by Robin Bootle
Vanderboom chuckled. ‘Certifiably, I assure you, and I’ve never felt better. But enough of this!’ The mirror of rain crashed to the floor, and Dēofol marched past Edward towards James.
At once Edward raised his hands and bore down on him, sending burning fire into the back of the creature’s neck and head. On and on like a flamethrower until the sickness burst from his stomach and into his mind. He collapsed to the terrace, spitting and choking.
Vanderboom – for that was how Edward now thought of him – laughed out loud. ‘Oh, you didn’t know? Your father made this body invincible to fire.’ With a thrust of his red, open palm, Edward was flung through the air and sent crashing with his back first into the stone pillar of an archway. Pain splintered down his spine. He wanted to curl up, but a force like ten unmovable hands was pinning back his waist and his chest.
‘Don’t insult me with your petty powers. You are no match for Dēofol, and certainly no match for someone who has been playing this game for a year.’ Vanderboom strode closer, his clawed hand squeezing Edwards’s neck from afar. ‘Neat little trick, this, isn’t it?’ He shook his hand up and down, forcing Edwards’s head to nod. ‘Ha! So much fun I have playing this game!’ Then with one swipe of his arm, Edward was flying through the air towards the cage. Heading straight for its bars and certain to be crushed. As he neared, the door swung open, Edward was tossed inside and the door locked behind him.
He rolled into a ball, winded and coughing.
‘Edward,’ whispered James from behind him somewhere. ‘Are you okay?’
James scuffled over and placed his arm on Edward’s side. To feel him there again, to feel his touch… Edward had hoped it might somehow have made the journey worthwhile just for that one moment. But it didn’t, filling him instead with regret for the past four years, and for the future they would never have. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he said. He glanced over his shoulder for a better view of his brother. James’s skin clung to the bones beneath as though vacuum packed, tight and unmoving. ‘What have they done to you?’
But before James could answer, his head flicked towards Vanderboom who was now stomping towards the cage. ‘Sorry to break up your little reunion, boys,’ he said, ‘but we have business to attend to.’
‘Don’t you touch him!’ James reached across to shield Edward’s body, wincing as the effort stretched the wound in his side.
‘There are two ways we can do this, Mr Founder. Your brother’s suffering can be slow and painful, as yours has been, or swift. Now tell me the encryption key!’
James forced a short snigger. ‘You think I remember it after all this time?’
‘This is not a joke!’ Vanderboom raised his hands in front of him, lifting Edward into the centre of the cage. His hands swept apart, yanking Edward’s arms to each side and ripping pain through his shoulders. Edward’s head rolled in agony as he tried to suppress his scream. He couldn’t let James see how much he was suffering.
‘Wait, please!’ James gripped the bars of the cage to haul himself to his feet.
‘No, James, don’t tell him!’
‘Shut up, you,’ barked Vanderboom. And at once Edward’s shoulders and hips were wrenched to breaking point. He screamed.
Gazing at his brother, James began to sob. ‘I’m sorry, Edward, I can’t watch this!’
‘Go on then!’ The fingers of Vanderboom’s fist flicked open, exploding pain through Edward’s body. Edward screamed again, long and hard, wishing Vanderboom would go too far and end his life right there and then.
‘I don’t know it, but I can tell you where to find it! The key is inside the portal itself!’ spluttered James. ‘Just say the word Campe!’
‘What do you mean, inside the portal? Explain yourself!’
‘Campe is the name of the dragon that guarded the gates of Tartarus. Once the portal is open, all you have to do is call upon her to unlock it! Now, please, let him go!’
‘Very well. Do not try my patience again.’
Edward dropped in a heap to the floor of the cage. He didn’t dare move his arms. His shoulders were raw and bruised and throbbing, as if any movement could dislocate them.
On the other side of the cage, Vanderboom reached into the pocket of his leather skirt and pulled out a three-inch, oblong, grey stone. It seemed to weigh heavily in his hand but it was plain as could be, its surface dull and without markings. He dropped it to the floor. As it settled, fiery orange worms gushed like lava across the floor. With military precision they took up their positions, filing past each other to form the outline of a sparkling orange door. When the door was complete, it swung open, spewing a swelling circle of black light into the space above.
