Relatively Strange (39 page)

I briefly felt the cold impact of Miss Merry’s mind, acridly dry, bright with anger and then Ruth was doing her stuff and she started to go down, falling forwards. I automatically put out my arms to catch and lower her gently to the floor, somehow in the midst of everything, it seemed important to hold on to certain standards of courtesy. The Doctor’s mind, crystal clear, evidence of his extreme agitation, flared briefly, before his eyes too rolled ceiling-ward and with a boneless thud he joined his colleague.

Sudden movement stirred at the edge of my vision and even as I turned, I knew what I was going to see through the glass. She, Megan must have, couldn’t help but have felt the strength of the
gestalt
. She’d heard the instruction and obeyed. The man called John had lost more though than his little black jamming device. He lay in the corner of the room, eyes wide, blood oozing from where his ear had been, the electric probe, harmless now, by his outstretched hand. He was dead. And Megan knew, in that moment, she was free from both the buzzer and the probe.

We could all feel her mind ranging, seeking, sucking at ours, it wasn’t a pleasant sensation and oh God, beyond her, in the other rooms there were others. All just as ragingly insane, all aware familiar restrictions were gone. They howled their horror, their history, their fear and their hate. The unholy chorus rose, fell and rose again, lacerating and assaulting our minds like fingernails raking a blackboard, overriding rational thought, creating only an overwhelming desire to escape, to get away. I could feel the others desperately trying to restore calm, gain control. They were strong, stronger because of the joining, but what had been created artificially, was stronger still and I knew they were on a hiding to nothing.

Sam was rigid on his chair, hands clasped neatly in his lap, the unconscious bodies of Dr Dreck and Miss Merry sprawled not far from his feet. His colourless face was turned toward the glass, behind which, Megan lurched and drooled and capered. He knew what he had to do, didn’t want to do it but, untroubled by complicated adult ethics, knew it was essential for his own preservation and only fair to Megan and the other children.

“Sam, no.” I screamed and heard the cry echoed by the others, but it was already too late. We felt the power build inexorably in him, drawing on the strength of all of us. First he took Megan – a pressure at just the right point, a small decisive twist in precisely the right place and, as her mind briefly flared, was there gratitude there for something that of all of us only Sam had the courage to do? Then swift and sure, no hesitation, he dealt with the others, there were four of them and I caught him as he collapsed.

Chapter Forty-Five

I thought he was dead too. I fumbled for his wrist, trying clumsily to reach in through the fastenings on the suit to find a pulse,

“Not there,” Miss Peacock’s urgency pulled at my fingers, “His neck, there … no, no, higher … not your thumb, first two fingers.” For an awfully long moment I could detect nothing then, a slow beat.

“I’ve got it, he’s OK.” I felt weak with relief, or maybe I just felt weak.

“You have to get him out of there quickly.
Move
.” I wasn’t sure I had the strength to do that. Half crouched on the floor, the little boy in my arms was a dead weight and I was weary to the bone and beyond. I shut my sore eyes. Something cold was nudging my face, Hamlet’s nose. I pushed him away but he came back.

“If you don’t get that boy out,” Peacock said, “He’ll probably die.”

“I can’t.”

“Rubbish.” They were separate again, I could feel them individually now. Ruth’s concern, Glory’s frustration. I struggled to my feet and rested him on the edge of the desk.

“Fireman’s lift?” Ruth suggested. “Quicker than using Hamlet.” I felt them help me prop him over my shoulder, head and arms dangling behind me. We were both still slippery-suit clad, so I had to anchor his legs tightly. It would be a poor show if, after all this, I dropped him and broke his neck.

I turned to move out of the office which now, with people lying all over the place, looked a lot more untidy than when we’d arrived. On impulse I bent, holding tight to Sam and picked up one of the little black ear pieces. After a couple of attempts to find a pocket anywhere in the stupid suit I gave up, slipped it down inside the neck and hoped it wouldn’t end up anywhere too uncomfortable.

