by Tim O'Rourke
“We’re nearly there,” Wally turned and said to her. His clean-shaven face looked deathly pale in the moonlight. Wally looked ill as a human. He seemed to have lost some of his spark. She preferred him as a Noxas.
Willow looked again in the direction that Wally was pointing, and in the distance she could see a squat-looking building set alongside the tracks. Willow followed Wally until they reached a slope made of grey stone. It was flat and smooth, and led up onto the platform. Halfway along was the building that Willow had seen in the distance. It was made of grey stone, and it looked old and tired as if it hadn’t been occupied for many years. It seemed like it had been forgotten about. Outside the building there was a weather-beaten bench made of wood, and it looked as if it might just collapse at any moment. Next to this there was a pole which stretched high above her. Attached to it was a wooden sign which swung back and forth in the wind. The rusty hinges which held it in place creaked and made a squealing noise as if in need of some oil. Willow looked up at the sign and read the faded lettering. Welcome to the Great Northern Railway, it read.
Willow looked back at Wally, who stood by a wooden door fixed into the front of the small building. “What is this place?” she asked him, brushing her hair from out of her eyes again.
“It’s a disused railway station,” he smiled.
“Why have you brought me here?”
“I want to show you something,” he said, pushing open the door and stepping inside.
Willow approached the door. It had once been red like her fingernails, but the paint had now mostly flaked away, revealing the knotted planks of wood beneath. She stepped through the doorway, and apart from the moonlight which spilled in through the dirty windows, it was dingy looking. Willow peered into the gloom and could see swathes of spider webs hanging from the ceiling like ancient chandeliers. Looking about at the worn leather-covered seats, Willow guessed that she was standing in some kind of waiting room. Then to one side she saw a small office. Like the door to the station, it was made of wood and had once been painted red. There was a glass panel in the front of it. Above the small window was written the words: Ticket Office. Willow crossed the waiting room and peered through the glass. On the other side of the window she could see a counter with two drawers set into it. One of these was partially open and it looked to be filled with rusty-looking coins and some strips of paper. Willow tilted her head to one side so she could read what was written on the tiny slips of paper. Each of them had the word Ticket written on them.
“So people do really travel on machines which run on rails?” Willow said, turning to look at Wally.
“Oh, yes,” he smiled. “The machines are called trains,” he smiled.
“I thought the tales of machines racing across the land were just stories,” she said.
“Like many other Noxas, you have spent your life living in the Howling Forest,” Wally said with a hint of sadness. “Can’t you see now why I left? There is more to life than what lives amongst those trees. I have discovered so much more, Willow Weaver, than you could possibly imagine.”
“Like what?” Willow asked.
With his eyes sparkling, he stepped towards her and said, “I know why the worlds are overlapping. I know why there are so many doorways appearing. I know why they have shifted and no longer stay still.”
“Why?” Willow asked him.
“The six-clicks,” he said.
“The six what?”
“The six-clicks, or that’s what I call them,” he started to explain. “Six people, who made six decisions, and pushed the six levers out of place.”
“What levers? What people? What are you talking about?” Willow shook her head.
Stepping to one side, Wally said, “These levers.” He stood before six long levers that jutted from the floor just to the left of the ticket office. They had wooden handles, and like everything else in the remote station, they were covered in dust. On the wall above each lever was written the words, Push and Pull.
“What are they?” Willow asked him, looking and sounding confused.
“They control the points,” he said as if she should have known exactly what he was talking about. Noticing the look of utter bewilderment on her face, Wally smiled and said, “Let me explain. The levers control the points on the tracks outside. They control the points on the tracks which keep everything running smoothly – on time – to the schedule that has been planned.” Wally took Willow by the hand and led her across the waiting room to one of the leather-covered seats. Sitting beside her, he continued.
“Like any railway, it needs to run on time, all the trains are to pass each other at certain times and points. To achieve this, the tracks have points which are controlled by levers. The levers get pushed or pulled at certain times and in a certain order so those trains never collide – never crash! We are just like those trains, Willow. Each one of us is running on our own set of tracks, which, to a degree, have been mapped out for us. We stop at certain points and get off to have a look around to explore new places, but we always get back on and follow our track. The points are switched for us so we never ever collide – crash – into someone or something that we aren’t meant to. But what if those levers got pushed or pulled when they shouldn’t have been?” Wally asked her, his smile fading.
“Then we would crash,” Willow breathed, trying to understand exactly what it was that he was telling her.
“You’ve got it!” Wally said. “We would crash, collide, derail – whatever you want to call it. That’s what’s happened. Someone pushed their lever out of place – they did something – made a decision that caused us to derail.”
“Who?” Willow asked him.
“Your son, William,” Wally said. “The day he opened the box – he pushed a lever – it clicked out of place. He changed the points on the tracks and our world derailed. Throat came out of the desert, imprisoned the Queen...do I need to go on?”
