“Wake up, Mr. Geddis. There's a good boy.” The silky smooth tone of Corelious was followed by a far less smooth slap across the mouth. Having exerted himself greatly, he backed off and returned to furiously dabbing his brow with an almost comedic daisy-chain of handkerchiefs. It was a balmy zero-degrees in the trailer, and he retreated to the shelter of an industrial-sized fan for a small degree of respite. He’d co-opted a large refrigerated trailer as his base of operations, and other than adding more fans and turning the temperature down to one degree below sensible, he hadn't really done much in the way of modifications. Geddis sat at the opposite side of a dark, wooden writing desk. Corelious didn't really write letters, do a lot of paperwork, or do a lot of anything in fact – a man in his position needed a fine desk is all. How else could guests come to the conclusion that he worked hard – by actually working hard? Preposterous! That would never do.
Towards the cab-end of the trailer was a modest single bed, a travelling trunk and a chemical toilet – all concealed behind an ornate wooden screen that depicted a scene from an historical battle that he was only too happy to talk about if asked.
“Like a morgue in here,” Geddis slurred through cold, numb lips. He was wrapped in a haphazard collection of blankets and insulated sheeting, so the cold was painfully inconvenient rather than inconveniently fatal. As a kindness, it also meant he was having trouble feeling his knee. He didn't know how badly he'd broken it, but whatever pain he was feeling paled in comparison to what it would have been had he been a few degrees warmer.
“If it wasn't for the requirements of admission, dear boy, I think I'd much prefer we conduct business in one, though I find they don't have wheels. There are important things afoot – history in the making, Mr. Geddis. Literally a whole new history. Isn't it exciting?”
“I ruined everything, there's nothing to be happy about.”
“On the contrary, dear boy.”
“Bollocks. No way you got a truce. You needed proof of your alien bullshit – you needed bodies.”
“The bodies would have been most helpful for securing multiple truces, but all we really needed was one. Between the footage and your little terrorist incident, one of the Northern territories was more than happy to postpone hostilities until we could track down those pesky escaped aliens before they reached their border.”
“Still don't get it, lardy. You can't do jack shit with a single regiment.”
Corelious contemplated leaving the comfort of his fan to slap Geddis on the other side of the face. Instead, he made a slapping gesture to the guards that stood by the rear doors. The men turned and slapped one another in unison, then returned to standing guard. “Just can't get the help these days, Mr. Geddis. Where were we? Oh yes, but it isn't just any regiment, Mr. Geddis. It's High Lord Parnell's regiment! One truce was all we needed to make it happen. The Son of Albion is coming home!”
“Oh, oh shit,” Geddis chattered.
“And believe me, he is very interested in meeting the traitor that helped make this happen. Driver! How long until we get to the rendezvous?”
A metal hatch slid open at the cab-end of the trailer. “About an hour, Lord Corelious. Much quicker if we could just nudge these cars out the way, sir. The others did it.”
“The others were imbeciles and couldn’t follow orders. Maintain speed.”
“Yes, sir.” The hatch slid shut with a murmuring of disappointment.
***
“I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced,” Sebastian said. “Bit rude, but there you are. Sebastian.”
“Danielle Ostler. I didn’t catch your last name.”
“It’s, um, Sebastian. Parents had a sense of humour. Sebastian Sebastian, that’s me. You won’t believe the stick I got growing up.”
“It’s all right, dad,” Sarah said. “She knows.”
“Knows what, sweetheart?”
“Everything, but I understand the apprehension,” Danielle replied. “I’m a reporter.”
“Oh, a reporter. That’s great, that’s just what we needed.”
“You wouldn’t be the first with something against the press,” she conceded.
“We all have something against the press, every last person in this festering tip of a country. You’re just too far up yourself to realise it. Last bastion of truth? You were the first to go, and you did it willingly.”
“That’s not entirely bullshit, as much as I hate to admit it. But that’s not my fault. It was before my time, and I can’t fix it as much as I try.”
Sebastian sighed. “You’re right, it’s not your fault, and I’m sorry. You helped my daughters and I should be grateful, so thank you. I don’t know where they’d be right now without you.”
“Then you owe me an answer. Did you do it?”
“Don’t be so ridiculous,” Erica chided.
“I don't think it matters what I tell you, Ms. Ostler. I’m sure you've already made your mind up. I just want to spend time with my daughters.”
“Fine,” Danielle said. “We’ll talk later.”
“What's the plan, Sebastian?” Bosco still cradled Harry, who had quite taken to it – it felt like he was sleeping in a hammock.
“I don't have one.”
“Then we'll make it up as we go along, won't we?” Erica said.
“It hasn't killed us yet,” Sarah confirmed.
Sebastian wandered over to the window and looked out into the blackness like he expected to be able to see something. “Where's your car at, Ms. Ostler?”
