Firestone Key

by Caroline Noe

  “That’s enough,” said the General, using the voice he kept for interviews with the Prime Minster. “You’ve had billions. If it works, you continue. If it doesn’t, we bulldoze. Your choice.”

  “Elaine, for God’s sake stop being such a twat,” cried Leila, panicking.

  Staring into space, focusing on no-one, Elaine spoke in a monotone, as though utterly bored by it all. “It sent me to the past. Looked Medieval, maybe, but different. I don’t know; history isn’t my field. I arrived in a castle. The soldiers didn’t take kindly to my sudden arrival.”

  “There was a military presence where you’ve been?” asked the General, suddenly interested.

  “There’s always a military presence,” was Elaine’s cynical, if accurate, observation.

  The Minister rifled through papers, asking, “You were gone, what, a matter of seconds? Yet you managed to change clothes?”

  “Ninety odd seconds here, days there,” observed Elaine.

  The General was very interested, now. “So it’s possible to be gone a short time here, yet long enough to carry out any task? Say travel to another country?”

  “We don’t know anything yet,” Elaine told him. It was the truth and a lie. “Only that the helix seems to have remained anchored in the Project, while the far end roamed in time.”

  “Can you repeat it?” asked the sparkling Sponsor.

  “I don’t know. I hope so…” Elaine’s voice faded away as her mind’s eye fell upon a memory: the touch of a hand by a riverbank.

  “Miss Thorne?”

  Elaine glanced up at the Minister. “Sorry, what?”

  “Was there anything else unusual about the trip?”

  “Other than being dragged through a bloody great whirling tunnel backwards, twice? No… it was… just the past.”

  Leila and Neil exchanged a look. They didn’t know what she had seen or done, whilst in the past, but they knew their friend and they knew that she was lying.

  The General got to the point of the entire vulture assemblage. “Any idea how to repeat your extraordinary good fortune?”

  Elaine took a deep breath. This section of her performance was the only part that mattered; this part they must believe.

  “We had an overload. The helix magnified and sucked me back. Without full analysis, we’ve no idea why it worked, when it didn’t before. There’s no point any of you being here ‘til we, the scientist element, have had a chance to perform that analysis. To do that, we need the Project and it just melted down. So what we need from you isn’t cynicism or insinuations; we need money to rebuild, and fast.”

  It was the longest speech Leila had ever heard Elaine give. There was a pregnant pause, during which everyone stared at the purse holding, sparkling Sponsor.

  “You have it,” he beamed, his gleaming teeth catching the light. “Make it work.”

  * * *

  The entrance to the ruined Project lay wide open. Elaine leaned against the edge, watching as workmen stripped melted consoles and carried away parts of the dismantled metal safety door. The two enormous black helixes had twisted even further into one another in a grotesque parody of an embrace. One cracked dampening rod lay on the floor, while the other was partially hanging in its mounting, warped beyond recognition. The whole effect was a modern art exhibition in hell.

  Leila removed her singed Tyrannosaurus Rex, which was still wearing its half burned tutu. She was dangling it over the rubbish bin, when Elaine called out, “Wait. Give it to me.”

  Leila gave her a curious look, but handed it over, watching as her estranged friend stared at the wounded toy, eyeball to eyeball. She couldn’t know, but the time traveller was remembering the terrifying gaze of Baal. Elaine threw the toy back to Leila and exited without another word, leaving Leila staring after her, frustration growing.

  An unfortunate workman tripped over the fallen dampening rod with a clang.

  “Careful!” Leila hollered at him. “Don’t destroy my evidence before I’ve had a chance to test it, moron.”

  The stricken workman made a face behind her retreating back.

  * * *

  Days of feverish rebuilding work and total silence followed Elaine’s return from the past. Having installed herself and her flagging brother inside a sterile lab, Leila consoled her genius mind with flights of fancy that led nowhere. Amidst the high benches, gas taps, Bunsen burners, racks of test tubes, glass flasks and electron microscopes, Leila set up her latest convoluted experiment: a mass of wires, wrapped around a mini helix, connected to a laptop.

