Hexad: The Ward

by Al K. Line

  "Well, it does kind of mess with your head," said Peter, stroking his beard as though he thought it made what he said sound intelligent.

  "Look, let's forget about the cat. Where the hell are we?" asked Dale.

  Amanda looked at the Hexad she'd dropped on the floor, noted the flashing 0, the dome now red, shouting out its warning. "More important than that, how the hell are we going to get back home to our time from wherever this is? That was the last jump."

  Dale and Peter stared down at the flashing 0, realizing just what a mess they were in.

  "HobNob anyone?" asked Peter, as he miraculously pulled half a pack from the pocket of his corduroys.

  "Maybe it wasn't the cat that's been stealing the food after all," said Dale, taking one of the oat biscuits from the pack and munching on it thoughtfully.

  "What is wrong with you guys? We're stuck in time and we have no way of getting home." Amanda shouted, raising her arms above her head. "Shit, shit, shit! Ow, ow, ow! Help." Wozzy clung to the top of her blouse for dear life, hind legs scrabbling for purchase.

  "Come here, dude, is Mummy being mean to poor little Wozzy?" Peter put a hand under Wozzy's belly and slowly pulled him away. Wozzy hung on but finally he relaxed his grip a little and ended up half over Peter's shoulder. He rumbled deeply.

  "That is one sleepy cat," Dale noted in admiration.

  "He's had a busy morning, haven't you, Wozzy?" Peter stroked his tail then turned to take a look at where they were.

  Amanda and Dale followed his gaze.

  Uh-oh, this doesn't look good at all.

  Amanda stared at the large metal gate. It couldn't have been spookier if it had tried. This was as if somebody had gone out of their way to make the entry as typically spooky as you could possibly imagine. The style was retro insane asylum, all rusted metal and curved top, sweeping up to an angled point where the two halves of the gate met. Above, spanning from one brick pier to the other, joined to a wall that seemed to run right around the perimeter, was a curved sign made from the same metal. All it said was "The Ward," nothing else.

  "Well, that is about the scariest entrance to a building I've ever seen," said Dale, before he whistled as he looked up at the name. "The Ward? I'm guessing this isn't a nice spa resort then."

  "Don't think so. But more importantly, what are we doing here?" Amanda got an all-too-familiar tightening in her stomach.

  "I guess that's down to Wozzy, isn't it?" said Peter. "He's the one that made the jump, we just came along for the ride."

  "I'm not so sure," said Amanda, still staring at the sign. "I think there is more to it than that. When Wozzy hit the Hexad was anyone thinking about anything in particular?"

  "I was thinking that I wished we could get to the bottom of the mess we seem to be in, that we can't seem to just have peace and for time travel paradoxes to be always hanging over us. And that the damn cat was really annoying, of course," added Dale.

  "I was just worried I'd get told off if the coffee spilled," said Peter, adjusting Wozzy slightly.

  "And I was wishing I knew how to stop all of this." Amanda shivered a little as the temperature dropped, the weak sunshine replaced with a coolness brought on by dark gray clouds dropping low in the sky as if they wanted to match the mood of the people below. "Wait a minute, let me check something." Amanda picked up the Hexad and studied the dials that ran around the shaft of the cylinder, the brass inlay almost black with tarnish from use. It was like the device itself was in a bad mood too.

  Maybe because it's all used up. How are we going to get out of here? Wherever here is?

  Amanda squinted at the dials, then looked up at the clouds, as if praying for sunshine and an end to the nightmare for good. "We're in the future, thirty-seven years in the future to be exact, and I don't think that it will be very nice."

  Dale put an arm around Amanda's waist, squeezed her for comfort. "Hey, are you okay? We'll be fine, don't you worry. We've been in worse situations by all accounts, I'm sure we'll get out of here somehow."

  "Why thirty-seven years?" asked Peter. "Although that was just an accident, right? Just what it was on when Wozzy decided to have his little adventure."

  "Maybe, or maybe it's too much of a coincidence for that to be true."

  "Why is it a coincidence?"

  "Because it's always around about now that things go wrong in the world and it's always tied up with Hexads and people getting their hands on them."

