by Kim Curran
He must have lost at least twenty stone. Although it had left him with rolls of skin, now hanging empty around his body.
He chuckled, the sound a wet, horrible rattle in his throat. “Who else did you expect?”
“You escaped?” I said finally.
“No thanks to you,” he said. His voice was dry and speaking seemed to cause him pain. His dark eyes were madder than I’d ever seen them. “How did you do that to me? How did you make me do… those things? And poor Abbott. Perhaps I should have tried to save him. But the fire was so strong. He died screaming your name, Scott Tyler. Did you know that?”
Heat burned at my cheeks, but it wasn’t as bad as the ice in my stomach. Guilt.
“Where have you been for the last six months?” I asked, avoiding his question.
“Here. Hiding. Waiting.”
“Waiting for what?”
“For you, my fresh Shifter. Only…” he sniffed at the air. “You’re not so fresh now, are you? Reckon that power of yours is running out. Tick tock. Tick tock.” He rocked his head back and forth, the action sending the flap of skin under his chin swaying. He stopped and smiled, his mouth a dark hole, then took a jerking step forward.
I fumbled inside my pocket for my phone. “Don’t move. Don’t even breathe!” I shouted, suddenly realising I hadn’t actually planned for what I would do if I found Benjo.
“Oh, don’t worry. I won’t put up a fight.” He stood with his hands by his sides, looking up at the holes in the roof.
I punched the number to speed dial ARES and the call was answered after two rings.
“Scott Tyler, Third Class. I need immediate assistance. Grouber & Sons Upholstery, East Street,” I said to the ARES receptionist on the other end of the phone.
“The Regulators will be with you in five minutes,” her soothing voice came over the phone. “Anything else I can help you with?”
I hung up.
“Third class? Impressive. I always knew you’d go places,” Benjo said, a small grin hitching up one side of his drooping mouth.
“Just shut up. Don’t say a thing.”
“Oh, but I’ve been so lonely. With no one here to talk to. Just me and my rats.” He held out the furry body of a rat. Small bites had been taken out of its stomach.
I turned away in disgust.
“Don’t look away, Scott Tyler. You did this to me. You,” he shouted, throwing the rat at my feet. “I’ve been forced to live off rat’s blood and marshmallows. Eating causes me pain. You’ve robbed me of my only pleasure.”
“If that means you can’t eat people’s brains any more, I don’t know if I feel too bad about it. You’re a killer, Benjo. And you expect me to feel sorry for you?”
Benjo snorted. “I would never expect someone like you to feel anything other than disgust. You were always so limited in your understanding.”
He was right. I did feel disgusted by everything he was and everything he’d done. But I felt sorry too. And terribly guilty as I looked at him, almost buried under the weight of all his useless skin.
“The Regulators are coming and we’re going to take you in and you’ll be punished for your crimes.”
“Good.”
I blinked, confused. “Good?”
“Yes. Good. It’s so cold here. And damp. And I can’t go anywhere without people pointing and screaming. No, a nice clean cell and soft, squidgy prison food… Yum, yum.” He said it with a glazed look on his face, as if he was describing a beach holiday.
I couldn’t quite believe that he was here. As much as I’d come here looking for him, I hadn’t actually believed I’d find him. I was coming just to put my mind at rest. Like when you worry you’ve left the iron on and you know, really, that you haven’t, but you just have to check. But it seems as if I had left it on after all. And maybe I’d found the answer to my questions right here.
“Was it you?” I said.
“Was what me?”
“The President of China. The Shift today. Was that you?”
“Now, what would I want with the President of China? His Little Guards on the other hand, now them I’d like to get to know.”
He made a slurping noise as he took another step forward into a beam of moonlight. I almost retched. Half of his face was a puckered mess of scars. The red flesh oozed in the pale blue light.
“Oh, you like my new look, do you?” he said, gesturing to his face with a wave of his hand. “Seems flames don’t agree with my complexion.”
“So, was it you?” I said, swallowing the vomit that had risen in my throat.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I haven’t been able to Shift since our last meeting.”
“What? Why not?”
“Entropy, I guess. Caught up with me at last.”
There was a crash from behind me as the Regulators broke through the door and piled in, the beams of their torches slicing up the darkness.
“It’s OK,” I said, “It’s under control.”
But they weren’t listening. They were in mission mode.
“Down! Down!” One of them started screaming, pointing her Taser in Benjo’s face. I recognised Lane under the visor.
Before even waiting for a reaction, she pulled the trigger. Two darts attached to wires shot out of the end of the gun, and embedded themselves in Benjo’s unscarred cheek.
He sighed, reached up a hand, and pulled the darts away, leaving two red holes in his face.
I saw Lane hesitate. The Taser had had no effect on him at all.
“Just get down, Benjo,” I said.
He shrugged, and slowly, as if it was causing him terrible pain, lowered himself to the floor.
Lane leaned over him. “Hands behind your back,” she shouted.
“I’m not sure you’re going to want to do that,” I said. But she ignored me and cuffed Benjo.
“Now, on your feet,” she shouted.
“Um,” Benjo’s muffled voice came from the floor. “We may have a problem.”
