by R E McLean
“You need a key,” she said. She pointed to the ignition.
“Help me look.”
They rooted around in the pile of boating paraphernalia at the back. Ropes, lifebelts, rusting cans of beer.
She reached into the pocket of one of the lifebelts. There was something small, cold and jagged in there.”
“Got it!”
She turned the key and the boat spluttered into life. Mike put a congratulatory hand on her back. She was so relieved she didn’t shrug it off.
“I may be able to turn it on, but navigating the thing is beyond me, I’m afraid.”
“It can’t be that different from a car. It’s got a steering wheel.”
“I don’t drive.”
“Huh?”
“You heard me.”
“Seriously?” he asked. “You live in California and you don’t have a driver’s license?”
“Nope.”
“How do you get around?”
“The BART. My feet. It’s not so bad.”
He shrugged. “The more I get to know you, Alex Strand, the odder you become. Shift over and I’ll have a try.”
She shifted into the passenger seat. Mike sat at the steering wheel and gritted his teeth.
“Here goes!”
He pulled on a lever and grabbed the steering wheel. The boat roared into life.
They sped across the water, Alex gripping the windshield in front of her. Once she’d got used to the choppy water and the rain that lashed down on them now, she started to enjoy herself. At least out here they were safe from attackers looming around corners. And the speed was exhilarating.
After ten minutes they were at Fisherman’s Wharf. There was no pier, just the rocks Alex remembered from earlier.
“Not sure how we’ll moor up,” said Mike.
“Moor up. Turning into a salty sea dog, aren’t you?”
He stuck his tongue out. “I’m serious. We’re going to have to swim.”
“What?”
“We can’t get any wetter than this rain has made us. And we need to get to shore. If we take this flimsy thing any closer, the rocks’ll tear it to shreds.”
“So? It’s not ours.”
He glared at her. “You may be an oddball physicist, but I’m a cop. It’s bad enough stealing this. I’m not about to wreck it.”
“You seriously think the owner is still around? This place is a ghost town.”
“Whatever. Besides, we may need it again. If I moor it up on one of these buoys, we can swim back out.”
“I sure hope not.”
He leaned over the side of the boat and tied it to a white buoy that bobbed on the waves.
“Right,” he said. “I take it you can swim.”
“Certainly can. Under thirteen’s swimming champion.”
“You’re not under thirteen now.”
She wrinkled her nose at him. “It still counts for something. What about you?”
He looked in the direction of the shore. It seemed to be receding. “Let’s just get a move on, huh?”
“You go first then. I’ll keep an eye on you.”
He stood up. She held out a hand to guide him onto the front of the boat, where he stood nervously.
“It’ll be fine,” she said. “Surely you had to swim as part of your cop training.”
“I skipped that week. Pretended to have malaria.”
“Malaria? Couldn’t you just have the flu or something?”
“I thought it sounded more convincing.”
“Whatever. Jump.”
He pinched his nose with his fingers. She tapped her foot, impatient. He took a deep breath, then tucked his arms in close to his body.
“Just go, already,” she sighed.
She put a hand on his back. She pushed, just a little. Not enough to send him into the water but enough to make her message clear.
He cursed at her as he splashed into the water.
Quickly she stood and scanned the waves. He was close to the boat, waving and spluttering like a drowning man.
“You OK?”
He waved again.
“Start swimming!” she yelled, not sure if he’d hear her.
She dove in after him, grabbed his hand and started to swim.
29
Vacuum Cleaner
Alex crashed spluttering onto the rocks. She felt like she might cough up a lung at any moment. Knowing this place, it would turn into a fish and slide back into the water.
She dragged Mike up behind her. He’d managed to keep himself afloat, doing a cross between the doggy paddle and butterfly, slamming his arm into her face at least twenty-six times.
Her heart was pounding like a drummer on steroids and her legs felt like they’d been hacked off, pulsed in a blender a few times, and then sewn back on with fishing twine.
But they couldn’t stop. They had to find Lacey before Pip did. They had to find a way out of there, once they’d rid themselves of seaweed.
She spat the last of it onto the ground and shook herself out. Mike dragged himself into a standing position.
“You OK?” she asked.
He nodded. “Will be.”
“Want to take a rest?”
“Uh-uh. Keep moving.”
He coughed up half the contents of the Bay. She sprang back.
“Better?”
He put a thumb up but said nothing.
She looked around. They were at the southern edge of Fisherman’s Wharf. Ahead of them was the center of the storm. It began ten feet above the ground and extended overhead, like a bright purple tornado that hadn’t made landfall.
Below its conical center was Pip. He stared up into it, mesmerized. His cape billowed out behind him and his torn mask hung off one ear.
“He’s still here,” she whispered.
Mike dug his fingers in his ears and twisted. He wiped them on his shirt leaving greeny-black stains.
They made for Pip, keeping to what little shadow there was. The winds had blown the area clear of wreckage and debris, leaving only the occasional remnant of wall to hide behind.
