I do something very mean to Kate and Amy at the end. Sorry.
Forgiveness means giving up all hope for a better past.
~ Lily Tomlin
CHAPTER 37. A Walk In The Woods: 1 April 2011
What started out as a tense, rushed exercise to try and get ready for a trek to god-knew-where for god-knew-what-reason soon turned into the most fun Kate and Amy had had in ages. When they weren't comparing clothes and commenting on potential outfits they were swapping jokes and stories, giggling and laughing away as girls their age tended to do.
Amy had fallen silent mid-story (something about a party which had gone hilariously wrong a few years back), however, as if distracted by something. Puzzled by the unexpected silence, Kate stuck her head back in the door to see the Time Lady with eyes firmly shut, rubbing her temple as if she had a headache of some kind.
"Ames?"
"What?" Amy's eyes snapped open, immediately finding Kate and flashing a smile. "Oh, yeah. Sorry. Distracted."
"Uh-huh. You reckon we'll need this?" Kate asked, holding up with a roll of cloth bandages.
"Uh, I guess," Amy equivocated. She hadn't bothered with anything except clothes, food, and a tent. She didn't believe in too much preparation – she hadn't even changed out of her nightie on her first trip in the TARDIS, after all. And if everything went right, it wouldn't take more than a day or two to get to where she wanted. "Why d'you need it?"
Kate gave her a half-frown, half-glare. "Well, it'll be hard to get anywhere if I sprain my ankle or something."
"If you sprain your ankle a bit of cloth won't help you, moron," Amy pointed out.
Kate furrowed her brow a little. "Fair point, but I'll take it anyway. Could come in handy."
"Wannabe doctor, you are," Amy muttered as Kate shoved it into her rucksack, compressing the contents as best she could. Amy had done something to it so it was far lighter than it looked, but it was still stupidly bulky.
"Give me six months and I won't just be a wannabe doctor," Kate joked, pulling the flap of her rucksack shut and tightening the straps as much as she could. Amy had already finished up with hers, and was now affixing her sword to her belt. She frowned at Kate, a little perturbed.
"What d'you mean?"
"What? Oh." It had only been a throwaway joke, Kate hadn't been expecting to explain it. "Never mind that now, it's not important."
Amy arched her eyebrows, cocking her head in curiosity. "Really?"
"Really."
In another time, Amy would have pushed and needled until she'd found out what she wanted... but that was another time, another her.
"Fine." For now, anyway.
Having finished with the sword and her bag, Amy then took a small plastic earpiece out of her pocket, affixing it beneath her right ear after brushing her thick ginger hair away. Kate paused for a moment from her own packing to gaze at it curiously.
"What's that?"
"Neural inhibitor," Amy replied, fiddling with the earpiece. There a sharp hissing noise and Amy winced for a few seconds – she'd thought long and hard about an alternative method, but there wasn't one, so direct injection it was. It also meant that she couldn't take it out – not without severing the minuscule nano-wires that were now feeling their way directly into her brain. Then again, she'd had ear piercings worse than this.
Kate, of course, was oblivious to all of this. "Which does what?"
"What the name says it does. It'll stop people finding me by tracking my thoughts."
Oblivious didn't mean stupid. "Won't that diminish all your, y'know-"
"Powers?" Having finished fiddling with the inhibitor, Amy threaded the hairpin back into her hair, adopting her now-customary hairstyle, with much of her ginger hair lying sideways across the crown of her head before cascading down the right side of her face. It wasn't the most lavish or sexy look she'd ever had, but it'd do.
Not like that shit matters now anyway.
"Ames?" Kate leaned forward, trying to catch the Time Lady's eye. Even with the inhibitor active, Kate could easily sense Amy's thoughts drifting.
"Oh – yeah, sorry." Amy shook her head, clearing her mind of the distractions. "What were you saying again?"
Kate clucked her tongue in mild irritation – smart though she was and always had been, Amy still hadn't lost her short attention span. "The inhibi-whatsit. Will it-"
"Maybe," Amy cut across her, pre-emptying the question. "It'll definitely damp it down a little, maybe a lot. Don't know."
