Tin

by Padraig Kenny

  ‘How?’ Cormier asked.

  ‘Dodgy workmanship,’ said Rob. ‘Mr Absalom gave me a loose head. I can run around without it and everything. It got blown off just before the big explosion.’ Rob made a face. ‘I just did a shrug there, but you probably didn’t notice because I don’t have any shoulders.’

  Estelle squealed and peppered Rob’s face with kisses. Rob made sounds of disgust, but Estelle kept doing it anyway.

  ‘You did it, Rob,’ said Christopher. ‘You saved us. You saved everyone.’

  Blake woke in darkness.

  He had a moment of panic. He remembered falling. He remembered the pain.

  He became vaguely aware of his surroundings, even in the dark. He felt a sudden rush of relief.

  I’m alive, he thought.

  His second thought was a murderous one. It took some effort for him to calm himself, but when he did he felt suffused with a cold, joyous fury.

  I will destroy them, each and every one of them, he thought.

  He could see old wooden shelves, cobwebbed test tubes and dust-covered bottles. He saw a sliver of light in the ceiling above. It was the opening of a door with steps leading up to it. He was in a cellar.

  Blake felt the overpowering urge to rush to the light.

  Then Estelle stepped in front of him.

  Blake almost flinched, then castigated himself for his lapse. This girl was nothing to him. I will kill you, he said. I will make you pay for what—

  ‘I don’t think you can talk, which I suppose is a pity for you, seeing that you love the sound of your own voice,’ said Estelle.

  She regarded him coolly. How dare she, Blake thought, I deserve respect, fear . . .

  How dare you, he screamed at her. You will be made to suffer.

  Estelle shook her head. ‘No, can’t hear you, unfortunately.’

  She turned away and started to rummage on a shelf.

  When she turned back she was holding something rectangular.

  ‘I suppose I first became suspicious when your soul vanished, just like that. I thought to myself, Surely there must be some place for it to go. Then I thought I saw something in the scrap heap, so I came back outside just to be sure.’

  Estelle winked at him. She turned the rectangular object towards him. It was a mirror, dirty and cracked, but with enough clear surface for him to see . . .

  ‘The miracle of Refined Propulsion in action,’ said Estelle, and she smiled.

  He was looking at a head on a table. Little more than a mechanical mould. A scuffed brass head with rolling eyes. A sickening rudimentary without a mouth. A Mute.

  How am I . . . ? Where am I . . . ?

  Blake blinked and the head blinked in response.

  That was when he started screaming.

  Estelle sighed. ‘I think your soul found the nearest available empty object. Probably something to do with the Diviner.’ Estelle frowned. ‘I suppose Cormier would know, but then I’m not going to mention it to him. Ever.’

  Blake cursed, he swore, he screamed again. He promised to make her suffer, but of course Estelle heard none of it.

  She leant her elbows on the table and cupped her chin in her hands and gazed at him.

  ‘You’re stuck in there now. For a long time. Maybe even for ever.’ She stood up. ‘Time enough, I suppose. Time enough for you to learn the lesson that no one hurts my friends and gets away with it.’

  Estelle turned away and started to walk up the stairs. Blake screamed at her again. He started begging when she was halfway up. He was sobbing when she put her hand on the door. She turned back to give him one last look.

  ‘I don’t know what’s going to happen to you. Maybe you’ll die again, maybe you won’t. Maybe you’ll just be like this for ever. A stupid ugly metal head rusting in the dark.’ Estelle shrugged. ‘But then again, what do I know? I only make skin.’

  She turned away and went through the door. The square of light narrowed to a sliver. The sliver disappeared.

  Blake screamed in the darkness. The scream became the darkness, until both were indistinguishable from each other, and finally for Richard Blake there was nothing but darkness.

  And the darkness became for ever.

  Ironhaven gleamed in the sunlight as they pulled up in the van. A rumble tumble heap of metal and rivets, it shone with bright patches of copper and bronze and silver. Despite its haphazard nature, Christopher reckoned he’d never seen anything so beautiful.

  ‘It’ll be all right you know,’ Jack said.

  ‘What?’ said Christopher.

