‘Mr Reeves!’ he shouted. ‘Leave him.’
Reeves lifted Christopher by his shoulder, and Blake almost sent his henchman flying as he pushed forward and grabbed Christopher by the lapels and started screaming in his face. What shocked Christopher most of all was the fact that Blake was crying.
‘You don’t know! You don’t even know! You’re the key to everything, it all comes down to you.’
Blake looked ashamed, and he twisted his head left and right as if he was unable to look Christopher in the face. Finally, with a huge effort, he turned to him and snarled.
‘Nothing is going to stop me now. The project is too near completion. Do you hear me? Nothing will stop me!’
Christopher was aware of the tiniest pause, as if the whole world was holding its breath, as if everything in creation but them had suddenly realized something was about to happen.
There was a great concussive rumble. It was a sound like thunder.
All eyes turned towards the main gate, which was still vibrating from the impact of something hitting it on the other side.
And then the whole gate exploded in a storm of shards and wood splinters, and Gripper lunged into the yard.
‘Grip!’ Christopher shouted.
Gripper beat his chest with one fist and gave a victorious roar.
A tall bearded figure in a long leather coat stepped in through what remained of the gate. He stood with his hands on his hips, taking in the destruction Gripper had caused. Then finally the stranger spoke:
‘I’ve come for my grandson.’
‘What did he say?’ asked Rob.
Jack, Estelle and Rob had just stepped through the shattered entrance to take up positions beside Cormier.
‘I’ve come for my grandson,’ said Estelle, her voice sounding dreamlike and far away. She turned to look at Jack, her face white, and the incomprehension in her eyes was so complete it looked like she’d never blink again.
‘Mr Cormier has a grandson?’ said Rob.
‘Yes, Rob . . . that’s . . . yes,’ Jack stuttered, completely at a loss for words. His mind was whirling. Did Cormier mean . . . ? But how could that be? Christopher was a mechanical. Admittedly he was a very high-grade mechanical, but he still wasn’t proper. Maybe it was a pet name Cormier had for him. Maybe . . .
His next instinct was to run, to run faster then he’d ever run before, because he could see Christopher across the courtyard.
‘Christopher!’ he shouted, and made to rush forward.
It was Cormier who stopped him. His arm was around his neck in seconds, and Jack’s heels skidded on the ground as he tried to wrestle himself free, feeling idiotic as his world slipped beneath him and he found himself looking up at the sky.
‘Let me go!’ he roared. ‘It’s Christopher!’
‘I know!’ Cormier bellowed in response, and he looked both angry and frightened. That was when Jack realized something was wrong. Jack turned to see a man mirroring Cormier, with his arm round Christopher’s neck.
Before Cormier had made his demand, Blake had seized Christopher and was pointing the stun gun directly at Christopher’s neck.
‘One step forwards, go on, take it,’ said Blake.
Jack felt a sudden pulse of rage, and it took all his reserves of will power to fight the urge to leap out of Cormier’s grasp.
Estelle advanced forward.
‘Ah ah,’ said Blake, waving his index finger at her and smiling.
Estelle clenched her jaw, but she took a step back.
‘Let him go, Richard,’ said Cormier.
‘It’s good to see you too, Philip. How have you been? I’ve been very well, thank you. I thought you’d shuffled off to Ironhaven to die, but happily you seem to be very much alive. So, what have you been up to recently? Go on. Tell me everything.’
Blake fixed Cormier with a crazed grin. Cormier looked at him and took in a deep breath as he raised himself up to his full height.
‘I thought you were dead too, Richard. Wait, no, hold on, let me go back and substitute the word hoped for thought in my previous sentence.’
Blake’s smile wavered ever so slightly. Jack could see the sudden flash of anger in his eyes. He looked surprisingly hurt by Cormier’s statement. Blake spoke, but it seemed difficult for him, as if his teeth were too bared, and some animal part had taken control of him. Jack couldn’t help but picture a cornered dog with its hackles raised.
‘Isn’t it marvellous, that the two most celebrated engineers of the age – the amazing Cormier and the ingenious Richard Blake – can have a reunion like this? The greatest and the second greatest.’
