The Boy with Two Heads

  The image changed again, to a side view, and Dr Summersby took over again. ‘I moved in on the prefrontal cortex,’ she said. ‘That closed down the danger areas. We induced strokes, effectively, Richard – in a very targeted fashion.’

  ‘Tiny explosions,’ said one of the screen doctors.

  ‘It’s safe, and it’s controlled—’ added another.

  ‘What it does is implode the second head, while giving the other brainstem stimulants that allow it to re-adjust back to the original, happier pathology. It’s a bit like reprogramming a computer – cleaning out a virus. You can imagine how good it feels.’

  ‘I’m feeling sick,’ said Richard.

  ‘We burn out the complications. It’s like—’

  ‘A kind of re-booting. You’ll feel renewed and invigorated.’

  ‘Butterfly after six days.’

  She pressed a key, and Richard’s mouth fell open again. The little girl was in bed, and her neck was bandaged. She was staring at the camera with dead eyes. Her lips were swollen and parted, as if she was trying to speak. Dr Summersby clicked again, and Richard saw the second head, the size of a deflated football. The neck had been severed just below the Adam’s apple. The eyelids were tight shut, and it was biting its own tongue.

  ‘Let’s hold it there,’ said one of the televisions. There was a buzz of static again. ‘We’re learning all the time, naturally, because that second head can teach you a hell of a lot.’

  ‘I’m going to be sick,’ said Richard. ‘Let me out, please!’

  ‘Hang on, just—’

  ‘Cut the slides, please. He’s seen enough.’

  ‘This is wrong!’ cried Richard. ‘Let me go!’

  He tried not to look at the screen, but it was too huge to avoid. Another slide had appeared, and in his effort to close it down the technician flashed up yet another. Butterfly’s second brain had been removed from the skull. It sat on a slab of white marble, wired into what might have been a battery. When the slide flipped again, red tissue had been divided into neat slices, and Richard could stand it no more. He scrambled to his feet, pulling himself away from his father. A hand closed around his arm, but he managed to haul himself over the chairs in front and shake it off.

  ‘Richard, wait!’ said Dr Warren.

  ‘What’s happening?’ said somebody. ‘Is there a problem?’

  ‘Doctor Summersby—’

  ‘I’m getting out!’ shouted Richard. ‘Come on, Dad – they’re not touching Rikki!’

  ‘Hold him!’ cried Dr Warren. ‘He’s over-stimulating.’

  Mr and Mrs Westlake were on their feet too, moving to the aisle. The cinema lights came on, and an orderly in a white coat moved quickly to the doors.

  ‘You’re not doing that to me!’ hissed Richard. He dodged back along the row, but a second nurse was approaching fast. A third had appeared through a curtain, and Dr Warren was talking into a mobile phone.

  Richard vaulted another block of seats, but there was clearly no escape, and he could hear an alarm ringing. The nurses were closing in, and one was holding his father back. Richard leaped again, and found himself surrounded. He tried to get back the way he’d come, but suddenly they were on him, and he was lifted high in their arms. He screamed for help, and heard his father’s voice, shouting back – he heard his mother crying out, but he couldn’t see them for the cinema was spinning.

  ‘Dad!’ he yelled. He was twisting like a fish. ‘Get them off me! Get them—’

  He managed one mighty kick, and then he tried to punch, but his arms were held too tightly. They had his ankles and his knees, and he was lowered quickly to the ground, locked against white coats.

  The shouting was constant now, and his mother was hysterical. Richard howled out again, squirming and twisting, but the hands that held him were merciless and impossibly strong. They’d restrained patients three times his size, and they knew exactly where to grip.

  ‘Careful!’ said someone.’

  ‘You got him?’

  ‘I’ve got him. Hold still.’

  ‘Put him back. Not too far. Doctor Warren?’

  His shoulders were bent backwards, and Richard could feel hands on his jaw. He was staring into the eyes of an orderly who was concentrating hard, and he glimpsed the hypodermic as it passed his nose. They were going for the neck. He tried to buck and curl, but it was hopeless. He felt the sting, and he couldn’t move a muscle. Still people were shouting, but now the voices were taking on strange echoes, as if in a swimming bath.

  ‘Please!’ he cried.

