The Night Clock Read online

  “Met him walking up the road,” the old man said. “Knew he was one of you lot as soon as I saw him. Name’s Bismuth. He doesn’t say much.”

  Bismuth made for Doctor Mocking. They stood looking at each other for a moment, and then they embraced.

  Index seemed to be counting heads. “Where’s the boy?” he said.

  Doctor Mocking pointed to the balloon.

  Index went to the balloon. Its basket was tethered to the ground, the burner puttering, putting enough hot air into it to keep the balloon from wilting. Inside a boy of about twelve and a man were asleep, curled up together.

  Doctor Mocking came over and whispered something. The sleepers awoke and stretched, and climbed out of the basket. They blinked and looked around.

  Index said, “Eliot, welcome. And welcome, David. David, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

  He stood aside.

  Sandy was trembling, tears running down his face.

  “David,” he said. “Oh, Dave. I’ve missed you so much, mate.”

  The man said, “Is that you, Sandy?”

  “Yes. Yes it is. It is!” He stumbled over to his friend and grabbed him in a bear hug.

  “I’m sorry I ran, Sandy. I truly am.”

  “I’m glad,” Sandy said. “It’s all worked out. Doctor Mocking kept us safe.” Sandy blinked and wiped at his eyes. “And this is your boy!”

  “Eliot.”

  “Eliot! Great to see you, son!”

  Eliot was looking to his father, his face serious. A solemn boy, Trevena thought. Close to his father. His father nodded.

  Eliot beamed. He had a great smile.

  Trevena watched all this knowing it was a moment of immense significance. A gathering part reunion, part introduction. These people had been lost, scattered and isolated, and something had been trying to destroy them. Now they were all together, Trevena could feel the power, theintent, resonating in their midst.

  The driver of the Cortina looked a little out of his comfort zone, Trevena thought. He was standing by the back of the car looking at his fingernails.

  “Hey,” Trevena said, “You okay, fella?”

  The man looked up. He skirted the group and came over.

  “Phil Trevena,” Trevena said and put his hand out.

  “Eddie. Eddie D’Andrea,” the man said, and they shook.

  Now all that remained were here together.

  “TAKE THE TOURNIQUET off,” Index said. “Let him die.”

  Daniel pulled the strip of sodden material from Barry Cook’s shoulder. Blood welled from the tattered vessels and pattered to the ground. Barry’s knees went from under him and he slumped onto the bloody earth, his face slack.

  The Firmament Surgeons stood around him in a circle. Index, Bismuth, Doctor Mocking, Daniel, John Stainwright, Alex, Lesley, Anna and Eliot. Their friends, their relatives, their Paladins – those that remained – stood outside the circle, Trevena included, as directed by Index.

  Those that had their Instruments displayed them; Bismuth had his Levers, Lesley and Anna had Bronze John, Doctor Mocking had a small brass detonator cap. John Stainwright had Bix. The dog sat at his master’s side, his eyes clear and bright.

  Barry Cook bled out. His face drained of colour and his eyes rolled up into his head and he fell forward and died.

  As he hit the ground, his last breath about to leave him, Daniel reached down and touched him. Put a fingertip on the nape of his neck.

  “Now,” he said.

  THE FIRMAMENT SURGEONS made their connection.

  Upstairs in Elizabeth’s bedroom, Chloe went quiet in her father’s arms. Steve looked at Elizabeth, eyes wide with wonder.

  “Is this it?” he said.

  Elizabeth nodded. She was sitting on the bed, her breathing laboured. Her head ached and if she closed her good eye she could see crow’s feathers swirling upwards from the ground, encaged within a scaffold frame.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, dear,” Elizabeth said. She lay back on the bed and closed her eyes.

  BARRY COOK’S BODY convulsed. He scrambled to his feet and stood switching his head about in hellish panic. He was dead. His brain was dead, but in a deep, unfiring space inside his mind, amidst the stillness of those billion darkened cells, Daniel had opened his Quay.

