The Omega Children - The Return of the Marauders (A young adult fiction best seller): An Action Adventure Mystery (15 page)

Ari halted.

‘Great...so...what then?’

Melaleuca saw their frustrations, but felt unruffled.

Turmoil in the others creates calm in me.

‘We play, and we ─ ’

‘I’m not so sure,’ Lexington said. ‘We have no proof our parents were correct. They said they would return and didn’t. I want to list out everything that does not make sense and start there.’

Quixote’s face dropped. ‘You mean sit around and do writing.’

‘Figuring out. I propose a hypothesis. That’s where I put forward some theories and then we test them and see if the facts fit them.’

Melaleuca fought down her desire to scold Lexington. Was she hell bent on making her task as a leader difficult? Ari sensed this and meekly said, ‘Lexington needs to analyse Mel.’

‘Our parents were not wrong. I trust my instincts,’ Melaleuca said.

‘Then trust my need to prove this,’ Lexington replied.

‘Not without my say so.’

‘You can’t stop me.’

‘Ahh...girls...let’s just....,’ Ari said trying to intervene.

Lexington used her gentleness and said in soft sweet tones, ‘Tell us then. Make a decision. Are we to play or...’

Quixote whinged. ‘Let’s just do as our mothers said and follow what the note says.’

‘We don’t know who is leaving the notes or if they are true,’ Lexington shot back and then looked at Melaleuca. ‘Unless your decisions say something else.’

‘My decisions,’ Melaleuca repeated annoyed with her. ‘My decisions say ─ ’

She stopped and sat on the bed, shut her eyes and calmed her mind. Out of the contrasting options she only saw one path ahead though it did not make sense but then, as she reminded herself, it did not have too.

‘We are going to explore. We are going to play. We are going to pretend. This shall be just another game. We have a different adventure playground that’s all. I will take counsel from you now. I want to hear what you think, that I may consider it.’

‘But....,’ Lexington said, ‘playing now is now pointless!’

***

Quesob trudged through the forest with his aching wound and recited anti-pain mantras under his breath. Within hours he passed by the Throughnight Cathedral-Mansion and crossed the valley floor until he stood near the foot of the southern hills, home at last.

Smaller than the Throughnight Cathedral-Mansion, another Cathedral-Mansion pointed upwards from a grassy hillock though the top storeys had long since given way and the roof had fallen in.

Quesob walked up the knoll passing deadened stumps of once grand trees. The front of the Cathedral-Mansion lay boarded up and smoke ascended from behind it. Despite it being night he found the usual hive of activity there. Men tended to horses and worked in the fields, and a small blacksmith churned out smoke and fire, hammering away on an anvil. Servants busied themselves and mucked out various stables while washerwoman scrubbed mats and clothes.  A miserable looking bunch, clad in peasants’ rags, they did not notice Quesob at first. His mud encrusted uniform made him look like a local worker.

Quesob’s horse stirred in the corral, whinnying as he got closer. The workers looked up and stared a second time, recognising him. Instead of rushing to his aid, they muttered and went back to their tasks making it obvious they did not desire eye contact. Quesob knew in an instant something sinister was afoot. None of them knew where he had gone or for what - least of all that he had left New Wakefield and entered the forbidden outside world, so what then?

‘Where is the master? Lord Daquan, and why are you all out here? At this hour?’

The workers slowed their activity, staring wide-eyed at the ground, obvious to Quesob that each hoped he or she would not be asked.

Quesob heard someone utter, ‘Madness sir.’

‘It’s that Doctor Thurgood isn’t it?’

As tired as
he felt, he launched himself up the steps of the dilapidated Cathedral-Mansion and raced through the back entrance. He wound his way through the labyrinth of deserted stone hallways, stopping only when he reached the northeast wing, a part of the building still intact.

But it was quiet. Too quiet.

He slid his sword out of his scabbard and held it poised above his shoulders. With a soft tread he moved down the wing. Through boarded gaps in great arched windows small streams of thin moonlight fell, mixing with the naked flames of torches lining the hall.  Curious parchments of paper now lined the wall opposite the windows.

