by Sean Cullen
The house was a shock. Mimi had expected a fortress, a tower, or perhaps a dark and foreboding palace of evil. Instead, ODA Headquarters was a simple white house on a pleasant tree-lined street. The garden was well tended, full of pink and white petunias. The lawn was green and lush, lovingly trimmed and surrounded by a white picket fence. A cobblestone path led to a brightly painted green door. On the gate, a small brass plaque announced discreetly:
World Headquarters
Orphan Disposal Agency
No Peddlers!
No Junk Mail!
Mimi and Cara looked at the sign, their faces blank.
“This is ODA Headquarters?” Cara asked.
“Oh, my,” Mrs. Francis said. “It looks just, well, fine!”
“Those are lovely petunias,” Mr. Kipling pointed out.
“I don’t know.” Mimi shrugged. “I guess I was thinkin’ it would look, ya know, more evil.”
“Oh no,” Xnasha said softly. “This place is evil enough. I can feel it. All of your world is strange to me, but I feel something here. This is a bad place.”
“She’s right,” Cara agreed. “Listen …”
“Listen to what?” Mimi demanded. “I cain’t hear nothin’.”
“No, you can’t because you won’t stop talking. Really listen!”
Mimi scowled but kept quiet, straining to hear any sound in the silence.
Cara whispered, “See? There are no birds. No squirrels. Not even an insect.”
Cara was right. Mimi hadn’t noticed the change, but once it was pointed out to her, it was obvious. The house was dead despite its pleasant outward appearance. Mimi looked up and down the street. The houses were unusually quiet. No children played in the front yards. The windows were empty and dark. The whole street seemed to be dead, yet the grass and the trees were green and lush. But they looked more like props in a stage play than living things. Even the sunlight seemed sterile. The whole street was a facade built to hide the sinister intent of the ODA.
“What do we do?” Cara asked. For once, she was ready to defer to Mimi’s judgment.
“I don’t like this place at all,” Mrs. Francis fretted.
Xnasha’s wide blue eyes gazed at the front door of the house. “We shouldn’t be here,” she said, her voice the barest whisper. “This is an evil place.”
A murmur of assent rippled through the Guards. Mimi straightened her shoulders. “Yup. This is an evil place. But we all knew what we was gettin’ ourselves into when we signed up. This ain’t no time ta turn tail. Anybody who don’t wanna go in, now’s the time to leave and nobody’ll think no worse of ya. I, for one, have to go in. They got my friend Parv in there, and I know they got friends of yers in there and family, too.” She paused to look Cara in the eye. “I gotta go in there ’cause I know Parv’d do the same fer me.”
Mrs. Francis dabbed her eyes with her sleeve. “That was lovely, dear.”
“Oh, brother!” Mimi rolled her eyes. Her little speech finished, she turned and lifted the latch on the wooden gate and stepped onto the path that led to the front door. Everyone held their breath, waiting for lightning to strike, sirens to wail, and alarms to sound, but none of these things happened. Mimi resolutely walked up the cobblestones to the brightly painted front door.
Bravery and cowardice are delicately balanced emotions. A drop of fear distilled into the middle of a crowd is like a poison that taints the souls of all, causing a ruinous rout and a catastrophic defeat. A little morsel of bravery can sustain an army. Seeing Mimi’s courage roused the others to action. They moved to follow.
Mimi climbed the three shallow steps to the porch. Lying in front of the door was a black mat that read “Welcome” in big white letters.
“We’ll see about that,” Mimi muttered under her breath. Feeling the others coming up behind her, she reached out and grasped the simple brass doorknocker, bringing it down once, twice, thrice.81 The sound echoed behind the door. Xnasha and Cara joined Mimi on the porch with Mr. Kipling and Mrs. Francis right behind them.
For a full minute, they waited. There was no response. Mimi raised her hand to try knocking again but stopped when she heard a woman’s voice saying faintly, “I’m coming! I’m coming! Oh, dearie me.” Footsteps shuffled to the door. With a rattle of locks, the knob turned and the door opened. Mimi’s hand fell to the stun pistol at her hip. She prepared for a fight.
