Web of Fire Bind-up

by Steve Voake

  The man suddenly turned to him. ‘What are you looking at?’ he grunted.

  Sam stared down at his bare feet dangling over the edge of the seat and tried not to breathe in. ‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘I wasn’t looking at anything.’

  Which wasn’t strictly true, but ‘Your big fat gut’ seemed unwise in the circumstances.

  The man nudged him roughly with his elbow. ‘Just don’t try nothing.’

  Sam made no reply. He raised his eyes slightly, enough to see between the front seats and through the windscreen. It was raining heavily, the wipers clunking backwards and forwards over great splurges of water that splattered against the glass as if thrown from a bucket.

  The driver, a thin, weasel-faced man who sniffed constantly as he steered them through the dark city streets, removed a white, hairless hand from the wheel in order to wipe his nose on the back of his sleeve.

  ‘You boys mind if I turn the radio on?’

  One of the guards grunted and there was a brief crackle and whine from the speakers as he twisted the tuning knob through the frequencies before finding the station he was after.

  ‘… and the Central Office for Economy and Administration released encouraging figures today showing that industrial production has more than doubled over the past year. A spokesman from the department said that this was largely due to the success of the relocation centres and corrective labour camps. The increased rate of preventive arrests has led to the rapid removal and rehabilitation of enemies of the state, who are now able to spend their lives usefully working for the good of the Empire.’

  ‘And we all know what that means,’ sneered the driver. ‘Serves ’em right, too. Parasites, the lot of them. But then, you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you, kid?’

  Sam looked down at his feet and said nothing.

  ‘Yeah, well. You’ll find your tongue soon enough where you’re going.’

  ‘… and the weather forecast for tonight and tomorrow: a heavy band of rain will sweep in from the east overnight…’

  The driver switched the radio off and Sam saw the man’s hard little eyes studying him in the mirror.

  He looked away and watched the rain-soaked streets slide past into the night. The car sped on through four lanes of traffic and the bright, gaudy windows of shops, offices and restaurants were blurred and reflected in the dark, shining pavements. A queue of people waited beneath a blue neon sign which read: ‘NOW SHOWING: HEROES OF VERMIA’; next door an orange kiosk advertised ‘HOT MEAT SANDWICHES FOR SALE’. As they accelerated into the mouth of a brightly lit tunnel, Sam saw several figures in black uniforms drag a man from his car and bundle him into the back of a windowless van, which drove off with its siren blaring and a green light flashing on its roof.

  ‘Scum,’ said the driver, adjusting his rear-view mirror for a better look.

  He waited until the van had overtaken them and then, to a chorus of angry horns, he swung the car left across three lanes of traffic and Sam heard the hiss of its tyres over wet tarmac. He peered out at the lighted buildings stretching up into the blackness and saw an arrowed sign above the road which read: ‘VERMIA CENTRAL OFFICE: PERMIT HOLDERS ONLY’. The car slowed to a halt at a thin metal barrier and the driver wound down his window. The guard in the security booth peered at Sam through the hatchway for a few moments and then turned his attention back to the driver.

  ‘Clearance documents?’

  The driver reached into his top pocket and handed the security guard a crumpled piece of paper. The guard smoothed it out on his desk, nodded and spoke a few words into a microphone. Then he handed the piece of paper back through the window and said, ‘OK. They’re expecting you. You’re to drop him off in Zone One.’

  ‘Zone One?’ The driver looked worried. ‘You sure?’

  At that moment there was the roar and clatter of heavy machinery and Sam turned to see two armoured vehicles approaching. One pulled up behind the car and the other flanked them on the left-hand side. Soldiers wearing steel helmets and goggles stared at them from the top of the vehicles and the turret guns swung around to point at the car.

  ‘Like I said – Zone One.’ The security guard nodded in Sam’s direction. ‘Seems as if you’re carrying a pretty important package.’

  Sam was dragged from the car towards a tall cylindrical structure that soared high above them into the night sky. He looked up in awe at the sheer size and scale of the building. It shone metallic green in the light of the powerful arc lamps and Sam recognised it at once as the tower he had seen from the window of his cell.

