The Battle for Perfect

by Helena Duggan

  Something in the boy’s face changed. He turned to his small group of scared friends and pointed through the mayhem to the DeathDefier. The machine was still surging energy through Hugo, smoke fizzling from the Child Snatcher’s skin, and a burning smell swept through the air.

  “Take aim!” Billy Bobbins roared, his eyes now locked on the glass tube.

  Each of the team pulled back their thick elastic bands, wrapped taut around Y-shaped pieces of wood. Small arms shivered under the strain as they secured large stones in the launch pockets.

  “Fire!” Billy thundered.

  A shower of heavy rocks whizzed through the air towards the glass cylinder. Some smacked off the shoulders and shins of those who battled, but most hit their target, cracking against the glass.

  Nothing happened.

  Powick’s creatures still overpowered everyone around them. Arnold Archer stepped out from behind the DeathDefier and pointed to the small band of boys.

  “Stop them, Prissy!” he roared. “They’re trying to break my machine!”

  Panicked, Violet raced forwards towards the machine, looking for anything that’d crack the glass.

  “Take aim!” Billy shouted again, undeterred. “Fire!”

  Another flurry of rocks zipped through the air – and this time they all smashed through their target.

  “No!” Arnold bellowed as the tube exploded.

  Shards of glass scattered through the sky. Violet ducked, shielding her head as tiny fragments skewered her skin.

  A blast of air surged like a giant wave through the street, the power so strong it knocked everyone off their feet. A deep rumble and boom shook the skies and the buildings vibrated around them.

  Violet tried to stand but was knocked roughly to the ground by a zombie soaring above her. The creature thrashed against the invisible force that sucked it onto the exposed metal plate of Arnold Archer’s machine. Now the morning sky was black with Powick’s army as they were pulled, like a swarm of stinky flies, towards the DeathDefier. Other things flew through the air too, bits of jewellery, bikes, tin cans and all sorts of metal were attaching to the pile-up. A huge creaking sound then filled the skies and Violet watched, terrified, as parts of the viewing stand began to break apart under the pull of the powerful magnet.

  “It worked, it worked!” Billy and his boys celebrated, jumping round as the zombies piled up under the canopy of the Town Hall.

  Though the battle had evened out, it wasn’t over. The streets were still frenzied as Townsfolk fought fiercely against the Watchers.

  Powick wrestled Boy to the ground a few metres away just outside the tea shop by the Town Hall. Iris, hit by a flying zombie, was sprawled out by the steps, unconscious beside them. Arnold Archer had Tom by the wrist and was dragging him over to his brother, the medicine bottle still in his grasp.

  Violet struggled up onto her feet as she tried to race to help her friend. Her back seared in pain and she stumbled forward onto her knees.

  Powick was now straddling Boy, her face crazed as she pinned him to the ground. He tried to struggle free, but the woman was too strong. She forced open his mouth as Arnold flung Tom onto his knees beside his twin, shoving the poison bottle towards Boy’s parted lips.

  “You will take your brother’s life!” The old man shook with rage.

  Tom struggled for a moment, then suddenly stopped and looked straight at his grandfather.

  “Okay,” he said calmly, pulling his arm away, “I’ll do it! I want to claim my gift. I’ll do what’s right.”

  “I knew you’d see sense.” Arnold smiled.

  The old man relaxed his hold. Then Tom bent forward over his brother’s face and whispered something into his ear, before opening the small brown medicine bottle.

  “No,” Violet screamed, crawling across the ground towards them.

  “You’re a good child,” Powick eagerly encouraged him.

  Tom looked at the nurse and Arnold, then turned, smiled sadly at Violet, threw his head back and drank the poison.

  “No!” Violet and Powick cried in unison now.

  Forgetting her pain, Violet forced her injured body across the cobbles and up onto Arnold Archer’s back. Fury raged inside her as she pounded her fists wildly on the man.

  “Get off me!” Arnold cried.

  She held firm, like a rodeo rider, as he flung his weight around, trying to knock her off. Powick grabbed her ankles just as Violet noticed Iris Archer was back on her feet. The old woman threw herself at the nurse, knocking Powick aside.

