This Rage of Echoes

by Simon Clark

  Once more anger boiled inside. ‘You were there in town yesterday, weren’t you? You saw Old Snotter change into me. You just stood there and watched him try and kill me. Why didn’t you stop him? Yesterday morning I was with the trucker when he was dying under the wheel. You appeared there to warn me that people were coming, and that I’d be caught. So why warn me yesterday that I was in danger, then stand back today as a wino tried to commit murder?’

  The impassive face regarded me. At that moment time stuck to the side of the universe. A force glued it there. What came unstuck were the events of the last three weeks. It’s not easy to describe. All I can say is that instead of remembering all those battles with the Echomen, those fucking useless monsters, it seemed to me as I sat on the top looking down at Natsaf-Ty it all happened again. Nearly home, the lamps on the path lighting my way through the park. The fist hitting the side of my head, then I turn round to find my attacker is me. There’s my face looking into mine. The expression is determined, like someone attempting to climb a wall they know is too high for them. They know they’ll fail. Yet it’s something they’ve got to do. I could have fought back, but I’m so surprised by seeing this fist-swinging doppelganger I can’t move. Shit, I don’t do anything to save myself; he pushes me over then crouches down so he can punch my head. These people appear from nowhere. The girl I will know as Dianna uses a big glittery blade to open his neck. ‘No need to cut his face off’, she says to me. ‘This one’s you.’ The days follow. I watch as they shoot Echomen in the same casual manner you or I would employ batting a fly with a rolled-up newspaper. Then it feels I’m back at the truck trying to get my knife into the guy who looked like Elvis, then looked like me. He’s lying on the floor screaming at me to get help. Now Old Snotter flinging himself on me in Tanshelf after the rain.

  Time unpeeled itself from the side of the universe. I sat on the stairs. Natsaf-Ty tilted his head slightly to one side as he gazed at me through closed eyelids. My scalp prickled as I finally understood. ‘You’re trying to warn me, aren’t you?’ I clenched my fists. ‘They’re changing. Transformations are faster. Everything’s speeding up. You’re warning me that they’re going to do something different. What are they planning? Are you trying to tell me that my mother and Eve are going to change?’ Unease ran through me like some dark electricity. ‘Tell me what I’ve got to do? Please. How can I stop this thing happening to my family?’

  A car prowled along the street. Maybe the boom-boom-boom of its sound system woke me. I’d slept so soundly that for a moment I thought I was back in the van again where we’d sleep like dogs curled up on blankets. That sensation only lasted a moment. When I peeled my eyelids open I saw this was the bedroom of the house I grew up in. All my old posters had gone, Mom had repainted the walls a pale blue (once they’d been a seriously decadent purple; my choice). Birds sang like lives depended on it. Sunlight blasted through the window. I fumbled for my watch on the bedside table. Five minutes to ten. I hadn’t slept this long in weeks. A neighbour called their dog in from the garden. The dog didn’t seem in any great hurry. I heard the name ‘Billy’ voiced with more irritation every time it was repeated. Then the sound of a shutting door suggested that Billy had eventually complied.

  With a luxurious yawn I sat up in bed, half-expecting to see Natsaf-Ty there, leaning against a wall, like a three-thousand-year-old punk who was bored with immortality. Last night, why didn’t you answer my questions? Even as I asked the question, as if Natsaf-Ty’s spirit hovered nearby listening to my thoughts, I knew the answer. I’m thinking what you’re thinking now. I dreamt that encounter on the stairs. The Egyptian mummy’s a product of my nocturnal imagination. That in reality, when I was venting all that angst, I was asleep in bed.

  As I sat there a set of knuckles smacked against the door. A moment later Eve’s smiling face appeared. ‘We were beginning to think the sandman had carried you off. Sleep well?’

  I grinned back. ‘Dead to the world I was.’

  ‘Well if you can reanimate yourself, I’m making bacon sandwiches downstairs.’

  ‘Eve, I told you not to go to any trouble.’

  ‘I’m enjoying it; it’s nice having my brother back home. I’ve got someone to torment again.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Now hurry up, or I’ll tip this glass of orange juice over you.’ She set down a full glass on the bedside table. This morning she wore jeans and a white T-shirt. I noticed a bracelet of plaited pink strips on her wrist.