He stopped and read one.

“Please restrict sentences to no more than five words. If you must use more, please clear it first with Dr Thurgood Hofenstein.”

He relaxed his grip and read more of them.

“Words with two syllables good: words with more than two syllables bad.”

He did not think the motley crew outside would even know what a syllable was. He read on.

“When addressing Lord Daquan be sure to talk in a happy chirpy voice.”

Odd curiosity replaced his readiness for danger. Lord Daquan was eccentric. Quesob had never doubted that for a moment. Daquan had, after all, survived ten years in exile in the southern wasteland, a punishment no man in living memory had ever returned from.

What was he up to now?

Nothing stirred. Quesob sheathed his sword and strode to his master’s door, where months beforehand he and his master had planned the mission to the outside world.  Faded ornate patterns matted themselves around the doorframe of a large oak door. He raised his hand to knock when another notice caught his eye.

“Here is a list of approved baby words:

Goo, gah, gribble, mama, dada, goochy goochy goo, wuverly.”

Before Quesob could knock, the doors opened and a be-speckled white-cloaked Doctor Thurgood poked his scrawny head out and shot an annoyed glance at Quesob.

‘Whatever it is you want to see HIM about you shall have to relay to me.’

‘HIM is respectfully addressed as Lord Daquan,’ Quesob shot back, already fighting the desire to punch Doctor Thurgood right smack in the face.

‘Not any more. Did you not read the notices?’ Doctor Thurgood said in his squawky voice.

‘Get out of the way you fool. I come with important news. Now move!’

Doctor Thurgood jabbed a rake-like hand into the air and pointed at a notice on the opposite wall. It read:

“Lord Daquan shall now been known as ‘Nap Retep.’  Please address him accordingly.”

What was a Nap Retep? And why did he need to be called it? And why the secrecy?

Quesob kicked the door.

‘I will bite my tongue to my master but not to you. I will not call him Nap Retep.’

Doctor Thurgood withdrew, pulling the door shut a little and shook his head at Quesob. ‘No matter. You cannot see him. He is in a very delicate stage of his treatment.’

Quesob rammed his foot in the door.

Doctor Thurgood banged the door. ‘Hsssss. Take your foot out!’

‘He would want to see me about this.’

‘No he wouldn’t!’

‘Yes he would.’

‘NO HE WOULDN’T!’ Doctor Thurgood’s weedy neck muscles strained, making it look as stringy as a lizard about to attack.

Much was at stake and so Quesob spoke in a calm measured voice. ‘Please tell him that I am here.’

Doctor Thurgood muttered something under his breath, disappeared and reappeared moments later.

‘Very well. But you must talk to him like a baby.’

‘What?’

Doctor Thurgood tapped his head and flicked his hands around.

‘With your loutish pea-brain I expect you would struggle with the complexities of an explanation.’

Quesob entered the low lit room and in an instance saw his master’s study had been converted into an oversized child's nursery. Soft toys littered the ground, small cartoon horses frolicked on the wallpaper and bright blue thick drapes hung from the window. Even the wooden floor now had carpet patterned with roads and small houses. His master lay on his back in an oversized baby's cot, clad in a bulky nappy and uttering baby noises. His head was shaven and even his eyebrows and normally bushy beard had gone – all plucked out.

Quesob did not know what to make of it, let alone what to say.

‘Goo,’ Quesob said feeling stupid and resenting it.

Daquan’s face strained and turned red, his cheeks puffing out as his stomach bulged in and out.

Doctor Thurgood rushed past Quesob. ‘Get out of the way. This is crucial.’

Doctor Thurgood stood over Daquan encouraging him in a sweet voice. ‘Yes, that’s good, that’s good, do a nice poopy for daddy, good boy.’

Quesob’s insides reeled and he felt sick watching the sight. A splurging sound filled the air followed by an immense stink. The red puffy look on Daquan’s face subsided and returned to its new pale hairless flesh colour. He let out a sigh of relief.

