The Terminus Read online

  Beetie stopped the trimming and rested a hand on Gary’s shoulder.

  “What are you saying?” she asked.

  “He’s attempting to change the future... from the past. Because of what’s going on in the Terminus now. He reckons you’re sort of... well… you’re… oh man!”

  Gary stopped. Beetie’s face so close he felt her breath on his. Her lips parted as she waited for him to continue. Unable to stop himself, he kissed those lips. It was the first time he’d ever kissed a girl and proved more wonderful than he could possibly have imagined. She kissed him back and, when he took her in his arms, they sank together into the softness of the kiss. The comb and the scissors clattered to the floor and he wished God’s time-specs had the power to freeze them, lips together, for all eternity. Instead, their two fates became kiss-sealed as a single destiny.

  Chapter 3: Teeth

  Gary wasn’t bothered that he resembled a poncey prick in his tight-fitting, green tracksuit and neatly-trimmed, pudding-basin hair-style whilst wandering freely about the Retreat as G37217. Having Beetie always at his side, he couldn’t care a damn about his appearance and no one gave him a second glance. They were too busy with computers, poring over data passed on by Arthry. He soon mastered the listening screen in their cell, a world away from his Dad’s I-pad. He wondered about hacking into The Agenda’s system, but he learned there was no internet here in the future. Anyway, The Agenda infiltrating the Retreat’s own network would have posed a deadly risk. God had surely thought of this.

  The afternoon was spent planning their journey to the surface for the following day. Gary’s next meal of salted gee-rat meat, veg-eatables and treated sewer-juice went down more easily; he actually enjoyed the intimacy of a shared snack in their private cell before going to bed.

  Bed? Oh my God, whose bed?

  Gary both relished and dreaded the thought of sharing the night with Beetie within the confines of the tiny room. They’d already kissed and she had responded – at least as far as he was concerned, this being his first time.

  Christ, that nightdress! The blue tracksuit’s revealing enough... but, oh the nightdress…

  Sadly, it turned out to be a big disappointment. No Beetie in a nightdress, no private strip show, no good-night kiss. Without warning, Beetie simply turned off the light and wished him luck the following day.

  “Good night, Beetie!” he mumbled, deflated.

  He heard a girlish giggle.

  “Good what?” she asked in the dark.

  “Night! An expression from the past!”

  “Oh! All right! Good night! What’s it mean, though? Why ‘good’?”

  “Beats me!” Gary exclaimed.

  “Beats you?” she queried, giggling again.

  He reckoned he’d need to teach her more vocabulary of the past before getting hold of the other pair of time-specs and journeying back in time with her.

  “Not literally! Means I dunno!”

  “Weird!”

  Gary removed his green tracksuit, climbed into bed in his underwear and closed his eyes. He heard Beetie moving around and opening the cupboard door. Ashamed of the images his mind formed of the girl undressing and slipping on the nightdress, he listened to her getting into bed and to the sound of her turning over as she sought a comfortable position. He tried to stay awake until he was sure she was asleep, for perhaps he snored and he couldn’t bear the thought of her hearing him snore. For Beetie to have any reason to dislike him seemed unbearable, and when he finally drifted off his mind was still relishing the memory of the soft touch of her warm lips against his own.

  ***

  “Good night!”

  Gary opened his eyes, startled. To his profound disappointment, Beetie was already dressed, standing over him and grinning.

  “Er... ‘Good morning!’ this time, Beetie,” he corrected.

  “Oh! What strange phrases you lot have.”

  “Yeah, well you’re gonna need a few lessons.”

  “And today? Where do we start?” the girl asked.

  Funny how she was turning to him for answers in her own world, but he liked it.

  “I was thinking last night I’m certain I’m right about Blinker. The spy has to be him. Bet he’ll lead us to Teeth. Somehow we’ve gotta trail him without arousing suspicion.”

  “Difficult!” Beetie said. “Blinker’s as sharp as a gee-rat.” Gary had never thought of rats as being particularly bright. “He’s got his friends who watch out for him, too,” the girl added.

  “Who are they?”