In the centre of the circle, an image whirred into focus: a man before a computer monitor in a plain-looking room, the detail around him too blurred to make out. The man had gelled white hair combed to one side, thick-rimmed glasses and deathly white skin. And a flash of memory from the week before came to Edward. This was the man who had driven the van outside his home.
‘Do you have it, master?’ the man asked.
‘We shall see in just one moment, Marchosias.’ Vanderboom placed himself squarely in front of the portal. He let his sword fall to the terrace, lifting his hands to the sides as though performing a sacred ritual. ‘Campe!’ he bellowed, ‘Campe, show us the way!’
Nothing happened. Vanderboom’s smug look turned to a concerned frown and his arms lowered in doubt. But then the portal began to change. Its outer ring swirled around, faster and faster, before filling with fire, like the breath of a dragon. The ring slowed, returning to black, but now dotted about it was a series of burning letters and numbers. The encryption key. ‘Excellent, James! I knew we could count on you.’ Vanderboom read out each character. On the other side of the portal, Marchosias entered them into his computer.
Vanderboom watched Marchosias expectantly, and somehow his terrifying appearance seemed more like that of a schoolboy awaiting exam results, excited but still with a trace of doubt on his face. ‘Is it confirmed?’
‘It is, master. Dēofol will now be able to return with you to any body you choose.’
‘Excellent!’ Vanderboom grinned like a maniac. ‘But why aren’t you excited, Edward? Perhaps you can guess whose body we have in mind? Ha!’
Edward felt like he was going to be sick. Of course he could guess. James’s ruined body was of no interest to them. He tried to console himself, telling himself it would be better that way. At least then James could rest in peace.
Vanderboom nodded to Marchosias. ‘It is time, my friend.’
Marchosias stood up, angling the camera so they could all see as he walked away from his computer. Beyond was the real-life Vanderboom, suspended in blue SenseGel in his port.
Edward again recalled his conversation with Hound. The first thing Vanderboom had needed was the encryption key, allowing him to tamper with the code behind the Tartarus Portal, to remove the constraint that meant Vanderboom had to return to his own body and that Dēofol was unable to leave Extropia. But there was a second element – the means by which Vanderboom would be able to decide specifically to which body he and Dēofol would go. And so Edward watched, heart palpitating as he knew it was all about to be made clear.
A red-handled fire axe rested beside Vanderboom’s port. Marchosias calmly picked it up and swung it into the glass door of the port. It shattered, and the SenseGel oozed out onto the floor. He swung again, and again, then dropped the axe, and dragged Vanderboom’s unconscious body from the port.
‘Do you remember the ghost of cyberspace, Edward?’ asked Vanderboom. ‘Handy little experiment we ran with one of my engineers, before we had to put her down.’
‘You can’t be serious,’ whispered Edward, the insanity of what he was about to witness coming together in his mind.
‘I have never been more se
rious in my life.’ Again, Vanderboom watched Marchosias, this time as if the following moments might be the greatest accomplishment of his life. ‘Marchosias here is about to become the new owner of VirtuaCorp.’
Edward looked back through the portal, certain there was no way Marchosias could go through with it. But then with one swipe, the axe came crashing down, severing Vanderboom’s head from his body.
29
The Resurrection
On the other side of the portal, Marchosias sat back at his desk, no trace in his focused demeanour of the slaughter he had just carried out. He slammed a finger onto the keyboard and watched the camera. Then he began to vanish as the portal faded to black.
Edward’s body was shivering erratically, the core of his being violated by what he’d just witnessed. If there had ever been any doubt as to how serious Vanderboom was about going through with it all, it was gone. The crazed thing in front of him now existed only inside the game. The only way back to the real world for Vanderboom was to jump at the same time as someone living, and in doing so, his mind would become one with theirs.
