by Andy Briggs
“Is it getting worse?” Marlow's silence was confirmation enough. “What happened?”
“You sent an Infiltrator to remodel the car. Damn near bit my head off too.”
Dan felt a flush of guilt. “I'm s-sorry,” he stammered.
Marlow clumsily patted him on the shoulder, and in doing so sucked heavily through her teeth to stifle the pain from another scar that ran down her arm, cutting through the heavy jacket.
“Ain't your fault kid.”
“What're we going to do?”
“First, gotta stop that narcolepsy, slow it down at least. That's just perfect for Them. It looks like you're in some kinda coma straight after too. I bet they're doing something new to keep you under longer. You had any dreams?”
Dan thought hard. He was used to the pleasant dreams, which he now knew came from the Infiltrators' anaesthetic, and the previous night's terror was something he had never experienced before. But the last sleep... he could remember nothing. Nothing at all in fact which was unusual enough. He shook his head.
“Mmmm, they're doing something alright,” said a thoughtful Marlow.
“So what can we do?”
Marlow took a deep breath and held it before speaking again. “I know someone who can help.”
“Who? I thought you were the only one who did... this. You know, fought Nightmares.”
Marlow looked gravely at Dan. “There is somebody else.”
Dan shook his head, he couldn't guess what Marlow meant.
With a sigh, Marlow cracked her neck to the side and then told him. Dan was thankful he still had his seatbelt on because he was sure he would have fallen from the moving car in surprise.
Chapter Twelve
Gravel crunched under the tyres as they pulled up the long driveway. It was still dark, and Dan was craning to make anything out. It had also begun to snow heavily, and it drifted through the open roof, stinging them both in the face.
“Are you sure this is the right place?” he asked. Marlow grunted in acknowledgement. “I didn't see any signs. When were you last here? How long ago since you last saw him? He could have moved.”
Marlow didn't say anything, but gently guided the car up the winding driveway. She guessed that Dan had expected a grandiose mansion at the end because of his disappointed huff when the headlights drifted across a crumbling cottage. Vines clung to the walls with such ferocity it looked as if the building would collapse if they were ever cut away. Dust and grime covered the windows, making them dark and mysterious. The only sign of life was the wisp of smoke curling from the chimney, caught in the very edge of the headlights.
“This is right,” growled Marlow quietly as they climbed from the car. With no engine running it was deathly quiet, save the unblemished snow crunching underfoot.
Dan fidgeted nervously as he downed yet another energy drink. “Soooo... do we just knock?”
He took three steps towards the house when all hell broke loose. Blinding lights erupted all around them, burning from concealed places. A piercing siren WHOOPED followed by a loud voice.
“You are trespassing! Turn around and leave immediately or force will gladly be used!”
Dan dropped his drink and thrust his hands in the air, frantically looking in every direction.
“Don't shoot! Don't shoot!” he yelled.
Marlow leaned against the car's bonnet with a half-smile. She shook her head knowingly.
“We come in peace!” yelled Dan dropping to his knees. “Don't shoot!”
The siren suddenly wound down with a pathetic gurgle. There was movement against the lights, nothing more than an abstract silhouette. Dan shielded his eyes to get a better look.
“Marlow...?” came a croaky voice from the shadows.
A man stepped into view. Thick round glasses balanced on a bulbous nose. His pure white hair combed back at the temples and his face was weather-beaten and old, with a bushy white moustache clinging to his upper lip. He stood just a little taller than Dan, in part due to his slightly hunched posture, which was no doubt dragged down by the weight of the solid duel-barrel shotgun he was carrying. Unlike Marlow's blunderbuss, this had one barrel above the other, a marksman's weapon.
“Marlow Cornelius?”
Marlow spoke, but her first words came in a dry hack. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Dad.”
Carlos Cornelius stepped forward, his eyes locked on Marlow. The gun swung limply from one hand while the other brushed over his hair in a disbelieving manner.
“Well bless my... I...” His eyes finally swung away from Marlow and studied Dan, who was still kneeling on the gravel, one hand raised, the other shielding his eyes. “And is this... Jamie?”
