Sombre

  Only ten feet away, partially obscured among the trees, someone stood watching. A male. Dark shoulder length hair; a pale face. Well overdressed in a long black raincoat and black pants. A dirty creep in the trees, lecherous, his presence an invasion. Whoever he was, he was fixated on her. His attention was unwavering.

  A chill crept from her throat down through her chest. Her vision had cleared a little, she squinted, took a step and choked out a, “Hello … What do you want?” She took another step.

  He left. Or vanished, it happened so fast she couldn’t tell.

  Despite her head, she paced outward to the edge of the trees. She searched the party. No trace. “Like a ghost,” she said under her breath and coughed.

  Had he been real?

  The ticking stopped, but the pain didn’t. It left her temple and travelled; on tour around her cranium. Her whole forehead burned now.

  Haunted, Hope stood staring. Sombre, her dream world, was messing with her reality. Was she losing her mind? A tear trickled down her cheek. The pain pulsed and her vision blurred again.

  She shut her eyes.

  She collapsed.

  S

  “Hope! Wake up! Jesus! What in the hell are you doing?”

  The voice seemed to come from miles away. A girl’s voice – Kate’s. She felt her sisters hand pushing at her shoulder trying to rouse her. “Shit! Get up! Mom and dad told me to come look for you! Are you sick? You’re covered in sweat! Yuck!”

  Hope blinked, willing herself to wake. Glasses pulled up high over her fringe; she saw her sister’s blurry concerned face peering down at her hers.

  “You didn’t have any alcohol, did you? If you did, I’m telling!”

  Hope cleared her throat and licked her lips. “No. Where’s my drink?” Gingerly, she propped herself up on one elbow. Her sister looked round and found the bottle. She handed it to her. It was warm.

  Kate frowned, “Can you get up? Mum will make you go to the doctors. Your hormones must be so out of whack! You’re a friggin mess.”

  “Don’t tell mum. I’m fine. I just haven’t been sleeping well, that’s all. I drifted off … this party is so boring.” It was a feeble lie. Hope got to her feet.

  Kate put her sunglasses back in place. “You’re so weird, Hope. I love you, but sometimes I wonder how we are related at all.”

  “I wonder that as well … please don’t tell mum. She’s already at me enough, okay?”

  “Yeah, whatever I guess … come on, they want to get out of here.” Kate walked coolly across the lawn.

  Her neck was stiff, but her head was clear. Running her hands through her sweaty hair, Hope adjusted her glasses and did her best to freshen up. Pinching her shirt fabric, she shook some air onto her clammy skin and took off after her sister.

  She peered back at the trees. “He was there,” she whispered to herself. “Someone was there.” She wasn’t sure of it at all. But it was best to believe it. She didn’t need to be going mad.

  CHAPTER 12

  The Transporter

  That night, after a quick shower, (wondering if she was indeed getting sick) an exhausted Hope fell onto her mattress. Sleep came like a crushing weight.

  The nightmare continued.

  S

  ‘Dirty, filthy … You’ve ruined everything, Hope!’ Her mother hissed at her from somewhere in the chapel’s foyer - definitely her mother’s voice.

  The foyer was trapped in an impossible darkness. Impossible because she could see through the tinted windows it was still afternoon on the street outside. She was alone. Just her on all fours; making a valiant attempt to get to her feet - and her mother, and possibly her father, although, if Evan Kelley was there, he wasn’t taking part in any of the daughter-taunting.

  ‘You filthy troll of a girl! See what you’ve done! This is what you do you dirty creature!’

  “Mum?” Hope said her voice brittle.

  ‘Don’t you speak to me!? You’ve ruined everything! You don’t deserve it, don’t deserve anything!’

  With horror, Hope saw the wedding guests suddenly appear at the windows, all bleeding and burnt, eyes wide with hate. Her sister stood at the front of the grisly looking horde. Grinning, Kate began to slap her hand heavily on the glass in a rhythmic way. Terrified, Hope watched as the guests joined her. The slapping got heavier, pounding. The glass shook. It was going to give way … and then it did. Stomping through the shards, Kate led the charge into the foyer. Light from the street suddenly filled the room. Hope screamed as she was yanked and pulled to her feet by what felt like fifty hands. She was lifted, body uncomfortably cradled and squeezed. Fingers dug into her skin, gripped her throat, her chin was lifted savagely to be in line her mother’s hate-filled face. Evelyn Kelly laughed evilly, ‘You’re a pathetic wretch, Hope! A disgrace to everyone and everybody!’ Her eyes were wild, ‘You need to feel this.’

