Shell Shocked (The Cosmic Carapace, #1) (18 page)

“Have you come up with our distraction Albert?” Spencer said joining him next to the cart.

“I hope so. It’s something I’ve been tinkering with for a while for my... well you know, my little atmospheric enhancements.” Spencer thought back to the thunder and lightning Becky and he had seen in the morgue.

“Yes, I know.”

“I’m going to need a few people to help me though, someone to stoke the boiler, some to hold the trumpets.” Spencer paused while he considered this, then decided to just wait and see what this thing was, and go and get Albert what he needed.

“Ok, I’ll get some bodies to help.”

“Bodies!” Albert cried. “And I'm a mortician! Very good Spencer, very good!”

Spencer smiled at him and walked away, hoping his face hadn’t betrayed the fact that he hadn’t meant to make the joke. Turning, he saw Mrs Strang turn the corner of the small close with a gang of young men and women behind her looking sheepish.

“Allo Mr Blake. Now I ain’t rounded all of ‘em up yet, but these ‘ere are a start.” She said, pointing to the group behind her who were attempting to look like it was pure coincidence they were following her, and that they were definitely still rebels and that doing what your mum said didn’t change that.

“Right, excellent.” He scanned the group who all avoided his gaze. “If you want to go and help Albert over there, that would be great. You’ll all be given jobs later when we’re ready to go. The group slouched off in the direction he’d waved them in and he moved across the street to Becky who had appeared from around the corner after Mrs Strang's gang.

“Hey,” he said, trying to appear nonchalant, but it was hard when he was wondering if this was the last time he’d ever see her. “Any news?”

“Well pretty much all of the people who’d joined up to Garsh’s militia have gone home. Word went round pretty quick once Mrs Strang had given her little talk.” They both smiled at the recollection.

“Good, sounds like we’re almost ready to go. Look, Becky, if things don’t go...”

“No.” She held her hand up “We don’t do this mushy goodbye stuff until afterwards.”

“What if there isn’t an afterwards?”

“Then it doesn't matter. If we say goodbyes now, we’re saying it because we’re scared of what might happen. If we’re both here after all of this, then we’ll have a drink and say what we think.” He opened his mouth to reply but she cut him off.

“That’s my final word.” She smiled at him and walked off towards the Strang’s house.

––––––––

L
ord Garsh stared out of the high window of the palace across the rooftops below. There was no smoke, no glimpse of banners or projectiles that gave any clue as to what was going on. They had all heard the noise as they had begun the inspection in the courtyard. It had sounded like half the city had taken to the streets. He had sent out a small group of men to see what was going on with strict instructions to report back within fifteen minutes. It had now been twenty. The door opened behind him.

“Ah, Mr Pall,” he said turning. “I take it you have heard that there is a little ruckus outside?”

“I have,” said Pall gruffly, leaning against a tapestry that was pretty close to priceless. Garsh winced slightly, but continued.