  ‘He’s a fighter, this one,’ said a voice in his ear.

  ‘Oh, please!’ said Richard quietly. ‘Don’t . . . please . . .’ He tried to sit up, but they were pressing him down, and he couldn’t speak loudly enough.

  Dr Warren was high above him, studying his watch, and then Dr Summersby moved in beneath them all, kneeling. She had a second hypodermic, and Richard couldn’t get away from it. She stung him in almost the same place, right in the throat as Rikki’s head rolled sideways, mouth open. There was another tiny pricking, just under his chin, and all sound started to fade. He glimpsed the ceiling, blue with a bright, white lamp in the centre – he thought it was the sun, for a moment, bursting out of a beautiful sky. He strained towards it, for he could hear engines roaring. A fighter-jet was hurtling towards him, about to smash through the walls.

  Then it was blackness. He crashed into a darkness so thick it simply extinguished him.

  PART FOUR

  FLIGHT

  CHAPTER ONE

  ‘Wake up,’ said a voice.

  ‘No . . .’

  ‘You did fine, boy. Just take your time.’

  Something was buzzing in his ears, and the light was dim. There was a drain in his mouth, and he could feel pressure on his chest.

  ‘Rikki?’ said Richard. ‘Are you there?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Thank God. Where?’

  ‘I’m right beside you, brother. As you might expect.’

  ‘You’re still with me? They’re after you, Rikki – I couldn’t stop them . . .’

  ‘Nobody’s dead yet. We’re in a bad way, though – and we haven’t got much time. You’ve got to wake up, OK? We’ve been waiting for you.’

  He felt a pair of teeth bite gently into his ear lobe. The pressure increased, and there was a twinge of pain. Then the teeth released him and he heard a sound he hadn’t heard for a long time. It was laughter.

  ‘Relax, OK?’

  ‘Where have they put us?’ said Richard. ‘I don’t think I can move.’

  ‘We’re in the dungeon. They’re getting us ready for the big separation.’

  ‘Rikki, I can’t move my head. Where’s Mum and Dad?’

  ‘They were thrown out,’ whispered Rikki. ‘Sent home. So stay as calm as you can, all right? There was nothing they could do for us – Warren’s got all the paperwork he needed, and he wants me in a jar. We have to get our energy back, ’cos I’m not sure we can even walk at the moment.’

  ‘They’ve drugged us.’

  ‘They’re filling us up, and screwing us down. What floor are we on, Eric?’

  ‘Basement three,’ said a small voice. ‘High security, so they say.’

  ‘We’re underground. Summersby’s taking her chance, Richard. They’ve got the lasers all set up and the surgeons are coming.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Look around you. Focus! Can you move your head, even a little bit?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Move your eyeballs, then.’

  Richard let his eyes wander, and the shapes above him gradually resolved themselves. He was held in a vice, and all around his head stood grey, metallic snouts – there were six of them, at least. They were on complicated stands and levers, so they could be swung and tilted. Little red lights gleamed and flashed, and each snout tapered to a single tiny nostril that was aimed right at his skull. They were ranged over both his head and Rikki’s, and he realized they were a
ttached to wires and tubes that coiled around his neck and chest. His shoulders felt bolted to some kind of frame, and his temple was squeezed between steel plates.

  ‘This is the end, isn’t it?’

  ‘No. We’ve got an exit strategy, as Eric will explain.’

  ‘Eric? You said Eric a second ago—’

  ‘He’s with us, OK? Up on the cupboard, working out the wiring. He’s going to save us, Richard.’

  ‘Why would Eric be here? You’re hallucinating!’

  ‘Not me. He’s going to spring us, but you have to stay calm. They were going to zap him too – don’t you remember? Our school’s right behind them.’

  A lamp clicked on, and Richard saw a shape high above him on some kind of cabinet. ‘I’m up here, Richard,’ said a voice. ‘Don’t shout, OK? I’m taking the batteries out of this, and then I’m going to try and unwrap you.’

  Richard strained his eyes, and saw that there were shadows everywhere – there were bars around his bed, and they threw stripes across the walls. The long snouts were reflected in huge ceiling mirrors, and he suddenly felt he was falling. The voice had come from in front, so he focused on a tall metal box beyond his toes. Up on the top, side-lit by a shaded bulb, he could see the figure of a child, sitting cross-legged. The side of the face gleamed, and he saw eyes, shining with excitement, and a bright, unmistakable smile.

