The Blood Line (9 page)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

London

Present day

A
few days after seeing the lawyer, Sam huddled in a dark corner on a different London roof. Now he had gotten his head around the dates it seemed as though he had only stayed in the future for a month or two at the most. It felt good to return to the present, or what he thought of as the present anyway. He’d come to realise that it was all relative to personal experience. With the possibility of travelling to any time and place, albeit within the boundaries that the lines allowed, anything was possible. In a way, his parents were still alive and he could go to see them if only he could find the right path, although as they had been killed when he was only a baby they would not know who he was. Time wasn’t a single river carrying everyone along at the same pace. With the existence of the lines it had become an infinite number of trickling streams running alongside each other, sometimes it formed whirlpools, sometimes it ran fast, sometimes slow. Sam shivered. At some point in time Ferus was still alive and looking for him. If events in the past could turn out differently what effect did that have on the future?

But, whatever the answer, he was glad to be in London at a time which felt normal. Barely an hour had passed when he hadn’t regretted walking away from Weewalk and Kya. Life in the future had been harder than he had expected and he now felt that he had made a wrong and immature decision to leave. He had just felt so angry at Tarak for using him to get at Ferus.

But how else could Sam have reacted? His life had been bizarre ever since his grandfather had died. He had barely escaped with his life as his house had been burnt to the ground, he had met Weewalk and Hadan, battled a werewolf like garoul, been instrumental in starting the Great Fire of London, journeyed deep underground to a doorway to a secret American Government experiment, developed strange telekinetic powers, beaten Spring-Heeled Jak in a battle using telekinesis and almost been killed by a distant descendant from a world that would be created by the destruction of his own world. To top it all he had discovered that his grandfather had been from this distant future and had become stuck in the past setting in chain a series of events which would eventually lead to the whole business. It was quite a lot to take in. Sam didn’t feel too ashamed that he hadn’t reacted particularly well. The end of the world took some getting used to.

He had thought the future would be the best place to get away from everything. He had wanted time alone. He had thought that in the world of Mu he would be less likely to stand out because of his presence, his new found ability to affect things around him with his mind. But he had quickly found that he had not the first idea how to interact with people and with nowhere to stay and no-one he knew it felt like being in the most foreign of countries and, somewhat ironically, in a simple, rural and distant past. A time of oppression and magic and strange creatures. It had been like stepping into the pages of a fantasy novel, although without the dragons. At least he hadn’t seen any dragons. The distant city he thought he had seen when he had first arrived had been little more than a few simple wooden towers. Hardly the technologically advanced glorious vision of progress man might have been hoping for. He had, for a while, not been sure that he hadn’t mistakenly travelled many hundreds of years into his own past.

But there was no mistaking that he was in the future. He had developed some sort of internal clock. He could just sort of feel where he was in time. But he had felt sick. He had told himself that he had simply been exhausted from the pressure of recent events or that he had picked up some germ or bug but that hadn't explained away his difficulty to think clearly. He had had nowhere to stay and when he had managed to find somewhere to shelter his sleep had been fitful, broken by dreams of the end of the world, strange orbs of light floating around the black doorways of the lines and shadowy figures, elusive in his dream-world. He supposed it was a lack of sleep but he had caught himself acting erratically when awake and having problems with his memory. Sometimes he startled himself realising he had been simply standing or sitting still and gazing into space without a coherent thought in his head. It had been like he was living in a patchy fog and his mind drifted in and out of it. He didn't know why his brain wasn’t working properly, although it had been through a lot. He found it hard to concentrate on anything in particular but, all the time, a certain thought was there, prickling the back of his skull. Armageddon. The end of the world. The whatever it was that would happen and all but end man's time on Earth as it had the dinosaurs. And Sam had realised that the world after that day was not a happy place. The Riven King had seen to that. His thoughts turned to the rogue he had met in Mu. He hoped that Aleksy had gotten away from Rivenrok and was okay, or would be okay when the events he had seen eventually took place.

