Monster Republic (11 page)

‘Listen, Darren. Stare all you want. You’ll probably need a whole lot of quality staring time to get used to it. And that’s fine. I’m still not used to it myself. But I need you to hear me out.’

Darren gave a slow nod. ‘OK.’

Carefully, skirting the names and details, Cameron took him through a brief outline of his story. How he’d woken up in the lab and been rescued by a strange girl. How he had discovered what had been done
to him, and how he’d come looking for Darren.

His friend listened silently, his eyes widening at certain points, but he didn’t butt in and call Cameron a liar or – as was more likely – a nutter. For once, Cameron thought, maybe his new appearance was an advantage, helping to drive the reality home. It was hard to argue with a face like his.

Cameron got to the end of his tale. He paused for a moment, then followed it up with a request. ‘Thing is, mate, I need to know more about the accident.’

Darren grimaced. He took a breath, composing himself – probably still fighting his way past the initial shock of seeing Cameron. ‘You haven’t been following the news, then?’

‘No. With everything that’s happened, I’ve been a bit out of touch.’

‘You might wish you’d stayed that way.’ Darren sniffed. ‘It was bad. A huge explosion. They thought they’d have to evacuate the whole town until they realized that it wasn’t the reactor that had exploded, so no radiation.
But loads of people were killed. Roger and Alan and Lisa, as well as you … and Marie.’ Darren bowed his head and shrugged, looking nervous and awkward. ‘I’m Sorry about that.’

Cameron hadn’t mentioned the fact that Marie wasn’t exactly dead. For a moment he wondered if he should now tell Darren what had happened to her. But Darren seemed to have taken the rest of the story well. If Cameron went back, he’d have to admit that he’d left stuff out, and he felt sure that would break the trust they were building. Besides, how could he explain it to Darren when he didn’t understand it himself? One thing at a time.

‘Anyway,’ continued Darren, ‘they’re not sure what caused the accident yet, but the Fry Foundation has been looking after the families of the victims. Arranging counselling, doctors and stuff.’

‘Really?’ Cameron tried not to sound too sceptical.

‘Yeah. Dr Fry has planned this big memorial service next Friday. The whole town’s going
to be there. The Prime Minister is coming and everything.’

Cameron frowned. ‘The Prime Minister’s coming here?’

‘Yeah, Fry’s invited him to give the eulogy.’

‘Unreal!’ Cameron couldn’t believe the hypocrisy. ‘It’s Dr Fry who made me like this. And it was him who was responsible for that so-called “accident” in the first place.’

Darren looked sideways at Cameron. ‘Come off it. What do you mean?’

Cameron braced himself. This was the make or break moment.

‘That girl who rescued me, she’s part of this … community. Fry’s been working for the government, creating monsters who are supposed to be brilliant soldiers. And all his Rejects – the ones who managed to get away – have grouped together into something they call the Monster Republic. But that’s not important,’ he carried on hastily, seeing Darren’s brow crease into a frown. ‘She was the one who told me all about Fry and his experiments.’

Cameron studied Darren’s face as he digested this bombshell. As he expected, Darren shook his head dubiously. ‘Come on. Everyone knows that Fry’s a good guy. He’s been helping the town out for years. Charity stuff and all that.’

‘All I know is what I was told. And what I know from the lab.’ Cameron gestured again at himself. ‘But you have to believe that there’s some truth in what I’m saying.’

‘Well, there might be something in it,’ conceded Darren. ‘But you can’t trust everything Rora says, can you?’

The penny that dropped right then must have weighed a ton. Cameron had been careful to avoid any specific details like names and places.

So how did Darren know who Rora was?

Cameron covered his surprise and confusion by glancing at his wrist as if he was checking a non-existent watch. ‘Well, I reckon I’ve given you plenty to think about for now, anyway,’ he said. ‘I’d better be going. Can’t hang around too much in daylight with a face like this.’ He
gave a strained laugh that Darren didn’t join in with.

Instead, his friend lowered his head and looked away.

‘I’m Sorry …’

Cameron’s heart sank. A swift look to the side told him all he needed to know. Tall, shaggy-shouldered figures had stepped into view from behind the concrete pillars of the flyover.

Bloodhounds.

