Early Riser_The new standalone novel from the Number One bestselling author

by Jasper Fforde

  As I was pondering her looks, the paradox of her acting out my dream, the almost unthinkable reality that it was I who had supplied her with the Morphenox and that she would now have to be retired, I heard a shuffling noise close by. I flicked the flashlight around and could see two chunky male legs from mid-shin down, presumably Eddie Tangiers, the newcomer Lloyd had warned me about. I made to roll out the opposite side but noticed there was a nightwalker this side, too – a female, wearing bunny slippers.

  As I watched, a bony set of fingers clasped the bottom edge of the car’s rear mudguard and an expressionless face peered in at me upside down. She was somewhere in her twenties, had a pale complexion, was missing an eye and wore a tiara stuck in her rumpled blond hair. I was concerned to be surrounded and outnumbered by three people who regarded me only as today’s one major food group, but there were two things in my favour: first that they were slow, and second, that they were very, very stupid.

  ‘I guess the marriage is off,’ I said, noting that Glitzy Tiara had an engagement ring around a grimy finger. She reached an arm towards me. I pulled back, avoided Birgitta and looked to the other side of the car, where Eddie Tangiers was now attempting to grab my ankle with a muscular arm. This was more problematical. He looked weighty, strong, and had no functioning part of his brain to feel pain, mercy or reason. A thump from my Bambi would send him sprawling but the shock wave might rupture a fuel tank or, much worse, bounce off a tyre and render me unconscious, something that could potentially ruin my day.

  Tangiers caught hold of my ankle and began to pull. I grabbed the Buick’s rear axle to steady myself and kicked his hand, but all I managed to do was to bark my shin against the base of a suspension arm. I pulled the Bambi from my holster while Birgitta clung tightly to my forearm, teeth snapping. I fumbled with the safety and—

  Whump

  The air was suddenly full of loose dust, and I was momentarily blinded. Initially, I thought that I had accidentally discharged the Bambi, but I hadn’t; it was still cold. Irrespective, Tangiers had let go of my leg and was now lying in a heap on the bonnet of the car opposite, his mind momentarily scrambled by the concussion. I blinked and looked out. Another pair of feet had appeared by the side of the car but they were moving not with the slow shuffle of a nightwalker, but with full motor control. A Winterer. The thump had come from them.

  ‘Helloooo!’ came a chirpy woman’s voice. ‘Are we having heaps of fun down there?’

  ‘I’ve been in happier predicaments,’ I said in as confident a manner as I could, ‘and look, I know this sounds kinda daft, but I’m a Deputy Consul and I’ve got this under control.’

  ‘Under control? Hah!’ came the voice, then, more quietly: ‘Wait a moment – is that Charlie?’

  I said that it was.

  ‘It’s Aurora. Would you give me a hand with this fella? He’s at least a hundred and twenty kilos, and every single one of them wants me for lunch.’

  The situation called for teamwork.

  ‘There’s another one with a tiara off to your left.’

  Whump

  The thump was directed away from me this time, and only a small amount of dirt fell from beneath the car. Beyond the front of the Buick I could see Glitzy Tiara being deposited in front of the Austin Maxi opposite, an untidy tangle of badly grazed arms and legs. I rolled out from under the car and stood up. Aurora looked pretty much the same: unseeing left eye, a shabby Winter chic look but with the addition of a panga51 in a scabbard on her back.

  ‘Thanks for that,’ she said cheerily. ‘So, why did you come back?’

  ‘Come back? I never left.’

  ‘So what have you been doing for the past four weeks?’

  I sighed.

  ‘I … fell asleep.’

  She hid a smile.

  ‘You’re kidding?’

  ‘No. Spark out. My alarm clock failed.’

  ‘You’re a twit, Worthing, but listen, it does happen. Jack Logan was renowned for it when a Novice. Overslept and missed a stake-out by a week.’ She paused for a moment. ‘Whatever happened to Jack Logan?’

  I stared at her. She was asking me in a where are they now? sort of way.

  ‘You … killed him?’

  ‘So I did,’ she said, snapping her fingers, ‘what a to-do. Toccata wasn’t happy, I can tell you. I am so glad I wasn’t the one who had to tell her.’

  I think I wanted to move the conversation on.

  ‘No one knew where I was until Jonesy came looking. Weren’t you going to fax my office explaining how I was getting back?’

