‘They’re ordinary-grade Denizens,’ said Fred, whose bed and locker were patterns of military order. He said this as if it explained everything.
‘What do you mean?’ Arthur asked, since it didn’t really explain anything to him.
‘They won’t do anything until they’re told to,’ said Fred, with a puzzled glance at Arthur. ‘Are the ordinary Denizens different in the Lower House? All this lot are from the Middle. Paper-cutters, most of them, though Florimel over there, she was a Binder, Second Class. Have to watch out for her. She thinks she ought to be Recruit Lance-Corporal because she’s got the highest precedence in the House of the lot of us. I guess she’ll find out that doesn’t matter here. All of us recruits are equal in the eyes of the Army: low as you can go. The only way from here is up. I reckon I might be able to make General by the time my hitch is up.’
Fred liked to talk. Arthur listened to him as he packed away his equipment, a process that was much more difficult than the illustration indicated. Though Fred had only been at Fort Transformation for a day longer than Arthur, he had already found out a lot about their training, the training staff – or training cadre, as they were supposed to be called – and everything else.
‘The first week is all getting to know how to look right and some marching about and such-like,’ Fred explained. ‘At least, that’s what’s on the schedule. Over there.’
He pointed at the door. It was so far away, and the light from the hurricane lights so dim, that Arthur couldn’t tell what he was pointing at.
‘On the noticeboard, next to the door,’ continued Fred. ‘Let’s go take a look. We’ve got five minutes till dinner’s over and we’ll need to be over there anyway.’
‘How do you know?’ asked Arthur. His watch had disappeared when the recruit uniform had swarmed up his arm.
‘Axeforth just went out the back door. He’ll march around to the front, come in, and shout at us to line up there like he did before. It’s called “falling in”. Don’t ask me why. You need your hat on.’
Arthur picked up his pillbox hat and put it back on, grimacing at the feel of the chinstrap under his mouth rather than on his chin, which he felt was the proper place for something called a chinstrap. But everyone else wore theirs the same way, under the bottom lip, and the strap wasn’t long enough to do anything else.
‘Ready?’ Fred stood at attention next to Arthur. ‘We have to march everywhere, or we’ll get shouted at.’
‘Who by?’ asked Arthur. The other twenty Denizens in the platoon were all lying down on their beds, staring at the ceiling.
‘Sergeants, corporals … noncommissioned officers they’re called,’ said Fred. ‘NCOs. They appear mysteriously. Best not to risk it.’
Arthur shrugged and when Fred marched off, fell into step with him. After the first dozen paces, he felt like he was getting the hang of it and stopped worrying about his feet and concentrated on swinging his arms.
Stopping in the right way – or halting, as Sergeant Helve called it and had explained to him at length – was somewhat more difficult.
‘I’ll give the command, shall I?’ asked Fred as they approached the wall and the noticeboard. ‘Got to give it as the right foot comes down, we take one step with the left, hang on … no … oops. Halt!’
Fred had waited too long and both of them did funny little steps to avoid hitting the wall, which made them halt completely out of time. Arthur turned to laugh at Fred, only to freeze his smile into a grimace as Sergeant Helve loomed up out of the shadows.
‘What misbegotten disgrace of a movement do you call that?’ screamed the sergeant. A brass-tipped wooden pace-stick appeared in his hand and whistled through the air to point back towards the beds. ‘Double-back to your bunks like soldiers, not like some prissy paper-pushing puppets!’
Fred spun around and was off like a shot, still marching, but at a much faster rate. Arthur followed him more slowly, till he was suddenly accelerated by Sergeant Helve’s voice bellowing so close and so loud that it felt like it was inside his ear.
‘Double! When I say double, I mean at the double. Twice as fast as normal marching, Recruit Green!’
Arthur doubled, Sergeant Helve running backwards from him at a rate that Arthur supposed must be triple or quadruple time or some other measure only possible to sergeants.
‘Back straight, chin just so, swing those arms! Not that high!’