  "So we're fine then," said Dale, visibly relaxing, "as that was the last one and it's all used up."

  "I hope so. But more important than that is the where that is bothering me. Dale, if we were thinking about being somewhere so we could put an end to whatever is happening, then... Ugh, I guess this place is it, maybe." Amanda squelched closer to the gate, trying to ignore how cold her feet felt and not get grossed out by the sticky mud that had turned her socks into nothing but a brown mess. She cupped her hands around her eyes, trying to peer past the gates, but it was hard to see much because of the fog and the drizzle.

  The road that led into the grounds was little more than compact earth with deep holes full of water. The grass on either side was in serious need of a mow. Lining the drive were huge trees, most of the leaves fallen, creating a brown and orange carpet over the neglected lawns and the approach to whatever building lay hidden in the distance.

  Squeak.

  The gate gave way under the light pressure of Amanda's hands; she jumped back in shock. "Damn. Gave me the fright of my life. This is creepy as hell."

  "Yeah, it looks like the last place on earth you'd ever want to go." Dale stepped up beside Amanda, following her gaze into the overgrown and unmaintained grounds. "Doesn't look as if they take much care of any of it, does it?"

  "No, not really. It's a mess, and it gives me the heebie-jeebies."

  Peter splashed up beside them, his dark corduroys hiding the mud-splats that signaled his approach. "It's like something out of the movies where a group of people stand at the gates and then decide to go and find out what the deal is, even though you know they are all going to get killed if they do."

  "Peter! Don't even joke about it. There is no way we are going in there. We need to find a way to jump back home and—"

  "Wozzy! Damn." Peter lunged for Wozzy as he landed in a puddle. His tortoiseshell coat changed from ginger and white to brown in an instant. He licked frantically at his chest, then spat out a mouthful of mud. "Here, Wozzy, good kitty. Shall I clean you up?"

  Peter knelt down and Dale and Amanda stood stock still, not wanting to scare Wozzy.

  He knows Peter wants to pick him up, he's going to bolt.

  "Gotcha." Peter lunged forward, arms outstretched, but Wozzy sidestepped him easily and Peter ended up face down in the vacated puddle. "Damn."

  Wozzy meowed loudly and with tail swishing manically he ran as fast as he could into the grounds of The Ward before he was lost in the deep shade of the trees just as the rain came down in thick sheets, obscuring everything, leaving them soaked, freezing cold, and down one cat.

  "Well, let's hope he manages to get back home somehow. God, this rain's freezing," said Dale, turning his back on the entry. He looked the opposite of the way he acted.

  It was obvious to Amanda he was just trying to be tough, but the set of his shoulders gave away how concerned he was. Amanda knew that Dale was trying to give her the choice, telling her that if she didn't want to get Wozzy then he would understand. He knew as well as she did that nothing good could come of them stepping even a single foot inside the gate.

  "Dale, it's okay. We can't leave him here. And besides, where would we go anyway? We need to get a Hexad, find a way to get home."

  "Yeah, Dale, that's seriously uncool, dude. He's jut a cat. We have to go save him."

  "I know, I was just... Ah, forget it, but it's the 'save' bit that has me worried. What exactly are we expecting to find in there anyway?"

  "I guess we'll find out soon enough," said Amanda. She stepped past
the entrance, half expecting something terrible to happen the moment she did so. She sighed with relief when all that happened was that she stood in another puddle.

  Well, guess I can't get any wetter now. That's something at least.

  They held hands, Amanda in the middle, Dale on the left, Peter on the right, and they walked up the drive, now hidden beneath a torrent of water, turning the compacted earth into a shallow river that washed leaves against their socks.

  Then thunder cracked and lightning flashed.

  "Seriously? Come on!" Dale scowled at the sky. It thundered again.

  Outta My Way

  37 Years Future

  The rain continued to pour from the sky like God had emptied his bathwater directly onto their heads. The day turned to gray dusk as clouds built; thunder and lightning got closer and closer. The wind tore at the trees, stripping the remaining leaves from gnarled branches covered in dark green lichen, freezing them through their soaked clothes.