  Aurora thought for a moment.

  ‘I told Agent Hooke to do it. Did it not get there?’

  ‘It seems not.’

  ‘I’ll ask him about it. Shit,’ she said, poking my frame with an inquisitive finger, ‘there’s almost nothing left of you at all.’

  I told her I’d be on all-day breakfasts for a week, but in the literal meaning of the phrase, and she said she’d do what she could to gain me extra rations. After that we got on with more pressing matters: the male nightwalker was now getting to his feet in an uncertain manner. Deadheads don’t stun as easily or for as long as those with full mental capacity. Less upstairs to scramble, Logan had said. But with the two of us it didn’t take much to bind his wrists, and once this was done, Aurora tied him to the bumper of a nearby VW Beetle, where he tugged constantly to try and get away, like a dog eager to worry a squirrel.

  ‘Have you met Eddie Tangiers?’ asked Aurora, in the same way you might introduce someone at a cocktail party.

  ‘Well, no,’ I said, faintly embarrassed, for Tangiers was not just well built, handsome and physically very Alpha, but was entirely naked – and displaying a tumescence of considerable size and rigidity.

  ‘Tangiers was a Tier One sire,’ she said, ‘and was in the Twelve plying his trade when he became stranded. When Eddie was alive, he had pretty much only one thing on his mind – now it’s all he’ll ever have on his mind. If you have some phials and liquid nitrogen on you, we could make a packet – this guy is sitting on a fortune.’

  I must have looked shocked for she pulled a face.

  ‘It’s a joke, Worthing. You need them out here like you need food and warmth. His only use now will be for quoits practice or as a hatstand. Step to your left.’

  While we had been talking, Glitzy Tiara had picked herself up and was shambling towards us, her pinched face streaked with dirt, her shoulder dislocated by the fall. Aurora stepped forward and popped her shoulder back in with a technique that was as expert as it was nonchalant, then tied her up a safe distance from Tangiers.

  ‘Job done,’ said Aurora with a grin. ‘Snickers?’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Aurora produced several chocolate bars from an inside pocket, gave one to me and then fed two each to the nightwalkers, wrapper and all.

  ‘Glitzy Tiara wants to talk,’ I said, for the female nightwalker was mouthing words in between bites of chocolate.

  ‘You’re right,’ agreed Aurora. ‘Shall we find out what?’

  She produced a water bottle from her bag and poured a little down the nightwalker’s throat. Glitzy Tiara coughed, then swallowed, and with her throat now wet I could tell she had a raspy Carmarthen accent. She must have been talking since the moment her higher brain functions evaporated, for her voice box was ragged and worn.

  ‘Tinned passata, grated mozzarella … bread flour,’ she said. ‘Peppers all colours, anchovies.’

  ‘Sounds like pizza night,’ said Aurora. ‘Want some more Snickers? It was a sponsorship deal. I’ve got hundreds of them in the truck.’

  ‘Go on, then.’

  She handed me a pack of five.

  ‘I guess I owe you my thanks again,’ I said.

  ‘No,’ she said, ‘it’s partly my fault you’re still here. I should have done a follow-up.’

  ‘A Romanesco cauliflower,’ murmured Glitzy Tiara, ‘and some oolong tea.’

  ‘Doesn’t sound like she’
ll be heading for the local JollyMart, does she?’ said Aurora. ‘Is that one anything to do with you?’

  Aurora pointed to where we could see Birgitta’s feet emerging from under the Buick. They were moving in a helpless sort of manner.

  ‘Yes,’ I said, ‘she tried to bite me when I wasn’t looking.’

  ‘Does she do tricks?’

  ‘She eats dead people.’

  ‘Hardly a trick, is it?’ Aurora remarked, squatting down and looking under the car.

  ‘No,’ I conceded, ‘more like a survival instinct.’

  ‘Hang on,’ said Aurora, ‘I think this is Birgitta.’

  ‘Manderlay,’ I said without thinking. I hadn’t heard or read the name anywhere; I just knew it. It was also confusing but somehow not surprising that I knew she had served in the Ottoman, that her favourite colour was yellow ochre, she liked dogs, William Thackeray and walking in the Peak District, and her birthday was the first 9th after Springrise, same as me.

  ‘It’s a shame,’ said Aurora, staring at the shambling ruin that had once been Birgitta.