  “Oh... a couple of creeps!”

  Yes! Gary thought. Please think of all other guys as creeps!

  “Better them thinking we think they’re on our side,” he suggested. “They’ll be our only link with The Agenda and Teeth, and we need those other time-specs more than they wanna get hold of mine. Or God’s, rather. I’m certain The Agenda thinks leaving the specs in our hands is a risk to whatever’s going on in the Terminus. The specs… and the thing God’s seeking from the past. They’ll have sussed out he’s onto something... in the past and the future.”

  Gary sat on the edge of his bed and Beetie on hers, each staring intently at the other, hoping one would get a flash of inspiration… each remembering the kiss.

  “Beetie?”

  “Uhuh!”

  “Do people in the Retreat have separate roles? Such as catching gee-rats, taking care of the yucky water, sorting out the electricity, being in charge of computers and whatnot.”

  “Sure!”

  “And you?”

  Beetie blushed.

  “Guess!”

  With her looks, only one thing came to mind.

  “Beautician?”

  “What?” she giggled.

  Gary’s turn to blush.

  “Checking people are sort of… um… well... good-looking. Girls, I mean.”

  “Not far off! My job’s to make sure everyone’s hair’s okay for going about on the surface. So no one stands out.”

  “Cool! A hairdresser! But who does that for those zombies up there?”

  “The surfacers?”

  “Yeah!”

  “No one! Robots, I’m told. In the eating halls. As they chew on their gee-rat steaks and veg-eatables. Gets picked up by a sensor if their hair’s a mess and this robot on wheels comes up and sorts them out. Surfacers never complain, of course, or they’d end up on the next shuttle-bus to the Hatcheries for recycling. Our greatest fear, both on the surface and down here.”

  “Recycling? And what about Blinker?”

  “Works for the medicines team.”

  “Like a doctor?”

  “A what?” Beetie asked.

  Blinker was way too young.

  “Never mind.”

  “There’s a contact on the surface who gets us medicines,” the girl explained.

  “Smuggled medicines?”

  “Not sure, but whoever it is would end up in the Hatcheries if The Agenda found out. Blinker and his two friends collect all we need.”

  “Anyone in the Retreat with epilepsy?”

  “Epi... what?”

  “Epi... lepsy. Like a boy at my school. Took a fit in class once. Jerked about and blew bubbles.”

  “Definitely not!”

  “Good! I’ll fake a fit and you tell Arthry I suffer from epilepsy and desperately need special medicine. This boy took pills and stuff. Ask Arthry to make Blinker go and get some for me. Bet if we’re right Blinker will take the opportunity to meet up with Teeth… keep him posted. We’ll follow him. Somehow I don’t think Teeth will expect us to go seeking him out!”

  Beetie reached forward and patted his knee.

  “You’re brilliant, Gary! I can see why God chose you to help us!”

  Gary took her hand and held it up against his lips and the girl’s smile told him this was the right thing to do.

  “Remember… epi-lepsy! Okay?” he checked as she followed him along the corridor towards Arthry’s office.

 
“Epi-lepsy,” she repeated, slowly. “Got it!”

  “Now!” Gary whispered.

  He emitted a low grunting sound, fell to the ground, rolled his eyes upwards and began to violently flail his limbs about.

  “EPI-LEPSY!” screamed Beetie. “EPI-LEPSY!”

  He heard her hurry off in the direction of Arthry’s office as he continued to twitch and jerk and throw himself around – far more so than his epileptic classmate – but he needed to create a disturbance. Soon Blinker’s voice joined those huddled around as he writhed on the floor. A door opened and Arthry boomed out:

  “BLINKER!”

  “Arthry?”

  “Blinker, quick! Get some special medicine for Gary… otherwise he might die. This epi… er…?”

  “Epi… lepsy.”

  Beetie’s voice! How sweet it sounded with his eyes closed!

  “Yeah!” affirmed Arthry. “Could be dangerous! Hurry! Stop at nothing. Okay?”

