Future Tense (28 page)

“Roger—no!” I cried, chasing him up.

I saw him wade in throwing punches, but he was heavily outnumbered and soon dragged down and kicked. Just as I got to him, I felt a terrific belt of electricity go through my leg, knocking me off my feet. An army boot swung towards my nose—I rolled out of the way and tried to fend the next kick off with my hands. The next thing, some guy was on top of me trying to hit me in the face with something. I heard the Duck's voice raised nearby. There was so much shouting and screaming going on and so many legs milling about, that I couldn't make out how close he was or what he was on about. I just concentrated on holding my attacker off. Somehow, I managed to twist his wrist back and make him drop whatever he had in his hand.

And then, suddenly, it all went quiet and everybody stopped in mid-fight. I pushed my guy off me and looked round. The Princess was lying lifeless in the porchway and standing over her was the Colonel, holding a two-foot long blade, dripping blood onto the snow.

“You bastard!” cried Jemmons, rushing at him.

One of the Colonel's lieutenants—Bauhaus, I think—stepped in his way and fired a tranquillizer dart into his stomach, sending him sprawling to the ground.

“Stone the crows,” quacked a familiar voice.

I got up on my knees and looked to my left, where the Duck was still clinging to some guy's back, shaking his head in dismay. His spectacles were at a silly angle on his nose, where they had been half-knocked off in the fight.

“Take her inside,” said the Colonel, sheathing the dagger back in his baton.

“Wait!” cried the Duck. “She's the only one who knows where the machine is! Let me see if she's still alive.” The Colonel nodded and the Duck scampered over to her and knelt down by the body. He felt for a pulse in her neck and then put his ear to her breast. He tried a little heart massage. He shook his head and stood up.

Two men picked the Princess' limp body up and carried her through to the infirmary. I could see them laying her out on the very same bed Emma had been sitting on only a few minutes earlier. Jemmons was just a few feet away, so I crawled over to him on my hands and knees and lifted his head off the icy floor to cradle it in my lap.

“What are those things?” said the Colonel, pointing his baton at the snowboards, which were lying next to the drain where the Duck and Jemmons had left them.

“Skis,” said the Duck. He came over and crouched down next to me to take a look at Jemmons.

The Colonel ordered four of his men to go down and fetch the snowboards.

“How is he?” said the Duck.

“Still breathing,” I said. “But I'd like to get him inside.” I lowered my voice to a whisper, “Emma's hiding round the corner somewhere.”

“Don't worry,” the Duck whispered back. He opened his hand and I saw a glint of blue-violet light. He clamped it shut again.

“The key?” I gasped.

“Shh!” He slipped it back into his hip pocket. “I got it off her when I went to have a look.”

“You should be a pickpocket,” I said. “I never saw you.”

“The quickness of the hand deceives the eye, mate,” he said. “I've got lots of skills like that.”

“Yeah, all right. Is she really dead?” I said.

“I dunno. She looked brown bread to me.”

The Colonel marched over and tapped the Duck on the shoulder with his notorious baton.

“Now, look here, Zirconion—what's the plan with these board thingies? How's a chap supposed to ski on that?”

His men had just returned with the boards and one was being held up for his inspection.

“It's like a surfboard,” said the Duck. “You stand on it and steer it with your body.”

“What the devil's a surfboard?” bristled the Colonel, giving the specimen a rap with his baton. “Is one expected to ride this thing off the hill? You must be mad—I said you must be mad.”

The Duck stood up and folded his arms. “Well, that's the only plan in town,” he said. “What happened to our deal? You said you were going to start a riot, not organise a bleeding breakout.”

“I don't trust you, Zirconion,” said the Colonel. “I don't trust you and I never did. And I don't like you either. So when you promised to return and free me and my men, I accepted merely because I thought a jolly good riot would be good for morale. But the riot went rather well—better than we anticipated—we have taken the whole of G Wing and secured the connecting tunnel. My men still hold it. So I said to myself—why the devil wait around for a man I don't trust and I don't like? I decided to take matters into my own hands. Now I find there's no plan to speak of and no means of escape even if we did manage to get down onto the Levels. You're a blithering idiot, Zirconion! You've wasted my time. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't have you all flogged and thrown off the wall.”

