Instinctively, Matilda caught it. ‘Oh no!’
As her bare hands closed around it, the cat flared with light. The air in front of the cabinet swirled. And there it was. An opening: shimmering and indistinct around the edges. Not a door, as such. A vague doorway shaped hole, hewn into the fabric of reality.
A light breeze ruffled Keagan’s hair and an odd decaying smell hit him. Through the doorway was another world. Another world! He could hardly believe it. He gasped as he gazed across a devastated cityscape. Crumbling buildings. Piles of rubble. It was as if a bomb had gone off.
A gust of wind surged through the opening, bringing with it a screeching howl. Matilda’s wild hair danced around her face as papers blew across the shop. She lifted a hand and pointed through the doorway.
In the distance, a cloud of darkness swept across the broken landscape. Buildings fell beneath its relentless progress. It looked like the broken city was being swallowed up.
And then Keagan realised that the darkness was surging towards them.
‘No!’ screamed Matilda.
Their world lurched as another howl pierced the air. The wind increased. Statues toppled. Books fell from shelves. The pile of comics was strewn about the store, pages flying free of their rusty old staples. Bottles tumbled from tables and smashed. The suit of armour clattered to the floor. One of the stuffed cats landed at Keagan’s feet, its glass eyes springing from its head.
‘What’s happening?’ shouted Keagan, trying to keep his balance as the building trembled.
‘It’s as I feared,’ answered Matilda. ‘Something’s trying to get through. Something that has no right to.’
‘What do we do?’ Keagan was so confused.
Matilda looked down at her hands. The stuffed cat had disappeared.
Seeing the copper coin lying on the floor among a scattering of glass splinters, Matilda reached down. She nicked her finger on a shard of glass as she snatched it up. Blood smeared the coin.
Another unearthly howl blasted across the other world and Matilda stood, facing the approaching darkness.
‘I need to close that door,’ Matilda shouted over the sound of the rushing wind. ‘And you need to get out of here.’
Another massive gust blew through the opening, knocking over the side table. The computer chip went skittering across the floor. Keagan made a dive for it, but it slid under the fallen suit of armour.
The whole store shook as if it were about to be torn apart. Shelves and displays crashed down.
As Keagan attempted to lift the armour, Matilda made for the mysterious doorway, fighting against the wind. Black wisps of darkness streamed through the doorway, and she ducked and wove to avoid them. Some of the blackness circled around the stuffed kittens on the counter and the animals withered and fell apart.
Keagan jumped back as more of the darkness tumbled over the armour. Before his eyes the metal aged and rusted, crumpling to dust.
‘Get out!’ yelled Matilda. ‘I don’t know if I can close it.’
Keagan thrust his hand in the remains of the armour, sifting through it until he found the computer chip. As his hand closed around the key, a bright light flared.
A doorway appeared – his doorway.
Through the opening was …
A wall. A stark, white wall.
‘GO!’ Matilda’s voice was filled with panic.
Keagan looked from his doorway to the shop’s front door. The sensible thing to do would be to get out of this place and run home. That’s what his mum would want him to do. But the urge to step into this other world was beginning to overpower him.
I should go home, he thought. As he tried to convince himself, another violent shudder sent a bookshelf crashing down in front of the shop’s door.
Now he had no option.
He saw Matilda with swirls of darkness circling her, as if they were taunting the old woman.
‘I can’t get to my doorway,’ she cried.
Keagan was torn. Part of him wanted to help her, although really, he had no idea what he’d be able to do. But most of him was aching to go through his doorway.
‘GO!’ Matilda yelled again.
Keagan didn’t need any more convincing. He stepped through.
His vision blurred, his head spun and his stomach lurched.
Keagan felt as if he’d just come off the Vomitron ride at the amusement park. Eyes shut tight, he concentrated on keeping his breakfast from making a reappearance.