‘I’m afraid of course, Edward, that you won’t be coming with us.’ Vanderboom’s eyes were wide and a smile of pure enjoyment was spread across his lips. ‘Just as Dēofol and I became one, so shall you join us, but merely for a passing moment. Once inside the portal, I will render you unconscious, leaving your mind unable to travel, trapped in the Great Black forever like your father.’
Edward shuddered and looked away. In doing so, his eyes caught sight of a flicker of movement in Elizabeth’s fingers as she lay on the terrace. Just as quickly she was still again, and he buried his hope in the knowledge that it could only have been a twitch from her unconscious mind.
Vanderboom flicked his wrist, flinging Edward like a soft toy through the cage door and across the terrace. His neck slammed into Vanderboom’s bruising crimson fingers. He choked, glancing towards James for one last sight of his brother’s face in an attempt to convince himself the journey had at least been worth something.
James was watching him, his face screwed up in despair as the rain streamed down his cheeks. ‘Let go of him, you monster!’ he cried.
‘Come now, Master James.’ Vanderboom began marching towards the portal with Edward held high in his hand. ‘Is it really so monstrous to want to live forever?’
‘Forever?’ Edward croaked. As obvious as it seemed now, he couldn’t believe it hadn’t occurred to him before. ‘I’m just the first, aren’t I?’
‘But of course! Did you really believe I would be content to live out my days in your pathetic little body? You have no status in the world. No, VirtuaWorld and countless other worlds will provide such a wide, impressive selection. No one will even notice as, when one body has expended its usefulness, we harvest the next.’
And as the swirling black of the portal drew closer, Edward wished his life, all of their lives, had ended that night of the accident. Now nothing would stop Vanderboom. What kind of people had already visited VirtuaWorld? Lawyers? Policemen? How long would it be until army generals, or government officials followed? Vanderboom would have the pick of the crop.
‘Don’t be so downcast, Edward,’ said Vanderboom as they reached the portal. ‘You’re about to make history!’ Vanderboom raised him into the air like a victor savouring his trophy.
The movement gave Edward a clear view of the platform. He glanced towards Elizabeth, praying for another sign of life. What he saw sent his heart racing.
Elizabeth was no longer there.
She was on her feet, only twenty feet from Vanderboom. She seemed dazed as she dragged herself towards them. In her hands was Dēofol’s five-foot black sword, its weight alone enough to slow her further. Even as he watched, he knew the chances of her making it to Vanderboom without giving herself away were slim. The sword’s tip was hovering barely an inch above the stone terrace. One clang and Vanderboom would be alerted to her presence.
‘Listen to me,’ he pleaded. ‘You won’t get away with this! Hound told me what you were planning. I told Oriel that if I come back alone, without James, then you would’ve won, that you’d have taken my body and they should arrest me on sight. Your only chance of life is to live here, with Dēofol. Together you can rule over the people of Extropia. No one will ever bother you!’
Vanderboom laughed, seemingly unaware that Elizabeth was almost within striking distance. ‘Nice try, Edward. Even if Oriel knows exactly what we’re up to, he won’t be able to prove anything! He’d be ridiculed at the mere mention of someone inhabiting another person’s body, just like he ridiculed Hound!’
Below, Edward could see Vanderboom’s right leg and his own foot were already inside the black of the portal. It was as if they were inside the Great Black itself, their flesh tugged in every direction. And here with Vanderboom’s red skin so close to Edward’s, they seemed in parts to overlap.
Vanderboom smiled, his lips drawn back to reveal his fangs. His right hand curled into a fist. ‘Are you ready, then?’ he asked. ‘Try to focus, try to enjoy the moment as I enter your mind. There really is nothing quite like it!’
Just then Edward saw Elizabeth’s sword drawn to one side beyond Vanderboom’s back. He exhaled slowly, at last able to take control of his frenzied mind. ‘I will enjoy it,’ he said, defiant as he glared into Vanderboom’s eyes, ‘more than you can possibly imagine.’
Vanderboom frowned, creating the last delay that Elizabeth needed.
The sword struck home. Vanderboom’s entire body flinched. His face twisted in shock. His gaze turned, his eyes widening as he saw his own sword digging into his side.
