by Terry Reid
Terry turned to Darius questioningly.
The boy was ashen. “What? No! She’s lying! She’s insane!”
“Why should we believe him?” Lyle asked, looking at Terry as he drew closer. “We do not know him and there’s always been something suspicious about this story since he arrived.”
Darius backed away a few steps; terrified.
“What about her?” asked Terry. “She’s clearly mad.”
Her uncle continued to stare at the ranging youth. “It’s your choice but I say for now we lock both of them up.”
“What?”
Terry thought about it for a long moment. “Agreed.”
Darius could do nothing but shout and scream in terror as Lyle closed on him...
******
Terry brushed her hair back absently with one hand as she sat lost in thought. She and Connor had sat in silence in the kitchen for the last fifteen minutes. Connor gazed at some spot on the table, somewhere just beyond where his drink sat. Without looking he would occasionally reach for the glass, taking a small sip before returning the glass to its former spot. “Darius.” He suddenly said.
“Pardon?” Terry said, snapping out of her reverie. She had been so withdrawn in her thoughts that she hardly heard him.
“I was just thinking about Darius. Do you believe him?”
Terry shook her head and shrugged, before having drinking some more water. She was as much on the fence as he was. “I don’t know.”
He smiled. “Yeah, I’m not sure either. Normally I would side with Faye but...” he left the thought unfinished.
“She’s different.”
“Yeah, there’s definitely something different about her. She isn’t how I remember her.”
Terry shrugged. “Maybe it’s just because we’ve not seen her in a long time. I mean, we were just kids back then. It’s like when you watch a film again that you’ve not seen in years and when you were younger you enjoyed, it’s exactly the same but your perception of it isn’t.”
He smiled again. “That’s very deep. Are you feeling alright?”
“What? I can’t say anything like that without being made fun of?”
He laughed, shaking his head. “No, I wasn’t making fun of you. It just seemed a heavy thing to say for a Sunday night.” He shook his head again. “But you don’t believe that do you?”
“No. You’re right, she’s not the same.”
Connor sighed, suddenly feeling very tired. “I’m worried that she may have stayed in her water form too long. You know as well as I do that that can do things to them.”
“Yeah, but she was talking strangely for a while before she left. Remember she kept saying all that stuff about defusing her body into the ocean completely?”
Connor nodded, his gaze lost in the distance. “I remember.” He looked back to Terry. “Do you think that is even possible?”
“I doubt it, when you consider how big the world is. How can someone possibly be so connected to the world that they can be everywhere at once? I mean, the idea itself is just ridiculous.”
Connor lifted his glass. “Yet you can alter the shape of your body at will. You can create cells and alter your height at a whim. Have you ever tried to find out how tall you can get or how many tentacles you can spawn?”
She shook her head. “No. Why would I?”
Connor sighed, shaking his head. “I know but you get my drift.”
Terry gave him a funny look. “I don’t think it’s fair to compare the two. I can only take the shapes my body dictates, nothing more.”
“Okay, well what if she had found a way to defuse? Hypothetically, I mean. But suppose she had, do you think that would scare her kind enough to try and kill her?”
“Okay maybe Darius is right then, maybe she has fallen off the wagon and he was sent to bring her back. He did say that she wanted to flood the world. You have got to admit, that is pretty crazy!” she pointed out before taking another drink of water.
“So you do you believe him then?” Connor asked, curious.
“No, but I don’t trust Faye either.”
Connor scratched his head. “I have an ominous feeling that she would kill him if she got the chance.”
“Yeah me too.” Terry said. She could not have agreed more.
Connor checked his watch. “I better get off anyway. The missus will be wondering where I’ve got too.” He said, pushing his chair back from the breakfast bar.
“I’ll phone you in the morning to let you know if we find out anything else.”
“Cheers. Goodnight.” He said, walking away with a smile on his face.
She lazily waved a hand in farewell. “Goodnight.”
After a few more minutes of contemplation she cleared the glasses away and retired for the night herself.
Chapter 7
Distractions
Terry woke not long after dawn as the sun caught her on the face. She sat up pushing back the quilts. Her room was still shrouded in darkness but the morning sun had managed to push its way through a slither between the curtains; allowing a marigold finger to touch her across the face and wake her. Wiping the sleep from her eyes, Terry clambered out of bed.
She was putting milk in her cereal when Lyle walked into the kitchen, his expression grim. “Morning.” She said, fetching a spoon out of the draw beside her. “Is everything alright?”
He shook his head. “No, not really.”
Terry dug the spoon into her breakfast. “What is it?”
Lyle sighed, looking away for a long moment. When he looked back, she could see it was serious. “I have just had a long chat with Faye.”
Terry swallowed her mouthful of cereal. “And?”
“She has told me a lot of things that have happened since we were last home and the most grave among them being that apparently your father has declared war on the Southlands.”
The spoon clanged against the bowl as it fell free of Terry’s grasp. She blinked at him, wide eyed. “What?”