  A knife blade protruded from the middle of her mother’s right fist. ‘You need to feel this,’ she repeated.

  She proceeded to knife-punch Hope in the face.

  S

  Halliday, Wilder and Colonel Em Contusion walked The Outer. Halliday had given up trying to ride with Em as a passenger, as the newly made Hell-Flyer kept forgetting to hold Halliday’s waist. After falling off Wilder twice, Halliday thought that was quite enough. They were on foot.

  Rubbish was a problem in Sombre - what to do with it all? The Outer was really just the nightmare world’s dumping area; a strip of sandy land a couple of hundred feet wide that went on and on. To The Outer’s right lay an energy fog – a buzzing obscure representation of Sombre’s massive engine of nightmare cities and boroughs. To the left, The River ran.

  Halliday felt itchy as she walked, this was always the case when she used The Outer. White plastic bags, full of lord knows what, indiscriminately discarded by The Office of The Menders, sat piled one on the other. Halliday knew that going this way was the fastest to get Em to the Terminal Air Strip. Stay away from The Byways. Avoid getting a job. That would be a lost cause with Em as baggage.

  The worst part of travelling The Outer was that a citizen of Sombre was reminded of their ever-approaching end. Halliday tried to avoid looking at the fast flowing, carcass-filled water of The River, but couldn’t help herself. She was compelled to look. Chest cavities, robbed forever of their Beating Clocks, gaped open. Ghost-white and puffy, waterlogged faces with Mender-sewn up mouths and white milky eyes seemed to watch her as they drifted in the rot.

  “Hmm … I do apologize for bringing you this way, Em. But I need to get you out of my hair. I need to get back to work,” Halliday said doing her best to look away from the rushing gore.

  Em Contusion didn’t answer just looked blankly ahead.

  “Did you hear me I wonder?” Halliday said looking into Em’s newly-skulled face. “You really are a bit of a hollow potato-head aren’t you, a blank thing that needs filling up. It’s okay, I’ll talk, or I’ll be bored witless.”

  Halliday patted her mare on the neck, “There’s a good Wilder.” She filled the silence, “So you were Parker Wright the cheerleader, did you know? Before you were turned into the rather ghoulish specimen you are now. We all are someone else. That someone else doesn’t exist in Sombre though, well, they do for a short while, until a Gatherer catches you, and you are changed. A buggery of a system it is, I know.” She found herself gazing at The River again, and snapped her head away, “Ugh! Nasty business that … can-not-stop-looking though.”

  She went on, “So I am Hope Kelley’s, Halliday Knight. I am a fairly big deal here in Sombre if I may say so myself. Ha!”

  “The fifth best Halliday,” reminded an Other-self.

  She ignored the jibe. “I am a Gatherer; you are a Hell-Flyer. I and my willful mare here, Wilder, collect lots of troubled sleepers who have had the horrible misfortune of landing in Sombre.”

  Wilder snorted upon hearing her name.

  “Clever nag,” Halliday said with affection and continued, “I am very usefu
l, but sadly Em, you are not. You fly planes and get shot out of the sky – or just fly them very badly – not at all sure which happens more often there. A Hell-Flyer’s stroke rate is a high one. You’ll be at the Mender’s all the time. Why you ended up a Hell-Flyer is anyone’s guess! Ha! I can only think that it might have something to do with who you are in the waking world. To be frank, your ‘Parker’ is a bleeding snooty upstart! I can’t imagine that my Hope and your Parker get along very well at all!”

  Em turned to Halliday. “When am I going to fly, up in the sky?”

  Halliday stifled a laugh, “Ho! You just rhymed, you funny thing … soon Em, very soon. And ultimately, I am not at all sure what I am supposed to be doing with you yet. But do try and look after yourself won’t you. I would imagine I am to take you to The Menders when you crash your plane. I have not one clue how that will work … I will do my best to get to you. It might all depend on how busy I am. My calling as a Gatherer is to rescue Nightmarers, that’s what I do. Being at your beck and call, particularly when your whole existence revolves around flying and dangerously crashing planes, will be very disruptive to my more important work. I am trying to be good humored about this situation, Em, but I can’t lie, this is all a bit of a pain in my backside.”

