Thief of Always by Clive Barker & Chris Ryall & Alex Garner

Author:Clive Barker & Chris Ryall & Alex Garner
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, pdf
Tags: Unknown, Horror, Comics & Graphic Novels, General
ISBN: 9781933239170
Publisher: IDW Publishing
Published: 2005-11-18T23:00:00+00:00

[[pg 116 picture]]

XIV

Time Was

It took the boys an hour to reach the center of town, and there-given that their houses lay in opposite directions-they parted company. They exchanged addresses before they did so, promising to contact each other in a day or two, so that they could each support the other's account of the Holiday House. It would be difficult to make people believe all that had happened to them, but perhaps they'd have a better chance if two voices told the same tale.

"I know what you did back there," Wendell said just before they parted. "You saved my life."

"You would have done the same thing for me," Harvey said.

Wendell looked doubtful. "I might have wanted to," he said, somewhat abashed, "but I've never been very brave."

"We escaped together," Harvey said. "I couldn't have done it without you."

"Really?"

"Really."

Wendell brightened at this. "Yeah," he said. "I guess that's right. Well...be seein' ya."

And, with that, they went their separate ways.

It was still several hours before daybreak, and the streets were virtually deserted, so for Harvey it was a long, lonely trudge home. He was tired, and a little saddened by his farewell to Wendell, but the thought of the welcome he'd get when he reached his own doorstep put a spring in his heels.

Several times he wondered if he'd gone astray, because the streets he passed through were unfamiliar. One neighborhood was extremely fancy, the houses and the cars parked outside them slicker than anything he'd set eyes on. Another was virtually a wasteland, the houses half rubble, the streets strewn with garbage. But his sense of direction served him well. As the East began to pale, and the birds in the trees started their twitterings, he rounded the corner of his street. His weary legs broke into a joyful dash, and brought him to the step panting for breath and ready to fall into his parents' arms.

He knocked on the door. There was no sound from the house at first, which didn't surprise him given the hour. He knocked again, and again. Finally a light was turned on and he heard somebody coming to the door.

"Who is it?" said his father from behind the closed door. "Do you know what time it is?

"It's me," said Harvey.

Then came the sound of bolts being drawn aside, and the door was opened a crack.

"Who's me?" said the man peering out at him.

He looked kindly enough, Harvey thought, but it wasn't his father. This was a much older man, his hair almost white, his face thin. He had a badly trimmed mustache, and a furrow of a frown.

"What do you want?" he said.

Before Harvey could reply a woman's voice said:

"Come away from the door."

He couldn't see the second speaker yet, but he caught a glimpse of the wallpaper in the hallway, and the pictures on the wall. To his relief he saw that this was not his house at all. He'd obviously made a simple mistake, and knocked on the wrong door.

"I'm sorry," he said, backing away.

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