  “You won’t touch any of my family again!” Iris roared, gripping a sturdy red plastic bar which appeared to have once been the arm of a seat from the now-mangled viewing stand.

  Priscilla Powick was stumbling up from the ground when Boy’s grandmother crashed the weapon down on the nurse’s back, flattening her to the cold stone.

  “And as for you!” Iris locked eyes with her ex-husband. She lifted her makeshift baton again, nodding at Violet to untangle herself from the man. “What were you thinking, Arnold? Why didn’t you just leave us alone? Let us live here in peace?”

  Violet jumped off the man’s back and stepped behind Iris. She looked around for Boy and Tom but couldn’t see them anywhere.

  “This is all your own making, Iris!” he growled. “You never believed in my greatness. A wife should support her husband, not work to destroy him!”

  “Destroy you?” she spat, still holding the metal bar aloft. “You did that yourself! You tried to meddle with life and death. Some things are not yours to control, Arnold!”

  “I am the greatest mind that ever lived, but you couldn’t accept that, could you? Jealousy ate you up and then you bore me that child who ruined everything!”

  “That child! William? He’s your son, Arnold!”

  “A cursed child. Oh you relished it while he tore down my career and our family’s future.”

  “He was just an infant! You showed your madness to the world, you destroyed your own future, Arnold!”

  “My madness? You tried to kill me, Iris, don’t you remember?”

  “Of course I do. It’s a pity I didn’t succeed.”

  “That tunnel you dropped me into was an opportunity – it led me to the Outskirts. It seemed fitting. All the greatest of minds are outsiders! The world conspired to help me, even when you didn’t. The world could see my greatness. Priscilla showed me that!”

  “So you plotted out there for years with that woman?”

  “Prissy believed in me, Iris, even when she worked for Spinners. She knew I was meant for great things. When I called on her again, she came running, just like any good woman should!”

  “And you both plotted for this fiasco?”

  “William, once my curse, became my blessing. I told you the world conspired to help me – the Divided Soul spawned twins. I couldn’t believe my luck when I saw the babies.”

  “So it was you! You were the man who visited Macula the night she gave up the boys?”

  “Oh, I spied on you all with interest as my sons created Perfect. I was curious about their plans for a while, until I saw her belly grow. She thought she was hiding it from the world, the foolish woman. When she bore twins…well, Iris, you wouldn’t believe the celebrations Prissy and I had when I told her. The curse of the Divided Soul was split and what was my failing could become my fortune.”

  Violet remembered Macula telling her and Jack that story after they’d found the picture of Boy and Tom in the orphanage. So Macula’s mysterious visitor had been Arnold after all. He’d been plotting this since before the twins were born.

  “My machine, though I tried hard to perfect it, never fully worked – beating death eluded me – but this, this was my chance,” Arnold continued. “Nobody had to know about the elixir, everyone would believe my DeathDefier worked and all of you who laughed at me would be sorry. Priscilla got a job in the orphanage and watched the twins. Tom displayed all the characteristics of the darker soul so she took him. We reared that bo
y to fulfil his destiny – on his thirteenth birthday he would kill his brother and claim his birthright, his gift, the Elixir of Life. It was going to revive my career, Iris, don’t you see? I would be the greatest scientist that ever lived. I would defeat death!” he cried.

  “Listen to yourself, Arnold. All of this madness, it exists only in your mind!”

  “You’re mocking me again, Iris. What have you done with yourself since you left me? You’ve turned stagnant. You’ve no ambition, you’re no one! You’re nothing!”

  “I’m a mother, Arnold, and a grandmother and I am surrounded by love! You could have had that, you could have had it all.”

  “And live in a town called Adequate. What a perfect place for someone like you. Why try to be anything more, Iris, when adequate is all you were ever born to be!”

  “I’m happy with adequate. But this…this sham is your great moment, Arnold? How the world will laugh now!” She pointed to the eye plants, which were still broadcasting.