“Don't be another Erica, it's Danielle.” She let a hint of a smile creep onto her face before quickly extinguishing it.
“Look at us on first-name terms. Where's the car, Danielle?”
“It's the write-off outside.”
“Of course it is.”
Sarah proudly pointed at her polished and neatly organised tool belt; the pouches and various sheaths glistened in the dim light, the tools arranged by size and colour, and ready for use at a moment's notice. “I have my tools, dad.”
“I forgot mine,” Erica said. “But they're not as nice as Sarah's.”
“And what are we supposed to do?” Danielle asked. Being sat in a filthy building that was only ever five minutes away from being condemned didn't suit her – she could have stayed home for that. She thought of Geddis, though she'd spent the afternoon trying not to. Whatever she thought of him, he’d done the right thing. Putting your own life on the line for a good cause wasn't unheard of or rare, it was extinct, yet Geddis had done it without even thinking of the consequences. He'd also nearly burned the whole building to the ground, which added further weight to the theory of him having done it without thinking about it at all that much.
This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
She looked across at Harry and rationed a smile. He was asleep again, any cares he may have had dissolved on quiet exhales that drifted into a quiet room and out into the quiet perma-night of the ever-dark. Between the hood, the mask and the mess of tubing, there was very little of his face on display. She put her hand on the side of his face and gently stroked between his eyes with her thumb. “He'll be all right, Bosco. He will.” She wasn't sure who it was she was trying to convince, but Bosco seemed to take it to heart, his massive shoulders relaxing somewhat. “Come on,” she said. She squeezed Bosco's shoulder. “We should go sit down.” Her hand remained on his shoulder as she carefully steered him through the jagged mess of tiling.
***
“I don't think mess is the right word for it.” Sebastian walked past the car on the way in but hadn't really paid it any mind. On top of being a regular graveyard, the ever-dark was also an automotive graveyard – cars littered every corner of every street, and if you'd seen one, you'd seen them all.
“We had some trouble getting here,” Erica understated.
“What kind of trouble?” Sebastian raised an eyebrow.
“After poor Mr. Geddis was caught, we were chased by the biggest truck in probably the whole world,” Sarah said. She held her arms outstretched and waltzed about in a bid to accurately represent the size of the truck. In her estimate, it was three Sarahs wide, four Sarahs tall, and at least ten Sarahs long. Sebastian looked at Sarah, then back to the car and shuddered. He collected himself and went back to surveying the car.
“Geddis,” he said. He walked around the other side and momentarily ducked out of view. “Now there's a name I haven't heard in a long time.”
“You know him?” Erica wasn't really surprised – she imagined her father knew pretty much everybody, like how he knew that horrible Carol woman.
“We go way back. Reliable sort, good man. Terrible dresser.”
“Well, he reliably burnt down half of that Trinity Park place,” Erica said.
“He's too important to execute, at least for now, so he's probably got more time to play with than us. We'll get him back.” Sarah moved around the side of the car closest to her dad and made thoughtful hmm sounds and stroked her chin in otherwise quiet contemplation. “What do you think, Sarah?”
“Doors are broken. They’re probably going to fall off anyway, so we may as well take them off,” she mused.
“What else?”
“The pipe thing.” Sarah knelt at the rear of the car. “It's hanging off. I can fix it, though!” She ran inside without another word and tripped her way past every window until she reached the table her friends sat. “Mr. Tirren, may I borrow something from Harry?” He nodded, though not quite understanding. Sarah unzipped a portion of Harry's paper suit and pointed to the indestructible parcel cord harness he'd fashioned for himself. Held loosely along the front by a couple of strips of electrical tape, it neatly kept a cereal bar holstered under each arm. She took the bars and attempted to place them on the table. Harry wasn't awake but his hands were, and they very much insisted that the bars not leave his side. She lovingly folded his arms across his chest like a mummy, a cereal bar in each hand, and carefully pulled at the cord to free it from his little person. Cord liberated, she fastened his zip and kissed him on his forehead before tripping past every window on the way out.
“Oh, brilliant!” Sebastian ruffled Sarah's hair as she came out the door. “I think we were going to weaponise this at some point, but the higher ups said it was too cruel.”
“Is that what you did, weaponise things?” Erica hadn't intended for her question to come out quite as accusatory.
“I guess, some things. We were at war, we still are. Doesn't make it right, but the only way to save the lives of the people that are important to you is to take the lives of those important to others. It’s the first thing you learn about war and the last thing you forget. We were all beyond thinking or reasoning with each other by that point, and the Gate was my way of saving lives without destroying anyone else's. Find somewhere new, safe, unpopulated; evacuate everyone, start again, get it right.”
“And that's when you found Mayflight.”