‘I’m sorry, Cam,’ Darren repeated pleadingly as the canine monsters advanced on Cameron. ‘They’ve taken my mum. I didn’t have a choice. You’d have done the same, I promise you.’

Cameron grimaced. So Rora had been right again. He’d put his friends in danger. He understood why Darren had betrayed him, but that didn’t make it any easier to swallow. A mixture of anger and embarrassment burned in his throat like bile as he choked back a harsh reply, glancing quickly from left to right, calculating his best escape route.

‘He’s right. He didn’t have a choice,’ sneered a voice from behind him. Marie’s voice, turned
ugly. ‘So, are you going to come quietly this time, loser?’

Cameron spun round. He could have done without another look into Marie’s eyes, now soured with that trademark Carl Monkton hatred. But at the same time, he didn’t feel much like standing with his back to her.

‘I hope not,’ continued Marie. ‘Dr Fry still wants you back, but if you ask me, he won’t care how many pieces you’re in.’

Carl swung Marie’s fist at Cameron’s face. He should have been ready, but either the monster had learned to move faster, or Cameron was still being fooled by the sight of Marie. Whatever the explanation, he was sent flying.

He landed in the mud, with the Bloodhounds closing in on him.

‘Rough him up nice, boys,’ the monster laughed, twisting Marie’s voice into still more horrible sounds. Cameron leaped to his feet, and braced himself into a combat stance, ready for the Bloodhounds.

Snarling viciously, the canine hybrids came
in at a run, steel jaws snapping. Cameron had to duck or fend off assaults from several directions. He had fought and beaten them before in a blind rage, before he even vaguely understood his new strength and fighting abilities. Now he had a potent new ally – his HUD. The internal display seemed to plot his enemies’ attacks, directing Cameron’s parries and guiding his own punches to where they would have most impact.

The Bloodhounds were like blunt instruments: dangerous, but direct, with no finesse. They simply tried to grab him and bring him down, or tear at him with their teeth. To Cameron, it was as if they were attacking in slow motion. He could easily outmanoeuvre them, dodging back out of their reach, or ducking in under their blows to deliver devastating counter-punches, more or less at will. It was like pitting a carthorse against a thoroughbred, or a playground bully against a kung fu master.

With a cry, Cameron leaped into the air, evading the jaws of his opponents snapping at
his feet, and delivered a well-placed double flying kick that put the last of them down.

He landed and met Marie with an acid grin.

‘Looks like your dogs need to go back into training.’

‘Looks like I’m needed,’ sneered the girl in response. ‘But before I go …’ She grabbed Darren’s arm and snapped it like a twig. Darren dropped to his knees, screaming in agony. Marie smiled angelically down at him. ‘Just in case you were thinking of chipping in to help your old buddy.’

Cameron stared in horror, immediately regretting his quip about the dogs. This was no joking matter. The brutal violence should have served as final confirmation that the creature he was looking at had nothing of Marie left inside. But as long as his eyes deceived him, it was impossible to accept that as the truth. Focusing on his contempt for Carl rather than his feelings for Marie, Cameron charged and met his enemy halfway.

If the Bloodhounds had turned out to be an easier match this time, this grotesque hybrid
of Carl and Marie had, if anything, grown tougher. She evaded Cameron’s first kick almost casually, and added injury to insult by trapping his leg and – with a sadistic twist – flipping him onto his back.

‘So you beat the Bloodhounds,’ said his opponent. ‘Big deal. Let’s see if you can handle
Carla
.’

Carla?
Cameron snapped himself upright, managing to block the next two attacks, but disastrously missing a third. A boot in the face sent him sailing backwards.

‘I know you always thought of yourself as a bit of a hero …’ hissed Carla, leaping closer, ready to continue the assault.

Cameron swept out with a kick, trying to knock her off her feet, but the thing that looked like his girlfriend hopped easily over it and stamped down hard on his leg as she landed.

‘… but I’ve got news for you, buddy …’

Cameron rolled to his feet, dodging another kick in the process. He spun and whirled with Carla, trading punches in a rapid, brutal succession. She really was quicker than before,
Cameron was sure of it. Maybe Dr Fry had been doing some training of his own. Carl even seemed to have started enjoying being a girl, showing his contempt for Cameron by sneaking little girlish slaps through his defences, before following them up with hard-knuckled rabbit-punches to the jaw or nose.

