by Sean Cullen
Behind the two agents, the helicopter idled in the darkness as they surveyed the empty valley. Their goggles, misted with rain, scanned the surrounding mountains for a clue as to the whereabouts of their quarry.
The agents rarely showed irritation, but they were obviously annoyed. A rabbit hopped near Mr. Sweet’s foot and he kicked it. The rabbit immediately vomited on the agent’s shoe and fell comatose in the grass from terror.
“What silly creatures. When this world is ours, we shall eradicate all such useless beings, Mr. Candy.”
“First things first, Mr. Sweet. We must find our asset. The tracking device flared for only three point two seconds. Somehow, they managed to switch it off. Mother was unable to pinpoint the exact location but it was somewhere in the Alps.”
“They are not in Switzerland by accident, Mr. Candy.”
“They must have already made contact with the King. We must finish off the King once and for all.”
“We have the firepower to destroy the Hollow Mountain and the King. The only problem, Mr. Candy, is finding the Hollow Mountain. How do you propose we do that?”
Mr. Candy tilted his head back. The moonlight glinted off the goggles covering his eyes. “We ask directions, Mr. Sweet.”
They climbed into the helicopter.
“Mother?” Mr. Candy spoke as they fastened their seatbelts.
“I’m listening.”
“Run a scan of all adoption data for the last fifty years. Focus on children who have inherited large sums of money upon reaching the age of majority.”
“Any geographical restrictions?” Mother asked.
“Central Europe only, for now. Keep it local.”
“Running.”
The rotors spun up as Mr. Sweet took the controls. Mr. Candy shook his head. “We’ve run the same search three thousand and forty-seven times. Why waste our time again?”
“Perhaps we’ll be lucky this time,” Mr. Sweet said. “And the King of Switzerland won’t.” He pulled back on the control stick and the aircraft lifted off into the grey dawn.
Part 3
GOOD AND BAD THINGS HAPPEN
Oh my! What a dramatic moment! Hamish X has returned to himself, only more so. At last he is able to remember the events of his past. Most of them anyway. Still, he is unable to remember clearly the one thing he wants to remember most: his mother.
Isn’t that always the way with memory? The one thing you are racking your brain to recall is the one thing you can’t quite seem to grasp. For me, it’s where I put my favourite trousers. They are such beautiful trousers: thick corduroy with glittering gold piping down the outside of the leg. They are fastened by a polished, pure silver button in the front and the zipper is fashioned out of diamonds. In the sun, the zipper and button combined with the gold piping is quite a dazzling spectacle. If I am planning to wear them on a sunny day, I am required to report my intentions to the local traffic authorities as a safety precaution: the majesty of my glittering trousers ha s been known to cause traffic accidents and to dazzle pilots in low-flying aircraft. The pants were a gift from the Sultana of Benmurgui as a reward for a particularly well-narrated story at her thirteenth birthday party.48
The point is, I put them down somewhere and I can’t remember where. The more I try to remember, the more I can’t quite seem to recall. Highly annoying. One might wonder how such a shining pair of trousers might be overlooked. Surely they’d be difficult to miss, which leads me to believe that perhaps they have been stolen by a rival narrator, jealous of my success and my clothing. Time will tell.
I digress. Let us return to the story. Weeks have passed and the former residents of Windcity are settling in to their new home. Everyone seems happy … everyone but Hamish X.
Chapter 13
He was lying on the steel table again, under the intense lights. He tried to get up but he found he couldn’t move. Every muscle of his body was paralyzed. Fear twisted in his stomach, winding in his bowels like a cold snake.
Only his eyes were capable of moving. They darted back and forth, looking from one side to the other. In the darkness, outside the pool of light, he sensed that someone was watching. There was danger close by but he couldn’t make himself move. He tried to scream but his throat was frozen shut.
“You are ours, Hamish X,” the voice of Mr. Sweet hissed from the darkness.
“You will be the key that opens the door.” Mr. Candy’s flat tones echoed in the emptiness. “You will build a bridge to join the worlds.”