  Wozzy was nowhere to be seen. Amanda knew he could be a few feet away and they'd never see him. What did cats do in the rain? They hated water, didn't they? Would he climb a tree? Look for shelter somewhere? Or just sit there and moan about the weather like nearly every other person in the country was probably doing right about now?

  "He could be anywhere," shouted Amanda above the noise. Her hair was flat to her head, sticking to her eyes and getting in her mouth, making it hard to speak.

  "I know. How are we going to find him in this?" shouted back Dale, having the same issue with his hair.

  "Wozzy, here boy," screamed Peter, his voice drowned out by a loud crack of thunder that shook their bones.

  "He's not a dog, I don't think cats come when you call them," said Amanda.

  "Well, maybe you should have trained him better then," accused Peter.

  "Hey, that's not fair. We didn't even know we had a cat until this morning," said Amanda defensively.

  "Yeah, well, that's no excuse," said Peter, before he turned to look back the way they'd come.

  Dale rolled his eyes at Amanda. Peter could definitely be a little funny about things at times.

  "Guys. Guys! Look out." Peter shoved Amanda to the side before she could react, and Dale dove for the leaf-covered lawn just before a huge white van hit him. The vehicle carried on going, hardly surprising as it was doubtful they would have been seen — one headlight was flickering, the other lighting up the opposite side of the flowing drive.

  "Dale, Dale, are you okay?" Amanda ran to him and helped him to his feet. He was covered in leaves and spat one out, then peeled more off his face like soggy plasters.

  "Yeah. That guy almost ran us over." Amanda gave him a "look," at the choice of word. "Um, that driver, could have been a man or a woman, nearly ran me over."

  "That's better," said Amanda, smiling. "I was just messing with you. Are you sure you're okay? That was a close one."

  "I'm fine. It's not like I could get any wetter. Let's hope he, um, the driver, doesn't meet Wozzy on the way."

  "That looked just like a psych ward van," said Peter, staring after the vehicle, now lost apart from two faint red glows from the rear fog lights.

  I wonder if it's impolite to ask how he knows?

  "How do you know?" asked Dale.

  So much for tact.

  "Let's just say I am a man of the world and have knowledge of many things," said Peter. He squeezed water out of his beard then walked after the van.

  "Where are you going?" asked Dale as he picked leaves from his hair, staring at them like they had something to say about why they were there.

  "To see where it goes, to see what's happening, and to find Wozzy. You coming?"

