by Steve Voake
‘Let me guess,’ said Sam. ‘They take them to the pupation tanks?’
‘Very good, Sam,’ said Skipper. ‘Are you sure you’re not in the mosquito-breeding business?’
They stopped next to a large pile of white, granular powder with the consistency of sand. The pile was twice as high as Sam and several metres wide. Two large spades were stuck into it.
Skipper slapped the side of a tank underneath a square plaque with the number 37 printed on it.
‘This is us. Tank thirty-seven.’
A guard with a shaven, egg-shaped head leant over the railings of the gantry above the tank and glared down at them.
‘Get to work down there!’ he shouted. ‘This ain’t a holiday camp!’
‘Here,’ said Skipper, handing Sam a spade. ‘Get shovelling, quick.’
She picked up the other one, dug into the pile and in one smooth movement threw a spadeful of the stuff into the tank. There was a ffflump as it hit the water and the next moment the surface erupted, bubbling and boiling as the larvae went into a feeding frenzy, their tails thrashing against the tank and sending waves splashing over the sides.
Sam, who had been standing right next to the tank, was drenched in warm water as it slopped onto his head. He shook himself and plunged his own spade into the pile of what he now realised was larvae food, throwing it quickly over the side into the churning waters.
The two of them carried on in silence for a few minutes. The combination of hard manual work, heat and humidity meant that Sam’s face was soon running with perspiration. He was breathing heavily too, and when he saw after a while that the guard had walked along the gantry in the opposite direction, he stopped, leant on his spade and wiped his brow with a damp sleeve.
‘How long do we have to do this for?’ he asked.
Skipper stopped work for a moment and looked at him. ‘All day and every day,’ she said. ‘These things eat like pigs, and when they’re finished they just move a new batch up. It’s never-ending.’
‘Couldn’t they get machines to do it?’ asked Sam. ‘I mean, it would be easy enough, wouldn’t it?’
‘Oh yeah, they could do it, no problem,’ said Skipper. ‘They’ve got the technology all right. But they don’t need to. This way, they not only get free labour but get to punish all those who don’t happen to think the same way as they do. Enemies of the state, that’s what we are. And they’re making us pay for it.’
Sam had never considered himself to be an enemy of the state, but he was intrigued nonetheless. ‘So who are all these people? What did they do?’
‘Most of them just got in the way,’ replied Skipper. ‘After the war, when Odoursin was defeated by the Vahlzian armies, he retreated back through Mazria and took his anger out on the towns and villages which were in his way. Some people escaped, lots more died, but those left were rounded up and put to work.’
‘So where are we now?’ asked Sam.
‘Just outside Vermia. Before the war Vermia was called Kilvus, the capital city of Mazria, but Odoursin captured and renamed it. He used the surviving inhabitants to modernise and rebuild it. Other prisoners from the surrounding villages were put to work in his factories. He wants to get rid of them all eventually. That’s why he keeps bringing more in.’
‘That’s terrible,’ said Sam. ‘How long ago did all this happen?’
‘Well, the war ended about ten years ago. So I suppose that’s how long some of them have been here.’ Skipper shook her head unhappily. ‘It’s a bad business.’
Sam looked around at all the workers toiling away across the factory floor.
‘Why are most of them men?’ he asked. ‘What about all the women and children from the villages?’
Skipper looked sad and paused as though she was remembering something. ‘Well, some of them were children when they first came here,’ she said. ‘Odoursin picked the strong ones to come and work in his factories along with the men. But as you saw at the prison, conditions are harsh, food is scarce and it gets bitterly cold in winter. Unfortunately, many didn’t even survive the first year.’
Sam could hardly believe his ears. This place was much, much worse than he had imagined. ‘What about the women?’
‘Some were left to fend for themselves after their villages had been destroyed. Many were killed. But generally Odoursin believes women are so useless they can’t possibly pose any threat to his plans.’