‘Wonderful,’ Doctor Thurgood cried out.

Quesob cradled his pug-nose in his hand and tried to stop the stench from hurting his nostrils. It pushed him over the edge.

‘OH MY GOD. BY ALL THAT IS HOLY AND SACRED. WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO HIM?’

Panic screwed up Doctor Thurgood’s face and Daquan sat bolt upright, ripped from his baby-act, angry. A loud squashing sound accompanied him.

‘Tell him,’ Daquan said.

‘NO! Don’t break character,’ Doctor Thurgood yelled.

‘Then tell him,’ Daquan said again and lay back down with a squelching sound.

With great displeasure Doctor Thurgood started explaining. ‘We think we know why the bracelets stopped working.’

‘Think?’ Quesob said confused.

‘Yes. A cluttered mind you see, like yours.’ Doctor Thurgood peered down his thin nose at Quesob.

‘And that’s why Lord Daquan just shat himself.’

‘Nat Retep,’ Doctor Thurgood said.

‘This makes no sense.’ Dust fell from Quesob’s hair as he shook his head. ‘I travel for months to find the bracelets and come back to find this utter nonsense. My lord ─ ’

Daquan boomed at Doctor Thurgood, ‘Get to the point.’

He booted Doctor Thurgood in his thigh. The doctor let out a small cry, sniffed and pushed his glasses back up in a huff.

‘All right, I will explain so that the simplest of children could get it.’

Doctor Thurgood spun his head to face Quesob. His nostrils flared like a wild horse.

‘When does a child cease to be a child? Mmm, Mmmm!’

‘I don’t know,’ Quesob said staring at his twitching nostrils and finding them vulgar.

‘Of course you don’t. The dolt was never a child.’

Quesob started to reply but Doctor Thurgood stopped him with an upheld hand.

‘Try again. I shall rephrase. What happens to children in New Wakefield to make them disciplined?’

Quesob snapped to attention and said as if repeating like a robot, ‘Play and questions are the enemy of a disciplined soul,’ and then relaxed.

‘Yeeeeesssss!’

Doctor Thurgood pushed his face closer to Quesob’s and with a wide-eyed smile that bordered on insanity, said in amazement, ‘When they stop playing, when they stop pretending and start seeing what adult’s see. And what do adult’s see?’ He did not wait for an answer but with a flourish of his bony hand announced, ‘The world without imagination.’

He paused as if waiting for applause and then said with pride, ‘I have deduced the bracelets stopped working when the fun stopped.’

Quesob’s mind churned.

‘But that…that…is what we squash in childhood. Imagination prevents us from seeing what’s real.’

‘Ah ha! Spoken like the true dolt you are. I am vindicated once more.’

Quesob snarled at him clenching and unclenching his fists.

‘Ahhhh,’ Doctor Thurgood croaked with a relish, ‘violence, the last atavistic refuge of the stupid.’

Annoyed, Daquan pushed himself up.

‘No stay like a baby,’ Doctor Thurgood yelled.

Daquan whacked Doctor Thurgood around the back of the head with his hefty but hairless arm. ‘Fool. All you had to do was answer his questions.’

While Doctor Thurgood protested Daquan explained more detail in his normal gruff voice.

‘The bracelets stopped working properly when we were around 18 or 20 years of age. It seems so obvious now. That’s when things got serious. Youth is what makes the bracelets work. And the young have an uncluttered mind filled with fresh ideas that seem to make for nonsense. It’s that which we think powers the bracelets.’

‘And the...’ Quesob said pointing to the malodorous nappy.

‘I have to attain the mind of a baby if I am to use the bracelets.’

‘Yes, about the bracelets.’ Quesob looked despondent. ‘We searched the house high and low but nothing. We took care of the parents. The bracelets were nowhere.’

The news alarmed Daquan. Doctor Thurgood winched his disapproval. ‘No he should not worry about anything.’