Wraith

by Shane Smithers

  Nebulosity was now in a state of emergency after another horrific cloud tremor. Thousands of people had been left homeless and hundreds of community buildings were damaged, some beyond repair. NIB had suffered some minor structural damage as well, and the Tactical Response team, assigned to find the SAFFIRE, would be delayed even longer. Cirro resigned himself to the fact that they might not make it here in time. This left a deepening hollowness in the pit of his stomach. If Kawasaki’s calculations were correct, the SAFFIRE may explode in eight hours or less; a spine-chilling thought.

  Cirro put his Supasmart Z away and ran a tired hand through his hair. He had hardly slept for days now. His clothes were beginning to smell and the stubble on his face itched. He needed a shower and a shave. It was embarrassing having joggers mistake him for a homeless guy, dropping money at his feet.

  ‘It’s turning into a lovely afternoon, don’t you think?’ said an old lady, appearing as if from out of nowhere and sitting down at the opposite end of the bench from Cirro.

  ‘Yes . . . yes it is,’ Cirro replied. So much for his obser-vational skills.

  ‘The weather man predicted rain, but I don’t think that’s likely,’ she said as she placed her umbrella on the seat between them.

  ‘No, you are probably right,’ said Cirro. He was in no mood for a polite conversation with a stranger.

  The old lady smiled and leaned a little closer to Cirro. ‘I’m waiting for my grandson. He’s visiting from Sydney,’ she said.

  ‘That is nice.’

  ‘He said he’d meet me here in the park . . . he’s a lovely boy.’

  Cirro didn’t respond and, after a moment’s pause, the old lady said, ‘Did you hear about the home invasion in Marino, this morning? Such a lovely suburb. Right by the beach.’

  ‘No, I did not hear,’ said Cirro. He’d been focused on Nebulosity’s situation. A home invasion was hardly important.

  ‘A very nasty affair’ she said. ‘What’s the world coming to, I ask you?’ She clutched her bag a little closer to her chest. ‘Terrible business. The robbers tied up the family and then took everything.’

  ‘Do the police have any leads?’

  ‘They haven’t said. But, personally, I think those escapees from the news are involved. They’re an ugly pair.’

  Cirro had heard that two prisoners had escaped from Lithgow goal, but that was in a different state, so he hadn’t given them much thought. ‘Why would you . . .’

  ‘And what’s worse,’ said the old lady, cutting Cirro off before he could ask his question, ‘they found a body.’

  ‘A body?’

  ‘The house was on a cliff near the sea. They found the body wedged in the rocks below.’ She gave a little tsk tsk at the end.

  ‘Have they identified them?’

  ‘Not as far as I’m aware. But the police never let out many details this early in the investigation,’ said the old lady.

  Cirro nodded. The police often withheld vital clues from the public. A tactic he had used himself on many occasions as Primary Agent of the NIB. It made it easier, when questioning suspects, to determine who was genuine and who was not.

  Reaching into her handbag, the old lady leaned across to Cirro. ‘Would you like a sandwich? I made them for my grandson, but I’m sure he won’t mind you having one.’

  Cirro eyed the little triangular sandwich. He hadn’t eaten in nearly a day and though he was not partial to Agrarien food . . . =‘Thank you,’ he said, taking the sandwich and smiling. A little way off he noticed a man walking toward them.

  ‘Sorry I’m late, Nan. I lost track of time,’ said a young man as he walked up to them. He was somewhere in his early twenties.

  ‘That’s all right. I’ve been keeping this poor homeless man company,’ said the old lady.

  Cirro smiled at the grandson, who was eyeing him suspiciously. ‘Really, Nan, how many times do I have to tell you not to talk to strangers?’ the grandson scolded.

  The old lady reached into her handbag and presented Cirro with the rest of the sandwiches. ‘I hope you find somewhere to live soon.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Cirro called out after her, wondering how pathetic he must look.

  He devoured the remaining sandwiches and then leaned back on the park bench, feeling a little happier. He lifted his shades and rubbed his eyes, wishing he were back in Nebulosity, where the temperature wasn’t so hot and the light was soothing instead of blinding.

