Black Hole Cinema Club E-Book

Christopher Edge

• Herausgeber: Nosy Crow Ltd
• Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Seitenzahl: 218

Beschreibung

Another edge-of-your-seat adventure from the award-winning author of Escape Room, Christopher Edge. A trip to the cinema will never be the same... When Lucas meets his friends at the local cinema - nicknamed 'The Black Hole' - they're excited about the movie marathon ahead. Non-stop action, blockbuster special effects and all the snacks they can eat. But as the lights go down, Lucas, Ash, Maya, Caitlin and Finn watch in disbelief as a jet-black tidal wave comes crashing out of the cinema screen and the five friends find themselves swept into an epic adventure. Secret hideouts. Prehistoric monsters. Lost cities. Impossible missions. Being the hero of your own film should feel like fun. But as the cliffhanger scenes they're pitched into become ever more perilous, Lucas and his friends start to wonder if these movies are really make believe. Can they save the day before the end credits roll? The fate of the world might just depend on it... Cover illustration by David Dean.

Leseprobe

Praise for CHRISTOPHER EDGE

“No ordinary author. His stories fizz with ideas, the perfect fodder for the child with more questions than answers.”

The Times, Children’s Book of the Week

“A writer of genuine originality … Edge creates strong characters who come alive on the page and he has a thriller writer’s feel for suspense.”

The Guardian

“A heart-stopping adventure with thrills and twists.”

The Sunday Times

“Quite extraordinary.”

The Spectator

“This is the best read I’ve had in ages. Give it to any child you come across.”

Lucy Mangan

“No one writes books like Christopher Edge.”

Kiran Millwood Hargrave

“This book is out-of-this-world, edge-of-your-seat AMAZING!”

Lauren St John

“Eye-poppingly original. Grabs hold of your brain – then tugs at your heart.”

Jonathan Stroud

5

7

For Chrissie, Alex and Josie

8

9“…the speed of light, the flickering stuff of cinema, is the only constant in the universe.”

Mark Cousins, The Story of Film

10

1

1

We meet at the Black Hole.

I’m five minutes early, but Ash is already there, standing in the shadow of the cinema marquee. Between its black horizontal lines, the bright red letters emblazoned on the sign remind me what lies ahead.

BLACK HOLE CINEMA CLUB 11AM SATURDAY 25 JUNE ALL-DAY MOVIE MARATHON

The sign used to say “BLACK HILL CINEMA CLUB”, but the “I” in “HILL” fell off years ago and a graffiti artist with a sense of humour and a head 2for heights did the rest. Now everybody calls it the Black Hole – even the new owners.

Ash greets me with a high five as I step out of the sunshine.

“Lucas,” he says, “right on time as always. Have you got the tickets?”

Reaching into my back pocket, I pull out three tickets. The same text as the top line of the sign is printed on the front of each one:

“Where’s Finn?” I ask.

“He’s already inside,” Ash replies, “raiding the popcorn stand. Finn says there’s no way he’s making the same mistake as last time.”

I grin. The first rule of Black Hole Cinema Club is: bring enough supplies. Last time they showed every single Star Wars film back to back, but Finn ran out of snacks before the end of The Empire Strikes Back. We didn’t make it out of the cinema until after dark and by then Finn owed the rest of us big time for 3all the food that he’d “borrowed”. So this time the snacks are on him.

Plucking his cinema ticket from my fingers, Ash turns to head towards the entrance. As usual he’s wearing all black – his athletic frame clad in monochrome sweater, combat trousers and trainers – and as I follow in his steps, I catch a glimpse of our reflections in the grey smoked glass of the cinema doors. For a second, Ash is framed by one of the round porthole windows, the shape of his silhouette making him look like James Bond. Then he pushes the door open and his reflection slides away as we step inside the cinema.

The foyer is filled with light – a neon brightness that sends a shiver of anticipation down my spine. To my right, a vast video screen fills the upper half of the wall. Movie trailers play across this digital display: action-packed scenes flashing by in a flurry of spaceships, car chases and endless explosions. Beneath the screen stands a line of automated machines, but nobody’s queuing to buy any last-minute tickets. In fact, it looks like the foyer is deserted, its glossy expanse of geometric floor tiles reflecting the LED lights overhead as their colours shift from green to red. 4

I shake my head. It’s the same every time we come to the Black Hole. This place is supposed to be the future of cinema – every screen kitted out with the latest state-of-the-art technology – but it seems that nowadays most people prefer to watch films at home. I don’t know why. I think there’s something magical about seeing a movie on the big screen.

