Chapter Two
The wind shrieked like a howling demon around him as Paul McKinstry made his way across the university sports fields to the site of the alleged mutant sighting. Tall but slender, Paul struggled to keep his footing against the fierce gales that swept across the campus. His hands stuck firmly in his pockets and his jacket's collar pulled up over his mouth and nose, he was nevertheless still chilled to the bone by the winter storm. Snow swirled around, attacking him from all directions like stabbing darts. He wished now that he'd spent just one or two more minutes grabbing gloves and a scarf, and possibly a hat.
Paul checked his watch. 1.30am. He wondered if there was anybody else behaving quite as stupidly as he was at this moment in time. Leaving the warmth of his rented flat for the icy hell of the blizzard outside, in search of the mutant, had seemed like such a good idea at the time. But now that he was actually here, feeling the full cold fury of the winter elements assailing him, he was wishing he'd decided to leave it till the next day. Ducking into the cover provided by a bus stop, he stared through the falling sheets of white and wondered if it would be wisest to turn around and head back home. No. He was almost there. Ahead of him was the street where the mutant had been sighted. If he couldn't find any clues that might lead him to her, then he would head back home.
He left the bus stop and hurried into the street. There was nobody in sight, nothing moving apart from the endless cascade of snowflakes from the sky above. The snow beneath his feet was thick and deep, and he wished he'd put on a pair of sturdy boots rather than his cheap trainers. Well, it was too late now. He stopped at the spot where the TV newsman had been standing, where the mutant had apparently been spotted. Paul looked around in all directions. He wasn't really sure what he was looking for. He wasn't really sure what clues he had hoped to find. In his desperation and eagerness to meet a mutant, he had come here in hope rather than expectation of finding anything.
Was there anywhere around here a runaway mutant might be hiding? He looked at the buildings once more. On one side of the street were tenement blocks and a row of shops. He saw lights at one or two windows, but apart from that everything seemed dormant. On the other side of the street were more tenements, but he saw now that the block on the end was boarded-up and abandoned. Hmm…could that be where the mutant was hiding? If indeed she was hiding anywhere. If indeed there had been a mutant. Paul knew he was relying on too many assumptions, and he was annoyed at himself. But still, if it meant finding a mutant, he was prepared to follow any lead or any assumption, regardless of how hopeless it seemed. He began to walk towards the abandoned tenement.
Danger: building unsafe. Do not enter, read a couple of warning signs at the entrance. Paul stopped for a moment, but decided to take the chance. The building was probably safe. Whoever had erected the sign probably had to put it up to protect themselves from being sued by anyone who happened to get injured. It wasn't as if it was going to fall down around him. There would be scaffolding and stuff in place if that were a possibility. He ducked underneath the warning signs, and made his way inside.
Just inside the building were a pair of footprints, as if somebody had knocked the snow off their feet before going any further. So somebody else was in the building, or at least they had been recently. Paul cautioned himself not to get too excited…it might not be the mutant. It might be a homeless person looking for somewhere to spend a few nights. There were further tracks of snow leading onwards, and he followed them. They led more or less to a set of stairs going up to the first floor. The trace petered out halfway up the staircase, but at least he knew that whoever had made the tracks had come this way.
Paul sniffed the air. He wasn't sure what he hoped to smell, but maybe some sign that a person had been recently. The smell of food perhaps. There was nothing, just the musty smell of the abandoned, uncared-for building. There was nothing to tell him which way to head now, so he made a choice at random and took the next set of stairs to the second floor. As he was climbing, one of the stairs buckled and cracked beneath his weight, threatening to knock him off balance and pitch him down on to the ground floor atrium. There was nothing to grab hold of to steady himself. Paul hurriedly scrambled onwards, taking his weight off the damaged step. The rest seemed secure enough and, slightly shaken, he continued climbing to the second floor.
There was somebody here. Or at least he could hear something. He could feel a source of warmth too. Somebody had lit a fire, somewhere on this floor, and he thought he heard voices. Was it the mutant? Could there be more than one of them? Paul moved cautiously. It could have been anyone. It might even have been gangsters or drug dealers hiding from the police. He moved onwards, following the heat source. He could hear the crackling of the flames now, and he knew the fire had to be in one of the rooms to his left. He listened, but couldn't hear anything. If there had been voices, there weren't any now. Approaching cautiously, he peered inside the room which held the fire.
It was a small fire, made out of what appeared to be old pieces of furniture. Beside it lay a couple of empty tins of food, and a bottle half-full of water. But that wasn't what interested Paul. On the other side of the fire lay a sleeping figure, her body rising and falling rhythmically as she breathed. The girl was maybe fifteen or sixteen, curled in a foetal position next to the flames, her only protection from the bitter cold. She shivered in her sleep, and her body instinctively curled tighter. Her thin clothing seemed horribly inadequate for the winter chill, and she was clearly freezing. As cold as he himself was, Paul pulled off his coat and walked across to the girl. He knelt beside her, placing his coat over her, and putting a hand on her forehead to try and test her temperature. It didn't feel good.