When Arthur was halfway back, Helve spun forwards and out of the pool of light from the hurricane lamp overhead. Before Arthur could take more than two steps, the sergeant appeared next to the closest bed, striking his pace-stick on the boot soles of the resting Denizen and yelling something that sounded like a single word:
‘Stand fast for inspection you dopy dozy disgraceful lump of leftover Nothing!’
The Denizen stood extremely fast, spare equipment cascading off the bed. His movement was like the first in a line of dominoes, as every Denizen along the row leaped from his or her bed.
‘Fall in on this line in order of height!’ commanded Sergeant Helve. He gestured with his pace-stick and a glowing white line appeared on the floor. ‘You will not be seen on the parade ground of Fort Transformation until I am sure you will not disgrace me! You will parade inside here instead! Every evening after dinner and every morning at one hour before sunrise, dressed and equipped as per the training schedule that you will find posted by the south door. Atten-hut!’
Arthur barely managed to reach the end of the line in time to brace at attention. Since Fred was slightly taller, he fell in on Arthur’s right. Both boys stared at a spot in space ahead of them as Helve marched along, pausing to pull Denizens out and rearrange them. When he got to Arthur, Helve looked down his nose at him, then marched out to the front, did an about-turn that seemed to Arthur as if it relied on him being suspended by invisible wires from the ceiling, and shouted, ‘Stand at ease!’
Only half the Denizens moved, the other half remaining at attention. Of those that moved, most moved the wrong leg or waved their arms or otherwise did things that attracted the displeasure of Sergeant Helve, who proceeded to tell them what they had done wrong and just how displeased this made him.
Two hours later, after hundreds of commands of ‘Atten-hut’ and ‘Stand at ease’, Arthur fell over from sheer exhaustion. Though his crab-armoured leg had stood up well, his entire body could not cope with the constant activity.
Helve marched over and looked down at him. When Fred bent to help Arthur up, the sergeant ordered him to stand fast.
‘You are a weak reed, Recruit Green!’ Helve shouted. ‘Weak reeds make for badly woven baskets! This platoon will not be a badly woven basket!’
What? thought Arthur. Grimly, he struggled to his feet and tried to straighten up. Helve stared at him, his jaw thrust out aggressively. Then the sergeant spun about and resumed his place in front of the platoon.
‘Reveille is one hour before dawn,’ he announced. ‘You will parade in Number Two Recruit Field Uniform at that time, unless detailed for a special parade, in which case you will wear Number One Recruit Dress Uniform. Platoon! Dismiss!’
Arthur turned to the left, stamped his foot, and marched off, as did Fred and eight of the platoon. The others turned right or completely around and crashed into their neighbours and fell over.
‘You all right?’ asked Fred. ‘I wouldn’t have thought a bit of foot-thumping would knock you out. Not like we’re proper mortals anymore.’
‘That’s the problem,’ said Arthur, very wearily. ‘I … I got kind of … a bit affected by sorcery. So I am more mortal now than most of the Piper’s children.’
‘Cripes!’ exclaimed Fred with extreme interest. ‘How did that happen?’
‘I’m not allowed to talk about it.’
‘I knew there’s been something going on in the Lower House,’ said Fred. ‘What with the mail being cut off and all. But we never heard what happened. Has Mister Monday been doing something he shouldn’t?’
‘M
ister Monday?’ asked Arthur. ‘Then you haven’t heard –’
‘Heard what?’ Fred seemed eager for news. ‘I haven’t heard anything, that’s for sure. No mail for two years, and no newspaper neither. All the fault of the Lower House, least that’s what my boss said.’
Arthur didn’t reply. Fred was a good guy and he thought they would be friends. But Arthur couldn’t afford for his real identity to get out and he didn’t want to tell Fred too much too soon.
‘Heard what?’ Fred repeated.
‘I can’t talk about it,’ Arthur replied. ‘Sorry. If … if I get permission, I’ll tell you.’
‘Permission from who?’
‘Look, I really can’t talk about it. I just want to get to sleep. We’ve got to get up … I don’t know … soon.’
Arthur clutched at Fred’s shoulder as the ground shifted under his feet. He was so tired it took him several seconds to process that it wasn’t the ground moving. He was swaying where he stood, so exhausted he couldn’t even stand still.
