Ripped Apart: Quantum Twins – Adventures On Two Worlds (30 page)

Seeing the fugitives run into the woods and disappear amongst the trees, the youngsters used owl hoots to gather together and offer a mixture of conflicting suggestions.

Qwelby was on a high. It was true, not only were Azurii slower physically and mentally, their energy sensing abilities were massively underdeveloped. ‘We catch them,’ he said.

‘How? We can’t see them,’ Nils objected.

‘I can,’ Qwelby answered, putting all his certainty into the tonal inflection of his rich baritone voice.

‘Go for it, Q!’ Hanno said, thumping him on the shoulder in his excitement at feeling “his alien’s” certainty as though it were his own.

‘Vumelaxqibell!’ Qwelby said, raising a fist in the air

‘What?’ Hannu asked.

‘Comply or… Die!’ Qwelby replied, laughing. That was what he and Wrenden would chant when they submitted to being told how to behave by Tullia or Tamina. A literal translation was: “Comply or Be Readjusted”, but Qwelby thought “Die” was what Hannu would say.

Their attention was taken by the sound of police sirens and flashing lights as two more cars arrived and stopped, cutting their lights. One was a very long way off on the opposite side of the forest to the crash. The other far away and almost straight ahead.

Without looking back, Qwelby set off on a course to intercept the two figures that were cautiously moving through the trees, their energy signatures clear to his sight. Settling into a typical Tazian game and knowing that the targets were energy blind, he was really enjoying himself. From their excited energies, he also knew exactly where all his companions were.
So like at home. I’m almost beginning to feel normal.

Soon, he detected a line of figures moving through the woods from the direction of the road. They had to be what his friends called police. He stopped and hooted like an owl, adding a thought of ‘come to me,’ gestured, then waited as the others silently made their way to him.

‘Police?’ he said, almost whispering as he pointed to the right and behind.

The others nodded.

‘Targets.’ He pointed ahead and to the right. ‘I go that way.’ Pointed ahead and left. ‘You make a line after me.’ He extended his arms out in front then brought then together. ‘Squash!’ he announced triumphantly as the others grinned and nodded.

A few minutes later Qwelby cursed silently. The targets had veered to their right. He looked for Hannu who was well behind him, hooted softly and gestured. No response. He shook his head. If he waited for Hannu to catch him up, the lines would meet all right but the targets would not be caught.

He called up a mental picture of the map he had been shown when they had been planning the evening. The targets were headed for Puolivalintie. It was a long road and only one police car had driven along it. The “targets” could easily slip across, unseen.

He had no option. If he had to tell Tullia that in the woods on a dark night he had been outwitted by two Azurii who had no energy sensing: he would never hear the end of it. Even Wrenden would rightly laugh at him!
Not on your roaring life!

He took a deep breath, then another, then a third. He forced the air into the base of his spine. ‘Zhó’zânâ!’ he spoke his middle name quietly, evoking his genetic inheritance from Zhólérrân, the Dragon Kèhša. Would it work on Earth?

He grunted. He didn’t even know if it would work on Vertazia! That power was not supposed to be his until his twenty-fourth rebirthday at the earliest. But from his short time on Earth he was already beginning to wonder just how it was that youth development of his homeworld was so strictly regulated

The targets were walking one behind the other and with quite a gap between them. Taking as long a stride as possible, Qwelby matched his footsteps to those of the nearest target, hoping to conceal the soft susurration through the deep snow. It worked.

‘You are caught,’ Qwelby said, tapping the man on the shoulder.

The man swung around, uttering words Qwelby did not understand, and threw a punch straight at his face.

Qwelby was taken by surprise. At home, in a game, when you were caught, you just stopped. Taking him on the side of the head as he ducked, the blow added to the momentum of his move and sent him sprawling onto the snow. The man turned away.

Driving his feet through the soft snow and onto the frozen ground, Qwelby threw himself forward and grasped a leg. The man measured his length in the snow. As Qwelby got onto his hands and knees, a vicious blow from a boot slammed into his chest pack. Attacked when he arrived on Earth, now assaulted by a man who did not follow the rules of the game. This was too much!

As his assailant started to get up, Qwelby heaved himself forward and grabbed a foot. The man fell to his knees and lashed out with his free leg, his boot catching Qwelby a stinging blow in the face. He cried out with pain. Rage filled him. ‘Zhólérrân!’ he cried, a corner of his mind wondering why he had used that name. Dragon energy erupted. He heard himself roaring like a wild animal and hurled himself forward, wrapping both arms around the man’s waist.

A fist repeatedly struck his head. He heard the welcome sound of footfalls through the thick snow, only to find his arms seized as a man tried to pull him away. Qwelby hung on as he was kicked in the side, freed one arm and tried to grab the leg, missed and was kicked in the side again. Shouting nearby and further away. Hands seized his free arm and tugged as another kick landing painfully on his hipbone made him cry out.

