by Ben Horton
‘No,’ he whispered to the monster in the glass. And he watched it shaking its hideous head. ‘That’s not me. You’re not me.’
Almost acting of their own accord again, Cameron’s fingers reached out to touch the window, as if testing to see if it was broken or warped. Or maybe to make certain that the glass was really there, that he wasn’t looking at some grotesquely distorted projection.
No. The glass was real and smooth.
He brought his hand back towards the ragged, crudely stitched patchwork of flesh and metal that was his face. Maybe it was only a mask – something he could take off, somebody’s sick joke. But his fingers hovered centimetres from his cheek, too terrified to touch.
Suddenly he was dragged away from the hideous reflection and became aware of Rora’s firm grasp on his arm.
‘This is no time to be admiring yourself.’
Turning to face her, Cameron got his first proper close-up look at Rora too. She was smaller than he had realized, tiny and lithe, with dark, elfin features. The darkness didn’t come from her skin, though, but from the wash of deep auburn hair that seemed to be growing from her face and hands as well as her head.
Rora met his gaze challengingly.
‘Don’t think about what you saw in that reflection. Nobody looks their best when they’ve just woken up.’
Cameron’s fists clenched. ‘This isn’t funny!’
‘No, I know – it’s anything but. You’re just going to have to trust me. Because we’re not out of the woods yet!’
Dazed and numbed, Cameron didn’t resist as Rora grabbed his hand and yanked him back into a run. They raced down the corridor, through another pair of doors and into another stair well. This time, she propelled Cameron ahead of her and he lurched down the steps, three or four at a time. She grabbed the banister and swung herself round each bend. They were at the bottom in a matter of seconds.
Above, Cameron could hear pursuers charging through the doors, followed by pounding footsteps coming down the stairs. Another unearthly howl sliced through the air, sending shivers down his spine.
Without looking back, Rora ushered Cameron into what looked like a basement passage. Bare cinder-block walls replaced the clinical white of upstairs, and low-hanging pipes and cables forced them to duck as they ran. Cameron didn’t imagine there could be many ways to escape from a basement.
‘What are we meant to do? Dig our way out?’
Ignoring him, Rora raced forward and swerved round a corner. Behind them, the thump-thump of footfalls. Cameron glanced back to see a fresh mob of Bloodhounds racing down the last few stairs, flashing their steel fangs. Spotting him, the monsters dropped onto all fours and loped hungrily towards him, their eager breaths and snarls sounding loud and dangerously close in the confines of the passage.
Cameron careered round the corner and found himself facing a massive metal door. Just in the process of swinging ponderously open, it was a solid metre thick, like the door of a bank vault. Behind them, the Bloodhounds rounded the final corner, slavering heads down as they pounded along, their four limbs eating up the last few precious metres between them and their prey.
‘Down here!’ howled one triumphantly. ‘Waste disposal!’
Rora was already on the other side of the door, tapping frantically at a keypad on the wall. Cameron leaped through to join her as the door started swinging shut.
But it wasn’t going to be fast enough. The Bloodhounds were too close.
Seizing the large wheel in the centre of the door, Cameron braced his feet against the frame. The massive door was so huge that his strength couldn’t possibly speed it up, but he had to try. Taking a deep breath, he heaved.
To his surprise, pulling the massive metal barrier inwards was no more difficult than closing his bedroom door. With a screech of protest, the door swung towards him, fast. Staggering backwards, Cameron just had time to catch a last glimpse of the Bloodhounds, rocketing along the passage like fanged missiles, before the door slammed shut.
Cameron found himself sprawled on his back, with Rora standing over him, open-mouthed.
‘Enhanced strength,’ she breathed, helping him to his feet. ‘You’re quite something.’
Feeling uncomfortable under Rora’s appraising gaze, Cameron took a swift look around. They were standing on a metal walkway, above a large cellar filled with grubby pipes and a dormant generator in the far corner. Below them, a conveyor belt ran into the mouth of a huge machine, receding into darkness like a tunnel. There were no doors anywhere.
