Monster Republic (12 page)

‘You’re mine, Reilly!’

Carla’s yell sounded dangerously close. But Cameron couldn’t risk looking back to see how close. More obstacles were coming up fast: a JCB, a section of low wall and a pair of enormous metal girders pointing skywards at a steep angle, balanced against a stack of bricks. Lungs burning, Cameron dodged the JCB with scant room to spare, Carla catching up all the while, practically breathing into his ear.

Then a crazy idea lodged in his head. He was never going to outpace Carla on the ground. But what about in the air …?

Desperately Cameron steered for the nearest girder. He kicked and kicked, building up as much raw speed as he could muster. Braced and balanced, there was no time for anything more than the briefest of prayers as he leaned back and nosed the front of the skateboard off the ground.

He hit the girder with a jolt that almost threw him from the board.

But it didn’t.

Regaining his balance, Cameron carried on, the skateboard shooting up the length of the narrow iron beam, further and further from the ground. Behind him, Carla shouted again, but Cameron didn’t hear the words. He stole the swiftest of glances behind and she was right there, lunging for him. Racing up the narrow girder like an insane tightrope-walker.

Cameron faced front and focused on the end of his impromptu ramp – and the stretch of motor way beyond. He was running out of girder, and this next stunt was going to be
way
trickier than just hitting the ramp had been …

As he bent his knees and grabbed the board, he felt Carla’s hand snatching at the ends of his hair. Then he was airborne, sailing off the end of the girder – arcing through space, it felt like – clutching the board to his feet.

From somewhere far behind now, it seemed, he heard Carla’s scream of frustration. He looked back, and saw her balanced precariously
on the tip of the girder, arms windmilling, a furious scowl managing to make her beautiful face ugly. Without the momentum Cameron had gained with the board, she hadn’t been able to make the jump.

He had finally shaken off his pursuer.

It was only a small consolation though. Because, as he hit the top of his arc and began accelerating downwards towards the approaching lanes of traffic shooting along in either direction, he realized that the landing was surely going to kill him.

Soaring through the air, the wind whistling past his face, Cameron clung to the skateboard, desperately trying to coax it towards the gap between lanes. But the motor way was rushing up to meet him too fast. Twisting his body in mid-air, he managed to turn the board enough so that he was at least travelling in the same direction as the traffic. Grazing the top of a huge articulated lorry, he braced himself as he came slamming down on the tarmac just in front of the metal monster.

Cameron felt the board bowing beneath his feet, threatening to snap under the strain but, amazingly, it held. His momentum carrying
him forward, Cameron swerved to the left, out of the path of the lorry. The angry driver sounded his horn deafeningly, and Cameron let out an enormous, triumphant ‘Whooooo!’ in reply, adrenaline surging through him.

But his chance for celebration was short-lived. And he would be too, if he didn’t focus right away on dodging the rushing traffic. It didn’t help that his HUD was still blinking furiously at him, its supposedly helpful warning now a hazardous distraction as he propelled himself along the narrow corridor between lanes.

Cars and trucks whooshed past, perilously close, swerving violently as they caught sight of him, their after-tow threatening to throw him off balance. Horns blared, drivers and passengers stared with wide eyes, shaking their fists as he whizzed past. Cameron knew that some would soon be on the phone to the police. He had to get off the bypass and out of sight as quickly as possible.

The road ahead curved into a gradually steepening downward slope. As he accelerated
downhill, Cameron’s first thought was that freewheeling might help him conserve energy. The problem was, the slope didn’t show any sign of levelling out and, unlike the cars around him, he didn’t have any brakes …

The board was racing along now. Cameron had no idea how fast he was going, but he did know that he was testing his reactions – and his nerve – to the limit. He was forced to veer this way and that, dodging cars behind him, in front of him, and rushing past on either side.

Still picking up speed, he weaved past a gleaming Porsche 911, squeezing his board into the gap between it and a high-sided truck thundering the other way. Wind buffeted him from all sides, threatening to knock him under the wheels as he sped through the narrow corridor and shot out the other end.