A frown. "What, doesn't it bother you that you're basically crippling yourself?"
"Crippling?" Amy chuckled, a wry smile on her face and a sparkle in her eye. "Hardly. I'll still have everything I need psychically. Being able to remotely kill people with my mind isn't something I'll miss."
Kate already knew this, but it still made her stomach do a nasty somersault. "That's... comforting," she stated doubtfully.
"The whole idea is just to keep everything bottled up inside," Amy explained. "Best way to keep you safe."
"Gee, I'm touched."
"Don't even joke," Amy warned, no longer smiling. "You don't get it yet, just how-"
"No, Amelia, I do." Kate wasn't about to let her go off on one of her self-destructive spirals again. She took a deep breath before continuing, unflinchingly returning her friend's intense gaze. "I get it. And I'm still here, OK? You didn't run away when you realised how dangerous your life with the Doctor would be, and I'm not running now."
Amy stayed silent for a moment, her star-bright eyes boring into Katherine's. To the blonde, human girl felt like an examination, as if all her defences, everything keeping the outside world out were nothing, Amy just bulldozing through them.
"So you know?"
Kate hadn't expected her to say that. "Know what?"
"About the things I'm capable of. When did he tell you about... about me? About what happened to those Daleks?"
"Oh – well, ages ago." Kate replied warily, but she couldn't sense any change in the Time Lady's demeanour for once. No flashes of rippling, incalculable rage.
"So you knew this before you left the TARDIS with me?"
"Well, yeah."
"Even though you know how dangerous I was – and still am? You came with me, even though you know that I've got blood on my hands? And you're still coming with me now, even after what you know?"
"Of course. That's what friends do."
Before she could say another word, Amelia's arms were around her, the thick sheet of ginger hair burning against her cheek. It wasn't a tight embrace – awkward, even – but Kate knew, as she felt the double-heartbeat against her chest, that it said more than words ever could.
"Thank you, Katherine," the Time Lady whispered, breaking off to smile fondly at her, "for trusting me. Now hurry up and pack."
As always, it was silent in the Undersphere. Dark as always, the only light the ephemeral golden glow from the a row of lights embedded into the perfectly smooth, black walls and the faint twinkling of the stars through the glass floor.
It was this floor and those stars that were the first things on Jack's mind as he reappeared in the middle of a hallway in a flash of red. His first thought was that he'd turned up out in space, and he instinctively reached for the wall, his heart skipping a beat or two. Once he realised he was not in the vacuum of deep space and standing on solid glass, he breathed again and tried to gather his surroundings.
He was in what seemed to be a network of corridors, based on how the passageway he was currently in branched off here and there, all with the same shiny, featureless black marble walls and golden lights.
He moved quietly down the corridor – there was no sign of anyone else here, but it paid to be discreet. He peeked around the corner into one of the adjoining corridors, but there was nothing he could see there – just more marble walls, more stars visible below.
"Brilliant," he grumbled to himself. "Teleported to a friggin' maze."
He looked up. The walls, as far as he could tell, were about two metres high and then just stopped, with nothing but air above them. There were no ceiling lights – hell, as far as he could tell, there was no ceiling in the first place. Just total, impenetrable darkness. He guessed that he was somewhere below Earthsphere – though given the fact that there were stars beneath him, 'below' was relative. Perhaps he really was out in deep space and he was trapped in a box, or perhaps gravity had decided to flip for the day.
He pinched his nose – trying to work out the mechanics of it all was already making his head hurt. Best to move on.
Moving on was difficult, however, as he had not the foggiest clue where he actually was. The corridors, he discovered, were all identical, and the adjoining rooms he found weren't exactly interesting. There was a toilet or two and a broom cupboard, that's all. He even checked the broom cupboard for hidden entrances and perception filters – but no, there were only brooms there.
Where the hell is this place, he thought, as he stumbled upon another room, this one filled with bunk beds. Given the smell – a musty, thick odour – and the heavy layer of dust on every surface, he guessed that no one had been here for a while. He frowned – clearly, this place was meant for people, but he'd not seen nor heard a whisper of a soul since he'd been here. Quarters for the legions of workers who had built Earthsphere, perhaps?
