This Rage of Echoes

by Simon Clark

  ‘Eddie? Don’t you remember your little sister any more, Mason?’

  I blinked. After listening to Naylor’s bitter diatribe this was like emerging from a hypnotic trance.

  ‘Eve?’

  ‘Not too close, Madeline.’ Eve pushed Madeline away from me. ‘It still gives me the creeps when I see you touching my brother.’ She adjusted the strap of the sub-machine-gun that dangled muzzle-down beneath one arm. ‘Eddie, you were supposed to show my brother the rest. Open the next door.’ Eddie rushed to obey. Then Sis did look formidable with her death-dealing hardware hanging beside her slim waist. The military chic extended beyond the gun to camouflage trousers in dappled greens. Ulric must have appreciated the tight green T-shirt she wore as well.

  Her business-like manner prompted me to ask, ‘Eve, what are you doing here?’

  ‘Since you came back home, Mason, bringing trouble with you, I’ve discovered something about myself.’ She nodded as Eddie opened the stable door to the next cell. ‘I’m very good at torture.’ A grim smile tightened her mouth. ‘So in answer to your question, Mason, your little sister is here to inflict pain.’ Eve swung the machine-gun into her two hands. ‘OK, Eddie. Stand back.’

  chapter 36

  What remained of the sun that evening splashed a bloody light on to the brick wall that made a prisoner of not only the rose garden but Madeline, Naylor, me and probably Eddie, too. Eve I wasn’t so sure about: someone had admitted her through the walls; they would let her out again, so why is she free to come and go?

  What occupied me especially at that moment was wondering who was in the next stable, and what Eve would do with her machine-gun. A figure already stood close up behind the steel bars when Eddie heaved back the upper half of the stable door.

  I groaned. ‘Good God.’

  ‘See the bruising on the neck?’ Eve nodded at the female prisoner. ‘It’s the same one we encountered before. Dr Saffrey’s people picked her up in Tanshelf.’

  ‘Come closer,’ Eve ordered the woman.

  There she was, the biological Echo of my mother. Bruises still darkened her throat where Eve and Madeline had tried to strangle her, using the kettle flex as a ligature. A lack of expression smoothed Mom’s – I mean the monster’s face. My blood ran cold.

  ‘Closer.’ Eve beckoned the creature with her free hand. When the clone almost touched the bars with her nose Eve stabbed the muzzle of her gun through the uprights. The violence of the jab rocked the creature back on her heel. When she recovered her balance I saw the mouth of the barrel had left a black O-shaped bruise in the skin above an eyebrow. The woman breathed a little heavier, yet she didn’t so much as whimper.

  ‘See?’ Eve spoke with satisfaction. ‘They don’t feel pain like we do.’

  ‘What are you going to do to her?’ Madeline asked.

  ‘The same as I’d like to do to you.’ Her grin had a savage quality. ‘But we need to study these monsters. One day soon, however.’ She patted the gun.

  The woman who wore my mother’s face stepped into the blood red light.

  ‘Listen,’ she said, ‘the world is changing. What’s happening to the human race can’t be stopped. We’re victims of it as much as you. But there’s a way to make life better for all of us.’

  ‘You dying is a start,’ Eve told her.

  Seeing Eve strike the facsimile of my mother was disorientating to say the least; a sore-looking lump had formed above her eye from the blow. I nodded to the little guy in his over-size jacket. ‘Close the door, Eddie.’

  ‘No, wait.’ The woman extended her hand through the bars as if she wanted me to grasp it. Eve used the machine-gun as a club; the blued-steel firearm cracked against bone. And you know something? This time the prisoner did grunt in pain. Even so, she didn’t withdraw the arm back into the cell. Eve clubbed again.

  Through clenched teeth the woman hissed, ‘I can take it as long as you want to deal it out. All I want is for you to listen … ugh’ – a third smack of the gun across her wrist caused that grunt – ‘want you to listen to what I say. Ah!’ Blow number four. Grazed skin on her wrist produced speckles of blood. ‘Whatever’s happened to us can’t be stopped. Uhh … can’t be reversed. No going back. But we can reach an understanding. I’ll be your mother again. I promised before: it still holds. I’ll be her for as long as you want me. We can be together. Ack—’ That blow ripped away a fingernail. Red drops fell on to white gravel. Yet she still held her arm out as Eve struck with even more passion; tears rolled down my sister’s cheeks. ‘I’ll be your mother forever. We’ll have Christmas like we used to. I’ll drink my wine and you tease me about the presents I’ve bought, when you tell me that you’re too old to have them wrapped in cartoon paper. Reindeers, Santa – ohh!’ That savage swipe from Eve cracked against the woman’s hand with a shocking snap!