As his stomach settled, he opened his eyes. Through the doorway, he could see Matilda, standing in the wind before her own doorway, surrounded by ever-increasing wisps of darkness. The mass of black cloud still surged forward. He saw her pull back her arm, the bloody coin in her hand. As she threw it at her opening, Keagan’s doorway splintered apart. The view into his own world shattered.
The way home was gone.
A surge of dread welled up within him. What do I do now? Keagan thought.
Opening his hand, Keagan saw that the computer chip had also disappeared. Without another key, was he trapped?
And where was he?
His unease mounted.
Keagan looked around. A corridor with white walls stretched a long way to either side of him, a white floor beneath, a white ceiling above. He took a few steps, his sneakers squeaking across the shiny surface. He touched a wall. It felt like plastic.
Keagan wasn’t sure what he had expected from this other world, but a boring corridor was not it. It was like being in a hospital with all that white, and there was even a subtle antiseptic smell. At least there was no immediate danger.
Anxiety now gnawed at the pit of his stomach. He realised that the burning desire, which had led him here, had faded. He didn’t know what to do.
But he couldn’t just stand there. He had to do something. Deciding that the corridor must lead somewhere, he started walking. A little way along, he reached a junction and discovered that the corridor didn’t go very far at all – it was just a trick of all that white.
More corridors awaited him and he kept walking, until he turned a corner into an open space and saw …
People. Kids, actually. Probably about seven or eight years old. All of them wearing white jumpsuits. It was like a scene out of a bad old sci-fi film. One cliché leading to another, he thought. And then he noticed something else. All the kids were the same.
Not just the same in terms of their dreadful fashion sense and blonde bob hair-styles – but they all looked like they were siblings. They all had the same delicate, defined facial features, all of them were slim. And he couldn’t quite tell which were boys and which were girls. Weird!
The thought suddenly struck him. Clones! Keagan had watched enough sci-fi – too much, his mum would say – to know that identical people all dressed in white were always clones; fake people grown in vats of bubbling green liquid or something like that.
‘Excuse me.’
Keagan did a double take as he was pulled out of his thoughts. There were five young children approaching, staring at him. Now that they were closer he could tell they weren’t just similar … they were identical. Quintuplets?
‘You are wrong,’ they said in unison, staring at him with bright blue, unblinking eyes.
The way they spoke was unnerving.
‘Wrong?’ asked Keagan, a little taken aback. ‘What am I wrong about?’
The five children then spoke in turn, one word each.
‘Wrong.’
‘You.’
‘Are.’
‘Not.’
‘Perfect.’
‘Um … oookay.’ Keagan took a step back, feeling creeped out by the quintuplets.
‘You should not be here.’ They were speaking in unison again. Keagan wasn’t sure what was stranger – saying one word each, or talking all together.
Keagan started as an alarm blared. He saw people running towards him. They were in black uniforms, they were grown-ups and they did not appear happy.
The alarm
stopped.
Everything was a blur of movement. Keagan was surrounded by uniformed people in balaclava-like hoods. Angry eyes glared at him. Hands grabbed, pushed and manoeuvred him, and he was whisked away from the identical kids.
He wasn’t able to see where he was being taken. An impenetrable wall of black-clad people around him, he was being spirited along featureless corridor after featureless corridor.
Fear had frozen him. He didn’t scream. He didn’t struggle. He just allowed himself to be carried off.
Then he was shoved through a door, which slid into place behind him. Keagan was in a stark white room. Blank plastic walls. Empty.
‘Commence decontamination.’ A voice echoed through the room.
Heart pounding, Keagan screwed his eyes shut and held his breath, expecting a spray of disinfectant or a torrent of liquid or something like the ‘decontamination’ he’d seen in countless sci-fi films.
Instead, there was a quiet hum.
He opened one eye to see the room bathed in a sterile blue glow.
He opened the other eye and exhaled.
The glow faded along with the hum.