It was insane. Freakishly insane. Heart pounding, eyes glancing everywhere at once, Cameron looked desperately for a way out of this death-trap.

Finally, ahead of him at the foot of the hill, he spotted a slip road and the sprawl of a
service station nestled close to the junction. At once, he was hit by the one thing he wouldn’t have objected to being hit by earlier – an idea.

Calculating the distance and the speed of the traffic around him, Cameron’s HUD flashed up a pathway through the speeding vehicles and into the slip road. It would be tight, but there didn’t seem to be many options.

Bracing himself, Cameron cut across the traffic, aiming for the turnoff.

A protesting squeal of tyres came from behind him, but he’d made it into the slow lane. Breathless, his HUD constantly tracking distance and remapping his trajectory, Cameron steered a tight curve at the base of the hill, veered left into the exit lane and onto the garage forecourt.

He shifted his balance in an attempt to bring the board round in a spinning stop, but he already knew it was hopeless. As if it was punishing him for his speed-freak antics, the board chucked him off and Cameron went
clattering and crashing across the tarmac, feeling the hard surface shredding his skin and bashing dents into his metallic parts. He finally slid to a stop against the back wheel of a tatty old flat-bed truck.

Battered and bleeding, Cameron pulled himself back onto his feet. He glanced around for Darren’s skateboard, but it was smashed beyond repair.

Time to switch transportation.

The truck was the only vehicle at the pumps. Luckily the driver, a tall burly figure in a hooded top, was inside, paying at the desk. Limping to the back, Cameron hauled himself into the truck, ducked down and pulled a muddy tarpaulin over himself. It was rough and dirty, but Cameron didn’t care. For the first time since he’d woken in Fry’s lab, he was utterly, genuinely tired. Exhausted, even, as his HUD kept reminding him:
ENERGY LOW
.

He lay back and closed his good eye. He needed to rest. Just for a moment …

The grumble of the engine jolted Cameron awake in a panic. The truck was moving, and with a shock he realized he had no idea how long it might already have been travelling. He was still groggy and dog-tired and, infuriatingly, his HUD was still blinking away:
ENERGY LOW – CRITICAL
.

Cameron wished he had some way to shut it off. He tried concentrating on the energy bar and thinking the word ‘off’, but it just carried on flashing. He stuck another word in front of the ‘off’, but that didn’t work either.

Poking his head out from under the tarpaulin, Cameron saw rows of houses slipping past. The truck was still in Broad Harbour and he thought he recognized the area, but his senses were still too foggy to work out how far he’d come.

Sitting back on the bed of the truck, he let himself get bumped around a bit. If nothing else, the vibration and growl of the engine would keep him awake. Gathering the tarpaulin over his head as a crude sort of hood, Cameron watched the world roll by. The truck seemed
to be heading for the outskirts of town, which was a good start. It gave him time to breathe and consider where on earth he was going to go from there.

He shivered, and not just from the cold. The anger and confusion that had been driving him ever since he woke in Fry’s laboratory was fading now, replaced by the numbing sensation of fear.

At first, despite the shock of discovering what had been done to him, Cameron had been certain that everything could be put right somehow. Now he wasn’t so sure. Everything seemed to be going wrong.

He had walked out on Rora and the Republic. Burned his bridges. Even if he could find his way back, there was no way they would take him in again now. His family had sent him packing – hadn’t even recognized him. Now his best friend had betrayed him. Where was there left to turn?

Nowhere. He was on his own. Just the thought made Cameron shiver again. Could he live alone? Make his way somewhere far
from civilization, where no one would ever find him?

Impossible! Cameron shook his head. He was too used to being part of a crowd. Hanging out with his friends. Even spending time with his family. He wasn’t a loner. He needed company – somewhere he felt he could belong. But where did he belong now?

Slowly an answer slid forward from the shadows at the back of his mind.

What if I
do
belong with Dr Fry?

The idea was insane, of course. Cameron had seen at first hand that Fry was more of a monster than any of his creations. But the thought wouldn’t go away. It was lodged in his brain like a sliver of ice.