She found it hard to conceal her surprise when the door opened to reveal the sweetest little old lady one could ever imagine. Standing there, her flower print dress faded, a threadbare pink cardigan over her shoulders, the old woman smiled, her face a nest of pleasant wrinkles with a pair of twinkling blue eyes as its centrepiece. Mimi had never known either of her grandmothers, and just looking at the woman in the doorway seemed to fill that void in her life. As the group waited, the old woman raised her wire-framed bifocals from where they dangled from a chain around her neck and placed them on her face.
“Oh my,” the old woman said. “Oh my. What have we here? Is it Halloween? I’ve completely forgotten to get candy. Oh dear.”
The woman’s voice was soothing. Mimi found the tension melting away. She dropped her hand from her pistol. Part of her mind was aware that she should be careful, suspicious, but that part seemed very far away, a tiny voice in the distance.
“Excuse me, ma’am. We was lookin’ for somethin’ … somebody else.”
“Really? Oh, well. It’s been so long since I’ve had visitors. Are you sure you wouldn’t like to come in? I have just finished baking a batch of chocolate chip cookies and I’m sure I won’t be able to eat them all myself.” The old woman smiled hopefully.
Once again, Mimi heard the tiny voice shout its warning, but she ignored it. “That’s sounds mighty good.” Mimi glanced at Cara and saw the same bemused smile she was sure was present on her own face. “If it ain’t too much trouble.”
“Not at all.” The old woman smiled again, revealing neat, even teeth. “Come right in.”
Mimi moved forward to enter the house, but someone grabbed her arm. She turned to find Xnasha, her eyes wide with alarm, holding her back.
“Mimi,” Xnasha hissed urgently. “You can’t go in there!”
“Why not?” Mimi felt vaguely angry at having been delayed from entering the pretty little house. “I’m gonna have some cookies.”
“Yes, Xnasha,” Mrs. Francis scolded. “You shouldn’t be so rude.” Xnasha looked into the housekeeper’s face and saw the same dreamy look in the older woman’s eyes.
“It’s a trap,” Xnasha insisted. “You can’t go in there.”
“Nonsense!” Mr. Kipling held his arm out for Mrs. Francis, who took it. “Let’s get some cookies.”
The old woman’s eyes narrowed slightly. “What’s the problem? Those cookies are waiting.”
Mimi snarled and pulled her arm away, suddenly flooded with anger. “Let go a me! You just want all the cookies fer yerself.” She stomped up the steps and into the house before Xnasha could grab her again. Cara followed quickly afterwards, trailed by the other Guards. Xnasha stood by, unsure of what to do. The old woman smiled, but the smile held no warmth. “What’s the matter, dear? Don’t you like cookies?”
Xnasha looked into the woman’s blue eyes and saw no kindness there. There was something cold and inhuman.
Yet Xnasha had no choice. She couldn’t stop the others, so she had to join them and hope she could help. She followed the others up into the front door. The old woman waited until they were all inside and, with a final look up and down the street, she shut the door with finality. The lock clicked. Outside, no bird sang and no bee buzzed.
Part 3
PROVIDENCE
So, here we are, on the doorstep of the end of the story. The threads are all coming together now. Like a master weaver, I craft the fabric of this tale so that you may wear it like a fine pair of pants. I hope they are flattering on you.
The final chapters always hold a great deal of personal sadness for m
e. I will finish the tale. You will go back to your life of playing video games, skateboarding, plastering the underside of chairs with chewing gum, or whatever it is you fill your days with. It makes me wish I could extend the story in some way, add bits, make it longer. Perhaps I could have the characters make a side excursion to a shopping mall where they try on several different jackets.
That would not be right, however. Stories must be exactly as long as they are and no longer. Hamish X approaches the end of his story, and I must relate it exactly how it happened without any embellishment or time-wasting.
So without further ado …
I would just like to say, I think you are a very nice person… And I’m glad you are reading this book … And I enjoy pasta.
