This Rage of Echoes

  Like a rhino I went charging through bushes. Their heads would burst like water melon when I swung this lump of metal at them. Nobody in the bushes so I charged back to the front of the house. Rain stabbed my eyes. Gales screamed through the chimneys. A figure lunged from a doorway. A shout. My hand raised aloft the wrench as if it was a sword of divine retribution.

  ‘Mason, it’s me!’

  Madeline stood there. Her eyes were bright with fear as she anticipated falling victim to my bloodlust.

  I lowered the wrench. ‘Have you seen anyone?’

  She shook her head. ‘Mason, what are you going to do with me?’

  ‘Do with you?’

  ‘Have you thought what will happen to me in the future?’

  ‘It’s nigh on impossible to figure out a plan for the next three hours never mind your entire future; besides, whatever’s happened to you doesn’t make me your owner. Why don’t you just go home?’

  ‘Even if I could remember where I lived what would my family say if I turned up like this?’

  I stared at her face – or, rather, a close copy of my face, albeit a feminized one. ‘Don’t you remember your family?’

  ‘When I try, all I can see are the faces of your mother and sister.’ She looked away. ‘Sorry.’

  Madeline was so emotionally wounded part of me wanted to give her a hug, but my own emotions were too scrambled to get involved with anything approaching physical contact with the woman.

  I took a deep breath. ‘There doesn’t seem to be anyone around. It might have just been a kid sneaking by the garage for a dare.’ I shrugged; even to me that explanation wasn’t convincing. ‘But it’s likely those people who abducted us will want to finish what they started.’

  ‘If it’s not safe, will you let me come into the house?’

  ‘My sister’s ripped up about what happened.’ I shook my head. ‘It’s not a good idea.’

  ‘All right.’

  I know, I know, she should have protested. I mean, if your life is in danger you need to be in the company of people you know. Here I was, telling her she was in danger, then I denied her the protection of being in a house with the doors locked. Relative protection, that is. If Echomen appeared round the corner with guns what could we do to save our necks then? So instead of demanding to come with me she returned to the garage, her demeanour achingly submissive.

  Lamely, I added, ‘The main doors are locked. You can bolt this door from inside.’ Then this statement that, if it were a horse, was so thunderously lame the poor bloody beast would have been shot dead, ‘Stay in the back of the car with the blanket over you … you’ll be safe there.’ Yeah, why not glue together a jacket made out of Kleenex and tell her it’s bullet proof? That would make her just as safe as hiding in the back of the car if the Echomen return. With the rain still hitting my head as if it had taken a dislike to me I returned to the house. Eve stood in the hallway.

  ‘I saw the pair of you,’ she accused. ‘If you know what she is, why are you so obsessed with her?’

  ‘Do you want me to turn her out into the street?’

  ‘Mason, she’s not a real human being, she can’t be. She won’t have feelings.’

  Madeline saved my life. She saved yours. Damn it, that’s the truth. I’ll tell Eve these facts now. ‘Madeline is—’

  ‘My God. You should see the expression on your face! You are obsessed with her … Mason, you make me sick!’

  ‘Eve … Eve! Let me explain …’ But she fled, howling with sheer rage.

  For the rest of the day I saw nothing of Madeline, nor Eve who remained in her room, door locked, ears blocked … the way siblings can to (a) sever communication with the other sibling (b) sever that communication in such a way as to generate frustration at not being able to argue further, or even apologize. After that, there were other false alarms. More than once I woke in the sure certainty that I heard feet climbing the stairs. When I checked they were deserted, even my old imaginary friend Natsaf-Ty appeared to shun me for abandoning Madeline to the uncertain safety of the garage. And when your imaginary friend gives you the cold shoulder that’s when you know you’re in trouble. Twice the telephone rang. ‘Hello?’ No answering ‘hello.’

  The Echomen stayed away. Our enemy didn’t attempt to slaughter us in our beds, or burn down the house, or even hurl stones with threats tied to them. No. When the Echomen returned it was in a way none of us could have predicted.

  chapter 20

  The next morning I woke to find I’d slept ten hours. After a shower to blast away any tenacious jail odour I dressed then went downstairs to the kitchen.

  My mother sang out a bright, ‘Good morning. Sleep well?’ She wore a summer dress with orange flowers on a green background. At that moment she busied herself in the sunlit kitchen as she whisked eggs in a bowl. ‘You were going to cut back the apple tree for me, weren’t you?’

  People will tell you that you always see a loved one at least once after they die. The truth is, for a second I didn’t believe I saw a ghost. For that glittering, surreal instant I believed the last seventy-two hours hadn’t happened. That I was strolling into the kitchen like any other morning to find my mother making breakfast with a spring in her step. Just like times gone by, when we’d chat about our plans for the day, about what chores needed to be done; would I be meeting friends later? That sort of thing. And for a whole moment I clung to the illusion as hard as I could. Then:

  ‘Get out.’