“Feet! Now,” Lane shouted.
“Do we have a problem?” a second Regulator said, coming to stand next to Lane. She pulled her visor off, letting her lank hair fall free. Great, Lane and Lottie to my rescue. I was never going to hear the end of this.
Benjo huffed and wiggled around like a landed fish, but utterly failed to get to his feet.
“We’re going to have to help him up,” I said, already wishing I hadn’t bothered calling the Regulators in. “How many of you are there?”
“A unit of six, as standard.”
“That might just be enough. Guys, get over here.”
The four other Regulators who had been making sure the rest of the building was clear walked over. I bent over and took Benjo’s elbow. Lane took his other arm and Lottie took a leg, twisting her face away from him in revulsion. The other Regulators reluctantly took whichever bit of Benjo’s body they could reach. None of us wanted to touch him.
“OK, on three. One. Two. Three.”
We pulled. Even with the weight loss, it was still a struggle to get him to his feet. But finally we managed it.
“OK, take him in,” I said, wiping my hands on my trousers.
“What’s going on, Scott?” Lottie asked. “Who is this guy?”
“Benjo Greene. He was connected with the Ganymede Project and is responsible for the death of at least five Shifters that we know about and who knows how many we don’t.”
Lane and Lottie turned to look at him as he shuffled off, smiling at the Regulators around him.
“Try not to get too close,” I said. “He likes to lick people.”
They both groaned in disgust.
“Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere near him,” Lane said.
Benjo stopped at the doorway, and no matter how much the Regulators shoved him, he wouldn’t be budged.
He turned back to look at me. “Will you be joining us, Scott?” he said, as if he was just heading into dinner rather than being arrested.
&nbs
p; “Oh, don’t you worry, Benjo. I’m not done with you yet.”
“Good, I look forward to having a nice chat. It’s been a while.” He smiled. His remaining teeth shone in the moonlight. “And bring marshmallows. I have developed a taste for marshmallows.”
I watched him go and wondered if he was telling the truth about not being able to Shift. If it wasn’t him responsible for what had happened today, then who was? And had the man in the alley’s warning not to forget green just been a coincidence? It had to be.
I took a deep breath and climbed out through the broken door.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“I wasn’t sure you’d come and see me,” Benjo said.
“I said I would.”
Benjo was even more repulsive in the bright lights of the interrogation room. He sat, blinking like a mole, his thighs sagging over the edge of the small seat. His skin, which had once been rosy and pink, was now grey, bordering on green. And the burn scars on the left side of his face were oozing. He was a shadow of his former self.
“And you are a man of your word, isn’t that right, Scott Tyler? A man whose word cannot be broken.”
“What’s he on about?” Lottie asked, angrily.
I didn’t want anything connecting me to that night at Greyfield’s and how I’d been able to bend reality to my will.
The experience had been terrifying and yet thrilling at the same time. It had taken me two weeks before I’d dared try to bring it on again. I’d focused on trying to make Max get me a cup of coffee. Nothing had happened. I still wasn’t sure how I felt about that. Relieved? Or sad that all that power had gone.
“How am I meant to know what he means?” I snapped at Lottie. “He’s a nutjob.”
Lottie shrugged. “I’m not going to argue with that. Anyway, he’s all yours. You’ve got ten minutes and then we’re taking him to processing.” She closed the door and I heard the security locks clunk closed.
I was alone with Benjo once more.
I couldn’t face sitting near him, so instead I leant up against the mirrored wall, clutching the Project Ganymede file to my chest, trying to stay as far away as possible. “So it’s true then? You can’t Shift?”
“You think I would be here if I could? You think I would be like… this?” He held up his arms, the wings of flesh wobbling.
“I guess not.”
“Oh, but I can still Fix. Isn’t that strange? Not that I could Fix you, Scott. Isn’t that right? You’re more powerful than any of us.”
“Shut up.”
“Oh, I see. You don’t want anyone to know.” His eyes lit up with delight. “Well, you can trust me.” He held up a bony finger and pressed it to his sagging lips. “Shush,” he hissed. The sound set him coughing, a wet, gurgling sound.
I turned around and stared into the mirror because I couldn’t face looking at him. Only it was worse looking at myself.
I looked pale and tired and I really needed a shave, something that I was still trying to get used to. I remember when I was jealous of boys at school who bragged about their facial hair. Now it was just a pain. But it was my eyes I didn’t want to look too closely at. I looked down at my feet instead.
“So, come on then, Benjo. You said you were waiting for me. What did you want to tell me?”
“Tell you? Oh, nothing. I have nothing to tell you. Do to you? Now that is a different matter. I’ve been dreaming about what I would do to you. That’s what kept me alive, living in my hole with… with only my rats for company.” He sniffed and when I looked back, big pearly tears were falling down the deep creases in his face.
I forced myself to remember how he’d almost killed Aubrey, remember the deep red scar she hides under her fringe, and I didn’t feel quite so bad.
I pulled out the chair and sat down in front of him. “The brains in your place, Benjo. We retrieved them months ago and identified your victims. You killed five Shifters and those are only the ones we know about. You want to tell me about the others? Or don’t you remember them?”