  Arnold’s fury burst like a blister. He stormed forward and wrenched the seat arm from Iris, overpowering her. The old man raised the weapon over his head and glared down at his ex-wife. Hatred washed through his face. Before she could think better of it, Violet jumped and grabbed onto the plastic, holding tight as she was lifted from the ground. Arnold swung viciously and slammed her small body against the tea-shop wall.

  Violet groaned, her grip slipped and she fell to the ground.

  Arnold snorted dismissively and turned back to Iris. “I finally get to see this out,” he sneered. “If I can’t master death, I can at least take your life!”

  His face contorted and he swung savagely for his ex-wife.

  Suddenly Arnold was hit from the side and tumbled backwards. The plastic baton flew from the old man’s grasp, clattering to the ground by Violet’s feet as William Archer wrestled his father to the floor, pinning down his wide frame.

  “Hello, Dad!” he said as Arnold struggled against him.

  Thinking quickly, Violet scrambled up, raced to the dungeons of the Town Hall and grabbed the ropes that had held previously held Boy, returning as fast as she could. She tied up Powick, who was still unconscious, as William bound his father’s wrists and ankles. Iris hobbled across to them.

  “I see you’ve met your son. He’s all grown up now,” she whispered, bending over Arnold. “Maybe you were right after all. It seems he was your curse!”

  The battle was easing off. Edward and George had been captured and the Townsfolk, bruised and weary, were overpowering the Watchers. The immediate danger over, Violet looked around frantically for Boy and Tom, unwilling to think about what she’d witnessed earlier.

  A pair of feet, cut short at the ankles, rested in the middle of Edward Street. Violet recognized the shoes. She raced over and reached blindly through the air until her hands fell on Iris’s invisible silk.

  She pulled back the cover.

  Tom was lying in the road, his head on Boy’s knees. His face was pale and gaunt. Boy looked up, cheeks and eyes red from his torrent of tears.

  “I brought him here to get away from the fight. I thought I could save him, Violet… He’s, he’s…”

  Violet looked down at Tom. His eyes were closed, rimmed with deep purple circles. His arms lay limp by his side.

  “He drank it,” Boy stuttered, the words stumbling out. “He swallowed Powick’s poison. He…he saved me, Violet. He’s gone. Just like Mam…”

  The tears traced a path down his face as he looked up at his friend. He was willing her to say something, but Violet’s mind was blank, her heart empty as she sank to her knees beside him.

  “He told me he was going to take care of Mam and that I should stay here and take care of Dad. He said we’d see each other again. Then he drank the poison. I thought… I…”

  Boy bowed his head; his shoulders shook as a wave of grief engulfed him.

  “He saved me and all this time…all this time I thought he was… I remember him, Violet. I remember him now. It’s just snippets, but I think I remember swapping beds and how, that night, when Powick came, I saw her take him, and I didn’t go after her. I thought she’d come back, but she didn’t, she…she took my brother. And now…and now he’s gone.”

  Violet’s tears spilled now too. She grabbed Boy’s hand and squeezed it tight. He was shaking, his face red with rage and sadness, as if he wanted to scream at the skies.

  The battle was a distant hum. A shadow hovered over them. She looked up. Dad.

  “What happened?” Eugene asked, urgency in his tone.

  “Tom saved Boy,” Violet mumbled, searching for words. “He saved him, Dad. He drank Powick’s poison.”

  Everything went hazy then. Later, she remembered people standing around them, her dad lifting Tom’s body from the cold stone. She remembered her mam as she pulled Boy close under her arm, one of Violet’s favourite places, and walked him to Iris’s. She remembered the soup and the bread and how she couldn’t stomach any of it. She remembered how Anna held tight to Boy’s arm and how Jack never left his side. She remembered the hushed tones and lowered voices and William’s face. And she remembered her bed and how her soft sheets felt like lead.

  Violet walked up past the school where a zombie had just finished cleaning the yard. She was getting used to seeing the creatures around now. Most people had one in their homes to help with odd jobs, but the Browns hadn’t got a zombie yet – all three felt it was just a little too creepy.

  She carried a bunch of flowers. The evenings were getting shorter now and there was a bite in the air, but the sun still warmed her back like one of her dad’s hugs. She pushed open the graveyard gate.

