Becoming Zodiak

by Craig Jones

  “Oh, there are more ways to get to the London Dome than the freeway. Have you been there before?” Walsh asked.

  “No. I’ve been to London, but never the Dome”

  “That’s because it’s been closed since the Entertainment Laws were passed. It’s been cleaned up, reopened just for this event. I think you’ll be impressed.”

  Jimmy was sure he would be.

  “We’ve moved a whole village of people in there. Chefs, doctors, everything you can think of to make sure your stay comfortable. Even a few teachers, I’m afraid.”

  “Will our families be allowed to stay?”

  Walsh nodded away his question. “Yes, but until they arrive you must let me help you. Especially through the tests.”

  Jimmy could see that they were driving further out into the fields.

  “It’s going to take a long time to get there this way,” he said.

  “Are you concerned about the tests?” Walsh pressed. Jimmy shook his head. “You’re right not to be. It’s just an insurance check really, to make sure you’re fit and well. A bit of running, a few questions. You’ll breeze through.”

  “Thanks. I’ve been training hard.”

  “I have no doubt,” Walsh said, smiling broadly once more. “And I’ve no doubt you will make a most valuable acquisition to Zodiak.”

  “I hope so.”

  “So what do you need? Equipment, clothing, training shoes?”

  “I’ve got all my stuff in my bag,” Jimmy answered. “I think I’ve got everything. If I forgot anything, Brian will bring it when he comes.”

  “Of course! Brian Mills. Now he is quite the athlete,” Walsh gushed. “I think you’re lucky he isn’t allowed to take part.”

  Jimmy could feel his cheeks stretch with a giant smile. “Yeah, imagine that.”

  “I’ve seen him fight, you know. Not on television, but really there,” Walsh said, tapping the side of his nose. “Benefits of owning the sports channel, you see.”

  “I’ve never seen him compete live,” Jimmy replied, not bothering to curb the disappointment in his tone.

  “Well, that’s the Laws for you. Mind you, I also saw the violence that used to happen at football matches. No one wants to see that anymore… But back to you. Whatever you need, you must ask. I can get you the best physical fitness instructors—”

  “Thanks, but Brian is going to train me.”

  Walsh blinked, then nodded heartily. “Ah, then you already have the best, my boy! The very best.”

  The car began to slow and the driver carefully steered through a narrow gate.

  “Um, Mister Walsh?” Jimmy asked, and he peeked out the window as the driver stopped and got out. “I don’t mean to be rude, but what’s going on?”

  “We’re going to the Dome,” Walsh said as the driver pulled Jimmy’s door open.

  Jimmy looked out across the field before him and his mouth fell open.

  “We’re going in that?” he asked as he climbed out of the car. Thick carpet had been laid across the muddy field, stretching out away from the side of the limo. Walsh joined him, and the driver walked on ahead, carrying Jimmy’s bag.

  “Yes, we are,” Walsh said as they strolled towards the WWW News helicopter. “And I’m flying us.”

  16

  William Walsh pushed the yoke to the right and the helicopter arced around the top of Walsh Towers for the third time. Jimmy had been able to control his excitement up until then, but the motion caught up with him and he let out an exultant, triumphant yell.

  “Yahoo!” he cried, and Walsh’s laughter immediately filled his headphones.

  “Quite a view from up here, isn’t it?” Walsh asked as he tracked the path of the Thames towards the Dome.

  “It’s amazing! I always thought London was big, but from up here it looks like it takes up the whole world.”

  “Far from it.” Walsh paused as he dipped the helicopter under one bridge and over the next. “You’re going to see the whole world, Jimmy. Then you’ll think London is tiny.”

  The thought filled Jimmy with hope. He’d never aspired to be a part of Zodiak; it was completely unobtainable. Zodiak were Zodiak. Twelve members, the same twelve members since they’d formed. No one left Zodiak. They were solid. They were vital. But now?

  Now he had been presented with the biggest opportunity of his life, and not only did he have his family on his side, he also had, apparently, the strongest media mogul in the country in his corner too.

