Monster Republic

by Ben Horton

  Cameron wondered why Dr Fry hadn’t wired his subjects so they didn’t need sleep at all. It seemed a sensible thing to do if you wanted to create some sort of super-soldiers. Maybe he was working on it. But anyway, lack of sleep wasn’t his real problem.

  No, what was bugging Cameron most was the fact that all the questions that had kept him awake throughout the night were still with him in the morning, like a chesty cough that he couldn’t dislodge. Despite their endless cycling, they had gone nowhere. He couldn’t think his way through them.

  Maybe he could try talking. Speaking about his feelings wasn’t something Cameron enjoyed, but some of the monsters he’d seen the night before looked like they might have undergone similar ‘treatment’ at the hands of Dr Fry. Maybe they would understand how he felt.

  Cameron strained his enhanced hearing. Silence. No murmurs, no movements. The safe house sounded deserted. Rora had promised to take him somewhere where there were other people like him, but here he was, back on his own. With a sigh, Cameron got up and went looking for the bathroom. He found it quickly, but he had barely got through the door when he stopped dead. He should have expected it, but the sight was still a shock.

  There was a mirror above the sink.

  Well, he did need a proper look at what had been done to him. If that didn’t wake him up, nothing would. Maybe that first time he’d seen himself in the lab window, shock had made his face seem worse than it was. Maybe shock had made his family react so badly. Maybe a second, more patient look now – now that he was prepared – would reveal a better picture.

  Deliberately avoiding a glance at the mirror, Cameron dipped his head towards the sink, ran the tap and splashed a couple of handfuls of water on his face.

  And froze. Maybe he shouldn’t have done that.

  Cameron waited for the flash, the cascade of sparks and the jolt of electricity, but nothing happened.

  He breathed a sigh of relief. There was so much to think about, so much to consider. New rules about how to go about everyday life – whole new minefields. Luckily it looked as if his new electronic eye was waterproof. That was something.

  Unable to put off the moment any longer, Cameron slowly raised his head and gazed at his reflection in the mirror. The glass wasn’t exactly spotless but it was a much sharper image than he’d got in the lab window.

  Sharper – and more shocking.

  A walking school reunion. Marie had been telling the truth. His face was a patchwork of bruises and scars, various features crudely stitched together. Just as she had taunted him the night before, Cameron had clearly been cobbled together from several bodies. That realization, as well as the portrait in the mirror, made him feel sick.

  Worse – much worse – he began to recognize some of the pieces.

  In the midst of the last night’s madness, Cameron hadn’t had time to think about what had happened to the rest of his class. Now, in the cold light of day, he was finding out. The horrible irony of it was that he had clearly been one of the lucky ones. One of the survivors.

  Some of the others had not been so fortunate.

  One ear and the top left-hand quarter of Cameron’s face was now black. From his first glimpse back in the lab, he had thought it was just badly bruised. Now he could see that it had once belonged to Kwame, the Nigerian boy who sat next to him in maths. Livid scars joined the dark skin to the rest of his face and, as Cameron reached up to touch it, he saw from the bitten nails that two of the fingers on his good hand had come from Tony, who played in goal on the football team.

  Retching, Cameron leaned forward to be sick into the sink, but nothing came out. He closed his eyes, unable to look at himself again.

  How many more pieces of his body had once belonged to his friends? Or even kids he’d only known to wave at from across the playing field? Discovering his new machine parts had been bad enough, but this was worse. These scraps of human flesh had once been attached to living, breathing boys – boys like him – until they had been grafted onto Cameron by some twisted butcher of a surgeon.

  No wonder even the other monsters had shunned him. How could they know who he was, when Cameron himself couldn’t tell any more? Whatever Rora said, he didn’t belong here.

  He turned away in disgust and strode out of the room – and all but collided with a slight figure coming the other way. It was a small boy. His eyes, hidden behind sunglasses, were about level with Cameron’s chest. If he was trying to look cool, though, he was trying way too hard. The shades didn’t really suit the gloomy subterranean lighting.

