Child of Time Read online

  The thing continued to stand at the side of the road, patiently waiting for any signs of movement. Honoré glanced back at her. Her view of the street outside was hampered by a large supporting pillar, although this did at least afford her additional cover from the strange monster. She considered shuffling over to join Honoré, not wanting to be physically separated from him in this strange place. But he waved her down, and the creature shifted suddenly, sensing his movements. It raised its arm and flicked its wrist in their direction. There was a sudden spark, and the desk in front of Honoré simply disappeared.

  Honoré looked shocked. The thing had just pointed at an inanimate object and made it vanish into thin air. His jaw hung slack with disbelief. There was now nothing between him and the gargoyle, and Emily saw a look of alarm cross his face. Eyes not leaving the figure, she reached behind her and groped in the debris until her hand curled over what felt like a lump of metal. She pulled it towards her and, in a single movement, lifted and hurled it across the space, away from where Honoré was standing.

  There was a bang from the other side of the foyer as the object hit the wall. As she'd hoped, the creature tracked the sound with its unseeing eyes. But in doing so, it obviously deduced her position. A few seconds later, her cover was well and truly blown, as the desk behind which she'd been crouched vanished in a second shower of sparks. Now they were both exposed. She met Honoré's eyes and wondered which of them the beast would attack first. Maybe the other would be able to get away? But then what? Alone, there was no way out of this time, whenever it was. They needed to be a pair.

  Honoré was moving, and she knew he was doing it to give her a chance to escape. Her eyes filled with sudden tears. Would she ever see him again? He was sprinting for the exit and she was closing her eyes, not wanting to watch the inevitable, when...

  ... a sound like thunder filled the air. Emily's eyes snapped open in surprise, and she saw Honoré diving for cover, his military training assuming command of his faculties. He hit the floor, his arms folded over his head, his face buried in the crook of his elbow to protect his eyes from the flash of the blast, as bits of building rained down all around him, fragments of stone and mortar pattering against the back of his jacket and showering him with dust.

  The creature had vanished in the explosion and Emily looked around wildly, half convinced that it was about to sneak up on her from a different angle, that maybe the blast had been its way of ensuring it got both of them in one hit. But there was nothing. Brick and cement dust made her eyes water as she stood up, dazed. Where the creature had stood was now no more than a smouldering black footprint, a Mandelbrot pattern of soot and melting tarmac. All around, tiny fragments of grey stone had been scattered, deposited far and wide by the power of the blast.

  She got to her feet, fine particles of debris falling to the floor around her. Across the ruined foyer, Honoré was stirring, peering out from the crook of his elbow, but Emily didn't have a chance to take things slowly. Someone was shouting to them.

  'Quick! Come on. Before it re-forms!' The voice was a harsh bark, demanding instant obedience.

  Emily scrambled across to Honoré and they turned to see the source of the voice. Three people – two men and a woman – were standing on the far side of the road, gathered in a small huddle where they'd obviously emerged from the ruins of another building. One of the men was holding a huge weapon; the other was gesticulating wildly. All of them, including the woman, were dressed in black, one-piece coveralls, with equipment and armaments adorning their belts. They looked like soldiers or mercenaries – they were certainly life-savers.

  The man who'd been gesturing to them shouted again, more impatiently. 'Let's go. Now!'

  Emily's ears were still ringing from the blast, but Honoré had grabbed her arm and they were already moving, dashing towards the group of soldiers who still had their weapons trained on the smouldering space where the gargoyle creature had been. Emily figured that anything had to better than meeting another of those creatures, and at the moment it was a black and white choice. There'd be shades of grey later – there were always shades of grey – but she could deal with them when they arose. Right now, they needed to find shelter.

  She started to say something, to thank them, but the man with the bazooka cut her off. 'No time to talk. Gods, it's starting to re-form already.' He nodded his head towards the pile of stone fragments, which seemed to be coalescing in the middle of the road.

  Honoré shook his head, dust flying. 'You mean it can... ?'

  'Yes. So let's move it. Now!'

  The woman had hold of Emily's arm and was guiding her away at a brisk pace. Emily in turn was keeping hold of Honoré. She'd almost lost him a few moments ago and wasn't about to risk it again. From the corner of her eye, she could see the creature reassembling, chips of stone becoming pebbles and then boulders, sliding together – sometimes liquid, sometimes solid – and starting to form an outline. It was a compulsive sight, but she was distracted by another pull on her arm. 'It helps if you don't watch,' the woman said.

  Emily chewed her lip thoughtfully and let herself be led away.

  3

  'What the hell were you doing out there?'

  Emily glanced at Honoré. 'We were just...'

  'We've just arrived.' He interrupted her, his voice confident. 'We're not from around these parts.'

  They were running along a dark, underground tunnel. The only illumination came from the blinking electrical beacons attached to each of the soldiers' belts. It created an eerie, strobe-like effect in the confined space of the tunnel, like they were blinking suddenly in-and-out of existence as they ran.