A bank of floodlights chinged on across the courtyard and the whole porchway and wall was lit up with dazzling light.

“Stand right where you are, you genetic waste!” boomed a stern voice, from a loudspeaker situated somewhere in the building that had all the communications equipment sticking out of it.

“Oh, great!” I said. “That's all we need. The master race is here.”

“I thought you said your men were holding the connecting tunnel,” said the Duck. “How come the bleeding guards are in the old Casino then?”

“Into the infirmary, men!” ordered the Colonel, leading the way.

His men fell in behind him and there was a sort of orderly stampede as they all filed in, leaving the Duck and me outside, with the unconscious Jemmons.

Tranquillizer darts started pinging and zipping off the steps and walls. We grabbed an arm each and dragged our fallen comrade gamely towards the infirmary door, but it slammed in our faces before we even got under the porch. Another hail of darts rained in and smashed and tinkled all around us. They had found their range.

“Now what?” I shouted.

The Duck dropped the arm he was holding and ran off around the corner of the tower.

“Bloody typical!” I yelled.

Jemmons stirred and attempted to sit up.

“Get up, Rog—get up! Come on, mate!”

I tried to pull him to his feet. But just as his backside lifted off the ground another tranquillizer dart struck him in the left buttock and he went out like a light again. I dropped his arm and ran off after the Duck.

As I careered round the slippery corner, desperately seeking Emma, a hand shot out and pulled me in. I found myself huddled up against a side door, face-to-face with Emma and the Duck.

“Do you come here often?” grinned the Duck.

“Where's the Princess?” said Emma.

“Um?”

“She's in the infirmary,” said the Duck, while I was still trying to think of a less frightening answer than the truth.

“What's she doing in the infirmary?” said Emma.

“Er?”

“Um?”

Before the Duck or I could answer, three fur-clad guards, wearing dark goggles and wielding the obligatory cattle prods galloped round the corner. The Duck didn't hesitate—he was into them before they even spotted us. Give him his due—when his back's to the wall, the Duck will fight. I dashed out after him. The Duck had snatched a prod and whacked one guard down and was parrying shock sticks with the other, but mine was swishing his stick in my face and keeping me at bay.

“Run, Emma!” I shouted.

“Where, Stephen?” she shouted back.

“Anywhere!”

Emma ran off along the battlement walkway. The guard, who was fencing with the Duck, dipped his shoulder, sold the Duck a dummy—and sprinted after her. The Duck ran after him. I still couldn't get away, because my guy had me cornered and, what's more, was closing in for the kill. I felt the wall behind me and knew I was out of options, so I propelled myself off it with my foot and smacked into him. He was so surprised by my sudden counter-attack that I got my hands on him. We wrestled about. To be honest, he was winning this crude trial of strength. I imagine he did lots of bench-presses and stuff like that in his spare time, back at the barracks, so I was no match. The most strenuous task I ever performed in my job as an advertising copywriter was unjamming the Xerox machine. But I had a stroke of luck—he tripped over the guy the Duck had flattened and, losing his balance, fell backwards off the wall into the courtyard. I found the spare shock stick and hared after the others.

They had run all the way along the battlement and were fighting on the raised area inside a corner turret. I could just make out the Duck's head above the wall and his goggled foe swiping at him with his stick. I couldn't see Emma, but I could hear her voice. As I ran, a searchlight from the communications building picked me out like a bashful cabaret act, avoiding the limelight. I tried to lose its blinding beam, but it stayed with me and fixed on me all the way to the corner. Those who were operating it would have had a laugh when they saw me charge up the two steps to the tower, waving my stick, and promptly fall on my ass. As my elbow hit the icy ground, the shock stick jolted out of my hand and sailed harmlessly over the wall. Emma was cowering under the parapet. Now I could see that the Duck had been trying to defend her. I felt useless without a weapon. But even worse, my leg felt dead and I couldn't get up. The Duck, though, seemed to be giving as good as he got—though I think the loud quacking noises he was making must have been off-putting to his opponent. Rather like playing tennis against Monica Seles, I imagine. Suddenly, his adversary—no doubt much more experienced in baton-fighting than a temporal engineering graduate—managed to flick the Duck's stick out of his grasp. And it, too, flew up into the night and out over the parapet. The Duck was at his mercy. Emma was at his mercy. I don't think he'd even noticed me, or, if he had, wasn't too bothered about the threat I posed on my current form.