“No, dad. This is Dan and he definitely isn’t one of mine.” Marlow cleared her throat again and looked sheepish. “We really need your help.”
Dan's teeth still chattered as he sat in front of the open log fire. After everything they had been through, the warmth was still avoiding him. Nothing had been said when Marlow's father had guided them inside and positioned them in front of the fire. He stoked the logs, increasing the ferocity of the flames, then furnished them with cups of hot cocoa. Dan took one sip of the heavenly velvet drink before Marlow whipped it from his hands and replaced it with a bitter black coffee.
Carlos had tended to Marlow’s recent wounds. The needle was tarnished with rust, but the care he took in sewing up her wounds was done with marked precision. There was no small talk between father and daughter, just curiosity, and occasional disbelieving glances from them both when they thought the other wasn't looking. Only when they had settled in front of the fire had Marlow's father said: “Well...” did Marlow suddenly relay the entire chain of events in a torrent of information in which she seldom paused to suck in breath. It was evident that she had been running the conversation through her mind during the entire trip and wanted to get it all out to justify their arrival. By the end of the story, Marlow and her father were both staring at Dan. The crackling flames reflecting from the old man's thick glasses were mesmeric.
“That is a tale, no doubt,” said the old man tugging at his moustache thoughtfully. “I never heard the like.”
“So what can we do?” asked Marlow.
“Well... the boy is certainly fascinating. He would make for an interesting study...”
“The boy's right in front of you,” barked Dan. “And he's tired, peed off, and just wants a peaceful night's sleep without killing anybody. And he really, really wants to go back home.”
The man's eyes grew to saucers - then he broke into an infectious laugh until tears streamed from his eyes. He repeatedly slapped his knee to calm down. Despite his irritation, Dan couldn't help but smile.
“Forgive an old soul, Daniel, but you really are a fascinating find. Who would have thought this lug would be the one to hook a Conduit like you?” Marlow stiffened as her father jerked a thumb in her direction.
Dan smiled. “Well, Carlos, this lug,” he jerked a thumb at Marlow, ignoring her scowl, “has not only repeatedly saved my life, but the lives of dozens of others, doing what I couldn't imagine anybody else doing.”
Carlos stroked his moustache thoughtfully, this time his gaze fell on Marlow as if seeing her properly for the first time. Marlow looked away, a chagrined schoolgirl dragged in front of the headmaster.
“I haven't seen you for...”
“Twelve years, dad. It has been twelve years.”
“Twelve years, eight months and eighteen days.”
Marlow rolled her eyes. Carlos raised his hand to placate her.
“And I have felt each day, Marl.”
“Marlow,” Marlow automatically corrected. “You know I hate Marl.”
Dan focused the conversation back to himself. “So can you help or not?”
Carlos flashed a smile and nudged Marlow's knee. “Oh, Marl. I like this one. He has a real fire. He reminds me of...” Carlos trailed off into embarrassed silence. Marlow frowned, about to prompt him b
ut Carlos changed tact. “Yes… I think I may be able to help.” He slapped both knees and smiled, his body quivering with more pent-up energy than a man of his age should possess. “Isn't this exciting? Finally, something new to push the brink of our understanding! I think we should brew more coffee in the pot and adjourn to the lab!”
The lab turned out to be a large greenhouse attached to the back of the cottage and extended several times over the years with no thought to match each section together. The glass was obscured by filth. The air was warm and thick with heavy scents from the flora that filled it. Some plants were small with only a few dry leaves spilling over the rim of their pots, stacked on narrow shelves. Others were huge bushy affairs, standing several feet high and trailing to the ground. Everywhere was a kaleidoscope of colourful flowers and exotic leaves. Dan admired a row of perfectly maintained bonsai.
“Got to have something to keep the old brain cells ticking,” Carlos said with a smile. “Alas, I don't receive many visitors out here.” His eyes darted to Marlow when he said that.