  ‘Smarts,’ the boy said, and it took Cameron a moment to realize he was introducing himself. He held out a large pumpkin as if it was some sort of award. ‘You must be Cameron. Welcome. Could you help me with this?’

  Cameron took the pumpkin automatically, looking at it as if it might go off like a bomb. What was this? Some sort of Halloween joke?

  But instead of chuckling to himself or even waiting to see the look on Cameron’s face, Smarts headed off down the corridor. Nonplussed, and not sure what to say to the first person who wasn’t treating him like some kind of invader, Cameron trailed after him, and soon found himself in a basic kitchen. Smarts was already sitting in a large chair strung from the ceiling, polishing his dark glasses. He put them on the worktop in front of him and gestured over at one of the sideboards.

  ‘The knives are over there,’ he said. ‘And a chopping board – unless someone’s helpfully put it away somewhere it doesn’t belong.’ He smiled. ‘Dinner. There’s a rota. But every time my turn comes round, I always end up having to get help.’

  ‘Why?’ asked Cameron, half a second before he realized the answer. Smarts’s hand was fumbling across the worktop in search of his sunglasses, his unfocused eyes staring at a point somewhere over Cameron’s shoulder.

  Smarts smiled again as his fingertips found the glasses and slipped them on.

  ‘Ah, you’ve noticed. It’s the sharp intake of breath that always gives it away. You’re quick, though. It takes most people much longer.’

  Cameron moved to the counter-top and set the pumpkin down. He picked up a knife, feeling like carving a really ugly face in it. So that explained why Smarts was being friendly: it was easier to avoid judging by appearances when you couldn’t see.

  ‘Oh, don’t worry,’ said Smarts as Cameron started cutting into the vegetable. ‘I know all about you. Well, all about what you are since Dr Fry got hold of you.’

  Cameron peered over his shoulder, wondering if the boy had some sort of mind-reading ability. His expression appeared entirely innocent and amiable.

  ‘You’ll have to fill me in on the rest some time. If you like.’

  ‘Or if you like,’ Cameron countered. ‘I don’t get the impression many people here want to hear my story.’

  ‘Ah, yes. The thing is, not everyone was in favour of rescuing you, which is why some of them are a bit standoffish. You’re the first non-Reject to be brought into the Republic. Even by our standards, you’re unique. They don’t know what to make of you. Some of them are still worried you might betray us.’

  ‘Great,’ said Cameron. ‘So even the Rejects reject me.’ He went back to hacking at the pumpkin.

  ‘Yes, well, they don’t all see things as clearly as I do.’

  Cameron looked round again. For a moment Smarts deadpanned, giving nothing away, then his mouth spread into an impish grin. Cameron smiled back. It was hard to stay grumpy with a blind boy cracking sight jokes.

  ‘Where did you get the pumpkin from?’ he asked.

  ‘One of the foraging groups found it in an abandoned allotment,’ replied Smarts. ‘That’s what everyone else is out doing.’

  ‘Foraging for food?’ asked Cameron incredulously.

  ‘How else do you think we get it?’ Smarts said patiently. ‘It’s not as if we can just walk into the supermarket. Although’ – he lowered his voice conspiratorially – ‘we have been known to make after-hours visits.’

  ‘Break in
, you mean?’

  ‘Yup.’ Smarts smiled. ‘Tinker disables the alarm and hacks into the camera system, then the others move in and help themselves. The CCTV footage shows nothing, but when the manager opens up next morning, the shelves are empty. Leaves a lot of security firms scratching their heads, I can tell you!’

  Cameron shook his head. He hadn’t stopped to think about how the monsters survived from day to day without the resources available to normal people. He was starting to see that just putting enough food on the table every day would be a struggle, but the Republic had to find shelter and technical equipment too. And all in secret.

  Cameron opened his mouth to ask Smarts how he had come to be part of the Monster Republic in the first place, but at that moment Rora walked in.

  ‘Hey, Smarts,’ she said, but crossed straight to Cameron. ‘I’ve arranged a special meeting of the Republic for this afternoon.’

  Cameron almost shrugged.

