Chapter 2: Goodbye, Sober Day

Russell stepped out of the vortex, out of the life he knew and into a heroin nightmare. He was squeezed tight like an accordion and vomited blood from his tip. He fell to his knees and hit bronze grass. The blood made rivulets between rivets in the bronzed earth. He followed the progress of the bead, not quite believing what had just happened. It was a dream, it had to be. There was no other explanation for it – he would wake up soon. Maybe he should pinch himself.

The blood pooled at his knees.

When he woke up he would go right up from the sofa and check on Melanie. The poor girl hadn't had it easy since her mother had died; he often forgot that they had both suffered a loss. He vowed to be more pro-active, or whatever television called it this week, helpful, nice, happy, whatever, to her in future. Help with homework, give a friendly hug, that sort of thing. She'd been quiet, maybe that was what she needed.

He was feeling weak and dizzy – he fell forward, but caught himself. His hands scuffed a rusted plate on the ground. Russell swallowed, and looked up.

He was immediately slapped to the ground and held there by a muddy boot, pressed to the side of his face. Behind him, he heard voices. An angry, gruff man spoke first, followed by a lighter, fluffier toned partner.

“What were you thinking, Sebastien? I told you, nobody else!”
“He followed us, Lester! What were we gonna do, shoot him?”
“Better shoot him than bring him here, the poor bastard!”

The boot pressed him further into the mud. Russell gritted his teeth and tried to move, but received a hard kick and abruptly stopped. Instead he roved his eyes hungrily over the landscape he found himself looking at. He saw, and could not take in: A rust-red sky, criss-crossed with crackling wires. A rolling field of knitted metal, plates of iron and bronze soldered into a hillock. A clockwork wedge, stretching into the sky, dangling an enormous lamp from its edge up in the corner of the sky. Rust crumbling from the boot pressing him into the metallic floor. He could feel bronze bending around his head.

“Well, we have to do something with him..”
All of a sudden he was aware of his daughters quiet sobs behind him, and was strangled by the thought that he had forgotten her for a second, only to stare at the surroundings! He strained round so he could catch a glimpse of her.
“Yer right.”
He heard footsteps behind him, and then a face thrust itself into his line of vision.
“Poor guys absolutely terrified...” it was the gruff-voiced man. He sported a host of wrinkles across his forehead, partially obscured by a mat of greying hair and a leather pair of gold-embossed goggles. He grinned in what he clearly thought was an encouraging way at Russell, who glared back. Lester chuckled.
“I don't think there's anything we can do but to bring him with us. Cant have him wandering round the island by himself, he'd get torn to shreds by the Needles.” he grumbled to himself, standing up again. The boot receded and Russell span round to find his daughter. He scanned the people surrounding him and saw a motley crew of around seven, each more torn by the elements than the last, save for one he recognised as the lithe stranger, who looked rather handsome, with a blonde scrub on his head and a warm smile on his face.

Melanie was limp in the arms of one of the muscles. Russell started when he saw this, but he was caught before he could reach for her. “Mel-!” he cried. “You haven't...!” To his left hand side, Lester chuckled again. “Now why would we do that?” he cracked. “She's much more useful alive..” he stumbled over his words slightly, then said “I'm sorry, son, I didn't catch your name.”

Russell spat at him, and was immediately restrained. Lester chuckled. Russell didn't like Lester, or his chuckle.
“Lets go on up!” he called, gesturing up an enormous soot-blackened hill, and the group followed his orders, proceeding up the path. As Russell was tugged along, he looked around. Ahead was Lester, great guffawing Lester with his stupid chuckle. Lester was in charge, that much was apparent; the way everyone listened to him and followed his orders was enough to know that, but his entire demeanour reeked of someone who knew he was in charge. He wore a khaki combat suit, scuffed and ripped and patched up so much it might well be an entirely different get-up to the one he bought. Across his belt and stuffed into his backpack were a number of trailing wires, and various bits of what looked like metallic junk, all blinking lights and gunmetal grey and springs and whizzbangs. To his right was the lithe handsome boy Russell had assumed was Sebastien; not least because he looked like the only other one in their pantomime procession who could walk and talk at the same time. They all wore a broadly similar attire, though Sebastien was not nearly as encumbered with the diesel nonsense Lester was carrying with him. Instead, Sebastien pointed out interesting things in the environment for Lester to explain, like the jagged metal on their left-hand side – it looked like there used to be more to this hill but some giant had gone to town on it with solders and a hacksaw and got rid of half the path – jagged, rusted iron pointed up from the corner. Wires snaked along the path, up towards the peak of the hillock and back down to sea level.