He held his hands out to her in supplication. “Terry! Terry! It might not be true!”
“What makes you so sure? What happened? What did she say?”
“Apparently there was a murder. That’s why your father has declared war, according to Faye anyway.”
“Who died?” Terry hastened, desperate to know.
“One of your second cousins apparently, Faye seemed to think it was Micca.”
Terry blinked at him in confusion. “Wait, Micca? Dad hated Micca. He kicked him out of the colony, why would he care about whether he died or not?”
Lyle shrugged. “I don’t know. As far as I’m aware he wouldn’t be. But that said your father would likely take such a move against one of his own family personally.”
“But war Lyle? Really? We’ve been at peace with the Southlands for centuries.”
“I don’t know, I really don’t.” He admitted, at a loss.
Terry folded her arms and leant back against the counter. “When did this happen apparently?”
“Three weeks ago.”
Terry shook her head. “It can’t be true.”
Lyle gazed at her in open question. “What makes you so sure?”
“If my cousin had been killed, someone would have came and told us ages ago.”
“Terry,” he said gently, “Your father does not possess any means of travelling to this world. He would not have been able to get a message to us.”
She shook her head, refusing to believe. “He would have found a way. There are still portal machines out there Lyle. What’s happened this week has proved that there are.”
He sighed. “I know that Terry but just because other people have them does not mean that your father has one.”
She shrugged defiantly. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t believe her. It doesn’t make any sense.”
Lyle nodded but she could tell that he was deeply unsure. “I don’t either but it is not a chance we can afford to take. It would be a huge coincidence that th
is has happened now when there have been attempts on your life.”
She stared at him incredulously. “What are you saying? You think someone in the Southlands has sent assassins to kill me because the King has declared war on their country?”
“I’m not saying anything Terry but we need to know.” He said, walking over to where she stood. He sighed. “But if it is a lie, why would Faye say it?”
“Why wouldn’t she? She tried to kill us, she tried to kill her ex-boyfriend and nothing she seems to have said or done since we bought her here has made any sense.” She twiddled a finger next to her head. “She’s lost it.”
Lyle raised a hand in supplication. “I know she seems a little preoccupied, but she has not done anything to prove me that she is untrustworthy. I think she was after Darius, not you.”
Terry shook her head. “I don’t think so. You saw the way she was looking at us yesterday when I was talking to her in the cell.”
“She told me ten minutes ago. She swears it.”
Terry stared at him. “And do you believe her? Would you let her out of that cell?”
Her uncle hesitated and Terry had her answer.
“See.” She walked passed him. “I need to talk to her.”
Lyle followed at a short distance behind. “As you wish.” He muttered.
******
Faye was sitting with her back toward the wall, meditating in her true form. The water she had used to cause a storm within the four walls the night before had all but vanished. What remained was an overturned, sodden pillow and mattress, strewn across the metal floor.
“Faye!” Terry shouted, banging her fist against the glass.
The water elemental winced at the sudden noise. Opening her eyes, she glowered at Terry, angry at the interruption. “Alchemist...” she muttered flatly. She saw Lyle too, though he hung back at a distance.
“We need to talk.”
“Soon,” she replied, closing her eyes once more. She turned her head back round so it was facing forward. “I am still meditating.”
This time Terry dragged metal clad fingers across the glass; causing it to screech.
Faye snapped out of her meditation and covered her ears until Terry stopped. She glared at the youngster.
“Not later.” Terry said, lowering her arm. “Now.”
Faye inclined her head but did not make a move to speak to the Alchemist person-to-person. “Has what I told your uncle upset you?” she asked.
“No, because I don’t believe you and I want to know why you have been lying about everything since you arrived.”
She smirked. “Have you asked Darius about what I said?”
“No.”
“Why not? I thought it would be the first thing he would have told you when he came here, considering who you are Terrifallo.”
Terry stood her ground. “I’ll be talking to him soon enough.”
That self-assured smirk, the one Terry had seen moments earlier and the night before played across Faye’s lips again. “And no doubt he will tell you something completely different. Tell me, would you really believe what he has to say?”
“Probably not but then again I have no reason to trust either of you right now.”
Defiant eyes lifted up to her. “Well that is your problem, not mine.”
Terry held her gaze. “What happened to you?”
Faye stood and strode elegantly toward the glass that separated prisoner and captor. “The world has changed and so have I.” She looked Terry up and down, an unsettling look. “As have you.”
“I’ve grown up over the last ten years while you’ve lost your mind.”
“No. I have also grown up.” She spat defiantly. Turning away, she began to pace the length of the glass. “For years I was sympathetic to mankind but all they keep doing is destroying the planet. They are poisoning the world’s oceans despite their constant promises to change their ways. They must be stopped!”
“And you really think you can kill them all by yourself?”
Faye turned to face the Alchemist, her eyes burning brightly. “That day I left. The day I diffused into the sea. I became one with it and I learned how to control it.”
Terry slowly shook her head. “I don’t believe you.”
