The League of Doorways (A Book of Vampires, Werewolves & Black Magic) (The Doorways Trilogy - Book Two) (12 page)

Chapter Twenty-Three

As Anna Black sat with the peacekeepers on the shore of the Onyx Sea and listened to Tanner explain her and her brother’s importance, Zach was peering over Faraday’s shoulder. He looked into the black well of darkness beneath the stairs. 

“I wonder what’s down there?” he whispered.

“There’s only one way of finding out,” Faraday said, stepping into the darkness.

“Dunno,” Zach shrugged as he followed him down into the pitch black.

The stairs creaked as Zach followed Faraday downwards. The air smelt musty as if no one had ventured below for some time.  At the bottom of the stairs, there was only silence. It was cold and Zach shivered. It was so dark that he couldn’t even see Faraday standing in front of him. There was a ‘clicking’ sound, and suddenly the area beneath the farmhouse came dimly into view. Faraday had found a light switch and turned it on. A single light bulb hung from the wooden beams above them.

The room was oblong in shape. It looked like some kind of workshop. There were long workbenches along one wall, and housed neatly above them were rows and rows of odd-looking tools. The workbenches were covered in so many cogs and springs, it looked as if a giant grandfather clock had been blown apart, showering its intricate workings across the room. On the other side of the room was a row of tall glass cases. Faraday approached one of them and stared through the glass.

“This must have been the first ever mechanical man,” he said in his synthesized voice.

Zach approached the case and peered through the glass. Inside

stood
a life-sized metal structure. It resembled the form of a human. Its head was smooth and circular but without facial features. The body was constructed from lengths of metal, held together by a series of pistons, cogs, and pulleys. It looked basic – old-fashioned, yet futuristic all at the same time. A maze of wires coiled and entwined around its elbow and knee joints, and as Zach circled the glass case, he could see a series of thick, black cords snaking up the machine’s metal chin and disappearing into the back of its head. There was a tag hanging from the wrist of the machine and it read:
Prototype 1
.

“So is this what you look like under that skin of yours?” Zach asked Faraday.

“Not exactly, this was just a prototype. By the look of it, its structure and internal organs were very crude,” Faraday said, stepping away from the display case and approaching another.

Zach followed him. “This must have been the second version - prototype two.”

The glass case was identical to the first, except for the design and look of the mechanical man encased inside. This model was covered in a rubbery-looking flesh that was pale yellow in colour. The machine was hairless, and its face consisted of two circular holes for eyes and a gash for a mouth. It looked creepy, unreal, and its dead eyes seemed to stare at Zach as if reading his mind.

Zach turned away and looked at Faraday. “It doesn’t even look real,” he said.

“Do I look real?” Faraday asked him.

“Like a real person, you mean?”

“I know I’m only a synthetic human being – but do I look real?” Faraday asked again.

Zach glanced up at the second prototype and met its vacant stare, then looked back at Faraday. “But these prototypes are not human beings -
you’re
not a human being - humans have a soul,” Zach told him.

Faraday looked back at the mechanical man standing in the glass case, then turned and walked away.

“Did I say something wrong?” Zach asked.

There was an uncomfortable silence as Faraday stood on the other side of the room
and looked down at the workbench, his lanky arms hanging by his sides.

When the silence became unbearable, Zach said, “So what about prototype three?”

“I think I am it,” Faraday said without a hint of emotion in his voice.

“How
can you be sure?” Zach asked.

Faraday held up a small black notebook that he had taken from amongst the cogs and springs on the workbench. Zach took the book from him and thumbed through the pages. His throat made a shallow wheezing sound as he stared down at the pages. The book contained the workings and designs of the mechanical men he had just seen. There were pictures of animals, vehicles, and planes. Beneath each drawing there were lines of scribbled equations.

“Whoa!” Zach whispered as a photograph fell from between the pages of the book. Zach plucked it up. In the picture stood Faraday and a man so tall, that he barely fit in the picture at all. But stranger than that, the man’s face was bright red, as were his hands. His skin was lumpy-looking and cracked. The pair stood in front of a range of mountains which were blood-red in colour. 

“Who’s the dude you’re standing with?” Zach said, handing Faraday the picture.

“That’s not me,” Faraday said.

“It looks like you.”

“The other is one of the Boulders.”

“What’s a Boulder?”

“One of the rock people,” Faraday answered, and then quickly added, “His name is Tamrus Turanion.”

“So you know him then?” Zach asked.

“Never met him before.”

“So how do you know his name?” Zach asked. “And if you’ve never met him before, what are you doing in the picture...”

