Dark World

  About the Book

  Find the key! Open the doorway! Enter the other world!

  Newt and Rowan find a key …

  It opens a doorway …

  They dive through …

  Into a scary world ravaged by the Darkness. Buildings are just piles of rubble and among the debris are zombie-like humans! Newt and Rowan are desperate to escape, until they stumble upon something much more sinister. There is evil in this world – and it won't stop until everything has been destroyed.

  Will Newt and Rowan stop the evil in Dark World?

  Contents

  Cover

  About the Book

  Title Page

  Dedication

  OTHER WORLDS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Epilogue

  Books by George Ivanoff

  Imprint

  Read more at Penguin Random House

  For Kerri. No words could adequately describe your contribution to my career, my life and my happiness. Love you!

  KA-BLAM!

  Newton’s bickering with Rowan was cut short by smoke erupting from the beaker, billowing through the classroom.

  She’d never experienced anything quite so fierce … until the clearing smoke revealed her teacher’s angry expression. Ms Bloom’s normally pale face was flushed red, her greying brown hair was a mess, her eyes were wild and her nostrils were flaring.

  ‘That does it!’ shouted Ms Bloom. ‘I’ve had just about enough of the two of you. Get out!’

  Newton grimaced. Science was her favourite subject. She was good at it, and she wasn’t used to the science teacher being angry with her. Usually, Ms Bloom was praising her work, not shouting like this.

  No, thought Newton, this isn’t fair.

  ‘I mean it,’ continued the teacher. ‘Get out of my classroom. You know where to go.’

  Newton glared at Rowan.

  Rowan glared at Newton.

  Newton did not like Rowan. And she was pretty sure that he didn’t like her either. The two of them were so different, in every way imaginable, that their mutual dislike wasn’t a surprise to anyone – least of all Newton. As she glowered, her mind ticked over their differences.

  She was tall, Rowan was short. She had long dark hair, always pulled back into a neat ponytail; Rowan’s hair was short, white-blond and unruly. (She wondered why he didn’t just use some product.) Rowan seemed to struggle at school, but she was a straight-A student. Her parents were university academics, Rowan’s were ex-hippies who owned the local organic food store. Rowan had been named after a tree, apparently; she after a scientist. Both had people shortening their names, but while she liked being called Newt, it was obvious from his reactions that Rowan hated Ro.

  They did, however, seem to have one thing in common. Reading! Whenever Newt saw him, Rowan usually had his nose stuck in a book. While Newt loved reading (mostly science stuff), she was appalled by his obsession with what she thought of as trashy fantasy novels.

  But, differences and similarities aside, it was their mutual dislike for each other that had led them to where they were now – outside the principal’s office.

  ‘It was your fault!’ said Newt.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You’re the one who added too much of Compound A to Solution B, causing it to blow up,’ said Newt.

  ‘Hang on,’ said Rowan. ‘I didn’t know how much to add because you wouldn’t tell me.’

  ‘You should have known,’ said Newt, ‘if you’d done the reading for homework like you were supposed to. But hey … it’s a book about science, so why would you read it?’

  ‘I did do the reading,’ said Rowan, looking away. ‘I just didn’t understand it. Which is why I asked you. But no … you wouldn’t tell me. You said I had to figure it out for myself. So this is actually your fault.’

  ‘Actually it’s probably the teacher’s fault,’ said Newt.

  ‘How do you figure that?’

  ‘Well, it was her idea that the two of us work together,’ she said. ‘She should have known better.’

  ‘You know … you like to blame other people a lot,’ said Rowan. ‘It’s always someone else’s fault. Never yours. It’s one of the things I hate about you.’

  ‘Better than being into magic,’ retorted Newt. She immediately realised how lame that comeback was, but now that she’d started, she felt she had to continue. ‘You do know that it’s not real? Yeah?’

  ‘I’m not into magic,’ Rowan said with a sigh. ‘I’m into reading fantasy books, like The Lord of the Rings and stuff. Fantasy! As in, not reality. It means, I have an imagination. Unlike –’

  ‘Attention!’

  Startled, Newt and Rowan looked up at the owner of the annoyed voice.

  ‘Can the two of you ever stop arguing?’ The principal glared down at them. ‘Get into my office. Now!’

  Newt swallowed hard.

  ‘Sit!’ commanded Mr Hardnose, adjusting the drab grey tie that matched his drab grey suit.

  Newt and Rowan sat on the two uncomfortable plastic chairs positioned in front of the large, imposing wooden desk. They were lower than standard chairs and the principal now towered over them.

  Designed to intimidate us? wondered Newt. Well, it’s working.

  Newt lowered her eyes, looking away from the principal as he smoothed down his severely parted, thinning black hair and moved to stand behind the desk. She was good at working things out … not so good at facing them.

  ‘This behaviour of yours is unacceptable,’ snapped Mr Hardnose. ‘If this were the army, I’d have the two of you running laps of the oval and doing push-ups until all the fight and bluster had been sweated out of you.’

  Newt kept her eyes down. She had always thought that the principal seemed more like a caricature of an army officer rather than the head of a school. He was always marching about, barking orders at the students. He even carried a swagger stick, a sort-of riding crop that army officers used to carry around in the old days.