  Dale and Amanda exchanged glances; Dale shrugged — what choice did they have? They followed Peter.

  ~~~

  "Stop," whispered Peter, his voice just about audible now the rain had died down, the storm seemingly passing as soon as it had arrived. All that remained was a light drizzle — even the clouds began to part, warming the air, their surroundings now visible.

  Amanda and Dale looked where Peter's gaze was held fast. The rain stopped just as the driver side door to the van opened, sunlight highlighting the scene as though it was too important to be missed. As Amanda watched, she could only assume that God was playing some kind of cruel trick on her. The torrential rain and semi-darkness would have been much better.

  As the driver side door opened, Amanda's attention was drawn to the rear of the van where the double doors banged open, and an old man stepped down carefully. He was immaculately dressed in a simple, yet clearly expensive suit. He stared up at the sky as if daring it to ruin his clothes, seemingly confident in the knowledge that no such injustice would occur. But it wasn't the man that held her attention, it was the sight of her, or more precisely three of her, shuffling to the edge of the van before they jumped down, aided by the man.

  Each of them was shackled at the ankles and cuffed at the wrists, but they didn't appear to need it — their eyes were vacant, jerky movements rigid and automated. Each wore an outfit that Amanda knew she could find in her very own wardrobe.

  "It's... It's me. Three of me."

  "Come on, we need to get out of here. Quick." Dale grabbed Amanda by the arm and pulled her away from their hiding place behind the tree, dragging her back toward the entrance.

  Peter took her other hand that still clutched the spent Hexad, clearly agreeing wholeheartedly with Dale.

  "Let go of me," hissed Amanda, "we can't leave now, you saw that. It's me! Let me go." Amanda's voice was getting dangerously loud. All it would take was for the man leading the Amandas toward the very imposing stone steps of what looked like some kind of old manor house to hear and they would be discovered.

  "Amanda, we aren't going, we're just moving away. Look, if that guys sees us then it won't be easy to..." Dale's eyes went wide with shock as he turned back toward the building and the people. "Oh shit."

  Amanda and Peter turned to see what the problem was.

  "Wow! Um, he's big," noted Peter with admiration.

  "It's Laffer, I just know it. I bet that's Hector. It's the people from what happened before, only different. Oh, no, he's seen us."

  The giant, easily seven feet tall and looking as solid and gnarled as the trees lining the drive but a lot hairier, slammed the van door shut and ran to the back, saying, "People. Laffer get people," as he turned to the old man leading the women toward the moss-covered steps. The man stopped and looked, face changing from neutral to a hint of a smile as he locked eyes with Amanda.

  They made eye contact for a fraction of a second, but it was as if time stood still for Amanda. She knew to the very center of her being that this was not a nice man and this was the man, or a version of him at any rate, that had been the one responsible for what Tellan had called The Factory, where endless lines of Amandas were treated as nothing more than cattle, there to provide the key ingredient that made Hexads function. Now here he was, only different. Just like she supposed she and Dale, Peter too, even the damn cat, were.

  This was a different reality, a different universe. A different set of problems.

  "Run, what's the matter with you?" shouted Dale right into her ear, as he dragged her away, trying to move fast, but her attention was consumed by the man she suspected was Hector.

  "It's them," said Amanda without emotion.

  They ran. The giant ran after them, huge strides eating up the gap like a record-holding 100-meter sprinter.

  "What the hell is going on here?" huffed Peter, slowing already, his body unused to anything more energetic than a leisurely stroll.

  "It's happening all over again. They're collecting Amandas. We have to stop them," said Amanda. Nonetheless, she turned to face forward and picked up the pace. The giant was closing the distance, fast.

  Where are we running to? Where is there to go?

  Meow.

  Amanda turned to the right as Wozzy darted out from the long grass looking as
terrified as she felt. He was soaked through and so dirty he would be licking himself for a week unless he fancied a quick shower. He ran after them, angling sideways across the sodden mud, jumping puddles and darting around piles of leaves.

  The giant was closing in, and it would be a matter of seconds before he could grab one of them. There was no way even all three of them would stand a chance against somebody of that size.

  Wait, all three? What about Wozzy? He's small, but he's vicious. Well, it's worth a chance.

  "Get him, Wozzy, he's a bad man," shouted Amanda. She pointed at the giant as he splashed through the puddles.

  Wozzy looked at her blankly and carried on running straight at her. He leaped into the air even as they continued to run and scrabbled for purchase on her blouse. His claws snagged on thin material and Amanda yanked her arms free from Peter and Dale, handed the Hexad to Dale, then scooped Wozzy up before he clawed into her flesh.

  "He's coming, guys, get ready," warned Dale, as he slowed a little so Amanda wouldn't be left behind. Peter was behind them both, his face almost as red as his hair, breath ragged even after such a short dash.

  "Wozzy, I really hope you can forgive me for this," whispered Amanda, hating what she was about to do but knowing she was out of options. "You have to get that bad man, get him good." Amanda stopped running, turned and tore Wozzy off her blouse, the material ripped down the front as if she'd been ravaged by a bear. She held Wozzy underneath, his four legs splayed out, claws fully extended. "Sorry."

  She threw Wozzy like she was throwing a rugby ball, aiming at the giant, his thick brow furrowed in concentration.

  Meow.

  Wozzy landed on the giant's head, claws instantly getting tangled in the thick, curly hair. His hind legs kicked at the thick beard, ripped up his chin and tore a corner of the man's mouth. The giant screamed and slapped at his tormentor — all Wozzy did was hold on tighter. The giant spun in circles as he howled and shouted in a voice that alternated between sounding like rocks rolling down a hill and the screams of a person lit on fire — Wozzy was doing serious damage.