The Collector Book One: Mana Leak (31 page)

* * *

Joe had pulled the two armchairs to the window, and sat perched on one of the arms, his face at one of the holes in the makeshift barricade.

“Any change?” asked Anne, entering the living room.

“Nothing, but they’re still there.”

“The waiting is killing me,” she said. “I just wish they’d do whatever it is they’re planning and get it over with.”

Joe looked away from the hole.

“Are you sure? My stomach is twisting just thinking about what’s going to happen.”

“Right.” She sighed. “It was a stupid thing to say. Drink?”

She offered him the bottle.

He nodded, thanked her and took it from Anne’s grasp. He undid the stopper and swallowed deeply. The wine tasted sour, slightly off its best, but the cold liquid soothed his dry throat.

“I needed that more than I thought,” he said. “Do you drink much?”

“Not really,” she said, receiving the bottle and taking a few swigs herself. “Frank thinks only bad mothers drink, which reminds me…”

She placed the bottle down on the small coffee table.

“I should go and check on the kids now Frank is down here.”

“No need, I’ve just nipped up,” said Joe. “They’re both sleeping like babies, Jenny too for that matter. My grandmother’s watching over them, and Jake is glued to a gap Frank left on the window. It’s like he can’t believe what he’s seeing and can’t pull himself away.”

“Your grandmother has been great through all of this. Things would be a lot worse without her here.”

“Tell me about it. My whole life would be a lot worse without her.”

Anne sat on one of the arms of the other armchair.

“You two do seem awfully close. I was never really friendly with my own grandparents.”

“My parents died when I was a toddler, a car crash. My grandparents looked after me until I left for university.”

“I’m sorry. It must have been tough.”

“They were wonderful,” he replied. “I couldn’t have wished for a better upbringing. I’m sorry for the way I feel about my parents. I mean, I never knew them, it happened when I very young, you know? My memory of them is what has been patched together by what my grandparents told me. I regret not having them, but I don’t miss them.”

Anne nodded. “It’s nothing to feel guilty about,” she said. “It’s just the way things turned out.”

“I do miss my grandfather though. I know my grandmother is still cut up about it.”

“I remember we moved in just after he died,” Anne said. “Eleanor was quieter back then, but she’s come out of herself since. She’s had a lot more to deal with, especially that incident with the Dean twins.”

“Yeah,” said Joe. “I can’t believe she’s sat upstairs in the same room as Jake right now. And as for what became of Adam…” He shook his head. “How things can change, eh?”

Anne thought back to Frank, alone in the kitchen, a shadow of his former self.

“Yes,” she agreed, reaching across and taking another few gulps from the wine bottle.

“What’s your secret?” she asked Joe, replacing the stopper.

“How do you mean?”

“You’re so confident. Since you came in, nothing seems to have fazed you. You just get on with it, whether it’s boarding up windows or saving my son, you take it all in your stride. How do you do it?”

Joe laughed.

“You think I’m dealing with all this well?” he chuckled. “I’m scared to death.”

Anne smiled. “You don’t look it.”

“It’s a show, been adapted over time. It’s something I’ve learned to be, all smiles and glowing confidence. I hate it, but it’s a hard habit to break.”

“An easy mask to put on, but impossible to take off,” Anne said, her smile slipping.

“Uh-huh.”

“Why do you have to be like that?”

Joe sighed. “It’s my job really.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a graphic designer, or as my grandma puts it, someone who draws things for a living.”

“Don’t you like it?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I love it, well, used to. It was the bloody
New World Design
that ruined things.”

“The
New World Design
of Carter sportswear? You designed that?”

“Yeah,” Joe said, scratching the back of his head, looking embarrassed. “Sort of…”

“That’s one of the most well-known logos in the world,” Anne exclaimed. “It’s up there with the McDonalds golden arches, the Microsoft window and even rivals the Nike slash!”

“Which is why I have to show an air of confidence and self-satisfaction, so everyone believes
I
designed it.”

Anne frowned.

“I thought you said that you
did
design it?”

