The Hipster Who Leapt Through Time (The Hipster Trilogy Book 2) (31 page)

“Oh God,” Dr Warwick said as he pressed his fingers against his temples. “This is insane.”
 

Dr Warwick thought back to the first time he’d met an indigo child. Some little shit called Julian. Arrogant. He knew he was special. It was back before Dr Warwick knew anything about keeping oneself looking proper. Before he’d taken to hair dye and platform shoes. Before he’d had his dorky ears pinned back. Before he’d had the hair follicles that ran between his eyebrows sealed shut. A painful operation, but it did the trick. No more Mister Monobrow.
 

Anyway, this little kid, Julian. He had a unique ability. He was able to zero in on a person’s confidence issues. Make them feel inferior. Mentally, physically, spiritually. He made Dr Warwick feel old, outdated, unnecessary, ineffective. A brilliant psychic and a bully.

But it was when Dr Warwick shone his penlight into the boy’s eyes, that’s when the magic happened. When Dr Warwick realised that Julian was special. Not in the way the kid thought, but special in the way a new piece of equipment is. A special kind of tool that could be utilised for various purposes. He shone the light into the boy’s eyes and the numbers fell from his mouth.
 

That was when he agreed to join the IPC. When the numbers fell. That’s when he realised he wasn’t dealing with children, but equipment.

“Can I ask a serious question, sir?” Kevin said.

“You can try,” Dr Warwick replied.

“Well, I’m just curious. With all this craziness — the talking cat, the teleporting man who says he’s an alien, the black cloud — why are allowing more craziness to happen? Why are we taking the alien’s advice?”

“That is a good question, Kevin. Have you ever thought about the fact that this incredible cloud, this wonder of technology that crossed the galaxy to find us, is intelligent? How could it not be? The wonder of it all. Imagine being able to use some of that technology. Imagine if we could communicate with the cloud. I think it’s reasonable to assume that such a force of advanced technology must also have an advanced intelligence behind it. I believe there’s a degree of reasoning to be done with the cloud.”

“You know,” Mr Foster said from his back seat, “Stephen Hawking said that intelligent life finding its way to Earth would be similar to what happened when Columbus discovered America.”
 

“Maybe I don’t share the same fears as a broken man in a wheelchair who’s likely to be a pile of ash in a wheelchair right now,” Dr Warwick said. “Besides, it’s all in motion now anyway. And I have my failsafe with the EMPs.”

“When I see an animal with less intelligence than my own. I don’t see a lifeform. I see food,” Mr Foster said. “Who’s to say the cloud doesn’t see us in the same way?”

“I love Stephen Hawking,” Kevin said, smiling.

“You do?” Dr Warwick replied, impressed. “Well, Kevin, you’ve surprised me more than once on this excursion.”

“Yeah yeah, he’s great. I think
The Shining
is my favourite of his,” Kevin said as he stroked his moustache with his thumb and forefinger.

Dr Warwick gritted his teeth and returned to massaging his temples.

“I’m still not convinced that this isn’t all some sort of acid flashback. For all I know I’m back in the IPC HQ and you’re all doing tests on me right now,” Mr Foster said before leaning back into his chair and whistling the theme tune to
Countdown
.

Moomamu The Thinker

A sign passed them. Alvaston. Moomamu recognised the stone buildings and the cobbled streets from the last time. The same signs. The same feeling. The same hills rolling upwards. The same empty field with the white posts stuck into the ground and walls made from crooked rocks.

But where it was once crawling with life, it was now barren. A few patches of dust and clothing here and there. A few displaced moving machines. But the greenery was gone. Replaced with the smell of ash and dirt.
 

“Can you close that window?” Moomamu said. “It stinks.”
 

They drove slowly down the road. The moving machines ahead and behind them matched their speed. The convoy manoeuvred around two broken machines, crumpled into each other in the chaos. He turned around and looked at the moving machine behind them. He could see the driver. A vapid face of limited understanding. The blond moustache. The man who hit him with the stick. A dangerous fool, for sure.

“Who is that idiot driver?” Moomamu said.

“That would be my brother,” Daniel said from the driver’s seat. “I wouldn’t say that to his face either. Violent streak in him that one. Like the both of us, eh?” As if he’d told a joke, the driver chuckled.

