Monster Republic (8 page)

One of them happened to glance in their direction.

‘Hey, it’s Rora!’

Everyone in the room was up on their feet in an instant, rushing over to surround the fox-girl, patting her on the shoulder or giving her a quick hug. The youngest looked about seven or eight; the oldest, around Cameron’s age. With some, it was hard to tell their age through the fur or scales that covered their bodies. Others, more like Cameron or Guard, had mechanical components welded or stitched onto them, bursting out of their arms, faces or – as Cameron saw when one turned to flick off the TV – backs.

The Monster Republic was well named. None of these kids could ever pass as normal, ever go out in public without attracting attention and alarm. But that didn’t seem to bother them here. In response to the warm shout, more kids were appearing in other door ways and filing in to offer their own
welcomes. The hall reverberated with calls of ‘You made it!’ and ‘Good to see you!’ It was a real homecoming.

For Rora, anyway.

Finally she freed herself from the throng. ‘Everyone – this is Cameron.’

As one, the assembled monsters turned their attention to him.

Silence fell like a lead weight.

Some of the crowd stared openly, their looks filled with tension. Others stole wary glances out of the corners of their eyes, then looked away when Cameron tried to catch their gaze. Nobody moved or spoke, but the air was charged, like before a fight.

Cameron shifted uneasily. Did he look that bad to them, then? Or was there something else going on? When Rora had told him about the Monster Republic, he’d imagined … Well, he didn’t know exactly what he had imagined, but something better than this. Somewhere people didn’t judge you by your appearance, for starters.

It looked as if Rora sensed his discomfort
and shared it, because she clapped her hands briskly.

‘All right,’ she said, with strained cheerfulness. ‘We’ll do proper introductions later. First things first. Cameron’s wired with a tracking device. It won’t work under ground, but we still need to get it out. Slater, can you take him to see Tinker, please?’

Before Cameron could open his mouth to object, a dark-haired boy of about his own age stepped forward. He had sharp features and a muscular torso mounted on bulky mechanical legs that bent the wrong way, like a dog’s hind legs. His lip curled unpleasantly, and he looked as unhappy about having to escort Cameron as Cameron felt about being handed over to him.

Slater wordlessly jerked his thumb towards a door. As Cameron walked towards it, everyone else in the room backed away as if he had the plague, clearing a path ahead of him. He lowered his head and stomped through, into a narrow corridor, biting his tongue as he went.

Slater led him down the corridor and into a side room jam-packed with desks piled high with jumbled equipment, like some sort of electronics lab. In the middle of the chaos sat an old leather dentist’s chair, with a collection of cables and wires running off it.

A small boy with spiky blond hair and glasses popped into view from behind the chair, where he had been fussing with some of the electrics. Of all the faces Cameron had seen so far, this kid’s features were the most normal. But they twitched spasmodically, as if he was being electrocuted. His whole body was constantly in motion: his head jerking this way and that; his eyes flicking about like a bird’s, focusing on something different every second.

Although never on Cameron’s face …

Slater marched Cameron over to the chair and patted the seat with a twisted smile. As he sat, Slater looked down at him for an instant as if he was a bad smell, before turning back to the other kid.

‘He’s bugged, Tink. See what you can do. Don’t worry, I’ll be just outside.’ Then he
marched out.

The twitchy kid moved in closer, his lips moving. Even with his enhanced hearing, Cameron could only just make out what he was muttering to himself.

‘Divinity Project, Subject Number Five-Oh-One. Human cyborg. Partial titanium exoskeleton. Internal power supply. Weapons capability unknown.’

Cameron gritted his teeth.
Good to meet you too, Tinker – my name’s Cameron
, he thought bitterly.

With a look of intense concentration on his always-moving face, Tinker rummaged through some of the tools on the nearest desk. He pulled out a large, vaguely gun-shaped device, which he began to run over Cameron’s head and torso.

As he did so, Cameron noticed that while Tinker’s face was still a mass of tics and twitches, his hands were suddenly as steady as rocks. When the scanner reached Cameron’s right shoulder, it suddenly started emitting frantic bleeps.

‘Automatic tracking device,’ muttered Tinker. ‘Internally mounted.’

He nodded, entirely to himself, and reached for another tool. Then, without a word, he pulled down the neck of Cameron’s T-shirt and flipped open a panel on his shoulder, the new instrument poised to begin poking around inside.