“If I tell you this, you have to keep it secret, even from Frank. Bet he’d love to get it out in the open.”

“If it’s so secret,” asked Anne, “then why are you telling me?”

“Because I have to tell someone. It’s been eating me up for years and it would feel good to unburden.”

“What about your grandmother? Surely you confided in her?”

“She wouldn’t understand, either that or tell me to go along with it, which I’m already doing.”

“You’ve got me confused now,” said Anne.

“Then I’ll just tell you. It might clear things up.”

Anne slid off the arm and settled in the seat of the armchair.

“I was hired by Carter Sportswear to design a new logo for all their clothing: tracksuits, hats, trainers, socks, even athletic equipment. There were three of us designers working separately on the project, and only one of us would get the contract. The competition was fierce, and I knew I had to do something special.

“I spent weeks on my design and prepared for the big presentation. It was in front of the chairmen. There was Clarkson, an incredibly tall, thin man, Henreid, who looked like a shaven Santa Claus and Pires, who was so old, it was surprising he was still alive.”

Anne smiled, and Joe continued.

“I should probably tell you what the original design was like. It was very simple.”

He drew a waving line in the air with his finger that tapered off at the end.

“You spent weeks on that?” said Anne. “It’s just a squiggle!”

“That’s what they said. You need to look beyond what you can see and imagine what the image says.”

He traced it in the air again.

“I can see waves, a bouncing ball, obstacles that get smaller the further you go on, a calming heart rate and if you look from the side, a track leading off into the horizon.”

“All things to do with sport, in one squiggle,” said Anne. “You did put some thought into it. Very clever.”

“It’s my job,” said Joe. “Unfortunately, even after explaining it to them, they couldn’t see past the squiggle. I knew I was on the verge of failing and blowing the contract, so I started talking about the ease of the design. You know that kids and teenagers are the biggest consumers of this type of product?”

Anne nodded.

“Adam,” she swallowed. “Adam wore Carter Sportswear all the time, like he was making some kind of statement.”

“Exactly! They scribble these logos into their school books, have them made into jewellery, get tattoos done, even have them shaved into the back of their heads! I tried to explain that they needed a simple design for all this to happen. I think it’s dumb myself, but whatever sells more tracksuits, you know?”

He smiled and shook his head.

“I pulled a piece of paper and a pen from my briefcase, intending them to draw the logo, see how simple it was. I know…it was a pathetic idea, but I was running out of time. Thing is, I didn’t check the paper first.

“Clarkson looked at it and smiled. There was a collection of small, interlocking circles in blue on the paper. He thought that this was the real design, and the rest of the presentation had been some kind of sales ploy to unveil it. Henreid and Pires also gushed over it. They offered me the contract there and then.”

Anne frowned.

“Well, what was it? You couldn’t have one of the most famous logos in history in your briefcase and not know…”

“Oh, I did. See, earlier that day, I was making some late notes for the presentation. My pen wasn’t working well, so I pulled out a piece of paper and-”

Joe made some brisk circular motions with an imaginary pen.

“And they thought it was a design?”

“Yeah,” said Joe. “More fool them.”

Anne laughed. “Millions of kids are showing off that logo, and it was only your attempt to get your pen working?”

Joe smiled too.

“The board saw the rings as a symbol of unity and a nod towards the Olympics, yet my squiggle was beyond them.”

“So why are you so bothered? You must have made some money from all this?”

“I’m quite comfortable, yes. But it’s all a lie. My own work was looked upon as a joke. I have to pretend that the
New World Design
you know today was my brilliant idea, not a result of a faulty ballpoint.”

Anne peeked outside.

A Prowler had broken rank, and a group nearby pounced on the individual, snipping off its legs and shearing the body apart in a black geyser.

“One less to worry about,” she said.

“They really are restless now,” Joe said, also staring out. “They’ve been waiting out there for over an hour.”

“Maybe they’re just standing guard,” she suggested. “Making sure that we don’t try and make a run for it.”

A heavy thump shook the wall, and they both glanced up.