  ‘Mason, will you pass me the pan? The one with the wooden handle.’

  ‘I said get out.’ My voice came as a low growl, something close to the sound a dog makes before it attacks.

  ‘And would you like bacon with the scrambled eggs?’ Her voice had a lightness to it – not a care in the world.

  ‘You’re not my mother.’

  ‘Mason, the pan.’

  ‘I told you to get out.’

  ‘OK, if you don’t want to pass the pan I’ll use the copper one, but it’s always difficult to clean.’ She tipped the whisked eggs into another pan, then set it on to the gas ring. ‘Will you keep stirring while I get the bacon? That copper’s a nightmare if anything sticks … Oh, good morning, Eve. Sleep well?’

  Ten expressions in one millisecond. At least that’s what seemed to pass across my sister’s face: happiness, confusion, disappointment, alarm – the works.

  ‘Mason.’ Eve froze in the doorway. ‘It’s one of those things. It’s followed us here.’

  ‘Eve, stay back.’

  ‘I don’t know what game you two are playing.’ The thing that wore the smiling face of my mother put the bacon on the table. ‘But I haven’t time for it this morning. After breakfast I have to drive Mrs Robinson to the hairdressers. Ever since she had that fall last month she’s not been able to use her own car. Now will you stop staring at me as if I’m wearing a fish on my head and make yourselves useful? Eve, fetch the coffee, will you? Mason, keep stirring the eggs or they’ll burn.’

  The door that led outside from the kitchen was open. From it came a shape that moved so quickly it was a blur. A second later it lunged at the creature that had stolen my mother’s identity. Another second and I recognized the figure as Madeline. Deftly she slid a transparent plastic bag over the clone’s face then gathered it tight around her neck. The face inside the bag changed from a happy-go-lucky smile to one of fury. Her eyes narrowed as she tried to grab Madeline by the throat.

  ‘Help me!’ Madeline yelled.

  Eve acted first. She caught hold of the creature’s flailing arms. This freed up Madeline to reach out, grab the flex from the kettle and wrap it round the neck of the thing that posed as my mother. The woman tried to scream but the sound came as a gurgle. Pressure on the trachea, however, wasn’t great enough to stop her breathing. The bag inflated as she exhaled, then shrunk tight to the face like shrink-wrapped meat when she inhaled. A patch of fog appeared round the mouth where moisture from her breath condensed. The eyes changed from being gentle Mom
eyes to slits that blazed hatred.

  ‘Mason!’ Eve shouted.

  ‘Help us get her on to the table.’ Madeline used the electric flex as part rein, part hangman’s noose to both pull and to choke. ‘Hurry, Mason! She’s breaking free!’

  I went to help, then froze. What I had to do was obvious – only that woman really did look like my mother. Exactly like her.

  ‘Mason!’ Eve yelled again. ‘Help us!’

  The plastic bag continued to inflate-deflate. When it sucked tight to her face as she breathed in it created a polythene fright mask that had precious little in the way of humanity about it. When it inflated it formed a misty halo around a face and head that were exactly the same as my mother’s. What if it wasn’t my mother who died in the pool … what if it was one of those Echo creatures? Now we were choking the life from the woman who gave birth to me. That puddle of air in the bag would be poisonous now. Her chest heaved as she breathed a gallon of toxic gas.

  Still she struggled, though. She’d grabbed Eve by the throat. When Madeline had the chance she balled her fist, then whopped it into the creature’s gut with enough force to make her grunt. The pain was also intense enough to stop her fighting for a moment, giving the pair time to drag her across the table, so she lay on her back with her legs dangling at one side and the two women holding her by the arms at the other. The kitchen table had become a sacrificial altar. The bag still inflated-deflated. Bad air rushed in and out of her lungs.

  Eve turned to me, her hair flying out, eyes fiery. ‘Mason. Get a knife!’

  I stared in disbelief.

  ‘Use it on her before she breaks free.’

  My eyes went to the knife hanging on the magnetic strip; the ten-inch blade glittered. It sang its own bloody possibilities to me. Grab the knife. Plunge the point into the woman’s belly. Twist it round, rock the handle downward so it forced the blade up toward the heart.

  ‘No!’ I pushed both Eve and Madeline away, then dragged the plastic bag from the woman’s head. Instantly she scrambled to her feet.

  ‘Mason, you should have killed her while you had the chance.’

  ‘What if we made a mistake? What if she’s our mother?’

  The woman that wore Mom’s face managed a smile as her chest heaved for air. ‘I can be your mother. Listen to me … they’ll cut a deal. As long as you don’t interfere with them I’ll stay with you as long as you want.’