Out of the shadows the Grey Agents came, leaning over him, staring down with their black goggles reflecting his terror-stricken face.
“You are one of us,” they said together. Slowly, they reached up with their gloved hands and with a wet sucking sound, removed their goggles. Their eyes were terrible, moist and bulging. The most horrible thing was the colour of those eyes: golden, like his own.
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
Hamish X screamed, sitting up in his sweat-soaked bed to find himself in his quarters in the Hollow Mountain.
“Hamish X? Are you all right?”
A George raccoon sat on the floor next to the bed, reared up on its haunches, black eyes blinking.
“Nightmare, I guess.”
“Again? Should I schedule an appointment with medical?”
“No, no. I’m fine, thank you.”
Hamish X looked out the window. The artificial sunlight from the Daniel’s Panels cast a glow of simulated morning over the Hollow Mountain. He heard children’s voices calling to each other as they went about their business. They were making their way to the raccoon-taught schoolrooms or the workshops on the lower level, happy and content. Hamish X envied them.
“George?”
“I’m here, Hamish X.”
“What time is it?”
“It is currently eight oh seven and thirty-two seconds in our local time zone.”
“Seven minutes past eight would be enough.”
“Do you require breakfast?”
“Can I have some toast and some orange juice?”
“We have seventeen types of bread available. Rye, sour dough, cornbread, brown, seven-grain, white—”
“White. Just plain white toast and jam, please.”
“There are twenty-three types of jam. We have—”
“Strawberry.”
“I will prepare the toast and jam.”
The raccoon turned and waddled out the door. George the raccoon was assigned to take care of all Hamish X’s personal needs. Hamish X couldn’t quite get his head around the idea that all the raccoons were actually just one raccoon with an interconnected mind. Hamish X got out of bed.
Ten minutes later he was sitting at the small breakfast table in the kitchen. He had his own little apartment to live in. It wasn’t very big but it was private. Mimi, Parveen, Mrs. Francis, and Mr. Kipling all had similar units along the same strip of terrace on the residential level. The breakfast room had a sliding door that was open to allow the fresh air in as Hamish X chewed on his toast.
Great Plumbers and Their Exploits sat on the table by Hamish X’s elbow. He hadn’t opened it in days. Before he regained his memories he’d pored over the book with rabid intensity, certain that the pages held a clue to the location of his lost mother. But since King Liam had awakened his memories he’d lost the desire to read the book. Parveen believed that Great Plumbers was part of the ODA’s plans, and that since Hamish X was now free of their programming he was also free of his compulsion to read the boring book.
He laid a hand on the green leather cover, tracing the gold lettering with a fingertip. He felt a pang of loneliness. “How could I miss reading such a boring book?” he mumbled to himself.
“Are you addressing me?” The George raccoon roused itself from sleep mode at the sound of his voice. George had been standing silent and still against the wall as it always did, resting until required.
“Sorry, no. Just talking to myself.”
“Very well.” The George raccoon
went back to sleep.
Hamish X looked at the name of the author of the book. Professor Magnus Ballantyne-Stewart. He found himself wondering who the man was, or if he even existed at all. Probably just a name the ODA agents made up to amuse themselves as an elaborate joke to play on Hamish X.
“George?”
The raccoon’s eyes opened. “Yes, Hamish X, I’m listening.”
“Where is everybody?”
“Shall I list them alphabetically? Anthony Aaron is working in workshop 21 at workstation 7a. Andrea Aato is in the gardens in the park by the Hakon’s Fountain. Fredirick Afalati is training in the gymnasium …”
“Not every single person in the Hollow Mountain!”
“You’ll have to be more specific with your commands.”
Hamish X rolled his eyes. “All right. Where specifically is Mimi?”
“Sarcasm is unnecessary. She is in the courtyard on the workshop level. More specifically, she is training in the Guards’ facility, practising hand-to-hand combat. She has just knocked Guard Captain Aidan down for the fourth straight time in a judo demonstration.”
