We charged.
Chapter Sixteen
Blood in the Halls/ The Richenbach Falls
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I have not failed. I’ve just found ten thousand ways that won’t work.
Thomas Edison,
On making toast
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“Space. On the left,” Delroy shouted.
I charged toward the opening left hand side door and sighted Freud within.
I shoulder charged my Mothe-I mean Freud and knocked him off of his Austrian feet. As he flew through the air I could see him spasm and twitch as visible computer code ran under his skin, glowing effervescent green. The code contorted and broke his features as it ran through him, twisting his body until the noted psychoanalyst landed heavily on the floor in the form of Nikki Sixx- bassist and founder of the band Motley Crue (who, eerily enough, looked not dissimilar to my beloved Ma).
But before he could gain his feet Brecon stomped on the glam rocker’s throat as we passed him, bathing the corridor in the bloom of a hologram’s death. All five of us ran onward, past this first enemy, determined not to break this charge, to use our momentum to cut through the enemy ranks. The jaundiced blast of light from the fallen rocker illuminated the battlefield before us in a flash; a sight at once heartening and chilling.
It was heartening because our goal was now in sight. We were on the main floor of the resort- a grid of dozens of squat black boxes that were their holo-suites stretched out before us, and overlooking this village of boxes was the control room. The raised observation deck embedded high in the furthermost wall was where Rasputin would be, and it also happened to be the only place we could possibly destroy the corrupted clones.
But the glimpse was horrifying too because it showed us our opposition. On every suite, in every corridor were a host of holographic evils; names etched into the history books in blood and bone that now lined the halls, each of them standing with a host of skeletal soldiers. Every room we ran past was a factory pumping out skeletons. Imagine, if you will, a factory that makes apple tarts. Every day it does nothing but fire apple tarts out of itself- a constant river of pastry and fruit and syrup. Now imagine that instead of apple pies that that factory was actually pumping out evil skeletons instead and instead of one factory there were hundreds. If you can grasp that then you have some notion of what we were facing right then.
A thousand heads swivelled towards us as the founder of Motley Crue exploded. A thousand heads and at least four thousand eyes. No time for counting, I thought to myself, concentrate on two things; the pistoning of your powerful thighs and your fists. Absolute focus in battle. No distractions.
That really had looked like my Mum back there, though.
The sound of our footfalls beat like a heartbeat and our heartbeats sounded like the galloping of feet as we charged into the grid. We cut down a long corridor and started towards an enormous group that blocked the hallway from wall to wall. A phalanx of skeletons formed an impenetrable barrier- dozens deep, and at its centre was the glowering jackal face of Julius Caesar. The General raised an imperious finger towards us and his warriors grimaced (if skeletons can grimace) in anticipation.
“Budda-budda-budda,” panted Flex, sounding out our sprinting steps.
“I hope this plan of yours works,” Brecon cried. I opened my mouth to answer but remembered he wasn’t addressing me.
“It’ll work,” Delroy said simply.
I knew all of us were picturing Grace in her control room, typing code into the holo-mainframe, desperately trying to decrease our enemy’s numbers.
We closed in.
And the grinning skeletons turned to greet us as Caesar’s mouth twisted in a smirk.
We smirked back. Somewhere far behind us, we hoped that Grace was similarly smirking too. But maybe she was just concentrating on working her magic in the mainframe. But if she had time for a smirk that would have been the moment.
As if seized by a spasm Caesar’s skeleton’s began to twitch and contort, jigging in a savage electrical dance as screeds of computer code ran over the surface of their bones like some kind of crazy electric rash. As if pulled magnetically, one skeleton collided with another, screeching as their bones and bodies fused together into one. Then another was sucked into the body. And another, and another. A ball of shifting letters and code formed around this one bony opponent as it swallowed the rest of the skeletons like a black hole made solely of ASCII.
We charged toward it still.
