by Chris Ward
Suzanne had barely seen what happened. All she had known was that Dill intended to shoot Patrick, but something had appeared out of the shadows and got in his way.
‘I followed you,’ Patrick said to Suzanne, the desperation in his face making her love for him burn, even though on some level she knew he had just royally fucked up their chance of escape, possibly even putting Kelly’s life at risk. ‘I’m sorry I never came back. I got sidetracked, got involved in some bad shit, but I’m back now, and I’ll look after you from now on.’
He reached for her, pulling her forward into a hug. He was shaking, and as they embraced, Suzanne realised he was sobbing into her shoulder.
‘You smell like a dead dog,’ she said, unable to resist a smile. Beside her, Kelly looked disgusted as she flapped a hand in front of her nose.
‘Get the fuck out of my shop,’ Hedgers shouted again, turning and stomping away into a backroom. He flapped a hand in the air as he slammed the door, and Suzanne heard a muffled, ‘The deal’s off.’
Frank gave Suzanne a pained look and then said, ‘I’ll try to talk him around.’ With a glare aimed at Patrick he added, ‘That was not the most timely of appearances.’
‘Who’s this guy?’ Patrick said as Frank knocked on the backroom door and then went inside. ‘Is he helping you?’
‘He’s a doctor,’ Suzanne said. ‘Yeah, he’s helping us.’
Jealousy flashed in Patrick’s eyes, so she reached for his hand, giving it a squeeze. ‘He saved Kelly’s life.’
He looked away for a couple of seconds, and when he looked back, Suzanne saw the failure in his eyes: He saved her when I couldn’t. She squeezed his hand again, but he was turning towards the door.
‘I have to find him,’ he said.
‘Who? That was one of those things, wasn’t it?’
‘He, not it. And yeah. That’s how I found you. He tracked you.’
Suzanne suppressed a shiver. Even though the creature had helped them, the idea of it following her filled her with dread.
‘Is it Race? Is it your brother?’
Patrick nodded. ‘What’s left of him.’ He let go of her hand. ‘I have to find him. I’ll be back soon, I promise. And then … I’ll make everything right.’
She let him kiss her, and then she watched him back away, push out of the door and vanish into the night. She glanced at Kelly and found her younger sister staring at her open-mouthed.
‘I’m not sure I can explain,’ Suzanne said, but before she could say anything else, the backroom door opened and Frank appeared. His cheeks were red, and he wiped sweat off his brow with the back of his hand as he shook his head.
‘I’m not quite regretting ever setting eyes on you,’ he said, ‘but I’m close. I’ve managed to talk Dill into taking you, and that friend of yours too. But the price just doubled.’
Suzanne stared. ‘He can’t do that.’
‘He can do whatever he likes, I’m afraid. Where did your friend go?’
‘He went after that thing.’
Frank shook his head again. ‘I’m not sure I understand what I saw back then. Dill swears he saw a ghost, and it’s got him spooked.’
‘I don’t know what it was, but it’s on our side.’
‘It had better be, because I don’t want to be going up against something that can take a harpoon and still move at that speed.’
Suzanne looked at Kelly, then back at Frank. ‘I need to find him. Can you look after my sister for a few minutes?’
Kelly looked terrified, but Frank nodded. ‘They went outside together and Frank pointed in the direction of his surgery. ‘We’ll wait for you there.’
‘Suzanne, be careful.’
Suzanne nodded. ‘I will.’
She had no idea where she might find Patrick or the creature, but Porlock only had so many streets for her to search. Figuring it was the most likely way they had gone, she headed back to the beachside.
In a circle of light on a promenade along the beachfront, she saw a hand-sized patch of liquid. Squatting down, she found it was a mixture of oil and human blood. A short distance away was more, the ground flecked with droplets of the same substance.
Following the line of the shore, Suzanne trailed the droplets around the curve of the beach to a set of huts at the far end. The door of one had been broken open, a low growling sound coming from within.
‘Race, I can get you help….’