The Duck leapt up on the battlement and, showing surprising agility, hopped over the gaps. I could see that he was teasing the guard, to draw him away from Emma. Emma edged towards me around the circular turret on her haunches. I kept one eye on the antics of the Duck and, as soon as Emma was out of the way, decided to crawl to his aid. But just as I got close, the guard whacked him in the groin. The Duck flew up in the air, let out a shrill cry and vanished off the wall.

Chapter 17

I gulped. Emma screamed. I was terrified that the guard was going to turn round. But this guard was so cocky he just had to take a look over the battlement at his handiwork. I speeded up my crawl grabbed his ankles and tried to topple him over, but he gripped the wall with both hands and pushed back. Fortunately, he lost his shock stick over the side as we struggled.

“Emma!” I shouted at the top of my voice.

She ran to my assistance and attempted to help me lift his legs up. But he was too strong—even for both of us.

“Get his hands!”

Emma stood up and tried to dislodge his fingers from the edge of the parapet, by pulling at them, but he resisted all her efforts—until she had the idea of biting them—that did the trick. He lost his grip with one hand and made the error of trying to grab her hair with his other. That was my chance. I flipped him over. He let out the most blood-curdling cry as he went—his arms and legs paddling madly through the air like a swimmer. I twisted round fitfully and slumped against the foot of the wall, shivering. Emma crouched down and patted my shoulder.

“Is the Duck—?” I couldn't bear to finish the question.

She nodded.

“God—are you sure?” I said.

“He's not moving,” she replied and bit her bottom lip.

We stared at each other and both started to cry at the same time. We hugged.

“He tried to save me,” she sobbed.

“I should have done something,” I sniffed. “If only I hadn't slipped over—he'd still be alive.”

I suddenly had a thought and got up quickly—pain shot through my shinbone. I ignored it and stamped my foot. Emma supported me around the waist.

“Are you okay?” she said.

“Yeah—I just gave myself a dead leg, I think—nothing feels broken.” I turned round and looked over the parapet. “I've got to get down there—he might still be alive.”

“Steve.” Emma tugged my sleeve. “Look.”

I looked over my shoulder. A platoon of white-furred and begoggled guards were streaming towards us from the direction of the CASTLE AMUSEMENTS CO building. More were running along the walkway from the infirmary.

“We could jump,” I said.

“No thanks,” said Emma. “You can if you like.”

“No, I'll stay with you,” I said, giving her a funny look.

“Hands up!” ordered the nearest guard, brandishing a huge rapid-loading tranquillizer rifle, with what looked like electronic imaging and guidance systems incorporated in it. It looked like a gun enthusiast's wet dream.

We stuck our hands up.

“There're two guys down there—” I tried to explain.

“—Shut up!” he screamed.

“One of them's yours—the other one's Doctor Zirconion—he's very important—send a rescue party down—”

He lurched forward and jabbed me in the stomach with the nose of his gun. “Stop talking! Lie down on the floor!”

“No,” I said. I dropped my hands down by my sides.

He aimed his gun at me. Others flanked round us to back him up.

“Get down!” he barked.

I put my hands on my head. Emma did the same.

“Just cut the crap and take us back,” I said. “I want to speak to an officer.”

“Over there—quickly—move it!” he yapped, swinging the barrel of his big gun in the direction of the CASTLE AMUSEMENTS CO building.

Emma and I held hands and started walking, keeping one hand on our head. But one of the other guards took offence and ordered us not to touch each other and put our hands back up. The only other place I can remember ever being told not to hold hands with another human being was at school. But I was weary and I was cold, and getting inside seemed like a good idea, so I didn't argue with him.

The next thing I knew—guards were running and shouting behind us. I looked back and saw dozens of them retreating down the steps of the infirmary. Our guards ordered us to get down and took up defensive positions along the wall. Most dropped to one knee, but some, in advanced positions, actually lay down in the snow and took aim. A fluorescent greenish-yellow light was pulsing from the infirmary door.

“What the hell is it?” I said, thinking aloud.

“A rave?” said Emma.

