by Frank Almond
“On your marks,” I said, getting up into a sprint start position and turning round to make sure Emma had heard me. “Set?”
“Just go!” snapped Emma.
We set off at pace and both skidded and fell over when we tried to take the first corner too fast. We ended up rolling in a heap up against the side door of the infirmary. Incredibly, when we both sat up we were both laughing. I stopped laughing and leaned over and kissed her on the lips. She kissed me back. And then we had a proper one. You know, an adult one—tongues, loving moans, ruffling of hair—oh, I could dwell, I could dwell…
“Wait here,” I said, looking lovingly into her eyes.
She thumped me in the arm. “Will you stop telling me to ‘wait here’ all the time—I’m coming with you,” she said.
“Please, Em,” I said. “I’m just going to check Jemmons, he might be in a bit of a mess—then I’m going to get the boards—if there’s anything left of them—and then we’re getting out of here. I think I know how to find the Princess’ time machine.”
She heaved a big sigh. “Don’t be long.”
“I won’t.”
I glanced across at the giant squid, which was still noisily tearing the communications block to pieces. Only now all the shooting had stopped and it was—I fancied—going about its work in a more leisurely manner, sort of enjoying itself, rather like a dog gnawing contentedly at a nice big juicy bone.
“Keep an eye on that thing,” I nodded.
I snuck round the corner and to my surprise found Jemmons sitting up with his back resting against a pillar, watching our friend vandalising the Castle.
“Rog!” I called.
“Stevie!” he grinned.
I crouched down next to him. “You all right?”
“I’ve felt better,” he said, reaching under and rubbing his backside. “Mind you, that warms the cockles of my heart.” He nodded over at the giant squid.
“Can you walk?”
“I reckon so.”
I helped him up. He rubbed his ribs and leaned against the pillar again.
Just then we heard a noise from inside the infirmary—like someone stepping on broken glass.
“What was that?” I said.
Jemmons raised a finger to his lips and craned his neck round the pillar.
“Steve?” called Emma.
“Emma?” I stepped out into the open.
Emma appeared in the smashed doorway.
“How did you get in there?”
“The side door was open.” She picked her way through the debris and came to join us.
“Anyone else in there?” I said suspiciously.
She shook her head. “No. They’ve all gone.” She smiled at Jemmons. “You must be Roger.”
“And you must be the Emma he’s always talking about—now I can see why,” beamed Jemmons.
“Wait a minute,” I said, looking past her into the wrecked hospital ward. “Where’s the Princess?”
Emma looked back. “She’s not in there. They must have taken her with them.”
“I think it’s time we got the hell out of here,” I said. “Help me with these boards.”
We all picked up an armful of boards and headed round to the west wall.
“I’ve got bad news about the Duck, Rog.”
I told Jemmons what had happened on the way. I could see the news deeply saddened him. The snow was scarce now, flying about like bits and bobs of lace against the black sky. Jemmons and I looked over the wall. Emma refused to look and hung back.
“That’s the turret where the Duck fell.” I pointed.
“I can’t see him,” said Jemmons, screwing up his eyes and straining his neck to look along the foot of the wall.
“The snow must have buried him,” I said.
“We’d better get down there,” said Jemmons.
“Let go of me! Get off!” shrieked Emma.
We spun round—a begoggled guard had grabbed Emma from behind and was holding the tip of his shock stick to her temple. Jemmons lurched forward—I grabbed his sleeve and pulled him back.
“One more step and I’ll fry her brain!” snapped the guard.
“What’s the problem, mate?” I smiled.
“You will all come with me.”
“Where?” I said.
He hesitated. He didn’t seem to know. Maybe all the carnage had confused him, I thought—he’s indecisive. I seized the moment.
“What’s the point?” I said. “This place is history—that thing is going to total it before it’s through.”
He glanced across at the colossal squid, which was still contentedly gnawing away at the communications block. I noticed that two of its tentacles were reaching inside and groping about, like a kid playing with a doll’s house.
“The fleet is coming—it will be destroyed,” he said.
“You think?” I said. “Maybe you should think about getting out of here yourself.”
“I-I must remain at my station.”
“Listen,” I said. “Why don’t you forget all that rules and regulations mumbo jumbo and go and see if you can find your mates—they might be hurt and need your help. Let us go.”
“No! Forbidden! Mutants! Seed of Satan—must eradicate the sperm of the devil—” he ranted.
“—John?” I said. “Is that you?”
His head tilted. I could see my own reflection in the black perspex of his goggles.
“Is that you, man?” I said, making myself look all smiley and pleased to see him.
“You know this droid?” said Jemmons.
“We go way back, don’t we, John?” I opened my arms to step forward and embrace him.
“Stay back!” he cried. He depressed the button on his shock stick, it crackled and emitted tiny blue lightning bolts from the tip.
“Steve!” exclaimed Emma, in alarm.
“Hey, love and peace, man,” I grinned. “The meaning of life is to live a meaningful life—remember, Johnny?”
“Don’t move—I’ll burn her!”
“Come on, man—that’s Emma—you remember Emma, don’t you, Johnny?”
