Chapter 13: When Acting As A Wave

They approached the sphere slowly, for it was an intimidating thing. It was a massive metal sphere, rippling with wires streaming over it like waves on a scabbed ocean. The metal gleamed in the sun, and it towered above the scant metallic vegetation sprouting beneath it. It exuded power and the fact that it was better than you. It seemed to be breathing – rising and falling, like a pacemaker or a piston. Steam billowed from vents at its feet, wreathing the filthy rust in smoke which cloaked it. There was a small entrance directly ahead of the three of them.

Belle muttered “They'll be in the centre, and hopefully it should be fairly easy to get there. We can pretend that we're more villagers, coming to watch the sacrifice.” She shuddered. “...and we can grab your daughter then. Alright?”
Russell nodded, and Dresden grunted. Belle smiled at him, “I bet you're looking forward to seeing her again, aren't you?”
Russell turned away. “Not if she's spread across the floor. I want to see her alive.”
She grabbed his hand. “You will. We'll get her out of here, alright?”
He bit his lip and thought a moment, before ripping his hand from her grasp. “I hope so.” Then he walked forwards towards the entrance. Belle looked at Dresden, who said nothing and looked straight ahead. “Whats with him?” She asked him.
“He's probably just worried.”
“Probably?”
“Well.” Dresden looked at her. “He knows why you slept with him.”
Belle took a sharp intake of breath. “How does he-”
“Sebastien told him.”
She bit her lip. “I wasn't quite honest with you guys.” She sighed. “I guess I thought that if you just though that I wanted him for his power, then you wouldn't respect me any less.” She looked up at him, and was glad to see that he was smiling at her.
“So... you do like him, then?” He asked her slowly.
She grinned. “I do. He's interesting.”
Dresden humphed. “Each to their own. I think he's really boring.”
They grinned sheepishly at each other like teenagers.
“Don't tell him yet though, he has enough on his mind.” Dresden told her.
“I guess.”And with that they ran to catch up with Russell.

“You're pregnant?”
“Thats right!” Juliet beamed and grasped Russells hand tighter.
Juliets mother was near-speechless, and so she just ran forward and hugged her daughter, bringing her into her arms. “Thats... thats wonderful news, Julie!” Russell smiled as well – a little awkwardly, because he had never met her mother before. It was quite a way to introduce himself.
“Well come in, come in!” Her mother ushered them through into the whitewashed hallway, decorated with ugly brown furniture and pictures of awful 1930's seasides. A faded purple carpet led to a staircase embellished with a white stairlift for her husband, the machine a gears-and-cogs gash into the wall. A small door on the right led into a living room, with copies of the daily mail piled up on coffee tables and side-drawers. Two filthy chairs and a chalk-red sofa inhabited the floor and more faded pictures had crawled up the walls and arranged themselves. A television covered in dust sat in the corner – it was one of those old boxy ones, with air-holes for the TV to breathe. They only had VCR and the VCR only had Dads Army. Their CD collection was made up of free compilations from Sunday newspapers.

