“Oh, hey Serge, I mean Carol,” Tucker called back.
But Six felt her strength waning and swallowed a large gulp of air before backing into the carriage. How can I even look at her? she thought as a wave of guilt flooded over her, just as the water had that day in London.
Don’t think about it! Try not to remember! She told herself.
But none of her memories made sense, so how could they be real?
Shhhh, what if they’re listening? She fingered the crystals again. I must not think about it!
But how could she forget? Six could already see the decimated London skyline spread out before her as the cable car continued its journey. She couldn’t help herself. It was as if part of her was trapped in the fallen capital, unable to escape the memory of that last mission.
She closed her eyes again, and she was there.
Big Ben lay on its side amid the rubble of Westminster Palace. Its splintered clock face cracked in half, it had seemed to stare at Six as she gripped her sword with both hands, her breath collecting as a mist inside her breathing gear as she screamed: “Hey you, FREEZE!”
She felt the sweat beading her brow within the ridiculous garb, the filthy liquid of the Thames lapping no higher than her ankles. This was no surprise to Six. She had never believed the tall tales about flooding that refugees, such as her grandpa, had told her. But the destruction that surrounded them brought a lump to her throat.
Behind her the water washed up against the doors of Westminster Abbey, itself pock- marked and scarred by the battles that had been fought in Parliament Square. To its right, St Margaret’s Church stood like a ruined shell, the walls of its tower stripped to reveal bare foundations. But this was nothing when compared to Parliament itself.
The collapsed seat of government was now practically impenetrable, its entrances barricaded beneath office furniture and sandbags piled twenty feet high. Above those gun placements had been carved into the wood. Wind turbines hung snapped over its hollow roofs and the river swept through its corridors and out into the courtyards beyond. There its waters collected the bodies of fallen soldiers on banks of masonry, or beached their rotting skeletons along the outer walls.
The Great Bell of Westminster lay before it like a toppled prehistoric beast, the rusting hulks of Ministerial cars crushed beneath its bones. Vines and trees wound their way around the giant clock, poking out through its awnings and slithering around its broken hands.
And there, standing in front of it, was a man, his face as white as powder. He was dressed in a shabby topcoat with ginger, dreadlocked hair spiralling out beneath a top hat. He said nothing but smiled.
And a lion paced beside him, back and forth.
Six could hear the voices of her fellow knights, their own swords drawn and arrows primed, as they took up their formation behind her.
“You heard her, Mister! I don’t know who the hell you are or how you’re alive, but I suggest you take your friend and piss off!” Knight Five shouted.
“Wait a minute, Five,” Knight Two started. “He’s a survivor, shouldn’t we help him?”
“Help him, are you crazy? He could have the plague!”
But the man remained static and continued smiling as the lion paced, foam forming at the corners of its mouth.
The muscular Knight Four, his bowstring tense and creaking, sounded panicked. “What the hell is that thing?”
“It’s a lion you idiot,” Knight Three said, crouching in the background as he tapped at his computer pad, itself covered in dials and instruments. “Originally from Africa, according to the encyclopaedia.”
Knight Four bristled. “Don’t call me an idiot, you nerd.”
“Never mind that, just figure out if these two have got the plague!” Knight Two barked.
The lion continued prowling from side to side, his filthy mane dragging through the water as his paws splashed in the flooding Thames. The man just stood there, glaring at them.
“It must’ve escaped from London Zoo.” Knight Two whispered behind Six’s ear, “Don’t worry, Susie. You’re doing great.”
“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one being eye-balled by some crazy circus clown and Aslan the Angry.” Six replied.
A foul breeze rippled the water between the girl and her two foes. The beast turned, less than thirty feet away, shook its mangy head and bared its teeth. Rising on its hind legs it equalled Six’s height with acres of claws and muscle to spare. But she barely noticed. Six felt hypnotised by the man, his expression, pose, never changing.