  It was something considerably more than a shame.

  ‘Wait a minute,’ she said, ‘I’m sure Birgitta was Beta payscale. Someone must have sold her their Morphenox. Someone … who might not have needed it this Winter.’

  She looked pointedly at me as she said it, and I hoped the heat in my cheeks didn’t show.

  ‘Don’t sweat it,’ she said, ‘I won’t tell a soul, although if you hadn’t sold it to her, she’d not be a deadhead.’

  I really didn’t want or need this pointing out.

  ‘I didn’t sell her my Morphenox,’ I said, truthfully enough.

  ‘Oh? Well, it doesn’t matter one way or the other, really.’

  She pulled out her Bambi and pointed it at Birgitta. Non-Tricksy nightwalkers were often summarily retired when found.

  ‘No!’ I said, a little too hastily. ‘I mean, I’ll take care of it. It’s something I should get used to.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ said Aurora, reholstering the Bambi.

  ‘Why are you here in the basement?’ I asked, eager to change the subject. ‘If you don’t mind me asking.’

  She nodded towards the Vacants.

  ‘Gathering up some nightwalkers for HiberTech. Project Lazarus always needs Tricksy subjects, so I came to have a look. The breeder will probably get farmed, but Glitzy Tiara they’ll take. I’ll get them over there smartish, too, before Toccata intervenes. She has old-fashioned ideas about what we do in the facility, and just retires them all and then claims standard bounty by presenting the left thumb to Vermin Control.’

  Aurora made to move off, but then stared at the large blue automobile for a moment.

  ‘Wait a moment. This is a blue Buick, isn’t it?’

  I nodded.

  ‘The one that Watson and Moody were babbling about?’

  ‘And several others, too, yes.’

  She paused, looked at the car, then at the remains of the nightwalkers, then at the rabbit’s-foot key ring I was still holding in my hand.

  ‘What’s your interest in this car, Worthing?’

  I had to think. I knew almost no one in Sector Twelve. Birgitta regarded me as you might an ambulatory dinner, Jonesy and Fodder were loyal to Toccata and Lloyd was a porter, whose first priority was the continued smooth running of the Dormitorium. Laura had her head filled with myths and fables and Treacle was little more than a jailbird and a baby-peddler. I needed a friend. Aurora had saved my life – twice – and on that basis alone was about as good a friend as I was ever likely to get.

  ‘It’s complicated,’ I said with a sigh, realising that I’d have to tell Aurora things I could never tell anyone, ‘because although I’ve never set foot in this car park, I’ve seen the blue Buick and the rabbit’s-foot key ring before.’

  She raised the eyebrow over her non-seeing eye.

  ‘In my … dreams.’

  My shoulders slumped as a sweep of memories came back, but this time it was textures only – the leaves, the splays of lichen on the rocks, the granular appearance of the soil, the rust on the Buick bumpers, the crackled paint on the car body. I thought of Birgitta on the beach to clear it out, and with the gurgling laugh of the child with the beach ball, the flashback evaporated.

  ‘I so need a Dormeopath,’ I said in a useless sort of voice.

  Aurora told me that back in her civvy days she used to be a Sleepy-D, and that she wasn’t doing anything for the next hour.

  ‘We could have a coffee at the Wincarnis,’ she said.

  I glanced at my watch. Jonesy wasn’t expecting to meet me until midday.

  ‘Do we have time for me to retrieve Birgitta?’

  ‘All the time you want.’

  I crawled underneath the car and looked into Birgitta’s violet eyes, hoping for some sort of recognition, but she simply stared at me blankly.

  ‘I love you, Charlie,’ she whispered.

  ‘I love you, too,’ I whispered back, my heart thumping. I knew I meant it, too – and not when I’d been her husband, but for myself, now. Yes, it was dumb, illogical and, admittedly, a little creepy, but who wouldn’t? She was smart, driven, talented, and, as a bonus, exceptionally pleasing to the eye. Everything, in fact, except being alive – and that she didn’t love me back, and couldn’t and wouldn’t, not ever.

  ‘Kiki needs the cylinder,’ she said, kind of mirroring Mrs Nesbit’s demand for the cylinder in my dream. I fed her two Snickers then helped her out from under the car. Once out, she stood there, rocking on the balls of her feet, eyes scanning randomly around the basement until she found me, then locked hard on to my eyes. For a brief moment I thought she was there – but then her eyes wandered off again, and the moment was gone.

