The Gated Trilogy

by Matt Drabble

  He turned to face the rising flames and outstretched his arms. The fire reached higher and higher as he gave it strength, channelling his fury. If he couldn’t build a new world then he would burn this one to the ground.

  “DON’T DO IT!” someone yelled out from the audience and he scanned the crowd looking for the owner of the voice.

  He was somehow unsurprised to see the man that he’d locked eyes with earlier stand and start to walk forward. He still didn’t recognise the man’s face but he knew him all the same.

  The man from the audience strode forward and Tolanson started to walk towards him. He reached the edge of the stage as the man moved purposefully down the aisle through the sloped seating area.

  Their eyes were locked again and Tolanson was vaguely aware of the rushing commotion going on around him but now he was locked into the death stare between him and the stranger.

  He knelt down at the edge of the stage as the man reached him and he looked down.

  “I know you, don’t I?” he asked, unsure. “You’re Lomax, aren’t you? But… you’re also not.”

  He’d never met the reporter in person and had only spoken to him while possessing some old woman years ago. Now, standing face to face with him, he realised that the reporter was someone else entirely.

  “Who are you? I have to ask,” he said, almost relishing the idea of the unknown after all this time.

  Lomax looked up at him with a knowing look in his eyes that Tolanson almost found unnerving. “My name is Torrance. Denton Torrance,” he said in a strong voice. “Son of Michael and Emily. I believe that you knew my parents.”

  ----------

  Avery had watched the whole thing unfold before her eyes, unsure as to what to make of any of it. Tolanson had seemed like a spent force and he was surely now too weak to complete his plan, but within the confines of the television studio he was still far stronger than she’d have liked.

  With a flip of his hand he had silenced Knowles, who was now being ushered backstage and to relative safety.

  The audience were starting to go nuts as though they were all coming down from some kind of bad acid trip. And for some reason, the prime minister’s security team were blocking the exits and stopping anyone from leaving.

  There was a desperate fight to try and escape and much blood was being spilled in the war for freedom.

  The flames on the stage from the electrical fire started by all of the exploding equipment were gaining traction and the entire auditorium was now in danger, along with everyone in it.

  She looked over in horror at a huge man who struck an old woman down with a telescopic baton he took from inside his jacket and who then proceeded to beat people back away from the doors.

  In the middle of the growing conflict and fear she had watched Lomax stroll slowly to the front of the auditorium and confront Tolanson. Somehow he had gotten a gun and he was now pointing it at the politician with a remarkably steady hand given the circumstances.

  She’d moved out onto the stage and crept forward just far enough to hear them. She heard Lomax call himself Torrance and the name struck a chord somewhere in her memory. Hadn’t Lomax talked about the Torrances in Eden Gardens? He was… Emily, that was right, Emily and Michael Torrance’s son. The family that had moved to the States years ago and, according to him, had stopped Tolanson once before. He had never mentioned that he was the Torrance’s son.

  Tolanson appeared to be floored by the revelation and stood looking at the child grown before him.

  If Lomax, sorry Torrance, had expected Tolanson to be afraid then he had severely misjudged the man.

  Tolanson was clapping his hands and laughing wildly as though this was all great fun.

  He was far from whole as she watched other selves squirming under his skin, fighting for control. His bones and flesh contorted into different faces but still he laughed on maniacally.

  There was a workman’s tool belt hanging on a hook by the edge of the stage curtain and she took a screwdriver from it. The small weapon should have given her little in the way of confidence but yet somehow it felt like Excalibur’s sword in her hand.

  Tolanson and Michael were squaring off and Tolanson had his back to her. She was preparing to creep out towards him when a powerful hand grabbed her from behind and yanked her off her feet.

  ----------

  Denton Torrance stared at the monster in front of him and felt nothing but anger towards it. His parents had raised him on the story of Eden Gardens from such a young age that he’d never doubted their version of what had happened. The tale had been engrained in his mind like a fairytale, but one that was real.

  “So tell me, young Mr Torrance, how are the folks?” Tolanson grinned wildly as the flesh bubbled on his face as though he was literally falling apart.

  “My parents are dead,” he answered stonily.

  “Oh dear, what a shame.” Tolanson grinned. “I do hope that they didn’t go easy?”

  “You’re done, Tolan; don’t you know that?” he replied. “Can’t you feel it?”

  “How did they die?” Tolanson asked curiously.

  “What does it matter?” He answered the question with another.

  “Humour an old man in his last throes.”

  “Car accident; it was a few years ago now.”

  “Just an accident?” Tolanson grinned mischievously.

  “What are you suggesting?”

  “Oh nothing; it’s just that are there really any accidents in the world? Isn’t everything preordained to some degree or another; isn’t there always a hand up the skirt of fate?”

  “I know it wasn’t you.”

  “You sound very sure about that.”

  Torrance shook his head firmly. “I’d have known if you were behind it.”

  “Oh you do sound very sure of yourself, child.” Tolanson smiled wider. “Oh, what the heck… what does it matter anyway? Your parents were such lovely people as I remember; after all, I chose them for my little community.”