Dark figures rushed up from behind as Hannu, Jarno and Nils piled into the mêlée. Cries, shouts and swearing filled Qwelby’s ringing ears. As his assailant let go of his arm, Qwelby wrapped it around the recumbent man’s waist and tightened his grip. With torchlights shining, more dark figures arrived and piled into the fray, arms and legs flying everywhere. Authoritative voices called out telling the boys to let go. As the fighting ceased and the man he had been hanging onto was pulled to his feet, Qwelby found himself rolling off and landing on something hard. He heard the sound of metal snapping on metal and saw rings being placed around the man’s wrists.

As he got onto his hands and knees and felt around he discovered a large, heavy bag. As he heaved it up out of the snow, something rolled down away from him. He bent over the bag and grasped what felt like a rock about the size of his fist. It vibrated, sending tremors through his arm and filling his mind with images. Amongst his favourite WrapperFantasies were those of Auriganii stranded on Earth after the Great Schism War and struggling to get to Vertazia. Surprised by the reality of that feeling, much stronger than being Wrapped in an Adventure, he pulled his hand away. The images faded and he became aware of animated talking going on all around him. He tasted blood trickling into his mouth and felt it running from his sore nose and a cut lip. Then a shock hit him. The thieves: people stepping outside the acceptable norms of society. Very bad people! Readjusters. Police. “The Authorities!”

‘What have you got there?’ a woman’s voice asked, as she shone a light on what he now saw was a large backpack he had been exploring, one zip partially open.

Feeling panic welling up inside, Qwelby looked up and to the side. His friends were grouped there together with Dr Keskinen, all just behind the woman who had spoken. In the torchlight her dark blue clothing and cap with its variety of white badges standing out clearly marked her the same as the men: Police.

The light in the policewoman’s hand swept up to shine on his face. Instinctively, he raised a hand to shield his eyes and, remembering he was not wearing sun goggles, lowered his head whilst strongly thoughtsending an indication of respect.

‘Err…’ he mumbled as he grabbed the stone and fought the river of images long enough to pull himself off the pack and drop the stone into his coat pocket.

‘He’s on holiday. Doesn’t speak much Finnish,’ Hannu said, stepping around the sergeant.

‘Wait,’ Sergeant Sjöström commanded as Hannu reached Qwelby. She stepped forward and knelt down, giving the boy with the black face a long look before feeling the backpack.

‘I’ll be damned!’ she exclaimed as she unzipped the main compartment. ‘Proceeds from the burglary.’ She looked back up. ‘Name?’

‘Qwelby.’

‘How d’you find it?’

Earlier, the sound of her voice had told Qwelby that she definitely was in command. Now he heard a softer tone and could tell she was happy. Mentally thanking Hannu for his words, Qwelby pointed to the ground. ‘I lie,’ he said.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sjöström smile. ‘A lot was taken,’ she said speaking slowly as she thought. ‘Two men escaped the car. The other one must also have a bag.’ She rose to her feet, gesturing to one of the constables to take the pack, and looked around the group of people.

‘Yess,’ Qwelby said, recalling the images he had stored in his memory when he had started to follow them. Helped by Hannu he got to his feet and leant on his friend as he swivelled his head to the left and right, stopped, nodded and pointed with one arm. ‘Approximately fifty yurdii.’

‘What?’ exclaimed Hannu.

‘About eleven times my height,’ Qwelby replied.

‘Okay,’ Sjöström nodded to a constable, then turned to the Doctor who was kneeling alongside Qwelby. ‘Is he all right?’ she asked.

‘A bit dizzy, that’s all. We’ll get him home and my wife will look after him,’ he replied.

The sergeant nodded and spoke some more with Keskinen.

‘The only way the police can give you all a ride home is to bring round the two cars from by the crash,’ Keskinen explained. ‘Those officers will have to walk back to get them. Almost to my house,’ he added to reinforce his suggestion. ‘It will be quicker if we all go to my home. Hot drinks and…’

‘That’s all right, Dad. We’ll walk back. Won’t we?’ Anita said, stepping close to Qwelby and putting an arm around him.

Carrying two large and heavy packs the three police constables set off followed by Keskinen in conversation with Sergeant Sjöström.

‘We’ll follow in a moment. He’s still dizzy,’ Hannu said to Nils and Jarno, who waved and headed for the Keskinens’ home.

Relieved to be away from the police and the searching looks that the woman had kept on giving him, Qwelby stepped away from his friend. ‘Dank oo Annu,’ he said.

It was plain for anyone to see that his friends liked each other, Qwelby thought. Yet he was puzzled. Their energy fields were a mish-mash of conflicting emotions. Worse were the dirty streaks of yellow in Hannu’s. They needed to have time together. And he had so much to process that he needed to be by himself. ‘Need be alone,’ he said. He made a “go on” gesture with his arm as he added: ‘I follow.’

After a few moments, Qwelby started to follow his friends, running the night’s events through his mind: cataloguing, tagging and filing them in his memory. The emotions he would explore later.

