Monster Republic (13 page)

But he didn’t. Instead, he squared up, ready for her. For an instant Rora thought they were going to have to fight it out, there and then, but at that moment a voice echoed through the door.

‘I’ve got him! Cameron. He’s hurt!’

Rora’s gaze held Slater’s for a fraction of a second. They would never know.

The next moment they were both rushing
forward to meet the thick-set monster who was struggling in with an unconscious Cameron hanging off his shoulder.

‘Get him to the workshop,’ ordered Rora. ‘T inker! Somebody fetch Tinker!’

The assembled monsters jumped into action. Even Slater, she noticed, set off at a run. It was instinct – they were so used to taking Rora’s lead that in an emergency they didn’t even stop to question. But would it always be that way?

For now she was back in charge, crisis averted. Before long, she was sure, she’d be back to chewing her nails.

In a brief flash of static, Cameron woke up.

‘He’ll live,’ someone was saying. ‘Once the energy r-r-reserves have been r-r-restored, his accelerated healing process will k-k-kick in.’

For one fearful moment Cameron thought he was back in the lab, with the clinical Dr Fry looming over him, delivering his assessment of the ‘subject’. But the stammering voice wasn’t cold like Fry’s, and a quick glance around revealed the faces of Rora, Tinker and Smarts hovering by his bedside. Everyone looked at Cameron as he stirred.

‘Hi,’ he croaked feebly. ‘How’d I get back here?’

‘You tell me,’ said Rora, pulling up a chair. ‘Robbie went out to fill up the truck to move some equipment to a new safe house. When he returned here, he found you in the back. Luckily, we’re pretty sure you weren’t followed. So how are you feeling?’

Cameron rolled his head experimentally from side to side. ‘Stiff neck.’

‘Ah, some electrical spillage, I expect. You’ve got a new power system that we haven’t seen before, so Tinker had to plug you into the mains. The current’s probably numbed the area around the recharge socket.’

‘I have a socket?’ Cameron groaned and reached round to the back of his neck. He felt shaken and drained. His battery warning wasn’t blinking, though, so he assumed the sensation had more to do with his nerves.

‘Leave it alone,’ Rora told him, patting his arm. ‘Now fill us in on what happened.’

Taking a deep breath, Cameron cast his mind back. The details were still pretty vivid. Slowly he took them all through his meeting
with Darren, and the outcome. He tried not to meet Rora’s gaze as the subject of Marie reared its ugly head again. ‘She’s calling herself Carla now. And she was souped up – modified. The Taser didn’t work this time.’

Tinker’s twitching head nodded even more violently.

‘F-F-Fry’s like that. Keeps his b-b-best subjects up to date.’ He flashed a weak smile at Cameron, eyes downcast.

‘Anything else?’ asked Smarts gently.

‘Darren mentioned that Fry is organizing a memorial service next Friday, for the kids killed in the explosion. The Prime Minister is giving a speech.’

‘The Prime Minister …?’ Rora frowned. ‘That’s odd. Why would Fry invite him here when he’s trying to close down the Divinity Project?’

‘Dunno,’ replied Cameron. ‘But it’s not the only strange thing. Carla said something weird about me being a villain.’ He shrugged. ‘I don’t know why.’

‘Can you remember exactly what she said,’
probed Smarts, leaning in. ‘It could be important.’

Cameron thought hard. His HUD flickered and suddenly one corner of his vision seemed to change into a TV screen, playing back the encounter.

‘
I know you always thought of yourself as a bit of a hero, but I’ve got news for you, buddy – you’re not meant to be a hero at all – you’re the villain. I mean, look at yourself – it’s what you were designed for. Why do you think Dr Fry couldn’t be bothered to put you together properly? You’re disposable! A one-shot wonder! A flash in the pan!
’

Cameron repeated the words precisely.

‘I don’t know what she meant,’ he added. ‘But she definitely meant something.’

Smarts gasped. His head tilted sharply to the side, his lips moving in a silent murmur. He appeared to be listening to far-off sounds that no one else could hear.

‘Uh-oh. N-n-now you’ve set him off.’ Tinker took a step back, giving Smarts some space.

‘What did I do?’

Rora thrust out an arm, stopping Cameron from sitting up. ‘He’s fine. It’s his thing. He takes in so much information that he fills himself up with it. Then he does this – his brain goes into overdrive as he tries to process it all. His mind’s looking for patterns, connections, anything he can use to build a clear picture of whatever’s going on.’

