The Forgotten Son

by Andy Frankham-Allen

  In the back, under the watchful eye of three armed soldiers was a device the likes of which Bishop had never seen before. It was huge, a box of switches with some kind of antenna sitting on top. A silver sphere poked out of the side of the box, cable connecting it to the antenna. Bishop looked to the major, but it was clear that Douglas was no wiser to it than Bishop.

  Doctor Travers folded her arms and looked at the machine proudly. ‘My father and I built that, based it on a smaller device me and… a friend devised in London. When activated it will send a signal through here,’ she pointed to the sphere, ‘and transmit it to the spheres that control the Yeti. We can turn them on each other.’

  ‘I thought the Great Intelligence controlled them?’

  Doctor Travers nodded. ‘You’re right, Private, but it does so by transmitting some kind of signal on the astral plane apparently. The control spheres that sit in the Yeti chests receive the signal. This machine will interrupt that signal, and allow us to control them instead.’

  ‘Bit of a boffin, our Doctor Travers,’ Major Douglas said, clearly impressed.

  ‘A bit?’ Doctor Travers looked affronted by this. ‘I didn’t spend all those years in Cambridge to become a bit of anything. And I’ll thank you to remember that, Major Douglas.’

  Henry knelt near the machine for a closer look. He glanced back at Doctor Travers. ‘You built this?’

  ‘With help from my father, yes. Is that so hard to believe, Mister Barns?’

  Henry whistled in appreciation. ‘She’s right, Major, she is more than a bit of a boffin.’ He shook his head and stood up again. ‘So, this will take care of the Yeti, but what about the web? Have you invented something to defeat that, too? This machine won’t be much use to us if we’re stuck outside the village.’

  Bishop could only grin at the broad smile on Doctor Travers’ face. He was never one for short hair on women, but he had to admit she wore hers well, and it certainly added an element of beauty to her face.

  ‘Well, of course I do,’ Doctor Travers said. ‘Let me show you.’ She moved deeper into the truck and the men followed. ‘I’ve been studying the web since London, and have come to the conclusion that it is basically a copy of a human brain, only much larger, of course.’ She glanced back and grinned at the stupefied expressions on Bishop, Henry and Douglas. This was way beyond the understanding of a junior NCO like Bishop, but he was glad to see that an officer like the major was equally as baffled.

  ‘Why a human brain? I thought it was alien,’ Bishop said, and was gratified at the nod of approval from Doctor Travers.

  ‘Very good point. And it’s something I still haven’t worked out. Anyway, as I was saying, it is a copy of a human brain, and much like a real brain it’s a mix of chemicals and electrical impulses. I intend to disrupt the brain activity by means of a specially aimed electro-magnetic pulse set to a frequency of…’

  Owain stepped back from the pyramid and looked from Mary to Gordon.

  He’d thought he knew all about the Great Intelligence, what it was, where it came from, but now he wasn’t sure. He had been certain that the form it took was Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart, the war hero father of the colonel, the one who had died protecting his country. The Intelligence knew he thought this, so why did it lie to him? What else had it lied about?

  Before agreeing to bring Mary to the Manor he had insisted on being told everything. To learn how much truth there was to the colonel’s story about recent events in London. Gordon, or James, or the Intelligence – Owain wasn’t even sure what to call him now – had explained that what was recent for Earth was a long time ago for the Intelligence. That it came from a long way in the future… It was not the same as it had been when it had invaded London. It had changed since then.

  ‘Owain, you must attach the wires,’ the boy said.

  ‘Why?’ Owain looked around at the Yeti that remained in the hall. ‘You still haven’t told me why you need her.’

  Gordon titled his head, like a dog hearing a strange sound. ‘I am weak, spread too thin, trying to control the Yeti and the web… too much for me. There is a trace of me left in Mary. She was touched by me. I didn’t realise how weak I was then, and clearing her mind of James took more from me than I expected. But joining with you has restored some of my strength. Drawing from the source. But it’s still not enough.’

  ‘Clearing her… You mean you made her forget about her own son? Why?’

  ‘Too many questions.’ Gordon walked towards him and reached out a hand. ‘You must trust me, Owain. You know why.’