He led them to a long table at the back on which stood an elaborate network of glass tubes and beakers all interconnected with alchemic precision. A powerful microscope was connected to a laptop. The screen was still on, indicating they had interrupted Carlos in his work. He gestured theatrically.
“The lab.”
“What exactly do you do with all of this stuff?” said Dan stretching a finger towards an open Venus flytrap. Carlos swatted his hand away.
“Don't touch! I synthesise compounds extracted from these plants. Natural remedies to whatever ails us. This one,” he selected a vial from a rack of a dozen others, each filled with tinted liquids, “This is almost an exact opposite hybrid of serotonin and melatonin that activates the brain’s neural receptors.”
“To do what?” Dan asked cautiously.
“To keep you awake without going insane,” said Marlow. She picked up a flask containing electric blue liquid and swirled it. It had the constancy of jello. Carlos appeared behind her and gently pried it from her hand.
“That’s a mighty rare compound.” He held it up to the light, which made it appear all the brighter.
“What is it?” asked Marlow.
“An extract from a gland found within the Infiltrator’s head, just behind the eyes,” said Carlos in a dramatic whisper. Even Marlow leaned closer for better look. “Believe me, it’s difficult to extract. I haven’t been entirely sitting on my haunches.”
“What does the gland do?”
“Ah...” said Carlos uncertainly as he put the flask back on the bench. “That I don’t know for sure. But I think it might be what the Infiltrators inject, or psychically inject might be a better term since I haven’t the faintest idea how they do it, into their Conduit to allow them to slip between worlds. Think of it as lubrication between realities. Like oil in a car engine. Without it, the Infiltrator would just seize up and crumble. Which is why I always said, aim for the eyes.” He returned back to his plants.
“But you don’t really know...” sighed Marlow. “Useful as ever, dad.”
Carlos harrumphed and turned his attention to a plant with broad red leaves, yellow pigments outlining the veins running across the surface. Carlos whispered to it and Dan realised he was using the same tones one used to calm a stressed baby. Using a pair of tweezers he gripped a leaf and used a scalpel to cleanly sever it from the stalk. Dropping the leaf into a petri dish, Carlos gently dabbed a cotton swab on the stalk and made shushing noises.
Dan looked at Marlow with a frown. She shook her head and spoke wistfully. “Dad thinks plants have feelings. He always talked to them. More than to his own kids.”
Carlos took the petri dish and dropped the leaf into a mortar bowl. He pushed his glasses up his nose and glared at Marlow.
“Plants do have feelings. Maybe not the same as you or I, but they register a distinct electrical fluctuation when you cut them just as you would to register pain.” He added a dash of water into the mortar and began to grind the leaf with a mortar. “In fact, your sister was a good listener and the plants gave me a more pleasant conversation than you did. Always complaining. Always throwing tantrums when I was giving you the greatest gift of all!” He pummelled the leaf harder and harder with each word, taking his frustrations out on it.
“Greatest gift?” Marlow spluttered. “You threw me in front of the most frightening dangers a kid would ever face - then told me how to beat them up with a baseball bat! What kinda gift is that?”
Carlos looked at his daughter with wide eyes, magnified behind his spectacles. “Knowledge, Marl. Knowledge about what lies beyond. Knowledge gained through generations of our family's sacrifice, defending this world from the unknown.”
“I never asked for that!” snarled Marlow.
“Nobody asks for a duty like that, yet it's our honour to accept it and perform it.”
“'Cause of you I never got to dream. I never got a normal childhood. I never got nothing!”
Carlos stopped pummelling the leaf, a mixture of sorrow and surprise across his face. “Is that why...? After all these year... that's why you walked away?”
Marlow gapped, but no words came out. She sat on a stool as the messy fragments of her life slowly clashed like continents. The burn of anger was being doused by waves of self-pity, made all the worse by the recognition that her father had aged terribly in over a decade. Barely the shell of the man she remembered. She glanced at Dan and saw the boy's head was sagging, his eyes closing.
“Dan!”
Carlos reacted first, slapping Dan so hard across the face that his glasses clattered on the floor. Dan jerked awake with a yelp.
