by Nick Wilford
The aide hesitated for a second. “Um, your Lordship... so far just one has arrived, and he is safely contained in the city jail.”
“So? The damage is done. People saw him. The vile, filthy creature... People aren’t going to forget something like that. Our painstakingly constructed edifice is cracking! The only option I see is to talk up the demon angle. Flag that up in the school curriculum. Fiends from the deepest reaches of Hell see the perfection of our world and conspire to ruin it. Yes... if we do this right, it could end up working in our favour. People should be extra vigilant. Everyone is important in safeguarding our society, and they should trust that we, their glorious leaders, are on top of the situation. Prepare an update for the news feed. News of this hellhound’s... manifestation has no doubt spread like wildfire, and we can’t be seen to shove the issue under the carpet.”
Histender had begun pacing up and down while he considered the problem, and the aide was scribbling in his notebook furiously. When his Lordship had stopped and reseated himself, the aide asked, “What shall we do with the... demon itself, your Lordship?”
“Monitor it,” said Histender. He nodded. “Yes, if it has come from... that place, it will no doubt be terminally diseased anyway. Keep it under lock and key and it will soon expire. If not, we can either starve it or kill it outright. Either way, the body can be safely vapourised and the citizens will know the immediate threat has passed.”
“Very good, your Lordship,” said the aide, adding to his notes.
“Dismissed. And don’t forget I want that report from the Chief Scientist, not to mention a thorough review of the workings of the entire department.”
The aide nodded smartly. When he was gone, Histender poured himself a large measure of whisky from the crystal decanter on his desk. “Had to happen sooner or later,” he said to himself. “Now, it’s all about damage control.”
*
Wellesbury walked home with a spring in his step. Salvo and Finnister hadn’t wanted to walk with him, as they usually did for some of the way. When they had asked about his absence at lunch, he’d replied that he was preoccupied by something at home. They’d given him space after that.
He didn’t mind. He’d managed to make a connection with someone who actually felt the same way. Someone who might just have an inside track to the government.
If they were able to help Mallinger, they might be able to help others. What was Harmonia like before the Reforms? No one knew, because the government had deleted all previous history, leaving only a handful of folk tales to be handed down by word of mouth. Maybe it was full of disease, too. The Government had always said they were the best candidates to rule because it was their vision that had made the country into the prosperous haven it was today. Perhaps Mallinger’s land could be transformed, too.
Wellesbury was at his house before he knew it, so wrapped up had he been in his thoughts. He walked up the front path over the blank white paving slabs and used his swipe key to open the door. His parents were sitting in the lounge, and he heard them shouting his name as soon as he came in.
“Wellesbury! Come in here, please!”
He trotted through to the lounge to find them both sitting bolt upright on the sofa. Their faces were pale - even more so than usual - and they were motioning to him to come in and sit down. He sat in the armchair, unconsciously mimicking their looks of concern. This was the most emotion he could recall either of them displaying in a long time. Had something happened to Great-Great-Grandmother?
“Son, something has just come through on the news feed,” said his father. He was holding his wife’s hand, who had her eyes closed and was muttering something to herself.
He stopped, looked down, and went on, “Harmonia has been breached by a demon. They say it appeared in the middle of the city yesterday, out of the air, and tried to contaminate people with its vile substances. It’s being held under guard in the prison, but I don’t know if that’s enough to contain it, given its ability to manifest itself in this great city.”
“Oh Custer, don’t say things like that,” said Wellesbury’s mother, raising her mumblings to an audible level. “I’m sure the authorities know what they’re doing.”
“Mother’s right, father,” said Wellesbury, hoping he was keeping a straight face.
“What if one appeared in this room, right now?” said his father. “What would we do?”
“For a start, we’d remain calm. Maybe they don’t actually mean any harm.”
Custer Noon’s face went red, and he threw his arms in the air. “They’re demons, boy! They mean to ruin everything we have, tarnish our perfect world with their stink and corruption. You’re not taking this seriously enough.”
Wellesbury nodded. “Okay, okay, Dad. You’re right. I’ll be extra vigilant.”
Custer eyed his son with suspicion, as if not quite satisfied with his response. “Hmm. But just to be on the safe side, until the crisis has been dealt with, I’ll be driving you to school before I go to work. I’m sure the company will accommodate the change in shifts after what’s happened. Are you going out tonight, son?”
Wellesbury looked at his father and saw a man who was genuinely concerned, but doing all he could to stay calm and on top of what was a dire situation. What if he just told them the truth right now – or at least, what he believed to be the truth? What would they do? Probably have him slung in jail, too.
“No,” he answered. “There’s no practice. But I’ve got study time, and then I’ll probably just read quietly.”
And what would Mallinger be doing tonight? Counting down the hours until he died.
“Good,” said his father, nodding. “That’s the best thing to do, just keep going with your normal routine and try not to panic. I must say, you’ve taken the news excellently.”
Wellesbury shrugged, as if to say, “What are you going to do?”
