The Terminus (3 page)

As they ran
back past him, Gary also heard it: a scraping of large objects moving swiftly
towards them, accompanied by a deep-throated chatter. The darkness exploded
with frantic screams and thuds. Gary sprang to his feet and ran on ahead.

To run into
blackness, unable to see more than a few feet ahead, was terrifying, but this
seemed as nothing compared with the horror being played out in the tunnel
behind him.

Thankfully,
the dimly-illuminated station soon emerged from the gloom. Gary ran along the
platform, up the escalator stairs and out onto the street teeming with
surfacers.

Were these
zombies part of some plan devised by the mysterious Agenda? To carry out
his
plan, and prevent Beetie from dying, he had to remain alive. Calmly, he
retraced his steps towards the spot where Blinker had pulled him from the path
of the shuttle-bus. In precisely the same spot, was a little man wearing a
long, grey coat. His ridiculously large head bore a skull-like face with goofy
teeth and oversized eyes as ugly as Beetie’s were beautiful, and he appeared to
be seeking something or someone. The man for whom Gary had been mistaken? The
one sent to kill God?

The awfulness
of causing Beetie’s death hit the boy; the guilt of allowing the girl to get
slaughtered in that Godforsaken underground hole was as unbearable as the
thought of never seeing those eyes again. His plan
had
to work!

Gary slowly
approached the figure, avoiding his searching gaze. On seeing another
shuttle-bus, he leapt past him into the path of the hurtling pod whilst
removing the time-specs.

“Don’t suit
you! Let
me
try them on!”

Mike
approached Gary with his hand out-stretched.

“NO!”

“Hey, cool it,
dude!”

“I’ve gotta go
back! Have to stop Beetie from getting killed.” Mike halted, his mouth agape.
“Must find God, too. Maybe he’s not dead! These are his specs, see.”

He held up the
time-specs.

“Jesus, Gary,
don’t go nuts on me
now
! You can do the wacky act after soccer this
afternoon, if you must!”

“I nearly got
stabbed. She ran between us. Got herself killed. Must go back.
Before
it
happens. Find out more about her. Nothing else bloody matters...” Gary paused.
“And
he
must’ve been along here. Maybe only a few minutes ago.”

“Who?”

“God, for
heaven’s sake!”

“Gary... it’s
okay... honest... but…” Mike began, trying hard to sound calm, “but why would
God come to flipping Regent’s Park when He’s got the whole world to choose
from? He’d do better taking an EasyJet flight to Majorca or some place!”

“Dunno… only
these are his specs.”

“So what d’you
plan to do? Go around asking people if they’ve seen God ’cos you wanna give Him
His specs back? You’re stark raving bonkers!”

“She’s so
lovely!”

“Who?”

“Beetie! How
can a girl can be as lovely as that?”

Mike rolled
his eyes upwards.

“Gorgeous
tits? Like Emma Pearson?”

“Oh piss off!
Nothing like Emma! Her brother pulled me out of the way of a silver lozenge-pod
thing, too. Only he’s not her brother. But this worries me! Comes from the same
Hatchery and I don’t trust him. He’s up to something.”

“Christ, Gary,
you’ll be going on about little green men, soon.”

“Blue. Beetie
and Blinker, that is. And the guy who wanted to kill me was in red.”

Mike shook his
head in disbelief.

“Forget God!
You need a bleeding doctor.” He turned and went on ahead along the path alone, swinging
his soccer boots. “Bloody crackers, you stupid nerd! Useless at soccer,
anyway!”

“Wait, Mike!”
Gary called out. “Sorry I said ‘piss off’.”

“So you should
be, Professor Wanker!”

Gary remained
on the bench, watching Mike disappear towards the playing fields.

Marvellous!
Gone and lost my best friend! But, oh Christ, I’ve gotta get back to Beetie.
Can’t bear the thought of her getting killed ’cos of me. Why on Earth did she
sacrifice her life so readily? And what about God?
He peered up at the
cloudless sky.
Poor Beetie, under the sea, in the future... she’ll never
know the blue of the sky despite those eyes of hers!