  ‘Eve, you’re going to have me feeling guilty; you mustn’t spoil me.’

  ‘I’ll let you owe me.’

  ‘Just you wait, I’ll make you lunch then you’ll know what suffering really is.’

  She laughed, then paused in the doorway. ‘Mason?’

  ‘Hmm?’ I sipped the juice; a lovely iciness rushed down my throat.

  ‘When did you start speaking in your sleep?’

  ‘I didn’t know I did.’

  ‘Last night I heard you talking.’

  I made light of it. ‘Probably the hideous shock of seeing my sister’s face again.’

  ‘Ha-flipping-ha.’ Then the smile fixed in a way that stopped it from being a happy smile. ‘Mason, when you were talking it didn’t sound as if you were in bed. It seemed to be coming from the landing.’

  ‘I’m sorry if I disturbed you.’ I smiled to put her at ease. ‘I’ve been under a lot of pressure at work.’ So, a little white lie – what else could I say?

  ‘It must be something like that.’ Then her hand flew to her mouth. ‘Oh, the bacon! It’ll be burnt to a crisp!’ Eve ran from the room.

  chapter 8

  By 10.30 that morning I’d finished breakfast. Mom had already left for work. Eve cleared away the dirty dishes, but I was determined not to laze around while she did all the chores.

  ‘You’re making me lazy,’ I told her. ‘I’ll see to those.’

  ‘I don’t mind washing the dishes.’

  I grinned. ‘You’ve certainly grown up. I remember my sister being the little rascal who snuck out to play when it was her turn to clear the table.’

  ‘That was when I was ten. I’m twenty, remember?’

  ‘OK, but I’ll make lunch, once I’ve finished pruning the apple tree.’

  ‘Ready for another coffee?’ She filled the kettle.

  ‘Thanks.’

  She glanced back at me. ‘Have you decided how long you’re staying?’

  ‘Two or three days.’ That sounded fairly non-committal. The trouble was I had nowhere else to go, no money, the events of the last three weeks had built a brick wall between today and tomorrow for me. As Eve busied herself with rinsing the mugs, I ran hot water into the bowl. All I can do, I reasoned, is live day to day in the hope everything returns to normal by itself. But will it? Last night Natsaf-Ty appeared to warn that things were about to get a whole lot worse. OK, OK, I know ancient Egyptian mummies don’t materialize at the dead of night as messengers of impending death and destruction. You know as well as I do that the dead – whether domestic or alien – tend not to make social calls. And, yes, Natsaf-Ty has to be product of my current anxieties, and yet …

  ‘Mason!’

  ‘What?’

  I glanced back startled as Eve shouted, ‘Your hand! You’re scalding it!’

  Damn, I was so deep in thought I hadn’t even noticed I’d left the hot water tap running on to the back of my hand. Its searing jet had been striking the flesh, turning the Y scar a vivid red.

  ‘Mason, are you, OK?’

  ‘Fine. Just miles away.’

  ‘No, don’t dry it. Run cold water on it.’ She grabbed the affected hand and played the cold tap on to the reddened skin. ‘It’s something when the little sister has to take care of the big brother. I’ll be mushing your food for you next.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘There … just dab your skin with the towel, don’t rub. I’ll finish the dishes. You make the coffee.’ She smiled. ‘But don’t go fiddling with
the water in the kettle, will you?’

  ‘Listen, you’ve been to the museum in Tanshelf, haven’t you?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Then you’ve seen the Egyptian exhibits?’

  ‘Why the sudden interest in the museum?’

  I poured boiling water into the mugs. Eve kept a close eye on me, perhaps thinking I’d suddenly douse my head in the searing liquid. ‘So you’ve seen the mummy?’

  ‘Loads of times. When we were kids we’d try and look under that bandage loin cloth he wears. Ye gods, we had dirty minds. How’s the hand now?’

  ‘Fine.’ I handed her a coffee. ‘The mummy’s called Natsaf-Ty, he was keeper of the sacred crocodiles.’