“When your mother and I found out it was populated, we tried to close the Gate and purge the co-ordinates.” He put his hands on the bonnet and slumped forward. “We had time to try again, but Parnell wouldn't allow it. “I think you know the rest.”
“And that's why you left us – to save us from that awful man.” Sebastian nodded, his hands still affixed to the bonnet.
“I've hated you, and everything about you, for so long. Close to my whole life. I didn't know, I'm so sorry.” Tears streamed down Erica's face as she made her way around to her father’s side of the car. She navigated the three or four feet, barely stumbled at all, and wrapped her arms around him.
“Did you just blow your nose on my shirt?”
“Yes, now shut up.”
Sebastian turned his head and gestured to Sarah, but she was already on her way around to join them. It was quite impressive how much speed she’d managed to build up over such a short space of time. She barrelled into them both, wrapped her arms around them and almost knocked them to the ground.
“It's nice to see you getting on,” Danielle said as she stepped from the shadow of the doorway.
“Make a habit of hiding in the shadows, do you?”
“Girl needs her hobbies. How's the patient doing? Looks dead.”
“Only on the outside, so I know how it feels.” Sebastian relinquished his hug and walked around to the front of the car. There was no need to raise the bonnet to take a look at the engine, as most of it had peeled back like an orange skin. “Radiator is slightly damaged, but still functional enough. The framework is surprisingly solid. She'll live. Be a bit draughty, though. And god-awfully smelly. Draughty and smelly.”
“We don't have the tools to put the doors back on,” Sarah added.
“I don't know much about cars, but it has four seats and there are six of us, so I'd say the less weight the better,” Erica said.
Sarah nodded along in a sagely fashion. “I reckon Mr. Tirren could make a go of the doors.” She made her way to the entrance and poked her head inside. “Mr. Tirren?” she shouted. Keith startled awake and almost tumbled from his stool. “Could you come outside, please?”
There was a muted grunt as Bosco squeezed himself out of the booth, followed by a slow and methodical plodding across the tiled floor accompanied by mutterings of things like,
“Right, right, no, it was left wasn't it? So stupid. No, not you, my boy – go back to sleep.” After a couple of minutes, Bosco stepped outside, Harry still snuggled into his chest.
“I know you're preoccupied, Bos, but we're a little stuck. We don’t have the tools to take those doors off,” Sebastian said.
“Don't worry, I'll look after him.” Sarah held her arms out. Mr. Tirren gently loosened Harry's grip around his neck and passed him over to her. Harry conducted a thorough investigation by way of opening one eye, then satisfied with the results, he declared the case closed and wrapped his arms around Sarah's neck before drifting back off to sleep. Bosco made a circuit of the car and examined each door in turn – the quality of the metal was poor, brittle even. He hadn't seen the doors as he got out of the car, but it was all too clear now that they had done very little in the way of deforming and had instead cracked and blistered from the numerous impacts they’d taken.
“What’s he doing?” Danielle asked.
“Just wait and see,” Sebastian said. “You’ll like this bit.”
Bosco placed his hands on top of the driver’s side door and gripped tightly, then gave a small hop and dropped into a squat. He put his full weight onto the door and pulled it down and towards him. It squealed in protest as the bolts stripped and the top hinge came loose. The bottom hinge had already been sheered off, so the door dropped to the ground with a thud, Bosco along with it.
“Bloody hell!” Danielle gasped.
“Told you you’d like it.”
Bosco dusted himself off and repeated the process twice more. The doors offered much less resistance than the first one, with one of them coming off almost as soon as he looked at it. He pointed to the last door, the one on the side where he’d been sitting. “This one is still solid.”
“See, it’s not all bad,” Sarah said. The remaining wing-mirror fell off and cracked on the ground.
“Everybody in.” Sebastian mimed opening a door. “Girls, seat-belts.”
Bosco clambered into the middle seat and looped the belt around his waist. Erica and Sarah got in at either side of him and Sebastian made doubly sure their belts were fastened. It was about time someone taught that seat-belt a lesson, Sarah thought. Harry lay cradled in his papa's arms, mostly the correct way up. He woke momentarily to do a stocktake of his snacks and the assorted collection of fun things that he'd managed to fit inside his paper suit – one of his favourites being the chain of multicoloured paper clips wrapped around one of his legs.
Sebastian took the canteen off his belt and emptied the contents into the radiator, then got into the passenger side having been violently shoved from one side of the car to the other by Danielle. She turned the key and the car protested; until that point, it was heading towards a bright light rather quickly – and if anything, it really wanted to get back to seeing where it went. The engine turned over and the car more or less made all the right car noises at more or less the right time as they began to pull away. Danielle had never done it before, so she treated herself to putting the headlights on full-beam. She didn't realise it at the time, but she giggled childishly all the way out of the ever-dark.
