‘You,’ he said.
Jack looked around. ‘Who? Me?’
‘No,’ barked Cormier and pointed at Manda. ‘You. Who did that to you?’ he demanded.
Manda looked at herself then back at Cormier. ‘Mr Absalom.’
‘Mr Absalom? Who’s Mr Absalom? No, wait, don’t tell me, I can tell just by looking at you that he’s an idiot. A complete and utter idiot. And you,’ this time he pointed at Rob, who duly pointed at himself. ‘Yes, you. Your hair’s a disgrace, and as for your legs . . . and your torso.’ Cormier frowned and looked Rob up and down. ‘Well, all of you I suppose.’
He pointed at Manda, Rob, Jack and Gripper in turn. ‘You, you, you and you, the big lump with the stupid-looking jaw, inside.’
‘What about Estelle?’ asked Jack.
‘She’s not welcome,’ said Cormier.
‘Why not?’ said Estelle.
‘Because you’re Flesh, and Flesh can’t be trusted,’ said Cormier. ‘And there’s the other thing. I can smell it on you – smelting skin, chemicals. Shoddy craftsmanship is your parasitical game, I’ll bet.’
Estelle’s pale face suddenly flared red. Cormier raised a finger and tilted his head in warning.
‘Not a word,’ he said.
Jack looked at Estelle. She nodded to give him her assent, but still looked furious. Jack stepped back on to the top step and Cormier opened the door wider. Jack went first, followed by Rob, Manda and Gripper. Cormier growled at Gripper about minding his paintwork, while Gripper tried his level best to squeeze through the door without destroying the frame.
Cormier gave Estelle one last scornful look, then he slammed the door.
Jack looked at the closed door.
‘Are you going to leave her outside?’ he asked.
‘Yes, I am,’ grunted Cormier, without looking at him. He pointed to their right. ‘Down that hallway. First door you meet.’
Everybody looked at Jack.
‘Well, go on then,’ Cormier barked.
Jack moved first and the others followed. The inside of the house was as metallic and functional as the outside. Jack could tell instantly that Cormier didn’t care much for how his surroundings looked.
They all trooped down the hallway and turned right through an open door into a large room. The room was dimly lit by a naked bulb. The walls had a metallic sheen which reflected some light. Bookshelves lined the walls, but there were more mechanical odds and ends on the shelves than there were books. A large table dominated the room, but even that had three crates of scrap on it. More crates and boxes crammed with various bits of metal were scattered around, and the faded red carpet was covered in oil stains.
Jack was about to say something to Cormier, but the engineer moved with a sudden fervour and grabbed Manda. He led her towards the centre of the room.
‘Right then, let’s have a look,’ he said.
He knelt in front of Manda and held his right hand out.
‘Left leg.’
Manda obeyed and started to lift her left leg. She couldn’t raise it far enough for it to reach Cormier’s hand.
‘Disgusting, disgusting,’ Cormier ranted. ‘Barely any articulation. Right leg, then.’
Manda lifted her right leg. It was easier to move, but not much. Cormier shook his head in disbelief.
‘Criminal!’ he shouted. He turned towards the door and roared, ‘Egbert! Egbert!’
He turned back to examine Manda, muttering and swearing as he did so. Jack was completely bemused but Rob was fascinated, and had a small smile on his face as he hovered by Cormier’s shoulder. He tutted in time with Cormier’s outbursts, while shaking his head in disgust and stroking his chin at the exact same moments that Cormier did.
‘Yes, Mr Cormier,’ said a bright clear voice by the door.
Jack turned to see a rather tall and skinny mechanical, wearing a butler’s bib. His face was long and tubular, his arms matchstick skinny, as were his legs. He had no skin, but despite this he had the kindest face Jack thought he had ever seen. His long fingers were interlaced delicately in a poised gesture of patience.
‘I need some legs, Egbert,’ said Cormier, without turning around. ‘Good ones too. Maybe over a foot long.’
‘Very good, Mr Cormier,’ said Egbert.
‘And tea, and oil. Bring glasses,’ said Cormier.
Egbert gave a small bow. ‘Yes, sir.’
‘Don’t forget the legs.’
