Shift

by Kim Curran

  “When I was about seven I pushed it as far as I could. I threw a crystal vase she got for her wedding out of the top window right onto the car. She dragged me to a psychiatrist and that’s when the agency found me. When I left with them, I really thought Mum would be happier without me.” She rested her chin on her knees. “I was wrong.”

  “What happened?”

  “She killed herself three years ago.”

  “Oh, um, Aubrey…”

  She let out a little snort of laughter. Only nothing was funny. “You should see your face,” she said. “That’s why I’ve never told anyone.”

  I hated situations like this. Where people trusted me enough to tell me about their lives and I just mumbled. Katie would know what to say, I thought. She always said the right thing at times like this, which was often exactly the very thing that no one else was willing to say. Katie was brave like that. I wasn’t.

  Instead of saying anything, I slurped at my coffee.

  “I can’t help but wonder,” Aubrey said, as if I wasn’t even there. “If I’d stayed, could I have stopped it?”

  “So why don’t you–”

  “Change it? Don’t you think I’ve tried?” She stood up and paced back and forth. “I can’t. No matter how hard I try, I can’t find a way back. And you know what that means? What that really means, about me?” She hit herself in the chest with a clenched fist. “You can only make Shifts that you want to make. Shifts that you believe are in your ‘best interests’.” She spat the last two words. “Something to do with the brain’s stupid survival mechanism. So the fact I can’t make that Shift means I don’t want to. Which means I’m a selfish, spoilt cow who would rather have a happy childhood than a Mum.”

  For a minute I didn’t know what to do. Eventually I stood up and walked over to her. I placed a shaking hand on her tiny shoulder and patted it. “Aubrey, it wasn’t your fault. You told me, you can’t affect other people’s decisions.”

  She looked up at me, her green-grey eyes hazy with tears and I remembered just how young she really was. “But if I was there, I could have stopped her. Or checked on her, or something. But I can’t make myself do it. I just can’t make myself…” She dropped her head and turned away.

  “How is this anything to do with you? You were just a kid. You’re still just a kid.”

  “But I should at least try, shouldn’t I? Now that I can control my power, I should try to change it. But I know if I change my decision to go with ARES then… then I’d be stuck. My whole childhood I’d be stuck there. With her.” She closed her eyes and dropped her head. When she opened them again a minute later any sign of sadness was gone.

  She sat back on the floor, legs crossed, and when she met my eyes again there was a look of stubborn resolution. Whatever emotional jack-in-the-box Aubrey had just let out, was firmly back under its lid.

  I sat back down on the sofa my head spinning more than ever. “I’m sorry it was so hard for you Aubrey, but I’m sixteen. I’m ready to leave home and get my own place.”

  “I had to put up with living in dorms for years before they finally let me move out. Do you want that? Stuck with a bunch of kids all day?”

  I thought about leaving Katie. Then decided she could look after herself. She was the strong one after all. “Better than stuck with my parents.”

  Aubrey wasn’t convinced. “That was your first Shift? The Pylon?”

  “As far as I know, yeah.”

  “Then it might be a one-off thing. You might not ever really develop the power now. And as long as you don’t Shift again you can just stay off ARES’ radar.”

  I started to protest. But Aubrey cut me off. “Just forget about it, Scott. Just pretend tonight never happened and go back to your normal life.”

  “But having that control. Being able to undo any decision–”

  “It’s not any decision. You can’t suddenly change what grade you got in exams. Or make someone fall in love with you.” She halted as she spoke, as if she was revealing too much, and tugged at the hole in her tights.

  “Well, I, for one, think it’s pretty amazing.”

  “It’s not. Believe me. The problem is the consequences. You can’t calculate them. At least I can’t. The Mappers can. They can sense the ripples that each decision will cause and take the path that’s almost guaranteed to lead to the reality they want. Me, I’m looking forward to entropy. And then I can just relax and focus on doing one thing at a time. Without having to balance it all up. It’s exhausting.” She stretched out her legs, as if shaking off a long day. “I’d like to be normal.”