All right, I’m just prolonging things.
Here it comes: the last part of the last book of the saga of Hamish X.
Welcome to Providence.
Chapter 26
HAMISH X
Maggie and Thomas sat in small jump seats83 that folded out of the wall of the aircraft. The seats were not very comfortable, partly because they were quite small and hard and partly because the Grey Agents had tied the children in place with restraining straps. Thomas and Maggie were completely unable to move. All around them, the roar of engines was deafening.
The jump seats were located in the cabin of the ODA Space Plane84 that was rocketing up through the atmosphere on its way back to Providence, Rhode Island, the home of the ODA. The cabin was sparsely appointed and small, only a few metres long and two metres high. The ceiling was a curved arch with harsh lights recessed into the panelling. There were jump seats along the walls of the cabin and port-holes along the sides. All the shades on the portholes were drawn, allowing no view of the world outside. As he sat across from Thomas and Maggie, Hamish X’s head lolled forward with the tossing of the Space Plane’s passage. Since Mr. Candy had snapped the white cuffs over his hand, the boy had been completely inert. He walked when prodded and complied with simple commands, but he wasn’t conscious. Thomas and Maggie had shouted themselves hoarse trying to rouse him when they were first secured in their seats and left alone as Mr. Candy and Mr. Sweet went forward into the cockpit to begin takeoff. Hamish X did not respond. They finally gave up when the engines fired and they could no longer hear each other shout.
Up, up, up they rose. The pressure of the rocket boosters driving the craft pressed them back into their seats uncomfortably, the straps cutting into their flesh as the Space Plane fought its way free of gravity. The sensation became painful and finally unbearable before, suddenly, the pressure was gone. The engines cut out and the silence was profound.
“What happened?” Maggie asked Thomas.
“I dunno,” Thomas answered. His eyes went wide. “Look at your hair!”
“What about it?” Maggie asked, irritated. “This isn’t the time to start making fun of my hair.”
“No, really! It’s floating … like you’re underwater or something.”
“What?” She couldn’t see her own hair, but she looked across at Hamish X and saw that his limbs were weightless. His boots hung out in front of him as if they were suspended in water. “What’s going on?”
“We have left the Earth’s gravity field,” Mr. Candy said, bobbing into the cabin. “The Earth is spinning below us as we speak. Soon we will drop out of orbit.” Kicking out from the frame of the door that led to the cockpit, the Grey Agent propelled himself across the cabin. He grabbed hold of the seat that held Hamish X and pulled the boy’s head back by the hair. “Oh so soon, Hamish X. Your destiny is at hand.”
“Take your hands off him, you creep,” Maggie growled, struggling against her bonds.
“Your time is coming, too, little girl. All of humanity has mere hours left. You will all be under our power when the gate opens.” With a gloved hand, Mr. Candy flipped up the shade on the closest window, revealing the blue curve of the Earth. From her geography classes, Maggie recognized the tapering triangle that was England, Scotland, and Wales smeared with cloud. It was a sight that would normally have filled her with awe. So few human beings had seen this sight, the planet made peaceful by distance. The world was an impossibility of water and earth, rock and sky, a home to her people, all people. But instead of wonder, she felt only dread. The Space Plane would soon begin its descent and all of that beauty would end. She was powerless to do anything about it.
“Wake up, Hamish X! Wake up!” she shouted. “You’ve got to wake up.”
But Hamish X dreamed on.
“Wake up, Hamish X! Wake up!”
Hamish X knew that voice. He opened his eyes and blinked at the bright sunlight. He was lying in his bed in his quarters at the Hollow Mountain. Sitting up, he saw King Liam sitting in a chair beside his bed, basking in the light of the artificial sun.
“King Liam?”
“Of course.” King Liam smiled. “It’s about time. You are such a lazy creature. Get out of bed. There’s a lot I have to tell you.” With that, King Liam stood up and left the room. “There’s breakfast on the terrace. Come on, sleepypants!”
