Land of Fears
A Shadow Walkers novel
by
Angie Hulme
Chapter 1 - past
"You're doing the right thing,” the short, squat man said as the child was carried, screaming, from the house.
The child's parents clung to each other on the sofa; pale, wide-eyed and trembling.
The squat man bowed and, without trace of sympathy, left with his henchmen – and the child.
The child was stored in the back of a black panel van, sandwiched between two stone-faced guardians, and the reinforced panel door slid closed with a deafening thump. Once in the dark the child stopped crying. It was as close to being invisible as she could manage since her mum and dad had started making her take those horrid little blue pills every day. She listened to the two men breathing, felt their large hands gripping her arms with gentle strength that could snap her bone with a simple twist, felt how their presence seemed to fill the van, suffocating the air until it seemed she couldn't breathe. She felt her throat close and her breath catch in panic and she began to over-compensate, forcing in huge gulps of air until her fingers and toes tingled and her head swam.
She fell forwards in a faint and one of the men caught her before she hit she floor, pulling her back up with a grunt and cradling her head in the crook of his elbow. He let her stay there when she woke, comfortable in the smell of lynx and old leather.
When the van pulled to a complete halt at last, it was the same man who took her hand and led her, trembling, out of the van, through a blast of cold outside air and into a drab, grey building.
She walked where she was led, this frightened 8 year old, through endless dull, identical corridors, watching the scuffed charcoal shoes of the squat man shuffling ahead of her.
When they stopped walking she looked up automatically. In front of them was a blank wall. The child watched, curious, as the squat man pressed a small plastic card to the wall, which blipped once, rumbled and slid smoothly back on itself.
As she was led onwards again the girl cowered back from the black walls which seemed, somehow, to be giving off both light and a pleasant heat, broken only by the occasional small object sticking slightly out from the wall.
After many twists and turns the squat man stopped and used his card in one of these objects. The wall opened, the black material seeming to evaporate as a door appeared and slid open with a small whoosh, and the child was gently nudged inside.
"Stay here," the squat man said. "Somebody will visit you shortly...make yourself at home," he added the last after a pause, pretending amiability.
The door closed, leaving the child alone. She turned to face the room and her sharp blue eyes widened. She was in a nursery, similar to the one she slept in at home only due to the presence of a child-sized bed. The rest of the room was huge, painted in pale green. One half was stacked with toys, crayons, picture books and more that made her mouth drop open in amazement. There was a doorway that she sidled close to and peeked in to see a kitchen – opening the cupboards and fridge revealed food, ready-prepared for her tender tastes.
She returned to the toys and eyed them carefully without touching. The squat man had said somebody would come to see her soon. The child hoped it was her mum and determined to be good – she picked up a colourful book with lots of pictures and some text and sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed, a small frown of concentration creasing her fresh, young face. She was still lost in the story when the door opened, startling her out of reverie.
"Mum?" the word fell from her lips before she could register that the newcomer was a stranger.
He was smooth-faced and fair-haired, wearing neatly creased khaki-coloured chinos, brushed brown suede shoes and a long white doctor's coat over a grey cashmere sweater. When he smiled it was kindly, but the child backed away when he took a step closer to her. She didn't trust his eyes, which remained a flat, cold blue, untouched by the expression he wore to try and comfort her.
"Hey, hey now.." he said. His voice was as smooth as his skin and emotionless as his smile. The child backed as far into the corner of her bed as she was able, curling up by the headboard and watching him carefully.
"I'm not going to hurt you," he told her, perching on the edge diagonally away from her. "Nobody here wants to do you any harm. We're here to help you. Your parents gave you to us so we could help you."
£7.99
Published by Turner Maxwell Books
First published 2009.
ISBN 978-0-9565425-0-2
Copyright © Angie Hulme 2009
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted or stored in a retrieval system in any form or by any means without permission in writing by Angie Hulme or Turner Maxwell Books.
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which this is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
The purchase of this book is a private sale between the reader and the publisher; at no stage will indemnity be claimed against the publisher. The moral right of the author has been asserted.
Warning: Not suitable for children
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental and may be more the work of your own imagination. Why not write a book yourself? Turner Maxwell Books are an alternative co-operative of new writers, working towards publishing inspirational literature.
Printed and bound in the United Kingdom for Turner Maxwell Books.