  Jack nodded without looking at him, as if reassuring himself more than Christopher.

  ‘It’ll be all right, you’ll see. It’ll all come back to you.’

  ‘Is that a new gate?’ Rob piped up.

  Cormier chuckled in appreciation. ‘Good old Egbert. Reliable as always.’

  As they neared the shining new entrance to Cormier’s compound, a dozen or so mechanicals stepped falteringly into the light and watched them as they passed. Christopher noticed that most were in various stages of disrepair. He saw one girl look mournfully at them as they drove by. She had one eye, and the skin was missing from her right arm. He saw a boy carrying his own head and two more boys with their arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders. They only had one leg each, and this accommodation they had come to seemed to be the only way they could both move around.

  As they got out of the van, Christopher turned to see a boy with five legs approaching them with a hopeful look on his face.

  ‘Jack,’ the boy said. ‘You came back.’

  ‘Of course we did, Sam,’ Jack replied. He turned to Christopher and gestured at Sam. ‘This is Sam Six Legs.’

  Sam smiled at Christopher. ‘I know you.’

  ‘Right then, shall we get inside?’ Cormier said, a little too loudly, rapping on the gate while refusing to look at any of the broken mechanicals.

  Christopher frowned at Sam. ‘You do?’

  Sam nodded. ‘Of course.’

  ‘I don’t remember . . .’

  ‘That’s all right,’ said Sam pleasantly.

  ‘Right, everybody in,’ shouted Cormier.

  ‘Welcome home,’ said Sam, and he gave Christopher a hesitant, almost apologetic smile.

  Home, thought Christopher. Is this home? It didn’t feel like it, and he wasn’t sure how to respond to Sam.

  The new gate swung open smoothly and Cormier shouted again for everyone to get inside, and they all started to move towards the entrance. Sam took a tentative step forward and looked over Christopher’s shoulder in the direction of Cormier. Christopher couldn’t help notice the nervous, hopeful expression on his face. It was the look of someone almost too afraid to hope, the kind of look you see in someone who’s been let down once too often.

  ‘We’ll talk, Sam,’ said Jack.

  Christopher could hear the note of reassurance in Jack’s voice. Sam looked grateful. More mechanicals were arriving behind him and Christopher spotted the girl with one eye again. He turned and stepped into the courtyard, unable to forget the images of the mechanicals he had seen.

  Cormier stood in the centre of the courtyard and held his arms aloft. ‘Home!’ he shouted.

  The main door of Cormier’s little citadel opened, and Manda dashed out and ran down the stairs towards them. Christopher was pleased to see that she ran on legs that were now admirably even in length. Her face had been touched up, and she now had new eyes, both of which were the same size.

  ‘You’re back,’ she squealed. She grabbed Christopher first and squeezed him with all her might. Christopher laughed. ‘I knew we’d find you. I knew it!’ she shouted. When she was finished with Christopher she hugged each and every one of them. She grabbed Rob’s head from Jack and spun around with him held at arm’s length.

  ‘Where’s the rest of you, Rob?’ she asked, after finally stopping.

  ‘About a hundred miles back that way,’ said Rob, arching one eyebrow, which promptly fell off.<
br />
  Christopher picked it up and pocketed it. ‘For later, Rob.’

  ‘I don’t want it later,’ said Rob. ‘I want new ones, fancy ones. Like a gentleman. Isn’t that right, Mr Cormier?’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Cormier, ruffling Rob’s hair. He stole a quick glance at Christopher and hurriedly looked away.

  ‘Where’s Gripper?’ said Manda.

  They all looked at each other. Nobody knew what to say. It was Jack who took her aside and quietly explained what had happened. Manda howled when she heard the news. It took a few minutes for her to calm down, and she was still sniffling when she turned to Christopher.

  ‘But he got you back, Christopher. That’s what matters isn’t it? You’re back, and that’s because of Grip.’

  She hugged Christopher again. This time she held him a lot longer.

  ‘Right then,’ said Cormier, gesturing towards the house. ‘Shall we?’

