The tram ground to a halt in front of her. The doors opened automatically. No one got off and she climbed aboard the front carriage, glancing around to do the dance of where to sit.
She preferred to have a solid wall behind her. There were a couple of people in the second carriage so she would stay in the front. She also liked looking forward but since she had the choice of every seat in the carriage it was moot. She chose a seat near the rear of the carriage with her back to the patched rubber concertina stretching between the two.
The muscles behind her ears twitched as she heard someone else stepping heavily into the rear carriage. She hoped it wasn’t a drunk. It wasn’t that she couldn’t defend herself—she knew half a dozen ways to kill someone with her bare hands and feet—it was just difficult and embarrassing. Especially if they were friendly.
Just as the doors began to close someone else jumped into the front carriage. She couldn’t blame him; no one wanted to wait in that rain. He looked around just as she had, though she thought his eyes lingered on her a little too long, but then he took a seat halfway up the carriage from her.
The tram pulled away, slid across a major junction and into the road opposite that ran between dilapidated buildings. The space opened up and the track climbed above road level. It ran alongside the Central Arena. It was still used for events but much of the ceiling had collapsed. Besides, no one really wanted to spend a lot of time in close proximity to anonymous people. The risk of infection might not be high but why take chances?
The tram curved around the end of the arena and came to a halt at Deansgate railway station. Reflected in the window at the front she watched as the two original occupants got out. The tram moved off again and headed south. They passed through Chorlton and the tram turned more east towards Didsbury. Chloe realised they were near where Melinda had disappeared.
She wondered what the police were doing. Nothing at night probably, she wished that DI Mitchell had been working on the case. She was pleased to have met him in some ways. It wasn’t the fact that he had killed so many freaks; it was that he wasn’t proud of it. He did it because he had to in order to protect the public, and because in the end they were better off dead.
The rain and the dark obliterated almost everything outside the window. When she was younger she had been scared of being on the tram in the dark and rain just in case she missed her stop.
Familiarity eventually solved that fear. She peered out and recognised the flashing billboard opposite the entrance to Southern Cemetery. The tram stopped. She saw the reflection of the big man in the rear carriage get up and move forwards. Instead of getting off he took a seat closer to the front. Her ear muscles twitched again and she fancied she could hear him breathing over the noise of the rain pelting the roof and the whining of the electric motors.
She shook herself. Why should there be any threat? Even she had adjusted her sitting position on the tram before when she found the place she was sitting had an unpleasant odour or there was something sticky on the plastic seats. It wasn’t unusual. Anyway, the next stop was hers.
As long as he didn’t get off at the same place.
The tram paused at the red lights, not that there was any traffic going the other way. Probably just machines, she thought, a wirehead would have given them priority. At least, she imagined that’s what they would do, they were people after all.
The light went green and the tram moved off once more. It took about two minutes to get to the tram station. She glanced ahead. With the lights on inside the tram she could see nothing except the distorted reflection of herself and the rest of the carriage. The man seated in front of her was also staring at the window. Lights from outside glinted on his eyes and she could have sworn he was staring at her.
She looked down at her hands and then up again. He was still looking at her.
An involuntary shudder went through her. She had not known the other girls that had disappeared but she knew Melinda, and every one of them was about her age. Was this it? Had they come for her?
Don’t be ridiculous, she told herself. Why would they want her?
But the other part of her mind asked: Why did they want Melinda, or the others, what was it that made them a target?
She jumped as the brakes squealed and the tram slowed. She got to her feet and went to stand by the left-hand door. The other two passengers did not move. She tried to convince herself she was imagining it but her heart sped up and she could almost feel the adrenaline flowing through her. She just wanted to run. Yes, of course, she had had fights, but they were either in the dojo where everything was controlled, or it was in the playground where she barely needed to exercise the slightest level of technique to dominate.
But this was real—at least in her imagination—and the truth was she was scared.
The tram doors huffed and scraped as they opened. The platform was dimly lit from the lights in the roof of the station. A sheet of rain fell between the door and where the roof started. A wide puddle covered the platform.
Before she stepped down into the rain, a third man emerged from the shadows of the station opposite her. His coat was slick with water reflecting the light and his bald head glistened. She stopped. He stared at her.
‘Hello, girlie, want to go for a nice ride?’
Sensei had always said that if a fight was imminent, don’t hesitate. Jujitsu was not a clean and pretty martial art; it was about getting the job done with a minimum of fuss and effort. But he was too far away; he would see her coming.
She did not need to look behind her; she could hear the other two—the one with the hat that had sat at the front, the other big and heavy one—as they moved into position behind her.
Baldy took a step forward. One of the men behind her shoved hard. Pain shot through her. All of Ali’s work in relieving the tension was undone in a moment. He was strong and caught her off balance. She stumbled out into the rain, caught her foot in the gap and fell forwards smashing into her knees. The agony of it ripped through her.
