“I don’t know what you want from me,” I say, “but I’m not really from around here.”
The dragonfly pays no mind. After a while of me pretending to read, it flies down to the pocket of my jeans. An invasion of privacy; I try to bat it away. It becomes insistent, and I shift away from it, but still it pesters. I take my old phone out of my pocket, because at this angle it’s digging into me, and the dragonfly settles on that.
“You can have it,” I say. But as I move the phone to the bedside table, it creeps along it, back towards me. This is one persistent insect. And then the phone lights up and it’s Mac’s voice talking to me, and I’m so freaked out I drop the whole thing on the floor.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Green Jay
SOMEONE IS SHAKING me, waking me up. I recognise the voice; I want to move towards it. I don’t think they’re trying to hurt me—it’s not that kind of shaking—but I don’t like it. I want to stay asleep. But I also want to move towards the voice. I know the voice. I—
“Eva,” says someone who I think might be Blue Jay.
I force my eyes to open. He is there, misty and out of focus. Perhaps this is a dream.
“I’ve found him.”
Found who, I wonder. Who did he want to find?
“Please hold on. It won’t be too much longer.”
I want to tell Blue Jay that I am not as sick as I seem, it’s just the drugs, it’s just that Guerra caught me, that I can hold on, of course I can hold on, but the words won’t come out.
Blue Jay sits down beside me. He takes my hand and I feel his body against mine. I try harder to properly wake up and I manage to open my eyes. I see him looking down at me. I should tell him to go, that Rose-Q is close by, that this is not safe.
“You can always make another one,” says a voice.
Blue Jay turns, but I don’t, because I know who it is: Guerra. Blue Jay should run, he should leave. I can feel the twitching in his body, but he stays close beside me and I’m glad of it.
“She’s not the first,” says Guerra, and I feel Blue Jay stiffen. “But you know that, don’t you?”
I want to ask Blue Jay what he means, but I don’t dare. Not in front of Guerra. I think I could speak now, but I’m not sure I trust my voice to come out right.
“Olwin will be here soon,” says Guerra. “And we’ll have Kern back. The nets will find him.”
“What do you know about the time nets?” asks Blue Jay.
“Not as much as you, obviously,” says Guerra. “But all I really need to know is that they’re there, at my disposal.”
“It’s torture,” says Blue Jay.
Guerra shrugs. “Can I help it that Kern has run away with my property?”
“It’s not yours.”
“And neither is she yours.”
Guerra is close now, close enough to touch, but I still haven’t turned to him. I can see Rose-Q, she’s come closer, she’s shaking her head, trying to tell me something, and there’s a murky yellow cloud above her head. She’s upset, of course she is. If only she was one of the Chemical Conjurers she’d use that cloud to hide Blue Jay, let him run away, but she’s still, waiting.
Blue Jay stands. “Let me get him back,” he says. And then he turns and runs.
“You have today,” calls Guerra, but I don’t know if Blue Jay has heard him because he’s far, far away.
Guerra sits down beside me, mimicking Blue Jay’s position, but on the other side. He puts a hand on my jaw and turns my face towards him. “Any questions?” he asks.
“No,” I say, although I have many.
Guerra lets go of my face, but he remains sitting beside me. I want to shift my body away from his, but I don’t dare. Rose-Q is very close now, standing where Blue Jay was a moment ago. Guerra takes out his phone and taps at it. He shows me a picture. It’s a picture I’ve already seen, the one Eila sent to the number I have memorised. I test my brain, quickly; yes, it is still there.
“This is the real one,” says Guerra.
“I know that’s not me,” I say. And I shouldn’t, I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t let him speak me out of existence.
“No,” says Guerra. He becomes absorbed by his phone. We sit there, the three of us, and I try not to shake because I know if I do, Rose-Q will bend over and fill me with something. She is wiping my face and I recognise one of T-Lily’s wipes. She shakes her head, so gently that her tentacles remain in place. And we sit together, the three of us, waiting, listening to the sound of Eila’s whispers.
