The Terminus Page 7
Belinda?
The man lifted up a struggling Beetie, holding her at arm’s length so she’d be able to take in her surroundings. Nothing about the Hatcheries was familiar. Several other girls stood around the drab concrete precinct, or sat on benches, each wearing something Beetie had no memory of: a dress. Faces glazed, disconnected from their surroundings, they took no notice of Beetie when she screamed for help. Another thing: like Beetie, all were exceptionally pretty.
At first, horrified seeing girls with arms and legs half-bare, she merely stared. Some of their dresses had coloured patterns, strange designs and frills. Also, their toe and finger nails were painted pink, lilac or red. How odd! But what caused her to stop struggling and stare was the girls’ hair… long and styled to suit each owner. None had the obligatory pudding-basin. Some had ringlets, others French braids, pony-tails or bunches. Most wore accessories – flowers, ribbons, bands or patterned clips. Beetie’s expression betrayed her amazement.
“Can’t wait to become one of them, ay?” remarked her captor, noticing her stillness. Beetie frowned. The other girls remained silent, like the surfacers, but the man holding her up was different. “All in good time,” he continued. “At least you’re one of the fortunate ones. Because of your looks. Some aren’t so lucky.”
With a turn and a nod of his head, he indicated a large, windowless grey building. Bearing only a door and a tall chimney, there was something terrifying about its drab soullessness. She tried hard to remember whether she’d seen the place before.
No one at the Retreat had any idea what went on in the Hatcheries, all having emerged in late childhood with memories as blank as a clean sheet of paper. Rumours travelled around – and Arthry could neither confirm nor deny these – suggesting older surfacers, those who became sick, slowed down or went against the authorities, would return to the Hatcheries to be re-cycled… un-brained and turned into gee-rat food.
“Release me at once!” Beetie screamed. “Let me go! I belong somewhere else.”
Like others in the Retreat, the girl had vowed under no circumstances to mention their underground safe haven.
“Not any longer, you don’t. Now… ‘B’ for blue, huh?” He grinned as he swung the netted Beetie like a sack of potatoes over his shoulder and carried her towards a pale blue, two-storey edifice beyond the shuttle-bus precinct. Colourful buildings of differing pastel hues were spread out across a large area, connected by attractively tiled pathways and well-trimmed gardens… with flowers! Beetie had never before seen flowers. Apart from the grey block, the Hatcheries should have been beautiful, but, bumped up and down on the brute’s back, the girl experienced only beauty-eliminating nausea during the short journey. He dumped her at the entrance of the blue building, took out a knife and cut her free. She struggled to her feet on shaky legs and leant against the wall, facing the grey block in front of which stood a row of grey crates on wheels. Beetie hadn’t noticed these before.
“God’s got a good reason for making that place ugly!” He informed the girl, enjoying her unease. How she hated the monster! “Gotta keep you girls right. So make sure you don’t go getting ideas of your own after we’ve re-erased those silly little memories you’re trying to hide inside your pretty head ’cos it’s where you might end up if you do.” He chuckled and banged on the blue door. “Well, not finally. Inside the stomachs of the gee-rats... that’d be your final destination. And from there food for the people. It’s called recycling!”
Could she outwit him? She felt for her mag-stunner but the pocket was empty. Blinker must have stolen it. Would Arthry know they’d taken her to the Hatcheries? Send a rescue party, perhaps? There again, Blinker might have returned to the Retreat and denounced her as the traitor? She could only be certain about the boy from the past who had touched her lips with his own. A ‘kiss’, he called it. She’d tingled all over and for the first time in her remembered life she felt truly like a girl.
The door opened. A woman in a blue overall stood before her, arms folded.
“Put up a bit of a struggle, this one. She even…” began the heavy.
“Get me out of this place, you fat idiot!” rebuked Beetie. “Take me back to the shuttle-bus at once!”
“He said she might be a bit feisty. Thought she might need a bit of taming. Ha ha!”
“He? Who the heck are you talking about? Blinker?”