‘Well, that wasn’t so ba–’
The room exploded in a mist of foul-smelling spray. His mouth was filled with it. It stung his eyes and made him gag.
Thankfully the mist was gone within seconds.
‘Decontamination complete.’
He tried to spit the remnants from his mouth.
The door slid open just as Keagan spat in its direction.
‘S … sorry,’ he stammered, as a group of people entered, the door closing behind them.
Keagan frowned. They were the strangest people he had ever seen. Well, the strangest since the quintuplets.
Dressed in white, like the children, these people were tall and slim with delicate features and blonde hair in the same bobbed style. Middle-aged, guessed Keagan. And there were five of them. Quintuplets again? But were they men or women? He couldn’t tell at first. Then he noticed a slight shade of stubble across the faces of three of them. So, three men and two women.
They considered him in silence, examining every feature.
Keagan sucked air through his teeth, trying to calm himself. His heart was still beating fast and his legs felt shaky.
‘You are not one of us,’ they said in unison. Their voices were even and gentle.
‘Ah … no,’ agreed Keagan, feeling uncomfortable with the way they were studying him, and because he was still damp from the spray. ‘I’m sort of here by accident.’
The two women stepped forward from the group. ‘Scans indicate that you are a human of sub-standard quality,’ they said together.
‘Gee, thanks,’ said Keagan.
‘Appreciation for stating the obvious is unnecessary,’ said the women.
‘Riiiight.’ Keagan was wondering what he should say. ‘Um … who are you?’
‘We are the Welcoming Committee.’ All five were speaking in unison again. ‘We are in charge of security. Who are you?’
‘I’m Keagan Whiley.’
‘What does it signify?’ asked the two women.
‘What do you mean?’
‘My designation is 55-A-1,’ said the first woman. ‘55th generation, processing batch A, 1st individual.’
‘My designation is 55-A-2,’ said the second woman. ‘55th generation, processing batch A, 2nd individual.’
‘We are batch supervisors,’ they said together.
‘We are batch subordinates,’ said the three men together. Then each of them spoke in turn.
‘My designation is 55-A-3. 55th generation, processing batch A, 3rd individual.’
‘My designation is 55-A-4. 55th generation, processing batch A, 4th individual.’
‘My designation is 55-A-5. 55th generation, processing batch A, 5th individual.’
‘What is your designation?’ the five of them asked together.
‘Um.’ Keagan tried to think what the correct answer would be. ‘Well, my full name is Keagan Henry Whiley. Whiley is my family name … the family group that I’m part of. Henry is … well … in memory of one of my ancestors, but I’m not sure which one. All the boys in my family have Henry as a middle name. And Keagan is my given name … my individual designation. So other people know which Whiley I am.’
The 55-As nodded.
Keagan felt relieved and rather pleased with his answer. ‘So …’ he said, looking from person to person. ‘I guess you’re all clones, huh?’
‘Your assumption is correct,’ answered the supervisors. ‘And you are not a clone.’
It was a statement rather than a question, but Keagan felt the need to answer anyway. ‘No, I’m not.’
‘Where are you from? Why are you here and how did you get into the city?’
‘Ah … well … that’s kinda hard to explain,’ said Keagan. ‘You’re probably not going to believe this … I’m from a different world. And I came through a doorway … sort of … well, a portal thing. And I’m not sure why I’m here. I had this urge to go through, even though I didn’t know where it led. But, now that I’m here, I think I’d like to go home.’
The clones nodded.
‘You believe me?’ asked Keagan, astounded. No one ever believed ridiculous but true explanations in movies.
‘We have no reason to doubt your answer,’ said 55-A-1.
‘Please go home now,’ said 55-A-2. ‘We require you to leave the city immediately.’
‘Ah …’ Keagan hesitated. ‘I don’t know how to get home.’
The clones made eye contact, then turned around. The door slid open and they walked out.
It closed before Keagan could follow.
What? Why? He didn’t want to be left alone again. The clones were odd, but having them around was better than being alone in the strange world.