Was this the mutant? Was this the girl who had attracted so much attention by seemingly disappearing in front of the crowd today? That would explain why she was hiding here, anyway. Mutants had little choice but to keep themselves hidden from the authorities and the general public. Paul's intellectual curiosity rose as he experimentally touched the girl's hands, wondering exactly what powers she possessed, if she was indeed the one. He wondered if it was possible to bring her back with him. He lived alone in his flat, but there was room for two. As long as he could keep her a secret – surely that would be what she wanted – then he would have the mutant he needed to help conduct the research he wanted to do. Yes. That would work. It wouldn't be easy, but this was too good an opportunity to pass up. A real mutant…it seemed too unbelievable to be true, that he'd finally encountered one.
He was still touching her ice-cold hands, when her fingers suddenly, unexpectedly curled around his. She smiled, and whispered weakly, "Hey, Squiddie…"
Then her eyes opened and she looked up at him. Instantly the girl frowned, "You're not my brother!"
"Your brother?" said Paul. "You mean there's another?"
The girl didn't respond. Throwing his coat aside, she struggled to her feet and hurriedly backed away, crying, "Squid! Squid! Help!"
"Mirage?" came a voice from the adjoining room.
Paul looked round to see a boy, seventeen or so, appear in the doorway.
"Get away from my sister!" the boy yelled.
Before Paul could react to try and calm the situation down, the boy struck. His right hand shot out like a snake, his fingers extending with lightning speed until they had grabbed Paul around the chest. Instinctively Paul struggled, pulling against their grip, but to no avail. They were no longer like fingers, but like tentacles, stretching fifteen feet or more across the room and holding him with impossible strength. With his other hand the boy extended five more tentacles, grabbing hold of the girl and gently pulling her towards him. Trembling and nervous, she hid behind her brother.
"Squid, I'm scared," she wailed. "What if they've found us?"
"Mirage, don't worry, we're gonna be OK."
Paul fought to escape from the tentacles that still held him, but he hadn't the strength to even begin dislodging them.
"Look, I'm not here to hurt you," he said quickly. "I'm a research student. I just wanted to find a mutant, that's all!"
Anger crossed the boy's face, and one of the tentacles moved up towards Paul's neck. Curling around his throat, it began to tighten.
"Are you going to kill him?" the girl asked.
"We don't have any choice!" the boy said. "He's found us! We can't let him tell anyone else we're here!"
Pulling with all his strength against the tentacles, Paul hurled himself to the floor. The boy was caught by surprise, and Paul managed to break free of the tentacles. Even as the enormous squid arms were reaching for him once more, Paul rolled over to crouch behind the fire. He guessed it would provide momentary protection, to enable him to plan what to do next. His coat was still lying where the girl had thrown it, so he grabbed it and made a run for the door. A tentacle grabbed him by the ankle, but his momentum pulled him out of its grasp, and he frantically dashed back to the staircase.
Footsteps behind him told him that the mutants were in pursuit. A tentacle lashed against his shoulder as he ran, and he cried out at the whip-like pain. Reaching the stairs, he lost no time in hurrying down them. He had forgotten about the damaged stair, and his foot caught in it before he reached the bottom. Paul desperately tried to pull himself free, but his foot was stuck between the cracked wood. Glancing behind him, he saw the boy at the top of the stairs. The boy's hands were raised and ten tentacles suddenly shot towards the trapped research student. Paul ducked, but two of the sinewy rope-like arms grabbed hold of him. His struggles to escape became more frantic. In the end he kicked too hard, and the staircase beneath him collapsed completely. He slipped out of the tentacles' grip and fell through to the landing on the floor below.
The fall had knocked the breath out of him, but he thought he was safe. After all, the stairs had fallen in. The boy couldn't come after him. Paul glanced up to see what the teenagers were trying to do. His eyes widened in sudden fear and horror as he saw the boy's left hand shooting out, five squid arms gripping hold of the walls. Jumping down through the ruined staircase, his extended left hand checking his fall, the boy dropped to the floor safely. Instinct overtook Paul's logical mind, and he struggled to his feet, running to the stairs that would take him back down to the ground floor and the exit. Avoiding flailing tentacles as he went, he pelted down the staircase faster than he had ever run in his life. His lungs felt like fire and his body was still pained from the fall, but he forced himself to keep going. A tentacle lashed him on the side of the head as he sprinted towards freedom, but it wasn't enough to stop him. Paul bolted out through the door into the street, where he immediately slipped on the icy surface and went flying. Collapsing on to the snow, he waited for the mutants to emerge from the tenement block in pursuit. They hadn't. Several minutes passed, but there was no sign of anyone. Perhaps they thought it was too risky to follow him. Slowly, painfully lifting himself to his feet, Paul staggered back in the direction of his flat.