Behind her, the other knights squabbled. “I don’t like the look of this. Has someone told Lord Truth to fall back?”
“I dunno, I thought Tucker was with him?”
“Why the hell didn’t Lord Truth give us guns?”
“What, you can’t kill a cat with a sword?”
“Hey, I could kill it with my bare hands if I needed to. You too for that matter.”
The lion roared, its mouth blood red, its teeth like rusty knives. Six imagined its disgusting breath, fed by the enemies it had vanquished to stake its claim on London. Whatever else had happened here, this was its territory now. The beast’s and its master’s – the Kings of England.
“I said freeze!” Six felt her voice crack as it made its way to her mouth from the tips of her toes, as if she could break the deadlock between them through sheer force of will alone.
She hesitated for an instant before reaching down and wrenching a pistol from the bones of another dead soldier, the straps of his helmet flapping against his naked skull. Six shook as she cocked the weapon, tossing her sword aside with a plop!
She pointed it towards the man, but she’d evidently chosen the wrong target. Within three strides the lion was upon her, its bloodshot eyes bearing down on her as it jumped.
“Whoa, what the hell?”
“Six, look out!” the others screamed, their arrows flying.
Six felt claws ripping down her arm, tearing through her body armour until they reached flesh.
And the next thing she knew the animal was ten feet up in the air.
Six turned and watched Lord Truth standing on the steps of the gateway, an enormous smile spreading across his long face, his outstretched arm conducting the movements of the now petrified lion, suspended yards above them.
“Need a little help, Knight Six?”
He was soon flanked by Tucker and, lastly, Knight One, the oily strands of the portal clinging to his head like a gelatinous night sky.
“Okay, now everyone remember where we parked,” the sergeant grinned as he stepped through the gateway. It wasn’t until he’d closed the door behind him that he realised the chaos below.
Tucker rushed over to Six and pulled her from the floor, the cold waters of the Thames flowing beneath her. Even with his facemask on she could make out the worry lines creasing his skin. “Six, you alright?”
“I think so, but...” Six looked over to where the dreadlocked man had been standing. He had vanished.
“She’ll be fine.” Lord Truth’s voice was jovial but commanding. “It’s just a little scratch. Knight Five, break out the bandages. Tucker, you’ve got work to do.”
“But…” Tucker started.
“You heard me, scout,” with his free hand Lord Truth pointed towards Parliament, his face still smiling below his sunglasses. “Go. Scout.”
Tucker’s eyes remained fixed on his friend.
“I’ll be alright,” Six promised.
Lord Truth looked down on the others as Tucker reluctantly ran off towards the building. “Now, I hear you’re still not happy with your weapons?”
He sighed, his grey skin glittering beyond his suit and tie and, after several glances at the guns littering the battlefield, exact replicas appeared in the hands of the knights. Each was new and in pristine condition.
“And what shall we do with this little critter?” he added, pointing to the lion now roaring with panic in the London sky.
“I say we ro
ast it,” Knight Four grinned as he polished his new gatling gun.
“There was a guy here earlier, boss. He seemed to own it, but it looks like he’s split.” Knight Five said as she checked the weight of her new sub-machine gun.
What about Tucker? Six turned to watch the apprentice slip through a crack in Parliament’s walls as she checked her two pistols. No one’s given him a...
It was then she noticed it, just out of the corner of her eye: a small ball of fur dashing between blocks of fallen mortar.
Is that?
Six focused her gaze on the masonry as the other knights bickered. And then another flash of movement and the blue shape ducked behind the skeleton of a dead soldier.
“Eddie, did you see that?” Six gasped.
Knight Three was crouching beside her, packing up his kit. “See what?”
Six pointed towards Parliament in time to watch a tiny pink hand grip the shoulder of a corpse, quickly followed by bulging cartoon eyes and shining metal teeth.
No, that couldn’t be?
And just as quickly it was gone.