I was convinced my amateur psychology was working and I could win him over with charm, just like I did before. But he wasn’t having any of it. He suddenly took a swipe at me with his stick. Jemmons had seen enough—he lunged and grabbed my former devotee’s wrist and slung him around. I abandoned the counselling and joined in. I got hold of his other arm—still locked around Emma’s neck—before he squeezed the life out of her. His goggles got knocked off in the struggle and we faced each other momentarily, eyeball-to-eyeball.
“Don’t do this, man,” I said.
He tried to fling me off. Jemmons and I both held onto him. But he was way too strong. Jemmons, however, had been a former arm-wrestling champion on board His Majesty’s Ships and was more of a match for him. He managed to twist the shock stick from his grip and make him drop it. And then I was on my own for a few terrifying seconds, clinging to the droid’s back, while Jemmons bent down to pick up the stick. He was turning Emma and me around and around and we were in danger of spinning off the wall and down into the courtyard with him. And then I heard a loud whack followed by electrical crackles and spits. Smoke started to billow from the guard’s sparking head.
It was whirling round and round, out of control, but it still wouldn’t release Emma. I did the only thing I could think of to make it stop—I rugby tackled it. The android and Emma and I crunched to the ground. Jemmons fell on it and wrenched its arm from Emma’s throat and I pulled her clear. We all stepped back. The android climbed to its feet and continued to turn round and round in circles. And then its head exploded and the headless body staggered off along the walkway towards the CASTLE AMUSEMENTS CO building, bumping into things and tripping over, but never quite managing to fall off the wall.
“You blew his mind,” I said.
Suddenly, there was a loud WHEEEE noise and we all looked up to see that a bright red firework had exploded high
up in the night sky above the Castle.
“Fireworks?” I said.
“That’s a naval maroon,” said Jemmons. “The squadron must be on its way. Come on—we’d better get out of here before they start shelling.”
“Shelling?” I exclaimed. “The Castle?”
“Aye,” said Jemmons. “With incendiaries—to do for that thing.”
“But what about all the prisoners—the guards?”
“There’re bunkers in the basement. They’ll close the fire doors.”
“Well, what are we waiting for?” said Emma, hands on hips.
We all hurried along the battlement walkway to the corner turret.
“Right,” said Jemmons. “I’ve got an idea—Emma first.”
“No!” cried Emma. “I’m not going first.”
We heard the characteristic Doppler effect of a whistling incoming missile. Followed by a massive explosion—but it was outside the wall on the eastern side. A ball of fiery smoke rolled up. A foul smell wafted over.
“What is that smell?” I complained.
“Sulphur dioxide,” said Jemmons. “They use brimstone in the incendiaries.”
“How Old Testament. It smells like rotten eggs.”
“That was a range finder,” said Jemmons. “Come on—there’s not much time. Emma, hold onto Stephen’s ankles and I’ll lower you both over the wall. You shouldn’t have far to drop.”
“No way,” said Emma.
There were two more incoming whistles and the whole battlement rocked, huge explosions of flame burst over the courtyard. The giant squid reared two rows of tentacles and let out a defiant squawk. More fire bombs rained in wobbling our turret, making it feel flimsy, one of them scored a direct hit on the infirmary, which was immediately enveloped in flames. The heat on the battlement was now so intense it felt like someone had opened a kiln door.
“How do we do this?” shouted Emma, above the racket of whistling bombs, crackling flames and the shrieking squid.
“Stephen, you get up on the wall and take my hands,” said Jemmons. I duly climbed up and took his hands. “Now, you, Emma, climb onto Stephen’s back and slowly slide down until you feel your feet kick the side of the wall. Then you feel about and find his ankles and hold on as tightly as you can. Got that?”
“I think so,” said Emma.
Emma got up on the wall and gingerly lowered herself onto my back.
“I had no idea this was going to be so nice,” I said.
“Don’t make me laugh,” said Emma.
“Sorry.”
“Right, now push yourself down him, Emma,” said Jemmons. “That’s it.”
She stalled. “I can’t—I can’t!” she cried.
“Keep going, Em,” I said. “This place is going to be barbecued any minute.”
The well of the courtyard was a raging wall of flame, virtually obscuring the communications block from view—the giant squid appeared to be gone.
I felt her start to move again, very slowly.
“Oh, my God!” I cried.
“What?” said Emma. “I didn’t do anything!”
“Look!”
They followed my stunned gaze—the Princess was running towards us along the burning battlement, leaping through flames.
“Stephen!” she waved.
She bounded up onto the turret.
“But you were dead,” I said.
She swivelled her hip round and showed us a rip in the back of her biggles. “Look,” she said. “The knife went in here, but it missed every vital organ and now the wound has sort of sealed up—it did not even bleed very much.”
We all stared at the tear she was holding open for us. There was a small red gash where the blade had gone in, but nothing else. Her biggles, however, was split and torn all over and she was showing plenty of flesh. But she was so glamorous that she reminded me of an exotic dancer rather than a woman who had just been in a war zone.
“That is remarkable,” I said.
Suddenly, the CASTLE AMUSEMENTS CO building exploded and burst into a ball of flame—we all flinched. Shards of burning plastic cascaded into the air and drifted down over the hillside like tickertape.