  ‘You’re not my mother,’ Eve snarled. ‘Never ever.’ Panting, she clubbed again.

  ‘You’re getting hurt for nothing,’ I told the woman. ‘We won’t allow you to replace our mother. She’s dead. You monsters killed her.’

  The woman found it hard to talk through her agony. ‘Monsters like her.’ Her eyes blazed at Madeline. ‘She’s one of us. So how come you love her and not me!’

  This time I lunged forward, ready to rip her arm from the socket. Madeline held me back. This earned a snarl from Eve.

  ‘Don’t touch my brother. If I have to tell you again …’

  The woman drew her butchered arm back through the bars. It made me think of a wounded serpent sliding back into its lair. ‘Anytime,’ she whispered. ‘Anytime. I love you both. I’m ready to be your mother. Just give me a chance …’

  The door swung shut. ‘I’m hungry.’ Eddie scowled. ‘I want supper.’ However, instead of stomping off to the cottage he drew the bolts back on the third stable door. ‘But I’ve got one more to show you.’

  In the third stable, a boy.

  ‘Not any boy,’ I murmured to myself. ‘That boy. Camera boy.’

  Madeline watched the boy step into the light. With a pair of mucky fists he rubbed his eyes. She tilted her head as she studied his face. ‘You’ve met him before?’

  ‘Look at him, Madeline. He’s a ten-year-old version of me.’ I shot her a grim smile. ‘Just as you’re a female version of me.’

  ‘I want to go home.’ The boy appeared dazed.

  ‘You see,’ I began, ‘I found this specimen in my back yard in Tanshelf. He’d been trying to photograph us, probably for the amusement of his Echo buddies. I chased him; he got away but left the camera behind.’

  The boy stared in a daze. My words weren’t sinking into his brain.

  Eddie grunted. ‘The kid’s camera’s in the cottage. They told me to put it with your things. They took the film out, so don’t think of photographing nothing.’

  The boy’s plight struck a nerve in Madeline. ‘We shouldn’t leave him locked in there. He’s frightened.’

  ‘The kid stays.’ Eddie told her. ‘He’s all right. He gets more to eat than I do. Little pig. It’s not fair.’

  I tried to make out what lay inside the stable-cum-jail. A narrow bed against a wall. A jug of water on the floor. A chair beside a flimsy table on which stood a plate containing bread scraps. The walls were solid so the child version of me had no opportunity of talking to, or seeing, his fellow prisoners in the adjoining cells.

  I hated seeing him in there. ‘Eddie, open the door. It’s cruel to keep a child locked up.’

  ‘He’s one of the Echo things.’

  ‘Nevertheless.’

  ‘Echomen are monsters. They don’t feel pain.’

  ‘Open the door, Eddie.’

  The little man shook his head.

  ‘Eddie?’

  ‘Can’t.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘They don’t give me keys.’

  Seeing a younger copy of me imprisoned twisted something inside my heart. ‘Listen. What’s your name?’

  His brown eyes rolled. ‘Nam
e?’ He frowned. ‘I know it’s Kirk.’

  ‘What do you mean you know it’s Kirk?’

  Madeline touched my arm. ‘Go easy on him, Mason. He’s a child.’

  ‘You said your name’s Kirk.’ I spoke more gently. ‘Does it seem as if the name isn’t yours anymore?’

  Kirk nodded, an expression of woe on his face.

  I gave the bars an experimental tug. ‘Eddie, bring me a hammer. I should be able to break the padlock.’

  ‘Won’t do any good.’

  Madeline chimed in. ‘Eddie, it’s not fair to turn a child into a prisoner.’

  Eddie’s sulky lip appeared. ‘I told you, it won’t do any good. He won’t come out of there.’

  ‘Why?

  ‘Because he’s scared.’

  ‘Of what?’

  ‘He’s frightened something will hurt him. The woman’s scared of the same thing.’

  ‘But what’s scares them?’

