Jasper Fforde - Early Riser

There was a momentary pause. Logan was still upright, partially embedded in the lath-and-plaster, a look of bitter resignation etched into his features, the whites of his dead eyes livid red with burst capillaries. Aurora dropped the used power cells from the butts of her Bambis and quickly reloaded; the smell of hot electrolyte filled the air and mixed with the coal-smoke to create a sickly-sweet aroma.

‘Shit,’ I said, defaulting to pointing out the bleeding obvious with my sudden change of fortunes, ‘you just killed Jack Logan.’

‘Shit,’ she said, as surprised as I was, ‘so I have. Toccata will be seriously pissed off.’

She took a step closer to where Logan was embedded, shrugged and said:

‘Well, can’t be helped.’

‘What can’t be helped?’ I asked as I climbed to my feet. ‘Logan dead or Toccata being pissed off?’

‘Both. Where was he taking you?’

‘I think he was going to kill me.’

‘Then you owe me a life-debt. Lead the way to the Tricksy nightwalker, Bucko, we’ve a train to catch. And hey, here’s the plan: you do the talking and I’ll stand there and look menacing. Yes?’

I was, I think, stunned. In shock. I’d not seen anyone die before. Few did. Because the old, the weak and the diseased were winnowed out by Winter’s sympathetic hand, the only deaths I’d been aware of in the Summer were accidents, which probably explained the almost ridiculous levels of public curiosity surrounding traffic fatalities. Two weeks after I’d taken up residence in the Melody Black , someone was hit by a removals van outside. You could barely move for onlookers.

‘Okay,’ I said.

Fortified by Aurora’s fearlessness, I led the way back around the corridor. As soon as we stepped into the room the guy with the Thumper thought he’d have a go, but one of Aurora’s Bambis took his arm off at the elbow. She didn’t pause for a moment and stepped forward to hold the second weapon a foot from Foulnap’s face.

‘Okay, okay,’ he said, his voice unbowed but with the reality of the situation sharply in focus, ‘what do you want?’

‘Mrs Tiffen,’ I said.

‘You’re making a serious mistake, Worthing, Aurora is not looking after your best interests.’

‘And you are?’

‘It’s really complicated.’

‘You seem familiar,’ said Aurora to Foulnap. ‘Do I know you?’

‘Nope,’ said Foulnap, ‘just a Footman trying to turn a profit.’

‘Do it another way. House painting, for instance, or plumbing, or invent a game like Jenga or Cluedo or something.’

Foulnap moved to the bathroom as the medic went to Lopez’s aid, and a moment or two later Mrs Tiffen was in the room, as blank as ever. I gave her the bouzouki, which was still lying on the floor, and she instantly began to play ‘Help Yourself’ as we headed towards the elevators.

The train was still standing at the platform when the cab deposited us outside the station, and I could see Moody tightening the ratchet straps on the flatbed while, near by, a clearly agitated stationmaster consulted a large pocket watch.

We’d made it with seconds to spare.

The train was soon wending its way north towards Sector Twelve, the smoke so thick from the fire valleys it seeped into the carriage like malevolent fog and made us all cough. Our discomfort was short-lived, however, as once past the limits of the Welsh coalfields the smoke cleared and we were once more steaming across a softly undulating landscape that was mostly frozen reservoirs, quarries and stunted oaks, all liberally draped with snow.

The pleasing view was the last thing on my mind. I was seated at one end of the carriage in a state of numbness. My fingers felt large and puffy and my chest so heavy and tight that I had to unbutton my jacket and loosen my shirt. I was having trouble swallowing and my heart didn’t seem to want to settle. Mrs Tiffen, oddly enough, was now playing ‘Delilah’ . Seemed sort of apt, really. Not the lyrics themselves, but listening to Tom Jones while steaming up the valleys, even if on a bouzouki. After about ten minutes of trying to calm down and achieving it only to a limited degree, I set to work reassembling my Bambi, and had just finished when I heard a voice.

‘Mind if I join you?’

It was Aurora, and she sat without waiting for an answer.

‘I’d be dead without you,’ I said, ‘thank you.’

‘Oh, my pleasure,’ she said, as if she’d done nothing more than given me a Mars Bar or an unwanted ticket to the zoo. ‘Mind you,’ she added, ‘I’m worried that Toccata will throw a tantrum and do something weird. I think she really liked Logan, despite the fact that he was an arrogant twat.’

Oddly, I was unsure how I felt about all of this. The fallout would be dramatic, of course – you don’t kill one of the country’s leading Chief Consuls without someone asking questions – and although I’d liked and respected Logan, his association with a farming racket was, well, reprehensible – and he was about to execute me, so I couldn’t feel totally sorry he was dead. But I didn’t feel happy about it, either.

‘I’m not sure I’m really cut out for all this,’ I said.

She looked at me and smiled.

‘There are no heroes in the Winter, just lucky survivors. Besides, you passed your Graduation Assignment. You’re now a fully-fledged Winter Consul.’

The achievement seemed empty.

‘My mentor almost killed me and, without you, he would have. My input to Mrs Tiffen was minimal, at best. I hardly think that counts as a pass.’

‘The objective was achieved,’ she said with a smile, ‘and that’s pretty much all that matters, especially in the Winter. What did Logan want to see Toccata about?’

‘Something about blue Buicks and viral dreams.’

‘What a load of balls,’ said Aurora. ‘There’s no such thing as a viral dream.’

‘But—’

‘Why,’ she said, ‘do you have any evidence that there is a viral dream?’

I told her that Moody had muttered something about blue Buicks and Mrs Nesbit and the hands out to get him.

‘Moody the RailTec?’

I nodded.

‘And,’ I said, thinking of my training, ‘according to regulation SX-70 of the Continuity of Command directives, I will need to carry on Logan’s investigation – or at least, make some enquiries.’

‘About viral dreams? With Toccata?’

‘I guess so.’

She patted my hand.

‘Here’s some advice. Dump off Bouzouki Girl at Hibertech and get on the last train home. The Sector Twelve Winter Consuls are a bunch of vipers, especially Toccata. You don’t want to be mixed up with them.’

I’d heard this from several sources.

‘Is it true Toccata ate two nightwalkers to survive the Winter?’

‘Kept them alive until needed, I heard, and now has a taste for it. Anything else you remember about the two perps who were going to farm Bouzouki Girl?’

‘There were three suspects, not two.’

She stared at me with her single eye for a moment while the other moved around, seemingly of its own accord.

‘To the left, was she?’

‘He. A MediTech.’