‘Hey!’ snarled Cameron, leaping to his feet with clenched fists. ‘What do you think you’re doing? I’m not just some faulty toaster!’

Tinker backpedalled, knocking a pile of equipment to the floor with a crash. He stared directly at Cameron for the first time, his wide, scared eyes blinking rapidly, while his facial muscles went into all sorts of new spasms.

‘Keep your tools to yourself!’ Cameron shouted.

In a flash, Slater was inside the room.

‘What did you do?’ he demanded, squaring up to Cameron.

‘Nothing,’ snapped Cameron. ‘It was
him
.’

‘What’s going on here?’

Rora stood in the doorway, hands on hips.

‘He attacked Tinker,’ replied Slater, his eyes never leaving Cameron.

‘N-n-no, he didn’t,’ stammered Tinker. ‘It was m-m-my fault.’

‘What happened?’

Cameron scowled. ‘He started messing with my arm.’

Rora sighed impatiently. ‘How else do you think he’s going to get the bug out? Were you expecting him to say, “This won’t hurt a bit”?’ Her sarcasm stung.

‘I didn’t come here for this,’ growled Cameron. Even as he spoke, he knew it was a feeble line. He wasn’t sure why he had come here.

‘I’d sit still if I were you. Tinker knows what he’s doing. Tinker always knows what he’s doing – and we need that thing out of you as soon as possible. Trust me.’

Cameron rolled his good eye, but sat back down anyway. There didn’t seem to be a lot of choice.

‘And you can go, Slater,’ continued Rora. ‘I don’t think Tinker really needs your help. I’ll stay.’

For a moment Slater glared at Rora, chewing the inside of his cheek, as if biting back words he really wanted to speak. Then he turned on his metal heel and left. Cameron felt himself relax. He realized that his hands were still bunched into fists. If Rora hadn’t shown up, he didn’t know what might have happened.

Cameron turned back to Tinker, who met his gaze briefly and gave a nervous, flickering smile.

‘Hi,’ he said. ‘Is it O-O-OK if I …’

Cameron nodded curtly.

With the calm dexterity of a surgeon, Tinker picked up the tools he had dropped, and began fishing around in Cameron’s shoulder. It was a strange sensation. Cameron was aware of something moving inside him, but there was no pain.

While Tinker worked, Cameron kept silent, telling himself that it was all for the best. But he couldn’t shake off a nagging sense of doubt. So far, the Monster Republic wasn’t working out to be so great. Apart from the fact that he was being worked on by a twitchy kid instead
of a real doctor, he wasn’t sure it was all that different from Fry’s laboratory.

‘D-d-done,’ said Tinker. He plopped a tiny capsule into a metal dish, then hastened off without another word before Cameron could even say thank you.

‘Gone to feed it to a stray cat, maybe?’ said Cameron. ‘That’d throw the Bloodhounds a false trail.’

Rora smiled tightly. ‘Yeah. Maybe.’

Cameron sat up. ‘We need to talk—’

The fox-girl shook her head. ‘You need to get some rest.’

She led him back into the corridor. Sticking her head through a door for a quick inspection, she ushered him into a side room almost completely filled by a bunk bed. From the size of the place, Cameron guessed it might once have been a store cupboard. There was no one else there.

‘This should do you. Top or bottom, whichever you prefer,’ she said, gesturing at the bed. Cameron opened his mouth to speak, but Rora cut him off.

‘We’ll talk tomorrow. Get some rest. I need some, even if you don’t.’

Cameron remembered what she had said in the park about her weakness being a lack of stamina. She certainly looked tired now. Maybe he’d get more answers from her in the morning. He slumped down on the bottom bunk, which creaked alarmingly under the weight of his new body.

‘Not quite the warm welcome I was led to expect,’ he said pointedly. ‘Most of your friends out there won’t even look me in the eye.’

‘There you go again. Not everything’s about
you
,’ Rora replied. ‘This is strange for them too. Give them time.’

‘Huh. If you say so.’ Cameron didn’t buy it.

Rora shook her head and left. Moodily, Cameron settled back and planted his head on the pillow. He didn’t suppose for a minute he’d be able to sleep, but maybe he ought to try. He stared up at the underside of the top bunk for a moment, then sighed.
Get some rest.
That was easy for her to say.