  A shiny metal door slid open and Sam felt his handcuffs being unlocked. Then he was shoved inside with such force that he fell to the floor. He heard the men laugh but the sound was cut off abruptly as the doors shut behind him again and he was on his own once more.

  ‘Hey, blubber boys!’ he shouted back defiantly. ‘Get some exercise!’ But inside his stomach churned at the thought of what horrors might lie ahead of him.

  The room hummed. There was an electrical-sounding whine and then he felt his stomach drop; he had the sensation of moving upwards at great speed and guessed he must be in a lift. He stood up, closed his eyes and shook his head to try to clear it. Droplets of water scattered around him like rain.

  When he opened his eyes again, he found himself staring into the pale, drawn face of an unkempt, dark-haired boy who looked as though he hadn’t had a decent meal in months. As the boy stared back at him with frightened brown eyes, Sam remembered something Skipper had said to him back at the prison about the Olumnus changing the way he looked. It suddenly dawned on him that he was looking at his own reflection.

  Or rather, the reflection of someone he had never seen before in his life.

  When the lift doors slid back, Sam found himself in a stark, circular room constructed mainly of glass and steel. The floor was green marble, shot through with patterns of white that twisted like currents in a deep ocean. Walls of lightly smoked glass curved round on all sides and through them Sam could just make out the dark shapes of more storm clouds stacking up in the distance. He decided that he must now be at the very top of the tower.

  In the centre of the room a group of men was gathered around a steel table, its polished surface reflecting the harsh glare of a disc-shaped light hanging from the ceiling above.

  Sam recognised Hekken standing to one side of the table, but found himself unable to take his eyes off the man seated behind it.

  He was wearing a long coat of dark-green leather and his skin was blanched white, stretched taut and paper-thin across the sharp, angular bones of his face. But the face itself was twisted and disfigured, like a wax model that has melted in the heat of the sun. Eyes filled with hate glowed like hot coals, burning their way deep into Sam’s mind.

  Sam bravely tried to stare him out, but it was impossible and he quickly dropped his gaze.

  ‘Is this him?’ the man said quietly, continuing to stare in Sam’s direction.

  ‘We think it could be,’ said Hekken uncertainly. He sounded surprisingly nervous.

  Almost imperceptibly, the blue lips tightened. ‘What do you mean, it could be? Is it or isn’t it?’

  Hekken continued to look distinctly uneasy. ‘There was a problem with the transfer. The receiving party had to cover a wider target area than expected and the boy was lost during the crossover from Earth to Aurobon. But we do know for a fact that he must have landed somewhere in the marshes. And we found this one on the train, wearing the target’s clothing.’

  Hekken cleared his throat nervously before continuing. ‘Problem is, he doesn’t fit the description. We’ve carried out a DNA analysis and agents are trying to retrieve samples from the suspect’s bedroom. Hopefully we can get a match that way. But it’s proving difficult to get access: Vahlzian forces have locked the whole area down tight.’

  The man’s white face twitched with barely suppressed anger. But when he spoke again, his tone seemed calm, almost friendly. ‘I expect you’re wondering
who I am,’ he said, turning to Sam. ‘Please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Odoursin and I’ve been looking forward to meeting you, Sam. Looking forward to it very much.’

  He paused as if half expecting some sort of reaction, but Sam remained silent.

  ‘I really must apologise,’ he went on, pushing back his chair and standing up for the first time since Sam had entered the room. ‘You must be very confused and frightened by all of this.’

  He was even taller than he had first appeared, towering over Sam as he approached. The unexpected sympathy and friendliness of his approach took Sam by surprise and he felt his bottom lip begin to quiver. But he bit into it and remained silent, listening to the low rumble of the gathering storm outside.

  ‘I’m afraid there are some people who have made some serious mistakes,’ he continued. ‘For this, of course, they will be severely punished.’

  He looked at Hekken, who stared hard at the floor.

  ‘Obviously, however, my biggest concern at the moment is to ensure that you are returned as quickly as possible to your family. Would you like me to arrange that, Sam?’