For a brief moment Sam noticed a hardness in Skipper’s eyes, a flicker of hatred that rose from somewhere deep inside of her. Then she smiled and it was gone.
‘You can probably guess how much I look forward to proving him wrong on that one.’
Sam stared at the small girl standing next to him, trying to figure her out.
‘How long have you been here?’ he asked.
‘Not long – only since I crashed and burned. It was pretty hairy stuff, I can tell you.’
Skipper stuck out the thumb and little finger on her hand like tiny wings and demonstrated a steep dive. She acted looking horrified, said a little ‘Oh no’ and added the noise of an explosion at the end for dramatic effect.
Sam looked at her with admiration. ‘So you really can fly those things?’
Skipper grinned. ‘Been flying them for about two years now. And,’ she added ruefully, ‘crashing them for about as long.’
Sam thought for a moment. ‘You said you came to try and find me. How did you know I was here?’
‘Intelligence,’ said Skipper. ‘They’ve been watching you for some time. But your change of appearance was never mentioned in the planning – I think it’s taken everyone by surprise, including Odoursin’s mob, luckily. It seems someone else is looking out for you too, Sam. Probably the Olumnus – they’re the only ones with the ability to change the way you look. Whoever it is, they saved you from Odoursin for a while.’
‘Skipper,’ said Sam, ‘why is it that whenever you try and explain something to me I end up even more confused?’
As he spoke, his head began to feel incredibly itchy. He put a hand up to scratch it and saw that Skipper was staring at him with a worried expression on her face.
‘Oh no,’ she said. ‘I think I spoke too soon. Whatever they did, it’s wearing off.’
Sam brought his hand down and saw that some hair had come away from his head. The itching suddenly became much stronger and as he scratched himself again, great clumps of black hair fell from his scalp onto the floor. Simultaneously his skin started to twitch and his face began to move and stretch involuntarily. Sam put his hands up to his face and felt the muscles doing a crazy dance.
‘What’s happening to me?’ he cried.
The twitching intensified until it felt like a thousand small animals running about under his skin. Sam fell against the side of the tank and curled up into a ball, his whole body trembling and jerking spasmodically until finally the convulsions subsided and he lay panting on the wet floor.
He felt a hand on his shoulder. Skipper knelt beside him and gently pulled him up into a sitting position.
‘What happened?’ he whispered.
‘Look,’ said Skipper. She turned him so that he was facing the metal wall of the tank.
Sam looked at his reflection. The brown eyes and black hair were gone. Instead, a familiar pair of surprised green eyes stared back at him from beneath a thatch of brown hair and he recognised the face as his own once more.
‘Welcome back, Sam,’ said Skipper. ‘Now we really are in trouble.’
She helped him to his feet. He felt dizzy. Taking a deep breath, he looked up and noticed a group of people moving quickly towards them along the gantry from the far end of the building. Hekken led the group and a little way behind him, shielded by four or five guards, was a tall man wearing a long green leather coat. Sam shuddered at the memory of his previous encounter with Odoursin.
He guessed why they were here. Either their DNA testing had surprised them by proving positive or they must have discovered that his story a
bout the boy on the marshes was false. Either way, now that his appearance had changed, there could be no question about his true identity.
Skipper saw the worried look on Sam’s face and turned to see the approaching group. Moving like quicksilver, she seized Sam by the front of his uniform and threw him hard into the pile of larvae feed.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ he protested.
‘Quickly, dig yourself in,’ she hissed. ‘If they see you now we’ve had it!’
She seized a spade and began shovelling the white feed over him. Sam dug feverishly with his hands in a desperate effort to bury himself in the stuff, hands scrabbling frantically like a dog in the sand. The larvae feed had a fishy, eggy smell and it clogged his mouth and nostrils as he tunnelled down into it.
His whole body was covered now. The weight of the feed pressed down on him and he twisted round onto his back in order to breath. Skipper threw several more spadefuls over him and then used her hands to cover his face until only his eyes and nose were left uncovered.