Six grabbed Knight Three’s arm, “Eddie, tell me you saw that, right?”
The knight looked up, confused. “What? No. What are you talking about? Did that guy come back?”
“No, I…”
“Okay, gather round people!” Knight One ordered.
“Forget about it Six, come on!” Eddie said. Six turned to find the others watching the startled lion speeding overhead.
“Wait! LT, where are you sending him?” Knight Two implored, almost dropping his rifle.
“Green Park,” Lord Truth smiled. “He’ll be safer there.”
“But I wanted to eat him!” Knight Four grumbled. “Can’t you make another one?”
Six watched their Saviour concentrating, his left hand controlling the lion as it flew until, finally satisfied that the animal had landed, he addressed them. “You know, I had no idea what it was like to be in a democracy until I demanded to have one,” he said matter-of-factly. “It’s rather tiring really, isn’t it?”
He then smiled, his ever-present grin returning. “Well, what are we waiting for? We came to be heroes, to find an antidote to the blood plague, didn’t we? So let’s go.”
“Let’s go, Six!”
Back in the gondola, Tucker was shaking her. “Holy granola girl, you having a flashback or what?” The boy smiled as wrestled her out of her daze. “We’re here.”
But Six wasn’t listening. She felt for the scar running down her left arm where the lion had cut her. It was still there. It wasn’t a dream.
He really is dead, she thought. He was so powerful, so confident, and could do all those things, and yet I let him die.
Because she saw it – the blue monkey with the steel teeth and the bulging eyes.
The bomb that blew up Parliament.
The clockwork toy that looked just like the one belonging to her grandpa.
But it couldn’t be, could it?
Hesitating, Six looked up at Tucker. He’s the only one I can possibly trust, she thought.
“You still with us?” Tucker laughed.
“Yeah, sorry. Listen Tucks,” Six gripped once again for the crystal and placed it in his hand. “I’m gonna need your help.”
“What, what do you mean?”
Six swallowed. “I think my grandpa killed Lord Truth.”
Chapter Nine
“GLOW. Heat.”
Neon felt the two crystals quicken their pulse between her fingers. Outside her bedroom, snowflakes were beginning to fall. They settled on the school playground, coating the see-saw, swings and slide in a fine white dust that glittered like sugar icing in the moonlight. Neon pulled her curtains closed while the rocks warmed her hands.
“I wish I hadn’t left my coat at the farm,” she muttered as the light from the gems extended itself around her small frame, encasing her with a lemon glow. “Still, these will do,” and she thrust them both into her pockets.
Grabbing Brian from the safety of her rainbow-patterned quilt, she quietly pushed her bedroom door open and tip-toed into the hall. The school felt silent but for snores and whispers. All the Seekers lived here. They ate, slept and played together within its musty classrooms and grounds. Neon moved almost in slow motion, determined not to wake them.
He wouldn’t be happy, she thought as she crept through corridors thick with shadows, if I brought the others with me.
The girl squeezed the bear, gathered under her right arm, involuntarily. Brian’s torn arm was now so thin he was starting to lose stuffing from the rest of his body as well. As Neon squeezed it spilt out in a quick puff.
But Brian’s alright, she figured uncertainly. Well, he’s quiet anyway.
The school had started as an experiment. Her father’s idea. A chance to take the brightest and best and teach them exclusively together. Through a simple DNA test Jon Way was able to detect any child’s potential in the most minute detail. One by one every newborn in Albion had been examined. One by one they had failed to meet his exacting criteria until a discreet few were taken aside.
The parents of those babies were then given a diabolical choice: whether to let their children go and be parted from them forever, or deny them a historic opportunity. Her father’s theory was that, divorced from their family, these children would develop together, their instincts sharper, their evolution, away from the distractions of the parental home, faster and more assured.
“Of course you will have the honour,” he would tell shattered mothers and fathers with a smile, “of knowing your child is one of the smartest in the whole world and, as such, one of our last hopes.”
