

Leyla shuffled closer on the blanket. "I could be your sister," she said, trying to fix the hurt that she saw in his face.

For once, Adam was lost for words. His brain floundered, weary and astonished. "O-okay," he whispered finally. How could he say no? It was such a kind and innocent offer. "Leyla, I'm tired," he added, rubbing his eyes. "I need to go home now. Do you mind?"

Leyla pouted. "Stay," she said. "It's dark outside, and scary. You could sleep here."

"No." He shook his head, but exhaustion was claiming him even now and he knew he would never make it back all by himself.

"Yes," she insisted.

"'Kay," said the lab rat, giving in. "But not in your room. 'S not right."

Nodding, she pulled him up from the floor. He rose in a dream, and followed her willingly. Out of the room and down the corridor. Through another door, where it was dark, and warm, and... God, he was so tired.

Adam lay down, as Leyla nodded happily. "Good night," she whispered. "Sleep tight. You're safe here, Adam. I promise." Her face loomed over him, fuzzy and pale. Then it disappeared. The last thing he saw was the door being closed.

He never heard her draw the bolts across.