Russell followed the wire as far as he could and as far as he could see he could only see metal, and diesel, and propellers and tangles of wire, stretching into the distance. He wondered if maybe an aeroplane had crashed here, though in his heart of hearts he knew that there was far too much metallic debris to be caused by one crash – or even one hundred crashes, and that wouldn't account for the fascinating twirling, spinning, rusting, creaking world he had somehow found himself in. The hill looked like a garbage pile, and the rusting metal path appeared to have been laid rather hastily. The procession trudged onwards up the hill, and Russell wondered if he really was dreaming, so terrifyingly realistic was the rust beneath his feet.

He could hear Melanie sobbing quietly somewhere to his right and he longed to reach out for her, but wondered if he would be hit, and refrained. He was a coward. He knew it, and she probably knew it too. He wouldn't be surprised if she hated him for it, for not being strong enough to take on these titans and rescue her from whatever horrendous fate awaited her. He bit back tears and was very aware of the chokehold his guard had over him.

As they rounded the bend Lester turned to face them and grinned. “This is it, boys!” He spread his arms as wide as his wicked smile and Russell looked up to see what looked like a radio tower, bent and tormented from years of abuse by the howling winds at the top of the iron hillock, metal cancer spreading up its broken legs. “This is whats going to save us!” he yelled over the wind, “This tower, and that girl-” he pointed at Melanie, who sobbed harder than ever.

The tower was standing at the wide rolling pinnacle of the hill, and was surrounded by a wiry bracken, what looked like engines streaming with wires, and an open petrol door leaking fuel into a small ravine below. Russell was dumped, rather unceremoniously, beside a lamp-post, the faint stream of light the only source as the lamp in the sky dimmed evermore past the horizon. Russell was bathed in light but otherwise forgotten. His guard stood facing away from him; a strange device which looked like a cattle-prod hung menacingly from his khaki trousers and sparked. Russell could watch as Lester gambolled round the tower, watched admiringly by Sebastien. He heard snatches of their conversation. “But why is it so perfect, Lester? I don't understand whats so special about it.” “No, my boy, its absolutely perfect – the location, why its one of the highest points on the island, you can barely see the sea we're so high up!” “But why is it so-” “I'm getting to it! Good lord, boy-” and here Lester stopped his rapturous enthusiasm of the tower for a moment to stare at Sebastien - “have some patience! The tower is the best place for it precisely because of its location, its height! As well as its projection properties and possibilities, my boy! Dresden!” and here Lester turned to look at Russells guard. “Pay some more damned attention to the girls father, won't you? We can't have anything going wrong, not at this late, no, critical juncture!”

Dresden turned to Russell and spoke in a deep, sonorous tone. “Back against the post.” Russell backed up, quailing, and was tied with wire ripped from the ground and plugged into itself. He could feel the cord ratcheting up against his chest the harder it was tied. Satisfied, Dresden turned and promptly ignored Russell again, choosing to pay attention to the frenzied preparations taking place at the base of the pylon. Lester was climbing the pylon, deftly leaping from one beam to the next. He seemed as terrified of this as he would be of climbing a lazy set of stairs. For his age, Lester was apparently very fit. Despite himself, Russell felt a stab of jealousy boil in his stomach.

“But Lester, I still don't understand what you intend to do with the girl..”
“Patience, Sebastien! You will know soon enough, then you'll wonder why you ever doubted such a genius!”