  I studied Aubrey. Her green piercing eyes and dyed hair. Those perfect lips and arched brows. There was no way that Aubrey Jones would ever be considered normal.

  She yawned. “I’m going to bed. You can sleep on the sofa. We’ll talk about it more in the morning.” She stood up and threw a blanket at me. “Night, Scott.” She flicked off the lights, throwing the room into darkness.

  I lay down on the lumpy sofa my legs hanging over the armrest. My head was still spinning and it didn’t help if I closed my eyes. That second drink had been a really bad idea. To take my mind off the returning feeling that something was trying to make its way out of my stomach, I started to think about the other bad choices I’d made in my life.

  I’d had my fair share of screw-ups in my sixteen years. Making a total prat of myself in the school play. Smashing the headmaster’s window. Jane Nagle. But my biggest regret was giving up kick boxing. I’d been doing it for a year and really enjoying it. Then Katie started coming along and while I was still struggling to get to grips with it all, she took to it like a natural. As always.

  It was fun at first, the two of us hanging out together. But when she knocked me out with a flawless roundhouse I decided I’d had enough. Annoyed at her and myself, I stopped going. Dad gave me a long talk about how I had to stick at things and how I didn’t want to be a loser my whole life. It had almost worked. Almost. But I’d still quit.

  I wriggled, trying to get comfortable on the couch and thought about what would have happened if I actually listened to my Dad. I’d probably be a black-belt by now. I drifted off dreaming of being a kung fu ninja.

  I woke up when my head hit the concrete.

  Chapter Seven

  It took a while for the pieces to fall into place. I’d fallen asleep on Aubrey’s lumpy couch and ended up… where? I sat up slowly and took in my surroundings. I was lying on the freezing ground, next to a bench, in a park somewhere. Mist hung close to the ground and a shiver passed through my body. My head pounded and I held it in my shaking hands, trying to stop it from exploding. I swore loudly and promised myself that I would never, ever, drink again.

  I risked letting go of my head and pulled myself off the ground and onto the bench. My ribs ached and my hands were covered in cuts and bruises. I stared at my fingers through blurry eyes and shook my head. What the hell was going on?

  The bench stank of sick so I stood up and sent an empty bottle of vodka skidding across the path. I walked away, staring at the bottle and wondering how it got there. The foul smell followed me. I inspected my clothes and saw a vomit stain down my jumper. A jumper I had not been wearing last night. A jumper I didn’t even own.

  A jogger panted past, her breath sending out clouds in the cold morning. She tutted as she had to interrupt her stride to jog around me.

  “I’m sorry,” I tried to say. But all I managed was a dry rasp.

  Something must have happened after I fell asleep last night. Maybe Aubrey kicked me out. And for some reason I’d drunk even more. But why? My aching brain was coming up with nothing. I remembered going out with Hugo. Meeting Aubrey. Then back to hers. She’d told me something, something really important. But the harder I tried to remember it, the less of a grasp I had on it. It was like trying to remember a dream after waking up. I had flashes of images, but nothing was making any kind of sense.

  I hit my head with the heel of my hand and it hurt like
hell. I rubbed at my face and felt the damp track of tears. I was crying and I couldn’t stop. Great sobs racked my chest and I fell to my knees.

  “Try!“I shouted to myself. “Try to remember.” A memory burst behind my eyes.

  Truck lights flashing. And someone screaming.

  I ran my hand through my hair, trying to make sense of the image. Where I had expected to feel my long, curled fringe, my hand ran across nothing but stubble. I was getting really scared now. All I wanted was to get home and maybe everything would be all right. But an alien presence in my soul whispered that nothing would ever be OK again.

  I scraped myself off the concrete and looked around. A worn-down playground caught my eye. The familiar sight struck me with a staggering sense of relief. I was on the common, not that far from home. I used to come here all the time with my parents and Katie. As soon as I thought about my sister my lungs contracted as if someone had tightened a belt around my chest.

  I started running.

  After ten minutes something else struck me as weird. I’d been running at full speed for almost a mile and it didn’t feel as if my heart would burst. Normally, I could barely manage to run for a few minutes before I had to stop. Now it felt as if I could keep going forever. Maybe it was the fear driving me on.