Hamish X grinned at that. “I’ll bet he isn’t very happy.”
“No, he is not happy.”
Hamish chuckled and took a bite of his toast. The toast was perfectly golden and crisp. George was great at making toast.
In the two weeks they’d been guests at the Hollow Mountain, Mimi had taken to the idea of becoming one of the King’s Guards. She was progressing quickly. Her raw strength and agility helped her excel. Her hot temper was a bit of a drawback, however. Aidan was one of the few sparring partners brave enough to trade blows with her in the practice ring. Despite her lack of formal training, she was fast becoming the best hand-to-hand fighter in the Hollow Mountain.
“Where is Parveen?”
“He is in the electronics lab with his sister, Noor.”
Parveen’s sister: that was a still a surprise. Parveen had thought his entire family gone forever until Noor removed her mask in the operating theatre that day. She had been scooped up by the ODA to work in a factory in Malaysia that manufactured sharp and pointy toys for third world children. She had managed to escape with the help of the King’s agents and had come to live at the Hollow Mountain. Technical expertise ran in the family. She was brilliant with electronics and computers. Most of the program that had allowed Hamish X to remember his past was her work. Now Parveen and Noor were practically joined at the hip. After having thought each other lost, they didn’t want to lose each other again.
“Mrs. Francis? Mr. Kipling?”
“They are the only adults in the Hollow Mountain.”
“I know that,” Hamish X said, exasperated. “Where are they right now?”
“Mrs. Francis is supervising the preparations for the wedding feast later today. Mr. Kipling is at the tailor’s undergoing the final fitting of his dress uniform. He is complaining that the seat of the trousers is too snug.”
Hamish X sighed. The wedding was tonight. The union of Mr. Kipling and Mrs. Francis was to be a grand affair, a highly anticipated social event officiated by the King on the lawn of the Royal Park in Frieda’s Cavern. Mrs. Francis was worried that the army of George raccoons in the kitchens would not prepare food properly. She fretted day and night about the ingredients, the tablecloths, the napkins, which spoons went where, which fork was left and which right.
He smiled when he thought of the stout housekeeper he’d first met in the receiving area at the Windcity Orphanage and Cheese Factory. She had been a fretful, nervous little woman wringing her dingy brown apron, hardly a heroine. Even then, however, he had seen her goodness in the secret smile she gave him on that day. In their struggle with the Cheese Pirates she had proven her bravery and loyalty, even melting the heart of Mr. Kipling, a pirate himself until she taught him how to love again.
Everywhere Mrs. Francis went in the Hollow Mountain, she was followed by a swarm of young children, all eager for the love of a mother that no raccoon or computer could provide, however cleverly constructed or ingeniously programmed. She could be found tying shoelaces or reading stories on the lawn, mending tears in clothing or having tea parties with any number of dolls. Mrs. Francis was unofficially the mother of over three thousand orphans. Mr. Kipling bore all this with stoic patience, knowing that he would always have to share his future bride’s love with an untold number of young children.
Hamish X was happy for Mrs. Francis and Mr. Kipling, and for Parveen and Mimi. They were busy. All the children who had come from Windcity in the Orphan Queen had been absorbed into the population of the city under the mountain and they all had a job to carry out or a schoolroom to learn in or a duty to perform.
Everyone was taken care of. Everyone had a purpose. Everyone, that is, except … Hamish X. He was at a loss.
He was left to wander and explore. He read in the library or watched the raccoons building in the workshop. He tagged along to watch Mimi train or Parveen tinker with some device or other he was working on. A lot of the time he just sat in his little kitchen, looking out over the busy little colony of children, each with a place and a purpose, wondering what his place and purpose might possibly be. He had tried to get an audience with King Liam to discuss his future but the George raccoons had regretfully informed him that the King was receiving no visitors and that all requests and queries should be delivered through one’s raccoon and would be addressed in due time.