“Guys!”

At the sound of Finn’s shout we turn to see him standing in front of the self-service kiosk. Just like the ticket machines, even the snack bar is fully automated here. In his arms, Finn’s holding three red-and-white-striped paper bags, the neon sign above his head telling us exactly what’s inside them.

REFRESHMENTS

Ash races me to reach him, each of us eager to claim our share of the snacks.

“Didn’t I say I’d pay you back?” Finn grins as he hands me one of the bags, while Ash has already started to rifle through his. I peer inside to see popcorn, nachos, chocolate bars and crisps, a jumbo-sized carton of Coke jammed in there too 5to wash it all down.

“Sweet, salty, chewy, crunchy, fizzy,” I call out, checking them off one by one. “It looks like you’ve got all the major food groups covered.”

“And this time I’m not starting on mine straight away,” Finn says, patting his stomach through his Tomb Raider T-shirt. “I ate double breakfast to pace myself.”

“This is my breakfast,” Ash replies, pulling out a handful of popcorn and stuffing it into his mouth. As he munches, he gestures towards the digital display where the film times are shown. Today there’s only one event listed.

SCREEN 1

BLACK HOLE CINEMA CLUB

(4Di) 11AM

“What’s 4Di?” he asks through a mouthful of popcorn.

“I think I read about it online,” Finn replies, his grin growing even wider. “Forget your 3D glasses, 4Di is cinema with another dimension added. Immersive. Interactive. Improved. Apparently when you watch a movie in 4Di, you feel like you’re part 6of the film.”

I glance down at my watch and see the minute hand tick on towards the hour.

“Sounds like fun.” Handing Finn his ticket, I turn towards the stairs that lead up to the screens. “But we need to get a move on. The first film is going to be starting soon.”

The thing about Black Hole Cinema Club is that you never know what movies they’re going to show. It could be the latest Marvel blockbuster or an all-time classic like E.T. – every film is handpicked to fit the chosen theme, but you only find out what it is when you’re sitting in the cinema. Ash says it’s clever marketing as by then it’s too late to complain.

“So what do you think it’s going to be today?” Finn asks, falling in step beside me.

“I’m not sure,” I reply, glancing up again at the big-screen trailers as we cross the foyer. “We’ve done sci-fi and superheroes, so I reckon that rules out films about time travel, space exploration and the multiverse.”

“Well, I’m in the mood for some horror,” Ash chips in, staggering forward with outstretched zombie arms. “You can’t beat a good monster movie.” 7

Beneath our feet the floor tiles glow in shifting patterns of colour, almost as if they’re guiding our path as we near the ticket check. There’s no cinema usher waiting there, just a set of automated turnstiles barring the way. I know they’re trying to save money, but sometimes I wonder whether there’s anybody working here at all. Swiping our tickets, the gates open with a synchronised click and we step through before climbing the stairs.

Framed film posters line the walls: the open jaws of a great white shark, the silhouette of a tumbling astronaut, twin tyre tracks burning brightly as Marty McFly checks the time. Ash and Finn are still excitedly discussing what we could watch today, but as we pass each poster I count off the ones I’ve already seen: Ghostbusters, Spirited Away, Avengers: Endgame.

It’s darker here away from the bright lights of the foyer and, as the staircase curves round, it gets darker still. In the ceiling, illuminated ribbons of soft purple light shift to a midnight blue. It feels like we’re leaving the world behind and, as we turn another corner, the stairs come to an end and the space opens up into a wide corridor that stretches straight ahead. Reflecting lights glint from floor to 8ceiling – indigo strips that make this place look like a spaceship on auxiliary power. But directly to my right a backlit number one set next to a gleaming set of jet-black double doors reminds me that we’re still inside the cinema.

“Here we are,” Finn says, stepping forward to push open the right-hand door. “Now let’s get the best seats in the house.”

Finn’s got this theory about the perfect seat in the cinema. Too near the front and you risk getting neck ache. Too close to the back and the screen ends up looking the same size as your TV at home. He reckons the ideal spot is dead centre in the middle of the auditorium, so the screen fills your vision entirely. That’s why Finn always sits in the same seat every time: J13.

Holding the heavy door open for Ash as he follows me through, we step inside Screen One. The house lights are still on, so it looks like the first film hasn’t started yet. I breathe a sigh of relief. We’re just in time.