“Budda-budda-budda”
In a flash Caesar was left standing next to not a dozen skeletal warriors, but simply one man; Bruce Dickinson, the lead singer from Iron Maiden. The two of them looked at each other in shock, both equally surprised to be seeing the other in such circumstances. They turned back towards us and Caesar’s smirk was replaced with that gratifying pre-punching mix of shock and fear.
“FWACK!” cried Flex.
Delroy clotheslined Caesar in his neck while I landed a perfect flying dragon kick on the throat of the singer of ‘Number of the Beast’. Meanwhile Brecon charged low, two whirling fists catching both men in their midriffs. They crumpled to the side of the corridor as we charged on. In a second they exploded in yellow lights but we were already cutting down another corridor, falling in behind Delroy.
We came sliding around the corner, one charging organism, ready to mete out justice. Oliver Cromwell and Pol Pot were already there to meet us, hissing ahead of their hundred-strong group of warriors, that filled the hallway, but already they were melting into each other, our computer code virus melting their bodies together, scything their numbers down like a big scythe might. The halls squealed with the clicking creaking sounds of thousands of skeletons having the same virus-freak-out. It sounded glorious. Cromwell cast a dubious eye backward to the shimmering mass of morphing behind him and looked worried. I smiled and kept running. There was momentum behind us, a righteous gust of justice infused wind at our backs.
Flex collided with Pol Pot, Q’uinc’y threw his heft on top of Oliver Cromwell and Delroy, Flex and myself were left to deal with the collected skeletons, which had pared down from an uncountable mass to the guitarist from Anthraxx, Jon Bon Jovi from the band Bon Jovi and two assorted members of Twisted Sister whose names were lost in the annals of history.
“Seems like our saviour has got quite a thing for classical music,” I noted as I cracked Bon Jovi’s femur over my knee.
Delroy was working on Twisted Sister, savagely colliding their heads together with each hand. “Whatever works,” he said. “She’s going fast, got to call on what she knows, I guess. I ain’t complaining.”
“Kerr-ack!” chimed in Flex, as he yanked up hard on a bandana, cracking the neck of Joey Belladonna, turning him into yellow energy in one savage twist.
“Not far now,” Delroy continued, calling over to Brecon and Q’uinc’y who were dusting themselves off. We gathered and he pointed ahead of us. “Just round that bend is the turbolift to the control centre. We get to that and we stand a shot at winning this damn thing.”
“This is a crazy damn situation here, and that’s coming from a man whose job it is to wrangle stray Bin Ladens. We’ve come this far together, and dammit, we’re going to finish together. We may not have known each other a few hours back, but I sure as hell know you folks now. You’re the people who’ve trampled the greatest tactical minds of history. You’re the people who fought through an army of animated skeletons. And you better believe you’re the people who are going to come with me in this last stretch and break Rasputin’s head open.”
We all, almost involuntarily cheered for the man. Even I clapped him round the shoulder as I felt that dangerous mix of pride, aggression and inspiration swell in my chest and make my fists tingle in anticipation. This feeling of inspiration and awe must be what it feels like to be around me, I thought. I took a second to contemplate how truly ungrateful Funkworthy was for his lot in life. I swore that if I lived through this I’d bring it up to him at le
ngth.
“Let’s end this,” he said and, without looking back charged down the corridor. Ahead of him a writhing mass of skeletons was there waiting, as if respectfully aware of his right to make a stirring speech before the end of battle. As he launched at them I could already see them morphing down to form Def Leppard. Flex, Brecon and Q’uinc’y fell in behind him with no argument, without even looking back towards me. Why would they, I wondered. They were following their leader.
LAPAW. My three columns of personality crumbled away to two. I was PAW.
I followed.
---=◈◆⬤◆??◆⬤◆◈=---
We charged out into the crisp cockney night air without fear.