He had become so hot that he was sweating. He unzipped his coat and cardigan as far as the laser pack, and undid the top buttons of his shirt. As the cold eased his chest, he realised how hot his crystal had become. He held it between his fingers. ‘Dank oo, Drakobata,’ he murmured.

A sensation of hurt and pain reached him. As he opened to it, other feelings appeared. Feelings so dark that he did not want to explore them. Focussing on the sense of pain, he wandered off to the side, away from the direction in which his friends were headed.

The sensations were getting stronger. Someone needed help, but he could not see an energy field: frustrating but not surprising.

Closing his eyes to concentrate better, he continued to walk towards the sensations, trying to compare Azuran and Tazian energy fields to estimate how far away the man was.

Suddenly, he was grabbed and swung around. A hand clamped across his mouth and something hard and cold was pressed into the side of his neck.

‘Make a sound n’I’ll cut yer,’ a harsh voice growled in his ear. The man’s breath stank. The hand was removed from his mouth and that arm wrapped around his chest above the laser pack.

Qwelby felt himself being half dragged, half pushed sideways. The rifle was banging against their legs, in danger of tripping them up.

‘Pick it up,’ his assailant snarled.

Jolted out of his reverie, his thoughts scattered in all directions, Qwelby did as instructed. Aware that he was being dragged further and further away from his friends, he started to struggle. This was no game.

A knife dug into the side of his neck.

‘Don’t be stupid, boy,’ the rough voice snarled.

What was wrong with this world? Attacked for no reason the moment he arrived on Earth. Now assaulted by a man he wanted to help! With his frustration building he struggled again. He had to get away. Be by himself. No! Be reunited with Tullia. Desperate to reconnect and to have the additional power that would bring, he sent out urgent thoughts, forcefully summoning his twin. Drakobata was throbbing at his throat.

‘Stop that!’ his captor ordered as he became aware of a red light pulsing up into the boy’s face.

‘You’re cutting me,’ Qwelby said.

Arttu was in no mind to hear excuses. A big, heavy man, dark hair and a swarthy complexion, his face was set in a permanent scowl. He had rejected his given name and chosen Arttu, meaning bear-man. He grimaced at the thought that today he was not living up to his name.

Everything had gone wrong from the very moment they had broken into the jewellers through what he had been assured was an unalarmed skylight. Disoriented by the ear-splitting noise of the alarms he had dropped awkwardly onto the floor, spraining his ankle. Downstairs, he had tripped, fallen and smashed the glass in cabinet with his head. Getting to his feet he had gashed a hand on the broken glass and discovered he had sprained his wrist in that fall. Then the final disaster, his stupid driver losing control on a sharp bend.

At last there had been a measure of luck. Not only had the air bag saved him further injury, it had hidden him from sight as he had slipped down during the crash. He had managed to reach down, slide a knife out of its sheath on his ankle and puncture the airbag. The side door had been flung open. He had rolled onto the ground and crept into the safety of the trees. Since then he had liberally helped himself from his flask of maali.

Now this black boy was the last straw. Juju or voodoo or whatever was not going to stop him: Arttu the Bear-Man!

‘Yeow!’ Arttu exclaimed as pain shot through his knife-hand. ‘What yer doin’ yer black…’

Qwelby was unfazed by not receiving a translation of whatever else his captor had said. He had finally pulled himself together and was discovering that some aspects of life on Earth worked like they did at home. Rejecting his pain was causing that to be returned through the knife to his attacker, and magnified by the fear that went with it. But he needed to take more positive action.

Always before when either twin was in serious trouble, they would call on the energy of the other. With the knife cutting into his throat and an arm squeezing his chest, Qwelby could not take three deep breaths. Reinforcing his plea to Tullia, he sucked in energy through the top of his head, sending it spiralling down the two channels that twisted around his spine. As he focussed that into the base of his spine, was he fooling himself, or did he really detect purple and lilac swirling amidst the predominance of red, green and brown?

He felt a hand grasp his crystal through his thick cardigan. ‘Zhólérrân!’ he shouted as he sent the energy shooting through his central spinal column. He heard a roaring sound like a space rocket taking off. His throat hurt, it was burning. Flames sprouted from his mouth. His wings unfolded, thrusting his captor’ arms away.

He lifted his right leg and drove it backwards into his captor’s knee, heard a crack, a scream and felt the knife cut into his neck again. A deafening thunderclap set his ears ringing as a flash of light as bright as the midday sun illuminated the surroundings. Propelled forwards by the momentum of his kick, he did not know whether it was a trick of the shadows or whether the light had actually revealed Hannu and Anita nearby, and the afterglare that made him think he had seen a bare mountain top.

His shout was stifled as he fell face down in the snow. Pain was shooting through his neck. He staggered to his feet, clutching his head where he sensed his crown had burst open. Feeling he was about to burst into flames, he pulled his gloves off and grabbed the straps at his sides. Yanking them free, he pulled the laser pack over his head and threw it down. His coat followed. He wrestled his cardigan and shirt over his head and threw himself down onto the cooling snow.

KAIGII! I need you.