“Filing cabinet.” Miss P again.

“Right, I’ll just slip that in too, shall I?”

“Facetiousness,” she reprimanded me – it hadn’t taken her long to get back in her stride after recent events, “Is never constructive. It’s locked so what’s inside’s probably important. Get rid of it.” I sighed. All I wanted was the child off my shoulder, the silver suit off my back, the whole episode out of my head and a good strong cup of tea.

“Quicker you do as she says, the quicker that’s likely to happen.” Glory at her most priggish.

“All
right
,” I concentrated, reaching and easing past the metal to the papers inside, feeling Glory working with me, helping find just the right level. Warm, then hot, then smouldering, not quite strong enough to flame, but flickering just below. Holding it there wasn’t easy, but very quickly we felt the papers within begin to blacken at the edges, then curl and in a gratifyingly short space of time, disintegrate, the metal file dividers buckling and sagging with the heat. Case histories, progress notes, whatever was in there – I didn’t want to think too closely of the stories some of those files could have told – would be of no earthly use to anyone now. I put a cautious hand near the side of the cabinet, then rested it on the surface, warm but not hot. No danger of it flaring up and doing damage when we’d gone, in fact from the outside it looked fine – but oh, there’d be a gnashing of teeth and tearing of hair when next it was opened. I turned again to make my way out of the office, poised for a Peacock counter-instruction but thankfully, for once, she had nothing to add. The room next door was still illuminated brightly, I didn’t look, I had more than enough nightmares to be getting on with.

Hamlet by my side, Sam over my shoulder, we retraced our steps. This time there was nothing emanating from behind closed doors, it had become just another corridor. I couldn’t find it in my heart to believe Sam had done wrong, although recalling my own agonising over a situation when I too had taken what seemed to be the only option, I wondered how he’d view it in years to come.

Through the security door, down the stairs, past a still supine Nurse Muldrew – if the sedative had that effect on an adult, you had to wonder what it would have done to the much smaller Sam. We turned the corner and then there was just the long stretch to the side door where I’d entered. Sam was a dead weight, even with help and my arm muscles were shaking, locked rigid round his knees. The door didn’t seem to be getting any closer and whilst Muldrew looked out for the count, I’d no idea how long before the Dr and Miss Merry re-surfaced. When they did, they really wouldn’t be best pleased and I’d stupidly left one of the jamming devices in the office, so the first I’d probably know, would be when they grabbed me from behind. I seemed to have been plodding forever. I didn’t see, or even sense the figure in front of me until I ran full tilt into him.

Typically, he wasted no time in idle chit-chat but in one smooth move, swung Sam off my shoulder and on to his, which being far broader and not half so slippery, was an all-round improvement. I hoped though that Sam wouldn’t wake up just yet, he’d had enough shocks for one day. Ed put out his other hand to me and I grabbed it like a lifeline. It was only when I did, that I realised he was even more scared than I. He flashed me an impassive look and I smiled and gave his huge hand a squeeze. If I was disappointed that our knight in shining armour was, in reality, as jumpy as a cat on a hot tin roof, I was doubly touched by his courage in coming to get us anyway.

As we slipped out the side door there was a rush of eager panting. As security dogs, it had to be said, Laurel and Hardy weren’t really much cop. Ed’s hand tensed hard round mine, nearly breaking four fingers. Apart from Hamlet, who he regarded more as a person, Ed was terrified by dogs. In fact, I saw clearly, big-as-a-house, stone-faced Ed, was terrified by most things. He’d encountered these two already and his progress across the lawn, canine accompanied as I’d been, had unnerved him more than he could possibly describe.

“They won’t hurt us.” I said firmly, sounding more like Miss P than I cared to and hoping I was right.

