Woodlington

Chapter 2 - House Hunting

Next morning, Alex woke to the sounds of eating.

'Chomp, chew, rustle, rustle. Chomp, chew, rustle, rustle.'

Puzzled, she rolled over and peered down from the top bunk.

And there was Jack, picking through the remains of last night's supper of chips, sausage, and pie.

Really?

"Stop it," she hissed, swinging her legs over the bunk's side. She hopped to the ground and spotting an empty carrier, began stuffing the stale leftovers into it.

Jack looked horrified. He opened his mouth.

Alex jabbed a finger at his face, stopping an inch from his eyes.

"Go on," she growled. "Say something, I dare you!"

He didn't.

When it came to the mess he'd made, Jack had outdone himself. Alex grimaced as she scraped mushy chips and bits of sausage and pie off the old carpet (thank goodness they hadn't ordered curry sauce!).

What had the advertisement said?

'Your meals are specially prepared by our renowned chefs'

Well the 'renowned chef' who'd prepared theirs last night, had looked all of sixteen. Pale and greasy, with more spots than she'd ever seen, he'd not only got their order wrong, he'd also managed to drop a couple of pies into the fish-batter!

Mind you he had given them an extra sausage, complements of 'Barney'.

In the corner of the room, Mrs Dowling grunted in her sleep, rolled onto her back, and began to snore.

Alex stood up.

With the offending scraps gone, her mood lightened.

She felt like doing something. But what?

She decided to take Jack exploring.

Her mother of course, would be furious if she woke and found them gone, but what was a telling-off compared to a morning of boredom?

Opening the door to the toilet, Alex tugged the light cord and stood in front of the mirror. It was so dirty she could hardly make herself out. She rubbed it with her sleeve, frowned, wetted the sleeve under the tap, and tried again.

This time she discovered a thin, wiry girl with messy brown hair, pale twinkling eyes, a snubbed nose and a smattering of freckles grinning back at her.

Sticking her tongue out, Alex grabbed the cord again and killed the light.

"Which way Jack?"

They were on the pavement outside Barneys, enjoying the fresh air and sunshine.

"I said..."

Alex pulled her brother close and tickled his side.

"Which..."

She tickled harder.

"Way?"

Laughing, Jack tried to wriggle free.

"Okay," she sighed, "up to me again."

In her mind she tossed a coin: tails.

They turned right, and set off.

On either side of the street, long rows of terraced houses followed them. Each looked the same as the last; boring and drab. She imagined them full of mindless robots, programmed to act like people. Then of course she imagined something going wrong; hundreds of bezerk metal killers rampaging through the streets. She pictured her family in the scene, perhaps hiding behind a car. She would need her wand obviously, and...