The Third Adventure: Action, That's How! (A Caper in Time Part 2)
by Evan Forman and Michael Robertson - One Chapter a Week Starting 27.11.16
58 HOURS, 40 MINUTES, AND 12 SECONDS
John Boss helped Chel out of the
dark waters and onto the slippery rocks that lined the river,
across the foot of a huge concrete wall. She tried to follow him
as quickly as she could without falling, cold metal hand
gripping her wounded shoulder. John picked his way across the
wet stone which reflected the faint light of the moon. "Are you
bleeding badly?"
"I can't see in this light.” Chel sighed, hair dripping. “I
can't feel it on my hand, and I'm soaking all over."
"There should be lights once we get up to the street level,”
said John, assessing what he could see of the world above.
“We'll need to stay hidden, wherever it is you're taking us."
"We need to find something to use as a makeshift bandage."
"I AM wearing a perfectly good loincloth."
Chel smiled with some difficulty. "That's horrifying."
They reached a cramped staircase that clung to the river wall -
pockmarked with barnacles and dried fungus - and clambered up,
Boss being careful not to be spotted by anyone who might be
passing by. Checking for any movement up or down the silent,
lopsided street, they scuttled across the cracked and patchy
road into the shadow of an alley, a grubby crack between one
colossal factory husk and its twin. John peered around the
corner, out from the dark onto the road lit by sickly green that
hung in fog from the few working streelamps. "We both need
civilian clothes. People will ask questions if they see someone
in uniform at this time of night."
"John, this is the Coal District. People will fucking gut
someone they see in uniform at this time of night."
They inspected the open street, a million death-black eyes
staring down at them from red-brick sockets and rotten window
panes, mostly covered over with boards or metal. John whispered,
"What's that over on the other side? An old curtain or
something?"
"Oh, it'll work for now."
They sprinted across the exposed space, trying not to make too
much noise across the broken tar. Back in shadow, she popped out
the knife from her thumb and cut a strip of the curtain which
had been rolled up and thrown out. John pulled the strip taut
and wrapped it around her wound, snugly tying a knot at the
back. "How's that?"
"Stinging, but okay. If it's clothes you want, we'll need to go
further into the residential area. This is just where all the
factories used to be."
"What happened to them?"
"Moved out to the country when they changed the law
about...thirty years ago? Turns out if a species does nothing
but hard labour for centuries, they start to evolve for it. The
factory owners wanted free labour under the guise of “these are
the jobs nobody wants to do”, but those were the only jobs most
of these people could do. So *you'd* better be even more careful
than usual.”
“Why?”
“You get these old posters from a hundred and fifty years ago of
Coal District miners and young guys laying the railways. ‘Men at
work’,” she said, putting on a deep voice and raising a fist in
front of her chest, smiling a little. “You look just like one of
them. Moustache and everything. Insult to injury.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Wait til we pass some old trainwreck drunk and he’s reminded he
lost his livelihood to some fucking…”
“What?” John asked.
“Be careful, is all.” Chel replied.
"I thought you were taking me somewhere safe."
"I am! Eventually."
"Well, lead the way."
Chel stepped forward, navigating the rain-slick stretches of
empty space, only barely populated by old cars and the
occasional vagrant singing to himself, bacteria feeding on the
corpse of a city. Some of the buildings had visible purpose,
once, others were now just crags of brick that suggested windows
and doors; maybe decades ago, maybe a century. Did the shifting
piles of rats ever look up at these grand and ancient ruins as
they scavenged at its feet?
They reached a fire escape, a metal squeal rattling out as John
pulled it down, its legs piercing the floor of mud and trash
below. The rusty structure seemed to shift as they moved up
storey by storey, back and forth, back and forth. Boss attempted
to carefully open a window through a hole in the broken glass,
but had to pull and ended up ripping it upwards with a loud
crack.
The room inside was small, short, and dirty, furnished by an
ashtray, a spoon, and three quarters of a mattress. Chel leaned
out of the door and listened for the slightest sound of
non-insect life. "Right, I think we're alone," she whispered.
John opened the wardrobe, which contained:
● Three moth-eaten hoodies.
● Two pairs of jeans.
● A t-shirt.
● One pair of what were once, presumably, trainers.
● A half-empty jar of money.
● A rucksack of bags filled with powder and razorblades.
● A half-full first aid kit.
“What’s this?” John knelt down to inspect the thing. “Green bag
with a plus sign?”
“Oh shit, give that over here,” said Chel.
John tossed it over to her, and started pulling clothes off
their hangers and onto the bare wooden floor. “And put some of
these on, you can keep your uniform in the bag.”
Chel sat down below the window and hauled her boots off with her
good arm. She undid the buckles at the sides of her bulletproof
vest and pulled it up over her head. John emptied the bag's
contents onto the floor and stuffed the vest inside. "You need a
hand with that bandage?"
