The Impossible Boy (14 page)

‘You’re totally out of your mind if you think I’m going to help you kill every single person within a thirty-mile radius!’ Gabby stepped back from the console. ‘Is
there no other way at all to get you back home?’

‘Honestly, what are you so concerned about?’ asked Chas impatiently. ‘A few thousand measly three-dimensional creatures will be killed in the explosion. But so what? How many
insects and other small creatures do you think were killed when they built this plant? How many animals are killed every day to feed human beings? Or what about this – how many microscopic
creatures like bacteria is your own immune system killing
right now
as we speak, Gabby? Hmm? Think about it. Inside your blood stream right now, white blood cells are killing millions and
millions of innocent bacteria, viruses and parasites. Tiny little creatures just trying to get on with their day like anyone else – and you’re killing them. Do you feel sympathy for the
common cold virus when your immune system destroys it? Of course not. So why should I feel sympathy for a few human beings?’

‘Excuse me!’ said Gabby indignantly. ‘You’re talking about my mum!’

‘You won’t need a mum where we’re going!’ said Chas. ‘You won’t need anything from this petty ant farm of a world. You’ll be a god! It doesn’t get
much cooler than that, does it?’

‘I’m not interested in being cool,’ said Gabby. ‘Never have been. Anyone who really knew me would know that.’ With a pang, she suddenly thought of Barney again.
‘I’m not going to help you.’ She headed for the control room door.

‘If you step through that door I’ll die, Gabby. I’m stuck inside this tank now until the reactor overloads and gives me its power. But I can’t survive in here
indefinitely and if this bit of me in your universe dies, it will spread to my four-dimensional body and that’ll be the end of me.’

Gabby raised her eyebrows. ‘You should have thought of that earlier, shouldn’t you, clever-clogs? Why should all those people die to save you?’

‘Don’t let me die!’ All Chas’s cockiness was gone now. ‘I can contain the explosion. It doesn’t have to kill anyone. I promise. I can do it.
Please.’

‘Really? You promise?’

‘Absolutely, Gabby! I promise. Please forgive me. I’m sorry I got a bit carried away just then. I didn’t mean any of that nasty stuff. I’m just scared, that’s
all.’

She headed back to the computer console. ‘OK, Chas. Let’s do this.’

‘Thank you! Whew! That was scary for a moment! Glad we’re mates again!’

In the reactor tank, Chas smiled with relief and uncrossed his fingers.

Sometime earlier, Orville McIntyre, his guard of four military policemen, and his two prisoners, Gill and Barney, had swept through the security checks at the main entrance to
Sanderling Ridge like a bolt of lightning in a hurry. Seeing McIntyre’s laminated government security card, signed by the Prime Minister himself, the plant’s security guards transformed
in an instant from surly bulldog-faced bruisers into simpering toads. One guard even offered them a homemade raspberry flan his wife had baked for his tea break. Eyeing the confection, McIntyre
accepted it with a gracious smile and handed it to Barney.

‘Carry this for me, would you? I should be extremely grateful – and people to whom I have reason to be grateful have a habit of living longer than those who don’t.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘Just carry the flan, boy.’

Barney frowned. McIntyre had acted a little sniffy and superior last time they had met, but now there was something far more calculating and single-minded about him, something almost snakelike.
He didn’t like it one little bit.

They hurried through a maze of winding corridors until they came to a door marked
Fusion Reactor – Central Control Complex. Strictly No Admittance to Unauthorised Personnel
.
Pointing at the sign, McIntyre chuckled. ‘Ooh, how scary. We’re going to get in awful trouble if we go through here, lads. I hope you’re all feeling extra brave.’

The four military policemen laughed. Gill looked at Barney and rolled her eyes. ‘Stupid men,’ she muttered, her thin shoulders heaving as she panted for breath. Her face was red and
smeared with sweat. ‘Everything’s a joke to them.’

‘Are you all right?’ asked Barney.

Gill nodded. ‘I think so. But if I ever get access to a time machine – which in Blue Hills is probably likelier than you might think – I’m going to meet myself aged
eleven and convince myself not to take up smoking.’ She put a hand to her mouth and coughed.

Barney spluttered. ‘
Eleven?
’

‘Yes. I was a late developer.’

