Night on Terror Island Read online

  ‘Er … no.’ Kip could feel his face colouring. ‘I’ve never asked.’

  ‘Well, I have. I keep asking him for an address and phone number, just in case I need to get in touch with him, but every time I do, he finds some excuse not to give it to me. And … have you noticed how he’s always the last to leave? He always seems to have a bit of fine-tuning to do up in that projection room.’

  ‘It is great though, isn’t it?’ said Kip, desperate to change the subject. ‘The Lazarus Enigma, I mean.’

  ‘The what?’

  ‘Er … that’s what he calls the special equipment. As good as digital, I reckon.’

  ‘Sounds like something out of a James Bond movie,’ said Dad. ‘But the results are amazing.’ He’d watched the film on Monday night and, like everyone else, had been astonished by the quality of the image. ‘It’s weird,’ he said. ‘I mean, have you looked at that equipment?’

  Kip played it cool.

  ‘Yeah, I’ve glanced at it.’

  ‘It’s like something that’s been put together in a garden shed. God knows how it does what it does.’

  ‘It’s an enigma,’ said Kip, remembering something that Mr Lazarus had said to him. ‘Hence the name.’

  Dad gave him an odd look.

  ‘I think you’ve been spending too much time with him,’ he said. ‘Now listen, Kip, I need to go home a little early tonight. Your Mum and I have some stuff we need to discuss.’

  Kip shrugged his shoulders.

  ‘No problem,’ he said. ‘I can sort out things here.’

  ‘Thanks, Kip. I appreciate it.’

  Dad headed home at about nine-thirty, leaving Kip to clear up. After the audience had gone, he went into the auditorium and did a quick check on the seats, throwing the worst of the rubbish into a black bin bag.

  He was just finishing up when the door of the projection room opened and Mr Lazarus came out. He strolled down the steps to the centre of the cinema, his hands in the pockets of his fancy waistcoat.

  ‘A good night, I think,’ he said. ‘The auditorium looked pretty full.’

  ‘Best in ages,’ Kip agreed. ‘Dad was made up. By the way he was asking questions before. He says he needs an address from you.’

  ‘He’ll get one,’ said Mr Lazarus.

  ‘Yeah. Just so long as it’s not, “The Projection Room, Paramount Picture Palace”. I don’t think he’d be too happy about that.’

  ‘No, I don’t suppose he would.’ Mr Lazarus smiled. ‘By the way, my collector friend was very pleased with John Dillinger’s hat. It’s going to take pride of place in his collection.’ He lifted his gloved hand and a brown envelope appeared in it.

  ‘How do you do that?’ asked Kip.

  ‘It’s just a little bit of magic,’ said Mr Lazarus. He handed the envelope to Kip. ‘And that’s a little something for your trouble.’

  Kip opened it. It contained six crisp ten pound notes.

  ‘Oh … I’m not sure I can take this,’ he said.

  ‘Why not? You earned it. Buy yourself something. Some new trainers, perhaps?’

  Kip looked at Mr Lazarus. Only the previous day, he’d asked his mum about a new pair of trainers he’d seen online. The price? Sixty pounds.

  ‘How do you do it?’ he asked again.

  ‘How do I do what?’

  ‘Know stuff about people. And make things appear. And swap cheapo watches for nice expensive ones. Are you like a … magician, or something?’

  Mr Lazarus smiled. ‘It’s as good a description as any. I think all projectionists are magicians. We take the stuff of dreams and we put them up there for all to see.’ He gestured at the blank cinema screen.

  Kip looked at the screen for a moment and then back at Mr Lazarus.

  ‘I’ve got some more questions,’ he said.

  Mr Lazarus smiled. He ushered Kip into a seat and then took the one next to him. ‘Fire away,’ he suggested.

  Kip frowned, not exactly sure what to ask first. Every question that appeared in his mind sounded stupid. Finally, he decided he had to start somewhere.

  ‘Are you … are you really over a hundred years old?’ he asked.

  Mr Lazarus laughed.

  ‘Hard ones first, eh?’ He seemed to consider for a moment. ‘I was born in 1890,’ he said. ‘In Naples.’

  Kip did a quick calculation in his head.

  ‘Flippin’eck!’ he said.

  Mr Lazarus seemed unperturbed.

