I’m biting my lip so hard that I can taste copper. Concentrate. I have a grip on the bullet, but the pain is intense and I’m feeling decidedly woozy.
No. This is not a good idea.
I decide to leave the bullet. It’ll just mean more bleeding, and I’ll probably pass out from the pain. I learned that from films, I think.
So . . . straight to surgery . . .
The easy bit!
I giggle, not a little hysterically, and look back into the wound. Concentrate again. I have to see into the microscopic fibres and molecules and tiny twisting creepers of matter that make up my flesh, my skin, and I have to bend them, shape them. At first nothing happens. Damn it. Focus. Concentrate. See into myself. See what I’m made of. I try not to concentrate on the sound of the enemy, surely they’ll be through the door any minute . . .
CONCENTRATE. The damn word will be on my tombstone.
I can see the fibres, I can feel them. I close my eyes and will them to grow. My wound is starting to feel itchy, weird on top of the pain. I open my eyes and it’s just like when Lauren was fixing my cut, like watching the wound happen in reverse, it slowly gets smaller, paler and paler, the blood flow lessening, thinning out, and suddenly it’s gone and there’s just new bare flesh, and I feel light-headed but also elated.
Like I said. Beneath me.
It still hurts like hell, though.
Probably ’cos there’s a bullet in there, still.
Oh well. Never mind, eh?
I’m back in the conference room, back in reality. Voices and batterings against the door. Surely they should have unlocked it by now? Maybe my mental lock is too strong. That’s encouraging. Seems like they’re not interested in taking me alive anymore, which suits me fine, but just me against every single soldier in this base, as well as whatever monsters they might have at their disposal? I don’t particularly love my chances.
Or do I?
Shut up. First order of business is to find out where I am. This room doesn’t seem likely to give up any clues, there isn’t even a computer; aside from the table and chairs there’s just a projector and a flat white screen. I look up. There is a silver grille up there that presumably gives way to a ventilation shaft. I wonder . . . it might be a possibility . . .
New sounds from outside. Screams. Shouting.
‘What the hell?’
‘What are you doing?’
‘You’re not—’
Then the sound of heavy blows, painful impacts, bodies hitting walls, a few gunshots . . . and silence. I wish I could see through doors. I stand motionless, trying to decide what to do. It could be a trap . . . but it didn’t sound like it. It doesn’t feel like it. Too sudden, too brutal. Maybe I’ve got an ally? Another escapee? Or . . .
Eddie? Maybe Eddie’s come to help me?
I decide to open the door, but I’m ready. The second anything tries to attack me, I’ll strike. I manage an approximation of a martial arts stance, just because it makes me feel more threatening, push the table aside and I think unlock and open. Click, click, and a metallic purr as the door slides open and I nearly have a heart attack. The multi-tentacled yellow monster that recently battered me senseless is standing just outside the door, watching me, rustling and glistening disgustingly. I shudder, but for some reason I’m not as afraid as I feel I should be. Maybe because it’s not doing anything, it’s just standing still. Maybe because of all the unconscious guards scattered around it. Is it . . . it can’t be helping me?
Blatantly it’s escaped, turned on its captors . . .
I don’t care. I owe this thing some pain. For some reason my lips decide to smile, and I raise my arms. ‘Come on, then, if you think yer ’ard enough.’
It doesn’t do anything. It doesn’t even try to get through the door, it just regards me with all its horrible eyes for a few more seconds before walking backwards down the corridor. I stand like an uncertain lemon for a moment then gingerly walk after it, stepping over the many sleeping soldiers and quickly thinking multiple locks so no-one can burst into the corridor. I’d rather deal with this weird beast right now than get shot again. What is it doing? It just stands silently . . . and I notice that it’s carrying something on its back among all the constantly-shifting tentacles. I squint to get a better look and see a familiar green coat. The kid. The thing has him. I’m not particularly keen on this guy because he seems to be one of the enemy, but I’m not about to let this piece of Lovecraftian livestock eat him, so I beckon. ‘Come on! Let’s ’ave it!’
