The Terminus Read online

  She looked away.

  “They? Doing what?”

  “The warden... mostly.”

  “Warden? A man?”

  “No. A woman. A fiend.”

  “What did they do to you, Beetie? Tell me everything you remember. Who is the Chairman? Is it Teeth? Did he… oh shit, I dunno how to say this… did he do anything to you? Like touch you where he shouldn’t? Where no one should? Not without you consenting… if you… I mean… oh, shit!”

  Mike… how would you ask her? I need your help here!

  “The grey building… it was so awful!” The girl clearly wanted to avoid any discussion about what the Chairman might have done.

  “I’ve been in the grey building, Beetie. I know what goes on there… will go on… but dunno why.”

  Gary thought of Mike. How he prayed his friend would be able to pull out all the stops and survive. He’d never forgive himself if he ended up on one of those slabs.

  “What happened to your memory?” Gary asked. Beetie shrugged her shoulders.

  “They said I’d have to go back to the grey building if I didn’t behave… didn’t get you out of my mind. But I couldn’t. And I was so certain you would come for me. Why, I’ve no idea… but you’ve still not told me who you really are.”

  Gary gave her hand a gentle squeeze as they walked on. This she allowed, but any attempt to get closer and she withdrew. He so fervently wanted to hold her in his arms and kiss her again but feared she’d scream and run away. Boy, he vowed he’d kill the bastards who had erased her memory, who’d made her so afraid, who’d perhaps even… No, he couldn’t bear to think of such a thing! Right now he needed to get her home, come clean with his mum and not let the girl out of his sight for one second. The Agenda had Mike’s time-specs, and possibly spies in present day London. Any moment one or more might appear out of thin air to whisk the girl away for whatever evil purpose they’d planned for her. He knew rescuing Beetie would be the beginning, not the end, of their story.

  “I’m Gary O’Driscoll,” he explained. “Using time-specs, I came to you in my future… to help you and others in the Retreat solve the mystery of the Terminus. To stop The Agenda destroying what’s left of a submerged London and of human civilisation. You told me all of this, Beetie. With the others there. Your fellow Retreaters. But the place is full of traitors. Like Arthry, the great slob. You trusted him so much. He’s your boss, damn it!”

  “Arthry?” the girl queried. “Yeah, the Chairman told me about Arthry. His friend, he said.”

  “Did he mention Blinker?” Beetie slowly shook her head. “Or God?”

  “He is God. But I‘m to call him the Chairman.”

  A third God… or Teeth?

  “Little man, big teeth?” queried Gary.

  She said nothing.

  “Who gave you those weird clothes?”

  “Weird?” Beetie halted, frowning. “The Chairman’s clothes are beautiful!” she insisted. “Including the underclothes… and the flowers… and all those other things he promised me at the Terminus. I saw them on the computer screen. They’re lovely! He recites poetry to me, as well.”

  Poetry? Underclothes? The Terminus?

  Under different circumstances he’d have gone forwards in time to kill the man whoever he was but Gary kept his cool and they walked on.

  “Handsome is he? The Chairman?”

  “He’s like…” The boy feared the pause meant a search for words to describe some Hollywood superhero lookalike. “…like the worst thing you can imagine. Worse even than what went on in the grey block. His head… his teeth and…” Beetie paused. “His eyes. They’re…”

  “Evil?”

  Beetie glanced sideways at Gary, her own eyes unbelievably lovely. No one would destroy their beauty whilst he was still alive!

  “Evil?” she repeated. “Maybe. Evil… yes! You being in my head fought off the evil.”

  Must’ve done something right! Gary smiled to himself.

  “Yeah!” he said, feeling oddly shy.

  They entered the station. Gary bought two tickets and took Beetie down to the platform.

  “Have I been here before?” she asked, still holding Gary’s hand, childlike, as the train slowed towards the platform. She seemed anxious. “Outside the Retreat... I seem to remember something…” she began.

  “Similar,” Gary said, “only the train of the future’s called a ‘shuttle-bus’. A sort of silver pod and a bloody sight faster. In fact I’ve no idea how they go so fast... though I’d love to find out. At a guess, something like magnetic levitation. No friction, see.”

  Beetie’s smile, the first since her rescue, gave Gary comfort. They boarded the train.

