The Superpower Project (3 page)

The old bomb shelter was a series of interconnected tunnels hollowed out under a cliff. Cam said it ran down underground for miles. Officially, of course, it was now considered a hazard, all blocked off and locked up. Unofficially, you could squeeze in behind the dodgy garages.

Cam was tucking his waterproof trousers into his welly boots for the third time.

“Cam, honestly, you're fine.”

“What about leeches?”

“I don't think you get leeches here. Or piranha.”

“You might. No one's been down here for years. It's an undisturbed ecosystem. Anything could be living there.”

“Velociraptors under Port Glasgow?”

“No. But there's that big cat people are always seeing on the hills behind the town.”

“And with miles of moorland to run across, it lives behind a supermarket? An urban puma?”

“Puma, velociraptor, piranha… whatever eats me, you'll have my mum to deal with.”

Megan was actually a bit scared of Cam's mum – she was a nurse and not really one for nonsense. One time she found out he'd been trading all the fruit in his packed lunch for chocolate and Haribo and he was only allowed to eat raw vegetables and porridge for the rest of the month. That had been a really tough month for everyone.

“Ok? Ready to go?”

Cam nodded glumly.

The two waded into the darkness. The water was deeper than Megan had thought it would be, and she was starting to wish they hadn't bought their torches in the pound shop.

Megan stopped suddenly and gestured for Cam to stop too. “Shh. What's that?”

A distant splash echoed through the empty dark. Then another. And another. The unmistakable splish-splash of something else, walking through the tunnels towards them.

Cam looked around, trying to get his bearings. “Which way is that coming from?” Megan shushed him again.

More splashing, faster now, and nearer.

Cam reached for Megan, taking her hand to run back the way they had come.

“No it's
coming
from that way. Go this way!” hissed Megan.

Cam turned his torch towards the nearest junction in the tunnels: two eyes beamed eerily back at them, reflecting the faded torchlight. Megan and Cam both screamed as the creature splashed quickly towards them, its startled eyes dancing ever closer through the black. In a moment, the terrified deer had run past them both and back out into the streets above.

Cam was still screaming long after it had gone.

“Cam? Cam it's away now. It was just a deer.”

“Did you see those eyes? It looked evil.” Cam fumbled through his pockets, finally producing a packet of chewing gum. “Evil.”

The two friends stood in silence for a moment.

“See,” said Cam, “there
could
be a puma down here.”

“Maybe that's why the deer was running,” said Meg. It was supposed to be a joke, but it was too soon.

“Can we go yet?” Cam scowled.

“Just five more minutes. My gran wanted me to come down here. I'd really like to know why.”

Steadying one another as they went, they wandered through what felt like miles of tunnels: past the rotted bench and bed frames where families must have huddled together as the bombs fell; past the tiny cubicles people used as toilets, and down towards the huge machines which stood at the tunnels' end.

“What are these?”

“Maybe for air conditioning. Or water pumps?”

The torchlight suddenly illuminated a face amongst the rust. Startled, Megan stumbled back into Cam.

“Look at this!”

It was a figure, a person, sculpted and built from metal. The head was a near perfect sphere, studded with rivets. Two eyes, large round bolts, stared vacantly into the shelter, and a wide rectangular gap, like a broken letterbox, was the figure's mouth. It hung open as if in surprise, or perhaps silently screaming.

“Cam, it's… it looks like a robot.”

In the low light of their pound-shop torches, steel still gleamed through all the grease and dirt.

“What do you think it's doing down here?” said Cam.

“I've no idea. Looks like it's been here a long time though. This must be what Gran wanted me to find.”

“But how did she know it was here? Did she build it, do you think?”

“Doubt it. She couldn't even do Lego.”

Cam tapped it gently with his torch. “It's a bit rusty.”

Megan was searching all around the robot for anything that looked important. “Hey, check this out, there's a button on his neck.”

“Don't push it!” shouted Cam. “You could get a shock or something.”

“Too late,” said Megan, pushing it anyway, and then jumping back a bit just in case.