‘You bastard! You’re going to pay for what you’ve done!’ Elizabeth withdrew the sword, struggling as she readied to take another swipe.
But her lumbering attack was too easy to dodge. Vanderboom stepped to one side, quickly and in control as if he was barely injured. Already, Edward’s hope abandoned him as he noticed Vanderboom was hardly bleeding. His skin was too thick, and Elizabeth’s hack too weak.
Vanderboom threw Edward to the floor. His fist smashed Elizabeth across the jaw. She flew towards the platform’s edge. The sword went with her, skidding across the wet surface. It came to rest only a few inches away. But it was as if she couldn’t see it. She seemed to have lost sense of where she was, her hand cupping the back of her head. Vanderboom strode towards her. He stopped two yards away, roaring like a lion warning off an intruder.
‘Elizabeth! The sword!’ Edward cried, willing her to come to her senses and grab the blade that lay inches from her supporting hand. ‘Grab the sword!’ He screamed again, knowing there was no way he could scramble past Vanderboom to get to her. ‘Elizabeth, please!’
At last she seemed to come to. Her eyes snapped into focus, flicking to Vanderboom, then to the sword. Her hand shot towards it, her fingers curling around its handle.
With a twist of his wrist, Vanderboom threw the sword back, dragging Elizabeth with it. Only a few inches though, as if he was playing with her. She scrambled to get to her feet. He thrust his hand forward again, sending one of her legs backwards until it was dangling freely over the edge of the platform. She let go of the sword as she clawed to dig her fingers into the cracks in the stone floor. The foot of her other leg flapped to find a hold, her whole body now balancing treacherously on the edge of the platform.
Edward’s hands grabbed at the air as though somehow he might be able to save her. But she was five yards away, five yards too far. And so he watched, helpless and desperate.
Vanderboom flicked a finger and Elizabeth’s second leg was blasted over the side. For a moment she seemed to stare back, as what was happening sunk in. Her face screwed up in fear as her fingers clawed in vain at the slippery stone terrace.
And then, with a final thrust from Vanderboom’s hand, she was gone.
‘No!’ Edward
cried in horror, his head exploding with the incomprehensibility of Elizabeth’s death. Before it had the chance to settle in, the sickness took hold, savagely wrenching at every part of his body. His elbows gave way, sending his head crashing back into the stone terrace. His body curled up with pain and exhaustion, like a man kicked and stamped on by a horde of men.
‘All getting too much for you, is it, Edward?’ Vanderboom’s red feet came to rest inches from his head. ‘Try not to cry too much, I’d prefer it if my first steps in my new body weren’t tainted with your whimpering, bloodshot eyes!’
Edward felt his body lifted slowly into the air. His throat tightened as if crushed by the fingers of a giant, and the blood began to build in his head. But even as Vanderboom carried him back to the portal and the light of the world dimmed through his eyelids, he sensed he still had hold of her. He tried to picture her body rising up against the side of the tower, wondering how far she had fallen, and how much further he had to lift her.
Keep going until it kills you, he told himself, as all his muscles went into spasm, and his whole body began to shake in Vanderboom’s arms.
‘Wait,’ Vanderboom seemed suddenly alarmed. ‘You’re not crying… you’re sick!’
Edward forced open his eyes. Below, he could see he was already partly inside the portal, the gateway to his death. But behind Vanderboom, already level with the stone terrace and her eyes grim with determination, was Elizabeth. He could scarcely believe it as he let her feet down onto the platform, at the same time guiding the handle of Dēofol’s sword towards her open palm.
Something clicked in Vanderboom’s eyes. He began to swivel.
All the anger and loneliness of the past year channelled from Edward’s belly into his chest, exploding from his lungs in one sharp roar. Vanderboom was thrown back through the air, dropping Edward to the cold terrace floor.
Vanderboom landed on two feet, stunned. A trickle of liquid appeared in the corner of his lips. He lifted a finger, wiped his lip and brought his fingertip before his eyes. His eyes widened at the sight of his own blood. His gaze dropped to his own chest, and the wide black sword that protruded from his solar plexus.