  “I think I remember you’re very clever,” she suddenly announced. “Are you?”

  Gary blushed.

  “Maths, science, I find easy. But words… well, Mike’s the words guy. Not me.”

  “You’re very clever!” she repeated, squeezing his hand. “I know!”

  He remembered her squeezing like that in the future. It had been their secret means of communication.

  Is the shadow that fogs her memory lifting?

  Puzzled glances from other passengers accompanied them from Stanmore to Swiss Cottage. Whether because of Beetie’s extraordinary beauty, her eyes, her smeared face, her cocktail party dress, her bare feet, or his camp-looking tracksuit, the boy could not decide, but the attention worried him. Trying to ignore the stares, Gary listened to the girl as she began to talk about things she did remember… the warden, whom she hated, the garden which she loved, the clothes gifted by the Chairman (to Gary’s embarrassment Beetie excitedly extolled the finery of silky underwear without the slightest inhibition)… and what she’d seen on the computer in her room. He didn’t dare ask her again, on the train, what else had happened, or whether Teeth had visited her in person. Should his worst fear be confirmed, no way would he have been able to control his temper.

  “Gary, the Terminus must be beautiful. Will you take me one day? All those mountains, waterfalls… and the flowers. Oh, you simply have to take me there. I want to share these things with you. If it wasn’t for the Chairman’s preparatory lesson, I’d have…”

  Beetie stopped abruptly when Gary’s eyes flashed anger, his jaw hanging open.

  “What lesson? Where? What the heck did he do to you? Tell me!” A row of eyes turned on the girl but Beetie didn’t reply. “Beetie, what happened? I won’t harm you. It wasn’t your fault... but I have to find out!”

  “He did nothing. Only…”

  Tears appeared again at the corners of her eyes. Gary realised he’d gone too far.

  “You’ll have your flowers, Beetie. Here in the past. Lots of them. We’ll go to Regent’s Park together. Mum’ll get you proper clothes… shoes… and…”

  “High-up shoes? The Chairman gets me such lovely high-up shoes.”

  “High-heeled! Not practical, Beetie. Trainers are better. Mum’ll help you. You’ll like her.”

  “Who’s Mum?”

  Gary had a flashback to when he first met Beetie, Beefor and Arthry and they reckoned ‘mums’ were a kind of flower.

  “My mother. The person I came out of. We have no Hatcheries here. Nothing like the grey building, either. Not a bad place, present day London. I promise you.”

  “Bad place?” echoed Beetie. Unbeknown to Gary, her mind was starting to release darkly-hidden images of a future undersea world.

  They emerged at Swiss Cottage, holding hands, and walked slowly on down the hill, away from the

  Finchley Road. Gary’s thoughts centred on what to say to his mum as Beetie showed her fascination with every female passer-by, her clothes, her hairstyle and shoes.

  “Not a bad place… like you said, Gary!” She grinned at the boy.

  “No,” he agreed, his mind elsewhere.

  The truth? Mum has to be told everything! She’s scatty, has no interest in technology or anything remotely scientific, but she’s kind and she’s st
rong. She must be told everything about Beetie.

  They arrived at his home… a safe haven where Beetie might gradually forget the horror of all she’d been through and adapt to the present.

  “Let me do all the explaining,” Gary insisted after ringing the doorbell.

  The door opened.

  “Mum…” he began.

  “So you’re Belinda!” exclaimed Gary’s mum. “He told us you’re pretty, but… oh, by golly, you are lovely!”

  Chapter 10: On the Run

  Mike flexed his knees and blinked a few times. He smiled at the oaf standing in front of him.

  “Hi, Mr Universe! Take me to your leader, as they say… huh?”

  The man grabbed Mike by the arm and, without a word, dragged him across the wide courtyard towards Teeth, the warden and a group of barefoot girls in pretty dresses sitting quietly on benches in front of the wall. Behind Teeth was a door in the wall. Mike assumed this led to the Terminus. The ugly little fellow came forwards, but not, as Mike rightly guessed, to greet him with the courtesy due to such a distinguished visitor from the past as himself. Like the man’s head, his hands were disproportionately large. He reached up – he was at least a foot shorter than Mike, a youth of average height – and gripped him firmly by the throat. Mike grunted through the constriction, but not once did he take his eyes off the man’s.