  This assignment was turning out to be one of his most difficult. It had been easy enough to track James and Aureole’s movements over the past few days. Hacking the police database certainly made for light work, not to mention the children’s exploits being reported on the evening news: the whaling ship, the Japanese sailor in a coma, the jewellery store robbery . . . all involving two adolescents. The children were reckless, to say the least, but they had still eluded him. He hoped they were safe.

  A hand touched his shoulder. ‘Look, I do not need any food or money,’ he said, annoyed that another Good Samaritan was interrupting his thoughts. But when the hand didn’t move he spun around. ‘I said . . .’ A hooded figure stood behind him, swaying slightly. ‘James!’ he gasped.

  ~

  ‘Hello, Cirro,’ said James, smiling weakly.

  Cirro grabbed James’s arm and helped him to the bench. ‘What has happened? Where is Aureole? Are you okay?’ he said all at once.

  James slumped onto the seat; every muscle and bone in his body ached. ‘We found the SAFFIRE,’ he said wearily. ‘In a house near the beach. But they took Aureole.’

  ‘Who did?’

  ‘Three men. We tried to get away, but they were too strong. They tied us up and . . .’ James closed his eyes; his head was spinning. Under his hood, his right eye felt swollen. The throbbing was giving him a massive headache. With a trembling hand, peppered in cuts and dried blood, he touched a deep gash across his cheek.

  ‘I am sure you did your best,’ Cirro said. ‘How did you escape?’

  ‘I can’t remember much,’ said James, shaking his head. ‘I sort of remember being dragged . . . and then I was falling . . . and falling. I thought it was a dream, until I hit a small tree.’

  ‘A tree?’ said Cirro.

  ‘They threw me off a cliff,’ said James. ‘If it wasn’t for that small tree about halfway down, which slowed my fall, and these clothes Dr Kawasaki gave me, I’d have . . .’

  ‘You would have ended up like the other poor fellow,’ said Cirro grimly.

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘This happened in Marino?’

  ‘Yeah,’ said James, surprised. ‘How did . . .’

  ‘They found a body at the base of the cliff.’

  ‘Who did?’ asked James, finding it hard for his brain to keep up.

  ‘The police.’

  James closed his eyes. What if they threw Aureole over as well? No, I would have seen her, wouldn’t I? The sea had been quite rough. Her body could have . . . No.

  ‘I’ve got to go back,’ James said, struggling to his feet.

  Cirro pushed him back down. ‘No, James.’

  ‘But Aureole . . .’

  ‘If it is her body, it is too late.’

  ‘I can’t just . . .’

  ‘No, James, it will not do any good. Besides, from where I stand you are in no fit condition to do anything. You found me, I do not know how, but now you need to let me take charge.’

  ‘I wasn’t looking for you, Cirro. I came here because I followed their car. I thought they had Aureole. I’ve been watching the place from the other street.’

  ‘You were able to follow their car?’

  ‘After I got free, I went back to the house, but they’d already gone. I rang the police and then just flew around until I spotted them. I knew they couldn’t have gotten far, not in that car. How did you find them?’

  ‘I got a phone number at the jewellery store. I triangu-lated it to an apartment block not far from here.’

  James frowned, which made his fac
e ache. Was Cirro talking about the fake phone number Aureole had given the store manager? ‘A phone number? Whose?’ he asked.

  Cirro ignored his question, asking a question of his own. ‘Are you sure these men have the SAFFIRE?’

  ‘Yeah, I think so. At least that’s what they said. The thing is . . .’

  ‘What?’

  ‘It was just a jewel in a necklace. It wasn’t any bigger than my thumbnail.’

  ‘What colour was it?’

  James thought for a moment.‘Yellowy green.’

  ‘That sounds like it,’ said Cirro, nodding grimly.

  ‘I don’t understand how it could be? The damage on the boat was huge compared to the size of it.’

  ‘I assure you, from your description that jewel is the SAFFIRE.’

  James frowned again. ‘How could something so small be of any help to climate change?’ he said.

  ‘Kawasaki described it to me as like the energy contained inside an atom. Just because it is small, does not mean it cannot achieve great things. Unfortunately, its green colour indicates we do not have much time.’

  This time, James stopped himself from frowning. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘The SAFFIRE is becoming unstable. When it turns blue, it will explode.’

