Garth Nix - Lord Sunday

“Above the private hospital,” said Leaf. “On Friday.”

“If you see them again tell the nearest soldier,” said Chen. “Or the FBA or whoever. There’s a theory going around that they’re terrorists utilising some sort of advanced genetically engineered flying system.”

“Right,” said Leaf. She couldn’t see any point in telling Chen that they were Denizens. She wondered if Pravuil, who Arthur had said worked for Saturday, had simply left, or if he’d been taken away by forces working for Dame Primus, or perhaps the Piper. “What do I do now?”

“Go in there,” said Chen, pointing to the air-lock entrance of Decon Station Four. “They’ll take care of you. I’ll wait.”

Leaf went up to the door. The soldier outside keyed the outer door, which slid open. Leaf walked in and the door shut behind her. She was in a small, featureless white room.

“Close your eyes and mouth, and stay completely still,” said a woman’s tinny, amplified voice.

Leaf obeyed. A second later, she gasped as a high-pressure shower came on, the water hitting her hard, like tiny needles pricking her everywhere, even through her doctor’s coat. This lasted for about ten seconds then suddenly stopped.

“Open your eyes,” said the voice. “Remove all your clothing and place it in the receptacle to your left.”

Leaf slowly opened her eyes. There was a faint hiss of compressed air and a panel slid open in the wall to her left, revealing what looked like a dustbin.

Leaf took off her clothes, but left her underwear on.

“All clothing must be removed, as it may be irradiated,” said the woman’s voice. “New clothing will be issued. This is normal procedure.”

Leaf obeyed and stood there shivering. The panel shut as soon as all her clothes were inside.

“Close your eyes and mouth,” said the voice. “Be aware there will be scrubbing, and it may be painful. Keep your mouth and eyes closed.”

The needle-jet shower came on again. It was even more painful without any clothes on. Thankfully the pressure eased off after twenty seconds, but there was no real respite as Leaf felt herself suddenly buffeted by what felt like enormous hairbrushes, which mechanically ran up and down her whole body.

“Extend your arms,” said the voice.

Leaf bit her lip as the brushes ran over her arms. It wasn’t so much the pain, it was humiliating being washed and scrubbed, even if it was being done remotely. She felt like some sort of test animal.

“Stand by for more shower,” said the voice.

This third time the shower came on even more strongly than ever. Leaf crouched under the stinging water and fought back a sob.

I was a ship’s boy on the Flying Mantis , she told herself fiercely. I’ve been through storms at sea and battles with pirates. I can handle this. I’ve fought Denizens and murderous plants, I can handle this —

The shower stopped. There was a pinging noise like a microwave finishing and a panel slid open on the right-hand wall.

“Put on the clothing from the right-hand receptacle,” said the voice.

The clothing in the right-hand receptacle was just a robe made of something like soft blue paper. Leaf put it on.

“Walk through,” said the voice. The inner door opened, revealing a larger room, but one that was as equally bare and white, except for a small folding table. There was a pair of scissors on the table, a portable diagnostic unit and a medical case. A soldier stood behind the table. She was wearing a protective suit like the soldiers outside, but instead of a gas mask she wore a visored helmet like an astronaut’s, with an air tube that ran to a small backpack.

“Hi,” said the soldier. “My name’s Ellen. Leaf, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to cut off most of your hair. We’ll be doing some quick tests as well.”

“Great,” said Leaf. “Better get it over and done with.”

“That’s the way,” said Ellen. “You’re just getting in ahead of everyone else. We’ll be decontaminating everyone in the fallout area, once we get completely set up.”

“Everyone who’s still alive, you mean,” said Leaf.

“Yes,” said Ellen quietly. “We’ll save everyone we can. Stand on this square, would you, and we can begin.”

Arthur grabbed the flaming garden fork around the central tine, ignoring the heat and the flames, and ripped it from the grasp of the boy, who fell over backwards and collided with the pantry door, smashing it in. While the boy was still trying to get up, Arthur flipped the fork so he could hold it by the haft and raised it over his head, ready to strike. He was just about to furiously drive it into the boy when he stopped.

He’s only a boy, just like me…just like I was, Arthur thought through the red mist of rage. What am I doing?

“Don’t kill me!” the boy shrieked.

“Why were you trying to kill me ?” Arthur asked. He didn’t lower the flaming garden fork.

“You’re s’posed to be a weed,” said the boy. Now that Arthur had a good look at the intruder, he was sure he was a Piper’s child. He was wearing green boots made from something like rubber; muddy tartan trousers; a short-tailed tan coat over a mustard-coloured waistcoat and green shirt with a frilled front; and a large cloth cap that overhung his face.

“A weed?” asked Arthur. “But I’m inside a house . And I’m clearly not a plant.”

“I’m s’posed to find a weed that’s got into the Garden,” said the boy. He reached into a waistcoat pocket and pulled out a grubby piece of paper that had been folded several times. “Look, I got the work order. A mix-up, I guess. They never said someone high up was going to do the weeding—”

“Shut up,” ordered Arthur. He leaned the flaming garden fork against the bench and added, “And you, go out.”

The fire on the fork snuffed out. The Piper’s child stared at it and whispered, “Blimey!”

Arthur took the paper and unfolded it. Despite a muddy stain across the middle, it was easy to read the fine copperplate handwriting.

Weed Intrusion. Bed 27. Pot 5. Dispatch gardener.

“You’re a gardener?” asked Arthur.

“Second Assistant Sub-Gardener’s Aide Fourth Class Once Removed Phineas Dirtdigger,” said the boy. “Sir.”

“Are there a lot of Piper’s children in the Incomparable Gardens?” asked Arthur.

“Dunno, sir,” said Phineas. “It’s a big garden. I only work this bed…well, pots one to fifty. Are…are you Sunday’s Reaper, sir?”

“Sunday’s Reaper?” asked Arthur. “Who’s that?”

“You know, sir. The Sower, the Grower and the Reaper. I did always think they were green, but I’ve never seen them, not in person, like.”

“I suppose they must be names for Sunday’s Dawn, Noon and Dusk,” mused Arthur. “Now tell me, you called this place a pot. But it’s a house, with a woman in it upstairs.”

“Oh, yes, sir, she’s what we call an exhibit,” said Phineas eagerly. “This part of the Incomparable Gardens is the Zoological Gardens, with people and animals and such like that Lord Sunday has collected. He always takes their home as well, so they’re displayed properly.”

“Why couldn’t she see me?” asked Arthur.

“Oh, sir, the human exhibits would be distressed if they saw us,” said Phineas. “They’re looped, to keep them safe.”

“What do you mean, looped?” asked Arthur.

Phineas scratched his head. “Looped. That’s when their time goes round and round, and they’re separate from everything. They just do the same things over and over again.”

“What would happen if I went up and tapped her on the shoulder?” asked Arthur.