From the
corner of
his
eye he became aware of something moving near a tree by the
lake. When he turned to look it merged with the tree. He tucked his boots out
of sight underneath the bench, fitted the spectacles into their glitzy case and
approached the lake... cautiously. Having had enough scrapes with death for one
day, he decided to play safe. With his cheek pressed against the rough bark of
the tree, he whispered:

“God? Are
these
your
specs?”

Nothing!

He crept
slowly round the trunk.

No one –
although he sensed someone was on the other side where he’d been a moment
before.

“God?” he
repeated.

Silence.

So he played a
time-honoured trick: ran clockwise halfway round the broad trunk, abruptly
swivelled about and ran back anticlockwise.

BUMP!

He collided
with a short, skinny man with black caterpillar eyebrows, a disproportionately
big head, hollowed-out cheeks and rabbit teeth. It was
him
, the ugly
little fellow who’d been standing at the edge of the pavement of the future
before Gary leapt in front of the shuttle-bus, only this time he had on a pair
of spectacles identical to those in Gary’s hand. He wore the same long, grey
coat, so incongruous for the time of year that he stood out like a clown at a
Sally Ally Rally. The man rubbed his forehead where he’d with impacted Gary’s
chin.

“You?” Gary
queried, nursing his chin. “
You
put these specs on that bench?”

“What
are
you
talking about, my boy? I come to feed the ducks and you start accusing me of
things and threatening me.”

“Nothing of
the sort, mate! Are you God?”

Somehow Gary
couldn’t believe this strange little man was the one they called ‘God’. The guy
put his hands together and peered at the sky:

“Holy Father,
save me from this blasphemy!” he mocked.

Gary felt his
cool slip dangerously close to the edge.

“Show me what
you’ve got underneath that coat of yours, you bloody creep!”

The man stared
at him in an odd way before screaming in a high-pitched voice:

“GOD’S UNDER
ATTACK! CALL THE ANGELS!”

“Shut up! Tell
me about the girl!”

“Girl?”

“B32…
whatever!
Beetie
!”

“Beetie? Oh,
look! There’s a policeman! Food distribution, ay? Hee hee!” He glanced at
something behind Gary who automatically turned in response. No one! The man
snatched the spectacles case from his hand and sprinted off.

Damn! How
could I have been so crass?
thought Gary as he took off after the deformed
runt.

The man ran
fast for one so short, but so did Gary, despite being useless at soccer. They
sped out of the park and towards Baker Street. The bastard had taken Gary’s
only means of return to the future and the boy would let nothing stop him from
getting back to Beetie. He
had
to make sure she didn’t die... and find
out why she’d been so willing to sacrifice her life for him. Startled shoppers
scattered as he closed in on the man. The grotesque, diminutive figure darted
off the pavement outside Baker Street Underground station and shot across the
busy road. He never reached the other side. A swerving taxi slammed into a car,
which, after a couple of pirouettes, rammed a bus with a metallic bang.
Panic-stricken people ran in all directions, but the man had simply vanished.
Gary gave up searching the jostling crowd of onlookers then spotted something
glittering in the middle of the road beside one of the crashed cars.

He casually
retrieved the spectacles case whilst a police officer sidled up to the alarmed
taxi-driver. After slipping it into his jeans pocket, ensuring he could feel
the strangely smooth surface snug against his palm, he entered Baker Street
station. With the cheapest ticket, he passed through the barrier and ran down
the escalator. After finding the right platform, he waited till a train pulled
into the station and when attentions would be diverted. At that precise moment
he took out the spectacles, slipped them on and jumped.

Again, he
stood on that rail-less track. Ahead beckoned the gaping entrance to the
tunnel.

Gary stared into the blackness of
the tunnel, reminded of death. Beetie’s... or his own? Arthry, Blinker and
accomplices had all intended to kill him, and if
they
didn’t the
gee-rats would, yet he was returning to this awful place. Completely unhinged,
as Mike had suggested! He thought of Beetie, her unbelievably beautiful face,
her eyes and the looks she’d given him; her soul-piercing scream still
ricocheted inside his skull and the pain of this tore at his brain. Who
wouldn’t go mad at the thought of her being dead? Gary swore he’d wring Arthy’s
bloody neck should the brute so much as touch the girl this time, if she still
lived.