  Five minutes later, I reached my road and stopped. My house was up ahead. Something awful waited for me behind that blue door. Aubrey had told me it might not be safe for me to come home. That was something I could glean from the mess that was my memory. Not safe. But I couldn’t remember why.

  I took a deep breath and was hit by the stink from my clothes again. Whatever had happened, Mum wouldn’t be too happy with my state. I pulled off the jumper and threw it into a nearby bin. The white T-shirt underneath was mostly clean.

  I walked towards the door. The gravel crunched under my feet. I patted my pockets for my key, but they were empty.

  I knocked.

  Nothing.

  I checked my watch. It was only 6.30 and Mum and Dad were probably still in bed.

  I knocked again.

  Eventually I heard the sound of shuffling from behind the door.

  As soon as I saw Dad’s face my heart stopped and I had that flash again. The lights of a truck and the sound of screaming. Dad’s eyes were bloodshot and his skin was the colour of day-old porridge.

  “Scott,” he said. His voice ached with sadness.

  A wail sounded from the top of the stairs and a woman raced down the steps and charged towards me. It took me a few seconds to realise it was my mother. Her usually perfect hair was a wild mess and she was wearing a tracksuit that looked as if she’d been wearing it for days. There were four red marks down the side of her right cheek. Nail marks.

  She paused for a moment and then launched herself at me. She flailed her arms and instinctively I blocked her punches before giving in and letting her rain the blows on my chest and shoulders. They kept coming.

  Dad pulled her away, wrapping her in his arms. “Hush. Hush now,” he said rocking her. She melted to the floor, still screaming. Beneath her animal howls I made out one word. “Katie.”

  Dad looked at me, his eyes unfocused. “Scott, I think you should go.”

  “But Dad,” I begged, “I don’t know what’s happening. Please.” I broke down and started sobbing too. All I knew was that my heart was breaking and I didn’t know why.

  “Someone explain. Anyone. Dad. Mum. Katie!”

  “Don’t you dare!” my Mum screamed. She dragged herself to standing. “Don’t you dare say her name. You murderer!”

  She shoved me and caught one of my aching ribs. It felt like a bomb going off in my chest. Dad pulled her away and pushed her gently back down the hallway.

  Murderer? What did she mean? Then a memory so fresh, so raw, erupted in my head.

  I’m on my moped. It’s raining. Katie is behind me on the pillion. She’s annoying me by tickling me. I keep slapping her hand away. And she keeps poking me in the ribs. We’re slapping hands like playing one potato, two potato, like we used to when she was little. And we’re laughing. Like we haven’t laughed in ages. Then I hear the screeching hiss of brakes. I look up. A truck’s headlights flash across my damp visor. I’m blinded. Katie is screaming. I try to steer the bike away. But I know it won’t do any good. We’re skidding under the truck and I hear the sound of metal crunching. Then everything goes black.

  “Dad,” I gasped.

  He shook his head and, ever so gently, so it didn’t even make a sound, he closed the door.

  Chapter Eight

  The memory was real, that much I knew. But it didn’t make sense. How could I have been riding a moped? I didn’t even know how to. And how could Katie be dead?

  I started thumping my fists on the closed door, screaming for my parents. But they didn’t come. I stopped banging when I saw streaks of red against the blue. My fists were bleeding.

  I slid down against the door and sat on the rough welcome mat. I wanted to stay here, maybe just die on my own doorstep. But I couldn’t give up until I understood what was going on.

  Katie had been dead for nearly two weeks. The doctors had told Mum and Dad she’d died instantly. But I knew better. I’d heard her screaming while I tried to get her out of the crumpled mess of the moped. Then she’d gone quiet. And I’d lain on the wet concrete holding her cold hand. I refused to let go when the ambulance men arrived.

  I hit my head against the door behind me. Katie couldn’t be dead. She just couldn’t be. Because while I remembered seeing her tiny body being taken away on a stretcher, I also remembered sitting and having dinner together only yesterday. She’d been sad and I, like a coward, hadn’t wanted to talk about it. So I went out and Katie had covered for me. We’d spoken on the phone only hours ago and she promised to lie so I could go back to a girl’s house. A girl who had told me I was special.