  Christopher heard the sound of the gate swinging shut. He turned round to see Sam Six Legs standing on the other side. There were more mechanicals standing behind him, all looking in forlornly as the gate continued to close. Sam raised his hand, and Christopher and Jack raised theirs in salute. The gate closed. Christopher looked at Jack. Jack looked as if he wanted to say something, but then thought better of it. They turned and followed Cormier into his house.

  Once inside, Egbert served oil in the dining room and Cormier drank something that seemed to make him extremely happy. The sound of bubbling laughter and chat filled the room, and there was a palpable sense of relief and joy. Cormier watched them all as they chattered to each other, and a faint smile started to appear on his face. Christopher caught his eye, and Cormier’s smile wobbled, then disappeared completely. He turned away quickly and asked Egbert for another glass.

  Christopher looked around at his friends. Everyone was happy. He felt safe for the first time in an age, but he didn’t feel as if he was home.

  He wondered if he ever would.

  Christopher watched Estelle in her new workshop. After the first week at Cormier’s, she’d taken a shine to a small shed at the side of the house. She’d cobbled together some tools and had gotten straight to work. Cormier was happy to leave her to her own devices. Christopher saw the change in her straightaway. Her eyes were bright and she was possessed with a real sense of purpose as she moved fluidly around her work space, stirring pots, checking beakers, stretching sheets of skin. Christopher knew that this single-minded intensity was Estelle’s version of happiness.

  Jack sat in a corner tinkering with a piece of metal. He also watched Estelle, and exchanged a knowing smile with Christopher. Christopher tried to smile in response, but his effort was wan and unconvincing and he looked away before Jack could detect anything might be wrong.

  They’d been here four weeks now, and Christopher had never felt so happy. Even so, there was still that nagging sense of something missing. Cormier had started working on his patches the first day after they’d arrived. He’d been strangely nervous about it and almost apologetic. At first, Christopher felt and shared his tentative sense of hope, but as each day passed Cormier seemed to become more quietly despondent, despite his best efforts to appear cheerful.

  It got to the stage where he now seemed to be actively avoiding Christopher. He even went so far as to almost turn and run the other way whenever he saw him coming. Now he seemed to have given in to despair, and had stopped working on the patches altogether. Earlier that day, Christopher had turned a corner outside the house and almost bumped straight into him. Cormier had been all apologies, and that was the most unsettling thing of all. He seemed to be constantly remorseful in Christopher’s presence. It was all there in the strange, furtive glances he gave Christopher when they were in the same room, and in the tentative smiles that vanished almost as soon as they appeared. The once great and garrulous Philip Cormier now just seemed mournful and ashamed.

  Christopher felt strange about it. On one level, he didn’t remember this man, and yet on another he felt a curious sense of absence, as if he was lacking something. He tried his best to remember but try as he might, nothing ever came back.

  He was thinking about all of this when he felt a strange, watchful silence in the shed. Jack was looking at him intently, and Estelle was looking at him too, wiping her hands on a rag with a half smirk on her face.

  ‘What?’ said Christopher.

  ‘What do you want to know?’ asked Estelle.

  ‘What do you mean?’ said Christopher.

  ‘Why are you here?’ said Estelle.

  A guilty-looking Christopher glanced from her to Jack and back again. ‘I like to watch you work, Estelle . . .’ he said, giving a weak shrug. He looked at his hands for a moment, then looked up to see Estelle still eyeing him with a faintly amused expression.

  ‘I want to know when you think I might start remembering,’ he said quietly.

  Estelle laid her rag on the table top and sighed. ‘I don’t know, Christopher. I can’t answer that.’

  Christopher nodded. He tried his best not to look crestfallen.

  ‘But I do know one thing,’ said Estelle. ‘I know that you will remember. You mark my words. When you least expect it, the memories will return.’

  Christopher nodded in appreciation of the sentiment, and yet he still felt that strange emptiness. ‘He won’t even look at me,’ he said.

  Estelle considered this for a moment. ‘He can’t,’ she said. ‘He feels guilty because he hasn’t helped you remember yet. Then there’s the fact that he brought you back in the first place.’

  ‘You mean from the Crag?’ said Christopher.