The creature starts to walk towards me and all the adrenaline in my body ignites, ready for the inevitable violence, but it doesn’t attack, it simply lifts the boy in the coat from its back with its tentacles, deposits him gently on the ground next to me and trots into the conference room I’ve just vacated, as calm as a well-trained pet. It goes and sits in the corner and stares at me again. I’m thoroughly confused at this point. I close and lock the door and look down at the boy. He opens his eyes and at the same time I hear the beast start to jump and thrash around in the other room, knocking over furniture, going completely berserk, whining all the time in its skin-crawling alien falsetto. I look from the door to the boy. ‘Should I let you stand up?’ I say.
‘I’m not working with them.’ His voice and accent are as neutral as his expression.
‘Prove it.’
‘I did some damage back there,’ he says. ‘Broke some stuff. Think the intercom’s off.’
‘Oh you did, did you? Pull the other one.’
‘They made me use that thing to attack you before,’ he says, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. ‘I took it over again just now, but I knew that as soon as I gave up control it would attack. So I put it in there.’
‘You . . .’ I frown. ‘You were . . . controlling that?’
The boy nods. ‘Yes. Animals are my . . . it’s what I do.’
‘That thing’s not an animal.’
‘Yes it is. Are you going to let me stand up?’
‘I don’t know. Why should I? You were controlling it when it beat the living crap out of me. To all intents and purposes, you beat the living crap out of me. So I don’t see why I shouldn’t beat the living crap out of you in return.’
‘I didn’t know all the facts when I did that. I thought you were the bad guy.’
‘Well, I’m not.’
‘Neither am I.’
I’m still not letting you up. ‘What’s your name?’ I ask.
‘Alex. You’re Stanly.’
‘Yeah, I know. Smith told you I was the enemy, I presume?’
‘Yes,’ says Alex. ‘He was pretty convincing. And all I’ve really seen of you so far is chucking stuff about and fighting people. Seemed legit.’
‘We’ll see about that.’ I think for a second. ‘Why were you at Blue Harvest the other day?’
‘I was with the patrol. Smith said he wanted me to see the effect that you and your friends were having on the city . . . the soldiers thought that I might be able to take you by surprise, better than they could. Said you’d be expecting soldiers, not me. So they let me into the club.’
‘You were controlling that dog too?’ I remember him diving out of sight, the dog’s behaviour suddenly changing from docile quiet to snarling fury.
‘I thought you were going to kill me,’ says Alex.
‘Fair,’ I say. Soldiers are hammering at the doors at either end of the corridor. ‘And you were there the other day, when the blue dog appeared.’
‘Practice,’ says Alex. ‘I can . . . I can sort of sense when monsters are going to appear. I feel it. Felt that one coming, thought I might try taking it over. But then you were there, fighting it . . . I sort of forgot.’
‘You forgot?’
‘I was watching you fight,’ said Alex. ‘Got . . . distracted.’
‘Great. Would have been handy if you had taken
it over. Thing nearly ate me.’ Also, hmm, guess maybe Smith didn’t send the Blue Meanie afer me. Gee, I owe that guy an apology.
‘Sorry. I’ve never seen someone who can fly.’
I shrug. ‘So you don’t know anything about the Group’s bigger plan? Why they want the girl?’ That suddenly brings me rocketing back to Smith’s words, words that had briefly faded in the chaotic supernova of what-the-fuckery exploding in my mind. Where is my daughter? My daughter, he’d said.
She can’t be his.
‘Sorry,’ said Alex. ‘I don’t know anything—’
‘Why did Smith say she’s his daughter?’ I say. ‘That’s impossible. She’s mine.’
‘I told you I don’t know anything about it. I don’t even know who you’re talking about.’
I shake my head. ‘It’s impossible.’ Leave it for now. Worry about escape.
‘Sorry,’ says Alex again. He doesn’t sound sorry.
‘You don’t know what’s going on.’ I shake my head again. ‘I don’t believe you, I’m afraid. This couldn’t be more of a trap.’ I mentally lift him off the ground and hold him against the wall, staring straight into his eyes.
‘Let me down!’ he says. There’s something in his eyes, beneath his quiet demeanour. Something almost feral. He’s dangerous.