Behind her, the one with the hat followed her out. ‘Easy.’
Chloe caught the movement as he reached out for her. Almost without thinking she twisted and slammed her fist into his groin. He doubled over with a whimper. She improvised a punch up to where she thought his solar plexus ought to be but hit ribs.
Sensei’s voice was in her head. You can fight on the ground, but better on your feet.
She grabbed his shoulder and used him to lever herself to her feet. On the way up she slammed her knee into his face and he fell back. At the ferocity of her attack, Baldy had taken a step away but something like a metal vice snapped round her right wrist, serrated edges bit into her forearm as it pulled upwards and lifted her from the ground. She wriggled in attempt to get free.
‘We were warned about you and your little tricks,’ said Baldy as he came forward. He let fly an untrained kick at her stomach. With her weight suspended from her arm, dragging on her shoulder, she lifted her legs and blocked then snapped a kick at his face. She made contact, and he tumbled back into the dark. Water splashed up where he fell.
Trying to ignore the pain in her right arm, she tried to hit the one that held her in the groin with her fist but couldn’t reach. She pummelled his legs with her heels. It made no difference. She couldn’t see what she was doing and nothing in her training covered being dangled by her arm. She needed to see her opponent. She relaxed her raised arm and twisted.
Where there should have been skin there were fish scales. The eyes were no longer human but at least one ear was normal. Above her head her arm was gripped in a crab-claw. Freak.
She punched the chest. It was like rock. She shrieked and yanked her hand back. She pulled back the cloth around the arm that gripped her and found a chitinous exoskeleton. But it was just one arm; it wasn’t a bear hug. All she needed was leverage.
There was a groan to her left. She released the tension in her arm and twisted back. The one with the hat was pulling a burner from hi
s pocket and, with a pained looked on his face, aimed the twin ionising barrels in her direction. Without even thinking she hooked her dangling legs around the right side of the freak. She strained her stomach muscles and pulled herself round so the big guy’s body was between her and the weapon.
Pain lanced through her elbow as it bent unnaturally. Light flashed and the smell of ozone filled the air as her hip went numb. But the freak must have taken most of it. The grip on her arm loosened and she crashed to the ground. The freak collapsed beside her.
She heard the sound of the tram doors closing. Lifting her head she saw she was barely a foot from it. She flung out her right arm, not caring how much it hurt. The doors slid together but stopped on her wrist. After a moment they opened again. The rain poured down.
Get up, she screamed at herself.
‘Just stay still, girlie.’
She twisted her head. Over the top of the prone freak she saw Baldy approaching. He had a burner too. She did not move. How long before the doors close again? She had no idea, time seemed distorted.
‘Get up slowly or I will use this.’
She gathered her aching arms under her and placed her feet against the back of the freak. She heard the click of machinery and something engaged. She twisted her head towards Baldy again. ‘Screw you.’
Almost in slow motion, as the door mechanism engaged, she saw and heard his finger tighten on the trigger. She almost thought she could see the twin beams of ionising radiation emerge from the double barrels.
She thrust against the freak and pushed with her arms as the doors closed. She had lost so much weight she soared through the closing gap.
Not fast enough. The beams grazed her again as the ten thousand volts surged through the air. With Chloe moving out of the way the beams struck the ground. The electrical power found the water much more to its liking than ionised air and, as Chloe thudded against the far door of the dry carriage, the station lit up and each man went rigid with the shock. Unable to do anything else, Baldy kept his finger on the trigger until the power in the battery pack was completely exhausted.
The tram motor engaged and its motion, as it pulled away, was the last thing Chloe knew before she lost consciousness.
Episode II: Poison
Chapter 1
Melinda
Melinda now believed she knew what true boredom was. After she had woken up, someone dressed in an all-encompassing rubber suit had come in with some apples, water, bread and cheese.
Melinda thought it might be a woman from the height, but the suit covered everything in loose folds and the visor at the front was fogged to hide the face behind it.
For some reason Melinda had not tried to talk. Her jailer placed the platter at the end of the bed where Melinda had to stretch to reach it. As she ate she realised how hungry she was, having had nothing since breakfast the day before—if it was only the day before.
By the time she had cleared everything she had slowed down and felt satiated. At least they weren’t trying to starve her.
Then the person had gestured for the plate to be put back at the end of the bed. She took it and left. The bolt was drawn on the outside of the door again.
And that was it. There was nothing for hours. She just dozed. It was impossible to tell how much time was passing. The light stayed on. She was compelled to use the convenience even though the red light on the camera embarrassed her. But she had put up with it when she had been in the Purity quarantine, she could again.
During what she guessed to be the evening, the person returned with more food. It was hot this time but the utensils were made of wood. The knife barely had any cutting edge at all but that wasn’t a problem since the lamb had already been cut up and the rest was mashed potatoes and peas.
But it felt good to have a solid warm meal inside her.
Fattening her for the slaughter?