  Sam squeezed his eyes tightly shut and fought the impulse to cry out and beg to be taken home. But remembering Skipper’s advice about not revealing his identity, he said nothing.

  Slowly, Odoursin moved towards him. ‘Sam,’ he said. ‘Sam, what’s the matter? Don’t you want to go home? I know your mother and father are very worried about you.’

  It was the hardest thing that Sam had ever had to do.

  He took a deep breath and looked straight into Odoursin’s eyes. ‘I think you’ve got me mixed up with someone else,’ he said. ‘My name isn’t Sam. And I haven’t got a mother and father. I’m an orphan.’

  At that moment he saw Odoursin’s expression change, saw beyond the fire in his eyes to a place of terrible, desolate emptiness, and knew for certain that Skipper had been right.

  ‘There was a storm blowing across the marshes,’ Sam went on, desperately trying to remember the story Skipper had told him, ‘and I was looking for some shelter. Suddenly, someone attacked me from behind and knocked me out. When I came round again they had stolen my clothes. They left their own clothes behind and it was so cold that I had to put them on. Then when the train stopped and I found the doors unlocked, I climbed in to get out of the storm.’

  Odoursin was now staring at him intently. ‘And did you – by any chance – manage to see this person who attacked you?’ he asked slowly.

  ‘Well,’ said Sam, ‘it all happened very quickly. But yes – yes I did catch a glimpse of his face.’

  Odoursin began to walk slowly and deliberately across the room towards him. ‘Think carefully,’ he said. ‘What did he look like?’

  Sam swallowed hard. He thought of the photograph albums on the shelf at home, of the face that used to smile back at him from the mirror in the mornings before school. ‘He had brown hair that sort of stuck up,’ he said. ‘But the thing I remember most about him, the thing that really struck me about him…’

  ‘Go on,’ breathed Odoursin.

  ‘… was his green eyes. He had these really bright green eyes.’

  ‘Is this true?’ Odoursin hissed. He was now only inches away from him.

  Sam nodded. ‘That’s what I saw,’ he said. ‘But when I came round again, he was gone.’

  Odoursin towered over him and as Sam looked up he felt those cruel eyes burning directly into his own. They seemed to light all the dark places inside of him, illuminating a thousand fears and horrors that crawled and slid from every shadow.

  ‘He’s lying,’ said Hekken.

  ‘It would seem so,’ said Odoursin. ‘Perhaps it is time for a little persuasion.’

  Sam felt his hands shaking with fear, fluttering at his sides like two dying birds, but he squeezed them into tight fists and stared defiantly back into his tormentor’s face.

  ‘I told you,’ he cried angrily, ‘you’ve got the wrong person!’

  A heavy blow to the back of his head sent him sprawling onto the floor and fireworks of pain exploded behind his eyes.

  ‘Your choice,’ said Odoursin. ‘We can do this the hard way.’

  Sam was hauled roughly to his feet and thrown into a heavy wooden chair. Ropes were tied tightly around his wrists and ankles, securing him to the arms and legs of the chair. As Sam struggled, he heard the sound of a door opening and the rattle of a chain, followed by the tapping of claws over stone. Jerking his head around, Sam saw to his horror that a guard had brought in one of the dog-like creatures from the train. Its fur was lank and bloodstained and its yellow eyes bulged as it strained against the choke chain. It stared hungrily at him, saliva dripping from its mouth.

  ‘Hello, boy,’ it said.

  The guard loosened his grip on the chain slightly and there was a clunk as the dog took up the slack and moved closer to Sam, sniffing greedily at the air.

  ‘Boy smell good,’ it growled, nodding slowly and grinding its teeth together. ‘I bite him now, I bite him…’

  Sam fought desperately to escape from the chair, but the ropes that bound him were too tight.

  The dog bared its teeth, tensed its muscles and snarled.

  As Sam cried out in terror, the door opened again and footsteps echoed across the marble floor. Odoursin quickly held up a hand and the guard pulled the marsh dog back in mid-flight. With a surprised yelp, it fell heavily to the ground and its claws slipped and scrabbled around on the smooth surface. Finally it managed to right itself and turned back to face Sam again, growling menacingly at him.

