‘Little bit soon, don’t you think? I mean, I have full faith in the lad, but Denham isn’t exactly one for niceties.’
‘Sink or swim I believe is the phrase.’ Vincent retorted, drawing a raised eyebrow from the BTCO chairman.
‘He isn’t ready though, is he?’ Vincent shook his head in response. ‘Is it punishment? For striking Marco?’
Vincent turned to his superior with surprise. In the six decades they’d worked together, he was shocked at two things. The way Ottoway spoke to and treated everyone with complete respect. And the fact that nothing happened without him knowing about it.
The man saw everything.
‘It is not a punishment.’ Vincent finally responded.
‘No?’
‘No. It is a reward.’
Now it was Ottoway’s turn to be dumbfounded. Vincent turned to him, the light casting his long, thin shadow to fall across Ottoway’s portly frame.
‘A reward? For striking a co-worker?’
‘Marco wasn’t wearing a latch stone.’
Vincent turned and with a noble nod, began to move back down the corridor. Ottoway stood in place, the information processing slowly in his mind like a washing machine set to spin. The fast track hadn’t been to teach the unruly Franklyn a lesson in respect.
It was to test just how strong he was.
Never in the recorded history of the truce had a human crossed to the Otherside and returned. Every human who had been crazy enough to make the journey was reduced to ash. The atmosphere deconstructing the human genome and burning its way through their body.
Franklyn had returned.
Unscathed.
While tests had been inconclusive as to what had changed within his genetics, he still required careful monitoring. His volatile personality and smart mouth had seen him fall foul of Agent LaPone and his Neither, his conduct would certainly lead to a reprimand. Without question, LaPone would be headed to Montgomery Black, the Head of the Committee who ran the BTCO with an iron fist wrapped in a sand paper mitten.
The meetings and red tape he would have to go through to keep Franklyn Jones in the organisation was already solidifying as a headache within his skull.
But for now, he broke into a smile.
Denham would test Franklyn to his limits and he was sure he wouldn’t break.
No human had returned from the Otherside.
Even more exciting, no human had physically interacted with a creature without a latch stone.
With a gentle chuckle, Ottoway nodded his best wishes to Franklyn beyond the door, before turning back to follow his dear friend with a spring in his step.
Franklyn Jones was special.
The question was, how special?
With the doors locked in place and the young man making the lonely journey through the dark towards Denham, the BTCO were about to find out.
CHAPTER FIVE
Each step echoed against the stone walls, the dread slowly filling up inside Franklyn as he passed through the darkness. His heart was racing, hammering against his chest like a pneumatic drill. Although his eyes had adjusted, the cold, empty darkness continued to swallow him like a starved animal.
Where the hell was he going?
Already thirty feet below the ground, Franklyn felt the walls closing in more as he ventured deeper into the heart of the organisation. Denham was waiting, the legend preceding the creature was that Franklyn was just a small dog on his way to the vet.
He was about to have his bollocks removed.
With his fingertips gently gliding across the cold, concrete wall, he ventured around another corner, the texture changing completely.
Wood.
Then books.
Rows upon rows of books.
Like a firework erupting in the sky, the lights burst above, the entire library bathed in the glare from the halogen bulbs. Rows upon rows of book cases welcomed Franklyn, their leather-bound sides all pressed together like too many sardines in a tin. As he slowly ventured into the library, Franklyn felt a twinge of guilt that he wasn’t an avid reader.
Reading is one of the world’s greatest gifts.
A shite sight better than the one that had lead him to this damn library.
‘Hello?’ Franklyn called out, hoping for any sort of guidance.
All he got in response was what he expected. The room was as quiet as a library, without a stern, bespectled woman to annoyingly hunt down any trace of noise.
A low rumble echoed behind the book case near him. A few books rocked on their seams and he took a step back, a cautious eye scanning the nearest exit route. After a few moments, it returned, rocking the bookcase, the books shaking violently, and beginning to loosen. Slowly, one book began to push forward, enticing Franklyn forward.
