The Thing At Black Hole Lake

by Dashe Roberts

  Milo broke free from his father and ran to Lucy, clinging to her side.

  “What’s happening?” he said.

  “I told you the Pretenders were coming to free Thingus!” she exclaimed.

  PAKKKROSHH!

  The double doors flew off their hinges as a massive tawny mountain goat with enormous curled horns rammed its way into the room. Head down, muscled legs pounding at full speed, the mighty ibex tilted at the glass prison.

  SMASHK-K-KKSH!

  The ibex hit the tank with tremendous force. The impact created a web of cracks that spread and crackled until the container shattered, foamy liquid cascading to the floor. Thingus clambered out of the broken vessel and wilted to the ground. Spluttering, he opened his albatross wings, which spanned at least three metres, then shook off the remaining tubes and electrodes from his body. Standing on shaky legs, he raised his reptilian head and howled like a coyote: “OWOOOOOOOOOOOOH!”

  Milo threw his arms round Thingus’s neck, while Lucy buried her face in his soggy feathers. The creature purred, nuzzling Milo’s shoulder.

  Meanwhile, the ibex Pretender cornered the team of cowering scientists. It bowed its horned head and pawed the floor, snorting.

  Doctor Quittan shrieked and scurried out through the busted doorway and into the hall. Scotty and the last of the white coats hustled after her, the goat thundering close behind.

  The smell of smoke wafted through the lab’s open threshold. A fire had clearly broken out somewhere down the hall.

  I did wonder whether using a flamethrower indoors was a good idea…

  “We need to get above ground,” Fisher called, poised at the doorway.

  “I’m not leaving without Thingus,” said Milo. He coughed as the smoke thickened.

  “Fine.” Fisher held out his hands, as if in surrender. “If it’s the only way to get you to safety,” he said, “you can bring that Thing to the surface.”

  Milo burst into a grin. “Thank you!”

  Lucy led the way through the broken doors and into the hazy hallway, looking anxiously at Fisher as she passed. Thingus trotted after her, his hooves clacking as clumsily as a newborn calf, his oversized wings dragging on the ground. Milo followed close behind, while Fisher brought up the rear.

  Her eyes stinging, Lucy spotted a trail of white mice racing out of the animal-testing room and towards the exit. She paused to check inside. The cages were open and empty, and the chimps were nowhere to be seen. The Pretenders must have gotten them out!

  As they ran further down the hallway, flames flickered angrily inside the testing rooms they had previously passed. An explosion sent a hail of sparks surging from a door at their side.

  Lucy screamed and fell back against the corridor wall.

  “Keep moving!” Fisher bellowed, emerging from a thick cloud of smoke.

  They ran until they reached the elevator. Lucy pressed the call button repeatedly.

  “Not that way,” Fisher croaked. He gestured to the end of the hall. “There.”

  Lucy raced through an open door to an emergency staircase. The last of Fisher’s scientists were several flights up, sprinting towards the top. Smoke billowed upwards through the shaft, illuminated by flashing red emergency lights. The stairway seemed endless.

  Thingus bumped into Lucy as he rushed fearfully through the door, Milo at his side. With no other possible route to safety, they galloped up flight after flight of stairs, wheezing as they went. Another explosion sounded down below and more caustic soot flooded the escape shaft.

  “We’re nearly there,” Fisher choked.

  Lucy felt like she was going to pass out.

  Milo pushed an exhausted Thingus up the stairs from behind. Lucy ran down to help, wrapping one of the creature’s wings round her shoulder. Fisher followed from a distance, his jaw set.

  Laboriously, they made their way up the remaining flight of stairs, which levelled out on to a landing. At the end of the platform was a ladder leading up to an open hatch. Through the smoke, Lucy spotted a patch of sky above them. Starlight.

  Milo coughed and spat. “How are we gonna get Thingus up the ladder? He’s got hooves, not hands.”

  Lucy tried to lift the beast’s front while Milo grabbed his rear, but they had no strength left to lift the creature. Breathing heavily, Thingus’s head drooped.

  “I’ll take it from here.” Fisher reached out to pick up the limp being.

  Thingus bucked at Fisher’s approach, leaping away in terror.

  “Thingus,” shouted Milo, “you’ve got wings. Use them!”