"No, it's..." Her hand stopped short of untying the knot that
kept it clutched around her wound, trying to think of a way she
could get it off, get undressed, and quickly get it back on
again. "...Yeah." She unzipped her jacket and wriggled off the
left arm, John stepping over the glimmering shards of broken
glass to take the knot, Chel becoming suddenly aware of the
warmth radiating from his huge body as he sat behind her on the
bed, his arms at her shoulder. "Ready?"
"Go."
He untied the bandage and Chel winced as she pulled off the
other arm of her jacket. The touch of her cool metal fingers
send chills down her soaking skin as she fumbled at the top
button of her shirt for a few seconds before she flipped out her
knife. "Hold the shirt out,” she ordered. John reached around
and pulled the sodden, thinly transparent fabric away from her
chest and she slid the blade down the middle, buttons bouncing
on the floor below as her shirt opened up. She retracted the
knife and tried to take it off on her own, but every inch of it
still clung to her.
"Here,” said John, as she felt his fingers gently slide down the
sides of her neck, taking her collar and pulling it down from
her. She closed her eyes with a sharp intake of breath, the
bloody white fabric peeling off from her wound as John pulled it
off, her half-naked body glistening in the gentle light of the
moon. Which had come out now.
He placed a hand on the underside of her arm and guided it up a
little, applying the bandage from the first-aid kit tightly
around her shoulder.
“What’s that sound?” she tried to turn.
“Don’t move. I’m almost done,” he commanded.
“I just want to listen to find out what the noise is, I’m just
turning my head-”
“It’s a flying metal thing, probably one of yours, it’s been
approaching for about a minute now but I didn’t want to say
anything. Done.”
She shot up and spun around. “A fucking HELICOPTER?!”
She leaned out the window and listened to the hum of a
helicopter engine drifting over the city, watched it illuminate
the jagged skyline of half-collapsed buildings with a spotlight.
She rushed to put on the filthy jumper and shoes, violently
stuffing her uniform inside the backpack. "How long have you
known about that!?"
"You'd have moved!" he smiled.
"We need to be as far away as possible right the fuck now."
"It's not looking for us, specifically..." said Boss as they
rushed out into the hall and down the stairs. "...well, it
literally is, but it isn't getting anywhere fast."
"Those choppers can go over a hundred miles an hour."
"There's a lot of city for it to search, and we could be hiding
in any one its many nooks and crannies."
"Thermal cameras."
"What?"
"They can see us through walls."
Chel and John burst out from the creaking wooden door and onto
the street.
"You make a compelling argument, but I can't help but feel that
everything will probably be fine."
Chel stumbled over her own feet on a patch of cobbled road that
was still visible amongst the scabs of tar, and collapsed.
"Chel!?"
John turned her over. Her eyes lulled around vacantly. "Sewers."
"What?"
"In the sewers. There's a...safe..."
Her weak eyes fell shut and the struggle to keep her head up
gently failed. The sound of the helicopter was getting louder.
Boss threw the backpack over his shoulder, lifted Chel's limp
body off the ground, and ran across the single designated block
of grass for half a mile, down the concrete slab path being
split open by weeds, and vanished back into the shadows of
anonymous gray concrete.
Out of the corner of his eye he spotted something, and stopped.
A red plus sign, like the one on the first-aid kit. Above, the
helicopter scanned the near-empty streets, inspecting little
clusters of yellow and green huddled in the translucent,
overlapping mess of blue cuboids. John Boss kept close to the
shadows, and slowed down as he approached the door of the
building, its bare hinges reflecting a small fire inside.
“Fuck do you mean you didn’t see it?! Biggest arena fight of the
century and I’m the only one in this shithole who noticed!
Chanting! A human gladiator! A giant robot with a minigun for a
face! It was amazing!” exclaimed the elf in a large black coat.
“I told you I don’t watch that shite,” replied the second elf,
arms folded, huddled into the black hoodie he wore over a dark
blue tracksuit.
“Fuck the both of yous, I’m away for a piss,” said the elf in
the black coat, throwing open the back door of the pharmacy
which softened itself shut behind him.
“What’s your excuse Alei?” asked the second elf.
Alei, chucking sweetie wrappers into the barrel full of fire,
coughed up something and aimed for the barrel as he spat. “TV? I
sold that fuckin’ thing for a fuckin’... cheeky wee hauf didn’t
I?”
“A hauf?”
“It’s an old elvin word.”
“For what?”
“For a pound. A pound’s worth of the best upside-downers money
can buy.”
“As in weight?”
“No, as in old money.”
The elf leaned back into his chair, resting his cheek on his
fist. “You just made it sound like you sold your TV for half an
eccie, is all.”
“Oh, no no no,” replied the older of the two, shaking his head
as he threw another chocolate into his mouth.
“What’s the going rate for an eccie these days anyway?”
“Two pounds.”
“FUCK OFF ALEI!” the elf shouted as he got up off his ragged
deckchair and turned to face the dimly lit shop, and stopped.
Lying in the middle of the floor was a woman with a bionic arm,
and a hulking human creature raiding the shelves.
“Alei.”
“That was a JOKE, mate, I was just having a wee joke, kidding
you on.”
