Spiral (27 page)

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Authors: Roderick Gordon,Brian Williams

BOOK: Spiral
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Danforth had restored power to the main circuits, so the Complex was no longer lit by the emergency lighting. After her examination, Elliott had gone straight to her quarters and refused to come out, despite Will and Chester’s best efforts. So instead they took it in turns to bring her food and drink.

On one occasion, when Will had turned up with a mug of tea, he found her before the full-length mirror in the wardrobe door, simply rocking up and down on her feet as she looked at herself.

“Are you OK?” he asked, as she continued to regard her reflection.

“I’m not sure I know who I am anymore,” she said to him. “I thought I knew, but I don’t.”

Before Will had time to ask what she meant, she fixed him with her piercing dark eyes. “Do you think differently about me now?” she said, stretching an arm above her head in a balletic movement. Then she let it flop at the elbow, so her fingertips touched the bandage across her back.

“Of course not,” he replied without hesitation.

“But Danforth found early signs of the Phase in me, and that makes me feel like a monster. It makes me something ugly.”

“That’s just silly —” Will began.

“But you don’t look at me in the same way now,” she interrupted. “When you held me earlier on, I could sense it.”

“That’s a load of rubbish,” he puffed indignantly. “And you know it is. You’re just a bit confused.” He remembered why he’d come to see her in the first place, offering her the mug. “You should drink this. Drake told me to put some extra sugar in it — he said it’ll help you get over the shock.” She took the mug, but as Will tried to touch her arm in a gesture of reassurance, she snatched it away, spilling her tea.

He looked down at the tea as it soaked into the carpet. “You’re my friend,” he said. “That will never change. You’re Elliott. And that’s all that matters to me.” Not knowing what else to say, he left the room.

The strange party had followed Maynard up through the tunnel network until they came to the portal. As the new First Officer threaded between the crowd gathered there, he saw Maynard’s son was on the ground, some ten feet from the riveted steel door of the airlock. It was rather unfortunate because the boy was very chubby, and he’d fallen facedown on the ground with his well-padded bottom sticking in the air.

“No closer,” Maynard warned, catching the new First Officer’s arm. “It’s bewitched.”

The new First Officer heeded the advice. “So what happened? Tell me precisely,” he inquired, as he saw the pickax lying on the ground beside the plump boy.

“We thought the Styx might have welded the portal shut, so we were preparing to force our way through,” Maynard replied. “My boy Gregory was the first to reach the door. He’s been very hungry lately and a bit difficult at home. Anyway, he was rushing toward the door and just fell over — like the magic had struck him down.”

“Styx magic. They placed a curse on the portal,” a man in the crowd piped up.

“We’re all doomed,” a woman wailed, which sent a ripple of disquiet through everyone gathered there.

“Poppycock! The Styx don’t have magic,” the former First Officer drawled. “Fat boy passed out from his hunger.” As he wheeled unevenly around, his eyes fell on the prisoner nearest to him. “Cleaver, show them,” he said.

“Cleaver, show them! Cleaver, show them!” Squeaky and the other prisoners began to chant.

Delighted to be the center of attention, Cleaver strode toward the portal in lumbering, confident steps. As he glanced over his shoulder at the other prisoners, they all chanted even louder, cheering him on.

“Cleaver, show them!” the prisoners continued.

“Shaver, clove them!” Gappy Mulligan screeched.

Cleaver was clearly basking in the moment, a big grin pasted across his face. He built up speed, his thick legs pumping as he ran. But as he came to where the plump boy lay, he, too, crumpled to the ground, as if he’d been poleaxed.

As if he’d run straight into an invisible barrier.

All the prisoners
ahhhed
with disappointment, their chanting immediately dying out.

“It’s magic, I’m telling you. I did try to warn you. The Styx don’t want anyone to escape,” Maynard said. “So what now? We have to get my boy back and see if he’s all right.”

“From now on, nobody goes near
any
of the portals,” the new First Officer ordered the assembled people. “Is that understood?”

The crowd murmured their agreement.

Turning toward the portal again, the new First Officer took off his helmet and scratched his head for a moment as he thought. “Right . . . I’ll need a grappling hook so I can drag these two out. And someone else fetch a doctor, if there’s still one left in the Colony.” He regarded Cleaver’s huge body, which dwarfed even the vastly overweight boy slumped beside him. “And you’d better make that a big grappling hook,” he added.

Elliott had stripped her rifle down to give it a thorough cleaning. She was in the process of putting it back together again when Stephanie pranced past the open door of her quarters.

“Oh, hi there,” the girl said. “I didn’t know you had this room.” She was wearing a white T-shirt identical to the one Elliott had on, but Stephanie had tied the bottom in a knot so it looked rather more stylish on her.

“I’m so glad you’re all right,” Stephanie said vaguely, eyeing the thick gauze on Elliott’s back, which was difficult to miss. She had begun to follow up with “And not a . . .” but decided better of it and closed her mouth. For once.

Elliott made no effort to reply as she slotted the bolt back into the rifle’s receiver, then worked it several times.

Uncomfortable with the silence between them, Stephanie announced, “I shoot, too.”

“Do you?” Elliott replied quietly. “Not with anything like this.”

“Oooo, can I see?” Stephanie asked eagerly, entering the room in little steps, her hands outstretched.

Elliott sighed. “I suppose so. Just be careful with it — it’s heavy.”

Stephanie took the weapon and, without any hesitation, put it to her shoulder. “It
is
heavy,” she agreed. “At school I mainly use a .22 for target practice. What caliber is this?” she asked, sliding back the bolt. Elliott had risen to her feet to stop her, but it was unnecessary — Stephanie appeared to know what she was doing. “I guess it’s like a .303 or something,” the girl continued, peering inside the chamber.