Nothing.

Cam hit it with his torch again. “Oh well.”

At once, the robot's eyes flared an angry orange and it grabbed Cam's arm. “Unnnnnderaaaaaattack. Ehhhhhnnnehmeee.”

“Run!” shouted Megan.

“I can't run, it's got my arm!” shouted Cam, pointing to his arm as if proof was required.

“Let him go!” shouted Megan, which she knew was a bit of a long shot.

The robot immediately released its grip on Cam's arm and turned to look at Megan, eyes lighting up.

“Zeeraah.”

“Maybe that's its space name or something,” suggested Cam, rubbing his rapidly bruising arm.

“Wherry zerah?”

“Pardon?”

The lights in the robot's eyes flashed on and off in what felt like mild frustration. “Wherr ee zerahh?”

“Is that Spanish, Cam?”

“Not sure.”

“Well you're the one who's supposed to be learning it.”

“Where izz zerahh?”

Megan felt a bit sorry for the robot. She was sure if it could have managed another facial expression, it would have gone for exasperated.

“Serrah.”

“Wait… Sarah? Sarah my gran? Sarah Stone?”

Eyelights flashed. “Sarah Stone. Aye amfur Sarah Stone.”

“Your gran had a robot? How cool is that?” said Cam.

“I'm Megan Stone,” said Megan, smiling. “Sarah's my gran.”

“Take. Me. To. Sarah.”

Cam shuffled uncomfortably.

“I… I can't,” said Megan. “She… just died a few weeks ago.”

The robot's lights flickered silently, there were a series of clicks and whirring noises.

Megan instinctively touched the robot's cold metal arm. “How did you know my gran? I mean, she was always a bit funny, but having a robot seems odd even for her.”

“Sarah Stone.”

“Yes, how did you know Sarah?”

“Protect.”

“Like a bodyguard? Protect her from what?”

“What? Yes. What.”

“Don't be daft Megan, your gran didn't need a bodyguard. I saw her in the Post Office that time a guy tried to jump the queue. He ended up actually crying.”

“Well she must have used the robot for something – I mean why would Gran send me down here to look for it otherwise?” Megan turned to the robot and asked, “Why are you here?”

The robot leaned forward to look at Megan properly and its eyes brightened. “You. Look. Sarah.”

Megan sighed. Everyone always said they looked alike. It seemed like most questions were too tricky for the robot, so she decided to try something simpler. “Do you have a name?”

“Aye haf forgot.”

“Forgotten.”

The robot's eyes flickered again, like light bulbs before a power cut. It tapped the back of its head as if trying to knock the memory back into place.

Cam looked at his watch. “Well, this was weird, but shouldn't we be getting home now?”

“We can't leave him here,” said Megan, taking the robot's hand.

“
It
,” said Cam, “we can't leave
it
here. And yes we can. Come on, before something horrible down here wakes up feeling hungry.”

Megan stared at Cam very severely, so severely that Cam jumped back just a tiny bit.

“Cam, seriously. My gran left me a robot. I'm not leaving it rusting down a tunnel.”

Cam had seen this look before. It was the look that usually meant he was just about to be wrong. “Megan, think about it. Where will it go?”

“In your spare room?”

“All Mum's keep-fit stuff is packed away in there,” protested Cam. “You never know, she might actually go in and use it or something.”

“Well he can't stay here.”

A crackling beep echoed around the tunnel. Then another, shorter this time.

“Do you hear that? It's a bomb. Megan, it's a bomb, let's go!”

The robot once again grabbed Cam's arm, stopping him from running away.

“It's got me! Megan, it's got me. We're going to explode!” Cam struggled, trying to pull his arm free. “Get it off me! Megan, get it off me!”

“Stop it!” said Megan, which, to be fair, could have applied to either the robot or Cam. “That's enough. Both of you.”

The robot stared at Megan, and gently released Cam's arm. “I… sorry,” he said. “I did not want you to leave.”

Megan nodded. “I understand, but just to check, what is the beeping?”

“I am not a bomb.”