From where I’m standing at the back of the auditorium, I can see rows of plush crimson seats sweeping down towards a huge cinema screen. Its snow-white surface stretches from floor to ceiling 9and looks twice as wide, framed on both sides by lush red-velvet curtains. The walls of the auditorium are painted in dark swirls of colour, while the sloping ceiling seems to shine with stars. And it looks like we’ve got this place to ourselves.

Finn is already three steps ahead, checking out the letters fixed to the end of each row as he walks down the aisle. Then he freezes, Ash bumping to a halt behind him as Finn turns towards us with a hiss.

“She’s in my seat!”

That’s when I see her sitting dead centre in the middle of the auditorium, her cropped crimson hair almost the same colour as the cinema cushions. It’s Caitlin. And next to her is Maya, her twinkling gaze framed by a pair of chunky transparent glasses as she turns in our direction.

“I didn’t think you guys were going to make it.”

Finn looks like he’s ready to start an argument, but I feel secretly pleased. Since we started coming to these movie marathons, Maya and Caitlin have made it to every one. We never used to hang out before. It’s the Black Hole that’s brought us together.

“It’s about to start,” Caitlin says, tilting her head 10in the direction of the screen. “Take a seat.”

“You’re sitting in J13,” Finn protests. “I always sit in J13.”

“Excuse me?” Caitlin frowns. Turning round in her chair, she makes a show of inspecting its backrest as if searching for a reserved sign. “I can’t see your name here.”

Finn turns towards me for support. “Tell her, Lucas.”

I shrug my shoulders. “They got here first.”

With a satisfied smile Caitlin swivels back round in her seat, while Finn flashes me a look of betrayal.

“It doesn’t matter,” Ash says, tugging at Finn’s arm. He gestures round at the empty auditorium, the upturned seats stretching from A to T. “We’ve got the rest of the cinema to choose from.”

So instead we pile in a few rows behind, making sure we’ve still got a good view of the screen. Stowing my carton of Coke in the cupholder, I stash my snacks on the side of the chair for easy access.

“I told you we should’ve got here earlier,” Finn grumbles, fidgeting in his seat, as on the other side of me Ash takes a slurp from his drink.

But before I can say anything in reply, the lights in 11the cinema start to dim and the sound of a familiar fanfare fills the auditorium. Sinking back into my seat, I turn my face to the screen as the heavy red curtains slowly glide together to hide it from view. Inside my chest, I feel my heartbeat quicken in anticipation. This is what they always do before the film begins.

As the curtains kiss, the music stops and the lights go out completely, leaving me alone in the dark.

12

2

I’ve never been afraid of the dark. In fact, it’s the one place I always feel safe.

I glance up at the stars in the ceiling, the dimmed lights now faint pinpricks against an inky blackness. I remember the very first time Mum and Dad brought me to the cinema. I could only have been about five years old, but I was the biggest Star Wars fan in the world, so when they said they’d got tickets for a special anniversary screening of A New Hope I was so excited. Dad always said it was the very first Star Wars film, even though it’s called Episode IV. We had to sit on the front row as the rest of the seats were taken, and I remember 13craning my neck to see the screen.

As the curtains opened, I could see the stars in the ceiling reflecting the light from the screen and there the same stars seemed to stretch into infinity. And as the skull-white hulk of a vast Star Destroyer swooped overhead in a burst of laser fire, the film seemed to expand to fill the cinema. For the next two hours I was lost in a faraway galaxy packed with intergalactic dogfights, lightsaber duels and a planet-destroying Death Star. But sitting between Mum and Dad in the dark of the matinee, I felt like I was in the safest place in the world.

The memory dissolves as I hear the rustle of a crisp packet directly to my right. It sounds like Finn’s already breaking his promise to hold off on the snacks. Looking straight ahead, I can see the faint outline of the girls’ heads at the bottom edge of my vision, but as I lift my gaze the curtains part to reveal the screen.

It’s pitch black.

For a second I hold my breath, waiting for the first clue that will tell me exactly which film is kicking off this Black Hole Cinema Club. Some movies drop you straight into the action before the title sequence rolls, while others start with a studio 14logo, like the flipping comic-book pages that let you know you’re about to watch a Marvel film. I can sense the presence of the others around me, all trying to do the same. We play this game every time, everyone trying to be the first to shout out the correct name of the film.

But as I stare into the darkness, the cinema screen remains resolutely black. No studio logo, no opening credits, not even a hint of a soundtrack. Absolute silence fills the auditorium and, as this stretches out, I feel the hairs on the back of my neck standing to attention.

