Vahn and the Bold Extraction, The
Page 1
The Omega Children – The Vahn and the Bold Extraction – Book 2
Title Page
The
Omega
Children
The Vahn & The Bold Extraction
Book2
Shane A. Mason
Previous titles in The Omega Children Series:
The Omega Children: The Return of the Marauders – Book 1
The Omega Children: The Vahn & The Bold Extraction – Book 2
Coming titles in the Omega Children Series:
The Omega Children: The Agent of the Diaspora
Copyright
All rights reserved; no part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise without prior permission of the author.
First published on lulu.com, 2011
Copyright © 2011 Shane A. Mason
Cover illustration copyright © Louisa Beatty 2011
Cover illustration from original artwork by Louisa Beatty
ISBN 978-0-473-19880-0
Copies of ‘The Omega Children’ series can be purchased from www.lulu.com
Dedication
For Tysyn, Grace & Maddi
For Josie and Tarin
Acknowledgements
Thank you to Jo Davey without whose tireless support and reading, these books would not have been possible. Thank you to Graeme Lay for his valuable input. Thank you to Mike MacDonald, whose teachings in Prema inspired this tale.
I wish to acknowledge a debt of gratitude to Peter Jackson and Holly Lisle, both people I have not met, but whose achievements stirred me enough to step out of the rut and write.
Chapter 23 (continued)
From underneath the old dilapidated building, two small figures sprinted like mad toward them. Green painted cardboard boxes covered their bodies and heads.
‘Hurry up,’ one of them said in a squeaky voice.
With crude knives they hacked at the ropes and the belts, bursting the cousins free. Their bodies flopped forward, hitting the ground jarring them awake. They gasped huge lung fills of air, gulping it down like food.
‘No time to get your breath. Speed, hurry, before anyone comes,’ said one of the young boys.
Melaleuca felt hands tugging at her, though could not move her legs.
Got to check the others.
‘Wait,’ Ari said. ‘Wait...can’t move..’
He struggled to his feet, stood, and then fell to the ground again.
‘No time. Must hurry or we will be caught. Come on hurry.’ The child tugged on Melaleuca’s and Lexington’s arm, who moaned back at their would-be rescuer.
One of the rescuers reached in and pulled a small hip flask out of his box, forcing the liquid into the Melaleuca’s mouth. It rushed in like a charging stampede of wild liquid horses carrying a heat wave behind it. It leapt into her brain, like two large fly swats smacking her into alertness.
‘Give it to the others,’ she said.
Ari drunk it and stood, his vision clear, shaking his head, though his lips still hurt and his face smarted with sunburn. Before he could speak, the cardboard-boxed kids hauled the others up, shoving them with urgency across the field. They led them into a dank, narrow alley of the old building.
One of their rescuers knocked three times on a grate and a small face appeared at it.
‘Password?’ The small face asked.
‘It's me.’
‘You have to say the password.’
‘Backwards fly.’
The child inside pulled the grate opened. One by one they squeezed through it until they stood on damp, musty ground underneath the floor of the old building. Cobwebbed and filled with the smell of dust, small shards of light leaked through cracks here and there illuminating hundreds of old concrete pillars, some bent, some broken.
Once through Melaleuca called, ‘Stop!’
The three boys, two in cardboard, and one clad in a combination of sackcloth and longs, halted.
Melaleuca ignored them, asking instead with a dry, strained voice, ‘Lex, are you okay.’
Lexington leant on Ari. ‘I think so. Just so thirsty. I need to sit.’
Ari helped her to the ground.
‘Do you have water?’ Melaleuca asked their rescuers.
One of them nodded and dashed off.
‘Quixote?’ Melaleuca asked.
‘Yeah. Thirsty too.’
With sunburnt and chapped lips, and deep rope marks across their arms, Ari, Melaleuca and Quixote managed to stand, though Lexington started sobbing. Both Melaleuca and Ari knelt beside her, stroking her back.
Slopping water from a bucket, the child rescuer returned and gave it to them. They took deep drinks and splashed their faces.
‘Drink slow,’ one of the children said, staring at Lexington bewildered.
The water strengthened her, and composing herself, she dried her tears.
‘What was she doing?’ one of the boys asked.
‘Doing?’ Melaleuca asked.
‘Those noises she made.’
‘She was crying. What did you think she was doing?’
The three of them shrugged their shoulders. ‘We have never seen a person cry like that.’
‘I can believe it. Thank you, anyway, for your help. Where are we and who are you?’
‘Come,’ the three boys said in unison.
They weaved through a maze of foundation piles, winding deeper into the building’s gloomy underbelly, until the sparse light petered out to a grey fuzz. At a dark dead end, one of them tapped out a secret code and another door opened. Light flooded out, as they stared into a candle-lit den.
‘Have you got them?’ asked an excited older voice.
‘Yes. Let us in.’
The older boy ushered them into a large underfloor room, lined with hundreds of flattened cardboard boxes.
‘Welcome to the Wolf’s Lair, headquarters of the French Resistance, home of the Gorks. My name is Con,’ pronounced the older boy.
