Shades of Grey

The Flak Tower

Although I had seen the ocean on at least three occasions, I had never witnessed a more beautiful stretch of coastline than greeted my eyes that afternoon. The land was dappled with the shadows of the clouds as they drifted lazily across the sky, the sunnier patches highlighting points of interest better than any tour guide. The town nestled comfortably on either side of a long tidal estuary that led into a bay where several abandoned ships were anchored. The biggest of these was a flat-decked vessel so large that it was now an artificial breakwater, the sloping deck white with the guano of seabirds, and the gently rusting hulk altering the dynamics of the bay so dramatically that the whole area between the ship and the shore had silted in and was now dry land.

Of the town, not much could be seen from where we stood. The remains of the bypass appeared as a circular swathe of different-colored vegetation, and a bridge across the river was still standing. The town itself was hidden within the foliage of thick woodland, from whose canopy only a few buildings protruded. The outlying commercial and residential areas could just be seen as a faint grid pattern of different trees and brush. There seemed to be a road that led out to the east and another to the north, but of the open spaces Yewberry had hoped for, I could see nothing.

“We’ve still got a good four-hour walk to go,” I said, estimating the distance. “Less if we can meet the Saffron end of the spalled Perpetulite. Five minutes’ break.”

“We’ll take ten,” said Courtland, and he and Tommo trotted off toward the tower. Scrap found on trips like this could be claimed as personal trove and was worth 50 percent of its value—not a huge sum, unless you’d brought a handy wheelbarrow, but enough for a scone or two at the Fallen Man .

I looked around to make some notes. Easy vehicular access past the looming six-story tower was blocked by a large grassy mound. To one side was a corroded bulldozer, which had sunk a foot into the earth. Behind this was a jumbled collection of boxy-looking vehicles, which were all in the middle stage of rust death and shrouded with nettles, brambles and outcrops of hawthorn and elder. The tower itself was identical to the one at East Carmine, except that it had not been stripped of its narrow bronze window frames. The tower was one of eight that I could see, ringing the town from the highest points all around and, it seemed, connected by a series of steel posts at least twenty feet high and set at fifty-foot intervals. I walked to the first of the high posts and noticed that in places it was still draped with the remains of wire, and that glass insulators similar to those on the telephone poles were bolted to the steel.

I recalled Jane’s advice to go no farther than the flak tower, and since she had known with all certainty that the tower was there—something that Yewberry hadn’t—it meant that she probably knew what she was talking about. We had done enough for today anyway. I would make detailed notes of this area, and after that we would return, report the magenta tree and continue the expedition another day. No cash and no glory, and quite possibly a disappointed Council. But I like to think I take my role as team leader seriously.

I retraced my steps to the tower, where I could hear Courtland talking to Tommo. The main door was of bronze almost eight inches thick and had seized in the partially open position. I stepped inside and walked down a short corridor, then through an inner door. I had expected it to be dark inside, but it wasn’t. Two lightglobes were burning brightly in the interior. One was in Courtland’s hand as he searched the debris, and the other was fixed precariously to the ceiling, where Tommo was trying to dislodge it with a stick.

“What’s the point?” I said, “They’re Leapback. You can’t take them back with you.”

They ignored me, and I looked around. The room was large, perhaps half the size of the ground floor, with a room off to one side and another bronze door, which partially hid a flight of steps that led upward.

Dominating two walls were long sections of steel desks, upon which lay the shattered remains of remote viewers. I found a working shard that had text on it that moved when I drifted my finger across, but nothing like the one I’d seen in Zane’s parlor. The floor was covered with dust, rust, broken furniture, scraps of clothing, general rubbish and bones —some relatively new, others so old they crumbled to dust between finger and thumb. As I sorted through the debris with my foot I saw several red objects wink at me, and I picked up a crimson button and rubbed it on my shirt.

“Here,” said Courtland who had been exploring one of the antechambers. “I’ve found another of the missing.”

I walked across to where Courtland was waiting at a bronze door leading off the main room.

“She’s at the back,” he said, passing me the lightglobe, “ten years dead, perhaps more.”

I walked inside and found myself in what looked like a storeroom. There was only one narrow vertical slit for a window, and the shelves had collapsed so the floor was now covered with rusty tins, the odd jar and a heavy carpeting of dust that kicked up as I walked. But Courtland was right. Lying on the floor was the body of a woman, fully dressed and with skin stretched as tight as parchment across her bones.

She had a satchel next to her, and I emptied the hardened leather bag onto the floor. It had about twelve spoons in it, and a large quantity of coins.

“Wow!” said Tommo, reaching forward to collect them. “That’ll buy Lucy from Mrs. Ochre.”

“I don’t get it,” I said, mostly to myself. “She’s dressed for travel or light leisure, not for outdoor adventure.”

I scratched my head. The remains of Thomas Emerald had been wearing a brogue. I didn’t know where these two had come from, but they weren’t from East Carmine, and they certainly weren’t part of an expedition.

“We’re going back,” I told them, searching the woman’s clothing for a name tag.

“Going back?” echoed Tommo in surprise. “Lying-that-we-got-to-High-Saffron going back, or aborting-the-mission going back?”

“Aborting. We come back another—”

“But we don’t get paid,” he interrupted, “at least, not if you insist on being honest and stuff.”

“Another time.”

“There are spoons there,” said Courtland, staring at the pile we had just discovered, “and we’ve got at least four more hours before we have to turn back. I’m the higher color, so I say we go on.”