Round Rob pursed his lips and gave Egbert a very serious look. ‘Legs, Egbert,’ he said.
‘Very good, sir,’ said Egbert, bowing to Round Rob. He turned and left the room, and Jack frowned as he watched him leave.
‘He’s adult size,’ said Jack.
‘Course he is,’ Cormier said.
‘But that’s—’
‘Illegal? Pah! I’m Philip Cormier. I do what I like, laws or no laws. Hand me that toolbox,’ he said, pointing to his left.
‘Yes, sir,’ said Rob, immediately waddling to where Cormier had pointed.
Jack couldn’t wait any longer. He was already losing patience.
‘Mr Cormier—’
Cormier held up his hand and shushed him. ‘I’m working.’
‘Yes, Mr Cormier, but—’
‘How old are these legs?’ he bellowed. ‘I’ve seen fossils that were younger.’
Round Rob burst out laughing. Cormier glared at him, and then the most surreal thing of all happened. A wet, rolling guttural sound was emitted from the base of Cormier’s throat. It became a kind of hacking growl, and Rob threw his head back and laughed even more. It took a few more seconds for Jack to realize that Cormier was laughing, and now he and Rob were engaged in a circular round of tit for tat laughing that he thought might go on for ever.
Gripper looked at Jack. Jack looked at Gripper. Both looked as confused as the other, and finally the laughing fest between Rob and Cormier started to fade.
Cormier wagged a finger at Rob and growled: ‘I like you. You can stay.’
Rob turned towards Jack and beamed.
The next few minutes were a confused blur for Jack. Cormier worked on Manda while Rob handed him his tools. He managed to detach her legs completely, and Manda was propped on the floor, looking like she was wading waist-deep in water. This didn’t seem to bother her, and she gazed amiably at Cormier, who looked fiercely at her eyes and her joints and hinges.
Egbert came in with a box of legs and put them beside Cormier. He disappeared again, and then reappeared with a tray of tea things, a can of oil and some large drinking glasses. He set them down at a table, and proceeded to pour the tea into a delicate china cup. He brought it over to Cormier, who slurped it down in one go while unscrewing one of Manda’s legs with a spanner. He wiped his mouth with his forearm and handed the cup out for Egbert, who took it gently and placed it back on the tray.
‘Don’t forget our guests,’ Cormier grunted.
Egbert poured oil into the four glasses and walked around the room with them on a small silver tray. He handed a glass to Rob, who took it and started to drink with his pinkie finger sticking out. ‘Very nice, Egbert,’ he said. Egbert gave Manda a glass, and another to Gripper, who took one look at it, then swallowed everything in one gulp, glass and all.
Egbert offered one to Jack.
Jack looked dumbly at the glass and the tray.
‘It’s premium,’ said Egbert, with a broad smile.
Jack took the glass and held it up to the light. Egbert looked at him encouragingly. Jack started to drink it, and Egbert’s smile broadened.
‘I hope you enjoy it, sir,’ he said.
Egbert took the tea things and glided out of the room with more grace than one would expect out of someone so spindly and gawky-looking.
‘There. Done,’ Cormier shouted as he stood up.
Manda now had two new legs of equal length. She looked at them with astonishment.
‘Give us a twirl,’ said Cormier, making circles with his index finger.
&nbs
p; Manda obliged. Jack felt the urge to step forward in case she fell over, as she so often did, but he was stopped dead in his tracks by the sight of Manda pirouetting gracefully. She stopped and gave a bow. Gripper and Rob clapped. Cormier threw his spanner and let it spin in the air before catching it deftly. He pointed it at Rob:
‘Right then, you’re next.’
Rob waddled forward, but stopped when he heard the tone in Jack’s voice.
‘Please, Mr Cormier,’ Jack pleaded.
Cormier gave him a one-eyed squint. ‘What? What is it? Do you have something that needs fixing? Come to think of it, that head doesn’t look like it’s sitting right. Come over here and I’ll—’
‘No!’ shouted Jack.
Cormier looked slightly taken aback.
‘We came here to ask for your help,’ said Jack.
‘Help with what?’ said Cormier suspiciously.