Then I see the words appearing at the bottom of the screen, each line of white text shining bright against the dark.

Everybody wants to be a star.

To play the hero and save the world.

But there are no more heroes left – only you.

And the end of the world is coming.

“Looks like another disaster movie,” Ash says as these words scroll up the screen. “I wonder how 15the world’s going to end this time?”

Inside my head I start to count off the possible ways one by one: alien invasion, robot uprising, zombie apocalypse… Sometimes it seems like every movie we watch is about the end of the world.

On the cinema screen new lines of text crawl into view as the others recede into the distance.

Our only hope – this impossible mission.

A last chance to change the end of everything.

We sent you into the darkness,

but now you need to see the light.

You will live so many lives.

Keep telling yourself it’s only a movie.

It just might help you to survive.

Live like there’s no tomorrow.

Learn so tomorrow never ends.

It’s time to start the programme.

Prepare to be swept away…

I watch as these last words fade into the darkness. Somehow the silence seems even louder than before. I keep waiting for the camera to pan down 16to reveal the opening scene, but the screen seems frozen in a perfect blackness.

“Is it broken?” Finn asks through a mouthful of crisps.

I shake my head. “I don’t think so.”

There’s a darkness moving in the darkness, a rippling motion that seems to spill from the screen. I feel like I’m staring into an endless ocean, pitch-black waves rolling out of the dark. The sight makes me feel seasick and I force myself to look away from the screen.

Craning my neck, I gaze up at the ceiling, trying to find a fixed point in the roiling emptiness. But as I stare into the rising dark, all I can see are the stars going out one by one.

“Lucas!”

Ash’s muffled shout sounds like it’s coming from a million miles away, even though he’s sitting right beside me. Glancing back, I see his face contort in fear as he points towards the screen.

“It’s coming!”

He’s screaming the words straight into my face, but all I hear is a whisper as I turn my gaze towards the screen.

It looks like a jet-black tidal wave, a tsunami 17of darkness surging towards us without a sound. I watch open-mouthed as the front row of cinema seats is torn out by this onrushing dark, the crimson chairs flipped up into the air before a foaming blackness swallows them whole.

Grabbing hold of my shoulder, Finn yells in my ear but I can’t hear a sound. I feel like I’m drowning in silence as the darkness crashes through the cinema.

Directly ahead, I see Caitlin and Maya scrambling out of their seats. Through the gloom I glimpse the fear in their eyes as they try to outrace the oncoming tide. Catching my gaze, Caitlin starts to scream out a warning, but the words never reach me as I see a shadow fall across her face. Maya reaches towards her with an outstretched arm and, for a split-second, their frozen figures are silhouetted against the dark. Then the tidal wave sweeps over them and all I can see is blackness.

It’s too late to start running, but that’s all there’s left to do. The seats flip up behind us and, as I desperately follow in Finn’s footsteps, I feel popcorn crunch beneath my feet. Ash is close behind as we race to the end of the row, the darkness gaining with every step. 18

Dead ahead, the tidal wave crashes against the wall of the auditorium, its surging current doubling back and smearing Finn out of existence. My heart hammers in my chest, but I can’t hear a sound. With a despairing glance back over my shoulder, I see Ash clambering on top of a cinema seat. Fists clenched, he screams in the face of the onrushing tide and then he’s gone. Lost in the maelstrom.

Silence surrounds me – the void swarming in from all sides.

And I feel myself falling into the dark.

19

3

I don’t even have time to snatch a breath before the pitch-black tide drags me under, hauling me down into the dark. Arms flailing, I kick against the abyss, desperately trying to fight my way out, but its blackness envelops me. I feel like I’m drowning in a starless sea, pressure pounding in my ears as my blood roars like thunderstorms.

My mind churns as I stare blindly into the void. The cinema’s gone. My friends are gone too. All that’s left is this strange darkness pressing in on every side. I feel it slick against my lips as I keep my teeth clenched shut, swallowing hard as I try not to breathe. 20

Inside my chest a burning sensation blooms, quickly spreading inwards and outwards until it’s the only thing I can feel. It must be my lungs giving out, the last dregs of oxygen burning up.

The roaring inside my head shifts to a high-pitched whine. The pressure’s too great. I can’t take it any more.

I gasp as I start to black out, the dark rushing in to fill my lungs and I feel myself breathing light.

White light.

I blink, the sudden brightness hurting my eyes.

Everything’s white.