“What the what?” he exclaimed, clutching his stinging cheek.
Carlos turned back to crushing the leaf. “You must stay awake, Daniel.”
Marlow examined the red mark on Dan's cheek, which was already fading. “Ah yeah. That's the old parental care I remember.”
Carlos ignored her. He carefully poured the mortar’s liquid contents into a glass beaker, swirled it, then placed it over a Bunsen burner. He connected a glass tube to the beaker's top, sealing it. Then he lit the Bunsen.
“What exactly are you doing?” said Dan, groping for his glasses.
“The extract is a recent little discovery of mine,” Carlos said, relieved to be diverted from the subject of his questionable parenting. “A new orchid found in the deepest Malaysian rain forest - I don't even think it has an official name. None that I could find any way, so I named it...” He drifted off in embarrassment. He gave the glass apparatus a gentle shake to ensure it all held together, then called up a program on the laptop. It was a homemade database of various plants and their effects. Dan saw a magnified image of the leaf appear on the screen, a mass of text and molecular data underneath. He also caught the name: Monomeria Marlow. Dan glanced at Marlow; she hadn't noticed and was gently tapping the beaker as the liquid boiled.
Carlos's tone became that of a lecturer. “Some narcolepsy is caused by a lack of orexin...”
“I know all that,” sighed Dan. “I'm not a kid.”
Carlos looked at him with a frown. “Well, unless you are a dwarf then that's exactly what you are.”
“I mean, I've been through a barrage of tests to sort this out and nothing has ever worked.”
“Ah, but you have never experience my juice. It generates something very similar to orexin to prevent sleep, but works with your other neurotransmitters to keep you feeling relatively fresh and alert. Of course, your natural rhythms will always conquer, but it should keep you on your toes. At least for a while.”
Carlos drew their attention to the beaker as a red liquid bubbled its way along the network of tubes, losing its vivid red colour with each distillation, until it rapidly dripped into a second beaker the colour of a weak herbal tea.
Dan pushed his nose closer to the brew. His usual malaise was suddenly swept away when he caught a whiff of the potent vapours. He experienced a mi
xture of excitement and trepidation that his salvation lay in the bubbling tube.
It took almost an hour for the process to complete. Carlos lifted the full beaker to the light to examine the contents. Squinting, he finally gave a nod of approval. Dan grinned as he lifted the beaker up to toast Marlow, but when he looked, she was fast asleep, her grubby coat pulled tightly around her for warmth.
It was still dark when Marlow woke, but it felt as if she had slept for days. She seldom felt so refreshed even as she smacked her dry lips, wiped the white crud that had gathered at the corner of her mouth, and felt the overwhelming urge to drink something alcoholic.
She was still in the greenhouse and somebody had draped a blanket over her. She stood and stretched - realising that she was alone.
“Dan?” With a sudden sense of dread, Marlow darted around the greenhouse, glancing behind each shelf and down aisle. “Dan? Where are ya?” her tension came back with the force of a sledgehammer.
Marlow ran through the kitchen: empty. Running into the corridor her eyes swept up the staircase - then to the flickering light of a log fire coming from under the living room door. Marlow reached to open it - then hesitated. If Dan was asleep, then there was no certainty at what lay behind the door.
She patted down her coat; she was weapon-less. She hadn't seen anything suitable in the greenhouse or the kitchen. To go in unarmed was foolhardy, but to allow Dan to sleep any longer was increasing the risks they face.
Licking her lips, and trying to stop her hand from shaking, she gripped the doorknob and gave it a slow half turn. The catch clicked and it opened an inch. Marlow caught her breath and pushed it open. It swung back with a loud creak and the lulling warmth of a roaring log fire swept over her.
Dan sat in front of the fire, eyes open. Marlow wasn't falling for that again, the kid could still be sleeping. She tensed, ready to pounce…
Then Dan turned and smiled.
“You're finally awake,” he said in a chirpy voice.
Marlow slowly entered, her eyes darting to the shadows. “You awake?”
