Spiral

by Roderick Gordon

  “Bart,” Will whispered. Part of him almost expected the cat to wake up, just as he had so many times before when Will had disturbed him during one of his naps. But he knew that wasn’t going to happen. Extending his hand, he rubbed one of the Hunter’s chunky paws. “Poor old Bartleby,” he said, his throat tight with emotion. “Poor old chap.”

  He was muttering these same words and shaking his head as he made his way back to the ford. He dragged his feet, his body limp with grief and frustration.

  Everyone was watching him, but no one spoke until Eddie broke the silence.

  “I am truly sorry for this accident.”

  “You’re sorry, are you?” Will growled.

  He could hear his dead brother’s voice shouting in his ears, Cal’s voice, hungry for revenge, saying, “Kill the filthy White Necks! Go on, Will, let them bloody have it!”

  Will realized there was nothing to stop him. He could gun down Eddie and these soldiers, and there’d be no comeback. He wasn’t breaking the law. Drake and Sweeney could bury the corpses in the forest, just like Bartleby’s would probably be buried, too.

  “You’re sorry?” Will said again, daring the man to respond. “How flipping sorry is that?” He thrust his Sten threateningly at Eddie.

  He itched to pull the trigger.

  He had tears in his eyes now.

  “You people take everything away from me. Again and again. All you do is kill. I . . .”

  He tensed his finger.

  “Will!” Drake burst out.

  “Easy . . . Don’t do anything you might regret, laddie,” Sweeney said as he swept in and seized the barrel of Will’s Sten, deflecting it toward the ground. Will didn’t resist as Sweeney gently pulled the weapon from his hands. “Never act out of anger.”

  “I want to make amends,” Eddie continued.

  Drake was nonplussed. “What?”

  Eddie waded through the ford toward him. “Let me dispose of that for you,” he offered, indicating the grenade still in his hand. “You have no need of it now.”

  Drake looked at Eddie blankly.

  “I’m hardly going to use it on us,” Eddie assured him. “I’m not suicidal.”

  Drake frowned, but then, to Will’s complete amazement, he allowed the Styx to take the grenade from him. The oddest thing was that Will could detect no animosity between Drake and Eddie, but something entirely different. Camaraderie. Friendship, even. It rankled him.

  Eddie returned to the line of Limiters and presented the grenade to the Styx with the bandaged face. He accepted it mutely.

  “This soldier wants to express his regret,” Eddie announced, then the Limiter began to march a little way up the track and into the forest.

  “No!” Drake shouted as he realized what was about to happen. He swung around to Sweeney. “Sparks! Your ears!” he yelled.

  Just as the last word left his mouth, the Limiter pitched forward onto the grenade. There was a muffled explosion. Will saw the flash as the Limiter’s body was lifted from the ground. Everyone was showered with earth and wood splinters. As a tree groaned and keeled over, Mrs. Rawls screamed.

  “Ouch!” Sweeney complained, his hands still cupped over his ears. “That was loud.”

  “That was unnecessary,” Drake said grimly to Eddie.

  Eddie’s face, and those of the other Limiters, wore their normal, inscrutable expressions. “No, that was the price for dereliction of duty,” Eddie explained. “And I’ve also just answered your question, Drake. Every one of these men will show me unquestioning and absolute obedience. They are completely loyal to me. That’s why they’re here. They’ll do anything I ask of them.”

  Eddie then addressed a wide-eyed Will, who was still half crouched from the explosion. “As I said, we are extremely sorry for the Hunter’s death. Now that the responsible party has been punished, I hope it has gone some way toward making amends.” Eddie swung around to face Drake. “And now can we talk, please?”

  “As long as you don’t pull any more stunts like that,” Drake said.

  The Sten looked like a toy in Sweeney’s huge hands as Will and Drake left him to keep watch over Mrs. Rawls and the Limiters. Eddie had made the tactful suggestion that they talk in the Humvee on the far side of the ford, which spared Will from seeing Bartleby’s body for a second time.