Hamish X was frustrated. Why had Liam gone to all the trouble of planting the knife on him, bringing him here, and reviving him if he wasn’t going to tell him what he should be doing? He stuffed the last morsel of toast into his mouth and, chewing in a manner that suggested he was annoyed with the world, clomped out the front door to the elevator.
The only drawback to the Hollow Mountain that Hamish X had discovered was that one could wait forever for the elevator. There was only one car and it serviced all the caverns. He joined a group of children waiting for the next car. One of them, a young girl of about eight, glanced over at him and immediately her eyes went wide.
“You’re Hamish X, aren’t you?” she said breathlessly. The other children’s heads whipped around. In a second, Hamish X was surrounded by a press of children eagerly asking him questions about his adventures and about his boots. He suffered their attentions as best he could, all the while feeling uncomfortable. They even asked to touch the boots, running their fingers over the slick surface of his footwear.
Since the restart, his boots had felt strange to him. Certainly, they were strange in the first place, but now that he remembered when they were grafted onto his body against his will, they felt alien. He could still feel their power like a soft hum, waiting to be unleashed. He had experimented on his own, late at night while lying in his bed. He would look down at the boots, focusing his mind on them. They would glow with blue radiance, reacting to his attentions. He felt the incredible power, the destructive energy they could release, but he could control it. He was becoming more adept at focusing the power. At first, he could only make the boots throb with energy, scorching his bedclothes and causing George to worry as he set the fire alarm off in his apartment. After some practice, though, he was able to control their intensity, letting it trickle through the boots at whatever level he wished. He could make the boots cling to the wall by sending the right amount of power to the knobbly soles. He could regulate his leaps and monitor his speed. In short, he was learning how to master the boots rather than be mastered by them.
The elevator car arrived. The doors opened and a crowd of children, chattering happily, stepped out as Hamish X and his newfound admirers stepped in. Again, he was subjected to stares of fascination. He moved to the back of the car and tried to concentrate on the scenery outside.
His thoughts returned to the boots. Since the King had revived him, there had been another development. The voice that had spoken to him was silent. He spent the dark hours of the night straining to hear the beautiful woman’s voice, y
earning for its soothing tone. The voice had always spoken when he was in need. He had identified it with his mother. Now that he knew the boots were all part of some plan of the ODA’s, he understood that the voice was merely part of that plan and so couldn’t be anything good. The book that he had also cherished as a link to his mother was just a mass of codes and hidden programming language.
He knew that the voice was nothing but a construct. He still missed it, though. Now he felt so alone in the world. Now that he knew there was no mother for him, he wished he still had that hope. At least he wouldn’t feel so lonely and adrift. Parveen had found Noor. Mimi had the Guards. He had nothing. Again, a little bubble of resentment towards King Liam rose to the top of his mind.
The car arrived at the Workshop Cavern. He stepped out into the courtyard with a couple of other children. Immediately a barrage of shouts and cheers assaulted his ears. A crowd was gathered in front of the doors to the Guards’ barracks. Hamish X couldn’t see what was happening, but he heard sharp cracks as if someone was banging sticks together. Then there was a meaty thwack! and someone yelped in pain. Cheers went up again.
“MI-MI! MI-MI! MI-MI!” the children chanted.
“Uh-oh,” Hamish X chuckled and walked towards the crowd.
Chapter 14
Hamish X joined the spectators, pushing his way through the children until he got to the front. At the centre of the throng, a large stone circle held only two people. Mimi stood gripping a wooden stick about a metre long. Aidan held a similar weapon and stood across the ring from her. Mimi was flushed in the face, her eyes alight and her teeth bared in a fierce grin.
“Best four outta seven? How ’bout it, Aidan?” Mimi brandished her stick over her head.
Aidan’s blond hair was plastered down over his forehead. He was breathing hard and rubbing his right buttock. His face was grim.
Mimi looked fresh by comparison. She wore a T-shirt and black cotton trousers. She hopped easily from foot to foot.