Shift

by Kim Curran

  “Shut up,” somebody from behind me said.

  The man whipped his head around and stared right at me. He opened his mouth to speak and then stopped. His eyes glazed and a thin trickle of blood started running out of his right nostril. He coughed and his mouth was red with blood. He looked at me, all the madness gone from his eyes, and mouthed one word. “Help.”

  Then his head exploded.

  It was like a flower appeared above his right eye, a bright red carnation made from flesh. He staggered on his feet slightly and caught hold of one of the yellow bars overhead, leaving behind a red handprint. Blood was pouring down his face and the people on the carriage started screaming and running away from him. I stepped forward, knowing I could do nothing for him. His eyes were cold and his limbs heavy in my arms. He was dead.

  I let him fall to the ground and looked around at the panicking crowd. “Someone pull the emergency cord,” I shouted.

  No one was listening to me, so I got to my feet and pushed a dumb-looking businessman away from the emergency alarm. I punched the glass, surprised at how easily it broke, and pressed the button.

  I felt the explosion before I heard it. It threw me off my feet and sent me hurtling backwards. My arms and legs flailed, as if I was trying to swim in the air, or grab hold of something to stop myself from falling. There were bodies flying everywhere and I remember seeing the dumb businessman looking surprised as he smashed through the window. I had a sense of heat. Incredible heat. Flames engulfed me and I felt them tearing at my clothes and my skin. I hit a pole with a bone-shattering thud, the back of my skull crunching against the yellow paint. Everything went white and I felt a cold liquid dribbling down my cheeks.

  I had an image of a single penny lying on a grey pavement. In my mind I reached out to the penny, my fingertips inches away from it.

  The insides of my stomach flipped and I was falling backward. I hit the tiled floor of the platform. All the air was smashed out of my lungs and I heard a sharp ringing in my ears. Shattered glass rained down around me, biting at my skin. I managed to look up and saw a fireball in the tunnel up ahead and the crumpled remains of a Tube train. Anyone who had been on it would have been a goner.

  I felt something sharp cutting into my hand. I unclenched my fist and saw a single penny lying in my palm. And then blackness.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Iwoke up blinking at strip lights overhead. Dull pain radiated through my body, mostly in my head. I saw people moving around in the corner of my eye. I tried to turn my head to follow but it wouldn’t move.

  “Excuse me?” I said, tentatively, never one to want to make a fuss. But not being able to move seemed pretty damn fuss-worthy.

  A fuzzy shape came into view and slowly sharpened into the face of a smiling nurse. She mouthed words.

  “I can’t hear you,” I said and realised I couldn’t even hear myself.

  I guess I must have been shouting as she put her finger to her lips and mimed turning a volume knob down.

  My ears were still ringing – a constant screeching noise that was boring into my head. “Why can’t I move?” I said, hoping it was quieter.

  The nurse patted my shoulder and mouthed a word at me. “Explosion.”

  She took my hand and led it up to my neck. My fingers met with a foam ring of material around my neck. The nurse smiled again. “The doctors say you’ll be fine.” She held out a curled thumb and first finger; the universal symbol for OK.

  She reached behind my head and fiddled with a mass of tubes. I felt a floating sensation starting in my toes and flowing up my legs. The nurse’s face started to wobble and I was asleep.

  “You have a visitor,” the nurse said.

  I’d been in the hospital for four days. My hearing had returned, the neck brace was off and I was bored out of my skull. The careful administrations of Nurse Myers weren’t enough to distract me from the tedium of being stuck in a bed all day.

  I hadn’t had any visitors yet. I’d not been allowed to tell my parents about the injury and they’d been fed some story about me being on a placement in Leeds. Why Leeds I have no idea. I wasn’t too happy about it. When you’re lying in bed, with your head half crushed and your ribs aching, a boy really needs his mother. But given how Mum had reacted when I fell off my bike and needed the stitches – which was to say, she freaked – if she found out about me being blown up it would probably mean the end of my career at ARES. Whatever their reasons, it meant I was now bored out of my skull. So the thought of a visitor was quite exciting.