‘We’d better check the schedule first,’ said Fred patiently. ‘I don’t like the sound of “special parades”.’
‘You go,’ Arthur groaned. ‘I don’t think I can march that far.’
‘Yes, you can,’ said Fred. He removed Arthur’s hand and pushed on his shoulders to turn him around. ‘Do you good. Bit of a stretch.’
Arthur groaned and tried to turn back towards the beds, but Fred nudged him onward.
‘Oh, all right,’ said Arthur. He shook his head to try and clear it. ‘Let’s go, then. By the left, quiiiiiick march!’
This time, with Arthur carefully giving the command, they managed to halt properly. After a nervous look around for a jack-in-the-box sergeant, they studied the schedule papers on the noticeboard.
Fred was the first to notice that their names had appeared, all on their own, under a single heading on a separate piece of paper.
‘Oh, no,’ he said, tapping his finger on the paper. ‘That is really bad luck.’
Arthur read the notice. In his weary state it took him several seconds to even focus on the words and they didn’t mean anything to him.
Recruits R Green and F Gold report to Bathroom Attendants in Administration Building Blue at 0600. ‘What’s bad about that?’
Fred looked at him, his eyes wide in disbelief. ‘Bathroom Attendants, Ray. From the Upper House.’
Arthur still looked puzzled.
‘Cleaning between the ears, Ray! They’re here to clean between our ears! Tomorrow morning!’
Ten
LEAF HESITATED IN the corridor, uncertain whether to go back to the fire stairs or explore more of the Lower Ground Three floor. She had no time to think, but through the cracked lenses of her glasses the fire stairs looked ominously red-tinged, so Leaf decided to check out what was on her current level.
Clutching the box with the precious pocket in it, she hobbled off down the corridor, pushing through the swinging doors that led deeper into the hospital.
The nurse might or might not come after her, but if she didn’t, Leaf knew other mind-slaves of the Skinless Boy would. She had to find somewhere to hide and rest and work out what to do next. But that was easier said than done. Particularly since every door she tried along the corridor was locked.
Leaf forced herself to move faster, though it hurt, as her options grew more and more limited. The corridor was turning out to be like the fire stairs: if she couldn’t open any of the doors, she’d be cornered at the end.
She had a moment of relief when she saw a utility door open in the wall, with orange safety cones around it and a sign that said CAUTION WET FLOOR. But when she looked inside it was just a tiny room, not much bigger than a cupboard, with a big red vertical pipe marked FB WET RISER, whatever that was.
Finally, with the end of the corridor in sight, Leaf found a door that opened. She slid through it, then shut and locked it before even looking around. It was a laundry room, a big open area dominated by four huge washing machines on one side and four equally large driers on the other. They were all off, though there was laundry in wheelie baskets in front of them.
There was also a desk with a phone on it. As soon as Leaf saw it, she had an idea. She couldn’t think of what to do next, but she could phone a friend. Or, in this case, her brother, Ed. He was almost never without his mobile phone, and since he’d been recovering from the Sleepy Plague he’d been sitting up there in quarantine messaging his friends.
Leaf picked up the phone and dialed. She could hear her brother’s phone ringing, but he didn’t pick up right away.
‘Come on!’ Leaf urged. She couldn’t believe she was going to get diverted to voice mail.
‘Hello?’
‘Ed, it’s me, Leaf.’
‘Leaf? Where are you? Mum and Dad are going crazy in here!’
‘I’m in the hospital, downstairs. Look, this is going to sound weird, but I’ve been somewhere else … I mean like a whole other planet … with Arthur Penhaligon. It’s complicated, but there’s an enemy of his here and it’s trying to get me and I’ve got to get out –’
‘Leaf! Have you hit your head or something?’
‘Well, yes … but no! I know it sounds strange. Remember the dog-faces we saw?’
‘Yeah …’
‘They’re part of it. And this new bioweapon, the Greyspot thing. That’s part of it too. Oh, and the Arthur that’s here now isn’t the real Arthur. I don’t suppose he … it … will get into the closed quarantine areas, but if it does, don’t let it touch you. Not even a handshake or anything.’
