EXCERPT
Connor stormed into Luke’s bedroom, slamming the door behind him. He was morphing into Luke, silently raging with frustration. It was what his brother did best—that—and pretending to have selective amnesia.
His brother was curled up on his bed like a new-born and barely flinched when he had entered.
‘You must remember something,’ said Connor.
‘Quit having a go. I’m telling you; I don’t remember going to Tridan Entertainment.’
They had been facing off like this for weeks. ‘Liar! We both know your MRI was normal.’
He had believed Luke hadn’t remembered a thing when he had been discharged from the hospital tanked up on drugs. His inability to remember events leading up to his hospital stay now seemed implausible. For whatever reason, his brother had decided he was going to feign memory loss rather than discuss Connor’s unexpected and spontaneous trips to other worlds.
And he couldn’t quite shrug off the thought that if Luke hadn’t gone to Tridan Entertainment to see their Uncle Kane, he wouldn’t have gone in after him and Kane might still be alive. The chance to get to know his uncle had been cruelly snatched from him as had the memory of his dad, and Luke had been treating him like an idiot and a nuisance ever since.
He had expected it from his mum. When he had asked her where their family had originated, she had snapped, ‘Southend-on-Sea,’ before changing the subject.
‘What’s gotten into you?’ she had asked. She fretted and spoke loud enough to smother his questions, to blot them out, to pretend they didn’t exist. She took extra shifts at her job at Rostene Services Limited so she wouldn’t have to come home and deal with his questions.
His brother still hadn’t returned to school. He spent most of the time hobbling about the house with his phone in his hand. His friends dropped in from time to time and he laughed and joked with them as if nothing had happened.
‘I don’t know what you think is going to happen if you tell me the truth. Someone else could be coming for you.’
Luke gave a wide yawn and thumped his pillow. ‘Someone like who?’
His brother had lost a lot of weight since leaving the hospital. His tracksuit bottoms hung loosely around his waist. His t-shirt swallowed him. He still had a little muscle on his upper arms. His feet were bare, his lips dry, and his eyes were bloodshot.
Connor paced in front of the door, trying to recall the events in sequential order. He slapped his hands together. ‘Okay, so Steve Lepton was from Earth and was working for someone who wanted you out of the way. That’s why Lepton wanted you to play The Quest of Narrigh on your teleporting-rigged laptop. But Thorn sent us back to Earth, right? Then get this, Ted Carthy introduces me to a new game, The Plague of Pyridian, installed, once again, on your laptop. And where do I end up? On another planet fighting aliens. Just about escaped with my life. Lin was there. You know, the one who you were with in Narrigh?
This fleet commander told me dad used to rule Odisiris before he was murdered, forcing us into exile here.
So, they send me back to Earth and that’s when I found you, shot, and saw Lepton. I don’t know what killed the guy. He kind of got zapped into oblivion after I whacked him with the Bolt-Shot whip. He wanted you dead. What I don’t get is why now?’ He paused for a reaction and to catch his breath. ‘Come on, say something.’
‘I’m tired. Go check on mum.’
‘How many times do I need to check on her? Nothing’s changed. All she does is cry and try to stop me going out same as you!’
Much to his annoyance, Luke tucked his hand behind his head and closed his eyes as if their conversation had bored him into unconsciousness.
He had told Luke repeatedly all that had happened at Pyridian and Tridan Entertainment since his hospital discharge. In his retelling he had mentioned how he met their Uncle Kane, for the first time, on the 25th floor of the gaming headquarters and how Ted Carthy, a lead games developer at the gaming company, had swapped Luke’s laptop for another, which had meant he had to return to Tridan Entertainment to retrieve it. And of how Ted Carthy had installed a new game called The Plague of Pyridian on the laptop. Curious he had used Ted’s security clearance to get into the basement where he had accessed The Plague of Pyridian massively multiplayer online role-playing game, which teleported him to Pyridian: a world rife with aliens. Before teleporting, Luke was the last person he saw.
When he had mentioned Lin, a Pyridian Peltarck, who was instrumental in his rescue from Narrigh, he saw a strange gleam in his brother’s eyes. It was clear Luke remembered her, and if he remembered her, then he had to have remembered everything else that had happened to them since Narrigh.