McIntyre tried the handle of the door. It was locked. He stood aside and nodded to the chief of his military guard, Captain Grebe. The burly military policeman raised a brutish-looking
sub-machine gun and aimed it at the door lock.

‘I’d cover your ears if I were you, Barney,’ advised McIntyre. ‘In this enclosed space the gunshots will be pretty loud. Wouldn’t want you to go deaf.’ He
turned to Gill. ‘Probably a bit late in your case, isn’t it?’ He tittered childishly.

Gill folded her arms. ‘Cheeky so-and-so. You think you’re so clever, don’t you?’

McIntyre nodded. ‘Indeed I do, madam. Between you and me, I am something of a super-genius. So great is my brainpower, in fact, that I have very recently been promoted to a position that
makes me the eighth most powerful person in the entire world.’

‘Oh, really? Watch this.’

Gill hobbled towards the door. Barney and McIntyre exchanged a curious glance. McIntyre waved a hand and Captain Grebe lowered his gun. Gill turned the handle and pulled open the door in a
single easy movement. She tapped a gnarled finger on a second notice halfway down the door that read
Please Pull to Open
.

‘Does this make me the seventh most powerful person in the world?’

‘A shrewd observation,’ said McIntyre. ‘Well done, dear lady. Where would we all be without the wisdom of our elders, eh?’ He smiled curtly and walked through the open
door. His smile evaporated a second later when he was hit on the back of the head with a very expensive handbag. He crumpled to the ground in a rotund heap of pinstripe.

Barney, Gill and the military policemen hurried through the door to find the owner of the expensive handbag – a tall thin blonde woman in a smart business suit – standing over
McIntyre. She was brandishing a revolver.

‘What in the name of heaven are you people doing here?’ she demanded, waving the gun wildly. The hands of the four military police went straight to their weapons. ‘The
name’s Julia Goosefoot and I run this place. Explain yourselves.’

‘We’re trying to stop this place being blown up,’ said Barney. ‘We need to get to the main control room right now.’

‘The boy’s right,’ muttered McIntyre from the floor, clutching his bruised head.

‘You seriously expect me to believe that?’ said Julia. She pressed the end of the revolver against Barney’s nose. He quivered. ‘I think you’re here to steal nuclear
secrets. There’s a lot of foreign powers would like to know what happens in Sanderling Ridge. Oh yes.’

Gill shoved the barrel of the gun away from Barney’s nose. ‘What do you think you’re doing, pointing guns at a young boy? You ought to be ashamed.’

Julia now pressed the gun against Gill’s forehead. Gill met her gaze steadily. ‘And who are you exactly? James Bond’s granny?’

‘Put down your weapon, miss,’ commanded Captain Grebe.

‘You heard him,’ said McIntyre, wheezing and puffing as he got to his feet. ‘Lose the gun, dear lady.’

‘Oh really?’ said Julia. ‘You’ll shoot me, won’t you? What if I
won’t
put down my weapon?’

Captain Grebe and the other three military policemen went into a huddle. After a few seconds, Captain Grebe spoke. ‘We realise we can’t
make
you put down your weapon so
we’re just asking
nicely
if you wouldn’t mind putting it down? Could you do that?’

‘No. You’ve still got your guns. That’s a little unfair. How about we all put our guns down at the same time?’

Captain Grebe looked at his three colleagues. They nodded. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘That works for us. Shall we do it after “three”?’

‘Fine,’ said Julia. ‘One . . . two . . .’ She began to place her revolver delicately on the floor.

‘Three!’ said the military policemen and threw down their sub-machine guns.

With sudden speed, Julia scooped up her revolver and pointed it at the others. ‘Ha!’ she cried. ‘Not so clever now, are we? OK, lads. I want to know exactly who you are and
what you’re doing here.’ She waved the gun threateningly. ‘Stay away from the weapons and start talking!’

‘Good grief,’ muttered McIntyre. ‘We could be here all night.’ He made a sudden dive for Julia’s legs and rugby-tackled her to the ground. ‘Help me get her
gun!’ he called to the others. Barney, Gill and the four military policemen rushed to McIntyre’s aid. There began a great wriggling scramble of limbs on the ground with much pushing,
shoving and shouting. Seven pairs of hands strained for the gun.

