Half Discovered Wings (49 page)

‘
One last time,’ Cleric promised, and Johnmal couldn’t help but
feel like he’d heard him say it before.

The boss
allowed him to use the booth beforehand for once, just to see if it
made any difference. Johnmal stood in the metallic niche in the
wall in Cleric’s laboratory, surrounded by the wires, the odd
glowing transparent plates, the humming circuitry, and closed his
eyes. Cleric inserted an object into a specially made socket.
Cables ending in needles were embedded into his skin and began to
tingle.

‘
I’m switching it on now,’ the boss said, and the panels glowed
inside the niche.

Johnmal felt
ill every time. The pervasive waves of whatever the boss pumped
through him to keep his cells from bursting made him dizzy. The
feeling was soporific and unpleasant, but if it helped, Johnmal
would endure it.

With the
unpleasant experience behind him, Johnmal now confronted another.
The boss led him back down into the subbasement, down the stairs
and the ramps and past the holding cell for those hideous
abominable creations of his, and to the cell where the prisoner now
slept.

They stopped
just short of the cell entrance.

‘
Now you can do this,’ Cleric said. ‘One more time for me. I
need to make sure! I was so certain … But if there’s nothing this
time, then you don’t have to do this for me again. I won’t ask you
again.’

‘
Thank you,’ Johnmal replied.

The boss put
his hands on Johnmal’s shoulders. ‘Good lad. Now, off you go.’

The errant closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and felt his
body turn itself inside out. He pushed the latent feeling at the
back of his mind, forcing it forward, into the air, into the minds
of those around him like a fog. He was altering the perceptions of
those close to him, psychically telling them that his skin was
turning into a pinkish mist. His mouth felt intensely dry, and
then, all at once, he vanished.

Cleric patted
the indiscernible figure and smiled, then stepped back. He watched
as the keypad to the cell’s energy field was activated, and the
semi-transparent sheet of light disappeared for a moment.

~

Johnmal watched Cleric walk away before he moved unseen
toward the sleeping figure, hunched up against the dirty
white-tiled wall. Even to his own eyes he was entirely transparent,
invisible, despite the fact that his mind
knew
he was there. Not wishing to
disturb the prisoner just yet, the hidden Johnmal sat up with his
back to the wall and looked out past the filthy plastiplex and into
the corridor opposite. The windows in the wall were in hideous
disrepair, and though they looked out into the rainforest, there
wasn’t much visible through the filth and mould that lined the
glass.

Such dirty
accommodation.

‘
Prisoner,’ he said quietly into the boy’s ear. ‘Wake yourself
up.’

The boy stirred. Johnmal reached out with his fingertips and
touched his dark cheek. It came back with dirt on it. This young
man been captive for way too long.

‘
Who’s there?’ the boy asked sleepily, in English. ‘Who is
that?’

Johnmal stayed silent, observing his boss’ test subject.
There was something about him, something in his features that
reminded him of … what? There was that fullness of mouth, the
thickness of his black hair. Something in the way he held himself
was reminiscent of a figure Johnmal couldn’t locate in his
memory.

‘
You’re here again, aren’t you?’ asked the boy.

‘
I’m here,’ Johnmal whispered. ‘Keep your voice
quiet.’

‘
Why do you keep coming here?’

‘
To test you. My employer says that you are an errant. He
thinks you can be of use to him; he is collecting errant blood.
He’s built up a fine catalogue over the years. Soon, after he has
completed his current plans, he intends to resurrect them. Imagine
how spectacular that new world would be, boy.’

‘
Where are you?’

‘
I’m right here. Beside you.’ He touched the boy’s cheek so
that the boy knew where to direct his gaze. ‘I’m not supposed to
talk to you, only take blood and observe up close. But you are a
human being and I can learn much more this way.’

‘
Last time you said you wouldn’t see me again.’

‘
Did I? I don’t remember that.’

‘
You say that every time! What’s wrong with you?’ The young man
sat up, and tried to see some sign of the invisible man.

‘
Nothing’s wrong with me.’

‘
Then why can you never remember my name?’

Johnmal said
nothing, shifting his weight in his unease.

‘
It’s Isaac Catling,’ the prisoner said, ‘and your name is
Johnmal. Does he let you remember your own name?’

Johnmal stood
up and looked out into the corridor again. This all sounded so
familiar. Of course he could remember his own name – why wouldn’t
he? – but why did this boy ignite distant memories in him that he
couldn’t access, and why did the name sound like something that had
run through his mind a thousand times before?

‘
Father!’ the boy said, and Johnmal spun around. Isaac was
still looking at the spot by the wall, in the opposite direction to
where Johnmal was really standing. ‘Every time you say this: “That
name sounds so familiar; who are you; have we met before this?”
Johnmal, I’m your son, Isaac!’

‘
Isaac?’ Johnmal muttered, and his eyes searched the walls and
came across some symbols etched into the tiles. He instantly knew
that it was he who had inscribed them: the word
SON
in a messy, angular
scrawl.

‘
Do you remember?’

‘
You are Sarai’s child.’

‘
Yes! My mother, she must miss me … Johnmal, you said you’d
help me, get me out … Lord, every visit I have to remind
you!’

‘
Get you out? I wouldn’t say that, Mister Cleric—’

‘
Is the one who keeps you from remembering!’ the young man
cried, and stood.

‘
I’m over here,’ Johnmal said, and stepped toward the teenager
to hold him by the shoulders. His body was lithe, muscular, hard.
There was strength in his flesh as well as in his heart.

‘
Will you show me yourself this time?’ Isaac asked
quietly.

‘
I’ll try,’ said Johnmal, and closed his eyes.

~

The booth
, he thought, stepping
invisibly back out into the filthy corridor outside of Isaac’s
cell.
The booth is what’s keeping me from
remembering
.

