Sombre Page 5

  “The dirty little urchins you have here will chop each of Wilder’s legs off at the knees.”

  “I know all of this! I have dealt with them before!” she said shaking her head. Although they were all valid points. She was running out of time. The Whitely ladder was working. Blades were being stabbed into the trunk for a better a hold.

  Curiously, the girl didn’t seem overly frightened.

  “Ha! Good for her …” Halliday muttered.

  Opting to not shoot until she absolutely had to, Halliday made her way with Wilder, down into the gulch.

  CHAPTER 7

  Badly Spoken Negotiations

  The eyeless dogs bolted toward Halliday and Wilder as if possessed; snarling, teeth gnashing, flicking gulch mud. Halliday leapt out of the saddle splashing putrid water up her dress. ‘Halt!” She bellowed and fired a warning shot into the air - which didn’t stop the dogs whatsoever.

  She pulled her sword and decapitated the first of the dirty creatures. Lunging protectively in front of her machanihorse she rammed the blade in through the mouth of another, skewering it.

  “Here!” She shoved the sword further through the canine, slammed it down, piercing it into the mud. It sat upright on its protrusion, a putrid piece of hairy butchery. She hoped this would make a statement, a showing of strength. A Gatherer had come to call!

  The rest of the dogs stopped and sniffed the fallen member of their pack. It seemed to have worked.

  “Hello!” Halliday said almost brightly, smacking her hands together.

  Every Whitely in the gulch turned, the tree-ladder toppled, the little men and women fell confidently to their feet, with extremely well-practiced mud awareness. They walked toward her, some snarling, some grinning hungrily. Halliday noticed the Beating Clock faces at their chests were so covered in mud they were unreadable.

  “I’ve come for the Nightmarer,” she announced with a tone full of business. The gulch fell quiet. Halliday noticed the girl in the tree had pulled herself on to an outer branch for a better look. Again, the red and white of her skirt looked so familiar.

  A woman-Whitely spoke first, her throat impossibly phlegm-filled.

  “Aw, ‘ave ya, garl? Dat’s nass, dat as’.” She licked her lips.

  “Oh, dear, what did you just say?” Halliday had forgotten how woeful their speech was. There was more to come, a grinning man-Whitely spoke next.

  “Aw, di’ ya thunk ya’d juss’ cawm’n un ere’ and stub us awl wiv yaw’ blaad! Gaw’an wit ya’!”

  Laughter was had all round as every one of The Hill’s native’s lifted their dirty half blades. Halliday stood on the dog’s carcass and pulled her sword from its impaling. The other dogs continued to sniff the dead one as it slumped to the mud.

  Eyeing the large group warily, she cleared her throat,

  “I am Gatherer, Halliday Knight,” she announced officiously, “I will be taking the Nightmarer whether you like it or not, of course you all know this. I would like her unscathed. I would also like to avoid any of your bloodshed.” She twisted the sword in her hands and added, “This can be easy, or this can be hard.” She looked into the tree and added forthrightly, “You haven’t been able to reach her, have you? This has a lot to do with your stature – you are all very little. You are all little, tiny people.”

  With that last observation, she realized she’d probably said too much. An offended sounding murmur went through the group and they all walked toward her.

  “Nowt we git er’!” said one.

  “Froogin smar wun ont cha!” said another Whitely.

  “Er nug’ll cuck naass et’ wull!” one grinned hungrily.

  She thought that last threat was directed at her horse. “I haven’t understood much of what any of you have said as your speech is quite poor,” Halliday announced eyeing the bloodthirsty throng with caution. She wasn’t feeling particularly brave - she was hopelessly outnumbered. Some of the dogs had returned to their masters with renewed pluck and begun snarling at her. Another gluttonous few peeled away from the action, mouths full of dog-coat, dragging their slain companion off to feast.

  Halliday backed away protectively covering her machanihorse, she feared for Wilder’s legs – that’s where they would hit first. Wilder wasn’t all machinations, there was still plenty of flesh and bone to cut or chew through. Reaching over her shoulder, she grabbed her Remington from the saddle. She now held her sword in her left hand, gun in her right. Her gun would auto-load for her – she had bullets for all of them, and she was a good shot with one arm. Resting it on her hip, she was as ready as she could be.

