by Mark Lingane
A hand shot up and grabbed his arm. The figure with the pale face and strange black armor whispered.
“What?” shrieked Sebastian.
“I have found you,” he croaked, staring up at the young boy, then vomited a mixture of green and red bile. “You must die.”
The figure raised his other hand, which held a flat, black object. It had a picture of Sebastian on it, and the phrase KILL.KILL written underneath. The image flickered and disappeared. The grip was released and the arm fell back into the mud.
Sebastian scrambled up onto the relative safety of the bank, blinding pain continuing through his head. Small jabs of lightning arced across the body and it convulsed; the arms and legs flailed wildly and water sprayed everywhere as the body thrashed. Then it uttered a high-pitched cry, so loud and painful that Sebastian had to cover his ears. After several seconds, the sound died away, and he was left with the gentle lapping of the waves against the shore, the only thing breaking the silence of the lake.
He watched and waited. His headache faded.
After what seemed like an eternity, he cautiously approached the body. It had such an aura of stillness that this time he was sure it was dead. Completely dead. No scary last-minute-coming-to-life dead. Dead forever. Dead.
The person didn’t appear to be much older than him. It was just another boy. It didn’t seem right to leave him there, so Sebastian dragged the body out of the water and did his best to bury it. He took the strange black object and put it in his pocket for later examination. The boy’s boots looked amazingly cool, but he felt it would be wrong to take them. His mother had said things about the clothes of dead people.
He felt something more was needed, so he clasped his hands together and said, “In the name of Joshua, I condemn … no, wrong word … send this body to the afterlife. May it, er, he rest in peace.”
The moments wound past as he stared at the small grave. I have found you. A stranger with an order to kill him—not anyone, but him specifically—had come very close to finding him, very close to finding his home. And why repeat “kill?” Surely once would have been enough? Did saying it twice make it worse? He walked back to the town, planning never to speak of the boy in black. What really worried him was his mother’s warning of there being more than one.
-1
THE STRANGE BOY played on Sebastian’s mind most days of the following week, a floating ghost in his conscience. Aunt Ratty often had to shout at him two or three times before he snapped back to reality. He failed to noticed the change in her condition. Day by day, she rose later and later, quickly shouting herself hoarse, then urgently having to retire. Within a few days, Aunt Ratty announced she felt a little under the weather and would be spending the day in bed to recoup her appetite. She continued to instruct him in his daily duties with a quieter voice, but working him harder than ever.
The next day she did the same. And the day after. At the end of that week, Ratty stated that she no longer had a desire to rise, as Rapacity had stopped coming to see her. Sebastian was to wait on her until she felt sufficiently buoyed. In the rare quiet moments, he would sneak back into his room and look at the black object. He was beginning to know every inch of it, the glass front, the metal back, the small metal buttons on the side. And on the rear was stamped: tinyIris. Sneaking into the school, he had looked up what an iris was. Then he had hidden the device behind the key rack next to the door at home. You find things when you look for them, he thought. Could a tinyIris have seen him? It was a bad thought to have when there could be strange men looking for you.
The following week Ratty’s voice grew hoarse without the exertion of volume. She started to sweat profusely and no amount of fanning cooled her. She beckoned him closer and instructed him to summon the doctor. Sebastian replied that the doctor had not yet returned from taking his mother to the hospital.
Ratty gave him a slap across his face. It didn’t hurt as much as it once might have. She called him a liar. He promised he had not seen the doctor. She croaked at him to look harder, or at least find someone with some medical knowledge.
He ran to the doctor’s house and knocked loudly, but no one was home. He sat on the front steps and wondered whom to call. A stallion trotted past, carrying one of the local women riding sidesaddle.
“The vet,” he whispered.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with her. She doesn’t have equine herpesvirus, strangles or kennel cough. There’s nothing I can do for her,” said Michael. He adjusted his glasses and began to pack up his medical paraphernalia.