  Going along with his sister, Neil peered through a microscope whilst sneaking surreptitious glances at Elaine. She was holding a sheet of paper covered with data, but was clearly miles away, her face a study in contained misery.

  When a high pitched whine began to emanate from Leila’s experiment, Neil went back to examining his sample. This had happened so many times before that he didn’t need to look up as he spoke. “It’ll overload.”

  “I know,” said Leila, forcing her words through gritted teeth. “I need it to…”

  A bright blue flash cut her off in mid sentence; a helix had formed and just as swiftly died. A loud pop announced a small scale explosion and all the wiring ignited. Leila yanked the connection from the laptop while Neil calmly retrieved an extinguisher from the wall and sprayed foam, dousing the flames.

  “You alright?” he asked, cutting off the white spray.

  Leila stared at Elaine, who hadn’t so much as twitched. “Fine. Thanks for asking. Elaine, I hope that data’s really stunning. Don’t mind me exploding.”

  “No point doing anything til they’ve rebuilt and you know it,” replied Elaine, without looking at Leila or Neil. “You’re just entertaining yourself.”

  “Now she speaks,” Leila sniped.

  Neil sighed. “She’s right though. I’ve tested everything we could salvage. All I see is an electrical overload and a lot of molten metal.” He waved at her exploded experiment. “And you ran all these spectacular little wonders years ago, to entertain the money men. Have you got anything new?”

  “No, of course I haven’t!” bellowed Leila and rounded on Elaine. “Are you sure there’s nothing you’ve left out? Something insignificant, seemingly?”

  Elaine shot to her feet, screwed the sheet of data into a ball and threw it across the lab. “Yes, I’m sure. I’m going to bed. This is pointless and I’m tired.”

  “Goodnight. Friend,” Leila shouted to Elaine’s back.

  “Give her time,” Neil advised.

  Leila glared at him and at her molten experiment. She knew that time was not the answer. “Hell with that,” she told her brother and ran after her stubborn friend.

  Leila caught up with Elaine outside the concrete cube that housed the Project. She was staring up at the stars. For a moment, Leila caught the pain in her eyes, but she swiftly blinked it away.

  “Nice night,” Leila remarked, observing the clear night sky. “I seem to remember we made a pact. What happened to it?”

  “We were kids,” Elaine murmured. “Things don’t work out as you expect.”

  Leila grasped Elaine’s shoulders and forced her to turn until they were face to face. Still, Elaine would not meet her eyes.

  “Look at me. Why won’t you look at me? What happened out there? Whatever it was, why can’t you tell me? We used to tell each other everything. Is it because of Caleb?”

  Elaine yanked free of Leila’s grip.

  “What changed? Elaine, for God’s sake, talk to me.”

  Elaine loosed a cynical laugh. “I’m tired. Very, very tired. Let me be, Leila. Go back to Cal and be happy. If you can.”

  Elaine retreated inside as Leila called after her, “You will tell me. You know you will.”

  * * *

  In the early hours of the morning, while the Project slept, Elaine was peering at her triple computer screens, the light flickering on her face while she searched the database. Alone in her private world of loss, Elaine
spent all her time trawling through reams of useless data. Needing to feel close to her medieval friends, she searched for any reference to them, but found nothing. The only allusion to an ancient Gawain was within Arthurian legend. As for Harlin, Myrrdinus and the others, it was as though they had never existed. There wasn’t even an allusion to the castle, the temple, the Firestone or the Key of Old. The buildings didn’t appear in any documentation and there was no reference to any ruins. It was as though Harlin had been expunged from the annals of time. On and on she searched, barely eating or sleeping, her mind racing closer and closer to insanity.

  * * *

  Six long weeks had passed since Elaine’s return and the Project had been expensively reconstructed to the previous specifications. Six weeks in which there had been no discernible progress in theory. This, understandably, prompted a visit from the worried Minister. He currently sat in the sanitised room, tapping his pen on the table and staring at Leila and Neil.

