Sins of the Father

by Mitchel Scanlon

  Silently, Leonard nodded. He had already seen it. Leonard had no great fear of bumbling into things in the dark. He knew he wasn't exactly smart, and some people said he was as ugly as sin, but he could see as clear as daylight in all but total darkness. It was one of his "special compensations".

  There were others. He was big. He was strong. He was fast. One time, in the Cursed Earth, he had killed three Gila-Munjas with his bare hands after they had caught him out in the open. He didn't seem to feel pain, or the cold, or hunger as much as most people. If he wanted he could go whole days without drinking water, even in a desert. He could survive being poisoned - the claws of one of the Gila-Munjas had taught him that. His ears were sharp. He could climb almost anything. He could walk real quiet. He could track and hunt and fish. He could sense heatsign, reading the patterns of warmth in anything near him. His special compensations - that was what his mother had called them.

  "It doesn't matter that you don't look like other people." He remembered his mother's words from long ago, his memory of her so bright and vivid in his mind it was almost as though she was there in the sewers with them. She was beautiful. Her eyes were warm and kind. Her voice was soft and gentle. "You're my little boy and I'll always love you. It doesn't matter if they call you 'mutie', or say you're ugly. Always remember, Leonard: what life takes from you with one hand, it gives with the other. Yes, you were born different. But nature has given you special compensations."

  His special compensations. Like so much else his mother had taught him, Leonard treated the words as sacred. His memories of her, and the things she did and said during their all-too-brief time together, had become the lessons on which he had built his life. His mother's wisdoms were his gospel. Thinking of her now, Leonard felt a terrible yearning pain deep within his chest. His eyes started to water. His vision became clouded.

  "You're thinking of your momma, aren't you?" Daniel asked him. "I can feel it in your head. It always makes you sad."

  "Yeah, it does." Wiping his eyes with the edge of his coat sleeve, Leonard snuffled back his tears. "I miss her, Daniel. I miss her so much." His voice faltered. "You remember the promise we swore, don't you? The one when you said you'd help me find her?"

  "I remember. I'll help you. But remember what you swore as well?" The little boy's voice grew hard. "The bad men, Leonard. The ones who hurt me. You said we'd take care of them first. 'Cross my heart', you said."

  "I remember," Leonard nodded. "Cross my heart, Daniel. Just like I promised. Cross my heart, I'll make them die."

  It had been Daniel's idea to go in through the sewers. He had explained it all and Leonard had agreed with him, just like always. As he walked through the muck of the sewers with the boy on his shoulders, it occurred to Leonard how quickly he had become used to Daniel making all his decisions. He did not mind it, of course. Daniel was his friend. If there was one big advantage to that, aside from the fact he was no longer lonely, it was that Leonard did not need to come up with his own ideas any more. It had never been his strongest point, anyway. It was not so much that he was stupid; more that it sometimes took him an age to think things through. Now though, he had Daniel to handle all the hard work of thinking, and Leonard was glad of it.

  As he continued to trudge through the tunnels, Leonard's mind drifted to their conversation back at the warehouse before the sewer journey had started.

  "We have to be careful, Leonard," Daniel had told him. "It's a long walk from here to the bad man's place. It's dark outside, but we have to make sure nobody sees you. If they do, they might call the Judges. You understand, don't you?"

  In reply, Leonard had nodded. He knew what he looked like. He had lifted one of his big hands to point to his face: the thick jutting ridges of his forehead, the broad, strangely leaf-shaped nose with an ugly fissure at its centre, his leathery skin. It was the reason Leonard wore his hair long and let it hang down low over his face, to hide his features.

  "I understand, Daniel," Leonard had said. "If the Judges catch me, they'll send me back to the Cursed Earth. Then, I'll never find her."

  At the time, there was nothing else that had needed to be said. Finding his mother had been the reason he had come to the city in the first place. The idea that he might fail, that the Judges might stop him, was the worst thing he could have imagined.

  Abruptly, the flow of his memories was interrupted as Leonard became wary of impending danger. Pausing to scan his surroundings, he had sensed heatsign in the tunnel ahead of them. It was something big. An animal lay submerged and invisible in the murky waters as though waiting in ambush.