“There must be something you can give her, Dr. Filbert,” Sebastian whispered, “if only to stop her nagging me.”
Michael sighed. “I guess I could inject pig’s urine into her rump, er, backside,” he whispered.
“What will that do?”
“Maybe give her a mineral boost, but most likely nothing. But you must look away; it will be an unpleasant sight.”
“Injecting pig’s urine?”
“No, her backside.” He turned his attention to the sick woman. “Ma’am, you need to roll over so I can administer the medicine.”
“She’s not deaf; you don’t need to shout,” Sebastian said. “You definitely don’t need to stroke her head.”
Michael withdrew his hand. “Sorry. Habit.”
Ratty groaned loudly as she rolled over onto her bloated stomach. Michael raised her nightdress and gulped. Sebastian shielded his eyes. His aunt groan once more.
“Okay, deed done,” said the vet. He fished a small bottle out of his pocket and handed it to Sebastian. “Give her two of these tablets, ground up in her meat, twice a day. They should return her coat to a lusty sheen.”
“What?”
“Er, they’re protein boosts. They may give her more energy.” He picked up his case and turned to leave. “Look, Sebastian, she’s in a real bad way. I don’t know what to prescribe. If she were a horse, I’d recommend putting her down.” He sighed again. “Good luck. You deserved better than this.”
He saw Michael out and closed the door. The corner of the tinyIris peeked out from the hiding location, catching his eye. Men in black armor had not come and KILL.KILLED him, so maybe it wasn’t dangerous. The lure of the small device taunted him until he slipped it out from behind the key rack and stared at the shiny face. His finger pressed on the button on the top and the device suddenly buzzed. In the center of the display, a large white circle appeared. Then his face appeared on the screen like he was looking into a mirror. A red circle appeared around his eyes and TARGET ACQUIRED scrolled across. He dropped the device and stamped on it, breaking the glass. He kicked it out the door and secured the locks.
A thousand miles away, red lights flashed in a large bunker full of screens bolted to metal walls. Strings of data spread across the displays, reaching across like the branches of a tree. Several cyborg women and men sat at plain metal desks watching the information scroll past. One of the women checked the tinyIris in her hand, stood, and made her way out into the corridor cut through the rock. She paused at the next door and placed her thumb on a small glass plate. ‘Hive Imperial General Headquarters’ was laser etched above the entrance. The doors clicked open and she pushed her way into the next chamber. Dust piled up high in the corners and on top of the far banks of metal cabinets with glass doors. Inside the cabinets, lights flashed manically on row upon row of thin metal units that faintly buzzed in the silence of the room. Bracketed to the right wall was a series of blacked out displays. On the left, cut into the rock, was an immense glass window that looked down into a vast, circular cavern. A large stalk of twisting lightning thrashed in the center of the cavern. The extreme beam of light snapped within the building’s confines.
She cleared her throat. “Iris.”
A black box descended out of the roof and rotated toward her. On the front was the image of a blue iris surrounded by purple rings. At the center of the iris was a square pupil.
“The instability in the probability trees
has resolved,” the woman said.
“Yes?” The voice resonated out of the rock walls.
She turned her small black device to face Iris. It displayed Sebastian’s face. “Target got.”
The purple rings contracted and rotated around the eye. The room fell into complete silence. Eventually, Iris spoke.
“Send the alpha team. They’re not to stop until he is terminated. And kill.kill all who get in the way of the primary objective.”
“Understood.” The woman left.
“After one thousand years, Sebastian, I have found you. The probability trees were correct. I can finally be free of Sebastian the destroyer, the boy wrapped in time.”
The displays flickered and sprung into life. Aged images of nuclear war and battles of man-vs-machine scrolled past. Pictures of scientists standing together and smiling in a massive underground tunnel that curved gently into the distance. A picture of the tsunami. A picture of an enormous flaring arc of lightning soaring into the air above a foreign metropolis. A picture of a young man dragging a large sword, stepping toward the arc of lightning.