  “She’ll be here any moment,” said Neil, encouragingly, whilst privately wondering where the hell Elaine could be.

  The Minister, having waited long enough, rose from his uncomfortable metal chair. “Tell Miss Thorne that her funding relies on…”

  He trailed away when Elaine entered, carrying a digital pad.

  “Pardon me, Minister. I was gathering some ideas,” she told him, smiling confidently. “The rebuild of the Project is almost complete, so we can begin testing.”

  “Testing what?” asked the confused Minister.

  “Theories. We’ve been brainstorming dozens during the wait.”

  Leila exchanged a look with Neil, thankfully unseen by the Minister. They had absolutely no idea what she was talking about.

  “As soon as we achieve the slightest positive result, you’ll have your update instantly.”

  “I see,” said the Minister. “Any timescale for this miracle of science?”

  Elaine beamed at him, making him thoroughly nervous. He was a politician; he had seen too many of those smiles.

  “We’ll begin immediately,” she told him, her sweeping gesture taking in a stunned brother and sister. “After that I can’t say. We may hit the answer first time or last. But we’re ready.”

  Elaine pointedly smiled at Leila, who shot to life.

  “Indeed. We’ve just been waiting for the Project to be up and running,” Leila lied.

  “Well then. I’ll leave you to your work,” the Minister told them, satisfied, for now. “Anything you find is reported to me first. Understand?” He didn’t want the military or the money men stealing a jump on him.

  As soon as he left, Elaine was out of the room and blasting along the corridor. Leila chased after her, leaving Neil floundering in their wake.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Leila yelled at Elaine. “What ideas? We’ve no clue what…”

  Grief, insomnia and the burying of her pain exploded out of Elaine. The stream of rage carried with it the resentment she had always hidden. “Stop hanging off me and come up with some ideas,” she sneered. “You’re the great creative genius.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Leila snapped. “We talked about this. You said...”

  “You talked. I agreed. As always,” Elaine hollered, her voice bouncing off the walls in its intensity. “Well not this time. Not anymore. You won’t be stealing anything else from me.”

  “That’s enough,” said Neil, inserting himself between them. “You want the whole world and its minister to hear you?”

  “I’ve nothing left to say, to either of you,” Elaine spat, before fleeing down the corridor.

  A stunned Leila stared at Neil, “What have I done? Neil?”

  “I don’t know,” Neil told her, as their trio cracked and died.

  * * *

  With thundering rain cascading off her hooded anorak, Elaine stared at a forest, shrouded in mist and dark cloud. A memory arose, unbidden. She was standing beside Gwyneth, lost in the majesty of a similar view. Her reverie was rudely interrupted by the sight of a sodden Neil, struggling up the hill towards her.

  “Can’t your family ever leave me alone?” she asked, when he arrived, out of breath.

  “You’ve been alone for too long,” he pointed out, ignoring her animosity.

  “Profound,” she snarled.

  “Yes, you’re brighter than me,” Neil observed, tired of their game. “We’re both well aware of it, so give it a rest. I’m the legs, you’re the number cruncher, Leila’s the glory woman. It’s not like that’s news. So what’s happened?”

  “You’d never believe me if I told you.”

  “Why?” asked Neil, as frustrated as his sister. “Where you went was run by fairies? What?”

  Elaine laughed. “I think that’s the first thing you’ve said that was actually funny.”

  “Charming. You’re stalling,” replied Neil, making another accurate observation. “You look as though you never sleep and I haven’t seen you eat anything since you got back. You’re losing way too much weight. Whatever this thing is, you need to talk to someone before you come apart.”

  Elaine’s eyes finally found his and her gaze was full of the tortures she was undergoing. He sensed that she was about to speak, about to tell him something important, but then he saw the shutters descend, once again.

  “Not yet,” was all she would say.

  For the first time since he met her, Neil’s long suffering patience finally gave out. “I give up and I’m wet. When you get over yourself, come find me.”

  Then he was gone, slipping and sliding back down the hill.

