Kymiera

by Steve Turnbull

  Turning back to the space behind the cage, Dog cupped his hands round his eyes to block out extraneous light and crouched down to study the ground. His eyes adjusted, the shades of grey gained more contrast and there was a smudged trail of soft damp organic tissue. He moved along it, staying crouched down, and found a piece of skull with the other half of the brick embedded in it; and a damp, bloodied hat with tracery of metal running through it.

  He picked it up. His fingers immediately sticky with what was coating it.

  Would she really wear this?

  Sirens? Oh hell.

  He hurried back and held up the hat. She held out her hand again. The moment it touched her skin she snatched her fingers back and it fell to the ground.

  She looked at Dog. Dog shrugged. She pursed her lips and looked down at the darker patch in the shadow.

  ‘Police coming,’ he said and looked past her. The red and blue lights were visible reflecting on snow. Mitchell was dragging someone out. His Purity pal no doubt. At least he wasn’t paying attention to what was happening in the cage.

  ‘What?’ she said.

  ‘Police.’

  ‘I can’t hear you.’

  ‘I know.’

  She shoved her arm through the bars. ‘Spell it on my skin.’

  He was impressed. He got as far as the ‘L’.

  ‘Police coming?’

  He nodded. She sighed and reached down for the hat. She hesitated for a moment and then pulled it on to her head. ‘The blood of my enemies,’ she said and gave something that might have been a smile.

  She stepped over the bloodied half-brick and tried to unlock the gate. The padlock was on the outside. ‘I should be able to do this,’ she said, apparently to herself as she tried to work the key into the lock and turn it. ‘If I could hear, it would be easy.’

  Which made no sense to Dog. She gave up in frustration and thrust the keys at him. ‘Please.’

  He made short work of it and she stepped out. ‘Thanks. Chloe,’ she said touching her fingers to her upper chest.

  ‘Dog,’ he said.

  ‘Spell it.’ She held out her arm.

  D-O-G. Then he stopped. She looked at him with a frown. ‘Dog?’ He nodded. ‘Just ‘Dog’?’ He grinned and nodded again.

  She shrugged. ‘Okay.’

  Blue and red emergency lights played over the inside of the building. The hairs on the back of Dog’s neck bristled, he turned sharply. Mitchell was standing where the door used to be. He was facing them; a flashlight cut through the murk and the cage bars, he and Chloe highlighted in its beam.

  He grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her further behind the cages. The fire was spreading that way as well, but they were out of sight of Mitchell. She was incredibly light, he felt like she could be used as a balloon.

  ‘I’ve got nothing to wear,’ she said, but she wasn’t looking at him, it was more for her own benefit. In the light of the fire Dog looked at her extra limbs. The skin was as dark and smooth as the rest of her. It almost looked like fingers were forming at the end but they were unnaturally long.

  The ceiling above them creaked ominously. Flames were licking across the beams. They were trapped by the police and the Purity, but staying meant being roasted alive. The air grew hot and smoky while the noise of crackling and snapping timber was drowning out everything else.

  ‘How the hell are we getting out of here?’ she said.

  Bits of the ceiling were falling now and the flames were a wide sheet covering the whole of it. It might come down at any moment.

  ‘Ow! Shit!’ she shouted as a floating ember burnt into one of the extra limbs. It twitched convulsively. Dog was only in better shape because he had clothes. He had a coat. Idiot. He pulled it off and offered it to her. She didn’t put it on but threw it over her head. ‘Thanks.’

  Dog stared round. Where could they go? The cage would provide some protection if the whole ceiling went, but the chances were they would simply cook—and if not that, they would be caught.

  The girl grabbed his arm and pointed up the wall. About twenty feet up was what might be a window. Then he stared at the climb. It was not that the wall was smooth, it was exposed brickwork, but there was no way he could get any purchase.