“No,” Willow whispered, shaking her head. Then looking at him, she added, “How does William push the lever back into place?”
“He doesn’t,” Wally said. “Zachary Black pushes it by taking the box to the Queen.”
Sitting quietly for a moment, Willow thought about everything that Wally had told her. Then slowly, she lifted her head, and looking at him she said, “You said there were six people who had made six decisions, who had pushed their levers out of place. Who are the other five? Won’t they have to push their levers back into place, too?”
“They will if they want their lives – their worlds – to get back on the rails,” Wally said. “But they don’t concern us. They come from a different place – a different when.”
“What’s a when?” she asked, looking confused again.
“The universe is made up of many whens,” Wally said, scratching his head as if trying to think of the best way to explain what he had to tell her. “They all reflect off one another. But they are not perfect reflections – just distorted ripples of each other. The only constant is the rails, the points and the levers which control them. There will be a railway station like this in all of the whens, all with their own levers, just waiting to be pushed and pulled. Endra is just one of many whens. There are The Hollows, a place called The Old West and many more. There are similarities between all of them – but not exact – just shadowy reflections. Each can be reached by passing through doorways, holes in the ground; but my most favourite I heard about are the tube train tunnels. I mean, that is great. Tracks, tunnels, and points all rolled into one. Genius!” he enthused with a beaming smile.
“So who are these other people who pushed their levers in their different whens?” Willow asked him.
“I know little about them,” he said thoughtfully. “I wish I knew more. I find them fascinating. There is a young couple – very much in love as far as I can gather. But they made some very bad decisions. They really did push! There is another – I don’t know his name – he seems to have so many, but he took his lover’s heart be
cause she rejected him. Bad, bad decision. But he is interesting because his push changed the points of another. A young policewoman...”
“Policewoman?” Willow cut in.
“Peacekeeper to you and me,” Wally said. “Similar, but not the same. Just reflections. Like the Slath in our world, they are known as vampires or Vampyrus in others. Just like us, the Noxas. There are many names for us in different whens. Lycanthrope, skin-turners, and Skin-walkers are just a few. But all the same – just reflections.” Then scratching his head again, he said, “Now, where was I? Oh, yes, the young policewoman. She has pushed back, and in style. There hasn’t been another like her. I will follow her story with interest.”
“Who is the sixth?” Willow asked him, fascinated by what he was telling her.
“Now that is a particularly sad story and her tracks pass over many others,” he said thoughtfully. “She is a young woman in love with a man who kept a secret. When she discovered that secret, she took the decision to reject him. That one decision pushed her points and she started down a new set of tracks. Someway down these tracks, she met that man again, and this time, she truly did love him – but it was too late for her. In this young woman’s new when, he had fallen in love with another.”
“Who was this other?” Willow asked him.
“The young policewoman who is pushing back like no other has pushed before,” he said with a childish excitement. “Like I said, I am waiting to see what happens to her with interest.”
“How do you know so much?” Willow asked him.
“Just whispers,” he smiled. “And I read a lot.”
“But we only have to worry about William’s lever being pushed back into place, right?” Willow asked, her head spinning with everything Wally had told her.
“Yes, the others will push their levers back into place – or maybe not?” he said thoughtfully. “We don’t have to worry about them.”
“So what happens now?” Willow asked him.
“We make our way to the station in Endra – in our when,” he smiled at her.
“We have a station like this back home?”
“Yes,” he said. “It’s part of the Great Wasteland Railroad. We need to be ready to push the leavers back into place when this boy Zachary Black hands the box to our Queen.”
“How will we know when the Queen is in possession of the box?” Willow asked, following Wally out of the railway station.
“We’ll know, all right,” he smiled, and then set off back down the railway tracks.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“We’re heading for the Craggy Canyon,” the voice spoke out of the dust, which hovered like a swarm of bees above Throat’s head.
“Very good,” Throat smiled beneath his hood. “You have done well. Was Cribbot at the farm house? Is he dead?”
“No, he wasn’t there,” the voice echoed through the black grains of dust. “But there is another friend of Cribbot’s named Tamrus Turanion who might know what happened to him.”
“If Cribbot is alive, he could be a threat to us,” Throat gagged, as if he had phlegm wrapped around his wind pipe.”
“When will you restore my people?” the voice asked.
“Soon,” Throat rasped.
“How soon?” the voice pushed.
Throat turned his back on the dust and moved across the chamber. He didn’t like being pressured. He would do things in his own time and way. The candles attached to the walls flickered as the dust followed him, casting a shadow across the grey stone walls.
“When I have the box in my hands, that is when I will set your people free,” Throat said, his voice rattling like a box of rusty nails.
“But you said I just had to keep the key safe and deliver Zach Black to the canyon,” the voice complained.
“So I have changed the terms of our agreement,” Throat spat back. “Pray that I don’t change them any further.”
“Why is the canyon so important?” the voice asked.
“It’s what lies beneath the canyon that matters,” Throat said.