In a radius of fifty feet or so around Pip, there was no hiding place. The shed that Mike died in earlier was a jumble of tinder on the ground. Only jagged rocks lay between them and the boy.
“I don’t like this,” said Alex.
“We need to approach him carefully. Who knows what he’ll do.”
“No sign of Lacey.”
“Maybe she isn’t as dumb as we thought.”
“No.”
“Maybe,” replied Mike. “Or maybe he’s already got rid of her.”
Alex felt her shoulders sag. “He said he wanted to be her friend.”
“A guy who creates that thing isn’t going to be anyone’s friend. And even if they were, imagine what he’d do if a so-called friend pissed him off?”
“You think she beat us up here and he’s killed her?”
“Who knows. We need to talk him down. He can get us home.”
“No.”
He turned to her. “No?”
“No. Lacey’s parents are waiting for her. I made a promise.”
“You also promised not to come looking for me.”
She shrugged. “White lies.”
“If we get home we can come back with a team, have more chance of finding her. Madonna and the Prof can give us more tech.”
“If we leave her now she’s toast, Mike. You know that as well as I do. We don’t put her safety at risk.”
He sighed. “You’re right. So what’s the plan?”
“She was running. We had a boat. We beat her.”
“You think so? Even with that swim?”
“I’d bet my cat on it.”
“I wouldn’t bet your cat on anything.”
She grunted. “No. Probably best not.”
“He’s spotted us.”
Sure enough, Pip was staring at them. His dark eyes reflected the light of the storm and seemed to glow. He started to approach th
em.
“What now?”
“Stay calm,” Mike replied. “I’m trained for this, remember.”
He put a hand behind him, gesturing for Alex to stay put. She hung back, knowing when his training and experience trumped her own.
“Pip,” he said. “We came back to help you.”
Pip said nothing, but kept walking. “If you can stop that storm, we can help you find a friend.”
“Mike,” Alex hissed. “Don’t!”
He raised the hand behind him in a shut up gesture.
Pip stopped moving and cocked his head.
Mike stopped too, not breaking eye contact. The pinks and purples of the storm glowed on the front of his body, casting the air behind him into pitch blackness. Alex shifted to stand behind him.
“The bitbox,” she whispered. “Can you use it?”
“No idea. Not going to risk him seeing it.” He raised his voice. “We don’t mean you any harm, Pip. We want to help you find your family.”
Pip threw an arm up. A crash of thunder pealed.
“No family!” he screeched. “They left me!”
“Where did they go?” asked Mike. “Could we find them for you?”
Pip glanced to one side, toward the Bay. “Abandoned me! Left Pip for dead.”
“No wonder he’s unhappy,” muttered Alex. Mike shushed her.
Mike took a step forwards. He had his hands up, demonstrating that he wasn’t a threat. His pocket started to glow; the bitbox. He ignored it.
“Leave me! If you can’t bring Lacey, then just go!” cried Pip.
So Alex was right; Lacey hadn’t made it back yet.
She stepped to the side, out of Mike’s shadow.
“We want to protect her,” she shouted. “I know family can be tough. My dad drives me up the wall sometimes, and as for my Aunty Morag…”
She thought of Morag lying in an intensive care bed back in Scotland. Of her dad, being babysat by Rik. She’d abandoned them. She hoped they’d forgive her.
“Don’t know anything!” Pip cried. “You not me! Weren’t banished!”
“Banished? Isn’t that a bit extreme?”
Mike turned to her. “Will you just shut up? You’re making things worse.”
He waved a hand to get Pip’s attention.
“Ignore her. She doesn’t understand you. I do. I’m a man, like you.”
You were a rabbit two hours ago, thought Alex. This was getting them nowhere. She stepped forwards.
“Back!” Pip shouted. He brought his arm down. The storm roiled above his head, swirling, bending in and over itself in a way that made Alex’s eyes want to swivel into the back of her head.
He made a move as if to throw something at them. Alex stumbled backwards, almost falling over her own feet.
In front of Pip was a patch of clear blue light. It glowed against the darkness of the purple-infused night air around it.
She gasped. “It’s a portal.”
“Let’s use it,” Mike hissed.
“No. Lacey.”
Pip made the hurling motion again and the patch of blue grew. Alex could make out moving shapes inside it. People.
Her heart sprang into her mouth. It was so tempting.
Mike grabbed her arm. He started running.
“No!” she cried.
“Jump!” he yelled. He dragged her toward it. She tried to plant her feet but the ground was too wet.
“Now!” cried Mike.
“Wait!” came a voice. Alex turned to see Lacey behind them. Her eyes were wide and her arms outstretched.
“Run, Lacey!” Alex called. “Quick! Run!”
Mike tugged on her hand. She tried to pull against it, to slow him down. But it was no use. The portal was sucking them in, stretching her limbs as if she was in a vacuum cleaner. She screamed then held her breath.
30
Selfie
Alex tumbled onto the ground. She threw out an arm to shield herself but hit her head anyway.
“Ow. What happened?”
She opened her eyes.