  Backed against the wall, Thingus hissed fiercely at Fisher and fanned his massive wings. With one last look at Milo with his strange lizard eyes, Thingus flapped with all his might. Making a mighty leap, he tore up through the opening and soared into the air, disappearing into the twinkling night sky.

  The End

  Milo filled his lungs with the clean, cold orchard air. It was a welcome respite from the pungent smoke that was still pouring out of the open hatchway behind him. He, Lucy and his father had emerged outside the dense grove of trees that concealed the geodesic dome, a dozen yards away from the no-longer-so-secret lab entrance.

  Thirty-odd scientists milled around, coughing and wiping their sooty faces with flimsy white jackets. Many were staring in awe at Thingus, who was circling overhead like a griffin. He cackled and cawed, somersaulting through the heavens, exalting in his freedom and his newfound ability to fly.

  “We did it,” said Milo, exhaling with relief.

  “Thanks to you,” said Lucy, “Thingus is having as much fun up there as a mosquito at a nude beach.” She handed her scarf to Milo.

  “Thanks,” he smiled.

  “We wouldn’t want Miss Sladan to catch cold, now would we?” Mr Fisher took the scarf and tossed it back to Lucy, then placed his suit jacket round his son’s shoulders.

  Milo hugged his father. He began to hope that, in time, Mr Fisher would understand that Thingus wasn’t a threat. There was so much they had yet to learn about his species. Maybe Lucy was right, and the Pretenders really were harmless? Wait, where did she go?

  For a moment Milo was worried she’d headed off without saying goodbye, but he caught sight of her up a nearby tree scarred with harvesting gashes.

  “Where are the other Pretenders?” she called down.

  Milo presumed she was referring to the magpies and the ibex who had helped Thingus escape. Huh. Good question.

  A handful of scientists doled out silver-foil blankets to their underdressed colleagues. Milo hoped they had given one to those chimpanzees as well.

  “There he is!” a booming voice called out.

  Mr Murl ran through the muck towards Mr Fisher, carrying a black tactical jacket under his arm.

  Mr Fisher gladly took the coat. “Is the team in position?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir,” said Murl. “Alpha Six is ready, at your signal.”

  “Good. Clear out the scientists. I don’t want civilians in the area.”

  “Understood,” said Murl. “And the children?”

  Fisher paused, pondering.

  Surely he won’t send me away now? Not after all this.

  “Leave them with me,” said Fisher, to Milo’s relief. “My son will only benefit from participating in the next phase. And as for the girl, I think it’s time we find out how much she really knows.”

  Murl saluted curtly and hurried off, ordering the scientists to get to their cars and head home.

  Lucy climbed down and sloshed back through the mud. “I’m glad Thingus is enjoying his wings, but it’s not safe for him to stick around.” She cleaned her filthy glasses on her shirt. “Why doesn’t he leave?”

  “I think he’s just happy,” said Milo. “Aren’t you?”

  Lucy grinned. “You know what we need?”

  “A mint milkshake,” they both said simultaneously, then burst out laughing, the kind of laughter that happens when you’re exhausted and relieved and feeling safe at lon
g last after a brain-meltingly stressful day. The kind of laughter that sometimes comes too early.

  Out of the corner of his eye Milo saw his father raise his hand, his fingers splayed. Murl was standing to attention several yards away. What are they doing now? Fisher abruptly closed his open fingers into a fist and Murl shouted into his walkie-talkie, “Now!”

  A shot rang out from somewhere unseen, loud as a cannon. Lucy flung her hands over her ears while Milo stood frozen and bewildered. Up above, a big and blobby projectile of sap hit Thingus, nearly blacking him out from view. The creature’s yowl echoed across the Big Crater Valley, his wings no longer able to keep him aloft, as he fell from an incredible height.

  “What are you doing?” Milo ran to his father. “You said you’d let him go.”

  “I said he’d get to the surface, and I kept my word.” Mr Fisher watched as Thingus toppled helplessly towards the far edge of the orchard.

  “You’ve killed him,” Milo shrieked.

  Fisher grabbed his son by the shoulders and looked him squarely in the eye. “The monster will be fine. Trust me.”

  “Trust you?” Lucy shouted. “You’ve done nothing but destroy things since you came here.”