Suzanne shivered at the sound of Patrick’s voice, and the growl that came in response. Every fibre of her being wanted to turn around and run from that thing, and she had to continually remind herself that it had saved her life.
‘Patrick?’ she whispered. ‘Patrick, it’s me.’
A shape emerged from the hut, and for a moment Suzanne’s heart skipped a beat. Even as she realised it could only be Patrick, her hands trembled so much she had to clasp them together to keep them still.
‘He’s hurt,’ Patrick said. ‘He took that weapon in my place. He’s my brother, Suzanne. He’s Race, and he remembered.’
At the air of Patrick’s self-pity, Suzanne felt a rolling shoreline of emotions building up inside her. There was the relief at seeing him juxtaposed against the resentment that he had screwed up their chance to escape. And that in turn led to guilt that she had planned to leave without him.
‘Patrick, I….’ she began, unsure what to say.
‘I came to find you,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry about what happened. I saw you, and I got excited. Race was supposed to wait outside, but he might have sensed something.’
‘Where did it come from?’
‘He, Suzanne. I’ve told you. It’s Race.’
Suzanne clenched her fists, trying to dispel a growing frustration. ‘Okay, he. Where did he come from? Who did that to … to his face?’
‘Doctor Crow. The man who took over your father’s factory. I met him. We … made a deal.’
‘What kind of deal?’
Patrick shook his head. ‘It doesn’t matter now. The important thing is that I’ve found you.’
‘And that thing—sorry, Race—is hurt. What can we do about it?’
‘That man, that friend of yours, you said he was a doctor.’
Suzanne’s heart sank. She had involved Frank too much already. She dreaded the words she knew Patrick was about to say, because she knew she couldn’t refuse. After everything, she couldn’t deny him.
‘Maybe, if we can take Race to him, he can help.’
Suzanne closed her eyes, trying to forget that she was nodding, muttering, ‘Sure. I’m sure he can help,’ under her breath.
Frank was sitting in a chair near the door when Suzanne tapped lightly on the window. He shook his head as though he had been dozing, then got up and let her in.
‘Kelly’s sleeping upstairs,’ he said. ‘I administered her medicine. She’s much better, but the wound still needs care.’
‘Thank you for everything,’ Suzanne said, feeling tears spring to her eyes. ‘I know we screwed everything up.’
Frank shrugged. ‘Dill Hedgers is a hard man, but despite what he says, he’s on your side. He profits from it, but there are easier ways to make money, if you know what I mean.’
Suzanne felt her knees getting heavier. Frank caught her as she slumped forward, but she pushed him away. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘I need to ask something else.’
‘Anything.’
‘We found him. We found that … the person who took that harpoon. He’s hurt.’
‘Where?’
‘They’re outside.’
Frank nodded. ‘Bring them in. I’ll do what I can.’
Suzanne went to the door and waved to Patrick, hiding in the shadows outside with Race slumped beside him. Patrick helped Race up, and together they came through the door.
Frank’s face turned white as Race stood up straight, nearly seven feet tall. When he lifted his head to reveal the dog’s snout beneath, Frank stepped back, nearly tripping over a low filing cabinet.
‘He’s called a Huntsman,’ Patrick said. ‘Don’t ask me how or why he was made, but the human behind that dog’s snout is my brother, Race.’
‘Race,’ the Huntsman growled, and from the way Patrick looked up at him, Suzanne sensed some cycle of bonding between them was now complete.
‘The most important thing is that he’s on our side,’ Patrick said. ‘He saved Suzanne and me, he helped me find her, and now he’s saved me again.’
‘Race,’ the Huntsman said again, suddenly sagging forward, falling to his knees. His cloak billowed, revealing the metal shaft of a harpoon bolt protruding from his chest.
‘Please help him,’ Patrick said in a quiet voice.
Frank looked at him openmouthed, and then nodded. ‘I’ll try,’ he said.
They helped Race into a small surgery. It was clear Frank was only a general practitioner, but he found a fold-out stretcher from a storeroom and set it up for Race to lie down on. As the Huntsman pulled back the robes to reveal the body underneath, Suzanne gasped.
