Bedlam (26 page)

‘Is the transit far?’ Ross asked, wondering how much longer he could hang on, and feeling increasingly agitated by the fact
that Juno appeared to be riding flat-out
towards
the corruption.

‘Too far,’ she replied. ‘Leastways, the one to Silent Hill is: it’s already behind the cloud. We’re gonna have to change our
travel plans, take the nearest exit before it gets swallowed too.’

Ross called up his HUD, partly to get a fix on how far they were from safety, and could see the Mobius throbbing. They had
to be close, but Juno wasn’t showing any sign of slowing, so presumably the transit wasn’t in any of the quite inordinate
number of swordsmiths’ premises to their left as the horse climbed the slope. To their right was just scrubland, occasionally
corralled off for grazing. Still the icon flashed brighter, the signal seemingly stronger than he’d ever witnessed, yet he
couldn’t see where it might be coming from. Juno did say it was a ‘main crossing’, which was presumably a bigger deal than
the cracks, fissures and trapdoors he’d slipped through so far.

Ross could see the corruption now with the naked eye, the grey haze swallowing buildings and trees less than a hundred yards
away. He could hear it too, a rushing sound not caused by the corruption itself, but by the strain of thousands of materials
as they were pulled apart, moments before disintegrating altogether.

Fortunately, no matter how sharp the gradient got, the horse never slowed, responding tirelessly every time Juno dug her heels
into its flanks to urge it forward. Dragons swooped overhead, fighting to stay ahead of the cloud. Wolves and boar barrelled
across the road, getting in the way. Ross leaned out as far as he dared and began picking them off with laser blasts to clear
the path for their mount.

Suddenly the slope levelled out and Ross could see their goal across a plateau of scrub: it was a mine, the entrance shored
up by wooden supports the size of railway sleepers where it disappeared into the hillside.

The rushing sound was becoming a roar. The cloud was towering to their left, rising hundreds of feet in the air. It may have
been his imagination, but Ross felt as though it had a gravitational pull.

‘Come
on
,’ Juno urged the horse, tugging on the reins as she guided their mount towards the dark passage.

The sound of hooves was briefly lost against the roar of the corruption, then became louder again as the horse galloped into
the mine shaft, Juno still urging their steed to proceed at full pelt into the blackness. The light around them dimmed rapidly,
but before there was total darkness Ross felt the now-familiar dissolving sensation, and just hoped it was the effect of warp.

Light and colour snapped back into view with a wrench like a cinema projector coming on after a power-cut. They were still
in a narrow dark passage, but rapidly approaching a mouth beyond which Ross could see bright sunshine and rapid movement.

The hoofbeats sounded more percussive, and a glance down revealed that the horse was now galloping on tarmac rather than earth.
The walls either side were made of concrete, and there was considerably more distance between them: two car-widths, as it
turned out. The horse emerged from the tunnel into daylight around twenty yards short of a junction, across which Ross could
see traffic passing at a leisurely speed.

The traffic comprised vehicles like none Ross had ever seen in the old world: sleek and highly stylised boy-toy fantasy stuff,
with customisation extending even to the wheels, as in whether to bother with them when you could glide on air. Beyond the
cars rose vast and magnificent structures, super-scale buildings taking their inspiration from ancient civilisations – an
architectural paradise where land and materials were no object.

Less pleasing to the eye was a makeshift roadblock before the junction: two large vehicles slung nose to nose across the road
to halt anyone exiting from the tunnel. Two figures stood beside the cars, rifles slung around their shoulders.

Black
cars.
Black
figures.
Black
rifles.

‘Fuckers are putting up
roadblocks
now?’

Juno spurred the horse onwards as the armed guards belatedly reacted to the sight of their approach. Ross felt his stomach
heave as the animal leapt over their vehicles, briefly skittering its hooves across the bonnets before landing on the other
side and continuing towards the junction.

Ross stole a glance back as Juno veered her mount left and slowed a little, trotting alongside the traffic while she waited
for a gap. One of the Integrity guards was scrambling to get into his car, the other staying at his post but speaking animatedly
into a communicator.