  Off in the distance, Thingus hit the earth with a horrendous BOOM. A spray of mud shot into the air like a geyser, marking the place he landed. Milo felt sick rise at the back of his throat.

  Fisher brusquely signalled to Mr Murl. The head henchman whistled, and twenty armed security operatives zigzagged through the orchard towards the fallen creature.

  “Follow me,” Fisher shouted to his son as he ran off towards the crash site.

  Lucy threw her arms round Milo. “Don’t go,” she begged. “It’s too awful. I don’t want you to see…”

  Milo’s feet and face felt numb. What had his father done? “I have to,” he said. He pushed away and walked, zombie-like, towards his friend, surely smashed to a million pieces, just like that. And for what?

  Lucy was pacing in panicked circles. For a moment it seemed she couldn’t bring herself to follow, but soon enough she chased after Milo and took his hand in hers. “I won’t let you go alone.”

  Milo squeezed Lucy’s hand tightly as they approached the impact site, which was completely surrounded by men in uniforms, each standing at military readiness and holding a high-tech weapon. Mr Fisher oversaw the action, standing on the bed of an armoured pickup truck parked at the edge of the orchard. A fleet of drones hovered overhead, directing beams of bright light around the scene. Fresh soil scattered out from the nucleus of the crash where a figure, half buried in the ground, was moving.

  Milo’s spirit lifted. He’s alive. How?

  Lucy stood on her toes, trying to see. Milo could hear Thingus moaning faintly beneath the throbbing mound of dirt.

  “Mmmmrrrrrr…” The creature tried to struggle to his feet.

  The sound of cocking weaponry clicked round the circle of Fisher’s men like the warning of a rattlesnake.

  “Mmmmrrrrrhhhhhh…” Thingus moaned again, his voice wavering. Soil cascading from his shoulders, the fallen being stood up properly at last. Once again, Thingus had mutated into a hybrid imitation of his human friends. His trembling lips were bowed like Lucy’s. His eyes were blue, like Milo’s, and filled with tears. “Mmmuh. Mmmilo!” he called in his oscillating, ethereal voice.

  “No way,” Lucy gasped. “He really is a Pretender, isn’t he?”

  Other than smears of black sap on his approximated yellow rain gear, Thingus appeared to be miraculously unscathed. “Milo,” he cried, reaching out. “Halp!”

  Milo started towards him, but the nearest men closed ranks, blocking Thingus from view. “Please, please let Thingus go,” he begged his father.

  “Not until they show themselves,” answered Fisher.

  “Who?” said Milo.

  “FIRE,” barked Murl.

  One of the men discharged his weapon and Thingus was hit with a jolt of electricity that coursed over his body in a cobweb of light. Another man fired a shoulder cannon that coated the creature in a thick glob of pink goo.

  “NYAAAAAWWWXXX!” screamed Thingus, dropping to the wet earth like a stunned eel, twitching torturously and unable to change form.

  “Stop!” Milo hollered.

  “That’s enough, Fisher!” A woman’s voice rang out with all the force of a hurricane.

  A silence fell on the field as all the men turned their weapons towards the orchard. The Other Mrs Stricks marched through the trees and out into the open, a few yards from the truck on which Fisher stood. Instead of her customary muumuu, she wore a crimson hooded monk-like robe that trailed on the ground behind her. The ibex, which stood as tall as her shoulder, trotted beside her, its head bowed as if poised to charge. The mischievous magpies were perched on each of its imposing horns.

  “You’ve made your point, Richard.” The Other Mrs Stricks held her arms out at her sides, her palms open in a gesture of peace. Tufts of frizzy silver hair danced in the wind around her stern face.

  Fisher nodded to Murl, who signalled to his men. One by one, they holstered their weapons.

  The Other Mrs Stricks snapped her fingers. The magpies fluttered down to the ground, where their small bodies shimmered, expanded and lengthened in a series of airy huffs. The goat jellified, rumbling bulbously until it grew to the height and width of a tall man with a potbelly. The creatures’ hair and feathers slithered and stitched themselves into identical flowing red robes. Steve Kozlowski, Kenzo and Marietta Corbin now stood beside the Other Mrs Stricks, glowering at Fisher from beneath their matching hoods.

