The Making of Heroes

Chapter 8

Chapter 8

The door opened slowly, spilling golden light into his black world. David shifted uneasily. What were the tupping bastards up to now? He looked down, trying to see if his bow and arrows were still there, but they seemed to have vanished. That would have shown them! A couple of arrows fizzing through the doorway. Tupping s**t, if only he’d a FlushGun!

The doorway hung in mid-air. At first it seemed to be opening outward, but when David blinked and looked again, it appeared to be opening inward. Beyond the golden glow, he could see nothing.

It wasn’t fair! Always they were playing with him. Making him think one thing before changing it round so he was wrong. He’d been told to kill those two girls, but when it looked like he’d do it they’d vanished and someone - unseen and from behind - had fired an arrow at him. It was like everything in this tupping s**t life of his. Everything! Well, he wasn’t going to put up with it any more!

With a primal scream of rage, David ran towards the door. His legs were moving fast, he could feel them pumping away, but if anything the door - now fully open - receded. He stumbled and fell forward, landing on his hands and knees. He looked up and the door was now close. A figure came towards him: outlined in the golden light, she looked like a God.

“Wake up, Mentmore.” Her tone was tired and bored, as if she did this ten times a day. “Wake up. It’s time to come back to the here and now.” Her hand reached down towards his face, hovering for an instant under his nose.

He smelt purple. And blue. And pink. And returned to reality.

He was in a small room. He was sitting on a chair. In front of him was a nondescript desk. Across from it the officer was just sitting down. She arranged herself, clasping her hands in front of her and leaning forward. “So,” she said “a bit of a disaster.”

Even now, back in the real world, David’s resentment and anger was overwhelming. He looked down and mumbled. “You cheated.” He’d found mumbling was often ignored by officers as it wasn’t worth trying to untangle and understand what was actually said.

But she didn’t ignore it. She accepted it as if he’d said it out loud and clear. “Cheated? I don’t think so.”

David eyed her. She was short and slightly plump, with a smooth bland face. She reminded him of someone. Someone kind. Emboldened, he said “I shot at them and they vanished. The girls, they vanished.” His voice rose in indignation. “And then someone shot at me. From behind. It wasn’t meant to be like that. They never said it would be like that.”

She sighed and looked away, then tapped on the desk. A V-Screen sprang into life. It was filled with words, hanging in the air. Her face loomed large behind them. “This is what you signed up to. These are the conditions of the test.” She poked a finger through the screen, so it appeared in front of his face like a fat pink sausage in a halo of text. ”Item 3: there will be five minutes to accomplish the mission before you can be attacked.” The V-Screen vanished but the finger remained. He found he was squinting at it rather than paying attention to what she was saying. “You spent too long, Mentmore. Too long to crawl through the grass. Too long thinking about it. And you showed no awareness of it all being phoney.” The finger was lowered and the hand returned to clasp the other. She frowned, as if trying to understand. Slightly more gently, she added “Multiple suns, David. Didn’t that tell you something?”

David stared at her. They were going to fail him. He was going to end up a grunt, wading through mud, useless for anything more than cannon fodder.

“There are many ways to pass this test and yet,” she continued “all you did was rant and call us bastards.” She stopped, lifted an eyebrow at him, and waited.

It appeared she was giving him one last chance. Or maybe she wasn’t and this was all phony and it had already been decided. She was now just extending the process because she was a vindictive b***h who liked to see boys squirm. His eyes flicked to the V-Screen. Perhaps there was an item there, telling him what he had to do now and still pass. But - of course - he’d not read it. There were pages of items. Hundreds and hundreds of words. No-one ever read them. You just said ‘scan, accept’ and you were committed, your eyeprint and voice recorded as confirmation.

She hadn’t moved, but David knew, from the way she sat, from the slightly tense set of her shoulders, he was about to be failed. All it would take would be two words: ‘scan, fail’ and his future would be decided.

She opened her mouth and turned to the V-Screen.

Desperately, he said “wait!” and - without thinking - reached over and grabbed her wrist, his fingers encircling the pink bare skin between the cuff of her sleeve and the base of her palm.

Under his fingers her flesh was warm, soft and surprisingly pliable.

She paused and looked at him. Time seemed to hang in the air like mist. “One last chance,” he said. “Give me one last chance.” She had to do this. She had to help him. She had to! Had to!

After a second - or it could have been longer - she sighed and reluctantly nodded. “OK. I’ll give you one last chance.”

He released her wrist. She stood and came round the desk, her hip bumping momentarily against the corner.

Her hand passed under his nose.

He smelt pink. And blue. And purple.

Above him the suns poured down heat and light. On a ridge a hundred yards away were two girls. Beyond them was a river, startlingly blue.

David checked his bow and arrows and made his way towards them.

This time there would be no mistakes.