  Together, the last of the Firmament Surgeons stepped into Dark Time and ran the Night Clock again.

  LES HEARD THE door handle rattle but didn’t look up. He was playing clock patience on the bar. He had already turned up three kings, which wasn’t so good this early on in the game. He had only revealed all the tens so far. He sucked on his bottom lip. Of course he had. He felt satisfied at this and stopped and turned around as the door opened and the devil-in-dreams walked in.

  Les stood to meet it.

  It was not as he’d imagined.

  It was a man, dressed in pyjama bottoms and a dirty red tee shirt. Red from the blood.

  The man stood, swaying on unsteady legs. He had a faceful of eyes, which rolled and peered in all directions. He opened his mouth and there were eyes inside him, too.

  Les looked at the man, at the torn stump at his shoulder. He looks confused, thought Les, and stepped towards it.

  The eyes blinked and rolled. They were all of different colours and different sizes. They had been stolen, those eyes, and had seen too much, for too long. The man sagged a little and put out his left arm and leaned against the bar.

  He tried to speak, but his mouth was too jammed with eyes and he uttered a wet hiss.

  “Oh,” said Les. “Are you looking for this?”

  He held out the matchbox and thumbed open the drawer.

  When those eyes swivelled to see nothing but a dead hermit crab, speaking softly in Daniel’s voice, he did manage to scream, despite the eyes stuck in his craw.

  TREVENA SAW THEM change.

  For a moment the air around them turned to a haze and the circle of figures became indistinct. When they solidified again, they were different. They were bigger and they shone. He could see wheels of light turning amongst them, attached by filaments to their bodies, linking them all, making a mechanism of them.

  He felt himself going over, and put out his hands to break his fall. He pressed his face into the ground in awe but before he closed his eyes he saw the others outside the circle had done the same. Eddie and Sandy, Mick and the old guy, Colin Dack, and David, were all likewise prostrate. Colin was laughing, and mumbling something that sounded like an elated prayer.

  Suddenly, Barry broke through the circle and made a run for it.

  Trevena lifted his head in time to see Barry staggering off down the yard. He reached the edge of a field and barged through the hedge. He ran across the field, bare feet tripping over the blocky, turned earth, and made for a small house at the bottom of the field and across a lane.

  Trevena stood up and went over to the barn. He found what he wanted and followed Barry across the field towards the house.

  He trod more carefully, the pitchfork held in front of his body in both hands, like a tightrope walker’s pole, and hoped Daniel’s hypnopompic influence was wide enough to persuade the woman and her little boy watching from the kitchen window that they were still asleep and dreaming.

  THE DEVIL-IN-DREAMS REELED away from the man holding the matchbox. He could hear the voice of the one he hated, an incessant taunt. It tried to cast out for its Autoscopes but there was nothing but dead pressure, a spatial lagging that went out in all directions forever. There was nothing beyond this place, no memories or emotions to use. It was cut off from the Dark Time flux. It was inside death.

  It swivelled its stolen eyes and glared at the man with the matchbox.

  TREVENA HELD BARRY vertical on the end of the pitchfork. His arms were tired and his muscles trembled with the effort. But he hung on.

  Mick and Colin had met him halfway across the field. They both carried cans of fuel. Eddie, David and Sandy waited with the Night Clock, three resolute senti
nels.

  “It’s inside there,” Colin said, and tapped a bony finger on the centre of Barry’s forehead. “Trapped in a dead dream.” He shuddered and the corners of his mouth turned down. “An appropriate Compartment of Hell for the bastard. A corpse’s mind.”

  Barry flailed at Colin with his left arm. He uttered a rasping, desperate screech. Colin stepped away. He picked up his can of fuel. It made a heavy wallowing sound. He hitched it up beneath his arm and unscrewed the cap. Mick did likewise, and then they emptied their cans over Barry’s head.

  Trevena placed the end of the pitchfork in the mud and let Barry sink to his knees. Mick and Colin placed their cans a distance away and Mick came back carrying a Zippo lighter. He put a cigarette in his mouth. He offered the pack to Trevena, who shook his head.