“You forget yourself,” I replied. “There are no spots out here. I’m team leader.”

“All right,” he agreed, swiftly changing tack. “Did you see the ring she was wearing?”

I looked to check her dry and wizened hands, but it was only a ploy, and I heard the door swing shut behind me. Before I could even move, the bolt was thrown.

“Well, now,” said Courtland from the other side of the door, “that’s for meddling in Yellow business—a present from the Gamboges.”

I swallowed hard and tried to sound normal in spite of my anger and indignation. “Open the door, Courtland. This isn’t funny.”

“On the contrary,” he replied with a laugh, “I think it’s quite rich. I’ll admit that I thought the whole expedition lark was a load of rubbish this morning, but it’s grown on me. I quite like the idea of becoming ‘the man who brought color back to East Carmine.’ But it’s the spoons Tommo and I are really interested in. We’re going on to High Saffron.”

“What if you don’t come back?”

There was a pause.

“We wouldn’t let you out even if we did. You’ve been nothing but trouble since the moment you arrived, and I can’t see matters improving, especially since your outrageous accusations regarding Travis Canary.

No, Eddie my friend, I’m afraid you’re staying here for good. We waited and waited but you never returned. Tragic, really, but we did all we could. Violet will be able to squeeze out a tear, and we might even put your name on the departures board.”

“Tommo?” I said. “Are you in on this?”

There was a pause, and when he spoke, I could hear the tension in his voice. “You must admit, you could have toed the line a little better, Eddie. It wouldn’t have taken much. Double-ordering the Lincoln, for a start.”

I swore to myself. It didn’t look good. But just then I saw a shape flick past the vertical slit that was my window. My heart fair missed a beat, and I ran to the door, misjudged the distance, and bumped my head painfully against one of the hinge pins.

“Guys!” I shouted while I rubbed my head. “Someone just moved past my window!”

There was a demeritable curse, a scrabble and the sound of something falling over as they made for the exit. I ran to the window and peered out as a few seconds later Courtland heaved into view, closely followed by Tommo. They looked frightened. If I’d made it all up, I’d have been a genius. Sadly, I hadn’t.

Tommo cried, “There!” and ran off, closely followed by Courtland. I heard some shouts and a yell, a sharp cry and then silence. I tried to look out of the window, but the flak tower’s walls were a yard thick, and all I could see was the rear of the bulldozer, thirty yards away. I rummaged in the dust and debris for a piece of metal to use as a tool to at least attempt an escape, but as I did, I heard the bolt on the door drawn back. I picked up the lightglobe and shone it at the door, and when no one appeared, I gently pushed it open. I stepped into the main room and heard a childish giggle. I turned slowly around.

Standing on the steps that led to the upper floors was a young girl aged no more than ten, wearing a much-repaired dress. She had bare feet, expertly plaited hair and a grimy face. I blinked, but she was not a Pooka, and after giving me a cheery wave, she disappeared up the stairs.

Before I could even begin to digest what I had just seen, I heard another cry from outside, so I ran out the door and sprinted to the back of the tower. There I found Tommo and Courtland grappling with Jane, who, while putting up a good show for herself, would eventually succumb to numbers and greater strength.

Without stopping to think, I kicked Tommo and felt a rib break beneath my toe. He fell away with a cry, and I thumped Courtland as hard as I could, which wasn’t that hard, and I hurt my hand. But it gave Jane an opportunity to free herself, and as quick as lightning she had expertly turned Courtland onto his back and held a sharpened potato peeler at his throat.

“Okay, okay,” he said, his manner suddenly changing. “Let’s just think about what you’re doing here.”

He looked up at me. “Eddie,” he said, “we’re going to be prefects together. Tell her to lay off.”

I was still shaking. I had never been in a fight in my entire life. “Tell her to lay off? You were going to leave me here to starve!”

He gave out a laugh. “You are so gullible, Russett. We were just going to let you stew a bit. A prank.

Isn’t that right, Tommo?”

Tommo was on the ground, doubled up in pain. He shook his head, then nodded, then shrugged, then groaned.

“You can have this one on me,” growled Jane. “Tell me to spare him and I’ll spare him. Bleed him and I’ll do that, too.”

I answered without hesitation. “Spare him.”

She pushed him away and then stood next to me, trembling with anger.

“Perhaps this is how all toshing parties end up,” I said sadly. “Maybe there are no Pookas or Mildew or flying monkeys or anything. Just fear and a few too many arguments over spoons.”

I took a deep breath.

“Tommo,” I said, “you’re heading back to Bleak Point, where you’ll wait for us until—when’s sundown?”

“Eight-thirty.”

“Right. You’ll wait until seven-thirty precisely, when you’ll take Violet and the Ford back into East Carmine. Can you do that?”

Still unable to speak, he simply nodded.

“Go now.”

He very gingerly got to his feet and, holding his side, limped off. “What about us?” asked Jane.

“We’re going to High Saffron.”

She stared at me for a moment, head to one side. “You may regret it.” “I can’t regret this trip any more than I do already.”

“I’m coming, too,” said Courtland, getting to his feet.

And with this, she seemed to change her mind.

“Okay, then. But we’d better get a move on. It’s about a three-hour walk to where the Perpetulite reestablishes itself, and High Saffron is an hour beyond that.”

Courtland and I stared at her.

“You’ve been there before?” I asked.

“Once or twice.”

“Will there be spoons?” asked Courtland.

“Oh, yes,” she replied with a smile, “there shall definitely be spoons.”