  “Where’s he taken her?” Teeth asked, finally relaxing his grip.

  “Nice to meet you, too,” Mike replied, rubbing his neck.

  “Where is she?”

  “I do like your girls. Still think Veronica’s got nicer legs, though. You should see… URGH!” Teeth had Mike by the throat again.

  “I’m not renowned for my patience!” Mike heard voices behind him. “The others are here already. We can’t wait any longer. Tell me where Gary lives! In your London!”

  “I thought they were both dead, Chairman. Honest I did,” said a vaguely familiar voice.

  Teeth let his hand drop.

  “Didn’t do a very good job, did you?” he responded.

  “Cor... think I’ll do without the neck massage next time, but thanks all the same!” remarked Mike, before turning his head to find out whom Teeth had been addressing. He recognised Blinker by the nervous tic, and the large black guy was the traitor Gary had called ‘Arthry’.

  “So many gee-rats I assumed they didn’t stand a chance,” Blinker said. “Can’t understand. Unless…” Blinker seemed to search his mind for an excuse to explain Mike’s continued presence on Earth. “He’s a funny smell.” He nodded in Mike’s direction. “Put ’em off, maybe?”

  “Well, you can finish the job in the grey building yourself when we discover where his silly little friend, Gary, has taken Belinda.”

  “Gary’s not so little. In fact, compared to you he’s quite…” blurted Mike.

  “SHUT UP!” snapped Teeth swivelling and fixing him again with those hideous eyes. “Either you tell me now, or we suck the information out of you.” He indicated the grey block.

  “Erm… the ‘now’ sounds better, if you don’t mind. Swiss Cottage, in fact. Funny, ay? Not really Swiss, and certainly not a cottage. More of a pub, actually. Got any here? Pubs? Lot of ’em closing down in the past, of course. The recession! People can’t afford to get pissed. Man, I’d love a drink myself after all that neck massage.”

  “I know where he lives!” a deep voice boomed out. It was Arthry.

  “You know?” enquired Teeth, eyeing Arthry with suspicion. “How come?”

  “Lives in a pub, right, Mr Big Guy? The Swiss Cottage!”

  They ignored Mike.

  “Gary told Belinda when they were in the Retreat. She gave me the address. Said this meant nothing to her,” explained Arthry.

  “Won’t be his proper address, you dumb dudes!” Mike butted in. “In my London we always give fake addresses. Got blokes called ‘burglars’ who come and nick all your stuff, so you never give away your real address. I mean, you wouldn’t, would you? Be like, well…”

  “I’ll get her, Chairman,” continued Arthry as if Mike was now invisible. “She still trusts me. Everything else is ready. No point in delaying now. I’ll use his specs. Here... give them to me.”

  Arthry held out a large hand.

  “Wait!” said Teeth.

  The ugly little man reached up and adjusted something on Mike’s time-specs. The boy’s hopes of quickly returning to the twenty-first century vanished when Teeth snatched the specs off his face.

  “You lot still here?” said Mike. “Bugger!”

  “Get what you can from his pea-brain then finish him off slowly. Dismantle him bit by bit… whilst he’s alive!”

  “Sounds better than another neck massage,” joked Mike praying Blinker had been truthful in the tunnel.

  Arthry disappeared in a flash. Blinker grabbed Mike by the arm and headed towards the grey building with him.

  “AND IF ARTHRY DOESN’T BRING HER BACK BY THE TIME HE’S BEEN TURNED INTO GEE-RAT FOOD I’LL FINISH YOU OFF PERSONALLY, BLINKER!” Teeth yelled after them.

  “Your leader has an attitude problem,” whispered Mike. “Needs a bit of counselling, I reckon!” When they were well out of ear-shot of Teeth, and Blinker had relaxed his grip on Mike, he added: “Why the hell did Beetie give the big guy Gary’s address?”

  “Dunno,” replied Blinker. “Tried warning her about Arthry, but she wouldn’t listen. She’d turned herself against me. It was the Chairman…”

  “Teeth, please!”

  Blinker laughed.