‘Hey,’ shouted Keagan. ‘You can’t just leave me in here!’
There was no response.
Alone in an empty room, Keagan felt the isolation closing in on him … and his fear returned.
Keagan tried banging his fists on the door. He tried shouting. He ran his hands along every square centimetre of the smooth plastic walls, searching for a gap or seam or something that might show a way out. There was nothing. He slumped into a corner of the white room.
He was trapped!
This is so weird, thought Keagan. He’d been led to this other world by an urge to touch the key and explore. Now that he was here, that eagerness had faded. Maybe under normal circumstances (Keagan almost laughed out loud … there was nothing normal about any of these circumstances) he would have wanted to find out more about this white city where everyone looked the same. But he was worried about what had happened in his own world. Had the darkness made it through? Or had Matilda closed the doorway and stopped it in time?
And then there were the pickles!
He needed to get back to his own world.
He let out a long sigh.
The door slid open and 55-A-1 and 55-A-2 came back in. 55-A-2 was carrying a notebook-sized sheet of clear hard plastic.
Keagan jumped to his feet. ‘Why did you lock me in?’
‘So we could find your way home,’ they answered.
Keagan felt his hopes rising. ‘Did you find it?’
‘Perhaps,’ said 55-A-1. ‘Based on what you have told us, we instigated a city-wide scan for dimensional disruptions.’
‘And?’ Keagan was getting excited now.
‘We discovered none.’
Keagan’s shoulders slumped.
‘We extrapolated the scan,’ continued 55-A-1. ‘We did discover some unexplained readings in Corridor HD07.’
‘A residual type of energy we have not previously encountered,’ added 55-A-2.
‘From this we can assume that that is where you arrived,’ finished 55-A-1.
‘It was a long white corridor,’ said Keagan.
The two clones looked at him with blank expressions. ‘They all are.’
‘Oh, yeah.’ Keagan felt a little foolish.
‘We do not have the capability to open a portal,’ continued 55-A-1.
‘We do not know how,’ clarified 55-A-2.
55-A-1 glanced at her fellow clone, her face momentarily losing its calm appearance. Keagan wondered if she was annoyed.
‘However,’ said 55-A-1, ‘we theorise that your presence may reopen the portal you came through.’
‘Theorise,’ repeated 55-A-2.
‘Well, what are we waiting for?’ said Keagan.
‘Nothing,’ answered the two clones.
‘Huh?’ Keagan was confused.
‘Nothing,’ they repeated.
‘We were answering your question,’ said 55-A-1.
‘As in, we are not waiting for anything,’ said 55-A-2.
‘We can proceed immediately,’ they said together.
‘Ah.’ Keagan felt foolish again. ‘Yeah. Okay.’
The door opened and the clones led the way out into the corridor.
There were two people dressed in black waiting just outside – same height; same build. Even though their blue eyes were the only facial features visible through their balaclavas, Keagan assumed they looked like everyone else. As they followed, Keagan peeked over his shoulder at them with a little apprehension. Despite their lack of weapons, they seemed threatening.
Two white-clad clones, younger than the 55-As, but otherwise identical, passed them. Keagan stared hard, trying to determine their gender.
‘So … except for age, you’re all kind of the same,’ said Keagan. ‘I’m finding it hard to tell who’s a man and who’s a woman.’
‘Gender is irrelevant,’ said the 55-As. ‘An unnecessary difference.’
Keagan didn’t know what to say to that. They continued on in silence.
Several identical corridors later, they arrived at the original one. Not that Keagan could tell. The clones assured him this was where he’d come through the doorway.
‘Stand there.’ They indicated a spot in the centre of the space.
Nothing happened.
55-A-2 held up the plastic sheet. Readouts appeared on the plastic.
It must be some sort of portable computer, thought Keagan. Cool. Despite all that was happening, he wanted to get a closer look at it.
Perfect World Page 2