Out loud he said, “I’m going to my room now.”
“Okay, son,” said Custer. “Remember, we’re always here if you want to talk about any of this. But it looks like you’re handling it a lot better than we are.”
“See you later, father.” Wellesbury stood up. “Mother.”
She nodded, still seeming to be in a state of shock. Wellesbury hurried out of the room, and into his bedroom where he threw himself on the bed face down, in order to stifle the eruption of laughter that he had been holding in throughout most of the conversation.
Chapter 4
Lord Histender’s veins bulged out of his head as he read the next communication on the demon affair, which had come from the Superintendent of Whitopolis Jail. As he listened to the accompanying recording, he had to pour himself another three fingers of whisky, almost smashing the glass from gripping it so hard.
The aide who had delivered the materials had promptly disappeared, as if knowing what they contained could not be good news and it was best to get out of the way. Histender picked up his desk transceiver and summoned his Chief Adviser to come immediately.
The man appeared less than a minute later, but it was too long for Histender, who drummed his fingers on his desk sharply. Chief Adviser Randolph Dontible assessed his boss’s demeanour and presented a calm, impassive visage – as he did at all times. He prided himself on being unruffled in any situation, which was how he had got to the position he currently held.
“How can I assist you, your Lordship?”
Histender ignored the question. “You’re aware, of course, of the situation with the intruder from Fusterbury? The one who, in official terms, we’re calling a demon.”
“Naturally,” drawled Dontible. “I always stay abreast of developments in the city. And this was, naturally, extremely alarming news for our citizens.”
“Yes, yes,” said Histender, waving a hand. “I thought he would be well contained in jail, but you can never account for idiots... The morons who run that place allowed a sixteen-year-old boy in to speak with him! Would you credit it?”
Dontible raised an e
yebrow. “Is the boy unharmed?”
“Of course. We all know no one can get hurt, although who knows what a real demon could do... if they existed, that is. But it’s what the boy’s heard! About that stinking cesspit of a country that creature crawled from. And what’s worse –” he stood up and began his pacing again – “he didn’t challenge him, but seems to have accepted it. This could ruin everything for us.”
Dontible followed his master’s large bulk with his eyes. “Have no fear, Lordship. No one would possibly believe him if he told them. The boy must have been weak-minded to begin with. If necessary, we can have him placed in seclusion, under the pretext of possible contamination from the demon.”
Histender stopped and gripped the back of his chair. He took a deep breath. “You always come up with the best ideas, Dontible. It’s how you got to where you are. Yes, it may well come to that. What angers me the most is those imbeciles who let him in in the first place. According to the Superintendent’s report, the warder consulted with him when the boy attempted to gain access, which the Super granted! At least he’s admitting liability. But I want the two of them disciplined severely and moved down the ranks. And that means away from the prison service.”
“Consider it done, your Lordship.”
“As for the boy... he knows far too much. I think, in addition to being secluded, he will need to be educated. Let him know he was taken in by a demon’s foul ploy to try to gain a foothold here. That thing from Fusterbury only has a few days to live? I’d rather it was a few minutes. Let him rot, though, rather than hasten the process. Never let it be said that I don’t feel a certain amount of... compassion for the unfortunate inhabitants of our counterpart country. But the two must be kept separate at all costs, and this is too much cross-pollination. Is there any news from the scientists?”
“They are still investigating the bridge that allowed the incomer to travel here. I believe that in a couple of days, the rip will be sealed and the danger will pass.”
“Can’t come soon enough,” muttered Histender. “Very well, Dontible. You are dismissed. But that Noon boy must be dealt with as a matter of urgency. Tonight. He’s a greater threat than the intruder right now.”
Dontible nodded. “I understand.” He turned on his heel and walked out.
Histender didn’t sit down again right away, but wandered around his office some more, staring at the masterpieces he had hanging on his wall but not seeing them. They had been claimed by the government in the Reforms, but he didn’t much care for them. He wished that woman whose eyes followed him around the room would just leave him alone.
This was the worst crisis in years, and things had been running so smoothly lately. He tried to give people the best possible standard of living, give them everything they could possibly desire, and they were still willing to listen to any old rubbish from a foreigner they shouldn’t even believe exists. Histender scribbled a note to up the funding for the research into mind control. Clearly, this Noon boy didn’t believe in Harmonia with his heart and soul, and that was a big worry. Who else was similarly infected?
*
Wellesbury was in the middle of his study period – although mentally he was only semi-present for it – when he heard the front door buzzer. His father went to answer the door, and Wellesbury crept to his own bedroom door in order to hear better. Visitors were unusual.
“Mr Custer Noon?”
“Yes?” answered his father.
“Your son is Wellesbury Noon.”
“That is correct.”
“Mr Noon, on behalf of the government, I have to inform you that we must speak with your son immediately. In fact –” a pause – “we will need to take him away for assessment. Merely a precaution, there is no need to be alarmed. But we believe his mind may have been infected by the demon who has infiltrated the city.”