  ‘It is you!’ whispered Richard. ‘Eric . . .’

  ‘They moved me in on Friday. Shhh! They took me into care, same as you. You’ve got nothing to worry about, though – I’ve dismantled their little communication pack, and we have a plan.’

  ‘But why are you in hospital? Are you sick?’

  ‘Look at my head.’

  Eric put his cranium down, and Richard saw that it had been shaved: there wasn’t a tram-line or a dreadlock to be seen. Eric was as bald as a baby, and looked about eight years old. He jumped down onto the bed and moved close to Richard.

  ‘I told you, didn’t I?’ he said, chuckling. ‘They were going to fry the badness out of me. It’s what Doctor Warren wants to try – and Mum signed the forms after what I did to Mr Barlow.’

  ‘Mr Barlow? What did you do to Mr Barlow?’

  ‘I battered him unconscious.’

  ‘What? How?’

  ‘I hit him, Richard. With a fire extinguisher. They threw me off the residential, right at the last minute, and I just lost it. I couldn’t stop myself.’

  ‘Why Mr Barlow, though? Did you hurt him?’

  ‘I think so. He was unconscious.’

  ‘Look,’ said Rikki. ‘All that can wait—’

  ‘OK, but I got to get your drips out first. Let me check the doors again – you stay there.’

  Richard lay still, utterly confused. He heard the sound of bare feet and was aware of a door buzzing open, then closing again. Eric was back, leaping the bars nimbly, and he felt quick, careful fingers working at his wrist.

  ‘We can’t take any chances,’ he said. ‘They checked you about five minutes ago, so we should have a window of twenty to thirty. This is going to hurt, all right?’

  Richard winced as something was drawn from his flesh. Then he felt hands at his nose, and there were tears in his eyes as something pinched and pulled.

  ‘God, Eric!’ he said. ‘You stink of cigarettes.’

  ‘Yeah, I’m sorry.’

  ‘Are you smoking again?’

  ‘When I get nervous. Yeah . . .’

  Eric spun the wheel nuts of a clamp, and Richard felt his skull easing back onto a mat. ‘We’re cutting it fine, OK? They want Rikki for full-on dissection. They’re just going to take him now, whatever the risk – they want to see inside. I heard them planning it.’

  ‘Tell him,’ said Rikki. ‘Get the other clamps off.’

  ‘You ready to listen?’ said Eric. He was sitting cross-legged, close to Richard’s chest. He reached up, flicked a couple of switches, then heaved some kind of brace from the boy’s foreheads. Then he peeled a plaster from Rikki’s temple and pushed one of the metal nozzles away. He smiled happily. ‘You’re nearly free!’

  ‘They showed me pictures,’ said Richard. ‘But what did you hear?’

  ‘This place is hell.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I’ve been in and out for a while,’ said Eric. ‘You understand that, don’t you? I know my way round pretty well, and I got myself one of these passes.’ He held up a plastic card on a loop of cord. ‘Found it under one of the computers in reception. They think I’m a cute kid, so nobody takes much notice. For a high-security place, they’re pretty slack – which is lucky for all of us. I get pretty much anywhere – up in the lifts, down to the pool. They’ve got a ward full of weirdos, level five. Today, though, I was just roaming, and I think, What I wouldn’t do for nicotine! I’d had another session up on the same floor as Doc Warren, so I doubled back and saw where he keeps his jacket. You know he’s a smoker?’

  ‘No,’ said Richard.

  ‘He’s trying to give up, but he can’t when he’s excited. And he’s real excited at the moment, because of his plans for Rikki. So I figured he’d have cigarettes.’ He removed more sticking plaster and gently withdrew a plastic probe. ‘Do you think you can sit up now? I got to get more wires off you.’

  ‘We’ve got to stand up,’ said Rikki. ‘Get on with the story.’