  Cautiously, Leonard picked up a loose piece of rockcrete and threw it in the water. As the rock landed, he heard the snap of powerful jaws. The waters churned. He caught a glimpse of white scales and a thrashing tail as an enormous reptile briefly surfaced, then dived down again and swam away.

  "A sewer-gator," Daniel said. "They live down here, feeding off the rats and sewer fish. Guess he didn't like rockcrete, though." He called out after the retreating croc. "Bet you broke a tooth off, didn't you, Mr Gator?"

  For a moment, as though he had said something really funny, Daniel laughed. The sound was childish and carefree. Leonard was happy to hear it: so often the little boy seemed older than his years, his face set in sombre lines, his eyes shadowed and haunted. Too soon though, the laughter stopped as Daniel's mood of seriousness returned.

  "We should get going, Leonard. Up ahead, the tunnel forks in two. We want to go left. That's this way." He tapped on Leonard's shoulder. "And, be careful of your footing. The tunnel floor gets slippery soon."

  Nodding silently again, Leonard began to trudge down the tunnel, keeping a close eye out in case the gator returned. Leonard followed Daniel's directions. He was careful about his footing. He watched out for low stones hanging from the roof. He listened for Daniel's instructions and followed them to the letter.

  Just like always, he did what Daniel told him.

  In the end, getting to the bad man was easy. Daniel had worked everything out. They made their way through the sewers until they found an access hatch that led into the underblock maintenance tunnels directly below the building they wanted. Then, they followed the maintenance system into the ventilation ducts. It was a tight squeeze for Leonard, and a couple of times he snagged his coat, but soon they emerged from a duct into the bottom of the building's elevator shaft.

  We have to be quiet, Daniel said to him, his voice whispering into Leonard's mind as he climbed up the first part of the shaft. Above them, a humming noise grew louder as the elevator descended towards them. There are people inside the elevator. We can't let them hear us.

  Waiting until the elevator had stopped nearly right on top of them, Leonard stretched out his arms and grabbed hold of a metal rail at the bottom of the elevator car. Daniel was on Leonard's back, his arms clamped tightly around his neck. Together, they dangled from the base of the car as it began to rise once more, pulling them upwards.

  Now, we wait until the elevator stops again and the people inside have got out, Daniel said. After that, we'll have the car to ourselves. Oh, and Leonard? Whatever you do, don't look down.

  Following his friend's advice, Leonard hung from the car and watched as the walls of the elevator shaft slowly glided past them. He tried to count the floors as they passed, but lost his place after fifty. Abruptly, the elevator stopped. Through the floor of the car above their heads, Leonard heard footsteps and voices, and the sound of the elevator doors opening and sliding shut.

  All clear, Daniel gave him the signal.

  It was a close fit, even tighter than it had been in the ducts, but by breathing in as much as he could Leonard managed to wriggle his way up through the small space between the side of the car and the wall of the shaft. On the roof of the car there was a hatchway, but as Leonard went to open it he noticed something about the car that made him uneasy.

  How does it stay up?, he asked Daniel. He could not see any cables or wires holding the el
evator car in place. The entire car hovered unsupported in mid-air inside the shaft, as if by magic.

  Anti-gravity, Daniel told him, as though it answered everything.

  Still unsatisfied, Leonard wanted to ask another question and find out more. Daniel's voice had sounded impatient though, so instead he forced the hatchway open and squeezed himself down into the car. Inside, to the side of the elevator's interior door, he saw a long triple row of buttons, each marked with a different number. Leonard knew his numbers, even if he wasn't so good when it came to reading words and such. He pressed the button marked "200" and waited for the car to start moving.

  Nearly there, he told Daniel as the elevator begin to rise. Inwardly, he still wondered about anti-gravity. It was another of the city's mysteries. Trying to puzzle it out for himself, Leonard realised anti--gravity must be the opposite of gravity. It felt like some kind of breakthrough. Now, if he could only get Daniel to explain to him what gravity was, he figured the whole thing might start to make sense.