Suddenly, two thirty-foot-long tentacles shot out of the porchway and whipped their way down the steps, scattering a few courageous guards, who had stood their ground. Those still in the courtyard turned tail and ran for their lives.

“Hold your positions! Hold your position!” crackled a voice from the PA system in the communications building.

Two more tentacles snaked out of the infirmary door, only these had rows of suckers on them and were much thicker. We all watched in awe. Speechless. And then the porchway exploded and the enormous domed head of a giant squid emerged—glowing with green light, its huge black eyes, staring and malevolent.

“Brunswick?” I murmured.

“What?” said Emma.

Some of our guards broke ranks and ran away along the battlement towards the CASTLE AMUSEMENTS CO block.

“It's a giant squid,” I said. “The Duck had one just like it in a tank at Duckworth Hall, only he said it was just a baby one. Do you believe in co-incidences?”

“No way,” said Emma. “Maybe it escaped.”

“Yeah, and then it grew up, jumped in a time machine and came looking for its owner,” I said, not taking my eyes off it. It seemed to have stalled in the porchway for a moment or two, though one of its tentacles was slowly feeling its way up the infirmary wall towards the top of the tower.

The loudspeaker burst into life again:

“On the count of three—you will all fire!” announced a somewhat shaky voice. “One…two—”

He didn't reach three. The giant squid's mouth flap had peeled back, revealing its massive beak, and shocked everyone into silence. Judging by the man's body lying on the ground at the top of the steps, it was about the size of a small aviary.

“Jemmons!” I exclaimed. “That's Jemmons! Wait here, Em.”

I dashed off along the battlement, hopping, skipping, and jumping over the soldiers lying about, waiting to fire their weapons. I think they were so amazed to see me actually running towards the creature that they let me pass—they probably wanted to see what the beast would do to me. All I could think about was dragging Jemmons out of harm's way. I heard echoing footfalls behind me and looked round. It was Emma.

“Three!” boomed the loudspeaker.

A shower of missiles rained over onto the infirmary from the communications block. Emma and I hit the deck. More electric darts and tranquillizer tracers whined and zinged over our heads, homing in on the big target. I pressed my face into the snow and shut my eyes.

An almighty squawk reverberated around the walls, followed by several piercing screams, a strange slopping sound and multiple crashes and scrapes. I raised my eyes. The squid was gone. I heard firing behind me and looked round. The depleted squad of guards, who had remained with us on the wall, had turned to their right and were firing across court at the communications block. Only there wasn't much left of it—it was enveloped by the largest animal I had ever seen in my life—the giant squid. It was clinging to it like a gigantic hand and ripping it apart in several places at once, its undulating sets of tentacles working in tandem. Like the Duck said, the thing had five pairs—two extra long feeder tentacles and four pairs of suckered ones. It was trashing that building and nothing could stop it—the shooting from our side was merely a minor annoyance to it, which it dealt with in a vaguely flippant manner. It simply lifted its backside—if I may call it that—and squirted a pungent brown jet of ink at the guards, who all fell about screaming and holding their eyes.

“On your marks,” I said, getting up into a sprint start position and turning round to make sure Emma had heard me. “Set?”

“Just go!” snapped Emma.

We set off at pace and both skidded and fell over when we tried to take the first corner too fast. We ended up rolling in a heap up against the side door of the infirmary. Incredibly, when we both sat up we were both laughing. I stopped laughing and leaned over and kissed her on the lips. She kissed me back. And then we had a proper one. You know, an adult one—tongues, loving moans, ruffling of hair—oh, I could dwell, I could dwell…

“Wait here,” I said, looking lovingly into her eyes.

She thumped me in the arm. “Will you stop telling me to ‘wait here' all the time—I'm coming with you,” she said.

“Please, Em,” I said. “I'm just going to check Jemmons, he might be in a bit of a mess—then I'm going to get the boards—if there's anything left of them—and then we're getting out of here. I think I know how to find the Princess' time machine.”

She heaved a big sigh. “Don't be long.”

“I won't.”

I glanced across at the giant squid, which was still noisily tearing the communications block to pieces. Only now all the shooting had stopped and it was—I fancied—going about its work in a more leisurely manner, sort of enjoying itself, rather like a dog gnawing contentedly at a nice big juicy bone.

