the aberration

chapter eighteen

One fortnight earlier...

Phil wrapped the jacket around himself. All in all, it had not been a bad rehearsal. The director was being a bit of an arse, not letting him do his own thing--how was he supposed to show his stuff as an actor if every little twitch had to be as it was in the script?--but the play was coming together anyway, just about, and Phil was feeling confident with his part.

It was a cold night, though. There was a real nip in the air, and a kind of drizzling rain, illuminated by the streetlamps.

Phil made his way down the street, his hands in his jean pockets. He reached the bus stop, alone, and stepped inside it, sidling up to the glow of fluorescent light as if it might give him warmth. It did not.

The double-decker bus pulled up almost silently. He'd not even remembered to stick his hand out for it. The doors hissed open and Phil shuffled gratefully aboard, into the yellow light, fishing in his pockets for the right change. He handed it to the driver and took his ticket, barely looking up, and then made his way down the aisle.

Phil stopped. Phil stared.

The lower deck was full. Full of shockingly fat men, he noted suddenly, all taking up a two-seater each and all dressed up in tweed--tweed jackets, tweed trousers, tweed hats. And now that he had been staring long enough for it to register, Phil also realised that each had exactly the same face, all swollen with flab; the same dark, deeply set eyes, distinctly inhuman--the same glare, pointed from all corners of the bus at him--

--except for the back seat, which was not occupied by one of these fat men in tweed. The back seat was elevated like a throne, and on it sat a thin figure swathed in grey, monk-like robes, only its pale hands visible, clasped. Its face was hidden beneath a hood.

Phil shivered.

The doors hissed shut behind him.

'Beef? Hey, Beef! What are you doing? Hey, don't leave me here, please! Beef! Beef!'

Master Beef shut the cell door and walked away.

'Who is he?' demanded Koyle, appearing with Fragg around the corner, both with their rifles.

They followed him back outside. 'What is that?' asked Fragg, staring as Beef dragged the spider-thing inside. 'Is that...is that one of them?'

'Yes,' said Beef. 'I found a hole. A big one.'

'And Mr Patchwork?' Koyle insisted.

'Well, the last time I met him he was pretending to be a tramp. I don't know about this time.'

Fragg and Koyle looked blankly at each other as he hauled the machine into the empty mess room and threw it unceremoniously onto one of the tables.

Beef turned to stare right back at them in his usual, disconcertingly blank way. 'I need food,' he said.

Sam opened his eyes--there was someone standing at the door, watching him. The marine rolled over and saw the dusty, black leather trenchcoat of that man who had just appeared and then said something that had pissed off Master Beef. Sam stared at him, then righted himself, feeling alert.

'My name is Simon Hyde,' the man said, proffering a hand. He had a very serious, concentrated sort of look on his face, and Sam could not help but feel that he was still being scrutinised. 'You're Sam, is that right?'

Sam nodded, shaking his hand gingerly. He gazed at the fresh plaster between Simon's eyes. 'Yeah,' he said. 'Can I help you?'

'I just wanted to introduce myself properly,' Simon told him. 'I don't think getting pushed over by an angry rabbit-man made a very good first impression.'

Sam grunted. 'I wouldn't feel too bad about it,' he said. 'When I first met him, he knocked me out and tied me to a tree.'

Simon nodded slowly. 'Can I ask you something?'

Sam shrugged. 'Go ahead,' he said.

'Do you trust Master Beef?'

Sam paused. He shifted uncomfortably. 'I don't know,' he said, truthfully. 'I guess so.'

'But what do you make of him?' pressed Simon. The man would not stop staring at him. 'Don't you think it's strange that he dresses...well, the way he does? And that he calls himself Master Beef?'

'Yeah, it's weird,' Sam admitted. 'But I don't know if it's any weirder than a lot of other stuff I've seen recently. I think I remember asking him about the rabbit suit, but I don't remember what he told me.'

'To be frank,' said Simon, removing his gaze for the first time and looking out into the corridor, 'I'm not sure he's mentally...as he should be.'

Sam watched him uncomfortably, scratching his scalp. 'Look, Mr...Mr Hyde,' he said. 'There's a lot of stuff that doesn't make sense to me, including Beef. For all I know, we're all mentally insane. What's going on between you two anyway?'

Simon returned his gaze to the marine. 'I'm just trying to put the pieces together, Sam,' he said. 'That's all.'

Beef had found a small kitchen, a room strangely at odds with the size of the mess room. Not all the food was kept there, but Fragg and Koyle were still reluctant to give him access to their main stores.

He ate with his back turned to them. Munching sounds filled the room as they watched.