“And what is that?” the voice asked.
“That is no concern of yours, my friend,” Throat chuckled. “Now steer the boy and the others towards the canyon. I will have a reception party waiting for you.”
The dust separated above his writhing hood and vanished like smoke on the air. Staring down at the Queen, his puckered lips twisted into a leer as his shrunken heart raced with excitement.
Fandel Black guided the Mortality Crow over the vast desert plains of Endra. From so high above, even he was staggered by how much of Endra had been eaten up by the vast desert. It looked as if the world below was being sucked dry. In every direction, the land was thirsty, arid, and cracked. He knew that Throat’s black magic was responsible, but Fandel secretly wondered how much of a kingdom there would be left to rule. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to reign over nothing more than a vast wasteland.
The Delf held onto him, her arms circling his waist. She didn’t need to hold on so tight, but she enjoyed the feeling of being so close to him. The Delf longed for that human touch again. As she leaned against him, she brushed her cheek against his, knocking the tops of the boils which festered on her face. The Delf couldn’t help but notice Fandel recoil away in disgust. He wouldn’t always be so revolted by her, the Delf thought. But how much longer would it take for her beauty to be restored? Even she was starting to become sickened by her ugliness, the stench of excrement that wafted out of her mouth every time she spoke, and her constant farting. She couldn’t even begin to describe that stench. She didn’t blame Fandel for being repulsed by her – but that would all change soon. Then, spying a line of rafter horses in the distance, she knew that she might not have to wait too long after all.
The Delf gripped Fandel’s shoulder and he flinched away, nearly toppling from the giant crow he sat astride.
“What do you want?” he hissed over the sound of the crow’s beating wings.
“Look,” she breathed in his ear. “I spy some peacekeepers. They must be heading for the canyon. They’re going to join the boy – Zachary Black.”
Fandel guided the crow downwards, its jet-black wings, folding backwards against its body.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Zach waited until sundown, and then woke Neanna. Faraday had spent the rest of the day rummaging downstairs in the basement – looking for anything that might suggest how he came about. It seemed obvious to Zach that Faraday was nothing more than a series of cogs, wheels, pistons, and springs that all worked together to give him some kind of life. But he knew that Faraday believed himself to be more than just a mechanical man. It was like Faraday was searching for his soul down in that basement beneath Der Cribbot’s farmhouse.
William finally fell asleep in the armchair across from Zach’s, where his eyes felt so heavy that he finally gave in and slept too. Bom woke them as night fell outside. Neanna smiled up at Zach as she pulled her cloak from over her head and let it drape about her shoulders.
“What time is it?” she asked him.
“Dunno,” Zach said back. “But it’s time to leave.”
“Did you find anything which might help us get across the Outer-Rim?” she asked, sitting up and combing her long, black hair with her fingers.
“We haven’t found a way to turn off the machines,” Zach told her, then continued to explain about what he and Faraday had discovered in the basement and the photograph of Der Cribbot and the Boulder man named Tamrus Turanion. Zach watched Neanna stretch and stand up, then an ear-piercing scream came from outside. William leapt from the armchair and Bom went to the window and pulled back the curtains.
“Get Faraday,” he barked.
But Faraday had heard the screaming too, and Zach could hear his feet thundering up the stairs from the basement. With his crossbows drawn, Zach dashed into the hallway to find the front door thrown wide open, and Faraday running up the garden path. Zach went to the open door and could see that one of the Butter-Flyer m
achines was being eaten by what looked like an alligator.
Zach raced down the front path, and drawing nearer, he could see that the alligator had a long yellowy-green body, but with as many legs as a centipede. Each leg was long and spindly, like the teeth of a giant comb. They flexed back and forth as the creature tussled with the Butter-Flyer.
The alligator – if that’s what it was, had jaws which appeared to be made of a rusty metal and snapped open and closed like a mantrap. The alligator clamped its jaws down on one of the Butter-Flyer machines, and it let out a high-pitched mewing sound as it screamed for its life. Its wings fluttered frantically up and down, and the alligator rolled it over onto its back as he fought to hold on.
“We’ve got to help it!” Neanna shouted, joining the others on the pathway.
Zach raised his crossbows and took aim, but Faraday was quicker than him to react. Faraday pulled the skin from his right hand like a glove, revealing his mechanical arm once again. With a flick of his wrist, the arm hummed and whizzed into life. A series of cutters and tools sprung from Faraday’s forearm and fingers. He raced across the front garden and leapt over the front gate. Before his feet had even landed in the ash, Faraday had lashed out at the alligator and sliced the creature in two.
The alligator’s tail snapped about in the air in jerky movements, its spindly legs twitching until it fell still. Zach glanced over at Neanna who was sitting in the ash and cradling the dying Butter-Flyer in her arms. William approached Neanna and knelt beside her. She gently stroked the machine until it fell still. The others were surprised by the affection she had shown it.