“His name is on the back,” Faraday said, holding up the picture for Zach to read.

Zach read the spidery handwriting aloud.
“Tamrus Turanion and Doctor Der Cribbot.”

“So you look like Der Cribbot?” Zach gasped, taking the photo again in his hands and turning it over. “He designed you to look like him?”

“So it would appear,” Faraday said.

“But the likeness is uncanny,” Zach said, holding up the photo and comparing it with the mechanical man who stood before him.

“I thought you said I didn’t look real,” Faraday reminded him.

“I never said you didn’t look real,” Zach said, now wishing he could take back what he had said. He had never intended to hurt Faraday’s feelings. But did Faraday even have feelings? Zach doubted it. So changing the subject
, he said, “So who are the Boulder people?”

“They live in the Craggy Canyon,” Faraday said, taking back the picture and the black notebook from Zach, and placing them into his pocket. “The Boulder people are made from the bright red rock of the canyon.”

“I’ve heard of them,” someone said, and both Zach and Faraday turned around to find Captain Bom standing at the bottom of the stairs. William stood behind him.

“I thought you were looking for food?” Zach asked Bom.

“There ain’t anything worth eating here,” Bom moaned.

“And I couldn’t sleep,” William said, brushing past Bom and joining Zach and Faraday by the workbench.

“So what do you know about these Boulder people?” Zach asked Bom.

“Only that they can’t be trusted,” he said. “They’d sell their own grandmothers if the price was right.”

“Cribbot obviously trusted one of them at least,” Faraday said.

“The man who snuck animals and human technology through the doorways to create this messed up place,” Bom grunted, eyeing the prototypes of the mechanical men in the glass cases. “I wouldn’t trust him either.”

“Well this Cribbot guy obviously isn’t at home,” William woofed. “Maybe he’s dead already?”

“Perhaps,” Zach said. “But unless we know for sure, we’re never going to figure out how to turn off these creatures he created. If we don’t do that, then we can’t get across the Outer-Rim and reach the volcano.”

“Maybe he is hiding out with these Boulder people?” William suggested.

“How far is the Craggy Canyon from here?” Zach asked Faraday.

“Not far, I think,” Faraday said. “But I’m not sure of the way.”

“How about using that buzz-buzz-thing to show us?” Bom suggested.

“I thought you said these Boulder people couldn’t be trusted?” Zach said.

“You’re going to go whatever I say,” Bom groaned from behind his wild beard. “You always do your own thing. And to think I survived The Battle of Neff only to be ordered around by some boy.”

“I’m not ordering anyone around,” Zach said. “But if you’ve got a better idea, then I’m all ears.”

Bom made a huffing no
ise, then skulked back up the stairs.

“What’s his problem?” Zach asked, looking back at William and Faraday.

“We’d better find some Tep leaves - and quick,” William smiled. “The old guy needs a smoke.”

Faraday took the silver compass from his pocket
and flipped back the lid releasing the Seek-Wasp. He asked it to locate the Craggy Canyon. The Seek-Wasp fluttered about the room.

While it worked out the most direct route, Zach looked at his friend William and said, “Do you think we’re doing the right thing by going in search of these Boulder people?”

“What other choice do we have?” William shrugged, staring at Zach through his glowing lenses. “Cribbot isn’t here, so I guess the next place to look would be the canyon. Maybe this Boulder person will know where he is?”

“Okay we leave at sundown,” Zach said, turning away and climbing the stairs.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Wally Willabee led Willow through the forest. It was quiet. The moon cut through the canopy of leaves above them in sporadic shafts and lit their way. Neither Wally nor Willow spoke. She wasn’t completely comfortable in her new skin. Without the long braids of hair hanging from her cheeks and hands, she felt naked, even though she was clothed. Her skin felt too exposed. She looked at her long, slender fingers as she stepped into a shaft of moonlight. The fingernails were cut short and painted red. Who had ever heard of such a thing? Willow wondered. Red painted nails indeed. She much preferred her long, ivory-looking fingernails.

They reached the edge of the forest and stood on the crest of a great valley which cut through the hillsides like a deep cut in the land. The wind blew hard and cold about them, Willow’s new blond hair whispering about her face and neck. She brushed it aside so she could see down into the valley.

“That’s where we need to go,” Wally finally spoke, and pointed into the distance.

“What’s down there?” Willow asked.

“The station,” he said.

Before Willow had the chance to ask anything else, Wally was making his way down the hill. Moonlight filled the valley, giving the appearance that it was covered with a lake of silver water. The trainers that Willow was now wearing crunched over the uneven ground, and they felt uncomfortable. She wondered what her new toes looked like. Were they painted red, too?