How was he supposed to close his electronic eye?

Ruefully he had to admit he didn’t have a clue. Perhaps Rora had dealt with enough similar people to tell him the answer. It would mean having to ask for her help, though. Again.

Embarrassed, Cameron slipped off the bed. Sticking his head through the door, he opened his mouth to call after her.

There was no need. Rora was standing just a few metres down the corridor, flanked by the technical whizz-kid, Tinker, and the sour-faced figure of Slater, who looked as moody and sullen as Cameron felt. They were talking in low, urgent voices.

Before Cameron could ‘turn up’ his hearing, Slater spotted him, and placed a warning hand on Rora’s arm. But really, Cameron didn’t need to hear what they were saying. Everything about the trio, from their sudden pointed silence to their furtive glances towards him, made it obvious.

They were talking about him. Great.

Rora cleared her throat. ‘Do you need anything?’

Cameron gave her a long hard look.

‘No.’

Throwing himself back on the bed, he rolled over to stare at the brick wall. He didn’t know if sleep would come, but he hoped it would, and soon. Other wise there was a long night ahead. A night of just lying there, thinking about everything he had lost: his home, his family, everyone he really cared about. His whole life.

Next morning, Cameron woke feeling rotten.

He had lain awake for what felt like hours, his mind churning. When sleep had finally come, it had been like dozing in front of the TV, electronics buzzing away in a constant background hiss of static. Vague images had flashed through his mind – Marie, the Bloodhounds, Dr Fry – but nothing he could hold onto and call a proper dream. Now he was awake his body felt rested, but his mind was as confused as ever.

Cameron wondered why Dr Fry hadn’t wired his subjects so they didn’t need sleep at all. It seemed a sensible thing to do if you
wanted to create some sort of super-soldiers. Maybe he was working on it. But anyway, lack of sleep wasn’t his real problem.

No, what was bugging Cameron most was the fact that all the questions that had kept him awake throughout the night were still with him in the morning, like a chesty cough that he couldn’t dislodge. Despite their endless cycling, they had gone nowhere. He couldn’t think his way through them.

Maybe he could try talking. Speaking about his feelings wasn’t something Cameron enjoyed, but some of the monsters he’d seen the night before looked like they might have undergone similar ‘treatment’ at the hands of Dr Fry. Maybe they would understand how he felt.

Cameron strained his enhanced hearing. Silence. No murmurs, no movements. The safe house sounded deserted. Rora had promised to take him somewhere where there were other people like him, but here he was, back on his own. With a sigh, Cameron got up and went looking for the bathroom. He found
it quickly, but he had barely got through the door when he stopped dead. He should have expected it, but the sight was still a shock.

There was a mirror above the sink.

Well, he did need a proper look at what had been done to him. If that didn’t wake him up, nothing would. Maybe that first time he’d seen himself in the lab window, shock had made his face seem worse than it was. Maybe shock had made his family react so badly. Maybe a second, more patient look now – now that he was prepared – would reveal a better picture.

Deliberately avoiding a glance at the mirror, Cameron dipped his head towards the sink, ran the tap and splashed a couple of handfuls of water on his face.

And froze. Maybe he shouldn’t have done that.

Cameron waited for the flash, the cascade of sparks and the jolt of electricity, but nothing happened.

He breathed a sigh of relief. There was so much to think about, so much to consider. New rules about how to go about everyday life
– whole new minefields. Luckily it looked as if his new electronic eye was waterproof. That was something.

Unable to put off the moment any longer, Cameron slowly raised his head and gazed at his reflection in the mirror. The glass wasn’t exactly spotless but it was a much sharper image than he’d got in the lab window.

Sharper – and more shocking.

A walking school reunion. Marie had been telling the truth. His face was a patchwork of bruises and scars, various features crudely stitched together. Just as she had taunted him the night before, Cameron had clearly been cobbled together from several bodies. That realization, as well as the portrait in the mirror, made him feel sick.

Worse – much worse – he began to recognize some of the pieces.

In the midst of the last night’s madness, Cameron hadn’t had time to think about what had happened to the rest of his class. Now, in the cold light of day, he was finding out. The horrible irony of it was that he had clearly
been one of the lucky ones. One of the survivors.