“It seems our men are late in supplying reconnaissance, could you please go and... hurry them up?” Pall grunted and left the room. He really hated working with the man, but he was useful.

~~~~

F
our grumpy looking young men stood in front of Spencer. They were each holding huge thick, paper tubes which snaked away into a large box that sat in the middle of the street. Three of them were having some difficulty in controlling the tubes as they were also trying to hold both hands over their ears. Each tube was emitting a deafening cacophony of noise. Shouting, drums banging, screams, there was even some chanting, but Spencer couldn't make out the words.

The only one of the four not having issues with either the size of the pipe or the noise was someone Spencer had been introduced to as 'Post'. Apparently this was due to him being as deaf as one. He was enormous and held the tube with ease. He wore a vacant grin and beamed around at the scene.

Behind the four men, Albert Bulber was scurrying around frantically pulling levers and twisting dials which shot jets of steam out from the wooden box which heaved and creaked in the road. Despite all this tremendous effort Spencer couldn't see what difference these tweaks were making, the machine seemed to chug on regardless. He stared at the box again. Albert had assured him that it was safe, but he'd done it with a slightly lopsided grin and a faraway gleam in his eye which had suggested to Spencer that he would have at that moment said anything that allowed him to continue working on the contraption. He was like an excited puppy, or a giddy lover.

He had been bouncing around, chattering away at a hundred miles an hour ever since they had asked him if he could help to make some sort of distraction.

The palace guard should be responding soon. He poked his head out to the narrow street which ran past the large, dumpy building and saw in the distance a group of men moving towards them wearing bright red uniforms.

“Ok, they’re coming. Colin, you keep an eye out and let Albert know so that he can move the machine back when they start getting nearer. Keep drawing them back into the city.”

They both nodded in agreement; they looked worried. To be truthful, Spencer was too. He had no idea how this was going to play out, and even if they were successful, they still had one final job which in all probability, would kill him.

He turned away from them and ran down a narrow alley which ran horizontally to the broad road in front of the palace. Washing hung on lines strewn across the gaps from apartments. The sight of something so mundane threw Spencer for a moment. In the midst of chasing through the streets of an alternate London hoping to overthrow a despot and return the Queen to her rightful throne, it seemed a bizarre sight.

After he had crossed four streets that the alley intersected, he veered off onto the fifth. Becky was there waiting for him with Spangler. The old man had kept his head down during the preparations, lurking in the alley which ran along the back of the Strang’s little house. He had only come back in, when Becky had gone to tell him they were ready to put their plan into action. The only words he had spoken were to insist that he came with Becky and Spencer, despite their worries that he would slow them down.

“Ok, the guards are starting to move to Albert’s riot, we need to move now.” He led the others to the section of wall which ran across the top of the street he was now on. The wall was lower here, crumbling slightly at the top, there were plenty of handholds. They wouldn’t need them though.

At the end of the street, on the corner, stood a small store that seemed to sell everything under the sun. Its merchandise spilled out onto the street. Buckets and mops stood alongside carpet beaters and sculptures of hideous looking birds made out of plaster. Right on cue, Nebwett appeared from the entrance, staggering under a step ladder, with a long rope curled under one arm.

“Allo! I got them!” he said in a cheerful voice. He looked like someone who was just off to do a bit of DIY rather than a man about to try and overthrow a country’s regime. He took the rope from Nebwett and slung it over his shoulder.

“Ok, quick, straight to the wall. The next guard shift shouldn’t pass here for about fifteen minutes, but I want to be sure.” They had timed the patrolling guards enough times now to be fairly sure, besides, they might have responded to the fake riot if they’d been near enough to hear it when it had started. Still, he worried.

They checked the street in either direction, there were a few people milling about, but no sign of any guards. They placed the ladder at the base of the wall and Spencer climbed up it. He reached the top and pulled himself up, swinging his leg over so he was straddling it. Spangler followed, far more easily and spritely than his grey hair would have suggested, straddling the wall and looking around. Becky came next, sprinting up the steps and leaping from the top she landed on her feet on the wall, and promptly jumped off the other side, moving into a roll like a pro. Spencer was still holding his hand out to help her up and, feeling foolish, turned it into a wave to Nebwett.

“Ok Nebwett, thanks, get the ladder back to the shop and then get to Ingress and start setting up.”

“Right-oh Mr Blake!” Spencer watched him scuttle off back towards the shop. He helped Spangler down the other side before jumping down to join Becky. He landed more stiffly than her and jarred his ankle slightly.

“You ok?” she asked, looking at him out of the corner of her eye. She had been scanning the empty courtyard since she had landed.

“Fine,” Spencer replied rubbing his ankle. Spencer and Becky took a hand each of Spangler who was sat on the wall, with his legs dangling like humpty dumpty. He jumped down, with them easing his fall, and grunted slightly as he landed.

They headed to the nearest wall of the palace without seeing another person and as one, looked up at the window positioned on the first floor above them. A young woman Norbert’s mother had introduced them to as Mabel worked at the palace as a housemaid. Mabel’s head appeared from the window.

“Allo, no one’s about up here.”

“Good,” Spencer replied. “Ready?”

“Yep!” Mabel replied, holding her hands out in front of her. Spencer took one end of the rope and threw it up towards her outstretched arms. It failed to reach even halfway on the first attempt, the second was wildly wide of the mark.

“Damn. We’re going to need something to weight the end of it.” They looked around the courtyard, but could see nothing. Something nudged against his foot. He looked down and saw a tortoise. It had the word ‘prat’ written on one side. He bent down and picked it up, feeling it’s weight in one hand.

“Spencer, you can’t.” Becky looked appalled.

“I don’t see what we’ve got much choice, time’s running out.” He wrapped the rope around the middle of the tortoise and tossed it a few inches in the air, feeling the weight of it. It was too heavy. He lifted the tortoise to his face. It stared at him with it’s slow, solemn eyes and blinked.

“I’m really sorry, but if this works out, I'll get you as much lettuce as you can eat.” He let out some rope and began to slowly swing.

“No! Spencer, you can’t!” Becky protested, but it was too late now, he was committed. The tortoise span around and around, he looked up at the window and the shocked face of Mabel, and let go. The tortoise flew upwards and straight, Mabel took one look at the thing headed towards her and ducked back in through the window. Spencer felt a wave of panic as he realised the tortoise was going to fall back, and rushed forward to try and catch it. Then, by some miracle, the tortoise flew through the open window and vanished out of sight.

They waited a moment, breathless. Then Mabel’s face appeared again, smiling.

“It’s alright!” she called down in a stage whisper that was as loud as most people’s shout. “It landed on the bleedin' bed! I’ve tied the rope to the bedpost, it’s a big iron thing so it should be alright.”

Becky grabbed the rope and pulled herself up the wall of the building, using her feet to walk up the wall as she did so. Spencer positioned himself underneath in case she fell, but he knew there was no need. She shot up it and through the window in moments. He turned to Spangler.

“Do you think you can do this?” He’d been thinking that this might cause a problem since the old man had insisted on coming with them.

“I’ll be fine Spencer, you go first though, I might need you to help pull me up the last few feet.” Something in the way he said this felt off to Spencer, but he knew he had to get in regardless, so he grabbed the rope and began to pull himself up. Halfway, he realised that Becky had made it appear far easier than it looked. His arms were already burning, and the ground seemed far enough away to hurt significantly. There was no chance that Spangler was making the climb. He made it to a few feet from the window, where Becky appeared and helped pull him in. The room appeared to be a small guest bedroom. There was a huge iron bed that took up most of the space, on which the tortoise was sat. Spencer wondered for a moment how on earth how they had managed to get the bed in here, but then snapped back and poked his head back out of the window to see how Spangler was getting on with the climb. The answer was, that he wasn’t. He stood, looking small and frail suddenly.

“I’m not coming in that way Spencer, as you’ve probably guessed. I think it might be better for me to cause a little distraction inside the palace to match Albert’s one outside.”

“What are you going to do?” Becky asked, her head appearing at the window next to Spencer’s.

“Something I should have done a long time ago Becky.” He paused and looked at the ground for a moment before turning up to them again. The light caught his eyes which were wet with tears. “I am truly sorry for all I have done to you both. Spencer, remember that you were in the middle of it all, and always will be.”