“Oh,” Moomamu said.

Next to the moustachioed driver was Dr Warwick’s angry little face. He didn’t wave or anything. Odd for a human. Usually, when he looked at them they waved. A way of dealing with how uncomfortable Moomamu made them. He used to think it was because they naturally sensed his power and reverence beneath the human vessel, but he was pretty sure it was just an odd human quirk. Like the noises they make in the bathroom. Or the fact that they kill so much livestock every day and claim not to be barbaric in nature.
 

But Dr Warwick, he stared at Moomamu like he was looking at an idiot. Strange. Moomamu turned back to look ahead as the moving machine in front turned onto a smaller road. As they followed, Moomamu saw the familiar sign that read ‘White Log Farm’. His stomach bubbled.

He turned to look at Luna. She’d seen the sign too. He saw her skin go a shade lighter. She rubbed her eyes until she noticed Moomamu looking at her. She smiled and nodded.
 

Moomamu returned the smile, trying to ease her nerves.
 

“It’s fine,” Moomamu said. “No parasites here.”
 

“But the clouds are dark,” Darpal said looking up to the skies through the car window. “The skies are too dark. That means the cloud remnants are heavy here.”
 

“It’s okay,” Nisha said. “We’re going to be fine.”

They stopped the moving machines on the square of gravel and the group of IPC Security men erupted in a maelstrom of shouting and running around with metal boxes and equipment, talking about perimeters and bubble heavy areas. Dr Warwick and Mr Foster didn’t move much from their moving machine. Their driver stood by them. A personal guard of sorts. It reminded Moomamu of the prince, his fat idiot companion, and Snuckems.
 

None of the Security had a lethal weapon between them. It wasn’t in the IPC’s remit, apparently. A poor army, Moomamu thought as he looked at their measly body armour with plastic visors and their small black sticks slotted into their sides.
 

The pile of burnt wood was still next to the car park. A mess of black that used to be a structure. The white van still sat there motionless. He walked over to it and ran his hand against the cold white and found the plastic handle. He took a deep breath and pulled it open. Marta’s body had disappeared. In its place, a pile of darkened dust scattered over plastic bags.

“You better get to your time travelling,” Dr Warwick called from his car, finally showing his smile. He was standing on the tips of his toes looking over the side of the moving machine.

“You going to the barn?” Luna said to Moomamu.

“Yes,” he said. “Are you coming?”
 

“I don’t think I can,” she said as she looked away from Moomamu.

“Fine, whatever,” he said. “You, brown human and spawn, are you coming?”
 

“Bit rude and kinda racist,” the brown woman said. “It’s Nisha. And Darpal’s not my son, but yes, definitely. I’d love to see you time travel.”

“As you wish,” Moomamu said as he started to walk up the gravel path.
 

“Does Thinker wish Gary to come?” Gary said.

“I could do without the distraction.” He didn’t look at Gary. He couldn’t bear to look at him. Too much fur. Too many claws.

Moomamu took the spawn and the human up the gravel path and into the Pig-House. Inside the smell was still strong. Ash and blood. Bone and flesh. No more bodies, though. More dust and clothing.

Moomamu walked to the area he thought was ‘about’ right. He planted his feet on the floor, shoulder-width apart. Seemed appropriate. He looked to Nisha and Darpal, nodded his head, and then jumped. He heaved as his body lifted into the air and then landed with nothing but the sound of his feet hitting the muddy floor. He tried again but nothing happened. His feet hit the floor.
 

“You fucking idiot,” Dr Warwick called from the open barn door. “You can’t even do it, can you? You’ve brought what was left of us out here to die.”

The door closed and Dr Warwick left as quickly as he’d arrived. Nisha smiled at Moomamu but it wasn’t a true smile. Moomamu could tell. It was one of those forced ones. Ones you give to humans you pity to try to make them feel better.

He smiled back.

Nisha Bhatia

Hours passed and the alien was still jumping up and down like a fool. Each time he moved a little bit, pretended to do calculations in his head, but it didn’t make any difference. Each of the others had popped in at some point or another to check on the progress but they quickly left when they saw the idiot jumping in the mud.
 