A shot rang out, devastatingly loud. Barney fell to the floor. The others continued their frenzied struggling.

‘Barney!’ cried Gill. She pulled the boy away from the scrum of bodies. Blood was streaming from a wound in the centre of his chest. His eyes were half closed.

‘Huh . . .?’ he muttered.

‘It’s OK,’ said Gill, trying to keep the sob from her voice. ‘You’ll be fine, son. Just take it easy.’ She cradled his head, desperately trying to remember
the first aid she had learned as a young woman. She needed something to staunch the flow of blood . . . anything. Quickly, she removed her cardigan and pressed it gently to his chest. A tear
splashed on to Barney’s forehead.

‘Umm, I’m OK, actually,’ he said, trying to get up.

‘No, don’t move,’ said Gill, easing him back to the floor. She pulled a mobile phone from the pocket of her cardigan and began fiddling with it inexpertly. ‘You’re
so brave, aren’t you? Poor, poor boy. We’ll get you an ambulance . . . as soon as I can remember how to turn this blasted phone on. Hush now.’

Barney wrested himself from Gill’s grip and stood up. ‘Get
off
. I’m fine. The gunshot missed me. This isn’t blood. It’s juice from that raspberry
flan.’

Gill blinked. ‘Oh.’ A thought struck her. ‘Are you saying I just ruined my best cashmere cardigan for nothing?’

The others were still struggling madly with Julia Goosefoot for possession of the gun. Barney and Gill watched with horrified bemusement. Gill tapped Barney on the shoulder. ‘Now would be
a good time to nip away.’

Barney nodded.

They scurried around a corner and along another corridor, arriving eventually at a staircase. A sign on the wall told them it led to the main reactor control room on the fifth floor.

‘Up here,’ said Barney, bounding up the stairs two at a time.

‘Yeah,
right
,’ called Gill’s voice behind him. There was a ‘ping’ noise and the sound of automatic doors opening. ‘I don’t know about you but
I’m taking the lift.’

Gabby clicked the ‘restart’ icon. The various coloured windows and charts on the screen began to vanish one by one. ‘It’s done.’

‘Faberoony,’ came Chas’s voice from the computer monitor. ‘It’ll take a few minutes for the reactor to reach its critical temperature. Then we’re off to the
races. And don’t you worry. The explosion won’t hurt you at all. You have my word.’

‘I thought you said there wasn’t going to
be
an explosion any more?’ said Gabby, her stomach suddenly seeming to fill with jagged shards of ice. ‘I thought you
were going to contain it all?’

On the screen, Chas grinned guiltily. ‘Yeah, I did say that, didn’t I? You wouldn’t have helped me otherwise. Sorry, Gabby. Looks like there’s going to be a bit of a bang
after all.’

‘You lied to me!’

‘Yes, but
very well
. You must admit that.’

‘You’re a monster!’

‘Oh, don’t get hysterical,’ said Chas. ‘You’ll soon forget this cardboard cut-out world once you get to my universe. Your mind is going to be blown on a daily basis
there, believe me,’

Gabby swept the computer keyboard off the console. It clattered to the floor. ‘Do you think I care about your stupid universe? This is where I live. This is where everyone I care about
lives! Stop this explosion, Chas.
Please!
’

Chas pretended to consider for a moment. ‘Er . . . no. I won’t. I’m going home. And you’re coming with me, like it or not. You’ll be my cute three-dimensional pet.
I’ve always wanted one. I’ll be able to show you off to my friends. They’ll find you fascinating. But then, lower forms of life always are, aren’t they?’

Gabby turned her face away from the monitor to hide her tears.

The door flew open. She spun around on her chair. Through her misted, hair-straggled glasses she saw two figures enter the room. One of them appeared to be wearing a bright red shirt or
waistcoat and for an absurd moment she thought the pair had come in fancy dress as Bobby Robin and Cluedroid from
The Robin and the Robot
.

‘It’s OK, Gab. We’re here now.’

‘Barney!’

Gabby raced up and threw her arms around him.

‘Careful,’ said Barney. ‘You’ll get raspberry on you.’