Dead end.
Rora didn’t seem bothered, however. ‘Lucky for us Professor Freakenstein likes to dispose of his rubbish in private,’ she said briskly. ‘So the Bloodhounds can’t open the door without the override code – but that won’t hold them for long.’
On cue, there was an almighty bang, like a battering ram slamming against the door. The walls shook. Incredibly, a dent bulged out on the inside. It was rapidly followed by another hefty slam – and another. It was unbelievable, but it looked as if the monsters would have the door off its hinges soon.
‘Maybe I could take them,’ said Cameron doubtfully. He had no desire to experience another fight like the last one, but it didn’t seem as if the Bloodhounds were going to give him a choice in the matter.
‘Reinforcements will be coming. Who d’you think it was shouting to? It’s time to go.’
‘Go where? In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re trapped in here – unless you’re suggesting …’
Rora nodded down towards the gaping mouth of the waste disposal machine, framed with gigantic metal teeth. Rotten air wafted out from the hidden depths like bad breath.
‘No,’ said Cameron. ‘No way.’
Rora made a regretful face. ‘Sorry.’
‘For what?’
‘This.’
She gave Cameron a hefty shove, catching him off balance and pitching him over the catwalk railing and down …
Cameron landed on his feet – but also on the conveyor belt, where Rora had wanted him. She leaped off the catwalk and landed gracefully beside him.
‘Come on!’ she shouted. ‘What’re you standing around for?’
Cameron peered into the ghastly machine, casting wary glances at the succession of mashers and serrated teeth lining the interior, with further pile drivers and crushing devices beyond, receding into darkness. Darren had once dared him to stick his head into the mouth of one of the huge dinosaur skeletons in Broad Harbour Museum, but Cameron had refused. The great jaws might have looked still and dead, but he hadn’t been able to shake off the thought that they might snap unexpectedly shut …
‘I can’t,’ he said quietly.
‘Then you’re dead,’ replied Rora.
Above them there was a sudden tremendous crash, and Cameron knew that the Bloodhounds had broken through the door. He glanced up. Half a dozen of the cybernetic canines barrelled in and fanned out menacingly on the walkway.
There was no way they could stand and fight. That realization, more than Rora’s urging, provoked Cameron into action.
‘Come on, then!’ He dashed headlong into the darkness, Rora keeping pace beside him.
Gruff animal shouts echoed after them.
‘They went into the machine!’ roared one of their pursuers.
Another gave a throaty laugh. ‘Fire it up, then!’
Cameron shot a panicked look at Rora as the whine of heavy machinery started up all around them, like some industrial dragon waking. Hisses of steam and the groan of hydraulics added to the terrifying impression. Ahead of them, a set of enormous steel jaws ground themselves slowly together, then slid apart, before clanging together again.
‘The longer we take, the harder it’s going to get!’ Rora snapped.
She was right – the machine’s rhythm was already picking up speed. Pausing for a second, Rora leaped forward, just as the metal teeth parted once more.
BAM!
They closed again behind her. Cameron took a deep br
eath.
BAM! They hit again, then slid apart. Cameron dived forward. BAM!
He was through, and rolling onto his feet to face the next set of crushers.
Cameron winced: it was just like one of those video games where you had to time your jumps to avoid some death-trap. He’d been OK on games like that, but sometimes it took him two or three tries to get through.
This time, though, he didn’t have any lives to spare.
Rora sprang. BAM! Cameron waited. BAM!
Cameron dived through. BAM!
Then the next.
BAM! Rora. BAM! Wait. BAM! Cameron. BAM!
The final obstacle looked less fearsome: a pair of metal blocks, designed to pound up the rubbish after the jaws had cut it into manageable portions. But this time Rora was hesitating, and Cameron could see why. The crushers were already going too fast.
BAM! BAM! BAM! The metal fists slammed together, practically no time at all between blows. BAM! BAM! BAM!