Crow
I HAVE TO tell Mac to shut the fuck up, because my brain needs time, plus he’s been babbling on while the phone’s been down there on the floor and as far as I’m concerned it’s just been a whole lot of squeaking. But I’ve pulled myself together and I’m holding my phone. I can’t see him; I doubt that he can see me. Instead I see one of those QR coded messages that scan to video, exactly the type that had been sent to my phone before but didn’t unlock. I can feel the future phone on my wrist vibrating a little. It’s obviously trying to make contact with this old time tech. I have no idea if it’s successful or not, and even if I did, I don’t know how to stop it.
The dragonfly’s sitting on top of the old phone. I can see now it’s not real, though it’s a pretty good copy, very close. I would definitely not have noticed unless it had drawn itself to my attention. Which, of course, it did. For a second I think about Judith chasing the dragonfly out the other day, but I push that thought to the back of my brain, take a deep breath and say, “Okay.”
The QR code floats away and I have Mac back. Well, his voice anyway. “You need to come back, Brom.” His voice is not as calm as usual. He sounds tired, a little desperate, very un-Mac.
“I’m quite enjoying the alternate future,” I say.
“Guerra’ll drag you back.”
“With that freaky light shit?”
“Time nets, Brom. They hurt like hell.”
“Since when do you know anything about time nets?”
“And the box?”
“Don’t have the box,” I say. Which isn’t strictly true, but it isn’t strictly a lie, either.
“We need it,” says Mac.
“We?”
“Eva. Eva needs it.”
“So she’s still alive?”
“Brom. I can get you back, if you’ll let me.”
“Okay,” I say, because—well, I don’t know why, but it seems wrong not to. And then, because this is Mac after all, and I don’t want him to have to ask, I tell him I know where the box is, and that most probably I can get it.
There’s a pause, during which I understand that Mac would very much like it if I went and got the box right this instant, but he doesn’t want to harass me.
“Okay,” I say to break the silence, “tell me what to do.”
Mac’s plan involves a whole lot of stuff I don’t even try and follow. I do, however, focus on the safety features, because if I have to do this shit, I’d rather do it with the least possible damage to my person. I put my old phone back in my pocket. I think about peeling the new one off, decide to keep it, feel supremely guilty about Judith and Ed, decide to keep the future phone anyway. I packed light on my first trip, so there’s not much to gather. I leave the book I liberated from the greenhouse. I haven’t had a chance to really look at it yet, and, who knows, maybe it’s a good read, but I’m not going to find out. It’s a goodbye and a thank you and an explanation, I hope. Or maybe it’s just another old book that Judith and Ed already knew about. It’s the best I can do.
I stand by the door for a minute and listen to the house. It’s an old house, full of its own creaks and groans, but I don’t think any of the creaking and groaning is Judith or Ed awake. The dragonfly’s still with me. I wish it had a mute button. It follows me down the stairs and to the front door. The door creaks when I open it, of course it does, but I manage to slip out unheard and head through the gardens to the shed. I can see the mad lighthouse lights again. They�
��re not searching this way, and I don’t want to give them the chance to. I have my doubts about the existence of ‘time nets,’ but if such a thing does exist, I don’t want to be caught in one. I also doubt if a shed can stop them finding me, but there you have it, there’s nothing like hiding if you can.
Inside the shed, it’s dark, super dark, and I regret volunteering to bring the box back. Ed could do with some of that luminescent fungus stuff in here. But the dragonfly proves itself mildly useful, producing a thin stream of light and then buzzing over the boxes. I get the message. There’s no point going home without it. I see Ed’s left his unreliable gloves on the bench beside the box. I shove them in my pocket for later use and decide that the box I want, my box, must be the one that’s closest. There’s no real way of knowing. I decide not to dwell on the possibility that it’s actually the same box having arrived by different pathways. That kind of shit freaks me out.
