Gabriel's Clock Read Online Free PDF Page A

cup of tea?”
    â€œDon’t mind if I do,” said Cay. She followed Elgar to the door but stopped and gave the new arrival a backward glance. “Wake up soon, strange boy,” she said quietly. “I’m lonely.”
    The only reply she received was the gentle susurration of Jonathan’s shallow breathing.

Chapter 4
F EVER D REAMS
    Jonathan slowly opened his eyes, the pain in his head ebbing and flowing like waves on a beach. He was soaked in sweat, his whole body trembling, and he was lying in a strange bed in a strange room, with moonlight filtering through a crack in the curtains.
    Reaching up, he found a gauze pad attached to the base of his skull with a bandage. Even the memory of his injury, the sensation of shifting bone, made him feel sick. And then he remembered how he had gottenthe injury—snatches of memories drifting across his awareness—and he felt sicker still . . .
    He tried to sit up, but the room tilted crazily about him and he slumped back against the pillows. A distant panic began to fill him; all he could think about was getting to the pile of rubble that had poured into the cellar, so he could dig out his father. If he didn’t dig, then his father could die. He had to get back.
    Forcing himself upright, he swung his legs out of bed and placed his bare feet on the floor. He noticed that he was wearing pajamas, but he had no idea where they’d come from. Shuffling to the door, he opened it to reveal a landing with other doors leading off it and stairs leading down. Bracing himself against the wall, he slowly and painfully made his way along the landing, down the stairs, and along a stone-floored hallway to what looked like a front door.
    There was a key in the lock. He turned it, and with a muffled click the bolt slid back into its housing. Jonathan opened the door and edged forward to brace himself on the frame. He didn’t recognize what he saw. A wide lawn was split by a long gravel drive, leading down to a pair of open gates. Beyond the gates he could see something glinting from inside a low-hanging mist, but his vision wouldn’t stay focused long enough for him to figure out what it was.
    Cool night air brushed his skin, and he shivered as the sweat that continued to pour from him turned to pinpricks of ice. A voice at the back of his head told him that this was stupid, that he was hurt, that he had no idea where he was or where he was going, but he ignored it. Every time he shut his eyes he saw his father mouthing
go
at him before the avalanche of bricks and wood slammed downward.
    â€œI’m . . . coming . . . Dad,” Jonathan gasped as he took faltering, barefoot steps onto the gravel of the drive. It crunched quietly beneath his feet, but he didn’t hear it. He just concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other without giving in to the spinning world around him. As he passed through the open gates he thought he heard voices calling out to him from somewhere up above, but he ignored them.
    Looking to his left, he saw a road leading toward a church and a cluster of cottages; to his right, the road disappeared off into a wall of trees. It was this route he chose as he remembered the car driving on leaves and branches, remembered his mother half carrying him through a forest. Where was his mother now? Surely it was this road that would take him home, back to where she’d be waiting for him.
    He staggered onward, the material of his pajamas sticking to his skin. He couldn’t understand how he could feel so hot and so cold at the same time. Just as he passed beneath the trees, he felt sure he could hear voices again, muttering now from somewhere behind him.
    The pain made it difficult to think, but disjointed fragments of his memory slowly pulled themselves closer together to form a coherent and frightening whole. It’s those monsters, he thought to himself with a horrified shudder. The ones in bowler hats.