“Believe what you want, I have the power.” She boasted, raising her chin in an air of authority.
Terry squinted at her dubiously. “So you’re on a crusade to destroy the world?”
“No, my dear, I’m here to save the world from them.”
Terry shook her head. “I can’t let you do that.”
“You can’t stop me.”
“You’re stuck inside a cell half a mile underground and no one knows that you are here. As far as I’m concerned you’re in no position to be making threats.”
Faye simply smirked at her before turning away.
“Why did you tell Lyle that my father had declared war on the south?” Terry called after her.
“Because it’s true.” She replied, not looking back at her once as she made her way to the rear of the cell.
Terry shook her head again. “You know what I think. I think you came here to tell us all this nonsense so that we would go home, where we would find out that it was a lie.”
“And why would I do that?” she called back.
“So that there would be no-one here to stop you doing what you really came here to do.”
“Believe what you will Alchemist but everything I have told you is true.” That said Faye sat down and resumed her meditation.
Terry turned away from the glass. She exchanged glanced with her uncle as they both departed but neither said a word.
******
Water dripped down every rock face and pooled in every crevice. Deep underground, the air was cold and damp, like any other mineshaft on the planet. But unlike any other on the world, this one harboured a very precious commodity.
The gears and pulleys on the elevator crunched to a halt as it reached the bottom of the shaft. Rufus was the first out, sliding back the metal grate and stepping to one side to let his guest take the lead.
“Thank you.” Mr Crombie said politely as he stepped passed. He gazed around the tunnel ahead of him. It ran off into the distance, was well lit, and otherwise unremarkable.
“This way please.” Rufus said, gesturing for his guest to follow. They were flanked by two of the miners.
After a short walk they arrived at a large, underground laboratory. The rock had been carved out to suit the needs of the operation that they were undertaking down here. Time consuming and costly, Mr Crombie idly thought. Not like it mattered to him though, if Mr Trotsky’s claims of this new, precious metal were accurate.
If it was rare as Rufus claimed it was and as flexible, it would be worth more than any even platinum.
“This is it.” Rufus said, walking over to a tank. In it sat an oblong, uneven, dull coppered block of metal. One of the laboratory staff handed it carefully through robotic arms inside the tank.
“Is it radioactive?” Mr Crombie asked, concerned by the sight of the thick, reinforced glass.
Rufus shook his head. “No, not at all but I would not recommend holding it.”
Mr Crombie shot him a deeply concerned look. “What do you mean?”
Rufus considered his next words carefully. “Mr Crombie, the reason why this metal is so flexible and could be used in other materials is because it is in a sense alive.”
Mr Crombie stared at him incredulously. “Do not treat me like a fool Mr Trotsky. Say what you mean.”
Rufus shook his head. “I do not treat you as a fool sir, what I am telling you, is true. But I wanted you to see it rather than explain it in my office.”
“Why?”
“Because otherwise you would never have believed me.” He gestured to the lab assistant who nodded. Controlling the robotic arms, she opened up a small hatch to another cubicle inside the tank. “Watch.” said Rufus, leaning closer. A white mouse scurried out of the box a
nd into the central tank.
Mr Crombie watched on with great interest. The mouse did a semi-circle around the tank and then stopped, sitting and twitching its little face indifferently. Mr Crombie sighed impatiently and was about to speak when the lump of metal went for the mouse. He jerked back in fright as the mouse struggled underneath the metal – which had now become a moving blob. It screeched as it was smothered. The mouse briefly vanished from sight, before the metal seemed to disappear inside it. Within moment the metal had vanished and the mouse sat up, twitching nervously.
Mr Crombie turned to Rufus, his mouth hanging open. “What the hell just happened?” he asked, forgetting his decorum.
“Watch, we’re not finished yet.”
Mr Crombie looked back at the tank. The mouse began to shake violently, its skin beginning to crawl. It shrieked then burst. From its blood-stained carcass emerged a tiny, dull grey creature with spindly legs. It looked roughly spider shaped, but metallic. It scuttled off into the centre of the tank, raising a quizzical antennae – then it attacked the glass.
Mr Crombie flinched as rows upon rows of serrated teeth smashed against the glass. The tiny creature recoiled, shrieking and charging again.
Rufus nodded to the assistant, who flipped a switch. A large flash of light and the creature was vaporised.
“What on Earth was that?” demanded his business partner, clearly frightened.
“A crude demonstration of what can happen if this metal is not handled properly. However, it acts completely differently when it is introduced to inanimate objects. In the case of other metals or fabrics, say wood, it strengthens then and remains entirely inanimate.”
“You’re positive about this?”
“Yes, we have been testing it on bullet proof vests for the last year. Some of my staff are over there handing them.” He pointed.
Mr Crombie looked. True to his word, the workers were handling the armour with bare hands. He could tell they were made of the same freakish element because it boasted the same shade of dark coppery brown.
“I think you are investing in the wrong area Mr Trotsky.” Mr Crombie said, turning back to the taller man.