What was the book?
A black, clawed hand ripped through the books and slashed at him, causing him to scream, and leap back, his legs hitting the table and sending him rolling back over the wood and crumpling into a pile on the other side. The wind left his lungs as soon as he struck the hard floor, the pain shooting up his back and hitting his brain like a ‘test your strength’ game at a circus.
The only prize for winning was Franklyn turning the air blue.
As he slowly rolled in agony, Franklyn pushed himself up. A booming laughter echoed through the library, each mocking chuckle ricocheting off the pages of the books in his direction.
More lights flickered on and the sound of an engine powering down juttered from the bookcase. As Franklyn pulled himself to his feet, he glared at the shelf, the black arm hanging limply, attached to the book case by a metal crane and a number of wires.
It was fake.
Booming footsteps, like someone swinging a sledgehammer at the hard floor, stomped towards Franklyn, and he turned.
His eyes widened in horror.
Never had he seen a creature quite like it. The Neither was clearly a humanoid, similar to Vincent. It had arms and legs, but its skin was a deep shade of brown, like a freshly polished oak table. Its sheer bulk was magnificent, its arms like tree trunks ripping the sleeves to breaking point. Its chest looked like it was made of solid granite, its shoulders leaping up like a triangle. Its head was bald, the light skimming off the skull and bouncing off in a striking gleam.
A leather eyepatch wrapped around its head, the left eye covered by the thick, black leather.
A war scar, no doubt.
Worn like a trophy.
Both hands, wrapped into fists that resembled bowling balls, rested on his hips, as his deep laugh hammered out of his chest.
Denham couldn’t stop laughing.
‘Damn.’ His voice was coarse. ‘You scream like a bitch.’
‘Well I’m pretty sure I pissed myself, so, thanks.’
Denham chuckled, the black, BTCO T-shirt struggling to contain his giant frame.
‘You’re welcome. Jones, right?’
‘You must be Denham.’
Franklyn extended his hand, which Denham cast his only eye over. He stepped past Franklyn, ignoring the handshake, and addressing the room.
‘I like to call this simulation ‘The Angry Librarian.’ Denham announced proudly, leading Franklyn through the make-believe library. ‘Do you know what this achieves?’
‘Soiled underwear?’ Franklyn offered, receiving a generous grin.
‘No. This simulation puts the trainee in a mundane situation where at any moment, my world could reach through and take you.’ Denham stopped and smirked at Franklyn. ‘Plus, I enjoy scaring the shit out of fresh meat.’
A few metres further and the library morphed into what looked like a food court in a shopping centre. Franklyn watched with bemusement as holograms of humans sat, a lifelike interpretation of a busy Saturday afternoon where the consumerism of humanity feasted upon convenient junk food. The lights flickered, and an ear-piercing scream shook the room. Franklyn stumbled backwards, through an imitation of a pregnant lady as a spider-like creature swung down from the cei
ling.
As he tried to catch his breath, he heard a hearty laugh come from ahead, the sadistic drill sergeant leading him through his house of horrors. Soon, the food court bled into a war zone, soldiers lying dead, and a creature slithering between them.
Franklyn kept close to Denham, refusing to partake in this one, as machine guns rattled in the background and something swam beneath the fake deceased.
Denham turned, playing tour guide.
‘This one actually happened.’
‘To you?’ Franklyn asked, immediately wondering what the BTCO’s involvement was in the Second World War.
‘No. Not me. Ottoway.’
Impressed, Franklyn nodded his approval as the harrowing rendition of mankind’s darkest days slowly faded and they entered what appeared to be an armoury. The walls were lined with different blades, numerous swords ranging in size and shape.
All of them lethal.
A metal cabinet sat at the far end, two heavy chains latched across it like a bow. Whatever was stored in there, Franklyn clearly wasn’t on the right pay grade to find out. As they continued through the corridor, a selection of large windows appeared, providing a view to the training within.