“No matter, girl! The Retreat’s irrelevant, now. For you and anyone who goes against The Agenda.”
He knows about the Retreat? This imbecile?
“You’re evil! The lot of you!! We’ll find out what…”
“We? You and who else, my dearest?”
‘My dearest’ emerging from that thick-lipped grin? She felt like vomiting.
“Arthry! He’ll…”
“Yeah! Does a grand job for us, Arthry. Expect he’ll get a reward for handing you over. Maybe one of the other girls, ay?”
“Arthry? With you lot? You don’t fool me!”
“They all show respect in the end!”
His smile gone, the man grabbed Beetie by the arm and pushed her into the hands of the female warden.
“And who on earth are you?” demanded Beetie held firm in the woman’s grip, glowering at her.
“I am no one,” the warden replied blankly. “I just take you to your cell.”
“No you d...!” With a violent jolt, Beetie was yanked into the building and the door slammed shut behind her.
“LET GO!” she yelled, twisting and squirming in a futile attempt to break free.
“Like I said, I’ll take you to your cell,” repeated the stone-faced woman as she began to pull a protesting Beetie backwards along a brightly-lit corridor, its blue walls patterned with pretty flowers. A girl sporting ringlets of auburn hair and a red and yellow dress appeared from around a corner and brushed past, showing no interest when Beetie pleaded for help. They halted outside a door on which had been written ‘Belinda’ in elegant flowing script.
“Who the hell’s Belinda?” asked Beattie, tugging herself free.
“You!” the woman replied. “This is your room. Can’t say you deserve such pampering.”
Using a key card, she opened the door, pushed Beetie into the room and banged the door shut. Without a handle on the inside, Beetie could only beat at it with both fists.
“LET ME OUT, YOU RAT… LET ME OUT!” she shouted.
Silence!
Beetie turned and surveyed her ‘prison’, so different from that miserable little shared cell in the Retreat. She saw a pretty room with florally-decorated walls, a pink desk and computer screen, matching chair and cushion, and something she’d never seen before: a bed. Not her usual shelf-bunk, but a bed with sheets and a patterned quilt cover. Her eyes widened at what had been carefully spread out on top of the bed: a shimmering white dress with, across the bodice, a red floral pattern. Beside the dress were items of pretty silk underwear. A beautiful pair of red high-heeled shoes with silver buckles had been placed on the floor beside the bed. Opposite, stood a dresser bearing a range of objects that intuitively intrigued Beetie: lipsticks, eye make-up, an array of perfumes and toiletries, all of which smelt exquisite.
Beetie’s anger faded on seeing such incredible things. She tried on the shoes. A perfect fit. She stood in front of a full length mirror holding the dress up against her body. The right size. How come? Arthry’s input? Surely not Arthry...
Confused, she knew there was something horribly wrong about all this beautiful stuff. Her world had suddenly been turned upside down. Back at the Retreat, never had she experienced the joy of being a woman – only a sexless tom-boy before Gary showed up. Gary had set free the woman in her with his kiss and by making her feel so special. Here, amazing clothes defined her sex in a way that was so deliciously feminine, yet an unpleasant creepiness pervaded everything in the room. And those angelic girls in the yard outside hardly seemed real; the warden was more robot than human and that brute of a surfacer and his taciturn colleague jus
t brainless bullies. Now, it seemed she’d become imprisoned in someone’s sick dream?
But Arthry with them? Please… oh please no!
Beetie refused to believe what the heavy had said, though she also cursed her leader for keeping her in the dark. He’d only told that her going to the Hatcheries was something to do with The Agenda’s plan... and with what was happening in the Terminus beyond the Hatcheries… and with God. But where did she fit into this plan? And could she believe in God any longer? After all, she’d never seen the man since her brain got ‘cleansed’ before arriving at the Retreat. Was there truly another God working for The Agenda? Which God did Arthry follow? Which should she follow? Which one was the impostor?
Oh Gary...
