Into the Infested Side

by Shane Hegarty

  The Orthrus turned to go, but as it did Emmie remembered something.

  “Cornelius,” she called out and put her hand into the pocket of her fighting suit. “This is for you.” Emmie flung a dozen half-mushed and very raw sausages through the hole.

  “Sausages!” Cornelius barked joyfully, grabbing them, gobbling them and, with Hiss once again complaining about being wagged from side-to-side in delight, bolting away until they had merged with the battle.

  There were six of them in the Darkmouth cave, five humans of various degrees of dishevellment, plus one stranded, sullen Hogboon.

  They stood facing a cranking gateway to the Infested Side of the past and a gaping hole to a fierce battle taking place right now in that same world.

  Finn’s head hurt. He wasn’t sure if it was the crystal, travelling through the gateway or the very thought of the situation they were in.

  “This really is not ideal,” said Estravon.

  In the tight space, Finn was pressed close to his father. He couldn’t yet believe he was there, that he’d managed to get him back. He didn’t care about the damage done. Not yet anyway. He had him back. Darkmouth had its Legend Hunter again.

  And there was something else on his mind. Finn’s eyes began to sting and a tear ran down his cheek.

  “Ah, come on, Finn, there’s no need to cry,” said his father.

  “No, Dad. It’s not that. It’s the smell,” he said, burbling a laugh through his discomfort. “I’m sorry, but you really stink. Sort of like old socks left in a plastic bag or something.”

  His father bristled. “Well, I can see you haven’t changed that much since becoming the saviour of the world.”

  “It’s more like cheese dipped in bleach,” said Estravon.

  “That smell saved me, as it happens,” said Hugo. “I’ve spent over two weeks in the mountains, hiding among Legends called the Nuppeppõ. It’s the only place even the most warlike Legends will never venture. Their stench is—”

  “Like a full nappy left in the sun?” suggested Estravon.

  “Anyway, that’s why we smell a bit.”

  “We smell?” exclaimed Broonie. “You lot hardly smell as sweet as swamp roses yourselves.”

  “Look, I hate to interrupt—” Steve said.

  Finn felt a shudder through his arm. The one he had held the crystal with. His father seemed to notice it.

  “The serpents swooped down for me. And Broonie,” his father said. “They protected us, hid us with the resistance over there.”

  “I was resisting nobody,” Broonie insisted. “I was just trying to get home and now look where I am.”

  “Listen to me!” snapped Steve. Finally, the others paid him attention. Through the open hole to the Infested Side, they could sense the ground shake. Beneath the fight in the air, the trees were darkening, the gaps between them filling with Legends – Manticores, Fomorians, Wolpertingers – scrabbling over the ground, leaping through the petrified branches.

  “They’re coming straight for us,” said Emmie, pushing in between the others to get a look at the window between worlds.

  “Go to the car,” her father instructed her.

  “But—”

  “I’m telling you to go to the car.” Steve held out the car keys. “Now.” Emmie took the keys and backed towards the cave’s exit before finally turning to run.

  “You know, I once had a finger chopped off and replaced with a crystal,” remarked Broonie. “That now turns out to have been one of my happier days.”

  Steve reached down to pick up another Desiccator and handed it to Hugo. “I brought you a welcome home gift.”

  Through the open wound, the rush of Legends grew. They were clear of the trees now, a great mass pouring towards them.

  “What about a Desiccator for me?” Finn asked.

  “That was for you,” said Steve. “But the plan has changed since, you know, you ripped the world in two just to get him.”

  The red gateway to the Infested Side’s past also began to pulse and groan. “Lord help us if anything comes through this gateway too,” muttered Estravon.

  Something did come through.

  Then another something.

  And the Legends did not stop coming.

  The blue shock of a Desiccator net almost scraped Finn’s ear as it fzzzzed from Steve’s weapon to hit the first screaming Grendel to come out of the red gateway.