He watched them for over an hour, leaping all round the pylon, unplugging parts of it and reattaching it elsewhere. They trailed wires from the engines in the corner and soon the tower looked far denser, though no more sturdy. Russell marvelled at the balls Lester and Sebastien must have to swing round it so easily.

“Its time!” Lester cried finally. “Bring her over here.” Melanie was passed up the cancerous tower, sobbing as rust and exposed wires grabbed at her pyjamas. Lester grabbed her hands and lifted her gently onto the same platform as him, thirty feet above the ground. Russell saw the damned thing sway in the breeze and cried out, working furiously at the wires which had him bound to the lamppost. Lester bent down low and whispered soothings into Melanie's ear, which just made her sob harder. They carried down across the iron valley, so even people a mile away could hear her.

Russell felt the wire begin to tear round his back and he grinned and worked it harder than ever, blood pumping behind his eyeballs and blind rage filling his head till there was no room for thought or logic or reason and all that was left was love; blind, raging love. The wires ripped as one just as Melanie was bound above him. Russell let out a roar and barrelled past Dresden, who turned, startled, slow. He reached the base of the tower and started climbing, ripping out wires as he went. There were frantic noises behind and above him but he didn't care – this foul contraption held his daughter, his Melanie, his one link to Juliet and he wouldn't have it any longer. The machine sparked and creaked threateningly and it started shaking violently. Rust was torn from where it had slept the last few nights and fell to the bronzed floor. Russell kept on climbing, kept ripping wires and heard Lester scream in a manner quite unlike his usual self above him. Russells fingers latched onto the platform and he hauled himself up, laced with rust and oil and blood. He saw Lester, saw that face where his smug grin usually hung, and saw it contorted with rage.

Russell didn't care. Melanie was screaming, strapped to the tower and her scream pierced his skull and forced him to attack. He launched himself at that face, and punched Lester right in his stupid rugged jawline. Lester fell back, startled as much as anything, and stumbled towards the opposite ledge. Russell ran after him, sickly aware of the vibrations under his feet which could only mean people climbing to stop him exacting his vengeance on this man. He grabbed Lester by the shirt and threw him backwards. Lester lost his balance entirely and slipped off backwards, only just managing to grab the platform with the tips of his fingers. They slipped dangerously, and then Russell placed his boot carefully over one of his hands.

“Why are you doing this? Why have you taken my daughter?” He increased the pressure on Lesters knuckles and Lester winced appropriately. Russell felt a perverse pleasure rushing through him as he realised he controlled if Lester would survive the night.
“Tell me!” He roared, ever-aware that Dresden and the other goons could be only moments away.
“I need to-” Lester began, “I need to save this place! This whole island!”
“Why do you need Melanie?!” Russell spat down at his captor.
Tears welled in Lesters eyes as Russell pushed down even harder on his hands, the cold metal biting into the skin of his palm.
“The island is.. dying!” Lester gasped, like Russell was choking the life out of his throat instead of his hands.
Then he turned his gaze to Melanie and continued, “Your daughter is important. She's..” then his eyes opened wide. “Your daughter! The- what cables did you break on your way up?!”

Russell didn't hear him – Lester was no longer important, and he was only concerned with Melanie. A strange glow suffused her. She had stopped sobbing; the wires seemed to bite tighter and tighter into her as she was lifted bodily from the ground. Her face registered nothing but shock and awe. “Mel!” Russell cried, and she searched for him as though blind, clawing in the direction of his voice, fingers expectant and outstretched. He reached out to grab her hand, but as their fingers met they didn't and fell through each other. Horrorstruck, Russell went to unplug the wires attaching her. One by one, they fell away so she wasn't constrained, but she flickered oddly and when she next turned to look at him he could see only the whites of her eyes.

Then everything was noise. The tower shrieked like its lungs were being ripped out, screeched and roared and twisted in on itself and a pulse was felt by everyone on it; Melanies scream rent the air, and rose to an ear-splitting pitch as the sky tore itself open above her. Then there was a flash, a crack and then nothing at all.