Gary who said he’d been sent by God! The extraordinary Gary who’d kissed her, made her so happy and who seemed to care so much for her… as she, for reasons she couldn’t fathom, cared about him. Where did he fit in?
She went over to the computer and stared at the screen. A hideous, goofy face appeared. She recognised the man Gary called ‘Teeth’, the man who had the second pair of time-specs. He spoke:
“Hello, Belinda! Just think, soon we’ll be together! You must be so proud I’ve selected you out of all the lucky girls. When that horrible past has been erased from your consciousness you’ll begin to understand true bliss. With me! As for the future, you’ve no idea how glorious things will be. God’ll make this happen. Just relax and put on those lovely clothes and make-up he’s chosen especially for you. There are more in the wardrobe behind you. They’re from the past, my dearest. And learn with the programmes I’ll show you… widen your young mind and most of all, believe in me. Oh, and by the way... my name... just call me God, if you wish, but most address me as The Chairman. Now, a little journey, my dear…”
The screen flickered and the ugly face was replaced by mind-stretching images of landscapes, mountain scenery, plants and creatures which both enthralled and troubled Beetie; a vision of the Terminus, or an illusion as unreal as those girls outside in the courtyard? She knew only a dying world in the undersea city of London so these images of beauty must have somehow escaped from the mind of the cruel, crazed creature who only wanted to deceive her… ensnare her… beguile her.
She looked again at the garments on the bed. They were real enough. Surely no harm could come from trying them on?
Ten minutes later, Beetie stood in front of a full length mirror wearing the lovely white and red dress and the silken underwear, so softly smooth against her skin, whilst she applied eye-shadow and lipstick. An inner female instinct had told her how to use cosmetics, and she warmed to the attractive face she saw reflected in the mirror… until she realised it was a painted puppet who smiled back at her. Confusion enveloped her as, overwhelmed by a desire to be a woman, she clung to the memory of a boy from the past and struggled to hold on to her true purpose for being in that beautiful room.
Chapter 5: Naked in Swiss Cottage
“I’ll stay with you, Gary,” announced Mike when the unlikely trio emerged from Swiss Cottage tube station. “I can distract your parents while Redfor nips round to the shed at the back. I’m good at distracting people!”
“Cool, Mike! And start thinking how you’re gonna help me nick the Pentatron tablet for God.”
“Make use of these,” suggested Redfor handing Mike the other spectacles case. “My mag-stunner too. We’ll swop clothes. Like I told you, God and I have work to do back here. I’ll stay behind.”
“Man, I’d so like to meet God!”
“He’s the last person on Earth you’d ever want to meet, Gary.”
“Why? He sounds interesting. I’m mad about science.”
Redfor seized Gary’s arm.
“Don’t you understand? He’s trying to avoid you! He needs you, but you must never meet up. He sent me to keep an eye on you. Through Arthry.”
“Hey, dude, don’t get shirty.”
Redfor relaxed his hand.
“Sorry! I’ve a lot on my mind. Okay, me and Mike, we’ll exchange clothes at your place. Right?”
“Yeah... about the same size,” replied Gary glancing from one to the other. “I can chuck Mike’s stuff out the bedroom window... and you take yours off in the garden shed. Could be your base, eh? There’s a cabinet there with a missing leg. Some of my junk in it... like the old microscope I used to use for looking at plants and insects with. No one else touches my stuff. We can keep in touch by leaving messages in it.”
They walked on.
“No messages, Gary! Spies all over the place! Just concentrate on getting that Pentatron Tablet to Arthry. Your priority! And knowing what I do about The Agenda, it all begins to make sense. This Beetie business, too.”
“My priority is to get Beetie outa the flipping Hatcheries.”
“All of us are doomed in the future if you don’t get this right. Remember, Beetie would gladly sacrifice herself to save the human race.”
“How can you be so certain? Anyway, I won’t bloody let her.”
“Gary, in the Retreat we’ve all taken a vow to save mankind from extinction whatever the cost. It’ll be the only thing on Beetie’s mind now... in the future! She’s probably forgotten all about you, anyway, if they’ve cleansed her brain.”