  With a stifled whooop, the Legend shrank into a ball of skin and fur. It hadn’t even hit the ground when the next one came through. Steve fired and it too froze, shrank, cracked against the stone floor of the cave.

  “Hugo, cover this red gateway!” Steve shouted.

  “No, it’s better if you cover the red gateway,” said Hugo.

  The crown of another stooping Grendel emerged through the red gateway. They both shot it.

  Whooop.

  Through the wound, they could see a squadron of Quetzalcóatls diving at the approaching army, sending a clump of Manticores scattering. But there were too many to stop. Legends filled their view now, and they had almost reached the gaping hole and the way into Darkmouth.

  A Grendel came through the red gateway. Fzzz. Whooop.

  “Get out, Finn,” his father said, but, as Finn began to back away, he felt the fizzing of the energy seeping through his body. It felt stronger and more immediate than the first time. It felt raw and raging.

  A Manticore reached the great hole into the cave, the first of its kind to leave the battle there. Hugo pulled his trigger and the Desiccator net crossed the threshold between worlds, mutating immediately into a lumpen shape so that, when it caught the Legend, it left it a grotesque, writhing figure. Two Wolpertingers following behind stepped straight past it to clamber into the cave.

  They were now under attack from two places. The Infested Side of the past, the Infested Side of the present. One world. Two eras. Too many Legends.

  “Everyone back,” said Hugo.

  “Everybody out,” said Steve.

  “Get into the cave. Get out of the cave,” complained Broonie as he turned to go. “I hate this place. Again.”

  He scurried through the passageway, Estravon following right behind him.

  Finn hesitated. A thought was burrowing into his mind. A way to end this. A way to end everything. He wasn’t holding a weapon, but the energy building within told him he could become one.

  “What are you waiting for?” his father asked sternly. “You’ve done your bit. Now go.”

  Finn did what he was told this time, bumping through the passageway without stopping to inspect the scrapes and bruises he was collecting on the way. Reaching the wide light of the cave opening, he heard the relentless fizz of Desiccators echoing from behind him.

  The shooting stopped, so Finn paused at the entrance and listened. Estravon and Broonie were already there, feet on the debris, ready to climb free.

  “Maybe it’s over already,” Finn said.

  A Wolpertinger bolted from the cave, springing out of the passage at them until suddenly changing direction mid-jump as Estravon reacted with a high kick to its chest.

  The Legend leaped up again, only to be hit by a glowing blue Desiccator net and shrunk. Behind it stood Steve, weapon raised, thick blue smoke rising from its barrel.

  Finn’s dad arrived next, his already battered armour sparking off the rock wall as he broke free, shooting behind him as he ran.

  Fzzz. Whooop. Fzzz. Whooop.

  But still they came. Legends squeezing through behind them, pouring in from two worlds, the rock around them crumbling under the pressure and crush of invading creatures.

  Finn felt the bomb ticking down inside him. Felt its power. His power. He held it in check, prevented it from igniting, because he’d kill everyone around him if he was to explode here.

  Then he realised he was preventing it. That he had control. It was a match ready to spark, but only when he struck it. He was certain he could ignite when he needed to and destroy the Legends.
/>
  If only everyone else could get free of the blast first.

  “Lure them to the beach,” Steve said. “Trust me.”

  His father grabbed Finn, pulled him over the rockfall that had once blocked up the cave, that had kept its crystals untouched by daylight and Darkmouth safe from their gateways.

  Hugo was still firing as he hurried Finn on.

  Fzzz. Whooop. Fzzz. Whooop.

  They scrambled away from the mouth of the cave, the brightness of the day flooding Finn’s vision. It should have been so welcome, after so long in that awful, hellish place beyond, but he had no time to really appreciate it.

  The saltiness in Darkmouth’s air, the warmth in the breeze, the smooth, shifting pebbles of the beach, the gently crashing waves and the large black van parked awkwardly almost right against the cave entrance, seaweed clinging to its wheels, its rear doors open and Emmie crouched inside with a very large pineapple-shaped object wedged into a long, improvised weapon propped on her shoulder, which seemed to be made out of a drainpipe.