  Great. But what’s that got to do with me?

  He realized that he was still annoyed with her for last night, and now again for interrupting.

  If Rora noticed his displeasure, she didn’t react.

  ‘Before then, I think it’s time we tested your abilities. See what you’re really capable of.’

  Yeah, thought Cameron. See how useful I can be, more like.

  He flashed her the knife. ‘I can cut vegetables.’

  Rora laughed. ‘That’s vital around here. But Smarts can find someone else to help out. Right, Smarts?’

  ‘Sure.’

  Cameron slapped the knife down. ‘Lead the way then.’

  Rora steered him out of the kitchen and down along a passage Cameron hadn’t had the chance to explore. As she led him through a door, he asked her, ‘So what’s the story with Smarts?’

  Rora regarded him with surprise. ‘I’d have thought that was pretty obvious. It’s in the name.’ She tapped the side of her head. ‘He’s got lots going on up here – enhanced intelligence. He’s brilliant at chess too. He’ll beat you and everyone else in the Republic. At the same time.’

  She continued through the door way, and down another stretch of passage. Cameron followed, shaking his head at the irony of it all. The closest thing he had found to a friend so far in this Monster Republic was a chess geek.

  That would never have happened at school.

  chapter ten

  testing time

  Rora ushered Cameron ahead of her into another windowless room set up as a rudimentary gym. There were crash mats on the floor, a few weights and climbing bars fixed to one wall, and a punch bag hanging in the corner. She followed him inside and closed the door behind them.

  Cameron turned and looked at Rora. ‘You want me to work out?’

  ‘Eventually. We need to know what you can do.’

  He shrugged. ‘Well, apparently I can just about hold a pair of mechanical crushers apart. I know judo or kung fu, or something. I can see in the dark. And I can – I don’t know – filter sounds, decide which ones I want to listen to.’

  ‘Right.’ Rora nodded, showing no surprise. She had seen most of those capabilities at first hand. ‘Also, there was that death-defying jump down the stair well. And I see your injuries from that scrap last night have started healing already.’

  Cameron glanced down at himself. He could barely see any scrapes or bruises – and the metal parts of him were scarcely scratched or dented. And yet he knew he had taken a heck of a battering from the creature that had looked so like Marie.

  ‘You think there might be more?’

  It was Rora’s turn to shrug. ‘Well, I think we ought to find out.’

  Cameron stood there feeling awkward. He used to love PE at school, but this was entirely different. And he didn’t like the idea of Rora watching and awarding him marks out of ten.

  ‘What would you like me to do first? Press-ups?’ He gestured at the punch bag. ‘Kick the stuffing out of that?’

  ‘Nope.’ Rora approached to within a couple of paces and stood with her hands on her hips. ‘I’ll be your punch bag for now.’

  Cameron laughed, but Rora’s expression didn’t change. She was being serious.

  ‘No, thanks. I don’t like hitting girls.’

  ‘Yeah, I saw that last night. But you’re going to have to get used to it, because Fry has made a monster out of your girlfriend’s body. Your ex-girlfriend, by the way. That’s something else you’re going to have to get used to.’

  Cameron glared at her. ‘What did he do to her, anyway? Fry?’

  Rora shrugged. ‘How should I know? Straightforward brain transplant would be my guess.’

  ‘Brain transplant? That’s … stupid.’ The idea of Carl’s brain being put in Marie’s head. It was the maddest thing Cameron had heard yet. And anyway, he’d never figured Carl had much of a brain in the first place.

  ‘Depends.’ Rora smirked. ‘If she was as much of a dumb blonde as she looked, it might have been an upgrade.’

  Cameron blinked, wanting to believe he’d misheard her. Involuntarily his fist clenched.

  ‘Don’t talk about her like that!’

  ‘What if she turns up again and kicks you around some more?’ Rora pressed. ‘Are you going to stand there and take it? How are you ever going to hit her face if you can’t even hit mine? She doesn’t exist any more, Cameron. She’s dead. However it was done, Marie’s not home. Someone else has moved in.’