  THWACK!

  That swagger stick now hit the desk, making Newt jump.

  Rowan actually yelped.

  ‘Eyes front!’ Mr Hardnose barked.

  Newt stared at the principal, wide-eyed and jittery.

  Mr Hardnose swung the stick up under his arm and began pacing behind the desk.

  Newt’s eyes shifted from the principal, drawn to the large bookshelf behind him. She couldn’t help it – she always looked at bookshelves. You could tell a lot about a person by the content and organisation of their shelves. Floor to ceiling, this one was full of books about military history, seemingly ordered by size and spine colour … like neat little soldiers all in a row. Newt scanned spines as if searching for something in particular.

  There was a knock at the door and the principal’s secretary popped her head in. She had a kind, wrinkled face, grey hair in an untidy bun and a mischievous gleam in her eyes.

  ‘Excuse me, Rodney, but there’s a parent here complaining about the lack of quality coffee at the Parent-Teacher Association meetings. She seems a tad over caffeinated, if you ask me, but she is rather persistent. I think it needs your immediate attention because, frankly, I’m not paid enough to deal with this sort of thing.’

  The principal sighed impatiently. ‘Don’t call me that in front of the sold– students.’

  ‘Sorry, sir,’ said the secretary, giving him a mock salu
te and trying to stifle a smile.

  As he stalked across the room, Mr Hardnose called over his shoulder. ‘Don’t move!’

  The door banged closed and Newt’s eyes snapped back to the bookshelf. There was one particular book that caught her attention. Larger than the others, it was old and beaten up, its spine cracked and torn. It looked as if it had been shoved into a random space on the shelf, without consideration of its size and colour. It seemed out of place, like an ordinary person in a military parade. She felt an unexplainable urge to get up and examine it. Hold it in her hands.

  But what if Mr Hardnose comes back while I’m looking at it? Newt thought.

  Newt’s desire to hold the book fought with her need to not get into any further trouble. Her mind imagined making a rush for the book, but her body stayed sitting right where it was. Her hands gripped the sides of the seat as if determined to keep her there.

  As Newt’s internal struggle raged, she saw movement beside her. Rowan sprang from his chair, vaulted over the desk – sending papers and pens scattering to the floor – and snatched the book from the shelf. He hugged it to his chest, eyes frantic.

  ‘What the heck are you doing?’ demanded Newt, jumping to her feet. She had always thought Rowan was strange, but this was a new level of bizarre behaviour. It made her feel particularly uncomfortable because she herself had wanted to hold the book so much.

  ‘Um …’ Rowan hesitated. ‘I’m … not really sure.’

  ‘You’re not sure?’ scoffed Newt. ‘You’ve just jumped over the principal’s desk and stolen one of his books … and you’re not sure?’

  ‘I just …’ He paused again. ‘I just sort of felt the need to hold it. I can’t explain it.’

  Newt went pale. That’s exactly how she had felt … still felt. As she watched Rowan, she had a strong urge to take the book from him – wrestle it from his hands, if necessary.

  ‘Maybe you should put the book down now,’ suggested Newt, her eyes glued to its beaten-up cover.

  ‘Yeah. Sure.’ Rowan went to return the book to the shelf.

  ‘No.’ Newt’s voice was a little too quick and desperate. She tried to calm down. ‘Just put it on the desk.’

  ‘Better to put it back where it belongs,’ he said, holding it up. ‘Eeek!’ He froze.

  Newt saw a spider scuttling across the shelf. It wasn’t very big. ‘Oh, you’re not?’ She laughed. ‘You are! You’re scared of spiders.’

  ‘Shut up.’ Rowan was still holding the book, unable to put it back where the spider was.

  ‘Just put it down,’ said Newt, a note of amusement in her voice. ‘You’ve already caused enough of a mess.’

  ‘Okay, okay,’ said Rowan. ‘No need to get all huffy.’ He turned, holding the book out in front of him and made a show of putting it on the desk, although Newt could see the reluctance in his eyes.

  The moment his fingers let go, Newt launched forward and grabbed the book. Turning her back on Rowan, she clutched it to herself.

  ‘Hey,’ called Rowan, ‘what’s with you?’

  Newt didn’t answer. While her need to hold onto the book was strong, she also had the feeling that something was missing. She loosened her hold and held it out in front of her, examining the cover.

  ‘The Magic of Science and the Science of Magic,’ she read in a whisper, and her heart sank. ‘Sounds like one of your dumb fantasy books. I wonder what it’s about.’

  ‘Oh yeah,’ said Rowan. ‘You’ve just grabbed that book. And hugged it. And you’re itching to know what it’s about. So yeah … fantasy is dumb, isn’t it?’

  Newt didn’t have an explanation for her actions. She did have a deep-down feeling that she had to do something … although she wasn’t sure what. She opened the book. With a puzzled expression, she read out loud.

  ‘It takes two to open this doorway.’

  That was as far as she got.

  ‘No more interruptions,’ the principal’s voice bellowed from outside.