As the images flashed on Iris’ private displays, several floors lower a dozen cyborgs armed up. Various robotic arms zipped around them, detaching arms and legs and attaching weaponized ones. They marched forward and up into the bright sunlight as one, their footsteps in perfect synchronization, their heavy footfalls shaking the ground. Another half-dozen cyborgs appeared, mounted on noisy two-wheeled vehicles, and zoomed up and out.
And from the depths of the cavern echoed a roar of pain and anger. The cyborgs scattered, as a stream of intense white flame engulfed the room. The walls cooled and the plinking of the seared rocks was drowned out by the thud-scrape-thud of something big and cumbersome dragging itself forward.
“Where am I?” Isabelle rasped. She fought to open her eyes and, in the low light, only caught the outline of two thin dark figures through her blurred vision. She felt cold hard stone beneath her. Water lapped around her body.
“You’s in the Dunhidin,” said the first figure.
“We thought you’s a goner,” added the second.
“You had the old sickness,” said the first. “But we got you here, and you’s gonna be all right.”
“Where am I?” she asked.
“Dunhidin,” repeated the first figure. “Sacred caves. Heals the sickness from people. You gonna sleep now. You wake when you’s better.” The figure leaned forward and lifted her head up, helping her drink the cool sticky liquid from a rolled-up leaf.
She closed her eyes. “Sebby,” she said, as she drifted off into the blackness.
Silence returned to the cave.
“What was that name she said?”
“Sebby,” the first figure said.
The second figure reached into the water and dragged out a handful of mud and moldy vegetation. After a few moments, it started to gently glow. He held it up to the wall and a pale green glow shone up onto the wall, revealing several ancient cave paintings.
The drawing was of a young boy holding a large sword. Behind him was a wide lightning bolt. Under the picture was the name Sebastian.
“How old are them paintings?”
“Long time, bruv. About a thousand years.”
The humidity rolled in over the town. The flies lazily bounced across the kitchen as Sebastian prepared the usual afternoon tea. He delivered the tray to his aunt, who, surprisingly, was sleeping. She rarely missed a meal. Her snores echoed within the room. He shook her. Her skin was clammy and he wiped his hand on his tunic.
Isabelle’s jewelry box lay unattended for the first time since his aunt had arrived. He could see the end of the key poking out of the top of Ratty’s nightdress. Sebastian held his breath and slowly extracted it. The key was damp and smelled of old sweat. He grimaced and wiped it on his pants. It fitted securely into the small box and emitted a tiny click as the catch unlocked.
Cautiously, he opened the box. Inside was an envelope with his name written in his mother’s neat copperplate script.
His aunt stirred.
Sebastian quickly stuffed the envelope in his pocket. Something clattered in the base of the box, a small black disc. He picked it up and turned it over in his fingers. A green light started to flash, then another and another until the whole side of the disc was a pale green. As he brought it close to his face to examine the series of tiny lights, the lights changed from green to red and the disc started to vibrate. He quickly put it back in the box.
Ratty struggled to sit up. Her hair lay scattered over the pillow. “Help me, foolish child,” she croaked.
He placed some large pillows behind her, propping her up.
She looked down and saw her hair scattered on the bed and floor. “My beautiful hair,” she wept. She turned to Sebastian with a look of disgust and hatred. “It’s you. You’re a cursed, evil child. You make everyone sick. God knows why they want to know about you.”
Screams rose out of the town’s main track. The jewelry box started to vibrate. His aunt’s eyes shot open. “They’re finally here. They’ll cure me.”
For the first time in a month, Ratty rose from the bed. She lurched down the stairs and flung open the front door. In her floral nightdress, she waddled her bloated body into the middle of the track, which was full of people running to the north. She smiled at what approached.
