Shell Shocked (The Cosmic Carapace, #1) (10 page)

She slowed in front of him and motioned at the plaque which read '12'. She dashed up the steps and opened the door quietly and slowly. they stepped into a gloomy entrance which contained nothing but a huge oak staircase which reached up to a landing with a door to the left, then doubled back on itself and continued up. She leant in and whispered into Spencer's ear.

“Stay here in case they get past me."

“I'm not letting you go up there alone!"

“That's very chivalrous of you, but you don't have a lot of choice." She shoved him in the chest and was gone. Spencer heard the stairs creak as she dashed up, he followed, taking two steps at a time. When he reached the top, the door was open, he could see Becky bending over something. He moved in and saw that it was a chair laid on its back. Loops of rope lay around it, suggesting someone had been tied up here.

“I think we've missed them," Spencer said.

Becky looked up at him with a blank expression before replying.

“I can see why you're a private investigator."

~~~~

O
n the way back to Ingress, they had both been quiet. Spencer’s mind was racing. None of this added up. It was like they were seeing glimpses of what was going through a window, a really dirty window.
Start at the beginning,
he thought to himself. Spangler and his partner had used their device, and it had caused them and the house to cross into multiple universes, where they had clashed with multiple copies of themselves. A thought struck him. Spangler didn’t seem to have any copies on any of the other universes, presumably because something had happened when he had set off the device which had prevented this, or had somehow... removed the other versions of him? He felt a slight chill run through him as the next thought slipped in behind like an eel. Why didn’t he have any copies? Why didn’t Becky and the others? He pushed the thought away and focused back on Spangler and his partner. What had happened to the other man? He thought about Spangler and how odd he was, trying to picture what he had been like before all of this had started, had it changed him? He seemed to change even now though, he remembered the difference between the man he had met back in his little flat, and the man he had then met in this world. It was like he had a split personality. It was at this point that the third thought hit him, and he suddenly had a lot of questions for Spangler.

––––––––

L
isa Stroud sat in her cramped front room looking through photo albums. There were fourteen in total, one for every month her and Spencer had gone out. She realised some might call that a bit overboard, but she had wanted to document every last moment of their beautiful romance. Ok she admitted herself, towards the last couple of albums Spencer's heart doesn't really look in it, the smiles are a little more forced, the expression often vacant and looking elsewhere. There are even a couple in the last album where he looks positively annoyed, but that was only because of the stress he was under. She worried about him constantly when he was out fighting crime. She gave a little sigh as she thought of all the heroic things he must have done to take down London's criminal masterminds.

He had been worried about money, she knew that, but was that all it was? She had offered him some of hers, after all, she had bucket loads of it, but he'd just looked more panicked and refused. It had been four days since she had seen him, and she wasn't coping well. She had called round last night only to find him out and a tortoise sat on the doorstep. Wild speculations of various scenarios had flooded her mind. Was he out on a date? Had he got a new pet and not even told her? Or even worse, had some other admirer given it to him as a present? She'd had felt totally justified in letting Spencer know exactly what she thought of him on its shell. Except... now she regretted it, as she did every time she let her emotions get the better of her. He was her Spencerie-Wuggie-Woo, and he needed her. He just needed to realise it. She needed to make him see how he really felt about her, she needed to show him that he he couldn't live without her. She placed the photo album onto the coffee table and closed her eyes and thought of times when her and Spencer had been blissfully happy together.

~~~~

“B
ut...but that's not possible!”

“I've seen loads of fings that ain't possible son. Done some of 'em meself as it 'appens,” Mr Pall replied as he marched Colin over to the brass bell which had a large horn protruding from the side.

“But there can't be two of them!”

“And why not pray?” a voice questioned from his left. He turned to see a dramatic figure in black sat crossed legged in an upright, dark brown leather armchair in the corner of the room. The man had an angular face, in fact, angular would be a pretty good word to describe the rest of him. If he embraced you, it would be quite likely that you would end up with a series of wounds very similar to paper cuts. You would not however, wish to embrace this man. He emanated a self satisfaction and control that was altogether disconcerting, and that was before you saw the immaculate moustache and the ponytail.

He wore tight black leather trousers and shirt, topped with a discreetly ornate waistcoat, again in black leather. His hands were steepled in front of his face, his eyes were sparkling with some unknown amusement.

Colin pulled himself upright and pushed his barrel shaped chest out as far as he could.

“I know it, because I have been told it by someone I trust!”

“Ah,” replied the man, “but what if the person who told you, though I'm sure acting in good faith, was unaware of the full facts?”

Colin's poise remained firm, but his eyes showed a glimpse of uncertainty.

“Who are you?”

“I am simply a man who has decided to take what is rightfully his.”

“And what is that?”

The man paused and his lips once more slinked into a thin smile. “Everything.”

The man stared long enough to make even Colin feel slightly uncomfortable. He looked about the room and realised he was in some sort of shed. He had been brought blindfolded and hogtied in the back of a very loud and bumpy cart, and was only now regaining his senses. He could feel a slight breeze and realised it was coming from small gaps in the wooden slats which formed the walls. They fired beams of sunlight across the room in random, criss-crossing shafts of dancing dust. The floor was bare earth and combined with the musty smell of damp, it made the presence of an armchair and this immaculately turned out man somewhat surreal.

Pall's voice voice from behind Colin broke the silence. “Ready?"