He decided to keep looking, doubling back to where he guessed he'd came, but he soon found himself lost again. He discovered yet more empty, dusty rooms full of bunk beds. Just how many people, he wondered, used to live here? Either way, this was getting stupid – he wasn't here to investigate.
Get in. Find the controls. Disable the field. Get out.
Well, he'd gotten in, but now that he thought about it, he had no idea what an equaliser field really was (only what it did), let alone how to get back to the 'surface'. And besides, he couldn't do any of that until he found the damn thing. Which he hadn't now, in several hours of fruitless searching.
"Come on," he half-shouted to nothing in particular, having come across yet another broom cupboard. "Where is this damned control room?"
He sighed in exasperation. Couldn't something just point the damn way for once? Or turn on the lights? It was a stupid, desperate plea, but he was definitely desperate now. And tired. And bored.
And to his immense surprise, something did.
At once, the row of lights on the walls beside him turned from their gentle golden glow to a bright white. Not all of them, though – only on some of the walls. As if the lights were pointing a path for him to go down. As if someone, something had heard his unspoken thoughts...
Of course. So obvious. That equaliser field again, thought to... something or other. He set off down the corridors with renewed purpose, his way illuminated by the very thing he was trying to destroy.
"You are taking the piss."
The Doctor had a grin on his face that Michael could only place somewhere between smug and genuinely elated – the man looked like an overgrown in a nine year old, the way he pranced and danced around the platform surrounding the hexagonal central column.
The platform which, naturally, was three times the width of the box that contained it. Sitting in the middle of a room at least fifty feet wide. All inside an inconspicuous blue box on a riverbank. It was just... yeah.
Insane?
Ridiculous?
Surreal, maybe? He was, truly and absolutely, speechless.
"Should I even bother asking how...?"
"Multidimensional compactification of a twisted spacetime field onto a vortex fibre. Make sense?"
Michael had to resist the strong temptation to roll his eyes. "Oh, yeah. Clear as mud."
The Doctor gave a short, barking laugh before placing his arm around Michael's back and leading him towards the central column.
"Okay. Imagine a giant piece of paper. Now fold it up until it fits into a little box. Like a paper crane. Origami, if you like, which reminds me, I'm booked for a lesson on Thursday... but anyway. Paper crane. Getting the picture?"
Michael nodded.
"Well, it's actually nothing like that." The Doctor patted him on the back before darting back to the console. "But never mind."
This time Michael did roll his eyes. But he held his tongue... somehow.
"Now," the Doctor continued sharply, tweaking the knobs on a small screen suspended from the ceiling, "If we were lucky, we'd be able to find Amy by her sonic. But we're not."
"Sonic-?"
"Screwdriver." And to emphasise the point, the Doctor flicked out his own, running it over the console to no discernible affect. Michael decided not to inquire more.
"Anyway, I thought you knew where she was? You said that tower thing was tracking device."
"Sort of. Partially. To an extent, yes. You did leave it turned on, didn't you?" The Doctor gave a brief inquiring glance in his direction before returning to fiddling with the console. "Good, good. Don't put down the camera, by the way. We'll need it."
"For what?"
"You'll see soon enough. I suggest you make yourself presentable, by the way.'
Michael raised an eyebrow. "Says the guy in the bow-tie."
"Of course. They're cool."
"I'm sure," Michael replied dryly. "OK. So where is she, then?"
"No idea. But we'll find out soon-ish."
"Stanley said-"
"Yes, yes, and we'll get there soon enough, but I have a funny feeling she isn't there now. And there's no time quite like the present. Now, camera."
Michael rolled his eyes once again and brought up the camera, blinking on the record button as he brought the camera up to eye level. Through the camera's screen, he watched the Doctor adjusting one or two more knobs on the console before the very picture he was looking at was replicated on the massive circular screen on the side of one wall.
"Alright, Houston, we are good to go!" The Doctor exclaimed, clapping his hands in obvious delight. "And I'm amazed I actually got a chance to say that again. Now, how do I look?" He turned to face Michael, straightening his bowtie and tweed jacket in an attempt to look more presentable. In his terms, anyway.