The dragonfly buzzes a little louder. Mac seriously could have made it less annoying. It’s an OCD creation if ever there was one. I put on Ed’s gloves, pick up the box and begin what I hope is my last journey in this reality. It’s not an especially exciting journey, just out of the shed and up to the water tower, because I don’t really want to materialise in the farm back home. The gloves are holding, for now. I say a mental farewell to the Barleycorn King, who I won’t miss, and to the prophets, some of whom I will. I reach the water tower without incident. The time net lights are in the marketplace, so I can’t delay. The box probably has them out, all excited, sniffing like bloodhounds.
I put down the box, take off Ed’s gloves, shove them in my back pocket. My old phone protests, but Mac’s synced things to the new one which, of course, he is deeply impressed by. Even from afar. It’s all lit up now. Maps and shit. No Olwin Duilis, thank God. I enlarge the screen, find the bit I’m meant to use, and now here’s the fiddly bit, because I have to attach myself to the box without activating the jump. Somehow, Mac’s got it set up so that the box won’t jump around on me until I ask it to. I’m attached, I’m all ready to go, it’s only the anticipation of nausea that’s holding me back.
I hear a cough and I turn, which is a mistake, because I see Ed standing in among the tomatoes. He’s just standing there, not running towards me, not even beckoning. Just watching my foolishness as if he’d seen it all before.
I nod, and as a goodbye it’s crappy but it’ll have to do. I move my left wrist in towards the box, hope that I’ve tapped the right bloody part of the map and then we’re away. No, it don’t feel any better, but it’s short and sweet.
I feel someone grab me. I’ve got my eyes closed and though I’m not particularly inclined to open them just yet, I do. It’s Mac. As expected. He’s intent on separating me from the box and it’s fiddly, as usual, but then it’s done and I’m sitting on the grass by the water tower and laughing my head off.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Green Jay
“GO,” SAYS ROSE-Q. She is leaning over me, very close, too close, but not touching. I cannot believe I have heard her correctly. Guerra has disappeared, but only just, only long enough for me to stretch a little, breathe deeper. But now here is Rose-Q trying to persuade me of something without speaking. There is a blue-green cloud around her, that is the best colour, the colour of love, acceptance and calm. Not excitement. Not joy. I don’t think the Tenties can fake the colour, it’s a true indication of their state. But perhaps I am wrong, perhaps anyone can fake anything.
Rose-Q leans so close that I feel I am breathing her breath. She smells of salt and something sharp. “Go,” she breathes into me and then she jerks up and away and back to her seat.
I sit up, I place my feet on the ground, I stand. Watching her all the while, to see if she will stop me. The blue cloud grows thicker, almost a smoke screen. And then I run, away from Guerra, towards the staircase near the water tower. My legs are trembling underneath me, they don’t want to do this job, but they know that they must. I reach the staircase and I make myself slow as I go down, because I know I could fall. My feet are untrustworthy, but they find each metal stair and they move me down and down and around. My hands grip the railings, too hard. I miss a step. I pull myself up and then I’m careening down the stairs. They clang as I go and I can’t stop it. I have to be out.
I don’t know where I will go when I am out of here, but at the bottom of the stairs, I see that it doesn’t matter. Blue Jay is waiting for me at the water tower. He is sitting still; he doesn’t move or come to help me. I almost fall as my feet touch the ground.
I wave at him, but he is looking away, looking towards the man he is sitting with, towards something on the ground. My eyes are blurry, I am not even sure anymore that it is him. But I run anyway. I see the farm, there are people out with the plants and they are staring at me, their hats make them look like scarecrows, and I am running still.
He is too far, I will never reach him.
Crow
MAC LOOKS CRAPPY, I have to say, but then I’ve looked better myself. We sit in silence for a while, because there’s no real need to talk. The box is on the grass in front of us and the dragonfly is annoying it for a change. Actually, I think the dragonfly might be trying to open it. I’m happy just to let it all be. Mac is taking a look at Ed’s gloves and he seems mightily impressed. I should tell him that they weren’t one-hundred-percent effective, but I’m not in the mood for talking just yet. There are people up on the water tower, painting, I think. But they’re up there, and I’m down here and doing just fine.
