Living Hell (11 page)

‘Yes,’ said Mum. ‘But Plexus isn’t normal. We can’t assume anything.’

‘No. I know.’

‘I really don’t see – I mean, it’s going to be so hard -’

‘Ow!’

Ahead of us, Lais had run into Dad, who had stopped short. Bam was barking frantically. We all looked up.

A large shape was scuttling across the ceiling. I knew instantly what it was. Though it had slipped off its circuit rail, and its boxy composite sheath was now a kind of elastic shell, and its suction-valve brushes had turned into beating hairs, or cilia, and its padded wheels had transformed themselves into sucker-like attachments, I still recognised the greyish sheen and distinctive shape of a Remote Access Laundry Unit.

It seemed to pause overhead, its cilia pulsing.

Everyone froze. It was an instinctive reaction. To see something so big – so big and
alive
- touched the primitive
homo sapiens
in all of us.

Dad was the first to come to his senses.

‘Okay,’ he muttered, without taking his eyes off the RAL.

‘Okay, everyone, let’s keep going. Gently, now. Gently . . .’

Before we could move, however, the RAL’s suction valve convulsed. It disgorged a great blast of glossy blue discs, about the size of my palm. They poured out, but didn’t pick up much speed. They just floated in the air, rippling slightly. Slowly they began to disperse.

They looked vaguely familiar.

‘What – what -?’ Lais stuttered.

‘Just move!’ Dad snapped. ‘BioLab!
Move!

’ ‘Scent pellets,’ I gasped. ‘Could they be scent pellets?’

‘
Move
, Cheney!’

They
were
scent pellets – I was sure of it. I had studied the laundry system during my stint in Sustainable Services. All RALs carried scent pellets. When you didn’t clean with water, scent pellets were vital.

But I didn’t get the chance to have a really good look. We were already moving, running along the tube towards BioLab. I stumbled, and nearly fell. Mum hauled me to my feet again.

‘Mum -’

‘Later!’

We charged down the platform, though there was no need to. The RAL didn’t follow us; I glanced back to check. It was disappearing down one of the streets, leaving a trail of drifting scent pellets.

Ahead of me, Dad slipped. It was easy to do, on that surface. He hit one knee coming down, and swore. Lais careered into him; she also tumbled.

‘It’s all right!’ Zennor panted. ‘It’s gone!’

‘Slow down.’ Mum was also gasping for breath as she hung off my arm. ‘We can’t – can’t run – we’ll hurt ourselves – too uneven . . .’

‘I want my mum . . .’ Yestin whimpered.

‘This stinks!’ Dygall exclaimed wildly. ‘What
was
that thing? What was it doing?’

‘It was a Remote Access Laundry Unit.’ I was surprised that he hadn’t spotted it. ‘And those blue things were scent pellets. At least, they
used
to be . . .’ I saw one flit by, dodging a sampler, and added desperately, ‘I – I don’t know what they are now.’

‘Enzymes, perhaps?’ Arkwright speculated, his blank gaze fixed on the same pellet. ‘Hormones?’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ Lais said. ‘Come
on
.’

‘Of course it matters.’ Arkwright spoke quite sharply, for him. ‘Everything matters. We can’t deal with any of this unless we know what’s going on.’

‘Well, whatever those blue things are, they don’t look dangerous,’ Zennor remarked, sounding more hopeful than relieved. ‘There’s no reason to think they’re dangerous.’

‘Perhaps we ought to catch one,’ Arkwright suggested. I knew what he meant – I knew he was right – but I couldn’t dredge up much enthusiasm. Harmless or not, the scent pellets were strange and disquieting.

I just wanted to get away from them.

Fortunately, Dad said, ‘Not now. Later. We haven’t even got a sample box with us.’

‘When we reach BioLab,’ Mum added, ‘we can work out exactly what we need.’

So we pressed on, cautiously. I found myself watching the area above my head. Dad began to approach every junction with more care, even though – as Zennor had pointed out – there was no reason to regard the scent pellets (or the samplers, for that matter) as dangerous. They all seemed to be going about their mysterious business as if we weren’t there.

‘It’s like being Jonah inside the whale,’ Lais muttered, at one point.

‘Huh?’ said Dygall.

‘Jonah. You know. From the Bible.’

Dygall didn’t know. Neither did I. Though we had done a unit on the Bible in our history course, neither of us could remember any Jonah.

‘He was swallowed by a whale,’ said Lais. ‘He lived inside it for a while.’

‘And then what happened?’ I asked.

Lais hesitated. ‘Actually,’ she admitted, ‘I don’t really know . . .’

‘He was vomited up onto dry land.’ It was Zennor who spoke. ‘The Lord made him preach outside Ninevah.’

