Half his mind screamed, Let go, get away. The other half showed him images of the stinger instantly getting free and springing for his face. He felt the thing moving under his hand. With an involuntary shudder, Alex threw himself back, stared down at his coat, and waited for the machine to emerge.

Nothing happened. He caught a faint noise from above, then another. A rushing whirr, rapid clangs. A pained gasp that could have been the cry of a small girl. He looked up. Zia had vanished.

Alex stood perplexed. Maybe his grandfather had tracked him down. Or maybe this was another trick. After a second’s more hesitation, he snatched up his coat, jumped back, held it ready.

The horrendous thing just sat there, scratching its needles gently on the leaves. It no longer seemed interested in him. Alex took his chance, grabbed for the robot and smashed it hard against the brickwork. The egg-head cracked. Something yolky oozed out. He heard Zia’s shriek from above, sounding farther away.

He tossed the machine aside and stood waiting, looking up. Solid silence radiated down on him. Clouds moved slowly high above. Then the silhouette of a man’s head appeared in the well’s opening. Not his grandfather, he knew instantly.

“Eh . . . hello?”

No response.

“Hello?” Alex tried again. “Can you help?”

Still no answer. The figure disappeared.

“Wait! Don’t—” Alex stopped as he saw the rope ladder flung over the well. It lowered until it hung just before him. He glanced around. The broken stinger robot lay lifeless amid the dingy leaves. Staying down here was not an option, whatever waited above. He pulled on his coat, tested the bottom rung, and began climbing. As he reached the top, his arms shook, and not just from the exertion. He drew a breath, then gingerly raised his head above the wall.

A thickset man who looked to be in his late seventies or early eighties stood by the well, making sure the ladder was secure. The man chewed his lip uncertainly, watching Alex.

“’Allo,” he finally said, then paused, wincing in doubt. “It’s, uh . . . Alex, innit?”

Alex stared at him. He couldn’t remember how to speak. Finally, he found one word.

“Harry?”

XXI.

FLIGHT

They stared at each other. Then Alex hurled himself from the well and flung his arms around Harry. One big arm wrapped around him, squeezing back. Alex wiped his eyes as he stepped away.

“Harry! You’re—” He broke off as new apprehension washed through him. He had been going to say something like, You’re safe, you’re all right. But now it hit him. He didn’t know what Harry was.

“Uh,” Alex tried again. Waves of fear pounded at him. “Harry. Are you . . . all right?”