‘I’m still trying to figure out how to master my abilities. You know, the Dream Emissary ones—’
‘You need to stop talking. You sound nuts!’
Connor punched the wall, his nostrils flaring. ‘You’re a jerk, you know that?’ He took his Worral Stone from his pocket and threw it at his brother’s face. ‘There. If you think it’s just an ordinary stone, try looking for it tomorrow.’
The stone struck his brother’s cheek. He flinched and opened one eye. He said nothing.
Connor left the room, leaving the door standing open. His rage started to simmer.
He didn’t understand Luke at all or his mum. If they thought pretending they were not Citizens was going to stop him searching for answers, they were wrong. He was more determined than ever.
He left the house, consumed with seeking answers his brother and mother denied him. There were other worlds out there, realms beyond his existence, and he was desperate to unravel his place within them.
And he was convinced he had one.
He had given up trying to get into Tridan Entertainment. No matter which entrance he tried, a security guard or some other brawny employee always blocked his path and sent him scurrying back into the street. His motivation stemmed not only from a desire to protect his small family but also what he could gain from his quest for knowledge, despite the risks.
He thought he had run into the games’ developer, Ted Carthy, in a coffee shop. The man had gazed at him as if he hadn’t a clue who he was or why he was there. He left hot-faced with embarrassment. He may have been mistaken. Ted had had a beard and looked like death when he last saw him and the guy in the coffee shop was lively and clean-shaven.
He had one lead left and that was the man Ted Carthy had referred to as a ‘techno doc’: Professor Mathieus Hatleman. He had found his name on a website for the London Institute of Science and Technology. If he phoned, the professor might find an excuse not to see him. Better to confront him in person.
There was just one problem. He was being watched. A black car had been parked outside their house ever since Luke returned from the hospital two months ago. He had asked his mum about the car. Despite him bringing it up multiple times, she denied knowing anything about it.
The car was there for him and wherever he went, the car followed. Sometimes, through the tinted windows, he saw a figure in the back seat. It was disturbing to say the least; someone was trailing his every move and reporting back to whoever was in charge.
The other matter that disturbed him since returning home from Pyridian, and the one thing he tried to dismiss because it was almost too terrible to think about was the feeling something had come through with him. It came in the form of a shadow, and he was the only one who could see it.
He had managed to avoid the car with its tinted windows and ominous presence by travelling on the London Underground. The screeching trains, watchful eyes and crowded platforms lessened his paranoia.
Upon exiting the closest Tube station to the institute, he spotted the black car heading his way. It had appeared outside his school, and he later spotted it as he entered Clapham North Underground Station. How had it managed to cut through all the traffic to arrive precisely before him? And how had it known where he was going?
Taking a final look behind him, he strode towards a building made of alternating white and red bricks.
He took a deep breath and pushed open the doors.
A sandy-haired man with flushed cheeks and a receding hairline sat at the front desk, his eyes glued to the small screen of his mobile phone. He seemed lost in whatever message or game had caught his attention. There was a computer in front of him and an office in-tray stacked with documents.
‘I’d like to speak to Professor Hatleman,’ said Connor, trying to look as bored as the man did.
‘Do you have an appointment?’ The man set down his phone but continued to stare at it.
‘No.’ He snuck a peek at the double doors just in case the car magically reappeared. Fortunately, there was no car to be seen. Somewhere out there, it was waiting for him.
‘You’ll need to make one.’
‘Can’t you call him for me?’
‘Sorry, no. You need to make an appointment.’ He tapped the computer keyboard with one hand and swiped the touchscreen of his phone with the thumb of his other hand. ‘His next available date is October 18th. Name?’
‘Never mind. I’ll try him another time.’ He walked away. Why had he bothered asking? There had to be another way in.
Following the sign for the toilets, he passed through a set of double doors and came to a wide stairwell. He continued on his way until he found the men’s toilets. The stairwell was spacious and bright, with marble columns lining each side. On one of the columns, the various departments within the building were listed. However, the names of the professors, researchers and scientists who worked within those departments were not included on the column.