The trouble with dozing during the day was that, when the lights went out, she was not sleepy at all. And the eerie glowing lines returned.
Now she had physical reference points for them she knew they linked the various electrical devices in the room: the light, the power socket and the surveillance camera. But what did that mean?
The grogginess of the previous night—she had still been suffering from the after effects of the drug they had given her—was gone and with the food she was quite clear-headed.
She closed her eyes.
Sure enough the lines remained in view just as they had before but now she knew she wasn’t imagining it. She turned to face the wall behind the bed. The lines remained visible although she knew she was seeing them backwards. It was disorientating and gave her a strange itchy sensation on the back of her scalp.
She turned back and opened her eyes. That definitely felt better even though it made little actual difference.
She experimented. The metal bedstead, when she got her head down to its level, did block the glow but with a curious halo effect on the edges. So did the metal of the chain that attached her to the bed. But she could see the lines through anything non-metal, although by putting one hand in front of the other, lifting and crossing her legs and looking through all those layers of skin and bone the view was a little fuzzier.
By the time she had exhausted all her options she was tired.
She lay down in the bed. It was still cold but she had become accustomed to it. Another thought came to her as she lay there.
How is this possible? She shivered as the truth slid like a needle into her mind. She must be a freak. And she was going to die.
The light woke her. Moments later the bolt slid back and the rubber-suited figure entered carrying the breakfast tray. The person looked the same height but other than that there was no way to know if it was.
But as Melinda ate, the rubber suit kept shifting its weight from one foot to the other, giving off the strong impression of impatience. Over the past day Melinda had managed to relax but new fear spread through her.
She did not finish the food and pushed it away to the end of the bed. It was grabbed up almost before she had let it go and the person left the room, leaving the door wide open.
Melinda stared at it. She saw shadows moving which then resolved into two much taller figures in the same green rubber suits. One of them carried a burner and pointed it at her from beside the door.
She felt her way back across the bed and against the wall as if the extra distance would make a difference. The second figure approached the bed holding a key that was almost swamped by the massive glove.
Melinda stared as this person tried to unlock the cuffs at the bed end. He dropped the key on to the bed more than once as he attempted to manoeuvre it into the lock. Even though she could not see the face, she knew what expression he had when he looked over to the other guard.
They said nothing to one another. The one with the key placed it on the bed out of her reach and unstrapped the glove with a ripping of Velcro. His hand was fleshy and pink while the nails were rough and chewed. He tucked the unused glove into his belt.
Holding the chain with the still-rubberised hand he gingerly placed the key in the lock, behaving almost as if he expected it to bite him. The key turned and the lock snapped open. He quickly pulled his hand back and put it, with the key, into a pocket.
He gave the chain a couple of tugs and Melinda climbed awkwardly from the bed. The one with the burner moved into the room to the other side of the bed, keeping the weapon trained on her.
The floor was cold to the soles of her feet. The first guard walked ahead of her with the chain in his grip. The other followed behind as they headed out into the corridor.
Chapter 2
Mitchell
Night still claimed the world outside the kitchen window. Light from the dim interior bulb gleamed off the spotless surfaces.
It’s almost as if no one lives here, thought DI Mitchell as he sipped the tea. It was pricey but not as extortionate as the coffee so was a luxury he allowed himself.
&nb
sp; A drop had splashed on the table. He looked at the brown curved surface of it and decided it could stay until he tidied everything away. He wasn’t obsessive about cleanliness but when he was at home he had nothing else to do.
The wooden bread bin was half-open. It had a habit of sticking but then it had been handmade. He’d picked it up in a market five years ago. There was almost no metal in its construction. The lid was composed of interlocking wooden slats that ran in grooves in the side pieces. They always stuck.
He had a working fridge, which was more than most. It was the one he and Catherine had bought when they were married. They had been together nearly ten years before things started to go wrong. No children: they had decided to wait. Just as well.
But that wasn’t something he liked to think about.
He looked at his watch and then, to double check, glanced at the clock on the wall. Ten to six. The car would be here on the hour and would take twenty minutes to reach Piccadilly station so he could meet the train from London at about half past.
It had once been a two-hour journey from London. Some of the express trains could still do it, with enough preparation. But the battery electrics took much longer. They had the speed but line maintenance was inefficient; it was too risky. Purity Special Agent Graham had taken the overnight so he could get in a full day’s work.
Mitchell carried the plate and cup to the sink. He turned the tap. The water from the boiler on the wall was only lukewarm. He picked up the dishcloth, wrung it out, then wiped down the table, removing the spot of tea.
He went through the motions of cleaning and placed the cup and plate on the drainer before picking up a tea-towel to dry them. The cupboard door squeaked as he opened it to place the items in their correct positions inside.
There was no desire in him to rebel against the tidiness of his home life. Not that he considered it much of a home without Catherine. It was just a place to stay. The same place he had been for the last ten years.
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