  Finn hadn’t expected that bit.

  “Seeing as I made it back alive, my dad’s finally letting me have a go with Mr Glad’s stuff,” Emmie announced. “But you should probably get out of the way, Finn.”

  His father grabbed him again, half dragging him to the far side of the van, where Estravon was already hiding, peering round the bumper with jaw wide open. Broonie was there too, loudly complaining about the whole thing. But he wasn’t complaining loudly enough to be heard over the sound of desiccations.

  Steve was last to abandon the cave. “Not yet, Emmie,” he shouted as he scurried to the van. “Not yet!”

  He dashed over to the rest of them, sliding over the pebbles along the side of the van until safely behind it.

  “Now!” Steve and Hugo shouted together.

  Emmie pulled the trigger.

  She was thrown back as the pineapple shot from the pipe and spun in a swift, brief arc over the short distance to the cave. Landing half buried in the stones, its fronds slid open, like the petals of a flower. The Fomorians, Manticores and Wolpertingers spilling on to the beach hesitated for a moment, arms and paws and claws raised, expecting an explosion.

  It didn’t happen.

  They looked towards her with grins of deep malice.

  She looked back, mouth screwed up in sudden concern.

  Then the missile burst, a white foam showering the cave entrance and freezing a dozen Legends mid-grin. They tipped over where they stood, a couple of huge Fomorians leaning against each other like drunken statues.

  “Brilliant!” said Emmie.

  A hush settled over the beach, broken only by the sound of a frozen Manticore sliding down the stones towards the lapping tide. The sparkling seawater smacked at the shore of the narrow beach under the cliffs.

  Waiting at the front end of the van, Finn couldn’t help but look around. The light of the day was brilliant. A seagull somewhere squawked as seagulls do. The grass waved gently on the clifftop above them, with its crumbling Look-out Post and water-safety ring.

  Then Finn’s eye caught what he thought was a figure on the cliff. A tall man. Familiar. Appearing as if from nothing, in a silent, agonised stretch.

  “Is that Mr—?” he began.

  But he had no time to finish his observation because two things happened to distract his attention. One was the sight of new Legends pouring violently out from the cave.

  The other was the loudness of the ticking inside him, so clear that Finn was amazed the rest of the beach couldn’t hear it.

  He was ready to ignite. He needed to. It would be the only way to end this.

  “Fall back!” his father was yelling.

  In Finn’s eyes, the scene on the beach seemed to be unfolding in slow motion: Legends falling over themselves to get from the cave, piling forward through the Desiccator fire, knocking aside newly desiccated Legends before they even hit the ground.

  Emmie scrambling from the van, falling on all fours on to the beach in an effort to get away as the Legends reached the vehicle, hitting it so hard it rocked back.

  Broonie running as hard as his spindly legs would take him, while the gangly Estravon loped alongside him.

  His father grabbing Finn to move him to safety.

  Desiccators on rapid fire until...

  ...fzzzzpt.

  “This canister is dry,” his father said. “Retreat.”

  But the words sounded distant, or like they were being spoken underwater. They were drowned out by the compulsion Finn felt to step in the wrong direction, to go back to the cave. Years of fear overridden by the flames rising inside him.

  Steve’s Desiccator was the next to run dry, the Half-Hunter pressing the trigger again and again. Nothing but a fzzzpt and cursing. A lot of cursing.

  A Manticore pounced and Hugo swung the Desiccator like a club, swatting it away, but releasing his grip on Finn.

  “I have to stop them,” Finn heard himself mutter.

  “Retreat,” his father was saying, swinging his Desiccator once more.

  “I have to...” Finn stepped forward, pushing his father’s hand away. He ran. Back towards the cave. Into the seething mass of invading Legends.

  He could hear Emmie shouting. “Finn!”

  A few things went through his mind once he had separated from the rest of them, but really they all boiled down to a wrestle between bravery and his suddenly rediscovered desire to run away.