He smiled displaying warped teeth. They matched his face of hard angles; a nose bent sideways, a chin poking in the other direction, with uneven eye sockets.
He added, ‘Well not all the Gorks. Some are not with us. Yet.’
One of the boys lifted his cardboard helmet off revealing his deformity, a missing nose.
‘Here drink,’ he said, pushing a pot of water to Lexington. ‘You still need more.’
They all drank more water, though the skin on their arms itched where the hairy rope had lashed them. It reminded them of how itchy the sackcloth was and soon they were scratching all over.
‘This is Revile,’ Con said, pointing to the boy with the missing nose.
‘This is Stench.’ Con pointed to the second cardboard-clad child.
Stench pulled his cardboard helmet off, revealing he had no neck.
‘And lastly this is Dunk,’ Con said.
Dunk smiled at them, his harelip and cleft palate now obvious.
‘I am the commander of the French Resistance and these are my troops,’ Con said.
Melaleuca, Ari, Quixote and Lexington exchanged glances, still scratching their bodies, unsure what to make of them.
‘French resistance? Like in World War Two?’ Lexington asked.
Con shuffled backwards and sat on an old chair.
‘Yes. We will resist our vicious overlords.’
‘You do realise the Wolf's Lair was where the leader of the people whom the French Resistance fought, hid,’ Lexington said.
Con raised his eyebrows, impressed. ‘You truly are the ones come to free us. See troops, they have heard of the real French Resistance.’
His deformed c
rew nodded at him in the half-lit candlelight.
‘Free you from what? You hardly look captive,’ Melaleuca said.
‘We are Gorks, the lowest ranked people here, treated like scum, destined to become dirt-mongers, cleaners, because we are born deformed.’
‘Like all those other kids who have arms and eyes missing?’ Quixote asked.
‘If only,’ Revile said. ‘They were hurt during the tests. We Gorks were deformed at birth and are not allowed to sit the tests.’
‘From what I have seen that is not a bad thing,’ Lexington said.
‘Is that why you have normal boots on and no kneeless trousers?’ Ari asked.
‘Correct,’ Con said.
He eyed Lexington up and down, and then did the same to Melaleuca. ‘You are both so..so...so...your skin and eyes...it’s...nice...’
Both the girls blushed. All the Gork boys joined Con, staring at them dew eyed. Ari and Quixote rolled their eyes around.
‘We are different,’ Melaleuca said.
‘What are your names?’ Con asked.
As they told them, the Gorks could not help but touch their skin and hair.
Seeing them still itching, Dunk pulled a small paper bag from a broken shelf and handed it to them.
‘Here use this. It will stop the itching a little.’
Quixote grabbed at it, though Ari grabbed his hand, asking. ‘What is it?’
‘It’s Declaiming Mud mixed with peppermint,’ Revile said.
Lexington sniffed it. ‘Ewwwww! It stinks!’
‘Declaiming Mud removes sweet odours. The peppermint will stop the itching, but if you are caught with it on, then you get punished for not being able to discipline yourself. The Declaiming Mud takes the smell away.’
‘Where does it come from?’ Lexington said, sniffing it again.
‘It oozes up through the earth in all sorts of places,’ Revile replied. ‘Here put some on.’
Quixote scooped a handful out, slapping it on his body, instant relief showing on his face. All the cousins dug in, smearing it everywhere.
‘Doesn’t the smell affect you?’ Ari asked.
‘Anything unpleasant that can be tolerated makes you stronger and more disciplined,’ Dunk replied.
‘I’m not sure I fully understand.’ Ari said. ‘No one will tell us anything.’
‘That’s where we come in,’ Con said. ‘We are prepared. We were expecting you.’
‘Really?’ Melaleuca said ‘Exactly what do you do as the French Resistance?’
Con explained they had found a tattered, old book a year ago. It had spoken of the French Resistance and how they had fought off their captors without being seen or captured. As few books were allowed in New Wakefield, they knew it had to be a sign they were to form an underground resistance and keep an eye out for when it would be time to rise up. They said there had been signs about lately.
‘The Kockoroc has been spotted,’ Con said.
‘The cock?’ Melaleuca said. ‘What is a cock o rock?’
‘The Kockoroc,’ Con said again, writing it down and handing it to them. ‘It is a giant eagle that is supposed to indicate great change.’
‘Our giant eagle is called a Kockoroc!’ Quixote said.
Melaleuca elbowed him.
Con’s eyes lit up at Quixote’s words, nodding as if he already knew about their eagle.
‘And best of all, some Marauders turned up and attacked the borstal a few days ago,’ Dunk said. ‘Giant men and women Marauders.’
All the Gorks grinned at the mention of the fracas.
‘And that is chiefly what we are for, the return of the Marauders.’
The Gorks made trumpeting noises, heralding an arrival. ‘Long live the Marauders!’ They shouted and then shushed themselves back into silence.
Melaleuca shifted about on the spot, looking to Ari and Lexington for their response. Quixote’s face beamed with pride and before he could be stopped, he started to say. ‘Do you think ─ ’
Lexington reached out and placed her hand over his mouth. ‘Hush cousin.’