At the bottom of the hill, Wally led her into the valley. They hadn’t gone far when Willow saw something shining through the grass beneath her feet. She stopped and toed some of the grass apart. There were tracks of some kind which lead away into the distance.

“We need to follow the tracks,” Wally told her, and set off again.

Walking between the two sets of rails, Willow followed him. The tracks spiralled downwards, twisting between the hills and gorges. Wildflowers and weeds grew tall between the rails, and Willow wondered how long it had been since any kind of vehicle had travelled over them. She had heard of the Great Wasteland Railroad in Endra but had never seen it. Often she had wondered if it was just a myth – a story that the folk from Endra liked to tell as they made camp in the Howling Forest at night. She had heard the tales of how a beast called the Scorpion Steam ran along these tracks, moving at great speeds, thick black smoke pouring from its funnel. Although she had enjoyed listening to these stories, she had never really believed them. But now as she walked between the two sets of silver tracks, she wasn’t so sure anymore.

“We’re nearly there,” Wally turned and said to her. His clean-shaven face looked deathly pale in the moonlight. Wally looked ill as a human. He seemed to have lost some of his spark. She preferred him as a Noxas.

Willow looked again in the direction that Wally was pointing, and in the distance she could see a squat-looking building set alongside the tracks. Willow followed Wally until they reached a slope made of grey stone. It was flat and smooth, and led up onto the platform. Halfway along was the building that Willow had seen in the distance. It was made of grey stone, and it looked old and tired as if it hadn’t been occupied for many years. It seemed like it had been forgotten about. Outside the building there was a weather-beaten bench made of wood, and it looked as if it might just collapse at any moment. Next to this there was a pole which stretched high above her. Attached to it was a wooden sign which swung back and forth in the wind. The rusty hinges which held it in place creaked and made a squealing noise as if in need of some oil. Willow looked up at the sign and read the faded lettering.
Welcome to the
Great Northern Railway
, it read.

Willow looked back at Wally, who stood by a wooden door fixed into the front of the small building. “What is this place?” she asked him, brushing her hair from out of her eyes again.

“It’s a disused railway station,” he smiled.

“Why have you brought me here?”

“I want to show you something,” he said, pushing open the door and stepping inside.

Willow approached the door. It had once been red like her fingernails, but the paint had now mostly flaked away, revealing the knotted planks of wood beneath. She stepped through the doorway, and apart from the moonlight which spilled in through the dirty windows, it was dingy looking. Willow peered into the gloom and could see swathes of
spider webs hanging from the ceiling like ancient chandeliers. Looking about at the worn leather-covered seats, Willow guessed that she was standing in some kind of waiting room. Then to one side she saw a small office. Like the door to the station, it was made of wood and had once been painted red. There was a glass panel in the front of it. Above the small window was written the words:
Ticket Office
. Willow crossed the waiting room and peered through the glass. On the other side of the window she could see a counter with two drawers set into it. One of these was partially open and it looked to be filled with rusty-looking coins and some strips of paper. Willow tilted her head to one side so she could read what was written on the tiny slips of paper. Each of them had the word
Ticket
written on them.

“So people do really travel on machines which run on rails?” Willow said, turning to look at Wally.

“Oh, yes,” he smiled. “The machines are called trains,” he smiled.

“I thought the tales of machines racing across the land were just stories,” she said.

“Like many other Noxas, you have spent your life living in the Howling Forest,” Wally said with a hint of sadness. “Can’t you see now why I left? There is more to life than what lives amongst those trees. I have discovered so much more, Willow Weaver, than you could possibly imagine.”

“Like what?” Willow asked.

With his eyes sparkling, he stepped towards her and said, “I know why the worlds are overlapping. I know why there are so many doorways appearing. I know why they have shifted and no longer stay still.”

“Why?” Willow asked him.

“The six-clicks,” he said.

“The
six
what?”

“The six-clicks, or that’s what I call them,” he started to explain. “Six people, who made six decisions, and
pushed
the six levers out of place.”

“What levers? What people? What are you talking about?” Willow shook her head.

Stepping to one side, Wally said, “These levers.” He stood before six long levers that jutted from the floor just to the left of the ticket office. They had wooden handles, and like everything else in the remote station, they were covered in dust. On the wall above each lever was written the words,
Push
and
Pull
.

“What are they?” Willow asked him, looking and sounding confused.