  Newt slammed the book closed, a rabbit-caught-in-the-headlights panic in her eyes.

  ‘Quick, give it to me,’ said Rowan, stretching out his hand. ‘I’ll put it back.’

  Newt didn’t want to give him the book – she wanted to keep it; hold onto it. And yet, she found herself holding it out to him across the desk.

  As Rowan’s fingers touched the book, it flared with light. Despite this astonishing turn of events, they both tried to keep hold of it. But it vanished, fading from their grasp, leaving a tingling in their fingertips.

  What? How? Newt’s mouth hung open as she tried to comprehend all that was going on.

  Next to the desk, something even more astonishing happened. The air shimmered and swirled, and a hole opened up.

  A hole!

  A large hole!

  A hole that was about the size of … a doorway.

  This is not scientifically possible! Newt’s brain screamed. Holes don’t just appear at random in midair. Maybe it’s not just a hole? Maybe it’s a wormhole? Or a portal? Or something?

  She couldn’t believe her eyes and yet she couldn’t look away from the phenomenon – this swirling, hanging, unlikely hole/portal/ thing!

  Newt felt a strange persistent tugging within her – an urge to go through this impossibility and explore what lay beyond.

  ‘Doorway,’ she whispered.

  ‘What?’ Rowan’s voice was little more than a squeak.

  Newt’s mind raced, desperate to find connections, to make sense of this nonsense.

  ‘The book said something about opening a doorway,’ she reasoned.

  ‘And you reckon this is it?’

  Newt nodded and stared.

  And through the shimmering swirls, she could see something …

  The principal’s office!

  But it was different. It was a disaster area. The outside wall was half collapsed. The desk was a pile of rotting wood and the books, a decaying stack on the floor by the collapsed shelves. How could that be possible? Fear was building up inside her, but Newt felt a ridiculous need to go through the hole.

  Don’t be silly, she told herself. You can’t go through it.

  Behind her the door opened and Mr Hardnose’s voice hit her. ‘What in the name of General MacArthur is going on here?’

  Newt was paralysed. She wanted to go through. She wanted to run away from the principal. She wanted to give in to the strange tugging that pulled her to the doorway. Despite all this, she was also scared and unable to make the decision to go.

  Then she saw Rowan dive for the hole.

  And, without thinking, she found herself following.

  ‘NO!’ She heard the principal’s voice shouting from behind as she threw herself into the distortion.

  As reality swam around her, she momentarily sensed something nearby.

  Something wrong.

  Something dangerous.

  Something full of hate.

  A patch of darkness flowed past. And then it was gone.

  Newt marvelled at the way reality seemed to move and swim around her before stabilising again. She wished it had lasted longer so that she could’ve worked out what was happening.

  Instead, she was now standing unsteadily in the destroyed principal’s office. Rowan was on his hands and knees looking like he was about to puke.

  ‘What happened?’ he asked, unsteadily.

  ‘I think we passed through some sort of doorway in the fabric of time and space.’ Newt’s mind was attempting to join the theoretical dots, between what had just happened and the articles she had read in science journals about the possibility of parallel realities. Unlikely though it was, a portal or doorway through to a different reality seemed like the only explanation.

  ‘Portal fantasy,’ said Rowan, getting to his feet with a groan.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Portal fantasy,’ repeated Rowan. ‘It’s a type of fantasy story where people go through portals into other worlds. Fabulous adventures follow.’

  ‘Y
ou know that stuff isn’t real, don’t you?’ said Newt.

  ‘Well, I used to think so,’ said Rowan. ‘I’m not sure any more.’ He waved his arms around, gave a wan smile and vomited onto the floor at her feet.

  ‘Gross.’ Newt stepped away.

  ‘Sorry,’ said Rowan, wiping his mouth and also stepping away from the puke.

  ‘Jeez, Rowan, you are utterly disgusting. You could have moved away at least.’

  ‘I said sorry.’ He was sounding less so, now.

  They turned away from each other, and that’s when the enormity of their situation hit. Silent, they both gazed around.

  ‘This is Mr Hardnose’s office, isn’t it?’ said Rowan, eventually. ‘Just wrecked?’

  ‘I guess so,’ said Newt.

  A parallel reality, thought Newt, as she considered the office. That’s the only possible explanation.

  ‘Did a tornado crash through here or something?’ said Rowan.

  The wall at one end was partly collapsed, brickwork crumbling.

  Newt stumbled over the debris and looked out.

  She gasped.

  ‘What is it?’ asked Rowan, coming to join her.

  It wasn’t just the principal’s office that had been destroyed. The whole school had been ravaged. The buildings were all in varying states of decay, from the partly-standing canteen to the completely flattened hall. Concrete paths had been ripped up and the ground gouged into ruts. There was a crater in the centre of the sports oval and the basketball poles were rusted stumps.

  Newt felt her legs wobble. This was all too much. How could everything have been destroyed? A horrifying thought struck her …

  Where are all the people? Is everyone dead?

  ‘What happened?” whispered Rowan.

  ‘Something bad,’ said Newt, her voice as unstable as her legs. ‘Something very bad.’