  He shook his head. ‘I can’t do that.’ He coughed. The air was noticeably hotter and the smoke thicker. It would better to be shot by Mitchell than burned alive. Then again he didn’t want to give the bastard the satisfaction of having won their game.

  She faced him and grabbed his wrist. He looked into her eyes, black in this light.

  ‘Have you got a knife?’

  He shook his head.

  ‘Scissors?’

  He gave a wry smile and shook again.

  She turned away from him, crouched slightly and jumped. She made it all the way to the window in one, hooked her fingers into the gap and hung with a foot against the wall. She pointed at the cage opposite.

  He turned and stared at the bars for a moment. He could climb those. He sprung at them and was able to get a firm grip with his feet pressing inward. He moved swiftly up. They were already conducting heat from the fire and were hot, but not painfully.

  What was worse, as he climbed, was the heat in the air and the smoke.

  The ceiling cracked again. Bits of tiling and burning wood tumbled down around him. He coughed. Now he could see the main area again there were men pulling bodies out of the rubble, although they kept looking up. The entire ceiling was aflame.

  His hair was singeing.

  He looked back. Chloe had pulled herself into the window space. It wasn’t very big and she seemed to occupy all of it. But she gestured at him before glancing at the ceiling and coughing. He saw an ember land in her long black hair.

  From the far end of the room, wood squealed and roared as the ceiling gave way finally. A wave of collapsing joists and roof tiles thundered towards him. Balancing on the upper bars, he leapt across the intervening gap to where she reached to him.

  She caught his hand and pulled. She must have her other hand firmly anchored, he thought as he hurtled into the small window space. Heat from the collapsing roof went across his back as the window frame, boarded over, came at him at speed. He raised his arm.

  The frame gave way as he struck it and he tumbled into freezing air. He rolled in the air and saw the girl. Her extra limbs made a V behind her as she leapt out. He dropped away from her and tried to turn in the air. But he wasn’t a cat.

  He landed in deep snow, on his side, with a jolting thud that knocked the wind from him; his head cushioned by his outstretched arm.

  Chapter 2

  Chloe

  She landed in the snow on her feet. Falling forward, she caught herself on her outstretched arms.

  The boy had landed further behind and faster than her. She jumped up and ran to him. She cursed her lack of hearing. It wasn’t dark—the flames from the building lit up the whole area—but if her hearing had been working she would have been able to see everything more clearly.

  He was still moving but buried in the snow. She had barely gone a couple of inches into it when she landed and left barely a mark as she ran across the surface

  If the police had been focused on the ceiling and getting the people out they might not have seen the two of them escape, but she couldn’t count on it. They might come this way if only to investigate whether any others had got out. And right now the two of them were very visible.

  They needed to move. And she needed to find some more clothes; there was no way she could survive the night wearing only this padded body hugger. Also get the stupid white make-up off her skin.

  Dog? What kind of name was that?

  He was conscious and seemed unharmed. She kept glancing towards the burning ruin. She had not realised how much she had already come to rely on her enhanced hearing. Its lack made her uncertain and scared.

  ‘Come on!’ she said. ‘We need to move.’ It was weird not being able to hear herself speak, the result was
that she tried to say it louder and she had to consciously keep her voice down.

  He climbed to his feet, brushed the snow off and grinned at her. His lips moved.

  She shook her head. ‘Let’s go.’ Without her senses any direction was as good as any other. As long as they were moving away from the police and the Purity she was happy. She set off at a run with her toes cutting holes in the surface of the snow as she pushed off from it.

  There was a stand of trees down a slight incline from the burning building and she thought that would help them stay in cover. It took her less than thirty seconds to cover the distance. Once there she stopped and turned. She wasn’t even out of breath, and the running had managed to keep the warmth in her limbs. The extras were a bit chilly though. She tried to get them to lie flat but they insisted on folding in the middle. Whatever.

