Twin Spirit

by Matthew Thompson

  “I doubt it. I’m a one-off.”

  Rose gazed at a rusty steel bar on the ground. She narrowed her eyes and focused her mind, pushing, forcing with thought. The bar didn’t move in the slightest. Clearly, Lily was the gifted one, while Rose felt the consequences.

  “Let’s find another way in,” said Lily. “I reckon he’s hiding in the tower.”

  “You think so? Let’s have a look around first. Maybe there’s another way in.”

  The sun beamed through the foliage as Rose clambered through the unkempt vegetation, interrupted by a joyous yelp from inside the yard. “I found you! My beauty!” And he gave whatever he had found a long, loving kiss.

  Thinking Henry was odder than ever, Rose scraped through the brambles, ducked below the branches and discovered another entrance. Surrounded by earth and caped with weeds and vines, the door appeared to have little function.

  “Here, let’s try this,” said Rose, and pressed against the entrance. Her face changed from discovery to dismay. “It’s locked, there’s no way in.”

  “You thought there was no way out of those gates before.”

  “Yeah… but there was at least a key.”

  “There must be a lock, or something on the other side. Let me have a look. Press your back against it.”

  Rose turned to face away from the entrance and backed up. Lily glided through like a ghost and observed the interior.

  “What do you see?” whispered Rose.

  “A mess – worse than before,” she said, twisting her neck. “It’s a single bolt. But a large one.”

  “Can you move it?”

  “Hold still.” Lily concentrated, willing the bolt to slide. It was heavy; certainly no key.

  Creak!

  Rose gasped with amazement. “Did you do that?” she asked, and then covered her mouth, hoping nobody heard.

  Lily didn’t hear, or simply declined to. She gazed at the steel bolt with fire in her eyes and heat bubbling in her belly. Her hair fluttered around her face. She became almost possessed with a will to move the bolt. And she did so, again, and again. Inch by inch, the rusty bolt creaked and scraped.

  “Done.”

  “Done?” said Rose, then she grimaced, overcome by a mighty migraine. It consumed her thoughts, distorting her sight. Her head pulsed, as if her brain had inflated inside her throbbing skull. She limply fell to her knees, grasping at the vines.

  “Rose! What’s wrong?”

  She took a deep breath, followed by a soothing exhale. Her eyes opened as the pressure inside her head eased. The iron door was her support, and she leaned on it with both hands to stand. “I think the harder you try, the more I suffer. Try not to make a habit of that, will you, sis?”

  Lily sighed and smiled. “Of course not – sis.”

  “Thanks. I really don’t want to go through that again.”

  Rose pushed the door with both hands. A deep, thudding sound emitted as she dug her wellies into the ground, pushing with enough might to create a gap, and slipped through.

  The scrap-yard was devoid of sound, apart from the occasional tapping of metal on metal. Rose navigated around the maze of junk, using the tower as her beacon. At the entrance of the tower, Rose faced the door. It featured a handle more akin to a bank safe. She gripped the wheel, though as predicted, it didn’t budge. She removed her hands and stood back. “So you going to do your magic again?” she asked, wishing her sister wouldn’t. A sudden headache gripped her mind, only mild.

  “Already have.”

  Rose steadied herself and reached for the wheel.

  “No, not there, the window.”

  To her right, the lower window frame slowly opened.

  Lily smiled, relishing her newfound gift; for the first time in her life, she felt important.

  Rose stepped through the window to enter a dim hallway featuring poky windows. Every stride was carefully chosen to make the least sound and to avoid the clutter of machine parts, oil-soaked cloths, empty bottles and mechanical apparatus. The black and white chequered floor featured numerous stains, paint drops and slippery grease.

  Rose edged her way towards a steel spiral staircase. The steps featured sections of missing banister and others hanging loose.

  Drip… drip… drip…

  Had it not been for the dripping tap, she wouldn’t have presumed the room she entered to be a kitchen. It became far too apparent that Mr Hopkins was not keen on the use of a mop, fixing breakages or general hygiene. What was clear was his liking for trash, and lots of it.

  “Yuck… who dares live like this?” said Lily. “I bet his mother doesn’t visit.”

