And the Rest is History
38
Knock Knock
/ /To define overall program parameters
Securityoverrideauthorizationcode(040118112309140704210311);
Theterrorthatflaps(Nonlethalko);
Knock knock
"Oh, what on earth." Morgana moaned as the window pane shook over their heads and the noise ricocheted around the bedroom. "Two mornings in a row?"
Drake was only too happy to be woken up from the pointless monotony of his dreams. "Mr Dovesworth said it was something to do with the family curse being weaker during the day and me being..." he stretched himself awake, "Half asleep at dawn."
"Please be careful."
"Come on, Morgana," he marshalled as he went to the closet and pulled a random thing on, "this is 'me' we're talking about."
She chuckled sleepily. "Go 'get dangerous', then."
On his way out, he pocketed his phone sitting on the bedside table.
Drake opened the door and a cloud hit his head. Unseeing, he struggled, slowly wading through the fog till he got clear of it. It felt like a long time, but slowly the world came back into focus.
Larkis sank against the door frame. "I can't..."
"Mr Dovesworth." Drake helped support him, "let's go to the kitchen."
Drake gestured for him to sit at the old wooden dining table and put the kettle on. He sat down.
"Mr Dovesworth."
Larkis, in his trench coat, hat and nondescript brown clothes looked up at him, the sound of water boiling. "You can explain this phenomenon?"
"Yeah," Drake answered simply. "You're not fighting a curse; you're fighting me." He sighed, "You really just want your medical report?"
Larkis nodded solemnly.
Drake pulled out his phone and opened the downloaded files, handed it to Larkis and went to make the tea.
Drake put the tea things on the table and poured out the tea.
"Metafluxer..." Larkis mused over the report and the teacup in turn. "Thanks."
Drake sat opposite him with his own tea. "Unfortunately I don't know what a metafluxer is, and the only person I can think that might know is Doctor Bellum. She's taken more than a few shots at me. I wouldn't send a fly with a stomach ache into that death trap." He sipped his drink.
"I notice you haven't downloaded the whole case files."
"You mean all the stuff about Hooter securing S.H.U.S.H. against you?"
"Ah, good point. Thank you for sparing me the details. I don't want to know."
"I know you're better at this stuff than me." Drake stated, "But we can still talk through it."
Larkis nodded.
"What are your symptoms?"
Larkis rubbed his face. "I lapse... cross over from this world to another."
Drake sipped his tea, "Like a shadow realm?"
"More like a mirror..." Larkis picked up his cup.
"A mirror world. Like you stepped through a mirror and everything isn't the same..."
Larkis nodded, "But yet it 'is' the same."
"So at the car-."
"Please no!" Larkis violently shook his head.
Drake was silent.
Larkis' breathing settled.
"If you can't face it, you can't-."
"Get to the bottom of it, I know." Larkis shuddered. "It was a terrible place. Full of terrible things. I'm not going back there again."
Drake stared at Larkis, mystified. "Could it be all those years dealing with ghosts and possessions that make it harder?"
Larkis shook his head. "No, but they made me susceptible. There was something in that terrible place. It reached through, and touched me."
Drake tried another line of inquiry. "You say you've been lapsing."
Larkis nodded. "In the street, at my flat. I can only say how fortunate I am that I haven't seen the terrible things again. All it is now is a mirror world."
"So; people."
Larkis nodded.
With the terrible things hiding in the shadows of the carnival.
Drake mused, "If we can open up a mirror portal we could go face the problem head on. I could try finding whatever did this and we could maybe even get it to reverse the effect it had on you. If you could just give me something of a description of it."
Larkis shut his eyes. "Too many..." He swallowed. "Beasts, small, long claws. Different."
"What about the world itself? How is it different from ours?"
Larkis considered. "Take this house for example. Over there it belongs to someone else."
Drake felt a horror deep inside him. He sat back in his chair, his feathers prickling.
"Who?"
Larkis shrugged. "The Quailson family. The husband's a stock broker, the wife's a lawyer. Their teenage son likes fast cars, their daughter likes heavy metal and is studying archaeology at the university. Your library is their games room. There's a big billiard table in the middle. The hall is white with gold trim, the floor is black and white checkered tiles."
Drake stood up, unable to sit any longer. This was incomprehensibly terrible.
"A St Canard without Mallards." Through the kitchen doorway, he gazed into the hall. Beyond the wood coloured banister, Sir Quackmire Mallard's armour stood against the wood panelled wall.
"I'll check."
"S-sorry?" Drake blinked, looking down to Larkis at the table. "Check?"
"The phone directory. Next time I lapse."
It took Drake a moment to understand what Larkis was saying. "You're suggesting they may have moved? From here? Why?" Why would a Mallard move?
"There's plenty of normal reasons. Family feuds. Financial difficulty. Like I said, I'll look into it."
Drake slighted a smile at him, "I don't know who they are; if they're not in this house. They might not be as inclined to help you as I am."
"Duly noted." Larkis stood up. "Thank you."
"I'll look into this mirror portal thing. It'll probably need calibrating, so don't forget to come back."
"Thank you, you are very kind."
Drake led Larkis out the front door.