Organ Music by Margaret Mahy

Author:Margaret Mahy
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Science fiction, Adventure stories, Children, Teenage
ISBN: 9781877579806
Publisher: Gecko Press
Published: 2013-01-30T16:00:00+00:00

Then it faded again.

‘I hate that music,’ panted David.

‘Bach!’ whispered Harley.

‘Bark?’ David turned his head towards Harley, but could see only blackness. ‘Woof woof?’

‘Bach! You know. Bach, the composer. They’ve been playing that ever since we came in here. And Mozart, I think. Nothing but organ music anyway.’

It vaguely surprised David that Harley knew about composers and organ music. But he had probably heard a lot of music from his mother.

‘What happened?’ Harley sounded stern, like someone struggling out of a nightmare, desperate to take control of life once more.

‘Quinta yelled “Run!” and we ran,’ David said. He took a deep breath. ‘Harley ... you know that street where we found the car? Forbes Street?’

Harley nodded.

‘Quinta’s name was sprayed on the wall there. “Where’s Quinta?” it said. Well, Quinta’s here. But what’s she doing here?’

He felt Harley shrug in the darkness. ‘What are we doing here?’ he replied.

‘It’s not the same,’ said David. ‘Not yet, anyway,’ he added, shuddering as he spoke. ‘We’ve just arrived, and she must have been here for a long time. She knows her way around.’

‘She knew about the car too,’ Harley agreed.

‘We were tricked here. That car was a trap,’ said David. ‘I think it’s sent out into Forbes Street to catch people. When people see it with the keys in it, they’re tempted. Maybe that’s why Forbes Street has such a bad name. But why? I mean, who’d spend a million dollars on a car with a brain of its own, just to catch kids like us? It’s like a dream: some moments I feel like I almost know what’s going on, but then it fades before I can grab hold of it.’

He waved his hand in the dark. ‘I mean, when you mentioned organ music a minute ago it seemed like you’d said something really important – but I don’t know why. Ghostly!’

‘Sshh! Don’t talk about ghosts in here,’ said Harley. His voice was still trembling, but he was beginning to sound more like his usual sharp self.

‘I don’t believe in ghosts,’ David retorted. ‘I never have! All the same ... ’ he began, and stopped. It was mad, but he had to say it. ‘Talking about ghosts ... ’

‘Yeah, yeah!’ Harley interrupted him, leaping to his feet and kicking something that rang like a tin bell. ‘Where are the lights?’

David heard him scrabbling around the wall beside the door.

‘There must be lights somewhere. Ah! Here we are ... ’

The burst of powerful white light made David feel he had been struck in the face.

They were in a large, bright room, hemmed around by stainless steel benches, sinks and steel-doored refrigerators. The floor and even the walls were covered with white tiles, though one wall was patched with big gleaming drawers. In the centre of the room stood two spotless steel tables with channels in them, and beyond these was an alcove largely closed off by pleated plastic screens. David had never been in this room before. All the same, he recognized it. It had appeared on the waiting-room television set.

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