Juno saw her chance and the horse lurched across the lanes, leaping over a low crash barrier and landing on a grass verge
in front of a Mayan-style pyramid draped on every terrace with enough planting to romp the Chelsea flower show. Next to the
pyramid stood a court-like building in Roman style, every column the size of an office block. If it wasn’t for the cars being
of roughly normal size he’d have thought the warping process had shrunk him, as these buildings made him feel like an ant.

Ross heard the gunning of an engine followed by the ugly sound of collision. He glanced back to see the Integrity car spinning
from an impact, fishtailing for a few seconds on the near side of the junction before righting itself again. Juno banked sharply,
racing across a manicured lawn and slaloming through a host of trees and topiary before guiding the horse along a narrow covered
pathway down one side of the Roman mega-structure, scattering pedestrians left and right. There was no way of getting a car
down there, and it looked like their pursuer knew that. The Integrity car didn’t follow, nor did he attempt to continue on
foot. They had got away clean.

Juno brought the horse to a stop and told Ross to get down. He didn’t need to be asked twice. The ground felt wonderfully
solid and unmoving under his feet, the sensation akin to the enhanced gravity you feel when you step off a trampoline.

‘Change,’ Juno said, and it sounded like a demand.

Ross was about to search his inventory for cash when he noticed her dress transform from the medieval battle-queen affair
she’d been sporting into a flowing purple robe similar to those worn by several of the pedestrians they had almost trampled.
He inferred from this that it was imperative they blend in. He checked out the new arrivals in his costume collection and
opted for a blue version of the same unisex garment. Looking at the architecture he realised it was probably supposed to be
a hybrid of classical and futuristic, but the result made him feel like he was in
Logan’s Run
. He had no idea what game this was. It
reminded him of
Serious Sam
in terms of the retro-classical buildings, but the vehicles zipping past on a network of conveniently broad roadways were
more indicative of a sandbox driving game, like
Grand Theft Auto
or
Saints Row
.

‘Where are we?’

‘We’re on Pulchritupolis,’ she said neutrally, scanning her surroundings with suspicion.

‘Is that a good thing or a bad thing?’

‘Good in that I’ve got a friend here, but anywhere crawling with Integrity is bad.’

‘Do you know how to get to Silent Hill from this place?’

‘Yeah, but it’s a long way, and I think right now everybody is gonna want to take stock of what just happened. I’ve put a
call out to say where we ended up. Need to wait and see if the plan has changed.’

Juno gave the horse a slap on its haunch and sent it trotting away along a tree-lined avenue towards the pyramid. Ross felt
vaguely guilty about abandoning the creature, given the part it had just played in saving their lives. However, as far as
the Integrity was concerned, Seabiscuit here was a bit of a smoking gun; plus in the interests of balance it should be factored
in that their intervention had just saved its life too, so that was probably quits.

Juno led Ross back along the covered walkway, blending in with the throng. He scanned over the heads of the other pedestrians,
looking out for Integrity agents as they approached the lawns adjacent to the road.

‘The car’s gone altogether,’ he reported, though his eyes were fixed firmly on a huge juggernaut that was trundling past,
in case the pursuit vehicle was lurking out of sight behind. It was like a road-bound train, several articulated containers
rolling along behind the cab.

‘It was a half-assed pursuit,’ Juno opined. ‘Perfunctory even. They didn’t even fire any shots. I’m thinking we ain’t the
biggest game in town today.’

‘No,’ agreed Ross, the juggernaut having finally passed. ‘I think
that
is.’

On the other side of the road was a huge plaza, its corners accommodating four towering stone obelisks between which
laser barriers had been erected, parallel lines of transparent red light like a huge ribbon around the public square. It wasn’t
quite so public today, though: the Integrity were present in force, and being corralled inside the lasers were at least a
hundred people.