“That sounded like it came from the kitchen,” said Joe.

“But Frank’s still in there.”

Anne leapt from the armchair and ran to the doorway.

“Frank?” she called. “You okay in there?”

Her hands shot to her mouth.

“Anne?” Joe cried. “What’s the matter?”

The end of the hall glowed with a powerful, blue light that beamed out from the kitchen.

“Has Frank replied?” asked Joe, now at her side.

“No. What do we do?”

Joe squeezed her shoulder.

“We’re going to have to go in there,” he said, the deep ocean blue of the light dancing in his eyes.

8.

Jake gasped, watching the Prowler get torn to pieces by its own comrades. Since Frank had finished boarding up the window with the bedroom door, Jake was transfixed by the vast army gathered in the street. There was a narrow gap between the window sill and bottom edge of the horizontal door. Here he crouched, knees leaning against the wall.

Fear formed a weight at the pit of his stomach, like he’d swallowed a ball of lead.

But bring them on
, he thought.

If he stood guard while they fucked around downstairs, fine by him. He stayed vigilant for the threat of another machine.

The man with the red hair had showed them a few of his tricks: the things outside, the creature that came through the window and the Megathon. Who was to say he didn’t have more? More Megathons, or the destroyed remains in the garage could spring back to life. Who knew what could happen anymore?

The Prowlers were disturbing, but the thought of another Megathon horrified him.

If another one does come
, he thought,
it’ll march straight through the wall. Our shitty defences won’t stand a chance.

And then the grinding will begin…

He mentally shook himself away from this path. Thoughts of the Megathon preceded thoughts of Adam, and with that came the loss, the suffering and torment.

Jake felt sick with grief. He understood how people could lose a limb, but still be able to feel it after its severing. The connection Adam and he shared as brothers, and twin brothers at that, still existed. He realised the temporary nature of this feeling. The real mourning would come later.

His mother lay on a mattress beside him, blankets wrapped around her body. The clothes Anne selected for her were too small. The T-shirt stretched tight as she inhaled; her breasts pushed into two large, flattened mounds. She mumbled something inaudible and shook her head before sinking back into deeper and apparently calmer waters of sleep. Jake guessed what she dreamt about.

At least she’s clean now
, he thought.

Jake had managed a quick wash in the sink as his mother showered. Some of the dried blood clung tenaciously to his long, black hair, but apart from that, he’d scrubbed most of it out. His clothes were sodden and became stiff as cardboard when they dried. Undressing removed most of the mess, and he felt a lot more comfortable in the clothes Anne had found for him. The grey tracksuit pants and a T-shirt with Homer Simpson on the front were far from perfect size-wise, but they felt good on his skin and smelled of fresh laundry.

Jenny murmured something in her sleep again and rolled onto her side.

He looked down at her.

“You’re worried about your mother, aren’t you?” said Eleanor. She sat at the foot of the children’s bed, her hands crossed in her lap.

Jake returned his attention to the gap above the window sill. He didn’t want to speak to her, finding it too awkward, too surreal in such close quarters.

If we hadn’t broken into her house all those months ago
, he thought,
I might be able to look her in the fucking eye.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, young man,” said Eleanor.

“I’m not,” he said, his back to her, “and don’t call me young man, old woman.”

Eleanor chuckled quietly.

“Don’t laugh at me,” he said, voice seething. “No one laughs at me.”

Her laughter immediately subsided, but a small smile remained.

“You know Jake, there’s no need for this kind of attitude anymore. Your mum needs you more than ever. She needs
you
, not this angry young man you’ve become.”

He ignored her.

“The young burn the brightest,” she said. “Don’t waste it.”

Jake squeezed the window sill, his knuckles white. He wanted to be out there, finding the man in the bowler, making him pay. Receiving a lecture from the old biddy wasn’t part of the plan. His breath steamed on the cold glass as he blew out in an irritated hiss.

Eleanor eased herself from the bed, careful not to wake the children. Both had slept silently since being laid down in the small room. She crept to the landing and paused in the doorway. Her head was cocked as she listened.