by Kim Curran
I was alive. And judging by the silhouetted skyline I could see peeking over the wall next to me, I was still in London.
I peeled myself up off the pavement, sat up and looked around. I was in an alley, which was covered in a graffiti mural showing London on fire.
“That was a close one, sir,” a familiar voice said from behind me. I twisted my aching body to see Zac striding toward me with three figures behind him. Regulators, judging by their black jumpsuits and visored helmets. I guess Morgan had called them in after all.
“You can say that again,” I said, trying to get to my feet. My head spun again and I slumped back on the ground.
Zac held out his hand to help me up and reluctantly I took it. I hadn’t seen the guy in months and now twice he’d been the one to find me while on my arse.
“That Shift registered a sixteen on the Lawrence scale,” one of the Regulators said, making an impressed sucking sound. I couldn’t place his voice so maybe he was one of the civilian recruits. His uniform was different to most Regulators; he was wearing light body armour and there was a string of tools hanging around his waist. I looked to the other two standing next to him. They too were in the same tricked-out gear.
“What are you on about?” I asked finally, rubbing my palm against my pounding temple.
“Your Shift, sir. It was the strongest we’ve ever seen.”
“Why do you keep calling me ‘sir’?” I asked, irritated. This was hardly the time to be taking the piss.
“Er, should I call you commandant?” he asked.
I blinked, trying to clear the glittering spots of light from in from in front of my eyes.
“Zac, what’s going on?” I turned to Zac again and realised he was wearing the same uniform as the others. The black jump suit and body armour with ARES written in white type across the chest and three golden stripes on the arm. He was holding a helmet in his hand. Why wasn’t he still wearing his tux? How long had I been unconscious for?
“Is that a Taser?” I said, pointing at the yellow gun on his belt.
He raised his arm and looked at it. “Sure, standard issue, sir.”
“Stop calling me ‘sir’!”
I ran my hand through my hair, expecting to find my shabby curls and found only stubble. My hair was cropped in a close shave. I looked down at what I was wearing and realised it was similar gear to Zac and the others. Only whereas they had three gold stripes, I had five.
I spun around, worried now, trying to work out what was going on and where I was really. I started to run down the alleyway, ignoring Zac’s protests and the confused gestures of the three Regulators. I needed to get out of here. The walls were pressing down on me, crushing me. I burst out onto the street and saw I was just feet away from the Thames. Only something was wrong. There were no lights along the Embankment. No boats moving their way up and down.
I ran up a set of stairs and onto what I knew was Tower Bridge. Only when I looked ahead to where St Paul’s Cathedral should be, there stood something that looked like a broken egg.
“What… what happened?” I said, pointing at the shell of the cathedral.
“It was hit in the first strike, sir,” Zac said, catching up with me. “Look, I think we should get back to HQ. You might be having a reality attack. Not surprising given the force of your last Shift, sir.”
“Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!” I shouted, spinning around in circles trying to make sense of everything. When I finally came to a stop I was facing the river again. As well as the wreck of St Paul’s I saw the shells of other buildings, crushed and crumbling.
A loud, clear gong rang out. Big Ben declaiming the time. I turned to my right, grateful that something hadn’t changed, and reeled. Vomit rose into my mouth and I doubled over, choking. The Houses of Parliament were gone. In its place was a black crater.
“Big Ben…” I managed to say, once I’d stopped being sick. “Big Ben.”
“They broadcast the gongs,” Zac said, looking up into the sky. “It’s supposed to give a sense of continuity. But sir, we really need to get you back to base.” He placed a gloved hand on my back and tried to get me to stand up.
“Back? No, I don’t want to go back. I need to…” I struggled to remember what it was that I needed to do. And then it came to me, clearer than the gongs ringing across London.
“Aubrey! I need to find Aubrey,” I shouted.
Frankie had Shifted as I’d forced her to. She’d undone her decision to ever start Pandora. Which meant none of the children would have ever been used. None of those people manipulated and robbed of their loved ones. And Aubrey would still be alive. I just had to find her.
“Do you mean Captain Jones?” Zac said, stepping away from me, looking worried now.
“Yes, Jones. Aubrey Jones. Stop messing about.”
“She’s right here, sir.” Zac stepped aside.
The three people I assumed were Regulators had joined us on the empty bridge. One of them pulled off their helmet revealing a shock of messy blonde hair.
“Aubrey,” I said, my heart swelling.
She tucked her hair behind her ear, and I saw she wore a black eye patch over one eye.
“Um, yes, Captain Jones, Sir. Reporting for duty.” She executed a sharp salute. “I’m glad to finally meet the legendary Commandant Tyler,” she said and there was absolutely no irony in her voice.
“Meet?” I said, struggling to speak at all.
“I’ve been transferred to the London branch after Brighton got wiped out in the last attack. I, er, I thought you’d got my paperwork?”
“Attack? What attack? Aubrey, what are you on about? What is everyone on about?”
“War, sir,” Aubrey said. “The country is at war.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
First off, thanks to my husband, Chris, who put up with more than his fair share of crazy during the writing of this book. You never need to read it again now!
Never-ending gratitude to my early readers: James Smythe, Victoria Morely, Regan Warner, Sandie & Sam Dent, Adam Christopher and Lou Morgan. Without you this book would be decidedly more shoddy.
Much love to my band of cheerleaders: Tanya Byrne, James Dawson, Gwenda Bond, Miranda Dickinson and Katie Marsh who supplied me with endless support, wisdom and cups of tea.
But most of all, to everyone who read Shift – bought it, wrote about it, tweeted, blogged or reviewed it – a colossal thank you. I hope you like Control as much.
STRANGE CHEMISTRY
An Angry Robot imprint
and a member of the Osprey Group
Lace Market House 4402 23rd St., Ste 219,
54-56 High Pavement Long Island City
Nottingham NG1 1HW NY 11101
UK USA
www.strangechemistrybooks.com
Strange Chemistry #13
A Strange Chemistry paperback original 2013
Copyright © Kim Curran 2013
Cover art by Larry Rostant
Distributed in the United States by Random House, Inc., New York.
All rights reserved.
Angry Robot is a registered trademark, and the Angry Robot icon a
trademark of Angry Robot Ltd.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are
the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any
resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations or persons, living or
dead, is entirely coincidental.
Sales of this book without a front cover may be unauthorized. If this book
is coverless, it may have been reported to the publisher as “unsold and
destroyed” and neither the author nor the publisher may have received
payment for it.
UK ISBN: 978 1 90884 415 6
US ISBN: 978 1 90884 416 3
Ebook ISBN: 978 1 90884 417 0
Contents
Control
Dedication
Chapter One
&nbs
p; Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Acknowledgments
Imprint