  There was a small display panel set above the elevator's doors. It counted up the numbers of the building's floors as the elevator rose past them. Once again, Leonard was struck by how smart Daniel was. When his friend had first told him the bad man was on the two-hundredth floor, Leonard had imagined having to climb the entire two hundred storeys the same way he would a mountain. This way made his life a whole lot easier.

  Suddenly, with the display counter at one hundred and ninety, the elevator stopped.

  "You have requested a floor in the restricted access zone," a polite voice piped up from inside the metal grille next to the elevator buttons. Caught by surprise, Leonard nearly jumped out of skin. "Please insert your building keycard and enter your personal identification number if you wish to continue."

  Peering closely at the grille, Leonard breathed a sigh of relief as he realised there was a talking machine hidden somewhere inside it. Of all the strange sights and sounds of the city, he had found it hardest to get used to the fact there were machines that talked. In the Cursed Earth, machines were just machines. In the city though, they all seemed to have their own voices. Cars warned their drivers to make sure they were wearing their seatbelts. Doors told you to stand clear when they were opening, and to have a nice day as you left them. One time, Leonard had even encountered a garbage bin that had thanked him for his litter. Frankly, he found it kind of creepy. In Mega-City One it was like the machines were so lonely and desperate for conversation they could not bear to let anyone pass through a door or throw away a food wrapper in silence.

  We're going have to climb the rest of the way, Daniel said. Leonard could feel the little boy's impatience inside his head; an urgent sensation growing stronger. It's just another ten floors, Leonard. Another ten floors, and then we'll be there.

  Ten floors. It didn't sound so much, but Leonard soon found out climbing an elevator shaft from the inside was trickier than it looked. Squeezing out again through the hatch in the car roof, Leonard grabbed a good hold of the shaft wall and began to climb it while Daniel held tight round his neck and hung from his back. The wall was smooth and sheer, its surface slippery with an oily lubricant. To make progress, Leonard had to push his fingers into the slim gaps between the metal panels that made up the walls and force them far enough apart to create handholds. It was hard work, and as he felt his feet slip and slide on the slick wall below him in search of purchase Leonard remembered Daniel's words from earlier. Whatever you do, don't look down. It was sound advice. Admittedly, the elevator car would have blocked the view, but if Leonard had looked down and seen how high up they were, he got the feeling he might have puked.

  Finally, gratefully, Leonard made it to the top of the shaft and hauled himself onto the thin ledge peeking out from beneath the sliding doors on the two-hundredth floor. Balancing carefully, he prised the doors open.

  Emerging from the shaft, Leonard stepped out into a softly carpeted hallway with Daniel beside him. There was no one about. The floor seemed deserted. Looking about him, Leonard saw a row of doors set either side of the hallway, each with a small rectangular metal plaque on the front with writing on it.

  That's the one. Daniel hurried to one of the doors, his voice excited as he read the words on the plaque. Nails and Ah-so-she-ates, Import and Export. James Nails, Leonard. That's the bad man. That's what he calls himself.

  Advancing to the door, Leonard tried the handle and found it was locked. Checking the hallway again to make sure it was empty, he put his shoulder against the door and tried to use his weight to gently ease the lock open. Instead, the lock broke with an audible metallic shriek. Wincing, Leonard swiftly stepped through the doorway and closed the door behind him. Inside, the room was dark, but he could see light creeping across the floor from underneath a door at the other side of the room. Someone was working late. Hearing movement, Leonard quickly hid behind a desk in the darkest part of the room and gestured at Daniel to stay behind him.

  He waited.

  "Who's there?" he heard a voice call out as the door on the other side of the room opened. He saw a man appear, a gun visible in his hand as he was silhouetted in the lights of the room behind him.

  "Who's there?" the man called out again. He stepped cautiously away from the doorway into the darkness, the gun in his hand raised and ready.

  Even as the man moved further towards them, Leonard could see him clearly in the light spilling out through the open doorway at his back. The man was thickset and broadly built, with a slight paunch to his stomach and a slouch to his shoulders. The skin of his face was taut, and it seemed strangely tight around his cheeks and forehead.

  Step by step, the man came closer.

  "I know you're there," he called out again. He had a young man's face, but an old man's voice. "I can hear you. I can hear you breathing."