  “And remind me how that worked out for you again?”

  Torrance thought for a moment that he’d pushed the monster too far as Tolanson’s eyes seemed to glaze over, but they soon cleared.

  “Fair point, young man,” he said graciously and Denton breathed a little easier, but only a little. “After all, your parents are now rotting in the ground. For all of their wonderful bravery, they were still mortal and that comes with a fragility all too soon broken. Dead is dead, after all,” Tolanson sneered.

  “Not for you, or at least it didn’t used to be,” he jabbed back.

  “You ever wonder about the big man upstairs?” Tolanson continued, ignoring the barb.

  Denton was now acutely aware of the fire that was raging around them. The studio was still full of people although some were now able to squirm their way past the security men as Tolanson’s attention wandered; there were still too many innocent lives at risk, though.

  He would have happily sacrificed himself to save the rest. It was his destiny, after all. He was still pointing the gun at Tolanson but it almost felt redundant at this point.

  “You know he breathes life into this… clay,” Tolanson continued, pawing at his own chest. “And yet he makes it damage so easily; such a complex machine with the most sophisticated internal workings and he shoves it in a breakable shell. Do you ever think that he’s just laughing at us up there? Or perhaps we are all at the whim of a child playing with his toys.”

  He was a little surprised by Tolanson’s attitude now. He had expected a fight, he had expected death and pain, but what he hadn’t expected was this self-absorbed inner reflection. But all the while that Tolanson was talking, he could see out of the corner of his eye that the security men were starting to falter as Tolanson’s control slipped ever further. A constant reminder of what he was capable of, even indirectly.

  “You want to talk about life’s philosophy with me?” He laughed. “Aren’t you the man that lived for centuries? What the hell woul
d I know that you haven’t already had time to figure out?”

  He was watching the man carefully the whole time, expecting some kind of trick, some kind of fake out. But Tolanson seemed already broken. There was no monster here anymore, or at least none that he could see.

  Tolanson wavered and made as if he was going to keel over, and out of some crazy natural instinct, Denton stepped forward to catch him.

  “Unhand me, whelp!” Tolanson snarled, and he stepped back, hearing a trace of the monster of old.

  “YOU THINK THAT I NEED YOUR HELP!” Tolanson screamed and with horror he now saw that somehow Tolanson had plucked the gun from his hand and was now waving it around wildly.

  “You think that this is power? Such faith placed in pathetic trinkets,” he said as he turned the gun over in his hands. “Let me tell you, boy, I held power in my grasp, the likes of which you and your bastard parents could never hope to understand. I held the secrets of creation, of death and resurrection, while the likes of you were sucking on your mother’s teat!”

  Tolanson’s voice was rising again now and gaining in strength. The fire surged behind them and suddenly a large crack started to appear in the wooden stage beneath their feet. The whole set started to tremble and shake and several overhead lights came crashing down around them.

  ----------

  Avery went spinning backwards as she was heaved aside with ease. She flew across a catering table and landed painfully on the other side, her suit smeared with food.

  She rolled until her back hit the wall behind and sat there with her head ringing, her feeble weapon now spinning away from her on the linoleum floor.

  A huge shadow loomed over her and she looked up into McDere’s face. The big man wasn’t wearing well and his large frame was now hunched over as he shambled forward.

  She climbed back painfully to her feet as McDere moved in closer. She could tell now that he was clearly having trouble seeing her as his eyes blinked furiously. His face was soft and doughy and the flesh was falling off the bone.

  His hand suddenly flashed out and grabbed her around the throat, his speed belying his advanced physical decay. Whatever juice Tolanson had used to power him was almost spent.

  He lifted her off the ground, choking the life from her. She could feel her neck being crushed under the pressure and kicked out at him but to no avail. She dug her manicured nails into his hands and her fingers tore bloodless tracks in his rotten flesh, but still he squeezed ever tighter.

  She released his hands and instead attacked his face, driving her thumbs into his eyeballs like she was taking hold of a bowling ball. All the while her stomach was turning somersaults as his foul stench assaulted her senses.

  Blissfully his grip loosened and she slipped from his grasp, coughing and spluttering as she started to breathe again.

  McDere staggered backwards blinded. His long arms lashed out wildly and a ham-sized fist smashed through the solid brick wall just where her head had been only seconds before.

  His silence was almost as unnerving as his decaying body and she could guess at what else was no longer working.

  She spotted the screwdriver lying on the floor near one of his shoes as he stamped around. Although the weapon seemed innocuous enough, her fingertips still tingled from holding it.

  He swung a huge meaty paw through the air and she ducked underneath, avoiding the deadly blow. Even though he was falling apart before her eyes, he was still strong - her damaged throat could testify to that.

  Hoping that his hearing still worked to some degree, she kicked off a shoe and sent it flying over his shoulder. Fortunately, he turned to the sound and she slid on her knees, snatching up the screwdriver in one fluid motion. Almost as soon as the weapon was back in her hand, she leapt to her feet feeling a rush of adrenaline surge through her body.

  McDere was in front of her now with his back towards her. She jumped up onto his back and stabbed the screwdriver down hard into his neck.