  ‘OK,’ said Eric. He drew a couple of bolts on the bed-frame and let down the panel of bars. Then he lifted Richard’s arm and draped it over his. In a moment, Richard and Rikki were sitting forward, with Eric behind. ‘I crawled into Warren’s office, OK? I’m doing a Nailhead manoeuvre – me and Mark learned it together. I’m crawling in, just after a fag, all right? – and I hear voices from the inside office. I hear your names mentioned: “Rikki and Richard”. So I freeze, and listen harder. I thought you were there, maybe, and I could leap in and say hello – so I got in close, and I peep in on the fat guy with the specs. He’s one of the team, I think.’

  ‘Our consultant.’

  ‘Sit up straight,’ said Eric. ‘They got plasters all round your head – sensors all over you.’ He started peeling and pulling. ‘Anyway, I’m still in the office. Doctor Warren’s right opposite, and there’s the woman with the scary face. Dracula’s wife.’

  ‘Summersby,’ said Rikki.

  ‘“Just do it,” says the fat guy. “Get it done.” “That’s the way,” says the woman. “In Vietnam we just took the risk.” Doc Warren speaks then, and says, “What if he dies on us? What then?” and Summersby says, “They’re insured. So are we.”’

  ‘You heard her say that?’ gasped Richard.

  ‘That’s what she said – those were her words. Then she says, “We need the Rikki brain. I want it!”’

  ‘Rikki, I can’t believe this!’ hissed Richard.

  ‘Yes, but Doctor Warren took over, then,’ said Eric. ‘I’m just giving you the gist, OK? “Let’s get the sequence clear,” he says. “Soon as the team arrive . . . get him straight to the lab.”’

  ‘It’s an outrage,’ cried Richard. ‘Mum and Dad, what do they say?’

  ‘They’re being lied to,’ said Rikki. ‘Warren’s going to tell them they had no choice. We’re on our own, Richard.’

  ‘Try and stand,’ said Eric. ‘You need to get the circulation going.’

  ‘I’m going to kill him,’ said Richard.

  Rikki laughed. ‘I knew you’d be cross,’ he said. They struggled onto their feet. ‘It was my reaction too, Rich. Which is not exactly surprising, is it? But it makes me love you even more.’

  ‘They’re not going to do it,’ said Richard. ‘They will touch your brain over my dead body. You understand? We are totally together on this.’ He staggered forward, and leaned against a chair.

  Eric was right at his side. ‘Don’t speak for a moment,’ he said. ‘Get your breath. We’re going to get out of here, and survive, Richard: that’s the plan. Now see if you can get to the door.’ He took some of his friend’
s weight, and helped him walk. ‘Me and Rikki talked about this while you were asleep. I’m going to call Spider, and make sure he’s waiting for us. He’s got wheels, so if we can get out through the gates, he’ll take us away. And we’re going down to Wales.’

  ‘Wales?’ said Richard.

  Rikki was nodding, though the pain of using his legs was making him wince. ‘We’ve had the idea of the century, brother. You’re going to be so impressed.’

  ‘What’s happening in Wales?’

  ‘It’s where the school trip’s going! Don’t you remember?’

  ‘We hide on the bus,’ said Rikki. ‘Stowaways!’

  ‘Keep moving,’ said Eric. ‘Go round the bed. Where are they not going to look for us?’

  ‘Many places.’

  ‘Most of all, school. They’d never dream we’d go back to it.’

  ‘So we go on the trip?’ said Richard. They walked once round the room together. ‘Is that what you’re suggesting?’

  Eric was shaking his head, giggling. ‘Not exactly. You remember when the bus leaves?’

  ‘Sunday,’ said Richard.

  ‘And you remember the brochure?’ said Rikki.

  Eric took Richard’s hands and put them against the wall. ‘Push,’ he said. ‘Get your strength back. Keep moving your feet – like you’re jogging.’ Then he quoted from memory. ‘It’s the last frontier. It’s tough enough for the SAS – is it too tough for you?’ He went behind Richard and Rikki and massaged their shoulders, pounding life back into them. ‘Can you handle life in the untamed wilderness?’ he hissed. ‘Where man meets his inner self, and finds out what he’s made of?’

  ‘You think we could hide out there?’ said Richard. He was breathing deeply.

  ‘The bus will have a roof-rack,’ said Rikki. ‘We tie ourselves to it. Soon as we get near the camp, we jump down – head for the hills and disappear. Build a log cabin, or find a cave. Live off the land.’