Mutation
mutation
Born in Sydney in 1985, Chris Morphew
spent his childhood writing stories about
dinosaurs and time machines. More recently he
has written for the best-selling Zac Power series.
The Phoenix Files is his first series for young adults.
Chris Morphew
mutation
The Phoenix Files: Mutation
published in 2010 by
Hardie Grant Egmont
85 High Street
Prahran, Victoria 3181, Australia
www.hardiegrantegmont.com.au
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publishers and copyright holders.
A CiP record for this title is available from the National Library of Australia.
Text copyright © 2010 Chris Morphew
The moral rights of the author have been asserted
Illustration and design copyright © 2010 Hardie Grant Egmont
Design by Sandra Nobes
Typesetting by Ektavo
Printed in Australia by McPherson's Printing Group
1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2
To the real-life Jordans and Georgias at PLC Sydney.
May you keep on living great stories!
Contents
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HURSDAY
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63
DAYS
My fists clenched in my lap as Shackleton approached the podium, a hint of his sick, grandfatherly smile still pulling at his lips. He stared down at the coffin, clearing his throat with a sound like a dying animal.
I shivered, digging my nails down through the fabric of my skirt.
You already killed him, you filthy
parasite. Isn't that enough?
âFriends,' Shackleton began solemnly, his arms casting long shadows out toward us. âThank you all so much for being here. Officer Reeve was a dear friend of mine, and it is an honour and a privilege to be laying him to rest here this evening.'
We were in a clearing in the bush at the north-west corner of town, where the Shackleton Co-operative had set up a makeshift cemetery. They hadn't thought to include one in the original designs for the town. Phoenix was the one place where people
weren't
supposed to die.
There were maybe fifty people at the funeral. Almost half were colleagues of Reeve's from the security centre, neat rows of black uniforms melting together in the shadows of the trees.
Luke, Peter and I had debated all week whether it was even worth showing up, knowing Shackleton would be running the service, knowing it was only ever going to be an insult to Reeve's memory.
But here we were.
âReeve was a great man,' Shackleton said. âA loving husband, a devoted father, and a security officer of the highest calibre.'
Luke leant forward in the seat next to mine. He let out a heavy breath and put his head in his hands.
It had been a week since our disastrous trip to the Shackleton Building. A week since Shackleton had ordered Reeve's brutal execution right in front of us.
Two other men had died that night, but neither of them had been given a memorial service. If anyone asked, they'd been âdismissed due to professional misconduct'.
But Reeve had family in Phoenix, so his death was harder to explain away. The Co-operative was forced to concoct an elaborate story about a malfunctioning ventilation unit and Reeve getting sliced up by one of the fans.
They'd done a pretty slick job of it too. Blood on the fan blades. Aaron Ketterley coming forward and corroborating the whole thing. All pretty grizzly, though nothing compared to the true horror of that night.
Almost without thinking, I reached behind and traced a finger over the weeping scab on the small of my back, the mark of my failed attempt to take a kitchen knife to Shackleton's tracking device. It was healing up surprisingly fast, given the mess I'd made.
But the suppressor was still there. A little piece of Shackleton buried in my skin, touching me, dirtying my insides. I didn't care what Luke said, I could
feel
it.
Shackleton paused to survey the crowd, and I drew my hand back to my lap.
âTo his wife, Katie, and son, Lachlan,' he continued, nodding at a seat in the front row, âI offer my deepest condolences. Know that the Shackleton Co-operative stands beside you in your grief.'
Lachlan rocked back and forth on his mum's lap, oblivious to Shackleton's words. He was dressed in a little shirt and tie, tears running down his face. He stared around at the rest of us like he was expecting to find his dad waiting for him somewhere in the crowd.
I imagined Georgia sitting there in his place, all dressed up, trying to make sense of all these miserable grown-ups. I thought of Mum, in and out of the medical centre all week, and I imagined what it would be like if anything happened to her, imagined trying to explain to my little sister why one of
our
parents was never â
Tears pricked my eyes, but I fought them back. No way was Shackleton going to see me lose it.
I caught Peter watching me. Probably trying to figure out if he could get away with putting his hand on my knee. I glared at him and he quickly turned his head the other way.
âIf there is anything â
anything
â we can do to ease your suffering in this tragic time,' said Shackleton, âplease do not hesitate to let me know.'
Reeve's wife gave a shaky nod.
I gritted my teeth, not knowing how much longer I could just sit here and absorb this. Shackleton tearing this family apart, murdering an innocent man like it was no worse than squashing a bug, and now standing up there getting weary, grateful smiles from the woman he'd made a widow.
Shackleton paused again, gaze suddenly resting on Luke, Peter and me.
My skin crawled. Shackleton's smile stretched the tiniest bit wider.
âMore than anything else, I will remember Officer Reeve as a man dedicated to protecting the town he loved, a man who treasured the values that we at the Shackleton Co-operative hold dear.'
I shifted in my chair. I'd known all along that this night would be a travesty, but to use it to turn Reeve into a poster boy for all the evil being committed in this place â¦
Luke grabbed hold of my arm, warning me to keep it together. I shook him off, but settled back down into my seat.
âMy dear friends,' Shackleton spread his arms wide again and lifted his voice, gearing up for his big finish. âWhat better way to honour the memory of this great man than by working together to ensure that Phoenix continues to be the place of safety, security and freedom that Officer Reeve fought so hard to â'
BOOM!
A second later, the old man was face-down on the ground. The sky flashed orange and the bushland behind him erupted into flame.
T
HURSDAY
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11
63
DAYS
The crowd was on their feet in a second, gasping and shouting and knocking over their seats.
âCrap,' hissed Peter, craning his neck. âNow who's trying to kill us?'
Somewhere out in the bush, a fireball the size of a house had just blasted up above the tree line, impossibly bright against the darkening sky. I climbed up on top of my chair, staggering under the wave of blinding heat sweeping through the clearing. Even after all the rain we'd been getting, I could see flames starting to crawl up through the trees.