God, please no! prayed Gary.
“I’ll not let those bastards touch her. I won’t… I won’t... I bloody won’t!” he repeated.
“He’s got it bad, Redfor,” interjected Mike.
“The best thing you can do for Beetie is to keep focussed, Gary. At least she won’t have suffered in vain.”
Gary swung round and held a clenched fist inches from his face.
“‘Suffered in vain’? What the heck are you saying?”
“Cool it, Gary!” cautioned Mike, holding his friend back.
“Like I said, Mike,” chuckled Redfor, “you’d better keep an eye on him. Can’t have him dying as well.”
“As well?”
Gary looked anxiously from Redfor to Mike.
“Get the Pentatron Tablet safely into Arthry’s hands, Gary,” continued Redfor. “At least you owe the girl this much.”
Gary’s mind seemed to spin in jerky pirouettes. There was something about Redfor that bothered him. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Perhaps the man wasn’t being truthful and had more knowledge than he wished to reveal.
“Where are the Hatcheries now?” Gary asked Redfor. “Like here, in the past… or, rather, the present.”
“Where God’s gonna work one day.”
“No help! How do I find the place?”
“Stanmore Scientific Laboratories. At the end of the Jubilee line. They recently bought an adjacent plot of land where God’ll build his new Research Institute. Linked in with what’s already going on at CERN. In London of the future we call the place ‘The Terminus’.”
Gary glanced at Mike.
“Yeah! Collaborative science. Makes sense, I guess.”
“Why am I telling you all this?” asked Redfor. “I’m not joking, Gary. God doesn’t want you near him! He can’t trust anyone who’s been to the future. You might be followed... and sooner or later someone will kill him. Unless he…”
Redfor checked himself.
“So if Stanmore Scientific Laboratories becomes the Hatcheries, this place God’s got in mind, the Terminus, is where The Agenda are gonna hide out. Correct?”
“Gary, you’ll destroy everything if you’re planning to do what I think’s hatching inside your immature skull.”
“Nothing, Redfor! Just need a handle on the layout. That’s all.”
“You’d become instant gee-rat food. As for Beetie… you’ll only make things worse for her if you try to get into the Hatcheries… assuming she’s still alive.”
Gary probed Redfor with his usual bulldog determination:
“You told me she hasn’t been born, yet, dude! Anyway, what’ll you and God be doing here exactly? And why should he trust you and not me?”
“My house is across the road there,” Gary announced after they turned a corner, ignoring Redfor’s last remark. “The one with the white door and rose bushes in the garden. Wait in the shed round the back and watch out for me at my bedroom window upstairs.”
“You will understand one day, Gary. Think of the Beetie business as just a little blip. Believe me, God has every confidence in you.”
Redfor slipped round the side of the house leaving Gary and Mike at the gate.
“Pretty bad, ay?” Mike questioned on seeing his friend motionless with both fists clenched.
“The wanker!” muttered Gary. “A ‘little blip’ indeed! I’ll give him a little blip. As for God... I’m telling you, Mike, if anything happens to Beetie again, I’ll… I’ll… oh, damn it! No wonder God’s shit scared to meet me!”
Still seething, Gary rang the bell. With his dad at work, this being Saturday, he reckoned only Mum would be at home.
“Where’s your…?” began Mrs O’Driscoll on opening the door, but stopped short. The corners of her mouth dropped. “Oh my God!”
The woman and her son stared at each other for what seemed an age, though in truth only a few seconds. Gary, who’d left home with his football kit two hours earlier, had now returned as a stranger before his own mother. He’d travelled twice to an unspecified time in the distant future, had experienced his first kiss, fallen in love, prevented the girl’s death, as she had his, slept in the same room as her, had lost her for a second time, and was now involved in a bid to steal something of civilisation-saving importance. Little wonder he appeared hesitant.
“Your… erm… key?” she finished, gazing at the boy. She glanced briefly at Mike.