  ‘You better ask them things.’ Eddie turned away, his arms folded. Stop asking me questions. The body language couldn’t be any more clear.

  Damn Dr Saffrey. Blast her dirty, rotten colleagues. They’d set this up. No doubt this was part of their experiment. Watch how I react to the prisoners! We’re the ingredients! Mix us together to see what kind of confection you get! Damn them … But then if I didn’t find out information for myself, who the hell’s going to tell me anything?

  ‘Kirk, listen to me. I’m not angry with you.’ When I saw the child’s face behind the bars I saw myself as a schoolboy being pushed around by the bigger kids as they chanted, Hey, hey, bastard Mason Konrad. Did you ever find out who your father was? Did he run off before paying your mother’s fuck-money? After pushing me down they’d laugh while they chanted, Who’s your daddy, bastard boy? Who’s your daddy? The evil memory snuck up and bit me. For years I’d forgotten all about the taunts, but looking into that face became a riff on pure sorrow. It brought it all back to me. How the child me would stare at his reflection in the mirror and ask, ‘Why do they call me bastard boy? What do they mean about my dad not paying Mom? Why are they doing all this, I haven’t done anything to them, have I?’ The face in the mirror didn’t have answers, anymore than the face behind the bars that was identical to mine – right down to the brown eyes that were so full of confusion and pain.

  The boy drew breath as if he’d suddenly remembered something unpleasant.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Madeline asked.

  ‘I know I’m called Kirk.’ His eyes cleared as if he’d emerged from a trance. ‘Only it doesn’t seem like my real name anymore. You feel your name, don’t you? I can’t feel as if it belongs to me anymore?’ He spoke rapidly. ‘My name is Kirk … Kirk Jones … Kirk Johnson?’ He shrugged. ‘My first name is Kirk. I know that. I’d found the camera in the attic. It hadn’t worked but I fixed it up myself then I started photographing animals. I loved taking pictures of them. Snakes. Snakes are cool. They’re hard to find but I got really good at getting close ups of adders and grass snakes. And – and I went to Tanshelf school to find grass snakes to photograph, because I’d show them to my mom and dad at home. They’d gone to the institute for the deaf, and then they’d married. It’s hard for them to find work because some bosses are so stupid they think because people can’t hear they’ve got no brains, that’s not true. My mom and dad are intelligent, and they love to put my photographs on the walls.’ His eyes assumed a strange fixed appearance as he began to see more inside his own head than what lay outside. ‘So I went to the old school with my camera. I remember a lady there who said she’d lost her dog in the swimming-pool building. When I got in there it wasn’t like a pool anymore. Walls had been built inside it and I thought that was funny. Someone had made it into pens, you know like for animals? Only there was a man inside of it – and that man was you – Mason Konrad. The woman stopped talking about the lost dog. She made me stand close to the pool. I could see you sleeping on the floor. Then she made me’ – His lips became dry – ‘stay there. I wanted to go home but she wouldn’t let me. When I ran a man brought me back. He kept me right above where you slept. I was standing on cage stuff. Then I started to feel funny. I began to think it was me lying on the floor of the swimming pool with my eyes closed. I didn’t feel like me any more. People say drugs make you crazy. I wondered if they’d given me stuff to make me crazy but I don’t remember any needles. I wanted to go home. But I knew I wouldn’t be going home again.’ For a moment he swayed there behind the bars.

  Madeline spoke gently. ‘Kirk? Why don’t you sit down?’

  Kirk shook his head.

  Gently, I asked, ‘Kirk? Why did you photograph me at my home?’

  A painful dryness cracked his lips. He licked them, flinched at their soreness, then: ‘They told me to get a picture of you with the thing.’

  ‘What thing?’

  The boy’s eyes bulged. ‘You know what thing. You talk to it.’ He gulped. ‘We’re all scared of it. We’re terrified!’

  I knew what he was talking about: Natsaf-Ty, but he’s a product of my imagination, the old childhood pretend friend, who’d remerged at this time of mental stress. And it was this nascent telepathic link that was festering in the minds of the Echomen. It allowed them a mystifying glimpse of the old mummy with its crust of red skin. But did I say mystifying? I should have used the word TERRIFYING. The boy gulped, panted and sweat ran down his face as if near to a panic attack.