  Will climbed into the front passenger seat. He’d never been in a Humvee before and was peering around at the spacious interior.

  “Are you all right?” Drake said to Will as he settled into one of the backseats.

  Will turned and nodded, but Drake was already examining the weapons rack mounted behind him in the rear of the vehicle. It housed almost a dozen Styx rifles and state-of-the-art Topsoil weapons. And beside it was some expensive-looking communications equipment.

  “Bet you had to flog a few diamonds to pay for this lot,” Drake said as Eddie climbed into the seat beside him.

  “I’ve a couple more of these vehicles in London,” Eddie replied. “And some armored pers —”

  It took Will completely by surprise when Drake lashed out, punching the Styx full in the face.

  “That was for Darklighting me,” Drake said, rubbing his knuckles.

  Eddie’s eyes were watering as he fumbled for something in his hip pocket. He produced a handkerchief, using it to dab his nose. Will could see a smear of blood on his top lip.

  “I suppose that I deserv —” Eddie started to say.

  Drake lashed out at him again, if anything hitting him with even greater force this time. His handkerchief went flying, and blood was now flowing freely from his nose.

  “And that?” Eddie asked, sounding even more nasal than ever.

  “That was for Chester,” Drake growled. “It was a low-down dirty trick to Darklight him, too.”

  “What?” Will exclaimed. “Then it wasn’t the real Styx?”

  “No, it wasn’t, was it, Eddie?” Drake accused the man.

  The Styx nodded. “I suppose I deserved that, too,” he said. He didn’t exhibit any resentment at the way Drake had just treated him, his voice impassive. “It was underhanded of me, but I needed a means to keep track of you. So when you left Chester alone in my flat, I applied a little light conditioning. It was nothing drastic.”

  “You make it sound as though you gave him some sort of hair care product,” Drake commented drily, then shook his head. “So we bugged out of my father’s house for no good reason. Why in God’s name didn’t you just knock at the gate?”

  Eddie sniffed in an attempt to clear the blood from his nostrils. “I needed to get your full and undivided attention. If I’d simply shown up, you wouldn’t have taken me seriously. And you seem to be overlooking the good turn I’ve done you. After you tossed Emily Rawls back into the pond, I stepped in to save her, and now I’ve delivered her safely back to you.”

  “Back into the pond? What does he mean?” Will asked Drake.

  “It was her choice,” Drake defended himself, but Will could see that Eddie had him on the back foot. “Emily was dead set on helping, and I needed a way to keep tabs on what the Styx were planning next.”

  “So you’re saying that what I did to Chester was worse than leaving his mother to the wolves,” Eddie leveled at Drake, then took a breath. “But, look, this isn’t getting us anywhere, and I have to brief you on a matter wh —”

  Drake was clearly angered by Eddie’s accusation, and now cut him off belligerently. “What’s so bloody important you’ve gone to all this trouble to speak to me? If it’s about your daughter, you’re wasting your time. She doesn’t want to know.”

  “Yes . . . and no,” the Styx answered in a measured way. “No, I didn’t come for Elliott, but have you observed anything different about her? Any changes?”

  Drake frowned, not understanding why Eddie h
ad asked the question. “Well, she’s growing up fast,” he replied. “Same as any normal girl in her teens.”

  “Normal girl,” Eddie repeated in barely a whisper, opening and closing his hand stiffly. It was a small but uncharacter-istic sign of anxiety, and one that Will and Drake immediately picked up on. The Styx then locked eyes with Drake. “I’m going to tell you something that no human has ever heard before. It will explain why my people have ramped up their operations here on the surface.”

  “Go on,” Drake urged, crossing his arms as he leaned back. “I’m all ears.”

  “I need to tell you about . . . ,” Eddie said, faltering for a moment as though his lips were refusing to obey him, “about the Phase.”