Maybe it was the refreshing night air or maybe it was the company or maybe it was the clouds of medical grade cocaine and amphetamines we had been inhaling, but I was feeling the teeth-gnashing euphoria of a lack of fear. Who could know the cause? Not me!! All I knew was that I was charging at a cannon with absolutely no hesitation in my rapidly beating hearts. God but I felt good!
The floor, slipping as it was out of the building and towards the cobbled streets proved no challenge at all. How COULD it? We vaulted from the Hardcolmes study to the street in a leap of no more than four feet and as we charged across the street we heard the tell-tale sound of a room collapsing but none of us bothered to look around because buildings collapse, entire floors slip to the streets all the time and right now we had to go go GO! We had our sights set on one specific window and in that window was a cannon, and behind that cannon was a man, and on that man was a face, and on that face was a look of shock and fear. I looked up at him as he boggled his eyes at us and I relished that moment. The cannon, already primed and with its fuse mouldering went off, but Tempus hadn’t the time to aim properly and a channel of air rushed over my tingling scalp and something behind us exploded. Probably that collapsing building I mentioned hours ago.
We charged, arms pistoning with speed, eyes dilated with courage, hearts racing with valour, gums numb with…well, that one may have been the result of Victorian pharmaceuticals.
Still, with or without all the narcotics I think it was beyond doubt that we had, in that moment become absolutely invincible. We were untouchable. I could have taken a cannonball to the face at that point and It would have crumpled or instead maybe I would simply leap over it as I was also equally sure that I was as fast as I had ever been maybe even faster than anybody ever had been. Cannonballs flew about us, too scared to even touch us. We could walk between them. We could walk between the raindrops, between the very atoms of the walls in front of us, since what really are atoms anyway? Just small pieces of matter. There are more gaps between them than anything else. Matter is mostly gaps after all, just vibrating at the right frequency. If we could vibrate ourselves at a sympathetic frequency to the world around us we could just slip through all the walls like a breeze, except better than a breeze since wind can’t penetrate walls. I really wanted to stop Hardcolmes and tell him about all of these amazing theories at length. I was having so many breakthroughs, I should really get them out of my system.
It occurred to me that I had been sprinting for roughly three miles at this point and was, in fact engaged in a high stakes chase. Also, I was pretty sure I had been screaming for the last three miles too- a kind of high pitched whistling warcry that was making my lung pumps burn. I took a big heaping inhale of cold air and god it felt so good!
We three were haring after Tempus at a terrifying and unstoppable speed and had been doing so for quite some time. I was managing to balance this incredible feat with these breakthroughs I was having. I truly had broken through some kind of barrier. I was a golden god. I was drinking the very energy of the universe. Maybe I WAS vibrating at a new and different frequency. All I had to do was keep gogoGOING.
I looked at Hardcolmes and the good doctor. They were on the same page as me. On the same level well okay maybe not quite on the same vibrational field as me but I could tell that they were on almost the same track as I was on. Both wore the same invincible looks on their faces as I could feel on mine. Eyes huge enough to take in the galaxy, all whites and blacks. Irises were for suckers. Losers. Waste of time. We were winners. Our faces were pulled back in the tight grimace of winners. And we all had such a surplus of energy we were grinding our teeth just to get some more out. And the sweat? Oh god, the sweat. Water was pouring out of us like a sponge in a centrifuge. Yeah we were the same. Battle buddies through time, my best friends we were bonded and I knew that I would die for them if I was even capable of dying which I wasn’t and neither were they but we were connected.
“When this is done we three should open up a bar together!” I yelled at Hardcolmes as we sprinted together.
His head whipped round to me. “Yes! Yesyesyes! That’s an amazing idea.”
Tempus looked absolutely terrified as he tore through the crowds. He kept looking wildly over his shoulder at us and no wonder! We were three warriors twenty feet tall easily, travelling at nearly the speed of light and each emitting the deafening creaking sound of three sets of teeth being ground to fine enamel powder. Also we were currently discussing some quite radical ideas for some businesses we could start together and Humsworthy was running some incredible ideas for novels by us. Who wouldn’t be afraid of that coming after them? He was looking at the three sweatiest men in London and brother, when a town wears as many unnecessary waistcoats, vests and tweed overcoats as this place then that is saying a lot.