A few creatures were huddled over a table, their long, multi-fingered hands frantically pulling apart a metal contraption.
‘Our scientists are constantly looking for ways to evolve technology. This side and the other.’
Franklyn didn’t even respond to the explanation, blindly following his tutor with his mouth hanging open in bewilderment.
The next window showed two humans, both wearing lab coats, huddled around a third. This man, military looking, was strapped into what looked like a backpack. He clicked the switch on the remote in his hand and the entire room burst into a white light, as if the moon fell out of the sky.
They moved on before Franklyn saw the outcome.
At the next window, he stopped.
Denham strode on, his voice echoing as he pointed out some other need to know fact that Franklyn had no interest in.
His feet had planted.
His hands pressed against the glass as he watched.
Inside the room, the Neither moved with a ferocity he’d never witnessed before. Standing almost seven-foot-tall, the creature’s skin was a dark brown, its hair cut to the scalp and a small, black box beard ran around its heavy-set jaw.
It looked human.
Almost.
Wearing armoured trousers, its torso rippled with muscles that Franklyn didn’t even know existed. In its hand was a large blade, and before it, three-armed creatures that swung with brutal intent.
The creature deflected each strike, its movements mesmerising, and its authority final. Manoeuvring with the poise of a ballet dancer, it countered each strike, its expert skill drawing a gasp from Franklyn before it sent its opponent crashing to the ground with a well-timed boot to the chest.
As the three-armed creatures laid sprawled on the floor and trying to pull themselves up for the next round, the giant warrior turned, its grey, pupilless eyes locking onto Franklyn’s.
The two stared at each other.
Franklyn swallowed with nervousness, before nodding a hello.
The creature nodded back, stood to attention, and ready for battle.
‘Hey, rookie.’ Denham’s voice bellowed down the hallway, his hulking frame filling out the doorway at the end of the corridor. ‘Move your arse.’
Snapping back to his training, Franklyn scurried off down the hall, ignoring the bizarre creature that was hanging from the ceiling in the next room, and the female agent who smiled broadly, a smaller, childlike Neither with a nest of messy hair stood beside her.
As he shot through the door, Denham hauled him by the back of his T-shirt.
‘Don’t get distracted. Not by anything from your world or mine. The second you take your eye off it, the shadow moves. Got that?’
‘Sorry. I just, I’ve never seen something fight like that before.’ He responded, arching his head back to the corridor.
‘Forget him. He’s not worth your time.’
‘Who is he?’
‘His name is Argyle.’ Denham’s voice was laced with malice. ‘I don’t wish to discuss him. Believe me, you won’t want me to lose my temper.’
Franklyn agreed and kept quiet and Denham offered him another cold, metal chair before perching his considerable frame on the table before them. The metal creaked.
‘So why the fuck are you here, Jones?’ Denham stared at him. ‘It’s not for the food. I know that much.’
Franklyn chuckled. Despite possibly being the scariest creature he’d seen in his thirty-one years of life, he liked Denham.
‘I want to keep my daughter safe.’
‘Then buy her a pepper spray.’
‘I can’t. This ability you guys go on about, it’s wrecked my fucking life. My wife. My daughter. Gone. But if I can keep her safe without her knowing, then that’s enough for me.’
Denham pulled his lips together, nodding slightly.
‘Fair enough. Personally, I think whatever reason you have don’t mean anything.’ Denham smiled, clapping his hands together. ‘I’ve lived longer than you could ever know. I’ve seen both worlds burn. I know what lies on my side of the gateway, the darkness that consumes every creature. But I’ve seen this world do the exact same. Cities reduced to ash at the click of a button. People sentenced to death by the will of a jury. I’m here, because we can at least maintain a balance. Now over the next few weeks, I’m going to find out just how badly you want to save your daughter. And make you piss your pants some more. Questions?’