  Abbott appeared from behind the white curtain surrounding my bed. “How are you doing, Scott?” He sounded concerned, but also as if he was trying to hold back a lot of anger.

  “I’m good, thanks, Mr Abbott. Getting a bit bored if I’m honest. And no one will tell me what happened.”

  He stepped closer to the bed and checked we were alone. “It was a suicide bomber.”

  I was stunned. I’d been a victim of a genuine terrorist attack. “I… How do you know?”

  “These are the pictures from the CCTV camera on the Tube.” Abbott handed me a grainy picture of a man, dressed in a suit, hugging a briefcase. It was the same man I’d seen. “His name was Charles Warner and we believe he has connections with the SLF.”

  “What makes you think that?” I said.

  “This,” Abbott said and passed over a second photo. It showed Warner sat at a café next to a young man wearing a leather jacket and mirrored aviator glasses. I gasped as I recognised Zac, the leader of the SLF.

  “Ah, so you know Isaac Black?” Abbott said.

  “I, er, I met him once.”

  “Then you will know he is a very dangerous young man. We believe that Black recruited Warner to assist the SLF in this attack. According to reports from his workplace, Warner has been having trouble of late. He left the army a few years ago and did not adjust to civilian life. So perhaps, the SLF used this to their advantage.”

  I stared at the photo of Warner, at his bad toupee and wide, scared eyes. He didn’t look anything like the members of the SLF I’d seen in the club. Maybe they were somehow forcing him into it. But that didn’t explain why he was already dead before the explosion went off.

  “What do you think they want?” I asked, not taking my eyes off the picture.

  “The SLF believe that Shifting should be unregulated. Uncontrolled. What they singularly fail to grasp is the responsibility that comes with the ability they have been blessed with. Shifters have the ability to craft a better society for everyone. Not just themselves. But then as Shifters are only children, it can be hard for them to realise that.”

  “Warner can’t have been a Shifter. He’s too old.”

  “No. But he used to be one, once. It can be hard for people to adjust to entropy.” Abbott rubbed unconsciously at the arm of his jacket, where his Commandant stripes had once been. Then quickly smiled, that kind smile of his. “At least you weren’t too badly hurt. I hate to think what would have happened if you’d been on that train.”

  I decided not to tell him about the penny that was now lying under my pillow – the penny that had caused me to miss the train by a matter of seconds. If I hadn’t Shifted my decision about stopping to pick it up I’d be dead. “Did anyone survive?’ I asked.

  “No one who was on the carriage with the bomber. Seventy-two killed in total.”

  I felt a pang of guilt. “Is there something, anything, I can do? A Shift I can make?”

  “You’re not a time traveller, Scott. You can’t go back with a message, or return to stop the bomber. You can only change your own choice. And as you had no part in what happened… I’m sorry, but there is nothing you can do.”

  “Well, I hope the SLF are proud of themselves now,” I said.

  Abbott sighed. “If only they would come to us and we could sit down and try to understand what they want. Instead they strike without warning and then disappear like–”

  “Like cowards,” I said.

  Abbo
tt smiled, almost proudly, like a teacher whose pupil has grasped a tricky subject quickly. “All terrorists are cowards, Scott. Bullies who hide behind principles to justify the violence.”

  I’d had my fair share of bullies at school. Whatever this group stood for, I was going to stand against them.

  As well as angry, I felt pretty scared. Finding out I was a Shifter had given me a sense of confidence. I thought I was unbeatable. Unstoppable. And then I got blown up. But that’s the way life works, right? Just when you think you’re in control, just when you think you’re the master of your own destiny, fate comes along and reminds you that you are her bitch.

  “I had better let you get some rest,” he turned to leave. “Oh, I meant to tell you. You’ve graduated from the freshers. We’ve been really impressed with you, Scott. So we’re recruiting you. You are now one of the Bluecoats.”

  He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a slim envelope. The letter inside was printed on heavy-duty cream paper and bore the ARES stamp at the top and Abbott’s signature at the bottom.