But
, the other side of his brain
said,
it’s also keeping me
visible.

Perhaps, perhaps … If Cleric was truly altering his memory
–
Why, for what purpose
?
– then maybe the booth did nothing
else … Maybe it wasn’t helping him keep his power in check at
all.

Quietly he walked down the corridor back to the laboratory,
passing through the dusty shafts of light coming in through the
filthy broken windows. There were leaves and soil on the ground,
sticking to the undersides of his naked feet. All the while he
thought of his son, trying to dredge up the memories he knew he had
somewhere. As he did so he realised that he had done this so many
times before, like some ghastly chronic merry-go-round, each time
going into the cell not knowing, and each time returning thinking,
‘
Cleric is lying to me
.’

An image now,
drifting up from the deep recesses of his mind interfered: a dark
face, with all-green eyes. The picture surfaced and he stared at it
with his mind’s eye. It was Sarai.

The mother of my child
.

‘
God damn it,’ he said, and for the first time felt no guilt
for the blasphemy.

He arrived at
the laboratory.

Cleric was sitting quietly in a chair, consulting a book. His
back was to Johnmal as he sat unaware; he felt at home, surrounded
by all his equipment and electronic toys, the errant thought, that
monster, that cyborg, with his
plans
…

And all the while, raping my mind
.
Liar
!
he projected, and hoped Cleric
could hear him.

And now, so close, right behind him … If he wanted to,
Johnmal could just reach out and take his throat, grasp it in both
of his faux-transparent hands and just
squeeze
…

But then,
would that solve anything? Did the boss even breathe?

‘
Mister Cleric,’ Johnmal said. The man jumped in his
seat.

‘
Johnmal!’ he sang. ‘Where are you? How did it go? Did you find
out anything?’

‘
I don’t think that he’s an errant. He’s shown no
signs.’

‘
Did you speak to him?’

He knows I spoke to him
.

‘
Yes. I let him know I was there and initiated an attack; he
could do nothing to protect himself. He has no errant abilities.
He’s just a normal boy.’

‘
But I was so sure,’ Cleric replied, putting a star-tattooed
hand through his white hair and frowning. He stood, moved slowly
around the back of his chair, and his eyes moved from one side to
the other as his mind wandered. ‘The tests show him to be the child
of two errants.’

‘
If that’s the case, he doesn’t seem to have inherited either
of their abilities.’

And it’s true
, Johnmal
thought,
he doesn’t. Not even my
own
.

‘
Curious,’ Cleric said, suddenly becoming animated. ‘Oh well.
At least he’ll serve as some pet food. It doesn’t matter, Johnmal,
because he’s not essential. The machine I found will do most of our
work for us.’

‘
How?’

‘
Only by doing what it was meant to. If only the men who built
it were alive to see what wicked undertaking it would be part of!
We’ll set out tomorrow night, when it’s cooler. Please tell
Rosanna. We’ll get there within a few days.’

‘
Then we’re nearly finished,’ Johnmal muttered.

‘
Nearly finished,’ Cleric repeated. ‘Son, you’re still
invisible. Can you turn back?’

‘
No.’

‘
Into the booth with you, then, and let’s see what we can do.
You must have a strong mind, to influence your abilities so
thoroughly.’

‘
The booth doesn’t seem to work, and it makes me feel
ill.’

‘
Of course it works! We’ve seen improvements, haven’t we?
Haven’t you been able to turn back much sooner now?’

Yes
, Johnmal thought, but
then,
have I
?
Have I really
?
Or is that … a planted
memory
?

‘
I’d rather not,’ he said.

Cleric laughed
and put his hand on Johnmal’s shoulder. ‘Oh, really. I made this
for you!’

‘
I’ll go in it later, I just want to see Rose for a few
minutes.’

‘
You promise? I only want to help you.’

‘
I promise, sir.’

~

Cleric, with
his hand on the errant’s shoulder, felt the man shift and turn,
then walk away. He heard the flat footsteps making their way across
the cold lab floor. A small heap of clothes lifted themselves up
from a chair and floated up the ramp and away.

Cleric
frowned.

‘
Liar,’ he said.

~

Johnmal had seen the cables linking one room to the next
before, and often wondered about their purpose. They connected
Cleric’s booth to a small chamber next door. The chamber had a
small device like a metal lock, which was situated on a table in
front of a chair. Johnmal never knew who sat in that chair, but he
had a good idea. He tore the cables from the wall and started to
run.

He rushed up
the second ramp and into the main section of the complex, pulling
on the fraying sweater as he ran. He had his underwear and a pair
of trousers under his arm.

He fell
through one of the doors, out of breath. Rosanna was in the room.
Startled by the sudden and apparently causeless noise, she jumped
and braced herself.

‘
Rose,’ said a disembodied voice.

‘
Johnmal?’ The floating sweater bounced up to her. Invisible
hands grasped her own. ‘What are you doing?’

‘
Rose, we’re in danger.’

Confused, she stood and watched as the clothes seemed to pull
themselves onto nothing. ‘If you don’t give me an explanation,
Johnmal…’

‘
You wouldn’t believe me. We’re in danger. Rose, we have to
escape.’

‘
Escape? From what?’

‘
Cleric’s been deceiving us. He says his machine helps make me
better, but it’s really wiping my mind—’

‘
Oh,
Johnmal
…’

‘…
He can’t be up to good if he needs to do this! I’m freeing the
boy.’

‘
Why?’ she asked, exasperated.

‘
Because I made a promise to someone.’

‘
You made a promise to the boss,’ Rosanna objected, stepping
closer and wrapping her arms around the hollow jumper. It didn’t
feel hollow; it felt hard and solid, filled with Johnmal’s body.
‘And to me,’ she added.