  ‘My father was a travelling salesman and my early years were spent moving from place to place. When I was around your age, we moved to Paris and it was while I was there that I first met the man who would influence my whole life. His name was Georges Méliés.’

  ‘The film maker?’ asked Kip.

  Mr Lazarus looked at him, shocked. ‘You have heard of him?’ he gasped. ‘I must say, I’m surprised. It was a very long time ago.’

  ‘Well, I don’t know much about him, but I read this article in a film magazine. It reckoned he was the father of science fiction.’

  Mr Lazarus nodded.

  ‘He has been called that. It’s funny you mentioned magicians earlier because that is exactly what he did for a living before he discovered film-making. He taught me a few things.’ Mr Lazarus lifted a hand and made a gesture. A white dove appeared in his palm and fluttered towards the roof of the cinema. Kip gazed up at it open-mouthed. Meanwhile, Mr Lazarus went right on talking. ‘I was perhaps sixteen years old when I first went to his theatre and saw a film called A Journey to the Moon…’ He paused for a moment. ‘Do you still have my business card with you?’

  Kip nodded. He reached into his back pocket and took it out.

  ‘It’s getting a bit creased,’ he said.

  ‘No matter.’ Mr Lazarus drew the card between his thumb and forefinger and suddenly, it looked as though it had been freshly ironed. Then he tapped it once. Instantly, a grainy black and white image appeared on it – a round full moon, that appeared to be made from melting wax, floating in a black sky. The moon had a face, a jolly smiling face: the eyes moving, the lips pouting and smiling. The moon began to grow bigger as though a camera was tracking towards it. Then, quite suddenly, a huge bullet-shaped spaceship struck the moon and buried itself in the face’s right eye. The moon’s tongue came out of its mouth and it winced in pain. Then the image flickered and was gone.

  ‘The most famous image from that film,’ explained Mr Lazarus. ‘Primitive by today’s standards, but at the time, audiences were astounded. And I was in one such audience! Afterwards, I stayed behind and asked if I could speak to George. I told him that I was fascinated by what I had seen and I would very much like to work for him. He was kind enough to take me on as an apprentice at his studio and, in time, I became his chief projectionist.’

  ‘But …’ Kip was shaking his head. ‘You couldn’t be that old, could you? I mean, people of seventy and eighty are old wrecks. But you, you’re well over a hundred and you don’t look so bad.’

  Mr Lazarus smiled. ‘I will take that as a compliment,’ he said. He went back to his little history. ‘In nineteen-thirteen, George’s company was put out of business by other, bigger film-makers and he could no longer employ me. I went to Venice, where I met Señor Ravelli, who was planning to open Il Fantoccini and I worked for him until nineteen thirty-five, when the floods finally closed his cinema. After that, it was Paris and La Fantastique. It was while I was working there that I created the Lazarus Enigma and began to understand all the amazing things it could do. I was in my early sixties by then. After that, I travelled the world, looking for cinemas that needed help – cinemas like the Paramount.’

  ‘So … you didn’t really come here from Venice?’

  Mr Lazarus shook his head.

  ‘I thought that sounded more impressive. Most recently I was working in a little cinema on a remote Scottish island. The Moonlight, a beautiful little place with seating for just thirty-five people. But that closed down a year ago. The owner died and the ma
n who purchased it turned it into’ – his lip curled – ‘a pub.’ He shook his head. ‘Since then, I have simply been … waiting.’

  ‘And how did you find out about us?’

  ‘I have developed a sense. Cinemas in trouble, they draw me, just as a moth is drawn to a candle flame. I have to go to them and help them to survive.’

  Kip frowned.

  ‘It still doesn’t explain the age thing,’ he said. ‘Come on, you have to admit, you don’t look …’ Kip did some quick maths in his head. ‘… over a hundred and twenty years old! I mean, that’s mental!’

  Mr Lazarus nodded.

  ‘It is the Enigma that keeps me young. Among its many special properties, it has the ability to take a man’s lines and wrinkles, all his infirmities, and lock them away in a piece of film. I always carry that reel of film around with me. Every so often, when I feel the years weighing heavy on my bones, I put myself into that film and when I come out again, I am restored to my former vigour. In the film there is an image of me as I should look now.’ He seemed to shudder. ‘It is not a pretty picture.’