  A large flushing out of dirty water came in a wave from Sombre’s energy fog, filling the path momentarily. Halliday stopped and halted her companion. “We won’t walk in that Em. That will be unwanted guts and fleshy things. The Menders can be quite thoughtless when they clear the floors and waste bins. They wouldn’t expect anyone to be walking The Outer.”

  The filthy water thinned and seeped into The River. Halliday readied to set off again. A large mischief of rats, sniffing the fresh fetidness, exploded onto the path and Wilder whinnied, rearing up on her hinds, steam rushing from her nostrils. “Whoa, Wilder! You are a lot bigger than they are! Steady on girl!”

  Em Contusion took off suddenly, surprising Halliday. “What are you doing?”

  The Hell-Flyer began stomping and kicking at the vermin like a mad thing, her long thin, booted legs flying this way and that, missing just about every one of them in the process. The very random and erratic display shocked Halliday into laughter. “Ha! My god what has possessed you girl! You go Em!”

  The pathway cleared and Em stopped dead - as if she was a coin operated attraction and the money’s worth had just run out.

  A grinning Halliday clapped her on the shoulder, “So, now we know you don’t like rats! That’s alright, we all have our things. Let’s move, wild girl.” Halliday pointed upward and cocked her ear like a curious spaniel. “Do you hear? We are close.”

  “Flying?” Em’s mouth couldn’t really smile, but Halliday assumed that she was.

  “Yes. Let’s hop-to’ and go catch your plane.”

  Halliday studied the mist as they walked. She wasn’t lying to Em, they were close, but to enter Sombre’s great engine at the wrong junction meant that they could slip into The Byway and end up anywhere. She couldn’t afford to make a mistake. She needed to get this done. “Wait here.”

  Em Contusion and Wilder halted and Halliday tentatively moved forward. She squinted at the edges. She spoke over her shoulder, “You have to be careful you see. Once you touch, you enter - you can’t just step back out. Luckily I have done this a time or two.”

  She was well practiced.

  “This is it, follow me please.”

  S

  Halliday led her machanihorse and Colonel Em Contusion across the tarmac with purpose. She peered up at the occasional passing plane. Although they appeared to be in daylight time, the weather was forever overcast at The Terminal Airstrip; black and grey clouds threatening to break open and release the wildest of storms at any moment.

  “You’ll be flying absolute junkers’ Em,” Halliday pointed at the old tin flyers above, “Whoever the original Nightmarer was that dreamt this place up, had a love affair with world war two and the worst aviation has to offer. I hear the Gatherers talk and joke about it all the time at The Ruptured Spleen.”

  Even from the ground, she could make out the brown rust on the rivets and the dented shells. Halliday mused, “I will say that the 45th Hell-Flyer Squadron is very passionate about it all though.” She smiled at Em knowingly, “You’re excited, I can tell.”

  There was a sudden rush of spitfire guns. A plane fell from above in a wild, spiraling nosedive. Halliday stopped and scowled and waited for the sickening crush. It came and the three stood and watched the subsequent fire. A crackling air siren sounded, and a fire engine dashed out from the garage of a tower with 45th emblazoned above the exit.

  Sighing, Halliday continued on, “so this is where things are for you now. You fly, you crash, and you get a stroke. We probably won’t know each other very long.”

  Excited, Em paced ahead, “I’m gonna fly.”

  “Yes … and crash, Em! You’re going to crash!” Halliday ran to catch up to her as they approached the 45th Hell-Flyer control tower. She was going to make sure she dropped the girl off properly. This had to be done right. With excitement that bordered on feverish, Em charged into the tower garage.

  Tools lined the walls and very flammable looking red barrels of fuel stood in rows in the garage. The oil stained floor was empty. Em’s shoulders slumped. She turned to Halliday, eyes wide, looking pitifully confused – it was as if she expected to see a plane waiting with her name on it.

  “Oh, Em.” As dim as she found her, Halliday had grown a little fond of Em Contusion. She was about to tell her not to worry, that someone would be along soon, when from a stairwell to the left, there was a shuffle of heavy boot steps. The voice was a booming echo, “Colonel Em Contusion! Welcome to the 45th!” A massive man kicked the scuffed white wooden door open and came at his new Hell-Flyer, hand extended in greeting.