“That's exactly what a bomb would say,” said Cam, still rubbing his arm. “Let's go.”

“Wait,” said the robot. Slowly, he opened a rusted grille in his chest. Inside was a small machine, with springs and several buttons positioned around a large lever that ran from one end to the other. Wires ran up into the robot's head. As the beeping echoed again, the lever moved sharply.

“That's… I think that's a Morse-code machine,” said Cam, who did occasionally pay attention in science in case someone showed them how to do controlled explosions.

“A what?” said Megan, staring inside the robot.

“Morse-code machine. They used them for sending messages, especially secret ones during the war.”

“Oh yeah,” said Megan, “dot dash dot and all that. Why is it beeping?”

The robot's eyes flashed again. “I am receiving a message.”

There were a further series of beeps, and now also clicks.

“Who from?” asked Cam.

“There are five. Stone is one.”

“Stone?” asked Megan. “My gran Sarah Stone is one? Only five what?”

“Only five send messages. Sarah Stone is one of five.”

“My gran could send you messages?”

The robot nodded creakily. “Once. Ago.”

“Did she leave a message for me?”

“I cannot know. I'm forgotten.”

Cam was peering inside the robot's chest cavity, tapping on the machine. “There's nothing for it to print onto, all the paper has rotted.”

“Could you figure it out?” asked Megan.

“I could maybe look it up online. But not in here. No signal.”

“So he'll have to come with us?”

The robot squeakily nodded his approval once again and slowly began to move forward from the wall.

“He's attached! He's tied to the wall,” said Megan, horrified.

The robot dragged himself forward, eyes flashing blankly as he pulled the wires from the wall, brickwork crumbling behind him.

“Fine!” said Cam. “Fine then. But can we just go before the rest of the tunnel falls down?”

Cam peered out of the bomb shelter into the dark early evening. “Right, it looks pretty clear. Come on, let's just stay off the radar.”

“Radar?” The robot stopped suddenly, reached behind his ear and flicked a switch. “I am now invisible to radar.”

“Excellent,” said Cam, “that'll come in really handy if any submarines are looking for us.”

The robot stopped. “Is the submarine back?”

“Cam, stop confusing him!” said Megan. “We're fine. He means we should try not to be seen.”

“He should say what he means,” observed the robot, with just the slightest note of irritation.

“Yes. He really should.” Megan grinned. “Look, if anyone sees him we can just pretend he's our art homework or something we're building in IT,” she added. “I mean no one's going to think he's an actual robot, are they?”

Cam stared again at the rusted and muck-caked figure, shambling squeakily out of the tunnel. “Well, certainly no one who thinks robots are cool, no.”

The robot walked timidly forwards, creaking like an old garden gate. He looked around confused, as if trying to discover the source of the noise. Cam shook his head.

“I suppose he can't just be seen walking about though,” said Megan. “We'll have to carry him.”

“What? Are you joking? The whole way back to town?” said Cam.

“That would be… nice,” said the robot. “I am very stiff after all this time.”

Megan grabbed the robot's shoulders while Cam began lifting the legs.

“Have you got, like, an anti-gravity setting or something?” groaned Cam.

“Wait.” The robot opened his chest panel and pulled a lever. “Try now.”

Cam dragged up the robot's legs. “Nope! You weigh a ton!”

“Megan seems to be lifting with ease,” said the robot.

“We'll just stop when we get too tired,” said Megan, smiling.

Megan, Cam and the robot picked their way through the supermarket car park that hid the entrance to the bomb shelter.

“Do you know who built you?” Cam asked, when they stopped to rest.

The robot clicked and whirred once again. “What.”

“Who. Built. You?” said Cam.

“The engineer. What.”

“Ok. That narrows it down,” said Cam.

“Was it someone from Waterworx?” tried Megan, thinking of the Phoenix Egg in the shipyard.

“I was built in 1809.”

“Rubbish!” said Cam. “That's over two hundred years ago. They couldn't build robots like you in the olden days. Plus, you would have rusted away to nothing.”