‘Thank you Lex,’ Melaleuca said and turned to Con. ‘We know nothing of the Marauders.’
Quixote looked perplexed at Melaleuca’s words, and she saw he trusted Con without question. Ari shook his head and Quixote nodded, understanding he should say nothing more.
Con saw this exchange, informing them, ‘It is no chance you have come to be here. No outsiders have been allowed here for thirty years, not since the Marauders ran wild destroying buildings and killing people. How long have you been in New Wakefield?’
Melaleuca ignored the question.
‘What exactly do you think we are to do?’ she asked.
‘Free us,’ Con said. ‘How did you get into New Wakefield?’
‘We are not the Marauders you speak of,’ Melaleuca said.
Frustrated, Con rapped his knuckles on the arm of the chair, chewed his bottom lip, and tried to look at Melaleuca with authority. After some thought, he smiled and carried on saying, ‘Maybe you are the Marauders, maybe not. Thirty years ago, for the first time ever, children escaped from New Wakefield to the outside world. Perhaps you are them come back.’
‘Hmmm. I should think we would look a lot older,’ Lexington said.
‘You could be in disguise,’ Revile said.
Quixote laughed. ‘Pull my skin,’ he told Revile, who did so. ‘See, just us.’
‘But we can help you,’ Con said.
Melaleuca shook her head, and Con’s eyes implored her like no other eyes ever had. In them she saw that same hollowed out look evident in so many children at the Vahn, though her gut told her to stick with her parent’s instructions.
‘I will talk with the others out of earshot,’ Melaleuca said.
Con nodded, and bade his troops follow him out of the Wolf’s Lair.
Alone, the cousins talked.
‘We are to trust ourselves only,’ Melaleuca said.
‘I think they could be our friends,’ Quixote said.
Ari searched the room with his eyes.
‘We would still be out there if it were not for them.’
‘Look.’ Lexington swallowed hard. ‘I still...think we should...wait until our parents arrive.’
With a heavy breath in and out, Melaleuca hung her head.
‘We don’t actually know if they are coming, Lex.’
‘All the more reason to leave this place and go find them.’
‘No Lex. It does not feel right.’
Quixote slammed his fist into his other hand.
‘The Gorks need us, and they say so.’
Ari reached over and settled his hands.
‘Do you think by attacking the Borstal we have started something?’ Ari said to Melaleuca.
‘Don’t know....don’t know.’
‘At least let’s find out what they know,’ Lexington said.
‘Oh for….Lex, we are to trust no one.’
‘Ohh, just listen to them. We can sort what is rubbish and what is truth.’ She heaved a sigh back at her. ‘Besides I can’t come back to this place.’
Ari rubbed her back.
‘Just to the end of the day. At the mansion, we shall use the bracelets.’
‘Oh? For what?’
‘Lexington!’ Melaleuca said. ‘Hold it together. Shut your eyes, imagine, play and pretend in your head. If you must, start mentally clearing yourself.’
‘Fine.’
‘We will ask the Gorks for information,’ Melaleuca decided. ‘I will then tell them that we will go away and think about it. Agreed?’
They all nodded.
Melaleuca pushed on the door. The Gorks shuffled inside, and then stood waiting to hear the news.
‘We are from the outside world. We are different,’ Melaleuca said. ‘We need to know what you know about the Marauders.’
With an eagerness to enlist their help, Con started expanding on the Marauders in great detail.
‘Thirty years
ago pirates, monks, ballerinas, cowboys, jugglers, wrestlers, all sorts, plagued this area with attack after attack, at first roving around making nuisances of themselves, occasionally breaking a few buildings here and there. These mysterious people were dubbed, “Marauders.” Everyone was at a loss, as the Marauders would vanish again without a trace, like ghosts in the night. The whole area, convinced some plague had come against them, started to blame each other, and despite their strict rigid discipline, started to put each other on trial, until family warred against family.’
Con spoke as if he had recited this many times before.
‘The Marauders then started to turn up whenever children were being disciplined or severely mistreated, and so it was then that the Inquisat started to butcher the children of New Wakefield, nailing signs around leaving warnings to the Marauders that unless they stopped and gave themselves up, all the children would one by one be murdered. Some in the town said it was foolish to antagonise them, that they were supernatural and beyond threats.’
‘Then creatures started turning up, weird and wonderful, monstrous beings, unimagined before; dogs with wheels for legs, eagles that swooped with buckets underneath, fish with razor sharp gills gouging legs in rivers, stones erupting out multi-headed ostriches that flailed and shattered objects around them, and trees that hit people when they passed by.’
‘But then worse still came,’ Con said, speaking slower. ‘It still came. One day in July, all hell broke loose, like the very bowels of hell itself had spewed out onto the earth.’
Con stopped, looked at them and said no more.
‘And then what?’ Quixote said. ‘What happened?’
‘That’s just it,’ Stench said. ‘We don’t know. No one will say exactly what happened.’
‘Who told you all that stuff?’ Melaleuca asked.
‘No one. No one tells anyone anything. Only the Overlords know everything, and only then someone gets picked to join them every ten years or so. But we never will. We never can. We are the natural born deformed, we are the Gorks,’ Con said.