  ‘So … that’s when you use the Retriever? To get back out again.’

  ‘Correct. And, of course, I have to keep that film in a very safe place. If anything ever happened to it, I fear all the age that I have shed over the years would come back to visit me. And then I would be a … how did you describe it? Ah yes. An old wreck. But listen, Kip, I have told you all this in the strictest confidence. I do not want you to share this information with anybody else. Not your friends, not your family, do you understand?’

  ‘Sure. You can count on me.’

  ‘Good boy.’ Mr Lazarus patted Kip on the shoulder. ‘Now I think it is time you went home. Your parents will be wondering what has happened to you.’

  Kip nodded. He slipped the business card into his back pocket and started to get out of his seat – but then he paused for a moment.

  ‘That “staying young” thing,’ he said. ‘Would it work on anybody?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Mr Lazarus. ‘I never tried it on anyone else. But why would you be so interested? You’re a young fellow, Kip; you have your whole life ahead of you.’

  ‘Yeah. But I was just thinking. Sounds kind of cool.’ He studied Mr Lazarus for a moment. ‘Does it mean that you can live for ever?’

  Mr Lazarus smiled sadly. ‘Nobody lives for ever,’ he said.

  Kip frowned. ‘Well, I’d better get home. Will you be OK to lock up?’

  ‘Of course. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

  Kip headed for the exit, but glancing back he saw that Mr Lazarus was still in his seat. He was gazing up at the big, empty screen in front of him, as though watching a film of his very own.

  A sudden thought flashed through Kip’s mind.

  That man is over one hundred and twenty years old.

  Crazy as it sounded, Kip knew with a terrible certainty that it was absolutely true.

  CHAPTER TEN

  ‘BUT I DON’T want to go to the cinema!’ protested Rose, dragging back on Kip and Dad’s hands. ‘It’s a rotten monster movie and I hate scary films.’

  ‘But you won’t even be watching it!’ Kip reminded her. ‘Why do you have to make everything so difficult?’

  ‘We’ve brought your books and crayons,’ added Dad. ‘You can just sit in the office with me and amuse yourself.’

  ‘It’s not fair! Why do I have to?’

  Kip sighed. It was Friday night and Mum had announced that she had yet another of her late meetings, which meant that he and Dad were stuck with Rose for the night.

  ‘Why don’t you ever get nice films?’ she demanded. ‘Something I’d like to watch. Something about ponies or fairies or princesses?’

  ‘We do get nice films sometimes,’ Kip told her. ‘But we can’t do anything about tonight. Anyway, it’s Dad who chooses the films, not me.’

  This was true – though, in reality, Kip was a big influence on Dad’s choices.

  ‘They don’t make many nice films any more,’ said Dad. ‘Most people prefer the scary ones.’

  ‘Well I don’t!’

  ‘It’s only for a couple of hours,’ Kip reminded her. ‘You’ll be able to sit in the office and draw. You like drawing.’

  Rose looked at him indignantly.

  ‘I have to be in the mood,’ she told him.

  The Paramount came in to view and they saw Mr Lazarus waiting by the open doors. He smiled at Rose as Kip dragged her up the steps and inside.

  ‘Ah, here’s my favourite girl,’ he said. ‘How are you tonight, Rose?’

  ‘All right,’ said Rose, grumpily. She always seemed very wary of Mr Lazarus, Kip thought, but she was like that with most people until she got to know them properly. It came from years of Mum telling her not to have anything to do with strangers. And they didn’t come much stranger than Mr Lazarus.

  Just then, Dad’s mobile phone rang. He lifted it to his ear and listened for a moment. His expression became grave.

  ‘Oh no,’ he said. Kip looked at him. ‘Oh dear,’ he said. ‘I see. Well, of course somebody needs to be there with her. Uh huh. Just a minute.’ He took the phone away from his ear and looked at Kip. ‘It’s Grannie,’ he said. ‘She’s had a bit of a fall. Nothing too serious but they’ve taken her into hospital. They’re going to have to operate tonight.’ Kip knew that this was a big problem. Grannie lived alone in a little house in Blackburn and had nobody up there who could help her. Dad thought for a moment, clearly unsure of what to do. ‘I won’t be able to contact your mum; she always switches her mobile off in meetings … but somebody needs to go over to Blackburn and help sort Grannie out.’ He looked at Kip and Mr Lazarus. ‘I’m afraid we might have to cancel the film for tonight.’