His furry hand shot out and grabbed a carton of juice that he had already removed from a cupboard--though they looked more like metal lockers than cupboards--breaking open the cap, turning around and using the plastic nub to ease his visor open a crack. Fragg and Koyle were nearly leaning forward trying to see something through the dark gap as he tipped his had back.

Then Amelia appeared at the door.

'Hey, Beef,' she said, looking questioningly at the three of them. 'When did you get back?'

'He says he found a hole,' said Fragg, not taking her eyes off him. 'He brought back a...spider robot thing.'

'What?'

'And he's got someone looked up in a cell.'

'Who?'

'Phil,' Beef told her, taking another swig.

'Phil's here? And you locked him up?' she asked. 'Why?'

'It all started with Phil,' replied Beef.

The detective stared at him. 'Has he said anything?'

'Not yet. I'm going to need these,' Beef said, placing a packet of biscuits in each of his pockets like ammunition.

Amelia met Simon in the corridor. Both were so deep in thought that they nearly walked into each other.

'Hey,' Amelia said, distantly.

Simon nodded. There was a pause, in which neither of them spoke, and then Amelia took a step to continue walking.

'I think we should gather the troops, so to speak,' Simon said, and the detective turned. 'Organise our next move. Find out where we are.'

'Yeah,' said Amelia, thoughtfully. 'Yeah, we should do that. Master Beef's back, you know. I'm not sure what he's planning.'

Simon clenched his jaw at the suggestion of deference to Beef. 'Where did he go?' he asked.

'I don't know,' replied the detective. 'But he brought a dead robot with him. And that's not all.'

Simon raised an eyebrow.

Winnie hobbled into the mess room. 'Hello, dear,' she said. 'Nice to see you back.'

Sam, Fragg and Koyle were all stood with Beef around the metal carcass of the spider-thing. It lay sprawled as if on an operating table.

Beef gave Winnie a vague sort of salute and looked down at the machine again. 'I landed on it...' His pink, furry finger moved up to where its frame dented around its tiny eyeholes. 'Here. And it stopped working.' He shifted to let the light from the fixtures on the wall enter through the angled tub's open top, walking around it--Koyle moving out of the way--and lowering himself to a crouch to get a better look.

'Its brain is in there somewhere,' he said. 'I want you to get at it without breaking it.'

'Well, we can try,' said Sam, feeling around the inside. He wrinkled his nose. 'This thing stinks.'

Winnie settled herself down to watch.

'I'll be back in a bit,' said Beef, checking that the biscuits were still in his pockets and strolling across the room. He met Simon at the door.

Simon looked at him darkly. Beef merely stood, taller than the man in the trenchcoat, if only by his ears, but like a solid, impassive wall of pink rabbit.

'Have you questioned him yet?' Simon demanded.

'You're in my way,' replied Beef.

'I would like to be there when you do,' Simon said. 'I want to hear what he has to say.'

Beef cocked his head to the side as though he were considering it. 'No,' he said eventually.

Simon clenched his fists. 'Why not?' he said. 'Why should you get to decide? If the man has something to say, we should all hear it!'

'I'm going to speak to him alone,' Beef said, firmly. 'There's a hole'--he pointed--'several miles that way. If you're looking for something to do, maybe you should go there.'

Simon's lip curled.

'I don't want to have to push you over in front of all these people again,' Beef warned.

Simon reluctantly stepped aside, his nostrils flaring. He glared at the back of Beef's head as the rabbit-man walked away.

Phil was sat on the concrete bench with his head in his hands. He had managed to drift into a very shallow sort of sleep--a doze into which he was not quite able to fall, held back in the land of miserable consciousness by his churning, grumbling stomach.

He breathed in deeply through his nose, as if woken, when Master Beef entered and closed the door behind him with a clang.

'Beef,' Phil said weakly. 'Why did you leave me in here--'

'You,' said Beef, 'are an actor.'

Phil sat up straighter, gazing at him with wide, tired eyes. 'What do you mean?' he said.

Beef crouched in front of him and opened up his hand. In his furry palm sat a single, crumbly biscuit. 'You can have this,' he said, 'as soon as you tell me everything you know.'

'Everything about what?' asked Phil, his eyes on the biscuit. 'Look, Beef, I didn't know that any of this stuff was going to happen, I swear! You have to believe me!'

'Do I?'

'Yeah! I'm in this mess same as you, right? Please, Beef...I haven't eaten for so long!'

'I see you lost your tophat,' Beef said. 'That's sad. Though not many people wear them these days. Not even tramps.'