And was it
really
such a crazy idea? If he did go back to the lab, not only could he get a much-needed recharge but also the training to use all his powers properly. Maybe he could even find out about Marie – if there was some way to undo whatever Fry had done to her …

But as much as he was sure Fry could help
him, Cameron was certain that the doctor’s help would have a price. And if he put himself at Fry’s mercy, what would there be to stop him tweaking Cameron’s programming to make sure he was an obedient and unquestioning little soldier? Taking away what little control he had left over his life?

That wasn’t a risk he could take. So where did that leave him?

Just then, the sight of a familiar stretch of houses prompted him to sit up. Cameron couldn’t believe it: the truck was trundling through his part of town, down a road that ran directly past the end of his street. He sat up, craning his neck for a good look at home.

He half gasped as he caught sight of his mum, his dad and his sister, all of them out by the front gate. Despite the whine of protest from energy-starved motors, Cameron zoomed in on them with his electronic eye. His arm twitched, all set to shoot up and wave.

His heart stopped.

They weren’t alone. Men were filing past them, two carting the sofa down the path to an
enormous lorry parked against the kerb. As Cameron’s truck rumbled on, he caught a glimpse of writing on the side of the lorry, and one word jumped out at him:
REMOVALS
.

The world hadn’t been satisfied with rolling by. The world needed to be cruel. His family were leaving. Leaving home. Leaving town. Leaving him. Apparently they didn’t feel there was anything left for them in Broad Harbour either.

Utterly drained, Cameron collapsed back, lying flat on the truck’s cargo bed. He didn’t much care where it took him now. His HUD flashed pitifully. That zoom must have been the last straw. He could sense his vision dimming, although whether it was from loss of power or the tears that were filling his eye, he couldn’t say. He felt his mechanical arm go suddenly dead, becoming a big lead weight at his side. The rumble of the truck’s engine grew steadily quieter, as if someone was turning down the volume on the world. His breathing was becoming more laboured and he was vaguely aware of other warning icons
flaring feebly up on his HUD, before snuffing out like candles.

As his systems started to shut down one by one, Cameron was way ahead of them, feeling more and more alone. Isolated. In darkness.

Moving was always a nightmare. So much upheaval, so much to organize. And it was a hundred times worse when one of your family was missing. So Rora stayed close to the door, chewing her nails as she supervised the Republic’s packing operations, hoping against hope that Cameron would come back through it.

Relocating was a way of life for the Monster Republic, but the fact that it was routine didn’t make it any less of a pain. Rora could see the tension she felt reflected in the gazes of everyone who went past, lugging equipment and furniture out of the safe house.

All except Slater. His expression was one of barely concealed satisfaction.

‘Expecting someone special?’ he asked slyly, lingering over the last word.

‘Don’t start,’ Rora snapped. ‘I’m not in the mood.’

‘What’s got into you, Rora? You going soft? We’ve never taken non-Rejects into the Republic, you know that.’

‘You had your part to play in this,’ she accused him flatly. ‘You drove him out with just this sort of attitude. Now we’re all having to pay for it.’

‘Hey, it’s not my fault if your new boyfriend happens to be a security risk. But I’m glad you brought it up, because we
will
have to pay if we don’t get a shift on. Like, right now. If he’s gone back to Fry, the Bloodhounds could be here any minute.’

Rora scowled, and glanced at the doorway again.

‘You can go ahead with the others. I’m not budging. If we all move on now, Cameron’s not going to be able to find us again.’

‘Good point. And he won’t be able to lead the Bloodhounds to us, either.’

‘Slater, if you don’t—’

‘If you can’t take the tough decisions, Rora,
maybe you should make way for someone who can.’

The room came to a halt. Rora could see that everyone had stopped what they were doing, waiting for the outcome of Slater’s blurted challenge.

The moment had finally arrived.

Rora knew how much Slater wanted to lead the Republic, and how long he’d wanted it. But she also knew what sort of a leader he would make. Inflexible. Unsympathetic. He didn’t understand that being strong wasn’t enough.

Time to put him straight.

She turned to face the taller boy. ‘Back off, Slater.’