  Aubrey.

  Aubrey would know what was going on. I had to find her. Only problem was I couldn’t remember where she lived. There had been a sculpture of some kind. I scrunched up my eyes, willing the image to become clearer. A statue of an elephant. Near an Underground station. I stood up, rubbed the tears from my eyes, and started running.

  The row of rundown buildings was the most welcome sight I’d ever seen. I jogged past the doors, trying to pick out which flat was Aubrey’s. I saw a graffiti-covered wall and could have hugged the little ASBO who’d told the world to “Fuck of”.

  My finger hovered over the line of buzzers. The scribbled names had faded under the plastic shields, but one name jumped out at me. I pushed the buzzer marked Jones and waited. I didn’t even know if she would be home.

  “Hello?” a voice crackled through the intercom.

  Hearing her voice was like walking into a warm room. “Aubrey. Aubrey thank God! It’s me, Scott.”

  “Who?” Aubrey said.

  “Scott. Please let me in. I don’t know what the hell is going on.”

  “I don’t know who you are. Push off will you?”

  I knew I had just seconds to prove that she knew me. Seconds before she hung up the intercom and walked away. I felt like a man grabbing at a fraying rope. In an instant it would snap and I would fall into the abyss. I needed something to make her understand. Some kind of password.

  From somewhere in the depths of my dissolving mind a word appeared.

  “Swordfish!” I shouted into the grey box on the wall.

  There was a pause. Then a buzz and clunk of the lock opening. I pushed at the door and walked in. The black rail of the stairwell was oddly solid, as if it was the first real thing I’d touched all day.

  When I made it to the fifth floor, Aubrey was waiting in her open doorway, wearing a silk kimono that came to just above her knee. Even amid the fog of my tears I was struck by how pretty she was.

  “Who are you?” she said as I reached the top step. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Did the SLF send you?”

  SLF. The name resonated. “No. I’m Scott
. We met last night.”

  “We really didn’t.”

  “We did,” I snapped. “We met at the Rec. And you told me something about me being special. And then I woke up this morning on a park bench and my whole life is falling apart. My sister is dead. My little sister.” I slammed the wall in frustration.

  Aubrey flinched. Then tilted her head and considered me. “I told you, you were special?”

  I nodded. “Yes, but I can’t remember. I can’t remember anything. I can only remember you.”

  “Did I tell you…” she paused and looked down the stairway behind me. “Did I tell you that you were a Shifter?”

  It was like an alarm going off in my head. The buzzing bells and flashing alarm of a pinball machine. “Shifter! Yes,” I said.

  “You’d better come in. Sounds as if you’re having a reality attack.”

  I followed her into the hallway. Nothing had changed since the last time I had been there. The tangle of fairy lights still twinkled in the living room. The same monster movie posters snarled down at me. After what I’d been through, it felt like a kind of sanctuary.

  The only difference was in Aubrey. She was being distant, as if she really didn’t know who I was. She stood, her arms folded across her chest, considering me through narrow eyes.

  “You stink,” she said finally. “Shower’s in there. But be quick. The longer you leave it, the more you’ll lose your grip on the old reality.”

  I didn’t fully understand her. Parts of it made some vague sense. But the idea of a shower sounded like the best idea I’d ever heard.

  Her bathroom was small and painted purple, with a surprisingly large roll-top bath in the centre of the room and a Psycho-style shower over the tub. I peeled off my clothes, turned on the large taps and stepped in. It took a while for the water to heat up and the icy rain made me yelp. After a minute, it was steaming. I rubbed at my face, my chest and aching ribs. I looked down at my body and almost slipped over in shock. I didn’t recognise myself. My skin was covered in greenish bruises, but that wasn’t what was making my head spin. It was what I saw under my skin that was so unfamiliar. Muscles. Real defined muscles, rippling down my stomach. The last time I’d checked I had a small, pale pot belly. I had been almost proud of it. But now, I had a six-pack.