Phil tried to hold his stare, but broke it off, looked down and picked at his fingerless gloves.

'Why me?' asked Beef.

Phil looked up again. 'What?'

'Why did you show her to me?'

He shrugged. 'I just wanted to show someone,' he said. 'I hadn't shown anyone else since I found her.'

'Is that why you surfed my way on your hat?' Beef enquired.

Phil shook his head. 'All I was after was a little spare change, at first. But then you seemed so obliging--'

'Still,' said Beef, 'of all the people you could have picked--I seem a bit of an odd choice.'

Phil found himself taking in Beef's appearance again. He swallowed, but lifted his chin. 'I don't judge books by their cover,' he said, mustering up some haughtiness. 'Unlike a certain person who keeps using the word "tramp" in my direction.'

Beef stood and his fingers curled into a fist. 'No biscuit for you,' he said, turning to the door. 'No biscuit until you tell me why I'm here, and admit to the part you've played in all this.'

Expressions of anguish and torture shifted across Phil's face--and he was too dismayed to say anything before Beef had disappeared.

He was left staring at the door.

Fragg lifted the chunk of coppery metal carefully through the hole. 'Easy does it,' she muttered to herself.

The chunk was an irregular shape and it glowed faintly green from within.

'Weird,' said Sam. 'Are we going to open it up?'

Fragg ran her hands over it. 'I don't know how,' she said, momentarily mesmerised. 'I don't think that'll be as easy as it was to take out.'

She took it over to another table, placing it down reverently and lowering herself into the seat. The glow of the spider-brain turned her short blond hair a strange colour, and glistened as two green pinpricks in her eyes. Koyle sat down with her.

Sam watched them turn it over in their hands; then he stuck his head back inside the tub, leaning forward. Suddenly he emerged again, coughing and waving as there was a hiss and a cloud of steam billowed from it. The steam disappeared as soon as he pulled away.

'What happened?' said Koyle, getting up out of his seat. 'What did you do?'

'I don't know,' Sam told him. He looked critically at the spider-thing and cautiously leaned it forward again. It hissed once more as an inner mechanism was somehow engaged--Sam peered under its belly and saw that two of its piston-legs had managed to prop themselves up when the marines had been moving it about, now fully compressed.

'This must be how it keeps going,' Sam thought aloud. 'Somehow, it heats itself.'

Winnie walked over with her half-finished carton of apple juice. She waited for a moment to let the spider-thing cool down, then poured the apple juice inside.

'Try it now,' she said.

The apple juice bubbled and slowly evaporated away. The two of them inhaled the now strangely fruity smell as what was left of the spider-thing's potent fluid evaporated with it.

'That's interesting,' said Winnie.

'Yeah,' said Sam. 'So what are we going to do with this thing now? Throw it out?'

'I reckon we should keep it,' said Koyle. 'It might come in useful. Just stick it in the corner.'

'Wash it out first,' suggested Winnie. 'Give it a good clean. It smells foul. Do you have a bucket and soap?'

Beef awoke and immediately righted himself; he looked alert at the room around him. He had not remembered his legs taking him to bed--but he remembered that he had not slept for a very long time.

He let his head fall into his hands; let his hands hit his visor and cleared his head with the reverberations.

It was his stomach that had woken him, he realised. He had still not quite made up for all the food he'd been too busy to eat. He got to his feet, wobbled, and grabbed the packets of biscuits that he had been conscious enough to extract from his pockets before he had hit the bed.

Voices, conversational in tone, drifted down the corridor as he made his way to the mess room, consuming biscuits along the way. Amidst the conversation he heard something else, a familiar hiss and a high-pitched whistling. He poked his head around the door.

In the corner of the mess room, standing upright on its piston-legs, was the spider-thing, rattling away as a thick swell of steam erupted from it. Sam was knelt by it, lifting one of the legs from the ground, and the hissing suddenly dissipated.

Beef walked in, his curiosity heightened, and found Winnie, Detective Muse and the other marines all seated with steaming plastic cups in their hands.

'Hello, love,' said Winnie. 'Come and have a sit with us. We've got some tea brewing.'

Beef looked again at the spider-thing. Sam had opened the lid and was ladling the dark liquid into a fresh cup. 'We're gonna have to go out and find some more teabags soon. We had to use nearly all of them,' Sam said, filling a cup for himself. He peered inside it before setting the ladle aside and closing the lid again. 'This should last us a while, though.'

He stepped over to Beef and handed him the tea. 'Milk and sugar's on the table somewhere,' he said.

Beef accepted it and sat himself down, curiously upright. He looked at the assembled group and passed around the biscuits.