“They control the points,” he said as if she should have known exactly what he was talking about. Noticing the look of utter bewilderment on her face, Wally smiled and said, “Let me explain. The levers control the points on the tracks outside. They control the points on the tracks which keep everything running smoothly – on time – to the schedule that has been planned.” Wally took Willow by the hand and led her across the waiting room to one of the leather-covered seats. Sitting beside her, he continued.

“Like any railway, it needs to run on time, all the trains are to pass each other at certain times and points. To achieve this, the tracks have points which are controlled by
levers. The levers get
pushed
or
pulled
at certain times and in a certain order so those trains never collide – never
crash
! We are just like those trains, Willow. Each one of us is running on our own set of tracks, which, to a degree, have been mapped out for us. We stop at certain points and get off to have a look around to explore new places, but we always get back on and follow our track. The points are switched for us so we never ever collide – crash – into someone or something that we aren’t meant to. But what if those levers got
pushed
or
pulled
when they shouldn’t have been?” Wally asked her, his smile fading.

“Then we would crash,” Willow breathed, trying to understand exactly what it was that he was telling her.

“You’ve got it!” Wally said. “We would crash, collide, derail – whatever you want to call it. That’s what’s happened. Someone
pushed
their lever out of place – they did something – made a decision that caused us to derail.”

“Who?”
Willow asked him.

“Your son
, William,” Wally said. “The day he opened the box – he
pushed
a lever – it
clicked
out of place. He changed the points on the tracks and our world derailed. Throat came out of the desert, imprisoned the Queen...do I need to go on?”

“No,” Willow whispered
, shaking her head. Then looking at him, she added, “How does William push the lever back into place?”

“He doesn’t,” Wally said. “Zachary Black
pushes
it by taking the box to the Queen.”

Sitting quietly for a moment, Willow thought about everything that Wally had told her. Then slowly
, she lifted her head, and looking at him she said, “You said there were six people who had made six decisions, who had pushed their levers out of place. Who are the other five? Won’t they have to push their levers back into place, too?”

“They will if they want their lives – their worlds – to get back on the rails,” Wally said. “But they don’t concern us. They come from a different place – a different
when
.”

“What’s a
when
?” she asked, looking confused again.

“The universe is made up of many
whens
,” Wally said, scratching his head as if trying to think of the best way to explain what he had to tell her. “They all reflect off one another. But they are not perfect reflections – just distorted ripples of each other. The only constant is the rails, the points and the levers which control them. There will be a railway station like this in all of the
whens
, all with their own levers, just waiting to be
pushed
and
pulled
. Endra is just one of many
whens
. There are The Hollows, a place called The Old West and many more. There are similarities between all of them – but not exact – just shadowy reflections. Each can be reached by passing through doorways, holes in the ground; but my most favourite I heard about are the tube train tunnels. I mean, that is great. Tracks, tunnels, and points all rolled into one. Genius!” he enthused with a beaming smile.

“So who are these other people who
pushed
their levers in their different
whens
?” Willow asked him.

“I know little about them,” he said thoughtfully. “I wish I knew more. I find them fascinating. There is a young couple – very much in love as far as I can gather. But they made some very bad decisions. They really did
push
! There is another – I don’t know his name – he seems to have so many, but he took his lover’s heart because she rejected him. Bad, bad decision. But he is interesting because his
push
changed the points of another. A young policewoman...”

“Policewoman?”
Willow cut in.

“Peacekeeper to you and me,” Wally said.
“Similar, but not the same. Just
reflections
. Like the Slath in our world, they are known as vampires or Vampyrus in others. Just like us, the Noxas. There are many names for us in different
whens
. Lycanthrope, skin-turners, and Skin-walkers are just a few. But all the same – just reflections.” Then scratching his head again, he said, “Now, where was I? Oh, yes, the young policewoman. She has
pushed
back, and in style. There hasn’t been another like her. I will follow her story with interest.”

“Who is the sixth?” Willow asked him, fascinated by what he was telling her.

“Now that is a particularly sad story and her tracks pass over many others,” he said thoughtfully. “She is a young woman in love with a man who kept a secret. When she discovered that secret, she took the decision to reject him. That one decision
pushed
her points and she started down a new set of tracks. Someway down these tracks, she met that man again, and this time, she truly did love him – but it was too late for her. In this young woman’s new
when,
he had fallen in love with another.”

“Who was this other?” Willow asked him.

“The young policewoman who is
pushing
back like no other has
pushed
before,” he said with a childish excitement. “Like I said, I am waiting to see what happens to her with interest.”

“How do you know so much?” Willow asked him.

“Just whispers,” he smiled. “And I read a lot.”

“But we only have to worry about William’s lever being pushed back into place, right?” Willow
asked, her head spinning with everything Wally had told her.