Crawler could sense my weakening, and he cocked his head to the side slowly, with something a lot like tenderness.
‘Stay,’ he said. ‘You need me. I need you. Together, we can build something incredible.’
‘Wow,’ I said. ‘I’ll give you this, Crawler, you always seem to know exactly what I want.’
And we smiled at each other.
In that shared glee, I made up my mind. I felt a stab of regret, but who was I to fight my destiny?
I knew what I wanted, and now I had to take it. Someone might be hurt, but that was the price I’d have to pay. And I had to act fast, before I changed my mind.
I STEELED MYSELF to say the next bit. ‘But the answer’s no, Crawler. No more.’
I placed my hand in front of his chest.
He winced. ‘What are you doing?’ he said.
‘Trying to find your heartbeat,’ I said solemnly. ‘It’s funny, really. All the ghosts in this building have more heart in their little fingers than you have in your entire body. You might as well be dead inside. And deep down inside your wasted soul I think you know that too, don’t you?’
His eyelids trembled slightly, and he almost – almost – nodded.
‘I’m tempted by the theme park, not gonna lie,’ I said. ‘And there’ll always be a part of me that likes to break and rage – but I’m not going to do it for you, not any more.’
‘Everything you are you owe to me,’ he said.
‘Everything?’ I frowned. ‘You made me into nothing. You erased me. You stole my name. I don’t owe you anything.’
‘I saw what you wanted to be,’ he insisted. ‘I brought it out of you.’
‘You saw one part of me, and you ignored everything else,’ I replied shakily. ‘You distorted me to line your pocket. I’m not going to stay. I don’t need you. And you know – you know – that this is over.’
He looked away. Suddenly, he looked old, and afraid, and I almost felt sorry for him.
‘Leave him alone now,’ I said. ‘Leave all the ghosts alone too. They’ve done their time. This is your chance to do some good, for once. No more hunting.’
His nod was barely perceptible, but it was there.
CRASH! The wall next to us slipped and fell to the ground, making us both jump. And for a minute, as the dust and the wind flew around us, as the thunder shook the forest, we gave each other tiny smiles, bound by the same irresistible thought.
‘Nice touch,’ I muttered.
‘Yeah,’ added Crawler. ‘Would have been better with—’
‘Someone screaming,’ I said.
We nodded together, imagining it.
Our eyes met. A wicked, lingering thrill flickered in both of us – a recognition.
Even now, I could almost hear that spooky organ playing, could only imagine how brilliant it would sound as it played across the vast expanse of Poltergeist Land …
I ripped my attention away from him then.
‘Go,’ I said. ‘Please. Go.’
And he went.
Then I waited. I’m meeting an old friend, you see.
A few seconds later, there was another resounding CRASH! as the three remaining walls fell away, leaving me standing on only some rough floorboards, surrounded by a darkening sky.
Lightning skipped towards me, darting through the treetops like an excited child. I thought of my father. ‘I wanted to paint the storm. Stand inside it. See its colours.’ Well, now I knew what the fuss was all about. It was dark. It was glittery. It was unpredictable. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
I tipped my head back. The first drops of rain began to fall. They carried the blood and salt and dirt away from my face and body, and I was washed clean.
And now it was here, now the storm swirled above my head. We meet again.
I opened my mouth and heard myself laughing loudly, with delight, and the storm laughed right back with me, and as it did so it took that tiny bit I’d swallowed as a baby, back up into itself.
Take it. I’m done with it now. Take it. I loved it. Thank you.
Lightning flashed.
Thunder boomed.
And the rain, and the ghost train, came tumbling down.
I RAN DOWN what was left of the staircase, raced through the corridors as glass and nails and old pallets hammered down.
Scanlon was in Mary’s room, preoccupied in a frenzy of destruction.
‘Scanlon,’ I shouted. ‘Scanlon!’
But he couldn’t – or wouldn’t – hear me, busy as he was smashing Mary’s cot to pieces, a wild, almost terrifying look of relief on his face, while Mary egged him on, stamping on the floor with unrestrained delight.
‘Scanlon, we’ve got to go. Now. Get the others.’
Just as I was beginning to worry, his eyes finally cleared. I picked up Mary and we made a run for it, gathering the boys, Vanessa and Isolde on the way.
Just a few minutes later, the top floor collapsed on to the second, and within seconds Crawler’s Haunted House was nothing more than a pile of rubble.
The storm hammered down on its remains mercilessly, as if to prove a point, before abruptly ceasing.
All the tourists had made it out alive, folded themselves into their helicopters and limousines while frantically sipping the antidote, and fled.
There was no sign of Crawler. His absence was the best apology he could have made.
The dark clouds rolled back, leaving just a dampness in the air around us, and streaks of blue sky appeared overhead. The trees around us seemed to sigh with relief that the atrocity in their midst had been pulled out like a rotten tooth.
We stood in a circle on the outskirts of the wreckage and looked at each other proudly. Sunlight stretched like spilt cream across the