  Gary guessed The Agenda would want to keep him alive for the time being since they needed God and what he sought from the past. Somehow his and God’s fates seemed as intertwined as his and Beetie’s. Perhaps The Agenda would rely on him, a boy from the past, to lead them to God, and when they’d got their hands on what the man was seeking, they’d execute the one person who remained a threat to what went on in the Terminus. Then they’d kill Gary.

  He heard Blinker run off down the corridor. He cut the jerking and opened his eyes. Beetie was standing protectively beside him; gently, she laid an arm across his shoulders (heaven!) whilst helping him sit up. The massive figure of Arthry stood behind her, arms folded, his face revealing genuine concern.

  “I’m okay. Only a little turn. Might get worse without special pills, though.”

  You hopeless liar!

  “Blinker’ll sort things out. Our contact never fails us. He supplies The Agenda who make damned sure they’ll not want for anything. Okay, the rest of you (he turned to those who stood gawping at Gary). Back to work!”

  Gary noticed him wink at Beetie. He was in on their deception.

  The boy limped off, savouring the experience of having Beetie’s arm around him. No way was he going to tell the girl that the guy who took fits at school always got up and went straight back to what he was doing!

  “Any idea where the contact hangs out?” he asked.

  “Yeah! Arthry told me. We’d better catch up with Blinker!”

  Freeing her arm from Gary, she ran on ahead, the boy hurrying after her.

  “Got one of those mag-stun-thingies for the gee-rats?” he shouted out.

  “’Course I have!” She waited for him to catch up. “So do you. In your side-pocket.”

  Gary patted his tracksuit and came across something like a mobile phone.

  “Hope I’ll never need to use the thing!”

  “Oh, you will! One day! Remind me to show you how some time!”

  Funny how Beetie assumed he was there to stay, but this also reassured him he’d not lose her again. Already he wondered about the next kiss... when... and how to prolong the experience.

  They left the Retreat, heading towards the station. Voices echoed in the darkness. Blinker and his buddies? Would they be armed with spears again? Now holding hands, he and Beetie slowed down to soften the sound of their tread on the gravel. Soon the tunnel ahead showed light, silhouetting three running figures. Beetie jerked his hand, pulling him to one side. Staying close to the wall, they hurried on to the station. It was empty.

  “Follow me,” the girl whispered.

  Trailing Beetie along the platform, more tunnels, up the familiar stationary escalator and out of the station, he then merged with the crowd to avoid suspicion. Gary thought about her words: ‘follow me’. It’s all he wanted to do now, follow her, be with and protect her, and all he wanted to look at were the curves of her body and that beautiful face.

  Up there, under the scrutiny of the security cameras, the girl’s face was changed. She wore the same dead pan expression as all surfacers, and the boy attempted to mimic her. Curious about the absence of older people, he whispered: “Where are all the oldies?”

  “Returned to the Hatcheries! Surfacers are unbrained and recycled when they look old enough.”

  Unbrained? Recycled? How on earth do you recycle a person? As for ‘unbraining’, he couldn’t begin to imagine, but the more he learned of this future London, the greater his horror of the place. And what the heck were the surfacers doing wandering about so aimlessly? Fed in ‘eateries’, where their hair would be styled by robots, they presumably slept in the lifeless, towering blocks, with no jobs to do since everything was laid on by The Agenda. So why that walking about? In fact, why did they exist at all? Would the Hatcheries provide the answer?

  Gary and Beetie mingled amongst the surfacers, retracing the route of Gary’s previous escape from the future. The street led to the shuttle-bus run. They kept close to the buildings, passing beyond the spot where Blinker had saved his life. Gary spotted him... Teeth! He gently ushered Beetie into a doorway.

  At first glance Teeth seemed to be on his own, talking to himself, but Gary soon recognized Blinker and his two friends standing beyond the man, facing the other way but clearly in conversation with him. The ugly little fellow listened intently, apparently paying no attention to his surroundings. He held something that sparkled even in the dim light and now was their chance. When he squeezed Beetie’s hand three times she peered up at him; he nodded and winked – their coded communication. Three squeezes signified Teeth had been spotted, a nod, that he had the other time-specs and a wink meant for her to wait.