  ‘How do you keep a sacred crocodile? You mean he was like an old type of zoo keeper?’

  ‘I guess it was more involved than that. He was priest at the temple of the Aten.’

  ‘You’ve got a retentive memory, Mason. I was eleven when we did the priest’s story at school. Heck, I remember we had to produce a comic strip of a day in his life in 500 BC or whenever it was.’

  A sudden exasperation made me edgy. This was the moment I should be explaining to Eve about the Echomen and these weird visions of Natsaf-Ty. Hell’s-bells, I had to get it all off my chest. My coffee was so hot it stung my lips. ‘Blast.’

  ‘Mason, are you all right?’ Before I could answer there came a knock at the door. ‘I’ll get it.’ Then she slipped down the hallway to open the door to our caller. A second later she called back, ‘Mason, it’s Tony Allen.’

  Tony Allen, you’ll remember, is my friend from college. In a fit of jealousy once after the Susan Shepherd incident I tried to punch him. That was the fight that left me with the Y-shaped scar on the back of my hand. I hadn’t seen Tony in a couple of years. His career in computers took him away from Tanshelf for weeks at a time, so we gradually lost touch as our lives followed separate paths. When Eve showed him into the kitchen I was already refilling the kettle to make him a coffee. He’d gained a few pounds. His hair was short and crinkly these days instead of the bizarre dandelion clock of frizz he used to sport at college. Gone were the torn denims, too, in favour of casual office wear – a short-sleeved shirt in pale blue with dark grey trousers. Whereas he once had rounded features, the years had made his face leaner, so the thing you noticed first about him was his jaw. It gave structure to his face: this could have been a marine on a mission. Tony was – of sorts.

  With a broad smile I held out my hand to shake his. ‘Tony, it’s great to see you. How’s the family?’

  He didn’t shake my hand. Instead, he launched a verbal attack. ‘What the hell are you playing at?’

  ‘What?’ I glanced at Eve in case she knew what he was talking about. She merely flinched at the boom of his voice.

  ‘You know damn well what!’ he roared. ‘Not twenty minutes ago you tried to push me off the platform in front of a train.’

  ‘Tony—’

  ‘You nearly killed me. If it wasn’t for people on the platform I’d be dead now.’

  ‘Tony, it wasn’t me.’

  ‘Of course it was you. We were standing face to face when you did it. I asked you in a completely civil way how you were and you launched yourself at me.’

  ‘Listen, Tony, it wasn’t me.’ I kept my calm. ‘You’re mistaken.’

  ‘Don’t treat me like I’m crazy, Mason. You might be – I’m not!’

  ‘Tony, why on earth would—’

  ‘You know why. You’re still hung up on what happened. Remember this.’ He pointed at the scar on my hand. ‘You need help, Mason. And if you come near me or my family I’m going to the police. Got that?’

  ‘Tony—’

  ‘Back off, Mason. I’ll break your face if you take a step closer to me.’

  Eve snapped out of the shock. ‘Tony, my brother wouldn’t hurt you. You were best friends.’

  ‘Right, were best friends. And as for not hurting me, you should have been at Tanshelf Station twenty minutes ago. He tried his hardest to throw me in front of a train. God help you, Mason. God help you!’ Tony’s massive jaw worked as he tried to stop himself punching me.

  Eve stared at me then turned to Tony. The look in her eye suggested she’d looked into a pit and seen monsters thrashing there.

  ‘Tony, you’re mistaken. I—’ Big mistake. I took that step toward him. He launched himself at me with his fist bunched. Eve sprang between us. The force of Tony’s forward movement bounced Eve’s slender form into the kitchen table but she recovered her balance fast enough to put herself between Tony and me before he started slugging.

  ‘Tony.’ Eve gestured with both hands to calm him. ‘Tony, it can’t have been Mason.’

  ‘Can’t it? You don’t know what he’s really like.’

  ‘Listen, he was here with me all morning. Twenty minutes ago he sat at that table eating breakfast.’

  Tony set his face hard. ‘It’s loyal of you, Eve, to defend your brother but he’s not worth it.’

  ‘Damn it, Tony! He was with me all the time. He couldn’t have attacked you.’