Coming up the track toward her were black-armored men. She smiled at them and opened her arms. One raised its arm toward her. A loud zapping, like a large angry mosquito, filled the air followed by a flash of blinding light. Ratty felt a tingling in her stomach and clutched at herself. When her eyes had recovered, she found a deep hole full of charred and blackened blood in the center of her body.
As she fell, another light beam flashed out and sliced into her head. The men walked on.
Sebastian ran out the door to see what was happening. He gasped as he recognized the strange black armor of the boy from the lake.
As one, they turned to face him, repeatedly chanting, “kill.”
GO ...
1
SEBASTIAN WHEELED AROUND as the men closed in, but could not find an escape point. He gasped at the horror of his aunt’s charred and blackened remains. Pressure in his head skyrocketed and his vision blurred as an intense dizziness overcame him. The closest man raised his arm toward Sebastian.
Time slowed. Sebastian could sense the explosions erupting through the town. Heat billowed off the houses along the main track as fire engulfed them. Among the screams and shouts of the villagers, he heard someone call his name, followed by the pounding of hoofs.
Sebastian could see right down the tube facing him. He saw a faint glow from deep within the cylinder.
A blinding light filled his eyes. He felt paralyzed with fear. An unbearable pain stabbed into his head, and he collapsed into unconsciousness.
Sebastian woke to the violent rocking motion of a galloping horse. An arm was wrapped tightly around him, pulling him into the person behind. He and his mystery rider were charging through the forest. The horse leaped over a massive log and through a narrow gap between two trees. One of the trees exploded, covering them in shards of wood and bark.
“What’s happening?” shouted Sebastian.
“Not now, Sebby. I’ll tell you later.” It was the comforting voice of Michael.
The horse galloped on, its giant muscles flexing. It stumbled briefly over large, slippery roots before bursting out onto the main track, hooves pounding, coat glistening in the sunlight. The wider track spurred it on to the freedom of the open road ahead, driven by terror from behind.
Two black-armored men appeared to the left, riding strange machines that Sebastian vaguely recognized as a type of bicycle, although very noisy, very fast, and moved without pedaling. The machines were black and sleek, with long tubes mounted to the sides.
One of the men veered his noisy powered bicycle toward the horse. The vehicle leaped off the ground, over a fallen tree, and landed ne
xt to the charging horse. Michael kicked out and landed a solid hit on the would-be assailant. The man lost control and tumbled to the left, crashing into the other rider.
A blinding light flashed by and an explosion erupted ahead of them. A tree cracked, showering dirt and bark in the air before toppling over, blocking the track. Michael spurred the horse on. It leaped into the air and landed gracefully on the other side of the tree, forging ahead at full speed.
Sebastian heard another loud crash from behind, followed by an explosion. Another vehicle shot out of the bushes on the right and landed next to the horse. The rider held onto his strange vehicle with one hand and raised his other to aim his weapon at Sebastian. Michael tried to kick him, but the man was too far away. The vehicle twisted and rocked as the black-clad man struggled to steady his arm.
Michael pulled back hard on the reins. The horse came to an abrupt halt and reared, prancing on the spot. The vet veered his great mount to the left through the dense undergrowth.
The man was unable to stop as he roared into a tree. He was flung forward and landed on a large sheared tree stump, which sliced through his body.
And they were alone. Michael reined in the horse, slowing to a gentle trot. He guided his steed into a gully, and they dismounted. The horse lowered its head and greedily lapped the water from a small pool. Michael glared out into the forest. He couldn’t detect any noise or movement.
Sebastian flopped onto the ground.
“Are you hurt?” Michael said. He ran his hands over the boy’s legs and chest. “Nothing major, if you are,” he said, after the quick appraisal. The vet gave Sebastian a pat on the head.
“What happened at the village?” Sebastian said.
“I’m not sure. One of those men aimed his weapon at you, then went crazy firing everywhere other than at you,” the vet said. “Then you collapsed and the other men staggered around like they were suddenly lost. I grabbed you and got you away.”