It’s like the world’s been flipped into negative – the darkness of the void now a blinding glare.

Through flickering eyelashes I peer at the blank expanse that stretches in every direction. Streaks of sunlight fleck my vision as I try to make sense of what I’m looking at. It’s a whiteout. There’s no horizon – the sky and the landscape seem to be one, a milky nothingness that makes my brain hurt.

Where am I?

My breath fogs the air as I slowly climb to my feet, only realising now that I was on my hands and knees. Snow crunches underfoot as I take a step forward, disorientated, the ground sloping 21upwards to greet me. Moments ago I was sitting in the cinema with my friends, waiting for the movie to start. And now I’m here. Wherever here is.

I lift my hands in front of my face, the padded gloves that I’m wearing are the same colour as the snow. I wasn’t wearing these before. As wind whips towards me, I catch a glimpse of fur at the edge of my vision and reach up to feel the shape of a hood. I glance down at the rest of my clothes: snow boots, ski trousers, Arctic parka zipped all the way to my chin. Everything that I’m wearing is the same ghostly shade, making me part of the whiteout. Suddenly I feel very cold.

Panicking, I look around, but the desolate landscape looks the same in every direction. No landmarks, no shadows and no sign of anybody else. It’s like the world has been erased.

“Ash! Finn! Maya! Caitlin!”

I call out for my friends, pausing after each shout as I anxiously wait for a reply. But the only sound I hear is a mocking echo whispering their names on the wind.

This doesn’t make any sense. Whatever brought me here took them too. That jet-black tidal wave crashed through the cinema and swallowed us 22whole. But it looks like I’m all alone.

Fighting down my fear, I start walking, stumbling as the ground rises to meet me. I don’t know where I’m heading, but there’s got to be some way out of here. Every breath I exhale turns into a cloud of ice crystals, the sub-zero temperature making my face ache. Shading my eyes, I squint as I try to make out what lies ahead. A fresh flurry of snow is starting to fall, but as I raise my gaze I glimpse the sharp outline of a mountain peak, suddenly clear in the reflected sunlight.

That’s when I see them. A jagged line of black-clad figures, their shadows grey against the snow as they slice a path down the mountainside. For a second my heart leaps, thinking this must be the others, but then I count off the figures one by one. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Unless I’m seeing double, these can’t be my friends. But maybe it’s a search party…

“Over here! Over here!”

I wave my arms wildly, my shouts echoing back at me as I stagger through the snow. At first the figures looked barely larger than ants – the distance between us impossible to judge – but as their skis slalom down the slopes they’re getting bigger by 23the second. It’s like the world is coming into focus, the picture sharpening as I keep my eyes fixed on the hurtling skiers.

Constantly switching direction, their black silhouettes are almost a blur as they zip down the vertiginous slope. But their zigzagging turns seem to be taking them away from me.

“No!”

My exclamation turns to ice crystals as I exhale in dismay. Slashes of powdery snow spray the air as the skiers carve a path towards a forest of ice blocks, each the size of a double-decker bus. If they reach those, they’re never going to see me.

“This way!” I shout, my words whipped away by the gathering blizzard. “I’m over here.”

I start running, my boots sinking deeper as I crunch through the snow. Raising my arms above my head, I frantically try to signal my presence, but in this all-white ski suit I must be invisible. The black-clad skiers arrow onwards without pause – my perfect camouflage is hiding me in plain sight.

Not much use when you want to be found.

Lungs aching, I sink to my knees. The falling snow is almost horizontal now, a gale-force wind blasting it into my face. Numbed, I lift my hand to 24shield my gaze and see the shrinking figures now almost lost from view.

“Over here…”

The words freeze on my lips. I’ve barely any breath left in my lungs to raise a shout. They’re never going to hear me. They’re never going to find me. And as I stare into the tumbling blankness, a thin blanket of snow already starting to cover me, I suddenly realise…

I might die here.

This chilling thought sends a surge of adrenaline racing through my veins. Shaking off the snow, I clamber to my feet, frantically searching for something that will help me. The bulky pockets of my parka bulge promisingly, but as I fumble at their flaps all I can find inside is a bright orange corded line.

I tug on it, the lanyard spooling out to reveal a plastic whistle that’s clipped to the end. It looks like something you’d find inside a Christmas cracker: a thin stub of plastic, the same fluorescent orange as the cord it’s attached to. It’s the only flash of colour I can see in this Arctic wasteland, but as I lift the whistle to my lips, I only hope that it will be heard too. 25