  He bucked wildly and tried to throw her off with one hand as he reached behind but she held on tightly, knowing that if he grabbed her again he would crush the life from her body with ease.

  Stuffing her disgust way down deep in the back of her throat, she pulled the screwdriver free and it came out with a spurt of black blood. She stabbed his neck again and again until her forearms were soaked in the foul liquid.

  McDere staggered with her on his back. He ran backwards and slammed her against the wall but still she hung on. He pulled forward and drove her again and again into the brick wall until she was seeing stars, but still she held on and kept stabbing.

  Slowly, ever so slowly, he weakened and started to stagger around drunkenly with her still clinging to his back.

  He sank down to his knees as the black blood continued to spurt into her face now as she screamed in primordial rage like a Neanderthal bringing down a great mammoth.

  Her mind was full of her dead friend and all of the others who had paid the price for her hubris. She had been largely responsible for bringing Tolanson and his ape here; if not for her then Debbie would still be alive with so many others.

  McDere pitched forward onto his face and only then did she slip from his back. Her entire body was trembling with anger, fear and grief, but she also knew that the night wasn’t over yet.

  ----------

  “TOLANSON!” Denton yelled as the entire stage trembled beneath his feet as Tolanson started to lose control.

  “Insects,” Tolanson said under his breath. “This whole planet is infected with the likes of you. Maybe I should burn the whole place down and start again.”

  Denton took several steps backwards as Tolanson’s face started to crack. There were lines of bright white light shining through the skin on his arms now as the flesh split open.

  Tolanson still held the gun in his hand, and although he was still exhibiting extreme power, it was now held inside a collapsing shell. Denton knew that this was the onrushing end of the creature. The only question would be how much damage he could do at the finish.

  Ignoring every instinct in his body, he stepped closer to the man and grabbed hold of his flailing arms.

  “You have to hold on,” he pleaded, perhaps uselessly, but something told him that now Tolanson was coming apart at the seams there was the chance to speak to the original man as the layers blew apart.

  “This isn’t what you want,” he pressed. “You have more control than this… you are stronger than this!”

  He had to shout now as the entire building felt like it was being torn apart by invisible hands. The floor groaned loudly as the earth shifted under the foundations. The metallic walkways high above swayed worryingly as their moorings creaked under the pressure. The remains of the electrical equipment exploded and all the while the fire raged on, now threatening to engulf them all. The thick fumes were rising high and visibility was beginning to become lost in the smoky fog.

  “WHO ARE YOU?” Denton screamed at the top of his lungs. “REMEMBER WHO YOU ARE! REMEMBER WHAT YOU WERE!”

  Thankfully, people were now starting to manage to flood out of the exit doors as Tolanson lost all control over the security staff and they too fled in terror.

  Tolanson’s face was now in danger of exploding outwards as the uncontrolled power from within threatened to break loose.

  He had no desire to save this monster from his fate or his judgment, but he didn’t want Tolanson to take everyone else with him.

  Denton felt a momentary glimpse of intelligence behind the now blinding light shining out of Tolanson’s mouth, eyes and other extremities. The man’s strongest sentiment had always been his ego and now Denton had to reach that part of him.

  “DON’T LET THEM TAKE YOU!” he roared. “NOT LIKE THIS!”

  “Insects,” he heard Tolanson murmur quietly, and barely audible, under his breath.

  “That’s right, don’t let the insects win; you’re bigger than this, you’re stronger. You’re a god, remember?”

  Slowly, e
ver so slowly, the tremors started to subside slightly and the light dimmed inside Tolanson as he fought to shut the nuclear reactor down before it exploded, taking God only knew how many surrounding buildings with it.

  “That’s right, that’s right,” Denton said as Tolanson started to cool.

  The fire was still out of control and there were the faint sounds of approaching sirens in the distance, signalling that someone had finally alerted the authorities.

  He had no idea what to do with Tolanson now. All he could do was to try and stop him from causing yet more devastation on an unsuspecting world.

  “Good, good,” he soothed as he remained holding onto the man’s arms, and a little reason returned to Tolanson’s gaze.

  “I can’t hold it,” Tolanson breathed. “I can’t keep it inside for much longer; my defences are breached and now whatever’s left in me is going to blow.”

  “You can hold it, you have to.”

  Denton now felt like he was talking to a child. The monster was either gone or else fading fast. The thing in front of him now sounded beaten and tired and no longer a god-in-waiting.

  He knew from his parents’ research and his own that Tolan Christian had been a young preacher, barely more than a child, a deeply religious boy who had toured the backwoods of the US sowing his own brand of sermons and collecting followers before finally putting down roots. Eden had been a town built on the back of Tolan’s ability to inspire and lead. He had always found it hard to believe that any child could be born evil; something had to have happened to the boy to change him into a monster.

  “Tolan?” he ventured.

  “I just want to sleep,” the boy’s voice replied.

  “I know that you’re tired,” he commiserated, “but you have to hold on a little longer. Do you think that you can?”

  “Tired.”

  “I know you are, son, but people are going to get hurt if you don’t stay with me.”