  Mick lit his cigarette and inhaled.

  Then he lit Barry.

  THE DEVIL-IN-DREAMS HOWLED at the blistering agony that consumed it.

  The man with the matchbox had backed away, circling towards the door. There was an old Bakelite phone fixed to the wall. It rang. The man picked it up.

  “Yes,” he said. “It’s here.”

  The devil-in-dreams felt its eyes melt. Its face ran with their sizzling humours. Its throat filled with thick, boiling fluid as they burst in his mouth. They were throughout, and as they burned and ruptured the devil-in-dreams cried out and reached for the man, blinded, its body subject to a thousand searing brands. It tried to break free of the corpse it inhabited but it could not draw power from anything; there was only nothingness.

  The man opened the door and backed out.

  The door closed, and non-existence pressed against the walls.

  The devil-in-dreams sank sightless to the floor, ablaze, time without end.

  TREVENA LOOKED DOWN at the charred corpse. The handle of the pitchfork had burnt to charcoal. His nostrils were clogged with the stink of burnt meat. He coughed into his hand and spat on the mud.

  The others were coming. Doctor Mocking carried Anna, treading carefully over the broken earth. Eliot was holding his father’s hand. Daniel arrived first.

  “Has it worked?” Trevena asked.

  Daniel nodded. “It’ll hold for as long as it needs to.”

  “What is it?”

  “A trap. A quarantine. A small loop of Dark Time. I’ll be honest, we didn’t know if it would work. I had to rely on Les.”

  “Where is he? If you’ve cut off your Quay?”

  “It’s just a part of it. A blind spot. A dream within a dream.”

  “What about this?” Trevena jabbed the toe of his shoe at the corpse.

  “Leave it,” Daniel said. “He left a note. You’re familiar with his history? His family won’t want an investigation. I’ll be betting they’ll be secretly relieved Barry’s gone. The shame, you know?” He smiled at Trevena, but Trevena noticed his teeth were clenched.

  “Violent and demonstrable,” Trevena said.

  “Exactly,” Daniel said.

  “The pitchfork might raise a few eyebrows,” Trevena said.

  Daniel shrugged. “Fuck it.”

  Trevena had to agree.

  DANIEL LOOKED LESS strained now he no longer had to sustain the dream-state. He seemed to just let it go as the truck drove away from the farm.

  “Like letting go of a kite,” he confided to Trevena.

  They had left Doctor Mocking and his girls with David and Eliot. As they drove away Trevena watched the balloon lift from the yard.

  About half a mile down the road Trevena saw the Cortina flashing its headlights. He pulled over. Colin got out and came up to his window.

  We’ll see you,” he said. “We’re going back to the caravan park. Got a lot of work to do. Big fella wants dropping off, too.”

  Trevena assumed he was talking about Bismuth.

  “Says he’s got a child to find. Poor mite. Got himself trapped in a refrigerator on a tip somewhere. Bismuth’s possessed with finding him. He says there’s an Autoscope there with him, perpetuating the loop. Job’s never done, is it? Well, it’s his calling. Nothing but grief and dying for him. Shows on his face, don’t it?” Colin grinned revealing a mouth naive of molars. “Well, that’s his next adventure. Cheers, Phil.” He patted the door panel and went back to the car. He swung it onto the road and gave the horn a toot as they went past. The Minx, driven by John Stainwright, followed. John waved. Trevena waved back. Bix, sitting on the Minx’s passenger side, squinting in the breeze, tongue hanging out like pennant, barked once, and then they were gone.

  Trevena pulled the truck back onto the road.

  STEVE WAS STANDING at the door when they arrived back at Elizabeth’s. He held Chloe in his arms, wrapped in a pink blanket. Everyone made a great fuss of her.

  “Elizabeth’s asleep,” Steve said.

  Daniel turned to Trevena.