They had to keep taking paces backwards just to stand still, as the conveyor tried to advance them towards the crushers.
Behind them, with the sharp-toothed jaws, it was the same story: BAM! BAM! BAM!
Trapped.
Rora looked at Cameron, desperation in her eyes. She was supposed to be the one leading him out of here, but this hadn’t been part of the plan.
Cameron’s mind raced, faster and faster, like the machine. The pounding filled his head, reminding him of the Bloodhounds and the way they had smashed down the huge door. The one he had closed so easily.
He glanced at his arms. If they really were that strong, then maybe …
There was only one way to put it to the test. Without a word, Cameron dived forward past Rora. Throwing wide his arms, palms outwards, he wedged himself between the closing blocks of steel. He heard Rora cry out, a millisecond too late.
But his own timing was spot on. Unbelievably, he was between the crushers, holding them apart. His arms strained. He could hear the waste disposal machine groaning in protest, while motors somewhere inside his body whined in reply as the fearsome metal fists pressed against him.
Cameron groaned. The blocks were still closing, centimetre by centimetre, as though the machine was determined to crush his bones to powder. He could feel his arms beginning to give way, and his heart sank. Maybe he had overestimated his new strength after all.
Roaring, he pushed harder.
Strength Cameron never dreamed he had pumped through his veins, while sweat streamed out of every pore.
‘Go! Go!’ he shouted.
Rora’s lithe form flipped past him. She was through!
Cameron swore. The groans of the machine were rising in pitch and he listened in mounting desperation. He hadn’t thought this through properly. Yes, he had bought Rora enough time to get through, but now he was trapped, holding the crushers apart. As soon as he let go, the machine would smash him to a pulp.
‘Jump for it!’ yelled Rora above the shriek of machinery. ‘It’s your only chance.’
Sensing his muscle power – or his willpower – threatening to give out, Cameron fixed his gaze straight ahead. Taking one last lungful of breath, he tensed his legs, ready to spring.
Rora was right. It was his only chance.
Throwing his all into one final shove, he jumped.
BAM!
chapter five
reject
The jaws of the crusher slammed shut, missing Cameron by millimetres, chomping empty air behind him.
But there was no time to celebrate. Out of control, he knocked Rora flying, and suddenly they were both tumbling off the end of the conveyor belt, into a broad, steep-sided funnel.
Cameron hit the smooth side of the funnel, slick with oil and slime, and started slipping, sliding right past Rora. Looking down, he saw a dark chute at the bottom waiting to swallow them both.
‘Bend your knees when you land!’ Rora yelled.
‘What?’ Cameron bellowed, but he had run out of funnel and was already freefalling into darkness.
For the second time that day, instinct – instinct Cameron never knew he had – took over. Spinning cat-like in mid-air – with a flexibility he hadn’t realized he possessed – he somehow turned himself upright, just in time to hit the ground. With a messy wet splash he found himself crouching in a fast-flowing stream of shallow water.
With the same suddenness as in the ‘morgue’, Cameron’s sight immediately switched to night vision, drinking in every available drop of light. It might be in a slightly grainy monochrome, but he could see. The change was just as disorienting as before – and there wasn’t even a great deal to look at: a circular tunnel stretching off in either direction, dank brick walls, and mucky water flowing around his shins. Water that presumably carried off most of the ground-up rubbish from the chute.
As his eyes adjusted, Cameron’s nose also came under immediate assault. Wherever he was, it stank. And now, on top of his dizziness, he was feeling sick. At least it was easy to tell where this strange girl had landed him: right in the—
Rora splashed down next to him.
She didn’t give Cameron a chance to complain. She just leaped up, grabbed his hand and towed him after her. He stumbled, found his footing, and let her drag him forward while his mind struggled to catch up. He had a horrible suspicion that all the changes he had discovered in himself back in the lab were just the beginning. He dreaded to think what else might have been done to him.
They ran silently for five minutes, Cameron’s ears picking up no sound of pursuit. A T-junction loomed ahead. Surely they could afford a pause for some much-needed answers?