The angular man reached down to the side of his armchair and brought up a bottle containing a dirty brown liquid, with what looked like lumps floating in it.

“I'm afraid it is not very pleasant as a drink Mr Fartheid, but I think you will find it quite adequate as a replacement for your 'fog'.”

Colin winced at the pronunciation of his surname from habit, but realised the man had in fact pronounced it correctly. He took the bottle the man was offering him and looked at it suspiciously.

“I won't drink it!” he claimed defiantly.

“That is your choice, however, I assure you we will be travelling using the device which may be... difficult for you if you do not drink.”

“What do you need me for? If you have one of those machines you can go anywhere you want.”

“Ah, but I would like to go somewhere in particular Mr Fartheid. Somewhere I have never been... but you have.”

“I won't help you, you fiend!”

“I rather think you will, you see... if you do not concentrate on a destination known to you, who knows where we will end up? You in fact, will need to be my tortoise. Do you know what some of the other versions of this world are like? I can tell you that many of them, in fact, an infinite number of them, are not pleasant at all.”

Colin was not the most agile of mind, but his brain clicked into some sort of new groove which allowed images of some of the things they'd seen in books which had turned up in the library to flash through his mind. Many of them had had far more tentacles than were good for them. He swallowed and tried to remain calm.

“How would you know? You wouldn't have been able to...” He was cut off mid-sentence.

“Again Mr Fartheid, you seem to be unaware of so many things which... change the picture so to speak. I am afraid you are to remain unaware. Right now you are only to think of the world where your Ingress and your silly little team are, and think well. If we end up anywhere... unpleasant, I will have no hesitation in leaving you there.”

Colin looked down at the dirty bottle in his hand, pulled the small cork from the top and swigged, his eyes attempting to burn a hole into the back of the angular man's skull. In fact, it was Colin's skull which currently felt like a whole was being burnt in it. If possible, Colin thought, this was worse than fog.

“Mr Pall?” the man said slowly, “Please start the device.”

Pall began to turn the small brass handle on the side of the box in an anticlockwise direction. The sound of well oiled gears moving almost silently seemed to fill the room more than it should have done. If you were to look closely, very closely, in fact, you'd probably need an extremely good microscope, you would be able to see the brass horn quivering slightly. Not quivering in the normal side-to-side motion of something being vibrated, but more quivering in your vision. It would be in one place and then, simply not. Less than a millisecond later it would appear again, but in a slightly different place. With the aid of a very powerful microscope and possibly slow motion video footage, it may have looked like its position was jumping around as though on a flickering film.

Pall stopped turning the handle. The machine had made no noise before, but the silence now was different, more hollow. Pall reached down, pulled the handle off of the shaft which led into the box, and flipped a switch which stuck out of the side.

Immediately everything began to swim in front of Colin's eyes. There was an almost imperceptible deep hum which grew and grew until it felt like it was inside him. Air passed around him thickly, with a pressure which was rocking him back on his feet. There was a sudden pop as he felt himself being stretched through an invisible gap at a rapid speed.His eyes began to focus once more and a sudden brightness made him squint. They were now outside, he turned his head left, then right, he saw the man sat on the damp grass to the side looking somewhat surprised. Colin realised that he had been sitting before they had jumped, but the leather armchair didn't exist here. Pall was crouched in a fighting stance, breathing heavily, his eyes darting around for danger. There was none, they had landed in a  field containing nothing more alarming than a few dozen cows who raised their heads to them momentarily before lazily swooping back to the grass to continue lunch.

The angular man had regained his composure, standing up sharply and brushing himself down, he spoke in an abrupt manner.

“Well, we are here. Now, let's find the girl quickly. We need a map.” He began to head in the direction of some low slung buildings which were visible over the hedge in the fields corner. A sharp dig in Colin's back indicated that Pall wanted him to follow him.

~~~~

B
ecky and Spencer arrived back at Ingress to find the old building apparently empty. Becky called out to the twins, but got no reply. She wandered to the workbench and started to study the donuts that were there. Spencer wandered along the long room to the far end where the tortoise pen ran along the wall. He reached the wooden fence and leaned on it, thinking hard. If there were copies of people in each universe, then... that mark on the body... it could have been.. He was suddenly dragged from his thoughts as he realised that whatever he had been gazing at, didn’t quite add up somehow. He looked around at the tortoises ambling around the straw laden pen. Then he realised.

“Becky! Quick!”

He heard her footsteps echo against the flagstones of the room, then arrive at his side in a rush.

“What’s wrong? I... Oh!”

They both stared in silence. The pen was empty, there wasn’t one tortoise crawling across the straw laden floor.

“This is bad isn’t it?” asked Spencer. Though he knew the answer. He could feel that Becky had tensed next to him before sagging slightly.

“It’s bad," she answered in a slightly hoarse whisper, “it means we’re stuck here.”

“It’s too risky without them?” asked Spencer.

“Yes.” She turned to look at him. “We don’t know where they all go yet, it could be anywhere, and dangerous.”

“So who marked the ones that you knew where they went?”

“Spangler I guess,” she answered, before turning back to face the long room. “Where is everyone?!”

As though in answer, the large doors at the side opposite the round window opened suddenly. Spangler burst in, his face in a furious grimace, with Norbert and the twins trailing him.

“I told him. The idiot! I knew it was fishy! I knew it was fishy!”

He stormed across the room and walked to the large round window, leaning on its curved sill breathlessly.