  The boy’s hand rested on Owain’s chest and Owain felt the peace fill him once more. Yes, Gordon was right. He did know why he could trust Gordon. They were the same. The beginning and the end.

  ‘I can feel him,’ Owain said.

  Gordon closed his eyes. ‘Yes,’ he whispered. ‘Albert is drawing close.’ He looked over at Mary, who sat in the pyramid, her eyes staring like she was in a trance. ‘Soon I will be whole once again. At last.’

  Lethbridge-Stewart didn’t understand it. He’d received several reports now and they all said the same; the Yeti weren’t advancing at all.

  If he were the Great Intelligence he’d be pressing home the advantage. As they’d proved, whatever weapons they had were, by and large, ineffective against the Yeti. They were surrounded, their defensive position as close to hopeless as was possible. And yet, still the Great Intelligence kept its soldiers in place. Not allowing anybody in or out of the village, but not attacking.

  He surveyed the map and considered the placing of the Yeti in relation to the village. He had used a red pen to trace a line around the village, representing the web. Bledoe was smack bang in the middle. If the Yeti moved in at the same time then the cleansing field they were generating would subdue the entire village in less than an hour. The villagers would be herded into the area immediately surrounding the pub. They wouldn’t stand a chance.

  ‘What can we do?’ Cawley asked.

  Several men were in the pub, sitting at the bar while Ray served them a bit of scotch to bolster their reserves.

  ‘Wait it out until the army get here,’ Lethbridge-Stewart replied. ‘We can’t get near the Yeti without the majority of us succumbing to the chant, and as young Mister Moynihan has proved fire bombs are not terribly effective.’

  He tried to catch George’s eye, but the man didn’t return his look. Instead he stared down at the scotch in his glass. Lethbridge-Stewart, though, didn’t look away; he knew one thing he could do while the rest of them waited it out.

  ‘I’m going to try and find a way to the Manor. Confront the Intelligence head on.’

  Now George did look up, meeting Lethbridge-Stewart’s gaze and holding it while the rest of the men in the bar voiced their concerns. Lethbridge-Stewart raised a hand to silence them.

  ‘Yes, I know, it’s not likely I’ll get there, but we need a distraction to make sure the Yeti keep their distance.’

  ‘They are keeping their distance,’ Fred Murray said, to murmurs of agreement.

  ‘He’s right, Alistair,’ Ray pointed out. ‘Why risk upsetting the apple cart?’

  ‘Because his mother is up there.’

  Lethbridge-Stewart nodded at George. ‘One of the reasons, yes. Whatever the Intelligence wants my mother for, it’s a safe bet that it’s not going to be good for her or anybody else.’

  George downed his scotch and stood. ‘Good. I need to get my boys back, too. I’m going with you.’

  Lethbridge-Stewart expected no less. ‘And you, Ray?’

  For a moment Ray didn’t answer. He knew what Lethbridge-Stewart was offering him. A chance to be there at the end, to finally chase off the ghost that had haunted him for so long. Ray swallowed and looked around the bar.

  ‘I’ll… I’ll stay here, keep an eye on everything for you. Sorry.’

  ‘I quite understand.’ It was too big a request, but Lethbridge-Stewart had to ask. Ray needed to be offered the opportunity. ‘Just you and
me, then,’ he said, turning back to George.

  Arnold and Watts crouched in the brush, looking out at the Manor. The grounds of the Manor were empty, which pleased Arnold. He had expected a couple of Yeti to be standing on guard. That made things easier. He looked across at Watts. The young man was sweating in the cold air.

  ‘Come on, lad, we need to do this.’

  ‘Do we? Why? We’re just two people. And you’re not even armed.’

  It was a point the young man had raised a few times on the way through Draynes Wood. Arnold had to admit he would have felt better with a gun in his hand, instead of the rake he’d borrowed from the hayshed. But he hefted the rake and stood up.

  ‘Come on.’

  He set off, his eyes continuously darting about just in case the Great Intelligence had any surprises in store. He froze at the sound behind him. A sort of choked gurgle. He raised the rake and turned around, ready to defend himself.