“Alei,” he whispered. “Oh for fuck’s sake.” He stepped back
across the messy, checkered floor of the pharmacy and watched
the beast take every individual bottle off the shelves, tear the
lid off and smell its contents.
The beast found something and shot back over to the woman,
kneeling down and bringing the bottle to her nose. Alei turned
and jumped off his stool, silently disturbed by the creature’s
massive form, the fact it wore clothes like an elf, but most of
all its long, twirly moustache. It looked up at them with one
eye, the other covered by an eyepatch.
“Ooee du seem seeus neue pe da sliem? Welah seeus gela homolom
cray de guilles,” said the beast.
“Sorry mate you’ll have to speak up,” said Alei, walking over to
the thing before the other elf stopped him.
“Ooel hae oandaro el uhave thae, sotha plusienien camuh lucan
fordisme ansals!” it replied, making the motion of unscrewing
something.
The elf in the black coat entered the room, and froze. “That’s
it!” He pointed.
“That’s what!?” muttered the one that wasn’t Alei.
“That’s the thing that killed the robot! On the TV!”
John Boss knelt down slowly, placing his hands under Chel’s
body.
“Well fucking kill it!” the elf shouted, pulling out a gun.
John leapt down the steps to the door and bolted around the
corner into an alleyway, gunshots echoing down the street as
they pierced the tar. Two of the elves ran after Boss, but as
the street flooded with white light their leader stopped, waving
at the spotlight of the helicopter. “Here! Down here!”
Seeing someone down in the Coal waving a gun, the officer in the
helicopter opened fire and moved on with the search.
Pushed on by the sound of gunfire and screaming, John and the
two elves ran faster. John vaulted over a short wall and slid
down an old slate roof, jumping from the edge over a tall and
narrow close onto a pathway on the other side. Alei took out his
revolver and opened fire, John taking cover behind some bins.
The other elf (Bascai? Bascai.) hesitated for a moment, before
winding up a running start.
“What the fuck are you doing!? Go around the-”
Bascai skipped over the wall, ran down the slope and flailed
over the chasm, slamming stomach-first onto the barrier and
trying to climb up. Alei walked backwards, took a deep breath,
and noticed the lopsided bridge across the gap just ten steps to
his right. John took off again as he heard footsteps and the
sound of Bascai struggling, down a long and uneven flight of
stairs and around a corner into a flooded street, past a strange
metal apparatus.
“stop” muttered Chel.
“What is it?” asked John, supporting her head.
“There’s a generator there, they’re about to chase us over
water, we’re on dry land...I think?”
“Yes.”
“You do the math.” She faded away blissfully again.
John thought about it for a moment. “What?”
She faded back blissfully again. “Rip it off the wall and throw
it into the water, idiot!” she croaked.
John quickly placed her down, propping her up against a wall. He
inspected the device, essentially a slot for what looked like a
large jar of black, opaque glass buzzing and shimmering a little
as he got closer. He gripped it by two metal handles at the
side, and pressed his foot against the wall to tear it out. The
lights on the street snapped off, and he could see the shadows
of the two elves growing as they came around the corner. They
landed in the long and fragrant puddle, and didn’t see John as
he threw the battery down onto the water.
The impact created a small burst of light, followed by an
immediate swallowing of the entire street in uncanny green light
with no source, as immediate curling around the chimneys as it
was devouring the rubbish that clogged the street, melting it
down into sludge. Bascai and Alei couldn’t run, somehow, both of
them transfixed by something that wasn’t there, as if lost in
the same hallucination. John covered his mouth and nose and did
the same for Chel, thinking that this was airborne. He could
have sworn there was wailing, from all around, an old and
crooked voice that babbled about her stillborn child and the
ashes of her city as Bascai and Alei were pushed to their knees
by irresistible force, were lifted up out of the boiling water,
and Alei was thrown violently through a window. “The window!”
screamed Bascai, pleading to nobody standing below him, just in
front of him, pointing at the solid brick wall now painted in
Alei’s remains. “They threw him threw the window like he was
nothi-”
Bascai stopped, his eyes widening and mouth agape after being
jolted forward an inch. Blood soaked through his clothes from a
fine point in his chest, and he fell flat onto solid air above
the ground as John heard a sword scrape against cobbles. The
light vanished, leaving John and Chel in burnt, dry dark. The
elves were gone.
“Chel? Chel!” John pleaded, picking her up again.
“Hm?”
‘Did you just see that?”
“Heard it.”
“What in the gods’ name was that!?”
“Why you don’t play near electricity pylons, John.” She coughed
as she chuckled to herself.
A breathless John Boss ran down the moss-covered staircase that
clung to the side wall of a dark close. The helicopter spotlight
swept down the street ahead, illuminating the stagnant trail of
sewer water that stretched out into the street from the mouth of
a tunnel at the upper end of the pathway. A flimsy section of
wire fence with a warning sign had been erected across the
entrance, but inevitably kicked in and pulled down. “We’re here,
Chel” said John, checking to see if she was at all conscious.
“You’re safe now.”
He stepped over, of all things, a rusty tricycle, and became
enveloped in the reeking dark.