  The boy had only covered half the distance. He was moving at a reasonable speed but leaving a trail a blind person could follow. She couldn’t see hers at all, except the small indentations close-up. She stared up at the blazing building. She couldn’t see anyone yet. They still had a chance but they needed to hide his trail.

  Then she heard something. Her ears throbbed as if she was hearing her blood pumping through her veins and arteries. It hurt like a pounding headache.

  Snow started to fall again. She cursed the sky. Was she going to escape an inferno just to freeze?

  The boy came up beside her. He said something and grinned again. He did that a lot, as if everything was a joke to him. Just her luck to get stuck with someone who couldn’t see when something was serious. They had nearly died in there, and would have if she hadn’t got them out.

  What was he good for? The throbbing became more intense. She cried out and fell to her knees with her hands pressing against her ears. She felt his finger touch her lips, and slapped it away in a sudden movement. She realised belatedly he meant her to be quiet. How could she be quiet if she had no way of knowing if she was making a noise?

  Her head felt as if it was going to explode. It was agony but she clamped down on her vocal cords and kept her mouth tightly shut to be sure she made no sound.

  Dog’s arms went round her and lifted her. He was moving but she could not open her eyes. Right now, she didn’t even care if he was carrying her back to the police. He picked up speed into a trot.

  She wasn’t sure but she might have passed out. Her head no longer throbbed but there was a background ache. Every part of her felt numb with cold. They were no longer in the trees but moving along some sort of metal framework. It might have been a bridge but the central roadway was missing and below was a gushing torrent of water. He was inching along the girders.

  Then she realised she didn’t have her eyes open. She sighed with relief. Despite the terrible cold, her body felt it was time to tell her that it was hungry again and her stomach rumbled.

  ‘Shut up.’

  ‘I didn’t say anything.’

  ‘Not you.’

  ‘You can hear.’

  ‘I’m cold.’

  ‘Yeah, thought you might be.’

  ‘Are we near warmth?’

  ‘Do you want the truth?’

  ‘Always.’

  ‘I don’t know, but probably not.’

  She sighed. At least the part of her that was pressed against him was warm, and he had wrapped his coat around her. It helped.

  ‘Where are we?’

  ‘Still want the truth?’

  ‘Do you have a problem with the word ‘always’?’

  ‘I don’t know where we are. Bob Moses’ place was in Flixton. We’ve been heading south and we just crossed a river—probably the Irwell—but I don’t know this area at all.’

  ‘Just find somewhere we can get warm.’

  Somewhere an owl screeched.

  Chapter 3

  Mitchell

  The sky had brightened into dawn and the clouds had cleared, leaving the world dazzling bright. Mitchell glared at it from the cold interior of the car with his fingers wrapped around a coffee mug that was going cold.

  He wiped the windscreen clear of condensation again and looked out at the smoking ruins of the warehouse. The whole thing was a bloody mess. Again. All he’d wanted to do was talk to Moses. Maybe scare him, and let Graham rough him up a bit. The Purity Officer clearly took pleasure in violence.

  The fire service tenders hadn’t even bothered turning out after their advance team had declared the fire safe to burn out on its own. They couldn’t afford the time to come out to something that wasn’t going to be a risk to anyone else.

  They’d helped getting the punters, and the remainder of Moses’ crew, out of the building. Then they’d left after pointing out that it would be dangerous to re-enter the building even after it had burned out. As if anyone needed telling.

  The metal framework of the cages stood black against the snow and the sky. God, he was tired. He’d managed to grab a couple of hours sitting in the car, but the cold made any sleep valueless, it sapped all his energy.

  Someone shouted his name. One of the uniforms appeared from around the side of the building and waved.

  He sighed, drank down the rest of the coffee and climbed out on to the crisp snow. He glanced over at where one forensics guy was examining the body they’d pulled out—thinking he might be alive and just overcome by smoke. The fact he’d been shot through the chest and the head told another story, while the state of his shoes suggested he’d been dragged into the building perhaps in the hopes he’d be consumed by flames.