  “I must be dreaming,” he whispered.

  “Did you say something, Jimmy?”

  Embarrassed, he quickly spat out, “Are we nearly there?”

  The helicopter rounded a broad bend in the river.

  “Just up ahead!” Walsh announced, and then Jimmy saw the Dome for the first time.

  His first thought was that it looked like a massive, crashed alien spacecraft, but then he corrected himself.

  “It looks like Zodiak’s hovership,” he said.

  “Yes. That’s one of the reasons why we’re holding the competition here.”

  In an instant, the Dome was below them, and Walsh piloted the helicopter towards the roof of a nearby parking lot, where a group of people awaited them.

  “I need to get back to Walsh Towers, Jimmy, but my people have been instructed to look after you. Anything you need, you ask them and they will provide it.”

  “Thanks so much,” Jimmy said as the chopper touched down and the engine began to slow. Two men in slick black suits jogged across the tarmac to the helicopter. One opened the door and put a hand out to help Jimmy down.

  “You can phone me from your room if something comes up,” Walsh added, slowly, sincerely. “Just dial 111. I’ve had it set up so it comes straight through to my mobile. And take your headphones off before you get out. You don’t want any silly accidents at this stage.”

  Jimmy removed the headphones and was engulfed in the sound of the engine. He let himself be helped down from his seat and then ran with Walsh’s man, both of them stooped until they were away from the helicopter. The second man arrived at their side carrying Jimmy’s bag.

  William Walsh tipped a salute and the chopper took to the air again. Jimmy waved until it was nearly out of sight, and one of the suited men placed a friendly hand on his shoulder.

  “You think that was cool? Wait until you see inside the Dome.”

  Jimmy’s euphoria thanks to the helicopter ride and the subsequent tour of the Dome washed away when Peter, his guide and William Walsh’s head of security, brought him to his private quarters.

  Peter had taken him across to the main entrance of the building, past crews of workmen repainting the inside walls and into the main arena. Thousands of seats looked down on them and Jimmy had felt incredibly small. He had tried to imagine the place full of screaming fans, of him in the spotlight in the middle of the space, hearing his names chanted by thousands and thousands of voices. The thought had made him smile. What Peter had shown him next made him laugh out loud.

  They walked down a bare corridor and his guide explained that each of the competitors would have a private changing room close to the action—Jimmy’s was just up ahead. Peter pointed at a door, and what Jimmy saw was too much to take in; he was overtaken with a fit of the giggles. In the middle of the door was a gold star with ‘Jimmy Taurus’ written below in green lettering.

  “I’d love to show you inside, but it’s not finished yet,” Peter had explained. “But apart from that, the only place we can’t go is the testing area—but you’re going to be seeing enough of that place anyway.”

  Their next stop was the food court, and then the gym.

  “This is amazing!” Jimmy said breathlessly, stunned by the sheer scale of the workout room.

  “Mister Walsh believes in only the very best.”

  The room was the size of house, complete with a second floor. The aerobic machines, the treadmills, exercise bikes, the cross trainers were all on a balcony above, looking down on the w
eights area below. Free weights, benches and muscle-specific machines were arranged to give plenty of space to whoever was using them. Every wall was a highly polished mirror. Jimmy simply could not wait for his first training session in this space-age environment.

  The final stop was an indoor fun fair in the making; vibrant splashes of its colors struck Jimmy’s eyes in great contrast to those in gym.

  “All this will be up and running in the next couple of days,” Peter said. “Mister Walsh wants to create the ultimate experience for anyone who comes to watch the competition live. He says it will be just like the old days.”

  “It’s amazing,” Jimmy said, wide-eyed. “My brother’s going to love this.”

  “I tell you what,” Peter confided. “When your family arrives, I’ll arrange a private visit to the fair for you all. How does that sound?”

  Jimmy had of course been delighted, but as the thought of actually being on his own for the first time became a reality, all of his happiness began to fade. He had started to feel sick as he and Peter rode escalator after escalator until they reached the top floor.