Upon the death of her mother, Juliets mother had moved into her home to house her husband, who had been hit by some disease the previous year and now sat covered under as much dust as the TV in the corner on one of the moth-eaten chairs. If his chest hadn't risen and fallen in little juts Russell would have sworn that he was dead. As he studied him, however, he realised that the husbands eyes were following him around the room, staring out of the corpse surrounding it. It looked like eyes sneaking out of a painting. Russell imagined being trapped in your own body like that and shuddered deeply. He thought to himself that in some ways he wasn't so different. “Now!” Juliets mother said in a business-like tone. “Juliet, you come help me make teas, and Russell, you can keep Roger company, alright?” Juliet kissed her father on the cheek as she passed, said “Good morning, daddy,” and went into the kitchen to help her mother.
-
Russell tried hard not to stare at 'Roger' and looked straight ahead, his fingers drumming against his thigh.
-
“So how did you meet him?” Juliets mother asked her daughter in the kitchen, crawling in empty bottles. “We'd been introduced by a friend a couple of weeks before, and then we met up again at a beach party a month ago.”
“And by met up, I assume you mean-”
“Mum!”
“Well?”
Juliet blushed. “Well, yes. Otherwise I wouldn't be-”
“Yes, dear, I know all about it.”
Juliet said nothing for a moment as the kettle fizzed next to her.
“I just worry.”
“About what?”
She said “I'm worried about the relationship. I mean... I can't give up the baby, not to an orphanage or the internet or whatever, and I can't get rid of it-”
“Why can't you abort it? If you don't want it?”
Juliet was shocked. “Mother! I can't kill a child! A baby! What if it had my eyes?”
She said nothing, and wrung her hands, like she was moulding her next words before she spoke.
“I'm just worried that if we weren't having this baby then I wouldn't be with him.”
“You don't have to be with him anyway though, do you?” Her mother asked, putting down the sugar pot in between two wrung-dry bottles of whisky.
“I don't have a job, mother! And I won't be able to get one with a baby! And...” she blushed again. “Its not like he's a bad guy. He's nice – I like him, otherwise I wouldn't have slept with him! But, all the same...” she looked through the wall at where he was, staring into space. “I don't want to take him for a ride.”
“Well, you like him good enough don't you?” She asked.
“Yeah...”
“Love grows. If you nourish it.” Juliets mother put a hand, with the vaguest of wrinkles beginning to crawl across it. “If you stay with him, you can learn to love him. Theres nothing wrong with starting like that.”
Juliet let a smile slip across her face.
“Really?”
“Really.”

Outside Russell stared at his hands.


The corridor inside the sphere groaned and sprung. It was a gleaming, silver-white. For the most part. Every now and then along the corridor the white panels had fallen away and rusting grey pipes filled the void, rumbling and spurting steam into the corridor. It was dark in the corridor, lit only by streams of floerescent lighting the villagers had laid. Lit only from below, the three of them looked at each other and saw strangers. A man approached them from the other end of the corridor. “Hi!” he said brightly. “You're just in time! Come quickly!” And he ushered the three of them forwards, shuffling and awkward. As they walked he looked at them. “I'm not sure if its the light, you know, but I could swear I've never seen you three before.”
“Oh, we're not... we're not from Oceanside,” Belle covered. “We're from further east, down near Ironwalk.”
“Uhh-huh.” The stranger said.

“Say.” said Russell suddenly, breaking the acid silence. “Why is it you're sacrificing this... this girl?”
Belle kicked him, so the stranger wouldn't notice but so he would.
“Why? Well haven't you heard? The news has spread all over the island!”
When none of the three said anything, he continued. “This girl appears on a hillside, right? And shes wreathed in lightning. Its melting the ground around her, its that bad. I mean, if I had found her then I'd have left her obviously, dont get me wrong-”
“Obviously” said Belle curtly.
“But the Doctor found her and took her home. When she shivered she sparked. Someone said she was a robot, but either way she was sick cos she kept on coughing and shivering and sparking and lighting the village up... but we dealt with it, and we all mucked together to help her out and settle her in. Looking back on it now... any one of us could have been killed by that devil.”
He shuddered at the thought.

“Anyway, though, one day, we find a bird, right? And you know what that means-”
“An ironbeak?” Dresden interrupted.
“Thats right!” The stranger said enthusiastically. He seemed to be enjoying telling his tale immensely. “And you know what Ironbeaks do, obviously.”
“No?” Russell inquired, and Belle kicked him again. “Yes you do, Russell!”
Russell glared at Belle. “Indulge me.”
“I think she already did.” Dresden muttered behind them, and Belle kicked him as well and explained to Russell. “Ironbeaks are little flying magnets with big fuck-off jaws. If they get on you in a pack they can rip you to shreds but they only do that in self-defence. They're normally really nice, but you can't go near them at all.”
“Why?”
“Because of the magnet! It messes everything up. It rips the ground from under your feet. It sends electronics crazy – speakers start spluttering everywhere, wires start twitching around and try to grab onto things, engines start, animals go stir-crazy – it messes shit up, Russell, believe me.”
“How can you not know what Ironbeaks are?” the stranger asked warily.
“He was raised by smokers, if catch my drift,” she implied at him. “He's clinically retarded.”
“Oh!” The stranger seemed satisfied by this, and continued with his story – which he clearly wanted to get back to.