  Manned by two New Germanians, the factory gates swung open and Captain Franz steered the Mercedes to an area of tarmac designated visitors’ parking, where he pulled up. In a flash he’d left his seat and was at the rear of the car to let the Rebecca twins out. He then hurried ahead to do the same again, opening the door into the office building. But, for a moment, the Rebeccas hung back in the parking area as they admired the ranks of expensive cars.

  “Makes you proud,” Rebecca One said as she spotted a Bugatti Veyron next to an Enzo Ferrari.

  Her sister hummed in agreement, then they continued to the office building, where Captain Franz was still propping the door open.

  “Very kind. Thank you,” Rebecca Two said as she slipped by him.

  “Very kind. Thank you,” Rebecca One repeated in a gushing Marilyn Monroe voice as she passed the captain, topping off the impersonation with a small curtsey.

  Rebecca Two ignored her sister’s taunt as a Limiter in full combats strode forward to meet them. “I see from the cars they’re all here,” she said to him. “Show them into the boardroom.”

  Moving quickly on from the reception area, the twins passed along a corridor and through an open doorway. It was a sizable room, dominated by a table some twenty feet in length with chairs arranged around it. The Rebecca twins made their way directly to the head of the table and sat down. Captain Franz positioned himself behind them as if he was standing at attention, his hands behind his back.

  In less than a minute, a procession of fully grown Styx women began to enter the boardroom. They came from all walks of Topsoil life, and their appearances differed accordingly. Some had kept their raven-black hair, but others had bleached or dyed it, and their clothes were just as varied. Far from hiding away in the shadows like their male counterparts, many of these women had insinuated themselves into prime areas of Topsoil commerce and the upper echelons of government, and were regularly in the limelight. They were important and valued members of English society, many of them key decision makers in their chosen fields.

  There were forty women in total. And although their appearances were diverse, the one thing that they all had in common was their exceptional beauty. With their high cheekbones and piercing eyes, they were all incredibly tall and slender. In Topsoil terms, each and every one of them was stunning.

  A woman with short-cropped black hair sashayed to the chair at the opposite end of the table from the twins and settled into it, crossing her legs elegantly.

  “Alex,” Rebecca One greeted her.

  Alex smiled.

  “I caught the spread they did on you in Hello! magazine,” Rebecca One continued. “You looked simply fantastic in the photos.”

  “Yes, I was pleased with how that shoot turned out,” Alex replied. With homes in London, Paris, and New York, she was the guiding light at one of the world’s leading PR companies.

  Another woman, with shoulder-length blonde hair and dressed in a black Vivienne Westwood suit, took the place beside Alex. Moving with the grace of a cat, she slid down in the chair, propping one of her Jimmy Choo–shod feet on the edge of the table.

  “And hi, Vane,” Rebecca Two said to her. “It’s been a long time.”

  “It has,” she replied.

  Although it was difficult to tell at first glance, Alex and Vane were twins just like the Rebeccas, and had always been role models for the young girls.

  “We saw you’ve been busy with your latest show,” Rebecca Two said to Vane.

  The woman gave a small smile. She was the main presenter on a reality television series that was topping the ratings. “It doesn’t take much to amuse the average Topsoiler,” she said, her voice dripping with scorn.

  Alex rubbed a shoulder under her jacket, casting an eye around the boardroom. “What a dive this place is. Wholly unremarkable.”

  Rebecca Two nodded in agreement. “Yes, it’s perfect, isn’t it? And out back,” she said, inclining her head to her right, “there’s nearly an acre of controlled environment.”

  Rebecca One took over, addressing all the women. “And in that acre we’ve already prepared three hundred subjects for you.”

  All the women reacted immediately, purring with approval. And all of them, without exception, had begun to breathe more heavily as their faces became flushed. Several were kneading their shoulders.

  But a woman standing in the midst of the group behind Vane and Alex seemed less than impressed. “Is that all?” she said curtly. Her appearance was dowdy in comparison to the other women; dressed in a khaki uniform, she wore no makeup, and as she took off her officer’s cap, her hair was a mousy brown. She was one of the highest-ranking women in the British Army. “Because I know where we can obtain many more candidates than that,” she said, referring to the soldiers under her command. “And they’re all in tip-top physical condition.”