  “Maybe he doesn’t live here,” said Rose. “Maybe Henry was telling the truth. He travels, leaving this place to rot, I guess.”

  Not wishing to stay and continue inhaling the stench, Rose moved swiftly from the kitchen impostor to brave the staircase.

  With careful footsteps, she headed upwards and peeked at the next floor. Her examination revealed three rooms full of junk. So much that the doors couldn’t be closed: pipes, steel rods, nuts, bolts and chains oozed out. Between the doors were dark and dingy windows, some barely emitting a glimmer of light. The air was musty, and Rose could taste the décor at the back of her throat.

  “What… a… dump,” said Lily. “He can’t be married, it’s not possible. He’s probably ancient, fat and ugly with greasy hair and a beard with food all mangled in it.”

  “You don’t know that. He might be too busy for housework. Anyway, keep your voice down.”

  She continued her ascent over more greasy, wonky steps, gingerly gripping the sticky banister rail.

  The next floor established a pattern: more doors, spewing out oodles of clutter; more windows, barely relevant for all the muck preventing light from entering. Further floors revealed more rooms and windows; rooms with one purpose only – junk hoarding. Rose made her way up again, floor after floor of repetition, only more abundant with grit and grime.

  On the sixth floor, the twins reached the top. One door featured, closed. Rose stepped towards it, and to her delight the door opened with the slightest of pushes. Inside, a king-size bed stood against the left-side wall. The windows ahead were by far the cleanest and largest seen in the tower. On closer inspection, the windows were doors; in front was a low standing table cluttered with framed photos and trophies. Beyond the doors, a balcony where a steel chair faced the sun. The rest of the room was tidy, with no stains, litter or machinery parts in sight.

  “Raaaaaw! Amnesh! Amnesh!” cried a voice.

  Startled, Rose stepped back and observed a grey parrot flap across the room, then perch on the curtain rail above the balcony doors. A cage hung in the corner with its door wide open.

  “Raaaaaw! Oh boy!”

  “That parrot’s potty,” said Lily.

  Rose clung to the wall and edged her way along so as not to cause the bird any more alarm. “I guess it’s Stanley’s pet.”

  “Best not get too close, might peck your eyes out.”

  Rose stopped in her tracks, standing close enough.

  The parrot’s grey feathers looked silky smooth, and its tail featured a distinctive red tip. Its beak was black and its eyes too, surrounded by brilliant white.

  As the parrot didn’t seem too alarmed, Rose began to scout around, keeping one eye on the bird while looking for information regarding Stanley. Family photos donned the wall space, most in black and white, though some were of a yellow tinge. Upon closer inspection, she saw some of the dates: eighteen eighty-nine, eighteen fifty-five, nineteen hundred and two.

  “Shall I look in the drawers?” asked Rose.

  “You’ll not find him in there.”

  “For information, silly. Maybe we’ll find…” Rose paused. Movement caught her eye. She glimpsed a figure in the scrap-yard through the balcony. A man strolled wearing a flat cap, accompanied by another. Shane walked alongside his brother.

  “They’re here,” she whispered. “What’re we gonna d
o?”

  “Hide?” suggested Lily.

  Rose dashed around the room, seeking concealment. She gently closed the door and eased the handle to prevent a loud click. On her hands and knees, she slid under the bed and lay flat on her belly, slowing her breathing to silence. Her eyes widened; she remembered the window she had clambered though. Worse were the clanking sounds of heavy-booted feet on steel steps. She began peeking towards the window for options. However, the sound of thudding boots was directly outside the room. Rose bit her lower lip and froze, wishing she hadn’t hidden under the bed – the most obvious place to hide.

  “Rose… I’ve come to talk,” said the Irishman. It sounded like Niall. He spoke softly, alas, menacingly, and Rose knew he was lying through his yellow-stained teeth.

  The door swung open. Footsteps proceeded into the room, thud by thud, and stopped.

  “Raaaaw! Amnesh! Not be happy!”

  “Quiet! Stupid bird.” He pulled down on the balcony door handle and pushed. A swift breeze of air fluttered the bed linen. He then stepped upon the table, toppling over a picture frame, and went outside.