He turned off on the first floor and padded the length of the corridor. Dressed in his school uniform, he might have been a student or the son of one of the institute staff members. Nevertheless, every time someone passed him in the corridor or came out of a door, his stomach lurched, and he changed direction or paused to check his watch.
Slowly, his anxiety began to subside, and he finally summoned the courage to ask the way to Professor Hatleman’s office. He approached a woman dressed in a navy-blue trouser suit, her arms laden with a stack of photocopy paper. Oversized glasses framed her attentive gaze. He noted that unlike the other individuals he had encountered, she was neither wearing a lanyard nor a visitor’s badge.
She glanced at his tie before meeting his eyes. ‘You’ll find him on the fifth floor, seventh door along. But he’s left for the day.’
‘Thanks,’ he muttered.
As he strolled past her, he risked a glance back over his shoulder. Her fierce eyes watched him. He hastily ripped his tie from around his neck and stuffed it in his pocket. He felt he had no other choice but to return downstairs.
He waited at the bottom of the stairs for a few minutes to catch his breath and his nerve before assaulting them again, jogging past the first floor and onto the fifth.
He broke into an all-out sprint before anyone could get a good enough look at him. He was desperate to put as much distance as possible between himself and the woman with the fierce eyes.
He got the impression that this part of the building had been forgotten. Half of the lights on the fifth floor were out, the rest emitted a dim, humming glow. Unlike the other floors he had encountered, this one reeked of mildew and its walls had faded paint. The green carpet was stained and covered in dust. It appeared no one had come up here in quite some time.
He edged along the corridor, stopping to push his ear up against one set of double doors marked 5.07. On the other side all was still and silent.
The seventh door along had Professor Hatleman’s name plaque listed as ‘DR.’ not ‘Professor’.
He rapped on the door several times. No answer. He tried turning the door handle. He was unsurprised to discover it was locked. He wished he had a paperclip or one of his mum’s hair grips on him, so he could try to pick the lock. Yet, he couldn’t help but wonder: even if there was something to find inside, was it worth the effort? He took out a pen and tore a blank page from his school notebook. If he left a message at least he would have accomplished something.
He wrote his name and asked Professor Hatleman to contact him at his email address or by phone, without giving a reason. He slipped the note under the door. The second, it was out of sight, his mind was cluttered with regrets. What if he had made a mistake? What if he had passed his information on to another Steve Lepton?
He heard rustling paper and his eyes moved from the door to the woman standing further down the corridor. It was the same woman he had spoken to on the ground floor, the one who had told him the professor had left for the day. With her stack of papers in her hand, she had followed him up to the fifth floor.
She glanced around and then back his way. ‘You shouldn’t be up here. What did you put under the door?’
His instincts told him something wasn’t right. Before she could say anything else, he bolted, making for the stairwell.
To his astonishment, she came pounding after him. He heard a thump as she released the papers she was holding. She was fast, not quite at the enhanced speed of Citizens but still remarkably fast for a human.
He sprinted down the stairs. Determined not to be caught. He hadn’t done anything wrong, not wrong enough for a stranger to come chasing after him.
When one of her shoes went flying past him and hit the wall, he vaulted the steps in threes. He didn’t know how many floors he thundered down before a grey shadow, sprung from nowhere, bobbing before his eyes. He was moving too fast to sidestep it. He went straight through, feeling a woosh of cold air on his face. He halted in his tracks. He stood on the stairs for a few seconds, trying to catch his breath and figure out what had just happened. He had seen the woman chasing after him, furious and throwing her shoe at him, but now both her and her flying shoe were nowhere to be seen.
He looked back. The shadow hadn’t gone anywhere. He stepped back through it, sensing the temperature climb by several degrees. The strange woman who had been chasing him, was now ten steps ahead. She kicked off her other shoe and continued bounding down the steps without stopping. She had passed by without seeing him. How could that be? It seemed impossible yet there he was, invisible to her eyes.
He thought she might be waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs. To be safe, he took the lift down from the fifth floor with a group of visitors.
The second the lift doors opened, he shot through the main doors and scampered down the street in the opposite direction from which he had come.
He kept his head lowered and his gaze fixed straight ahead, not knowing if he was being followed by a vigilant security guard, the woman with the fierce eyes, the mysterious black car, or the sinister shadow.