‘Our friend . . .’ Jack began, ‘that is, we found one of your Originals.’
Cormier looked at him for a moment, then he snorted in derision, threw his head back, and gave another of his growling laughs.
‘Nonsense. There’s my bits and bobs, that’s all I’ve got left. My bits and bobs. And they’re all under this roof.’
Jack positioned himself directly in front of Cormier. ‘That’s not true.’
Cormier looked both stunned and angry. ‘Who are you to tell me what is and what isn’t true?’
‘My name’s Jack, since you ask, and this is Rob, Manda and Gripper. We came here in the hope you might help us find our friend, who just so happens to be one of your Originals.’
‘Oh, really?’ said Cormier, raising a mocking eyebrow. ‘I must have dropped one somewhere when I wasn’t looking. So tell me then, who took your friend?’
‘The Agency.’
Cormier considered Jack for a moment, and then gave a low chuckle while stroking his beard.
‘Well then, you’d better go talk to the Agency then, hadn’t you?’
He turned away under the pretence of examining Rob, but Jack could tell he’d pierced through that thick leather hide of his. Before the engineer had turned away, Jack had spotted a glimmer of doubt in his eyes.
‘We can’t talk to the Agency, because we’re mechanical, you know that,’ said Jack.
Cormier merely shrugged and harrumphed.
‘I’d like eyebrows,’ said Rob. ‘New ones. Ones that don’t fall off. Ones that make me look distinguished. Maybe pointy ones that I can rub hair oil in and make them even pointier, like a proper gent.’
Cormier was examining Rob’s knee joints, but looked up sharply.
‘What did you say?’
‘I said I’d like new eyebrow—’
‘No, after that, you said you’d like to be like . . .’
‘A proper gent,’ smiled Rob.
‘We don’t use that word in this house,’ Cormier said quietly.
‘What? Gent?’
‘No,’ he grumbled. ‘The P word.’
He went back to examining Rob’s joints. Rob looked at Jack, who frowned.
‘You can stay the night, but just the night, mind,’ said Cormier. His voice was different now, quieter, and all the aggression seemed to have gone out of it. Jack was confused by the sudden change in his mood. ‘After that you can be on your way,’ he said, waving his spanner.
‘What about Estelle?’ asked Jack.
‘Who’s Estelle?’
‘The girl you told to stay outside.’
‘Flesh? Flesh stays outside,’ said Cormier, suddenly rounding on him, his volatility reignited.
Jack felt a rush of something dark and angry. ‘Estelle,’ he said. ‘Her name is Estelle.’
Without realizing, Jack had taken a step towards Cormier. Cormier looked him up and down.
‘Besides, you’re Flesh. How are you different?’ said Jack.
Cormier sniffed. ‘I’m special.’
Jack kept glaring at him.
‘All right then. She can come in. One night. But then all of you are on your way.’ Cormier frowned. ‘As a matter of interest, how did you get here?’
‘We drove,’ said Rob. ‘Well, Jack did. He knows how to. Plus he’s got his special driving legs.’
Cormier looked at Jack’s legs in disgust and shook his head. ‘Who put those on you?’
‘I did,’ said Jack.
Cormier turned away, muttering to himself. ‘One night,’ he growled to no one in particular.
Cormier tightened a few nuts and bolts on Rob, then proceeded to examine Gripper, scratching his head and uttering curses to himself as he did so. He then led them all back out into the hall. ‘There’s a room upstairs on the left. You can stay there.’
Cormier opened the front door. Estelle was sitting on the front step, facing out towards the town, her knees pulled up to her chin. The rain was still coming down in grey sheets.
‘Oi, Flesh,’ said Cormier.
Jack ground his jaw and glared at him, but Cormier was taking no notice.
Estelle still had her earmuffs on, so Cormier tapped her lower back with the toe of his boot. She turned and gave him a murderous look.
Cormier didn’t seem bothered. ‘Inside,’ he said, holding the door slightly ajar.
Estelle stood up and walked carefully towards the door, glowering balefully at Cormier all the way. The engineer held up his hand and motioned for her to stop right outside the door.
‘Ah ah, you’re dripping all over my floor. Give yourself a shake.’