And his fear was infectious! Everyone else was looking around as though it was us that were the maniacs! Maniacs! US! I let out a strangled laugh that sounded more like a howl. We weren’t maniacs. We were emissaries from a higher power sent to stop him through time!
And as we tore through those frightened crowds, legs and arms battering through them with ease, I thought I could feel their mood shift to understanding. We see your splendour, they seemed to say, and we accept that you have a higher calling. I was a TIME WARRIOR, WARRIOR THROUGH TIME.
As we broke through the crowds to the relatively unpeopled banks of the Thames the chase seemed in its terminal stages. Only a matter of time before we caught the man.
“Hahahaha! Time!” I yelled.
“Yeah!” Hardcolmes yelled happily in agreement. Had he heard what I had been thinking somehow? Maybe I had said it out loud. Or maybe he was hearing my thoughts. A cold shiver went through me as I regarded him out of the corner of my eye.
Only one thought nagged at the outer edges of my pulsating mind. That thought; I really should have had just one or two more- snorts would be the wrong word (we’re in a time when it is considered medicine after all) but maybe a few more…breaths of that medically enriched air back at Hardcolmes crumbling apartment. To have had just a little more in my system would have buoyed me yet further. The chase would already be over. I would have conquered everything. I probably would have even returned to my present and sorted everything out. The crazy thing was how much time we had spent running away from all that wonderful powder. It really made no sense especially given how cold it was getting.
Tempus, exhausted and cocaine-less as he was, had become tired a few minutes ago and had leapt onto the back of a horse drawn carriage. I mentioned that already, didn’t I? I’m pretty sure I did. Besides, if I didn’t, who cares? Details details. He was on the back of a carriage right now but that was making no real difference as the three of us were more than capable of running as fast as a horse. With his breath back he was perched on the side of it again, looking to get off. He cast a last baffled look at our pale and screaming faces before leaping off again and tearing through a scrum of pedestrians. We were just over the river now and Tempus sprinted finally into a building; some tower that still sported the scaffolding that told of a construction in its terminal phases. He pelted through the people and into the construction site and we followed him in, close as his shadow.
“Cornered,” I cried.
“We’ve got the cad now,” Ha
rdcolmes screamed.
“TIME WARRIOR!” I yelled, and I think we all agreed on that point.
Tempus near tore the doors off of its hinges as he entered the tower but we three were no longer in hot pursuit. We had stalled just outside the door for a minute to tell each other how much we loved one another and congratulate each other on being on the same wavelength. I was about to expound at length about how we were each of us in our own way time warriors but I was interrupted. The bell in the clocktower above us chimed loudly, cutting through the chill London air and our own important conversation.
I sniffed and smiled.
“How appropriate. I think I know for whom that bell tolls. Gents? Let’s finish this.”
I invented the high five about a hundred years too early then entered the tower, ready to beat Tempus, find some more medicine, and return to my present. Winning!
Chapter Seventeen
Holographic Death/ Ebenezer Catches his Breath
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The only thing necessary for evil to triumph is for good men to join in with all the evil.
Susan Niley
My Book of Quotes
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Lars Ulrich let out a pained Dutch yell as I sent him flying, arms broken into Thin Lizzy. I spun just in time to wrestle Brett Michaels away from Brecon and snap his neck cleanly over my knee like a twig. He went up in that plume of wan yellow light I had come to know and savour as we few survivors we re-formed in a rough half circle around the elevator door. Above us was the Control Centre. Tantalizingly close, I thought, but equally tantalizingly far away.
The Time Trousers of Professor Tempus: A Captain Space Hardcore Adventure Page 20