Hexad: The Chamber (25 page)

"Definitely. It's hot too, and the light is different." Saying the words made Dale very aware of the fact that the light was far from normal: it too was duller, as if the artificial sunshine was unable to shine properly and give out enough energy to sustain the artificial environment.

Suddenly Dale's stomach did a somersault, guts churning in panic and dread, before it subsided. He'd had a moment of sheer terror, thinking that if the interior wasn't being maintained properly then what would happen if the gravity was suddenly cut off, or it sped up or slowed down? What would happen then? Would they be flung into the center, trapped by weightlessness, or could they be crushed to death, flattened like a pancake if the pull became too great for the human body to withstand?

No, that at least felt just as it had before, but Dale really didn't feel like hanging about to see what would happen — he couldn't, this place wasn't for him. If he didn't leave soon then he'd just fade away into non-existence, as if he'd never been. For whatever reason, the whole Hexad mystery and everything that came after was tied up with Amanda, and the rifts in time that were the result meant that pure logic simply didn't apply anymore. They ran because of her, everything was because of her, and he may have played a large part in her life, be a part of the madness, but he knew he was nowhere near as important to the continuation of the universes trying to correct themselves as she herself was.

"Let's walk, try to find out what's going on here."

"Okay," said Amanda reluctantly. "Do you think they'll remember us from before? Remember what happened?"

"I doubt it. If we are in the same time as the one we were in on the outside, although to be honest I'm really not sure, then there will have been countless generations of Amandas since then. We won't even be a memory. And besides, this time will be different. We know what to expect, we just need to figure out what to actually do. Are you okay? Can you handle this?" Dale turned to look at her, and there was no doubt that she was a bundle of nerves, but that was to be expected. The question was would she be able to cope knowing what the women were doing, that some of them wouldn't take kindly to their interference, understanding it could mean the end of their existence if they meddled in the way things were?

"I'm okay. We don't have a choice, we have to do this."

"Right, let's go then. How about over there?" Dale pointed to the closest building: a stone cottage of quite generous proportions, although the haze of the atmosphere made it hard to make out much detail, the air thick almost like they were looking through a dirty window.

Amanda nodded in agreement; they began to walk.

The air was alive with a dull thrumming in the background. The noise of the machinery, Dale supposed, although he didn't recall being aware of it before, but that didn't mean it wasn't there. Then it hit him: he could hear it as there were no other sounds.

Where was the singing of the birds, the humming of the bees, the distant chatter of women? A constant noise that was here once, now making itself felt by its absence. It wasn't right, the ecosystem was broken somehow, everything was changed but for what reason Dale couldn't fathom yet. There would be answers soon enough though, answers or death, for him at least. Maybe both of them.