  “Your bag’s been put inside but, I think you’ll be interested in what’s in the wardrobes,” Peter told him as they approached the door with his green name on it. “There’s a computer in there and phone too. Just dial 9 if you want anything at all; food, access to the gym. Just don’t wander around too much, not while the work is still going on, okay?”

  “Yeah, sure,” Jimmy said, his voice choked.

  Peter watched him for a moment. “Look. Go in, get settled and give your folks a call. Order some food and get some sleep. It’s been a long day. You’re going be fine, Jimmy.”

  He thanked Peter and opened the door, his heart weighing heavy in his chest.

  What greeted him put a smile back on his face.

  The room was huge, at least twice as big as his bedroom at home, and even that wasn’t just some closet under the stairs. On his left, two large sofas faced a wall-mounted television, and a dining table with four chairs took up the space to his right. In the furthest corner sat a desk with what looked to Jimmy to be a high-specification widescreen computer and a phone. Next to the desk was a conveniently compact refrigerator. Two other doors faced him, both open, and he could see that beyond one was a vast bathroom, and the other, with his bag already sitting on the bed, was the bedroom.

  He crossed his new living room to the bedroom, Peter’s words about checking out the wardrobes jumping back into his head. A double bed was positioned against one wall and the whole opposite wall was taken up with floor-to-ceiling wardrobes. He swung the doors open and could not believe what he was seeing.

  “This is mental!” he shouted as he pulled out item after item of training gear: tracksuits, t-shirts, shorts, vests, in all the colors he could imagine, all with ‘Jimmy Taurus’ printed across the back in gold. Some were still in plastic bags and were labelled ‘Competition Kit: Not to be worn before filming.’ Everything in the kit was dark green and Jimmy decided to hazard a guess that each competitor would have their own color. On the floor were boxes and boxes of brand new training shoes. Unable to control his excitement, he rushed to the next wardrobe and found more kits, these labelled for his family and supporters.

  “This is mental!” he shouted again, and jumped on the bed, bouncing until he let himself fall flat on his back. He lay there for a few minutes, staring up at the ceiling, trying to absorb everything that had happened so far. Gradually, inescapably, his eyes began to grow heavy, and he drifted off to sleep.

  He woke in darkness, but he couldn’t remember ever getting up to turn off the light. He sat up quickly, alert and worried that someone had been in his room. The lights came on.

  “Wow,” he whispered. “Automatic sensors.”

  Jimmy stood and ambled into the living room, the lights coming on the second he placed a foot over the threshold; he snickered to himself and went to the fridge. It was stacked with a variety of drinks and snacks, and he selected a bottle of water. A rumble in his stomach then truly brought him to reality. He had no idea what time it was or for how long he had slept.

  He picked up the phone and dialled 9.

  “Yes, Mister Taurus,” said a female voice.

  “Um, I’m sorry,” Jimmy began. “I was wondering if maybe there was something I could have to eat?”

  “Certainly, Mister Taurus. What would you like?”

  “Uh, what is there?”

  “Oh, Mister Taurus,” the voice said happily. “Anything you want. Absolutely anything.”

  For a second, he stood there fighting a massive grin. “Cool,” he managed. “Could I have pasta and meatballs…and maybe some bananas?”

  “Of course, Mister Taurus. Your food will be with you in twenty minutes.”

  Jimmy hung up the phone, and his thoughts turned to Brian, Claire and Shane.

  He hoped, more than anything else, that he would not let them down. They had become his family; they had let him in, when he had spent so many years pushing people away. And he hoped he didn’t let William Walsh down either, especially when Walsh said that Jimmy reminded him of himself. Because they had both suffered losses.

  Jimmy booted up the computer and settled himself down at the desk. As soon as the system was ready, he clicked on the internet icon and the WWW News homepage filled the screen. He typed a few words into the search engine and selected the first story that was offered. The headline read:

  “LAVINIA TAURUS FOUND MURDERED.

  Husband Missing.”