Michael's struggle to find the appropriate response must have come across as silent assent, because the Doctor's grinned simply broadened and he spun back to the console, typing in a command on a typewriter that Michael suspected had come from a museum somewhere.
"So, Michael, ever planned on being on TV?"
"Not really, no." Michael paused for a moment, the implications of the Doctor's question starting to hit home. "Hang on-"
The Doctor mashed his thumb down on the enter key before he could even finish his sentence.
It had not been a productive day in Stanley's world. He was trying his best to concentrate on his job – this municipal swimming pool wouldn't plan itself, after all – but to say he was distracted was an understatement.
Ever since the Doctor and Michael had left – and cleared out a great deal of old junk they'd found lying around the place, for what purpose he had no idea – he'd tried to clear his mind of the doubts they'd raised, but it was impossible.
How else was he supposed to react when a man he'd read and heard so much about, whom he tried to emulate in his own small, modest way, had come in and placed such doubts in his mind?
This had been his dream, and his alone. He'd been warned by Iverson that he was being played, that someone was selling him a line. That there was no way the strange temporal anomalies were natural, that the equalizer field really shouldn't have been growing in strength in parts where it wasn't supposed to be, leaving only a few 'enclaves' of field-free land left on his enormous artificial planet.
He'd been so utterly devoted to his dream that he'd failed to notice the rot on the trees for the splendour of the forest.
He shook his head and sighed. He was getting precisely nowhere with this. Best to take a break. He sauntered back downstairs to his living room, plopped himself heavily on the couch, sinking into the comforting, soft leather as he flicked on the TV for a few hours of mindless entertainment.
It only took five seconds for him to shoot upright again.
"What the hell-?"
It was, more or less, déjà vu.
Having totally exhausted the archives on Amy Pond, with the only other knowledge he'd gleaned being that she'd once had a human fiancée, he moved onto the third and by far most confusing of the three names at the centre of this bizarre puzzle.
Windcatcher. He hadn't been lying when he'd told Amy that he didn't have a clue who that was, and he'd been around – far moreso than her. Apart from a vague reference to a race called the Valari that had been almost extinguished in the Time War, and a planet called Valaren (he didn't miss the connection) that had literally gone missing millions of years before at the apex of its glory, there was zero information on him. Zip. Nada.
Even the name made no sense. It was if someone had deliberately chosen something to describe a complete impossibility – how did one catch the wind? It wasn't as if the wind something solid, easily touched and grasped like a brick or a ball. To catch – by which he assumed meant control or contain – something as ephemeral and, well, uncontrollable as the wind...
On second thoughts, he was probably over-thinking things.
Right. None of this was going to help Amy in the here and now. He could ask his brother, of course, but what would he know? After all, whatever and whoever this Windcatcher character was, he wasn't doing this for personal reasons. Who would hold a grudge against Amy Pond? No. Instinct told him that whoever was behind the Windcatcher – and therefore the people the Time Lady should really be worrying about – were the same people who had bankrolled Earthsphere's construction in the first place.
But the fool was so damn obsessed by his dream, his utopia, that-
"Mr Blood?"
He started out of his reverie, seeing his secretary sticking his head through the door.
"Not now, Louise, I-"
"Really, Mr Blood. You need to see this."
He gazed at the woman carefully, noting her paler-than usual cheek and wide eyes. Whatever it was, it had clearly startled her. Well, he could spare a few minutes. He got up and followed her back into the office, where he could hear the TV on.
He frowned a little – this time of day, there'd only be cheesy, soporific soap operas and infomercials on for the lazy and bored, so why was she- "What the hell?"
A tall, brown-haired man in a tweed jacket and bowtie was busy chattering away to the camera, which was clearly handheld based on how unsteady it was. They were in some sort of golden room, with a central platform surrounding a hexagonal console of some kind. It looked precisely like something he'd found in a paper he'd read just this morning, when he was reading about-
"-the TARDIS, or Time And Relative Dimension In Space to use the long-form," the man on-screen continued. "Time machine, or space-time machine if you want to be specific. Anyway, allow me to introduce myself. I'm the Doctor, spaceman and bow-tie extraordinare. This-" he gestured towards the camera "-is my new friend, Michael, who seems to be having unexplained difficulties in holding a camera straight."