Back in what was, at least to Sam's internal clock, present day London he had felt the fog lift a bit and had found himself able to think more clearly again. But still he felt sick much of the time and still sleep often eluded him. It had taken him two days of wandering the streets to remember the journal entry about going to see the solicitor, Adrian Fiddler, the man that his grandfather had trusted with his assets. It had scared Sam that his brain was working so slowly but again, once he had decided on this course of action, it had felt like the right thing to do and he had enjoyed a bit more clarity. Actually going into that office had been scary too but, in a rare moment of complete lucidity, Sam had decided that it had to be done and that it was best done with as few people seeing him as possible. Looking back now he wasn't quite sure how he had had the guts to do the things he had with Weewalk and Hadan and Kya but he was painfully aware that he had recently brought about the demise of Ferus, one of the Riven King's most trusted generals. And Spring-Heeled Jak for that matter. Sam couldn't believe that such acts would go unpunished and he was constantly checking behind himself for pursuers. In a short amount of time he had become deeply paranoid and had resolved to stay hidden and unnoticed wherever possible. Were they coming for him? Had they already found and captured a past version of him? Would he still be here if they had? Did his being here mean that his past self was safe and that they wouldn't or couldn't endanger him in the past? It was all too much for his foggy brain.

Now, cold and alone in London, Sam couldn't quite believe what he had come through. Looking back it was as though he had been following some irresistible shining thread which had drawn him through events. In the ruins of old London, during the Great Fire when Sam had saved the life of an old woman from being crushed in a crowd, Weewalk and Hadan had spoken to him of destiny. Was that what it had been guiding him? Fate? Was this sickness what it felt like when one broke away from that line?

Sam rubbed his eyes suddenly aware that he was still crouched on a damp, cold roof high above the dark, shiny wet streets of London. He shook himself. He had a plan. He needed some rest and there was one place he could think of where he knew he would soon feel better. But he had something else to do first. The thought scared him far more than seeing that slimy solicitor but it had to be done. He stood and ran to the edge of the roof where he pushed with presence and leapt high into the night.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

London

Present day

S
am soon found the River Thames. Its black waters, shiny from the night lights of London, slid along soundlessly below him. Using it to navigate he made his way east until he found a quiet street between two buildings and dropped to the ground. In many ways walking the pavements was better for remaining hidden than using presence to leap around between roofs. Although few people ever looked up expecting to see strange figures jumping about he felt less conspicuous on the ground, walking normally. More visible, but less obvious. The City lived on multiple levels with countless tall buildings, roof gardens, terraces and balconies and he was cautious about being seen. The endless security cameras did not make life any easier either.

On the ground he looked carefully about himself, peering around corners whilst keeping in the shadows.
Paranoid
, a voice inside his head told him.
Safe
, he told it. He pulled his hood closer over his face and joined in with the crowds making their way home after a day's work.

Crossing the river via Waterloo Bridge, heading north, he couldn’t help but expose his face a little to look out from under his hood. The City lay off to one side with the illuminated dome of St Paul's Cathedral. He remembered the Great Fire and the flames which had engulfed that entire horizon. To the other side he saw the immense circle of the London Eye and the crags of the Houses of Parliament.
Gunpowder, treason and plot
, he thought to himself as he looked at the floodlit building. He turned when he came to the end of the Bridge and followed the Embankment along the north side of the river until he could clearly see the luminous face of the clock in the tower that everyone knew as Big Ben after the bell inside.

Time to go up again
, Sam thought and he turned down an alleyway. He hunched down for a moment, as if tying a shoelace. As he did so he used his presence to tug on the security camera high above him so that it now pointed at the wall. He stood again and, after looking around to satisfy himself that he was unseen, he pushed from the ground and then several broad ledges until he reached the roof. It was difficult to find his way up here. Many of the roofs were pointed rather than flat and most had some form of security such as wire or cameras. The worst was the anti-climb paint which left sticky black marks on everything which never dried. Plus everything on the roofs was slick with drizzle. Still, after a few wrong turns, and an exhilarating dash across what he thought might be the Ministry of Defence building, he found that he was more or less in the right place. He paused, looking across and down at the gates to Downing Street. Four policemen stood at the black wrought iron all armed with impressive looking guns.

He waited there for an hour, immobile, sometimes watching, sometimes just mindlessly staring into the space ahead of him, almost dozing. A few people came in and out of the pedestrian gate on the left, more leaving than going in. At one point he was conscious of the gates opening to admit a dark car and he was startled a minute later by a series of distant flashes. At first he tensed, listening for thunder, but then he realised that the flashes came from the camera bulbs of journalists just out of sight, stationed in front of the famous door of Number 10, Downing Street. The Prime Minister was clearly receiving a late visitor tonight. Well, he would get one more yet.

