Disrupted (13 page)

Chapter 14

Y
es, you heard right.

Three heads on three necks, converging into the base of one set of shoulders. Or maybe it was the other way round. More like three necks sprouting from one set of shoulders, sort of like a tree sprouting branches.

And trust me, I blinked a million times, rattled my head, rattled Gale’s head, pushed my nose between Chris and Clarrie with a hoarse, “Please tell me I’m not seeing three heads on one body,” but they didn’t tell me. Couldn’t tell me. They’d turned to stone.

“Dear me,” spoke purple spikes to our frozen stare, “don’t say Gale didn’t explain about Remnant City before bringing you by for a visit?”

“I knew this was a bad idea,” fussed orange bun. “Inviting strangers inside. What next?”

“What’s done is done, Serena, and no use getting into a huff about it,” said the blonde crop. “Come in. Sit down. Marlin, see to some sandwiches for our guests, there’s a good boy. And a nice tray of tea.”

“I’m sure they’d prefer sodacods, Dawn.”

It took a long moment to realise purple spikes was talking to us. Asking a question. Expecting an answer.

Chris nodded.

“There you are,” said purple spikes. “And you’d better make a pot for ma Dawn, Marlin. Now come on, you lot, make yourself comfortable and here...” The triplet (because there was really only one of them) stepped forward. “You didn’t say anything to Marlin about Mr. Wood, did you?” whispered orange bun.

“I don’t feel well,” moaned Clarrie. She was practically hanging on Chris’s arm.

My own rubber legs sympathised whole-heartedly, but a part of me couldn’t help jingling silently, ‘Told you so, told you so.’

I mean, what can you expect when you go strolling brazenly down hills into Ghost Towns? And don’t even get me started on knocking at doors and inviting yourself inside.

We shuffled as one to the closest sofa. I’m not sure who was keeping whom up, but we made it and flopped down in reserved relief. Except for Clarrie, who immediately ducked her head between her knees.

Chris gently patted her on the back and looked at me to mouth, “Okay?”

I answered with a face shrug.

The triplet came to stand right up close to us, wringing their hands. Her hands. Each other’s hands? Well, you know what I mean.

“Only,” said the blonde crop, “we haven’t mentioned it to Marlin yet. I know we should, but he was so close Mr. Wood and we’re waiting for the right moment.”

“To do what?” asked Chris.

Purple spikes shook her head sadly. “Marlin doesn’t know that Mr. Wood passed on last month.”

Chris blinked at me in shock.

I tried to keep my expression neutral while pressing a hand over my suddenly thumping heart, willing it to behave itself. There must be thousands of Mr. Woods in England. No reason to automatically assume Chris was their Mr. Wood, was there? That’s just an indication of the morbid pessimism I’ve been reduced to of late.

So I said cheerfully, “You’re not talking about Mr. Christian Wood, are you?”

“We don’t know any other Mr. Wood,” said orange bun, blue eyes fixing on me in what or might not have been a highly suspicious manner (depending on whether I was now paranoid as well or simply incredibly perceptive.)

And that was okay as well, I told myself. There must be thousands of Christian Woods- oh, who was I kidding? My hand dropped from my heart to land numbly on my lap. There was no stopping it now.

Clarrie brought her head up. She looked very pale, her brilliant blue eyes not quite so brilliant anymore. (Welcome to an hour or so in my world.) “Who is this Mr. Wood?”

I was too worried about Chris to think up a vague answer. He’d slumped against the back of the sofa, his chest totally deflated as he blew out a never-ending breath.

What was up with this century and telling Chris he’d died? It was like a daily ritual: ‘Hello, oh, you must be Christian Wood, and by the way, you’re dead.’

I wanted to reach out for him, just to touch his arm, let him know that I understood how he felt, that I cared. But Clarrie was between us. Wasn’t she always?

I saw him first, I wanted to scream.

But I hadn’t liked him first, had I?

And with that reminder, Carolyn Mewlin joined us on the sofa, putting Chris even further from me.