‘Don’t move,’ she said. ‘I’ll handle this.’
Sam watched as she picked up the spade again and started pitching feed into the tank. The weight of the feed piled up on him and the fact that his mouth was completely covered made it almost impossible to breathe, but the thought of being discovered was enough to keep him motionless.
He heard a shout from the gantry.
Skipper kept right on shovelling.
Sam heard the sound of boots clanging down metal stairways. Moments later, Hekken and his henchmen arrived. Stick Boy was with them.
‘Ah,’ said Hekken, ‘if it isn’t the little pilot girl. Things must be bad if they had to send you to do their dirty work for them.’
Skipper thrust her spade into the pile as if to carry on, but Stick Boy moved forward and held his baton across her chest, barring her way.
‘My, my, and such a keen worker too,’ Hekken continued. ‘I wonder, did you find what you were looking for?’
Skipper remained silent.
‘What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?’ He moved towards her. ‘The thing is, you see, His Excellency has lost something that belongs to him, and he’s very upset about it. So upset, in fact, that he’s come all the way down here himself to help us find it.’
Hekken looked up at the gantry, where Odoursin stood watching. Then he took another step forward, so that his face was inches away from Skipper’s.
‘Tell me,’ he said, ‘where’s your little friend?’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ said Skipper.
‘Oh, I think you do,’ said Hekken. He drew a long silver knife and stroked the flat of the blade against Skipper’s cheek. ‘Shall I help you remember?’
‘Oh, you mean the boy I was working with?’ Skipper said.
Hekken looked across at Stick Boy and raised his eyebrows.
Stick Boy nodded.
‘Yes,’ said Hekken. ‘Well done. I see your memory is miraculously returning. Now, suppose you tell us where he is.’
‘He went off about five minutes ago,’ said Skipper. ‘Said he was fed up with working here and he was going back to the marshes. I don’t think he’ll get far with all those guards around though, do you?’
Hekken’s eyes flashed angrily. ‘Seal the building,’ he ordered. ‘Then bring in the hunters.’ He turned on his heel and walked back towards the steps.
As Stick Boy and a couple of the guards ran off in the direction of the entrance, Sam looked out from his hiding place and saw, just for a moment, a look of real fear on Skipper’s face. With a sinking feeling he realised that, however bad things had been up until now, they were about to get worse.
Sixteen
The sound of the siren was deafening as it climbed from a low, moaning bass note to a sustained, high-pitched howl. For perhaps thirty seconds or so the noise split the air and then, as suddenly as it had started, it stopped. An eerie silence followed. No one moved and no one spoke.
Then came the crackle of a public-address system being switched on, and the building filled with the quiet, menacing whispers of a voice that Sam knew only too well.
‘Hello, Sam,’ said Odoursin. ‘I know you’re here. I can feel it …’
Beneath the pile of larvae feed, Sam started to tremble.
‘… and we both know that you lied to me. That’s right, Sam. You lied, told me things that weren’t true. And now you think that you can hide from me too. You have much to learn.’
Sam was shaking now. He felt sick with fear. Why had he listened to Skipper? If he’d told Odoursin who he was in the first place then none of this would have happened. Now they would find him and there was no escape. He lay still, frozen with terror, as the voice continued.
‘You have a choice, Sam. You can give yourself up now and we can start again. That would be the sensible thing to do. Or, alternatively, you can carry on hiding and we will come and find you. Either way, this foolish charade will soon be at an end. But you must understand that if we have to come and look for you, your safety cannot be guaranteed. Our methods will not be pleasant. So what is it to be? You have ten seconds to decide.’
Sam just wanted it to be over and done with. If he gave himself up now, he would still have a chance, wouldn’t he? He might still be allowed to go home. But then he remembered all the things Skipper had told him about Odoursin, and he knew in his heart that what she had said was true. They would find him anyway, and bad things would happen, of that he had no doubt. But he wouldn’t make it easy for them.