At one point Sam must have fallen asleep. He awoke with a start. At first he wasn't sure how long he had had his eyes closed but then Big Ben chimed the hour. He had only been asleep for ten minutes or so, but he had dreamed. It had been about the lines again. He had been standing on the edge of a dark expanse of grass and there had been a line there, surrounded by orbs. Tiny round balls of bluish light hovering just in front of the doorway. They had moved towards him, slowly, floating. And as they had moved closer voices had come from the line, beckoning him, whispering. Sam shivered at the thought and settled back to watch the gates to Downing Street. He couldn’t say what he was waiting for. It was more about summoning up the courage than anything and the fear of what might happen if he was caught. He didn’t want to have to use presence on ordinary people.

Eventually Sam moved, his muscles stiff and numb. Using a series of buildings he crossed Whitehall and came round to where he could see what he judged to be the right place. He was sure there would be very significant security up here. He paused. The back of his neck tingled as he considered his move.

'Thought you'd never get here!'

Sam froze. The voice had come from behind him, on the roof. Someone was here. Female. He didn't move. There was a chance, albeit slim, that she wasn't talking to him. It was dark, he was wearing dark clothes and wasn't moving. It might be a voice from an open window.

'Sam, hey, over here. Behind you.'

He straightened and turned warily. Leaning against a chimney stack was a young, slim woman, her hair a short bob of blonde above a fashionable light-coloured knee length raincoat. She clutched a purse in one hand and gave a sheepish wave with it as she spoke.

'Hi,' she said breezily. Then more concerned 'How are you?'

For a moment Sam was torn. He wanted to run but the only way to get away was to use presence and he didn't want to be seen using it.

His voice came as a growl. 'Who are you?'

'Amy Shore. Security,' she cocked her head to one side, a wrinkle appearing on her forehead. 'You okay?'

'You don't look like security,' Sam tried to keep his face in shadow.

'I have some er... special talents. I'm afraid I can't let you go inside to see the Prime Minister today, Sam.'

'How do you know my name?'

'It's my job to know.'

'What are you, some kind of spy?'

'Uh-huh,' She nodded. '’Fraid so. Sorry. MI5.' She gave the sheepish wave again.

'So what do we do now?' said Sam through clenched teeth.

'Well, we would like to talk to you but first you need to jump back the way you came or that marksman over there will kill you and not even you will be able to stop the bullet.' She pointed to a dark patch on a neighbouring roof. Sam looked. He couldn't see anything but he decided not to call her bluff.

'I have to speak to the Prime Minister,' Sam said.

'Um, no you don't.'

'I do!' he shouted, feeling anger course through him. A red dot of light appeared suddenly on his chest. The target laser of a sniper. He fought for a moment to regain his composure, his heart fluttering. He spoke very slowly and carefully.

'I need to tell him something very important. I have a warning.'

'You really don't need to tell him anything,' sighed Amy. 'He probably knows more than you do. Look.'

She reached into her purse and brought out a white business card. Sam tensed.

'Relax,' she said. 'Here.'

Sam almost stumbled in shock as the card floated into the air and moved steadily to him as though held in an invisible hand. It circled twice around his head before stopping in front of his face. It read simply 'Amy Shore, UK Government' and gave a phone number. Sam plucked it from the air, feeling her presence relinquish it as he took hold. He slipped it into a pocket.

'He knows,' she said sadly, giving him a tired smile. 'He doesn't know when the world will end but he knows it will happen eventually. It's a secret that has been passed from Prime Minister to Prime Minister for a very long time. The American Presidents too via the Book of Secrets. One day the world will explode. Each Prime Minister and President just hopes it won't be on his or her watch. The lines will be created, the Riven will come, the future will be bleak and the people will be enslaved.'

'What?' hissed Sam feeling the anger rise again. 'He knows? Then why doesn't he do something about it? Warn people? Protect them?'