‘I presume I’m the former while you’re the latter,’ said Cormier.
Blake gave an almost hysterical bark of laughter. ‘Oh, Philip, dear dear Philip. What a droll man you are. Droll and old and completely irrelevant.’
‘I feel a speech coming on,’ sighed Cormier.
‘Don’t stop yourself on my account,’ said Blake.
‘After you,’ said Cormier.
‘Stop it! Stop it, both of you,’ shouted Estelle. She took a step towards Blake. ‘Let my friend go,’ she snarled.
Blake looked coolly at her, then his eyes flicked back to Cormier.
‘She’s quite feisty, isn’t she? Not one of yours, I take it. Slightly more fragile than your creations too, I’d say. She needs to step carefully.’
A bedraggled and stunned-looking Dunlop stumbled out of the Crag. When Blake saw his henchman, he grinned.
‘Well now, the odds, which were poor for you to begin with, Philip, are getting even poorer.’
Cormier simply stared Blake down. ‘Let him go,’ he said quietly.
‘Or what, Philip? You’ll set your rag-bag troupe of mechanicals on me?’ Blake shook his head and chuckled. ‘We both know that’s not going to happen, don’t we?’
Cormier had loosened his grip on Jack now. There was a moment when he seemed to tense, then Cormier’s arm simply sagged, and Jack heard him give a low sigh.
‘What did you think was going to happen when you came in here?’ said Blake. ‘Did you think I’d just hand him over and that would be that?’
Blake took the stun gun away from Christopher’s neck, but kept his left hand on the boy’s shoulder, like a kindly uncle posing for a picture with a favoured nephew. He casually waved the stun gun in the air.
‘I’m about to change the world, Philip, and you don’t even know it yet.’
‘Whatever it is you’re doing, I’ll stop you,’ said Cormier.
Blake sighed. ‘You won’t.’ He turned towards his henchmen. ‘Mr Dunlop,’ he shouted. He threw the stun gun in the air, and a now fully recovered Dunlop caught it without taking his eyes off Cormier and the others. Blake pushed Christopher towards Dunlop, who gripped him by his collar. Jack felt the urge to race forward again, but he could see the murderous look in Dunlop’s eyes, and he willed himself to stand still.
Blake reached inside his jacket pocket and took out a small silver box which had a tiny lever sticking out of its surface, along with some grey buttons and switches. He held it out by a limp wrist for all to see.
‘I haven’t decided what to call this yet. It’s quite a clever invention, even if I do say so myself. But enough of my prattling. Let’s get down to it, shall we?’
Blake smiled and pressed a button. Immediately there was a great whirring which sounded like thousands of spinning gears. The whirring cycled upwards and upwards to an angry roar. The courtyard became filled with the sound. Blake gave Cormier a great, vulgar grin.
‘Behold, Philip, my greatest achievement, and the instrument of Britain’s transformation.’
The weather-beaten grey tarpaulin in the centre of the courtyard started to bulge in places. Christopher had assumed, when he was led past it by Reeves when they’d first arrived, that it was simply covering scrap metal and junk, but now it was rising as the roaring grew louder. Rob covered his ears and Jack looked towards Cormier, as if he might give him
some comfort, but for some reason Cormier’s head had dipped. He looked old now, old and weak, like a man resigned to some terrible fate.
The tarpaulin started to tent in two places. At least half a dozen pegs, which were holding ropes in place, started to ooze slowly out of where they’d been spiked into the ground. Blake was still smiling, and Reeves had an insane gleam in his eyes and was starting to giggle.
‘What is it?’ asked Jack fearfully.
Blake heard him even over the noise. ‘The future!’ he shouted.
The air was suddenly rent with the ear-shredding shriek of a buzz saw. Threads on the tarpaulin started to pop explosively, and a long tear was ripped in it by a serrated blade which was whirring round with a dizzying speed as it appeared through the wound. The tarpaulin’s threads exploded, and the whole shroud convulsed as the first figure emerged.