  “They’re not ’ere!”

  “You checked all the rooms?” shouted Shane, from below.

  “There’s only one room open! The rest are the complete pits!”

  “Have you looked in them?”

  “Yeah! Not a chance are they in there!”

  “You checked under the beds, right?”

  A pause. “Of course I have!”

  “Just keep looking!”

  Rose’s entire body tensed. She knew the next place Niall would be looking, and crawled closer to the door.

  Footsteps plodded on the table, followed by the floor. A knee hit the deck, along with a large grubby hand. Rose pushed with her wellies and out from under the bed.

  “Oi!” he shouted, and sprinted to the door. Far quicker than Rose, his hand made contact before her escape. He slammed it shut, rattling the room, so she backed off and jumped for the bed, trying to second-guess his next move. “I’ve got ye… I’ve got ye now,” he said, spreading his hands wide.

  “Stay back, you freak!” shouted Lily, twisting her neck for a better view. “I swear you’ll regret coming here. I swear!”

  Rose rocked on the bed from side to side while Niall took out a piece of rope and began to creep towards her. With little room, the balcony was the only option. She prepared to leap, interrupted by the unexpected.

  “Raaaaw! Agggghhh!” The parrot took flight and flapped its wings above Niall. He thumped into the door, covering his head from the sharp, scraping claws and pecking beak. “Raaaw! Raaaw!” cried the parrot, continuing its frenzied attack.

  Rose leapt over the table and out onto the balcony. She braced herself against the steel railing preventing her from plummeting to the ground; the balcony was at least three double-decker buses high. She grabbed hold of the chair, pointing the steel feet outward as a weapon, then backed up into the far corner as the parrot flew away from the tower.

  Niall followed, grasping his head where blood flowed and observed his red-smeared hands. His anger was blatant, and he gave Rose a revengeful glare. “That ain’t gonna stop me,” he growled, pulling the rope he held taut.

  “Bring her down!” shouted Shane. “They’re not getting away again, that’s for sure!”

  Niall stepped closer every second. “Don’t try anything.”

  Rumble! Rumble!

  At first, Rose thought an earthquake was causing the tower to tremble. It started slowly, then grew with force. The sound of machinery and rotating cogs came from below, where the lower scrap-yard floor began to part. A deep booming drone ignited as Rose desperately leant against the vibrating bars. The twins glanced down, as did the bemused Niall.

  The mast rose, made of bronzed steel. Tied from the mast were ropes crisscrossing back and forth like calculated chaos. Its cream satin sails were tied up; beneath, a steel chimney, and below that, small circular windows glistened. The deck was pristine and glazed with a fine shine. At her side, two twin engines drowned Niall’s distressed words.

  The pilot stood tall, dressed as a true gentleman. He wore a black top hat, reaching a foot high from his brow. A deep-red velvet jacket was buttoned up and knee length. It featured gold chains and shiny medals pinned to his chest. With both hands he held a large wheel, the kind a pirate would steer his treasure-hunting vessel with. He glanced towards the static twins with his strong facial features. They stared back in awe as the man nodded and placed a hand on a lever. He pulled it, causing a side section of the air vessel to lower. A display of steel and chains flowed out, shaping a series of steps.

  Rose observed the lowest step rise towards her. She threw down the chair and clambered onto the balcony railing, then leapt onto the escalating step. Her grip wasn’t tight, but enough to prevent her from falling. She steadied her balance and scrambled up, holding on to the chain that swayed by her side, then climbed a small ladder, followed by slumping onto the deck, feeling the vibrations of the vessel all over her body.

  The twins looked upon their saviour as the man pulled the same lever, retracting the steps with a clunk. He spun the wheel with vigour, then pulled it towards his chest. The vessel rotated, rising on its axis, and was propelled skyward.

  Rose stood and staggered over to the edge, observing Niall throw down his rope in disgust while Shane stepped out onto the balcony, shouting, but Rose couldn’t hear, nor cared to listen.

  The parrot flew above, circling the vessel. It swooped and flapped its wings, then landed on the pilot’s shoulder. All that was missing was an eye patch and a peg leg, thought Rose.