“Keep an eye on that thing,” I nodded.

I snuck round the corner and to my surprise found Jemmons sitting up with his back resting against a pillar, watching our friend vandalising the Castle.

“Rog!” I called.

“Stevie!” he grinned.

I crouched down next to him. “You all right?”

“I've felt better,” he said, reaching under and rubbing his backside. “Mind you, that warms the cockles of my heart.” He nodded over at the giant squid.

“Can you walk?”

“I reckon so.”

I helped him up. He rubbed his ribs and leaned against the pillar again.

Just then we heard a noise from inside the infirmary—like someone stepping on broken glass.

“What was that?” I said.

Jemmons raised a finger to his lips and craned his neck round the pillar.

“Steve?” called Emma.

“Emma?” I stepped out into the open.

Emma appeared in the smashed doorway.

“How did you get in there?”

“The side door was open.” She picked her way through the debris and came to join us.

“Anyone else in there?” I said suspiciously.

She shook her head. “No. They've all gone.” She smiled at Jemmons. “You must be Roger.”

“And you must be the Emma he's always talking about—now I can see why,” beamed Jemmons.

“Wait a minute,” I said, looking past her into the wrecked hospital ward. “Where's the Princess?”

Emma looked back. “She's not in there. They must have taken her with them.”

“I think it's time we got the hell out of here,” I said. “Help me with these boards.”

We all picked up an armful of boards and headed round to the west wall.

“I've got bad news about the Duck, Rog.”

I told Jemmons what had happened on the way. I could see the news deeply saddened him. The snow was scarce now, flying about like bits and bobs of lace against the black sky. Jemmons and I looked over the wall. Emma refused to look and hung back.

“That's the turret where the Duck fell.” I pointed.

“I can't see him,” said Jemmons, screwing up his eyes and straining his neck to look along the foot of the wall.

“The snow must have buried him,” I said.

“We'd better get down there,” said Jemmons.

“Let go of me! Get off!” shrieked Emma.

We spun round—a begoggled guard had grabbed Emma from behind and was holding the tip of his shock stick to her temple. Jemmons lurched forward—I grabbed his sleeve and pulled him back.

“One more step and I'll fry her brain!” snapped the guard.

“What's the problem, mate?” I smiled.

“You will all come with me.”

“Where?” I said.

He hesitated. He didn't seem to know. Maybe all the carnage had confused him, I thought—he's indecisive. I seized the moment.

“What's the point?” I said. “This place is history—that thing is going to total it before it's through.”

He glanced across at the colossal squid, which was still contentedly gnawing away at the communications block. I noticed that two of its tentacles were reaching inside and groping about, like a kid playing with a doll's house.

“The fleet is coming—it will be destroyed,” he said.

“You think?” I said. “Maybe you should think about getting out of here yourself.”

“I-I must remain at my station.”

“Listen,” I said. “Why don't you forget all that rules and regulations mumbo jumbo and go and see if you can find your mates—they might be hurt and need your help. Let us go.”

“No! Forbidden! Mutants! Seed of Satan—must eradicate the sperm of the devil—” he ranted.

“—John?” I said. “Is that you?”

His head tilted. I could see my own reflection in the black perspex of his goggles.

“Is that you, man?” I said, making myself look all smiley and pleased to see him.

“You know this droid?” said Jemmons.

“We go way back, don't we, John?” I opened my arms to step forward and embrace him.

“Stay back!” he cried. He depressed the button on his shock stick, it crackled and emitted tiny blue lightning bolts from the tip.

“Steve!” exclaimed Emma, in alarm.

“Hey, love and peace, man,” I grinned. “The meaning of life is to live a meaningful life—remember, Johnny?”

“Don't move—I'll burn her!”

“Come on, man—that's Emma—you remember Emma, don't you, Johnny?”

I was convinced my amateur psychology was working and I could win him over with charm, just like I did before. But he wasn't having any of it. He suddenly took a swipe at me with his stick. Jemmons had seen enough—he lunged and grabbed my former devotee's wrist and slung him around. I abandoned the counselling and joined in. I got hold of his other arm—still locked around Emma's neck—before he squeezed the life out of her. His goggles got knocked off in the struggle and we faced each other momentarily, eyeball-to-eyeball.