  But there was nowhere for Finn to run. The Legends were crowding round him, so close he could feel the heat off their bodies, the staleness of their breath. Some were whooping, shrill in their delight. Around them, other Legends swarmed onwards, heading towards the others where they stood further up the beach.

  Emmie’s voice was receding. “Finn!”

  He could just about make out a gap up the beach, towards the headland, where his father, Emmie, Broonie, Steve and Estravon must be. Surrounded now. He heard his father’s grunts and yells as he fought Legends off by hand. Saw the ripples of kerfuffle. Then his view was blocked by the Legends crowding round him, savouring their moment of triumph, deciding what to do with him, perhaps how to dispatch him or who should have the honour of doing it.

  “Finn!” Emmie’s voice was further away still.

  Finn let the energy build within him. Was everyone far away enough to be safe? He couldn’t be sure. He had no choice anyway. Whatever the consequences, he needed to use his power, to destroy what he could so that he could save the others. Save Darkmouth.

  He let the energy build. Let it spark within him. Prepared to let the fire run free.

  “Finn!”

  Hang on. That wasn’t Emmie calling him.

  “Finn!”

  It was his mother’s voice, coming from somewhere above him. He shut down the energy, dampened its spark, craned to see through the crush of Legends. He spotted her on the edge of the cliff, eyes wide in fear, her shout cutting through even the tumult of so many Legends.

  She wasn’t alone.

  His mother placed her fingers in her mouth and delivered a whistle so ear-splitting it caused the entire beach – Legend and human – to turn and see what was happening.

  They were greeted by the sight of Clara – an ordinary woman, a civilian, with no weapon – but there were so many others joining her. Each in a fighting suit of different colours. Different styles. Different materials. Too big. Too small. Dusty. Some looking rusty. Some looked like they hadn’t been used for generations.

  But each figure held a weapon of some shape or form. They were Half-Hunters and there must have been a hundred of them crowding on to the cliff.

  Clara stepped right to the edge, mouth tight with determination. “Get away from my son.”

  The Half-Hunters opened fire.

  Finn was so awed by what happened next, it took him a moment to realise he should get out of the way.

  The noise of the firing Desiccators was extraordinary, as if every storm on the planet had co
nverged on Darkmouth with the sole intent of unleashing every lightning strike in the world.

  Added to that was the soft whooop, whooop, whooop of each Legend as it was struck and shrunk, a shuffling rhythm beneath the harsh drumming of Desiccator fire.

  And the light. It was almost blinding in its blueness. Fat, spreading nets raining from above, some merging to form a mass as bright as the sun above, blinding any Legends in their path, stunning them before they were even hit.

  Whooop. Whooop. Whooop.

  Still the creatures came, from each timeframe of the Infested Side, piling out from the cave and on to the stones.

  Whooop. Whooop. Whooop. Whooop. Whooop.

  The sound from the cliff was of Half-Hunters unleashing entire lives of frustration, of finally getting their moment to live out their destinies. Finn dashed to the cave entrance, hiding behind a curling lip of stone and watching the Legends arrive and hardly an instant later become giant hailstones splashing on the shore’s edge. They began to pile up there, so that newly arrived Legends were helplessly sliding across the mounting rubble of desiccated comrades.

  Whooop. Whooop. Whooop. Splash. Splash. Splash.

  The Legends kept coming, struggling now even to leave the cave. The barrage continued, unrelenting, catastrophic. Desiccations rolling back into the gap in the cliff, washing about in the surf.

  An old man on a bicycle appeared on the path along the cliff edge, cycling towards the Half-Hunters. The firing stopped, a sudden and deep silence punctured only by the whistled tune the man left hanging in the air as he became aware of what he had stumbled into. At which point, he stopped, turned his bike clumsily, climbed back on to the saddle and cycled away in the direction he’d come from, mumbling curses as he went.

  Everyone resumed shooting.

  At that point, Finn realised he wanted this to end. He wanted the invasion, the mass desiccations, the unbearable noise, to stop now.