The picture, which had been slowly rotating to the left, suddenly righted itself, to a chuckle from the Doctor.
"Where did you find this?" Iverson asked in a low voice.
"I don't know. It was just on when I flicked it on, and when I tried to change-" Louise picked up the remote, flicking through the channels. Every single one showed the same picture, the same golden room, the same bow-tie wearing Time Lord.
Because it was instantly clear that this wasn't just a doctor, this was the Doctor, Oncoming Storm and supposedly last of the Time Lords.
"Anyway. I thought that, since we all love adventures so much – well, I do, at least – we might go have one today. I'm standing here, today, in the place you call the Phi Forest – well, OK, I'm technically not, but the TARDIS is, but who's counting? Anyway, I'm lead to believe that this place is off-limits to you folk, because of big evil nasty lizard people who will come out and attack you if you get too close.
"So I have a plan to enliven everyone's Monday afternoon, because all our Mondays could do with some dressing up. The plan is simple – run into the forest, meet said lizard people, and see what they say. Sounds like fun, eh?"
Given the way the picture trembled after that, Iverson guessed that the unnamed Michael disagreed heartily.
"Oh, come on, Michael. It'll be fine, trust me, they're quiet lovely folk once you get down to it. Apart from the claws... and the eating... and the poison-laced spines are rather unpleasant too – but apart from that, nicest guys in the universe. Anyway, that'll be in an hour or two, so stay tuned for that. Oh, and..."
The Doctor's demeanour suddenly stiffened, his eyes flaring as he took a singular step towards the camera. A small step, but one that made his frame, his presence, seem to fill the entire screen.
"If you're watching this, wherever you are, I'm coming for you, Amelia Pond. Hold on; no matter however hard, however far, I will find you. So sit tight. Doctor out."
The image faded to black – though not before Iverson had marched out of the room, his mind suddenly fixed with a singular desire to get home and tell his Time Lady friend the good news.
It didn't take long for Jack to lose faith in whatever mystical force was guiding him using the lights. He'd been on the move, following the lights, for at least an hour now. Maybe two – he wasn't quite sure. He reminded himself to get a watch that wasn't just his vortex manipulator one day.
After so long being led all around the place by the white lighting, however, he still hadn't come across anything unusual or interesting. No control panels, no levers, nothing. Nothing but empty, unused and dilapidated rooms. It was truly bizarre – clearly someone had once lived here, in fact many someones, but who? And why did they leave?
He shook his head – he was getting distracted again. Get in. Destroy the field. Get out.
He headed around a corner, still being lead by the white lighting, when suddenly his foot caught on something on the glass floor and he tripped, faceplanting and getting a fine view of the starry sky below. Spluttering and swearing in equal measure, he looked behind him to see what had tripped him up.
"What...?"
It was a tree root. A dark-brown, bark-covered, gnarled, honest-to-god tree root. "What the hell...?" He whispered, hardly able to believe his eyes. He doubled back, reaching out to feel the root with trembling fingers, as if it were an illusion, as if it would disappear if he dared touch it.
Instead, his fingers jerked backwards the instant they came into contact with the root. He shouted in alarm, eyes wide and panting. He knew an electric shock when he felt one, and the white-hot jolt that had run up his arm when his fingers had brushed over the bark was unmistakeable. He certainly hadn't felt anything like that when his thick boots had jammed into it, as if it really were...
He dived into his greatcoat pockets, searching for an object to test the theory that had suddenly occurred to him. Most of them were empty – to his surprise, nothing but an old plastic torch and bits of paper there. They hadn't been empty the last time he'd checked, which granted was several days ago. But he'd definitely remembered there being stuff in there, such as pens, whistles, a pair of binoculars, and-
Shit. Amy's diary. The one he'd picked up from the wheelchair. Where had it gone? He hoped it wasn't important, but something told him that such a hope was very much misplaced. Well, in that case, he could only hope that when she found out she didn't notice or care. He searched through the rest of the pockets, but the little black book was most certainly gone. Damn. Must have dropped it in the forest.