Hamish X watched him go, confused. “This can’t be happening.” He swung his boots out of bed and found that he was fully clothed in the desert robes that Harik had given him. At the thought of the Bedouin, he felt a pang of worry. What had happened? He couldn’t seem to remember. He recalled leaping from the wall at the Grey Agents, but everything else was veiled in fog. He went through the door and onto the terrace.
The terrace looked out over Frieda’s Cavern. Hamish X had enjoyed the view here many times before, sitting at the small table on his terrace. The entire green expanse of the cavern spread out below, its neatly parcelled fields growing corn and wheat, vegetables and flowers. At the centre, the Stair twisted upward around the central elevator, the waterslide a plastic helix twining around the outside. The place was perfect, just as Hamish X remembered it. But something about that seemed wrong.
“Where is everybody?” he said out loud. The cavern was completely empty; in fact, the entire Hollow Mountain was silent and still, save for the distant burbling of the fountain far below. All the people and all the raccoons were absent. The whole place had a cold and lifeless air about it.
“Dull, isn’t it, with no people in it,” King Liam agreed. “I can’t say I like it like this, but there you are. We didn’t have the time to program in all the randomizers that would give us birdsong, computer-generated inhabitants, and what have you. It’s just you and me.”
Hamish X wrested his attention from the commanding view and turned to find the King of Switzerland sitting at a small round table set for breakfast. There was a plate of sticky pastries with jam and toast. A bowl of berries, perfect and succulent, glistened in the light of the artificial solar generators overhead. Hamish X’s stomach rumbled.
“This is a dream,” Hamish X said, sitting down in an elegant wrought-iron chair opposite the King. “This isn’t real.”
“True,” the King agreed. “Like the Memory Party, this is a simulation. I need to talk to you. We’re inside your head. I do appreciate your letting me in for this little chat.” King Liam stretched his hands over his head and wiggled his fingers. “What a joy to be able to do such a simple thing without any pain at all. Delightful!”
“Weird.”
“Decidedly. It must be very weird for you, but don’t worry, it’s ultimately for your benefit.”
“Wait,” Hamish X said suddenly. He stopped, paralyzed by a thought.
“What is it? What’s the matter?” The King’s face was full of concern.
“I … I don’t know how to tell you this, but … you’re dead.”
“Am I?”
“In the real world, I mean. Outside my head. The George raccoon told me that the Grey Agents had destroyed the Hollow Mountain, filled it with lava, and you were … killed in the battle.”
The King frowned. “Oh dear. What a shame. I quite liked myself.” He shrugged and picked up a croissant and b
egan heaping jam onto it. “Eat up! It may only be digital, but it’s delicious!” He took a big bite and chewed happily.
“The George raccoon bit me,” Hamish X said, picking up a juicy raspberry and popping it into his mouth. The explosion of flavour was intoxicating. “Why did he do that?”
“It was the easiest way of injecting this program into you without arousing the suspicion of the ODA. Poor George. All his raccoons are gone. He’s stuck in the Mountain, locked in a lava flow. Boring for him. Promise me that you’ll get him out of there once this is all over. I’d hate to think of him lodged there for all eternity. Have a cinnamon bun.”
Hamish X picked up the spiral twist of sugary dough and took a big bite. It was as delicious as the raspberry had been, if not more. Chewing, he shook his head. “I doubt there’ll be anything left. The ODA are pretty thorough about that kind of thing.”
“George’s central processor is housed in a special hardened vault that seals up tight should any threat arise. I think he’ll be there. Bored and cranky, certainly, but he’ll be there.”
“Why are you here?” Hamish X asked, licking the sticky brown sugar from his fingers.
“Ah,” the King leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers, “it’s both simple and complicated.”
“Isn’t it always?”
The King laughed. “Yes. I created this program to be activated if you were ever captured by the ODA. It would seem that that has come to pass.”
Hamish X suddenly recalled the last seconds before he woke in the recreated Hollow Mountain. “Oh, no. It’s true! I’ve been captured. What a fool! I got angry and I’ve made a mess of everything.”
“Don’t be too hard on yourself.” The King looked pained. “You have every right to be angry.”