  ‘I’m guessing when you say explode, you’re talking big explosion.’

  Cirro nodded grimly.

  ‘How big exactly?’

  ‘Annihilate the city.’

  James face dropped. ‘Oh, that big.’

  Cirro considered him for a moment, then said, ‘I will take you back to the hopper. You will be safe there for the moment. There is a medi-kit to attend to your injuries.’

  James held up a hand. ‘No. I’m fine. I’m staying with you. I can help.’

  ‘You are in no fit state to help. I will handle it,’ said Cirro.

  ‘No. If Aureole’s . . .’ James couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence.

  ‘I understand,’ said Cirro, placing his hand on James’s shoulder, which hurt, but James didn’t let on. ‘However, these men are not fooling around.’

  ‘I know,’ said James. ‘But there are three of them and only one of you. You need me.’

  Cirro hesitated. ‘You have taken quite a beating,’ he said finally. ‘Do you really think you are strong enough?’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘All right. But you must follow my orders, understand? No flying off and doing your own thing.’

  ‘Understood,’ said James, then added, ‘There’s something else. The head guy is . . . an Azurien.’

  ‘Yes, I know,’ said Cirro.

  SIXTY-SEVEN

  Erebus’s Lair, Adelaide, South Australia

  The girl had stopped sobbing a few hours ago, but her eyes were still red and puffy, and her lower lip trembled occasionally. Wilson and Collins had thought it best to leave her alone, so they picked her up, chair and all, and moved her into the kitchen.

  Erebus re-emerged from the bedroom wearing boots, jeans, a t-shirt and a black leather jacket with luminous yellow stripes down the arms and a winking skull-and-crossbones on the back, and a motorcycle helmet tucked under his arm. He announced that he was going out for the evening. ‘Don’t open the door for anyone,’ he growled, his mood not improved.

  ‘What about you?’ asked Wilson.

  ‘What about me?’

  ‘Do we open it for you?’

  Erebus went to smack Wilson across the back of the head but, for the first time, Wilson ducked.

  ‘Ha, missed,’ said Wilson.

  ‘Of course you open it for me, dimwit,’ said Erebus.

  ‘What happens if it’s someone that looks just like you, but isn’t? Like a clone or somethin’?’

  Smack! Collins had come up from behind and slapped Wilson across the back of his head.

  ‘I owe you one,’ Erebus said to Collins.

  ‘It was a logical question,’ protested Wilson once Erebus was gone. He rubbed the back of his head and glared at Collins, who ignored him and walked into the kitchen.

  Collins came back with an iced tea.

  ‘Where’s mine?’ Wilson demanded. He was whingeing about having to get his own when the doorbell rang. ‘Who’s that gonna be?’ he said in a hushed voice.

  The doorbell rang again.

  ‘You go gag the girl, while I have a look,’ said Wilson. He crept over to the door and placed his eye to the peephole.

  Out in the hall was a boy with a baseball cap lowered over his face, holding two boxes.

  ‘Pizza!’ cried Wilson, licking his lips.

  Collins, who had quickly returned from the kitchen, grabbed Wilson’s arm just as he started to unlock the door.

  ‘What are you doin’?’ Wilson hissed. ‘Let go of me.’ Collins growled.

  ‘It’s pizza. We can’t let pizza go to waste,’ said Wilson. He gave Collins a beseeching look, but Collins didn’t release his grip. ‘All right, all right – I’ll ask, shall I?’ Returning his eye to the peephole, Wilson said loudly, ‘Who’s there?’

  ‘Pizza delivery.’

  ‘See,’ said Wilson. However, a single look from Collins told him that wasn’t enough. ‘We didn’t order any pizza,’ Wilson said with a long sigh.

  ‘Does an Erebus live here?’ the pizza boy asked.

  ‘Yes,’ said Wilson.

  ‘He ordered it,’ the pizza boy said.

  Turning to Collins, Wilson said, ‘We can stand here an’ argue the interpretation of Erebus’s words, “Don’t open the door to anyone”, or . . . we can eat pizza.’ And with that he reefed his arm away from Collins and undid the numerous locks with lightning speed.

  ‘’Bout time,’ growled the pizza boy, shoving the boxes into Wilson’s eager arms.