But not all would bow to his wishes, including his wife. Serena Way refused to allow her daughter to be taken. Yet Jon Way still accepted Neon into his programme. He was far too proud to deny his own daughter’s inclusion. But while the rest of the Seekers slept under their teachers’ protection, most forgetting who their parents were, Neon would return each night to the castle acutely aware of her heritage.
“And damn right she does too,” her grandfather, the King would add, himself perhaps the makeweight in such a compromise. “There’s no way a granddaughter of mine isn’t going to grow up knowing she’s a freaking princess, no matter how desperate this crazy plan is.”
Within years, of course, the children had proved him wrong. Far surpassing the skills of their surrogate parents - the gifted teachers drafted in to look after them - they were able to communicate with each other telepathically, a skill only Neon’s father had learnt before then. More recently, and after closer contact with the crystals, their other abilities had begun to surface.
But Neon still felt like the runt of the litter, the Seeker who bore the ugly mark of family ties. And so, on her eleventh birthday, she decided to move permanently into the old school house. By then her grandfather had adjusted to the idea and her parents seemed too busy fighting to notice. Neon didn’t need to be a telepath to know they were struggling and she was tired of hearing them argue each night, just as they had that afternoon.
But for all the children’s games, their powers, and their connection through the crystals, Neon still felt detached from the others somehow. She was still an outsider.
You can spend every minute surrounded by people, they can feel like brothers and sisters, Neon wondered as she ducked past the sleeping teacher on guard duty and slipped out of the front door of the school. And yet you can still be lonely.
Her soft shoes padded out into the snow, the light of the full moon illuminating her steps behind her.
Perhaps that’s why he likes me? she considered, careful to put a wall around her thoughts so the others couldn’t hear. Because he’s lonely too.
Quietly, Neon marched through the empty streets of Albion, past the windows where candles flickered and people were revealed as strange silhouettes playing across drawn blinds. The snow fell lightly around her, the crystals’ barrier keeping her warm and dry in her dres
s, the cuckoo’s egg still nestled in her top pocket. Neon walked under the crumbling archway that led to the boating lake and darted beneath a giant oak tree to make sure she wasn’t being followed.
A carpet of acorns crunched underfoot as the princess circled the tree’s base. She waited patiently but saw and heard nothing but the sound of nuts cascading down wide branches and squirrels scampering to meet them. She peered out through the canopy of leaves at the still waters beyond. The lake seemed empty but for the full moon’s reflection.
Neon grasped Brian again and ran out from her cover, along the bank still peppered with snow and onto the jetty. Its timbers shook lightly as she sprinted across it before bending down to untie her pedal swan. Balancing herself, she then climbed inside its gold plastic shell and began peddling out into the middle of the lake.
Once there, she stopped and sat calmly with Brian on her lap. The twinkling stars danced like leprechauns across the night sky above. Except for the gentle lapping of water on the side of her swan the world remained silent. She shivered, not through cold but expectation, and closed her eyes. Then Neon began to listen.
After a time even the sound of snow landing on the waves was extinguished by a frozen breeze, cruel and hollow, drifting across the lake. Neon felt it enter her body, at once tingling her fingers and then rippling along her arms, through her chest, down her legs and into her feet.
And when she looked once more there were no stars, no moonlight, no shadows, no colours. Neon floated in a world made of pure black and white, like a negative photograph. She smiled her white face and looked down at her white hands, nestled in the bowels of the black swan. Teasingly, she held her white bear under the black sky and smiled.
And, as she stared out over the water, the people’s words came tumbling to the surface. She heard through their ears, saw through their eyes, felt their thoughts.
Sir Justice, for example, was drinking from a flask of whisky as he patrolled the city’s streets. He felt warm, regretful, and drunk.
“Like the diddly-dum-dead,” he sang to himself. “Ain’t that a tick in your bed?”
The Last Days Page 7