  * * *

  Stung by Neil’s observation, Elaine returned to her quarters and stared at her reflection in the bedroom mirror. He was right; she had lost a lot of weight in the six weeks since her return. She had never been particularly flabby, but had inherited her mother’s tendency to stockiness. Now, her ribs were clearly pushing through the skin of her torso and her limbs seemed far more angular. Devoid of make-up, the dark circles under her eyes made her face appear almost skeletal and the scar had gained a deeper hue.

  She had been feeling sick since her return. Assuming that it was simply a symptom of stress and sorrow, she had ignored it, but the nausea was growing worse, even as the amount of food she was consuming was reducing. Now, given her haunted appearance, she was forced to acknowledge a terrible possibility.

  Do I have it? Do I have the disease?

  There was one way to be sure. Red meat was the first food type that the disease violently expelled from a victim’s body. Elaine forced herself to eat two slices of beef and lay on her bed, to wait.

  * * *

  Harlin raced through the forest, Gwyneth and Melith fleeing ahead of him. He was desperately trying to shield the women from a swarm of howling renders, closing in all around them. With a terrible snarl, a render flew through the air, landing behind Gwyneth and cutting her off from the other two. She staggered backwards, scrambling to escape, but fell. Melith fought to reach her side, but Harlin dragged her clear. The renders tore Gwyneth to pieces.

  Leila calmly glided into the path of the fugitives and thrust a knife through Melith’s heart. She dropped into Harlin’s arms, already dead. The young man, now alone, saw a flash of razor sharp teeth, just before a wall of fire engulfed him…

  Elaine shot bolt upright, shaking from the nightmare. She clambered out of bed, but her legs gave way beneath her. A pain as sharp as a knife to the guts shot through her stomach, propelling waves of searing heat through her entire body. Scrambling to the toilet, she vomited the half-digested beef into the bowl in a sea of bloody bile. There was no diarrhoea, as yet, but she knew that it was only a matter of time. The fatal clock of disease had begun its countdown.

  Crawling across the grey carpet to her dressing table, Elaine wiped her mouth with a tissue, spreading splashes of scarlet over its pristine whiteness. She had never harboured much in the way of romantic dreams, believing them to be a fairytale told to the desperate, but, sud
denly faced with her own mortality, she realised how much of herself had secretly become invested in returning to Harlin. She could no longer deny that she loved him, even as that love was torn from her grasp.

  As she leaned her head against the table, her eyes came to rest at the level of the drawer and its imprisoned rock. There was no more time left; no time in which to cure the world or herself. There was only the possibility of returning the Firestone to Harlin. His world could still be saved by its destruction. She came to a decision: she must confide in someone before time ran out.

  * * *

  Neil stared at Elaine over the rim of a very large glass of whisky. He had started drinking some three hours before, shortly after she had appeared on his doorstep and proceeded to unload her bizarre burden, making him promise never to divulge her secret to his sister. He had readily agreed to the condition, overjoyed that she would choose to confide in him. That was a decision he quickly came to regret. Sitting on the sofa, listening to Elaine complete her narration of the extraordinary events of her sojourn in the past, Neil fervently wished that he could impart this information to Leila, for he harboured the suspicion that their friend had gone mad.

  He would have been convinced of that judgement had Elaine told him the complete story. In the recounting, she had contrived to omit the Queen’s identity and played down Harlin’s part in the proceedings, afraid that Neil might ascertain the true reason for her sudden heart-to-heart. Although the short, sweet dream of love had died with the coming of the disease, she still intended to find her way back to Harlin, whatever the cost - even if that included the exploitation of Neil’s infatuation.

  “Are you alright?” she asked, when he continued to stare at her in silence. “Did you hear me? Did you understand what I said?”

  “No. I mean yes, I heard you,” Neil stuttered, his brain fried. “Have you been having headaches?”

  “I’m not going insane, Neil. You wanted to know and now you do.”

  Neil downed the entire glass of whisky and sucked in air. “Right. So help me here. You’re saying that you have a magic necklace that sent you back in time to a land full of monsters and a really nasty Queen who can create T-Rex dragon hybrids by waving a pebble in the air.”