Makes two of us.
‘No,’ I say. ‘The Group really thinks I’m that bone-headed? That I’m going to make instant friends with someone who’s been present at most of my most recent beatings, just ‘cos he happens to say he’s not working with them any more? What proof have I got? None.’
‘I swear,’ says Alex. ‘I’m not with them. Not now. Not after . . .’
‘After watching them torture me? Turned your stomach? Diddums.’ I slam him against the wall, harder perhaps than I intended, or perhaps not, because I’m very angry. ‘Maybe they were right, telling you I’m the enemy. These people have consistently dumped industrial skips full of shit on me and my friends. Tried to kill us. Now they definitely have killed at least two. So I’m not particularly inclined to trust anyone right now. I’m sure you understand.’
‘I understand,’ says Alex. ‘I swear. But you need to believe me. You’ve got barely any allies. I’ve got no allies. We need each other.’
‘I’ve been getting on just fine without possessing animals, thanks.’
‘I took out all these guards!’ Alex gestures at the unconscious bodies filling the corridor.
That almost approaches a good point. I relax my hold and he drops to his feet, looking like he really wants to hit me. I kind of want him to try. He doesn’t, though, he just stands there, and I grin. ‘Go ahead,’ I say. ‘Smack me if it makes you feel better.’ Yeah, that’ll help matters.
Kind of past caring.
‘They lied to me,’ says Alex. ‘OK? They told me that you and your friends were out to destroy the city. That your powers were out of control. Smith said that if I helped them, they’d do something for me in return.’
‘What?’
His eyes drop to the floor. ‘None of your business.’
‘Business my arse. What did they offer you?’
‘I said none of your business, all right?’ There’s a new blaze behind his eyes. ‘Just . . . believe me. It was something I really want. Wanted. And just now, after you left . . . Smith woke up. He was furious. And he told me I was useless and that the deal was off. And that I was lucky he didn’t have me killed.’ Against my better judgment, I’m starting to believe him. ‘So I found that monster and took it over and came to find you. I get that you don’t trust me. I wouldn’t if I was you. And just because I trust you more than I trust them doesn’t mean I actually trust you. We just . . . we both need to get over it.’
I take a moment to think about that. Could still be a trap.
If he tries anything he’s easily taken down. Look at him, he’s barely taller than you are.
And he’s got that animal thing . . .
He might come in useful.
Plus, when he mentioned what the Angel Group offered him . . . that look in his eyes . . .
I’ve gone on looks in people’s eyes before. Often it means sod all.
Grudgingly I nod and offer my hand. We shake gingerly. ‘OK,’ I say. ‘Now where the hell are we?’
‘Underground somewhere, near their secondary research site.’
This is music to my ears and immediately my brain begins to whirl a very basic plan into shape. ‘Good.’
‘Why?’
‘Where are the empowered kept? Which direction?’
Alex points down the corridor. ‘That way. It’s pretty far, but . . .’
‘Get your monster under control,’ I say. ‘We’re going to set them free and destroy that place.’
His eyes widen. ‘Destroy the drawing area? Why?’
The drawing area . . . name makes sense, I suppose. ‘Do you even know what they’re doing in there?’ I ask.
‘Not exactly . . . just that they’re drawing power from the test subjects . . .’
‘And using it to bust a hole in reality,’ I say. ‘A bloody great big one that’s most likely going to destroy the world. And they’re not test subjects, by the way, they’re people who have been kidnapped and tortured.’ Except for the ones who might have chosen to be there?
Oh yeah, those ones. The ones Smith told you about. Don’t be an idiot.
‘Now you see why we wanted to destroy the sites in the first place,’ I say. ‘Why I was captured. I don’t know if any of my friends are even still alive, but the least I can do is finish what we started. Get the beast, now.’
Alex nods slowly. ‘OK. Look . . . when I take over an animal, my body just lies there. Still alive but . . . no mind. No consciousness.’
That makes me shiver. ‘That must be weird.’
He shrugs. ‘It’s dangerous. For my body. Can you try and make sure I don’t get shot while I’m controlling it?’