  We hereby promote Scott Tyler to the post of Fixer, 1st Class, ARES – Shifting Division.

  “A Fixer, first class?”

  I must have looked really confused. Because it was the first time I’d heard him laugh. “It’s just the first rung as an officer in ARES, on a basic starting wage.”

  I scanned the letter again and saw the figure that was to be my wage. It wasn’t much, but I wouldn’t have to buy crappy, vintage Tshirts any more, that was for sure.

  “I’ll explain everything when you’re better. There are some people who want to see you.” Abbott stepped aside as the freshers piled through the curtains and jumped up on my bed. Max, Jake, Molly and Ben. Cain appeared behind them. He nodded to Mr Abbott who smiled and walked away.

  “They said you’d lost a leg,” Jake said, prodding my thigh. “Will you get a cyber one now?”

  “Afraid my leg is still very much attached.”

  “Shame,” said Jake.

  “When will you be coming back to training?” Max asked.

  “He won’t be coming back, kids,” said Cain. “Mr Tyler here has graduated.”

  “What?” Jake said. “But he only just started.”

  “It seems the powers that be have bigger plans for Scott than spending his days being beaten up by us.”

  The kids laughed.

  “Hey, where’s CP?” I asked, noticing that she wasn’t there.

  The group went silent and looked at their feet. Then Jake spoke up. “She’s gone to Australia. Her parents just took her out of the programme and we never even got a chance to say goodbye.”

  “Her parents? But I didn’t think she saw them?”

  “Well, it seems like they’ve finally decided to settle down,” Cain said.

  “But she was really good,” I said.

  “It happens.” Cain’s jaw clenched for a second. “Besides, she’ll continue her training down under. She’ll be kick-boxing kangaroos in no time, isn’t that right?”

  The freshers tried to laugh, but it was obvious they missed their friend. Especially Jake.

  “Right, come on you lot. You can see he hasn’t been hurt. Just the odd scar and that adds character,” Cain said rubbing at his face. “The girls dig it,” he added, winking. “Isn’t that right, Ms Jones?”

  I hadn’t seen Aubrey standing behind them. It was the first time I’d seen her close up in weeks. She’d changed her hair. It was even shorter now, with a shaggy fringe covering her eyes. They twinkled out at me from behind the straw-coloured locks. My instinct was to flash her a smile, but I resisted it. I was angry with her. She’d been the one who’d thrown me off like an old kebab. I wanted to make this as uncomfortable as possible for her. Only problem was, I was so happy to see her. My treacherous heart leaped at the waft of vanilla.

  “Hey,” Aubrey said.

  “Hey,” I said with less enthusiasm than I felt.

  “OK, come on then,” Cain said. “Back to training. The poles are waiting.” The group groaned and then piled out. Jake stopped to mime frenzied kissing from behind Aubrey’s back. I raised my middle finger at him and he skipped off, giggling.

  Aubrey looked around the cubicle, her eyes settling on the book on my bedside table. She picked it up. “Is it good?” she asked, turning the book over and looking at the back cover.

  “Not really,” I said. “It was all the nurse could find.”

  “When do you get to go home?”

  “Tomorrow I think.”

  “Ah, OK. If it was any longer I could, you know, bring you some stuff.”

  I’d never wanted to have a broken leg so much in my life. Or something that would keep me stuck in this bed just a little longer.

  “Well, maybe I should ask the SLF to have another go.”

  “So it really was them?”

  “Abbott thinks so.”

  “I never thought that they were capable of something like this. I should have called the Regulators that night in the club and then none of this would have happened.” The book started to shake in her hands.

  “It’s not your fault,” I said.

  She returned the book to the table. “I’m really glad, you know, glad you’re OK. And I know I was a bit of a dick before. It’s just that…” Her voice trailed off.

  “No, it was my fault. About your Mum, I swear you told me Aubrey. Only not in this reality.”

  “I know. Well, I mean I don’t actually know. But I realised the only way you could have found out about it is if I’d told you. It’s so just weird, Scott. You being able to hold on to old realities as long as you can. I’ve never met a Shifter who could do that. I’ve heard of them, but… Anyway, I hear you’re doing well at training.”