  ‘So,’ I said once we’d attached dog leads to the nightwalkers and headed for the exit ramp, ‘the panga in a scabbard on your back. Is that actually practical?’

  ‘Not really,’ said Aurora, demonstrating how, if heavily dressed, it was almost impossible to reach in a hurry, ‘but it’s very in at the moment. Oh, word of advice: don’t use a panga on nightwalkers. It’s really messy.’

  Glitzy Tiara mumbled about multi-pack toilet roll and the wisdom of ‘Buy One Get One Free’ deals while Eddie Tangiers attempted, while we walked, to bundle with each vehicle we passed and, once, a concrete building support. It might have been funny if it wasn’t kind of sad.

  ‘I’ve got some plasters and iodine in the truck,’ said Aurora, for Tangiers’ activities were not damage-free.

  ‘Yes,’ I said, ‘that’s gotta hurt.’

  The Wincarnis

  * * *

  ‘… In the main square of every town there would be a large block of stone, inset with a bronze ring. Capital offenders would be stripped, shackled to the ring, then abandoned. Below the survival threshold of minus ten, the offender would last between two and six hours. Fear, drowsiness, torpor, death …’

  – Law and Order on the Winterlands, by Idris Roberts

  Aurora’s transport was an ex-military command car painted in light sand camouflage, the wheels to the height of my chest. She pushed the fresh snow off the windshield while I tied the nightwalkers’ leads to the back of the truck. We climbed aboard, the vehicle started with a hiss of compressed air, and as we drove towards the centre of town at a slow walking pace, I tried to make sense of what had just happened. There was no rational explanation as to how Birgitta could say the very same thing in life that I’d dreamed about the previous night. It didn’t make sense. It couldn’t make sense. Logic would demand that you dream about things that you’d already witnessed – dreams follow reality, not the other way round.

  ‘How are you on HotPots?’ asked Aurora as we took a right at the billboard.

  ‘Nothing beyond General Skills training.’

  ‘The Cambrensis’ HotPot had an unexplained overheat a week ago,’ she explained, gesturing towards the Dormitorium as we drove past.

  ‘Luckily, the f
uel rods dropped into the pond when it cooked up and shut itself down. Toccata ordered the Cambrensis abandoned. One of the rehoused residents was Carmen Miranda.’

  ‘What, with the fruit hat and everything?’ I asked.

  ‘The very same.’

  ‘But Carmen Miranda must be – ancient.’

  ‘She credits the Samba for her longevity,’ said Aurora, ‘but I think it’s more likely a statistical quirk of the ageing process.’

  ‘Wow,’ I said, surprised that she should be still alive, and, odder still, living out here. ‘What’s she doing now?’

  ‘Not much,’ said Aurora. ‘When they opened her door they discovered that she’d walked. Jonesy had to retire her.’

  The tyres crunched on the rutted, refrozen snow as we passed the railway station and then finally reached the main square, where Aurora parked her vehicle, the three Vacants still tied to the back.

  The town square appeared larger in full daylight, and unchanged these past four weeks aside from more snow and ice. We’d parked next to the bronze statue, and I could see now that it was a preacher, set on a sandstone plinth. He was holding a prayer book and in mid-oration, his features obscured by a concretion of snow that had turned to ice, thawed then refrozen, so the figure appeared to be both melting and weeping. Below the statue a man sat huddled in a foetal position, his blue-white arms clasped around his knees.

  ‘Who’s that?’ I asked.

  ‘Howell Harris,’ said Aurora, ‘a preacher who lived near here. There’s a Dormitorium named after him. Died last century some time. Should be a statue of Don Hector, really – or Gwendolyn the – what are we up to now?

  ‘Thirty-eighth, I think. Not the statue – the frozen guy.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Aurora, ‘him. That’s Jedediah Bloom, Sector Footman.’

  ‘What did he do?’ I said, looking closer.

  ‘We caught him trying to smuggle drugs out of HiberTech, and that’s a mandatory Frigicution – even if it was only to supply the winsomniacs.’

  I stared at Bloom, thinking it was a bit harsh, even so.

  ‘I was off-duty at the time,’ said Aurora, probably thinking the same as I, ‘and Hooke was acting Head of Security. He has very many fine qualities but the notion of proportionality is not one of them.’