“Mr. Wood was such a dear,” went on purple spikes, “and, you know, with Marlin not having any other father-figure—”

“We don’t like to talk about it,” I blurted out, before Chris died here and now for a third time. His colour didn’t look good. Not at all.

Three nearly identical faces peered at me closely. Not unfriendly, exactly, but they all shared Marlin’s sharp cheekbones and penetrating blue eyes that had me shifting uncomfortably.

“His death was such a tragic shock,” I blithered on. “Cruel, really, to be taken that way. It’s difficult for us to even think about it,” I said firmly, hoping they’d take the hint.

“I thought he died peacefully in his sleep,” murmured orange bun with a frown.

“He did,” I agreed quickly, “but could we please—”

“Not that unexpected, surely?” added blonde crop. “He was 108 years old, after all.”

“He was,” I agreed again. “I wonder where Marlin is with the tea?”

“It’s always comes as a shock though, doesn’t it?” said purple spikes kindly. “We were quite upset when Callum came to tell us. It doesn’t matter how long one has had to grow accustomed to the idea.”

“It does, but—” What? My ears finally caught up to my mouth. I turned an excited smile on Chris. “Did you hear that, Chris? Mr. Wood was 108 years old. He died in his sleep, a very old man. Isn’t that great?”

“Shut up, Willow,” said Chris weakly.

Clarrie banged him on the arm. “That’s not very nice.”

No, Chris, I thought, it isn’t.

“Sorry, Willow,” sighed Chris heavily. He shuffled upright and looked at me. “I didn’t meant it like that.”

“I know,” I said softly. I didn’t know anything of the sort. I was sorry myself, for myself, that it had taken Clarrie to get an apology from him, and not a very good one at that.

“Poor thing,” cooed purple spikes.

“I’m used to it,” I muttered.

But she wasn’t talking to me. She pulled Gale out from under my arm and held her up, murmuring, “What in heavens happened to you?”

“We think she malfunctioned and powered herself down,” answered Chris. “Do you know how to reboot her?”

“There must be a switch,” said blonde crop.

The triplet crossed to the chair opposite us to sit down and inspect Gale.

“Let me see,” said purple spikes.

“I’m looking, Jazz.”

“And what do you know about robots, Dawn?”

“More than you.”

“I’ll find the switch.”

There was suddenly a lot of spastic jerking as the purple spiked Jazz and blonde Dawn tried to examine different parts of Gale with the same pair of hands at the same time. Orange bun preened her long neck back and looked on with a bored expression.

We could have mentioned the thumb pad, and they did eventually find it, but it was just so totally fascinating to watch two brains determined to control one body.

“See,” said Jazz, pointing to the thumb pad, “there’s the activator.”

“Like you know what an activator is,” scorned Dawn with a toss of her bob.

Jazz gave her snooty smile. “If you didn’t knock back a tranquilliser whenever it’s my one-on-one time, you’d know as well. Callum loved to discuss robotics with me.”

I was engrossed in the mechanics of having to schedule one-on-one time with your own body when orange bun boomed, “Callum Jade? And when did these so called discussions occur, if I may ask?”

“During my one-on-one time,” said Jazz haughtily.

I leaned across Clarrie to speak quietly, “Chris, you don’t think that’s the same—”

“Of course it’s the same Callum Jade,” said Chris harshly.

Clarrie pushed her hands up to separate me out of her space. She frowned at me, then turned that frown on Chris. “You’re not from the farms, are you?”

Meanwhile, orange bun was demanding, “And where was I?” and Chris shushed Clarrie with, “I’ll tell you everything later.”

“Um, well, you see, Serena,” mumbled Jazz, less haughty and somewhat guilty. “I might have, um, slipped you one of Dawn’s pills now and then.”

“You drugged me.” A hand came up, then down, then up, and then it was flapping up and down and out of control. “And what, dare I ask, did you and Callum get up to with our body in your one-on-one time?”

“What are you accusing me of?” gasped Jazz.