  “I guess. It’s the first time I’ve felt as if I was actually good at something.”

  “Like getting blown up you mean?”

  “Yeah, seems I’m pretty good at that.”

  We laughed and she perched on the side of my bed.

  “You were lucky,” she said.

  “Not really.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  I waved her closer. “I Shifted. Otherwise I wouldn’t be here. I’d be a big smoky, gooey mess on the train lines.”

  Her eyebrows gathered, doing that cute thing to her nose. “Hmm, no wonder they’re fast-tracking you.”

  “You heard then?”

  “The guys were talking. A Fixer, hey? Who’d have thought it?”

  “I don’t even know what a Fixer is.”

  “They’re supposed to be able to stop other Shifters from changing reality. They’re the powerful ones.”

  “Sounds like there’s been a massive mistake. I still don’t know what I’m doing!”

  She laughed. “I guess you’ll need someone to show you the ropes then.”

  “I guess. But I’ll probably be teamed up with someone really annoying.”

  “Someone you want to strangle after about ten minutes of being with them.”

  “Someone totally headstrong and impossible, most likely.”

  She smiled and brushed her fringe out of her eye. “Best of luck with that.” She picked at a thread in the duvet cover.

  My phone buzzed on the sideboard breaking the moment. I glanced angrily at the screen.

  YOU, SCOTT TYLER, SUCK. PARTY WAS AWESOME. I GOT OFF WITH A GIRL. BUT YOU WILL NEVER KNOW THE DETAILS. SO THERE. H.

  The fact Hugo was punctuating correctly was a sign of just how annoyed he must be. I turned the phone off. I could deal with him later.

  “I’d better go,” Aubrey said standing up. “You need your sleep because right now, you look like shit.”

  “Gee thanks,” I said.

  “Anytime.”

  She stood to go. “Aubrey?” I said. She turned. “It’s good to see you.”

  “I get the feeling we’re going to be seeing a lot of each other.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Morning, boss,” I sai
d, as I approached Aubrey’s desk. I placed a cardboard cup of coffee in front of her.

  “What’s this?” she said, staring at it.

  “A coffee.”

  She looked up at me and laughed. “We’re not in an American cop drama, you know?”

  “I know, I just thought…”

  “It’s sweet, thanks. And I need it today.” She sipped at the coffee. “How did you know I take two sugars?”

  “Lucky guess.” I decided not to tell her I’d asked around and instead prodded the file she was reading. “What’s that?”

  “Today’s assignment.”

  She slid the folder over to me. I opened it hopefully. It was only my second week in the Shifting division and I was hoping to get stuck into something exciting. I’d been given my licence, the sharp blue jacket – which earned the Shifter division its nickname – and pretty much told to get on with it. Although I still didn’t have much of a clue of what “it” was. I glanced around the floor. About twenty other kids aged from twelve to sixteen lolled around their desks, chatting, laughing, and every now and then checking their computers. It was like looking at a really cool office populated with children.

  I’d been told that not every Shifter stayed on with ARES after graduating training. Some just went off to live normal lives, although they had to have all their Shifts approved by ARES, which was, according to Aubrey, “a right pain in the arse”. But most stayed on and then joined the Regulators as soon as entropy set in. It was all so new to me I didn’t have a clue what I was going to do next.

  I looked back to the file at a grainy image of a young boy on a swing. He was holding two fingers up to the camera and had his tongue sticking out. “He looks a charmer. Is he a Shifter?”

  “Perhaps. The signs are there.”

  I read the file of the kid called Tommy Brookes. Six years old and he’d already been to three schools because of his “unmanageable behaviour”. The medical report diagnosed him with ADHD, which was one of the classic signs. Tommy was now at a special needs school in South London.

  “Road trip?” I said.

  “Nope. The kid’s being dragged in to us by his Mum. She’s been told we’re some fancy military medical facility that can help manage his condition. Which I guess is true. He’ll be here at 10am.”