‘Hmm.’ Cameron looked warily at Smarts. He couldn’t help thinking the kid was having some kind of fit. ‘If you’re sure it’s normal.’

‘I never said that,’ said Rora with a half-smile. ‘But it’s normal for Smarts, and that’s what matters. You must have given him some important bit of data that his brain latched onto. Now he’s got to figure out what it means. We’ll just have to wait until he snaps out of it.’

‘How long?’

‘No more than a couple of hours, usually. Then you can bet he’ll have something interesting to say. And fortunately for you, that gives you some time to rest and heal.’

Cameron settled gratefully back on his pillow. He felt exhausted, a bundle of aches
and nerves, and he was in no hurry to get up. Besides, whatever Smarts might have to say when he came out of his trance, Cameron wanted to be in top condition, ready for anything.

‘T-t-typical,’ he heard Tinker saying. ‘We finish w-w-waiting for one to w-w-wake up, and now we’re w-w-waiting for another!’

Apparently, when Smarts had something to announce, the whole Monster Republic turned up to listen.

Not, thankfully, crowded around Cameron’s bedside, though. When Smarts snapped out of his trance, he had quietly requested Rora to call a meeting. An hour later, they were gathering in the common room again. Cameron walked in slowly, just behind Rora. The chairs were arranged in a wide circle, but the setup still reminded him of the previous meeting in the room – the one that had ended with him storming out, smack into trouble.

Well, he made up his mind, that wasn’t going to happen a second time. He sat down
as soon as he could, taking the weight off his still-shaky legs, and Rora joined him in the next seat. There was Slater, three chairs down. He greeted Cameron with a backward nod and a curl of his lip.

‘At least I’m still popular with some people,’ murmured Cameron. He hoped Slater stayed quiet. He didn’t feel up to toughing it out with him right now.

‘Shh.’ Rora nudged him.

Smarts stood up. His features were set in an intense frown of concentration, his dark lenses reflecting the faces of the gathering back at them.

‘We’ve made a mistake.’

Smarts let that opening remark sink in for a moment. ‘We all assumed that Dr Fry was building Cameron and his other new Divinity Project monsters to use against us, but he isn’t. We should have realized this sooner. He doesn’t need to destroy the Republic – we’re not really a threat to him. We’re not the target at all. The target is the Prime Minister.’

A confused mutter rippled around the circle.

‘What makes you think that?’ demanded Slater.

‘On Friday Dr Fry has organized a memorial service for the victims of the power plant explosion. The Prime Minister is delivering the eulogy. I think Fry is going to kill him.’

A stunned silence settled.

‘How did you work that out?’ asked Rora, her brow furrowed.

‘From something Carla let slip to Cameron when they fought last night,’ replied Smarts. ‘She said that Cameron was meant to be a villain, not a hero. And that he was a one-shot wonder, designed to be disposable. Fry knows that if someone kills the Prime Minister, that person probably won’t escape alive – his bodyguards will see to that. It’s like playing chess – Fry needs a piece that he can sacrifice. That’s what Cameron is.’ Smarts paused before delivering the
coup de grâce
. ‘He wasn’t designed to be a monster-hunter. He was designed to be an assassin.’

Cameron let out an explosive breath. He didn’t want to admit it, but Smarts’s explanation
made a horrible, twisted sort of sense. It certainly explained the gun that was built into his right arm.

‘But why does Fry want to kill the Prime Minister?’ objected Slater.

‘Isn’t it obvious?’ replied Smarts. ‘It’s because the Prime Minister is threatening to close down the Divinity Project. We thought that Fry built Cameron in an attempt to try to destroy us, the evidence of his failures, before the government investigators move in. But Fry’s more daring than that. It’s a gamble, but if he can get rid of the Prime Minister, the investigation won’t happen. The Divinity Project will be safe. It wouldn’t even surprise me if Fry was hoping to bring the Prime Minister back to life under his control, like he’s done with Carla.’

There was a pause, and Cameron could almost hear the other monsters doing their best to digest Smarts’s analysis. His own mind was awhirl – Smarts had to be right. The explosion at the power plant had had a double purpose. Not only had it provided Fry with the
‘material’ for his assassin, it had also created the perfect occasion on which to kill the Prime Minister – the memorial service. As a plan, it bore all the hallmarks of the doctor’s trademark ruthless efficiency. It was brilliant, in a sick, clinical way.