It didn't matter though, because after about ten' seconds further searching, he found what he was originally looking for – a cartridge of ammunition that he kept around just-in-case. He stood up, held the cartridge right over the root, arm outstretched whilst standing as far away as he could, and let it fall.
It exploded on impact with a deafening bang and a shower of sparks, making Jack jump back in alarm. Maybe not such a good idea. But it seemed to confirm his theory – this tree root was electrified, or at least had some sort of energy running through it
Thought to electricity. Could it be? He looked closer – the root snaked along the floor on the side of a passageway, but not down the corridor marked by the white lighting. He had a choice – follow the path set out by whatever invisible force had been guiding him, or dance to the beat of his own drum and find the source of the electrified root?
Well. Not much of a choice where Jack Harkness was concerned. He lit the little plastic torch and set off, following the twisting, gnarled wood down the corridors beneath the paradise world.
"So where are we going, exactly?"
"Town called Esther's Falls, about twenty miles from here," Amy replied from behind Kate. "Has a spaceport, and hopefully a way of getting back to the TARDIS undetected."
"Right."
They remained silent for a while after that, as the two girls marched through the sparse woodland populating the space between the hills.
"So why did he leave?" Kate asked again, after a minute or so of silence.
"Huh?" Amy had been lost in her own thoughts for a moment. "Oh. That."
They'd been walking for a good few hours now, and had already put a fair bit of distance between them and the villa, which had done wonders for Amy's mood. To Kate's surprise, she'd been in front most of the way, owing to her friend's ongoing slight limp.
The first mile or two had been tense, with not a word spoken as Amy scanned her surroundings hawk-like, ready to pick off any potential threats. That hadn't been fun, with Kate still deeply apprehensive about going into the open, and Amy in a downright dangerous state of mind. But as time went on and nothing happened except an encounter with some rather bemused rabbits when they'd accidentally stumbled into their warren, Kate began to relax a little. Soon they were chatting away as if they really were just taking a walk in the woods.
"The engines were dephasing," Amy replied lightly, flicking a leaf off her jacket. "He had to rephase them with a quick trip into the future."
Kate frowned. "What, twelve years is quick?"
"He didn't mean it to be. It was supposed to be five minutes."
"And it ended up twelve years."
"You do know how bad he is at flying, right?"
"Not really, no," Kate admitted. "Has he apologised?"
"He doesn't need to." Amy replied behind her, firmly and with a note of pride in her voice. "He's my Doctor, I know he won't ever try to hurt me."
"No, just accidentally hurt you," Kate commented airily, moving on ahead through the leaf-covered ground. Though it wasn't quite what she had wanted to be doing during her time on the TARDIS, she had loved walking through sparse woodlands just like this on crisp, clear afternoons just like this with her father back in the day. She hadn't done it in a while, though, what with... well.
"Hiding something?"
Kate halted on the spot, spinning around to see the Time Lady smirking at her.
"Excuse me?"
If anything, Amy's smirk widened. "Oh come on. You think I wasn't going to notice you hiding that stuff about your life before? Fat chance. Even with the inhibitor you think as if you need to shout the whole time. So you gonna spill the beans or not?"
Kate glowered briefly at her before tightening the straps on her rucksack and turning her back to her, determinedly setting the pace again. "You've got your secrets. I'll keep mine."
"Secrets are bad for you, Katherine," Amy replied in a low, quiet voice which nevertheless carried easily to the blonde's ears. "Unless you want to have an exquisitely painful conversation explaining why you have to break up with your boyfriend."
Amy's voice was still feather-light, but Kate heard the sting, the subtle undertone of grief and pain. Amy might have shut off the direct link between their minds, but there was still that tiny fragment of her that wasn't mortal, wasn't human like her. A little piece of her that understood. "Still hurts, huh?"