  “Fudgesicles,” said Lucy.

  Mr Fisher jumped down from the truck and approached them. “I thought we agreed you wouldn’t interfere with my operation.”

  “We did,” said the Other Mrs Stricks. “But you neglected to mention that your operation was not very nice.” She smiled mockingly. “Now, why don’t you do us all a favour and let the kid go?”

  Fisher glanced sceptically at Thingus, who was whimpering in the foetal position. “That kid, as you call it, is being held as collateral solely because of your irresponsible and hostile acts of sabotage.”

  “The only thing we sabotaged were your attempts to tear this valley to pieces,” shouted Marietta Corbin.

  “Not to mention us!” added Kenzo.

  “Nu Co. is advancing its interests in compliance with the letter of the law,” Fisher retorted, “and we have no intention of stopping now.”

  “Well then,” said the Other Mrs Stricks, “it seems we have something of a chicken and egg problem, don’t we?”

  Steve Kozlowski advanced towards Fisher, his fists clenched. Kenzo stopped him with a hand to the shoulder.

  “It’s time for you and your kind to leave this valley,” said Fisher.

  “That’s funny,” said the Other Mrs Stricks. “I was going to say the same thing to you.”

  A look of surprise flashed across Mr Fisher’s face. “You don’t have a choice,” he insisted.

  “Is that what you think?” The old woman snapped her fingers again.

  ZZZZZBAKKKKCHHOWWW!

  With a deafening blast, four bolts of lightning zapped down from the heavens, striking in a circle round the crowded crash site.

  Milo ducked, pulling Lucy to the ground along with him.

  Spooked, the security forces charged into one another, trying to figure out which way to run. The drones hovering overhead short-circuited in a spray of hot sparks, their spotlights faltering. One by one, they spun hazardously out of control. Some crashed into trees while others simply dropped out of the sky, CHONKing to the ground as frenzied soldiers jumped out of the way.

  Lucy leapt over Milo as a drone, its rotor blades still spinning, smacked down in the spot she had lain an instant ago.

  “Where did the lightning come from?” said Milo. “There’s not a cloud in the sky.”

  “That’s not normal lightning,” said Lucy.

  The smoke cleared,
the bitter scent of burnt metal permeating the area. Four human forms stood in each spot where the bolts had struck, their crimson hoods raised.

  Milo strained to see them, slowly realising that each of their faces were familiar. Carlos Felina. Mrs Stricks. Alastair Chelon. Mandy Millepoids. Holy crum. It’s all of them. And they can travel through lightning. He swallowed. Who are these people?

  “Milo!” Fisher called from behind the truck. “Get over here, quickly!”

  Without a second thought, Milo obeyed. “Come on,” he urged Lucy. Tentatively, she followed.

  Mr Fisher lifted the kids on to the heavy-duty truck bed and slammed the tailgate shut. “Stay here,” he ordered.

  Milo backed against the window of the cab. Lucy watched the scene unfold, a shadow of worry on her face.

  The security team had finally sorted themselves into formation, each crouched round the immobilised Thingus, their weapons pointed out at the ring of Pretenders.

  “Fisher,” Carlos Felina purred, “this is your last chance.” The moustachioed weatherman stood four yards away from Milo and Lucy on the other side of the truck. “Release the young one.”

  Fisher marched to the edge of Thingus’s crater, Murl at his side with his stun gun drawn. Milo wondered what his father would do to protect his men. What were these creatures, and what were they capable of?

  “He’d better not hurt Thingus again,” Lucy hissed through her teeth.

  Milo was struggling to wrap his brain round it all. Who was in the right? “The Pretenders need to back down,” he said. “They’re only making it worse.”

  Lucy scowled. “Your dad’s goons are the ones who should back down.”

  “The Pretenders shouldn’t have broken my father’s machines.”

  “Your dad shouldn’t have kidnapped Thingus,” she snapped.

  “No,” Milo agreed. “He shouldn’t.” Lucy was right. What his father had done was wrong, but Milo knew he thought he was doing it for the right reasons. It’s never okay to hurt anyone. Is it?

  “We simply want things to return to they way they were, Fisher,” declared Mandy Millepoids, his tall silhouette clearly visible on the far side of the circle. “Don’t be a fool.”