But the hard, horrifying truth of it was that yet more cold-blooded murder, in the seemingly benevolent shape of Dr Fry, was coming to Broad Harbour. It was unreal. Horrendous.

So Cameron was surprised by the collective sigh of relief that broke over the group.

Beside him, Rora was watching his puzzled reaction. ‘Don’t you get it?’ she said. ‘If Fry’s not coming after us, we’ve got time to leave Broad Harbour! We’ve been planning to get out sooner or later. Now we might just have time.’

‘The mountain base is almost finished,’ agreed Slater. ‘Even if he does send the Bloodhounds after us, we’ll be ready.’

Cameron’s mind flashed back to his last glimpse of his family, clearing off with the
furniture. They had chosen to run away from Broad Harbour, leaving him behind. Now the Monster Republic was planning the same thing, leaving the Prime Minister and the people of Broad Harbour to their fate.

All his life he’d been popular, but in the last couple of days Cameron had found out what it felt like to be abandoned, and he wouldn’t wish it on anybody. Almost without realizing it, he was on his feet, steadying himself for a moment against the back of his chair.

‘Wait! So – what? You’re just leaving? Running away? You’re not going to do anything about the memorial service? We’re the only ones who can save the Prime Minister from whatever Fry’s cooking up.’

He turned to Rora. To his disgust, she looked as uninterested as the rest.

‘So we help him out. And then what?’ she demanded. ‘Is the Prime Minister going to help us when Fry comes knocking on our door, looking for revenge? Wake up, Cameron. We have to look after ourselves. The Republic is my first priority and it should be yours.’

Slater sneered. ‘We’ll never be his priority. He’s not a Reject. He doesn’t believe he’s even a monster. He just wants to go home. I’ve told you, Rora – he doesn’t belong here. He never did.’

Cameron gritted his teeth, anger combining with fatigue to make his head swim. These people were infuriating. How long had they all had to come to terms with what they were? Months. Years, some of them. Yet they expected him to do it practically overnight. A dark voice in Cameron’s head shouted at him to storm out again, despite everything he’d promised himself.

But this time a note of fear nagged too. He’d already had a taste of how he might manage if he struck out on his own. Battered and alone, how would he fare? If Dr Fry caught up with him a third time, would he be able to fight? He still felt as weak as a kitten after his pummelling from Carla.

Rora thrust her face up towards Cameron’s. ‘Is Slater right? It’s time to choose, Cameron. Our world or theirs. I want you with us – you’d
be a huge asset to the Republic – but we can do without you, if we have to. Can you do without us?’

The million-dollar question.

Cameron’s feelings were so confused. On the one hand, he was horrified by the callous selfishness of the monsters. Could they seriously ignore a murderous plot against the Prime Minister that could potentially leave the whole of the country to the tender mercies of Dr Fry? It was inhuman.

Then again, what was he, Cameron Reilly? Hardly a Reilly any more – the Reilly family had disowned him. Their Cameron was dead to them, and he hadn’t even begun to make up his mind what he was to himself: dead or alive, human or monster?

Where did he fit in the world now? If he was ever going to be a part of the Republic, didn’t they have to fit around him as well? Shouldn’t it be a two-way deal?

Rora was still staring at him. Everyone waited on his answer.

Cameron hated her for it, but he knew Rora
was right. He couldn’t do without the Republic. He had tried going it alone, and look where that had got him – back here, barely able to stand, let alone storm off and make a life for himself on his own.

The bottom line was that he had nowhere else to go, no one else to turn to.

Cameron slumped back into his chair.

Somewhere he heard a voice say, ‘OK. Let’s go then.’

And after a strange second where he felt detached from everything around him, Cameron recognized the voice as his own.

The next few days were a blur. There was so much to do that the thoughts weighing heaviest on Cameron had to be set aside. Most of the time, at least. There were still some quieter moments when he sank into gloomy reflection on how devastatingly his life had changed, but he kept such thoughts to himself.

Nobody seemed very interested anyway. His fellow monsters had all been through similar upheavals of their own. Everyone had their losses to bear and their stories to tell, but nobody told them. And when it came to the thing that bothered Cameron most – the clock ticking down to whatever Fry had
planned – nobody wanted to know at all. The Monster Republic had turned its back on the town, and Cameron was expected to do the same.