‘Sorcery,’ Frank said. ‘There should be laws against this kind of thing. It’s not natural.’
‘I don’t think Doctor Crow cares about laws,’ Patrick said.
‘I can see that. There’s not much of your brother left. He’s part machine, part animal. And look … oh my God.’ He pointed at a patch of tissue around where the harpoon bolt protruded. ‘Look.’
‘What is it?’ Suzanne said.
‘You can see where the flesh was torn, but … it’s repaired itself.’
Patrick grabbed Suzanne’s arm. ‘You mean—’
‘He’s regenerating.’ Frank shook his head. ‘The level of the science here … it doesn’t exist. This is … Goddamn, it’s borderline magic. If the government got hold of this … they could make anything.’
‘I got the impression Doctor Crow is somewhat anti-government.’
‘Let’s hope it stays that way.’
With a sudden growl, Race sat up straight. His eyes blazed as he turned to face Patrick. ‘Master,’ he growled. ‘Master … calling.’
Before anyone could react, he climbed off the stretcher. For a moment he sagged on one side, snarling as though remembering the embedded harpoon, and then he was moving, crashing across the room and bursting through the door. Suzanne followed Frank and Patrick, but by the time they reached the back door, he had disappeared into the night.
‘He’s going back,’ Patrick said. He turned to Suzanne, taking her hands. His eyes were desperate as he stared into hers. For a few seconds his lips worked soundlessly before he found the strength to utter the words: ‘I have to go after him. He’s my brother.’
So soon after they had been reunited, Suzanne’s knees sagged. ‘Patrick, you can’t. You only just found us again.’
‘I can’t let him go and do nothing!’
‘You can! He’s barely even your brother anymore!’
‘Don’t say that.’ Patrick’s eyes blazed. ‘Goddamnit, don’t say that. Not you … please.’
‘Patrick, I love you, and I won’t ask you to choose.’
‘It’s not about choosing! I’ll find him, and I’ll help him somehow, and then….’ He trailed off, shaking his hands.
Suzanne didn’t know what to say. She opened her mouth, hoping something meaningful would fall out, but Frank touched her arm.
The doctor rubbed his eyes. ‘I’m starting to regret the day I met you crazy bastards,’ he said, looking at Patrick, ‘but if you really have to go after that thing … follow me.’
He led them out of the house and around to a small padlocked shed. He unlocked it and led them inside.
‘Here, take it,’ he said, switching on a light and pointing to a small moped. ‘It’s electric, so it’s quiet. If you go now, you can get back to the town by morning and hide it somewhere. It has enough charge to get you there and back. Find your brother, find the money for Dill…. The boat goes on Friday, so you have three days. Dill won’t wait, so do what you need to do and get back here.’
Patrick looked from Frank to Suzanne, then back again. ‘I don’t know how to thank you.’
‘I don’t want your thanks. Just try to keep me, Dill and Porlock off the DCA’s radar.’
Patrick turned to Suzanne. ‘I’ll be back, I promise.’
Suzanne felt a sudden lump in her throat, as though she would never see Patrick again, and her heart, if not her mind, knew it. She could only give a dumb nod.
‘I love you, Patrick,’ she said, her voice hollow, as though someone far away had said it instead.
He smiled. ‘I love you too. I’ll always love you, no matter what.’
Then he was climbing on to Frank’s moped, turning it around, and disappearing into the night.
Suzanne stared after him, until Patrick had become first a silhouette, then a shadow, then a memory.
Frank put an arm around her, but she refused to let herself cry.
38
Kurou
Once, Kurou would have trusted his eyes better than anything in the world, but eyesight that would once have made a hawk proud had not only declined but halved. Now, peering into his computer tablet as he lay hidden in the grass on the embankment behind Carmichael Industries, he watched through Laurette’s eyes as the DCA set up their defensive positions.
Laurette was hidden, of course, peering through a second-floor spyhole on to the car park below, but having made a circuit of the upper floor viewing points Kurou had concluded that the situation was the same; the factory was surrounded on all sides.