“And basically the ironbeaks came for Oceanside. The port was absolutely decimated. The houses were... and the people...” He stopped a moment. “Quite a few died. The ironbeaks seemed to be trying to protect Melanie. They killed everyone around her. We had a right trouble fighting them off. Thats why we came here, the sphere is the only place which can repel those things. Thats why we always keep the door closed, you know?”
We didn't close the door.

Lester picked through the rubble on the hilltop, picking his way past a propeller embedded in the ground, which was crawling with wires like vines, and called out again, “Sebastien! Sebastien! Sebastien, come out, where are you?” The sun wrote glares onto the harsh ground and left purple dancing across his vision. He recognised this place. He had found Sebastien here all those years ago. He had been in a bad place then. After causing that explosion, he had left his team, his family and his friends and gone in search of himself. On this hill, he had found it. The seeds of his responsibility, which grew from one baby to one teenager and beyond, and then to an entire island and the life of a little girl. Here he had found himself and started again. Before he found Sebastien, seven years old, wandering the hills all bloody and alone, bawling his head off, he didnt know what to do but the boy gave him hope, once he'd been cleaned up. He smiled at the memory and redoubled his efforts to finds the fruits of his labour, scanning the area because he was sure he had seen Sebastien escape up here. The kid scrambled like Lester twenty years ago – it had been very difficult to keep up up the winding pipes which made up this hilltop.

He could hear snatches of sobbing on the wind, carried through the pipes and vibrated till it filled the whole hilltop. The hill was crying along with Sebastien. This was bad – he needed to find the kid and get back to the sphere, because they couldn't save Melanie without him. They needed him to save them, just like Sebastien, then and now. It was impossible to find out where the crying was coming from, because it was coming from everywhere thanks to the sonics of the area. The tears of Sebastien filled him and rumbled through him. He bunched up his fists.
“Seb-” he began again but heard a crash to the side of him and whipped round before the pipes and the wind picked it up and made it impossible to make out.
He saw that a panel had fallen away and made towards it. Underneath he saw a shaking foetus. Sebastien was curled up, arms over his face. He made no attempt to hide as Lester peeled back the panel.
Neither of them spoke for a long while. Lester looked at what was for all intents and purposes, his son. Sebastien licked his lips, running his tongue across the cracks and stubble of his lips. Tears had leaked across his face and it shined. Eventually, after a length that lasted an eternity, he spoke. His words poured through Lester and emptied him. He was left shaking as badly as Sebastien, as his son spoke: “My parents didn't die. I killed them.”

Lesters eyes were wide. He didn't speak but let Sebastien pour out his heard. He began his story emotionlessly, his voice a flat monotone drawl, echoed through the hillside.

“My parents argued. I remember that sometimes I wouldn't get fed for up to a week because their arguments were so bad. They used to forget about me. I had to go to the venders by myself. They would fight. My... my mother lost an eye one time because of a fight. He ripped it out.” A tear dribbled onto the pipes beneath him and steamed away. “I was with them one time when they fought. I didn't like to be with them when they were together. When ever they were together they bit and scratched at each other. They stayed together, just about, for my sake, I think. One time my father came back from glassing for a night. You could see the vodka stains dribbling down his chin.” Tears fell thick and fast from his eyes. They dripped into Sebastiens mouth and he felt them on his lips. His voice cracked suddenly and instead of the slow flatness his voice had been it rose higher and faster. “He was drunk. He could barely walk. Him and my mother started a fight, and... and they let loose one of the pipes. Their house filled up with gas and something sparked. There was nothing I-”

He stopped for a long moment.
“Thats a lie. I could have saved them. I could have done something, I could have... but instead, I locked the door.”
His voice boomed out over the island.
“I kept them in there. I dont know if they made up in their last moments or if they were biting each others throats out till they burned to death. But it was because of me. I wanted- I needed to get away from them. I didn't care if I lived or died. I just couldn't be with them any more. I killed them.” And with that his voice cracked entirely. “I killed them, Lester.” He croaked, his voice bleeding out over a razor throat. “My parents are dead because of me.”