Monster Republic

by Ben Horton

  ‘Your new girlfriend’s right,’ said the thing that looked like Marie. ‘The Hounds will be here any minute. Better kill me quick. If you’ve got the guts.’

  Cameron stood and unclenched his fists, shaking his head.

  Rora let out an exasperated yell. ‘All right then! Leave a job half done! It’ll come back and bite us all later. Let’s go! We need to get underground.’

  Grabbing hold of his hand, she tugged Cameron into a run as they heard the howls of the Bloodhounds breaking out all over the park.

  Sprinting back towards the scooter, Rora flipped the cover off a nearby manhole and dived inside.

  Cameron had no choice but to follow her down into the darkness.

  chapter eight

  the monster republic

  As Cameron and Rora waded through the sewers, the shadows darkened to fit Cameron’s mood. Try as he might, he couldn’t shake off the horror of his encounter with Marie/Carl. The person he had most longed to see and the person he would happily never have seen again, all rolled into one. The latest twist in the waking nightmare he had been trapped in ever since he woke up in Dr Fry’s laboratory.

  The pair turned down yet another tunnel. There was no noise but the splash of their footsteps and the low, mechanical hiss of servos that now accompanied Cameron’s every move, like a soundtrack he couldn’t turn off. He was freezing, and his body ached from the beating he had received. On top of that, he was having to contend with the stench of drains and the nagging sense of a cold shoulder from his guide. Rora hadn’t said a word since they’d got below ground.

  Looked like it was up to him to start a conversation.

  ‘Wherever you’re taking me, I hope it doesn’t stink like this.’

  ‘Be glad you don’t have a fox’s sense of smell,’ Rora snapped.

  She didn’t so much as glance round, and the anger in her voice was plain as a smack in the face.

  ‘Hey, what’s your problem?’ Cameron demanded, picking up his pace to bring himself level with her. ‘I’m the one who should be complaining. It’s me who’s had my whole life turned upside down. It’s me who’s been made into some sort of Frankenstein’s Terminator. And it’s my girlfriend back there who’s had I don’t know what done to her!’

  His shouting voice echoed down the tunnel. Rora stopped him with a shove to the chest and a shout of her own.

  ‘My problem is you’re still thinking of it as your girlfriend! It isn’t. It’s Dr Fry’s newest recruit. You could have killed that thing! You had your chance right there. We might not get another one. Next time, while you’re busy remembering what it was like to kiss her, that thing will kill you! And me, and any of my friends too, if it gets the chance! That’s my problem!’

  Her words bounced around the walls accusingly before fading into the darkness. Silence descended again, and the look on Rora’s face suggested it couldn’t last long enough as far as she was concerned.

  She turned and marched off again, leaving Cameron little option but to follow. So much for his attempt to break the ice. The atmosphere as they slogged along was even colder than before.

  The enforced silence made the long journey seem longer still, but eventually Rora led them out of the sewers and into a storm drain, the hint of a breeze reaching them from somewhere out of sight. It wasn’t much of an improvement, but at least the stench faded a bit. Cameron still felt damp and miserable, but he reckoned that last feeling would be with him for a long time.

  Looking around cautiously, Rora crossed the storm drain and trotted a few metres further along, until she was standing in front of a rusty metal door. She tilted her face upwards and Cameron spotted a small black box discreetly mounted above the door. With a spinning sensation, his eye zoomed in, giving him a close-up view.

  A camera.

  Through the wave of dizziness that seemed to accompany every newly discovered feature of his souped-up body, Cameron felt an unexpected sense of relief. So this republic of hers operated some rudimentary level of security. He guessed he should find that encouraging.

  With a dull clank, the door opened, allowing Cameron and Rora through into what might have once been some sort of maintenance area, with electrical junction boxes and shelves along one wall. In the cramped space, a desk and chair had been set up. A handful of computer monitors showed different stretches of tunnel, including the one immediately outside. There was a single bed in the corner, with a shabby-looking blanket. A small boy, no more than eight years old, stood holding the door.

  So, not the most sophisticated security setup in the world. But it probably did the job. After all, who on earth was going to be wandering casually down a storm drain to find this place by accident?