He sniffed a bubble of snot back into his nostril and stared at me. “Oh, I remember every one. Even ones I had to go back and put right. I can hold onto the memory.” He leant forward as far as he was able given the chains pinning him to the chair and I could smell his rotten breath. “You can do that too, can’t you?” he whispered.
“So, are you going to tell us then?” I said, desperate to keep the conversation on track.
“I killed you, you know? And your pretty friend. I can remember it all so clearly.”
“That was a drug-induced dream, Benjo. It never happened. And it’s never going to happen. Now are you going to tell us how many deaths you’ve really been responsible for?”
“Where would be the fun in that?”
I’d had enough of him. He was never going to tell us about the other people he’d killed. And I wasn’t even convinced he wasn’t lying about remembering them. I would pass him back to the Regulators and let them process him. I didn’t care what happened to him. I only wanted to never, ever see him again.
To finish, I asked him the question I asked every man I’d interrogated over the last few months, not really expecting any useful response. “Frank Anderson. Do you know him or where we could find him?”
I was sure it had been him in the alley. The fact he’d been able to track me down so easily was unsettling. Best I find him before he found me again.
Benjo flopped back in his chair, making a loud slapping noise as flesh connected with flesh. He tilted his head and smiled, revealing stained and pointy teeth. One of his canines was missing. “What do you want with Frankie?”
“You know him then?” I said, a swell of hope rising. If Benjo could really lead us to Anderson we could put it all behind us. We could know for sure if there were any more Shifting adults out there. Anderson held the key to it all, I was certain of that. “Where can I find him?”
“Him? You want to find him?” Benjo smiled even wider, happy that he was the one back in control. “Why should I tell you that? You of all people? Why should I tell you anything?”
He had a point. I had absolutely nothing to offer Benjo. I wasn’t even going to tell the Regulators to go easy on him. He deserved everything he got and more.
“Don’t think you can slime your way out of punishment again, Benjo.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt that. It’s what comes after my punishment that I’m interested in discussing.”
“What is it you want?” I said.
“Well, I’d really like a nice nibble on your frontal cortex, but I guess that’s not going to happen.”
I gave him my most unimpressed face. “How do I even know you have any information, Benjo? You weren’t a part of Project Ganymede.”
“No, but Abbott told me all about it and all of the players involved.”
I wished Aubrey were here. She’d know how to handle this mess. Maybe I should have woken her up after all. Maybe I should just come back tomorrow. I gathered up the paperwork, closed over the file, and stood up.
“I want to be buried with my father,” Benjo said just as I turned my back. Simple as that. He said it with no swagger or whine. Just a simple statement of fact.
I turned to face him.
“I’m dying. It’s obvious isn’t it? My life’s just slipping away from me. Seems my slow-ageing genes were no defence against you.” He smiled, not evil or scary. If anything, he was looking at me with respect.
“So, that’s all I ask. When the time comes, your doctors don’t chop me up and examine my brain. You let me be. And you bury me with my father.”
“And in return?” I said.
“I’ll tell you about Anderson.”
“I don’t know if I can do that,” I said. I was sure that the docs would love to get their hands on this guy to try to unravel what made him tick.
“Oh, I think you’ll be amazed at what you can make people do when you put your mind to it, Scott. I know I was. In fact, I’ve been dying to tell everyo
ne just how persuasive you can be.”
So, that was what he was playing at. He would tell everyone about what had happened and what I’d been able to force him to do. Most likely no one would believe him. But I wasn’t willing to take that chance.
“I’ll see what I can do,” I said.
“That’s all I ask.”
“You’ve had your ten minutes, Tyler,” said Lane, opening the door. “We’re taking him down to processing.”
“Just give me another minute.” I ignored her sigh. “Now, it’s your turn, Benjo. We had a deal.”
Benjo pouted his lips and looked up to the ceiling a picture of perfect coyness. “I can’t tell you where to find Frank…”
“Then what the hell was that all about?”
“But,” he continued, looking back at me. “I can tell you that you’re looking in the wrong place.”
“What do you mean? We’ve been looking everywhere for him.”
“Exactly. You’re looking everywhere for him.”
“Come on. Time’s up.” Lane said. She unlocked the chains and pulled Benjo to his feet.
I didn’t know what Benjo was on about and I was fuming I’d wasted time pandering to his requests. Only…
“Wait!” I held up my hand to stop Lane and looked at the smug grin on Benjo’s face. “Him? We’re looking for him in the wrong place. Are you saying Frank isn’t a him?”
“I suggest you start looking for Francesca Anderson, nee Francesca Kingly, in Africa, the last place I heard she was. She has a thing for little lost children,” he said. “But then, who doesn’t?” He winked, the fold of his eyebrow melding in with his cheek. “But be careful, she has a way of getting under your skin. Not as stylish as my method, but still. Effective.”
“Get him out of here,” I shouted. “And if I ever see him again, I’ll kill him.”
“I look forward to it,” Benjo said, before he was pulled away.
CHAPTER TWELVE
I stood alone in the small room trying to gather my thoughts. The idea of Anderson being a woman just hadn’t occurred to us. But maybe Benjo was lying. He could just be messing with me.