It stood at least two feet taller than Gripper, and its body was barbed with vicious-looking spikes. It shone a brilliant silver, and its dead black eyes gazed emotion-lessly at its audience. It snapped its clawed right hand, and the blade which it had used to cut through the tarpaulin snicked back into a recess near its wrist. Blake flicked a switch and the metal creature slammed its fists together with such force that they raised sparks. Another, almost identical, figure had also emerged from under the tarpaulin, and it took up a position beside its companion. It too clanked its claws together, and the pair towered above everyone and everything in the courtyard.
For a moment, nobody said anything. The great whirring noise had died down, and now there was just a low, tension-filled hum. Blake raised a hand towards his creations, like a particularly pleased ringmaster at a circus.
‘I call them Berserkers. Aren’t they wonderful?’ He waved the small silver box in his hand. ‘I control them with this. A crude device. It’s a temporary measure which allows me to bypass some of their standard limitations.’ He gave Cormier a meaningful look.
‘What is this?’ said Cormier, his voice torn and husky.
‘This is how we change the world, Philip. This is how we make things better.’
On the word ‘we’, Cormier flashed Blake a look, his face contorted into a snarl. ‘You can do what you like with your tinpot toys, but I’m not leaving without my grandson.’
He took a step towards Christopher. Blake flicked a switch, and the first Berserker advanced towards Cormier and brought its fist down on the ground in front of him. The force of the blow was almost enough to throw Cormier off his feet. The second Berserker lumbered forward and took up position behind the first.
Jack watched the Berserkers moving towards Cormier. He looked at Christopher, with Dunlop’s arm jammed around his neck, and a fury from deep within took hold of him. He looked at Estelle. She nodded.
They both ran towards Christopher. Jack was vaguely aware of Rob shouting his name. Gripper had also launched himself forward, and Jack could hear him clanking behind him. For a moment, he didn’t feel any fear. For one deliriously optimistic moment Jack thought that they would rescue their friend, just as they’d planned.
When it came, the clawed hand simply scooped him up and sent him hurtling through the air. He had a glimpse of Estelle half running, half contorting herself as she tried to avoid a similar blow. She side-stepped enough to avoid the full force of the giant hand, but the effort involved meant she lost her balance, and she fell heavily. Jack tried to call her name, but the world was tumbling over and over, and he hit the ground with such force that he bounced before finally coming to rest in the dirt. He heard a great metallic CLANG, and somehow he managed to twist himself around and raise himself up with his hands. That clanging sound chilled him to the core. He scanned the courtyard. Cormier was standing with Rob beside him. Estelle was lying on her side, her face smeared with muck, her eyes blinking with shock and horror. Cormier was standing with his arms hanging by his sides, his chin almost on his chest. Dunlop had decided to loosen his grip on Christopher, who had stumbled forward to gape at the stricken figure in front of him. Jack saw Christopher’s mouth form one word:
‘Grip?’
Gripper was down on one knee, trying to raise himself up. The first blow from the Berserker had almost sheared off the left side of his jaw. Wobbling there on one knee, one arm raised, he looked like he was pleading for mercy.
But Grip wouldn’t do that, Jack thought, because Grip is brave and Grip is strong, and Grip—
He didn’t know which was louder, the splintering punch that the second Berserker dealt to Gripper’s head, or the howl of anguish Christopher gave when he saw the punch connect. Gripper wheeled backwards, tried to right himself by flailing his arms, but fell on his back. He lay still for a moment, then raised himself up on his right elbow. One of the Berserkers grabbed his head with a clawed hand and started to drag him up. The other Berserker tilted its head and watched. When its companion had raised Gripper into a semi-standing position, it drew back a clenched claw and punched Gripper with such force that its fist came out the other side of his torso. The shriek of torn gears and twisted metal filled the courtyard, along with Christopher’s screams. Jack heard another sound too. Someone pleading ‘Stop’. It was moments later before he realized it was his own voice.
‘Fight back, Gripper. Fight back!’ he screamed.
The first Berserker had a hand resting almost tenderly by Gripper’s shoulder blades, as if trying to help him up. The second one gripped Gripper’s right arm. The first one grabbed his left. They pulled.