Mike was next to her, blinking. His beard had morphed into a pencil-thin line from his bottom lip to his chin. He was naked again. She grabbed her jacket and threw it at him. He wrapped it around his midriff awkwardly.
Behind him was Fisherman’s Wharf. Not the rock-strewn, chaotic Fisherman’s Wharf from Point Zero, but the one she knew. She stood up to see two women stop and stare at them. One of them got her phone out of her pocket and photographed them.
Alex glared at them and they scurried away.
“We’re back,” she breathed.
Mike clutched the jacket to himself. “Yeah.”
“Look. There’s the crab. And the homeless guy who sings ‘My Way’ in the hope people will give him change. We’re home.”
“Thank God for that.”
“How can you say that?”
Mike stood up. “I was stuck in the Spinner. Then in that place. I’ve been turned into a ten-foot rabbit and had to run around wearing nothing but a beard. I’m glad to be home.”
“What about Lacey?”
He shook his head. “We’ll send a team back. She’ll be OK.”
She started walking toward the nearest BART stop. “Come on.”
“I’m not getting on the BART like this.”
“No. I’ll find a callbox, contact Monique. We have to go back.”
“Please, Alex. Just give me a break. I can’t go back there.”
She stopped walking. “This isn’t like you.”
“You have no idea what it was like.”
A car sped past Alex and she took a step backwards, breathing heavily.
“See?” said Mike. “That place messed with our brains. God knows what we’ve inhaled. We need to send someone else.”
“Like who?”
He shrugged.
“Mike, who? We’re the only people the MIU send through the Spinner.”
He said nothing.
“Aren’t we?”
He shrugged.
She walked back to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. He shrugged it off.
“Who else goes through?”
He shook his head. “You’re right. It’s just us.”
“If it’s just us, then who the jinkies is gonna get Lacey?’
He ran his free hand through his hair, then after a brief hesitation, moved his fingers to his chin. He stroked the new beard then closed his eyes.
“Who, Mike?”
“I don’t know. Us. But after a rest. You’re not thinking straight. I know I’m not.”
“We have no idea what he’ll do to her, now she’s on her own.”
“He said he wanted to be her friend.”
“You’re a cop. I’m sure you’ve heard that one before. That’s what abusers say.”
“He didn’t look like he—”
“He created a window into another universe and used it to snatch her. He tied her up. He came after us when we tried to save her and as far as I’m concerned, he tried to kill us.”
“That wasn’t him. It was something else.”
“I can’t believe you’re giving up.”
Mike turned to her. “I’m not giving up. I’m being sensible.”
“Sorry, Mike, but I can’t go along with it. I’m heading back to the MIU, and I’m going through. If you won’t help me, Sarita will.”
“By building a cardboard fortress in your apartment?” Alex had copied her cat’s method for jumping to parallel worlds, to solve their last case.
“No,” said Alex. “She jumped with you last time. I believe she’s done it before.”
“I don’t think…”
Alex ignored him and started walking again. She didn’t care if he was following her or not. Monique had made her mission clear, and she wouldn’t let her give up.
31
Roasting
Alex stormed into Monique’s office without knocking. A man she didn’t recognize was standing between her and th
e desk. It looked like Monique was giving him a roasting.
“Alex. Good to see you back.” Monique was calm and unruffled, an effect ruined by her chalk-on-a-board voice.
“We have to go back,” Alex panted.
Monique looked at the man. “Ted, we’ll finish this later.”
Ted gave Alex a look and pushed past her. She flinched as the door slammed behind her.
“Who’s that?”
“None of your business. So, what’s brought you in here in such a state? You’re filthy.”
Alex looked down. The skinsuit was torn and covered in mud stains. Her jacket was still somewhere out there, protecting Mike’s dignity.
“We just came back, through another portal.”
Monique raised an eyebrow. “Another one? Where?”
“Near Fisherman’s Wharf again.”
“Did anyone see you?”
“Two women. They took a photo of us after we landed.”
“Did they see you come through?”
“Not sure. But we need to—”
Monique picked up her phone. “We need to check social media. Take down anything from Fisherman’s Wharf this evening.”
“Surely that’s a bit drastic,” said Alex. “Do you have the power to do that?”
Monique gave her a thin smile. “This unit is a secret, and we want it to stay that way.”
“Right.”
“So you’ll be more careful next time.”
“I didn’t have a lot of choice.”
There was a knock on the door behind her. Monique beckoned with one well-groomed finger.
“Inspector.” Mike was wearing jeans and a blue shirt that was about eleven sizes too big. He tossed Alex’s jacket at her.
“Mike,” said Monique. “Good to have you back. You came through with Alex.”
“Yes. She ran off, lost me on the way back to the Hall.”
“I gathered as much. You’ll need to go down to the MIU for a debrief, Mike. And by the looks of you, you may need decontamination. I suggest you get down there ASAP.”
“Right.”
“Hang on,” said Alex.
“Sorry,” replied Monique. “May as well get you checked over too, although you weren’t over there for as long. You look a sight though.”