  Odoursin turned to look at the new arrival.

  ‘What brings you here?’ he asked.

  ‘Forgive the interruption, Your Excellency, but I have news of the boy.’

  ‘Indeed.’ A pause. ‘I hope for your sake it is good.’

  His heart pounding in his chest, Sam turned his head and saw a young soldier in the now familiar black uniform.

  ‘According to our latest reports, his Earth body is still functioning, but only just.’

  ‘You mean he’s still up there?’ The anger in Odoursin’s voice was obvious now.

  ‘Oh no, Your Excellency. The operation went like clockwork and the team definitely got him. I was there when they took him down.’ Sam sensed a degree of pride in the young soldier’s voice as he spoke. ‘It’s only the shell that’s still up there.’ He smiled, half expecting to be congratulated on a job well done.

  ‘Oh, really?’ said Odoursin. Sam suddenly felt cold fingers in his hair and the next moment his head was yanked backwards so that he was staring straight up at the soldier.

  ‘Is this who you are talking about?’

  The soldier looked at Sam. ‘No,’ he said. ‘No, that’s definitely not him. We’ve rounded up about twenty suspects from the marshlands who fit the boy’s description. We’re just processing them now and I’m expecting a positive ID within hours.’

  Odoursin let go of Sam’s hair and his head fell forward again.

  ‘I must apologise, Your Excellency,’ said Hekken hurriedly. ‘I think perhaps the fact that this boy was caught wearing the suspect’s clothes has led to something of an overreaction by our security forces. I will make sure that they are severely reprimanded.’

  Odoursin glared at Hekken and he fell silent.

  ‘Tell me,’ said Odoursin, turning back to the soldier with slow menace, ‘what happens if you don’t get a positive ID?’

  The young soldier was obviously flustered now. Success was rapidly turning into failure right in front of him.

  ‘I remain confident that we will find the boy, Your Excellency. We definitely pulled him through a fabric gap and he arrived somewhere out on the marshes during the night,’ he said. ‘If our soldiers haven’t found him already then it’s only a matter of time before they do. There are marsh dogs all over the area. He can’t escape.’

  ‘But if what you say about his Earth body is true, then there’s still a chance he may find his way b
ack,’ said Odoursin, a cold fury in his voice.

  The others remained silent.

  ‘You know the prophecy. We have to find him and keep him in Aurobon. And we have to find him before they do.’

  There was a moment’s pause while everyone looked at each other as if unsure what to do next.

  It was Hekken who broke the silence. ‘Well, what are you waiting for?’ he shouted at the groups of uniformed guards around the room. ‘Get on to it now!’ And suddenly the place burst into life as men began running towards the lift.

  ‘What shall I do with this one?’ asked Hekken, gesturing at Sam with a gloved finger. ‘It’s obviously not him. Do you want me to kill him?’

  ‘Not yet,’ replied Odoursin, who seemed suddenly to have lost all interest in Sam. ‘Put him on the work programme with the others for now. And if the tests show up negative,’ he added, ‘let the dogs have him.’

  Hekken was unusually thoughtful as he rode the express elevator down to the ground floor.

  He knew that, according to the prophecy, bringing the Dreamwalker’s Child to Aurobon would tip the balance of power in favour of the East. He had no argument with that. Vahlzi’s western forces were powerful and Vermia needed all the help it could get.

  But he also knew that ifVermia was to be successful in its plans for Earth, then the Dreamwalker’s Child would have to be killed once it arrived in Aurobon. It was a bit like using a maggot to clean the infection from a wound: when the job was done, you got rid of it.

  Unfortunately, however, Odoursin didn’t see it like that. He failed to see that if you allowed a maggot to turn into a fly, it would spread infection everywhere.

  Odoursin wanted to keep the Dreamwalker’s Child alive in Aurobon. He believed that the Dreamwalker’s Child would increase his power and enable him to rid Earth of its human plague.

  The Dreamwalker’s Child shall

  rise up against the Darkness.

  Odoursin thought that the people of Earth were the Darkness. It allowed him to believe that all his terrible deeds were somehow justified by the words of the prophecy.