Of course, it can’t last. There’s a woman running towards us. Well, that’s generous, staggering towards us. I see the farm workers staring at her, but nobody’s coming out to help. It’s a bit of déjà vu with regard to my untimely exit down the stairs via the Barleycorn King, but surely I looked better than this. She’s heading right towards us.
“Mac,” I say, as a general warning. He looks up and I see his expression change from deep involvement to something like fear. But then he’s up and running towards the woman. And I recognise her now, it’s Eva, though she’s obviously seen better days.
Mac lies her down on the grass beside me. He props her head up on his jacket, fishes a few things out of his pocket, tears open a squishy packet that looks like wasabi and puts the contents into her mouth. Then he takes out a cloth from a packet and wipes over her skin, her face, her arms, her legs. She’s wearing shorts and a tunic. He runs the cloth across her stomach. He seems very coy in the treatment of somebody I presume he’s seen completely naked, though there’s me sitting here watching and all. She’s stopped shaking, but that’s about as positive a prognosis as I can make for all Mac’s ministrations. Mac’s over at the box now. He’s got Ed’s gloves on and he’s ripping it open, though the dragonfly had already made pretty good inroads.
Inside, there’s another container, something like a cooler, and he lifts this out gently and places it on the grass. The dragonfly’s still at the casing of the Time Locked box, but Mac’s delving into the cooler. He lifts out a very small sealed tube, puts the lid back on the cooler and the tube on the lid, then sits back on his heels. There’s a hesitation which I can make no sense of. We both look over at Eva. Her eyes are open now and she smiles at Mac. If I was paranoid I’d say she was trying hard not to look at me.
“It’s okay,” she says to Mac. She moves her arm up so that her hand is above her head.
Mac’s all business. He puts a cloth down close to her arm, opens another package and puts on surgical gloves. He swabs the double’s arm with something, presumably antiseptic because this is looking more and more like an operation. Lo and behold he injects something into her arm. Eva looks away, and I don’t blame her, because the next thing you know Mac gets hold of her arm, makes an incision and then forces the tube into her arm. Why this had to be done right here, right now, I’ve no idea. There’s still mopping up to be done, but I decide to take an interest in the how the dragonfly’s progressing.
The Time Lo
cked box is in pieces. I prod at it with a stick, but it seems to have lost its here-but-not-here properties. I take a quick look inside the cooler. The vials seem to contain something I can only describe as gloop. Minute quantities; it must be some magical high-powered shit.
“She’ll need a minute,” says Mac. “Then we can go.”
“Go where?” I ask. Because I haven’t forgotten Guerra’s ability to track my whereabouts, or the likelihood of him chasing after Eva come what may.
“I found a place,” says Mac. He grins at me and I figure that if he could work out a way to bring me back from the world of the Barleycorn King, he can find a way to keep us hidden. I don’t like it, all this hiding out, not when I’m back home. But I don’t much like the prospect of Guerra’s attentions either.
The unmistakeable clang of staircase number 4 drifts through the air. Commotion is definitely coming our way. “Time to go,” I say. I gather up the leftover remnants of the Time Locked box and the cooler containing Eva’s gloop. Mac’s tidied up from the not-so-elective surgery. He helps Eva stand and she manages it, though she’s leaning on him heavily. I follow them, but we’re moving far too slowly. We’ve only got as far as underneath the water tower before we stop. There’s a metal ladder attached to one of the legs of the tower, and Mac puts his hand on it. If this is far as we can go, we’re stuffed.
“The only way is up,” he says. He grins, and so do I, because I realise where he’s been hiding all this time. Inside the bloody water tower.
I’m up the rungs before he has to prompt me a second time. I push back the covering, heave all the crap inside and then pull myself up, then lean down and give Mac a hand with Eva. She’s over his shoulder. Not very dignified, but better than waiting for her to make the climb herself. The cover’s back in place and I take a moment to look around Mac’s hidey hole.
Green Jay and Crow Page 10