  Kip stared at his father. ‘We can’t do that!’ he protested. ‘It’s the first night of Terror Island. The place will be packed.’

  ‘I can’t help that. It’s hard enough running things with three people, let alone two. And there’s Rose to think about.’

  Mr Lazarus stepped forward and placed a hand reassuringly on Dad’s shoulder.

  ‘Please don’t worry, Mr McCall,’ he said. ‘We can handle things here, can’t we, Kip?’

  ‘Er … yeah, sure, absolutely.’ Kip nodded. ‘Course we can.’

  ‘Kip can handle the ticket booth and the confectionary and I can move between the projection room and the office. Once the film is running, I’ll be free to come down and help Kip out.

  ‘I don’t know …’said Dad. ‘It’s a bit of a tall order.’

  ‘Not at all. You just go and do whatever you need to do.’ Mr Lazarus smiled that sleepy smile of his. ‘We’ll take care of everything. I promise.’

  Dad still looked worried but lifted the phone to his ear again. ‘OK, tell her I’m on my way,’ he said. ‘I’ll be there as soon as I can.’ He rang off. ‘OK, Kip, obviously you’ll have to keep a close eye on Rose tonight.’

  ‘Oh but, Dad, it’s Friday. It’s—’

  ‘I know what night it is,’ Dad assured him. ‘But just for once you’re going to have to give the movie a miss. You’ll be able to catch up with it any other night this week.’

  ‘But, Dad—’

  ‘No buts, Kip. This is an emergency and I’m counting on you.’ Dad turned and hurried towards the entrance doors. ‘I should be back by the end of the film,’ he called over his shoulder. ‘If you have any problems, ring me.’ And then he was gone, hurrying back in the direction of the house to collect his car.

  Kip stood there, his mouth open. This couldn’t be happening. Not on a Friday night! Not for the opening of Terror Island!

  With a sigh, he led Rose through into the ticket office and began to unpack her things onto Dad’s desk: books, crayons, her favourite toys. She watched impassively as he set everything out for her.

  ‘You’ll be fine,’ Kip told her.

  ‘I’ll be bored,’ she insisted.

  ‘Please, Rose, help me out here. Do some colo
uring in or something.’

  He went through to the confectionary booth and switched on the popcorn maker. Mr Lazarus followed him.

  ‘You have fully recovered from your little trip in to the world of film?’ murmured Mr Lazarus.

  Kip glanced towards the open door, hoping that Rose wasn’t listening – but she seemed totally intent on playing with her toys.

  ‘I guess,’ said Kip. ‘Looking back, it seems like something I dreamed.’

  ‘It is incredible,’ said Mr Lazarus. ‘What you youngsters call “mind-blowing.” But, of course, you were only in there for a few minutes. Next time, we’ll have to see if we can’t put you in for a little longer.’

  Kip looked at him incredulously. ‘I already told you, there’s not going to be a next time.’

  ‘You said that. But don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.’

  ‘Yeah, I’ve thought about it. But I don’t know … it would have to be a safe film. Definitely not something like Terror Island. I really don’t fancy getting chewed up by a sabre-toothed tiger, thanks very much.’

  Mr Lazarus nodded.

  ‘I can see why you’d be nervous about that,’ he admitted. ‘It isn’t the most appealing idea. But listen, I spent some time last night making a few adjustments to the Retriever. I think it’s even better than it was. It’s my belief that it might now be possible to bring a live character out of the film.’

  Kip stared at him.

  ‘But … I thought you said that if you were there when the credits rolled, you couldn’t ever get out.’

  ‘That’s true of real people, like you and me. But film characters are different. You remember I told you they’re like ghosts of themselves? I think now the prism could actually give those ghosts solid form. It’s very exciting.’

  ‘Look, could we talk about this another time?’ hissed Kip, glancing nervously towards the open office door.

  ‘Oh yes, of course. Point taken.’

  ‘And listen,’ added Kip. ‘You have covered up the equipment, right?’

  ‘I’ve thrown a sheet over it. At least, over the parts I don’t use to improve the film image. And don’t worry, I won’t remove it again, not unless you ask me to.’