‘Well,’ said Dygall, ‘I hope that doesn’t happen to
us
. Unless we find the right sort of dry land.’

‘It’s a story about trying to avoid your destiny,’ Zennor began – and was suddenly hit.

A scent pellet hit him. It exploded against his back in a cloud of fine blue powder. He dropped to his knees from the impact.

Lais screamed.

‘
Tuddor!
’ she cried.

The smell was very strong. It was vaguely soapy, and a little bit herbal, with a touch of citrus thrown in. Zennor climbed to his feet again.

‘It’s all right,’ he gasped. ‘I’m fine . . .’

‘Did it get on your skin?’ Mum demanded. ‘Zennor?’

‘I – I don’t know -’

‘There’s a bit on his neck,’ Arkwright pointed out. ‘And in his hair.’

‘Wipe it off! Quick!’ said Mum.

‘It’s okay. It didn’t really hurt. It – it just pushed me over.’

‘Don’t anybody breathe it in!’ Mum cried.

We all stepped back, though the powder had pretty much settled. Most of it was on Zennor’s pressure suit: the mark looked like a big blue flower. Mum tried to dust it off, using her glove assembly. But it was faintly moist, and stuck like glue.

So did the smell.

‘You should take that suit off,’ Mum suggested. Dad, however, said, ‘Not now. We’re nearly there.’

‘It might be toxic -’

‘He’s not dead yet. Come on. He’ll need to wash it out of his hair, anyway.’

‘It must have been a clumsy pellet,’ said Dygall, in a high voice. He was worried about his father; I could tell from the way he was standing. But he didn’t want to show it. ‘Dad must have got in its way, and it smashed.’

‘I’m fine,’ Zennor repeated. Dad was already forging ahead, and Lais had started to move too. Arkwright hovered at Zennor’s elbow.

‘Can you walk?’ he inquired.

‘Yes, of course,’ Zennor replied, and began to shuffle forward. Mum told Arkwright to go on –
she
would stay with Zennor. She didn’t want anyone else getting too close to him.

I touched Dygall’s arm. ‘Come on,’ I said. ‘We mustn’t lose Dad.’

Up at the front of the line, Dad had reached the next junction. He stopped. Cautiously, he peered around the street-corner, crying, ‘
Hello!

’ Then he jerked back, so abruptly that he trod on Lais’s foot.

‘Ow!’ she yelped.

He didn’t say sorry. I don’t think he could. He had swung around to face her, gasping, wide-eyed. As we watched, he collapsed against a wall.

But when Lais tried to pass him, his arm shot out.

‘No!’ he choked.

‘What -?’

‘Don’t. Wait. Please . . .’

Now we all knew that something was wrong. We slowed. We halted. We stared.

‘What is it?’ Lais whispered.

Dad swallowed. He seemed to have aged ten years in ten seconds.

‘An – an accident . . .’ he said hoarsely.

‘What?’

‘Don’t look down the street.’ He straightened, and addressed us all. ‘We – we have to cross this junction, and BioLab’s just four more streets away. You kids – when we cross this junction, I want you to shut your eyes . . .’

‘Why?’ Arkwright queried. Mum gave him a vicious jab, and jerked her head at Yestin. Yestin gasped.

‘It’s Mum!’ he squeaked.

‘No,’ said Dad. ‘Yestin -’

‘It is!’ Yestin cried, and surged forward. It happened so quickly that Dad wasn’t fast enough to stop him. Yestin flung himself around the corner, just behind his rodog. What he saw made him stop – but it didn’t stop Bam.

By the time I hit that junction, pulling against my mother’s grasp, Bam had reached the corpse that lay halfway down twenty-first street.

He began to bark excitedly.

CHAPTER
TEN

I’ll never forget that moment. It changed everything. I saw the body, and everything else seemed to fade into the background. I knew that things would never be all right, ever again. I knew that the old world was gone.

And I was right.

The body didn’t belong to either of Yestin’s parents. I saw that instantly, because the face was still intact. It was Haido, and she was dead. Most of her middle part was gone – burned or melted away.

You could smell it. That smell. It makes me sick, even now. Just to think of it.

Yestin threw up. Right then, in front of me. I shut my eyes, but of course it was too late. That carnage is seared into my mind, and I can’t get rid of it.

I wish I hadn’t looked. I wish I’d done what I was told.

‘
No – no -
’

I don’t know who was whimpering. It could have been anyone. Dad – I’ll never forget this – Dad moved past me, and said, ‘It’s not your mother. Yestin? It’s not your mother. Look at me, son.’

