Bad Timing

by Rebecca Levene

  "I'm just going to take a little side trip," she said to Johnny as he drew level. "I'll catch up with you at the bottom of the mountain."

  Johnny frowned at her. "What are you up to, Red?"

  She smiled, careful to keep her teeth veiled behind her lips. "I've got some unfinished business, nothing you need to worry about."

  She could see that Johnny didn't trust her, but he was tired, and the mission was over, and she sensed that he had little energy left for a fight. "Food, Red?" he asked.

  Her smile widened. "Just desserts," she replied, then sprinted into the surrounding woodland before Johnny could ask any more awkward questions.

  It didn't take Red long to find her target. She was lying in a pool of her own blood, about ten metres from the mouth of a small tunnel. A trail of blood led back from her to the wreckage of a small shuttle craft. It looked like she had crawled from the craft to the spot, nestled in the mossy roots of a small birch tree, where she now lay. There was a smear of white powder round her mouth, and as Red watched, her tongue flicked out and tried to lick the remains from her lips. She had the bright, carefree features of a young woman who had yet to see much of life. It didn't look, now, like she ever would. Her hair had escaped from its pigtails and was plastered to her face with the sweat of pain and fear. Her arms were clasped around her stomach, desperately trying to stop any more blood from leaking out of the ragged wound in her chest. It was a futile endeavour.

  Red walked up and stood right over her, positioning herself so that she was right in her line of vision. "Hi," she said. "Remember me?"

  The young girl didn't reply, but a flicker of something that might have been recognition briefly replaced the agony in her eyes.

  Red knelt down beside her. "It's okay, I know you can't talk. That chronite you've taken may have slowed things down, but there are some things you just can't stop. You're probably too far gone to understand me, either, but what the hell... I just want you to know that Johnny's fine. We're heading off-planet now, me and him. He hasn't asked after you. I guess he doesn't really care. But if he does, I'll be sure to tell him that you and I had a nice meal together."

  Then she lowered her head to the girl's neck and began to drink.

  A little further down the mountain, Middenface approached Johnny. His friend nodded at him, but remained silent. Perhaps he didn't want to wake the young child who was sleeping in his arms.

  Ahead of them, Woman Man was leading Hillary along, jerking on her ropes occasionally so that the soon-to-be-former Galactic Commission President would stumble and almost fall. Woman Man was in her female form, as she'd been ever since the transition through the time distortion had left her face a mass of red scar tissue. Perhaps the time field had also affected her mutation, stopped the endless see-sawing between male and female which she'd previously been unable to control.

  Middenface kind of hoped so. It seemed like that might make the other mutant's life easier. Not that walking around with a face like a plate of spaghetti bolognaise was going to be fun, but as Middenface could attest, looks weren't everything. Woman Man had told him that she planned to start a new Team X as soon as she got back to the Doghouse. She would lead it. She felt, she'd told him, that she owed it to the memory of her fallen comrades. Middenface's first instinct had been to laugh. But afterwards, when he'd thought about it, he'd realised that it might not be such a bad idea after all. Woman Man wasn't the same woman - or man - as she'd been when she set off. She'd learnt from the trip, and from being around Johnny. He wouldn't even mind having her cover his back in a fight.

  She'd also told him that she planned to adopt Enigma, raise her as her daughter. Middenface hoped she'd bring the spoilt brat up better than her original parents must have.

  Johnny, Middenface now saw, was lost in thought. Probably thinking about everyone they'd lost. He was always one to look on the dark side, Johnny, to beat himself up about what he hadn't done rather than pat himself on the back for what he had. Middenface's own expression darkened, as he thought about Rose, and how she'd died. But the person responsible was a captive, and would pay the full price for his crimes. They'd done what they could, no point brooding now - best just to concentrate on the next mission. Only... there was one thing he still wanted to know.

  "Johnny," he said.

  His partner turned to look at him, raising one dark eyebrow questioningly.

  "I've been wonderin', about that time bomb..."

  Johnny's white eyes bored into him, but he remained expressionless. "What about it?"

  "Well," Middenface said. "I ken how it didnae work noo, but at the time I thought we'd really been got by the sporrans. How did yer ken it wasnae gonna blow us all tae kingdom come?"

  Johnny shrugged. "I didn't." Then his face split into one of his rare, wide smiles. "But hell, who wants to live forever?"

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Rebecca Levene was born in Essex, raised in Suffolk and now lives in London. She has worked variously as a researcher for a Labour Shadow Cabinet member, an editor of media tie-in fiction, and the story editor of television soap opera Emmerdale. She is currently a freelance writer, with credits on shows such as Family Affairs and Is Harry on the Boat? Together with her writing partner Gareth Roberts she has one sitcom in development with the BBC and another with Tiger Aspect.