  Once more I realized Natsaf-Ty must be my secret weapon. But how? I still didn’t understand the mechanics of it entirely. Just that it kept the Echomen off-balance. So the last thing I’d do at that moment was identify the dusty gentleman of old Egypt who used to visit me when I was a boy, and had recently returned.

  Madeline spoke in softly reassuring tones, trying to ease Kirk’s fear.

  But I saw an advantage and drove over her kind words. ‘Listen to me, Kirk. I don’t understand what your people have been doing. They send you to photograph the “thing” that frightens you all, but why are you so hell-bent on killing me?’

  ‘We aren’t!’ He all but screamed the words. ‘Not any longer!’

  ‘What do you want from me, then?’

  ‘You’re the only one who can save us from that thing. It’s a monster. It wants to hurt us!’ With that the boy ran to the bed, flung himself down on it, covered his ears with his hands, then lay there, trembling.

  ‘Supper time,’ Eddie announced happily. He swung the stable door shut.

  ‘Supper can wait,’ I said. A second later I yanked open the door to the female’s cell – the Mom look-alike.

  She blinked in what remained of the sunlight.

  ‘Hey,’ I shouted. ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Delf.’

  ‘No, Delf’s my mother’s name. What were you called before you changed?’

  The woman nursed her bruised arm (Eve had certainly held nothing back). ‘I only know that name now. I can’t remember anything from before. My life’s purpose is to love you and your sister as a mother.’

  ‘Quit that fucking nonsense. Now tell me this: who is it that frightens you?’

  ‘You know who, Mason.’ She winced as she moved her arm that bore the bruise stigmata of my sister’s hate. ‘We’ve watched you talking to it.’

  ‘It?’

  Her face paled. ‘Please make it go away, Mason. You don’t know the effect it has on us …’ She pressed her lips together. She’d regretted telling me so much; maybe the pain had loosened her tongue. ‘Just get rid of it. I’ll be Mom. I’ll take care of you.’

  ‘Forget it. You know what my sister did to you, so I wouldn’t expect a long life.’ I gripped the timber door in order to close it.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mason.’

  ‘Don’t waste your breath.’

  ‘No, not for this. I’m sorry for the name-calling you suffered at school.’

  That made me freeze. ‘You can’t know anything about that.’

  ‘I am your mother.’


  ‘My mother’s dead.’

  ‘I am a copy of her. I remember what she experienced in life. I know the other children called you names for what I was forced to do.’

  ‘Shut up.’ A volcanic heat rose through my neck into my head. Damn it, I knew what she was going to say next. ‘SHUT UP!’

  ‘You’d have been ten, Eve was little more than a baby. We were so broke, Mason. I couldn’t afford to pay the bills—’

  ‘Stop it. You don’t know anything about us. You’re a monster; you’re not even human.’

  ‘I have your mother’s memories in here.’ She touched her temple. ‘We were so poor. We had no money. I had men come to the house. They paid me for sex.’

  ‘You became a whore?’

  ‘I tried so hard to keep it secret. I didn’t want you to find out that I’d sold my body to keep a roof over our heads.’

  I stood there, listening; I couldn’t move.

  ‘Then one night I brought a man home, a real sleaze-ball. He said he had to go to the bathroom but he let this gang into the house. They did things to me, really disgusting, painful things. I made so much noise that a neighbour called the police. After that, the truth came out.’

  ‘Mom, you didn’t have to do that. You could have gone to my grandparents for money.’

  ‘Never that. I wouldn’t go to them.’ Her voice grew hoarse. ‘Rather than beg your father’s parents for cash I’d rather suck off some stranger for a twenty.’

  I hurled myself at the steel bars. ‘Get out of my head! You’re not my mother. You’re lying. You’re fucking lying!’ The bars stopped me from killing her. I wanted to get my fingers under her eyelids then rip off her face.

  She sank away into the shadows. ‘I’m sorry, Mason. It’s true. You know it’s true. Remember what they told you at school.’

  ‘Bitch!’

  Madeline wrestled me back, making soothing promises as she did so. ‘It’s OK, Mason. It’s OK. I’ll take care of you.’

  Much to Eve’s delight I pushed Madeline down on to the gravel path. She shot back with her arms and legs wide apart, scattering stones with her spreading feet. Eddie, meanwhile, slammed the door shut.