“Where is Doctor Zirconion?” she said.
“He’s already down there,” said Jemmons. “Give me a hand here, Your Highness.”
Emma was holding me tightly around the waist and resting her cheek against my back. She felt snug and warm on me. I think that was as far down my body as she was prepared to go. Jemmons settled for that and he and the Princess began lowering us down the outside of the wall. Emma let out a few quiet squeals of unease, but held on bravely. I kept my eyes on Jemmons’s face, watching the signs of extreme exertion increase as he bore the weight of us both. I couldn’t see the Princess and assumed she must be anchoring him. And then, to my alarm, Jemmons himself started to come over the battlement—headfirst—and even he looked surprised. He was now holding my hands like a trapeze artiste—while the Princess stood up on the tower and held him by the ankles!
“Let go, Em!” I gasped. “You’re not far.”
She unclamped her hands and I felt her weight leave me immediately. I heard Jemmons let out a sigh of relief—and then the thud of Emma in the snow.
“Okay, Em?” I called, unable to see her, with my face turned to the wall. She was directly behind me somewhere.
“Okay!” she called up.
“Look out,” I said. I let go and dropped onto the bank of powdery snow, landed both feet, fell backwards and pitched into a drift. Emma’s hands were quickly on me, helping me up. Then we both stood aside and watched Jemmons push himself off the wall with his hands and fly out. He must have dived about ten or twelve feet, but rolled harmlessly down the slope, buffered by the deep snow. Not bad for an old guy. Emma and I waded through the drifts and pulled him to his feet. Then we all looked up at the tower. The Princess was gone! We looked to one another in puzzlement. Her head suddenly appeared again. She held up two snowboards.
“Coming down!” she yelled.
We cleared the area fast. The two boards sailed out and plummeted into the snow. Two more quickly followed. And then the last. We continued to look up. She just stepped off the parapet of the turret and tombstoned down the whole fifty or so feet, without any hesitation. None of us could believe it when she sank into a drift, got up, brushed the snow off herself, and calmly waded towards us.
“So,” she said. “Where is the Doctor? He has something of mine, I think.”
“You mean the key?” I said.
I felt Emma poke me in the back.
She smoothed my shoulder with her hand. A smile broke across her lips. “Exactly, my darling.”
“He’s over here,” said Jemmons, standing over a mound.
We all trudged over to where Jemmons was now digging in the snow. I picked up a board and began digging.
“Careful,” said Jemmons. “There’s his head.”
He fell on his knees and reached down into the pit and brushed the compacted snow from the pale tenant’s face.
“He’s still got his glasses on,” I said.
The Princess wriggled in and nudged Jemmons aside with her hip and placed her ear on the Duck’s chest. “Stand back,” she commanded.
I felt Emma’s hand fill mine as we stood and watched the Princess administering CPR. Jemmons watched her, too, for a moment or two and then continued to excavate the rest of the Duck’s body. Emma and I fell to our knees and helped him. As I dug, my fingers struck something smooth and hard. I knew instantly what it was—I glanced across at the Princess to make sure she wasn’t looking and then at Emma, who was busy clearing snow. I slipped it into my pocket and carried on digging. The Princess worked feverishly on her patient, only pausing from her alternate heart massage and mouth-to-mouth to put her ear again to the Duck’s chest to listen.
“He’s still breathing!” she said. “We need something to warm him up.”
“The guard’s coat!” I said. “He must be ar
ound here somewhere. Come on, Em—let’s find him.”
Emma and I set off to find the guard, who had fallen nearby. We both spotted a foot sticking up out of the snow and went about our macabre business—like Burke and Hare. I felt particularly squeamish about this spot of grave robbing, because I held myself directly responsible for his death. We sank our hands into the snow and dug down to his lifeless body.
“I can’t look,” I said. “Is he dead?”
“Well, his cameras are off,” said Emma.
“Cameras? What cameras? My God—he’s an android!”
“Come on—help me get his coat off,” said Emma, undoing the first toggle.
“I’m really glad he’s not human,” I said. “That would make it murder. I wonder what you call it when you kill an android.”
“Self-defence,” said Emma.
We got one sleeve off and turned him over.
“Technically speaking, there was intent,” I said. “I mean, in a court of law, I wouldn’t have a leg to stand on.”
“Neither would he, look—it’s come off,” said Emma.
“Oh don’t—don’t pull it, Em—for God’s sake show some respect.”
“Look, it’s got all wires and bits inside,” she said.
“Stop poking about in there!”
“I’m only looking. Ugh! What’s that?”
I peered in. “It looks like a fried egg.”
“Do androids eat fried eggs?”
I resisted the temptation to say “and chips,” for a few seconds. “And chips,” I said.
“What? I don’t get it.”
“You know: chips.”
“No, it’s no good,” said Emma. “I can’t ketchup.”
I scooped a handful of snow in her face. “Oh, shut up!”
She grabbed up two handfuls and slapped them into my ears. And we fell about laughing and pulling each other around. It was just like the old days. When we used to have pillow-fights on Sunday morn—