  Estelle shook her head. Christopher knew exactly what she meant, but he was afraid to admit it.

  ‘Bringing your soul back – that couldn’t have been easy for him. He’s probably wondering if it was the right thing to do. You remind him of that choice.’

  ‘What do you think, Estelle? Was it the right thing to do?’

  ‘You’re here now, that’s what matters to me.’

  ‘But how do you think he feels?’

  Estelle looked thoughtful. ‘He missed you and he wanted you back.’ She paused for a moment, narrowed her eyes and nodded to herself. ‘He misses you now, and he still wants you back, no matter how he acts around you.’

  Christopher shook his head. The idea all seemed so complicated to him. He could remember his parents, but to him Cormier was a complete stranger. So why didn’t he feel whole? He was back with his friends, and for him friends meant home. But why didn’t he feel complete? What was missing?

  There was the sound of clanging from outside and swearing could be heard in the distance. Cormier was obviously working on something. Christopher smiled at the sound, but he also felt an odd sadness.

  The evening sun was seeping in through the half-open door, throwing a golden blob of light along the back of the shed. Christopher was mesmerized as he watched it shimmer and move, and he felt something – a stirring in his chest. His reverie was broken by the sudden flicker of a shadow within that light.

  ‘Evening all,’ said a voice behind him.

  They all turned to find Round Rob leaning nonchalantly against the door jamb.

  Although ‘Not Quite So Round Rob’ might have been more accurate. Cormier had given him a new body, a slim-line one that was made out of proper metals that could accommodate his cogs and gears. Round Rob had tried to be blasé about all of this, but Christopher couldn’t help smiling at the new attitude it had brought out in him.

  Rob stepped into the room with big strides, his hands on his hips. He patted his new eyebrows delicately and cleared his throat.

  ‘Thought I’d just come out and give you all a tune,’ he said.

  Rob puckered his lips together, and started to whistle.

  The latest addition to Rob’s new body was a small bellows which Cormier had constructed and placed in his chest. It allowed him to sigh, to exhale, and, best of all, it allowed him to whistle.r />
  Christopher and Jack smiled as their friend whistled. The sun was sinking lower in the sky and in the distance they could hear Cormier hammering away.

  Rob rubbed his hands together. ‘A whistle and a walk. Who wants to come with me?’

  Jack grinned and raised his hand. Rob looked enquiringly at Christopher and waggled his eyebrows. Christopher laughed. ‘All right, Rob.’

  Rob raised his eyebrows even more and looked at Estelle.

  ‘I’ve got work to do, Rob,’ she said.

  Rob shrugged. ‘Your loss, Estelle.’

  He strolled out through the door and Christopher and Jack followed him outside. Christopher grinned at the way Rob strutted with his thumbs hooked into his belt. It was something he was particularly proud of because, as he put it: ‘I’m all skinny now and I need a belt to keep my trousers up like a proper person.’

  A golden droplet of sun was spilling over the lip of a cloud. Christopher felt that tremor again, and he shivered. Jack gave him a questioning look but Christopher ignored him. Rob was chatting away to no one in particular, his thumbs still hooked into his belt, swinging his legs with great alacrity as if all the world was his.

  Rob stopped walking for just a moment. He kicked a stone and then turned to Christopher and Jack. He looked perturbed, almost guilty.

  ‘What is it, Rob?’ asked Christopher.

  Rob lowered his eyes and looked at the ground. When he looked up again at Christopher and Jack he looked slightly ashamed.

  ‘I stood on a snail yesterday.’

  There was a moment of silence, during which Jack smirked at Christopher.

  Christopher spoke gently. ‘Did you squash it, Rob?’

  Rob nodded quickly. He bit his upper lip.

  ‘Did you mean to?’ asked Christopher.

  Rob shook his head and refused to look at Christopher. ‘Does it mean I’m like a refined engine? Does it mean I’m like one of those Berserkers?’

  Christopher smiled. ‘No, Rob, it doesn’t. It was an accident. Besides, you can’t harm anyone or anything intentionally. You don’t have a soul. You don’t need one. You’re not proper. You’re better than proper.’