From the outside, and admittedly at a distance, the situation appeared to be calm and controlled, but the flow of pedestrians
towards the plaza indicated that the locals were very concerned to know what was going on. The detainees were standing around,
looking understandably agitated, but there was no visible unrest. The Integrity, for their part, looked more like a relief
operation than an occupying force. Their agents were walking around talking calmly to people, recording notes on tablets,
listening rather than barking out orders. There were no guns on display, and Ross wondered whether the laser barrier was about
keeping the onlookers out rather than the detainees in. The only hardware visible was being operated by three agents toting
hand-held parabolic dishes, like miniature satellite receivers or listening devices. They were standing at roughly equal distances,
forming an equilateral triangle on the edges of the plaza. It was like they were scanning for something. Ross heard the word
‘quarantine’ muttered by several passers-by.

The other word on everybody’s lips was ‘corruption’.

‘Damn it,’ Juno muttered. ‘Never seen any Integrity in Pulchritupolis before. I was hoping we might make contact with my friend,
Melita, but with so much black swarming around, she could have blown town, or at the very least changed face and gone to ground.’

‘Yeah, but she could change it right back when she found you,’ said a female voice from nearby. She sounded Hispanic, her
tones mellifluous and reassuring.

Ross turned to his right and saw a blonde who so perfectly illustrated Juno’s barb about a fifteen-year-old dork’s idea of
womanhood that he had initially taken her for an NPC. Right before his eyes her face transformed. Ross didn’t know whether
it was the work of an expert designer, a refinement of the old her or a perfect likeness, but it certainly wasn’t an off-the-peg
approximation of classical good looks. There was a sharpness to her features that might almost be harsh if she wasn’t smiling.

Her hair became instantly dark and her height reduced, while
the pink billowing dress she had been falling out of morphed into a neatly fitting white jumpsuit. In order to continue blending
in, her wardrobe selection was still Seventies sci-fi, but she had evidently opted for the
Battlestar Galactica
end of the range.

‘Melita!’ Juno confirmed, reaching out to embrace her friend. ‘It’s great to see you.’

There was true warmth there, Ross observed. It was reassuring to learn that Juno didn’t hate everybody, but on the downside
it meant he could no longer use that as the explanation for why she was so down on him.

‘And it’s a big relief to see you,’ Melita replied. ‘I came as soon as I got the message. I was sincerely hoping you weren’t
among that crowd in the plaza, but it was getting to the stage I’d have settled for that over the alternative.’

‘It was touch and go,’ Juno admitted.

‘But I’m forgetting myself,’ Melita said, turning to Ross. ‘You must be Bedlam.’

He was glad Melita had taken the initiative on introductions, as he suspected Juno would have just gone on acting like he
wasn’t there. He offered her a hand to shake by way of affirmation but was starting to feel self-conscious about responding
to the name. His old online moniker had helped galvanise him in the battle zones of Graxis but it was becoming an ever-poorer
fit the further he explored the gameverse, and he was beginning to wish he could apply for a change to something more universally
appropriate. Right now Gormless Spare Wheel would be about right.

‘So what’s the deal with the laser cordon?’ Juno asked.

‘People started coming through yesterday, bringing reports that Calastria was corrupting. Most of us were sceptical initially;
it wouldn’t be the first time folks got hysterical and overreacted since the threat of corruption gained currency.’

‘I’m guessing what began as a trickle soon became a flood,’ said Juno. ‘Because the corruption is real. By the time we got
there, everybody else had bailed. Nobody left but NPCs.’

‘I assume plenty ended up in Silent Hill and the Minecraft archipelago, but the biggest transit out of Calastria leads here,
so they started pouring through the tunnel in serious numbers about eighteen hours ago, universal time. At first they just
dispersed, like you’d expect, but then word must have got out to the Integrity.’

‘And they showed up quick-smart so they could tell everybody “We told you so”,’ suggested Juno.

‘Not so quick: maybe about eight hours ago, and even then it took them a while to decide what to do. They put men at the main
crossing and began escorting the arrivals into the plaza. They say it’s for debriefing, but I notice they haven’t let anybody
go yet. The concern is that anyone who was there might be affected by the corruption; that they could cause it to spread or
might start to suffer after-effects. Everybody’s pretty spooked. The corruption was just a rumour before this: now it’s a
confirmed reality.’