'What could he do, Sam? We don’t exactly have an army of good guys with presence all ready and raring to protect every person at every time. How can you fight something and someone which doesn't exist yet? How can you stop something which is in space and is invisible and you have no idea when it will come? And what possible benefit would telling people have? Mass panic. Riots. Lawlessness. The breakdown of normal society. For a problem that might not happen for a thousand years. That’s if anyone would even believe us. They would think the Government had gone mad.'

'You could build shelters. Protect people!'

'Hey, I didn't say the leaders of the world hadn't done anything. Do some research. Read about the bunkers that have been built. Any conspiracy theorist will tell you where they are and about the stocks of tinned food and bottled water inside. But remember we don't know when the end will happen. It could be tomorrow, it could be in a thousand years. But do some research. While you're doing that check out the Philadelphia Experiment. You might be a bit less surprised that we know about you. We've been aware of all this for some time. Go onto some of the websites set up by fans of the paranormal. Excuse the pun but try to read between the lines, Sam. The truth is out there.'

She pushed her blonde hair away from her face where a strand had become stuck to her lip. Amy continued. 'It's not like the Government has an infinite supply of time and money you know. The Prime Minister needs to protect the country's interests today too.'

Suddenly Sam realised that there was no point in staying here any longer. That feeling of hopelessness had washed over him again. Quickly he took a couple of steps, his feet crunching on the rough gravel on the roof, before leaping back the way he had come, across a gap between buildings. As he moved he saw Amy show her palm to the shadowy corner where the sniper had been. Sam landed heavily and took off again immediately, almost colliding with a satellite dish on the next roof and staggering as he landed.

Amy dropped lightly and softly beside him, again brushing her hair from her lips and now holding a pair of shiny high-heeled shoes in her hand as well as her purse. She put her hand on his arm. It felt like a static shock and Sam flinched.

'We can help you,' she said softly.

'I don't need any help,' he answered crossly, knowing as soon as he said it that it was a lie and hating that he couldn't allow himself to give in. For the briefest moment it sounded like a wonderful idea to have someone look after him. To sleep in a dry, warm bed. To eat a hot meal with a knife and fork. A hot shower. After all, wasn’t that why he had come here? To pass the burden of knowledge that he carried to someone else? Someone more important? But, no, he couldn’t take help now and he leapt away, crossing streets at random until he finally collided nosily with a set of bins near a fire escape. He collapsed, breathing heavily. No-one was following him. He had his wish. He was alone again.

Back near Downing Street Amy brushed a stone from between her toes. She gave a sigh. Sam was in trouble; that was sure. But there was no way she could help him unless he would let her. She was pretty sure he was going to be important though. She had enough information about the future to know that he had the potential to change things considerably, provided that the future was predictable when people could time travel and provided that she could keep him safe. Perhaps she ought to seek some advice.

She used presence to leap back to the roof of Number 10. Landing softly she slipped her heels back on and strode across to where the sniper Ade, whom everyone knew as Larry, was carefully packing away his rifle. He was almost completely invisible in the shadows, his dark Nigerian skin and shaved head shining faintly from the streetlights. He was one of an extremely small number of people who knew about Amy’s abilities. His own presence was not very strong and he couldn’t move around like Amy could, but he was one of the best shots in the world. A skill that was vital when your target might suddenly leap a hundred feet in the air and try to push your bullet back the way it had come. Amy had worked with him on a number of occasions and they had a good partnership. She had even been able to bend his bullets like a homing missile using her own presence making them an effective and deadly team. They had hunted several Riven together.

Larry looked up as she approached. ’So, you didn’t manage to convince him to come in then? I thought the cocktail dress might clinch it.’

Amy scowled in mock irritation and used presence to lift a small piece of gravel and flick it at him, bouncing it off his forehead.

‘Hey!’ he objected.

Amy pushed her blonde hair back from her face. ‘I thought I might see if I can make contact with some others before I follow him,’ she said.

‘Sure. Do you need me?’ Larry finished packing away his rifle and snapped the lid shut.

‘No, thanks. I’ll come find you if I need you. Would you tell the office I might be away for a few days?’

‘Yup. Just call me if you need me.’

He turned and headed off towards the roof access. Amy rotated the security cameras so that they focused on the roof again giving eyes back to the security team based within the building. She was impressed that they had let her angle them away. That was the benefit of having such good contacts. Checking that everything was in order she followed after Larry with only a quick glance back in the direction in which Sam had disappeared.