‘Cheney? Come on.’ Mum was able to talk. Her voice was hoarse, but she was Chief Medic. She had seen dead bodies before. She could cope with them. ‘Over here.
Now
.’ She took my hand. She began to lead me away.

Lais was crying. I could hear her. Dygall . . . I opened my eyes, and found myself looking at Dygall. He was standing as if frozen, staring, white-faced. Zennor’s arms were twined around him, from behind.

‘Come,’ Zennor croaked. ‘We can’t do anything for her.’

‘We have to get out of here!’ Lais sobbed. ‘Tuddor! These streets aren’t safe!’

‘Wait.’ Only Arkwright sounded calm. ‘We have to bring Haido.’

‘
What?

’ ‘We have to, Lais. We have to find out what did this.’

‘It’s true,’ Mum agreed. We had already left the junction, she and I, but she turned back. She retraced her steps, dragging me with her. ‘That’s true. We need to know. Tuddor -’

‘I’ll do it.’ Dad gave Yestin a gentle push. ‘Go on. You go with Quenby.’

‘Mum . . .’ Yestin sobbed. ‘Where’s my mum?’

‘Go on, Yestin,’ Dad urged. ‘She’s probably in BioLab.’

‘Come on, sweetie,’ said Mum. ‘That’s a good boy . . .’

I don’t know how I did it, but I did it. When Yestin reached us, I put an arm around his shoulder. I said, ‘You stay with me. We’ll be all right.’ My voice wobbled a bit – I felt as if I could hardly breathe – but I did it. I talked.

So did Dygall.

‘We need guns!’ he wailed.

‘Okay, go,’ said Dad. He picked up Haido’s feet. He was going to drag her along the floor.

I looked away.

‘Was it acid?’ Arkwright asked Dad.

‘We’ll find
out
, Arkwright, just
go
!’

Lais had already gone. She was way ahead of us by that time. I kept a firm grip on Yestin, whose body shuddered with every wrenching sob. I wasn’t crying, myself. I don’t know why. Too shocked, perhaps.

‘You kids,’ Mum panted, as we hurried along, ‘you kids, if you see any . . . remote units . . . you duck into the nearest cabin. Or a stair shaft . . . compartment . . . anything. Get in there and shut the door . . .’

‘Did – did a rem – remote do that?’ Yestin hiccoughed.

‘I don’t know,’ said Mum.

‘It could have been a sampler that did it!’ Dygall exclaimed. ‘It could have been anything!’

‘Wait.’ Mum stopped abruptly. We all did. Lais was in front, and she had come to a standstill. She had reached the next junction.

Dad was bringing up the rear. I glanced over my shoulder, and saw him. He was shuffling backwards, dragging his burden. Blocking it from view.

‘Well?’ said Mum. ‘Lais?’

‘Nothing,’ Lais croaked. She had edged around the corner. ‘It’s – it’s clear.’

‘Go, then!’

Lais went. Mum and I followed, with Yestin. Zennor and Dygall were right on our heels.

Then Bam shot past, dashing ahead, barking merrily. He shot down the platform (making pads of flesh wobble under his strange, chicken-leg feet), halted, turned, and shot back again. He kept doing it, as if he was impatient. Lais said wildly, ‘I wish that damn thing would
shut up
. . .’

‘It’s not a damn thing, it’s a good thing,’ Mum coughed.

‘It’s making too much noise!’

‘It’ll draw fire,’ said Dygall faintly. ‘Can’t you see? It’ll get hit first.’

‘Oh.’ Lais subsided.

‘Anyway,’ said Mum, ‘we don’t know how . . . I mean, it might not be the noise that . . .’ She, too, subsided, but I knew what she meant. Bam was our early warning system.

We had reached the next junction.

‘It’s clear,’ announced Arkwright, who had overtaken the rest of us. Just looking at him, I felt safer. There was something about Arkwright. In the midst of this chaos, his mind was still working calmly. He had always been that way: his intellect was so active, his curiosity so rampant, that he didn’t seem affected by the concerns of ordinary people. He was too interested to be afraid.

‘Tuddor? How are you doing?’ he asked, stretching up to peer over the top of my head.

‘Fine,’ came Dad’s muffled response.

‘Need help?’

‘No.’

Then Lais shrieked. When I swung around, the air was full of blue powder. Someone had been hit – another scent pellet.

Arkwright? No. Lais.

‘Oh no! Oh no!’ she cried, coughing and waving her arms. Her face, hair and back were streaked with blue.

‘Quenby! Help! Quenby!’

‘It’s all right.’ Mum let go of my hand. ‘Don’t panic -’

‘Help me! Help!’

‘Don’t
panic
!’ Dygall snapped. ‘Didn’t you
hear
? It doesn’t
hurt
you! Dad’s
fine
!’