They carried on walking.

~~~

The cottage was quiet. No Amanda came out to greet them, nobody shouted at them, tried to attack or stared at them with cold, unwelcoming eyes. All that remained was the humming of The Chamber and an unkempt garden. Plants had grown large and wild, once neat borders were thick with weeds, previously neatly cut lawns spilling over onto once well-maintained paths.

Fruit trees were gnarled and sickly, raised vegetable beds full of nothing but a few self-seeding salad plants that had been faring well left unsupervised and without control.

As they walked up the garden Dale realized what else was different about The Chamber: there was no smoke coming from any of the chimneys, no signs of life at all for that matter.

The place was dead.

What the hell was going on?

"Dale, do you think we're too late? Could something have happened and we've arrived only to fail before we even try?"

"I don't know, I'm not sure what to think. Part of me feels relieved if it really is true there aren't any Amandas locked in this terrible place, but I don't know what that actually means. It could be good, it could be very, very bad."

"I don't get this, something's way off here," said Amanda, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot, rubbing her arms as if she'd suddenly gone cold.

"We came to put things right, to stop what Cray does, and people or no people in here, he's still ruined the future for everyone, so that hasn't changed. If it had then we wouldn't be standing here, we'd know nothing of any of it as we'd have never done any of it. It would be wiped from our minds and we'd be back where we should be before we ever took our first jump, so whatever is going on it doesn't change anything." Dale was resolute, determined to see things through. The lack of life was certainly disconcerting, and didn't bode well, but they still had their job to do, no matter what.

"Let's go look inside, maybe we can find a clue." Amanda walked reluctantly up the little path and pushed open the simple wooden door to the cottage. Dale followed behind, knowing it would be fruitless.

Standing in the middle of a low-ceilinged living room it was apparent that the home had been unoccupied for some time. There was an air of decay to the dark, cramped space — much smaller than Dale had imagined from the outside. Dust clung desperately to the furniture in layers, making strange swirling patterns probably due to the slightly abnormal gravity. When Dale put a hand to the bright scatter cushions he could feel the dampness and a musty smell stung his nostrils.

The kitchen was the same; they didn't need to look any further. The house was strange, like many different Amandas had occupied it and each had their own quirks. Pieces of furniture were painted with bright designs, while more recent occupants had clearly disliked the tainting of the wood and had tried to make it original again. There was even an unfinished project on the kitchen table, a small footstool that was partially sanded back to bare wood.

Dale had seen enough and hurried outside for some stale, but still much fresher air.

Would it be the same everywhere? Were there no women left inside any longer?

They began to explore, heading towards the dome where they knew they had to be if they were to have any chance of stopping Cray from using The Chamber as one monstrous time machine.

There were strange sights as they made their way: random holes dug in the ground, revealing dirty metal far below, as if an attempt had been made to find a way out, to no avail. If you didn't know where to dig then you wouldn't stand a chance, and that was far from the only sign of discontent. They passed a few fire-damaged buildings, definitely a bad idea in a sealed environment, but from all appearances the flames had been doused well before the buildings themselves crumbled, it was more that the interiors were blackened, everything covered in soot, but not completely destroyed.

Other signs of neglect were more horrific. They came to what Dale knew was a graveyard, a surprise as they had witnessed countless bodies through numerous timelines being taken from The Chamber. At some point all that must have changed and now row after row of neat mounds dotted a field where stunted daisies clung to life, maybe giving their last energy to flower in the hopes of pollination that would never happen. But many of the holes were so shallow that Dale could see limbs poking out of the soil as it settled back down, skin shining dull blue in the sickly light like fading neon tubes.

"What do you think this means?" asked Amanda, staring at the desperate makeshift wooden markers, the insanity of the name Amanda scratched roughly into each and every one of them.

"That Cray gave up caring, or couldn't cope any longer. That things got bad in here, very bad I would imagine. It's humid in here, but if the systems for providing water to the crops didn't work then that wouldn't be enough to allow them to survive. There aren't any animals anymore so I assume they died, maybe that's what... Oh, sorry."

Amanda was on her knees, bent over a particularly rough marker, Amanda scrawled on it in nothing but pen, gone over and over until it was thick, the faded ink almost impossible to read, the grave still dark where grass had failed to grow over the infertile soil. Dale crouched and dug a hand into the dirt, finding it dry and brittle, the clumps falling apart in his hand like sand. There were no worms, so what other important creatures of the earth were missing? Such considerations would be of vital importance if an enclosed ecosystem had any chance of succeeding.

Would that mean that the bodies of the women would mostly still be there, not really rotting, not being eaten by the bugs and the worms, forever entombed in their strange world, never even truly returning to the earth and finding a final peace?

Dale shuddered and got to his feet. "Come on, I know this is going to be bad but we need to go to that machine." Amanda looked aghast, eyes dark, the skin underneath as blue as the ailing light emanating from the dome. "You can wait outside, but I need to check. I'm sorry."

That Funny Feeling

Time Unknown

Dale whispered for Amanda to stay back, although it was clear she was reluctant to be alone, if even for a few minutes. But it wasn't the sight of the innocuous stone building housing the terrible machine that had stopped the pair of them in their tracks, it was the sight of the back of an old woman, squatting down wearing a faded Paul Simon t-shirt that hung off her gaunt frame like it was draped over a wooden pole, which gave them both pause. They could only see the back of her head — her skull was visible between the long wispy strands of sick-white brittle hair.

"Wait here," said Dale again, Amanda tugging at his sleeve as he went to leave. "What?"

"Just be careful, and be kind. Whatever has happened, she is an old woman. And me." Amanda stared deep into his eyes, making sure he understood. Dale nodded.

The woman didn't turn as he approached, just carried on squatting there, seemingly unaware of his presence. As Dale got close the terrible state of her body became more apparent — there really was little left of her but flesh and bone. Was she the last? Were there more like her? Time to get some answers.

"Hello, I'm Dale."

The woman turned her head to the side as Dale walked around her to be in front, following him with dead eyes; uncomprehending eyes. She looked away from him, dismissing him as if he wasn't even there, and continued with what she was doing. She was digging. Digging in the dead soil with a stick that was as twisted as her own arthritic hands. The stick was all sharp frayed edges where she was clutching it like a prized possession and her hands were bleeding as a result — it was clear she neither cared or felt it any longer.

It was Amanda, as he'd never seen her before, as he never wanted his Amanda to see herself — she was broken, an empty shell. More dead than alive.

Dale crouched down in front of the woman, watching as she tried to dig out the soil with the stick, but she was so weak that she barely scraped the surface, more like a child with a crayon trailing it along paper before really understanding how to draw. "Can you hear me?"

The old Amanda looked up at him, almost as if she recognized the voice finally, and said, "Worms. There should be worms." Her voice was little more than a whisper, dry and raspy, like she had a mouthful of the dead soil.

"There should be. Where did they go?"

"Old, old worms, all die. Everything die."

"What happened here?" asked Dale quietly, mesmerized as the woman continued her futile digging, never stopping for an instant.

"Worms, there should be worms. Worms, worms, worms."

Dale tried again to talk to her but she was lost, no longer of the world, gone to her own place, maybe to escape whatever it was that had happened.

Knowing he would get no answers, and worried he would upset her if he pushed too hard, Dale moved away and left her to it. There was nothing to be gained from disturbing her, nothing good anyway.

Signaling to Amanda, Dale continued to walk away from the old woman, and a relieved Amanda joined him, never once trying to go talk to her herself. She knew it would be too much to take, so kept well away.

"Was it me?" Amanda asked.

Dale nodded. "She's gone though, lost to herself. Let's leave her be." Dale couldn't say more, he didn't have it in him. It felt like the joy, the life and the thankfulness, was being sucked out of him like that foul machine did in the room he had yet to enter. He felt like just giving up, waiting for it to all be over. Would he ever laugh again? Would he and Amanda ever be together? Be normal? It didn't feel like it. Not now, not ever.

"I don't think we're going to find much in here," said Dale. "I think we need to go back outside, soon. This place is doing things to me, strange things, and I get the feeling it's just going to get a lot worse."

"You feel it too? I thought it was just me, not coping very well, but it's like all the joy is being eaten up and replaced with nothing, like this place is sucking my soul, leaving me all empty and dead. Just like this." Amanda kicked at the dirt, dust flying up a little bit higher than it was really supposed to.

"Yeah, one more stop then we get out."

"How?"

"Just like last time, hopefully."

They walked in silence towards the building, Amanda getting slower the closer they got, until she stopped altogether when they were a few paces from the partially open door, light, clear and bright, spilling out onto the barren earth.

Dale squeezed her hand and said, "It's all right, wait here."

He opened the door wide enough to squeeze inside; he closed it behind him.