He took off
towards the tunnel but halted... because of voices, one a girl’s – soft and
gentle. Out of the darkness emerged a boy and a girl each wearing a
tight-fitting blue tracksuit. Both had pudding-basin hairstyles, hers blond. On
seeing Gary standing alone, his face aglow with relief, she stopped talking.
Lovely beyond description, she stared at him with those amazing eyes and his
heart took off at a canter.

“Thank God
you’re alive, Beetie!” he said. Beetie’s jaw dropped as if she’d seen a ghost.

“What’s God
got to do with
you
showing up
here
, whoever you are?” Blinker
asked suspiciously, blinking. “Anyway, where
is
he? You don’t fit
Arthry’s description of him but you’re wearing his specs!”

Gary realised
he’d arrived in the future before
his first meeting with the ‘brother
and sister’.  It would be his one and only chance to try to put things
right… to prevent
Beetie
from getting stabbed, find out more about the Retreat and whether there might
be a modicum of truth in Arthry’s story. Something told him Arthry wasn’t such
a monster although the man had tried to kill him and, in all probability,
had
killed Beetie in a different future. He had to think and act quickly.

Play it by
ear, mate,
his head suggested.
Imagine you’re Mike... bullshit your way
outa this!

“I rescued the
specs,” Gary announced hurriedly. “God’s returned to the past. A small guy with
a long, grey coat pinched them. Face like a skull. Ginormous teeth. Guess we
should call him ‘Teeth’, huh? Someone must’ve reckoned I’d be coming along the
path in Regent’s Park. One of God’s dudes, I suppose. Must’ve put the
time-specs on a bench for
me
... hoping the guy in the coat, Teeth, would
follow
him
instead… perhaps to get the other pair back. Only didn’t
quite work out. With Teeth hiding behind a tree...”

“A
what
?”

It was Beetie.
Never seen the sky or a tree?
He paused a few moments, staring at the
girl whilst his mind took her back with him to Regent’s Park, the sky and the
gardens with those Himalayan Blue poppies.

“What’s a
tree
?”
repeated Beetie, her eyes bright and inquisitive.

“Um... a big
plant. Whatever! Anyway, the point is, he tricked me, grabbed the specs and ran
off, but I guess he got hit by a taxi. Vanished, at any rate.”

“Taxi?”

“Like a small
shuttle-bus only ten thousand times slower. I picked the specs up off the
street and, well, here I am. Must see Arthry... and... er...”

Gary looked
warily at the twitching boy who reached out for the specs.

“No! Gotta
keep them on. God said, and we can’t go against God, huh?”

Blinker’s
expression hardened. Gary glanced at Beetie. Something in her eyes showed she
agreed with him… wished to play along with whatever ideas entered his mind.
Thank heaven she’d no access to his empty brain!

“I’m Gary, by
the way,” he said, grinning, aware he’d not officially met them before. He
offered his hand. Blinker merely stared coldly at it, but Beetie smiled
and
she held out her hand. Inside, Gary melted. No one like Beetie had
ever
before smiled at him in that way. He shook her hand till his arm tired but she
showed no sign of wanting to withdraw... so soft, so warm and so alive in his
grip.

“It’s what we
do… er…
did
… in the past,” Gary explained. “Shake hands, like!” Christ,
he had to prevent what had already happened to Beetie in the future. He swore
from then on he’d
risk
his
life to protect
the girl. “Must
tell Arthry about Teeth,” he added. “Lead the way, please.”

Blinker and Beetie
turned and headed back into the tunnel. Gary followed. On noticing Beetie lag
purposively behind her ‘brother’, he caught up with her.

“We need to
talk in private. Soon! Some place in the Retreat?” he whispered.

“No. I’ll have
to…”

She stopped mid-sentence.
Blinker, a dark shadow in the blackness ahead, had halted.

“What about
the gee-rats, Blinker? You don’t seem to have any protection,” Gary called out.
Blinker took something from his pocket and waved it in the air.