  He scanned the article and, unsatisfied, typed different search parameters. He read through the headlines until he found the one he was looking for. He’d read them all before, time and time again.

  “TAURUS MURDER:

  Husband Sought By Police.”

  He clicked on the photograph of his mother. It was one that had been used to promote the last movie she had ever starred in. She was smiling shyly under her mass of blond hair.

  He gazed at the photo; a strange feeling swirled deep in his gut. The moment passed, and he closed down the computer and picked up the telephone once more. He dialled a number he knew by heart.

  “Shane! Hey, you know I’ve been wondering if I can win this thing? Yeah, well now I know I can.”

  17

  Jimmy’s legs burnt with effort. He’d run on a treadmill before, but never like this. The harness they had hooked up under his arms to catch him if he collapsed from exhaustion had initially been comfortable, but as his sweat soaked his t-shirt the canvas material began to chafe his skin. He tried to put the discomfort out of his mind and he sucked as much air as he could into his lungs.

  “Increasing speed to fifteen kilometers per hour for the next two minutes,” one of the instructors announced. Jimmy steeled himself and pushed even harder.

  The tests had not been too bad. Up until now. It had started off with round after round of questions. They asked him about his health, about his family, about his motivation. They asked him how much training he had done for however so many years, how often he regularly played sport, if he’d ever been in trouble in school. The questions came at him like paintball fire. Sharp, fast, no let-up. The instructors spoke coldly, and when Jimmy had tried to expand upon his answers they simply told him that they had enough information. After nearly two hours of vigorous questioning, he was more tired than after a kickboxing training session with Brian.

  Then the physical tests had begun, and Jimmy found a fresh energy. They tested his grip strength, his leg strength, his heart, his lungs. There was not a single word of encouragement, only the occasional offer of water or directions on when he was allowed to rest.

  “Increasing speed to sixteen kilometers an hour for the next two minutes,” the monotonous voice announced again.

  Jimmy focussed solely on driving one leg in front of the other. There was little else to draw his attention. The room was nothing more than a grey bunker, the treadmill placed in the middle. The electrodes they had stuck
under Jimmy’s t-shirt were connected to a computer that churned out results on a narrow spool of paper that the instructors checked every ten seconds or so. To Jimmy, the computer looked old-fashioned. The instructors themselves, four of them, wore white laboratory coats and all were bald. They made Jimmy feel like he was a rat, being experimented on for the good of humanity.

  That was okay with him; he knew that if he passed these tests, he would be given the chance to actually do for humanity. He’d have the chance to become part of Zodiak. He would go from being plain old Jimmy Taurus to ‘Taurus’ in the world’s most elite crime fighting team.

  And he’d rather be on the treadmill than facing up to yet another interview. Three, four, five times a day, some journalist wanted to speak to him, to ask him if he thought he could win, to find out more about his foster family, to talk to him about his mother. Luckily, William Walsh had kept his promises and had been there, coached him through each interview and, on one occasion when the interviewer had asked about Jimmy’s father, had all but physically removed the journalist from the room.

  “News is my business, but not done that way,” he had announced afterwards. Jimmy had been impressed. He had seen Walsh’s morals first hand and instinctually matched them to Brian’s.

  “Increasing treadmill incline by five degrees,” an instructor said, drawing Jimmy’s attention back into the room. As the front of the treadmill rose, he noticed for the first time that there was a glass-enclosed walkway around the top of the room. As he blinked the sweat out of his eyes—the sting from the salt made him wince—he saw there were three people up there, observing his final fitness test.

  Lord Crabbe in his wheelchair, William Walsh dressed, as ever, in a smart suit.

  And Virgo.

  Seeing them briefly put Jimmy off his stride, and he almost stumbled. For the merest of moments, the fast-moving bed of the machine seemed to rush up at his face, but he regained his balance and pressed on. Glancing up again, he watched the three of them talk, noticing that even while Virgo and Crabbe engaged with Walsh, the media mogul’s focus was on the testing facility below. He smiled at Jimmy and gave him a thumbs-up. Jimmy felt his resolve renew.