“No need to be alarmed?” His father’s voice was raised. That was a very rare occurrence. Wellesbury’s heart seemed to sink into his stomach.
“I want to know how that devil got here in the first place,” his father went on with a cold inflection Wellesbury had never heard. “I want an inquiry! And the children are the ones at risk, of course. Their minds are fragile. Only a couple of hours ago, we were warning Wellesbury of the danger amongst us. Now look what has happened. How many others are affected?”
The visitor coughed. “None so far. Like I said, this is just a precaution.”
“So how many others are being taken in as a ‘precaution’? Why is Wellesbury singled out, and what makes you think he in particular is at risk?”
“I’m afraid that’s confidential information, Mr Noon. But we do have our reasons.”
His father’s voice was quieter now, level. “We’re talking about my son. I have a right to know.”
“Mr Noon,” said the official, in a tone that seemed to mimic the older man’s, “if you continue to obstruct government business, I will have no option but to report it to the appropriate authorities.”
Silence. Wellesbury counted one, two, three. “I need to go and speak to my son.”
Thanks a lot, old man.
Wellesbury hurried back to his desk chair and once again began scanning through the information on the screen. When his father came in, he appeared to be hunched over his work and didn’t turn around.
“Son?” said Custer.
Something in his father’s hushed, kindly voice brought a prickle of tears to Wellesbury’s eyes, but he resisted them. He didn’t want to be sent away to get assessed, or whatever they really meant. Not because he’d be away from his parents. He would see them again. But the chances were now next to nothing that he’d be able to help Mallinger. He couldn’t expect Ezmerelda to try doing anything on her own, and if she found out he’d been taken away it would surely scare her off.
He swivelled around, trying to act natural. “Yes, father?”
Custer came in and sat on the edge of the bed, hands clasped together in front of him. “You remember the conversation we had earlier? About the dangers of the demon intruder and how we should all be on guard?”
“Of course, father.”
Custer sighed. “It seems the wretched fiend has already done its work. I don’t know whether it preys on the minds of the young and vulnerable, but the man at the door thinks it may have a hold over you. Now, don’t panic, son,” although Wellesbury showed no signs of panicking. “Don’t get upset. He needs to take you away somewhere it can be dealt with, before it gets any worse. How are you feeling, in yourself?”
Wellesbury had widened his eyes and drawn his lips together, trying his best to show the appropriate expression of alarm. But all he felt inside was sadness at Mallinger’s plight.
“Well, I feel fine.”
“Even so, son, they want to get you checked out as a precaution. It’ll probably be nothing, you know. But better safe than sorry, eh?” He emitted a kind of strangled chuckle.
“I suppose. But how long will I be away for? What about school? I can’t miss anything. And there’s a big gravball game on Sunday. The team are depending on me.”
Custer looked at his son with a sad smile. “I know that, son. I was going to be there, remember? It’s admirable that you’re thinking about your friends and your studies. But this is serious and needs to get dealt with right away. Today’s Thursday. You never know, you might still get back for your match.”
Wellesbury didn’t care about the match right now. It wasn’t the reason he didn’t want to go. But what option was there? Maybe there would still be time to work out a way to help Mallinger.
“Okay, okay. Where is this place? And what do I need to bring?”
“I’ll just go and speak to the man again, son.”
“Okay.” Custer left the room, leaving the awkwardness that always existed between them hanging in the air, and somehow heightened. They both knew it wouldn’t have much impact on either of them to be apart.
Wellesbury heard the voices at the door again, but didn’t
bother to get up this time. It occurred to him his mother was probably also listening, but she was even more distant. She might be worried about his health, but she wouldn’t care whether he was around or not.
His father came back into the room. “He says you can come as you are. There will be clothes provided at the institute you’re going to.”
“Does he know when I’ll get back?”
“I asked him. He says they’ll make every effort to have you back here before Sunday, but it can’t be guaranteed. Hopefully, everything will be straightforward, and you’ll be back tomorrow. I don’t know, son.”
Wellesbury rose from his desk, running his hand through his hair.
“Well, bye, Dad.”
“Bye. Wait, I’ll come to the door with you – and I’ll just fetch your mother.”
“Does she know what’s happening?”
“I’ll go and explain to her. I’m sure she’s overheard a lot, though.”
That was the thing about his mother. She didn’t say a lot. She wouldn’t get involved emotionally. But her ears picked up everything, and no matter what it was, she could process it and compartmentalise it neatly in her brain.
Custer left again and Wellesbury wandered out to the hallway. The government official was standing at the front door, hands behind his back, legs slightly apart. His eyes registered Wellesbury, and he gave a thin, tight-lipped smile. Wellesbury didn’t respond.
After a few moments his mother and father both came out to the hall. “I hear you have to go away for a bit, dear,” said his mother. “I’m sure it’s for the best, after all, we wouldn’t want anything nasty to happen, would we? Bye now. We’ll still be here when you get back.”