  The soldiers had hurried to a manhole in the ground near to where the gargoyle creature had attacked them. They'd clambered down iron rungs and dropped to the tunnel floor in the dark, and it wasn't until the metal cover had been replaced over the hole that they had fired up their beacons. Honoré thought that the tunnels could have once been sewers, but if that was true, it was no longer the case – they were dry and echoed every footfall as they ran. They hadn't had time to ask questions yet, although he had managed to pick up a couple of the soldiers' names as they barked commands at each other.

  The man named Micah stopped dead in his tracks and wheeled around to face them, repeating what Honoré had said, 'You're not from around these parts?' The others came to a sudden halt beside him. Honoré caught Emily by the arm.

  The woman, Hannah, put her hand to her mouth in apparent shock. 'My Gods. They're Hunted. We've gone and picked up two freakin' Hunted.' She started pacing back-and-forth, obviously flustered, until Micah waved her still.

  'Hunted or not, they were in trouble. What else were we to do?'

  The other man, whose name Honoré thought might be either Gray or Clay, was nodding. 'Look. It's done now. Let's get back to base and make sure everyone's okay. Then we can decide what to do next. Here's

  not the place for an argument.'

  Emily cleared her throat. 'Excuse me. You seem to be forgetting that we're actually standing here...' She looked exasperated and tired. 'We're very grateful, but don't we get a say in all this? And what exactly do you mean by "Hunted"?'

  Micah shook his head. 'Not now. Gray's right. Let's get you somewhere safe first. Then we can talk.' He pulled a small handgun from a holster on his hip and waved it in the direction they'd been running. 'Come on; this way.' He set off again, his boots clattering loudly on the dry tunnel floor.

  They emerged from the darkness into a bright, stinging light. They'd hurried on for about half an hour, following the contours of the tunnel as it snaked beneath the ruined city, every inch bringing them closer, Honoré hoped, to some answers. Eventually they'd come to another ladder and Micah had helped them scramble up the rungs until they reached a metal hatch at the top. He'd rapped a pass code on the underside with his knuckles and, although it wasn't the most elaborate or foolproof of systems, it seemed to work, for a moment afterwards, the hatch had eased open and they'd be
en able to pull themselves through.

  Now they were standing in a small chamber that was flooded with a harsh white light. Honoré tried to see what was going on, but all he could make out were a few shadowy figures and an array of lamps. His eyes were stinging and he could feel tears trickling down his cheeks. Micah and the others were all covering their eyes from the glare. Giving them the benefit of the doubt, he followed suit. A moment later, the light abated and he was able to open his eyes again. Baubles danced in front of his vision for a few moments while he adjusted to the dim glow once again.

  Hannah approached him, nervously, noticing his discomfort. 'Sorry. Should have warned you. Decontamination chamber. In a moment you'll be given a quick shot, too, and then we can get you out of those dirty clothes and find you something to eat.' She looked over at Emily.

  'Are you hurt? Either of you?'

  Emily met her gaze. 'Just a few bruises. Nothing I can't handle.'

  Honoré shook his head, agreeing. 'No. But I'm not sure I like the idea of a shot. What exactly do we need decontaminating from?'

  'Radiation, mainly, although we're not sure exactly what else is out there: dirty nanotech, viruses, psionic magic. Just a precaution really.' She smiled, for the first time since they'd met. 'Not scared of a little needle, are we?'

  Emily moved over to stand beside Honoré. 'I'm sure we can cope.'

  Hannah shrugged, still smiling. 'Good.' She glanced over her shoulder. 'Come on, let's go.'

  They filed out behind the others, leaving the stark decontamination room behind them and moving into a slightly larger chamber that resembled nothing so much as a politician's office. A torn Union Jack hung on one wall and the floor was covered by what had once been a plush red carpet; now dirty and worn, it looked like everything else in this bleak version of the future: tired, old and forgotten.

  A man was sitting behind a large oak desk, a row of metal kidney bowls lined up in front of him, each one containing a hypodermic syringe and a wad of white swabbing. He stood up as they filed in, revealing his once-white coat to be covered in numerous alarming brown stains. Honoré recognised dried blood. This was obviously the soldiers' medic. The man smiled, his face cracking warmly with lines and wrinkles that betrayed his age. He must have been around 60 years old, Honoré guessed – probably near enough the combined age of the three soldiers who had brought them in. Perhaps, later, if the others proved reluctant to talk, he'd find this doctor a little more forthcoming.

  'Micah – I see you've brought guests!' The man looked Honoré and Emily up-and-down, still smiling. 'Where did you find these two, eh? Lurking in the sewers?'

  Micah looked suddenly grave. 'No, Jand, we think they're Hunted.'

  The smile dropped from the medic's face. 'What are you playing at, Micah? As if we didn't have enough problems. Idiot boy.' He looked

  away in disgust, sighing.

  'Jand. Jand – listen! It's not that simple. They were under attack – we had no choice. By the time we'd taken out the gargoyle and got them into the tunnels, it was already too late. What would you have done? Abandon them?' Micah glowered at Honoré, as if it was his fault that the doctor was giving him such a hard time.