  A Yeti stood at the edge of the woods, a claw wrapped around Watts’ throat. How the hell had that thing been able to sneak up on them? Did they have a silent-running setting?

  ‘Damn it!’ Arnold hissed and charged forward. He barely got two steps before he stopped and the rake fell from his limp hands.

  ‘Finally.’

  Owain turned from the pyramid as the door of the hall opened and a uniformed man entered. This had to be Albert. The final piece of the Intelligence’s puzzle.

  Gordon walked over to him. ‘I can feel it,’ he said, walking around Albert, eyes closed. ‘Inside him, part of me trapped, torn from the whole by the feedback when the Yeti attacked my pyramid in London.’ He opened his eyes and smiled. ‘Centuries in my past, and yet only a few small weeks ago on this wretched world. If only I had known what was to come.’

  Owain didn’t like the sound of that. The words, the tone, the relish in his voice. This was not the sound of someone who wanted to bring peace to all men. But he had to trust Gordon, he had no choice.

  ‘And just in time,’ Gordon said.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Lethbridge-Stewart has brought reinforcements to Bledoe. I can see them through the eyes of my Yeti.’ Gordon grinned, like a child with a secret. He turned to the many silver spheres that sat discarded on the wooden floor. ‘Are they in for a surprise.’

  The small convoy of army vehicles stopped on Fore Street, the web before them. Major Douglas jumped out of the truck and banged on the back. ‘Let’s see what your toy can do, Doctor Travers,’ he said, as she climbed out.

  The guards clambered out of the back, the remote control machine carried between them. Doctor Travers walked over and guided them in placing it gently on the road’s surface. She stepped behind the machine and started pressing switches.

  Douglas was still finding it a little hard to accept, but he could not deny the web before them, nor the robotic form on the other side of the web. He assumed that was a Yeti, or at least what it looked like without fur. Lethbridge-Stewart’s report, which Douglas had received from Hamilton, had explained that the Yeti were robotic. Presumably its new look was down to Bishop’s escape. He glanced back as a low hum emitted from the machine.

  The antenna on top of the machine began to turn. Doctor Travers looked up from it with a smile. ‘Now, let’s make magic.’

  Douglas waited, but the robot didn’t move. Is remained where it was, impassively looking at them through the web. ‘Is something supposed to be happening?’

  ‘Well, yes.’ Doctor Travers checked the machine. ‘I don’t understand. It’s transmitting, so why isn’t…’ She stopped suddenly and rushed over to Major Douglas. Her hand went to her mouth. ‘Oh no.’

  ‘What is it?’

  She pointed at the robotic creature. ‘Look, in its chest.’

  Douglas looked, but he saw nothing.

  ‘Exactly,’ Doctor Travers said. ‘It’s not controlled by a sphere. My machine is useless.’

  — CHAPTER FOURTEEN —

  Final Approach

  OWAIN STOOD OUTSIDE THE MANOR house, his eyes closed, feeling the cold air on his face. The Intelligence was occupied, and so he’d taken the opportunity to get a little space. Be alone for a short while. Being connected to the Intelligence – he refused to think of it as Gordon any more – opened up so much to him. If he focused he could see everything the Intelligence could see through the eyes of the many Yeti surrounding the village.

  There, on the other side of the web he could see two men. His dad and the colonel, crossing the sports field, walking towards him. Owain smiled.

  The web was an extension of the Intelligence. If the Intelligence could control it, then so could Owain. After all, they both came from the same place.

  Neither man needed to talk. They had their mission and too many thoughts to share. Lethbridge-Stewart was wondering about the web, which was barely fifty yards away. He held one of the Molotov cocktails in his hand, hoping that the heat would be enough to open a gap big enough for them to pass through. He supposed a couple of grenades might have worked, had there been any in the back of the Land Rover, but the explosive potential of the Molotov cocktail should prove sufficient – if it did, Lethbridge-Stewart decided he may need to re-christen it from the poor man’s grenade to the desperate man’s grenade.

  George, however, was more focused on his sons. He should have listened to Ray and stopped their visits to the Manor at the start. Maybe done something sooner. Been a better father, a better husband. If he had been, perhaps the Watts’ boy would not have so easily led Lewis, and Owain would not have been such an easy target for the Hollow Man. But such what-ifs were of little use, George knew that, since they changed nothing. All he could do now was rescue his boys and make sure he fixed things with them. And he would. This he promised himself.