  Rebecca One answered quickly. “There’s no need for them. The same number again is going through processing and will be ready for you soon. That should be adequate even for your voracious appetite, Major.”

  A woman in a dark blue suit took a step forward from the group. She had come direct from the Harley Street optometrist’s clinic where she administered regular Dark Light sessions to many leading politicians and businessmen. “Can I make a start on him?” she asked, widening her dark eyes as she ogled Captain Franz. “He’s a sweet morsel.”

  “I saw him first.” Alex laughed, uncrossing her legs as she ran her tongue over her perfect teeth.

  “You’re both mistaken. I think you’ll find that he’s mine,” Vane said.

  “No,” Rebecca Two answered a little too sharply. “He’s useful to us.”

  “Really?” Alex said, her eyes flashing as she noticed how defensive the Rebecca twin had become. “And in what way could this Topsoiler ever be deemed ‘useful’?”

  To defuse the situation, Rebecca One clapped her hands together and rose to her feet. “If everyone is ready,” she announced, “then please follow us.”

  The girls led the way, the Styx women behind them. Their heels clicked on the linoleum as they left the carpeted area and trooped down the corridor leading to the first of the warehouses. A pair of Limiters, the fearless soldiers of the elite Styx regiment, was stationed at the entrance of the former factory. But they didn’t seem to be so fearless now, cowering and pulling back as far as they could from the horde of women. As she passed, Alex leaned toward one and growled at him. The Limiter nearly jumped out of his skin. “Men are such wimps,” she chuckled throatily.

  But the rest of the women didn’t utter a word as they stepped onto the factory floor. The industrial humidifying units were rattling away to themselves, and the air was thick and warm. Much of the interior, lit only by the occasional tripod-mounted luminescent orb, was in gloom.

  And across the factory floor were three hundred hospital beds arranged in a grid, each bed with a person stretched out on it in a state of unconsciousness. The scene resembled some mass dormitory of slumbering humans, consisting of Topsoilers and Colonists, and even a handful of New Germanians who had been brought in to make up the numbers.

  Rebecca One stood befor
e the group of women. “This is . . . ,” she began to say, but then noticed most of the Styx women weren’t paying any attention whatsoever to her. Drawn by the irresistible, primal drive present in each of them, many were already edging toward the beds. Rebecca One held her hands high in the air and addressed the women at the top of her voice. “This is one of the greatest moments in our long history, and we’re proud to have been able to . . .” She trailed off as she realized it was useless; the assembled group of women were barely listening as their eyes darted over the beds.

  “Once you’re done in here, you can move on to the other two warehouses, where the rest of the candidates will be waiting for you,” Rebecca Two added. “Don’t worry if you can’t manage them all: More of our sisters will be joining us later.”

  “We’ll try to leave them a few scraps,” Alex said. A ripple of muted laughter ran through the group, but most of them were too full of anticipation to join in.

  “So let the Phase begin!” Rebecca One proclaimed in a shout.

  The women fanned out across the factory floor, some running in order to claim the humans in the outlying corners for themselves.

  “We’ve come a long way since Romania,” Rebecca One said. “It’s so much easier now that we have the technology to scrub their minds,” she said, referring to the intensive Dark Light treatments the people on the beds had been subjected to.

  “Yes, it’s far less messy than hobbling them. Even with their ankles shattered, they might still try to resist,” Rebecca Two said breathlessly as she watched Alex approach one of the nearest beds.

  As the Styx woman sidled up to the senseless human, she shed her jacket, then her blouse. Straddling the body, Alex arched her upper body and threw her head in the air, unleashing a primordial and piercing shriek that rose to the corrugated roof and seemed to fall back down to the factory floor again.

  There was already blood on her back. But as she’d begun to shriek, two slits opened up across the upper edges of both her shoulder blades, the flesh tearing apart.