It seemed darker outside than before, with the moon fully cloud obscured by now. It had also turned colder and there was a mist of fine drizzle overlaying our hair and chilling our faces. We could have done with the torch, provided so sensibly, so long ago but I didn’t seem to have it with me anymore, must have put it down somewhere when my mind was preoccupied by other things. Our party – Ed had me firmly by the hand, although it was debatable who was reassuring who, Sam over his shoulder, Hamlet by his side and Laurel and Hardy weaving enthusiastic circles – made speedy if unsteady progress along the path. We were hampered by the uneven paving and fear of falling and as the wind rose, the hedges lining the way moaned and lashed and cracked around us. We’d crossed about half the width of the lawn when things started to go downhill again. Sam began to stir, there were assorted aggressive shouts from behind and someone pulled a switch that flood-lit the entire grounds.

Now we had absolutely no problem seeing where we were going, nor that there were people in hot pursuit. Ed demonstrated a sudden and admirable turn of speed, holding a wriggling Sam with one arm and hauling me, not the world’s greatest sprinter, along with the other. Miss Peacock was on the case, swifter than Sherlock. I felt her rap out a command to the two dogs. They immediately stopped having a whale of a time with new friends and recalled they were there to do a job. If, due to the machinations of Miss P, this also meant a swift switch in allegiance, that was fine by them. Back to full-throated barking and snarling, Alsatian and Doberman turned as one and raced like things possessed, back the way we’d come. We could hear shouts of pursuit change to chorus of consternation, as it began to be appreciated, that for reasons unknown, the dogs had turned rogue.

The winding path, biliously bathed in yellowish illumination from the spotlights, was a sea of moving shadow from wind-hassled hedges.

“The lights, put out the lights.” Glory, urgently bossy. I wasn’t sure who she was instructing but as I was preoccupied enough keeping up with Ed and breathing at the same time, I assumed it wasn’t me. I felt them searching, Glory frantic because she couldn’t find anyone to see through; Ruth and Rachael calm but just as worried. Adept as they were with people and indeed animals, they didn’t have anywhere near the same ability with anything else, it was Ed who shone at the mechanical stuff.

“Ed, the lights, we can’t do them.” Miss Peacock was as anxious as I’d heard her. Ed panting heavily, slowed as we rounded a curve in the path and the wall suddenly loomed ahead of us, impossibly tall, barbed wire trimmed. I felt his concentration as he visualised the light source, the bulbs within their glass and metal casing, their construction, contour, composition. I understood that only completely accurate assessment would allow him to find the weakest spot, and felt his surprisingly delicate manipulation of the awareness he’d accumulated. There was a small crack and a pop in our heads – we were too far away to hear the real thing – and I never thought darkness would be so welcome. Ed gave a small grunt and relaxed a little, but we really weren’t out of the woods yet.

We could hear people spreading out to cover different areas of the grounds and the barking of the dogs, presumably now brought to heel. Sam’s numbness at finding himself on the shoulder of a six and a half foot giant he’d never met before, was wearing off, and I could feel his mind casting around frantically, trying to identify all the different personalities, inside his head and out. He was very powerful and exercising no restraint whatsoever, I felt the others flinch too as his fear and volume rose apace. He almost completely drowned out everything else and made me want to cradle my head in my hands. It was like having two transistor radios turned to full volume and jammed against each ear. I was vaguely aware of Glory, Ruth and Rachael striving to get through to him. Ed had lowered him to the ground but still had, what I hoped, was a firm grip on the arm of the now violently struggling child. I could see the flashes of powerful torches getting nearer.

I looked around swiftly for Hamlet, he was just behind me. Dropping to my knees, I reached out and grabbed his collar and at the same time grabbed Sam from Ed’s diminishing hold. The child’s eyes were wide, straining desperately to see in the dark and he was wriggling, struggling and kicking to get free. I pulled him in close to me, pinning him tight against my body with one arm. With the other I hauled Hamlet in too, so the three of us were nose to nose but by then, Sam had launched himself so irretrievably onto a rising tide of hysteria, he’d lost sight of any way back. As reaction and shock set in, he was no longer capable of thinking coherently and if the power of what was building in his head was making me light-headed and nauseous, it was doing far worse to him. He was a ticking bomb that could kill us all.