The Power of Five Oblivion

to start. My first thought was to get Jamie out of the village and on his way to … it didn’t matter where, he just had to go. But at the same time I knew that it was too late, that it would do no good. The voice on the phone had not been human. No person in this world would have been able to talk like that. And they had spoken my name, known it was me on the other end before I had said a word.
    The Old Ones.
    It had to be.
    When Jamie had told me his story, that evening after the fight with George, I had believed every word he had said, even though common sense, everything I knew about the world, had told me not to. I hadn’t doubted him for a second. Why was that? Perhaps it was because I had been the one who had found him, and from the moment the door had opened we had been inextricably linked. It was as if it was all meant to happen. But now I saw that he had unwittingly brought danger to the village, to the only people I cared about.
    “We’ll be with you very shortly.”
    It wasn’t his fault, I had to remind myself. It was Miss Keyland. She had gone against what the Council had decided and in doing so she had sacrificed us all.
    We got back just as Rita was preparing supper, already wondering where we were. John was standing by the table, laying out plates as if there was anything to put on them other than the usual bread and vegetable stew. Rita knew at once that something was wrong. I had torn my clothes stumbling out of the forest. My hair was wild. My eyes must have been shining with fear. Jamie was deathly pale, already blaming himself. I understood how he felt. Despite what I knew, part of me wanted to blame him too and wished that he had never arrived.
    “What is it?” Rita asked.
    “It was Miss Keyland,” I gasped. “We followed her. There was a telephone in the forest. Why did you never tell me about it? She called the police. They’re coming.”
    It had all come out in a breathless rush. Rita stared at me.
    “Coming to the village?” George had appeared on the staircase, dressed in a crumpled white shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He had heard what I was saying and I thought he would be pleased. If the police came, they would take Jamie away. That was surely what he wanted. But I was wrong. He stood there and his face was aghast.
    “Did you hear what Miss Keyland said?” Rita asked.
    “No. But I picked up the phone and I heard them…” I felt tears stealing out of the corners of my eyes. I couldn’t stop them. “They were horrible,” I said. “They knew my name. They knew everything.”
    John glanced at Rita and I saw her shoulders slump, not in a gesture of defeat but of acceptance. It was as if she had been waiting for something like this to happen, and now that it had she was almost relieved. But when she spoke it was with quiet authority, the steel will that I had always known.
    “George,” she said. “Go to the church and sound the alarm. Three rings, three times – you know the code. We have to alert the village.” George didn’t move so she turned her head and snapped at him. “Go now.”
    George went. As he left the room our eyes met and I saw that he was worried about me and that he was apologizing, in his own way, for all the tension that there had been between us in the last few days. I tried to smile at him but I’m not sure what expression he saw on my face. Then he was gone.
    Rita was already burrowing in a cupboard under the sink, pulling out a bundle wrapped in an old sack. “This is for you, Jamie,” she said. “I know you’ve been saving your own supplies but I’m sure this will suit you better. There’s water, bread, dried fruit and nuts. Enough to keep you going for a few days. Also a compass and a map. You have to leave the village at once – do you understand that? And I want you to take Holly with you.”
    “But, Rita—”
    “Don’t argue!” she said and I suddenly knew that she had been preparing for this, that the food and the compass had been there all along. How could she have known it was going to happen? She placed the bundle in my hands and just for one last moment we were close. “I always knew about the door,” she said. “Do you think I could live in a village like this and not hear all the stories? My grandmother told me about it before I was your age. One day a boy would appear through the door and that would be the end of the village. That was what she said. But it wasn’t all bad news. She also told me that it would