  Mitchell didn’t remember seeing it happen, but then he had been concussed and deafened by the explosion, like everyone else.

  He trudged up towards the building.

  Then there was Dog and Chloe Dark.

  He didn’t believe Dog had been killed when the ceiling collapsed, that boy had nine lives if not more, and a knack for getting out of every trap Mitchell had ever set for him. Besides, he didn’t want to be cheated out of being the one to bring him in.

  He hadn’t recognised the girl at first. She was even thinner than he remembered, and about to get ripped to pieces by that freak. Mitchell hadn’t been about to let that happen.

  ‘Where you going?’

  Mitchell paused and turned as the Purity Officer caught up.

  ‘Uniform’s found something.’

  ‘You didn’t shoot the Dark girl.’

  ‘You may recall there was an explosion.’

  ‘You fired three times and each one was into the other freak.’

  ‘Crabfish.’

  ‘I don’t care what they called it.’

  ‘How many full-blown freaks have you taken down, Special Agent Graham?’

  ‘What’s that got to do with it?’

  ‘They take a lot of killing.’

  ‘It was in a cage.’

  ‘In which case killing either of them at that moment would have been pointless, they couldn’t escape.’

  They reached the officer waiting at the brow of the hill. Beyond it the land descended again with fields and trees on one side and another empty residential estate on the right. It stopped at a railway cutting. Beyond that there was only white.

  ‘Besides, I still want to interview her, and there’s a chance she could still be usable as bait.’

  ‘You saw her,’ said Graham through gritted teeth. ‘What she’s become.’

  Yes, he’d seen her, of course he had. He’d seen someone who was developing far faster than any freak in all his years of experience. And that was the real reason he hadn’t shot her. The strange DNA of Ellen Lomax’s lodger, the curious kidnapping of girls, Chloe’s rapid development, and maybe Dog? The criminal who displayed freakish behaviour but had lasted far too long to be S.I.D.

  The uniformed officer led the way behind the building to where the otherwise pristine snow had been disturbed. There had been more snow after the ceiling collapsed, but at least one person had been here and there were dragging footsteps leading down towards the woo
ds.

  Maybe either Chloe or Dog had escaped?

  By the time they got a dog-handler out here to trace the tracks they would be long gone. It wasn’t worth the effort.

  ‘There’s nothing here,’ said Graham.

  Mitchell continued to stare at the snow. There were an additional set of marks, softened by the snowfall, but they could have been footsteps. Except they didn’t go deep into the snow and they were very wide apart. He followed them back towards the building. They stopped at another place where the rounded curves were disturbed. Perhaps where someone very light had landed.

  He nodded to himself. They had both got out. Good.

  Following Graham back to the car park Mitchell made his way to the body that had been shot. His train of thought was interrupted by the arrival of a car bearing the fire investigation team logo. At least they’d be able to get some idea of how the fire had started. And what the explosion had been—he’d already seen the scattering of body parts in the main office. He had to assume some of them belonged to Bob Moses. Someone was trying very hard to cover their tracks. Perhaps the gunshot victim was another one.

  ‘Any initial thoughts?’ Graham asked.

  ‘He died from the gunshot wounds.’

  ‘Obviously.’

  Mitchell said nothing, but exchanged a glance with the forensic scientist. It was certainly not a given.

  ‘He has no riffy.’

  ‘Damaged by the head shot?’ said Mitchell.

  ‘No, there’s no operation scar, which there would be given his apparent age. He’s never had one.’

  The forensic scientist grabbed the man’s hand and held it up. ‘And smell that.’

  Mitchell gave Graham the opportunity to do so, but he remained resolutely erect. Mitchell bent down and sniffed the fingers. There was the smell of burnt wood which must have impregnated everything from the fire, but there was also something else, something volatile like petrol or paraffin.

  ‘Fire starter?’

  ‘Definitely some sort of accelerant,’ he said and dropped the arm. ‘Might be nothing.’