“A
mag-stunner!” Beetie explained. “Don’t you have them in the past?”

Gary shook his
head.

“Got Tasers.
Deliver a 50,000 volt shock… but probably not the same. What about spears?”
Gary asked, remembering his previous escape from the Underground.

“Not for
gee-rats… skin too tough. Use them mostly against the enemy. Agenda spies. To
kill!”

So he’d been
considered a ‘spy’ in that other future he prayed would never happen. It would
be up to him to sow seeds of doubt in Arthry’s and Beetie’s minds about Blinker
and his accomplices who’d chased him in the tunnel. Beetie would be his only
chance of staying alive but no way was he going to land her in the shit again.

Beetie allowed
him to take hold of her hand when they continued on into the blackness. Sheer
bloody heaven! He’d only ever
imagined
doing such a thing before… and
with Emma Pearson.

“There’s a spy
in the Retreat,” he whispered. “He or she must’ve been passing messages on to
Teeth. You’ve gotta warn Arthry... and we simply
must
talk alone.”

She gave his
hand a gentle squeeze and that was enough. Their secret language. He
understood.

Blinker
halted, tapped, a door opened and a dazzling yellow light flooded the tunnel.
Gary instantly let go of Beetie’s hand and they followed Blinker into the
Retreat along a familiar corridor where people in colourful tracksuits busily
gazed at computer screens on the desktop that ran the length of the wall. He
noticed, this time, that they were causing the monitors to respond merely by
silently mouthing things as he passed by unnoticed in his Spurs strip and
jeans, his shaggy brown hair uncombed.

They reached a
door on which was written in red ‘R31267’. Arthry’s office. Blinker entered
first, the other two following. Arthry sat at his desk, busy over a computer,
his broad shoulders confronting Gary. He turned and stood, and Gary felt sure
he was even bigger this time.

“So you’re the
messenger! You’ve got the specs, too. What about God?”

He held out a
large hand for the time-specs.

“No! Gary must
keep them on! God said!” Beetie quickly informed her boss. “
He’s
our
only link with God.”

Gary glanced
uneasily at the knife holder in Arthry’s belt. The man fixed the boy with a
gaze that seemed to penetrate all protective barriers whilst giving nothing
away.

“But…?” Arthry
seemed hesitant.

“God sent
Gary, Arthry. Please believe me!” The girl’s breathtaking eyes flashed at Gary.
“Remember how I seem to know things you lot don’t? I’m telling you, Gary’s
okay. He’s with us. God’s probably got something to sort out in the past. Maybe
it’s gotta be fixed before he can return to the future.”

“Beetie’s
right. He’s stuck there… and
they’re
after him,” Gary added, without
having the faintest idea what he was talking about. “He wants me to keep these
on till... um… till it’s safe. When we know what’s... erm... happening.”

Arthry
grinned. Gary, proud of his Mike-style bullshitting, felt more relaxed.

“Hungry?” the
man asked.

Gary thought
of gee-rat steaks and wondered how on earth he’d be able to eat in the Retreat
without emptying his guts all over the place.

“Well, not
exactly…”

“Of course he
is!” interrupted Beetie, nudging the boy with her elbow. “Blinker can get
something from the kitchens.”

She narrowed
eyes at her ‘brother’ who reluctantly left the room. With the door closed,
Beetie addressed Arthry:

“You have to
believe what Gary says because he’s speaking the truth. Listen to him, please
...
and we must protect him at all costs. He’s so important to God.”

She sneaked a
smile at Gary, causing the boy’s insides to dance like crazy. Arthry
scrutinised him, too, his expression oscillating between a loyal belief in
Beetie and an innate distrust of anyone unfamiliar. Gary offered his hand.

“Where I come
from we do this when people first meet. If they trust
each other.”

Hesitantly,
Arthry raised his large hand and they shook.

“Are you
certain
we’ve not met before?” he asked, his stare peeling at the layers that covered
the boy’s fear.

“Only in the
future!” laughed Gary. The time-travel thing had him confused.