  Cameron’s anger flashed. Why did she have to be so harsh?

  ‘Besides,’ Rora assured him, ‘you’ll never be able to hit me anyway. Not if your life depended on it.’

  She started to bounce on her feet, dancing lightly around him. Cameron watched her furiously. Sure, she was goading him, but there was no way he was going to punch her.

  A furred hand flashed out, almost too fast for him to see, and slapped him on the face. Rora went on dancing.

  ‘Hey!’

  Again, a blur of motion and a ringing slap. She was seriously quick. The skin of Cameron’s cheek stung hotly. Growling, he warned her, ‘Do that one more time—’

  She did. Only this time, her hand lashed out and yanked his ear.

  Cameron threw out an arm to bat her hand aside, but it was already gone. And Rora was gone too, skipping behind him.

  He spun to face her. She smacked him on the nose.

  ‘Ow!’

  Right, that was it. She was going to get her wish.

  Cameron snapped out a punch. Without even moving her feet, Rora weaved her head, snakelike, out of his reach. He swung a second time – but she wasn’t there. A winding blow to the kidneys told him she was behind him again.

  He spun and nearly caught her a backhand slap, forcing the fox-girl into a less dignified duck.

  ‘Getting better,’ she said.

  They fought on, Cameron getting flashbacks to last night and his hopeless fight against Marie. Rora, like her, was clearly quicker than he was. Maybe that was a female thing – deadlier than the male and all that. The main difference, though, was that despite the embarrassing ease with which Rora seemed to penetrate his defences, Cameron found himself enjoying this challenge. That and the fact that when he finally managed to clock Rora one, unlike Marie, the fox-girl was knocked flat on her back.

  ‘Are you OK?’ he said, leaning towards her.

  With an athletic pirouette, Rora leaped into the air, her foot connecting with Cameron’s head in a spinning kick that left his ears ringing.

  ‘You’ll have to do better than that,’ she snarled.

  Facing off, they carried on sparring until Cameron had landed another three or four hits on her. Infuriating as it was, trying to make the punches connect, he eased up with each one, recognizing that despite her bravado, he might actually do her some serious damage.

  And he was getting quicker. It was as if his reflexes, although never quite matching hers, were improving all the time, adjusting to their new-found performance levels. As though his body was learning. Rora was finding it
harder and harder to hit him, while he was finding it ever easier to hit her. Eventually, after a thump to her ribs that had her bent over and Cameron looking on with genuine concern, Rora called it quits.

  ‘I’ll be fine.’ She covered her grimace with a smile and waved him off. ‘Honestly. I asked for it. Plus, like I said, you need to tone down the compassion anyway. I’m more concerned with toughening you up than I am about my ribs.’ She stood up straight. ‘All right. Next up – missile defence.’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  Rora walked to the other side of the room, signalling Cameron to stay put. Then, without warning, she stooped to pick up a brick and flung it at him.

  Cameron yelled, ‘Hey!’

  But even as he did so, his eyes flickered dizzyingly and his view was suddenly overlaid with a kind of digital display, like on a flight simulator computer game. A moving circle of green light traced the path of the brick coming towards him, while numbers also flashed up, calculating the distance. The display’s sudden appearance threw him for a split-second – but, on impulse, Cameron’s hand shot out and deflected the missile off to the right.

  ‘Oh, wow,’ he breathed. As well as the tracking system, now Cameron could see menus and icons on the edge of his peripheral vision, hinting at more unknown skills hidden just out of sight.

  Without pausing, Rora chucked another brick towards him. Then another, straight at his head.

  ‘Wait! What do you—?’

  There was no time to complain. The bricks came faster and faster. As much as he wanted to tell Rora to stop, instead Cameron switched to some sort of automatic defensive mode, half his mind tracking the trajectories of the bricks flashing up on the display, the other half directing his limbs into reflex deflections or dodges. If anything, the faster the bricks came at him, the better he responded. As if the less he thought about them consciously, the more effective his skills became. Finally, he met the last brick with a karate chop, and it broke apart in mid-air, the pieces falling to the floor with a thud.