‘I’m not a dog,’ said Estelle. Cormier raised an eyebrow. Estelle sighed and gave herself a half-hearted shake. Cormier grunted and stepped aside.
Estelle gave Cormier another cutting look, which he ignored.
‘The trees,’ she said.
‘What about them?’ Cormier scowled.
‘They’re screaming,’ said Estelle.
Cormier muttered something and stepped towards a black box, attached at head height to the wall just inside the door. He flicked a switch, and the change in Estelle’s demeanour was immediate. She lowered her shoulders and breathed a sigh of relief. Her features became more relaxed, and she took the earmuffs off. Cormier turned to Jack and the others.
‘I made the trees myself. They emit a frequency that only Flesh can hear. I’ve had a lifetime of people whining in my ear, so I’m used to it, but it keeps unwanted visitors away.’ He looked at Estelle. ‘Usually.’
Cormier looked Estelle up and down and sniffed.
‘Your friends were nice enough to stand up for you. I, on the other hand, don’t trust you. I’ll thank you to keep to the room upstairs. There’s a small bed there. It’s yours for the night.’ He turned round and swept his eyes over all of them. ‘And I want you all gone by morning. Egbert!’
Egbert arrived smoothly from down the hall, as if his feet were on casters.
‘Show this lot to the spare room upstairs,’ said Cormier, jerking his thumb over his shoulder.
‘Yes, sir,’ said Egbert.
Egbert glided to the bottom of the stairs and gracefully stretched out his hand to direct the others up. As Estelle took the first step, she found herself almost nose to nose with Egbert. She gave him a sour, mistrustful look. Egbert merely smiled.
The stairs were also made of metal, but they groaned rather distressingly when Gripper stood on them. They made their way carefully to the room, which was bare except for a bed with a mattress that sagged in the middle.
‘Would madam like a sheet and some blankets?’ asked Egbert.
‘Madam would,’ said Estelle.
Egbert disappeared, and they all stood in silence and looked around the room.
‘So, let’s be honest. He’s not going to help us save Christopher, is he?’ said Estelle.
Nobody answered her.
Christopher was brought to the lab at dawn, where Blake was waiting. After Reeves had left, Blake asked him to sit. A cold feeling spread across Christopher’s chest as he settled back in the chair.
‘How far back can you remember?’ asked Blake, his tone friendly and casual.
Christopher looked at him. ‘Remember?’
‘I want you to think back on your past.’
‘Why?’
Blake smiled. ‘Humour me.’
Christopher eyed Blake with suspicion. The man was obviously after something, but for now Christopher felt he had no choice but to comply. Perhaps if he did help, Blake would let him return to his friends. He knew the thought was a desperate one, but he clung to it like a drowning man to a piece of driftwood.
He swallowed, shut his eyes, and tried to concentrate: ‘I remember . . .’ A tongue of flame licked the air before him, and Christopher felt the acrid tang of smoke at the back of his throat. He opened his eyes, feeling his heart clench. He couldn’t tell Blake. He couldn’t go there: it was too painful. ‘The orphanage. I remember the orphanage,’ he said instead.
‘What do you remember about the orphanage?’ Blake asked.
‘I remember everything,’ said Christopher. ‘The lessons. Mrs Jessup the nurse. Mr Jenkins the caretaker.’
‘And before then?’
Christopher’s mouth opened, but he didn’t know what to say. The fire alone flickered at the back of his mind – nothing else.
Blake’s voice was surprisingly gentle and compassionate. ‘Your memories of the past. Those memories of the orphanage. None of those memories are real.’
Christopher could feel the hot panic rising up inside him. The edge of his scalp was suddenly slick with sweat.
‘But I can remember everything,’ said Christopher. ‘Everything about the orphanage. ‘
‘And before then?’
Christopher’s mouth opened, but he didn’t know what to say.
‘I’m sorry, Christopher,’ Blake said, his expression one of genuine sympathy. ‘I’m only asking, because we need to know everything about your past so that we can change the future.’
Christopher shook his head. Deep down he was frightened. His insides were squirming with panic.
‘That’s just . . . You’re talking rubbish. How can memories be false? I want to go home. I want to go home now.’
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