  Lethbridge-Stewart raised the bottle in his hand and turned to George. The other man nodded and retrieved the lighter from his trouser pocket, hefting his own bottle. ‘Do you honestly think this will work?’

  ‘The exploding car was enough to create a hole big enough for a Land Rover to pass through. The hole we need is much smaller. Two of these should work fine.’

  George nodded. He trusted the colonel; after all, he was the man with the experience. George was the postmaster, the useless father. What did he know about fighting aliens?

  ‘Although…’ Lethbridge-Stewart indicated the web. A gap was forming. Just large enough for the two of them. ‘Looks like we were expected,’ he said, his eyes narrow.

  ‘That can’t be good.’

  ‘No. Well, Private Vine, keep your senses sharp. This is almost certainly a trap, but needs must when the devil drives.’

  George followed Lethbridge-Stewart through the gap. ‘What is it the spider said to the fly?’

  ‘Quite. Into the parlour we go.’

  ‘Now what do you suggest?’ Mr Barns asked, having joined them by the edge of the web. Major Douglas was wondering the same thing. He turned to Doctor Travers.

  ‘Let’s hope the web disruptor is more effective than your transmitter thing.’

  Doctor Travers folded her arms. ‘Well, it’s not my fault that the Yeti no longer seems to be controlled by the spheres.’

  Douglas knew it wasn’t, but he couldn’t help the remark.

  ‘Sir,’ Private Bishop said, saluting. ‘If I may make a suggestion?’

  ‘Go ahead.’

  ‘Can I suggest we save Doctor Travers’ disruptor for a more strategic moment? The colonel said these Yeti are connected to the Great Intelligence, so it wouldn’t do to give away all our advantages straight away.’

  Bishop had a good point. ‘Perhaps so, son, but we still need to get through the web or we’re no use to anybody. Do you have a better idea?’

  ‘I do, sir. Use my Land Rover as a weapon. Same way we did to escape the village, sir.’

  Douglas would hardly have called it Bishop’s Land Rover, but it was a good idea. Although a costly one. Still, if the Intelligence was watching them through the Y
eti, then it made sense to save revealing the disruptor until a better moment. ‘Very well, Private. Let’s get to it, then.’

  It didn’t take too long to prepare the Land Rover. Bishop brought it to the front of the convoy, driving on the verge of the road, brushing against the hedge. They’d fashioned a way to keep the accelerator down, and stuffed some rags down into the petrol tank.

  ‘Everybody back in the truck,’ Douglas ordered.

  Once there was only him and Bishop left, he lit the match in his hand and brought it to the rag. The flame connected and he nodded at Bishop. The private leaned into the Land Rover and released the brake. The two men stepped back and watched as the Land Rover accelerated towards the web.

  ‘We should probably get some cover, sir.’

  Douglas smiled grimly. ‘Good idea!’

  They climbed into the truck cabin and watched as the Land Rover rammed into the web. The fungus-like substance held, causing the tyres to squeal and smoke against the road. Then the flame reached the petrol in the tank and the Land Rover exploded. The three men in the truck cabin covered their eyes with their arms.

  They looked again to find the web around the flaming Land Rover burning away. ‘Now!’ ordered Douglas. ‘Evans, let’s go.’

  The driver, Private Evans, just watched the flame, singing softly to himself.

  ‘Evans! Snap out of it, man.’

  Evans blinked. ‘Bloody hell. Here we go again.’

  ‘Put your foot down, man, before the web repairs itself.’

  Eyes wide in terror, the driver did as ordered and the truck surged forward. Behind them the rest of the convoy began to move, too. Soldiers in the open-aired jeeps prepared their rifles, ready to shoot.

  Even as the convoy rushed towards the web Douglas could see it had started to grow back. He glanced at Evans. The Welshman’s brow was furrowed in concentration. The truck swerved ever so slightly and clipped the side of the flaming Land Rover, buffeting it further into the web causing the substance to shrink back, giving the convoy enough space to pass through.