Elliott nodded. “You’re close. It’s a .35 and uses a special cartridge with a long casing, so it can take an extra load.”

“Right,” Stephanie said, turning her attention to the bulbous scope mounted on top of the weapon.

“That’s a light-gathering sight; the only place you’ll find anything quite like it is down in the Colony, where they’re hand-built for the Styx. This is a Limiter rifle, and I’ve shot and killed at least ten of them with it. Maybe more, but I wasn’t close enough to know if I’d hit the mark,” Elliott said. When Stephanie didn’t react to this, Elliott frowned. “I’m curious . . . do you mind if I ask you something . . . ?” she began.

“Totally,” Stephanie answered brightly, lowering the weapon to her hip and twisting from one side to the other as if she was spraying an invisible foe with a submachine gun. To make matters worse, she blew through her lips in an imitation of rapid gunfire.

“Ha.” Elliott swallowed, trying to resist the temptation to cuff the girl.

“What did you want to ask me?” Stephanie said, unaware of Elliott’s scornful expression.

“Will briefed you on the situation, so you know about the Phase and how serious things are. And because you’re with us, you’re marked by the Styx. There’s absolutely no way you can go home now,” Elliott said with overbrutal directness.

Stephanie looked inquiringly at her.

Elliott continued, “You’re OK with all that? Being holed up in this place until it’s all over. Or if we
don’t
deal with the Phase and beat the Styx, spending the rest of your life — however short it might be — constantly living in fear. Constantly on the run.”

Stephanie took a breath and passed the rifle back to Elliott. “You couldn’t make it more obvious you don’t like me,” she said, flicking her beautifully groomed hair from her face. “But I’m, like, not some little sissy who screams or faints at the first sign of trouble. I’m tough, you know.”

Elliott laughed harshly. “You are, are you? You don’t look it to me.”

Stephanie held the other girl’s stony glare. “Come on, then. If you think I’m such a waste of space, why don’t you have a pop at me?” Taking several steps back to give herself room, she kicked her shoes off. “Try me.”

Elliott laughed again, then stopped herself. “You’re serious?”

“Totally, like, serious,” Stephanie replied.

Elliott put her rifle down. “Well, if you insist, but Drake won’t be pleased if I hurt you or anything.”

“I don’t want to hurt you, either,” Stephanie countered. “Is your back better? I don’t want to damage it.”

“Don’t you worry about me. I’ve got Styx blood. I heal fast,” Elliott said. She squared up to Stephanie, who seemed completely relaxed. Then Elliott launched herself, grabbing the girl’s neck with both hands.

Stephanie reacted with complete precision, swinging her arms up to break Elliott’s hold, then hooking her leg. Elliott was spun around like a top, and dropped facedown on the carpet.

Stephanie backed away, allowing the other girl to pick herself up.

“Where did you learn to do that?” Elliott asked, narrowing her eyes.

“Well, Parry was, like, this huge influence on my dad when he was growing up on the estate, and he got him into military intelligence,” Stephanie explained.

“Not another spook?” Elliott said.

“Something like that. Dad’s been stationed in loads of trouble spots across the world, and my mum and brothers and me have followed him to most of them. I haven’t exactly led a sheltered life.” She gave Elliott a small smile. “Try me again, but really give it all you’ve got this time. Chester’s not the only Olympic champion around here.”

“He’s not?” Elliott replied, her confusion obvious.

“No, and if they had judo or aikido on
Britain’s Got Talent
, I’d win hands down. Come on, grumpy — try and hit me,” Stephanie urged. She waggled her fingers, beckoning Elliott toward her. “And do your worst this time.”

Elliott attacked in earnest. Her full-bodied punch was aimed directly at Stephanie’s chin. But Stephanie deflected the blow, caught Elliott’s wrist, and threw her onto her back in a single, fluid movement. It didn’t end there — as Stephanie dropped to the floor beside Elliott, she had one of her arms in a lock. Elliott was pinned to the ground and completely in the other girl’s power. “Got you!” Stephanie said.

“NO!” Chester cried from the doorway.

The boy’s sudden appearance distracted Stephanie sufficiently that Elliott managed to twist free. She swung her legs up and caught Stephanie around the neck in a scissor grip. Then Elliott heaved her to the floor, where the other girl was trying all she could to break free. But now Elliott had her in an iron grip.

Chester was reaching in to separate them. “Stop it! Stop it at once!”

Elliott relaxed her grip, and they both sat up.

“Nice move — wasn’t expecting that,” Stephanie complimented Elliott.

“What do you think you’re both doing?” Chester demanded, huffing with concern as the girls stared up at him.

“You sound like my dad.” Stephanie giggled.

“It wasn’t for real,” Elliott said.

“It looked real enough to me,” Chester came back. “Besides, you should watch out for your back,” he said to Elliott.

“My back’s completely — ” she started to reply but stopped as Stephanie failed to stifle another giggle.

“What’s so funny?” Chester demanded, becoming quite irate now.

“You didn’t think we were fighting over
you
, did you?” Stephanie said.

Blushing, Chester made an about-turn and fled from the room. Muttering to himself, he hunched his shoulders and stomped down the corridor.

As he was approaching the elevator area, Will rounded the corner, a piece of paper in his hand. “I was just on my way to find you,” Will said. “I went up to the Hub and they’re all busy with whatever they’re doing, but I did speak to Sergeant Finch and . . .” Clearly excited about whatever was on the piece of paper, Will was about to show it to his friend when he sensed that all wasn’t well with him. “You don’t look very happy. Are you all right?” Will inquired.

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