  Tony shrugged as the anger started to drain from him. ‘Of course it was him. I’ve known your brother since we were kids.’

  ‘I don’t know what happened to you at the station just now,’ she said, ‘but it can’t have been Mason. He simply wasn’t there.’

  Tony glared. ‘Mason, have the guts to own up. You were there on the platform, weren’t you?’

  ‘What did I do?’

  The question surprised him, nevertheless, he answered, ‘I stood at the edge of the platform as my train came toward the station. Someone touched my arm. When I turned round you were standing there, but really close … strangely close. We were face to face for a second then you pushed me off the platform on to the line. Luckily, I managed to land on my feet. There were people waiting for the train who managed to drag me back.’ His nostrils flared at the memory. ‘But only just in time. Three seconds later I’d have been under its wheels.’

  ‘Where did I go?’

  ‘You ran for it. Lucky you did or I’d have beaten the crap out of you.’ The tone suggested that he’d decided beating me was a good idea after all.

  ‘And you’re sure it was me?’

  ‘Of course, I’m sure. Now are you going to admit to attacking me?’

  ‘When I was sixteen I took a swing at you in your parents’ kitchen … and missed. That’s the only time I was tempted to hurt you.’

  He stared at me.

  ‘No, Tony,’ I told him in all seriousness. ‘I wasn’t at Tanshelf Station. I haven’t left the house today.’

  The man’s sense of purpose when he strode into the kitchen had to be a force to be reckoned with; now he suddenly became doubtful, his shoulders dropped, the air of menace evaporated. ‘But I’m sure it was you, Mason. We were face to face.’ He put the palm of his hand a foot from his nose. ‘This close.’

  I threw him a question that startled him as much as a slap. ‘When I got close to you this morning, did I smell?’

  ‘Smell?’ He rolled his eyes. ‘You stank to high heaven. You reeked like a monkey.’

  ‘And now?’

  ‘You want me to smell you?’ He gave an uneasy laugh. Even my sister raised an eyebrow.

  ‘If I smelt as bad as you say you’d have a noseful right now.’

  He blinked. ‘And you’ve managed to shave, too.’

  ‘All in twenty minutes after trying to murder you at Tanshelf Station.’

  Tony appeared to deflate. With a sigh he leaned against the kitchen counter. ‘It …’ – he shook his head – ‘… it really looked like you, Mason. Same height, same shaped face, same eyes, same …’ He gave a defeated shrug.

  Eve spoke gently, ‘It must have been someone who resembled Mason.’

  ‘Resembled?’ He clicked his tongue. ‘My friend, you have a doppelganger out there. And he’s dangerous.’

  Over coffee we talked; the more we did so, the more it dri
fted into small talk until we chatted about the music we listened to as kids.

  ‘Mason, do you remember the time we told everyone at school that we were going to see a band in Langthwaite?’ He chuckled. ‘Listen to this, Eve, the band were part of a short-lived, very short-lived, new wave called Sex Metal, so it was strictly adults only and we were just fourteen. When we were turned away at the door we made a pact to pretend we’d seen the band so we could impress everyone at school. The next day we described their filthy stage act right down to the last movement, everyone wanted to hear what we’d seen. The only problem was the concert had been cancelled, so when people found out our credibility went down the toilet.’

  I smiled. ‘At least we enjoyed being the coolest kids in the school for at least five hours.’

  ‘Bother.’ Tony glanced at his watch. ‘If I don’t move now I’m going to get fired.’

  Eve said, ‘Someone tried to kill you this morning. Tell your boss you’re having the day off.’

  ‘For my boss, being murdered is a reason to take time off, attempted murder doesn’t count in his eyes.’ He grinned. ‘Sorry about the ruckus, folks.’ The grin faded as he remembered. ‘It’s just so weird. I could have sworn it was you, Mason. I even shouted out your name as you …’ – Tony shrugged – ‘he pushed me off the platform.’

  ‘Can I call a taxi?’

  ‘Thanks, but I’d parked my car at the station, so I just picked it up after the … you know what.’ He gave a grim smile. ‘Turned out to be an interesting morning, huh?’