  “I’m going to go and sit with her,” he said. “Thanks for all you’ve done, Phil.”

  “It’s fine,” he said. “You’ve done more for me.”

  They shook, and Daniel went upstairs to sit with his friend. He held onto the banister all the way up.

  What now? Trevena wanted to ask. He was still waiting for shock to kick in, or some species of it to set him trembling and weepy, but he felt good. Strong. Now they were back in Elizabeth’s cosy little ladylike lounge everything felt as it should be. He had always meant to be here.

  Index spoke to him.

  “Huh?”

  “How you feeling, Phil?”

  “Good,” said Trevena.

  Index put a huge hand on his shoulder. “Daniel said it already, but thank you, Phil. From all of us.”

  Sandy, Alex and Mick were watching him.

  Trevena nodded. He smiled as the implication dawned on him. He didn’t feel bad at all.

  “I can go now?” he said. “You don’t need me anymore, do you?”

  “It’s not a question of need, Phil. There are still Autoscopes out there. Dark Time’s awash with them. They’ll be easier to track now the devil-in-dreams is contained. We just have to get on with the job.”

  “I understand,” Trevena said. “About the job.”

  He made a show of looking at his watch.

  “I’m on a late shift myself.”

  He turned and walked down the short hall to the door and let himself out.

  He fished in his pocket for his keys and walked to his car.

  TREVENA STOOD OUTSIDE the office and knocked on the door.

  “Come in, Phil.”

  Trevena opened the door and went into the office. He sat on the wicker chair opposite the desk.

  “Welcome, Phil,” said Doctor Mocking.

  “Hi, doc.”

  “How are things with you?”

  Trevena took a moment to think. This was his first appointment with the doc since they had all been together. He had phoned for an appointment last week, feeling the need for closure. He had been putting it off, though. He understood the workings of denial. He looked past the doctor through the French windows that gave onto the orchard. It was early July.

  “Good,” he said. “All good.”

  Doctor Mocking smiled. “That’s great, Phil. This is going to be our last session, as we discussed on the phone. Are you happy with that?”

  “Yeah. Discharge me, doc, I’m fixed.”

  “How’s work?”

  “Better. Stibbs got moved on. He did his damage. Now he’s wreaking havoc on some other team. The Assertive Outreach Team have needed a shake up for a while.” He grinned. “That’s just how the system works now. I’ve accepted it. I can retire in seven years so I’m just keeping my head down. Doing what I’m good at and keeping it simple. Had some good news. Rob Litchin’s been dry for a month now. I got him an old computer from a charity and he’s working on a website business. Moved back in with his mum. It’s not ideal but at least he gets three meals a day and his clothes washed.”

  “And how’s Lizzie?”

  Trevena spread his hand
s. “She’s moving to France with her mum and Clive. It’ll be good for her. She seems happier.”

  “How do you feel about it?”

  “Okay,” Trevena said. “I’ll miss her but I’ll see her for holidays, and there’s Facetime.”

  They filled the hour reflecting on Trevena’s progress and talked of endings and closure. Before the session ended, Doctor Mocking asked about his dreams.

  Trevena laughed. “They’re good. They’ve improved. Is it like that for everyone?”

  Doctor Mocking shook his head. “Not everyone. It’ll never be a perfect world, this one. The Night Clock is running and the containment is holding. For now. We watch.”

  The session ended and Trevena stood up. He reached over the desk and shook the doctor’s hand. “How’s Daniel?” he asked. “Are he and Elizabeth, you know...?”

  Doctor Mocking smiled.

  “They’re fine, Phil. Never been happier.”

  Trevena shook his head. “Happy endings, eh?”

  “Absolutely. Happy endings. It’s why we do this, isn’t it?”

  “We live in hope,” Trevena said. He pulled on his jacket and turned to leave.

  “You know where I am, Phil,” Doctor Mocking said. He was silhouetted in the sunlight slanting in through the French windows. Trevena couldn’t see his face. “Any time.”

  Trevena left the office and went to work.