  Wilson flipped open the top pizza’s lid. ‘What do we owe you?’ he asked, not taking his eyes off the steaming hot toppings.

  ‘Nothing, Erebus paid by card,’ said the pizza boy, walking away.

  Wilson pushed the door shut with his foot and bounded over to the lounge like a wild gazelle and placed the pizzas on the coffee table. ‘See, Erebus ain’t that bad,’ he said, sniffing the aroma with his long nose. ‘Have you ever smelt anythin’ that good?’

  As Collins reached out to take a piece, Wilson slapped him on the hand – not something he would ever do except when pizza was involved. ‘Not yet!’ he scolded. ‘You have to savour the moment.’ He began explaining his pizza ritual. ‘First, you admire the pizza.’ He gazed starry-eyed at the open box. ‘Look how carefully it’s been cut into equal sections – well, except for that one – and that one. Then, you need to savour the delicate aroma.’ He used his hand to waft the smell toward Collins’s nose and then to his own. ‘Let it reach every part of your nostrils.’

  At this point, Collins took a sip of his iced tea and rolled his eyes.

  ‘Then, you taste the pizza . . . with your tongue . . . like this.’ Wilson picked up one of the sections and licked it.

  Collins snatched up the open pizza box, flung it onto Wilson’s lap, then picked up the second box, stacked five slices one on top of the other and shoved them into his mouth.

  ‘Philistine,’ said Wilson with a look of contempt as he continued to lick his pizza.

  Five minutes later not an olive or an anchovy remained in either box. Wilson lolled back in his seat, undid the top button of his trousers, setting his bulging stomach free, and belched loudly. He cocked his head in Collins’s direction, went to say something but hesitated, before he howled with laughter. ‘Your face is swellin’ up,’ he managed to say.

  Collins frowned and touched his face, made for the nearest mirror and stared at it in horror.

  Wilson suddenly realised his own face was not its usual charming self and let out a cry. ‘What’s happenin’?’ he said and staggered to the mirror. His eyelids were swelling and red blotches had sprung up on both cheeks.

  As he tried to pry his eyelids open, the doorbell rang, and in his panic, he collided
with Collins – twice. The second time, he bounced off Collins like a rubber ball and toppled over one of the lounge chairs. ‘Collins, go see who it is,’ he said, deciding the floor was the safest place at the moment. He heard Collins crash into several pieces of furniture and mutter curse words under his breath.

  When the doorbell rang again, Wilson crawled along the carpet in the direction of the door, hitting his head several times on the way and narrowly missing Collins, who was jumping up and down on one foot. ‘Who is it?’ he said through the crack under the door.

  ‘Erebus,’ came the reply.

  ‘Erebus!’ Wilson was about to unlock the door but then thought twice. ‘How do I know it’s really you?’

  ‘Use the peephole, stupid.’

  ‘Oh, right,’ said Wilson, crawling to his feet and then searching for the peephole.

  The man in the hallway was about the right height for Erebus, but Wilson’s vision was so distorted he couldn’t make out much more.

  ‘Hurry up,’ came the voice from outside.

  Wilson quickly unlocked the door, not wanting to make Erebus any angrier. ‘Sorry, Erebus, my vision’s a bit blurred. You see . . .’

  Wilson was unable to complete his sentence, as a hand reached out and pinched the nape of his neck, and he blacked out.

  ~

  James stood on the balcony of Erebus’s lair, looking through the sliding glass door. He’d just seen Cirro’s blurry figure take out the skinny one named Wilson and then pat him down. The bald one was squinting in the direction of the noise. Cirro moved swiftly, putting pressure on Collins’s neck. He slowly sank to the floor and Cirro stood over his limp body for a brief moment, searched his pockets, then disappeared into another room.

  He was back again in less than a minute and James let out a sigh, seeing Aureole right behind him. Cirro pointed to the balcony and she caught sight of James and put a hand to her mouth, muffling a cry. Her hair immediately washed blonde. When the balcony door opened she said, ‘James . . . but the body . . . ?’

  ‘I was so scared it was you,’ said James, embracing her tightly.

  Aureole squeezed him and buried her face into his shoulder. Behind her, James noticed Cirro raise an eyebrow as Aureole’s hair turned a rich orange.