The DCA, foolish as they were, seemed to think that he would either give himself up or engage in a gunfight he couldn’t hope to win. Zooming in through the camera fitted into Laurette’s eye, he spotted gas canisters, even a couple of grenades.
‘The historical warfare society,’ he muttered, unable to resist a smile. ‘Oh, how it warms my blackened heart to see such folly.’
Most of the Huntsmen were in position, awaiting his command. Soon the factory’s tarmacked surrounds would be transformed into a veritable Swan Lake of crimson, a dark ballet stage on which his creations would dance.
But there was nothing like a little anticipation to whet one’s appetite.
Kurou changed the view to one from a Huntsman positioned on the roof of an abandoned building to the south, zooming in on the line of cars.
‘Oh my, what do we have here?’
Tommy Crown sat in the back of one of the vehicles parked farthest from the battlefield-to-be, in a pseudo-command position that made Kurou want to stand up and execute a neat twirl at the growing intricacy of their political dance.
How kind of Urla Wynne. Kurou would be sure to give her festering hand a kiss before he bit it off when he next saw her. How delightful of her to return Tommy to Kurou, in that he might once again have an opportunity to switch sides?
This time, for good.
Kurou activated an intercom, alerting his closest Huntsmen. ‘The DCA have a captive,’ he said. ‘I would very much like him freed with as little harm done as possible. I will establish a secure location for you to bring him to me.’
A growl was the only response he needed.
The battle was coming near. A few last checks were all that had to be done. All of his Huntsmen were in place, except for Divan, who was travelling back from the coast, where he had found Suzanne and reunited her with Patrick.
Patrick.
Kurou smiled. That was a boy he would see again soon, he knew it.
And not just because of the tracking chip he had inserted—among other delicious things—into the young man’s body.
No, family was a noose like no other. Blinded by dumb loyalty, Patrick would soon be in position to assume another part in Kurou’s unfolding drama.
It was time to begin. ‘Laurette,’ Kurou called, flicking the display back to his servant. ‘You have done me fine service, but it is time for you to return to the world. Go downstair
s and go outside, being sure to hold your hands where people can see them.’
As his servant grunted a response, Kurou changed the view again to one from a Huntsman positioned on a roof of a different building, one with a view of the front of Carmichael Industries.
The door opened. Guns trained on the figure who stepped out. A loud voice shouted for his hands to be lifted, his hood to be raised.
‘Slowly, slowly, Laurette,’ Kurou said to himself, wondering how his servant would react when not given a direct order. ‘Play it cool now, my little friend.’
With a dozen guns trained on him, Laurette stumbled forward, hands above his head.
‘Lift your hood!’ one man shouted. ‘Slowly, now. One wrong move and you’re dead.’
Laurette lowered a hand, fingers closing over the seam of the hood. With a flick it fell away.
‘Stanley Carmichael-Jones,’ someone said, loud enough for Laurette’s audio sensors to pick it up and relay it to Kurou’s computer tablet.
‘I’m a hostage,’ Laurette muttered, repeating the line Kurou whispered into the computer. ‘Help me, please.’
Kurou was impressed that several DCA agents appeared to recognise the robotics pioneer, even after the work Kurou had done to turn Carmichael-Jones into a shuffling, obedient servant.
‘Cry,’ Kurou said. ‘Let them see your tears, please.’
On cue, Laurette began to weep. A few DCA agents began to lower their weapons. A man apparently leading the team waved a couple of other members forward.
‘I think now would be an appropriate time, my dear,’ Kurou said. ‘You may remove your cloak.’
Laurette’s hands dropped. As guns came up, he unfastened his cloak, letting it fall to the ground, revealing his stooped, naked body.
A shout held the fire of several ready men. The DCA stared at the twisted old man’s nakedness as Laurette shivered against the cold.
‘Goodbye, my friend,’ Kurou said, finger snaking for a detonation button.
The boom of the explosives hidden inside Laurette’s flesh made the factory itself shudder. A shockwave of heat stroked the remaining hair on Kurou’s head. He looked back at the screen as dust and debris settled.