  “C’mon, c’mon,” stressed the pilot.

  Rose couldn’t help but notice the man’s anxiety. An ever-present sound stirred the air, which appeared to trouble him:

  Bleep! Bleep! Bleep!

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Engineered for Life

  The scrap-yard tower appeared like a child’s toy as the vessel climbed higher and higher, gaining velocity.

  Rose observed the man in the dark velvet jacket. He steered with the wheel, adjusted levers and seemed reassuringly adept. However, his attention was drawn to his right, observing a semi-sphere, mounted on a plinth of brass pipes. It bleeped and a pulse flashed in the centre of the screen.

  She cleared her throat. “Thanks,” Rose said, moving a step closer to her knight in shining velvet.

  No response.

  “How rude,” said Lily.

  “He probably didn’t hear me.”

  The parrot gripped on to the man’s shoulder like it was riding a frantic bull, until it had enough and flew to a crossbar joined to the mast.

  “Mister…” added Rose, taking another step. “Excuse me, mist–”

  “I heard you,” the pilot interrupted, speaking with a strong English accent. “Here, make yourself useful and hold this,” he said in an irritable tone while staring at the bleeping screen, which self-rotated, to the annoyance of the pilot. “I’ll fix it one of these days. That’s if I see another.”

  Rose stared at him, made anxious by his troubled words. She held the device and angled the screen for his viewing. On closer inspection, it seemed to be some sort of radar display. The bleeps sounded as the emitted pulse connected with a scattering of white dots. Each one moved towards the centre.

  Rose had many questions to ask the pilot, and pondered the most suitable. Lily, however, averted her attention to the parrot, arms folded, and let them get on with it, whatever that entailed.

  “Those men,” said Rose, finally, “they’re in your home, so why are we flying away? Why don’t you –”

  “Hear those bleeps?” interrupted the pilot. “Those bleeping dots catch us, me, you, and her are goners!”

  “What does it mean?” asked Rose, staring at the display in a newfound way.

  “The Govern, that’s what,” he said, while pulling another lever amongst a jumble of controls.

  “We can handle it,” s
aid Lily.

  “Yes… I’d like to see that. The same day I can be human again!” he said, spinning the wheel with purpose. “You have no idea what you’re dealing with. The Govern uphold the law. We must obey, or lose our right to exist. Now hold tight!”

  Another lever caused the deck to jerk. There was a cranking sound and then the square section that Rose and the pilot stood upon began to sink below the deck. The wheel, radar and the lever he pulled came down with them. They arrived within the vessel’s interior with a sudden halt.

  Above, the entrance began to close from both sides, while the parrot swooped through and flapped rapidly. It landed on a spherical cage covered in octagonal shapes that hung on a hook and swung in a circular motion.

  The doors came together with a clunk, enclosing all inside in a dimly lit control chamber surrounded by sounds of ticking and tapping machinery, hard at work. Levers, gauges and gizmos adorned the entire room, which made Rose uneasy and claustrophobic.

  “You lied. Why did you lie?” snapped Lily, not in the slightest impressed by her new surroundings.

  “Sis, the man saved us.”

  “He didn’t want anything to do with us. I bet his name isn’t Henry. It’s Stanley, isn’t it?”

  The pilot peered through a periscope, the type used in submarines, before pushing it aside. “She’s right. My name isn’t Henry; I’m the man you seek. However, it’s my yard you broke into, and without even ringing the bell. Then you had the audacity to break into my tower,” he said, letting go of the wheel and activating autopilot. “And because of that, I now have two other fiends snooping around – and probably this very moment, the Govern are there too, finding out all about me. So yes, I lied, so I wouldn’t be in this situation right now, oh… too late!” he barked directly into Lily’s translucent face.

  “Excuse me,” said Lily. “I’m not the liar. And we tried your bell, it doesn’t work, remember? As for your tower, it’s a dump anyway.”

  Stanley stopped in his tracks and puckered his lips inquisitively. “My bell doesn’t work… are you sure?” he asked, appearing to have misplaced that information. “Anyway, my tower is how I like it. And that’s by the by, you shouldn’t have broken in. End of story.” He turned his back on the twins and observed the bleeps.