  ‘Rora.’ The kid gave her a brisk nod before returning to his seat. Cameron got a good look at him in the steady light from the monitor screens: he was pasty-faced, with freckles where his skin showed between a polished metal skull cap and a crude steel jaw.

  Cameron tensed instinctively – the boy looked a little too much like a Bloodhound for his liking. Almost immediately, he felt bad. After all, his own face was no longer exactly going to inspire trust. He gave a nod, but the boy’s eyes were already glued back on the empty screens. Whoever he was, he was dedicated to his job.

  ‘That’s Guard,’ said Rora quietly. ‘He’s our doorkeeper. And in case you’re wondering – yeah, he was part of the Bloodhound project. But he’s very much on our side. He likes to keep watch, so that suits everyone.’

  And provides a measure of additional security, thought Cameron. If anyone did wander down here by chance, the sight of this boy would certainly send them running.

  Rora headed straight for a ladder hanging down through a hole in the ceiling. Cameron climbed awkwardly after her.

  ‘So what’s his story? He’s always down here?’

  ‘No, he has a nap from time to time, and someone else takes a turn at the monitors. But really, he’s the best. No eyes in the back of his head, but a lot of other sensors packed in where half his brain used to be.’

  Cameron shook his head, wondering how Rora could be so casual about something so out of the ordinary.

  At the top of the ladder, Rora pushed back a grating and they both clambered up into a dimly lit, brick-walled passage. It led through into a low-ceilinged chamber with a slightly dank feel. It seemed to have been set up as some sort of common room. A mix of chairs and tables – from plastic garden seats and ragged-looking armchairs to large trestles and weighty, woodworm-riddled dining tables – occupied most of the central area, while a number of bunks were squeezed into narrow spaces up against the walls. Cameron couldn’t avoid the impression he’d escaped one cellar just to come and live in another.

  ‘Cosy,’ he remarked quietly.

  ‘There are more rooms,’ Rora told him brusquely.

  Indeed, Cameron could already see several corridors and door ways leading off from this main room. Through one, he could make out a handful of kids clustered in front of a TV, watching a movie with the sound turned down low.

  One of them happened to glance in their direction.

  ‘Hey, it’s Rora!’

  Everyone in the room was up on their feet in an instant, rushing over to surround the fox-girl, patting her on the shoulder or giving her a quick hug. The youngest looked about seven or eight; the oldest, around Cameron’s age. With some, it was hard to tell their age through the fur or scales that covered their bodies. Others, more like Cameron or Guard, had mechanical components welded or stitched onto them, bursting out of their arms, faces or – as Cameron saw when one turned to flick off the TV – backs.

  The Monster Republic was well named. None of these kids could ever pass as normal, ever go out in public without attracting attention and alarm. But that didn’t seem to bother them here. In response to the warm shout, more kids were appearing in other door ways and filing in to offer their own welcomes. The hall reverberated with calls of ‘You made it!’ and ‘Good to see you!’ It was a real homeco
ming.

  For Rora, anyway.

  Finally she freed herself from the throng. ‘Everyone – this is Cameron.’

  As one, the assembled monsters turned their attention to him.

  Silence fell like a lead weight.

  Some of the crowd stared openly, their looks filled with tension. Others stole wary glances out of the corners of their eyes, then looked away when Cameron tried to catch their gaze. Nobody moved or spoke, but the air was charged, like before a fight.

  Cameron shifted uneasily. Did he look that bad to them, then? Or was there something else going on? When Rora had told him about the Monster Republic, he’d imagined … Well, he didn’t know exactly what he had imagined, but something better than this. Somewhere people didn’t judge you by your appearance, for starters.

  It looked as if Rora sensed his discomfort and shared it, because she clapped her hands briskly.

  ‘All right,’ she said, with strained cheerfulness. ‘We’ll do proper introductions later. First things first. Cameron’s wired with a tracking device. It won’t work under ground, but we still need to get it out. Slater, can you take him to see Tinker, please?’

  Before Cameron could open his mouth to object, a dark-haired boy of about his own age stepped forward. He had sharp features and a muscular torso mounted on bulky mechanical legs that bent the wrong way, like a dog’s hind legs. His lip curled unpleasantly, and he looked as unhappy about having to escort Cameron as Cameron felt about being handed over to him.