‘Yeah. What happens if your body dies while you’re in the thing? Do you know?’
For a nanosecond there is a dark flash across his face, a look that reminds me of the one Lauren wore when I asked her about her past. The poison of memories too painful to bury, grief and fury. It doesn’t last long but it answers my question. ‘Sorry,’ I say. ‘Didn’t . . .’
‘Forget it.’ He closes his eyes and instantly his body folds, becoming slack and lifeless. He breathes, but barely. It feels like it should be more unsettling than it is, but I’m too preoccupied to register it properly. I can still feel spiders’ legs scuttling across my skin, raising shiversome bumps, and I keep glancing at my hand and flexing it, just to make sure it’s there.
The monster has ceased its thrashing and wailing. I think unlock and open and it squeezes its bulky but oddly flexible mass through the doorway. It – he? – picks up the unconscious boy on the floor and wraps him up in several tentacles, laying him on its back, and I think an extra shield around him, a shield whose maintenance I assign to a tiny molecule of my mind. Enough to keep it up, not enough to be a distraction. I nod at the beast. ‘Um. Lead the way, then.’ Trying not to think about the weirdness of all this, I follow the monster down the corridor towards the sounds of yelling and banging.
Here we go.
I tell the door to open and it does. I think blast and the crowd behind it scatters like leaves. The monster rushes forwards and starts hammering security guards and soldiers into the walls and ceiling, cracking helmets and, I’m pretty sure, breaking a few limbs. They don’t even have time to get any shots off and I’m suddenly extremely relieved to have this disgusting thing as an ally. I walk through the doorway and follow it past our disabled enemies, most of them knocked unconscious, some groaning in pain. I wonder if any are dead.
I feel less bothered about that than before.
Chapter Twenty-Two
&n
bsp; THIS PLACE HAS too many damn corridors. We fight our way through more than I can count, all of them identical and full of security, and after a while I start to feel numb, my thought attacks damn near unconscious, instinctive. I can almost see them, bright blue tendrils glowing from within, wrapping around limbs and hitting stomachs and backs and faces. The word concentration doesn’t feel like it means much now. Doors seem to open of their own accord, anticipating my thoughts, and eventually we reach a new hallway, a square silver one accessed via a much more obstinate door, and I know we’re nearly there. I can feel something nearby. Something very powerful. There is another door at the end, with a thumbprint scanner, and I imagine a blank clay thumb pushing into it, moulding around the green light, creating the correct print. The door opens and I can’t resist a smile. Could have a pretty decent career as a bank robber when this is all over.
The door gives way to a big hexagonal control room, the whole far wall of which is made of glass. The place hums, hot with technology and stress, readouts flashing on big wall-mounted monitors, levels of something green rising and falling, and five people spin to face us as we enter. Four of them are white-coated technicians whose faces go dim with fear. The fifth is someone I know very well. ‘Hi Pandora,’ I say.
Pandora, red-suited and shiny-haired, doesn’t look as frightened as the technicians, but she seems far from pleased to see me. ‘Stanly . . .’
‘Don’t say a word,’ I say, ‘or you’re dead. That goes for everyone in this room. I’m talking exploding heads.’ I turn to the Alex beast. ‘Hold on for a second.’ I think the door closed, lock it and address the technicians. ‘Seal off all entrances and exits to the drawing area. Nobody gets in. And I want all communications turned off.’ One of the technicians looks at Pandora, who seems uncertain, and I feel a flash of temper, pick up an empty chair with my mind and smash it to pieces against the wall. ‘Now, please.’ Pandora nods, and the trembling technician inputs something into a computer. ‘Good,’ I say. ‘Now. Pandora. I’m shutting this place down and you’re not stopping me.’
‘I—’
‘Quiet.’ Another bubble of anger bursts, white hot, and she shrinks back a little. ‘Sorry,’ I say. ‘Not in the best mood. Apart from anything else, there’s a bullet in my shoulder. Now, is that the drawing area down there?’ I point through the window and she nods. ‘Good. Take me to it. And while we’re at it, you’ve got some explaining to do.’
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