“Gary’s got
something to tell us,” Beetie insisted. “Remember what you said at the meeting
yesterday? Well, hear Gary out!
Please
, Arthry! And he only tells the
truth.”

Correct, apart
from that little blip of bullshitting, but she’d said this twice within the
space of a minute. Gary glanced at the girl and she nodded. A tense moment, for
in the ensuing few seconds his life… and Beetie’s… hung in the balance. Would
he say the right thing? He glimpsed the handle of the knife, noticed how the
man’s powerful arm muscles bulged the sleeves of his red tracksuit, tensing,
preparing for sudden action.

Oh God,
I’m gonna have to rely on yourself, the real God. The one they talk about at
chapel on Sundays. Have to pretend I actually met this other God. God the guy.
‘Tells the truth,’ Beetie said. Holy shit!

Sure, he did
almos
t always tell the truth. No saint, heaven forbid, but, as his dad had
often told him, lying catches up with the liar at the end of the day and is a
total time-waster. Preventing Beetie’s death, though?
This
was no waste
of time!

“There’s a spy
in your midst…” he began.

“Did
God
tell you?”

Gary nodded.
He couldn’t bring himself to say ‘yes’.

Arthry’s eyes
transformed into slits.

“Describe
God!”

Oh, what
would the heck look do you look like, God?

“Got a white
beard,” he answered.

Fearing God
the Man had a face clean and smooth as a baby’s bottom he prepared for a quick
death. Arthry chuckled, clapping Gary’s shoulder.

“He sent
you
to warn us, huh? With the time-specs! So
he’
s stayed behind in your
world though he was supposed to go on to the future. Must’ve gone back to find
something from the past, right? Something we’re gonna need. Yeah, he did kinda
forewarn me. Something
they
require, too, I reckon. For what’s going on
in the Terminus. The Agenda obviously got wind of this. All falls into place…
and
the spy theory of yours and Beetie’s. God told me to beware…”

“Arthry,
remember how you got followed the other day,” interrupted Beetie. “At the last
meeting you said someone trailed you and you had to abort your plan. Someone in
the Retreat told them you wanted to go on to the Terminus pretending to be a
lost surfacer.”

Arthry sat
down and stared vacantly at the floor; a man who bore the burden of the future
of the whole world upon his broad shoulders, for this strangely altered,
under-sea London seemed to Gary to be the only habitable place left.

“Who? Why?” he
asked wearily.

Gary turned to
Beetie. She nodded slightly… and for his eyes only.

“Someone
close,” the boy suggested.

Arthry looked
up. Gary froze... another split second moment of decision. Might he have been
wrong about Blinker and those other two?

“Perhaps more
than one person,” he added.

“He’s right,”
Beetie chipped in. “Maybe…”

Her expression
told him
she
should warn Arthry about Blinker. She went up to the man
and whispered in his ear. His eyebrows crinkled, revealing disbelief. He shook
his head.

“I understand
your reluctance to tell me, Gary,” he said. “He’s like my right hand.”

The door
opened, and Beetie quickly stepped back from her boss, avoiding her ‘brother’s’
darting eyes when he re-entered carrying a tray with four square plates and
rectangular glasses that looked as if they’d been made from re-cycled window
panes.

“What’s going
on?” Blinker asked, breaking the silence when he’d placed the tray on Arthry’s
desk.

“Nothing! Bit
upset she’s gotta share her cell with Gary,” the big man lied.

Gary blushed
crimson at the thought of sharing anything with a girl a thousand times
prettier than Emma Pearson. Blinker eyed him icily.

“With
Gary
?”

“A precaution,
Blinker! You’ll sleep in here… although we all realise we can trust Gary, don’t
we?”

Blinker said
nothing as he handed Gary a plate heaped with lumps of differing shades of
brown. Gary’s stomach turned like a cement mixer. The darker, leathery bits he
recognised as meat, and he knew only too well what sort; the rest was a mix of
putrid brown-green vegetables, and the resulting mound smelt like shit. The
other three began to eat hungrily using fingers whilst Gary fought to control
his urge to puke as he prodded the food. Arthry spoke in between mouthfuls.
Concentrating on what the man said helped the boy to suppress the retches: