The five friends gathered around the doorway to the chamber.

“Dead end,” Roan noted, “nothing but junk here. Wait, lamps, matches.” Roan’s face lit up as he struck a match, “I didn’t expect that to light!”

Gum turned from scanning the broken furniture littering the place to face Elmo, “Time you told me about these dreams you've been having,” he muttered. Elmo nodded and everyone gathered in the centre of the room whilst Roan burnt his fingers lighting candle stubs in a couple of rusty lamps. Gum slid a suitable box out of the shadows and Elmo sat on the floor, Holi huddling in a corner, Heather hanging back closer to the comforting space of the open doorway. "I'm having a déjà vu,” she said. "I've seen this place before."

“I’ve been having such a jumble of dreams,” Elmo interrupted, wringing his hands, eyes darting around the group. “Like the floodgates opened and my brain won’t stop. Not the usual stuff: flying, falling, back in school, unprepared for exams. But feeling trapped, secret portals, dark passages; that device keeps coming up. I remember them when I wake too.”

Roan chipped in as he wandered the room: “Wardrobes, mirrors, deep rabbit holes, storybooks! And who’s Rimgumbaldy?”

“Rimgumbaldy?” sighed Elmo, flinching at Gum's glare. “It was his device.”

Heather strained to listen, her attention divided between Elmo's ramblings and the staircase back to normality, to home. She didn’t like the gloom of the staircase, but didn’t like to be too far from the only route back to normality either.

Gum asked “How come you know this place? How did you find it?”

“I don't know how I know,” said Elmo, “Dreams. I told you, someone put stuff in my head! Why am I dreaming about myself wandering around waving a pin? Why does the name Rimgumbaldy sound like something I should know? He sounds like some made-up medieval inventor.”

Roan scowled, recalling the phone call earlier that morning. Holi looked disappointed, “Why didn’t you tell me any of this?”

Elmo softened. “I didn’t know if it was all just... just dreams, you didn’t seem interested when I drew that device from my dream. I did show you. I didn’t know if it was dangerous - it is pretty weird. I don’t know - didn’t ever feel like the time was quite right. I did want to tell you, Hol.” Elmo went silent for a while, deep in thought.

Behind, Heather was fighting the urge to look up the stairs, she fancied she heard movement far above them; it was indistinct, but her deja-vu recalled it too, and she was getting a little jumpy. Hopefully, just nothing.

“Let me get this straight,” continued Gum, voice thick with disbelief, “you had dreams of fairy-tale castles and tunnels and you lead us all down here. You get an idea that some ancient dude called Rimbimbaldi made a magical device that you just happen to find one day…”

“Got it from a rat,” cut in Roan. “And it’s Rimgumbaldy.”

“Got what?” spat Gum, throwing his hands up in the air.

“I thought you said it ‘turned up’ in your bin!”

“There was a possessive rat in there with it," said Roan, "We did mention it in the car, but that other rat pretty much... Wait! Where did that one go? I almost forgot about it since we got stuck in here.”

Gum, though, was not to be distracted.

As he continued, the conversation became distant to Roan, as he wandered about, peering at the detritus littering the place.

As he continued, Roan examined the detritus littering the place.

“This is typical of you,” Gum was saying, “You scrawl some egg you dreamt about, which conveniently ‘turns up’ in your bin. You call us all up here, and we end up stuck in a tunnel. And why Rimgumbaldy? Why did you put my name in it?” Gum’s voice was full of bewilderment and exasperation.

“And what’s that about someone else being in here?” joined in Holi.

Roan stepped back out past Heather to check the route downward.

Elmo began to say something when Gum pressed, “My name! Why?”

Elmo seemed reluctant to answer. Behind them, Heather's heart began to pound. She knew she had heard something - faint, like a half forgotten memory.

Roan, with his back to her, was oblivious; he was peering into the darkness down the stairway, knowing that they would need to continue that way since the door hadn’t provided a way out. He thought of Mist at home, probably worried about him. Gum, though, was still pressing Elmo to explain Rimgumbaldy. Sighing, Elmo said to Gum, “Because you’ve got something to do with my dreams!”

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“What? Something how?” Gum was on his feet and scowling down at Elmo. Roan shone his phone torch into the obscurity of the downward tunnel; however, a grating noise on the stairs above made him spin round to see a terrible sight.

Outside the door, Heather felt her breath catch in her throat as her eyes met those of a figure crouched on the steps. It was Elmo - no, he was behind her. Not Elmo. Something twisted, something wrong. Her mouth opened, but the scream was stuck. Her pointing finger trembled, and she found herself utterly unable to move. The figure plunged toward her in a dislocated lunge, as if unused to the motion of its own bones.

Gum, having heard his wife’s cry, hurried to Heather's side, Elmo and Holi close behind, but he faltered as he saw the awkward creature in Elmo’s form spinning to regard him. It fixed its eyes on Gum and crouched.

Elmo wailed, backing away into the chamber, pushing Holi along with him.

“I don’t know what you are,” Gum growled. “But, back off. I’m not afraid of any scrawny Elmo knock-off.” He squared his shoulders, voice steady, as a bead of sweat trickled down his temple. But, before he could prevent it, the creature slapped its palm flat onto Gum’s forehead. Since Heather stood in the doorway now, blocking Roan’s view of this assault, Roan spun back to the downward tunnel, meaning to lead the group in that direction, when, suddenly, everything went pitch black. Each one shot out their hands, feeling for one another. “You still there?” came Roan’s voice, flat now, all echoes and reverberation of the cave, gone.

*****

Elmo 352 picked up the phone nervously. There was a brief pause as he listened to a series of commands before putting the receiver back down. "He wants to see you," he said to 3124b, a look of deep worry etching his face.

"Me? Why me? What have I done? Am I in trouble? I knew this would happen one day. It wasn’t my fault!"

The anxious clone stood up, fidgeting frantically, and made quickly for the door.

"Look, don't worry. Just tell the truth. There's nothing else you can do. Don't mention me - I had nothing to do with this. Hurry now; he doesn't like to wait." 352 edged his shaken colleague to the door with sympathy and resignation.

"I will be alright, won't I?" said 3124b as the door of the office was opened and he was ushered out.

"Be strong - I'm sure you'll be fine," said his superior. “Hurry; he can get a bit ratty about time.”

3124b walked down the corridor in silence, trying to decide what he should say. He, of course, had never spoken to No.2 before, but knew that very few had ever returned from a meeting with him. He worriedly took a turn past the clinic, headed for the ‘New Ward', he knew only top personnel and management worked there.

The corridor was clean and clinical, like the rest of the building. It seemed to go on endlessly. It was hi-tech, in fact, rather ’space-age’, a dusky blue apart from the brighter blue circular floor lights that let out shafts of light at even intervals along the route. There was silence apart from 3124b's new, black, shiny shoes, which made a hard and definite sound against the cool floor. “Wish our part of the building was as nice as this,” he muttered to himself.

Eventually, he arrived at a heavy black door on his right. It was curved at the top, with a large yellow sign outside saying, “Security. No entry to unauthorised persons.” He took a deep sigh and knocked before going in. Inside the room, he was surprised to find himself in a huge auditorium with seats ascending up all around him. Again, the light was faint, and again, everything was quiet. He stood in silence for a few moments before the silence was broken by a loud, bellowing voice that seemed to come at him from all directions. He looked up and around to see where the sound came from, but it was too dark. “So, you are 3124b,” said the voice.

“Yes, s-sir,” stuttered 3124b.

“Well, it looks like things are in quite a mess. I'll make this simple for you, 3124b. If this Phage program is not located, the damage could be catastrophic. Heads will roll - starting with yours! Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir,” replied 3124b, who was now fidgeting again and furtively squinting for a glimpse of No. 2.

“This task is too much for you to take on by yourself, so I am going to give you some help. Would you like that?”

“Oh, yes sir,” said 3124b, who was feeling relieved that his head was not going to roll at this moment in time. As he completed his sentence, a figure emerged from the shadows and paced to the centre of the auditorium. A slender, dark, solemn figure dressed entirely in black, looking strikingly similar to 3124b, only cooler.

“3124b, let me introduce to you Foby 1. He is going to help you locate the Phage program. He is the best of the best, an improvement.” The dark character walked up to the junior doctor and stood motionless.

“Foby 1? What kind of a name is that?” thought 3124b to himself, squinting sideways now at the help.

“You have seventy-two hours to provide me with an update. Remember - fail this assignment and there will be no second chance. Do I make myself clear 3124b?”

“Yes sir,” replied 3124b sheepishly.

“Do not fail us. The consequences will not be good. For you! Obviously. You are dismissed.”

*****

Mist stood with her back pressed against the door, the spider-mechanism still scissoring abrasively just on the other side. Her chest heaved with each breath. In the hall mirror she saw her reflection, brown eyes wide with fear, but focused.

“I have to think about this logically,” she thought. “Yes, I’m afraid of spiders,” she reasoned, shaking slightly, “but this isn’t a real spider, so what am I afraid of ?”

Taking a deep breath, she slowly opened the door, readying herself. Everything was still, quiet. Mist held her breath, tensing herself. She saw one of the legs edging out from behind the door. Flinging open the door, she stepped back and let the spider come scurrying out. It paused momentarily, near her feet and that was enough.

“‘Ave it!” she muttered to herself, kicking it deftly toward the far end of the landing.

The ‘spider’ smacked against the wall and fell into a heap on the floor, making a weird whimpering sound, legs all at awkward angles. Hands on hips, Mist surveyed her victory, then frowned. “Oh no. Did I just break one of Roan's expensive things?”

“What is it? It’s a bit like the thing in my dream. But knowing Roan, he probably ordered it from Amazon. Ugh, what a mess, my bedroom’s all full of feathers. I thought we had all synthetic stuff, I’m allergic to dust mites - perhaps it was the feathers all along.”

She picked up the spider device and poked the dangling legs back into its body one by one until it was in its original egg-like form. She put it by the TV. “Where is Roan?” she thought, “He hasn’t texted me. Where has he got to? I heard that Gum’s voice this morning at the front door, I’ll bet he’s with him again.”

Mistletoe gave the device a last scowl, put it by the TV and set about her housework, mentally drafting a list of chores Roan that Roan now owed her.