There was no answer. And there was nothing through the mindlink either... though, come to think of it, when had Amy shut off the link? She'd barely even noticed how the feeling she'd gotten used to in the last few days, that ceaseless thrum of activity deep within her brain, had simply disappeared.
It must have only happened, like, minutes ago...
But she wasn't about to second-guess the Time Lady. And, to be honest, there was probably a good reason Amy was hiding her memories behind that shield of hers.
"Right. Well, at least you've got the Doctor. And assuming we get off this damn rock, it's not as if you can't ever see him again, eh Ames? Though you two still owe me a trip to somewhere nice first," she joked. It was probably unwise to start trading barbs with Amy again, as Amy tended to have a lethal comeback ready and waiting, but that was all part of the fun.
This time, however, it didn't come. Odd. She stopped, turning her head slightly as her brow creased. "Don't tell me you're all offended by that and going silent treatment on me. The Doctor did basically promise, you know."
Still nothing. "Are you even listening to me? Amy? What's happen-Amelia!"
She'd turned around as she spoke, and the moment she did so the reason for the ginger's silence became clear. Amy was crumpled against a tree, holding her head in her hands as if she was afraid it was about to explode. Mind cleared instantly of whatever conversation they'd been having, Katherine raced over, asking – shouting, really – if she was OK.
"Dandy," Amy ground out between gritted teeth, her breaths heavy and uneven. "I thought these headaches were supposed to have gone-aah!"
She was only aware of it for the briefest moment, but for a fraction of a second after Amy's mouth had opened on a scream, Katherine knew. She knew what Amy had been hiding behind that cool facade of hers, the reason she'd shut off their mindlink. There had been a storm brewing inside the altered brain of Amy's, and despite her best efforts, she'd finally cracked.
Images, memories, emotions, flashes of a life long gone and a past half-buried crashed into Katherine, completely overwhelming her. For a brief moment, she understood what she was seeing.
Then she couldn't understand anything at all.
All she could hear, all she could sense was the sound of screaming, her own, her friend's, her mind's, all intermingling as the storm broke within her. She fell to the ground, eyes staring blindly upwards, mouth agape on a soundless scream, dazzled by the infinite brightness that was burning her from inside-out. She couldn't see, couldn't breathe, couldn't feel anything but everlasting, impossible pain, like a million hot knives being driven into her...
A break in the screaming, the sound of her name...
...And utter darkness.
The cleaners had gone home for the evening, but they still left the central computers on. Stanley often liked to check on things at the gigantic touch-table during the night if he felt like it. So despite the fact that he wasn't clearly wasn't in – he'd left without warning or explanation that afternoon after the bizarre broadcast on TV – they left it on standby anyway.
Anyone walking it would hardly have noticed, anyway, as the only indicator that the machine was on was a little standby light in a corner. But about an hour before sunset, the machine unexpectedly whirred into life. The table flickered on, popping up its requisite standby messages.
For a moment it would have looked decidedly odd, the machine turning itself on for no apparent reason. But soon the reason became clear as a blinking red window opened on the table. The psychic spike alert.
It wasn't the first such spike – it was the second. The first had been several days before. At the time, it had been dismissed as a bug, because there was surely no such thing as a category seven spike, was there? A one-off, surely.
This one, however, was even stronger, miles over the six-point threshold and coming from the sensors at a town called Esther's Falls. One was incredible, two was simply extraordinary.
Three...
But it didn't stop there. Soon the screen was filled with blinking red windows, indicating hitherto unheard-of psychic spikes, enormous leaps in the energy of the minds the sensors were attuned to. Anyone paying close attention to the location of the spikes (which no one was) would have noticed how they seemed to emanate outwards in a circle, centred somewhere near Esther's Falls. It was less of a psychic spike than a bomb, a wave of energy, flooding the sensors and triggering alarm after alarm.
Hard, then, to write this one off as a mere bug.
Or perhaps not. After all, it had only lasted a second or so – incredibly short by any reasonable measure. In a flash, the alarms had all disappeared, and the world had gone back to normal. No spikes, no psychic bombs, nothing.
And no one here to see it, anyway.
Please review.