The Long Earth

I’ve finished.’
    And I thought she was clever, thought Joshua. ‘Then start again.’
    It took him minutes to get to her, even though she was only half the length of the Home away. But he could see this forest clump was actually quite small. Beyond, in the moonlight, he saw what looked like prairie flowers, like in the Arboretum. No sign of the Home, though, or Allied Drive.
    At last Sarah stumbled towards him and clamped herself on him. ‘Where are we?’
    ‘Somewhere else, I guess. You know. Like Narnia.’
    The moonlight showed him the tears pouring down her face and the snot under her nose, and he could smell the vomit on her nightdress. ‘I never stepped into no wardrobe.’
    He burst out laughing. She stared at him. But because he was laughing, she laughed. And the laughter started to fill this little clearing, for other kids were drifting this way, towards the flashlight glow, and for a moment that held back the terror. It was one thing to be lost and alone, quite another to be lost in a crowd, and laughing.
    Somebody else grabbed his arm. ‘Josh?’
    ‘Freddie?’
    ‘It was terrible. I was in the dark and I
fell down
, down to the ground.’
    Freddie had a tummy bug, Josh remembered. He’d been in the sanatorium, on the Home’s first floor. He must have just fallen, through the vanished building. ‘Are you hurt?’
    ‘No … Josh? How do we get home?’
    Joshua took Sarah’s hand. ‘Sarah, you made a Stepper?’
    ‘Yes.’
    He glanced at the mess of components in her hand. It wasn’t even in a box, not even a shoebox or something, let alone a box that had been carefully made for the purpose, like his. ‘What did you use for a switch?’
    ‘What switch? I just twisted the wires together.’
    ‘Look. It definitely said to put in a centre-off switch.’ He very carefully took her Stepper in his hands. You always had to be very careful around Sarah. She wasn’t a Problem, but problems had happened to her.
    At least there were three wires. He traced back the circuitry by touch. He’d spent hours staring at the circuit diagram; he knew it by heart. He separated the wires and put the ragged tangle back in her hands. ‘Listen. When I say go, press that wire and that one together. If you find yourself back in your room, drop the whole thing on the floor and go to bed. OK?’
    Sniffing, she asked, ‘What if it doesn’t work?’
    ‘Well, you’ll still be here, and so will I. And that won’t be so bad, will it? Are you ready? Come on. Let’s do a countdown from ten. Nine, eight …’
    On zero she disappeared, and there was a pop, like a soap bubble bursting.
    The other kids stared at where she’d been, and then at Joshua. Some were strangers: as much as he could see any faces at all, there were plenty he couldn’t recognize. He’d no idea how far they’d walked in the dark.
    Right now he was king of the world. These helpless kids would do anything he told them. It wasn’t a feeling he liked. It was a chore.
    He turned to Freddie. ‘OK, Freddie. You next. You know Sarah. Tell her not to worry. Tell her a lot of kids are coming home via her bedroom. Tell her Joshua says it’s the only way to get them home, and please don’t get angry. Now show me your Stepper.’
    One by one, pop after pop, the lost boys and girls disappeared.
    When the last of those near by had gone, there were still voices further away in the forest, maybe beyond. There was nothing Joshua could do for them. He wasn’t even sure he’d done the right thing now. He stood alone in the stillness, and listened. Aside from the distant voices there was no sound but the skinny drone of mosquitoes. People told you that mosquitoes could kill a horse, in time.
    He held his own carefully constructed Stepper, and moved the switch.
    He was instantly back in the Home, by Sarah’s bed, in her tiny cluttered room, just in time to see the back of the last girl he’d led home, still quite hysterical, disappearing into the hallway. And he heard the shrill sound of the Sisters’ voices calling his name.
    He hastily moved the switch again, to stand alone in the solitude of the forest.
His
forest.
    There were more voices now, closer by. Sobbing. Screaming. One kid saying very politely, ‘Excuse me. Can anybody help me?’ And then a retch. Vomiting.
    More new arrivals. He thought, why are they all sick? That was the smell of Step Day, when he remembered it later. Everyone had thrown up. He hadn’t.
    He set off into the dark,