There was a sudden shrieking and a shower of blue sparks as Gripper’s right arm was torn out of its socket. The left one was left hanging by some wires. Gripper, who had been silent up till now, gave something like a groan before collapsing face down in the dust. The second Berserker looked at the arm in its claw, then tossed it into a mound of scrap.
Jack tried to get up, but it seemed as if all his strength had left him and the world flared to a vividness that hurt his eyes. He saw Round Rob gawping at the scene. Christopher was screaming and trying to get to Gripper, but Dunlop was pulling him back. Estelle was crying.
Gripper was trying to crawl away, but his arm was useless and his legs only propelled him so far. It was like trying to watch a fish survive on dry land. Jack saw the grin on Blake’s face as he pressed a button and turned the lever on his pad. He saw the first Berserker reach for a metal spike from the scrap that seeped out from under the tarpaulin. He gave a pleading ‘No’. It was more a moan of pre-emptive grief than a plea for mercy.
The Berserker walked slowly towards Gripper and stood over him. It raised the spike up with both hands then brought it down with all its might. There was a sound of metal being shorn, and torn, and split. The bitter tang of sparks filled the air. Round Rob took tiny tottering steps forward, then two steps to his left, then his legs went out from under him and he fell to the ground.
There was no other sound in the courtyard now, apart from Estelle’s sobs and Christopher moaning the word ‘No’ over and over again. Jack turned back just in time to see the Berserker twist the metal spike one way, then the other, before finally pulling it from the ruin of Gripper’s head.
The cell was dark and hot with the stink of fear and defeat.
Cormier sat slouched in a corner, his knees pulled up towards his chin, his head down. Estelle sat on the wire-mesh base of an old metal bed. She leant her head back against the wall, her mud-splattered face streaked with the pale tracks her tears had made. One hand was clasped to her hip which she’d bruised when she’d fallen. Her eyes stared up through the ceiling.
Jack was on his knees by the door. It seemed to be the only thing he could do, the only thing that was right and proper in their current circumstances. He wondered if Estelle had the right idea, that maybe staring blindly through walls and ceilings might be best – because the only thing Jack could see, no matter how hard he tried, was Gripper’s face. He looked at the floor, he looked at the walls, he looked up at the bars on the window, but it was useless. Gripper’s face was e
verywhere. Gripper’s eyes were everywhere, and whenever he saw them he saw the light bleed out of them.
‘Jack?’
The sound of Rob’s voice was gentle in the dark. Jack looked up to see Rob looking down at him with a look of concern on his face.
‘Yes, Rob?’
‘Is there something wrong with your legs?’
Jack tried to smile. ‘No, Rob. My legs are fine.’
But his legs weren’t fine. No part of him was. If he was proper it would have felt as if his limbs were on fire, as if every part of him ached. As it was he found that he just couldn’t move. Like all the others, he hadn’t struggled when Blake and his men had dragged them into the prison. There was nothing they could do then. There was nothing they could do now.
Nothing.
‘When are we escaping?’ said Rob.
Jack raised his head and looked up at him. Rob was looking down at him with a slight frown. His right eyebrow was hanging off.
‘Rob, I don’t . . .’
‘It’ll be soon, won’t it?’ He turned to look up at the barred window. ‘Maybe if we could cut those bars, and I could squeeze out the window.’ He looked down and frowned again, then he turned back to Jack. ‘Gripper’s gone, isn’t he? He’s not coming back.’
Jack was momentarily stunned by Rob’s matter-of-factness. ‘Yes, Rob,’ he said huskily.
Rob frowned again and nodded. ‘Just like Proper Edward. He won’t be coming back either, I know that now. But when somebody goes away the best way of keeping them alive is to remember them. Christopher told me that after Proper Edward went.’ Rob leant closer and dropped his voice to a whisper. ‘Me and Manda planted a flower for him at the back of the shed. Estelle helped us.’ Rob nodded curtly in a ‘there you go’ fashion, and straightened up proudly. ‘You should always remember your friends when they’re gone. And the best way to remember Gripper is to rescue Christopher and for all of us to be together again.’
Tin Page 18