  Slater wordlessly jerked his thumb towards a door. As Cameron walked towards it, everyone else in the room backed away as if he had the plague, clearing a path ahead of him. He lowered his head and stomped through, into a narrow corridor, biting his tongue as he went.

  Slater led him down the corridor and into a side room jam-packed with desks piled high with jumbled equipment, like some sort of electronics lab. In the middle of the chaos sat an old leather dentist’s chair, with a collection of cables and wires running off it.

  A small boy with spiky blond hair and glasses popped into view from behind the chair, where he had been fussing with some of the electrics. Of all the faces Cameron had seen so far, this kid’s features were the most normal. But they twitched spasmodically, as if he was being electrocuted. His whole body was constantly in motion: his head jerking this way and that; his eyes flicking about like a bird’s, focusing on something different every second.

  Although never on Cameron’s face …

  Slater marched Cameron over to the chair and patted the seat with a twisted smile. As he sat, Slater looked down at him for an instant as if he was a bad smell, before turning back to the other kid.

  ‘He’s bugged, Tink. See what you can do. Don’t worry, I’ll be just outside.’ Then he marched out.

  The twitchy kid moved in closer, his lips moving. Even with his enhanced hearing, Cameron could only just make out what he was muttering to himself.

  ‘Divinity Project, Subject Number Five-Oh-One. Human cyborg. Partial titanium exoskeleton. Internal power supply. Weapons capability unknown.’

  Cameron gritted his teeth. Good to meet you too, Tinker – my name’s Cameron, he thought bitterly.

  With a look of intense concentration on his always-moving face, Tinker rummaged through some of the tools on the nearest desk. He pulled out a large, vaguely gun-shaped device, which he began to run over Cameron’s head and torso.

  As he did so, Cameron noticed that while Tinker’s face was still a mass of tics and twitches, his hands were suddenly as steady as rocks. When the scanner reached Cameron’s right shoulder, it suddenly started emitting frantic bleeps.

  ‘Automatic tracking device,’ muttered Tinker. ‘Internally mounted.’

  He nodded, entirely to himself, and reached for another tool. Then, without a word, he pulled down the neck of Cameron’s T-shirt and flipped open a panel on his shoulder, the new instrument poised to begin poking around inside.

  ‘Hey!’ snarled Cameron, leaping to his feet with clenched fists. ‘What do you think you’re doing? I’m not just some faulty toaster!’

  Tinker backpedalled, knocking a pile of equipment to the floor with a crash. He stared directly at Cameron for the first time, his wide, scared eyes blinking rapidly, while his facial muscles went into all sorts of new spasms.

  ‘Keep your tools to yourself!’ Cameron shouted.

  In a flash, Slater was inside the room.

  ‘What did you do?’ he demanded, squaring up to Cameron.

  ‘Nothing,’ snapped Cameron. ‘It was him.’

  ‘What’s going on here?’

  Rora stood in the doorway, hands on hips.

  ‘He attacked Tinker,’ replied Slater, his eyes never leaving Cameron.

  ‘N-n-no, he didn’t,’ stammered Tinker. ‘It was m-m-my fault.’

  ‘What happened?’

  Cameron scowled. ‘He started messing with my arm.’

  Rora sighed impatiently. ‘How else do you think he’s going to get the bug out? Were you expecting him to say, “This won’t hurt a bit”?’ Her sarcasm stung.

  ‘I didn’t come here for this,’ growled Cameron. Even as he spoke, he knew it was a feeble line. He wasn’t sure why he had come here.

  ‘I’d sit still if I were you. Tinker knows what he’s doing. Tinker always knows what he’s doing – and we need that thing out of you as soon as possible. Trust me.’

  Cameron rolled his good eye, but sat back down anyway. There didn’t seem to be a lot of choice.

  ‘And you can go, Slater,’ continued Rora. ‘I don’t think Tinker really needs your help. I’ll stay.’

  For a moment Slater glared at Rora, chewing the inside of his cheek, as if biting back words he really wanted to speak. Then he turned on his metal heel and left. Cameron felt himself relax. He realized that his hands were still bunched into fists. If Rora hadn’t shown up, he didn’t know what might have happened.