‘Leaf, you’re freaking me out! What do I tell Mum and Dad? They thought you must have been hurt in that water explosion and no one’s found you yet.’
‘What water explosion?’
‘On the fifth floor. Some kind of big pipe called a firefighting riser exploded and flooded a whole bunch of rooms. It was all over the Net until this Greyspot thing.’
‘The Border Sea …’ whispered Leaf. Ed had to be talking about the wave that had carried her and Arthur and his bed out of this Secondary Realm.
‘What?’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ Leaf quickly covered. ‘I need to work out some way of getting out of the hospital. Past the quarantine line.’
‘Leaf! They’ll shoot you! Just … I don’t know … relax. You sound really stressed out.’
‘I am stressed out! Look, can you think of anything or not? I haven’t got much time.’
‘Hang on, Dad wants to talk to you –’
‘Leaf?’
Leaf’s father sounded very anxious.
‘Dad, look, I know it sounds weird, but I’m caught up in something –’
‘Leaf, we’re just relieved to hear from you. Stay where you are, and stay on the phone. I’ll arrange for the police to come to you –’
‘Dad, I don’t need the police. This isn’t … it’s not something … look, I can’t explain. Love you!’
Leaf dropped the phone on its cradle, collapsed onto the chair, and pressed her fingers into her forehead. That reminded her she was still wearing the glasses. She thought about taking them off for a moment, because it was a bit distracting seeing the coloured auras. But she left them on, since they might help her see things that would help.
‘There must be some way out,’ she whispered to herself.
I can’t go out any of the main doors or the staff exits or anything like that on the ground floor. There’s no point going higher, because there’s no way out from there, unless I got picked up by a helicopter or something off the roof, and that’s not going to happen. But lower down … there are the parking lots. But those entrances will be guarded too. All the entrances for people or cars will be guarded.
The door handle suddenly rattled. Leaf jumped in her seat. She heard male voices on the other side and tensed, waiting for the door to be unlocked or broken down.
‘Locked,’ she heard a man say. ‘Try the next one.’
Leaf listened inte
ntly. She heard footsteps, then someone else talking, though she couldn’t make out the words. Then more footsteps, going away.
The search had begun. It could be either hospital security, catching her on a surveillance camera, or mind-slaves of the Skinless Boy. Or they could be both, Leaf realised.
I can’t go out at ground level. No point going up. But there must be other ways out. A laundry chute …
Leaf got up and carefully looked around, but there was only the door she’d come in. Still, an idea lurked at the back of her mind. She just couldn’t tease it out of her bruised and numbed head. Something had flashed up when she was talking to Ed …
The fire-fighting riser that burst. FB Wet Riser. The big red pipe. Caution wet floor. Maybe the pipe went somewhere …
Leaf went to the door, listened, opened it, and slid out into the corridor. There was no one visible on this side of the swing doors. Quickly she ran to the utility door and went in, shutting it after her.
She had only just started to inspect the pipe when she heard running footsteps move past her, then a man shouting.
‘She’s in 3G104 – she called from there two minutes ago!’
Leaf turned to the pipe again. It was only a few inches wider in diameter than her shoulders and extended through the floor and the ceiling. At first it looked like there was no way in, but when Leaf walked around, she found a panel had been unbolted from the back, the eight nuts laid out neatly on the floor. There was a long wrench next to them and an open lunch box next to it, with a half-eaten sandwich and an apple indicating the workers had been forced to leave quickly, presumably to join everyone else waiting upstairs.
Leaf looked inside the pipe. There were beads of moisture all over the steel lining, but it wasn’t full of water. Looking up, she could see that other panels had been removed, and cold white fluorescent light was shining in.
Looking down, it was dark and the pipe was blocked. But as Leaf’s eyes adjusted, she saw that the blockage was a big box mounted on a swivelling ring that had little wheels all around its edge. The box had probe-arms that touched the sides of the pipe, and there were warning stickers on it that Leaf couldn’t quite make out in the dim light.