  He was bluffing. Leonard could hear the slight tremor of uncertainty in the man's tone. It was a dead giveaway.

  "The Judges are on the way," the man lied again. "I called them." He moved closer to the place where Leonard was hiding.

  Closer. The man was nearly within arm's reach now. Leonard could see his eyes as they nervously scanned from side to side, trying to penetrate the shadows. For an instant, the man's gaze lingered on a lamp on a nearby table as though he was wondering whether to turn it on. It was all the opening Leonard needed. Jumping out from behind the desk, he lashed out, batting the gun from the man's hand. Feeling his fingers break the man tried to cry out, but Leonard's hands were already around his throat. Leonard tightened his grip, lifting the man easily so his feet dangled above the floor. He began to squeeze.

  "Kill him!" Daniel was quickly at Leonard's side. The boy's voice was shrill and breathless. He yelled out loud, no longer caring if anyone heard them. "He's a bad man, Leonard! He was one of the men who hurt me! Kill him! Kill him now!"

  Leonard did what Daniel told him. He squeezed harder. The man's hands scrabbled desperately at Leonard's arms, his feet flailed uselessly beneath him. His eyes bugged out of their sockets, the taut skin of his face growing ever more taut. Leonard squeezed harder. He felt the bones of the man's neck grinding against the palms of his hands. The man's face was flushed and red. Leonard saw the man's eyes staring at him in fear and panic, his mouth working soundlessly as he gulped vainly for air. Briefly, Leonard felt almost sorry for him. He squeezed harder.

  The man's neck broke with a crack. The body went limp, a puddle forming on the floor beneath it as the bladder let go.

  It was over. Easing the dead man gently to the floor, Leonard found he felt no great sense of triumph. He had killed plenty of people before: maybe fifteen or twenty of them, if you counted Gila-Munjas as people. Life was hard in the Cursed Earth, and the needs of survival or plain angry vengeance meant sometimes Leonard had been forced to kill without thought of conscience. But he had felt no fear or hatred towards this man. It seemed to make things different somehow. Leonard wasn't quite sure why, but it felt like for the first time in his life
he had committed a murder. He had killed a stranger in cold blood, strangling the life out of him just because that was what Daniel had told him to do. Daniel had said this was a bad man. He had said James Nails deserved to die. Looking down into the dead man's blank and lifeless eyes, Leonard hoped he was right.

  "It's not enough," Daniel said. He seemed calmer, now the man was dead. His voice was hollow. As he stared at the body of the dead man in front of them, he seemed dissatisfied. It was though he was still angry at the dead man. "People should know he was a bad man and that was why we killed him. There has to be some way we could tell them."

  Daniel fell quiet for a time. Standing beside him, waiting for his friend to speak, Leonard was struck by how small the boy was: even if he had stood on the tips of his toes, his head would have barely come up to the side of Leonard's hip. At the same time, it felt like Daniel was bigger than him somehow: as though something dark burned inside his frail childish body and lent him power.

  "We should leave a message," Daniel said at last. He turned to look at Leonard, his little boy eyes filled with an almost frightening intensity. "Leonard, you carry a knife, don't you?"

  "Sure," Leonard answered. Fumbling in the pocket of his greatcoat, he pulled out his clasp knife. He had had it for years. Back in the Cursed Earth he had used it to cut up his food, trim ropes, skin and gut animals; he had even killed with it once or twice. Most often these days though he used it to cut open boxes at the warehouse where he worked.

  "Good," Daniel said. "I want you to write something for me. A message. Don't worry, I know you can't read. I'll tell you what to write and how to make the letters. And I'll tell you where to write it.

  "I just need you to do the cutting."

  THREE

  ACTS OF JUDGEMENT

  The baby was crying. Its high-pitched wails spread across the dusty interior of the derelict factory, echoes rebounding from the rusting junk-pile landscape of broken munce-grinders and disused conveyor belts. Sitting on a metal staircase to the side of the old factory floor, Lucas Verne tried to soothe the squealing infant. He rocked it gently in his arms, back and forth. He cooed at it. He made funny faces. His efforts, though, were unsuccessful. Lacking any real experience of babies, he had hardly any idea how to handle one, much less finally persuade it to stop its screaming.