  Cameron turned back to Tinker, who met his gaze briefly and gave a nervous, flickering smile.

  ‘Hi,’ he said. ‘Is it O-O-OK if I …’

  Cameron nodded curtly.

  With the calm dexterity of a surgeon, Tinker picked up the tools he had dropped, and began fishing around in Cameron’s shoulder. It was a strange sensation. Cameron was aware of something moving inside him, but there was no pain.

  While Tinker worked, Cameron kept silent, telling himself that it was all for the best. But he couldn’t shake off a nagging sense of doubt. So far, the Monster Republic wasn’t working out to be so great. Apart from the fact that he was being worked on by a twitchy kid instead of a real doctor, he wasn’t sure it was all that different from Fry’s laboratory.

  ‘D-d-done,’ said Tinker. He plopped a tiny capsule into a metal dish, then hastened off without another word before Cameron could even say thank you.

  ‘Gone to feed it to a stray cat, maybe?’ said Cameron. ‘That’d throw the Bloodhounds a false trail.’

  Rora smiled tightly. ‘Yeah. Maybe.’

  Cameron sat up. ‘We need to talk—’

  The fox-girl shook her head. ‘You need to get some rest.’

  She led him back into the corridor. Sticking her head through a door for a quick inspection, she ushered him into a side room almost completely filled by a bunk bed. From the size of the place, Cameron guessed it might once have been a store cupboard. There was no one else there.

  ‘This should do you. Top or bottom, whichever you prefer,’ she said, gesturing at the bed. Cameron opened his mouth to speak, but Rora cut him off.

  ‘We’ll talk tomorrow. Get some rest. I need some, even if you don’t.’

  Cameron remembered what she had said in the park about her weakness being a lack of stamina. She certainly looked tired now. Maybe he’d get more answers from her in the morning. He slumped down on the bottom bunk, which creaked alarmingly under the weight of his new body.

  ‘Not quite the warm welcome I was led to expect,’ he said pointedly. ‘Most of your friends o
ut there won’t even look me in the eye.’

  ‘There you go again. Not everything’s about you,’ Rora replied. ‘This is strange for them too. Give them time.’

  ‘Huh. If you say so.’ Cameron didn’t buy it.

  Rora shook her head and left. Moodily, Cameron settled back and planted his head on the pillow. He didn’t suppose for a minute he’d be able to sleep, but maybe he ought to try. He stared up at the underside of the top bunk for a moment, then sighed. Get some rest. That was easy for her to say.

  How was he supposed to close his electronic eye?

  Ruefully he had to admit he didn’t have a clue. Perhaps Rora had dealt with enough similar people to tell him the answer. It would mean having to ask for her help, though. Again.

  Embarrassed, Cameron slipped off the bed. Sticking his head through the door, he opened his mouth to call after her.

  There was no need. Rora was standing just a few metres down the corridor, flanked by the technical whizz-kid, Tinker, and the sour-faced figure of Slater, who looked as moody and sullen as Cameron felt. They were talking in low, urgent voices.

  Before Cameron could ‘turn up’ his hearing, Slater spotted him, and placed a warning hand on Rora’s arm. But really, Cameron didn’t need to hear what they were saying. Everything about the trio, from their sudden pointed silence to their furtive glances towards him, made it obvious.

  They were talking about him. Great.

  Rora cleared her throat. ‘Do you need anything?’

  Cameron gave her a long hard look.

  ‘No.’

  Throwing himself back on the bed, he rolled over to stare at the brick wall. He didn’t know if sleep would come, but he hoped it would, and soon. Other wise there was a long night ahead. A night of just lying there, thinking about everything he had lost: his home, his family, everyone he really cared about. His whole life.

  chapter nine

  coming to terms

  Next morning, Cameron woke feeling rotten.

  He had lain awake for what felt like hours, his mind churning. When sleep had finally come, it had been like dozing in front of the TV, electronics buzzing away in a constant background hiss of static. Vague images had flashed through his mind – Marie, the Bloodhounds, Dr Fry – but nothing he could hold onto and call a proper dream. Now he was awake his body felt rested, but his mind was as confused as ever.