  Jand shook his head. 'I don't know, Micah. I really don't know. But you're going to have to tell the old lady.' He met Emily's eyes once again. 'You understand, don't you? Having you here puts every one of us at risk. It's not that I don't care...'

  Emily smiled. 'To be honest, I have no idea what you're talking about.'

  Honoré had to agree with her, wishing that they could backtrack a bit and start at the beginning.

  Jand glanced at Micah. 'Look. I'll pass them through. Just this once. But they'll have to be gone again by nightfall. And anyone starts asking questions, it's on your head.' He beckoned to Emily to come closer. 'Over here. Pull up your sleeve.'

  Emily slipped her coat off her shoulders and passed it to Honoré. Then, rolling up the sleeve of her cardigan, she crossed the room and presented her arm to the medic. Honoré chose not to watch as the man inserted the needle into her arm and pressed the plunger.

  A few moments later, Jand had finished administering the decontamination shots. Honoré was still suspicious of these people's motives, but having watched each of the soldiers go through the procedure first, as well as Emily, he was a little more at ease. He noted with a wry smile that the medic had chosen to record only three shots in his logbook; officially he and Emily didn't exist, and he was covering his own back in case someone came asking questions later. This 'Hunted' thing really seemed to have them all spooked. And if they were supposedly 'Hunted', then who or what was hunting them?

  When the necessary paperwork had been completed – it transpired that Micah and his crew had been out on a reconnaissance mission and needed to record their findings – Honoré and Emily were led along a narrow passageway that opened up into a much larger space.

  Emily came to a sudden halt, gasping in shock. 'Honoré! We're in the Houses of Parliament.'

  Honoré had to do a double-take. Emily was right. He'd never been inside the Houses of Parliament, but he'd seen pictures, and this was unmistakably Westminster Hall, the oldest part of the building, erected in the 11 Century. But things had gone decidedly downhill. There was a large hole in the roof, which was now covered by a large patchwork of tarpaulin and plastic sheeting. Ivy climbed in intricate webs over the walls, and the boughs of an oak tree had pushed their way through a window, encroaching into the building itself and leaving the place open to the elements. Red dust had swirled in from outside, dancing on the wind, and now caked most visible surfaces, including the floor. What horrified Honoré the most, however, were the rows of tents and makeshift shanty huts that had been erected in the Hall, many of them formed by pushing bits of old furniture together and draping blankets over the top. People clustered around old bins that had been turned into braziers, most of them dressed in rags, with only one or two of the men wearing the black, one-piece coveralls that suggested they were soldiers like Micah, Gray and Hannah. Honoré didn't know what to say.

  Breaking the awkward silence, Gray turned to regard him, a smile curling on his lips. 'Welcome to our home.'

  No-one seemed to know how long ago the world had been blighted. There were tales of alien entities coming from the stars to wreak havoc upon the Earth, of ancient creatures rising out of the oceans to reclaim their ancestral homeland, and of humans turning themselves into armies of murderous machines. To Honoré, the majority of these stories seemed like nothing but fables, told by mothers to explain away the terrors that haunted their children, and their husbands, at night. Yet he suspected that there were kernels of truth to them. There was one name that featured in nearly all the tales, a name that he and Emily had heard before on their travels: the Sodality. This, apparently, was a secret society that had made a pact with the Devil and then defaulted on its side of the bargain. The people involved, the places, the circumstances, they all varied; but the gist of the stories was always the same: this Sodality had gambled with the fate of the Earth, and had lost. How the planet had been destroyed became almost immaterial. What mattered was the fact that it had been destroyed, and with it, the majority of the human race. Honoré was no academic, and although he'd seen some bizarre things in his time – especially in the last few years – he couldn't bring himself to believe in pacts with devils and demons. Nevertheless, he also knew that there was no smoke without fire, so somewhere in there, amongst the embellishments, lurked a version of the truth. One thing he felt sure of, though, was that they were unlikely to find it here.

  He and Emily were resting in the soldiers' mess with Gray and Hannah. Micah had disappeared some time earlier, after showing them to a locker room where they'd been given a pair of black coveralls to change into and allowed to shower. Emily was thankful to have got out of her still-damp clothes, even though the unfamiliar fabric of the coveralls now scratched at her skin. Honoré had been reluctant to discard his familiar shirt and trousers, even t
hough they were filthy with the clinging red dust, but had eventually agreed, although he had retained his hat and leather trench coat regardless.

  The mess was a confusion of sounds, sights and smells. The place was buzzing with a palpable energy as squad after squad of soldiers changed shift, coming back through from their decontamination sessions to wash and find something to eat. There was an entirely different feel to this area of the building than the civilian spaces they'd seen earlier; it was much more organised, clean and practical. The civilian population, which couldn't have numbered more than a few hundred people, seemed to be clinging on to the soldiers for safety, or at least the perception of safety, that they offered. Honoré could see the attraction. In a world that had gone completely mad, the impulse to stay close to the people with the big guns was entirely understandable.