  ‘Hope’s Halliday, you have to avoid bringing The Morphia into this. Keep your resolve for once,’ reminded an Other-self.

  ‘Wilder will bolt, you know she will!’ said another Other-self.

  “I bloody well know that!” she snapped. “You all obviously think I’m stupid!”

  At the sight of the gun there were a few apprehensive expressions among the Whitely’s. A woman with a reasonably clean clock face (that Halliday noticed stroked at seven) piped up, “She canna showt’ ows ull! Arsays’ we git er’!”

  A dog snapped at Wilder’s shin and her mare whinnied.

  “Don’t let them get your horse!” the girl Nightmarer in the tree yelled unhelpfully.

  The Whitely’s pressed, all slapping the short blades in their palms, all agreeing with what the woman Whitely had just said. They were about to try and jump her.

  There was no way to avoid bloodshed – she would be in massive trouble with The Menders for this. Nerves on edge, she shot the Remington and blew a Whitely head clean off from the shoulders. A dog ran for Wilder, and with a fast sword strike she lopped the head off the creature before it had a chance to sink its teeth in to her mare’s leg.

  “UUUUAAARRRGGGHHHH!!!” the unified war-cry filled the gulch and she was set upon. She and Wilder backed away as she fired. Heads exploded and holes were torn into guts with the close fire from the Remington. The Whitely’s had just one fighting technique - hack and slash with their blades – and Halliday felt a few stabs at her middle and legs. “Nothing a decent mending won’t fix, Wilder! Take a few paces back, horse! Give me some firing room!” she said relishing the task at hand. Wilder obeyed her master and scuttled backward up the gulch’s slope. A dog tried to follow.

  “Ah, no you don’t you dreadful poo-soaked stinker!” Copping a few extra flesh wounds because of it, Halliday turned her back on the battle and swung her sword. Lopping its head off cleanly, the dog dropped. Spinning on one foot, she kicked an attacker, then kneed a bunch of Whitely’s off her person, firing in quick succession, decimating the pack. She’d cut the Whitely’s down by two thirds. Bodies carpeted the dirt. She was hurting; she felt at least a dozen stab wounds. But she was standing.

  “Relent and call off your dogs! Or the rest of you will fall the same way!”

  “Ruhn! Git ower ere! She’s froogin’ maah!”

  Grabbing their eyeless dogs by their filthy scruffs the Whitely’s did relent – scurrying away like scared rabbits.

  She had dazzled herself. This was a relatively clean mission! Sure, there were copious amounts of bodies scattered all around her, both canine and Whitely alike, bloodstains on her dress aplenty … but the Nightmarer was in one piece.

  “Come Wilder. Let’s see who we have here.”

  Halliday and her machanihorse stepped across the carnage and made their way to the trunk. Wide eyed, the girl glared down at her. Halliday couldn’t tell if those eyes read scared or incredibly peeved. Again, the white and red of her skirt and socks seemed so familiar to her. The girls face was wet with sweat and her mouth was dirty. Long strawberry blond hair was in tangles. Halliday was sure the uniform was that of a cheerleader’s. A real cheerleader or a dreamt cheerleader, she couldn’t tell, and it didn’t really matter in Sombre.

  “You there,” Halliday hollered, “I am your Gatherer, your rescuer.”

  “Are you? Where in the hell am I? What’s
going on? I’m asleep. This is all some bullshit dream, isn’t it?” The girl said with a mouthful of attitude.

  “Hmm. So, you’re not scared, you’re angry. Interesting …” Halliday said a mite curious. The girl seemed quite an awful type.

  “I was scared. Now I’m pissed off! I want out of here. Where in the hell am I anyway?”

  “You’re in Sombre. I’m a Gatherer, and I’m taking you to The Menders. I’ll probably not see you again after that, well, maybe I will, but only by chance … but not as you are now, I’m rambling … I must apologize.” She laughed the giddy laugh of success. “It’s just not very often I find my target in one piece!” Halliday rubbed her hands together, “anyway, do you think you can jump?”

  The girl looked at her incredulous, “Are you kidding?”

  “Well, you did get up there.”

  “I was being chased. I just sort of … just got up here somehow. I’m not sure I should even go anywhere with you.”

  Quite taken aback at the girls attitude; Halliday had heard enough, she turned around and Wilder stepped to her. “Yes, well you ruddy well have to! I’m coming up now. Stay where you are.”