He bit his lip and stayed exactly where he was.
‘I see that you are obstinate and foolish as well as a liar,’ said the voice over the loudspeakers. ‘Very well then. Expect no mercy. From darkness you came and to darkness you shall return.’
There was a pause. Sam felt his heart thump in his chest and heard the blood roar in his ears.
Then came the voice of Odoursin once more, hard and insistent: ‘Seek him out,’ it hissed. ‘Seek – him – out!’
There was the rumble of doors sliding open, followed by loud shouts and cries of alarm. Sam could hear people running and he watched despairingly as Skipper fell sobbing to her knees in front of Hekken as he strode back towards her.
‘Please,’ she cried, ‘please don’t let them hurt him. He hasn’t done anything wrong!’
She grabbed hold of Hekken’s jacket, seemingly half out of her mind with terror, but Hekken simply kicked her sprawling backwards against the tank.
‘Save your prayers for yourself, little girl,’ he said. ‘You’re going to need them.’
He turned away and walked back towards the gantry.
Sam turned his attention back to where Skipper had fallen and was amazed to see that she was already up on her feet again. The tears had miraculously disappeared and she was running towards him with a look of steely determination on her face. She promptly began digging with her hands, talking hurriedly to him as she did so.
‘OK, Sam, listen to me. Listen carefully. In a minute you’re going to see some things that might scare you a bit.’
She looked quickly away to her right, as if checking something beyond Sam’s line of vision, and then turned back and began digging even more furiously.
‘But whatever happens, whatever you see, try not to panic. And whatever you do, don’t freeze up on me, because when I say go you’re going to have to run like you never ran before in your life. Do you understand?’
Sam nodded. His arms were free now and he helped dig himself out.
‘OK,’ said Skipper as Sam pulled his legs free, ‘here they come. Remember – stick close to me!’
As he emerged from the feed pile, Sam heard a commotion over to his left and turned to look at the source of the noise. What he saw stopped him in his tracks and he heard himself cry out in terror.
A huge, six-legged creature with reddish skin was bearing down on them at great speed, scuttling between the tanks and swaying its head from side to si
de as it searched for its prey. Poison dripped from its pincer-like jaws, hissing and steaming as it hit the floor. Above its head two antennae twitched, sniffing out the chemical signals that would lead it to its quarry.
Straight away, Sam recognised it as a red ant; he had studied them many times in his garden. He knew that they had a painful bite and an excellent sense of smell, but he had never before had any reason to fear them.
But then, the ones in his garden were just a few millimetres long and generally paid him no attention. This one was the size of a bus and it wanted to kill him.
It was a crucial difference.
A worker at a nearby tank dropped his spade and tried to make a break for it. The ant swivelled its head at the sound of the spade hitting the concrete floor and with lightning speed seized hold of him and yanked him up into the air. He flailed his arms around and cried out for help, but it was of no use; the ant crunched its powerful jaws together and tossed his broken, lifeless body to the floor. Then it began to move towards them again.
‘Run!’ shouted Skipper.
The ant’s shadow fell across the feed pile and Skipper hared off between the breeding tanks with Sam sprinting after her. He felt the wind from the ant’s head as it lunged at him and heard the hiss of poison as its jaws cracked down onto the hard floor where he had been standing only seconds before.
Ahead of him, Skipper reached the end of tank thirty-seven and took the corner at full pelt, holding the edge with her left hand as she skidded around it. Sam flew around after her, tripped over a spade and crashed into Skipper’s back, sending them both tumbling to the floor. He looked up and saw that another ant was advancing rapidly towards them.
‘What now?’ shouted Sam. He glanced over his shoulder to see the head of the first ant emerging between the tanks. ‘We’re trapped!’
He turned back to see Skipper interlacing her fingers and turning her hands palm upwards. She held them out to Sam like a kind of stirrup.
‘Skipper, what are you doing?’ he cried. ‘They’re going to kill us!’