  “Teeth? Yeah, suits him. He’d programmed Beetie to dislike me for obvious reasons... but Gary? Something happened to her with Gary. She couldn’t stop talking about him.”

  “You’re telling me! Same the other way round. Nothing but Beetie this and Beetie that. Bored the pants off me, he did. Oh shit, if only I hadn’t let him down by getting frozen by that fat bastard with a mag-stunner. Gary’s a good bloke. Best friends always are.”

  “So long as everyone thinks I’m still with them we have a chance, Mike. Mind if I call you Mike?”

  “Use whatever name you like. Just don’t chop me up into giblets for the daddy-rats!”

  “The Chairman has given me an idea.”

  “Not too keen on his ideas.”

  “No… this might give us all a bit of time.”

  “All?”

  “See those surfacers there?”

  “Pork chops on legs?”

  “They’re people. Same as us. Made that way with what The Agenda gives them. For a purpose. Something the real God’s trying to put a stop to though it seems like he’s finally lost the battle. Anyway… I’ve got a little idea.”

  “From Teeth? The Chairman creature?”

  “Because of Teeth. Now… how’s your stomach?”

  Blinker opened the door to the grey building. The stench, a thousand times worse than the stink of gee-rats, hit Mike like a bucketful of stale meat and entrails being flung in his face.

  “I haven’t got a stomach, I swear,” whispered Mike. “Only a nose and it’s having a bloody awful time. God, this is almost as bad as a blast of Teeth’s breath.”

  “Quiet!” cautioned Blinker. “Those big men in there are subordinate to me. Think I’m with The Agenda, but would turn on me in the blink of an eye if one smelt a rat.”

  “Huh! They’ll do that all right!”

  The heavies were busy herding bloated gee-rats towards the swing doors, prodding the creatures’ behinds with machetes, making them turn and snarl through chattering teeth.

  “The Chairman wants me to personally deal with this one!” Blinker called out. A particularly large heavy looked up at the boys.

  God, what a revolting-looking bloke, thought Mike. A perennial arsehole!

  He liked the word ‘perennial’. Connected the past with the future and he vowed to one day test it out on Gary. He was forever trying out new words on his friend.

  “WHY?” the man shouted back.

  “A
sk the boss yourself,” replied Blinker. “But if he thinks you’re wasting his time he’ll get me to deal with you as well. I’m warning you… he’s in a foul mood.”

  The man shrugged his shoulders.

  “There... behind you!” He pointed to a blood-stained ceramic slab beside which stood a crate crammed full of body parts.

  “Can’t you find a clean one?” whispered Mike.

  “Shut up!”

  “Funny… Gary’s always saying the same thing!”

  Mike climbed up onto the slab and lay back in a pool of half-congealed blood.

  “Guess I’ll need to change my clothes now before asking Veronica to the flicks,” he said.

  Blinker placed a silver helmet over the top of his head. For a moment he doubted Blinker, wondering whether all hidden thoughts, including censored ones concerning Veronica, were about to be sucked from his mind. Focussing on memories of her legs somehow soothed his fear.

  “Good to see those rats are nicely fattened up,” Blinker said to the back of the heavy now coaxing the gee-rats out of the hall. “Gonna need plenty of food in The Terminus today… so you’d better start salting rat meat.”

  The doors closed behind the heavy. Mike raised his head from the slab.

  “You eat those bloody things?”

  Blinker pushed him back down.

  “I honestly will switch this thing on if you don’t stay quiet!”

  “Okay! Keep your funny hair on!”

  “Hurry,” said Blinker, removing the helmet from Mike’s head. “We’ve hardly any time!”

  “Man, I thought, for a moment you were gonna transfer my brain to another planet.”

  “Stop prattling, Mike! Fetch a couple of big knives.”

  Mike jumped down from the slab.

  “Those machete things on the wall?” He pointed to rack of a large broad-bladed knives.

  “Get on with it!”

  Mike took down a couple of machetes and twirled them above his head like a Chinese sword dancer before handing one to Blinker.

  “You start at the far end,” instructed Blinker, indicating the end where surfacers still squirmed whilst liana tubes connecting their heads to the silver pipes gyrated and jiggled. “Cut the black tubes first… afterwards we’ll go for the big one up on the ceiling. Should slow things down the other side of the wall.”