‘… you’re not meant to be a hero at all …’

Cameron doubled over at what felt like a jet-powered kick to the gut. Doing his best to ignore the pain, he switched to defence. Throwing out his arms and legs without thinking, he fought on pure, blind instinct, the way he had first battled the Bloodhounds back at the lab. Still Carla continued to hit home with monster punches and power kicks.

‘… you’re the
villain
. I mean, look at yourself – it’s what you were designed for. Why do you think Dr Fry couldn’t be bothered to put you together properly? You’re disposable! A one-shot wonder! A flash in the pan!’

Cameron growled. He’d had about enough. Actually, he’d had enough ten or twenty blows ago.

‘You want flashes?’ he snapped. ‘How about this?’

He thrust out his right hand to zap his rival with the Taser. Sparks flickered and danced across Carla’s body, and Cameron expected to see her flung backwards again.

Instead, she just flashed him one of Marie’s smiles and stood there, inviting him to have another go. Turning up the power, Cameron did. Twice. Again the blinding sparks fizzled harmlessly all around Carla’s body.

What was wrong? He went to zap her a fourth time, but Carla just blocked his thrust and brought her other arm up for a solid chop to his chest. Then she twisted his mechanical right arm, turning him round, and drove a foot into his back, propelling him into one of the concrete pillars supporting the flyover.

‘The thing about working for Dr Fry,’ said Carla, marching over towards Cameron’s prone body, ‘is he’s really good about sorting out the little glitches. You tell him you had a problem with electricity, he sorts you out with some insulation. So you keep on improving
without even having to try. It’s great. Beats the hell out of school.’

Cameron tried to haul himself up, feeling suddenly drained. The last impact had really taken it out of him. With a bleep, his HUD flashed up a message:
ENERGY LOW
. A level-indicator, like the battery bar on a mobile phone, told the same story, blinking close to empty.

Damn
, thought Cameron, shaking his head to try and clear it. He hadn’t even considered what power source all his electronic systems used to keep running. Whatever it was, it looked like he’d exhausted it with all those Taser blasts. Something else he had needed to know about his capabilities. Something he’d learned now – too late. His HUD chimed repeatedly:
ENERGY LOW
.

Cameron translated the bleeps into plainer English:
YOU’RE DEAD
.

Carla was sauntering towards him, taking her time. She too knew the fight was over.

‘Hey!’ cried a voice. ‘Cameron!’

Scrabbling to pull himself up from the dirt,
Cameron’s electronic eye groggily zoomed in on Darren, holding his skateboard aloft with his good arm. He flung it in Cameron’s direction. ‘Go! Get away!’

Cameron caught the board and, on reflex, dropped it at his feet and stepped on. Carla had reacted as soon as Darren had thrown the skateboard, breaking into a run. She was already coming at him fast. With a last look at Darren, and trying to shut out the insistent bleeping of the alarm in his head, Cameron kicked off. Feeling slightly less battered than the rest of his body, his power-driven legs quickly built up a speed that would have given Rora’s motor scooter some competition.

Incredibly, Carla kept on his tail at a flat-out run.

Cameron kicked harder, faster, opening up a gap, metre by precious metre. But a snatched look behind showed that Carla was finding more speed from somewhere too, legs powering unstoppably, pounding the tarmac into submission.

And now she might even be gaining on him,
eating up the space between them as fast as Cameron could feed it to her. It was crazy. Impossible. But it was happening.

Ahead loomed the entrance to the building site. On an impulse, desperate to find some means of shaking off his pursuer, Cameron veered in through the entrance.

He glanced back. No sign of Carla. Had he lost her?

To his left, a loud crash – and a shock. There she was, smashing clean through the wooden fence and coming at Cameron out of a shower of splintered planks. The brute-force short cut closed the distance a bit more.

With shouts of alarm, Cameron saw builders throwing down tools and bricks as they frantically scattered out of his way, swearing at him even as they dived for cover. Then they must have caught a proper look at him – because as their heads came up again, their faces wore stunned, horrified expressions. They stopped swearing and just stared.

Cameron swerved the board to avoid a cement mixer, losing vital seconds. There was
a tremendous thump behind him and he knew Carla had just hurdled the obstacle.