  Blinker and his friends moved on to seek out their medicines contact. Teeth now stood by himself. Gary gave Beetie the thumbs up and she went ahead alone, in the direction of the man and totally expressionless. Passing him, she stumbled, her foot catching that of a surfacer. The two fell to the ground at Teeth’s feet. Gary sprinted forwards, dodging other meandering folk, and snatched the second pair of time-specs from his hand.

  Two can play this game, he thought, reaching for Beetie’s arm to help her up... but someone else was too quick for him. A blue-sleeved arm shot forwards and yanked her away.

  “OW!” cried Beetie as she was pulled further back by Blinker and his accomplices.

  “BEETIE!” Gary yelled, watching dumbfounded whilst the poor girl got dragged away kicking and screaming.

  “Not so clever, my little friend from the past,” chuckled Teeth. “Oh, she’s the one we want. Not you! Had your uses, I suppose. Like returning the other pair of specs to me. Hand both pairs over and we might dispose of you more humanely. Or would you prefer our friends, the gee-rats, to carry out the job? Mind you, it’s not very pleasant the way they do things! Rat food’s getting scarce down there in the tunnels, you see. Always seem so hungry, the poor creatures… ha ha! Now B32968, she’s far too valuable to feed to gee-rats! She did make good bait for the boy from the past, though. Our little puppet, huh? Oh... you’re so predictable!”

  “GARY, RUN!” screamed Beetie. “FOR GOD’S SAKE! GO BACK!”

  God? Which one?

  Blinker held the struggling girl with her arms behind her when she began to put up a fight, kicking out in fury. He laughed and Gary wanted only to kill him but was in no position to complete the task. Blinker’s two mates edged forwards. Reluctantly, he backed away.

  “The time-specs, little boy,” demanded Teeth, his hand outstretched.

  “GARY, NO!” shrieked Beetie.

  A sticky, silvery ball shot from the wall below a security camera and hit Beetie with bullet-precision. As Blinker released his hold on the girl, this expanded into a silvered net, rapidly enveloping her, seeming almost alive as the thing cloaked itself around her body. The net tightened and constricted and the kicking and flailing stopped. Sobbing bitterly, she was caught like a trapped beast. Once again, Gary experienced a stab of guilt for involving the girl in his stupid plans. A silver-grey pod swept silently past, halting abruptly
alongside Beetie. Its circular diaphragm door flicked open, and, still laughing, Blinker pushed his trophy into the pod. The door snapped shut, muffling Beetie’s fraught cries, and the pod shot off, in no time reduced to a shrinking dot on the horizon.

  “BEETIE!” shouted Gary, impotently punching the air with a clenched fist as his anger erupted into a cataclysm of fury.

  “Call out her name as loudly as you like but it won’t bring her back!” smirked Teeth. “They’ll soon be getting to work on her at the Hatcheries and her memory of the boy from the past will vanish forever!”

  “You bastards! I’ll kill the lot of you!” Gary threatened, retreating again from Blinker and his friends.

  Meanwhile surfacers continued to skirt around the scene, oblivious of the fracas. The man who’d been purposively tripped up by Beetie (her idea… to distract Teeth) merely picked himself up and walked off without a word. But Beetie’s frightened face remained in Gary’s mind; her voice, too… and her awful cries of anguish. ‘For God’s sake run’ she’d cried out. God’s sake? God the Man of course! This whole exercise was to help God the Man for Beetie had no other concept of God. A terrible thought flashed through his mind. Were they already torturing her? For sure they’d want to extract more information about the Retreat to reach Arthry... or God.

  Beetie being hurt was the most terrible thing he could imagine, but the thought of this also gave him courage. Taking Blinker by surprise, he ran at the boy and punched him full on the nose. Blinker’s head jerked backwards from the force of the blow, he staggered and fell to the ground. The other two were about to make a grab for Gary when…

  ZING ZING ZING!

  All three froze into living statues.

  “You stup…!” began Teeth, before being silenced by another ZING!

  A tug at Gary’s elbow and someone in red pulled him backwards.