And still the hand flapped, once getting very close to landing a slap on Jazz’s cheek.

“Drugging us so you could get it on with Callum,” snapped Dawn.

“Oh, for goodness sake, I’ll take the blame from Serena, but you popped those pills all on your own,” Jazz told Dawn.

“Callum’s old enough to be our father,” muttered Serena.

“He’s still a looker and plenty able,” sighed Jazz.

Dawn narrowed her eyes on Jazz. “Just wait until tonight. I’m going to slap you silly in your sleep.”

“Relax, Dawn, I didn’t do anything with Callum.”

In the heated pause that followed, Chris said, “Do you know where we can find this Callum Jade?”

“’Fraid not, sweetie,” said Jazz. “He hasn’t been around since that day he came to let us know about Mr. Wood. Why, he hasn’t gone missing, has he? He was pretty cut up about Mr. Wood. Maybe he needed some time alone to grieve.”

Or make doubly sure Chris was dead, I thought. But didn’t say, obviously.

Marlin returned just then, balancing a tea tray in one hand and holding a large plate of sandwiches in the other.

“Did you find the fresh side of ham behind the lettuce, Marlin?”

“Don’t forget the sodacods, sweetie.”

“Would you like to introduce us to your new friends?”

“Yes, ma. No, ma. I don’t have no new friends, ma, you’ll have to ask them yourselves,” answered Marlin smoothly as he slid the tray and plate onto a side table and then moved the table within our reach.

I gave him a smile as he passed. He didn’t smile back. I didn’t blame him. One nagging mum was bad enough, his life must be hell with three. Poor guy. I made a decision to be nice to him from now on, no matter what.

We didn’t wait to be asked. Chris introduced us simply as Willow, Clarrie and Chris, friends of Gale and the late Mr. Wood, and then we attacked the chunky sandwiches.

Sodacods are delish. Thin plastic tubes about ten inches long and filled with thousands of tiny balls. You nipped one end off and sucked. The fruity flavoured balls reacted with your saliva and exploded into a stream of proper fizzy drink.

While we ate, I studied the triplet. I wouldn’t call them beautiful, but certainly striking and not unattractive. I’d have put their age at mid to late forties, which was about fifteen years older than their dress code. A skimpy neon-pink tank top and tight black Capri pants that showed more bulge than was kind. At least the shoes were pretty, flat thongs threaded with pink daises.

Serena caught me staring and said with a grimace, “Jazz’s turn on wardrobe today. Feel free to tell her how ridiculous we look.”

I quickly took a deep bite into my cheese and ham sandwich and mumbled something incoherent.

Marlin took Gale from his mums and looked her over. When he saw the exposed thumb pad, he grumbled, “Well, that’s that, then.”

“What’s what?” I asked through a mouthful of sandwich.

“The activator,” said Marlin, looking at me. “Unless any of you’s thumb prints has been programmed in, there’s nothing to be doing now, innit, until you get her back to Drustan.”

“I thought you didn’t know Drustan,” said Chris.

“Oh, sweetie,” tinkled Jazz, “how could we not know Drustan, the way Mr. Wood used to go on and on? So proud of him, he was. I do hope he’ll come by one day. We’d love to finally meet the dear boy.”

Chris and I shared a look. We pretty much hoped he’d drop by too, for a whole other set of reasons. But that wasn’t likely to happen without Gale’s help. And if Drustan’s thumb was the only way to jump start Gale, there was only one thing left to do.

Chris leaned toward me behind Clarrie and said, “We’ll have to go back and risk the Razoks.”

Okay, two things, and mine was by far the better.

I stood and approached the triplet nervously. I didn’t like that they were apparently on intimate terms with Callum Jade, but when you’re trapped between a murderer and a Razok, you were probably going to get squished either way.

“We’re in trouble,” I told Jazz simply. She came across as the more motherly of the three, despite the purple spikes. “We need to get in touch with Drustan, and Gale seemed to believe someone here could help us.”

“Oh, dear,” exclaimed Dawn. “Is Drustan missing too?”