  He was sitting in his usual place, easy to spot as she walked down the wood-chipped path and plonked on the bench nearest the grave. She waited, not wanting to disturb him.

  After a few minutes he walked over and sat beside her.

  “It’s nice here, isn’t it?”

  She nodded. An easy silence spread out between them.

  “I suppose if you have to be buried somewhere, I’d like here,” Violet replied after a while, watching the last of the butterflies and bees swarm round the flowers that hugged the walls of Town’s graveyard.

  “Are they for Mam?” He gestured at her flowers.

  “Yeah.” She smiled. “Grown specially. My mam said Macula loved wildflowers!”

  “I wish I knew more about her.” He lowered his head, picking at some loose skin on his finger. “I wish I knew how she thought or the things she appreciated.”

  “But you did.” Violet’s voice was soft. “You knew how much she loved you. That’s all you ever need to know about mams. Oh and whether they can cook or not. Mine can’t so I always pretend to eat and wait for Dad to cook something good when she’s not looking. He doesn’t tell Mam she’s a bad cook, but she burns everything, even after all her classes. Dad says she should stick to the numbers!”

  “Violet, you’re very funny for a girl.” Her friend smiled.

  “Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” She elbowed him hard.

  He laughed and silence surrounded them again. She watched the orange evening light seep across the sky.

  “I saw her, you know.” He broke the quiet. “When I was really sick.”

  “Saw who?” she asked.

  “Mam.”

  “Oh…”

  “I haven’t told anyone else. She said she loved me and that I was a good son. She said she could take care of herself and that I should return to Dad and Boy, who needed me, and that she’d see us all again when it was our time. She seemed very happy, Violet. She said she was the happiest she’d ever been because her family had found each other.”

  “Was that when you were in a coma? Teresa said you might have strange dreams as your body came round. You were so lucky she’s was one of the best toxi…tocic…whatever you call them in the world!”

  Violet remembered that night – she’d probably never forget it. Her dad knew what each of Arnold
’s old Hegel friends specialized in and sought out Teresa straight away. It turned out black-widow venom had an antidote, but it was a long and scary wait to see if Tom woke up.

  “Toxicologists, Violet!” He smiled. “And it wasn’t a dream, it was real, it was magic.”

  “Do you believe in magic?” she asked, thinking about William and Eugene and all the scientists she knew.

  “Yes, it’s everywhere,” he replied, as though the answer were obvious. “Otherwise how do you explain life?”

  Violet could think of a million ways her dad and the others would answer that question. They’d fill it with facts and numbers and weird equations and theories. But she also thought about what her mam or Macula might say, and about the feelings deep in her stomach and the wildflowers in her hand. She knew Tom was right. Magic was everywhere.

  A large black bird swooped down from the skies and landed on the wall behind them. Boy’s twin turned round to rub its glossy head.

  Violet’s eyes watered – happy tears. She looked away.

  “It’s okay,” Tom laughed.

  “What is?”

  “Crying. I know you mask it from Boy at times, but I followed you, remember? I know you cry!”

  “You stalked me, more like!” Violet joked, rubbing her eyes. “Anyway I wasn’t hiding it! Mam said crying is a strength not a weakness. She wishes Dad cried more when he’s sad. It’s good for you, you know!”

  “Hey, crybabies!” Boy laughed, pushing onto the bench, almost knocking Violet off. “Dad wants us, Tom – he’s almost finished dismantling the Brain but he needs our help now linking the plants in the dungeons to the smaller control centre in the Committee room!”

  “Oh, I’m meant to be helping with the eye plants too,” Violet remembered, standing. “They’re shipping them away to that hospital soon. Those things are disgusting – I’ll be happy when they’re gone!”

  “They showed the world how crazy Arnold was though, didn’t they? They helped catch Edward and George more than once too. And now they’re being put all around the Town Hall dungeons, making sure Powick, Arnold, Edward, George and the Watchers never get out! If it wasn’t for Eugene’s plants, we might be living in Perfect again or, even worse, Zombie Town!” Boy joked.