“Miss Bhatia, sorry, Neesh, have you got any water?” Darpal said. He was sitting on the floor next to her, tapping his hands against his legs, playing, trying to keep himself entertained.
 

“I don’t think so. Will you be okay?” she said.
 

“I’m not sure. I feel tired.”
 

“Tell you what, if you pop outside to see Dr Warwick I’m sure he might have some snacks or something.”

He looked apprehensive for a second, gave his legs a quick
tap-tap
, nodded his head and climbed to his feet. He touched Nisha’s face with his hand and then pottered out of the Pig-House, still tapping away as he went.

The idiot jumped again. The sound of his boots slapping against the mud was giving her a headache. He might’ve looked like a human, mostly, but there was no doubt he was an alien. His movements were odd, uncomfortable. An old man trying to drive a young man’s car. Too good for it, but still can’t quite work it out.

“Don’t feel bad,” she said.

He landed.

“Why would I feel bad?” Moomamu said.

“If you can’t do it. It’s not your fault. It’s mine.”
 

Moomamu wiped the build-up of sweat from his head and stopped to catch his breath. He looked over to Nisha, who got to her feet and walked over to him. The smell of the dirt and blood was strongest where the alien was.
 

“If the children … weren’t around, the cloud never would have found us. We’d be safe. It sounds fucking disgusting to even say it but, if I’d let the murderer do his job then …”
 

“Go on,” Moomamu said.

“If I’d let him do what he was intending to do, kill the children, we’d be fine. Saved. If I hadn’t killed him, billions of others would have lived.” She tried to keep her words steady but her heavy breathing and watering eyes betrayed her.

“Yes yes, I know, don’t worry, Luna told me all about it,” Moomamu said, shaking his head. “What’s happened has happened.”

“But I’d do it again,” she said as she reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a small clear plastic bottle. The vodka bottle. She unscrewed the lid and sniffed it. After all this time, since her baby died on delivery, she’d kept the bottle with her. It was strong. She recoiled. The alcohol stung her nostrils. Familiar. “I’d still kill the alien.”

Moomamu walked over to Nisha and took the bottle from her. He sniffed it. He didn’t say anything but he gave her the ‘bloody hell’ face.
 

“I lost a child two years ago. Still born. His name would have been James. No, his name
was
James. He may not have gotten to see his mother’s face, but he damn well deserved a name. And then I drank. It wasn’t long after that my … husband … well, it doesn’t matter. That bottle was a gift. To celebrate nine months of sobriety and the birth of our first child but … I never really had a reason to celebrate. So I’ve kept the bottle with me, waiting for right time. It’s been a few years now and I’m still waiting.

“So yes, I’d still doom the planet. I’d still kill the alien. I’d still save Darpal. Hell, if I could reverse time, I’d just save more of them. I couldn’t let the children die, no matter what, because if I did, regardless of what we saved in the process, I’d still be a killer, more than I already am, and that’s something I don’t want to be, Mr Moomamu. I don’t want to be a killer.”
 

Moomamu took a deep breath. He looked into her eyes and squinted. He sniffed from the bottle again. He was an odd-looking person. Potentially attractive at one point, but he looked tired. He looked like he needed care. The scars around his neck and face were enough to ruin his chances of a normal dating life. And the sweat gathering around his neckline. Not into that so much. She looked into his deep blue eyes and took a step forward.

“I’d still do it … I’d fucking well still do it!”

“Okay okay, don’t worry about it, it’s all fine and whatever,” he said raising his hand to stop her. As simple as throwing away the recycling, he tipped the bottle upside down, emptying the contents on the muddy floor and threw the bottle over his head into one of the pigsties. “But can you please be quiet? Please. I’m kind of trying to do something here.”

Dr Warwick

“The perimeter is secure, sir. We got EMPs lining the walls and we’re ready for any wandering bubbles. Anything more than that and we’re looking to be in some serious trouble,” Kevin said before saluting Dr Warwick.
 

“Kevin, you’re not in the army so you don’t have to salute me,” he replied as he looked to the skies. The skies were a shade darker than he would’ve liked. Even in the clearest skies you could still miss a bubble. You could miss many. They flew so high and spread themselves so thinly they could be floating right above your head, waiting to sense you.