  She climbed Wilder and stood on her back like a circus performer, with her left hand on the trunk for balance, she’d reached high enough to touch the girl’s white trainers. The girl moved them.

  Halliday held out her free hand, she blew a wisp of fringe from her face, “Okay. Here I am. Please make this easy. Come now. What is your name, girl?”

  “Parker,” she said and added, “This doesn’t look very safe.”

  Halliday raised her brow, “You know, Parker, I must tell you that you were going to be sliced open and cooked by the Whitely’s - those little ferrety men and women that trapped you up here - that’s what they do to every Nightmarer. Just let yourself go, Wilder and I will break your fall.”

  Parker shifted forward in the crook of the tree. “Okay, but where am I again? Why do I feel like all this is real? Jesus! You’ve been stabbed a lot! And what’s with all the clocks in your chests?”

  “Let’s just do this first … give me your hand, come on now, before you fall and break your neck – it would just be my luck.” Halliday grabbed her wrist and pulled. Parker fell headfirst. Halliday dropped to the saddle and slapped a bracing hand on the girl’s back as she landed on Wilder.

  “Grab her mane. She can take it!” Halliday let out a spirited, “Woo-Hoo!”

  Parker was draped across Wilder’s shoulders on her front like a sack of wheat. Halliday planted her free hand at the girls back.

  “This is a wonder, Parker! You are my first unscathed Nightmarer!” She gave Wilder a spirited kick in the sides, “Come on my nag. Let’s get this one to the Office’!” With a snort and a rush of steam from her nostrils, Wilder trotted with spirit, up and out of the gulch.

  Parker began to wriggle around. “Jesus, bitch! You still haven’t answered any of my questions! What’s with you?”

  “I shall ignore your poor attitude, Parker – I am in too good a mood.” Halliday looked down at the girls cheerleading uniform; the colours were still so familiar to her. “So, are you a cheerleader in your waking life, Parker? I am curious. This outfit of yours, I feel like I have seen it before.”

  Parker tried lifting her head. “Yeah, I cheer’ so …? God, can I at least sit up in the saddle? This is so uncomfortable!”

  “Oh, woops! I do apologize!” Halliday pulled on the rein, “Whoa, Wilder. Yes, of course! I am so used to dead ones; I forgot that live ones get uncomfortable!” She hopped down and helped Parker get seated.

  She stood peering up at the cheerleader. She was a very pretty thing this girl. A good pouty mouth of full lips, high and strong cheek bones – striking eyes with fat lashes.

  “What?”

  “There is something about you … I’m quite sure I haven’t seen you before – there is no way I could have,” Halliday tapped her lip. “Oh well, it may come to me, it may not.” Halliday mounted Wilder again, and they were off.

  “So, am I dead?” Parker said from behind as she held onto Halliday’s waist. “Did I die in my sleep?”

  “No, I don’t think so. I really don’t think that happens very often. This is a world for troubled sleepers. You would’ve had to have had quite a nightmare to get here, though. You will now be a citizen of Sombre. To what degree, and who you will ultimately become here, will be completely up to the absolute power that is Sombre.” This was a spiel Halliday hadn’t used often, but she had prepared, nevertheless.

  Parker fell quiet, she seemed to have nothing else to say for the moment.

  With much puffing and snorting, Wilder steered them off the path and down into the dark bramble. They made their descent. With satisfaction, Halliday called out to Sombre.

  “Halliday Knight. I am done. I have the Nightmarer. Please bring The Funneling.”

  The shimmering silver light of The Funneling appeared at the bottom of the hill. Bursting out from within; an eight door, eight wheeled, carrier-truck started its climb up the mountain, crunching through the terrain. A Mender clean-up crew in full bodied protective clothing sat in the vehicle’s few seats, wearing grim expressions. The driver veered the flatbed vehicle out of Halliday’s path as they passed.

  “Oh, they look unhappy,” Halliday said stating the obvious. She felt Parker grip her waist tighter as Wilder suddenly went into a gallop; dodging and jumping the rough terrain like an expert mountain equine, snorting and puffing steam, gear-work clicking with precision.

  “This isn’t a normal horse is it?” Parker yelled out at her back.

  Halliday thought the girl sounded quite thrilled. “No, Wilder is an amazing mixed bag of bolts and body bits, aren’t you girl? Hold on, Parker. The Funneling is quite the rush!”