Cameron slackened his pace, but Rora gave his arm a sudden tug, urging a fresh burst of speed.
‘Hey!’ He snatched his arm free and stopped in his tracks.
Rora rounded on him. ‘Shout a bit louder, why don’t you? Make it easier for them! Give them a minute and they’ll realize we made it through the waste disposal machine. Then they’ll be down here after us for sure!’
Cameron threw up his arms. ‘So? Maybe I want to be found!’
‘Take it from me, you don’t.’
‘Why? Why should I take anything from you? Who are you? I don’t know you. I’m only in trouble because you dragged me out of there and shoved me in a rubbish crusher! I haven’t had time to stop and think. Those alarms were doing my head in and now my eyes …’ He waved a hand in front of his face. ‘I don’t know what’s going on with them, but they’re giving me a headache too!’
‘Heightened senses,’ said Rora impatiently, looking up and down the tunnel. ‘You’ll get used to it. Learn to control it all.’
Cameron made a face. ‘What if I don’t want to?’
‘Want’s got nothing to do with it. It’s what you are.’
‘No way. This isn’t who I am. This is what I woke up as, after the accident.’
‘That was no accident,’ muttered Rora cryptically. ‘Come on. Freedom beckons. But if we don’t get moving, it’s not going to be an option.’
As though to back her up, shouts and splashing footsteps suddenly sounded in the distance. A searching torch beam probed the gloom. Cameron flinched at the intrusion of bright light.
He whirled round to face Rora and shook his head. ‘No. I don’t have to run. They’re only chasing us because they want me back. You can get out, but I’m going back there – where I can get some answers. Where someone can fix this.’
Rora spat. ‘Don’t you get it? You are fixed! This what you are now. But we can help you.’
‘Who can? Where are you taking me?’
‘Somewhere safe. Somewhere for people like us. Rejects. We call it the Monster Republic. It’s—’
‘A place monsters can hang out?’ scoffed Cameron. ‘Well, that’s the problem. I’m not a monster.’
‘That’s just it – you are! We all are!’ She thrust out an arm, pointing back the way they’d come. ‘You go back there and you’re on your own! What’s more you’ll
probably be dead. Dismantled.’
Cameron growled and spun away. His head was clearer now. He didn’t trust this freaky girl, and he certainly didn’t trust Dr Fry and his doggy friends. He needed time to think. Turning away from Rora and the torch beams, he stomped off through the mucky water.
‘So where do you think you’re going now?’
‘Home!’
‘You idiot! You don’t have one any more!’
Cameron broke into a jog. His legs felt more under his control now. Behind him, he thought he heard Rora running off in the opposite direction. Good. He might not trust her, but he didn’t want her to get caught by those Bloodhounds.
He jogged along the passage and soon came to another junction, where a ladder ascended into a narrow shaft above his head. Hesitating for a moment, he thought he could just make out a set of footsteps splashing their way after him. Grabbing the bottom rung of the ladder, Cameron began climbing.
Above, the surface and fresh air awaited him. And, hopefully, familiar ground.
Cameron cautiously lifted up the manhole cover and peered out. It was night and there didn’t seem to be anybody about, both of which suited him fine.
He quickly clambered off the ladder and ducked into the shadows of a high wall to survey his surroundings: a tall block of flats and a short row of shops, all with blinds or metal shutters drawn down over their windows. For a moment Cameron didn’t recognize the street; then he remembered – it was part of the housing estate out by the leisure centre where he came to go swimming with Marie.
Marie!
The memory of her hit Cameron like a bucket of cold water, and he felt instantly guilty for not thinking about her sooner. How could he have forgotten? What if she had been hurt in the explosion? What if she was dead?
It was Rora’s fault, dragging him around, not giving him a moment to think, even about clothes: he was still wrapped in a now filthy hospital-type gown. He had to find something to wear, but most of all he had to find out if Marie was OK.