  Halliday recoiled. He was frightening to look at; as bald as a misshapen cue ball, a barely fleshed, pink skull-face; like Em’s, the oaf’s mouth was set in that permanently lipless, Hell-Flyer – grimace/smile. Yet, his eye cavities were inset with melded goggles; the scratched and dirty glass of which looked like it needed a good wipe with petroleum. Stinking of sweat, he was wet around the mouth with white bits of spit. The man’s arms were as fat as breakfast-sausages under his leather flight jacket. Halliday took another step back. She thought him everything she disliked in a man. Despite being a Hell-Flyer ghoul, (she could deal with that) he was every bit an unkempt boor that reminded her of a clumsy bloated toddler.

  “The epitome of letting oneself go …” she said under her breath, this last thought escaping her lips.

  The bungler tripped on approach. Halliday noticed that his Beating Clock hand was set at four. “We have our latest recruit! Major Commander Acker at your service!” He looked Em up and down and shoved hard at her shoulders – she didn’t flinch, “Ah, Hell-Flyer through and through! Let’s get you enlisted and in the air!” Halliday noticed spittle leave the major’s mouth and spray Em in the face. “Woeful man,” she muttered to herself. Major Commander Acker hadn’t even registered her presence. Em had seemed to forgotten she was still there as well.

  “I’m going to fly,” Em said with wonder as she allowed herself to be guided toward the stairs.

  Halliday piped up, “By Em! Look after yourself!” Halliday felt a strange wrenching at her chest as Em left the garage area. The blighter didn’t even look back at her!

  The commander did. Completely changing tact, in a tone low and full of hate, he stopped on the stairwell and spat his words. “Piss off, Gatherer. Or I’ll tie you to a wing! You’ve done your job, now get out!”

  “You disgusting ass,” Halliday retaliated, “Best be quick with your next Nightmarer. I’ll be coming. I might have bullet for you as well!”

  He stood glaring a moment longer, looking like he had something else to say, elongated drool dripping from his terrible mouth. Halliday smiled, he seemed smart enough to know a threat from a Gatherer was not to be taken lightly.
Her Other-selves wanted more.

  “Get your Remington, Hope’s Halliday!” said one.

  “Agreed, I would have had a bullet in that blight, by now,” said another.

  She backed away slowly as Commander Acker climbed the stairs and disappeared.

  “Come on, Wilder. We are done here my nag.”

  Halliday hopped in the saddle and Wilder trotted them out into the airfield.

  Her hand went straight to her clock’s face. “What is this?” she felt more strange pulling from deep in her chest. She felt something in her head as well – she couldn’t picture Em, but there was a sense of her there. She thought of how she watched the new Hell-Flyer’s transformation at The Mender’s; the miniature bodies of Hope, herself and Parker Wright. Of how she reacted just then on leaving her behind with her commander. Having a longing to protect her? Missing a piece of herself? Is this what it meant to be Em’s guardian?

  She sulked to her mare. “Oh, bugger it all, Wilder! My existence is over.”

  Her Other-selves laughed.

  CHAPTER 13

  The Beating

  Hope’s Sunday had been an uneventful one. Slow. She read a few pages of ‘To Kill a Mockingbird’ then toyed with the idea of riding her bike somewhere and found she couldn’t be bothered. The morning crawled on toward lunch, she finished some homework in the afternoon in very unconvincing fashion.

  That night in Sombre turned out to be quiet for Halliday as well. The Gatherer had pretty well holed herself up at The Ruptured Spleen, drinking herself into a sorrowful state. Wilder had run off on her drunken ass as well. ‘Served Halliday right,’ Hope thought when she woke up, feeling sickly hungover. There was never much to appreciate from Halliday’s sessions at the Spleen’.

  Her sister had called Monday morning shotgun – with a satisfied grin and exaggerated bottom wiggle she slipped into the front seat as if the leather held magical properties within its padding. Hope noticed her mother’s latest look as she clipped herself into the back seat; Evelyn Kelley had just had a fresh grooming at the salon. Her classy blond was now a little shorter; wispy bangs fell like brushstrokes to her shoulders. She pulled down the vanity mirror, gave Hope a blank gaze and flipped it back up.