Franklyn sat still for a few moments, allowing the prep talk to sink in before leaning forward, pointing at Denham’s patch.
‘You sure you saw all that? Or just some of it?’
Silence.
Denham glared at Franklyn, his lone eye burning a hole right through the human before him. Franklyn squirmed with regret, wishing he could recall the comment like an errant email and next time peg a terrifying, battle hardened Neither as a sensitive soul.
Eventually, a massive smile spread took control of Denham’s face and spread like an unstoppable disease across his jawline.
‘I think we’re going to get on just fine.’
The small office suddenly came alive with noise, as a rasping bellowed through the tiny, intercom speaker that hung from the corner like a spider’s web.
The unmistakable voice of Vincent crackled through.
‘Denham. Please report to The Archive urgently.’
The muscle-bound soldier sighed, holding up a finger to Franklyn urging him to wait. He hoisted his giant frame off the table and headed to the door, the metal rocking on its frame as he slammed it behind him.
The door slowly creaked open.
Franklyn looked around the dingy briefing room, there was nothing anywhere.
Just another table and chair.
Suddenly, he felt transported back to his first meeting with Ottoway, the eccentric old man who had signed his dark past away like a blank cheque.
Who had given him a purpose.
Refusing to sit still, Franklyn followed Denham out of the door, watching as his huge trainer scrambled down the corridor like an underground tube shooting out of London Bridge Station.
Keeping his footsteps quiet, Franklyn followed, eager to learn more about the Archive, the forbidden room that Vincent resided in. A few people walked past with a sceptical eye, Franklyn raising a finger to his lips and urging silence.
The massive, iron doors to the Archive roared open, the thick metal yawning loudly. Denham disappeared through, swallowed by the secrets beyond. Just as the impenetrable entrance was about to slam shut, Franklyn slipped into the heartbeat of the BTCO.
As the doors slammed shut behind him, he realised what a mistake he’d made.
CHAPTER SIX
A catacomb of bookshelves lined the entire room, turning sharply into each other, creating a maze
of knowledge and wonder. Each shelf was packed to capacity with large, leather-bound books, all of them filled from corner to corner with the scrawlings of another world.
Another place in time.
Meandering through the lines of fine, polished desks, each one fitted with a viewing lamp and an ink pot, Franklyn reached towards the shelf, praying a mechanical arm didn’t shoot out and cause him to piss himself. With considerable effort, he carried the heavy book to the nearest desk, laying it out, and blowing the cover. A cloud of dust rose like a sand storm, dancing through the dim lights that bore down from the curved, white ceiling.
The leather cover of the book bore a symbol that Franklyn had never seen and with both hands, he hauled the cover over, revealing the first page of the book. The paper was thick and rugged, with the entire sheet covered in a criss-crossed pattern that blew his mind.
Every page.
A language from a world beyond.
After flicking through for a few more moments, a voice echoed faintly in the distance, beyond the far wall of book shelves that lined the horizon. Franklyn stepped back between the desks and headed towards it, stepping as lightly as possible as he approached. In the far corner, a strange looking creature without a face sat deeply invested in the book, Franklyn was doing his best to locate its eyes.
‘Slow down, Frenchie. Remember your place.’
The unmistakable voice of Denham leapt over the bookcases like a launched fishing rod and reeled Franklyn in. As he crept towards an opening in the book cases, his eyes widened with a mixture of horror and astonishment.
Laying in four separate pods were four bodies, each one of them nude and featureless, their skin a pale blue, the colour of peppermint. Their skin shimmered like freshly polished marble, the lights of their pods bouncing off them. Connected to their limbs was a plethora of wires, wrapping around them like vines. Each wire wriggled its way upwards to an expanse of computer systems and monitors, with lights flickering, and a backing track of high-pitched beeping.
Franklyn stared at the closest creature, taken aback by the sheer bizarreness of what he was seeing. It was only after a few moments that he realised his mouth was open in awe.
Bermuda Jones Casefiles Box Set Page 4