  “YAH!” A very pleased Halliday yelled as the three hit the brilliant light at speed and left The Hills.

  CHAPTER 8

  Seen Her Before

  Hope stood in the shower, yawning.

  Halliday’s victorious capturing of an unscathed Nightmarer had taken its toll. The hot water felt good, but not really good enough. As she gently washed her skin, she could feel every point where the Whitely’s had stabbed their knives into Halliday’s body, like a form of internal bruising. Her neck felt like it had been wrenched.

  All of Halliday’s fast twists and turns had messed with her muscles – she just wasn’t that fit.

  Taking in a mouthful of water and swishing it round, she thought of the cheerleading uniform that Nightmarer, Parker, had worn. Centurion High colours. The Centurion Sparks – rich, fit and pretty elitists, standing on the top rung of the school’s social ladder, looking down at everyone with pretty sneers.

  “Coincidence,” she said as she spat out the water. She tried to recall Nightmarer-Parker’s face and found she couldn’t. She remembered the hair; tangled, strawberry blond. The chance that Parker the cheerleader would be someone at all was a longshot. Sombre was a nightmare world, very vivid, but imaginary. More than a fair chance Parker didn’t exist anywhere at all.

  Hope shut off the taps and reached for a towel. Stepping out she dried her face, then saw her reflection in the mirror. Was the left side of her face yellow? She wrapped the towel around her and got closer for another look. It looked like a bruise! A bruise that covered half her face – “Shit!” She rubbed her hands down her cheek. She looked sick! Was she getting sick? The yellow then crept over her whole face. She cried out. “No! No! No!” She shut her eyes and breathed, “Calm, Hope. Keep calm. You’re just tired.”

  She opened her eyes again.

  The yellow was gone.

  S

  Hope sat on Centurion sports field’s plastic seating, up high in the back row, and ate her lunch alone. The cafeteria wasn’t a great place for her generally, and it was a nice day anyway. The sun felt good on her skin. She looked out over the field and watched the coach of the football team set up for practice. Her first two periods hadn’t been very succ
essful. Both Social Studies and Economics had papers due, which she had completely forgotten to get started on. Sombre was messing with her life majorly.

  Pento was at the core of the problem, she was sure of it. She had only begun dreaming of Sombre since the Kelley’s had moved here. Was this her minds way of coping with change? Coping with loneliness? Escape to a freaky fantasy land every night? Beat herself up in her sleep? It wasn’t like she had ever had many friends anywhere else she had lived. Maybe she needed to see a shrink? Seeing yourself as some yellow ghoul in the mirror couldn’t be good.

  She knew she had to combat the tiredness somehow. She took another bite of her chicken and lettuce sandwich – it tasted as papery as the paper it was wrapped in. Should she hit the energy drinks? They were meant to give you a kick in the ass. Her father hated them (didn’t really fit the Health&Co ethos). Her mother snuck them occasionally. Hope might have to do the same. Nicotine was meant to help you keep alert as well – cigarettes probably weren’t the way to go, though. Not really the image and life choice she wanted for herself. Her Aunt Josie in Wisconsin, her father’s younger sister, had just been diagnosed with emphysema – her breathing ‘rattled like a bitch, and she coughed like a backfiring Oldsmobile’ (her father’s analogy, not hers).

  Thinking a few cans of Rockstar might be the go, she put her sandwich down and rested her chin on her palms. Her attention was drawn to the left side gate of the arena. The cheer team entered for some lunch time practice. Hope’s heart rate elevated, she wasn’t about to miss this opportunity. She was looking for a cheerleader called Parker. It was a long shot - the longest. Worth a look though.

  Leaving her bag and lunch, spy-like, she ducked and covertly made her way down to the front for a better view. She sat on the second row of seating, bent over she made herself as small as she could.

  The Centurion Sparks walked across the field in signature training tops, full of purpose, chatting and giggling. Their voices carried. Hope could hear a little of what they were saying – which wasn’t much of anything. Ponytails high, the fourteen girls spread out into formation and the team’s captain put a portable stereo on the ground. Echoic music sounded tinny in the arena, and Hope watched on as the Spark’s hip swiveled and clapped and chanted ‘team!’. It was all the usual cheerleader fare. Hope always failed to understand the point.