  Eve lunged for the knife on the wall. I caught her before she could slash the monster’s face with it.

  Strangely, the creature appeared uncaring about her safety. She smiled as she rubbed her bruised throat. ‘Like I said, children. If you want me to be your mother, then I’ll be Mom for as long as you need me.’ She took a step back. ‘I’ll come back later. Just to make sure you make the right decision.’

  With that she stepped through the back door. By the time I ventured out there the woman was nowhere in sight.

  ‘Mason, get that thing out of the house.’

  ‘Madeline needed to—’

  ‘I don’t care! Get rid of her!’ Eve went to her room.

  ‘Sorry about that,’ I told Madeline. ‘Eve’s …’ The words didn’t come easily. ‘Broken hearted. Our mother was still young … full of life.’

  ‘If you want me to go, I will.’ Madeline watched my face; no doubt searching for clues as to what I was thinking … but then sometimes we shared stray thoughts. As she’d waited out in the car inside the garage I laid in bed and felt what she felt – the terror of knowing her identity had been supplanted by another one; the fear of being alone in the garage when an Echoman might have been approaching with the intention of killing her. Then I’d picked up her craving for human company; yet with that had come a self-disgust because she knew Eve and I saw her as some kind of monster. Lost in my own thoughts I hadn’t answered, so she gently repeated the invitation. ‘Mason. I can go? All you need do is ask.’

  ‘No. You’ve nowhere to go. I’m not going to abandon you.’

  She smiled. ‘I’ll keep out of Eve’s way.’

  ‘For the time being that might be a good idea.’ I found myself smiling back. ‘Seeing Eve has gone back to her room I’ll cook you something.’ I got busy; partly to suppress the head full of questions I’d got buzzing around in there. ‘I do a great steak smothered in melted blue cheese. Do you want to give it a go?’

  ‘If you like it then I will.’

  ‘So we share the same tastes as well as the same features.’ I touched my nose. ‘I’m sorry you ended up with this beak, by the way.’

  ‘I’ve been admiring it in the mirror. I had time to kill in the car.’

  ‘Yeah, that can’t have been much fun.’

  ‘I didn’t mind. Sometimes I saw you looking out of your bedroom window.’

  My face grew warm. ‘It’s hard not to be concerned. After all, if those people came back.’

  As we talked I took packs of steak from the refrigerator. Madeline pulled the big old pan from the back of a cupboard – it was the one I always used for steak. Neither of us mentioned the obvious question. If she’d never been to this house before, how did she know it was there? Because the answer’s obvious: Madeline’s dipping into my memory. So what was the extent of her knowledge about me? How long before she could read my mind like you read words on a sign?

  Die, Madeline! Die! It was crude experiment in mental projection, and I kept a close watch on her face. But when I shouted the words inside my head she didn’t give the tiniest indication that she’d picked them up. Now that was a relief. I didn’t want her knowing every little thing that slipped through my mind. It’s one thing to share the same face, another thing entirely to share the same thoughts.

  She smiled. ‘You crumble the blue cheese, rather than grating it.’

  ‘You must have read my mind.’ I made a joke of it. ‘Yep, if you crumble the cheese into a bowl, then—’

  ‘Sprinkle it on the steak once its cooked and pop under the grill until—’

  ‘Bubbling.’ I nodded. ‘Whatever it is that’s happened to us at least it means we don’t always have to explain recipes to each other.’

  ‘Or how we feel?’

  That question of hers might have required more explanation; however, I noticed the plastic bag on the floor. It had a smear of pink lipstick on the inside. Taking a deep breath I picked it up. ‘Sometimes it seems recent events are a dream. Then this.’ I crumpled the bag in my fist. ‘Hard evidence.’

  ‘So the Echo people made a copy of your mother, like they made a copy of me out of you?’

  ‘You’re not a copy like the others. You’re different. Can you wash the tomatoes please?’

  Wash tomatoes? Open the potato salad? Cut some bread? Pour orange juice? I know, it makes me angry. But I’ve this tendency to evade the painful parts of reality by doing normal, humdrum things. If I’d begun this conversation with Eve she would have demanded answers. Madeline didn’t want to know how I was really feeling about Mom right now. Don’t you know it? Madeline’s a chip off the old block. She’s me to a T. So without any social awkwardness we lapsed into small talk. This butter’s a lovely colour, Mason. Would you prefer coffee or orange juice? Look, there isn’t a cloud in the sky. You’ve an eyelash on your cheek; here let me get it for you. See? Small talk. Avoiding confrontation with reality. A Mason Konrad trait. Now a Madeline trait.

  We ate lunch early, so call it brunch. Madeline loved her steak covered with melted blue cheese and made a lot of expressive ‘Ooohs’ and ‘Mmms.’ The kitchen was no longer silent as the proverbial tomb. The radio played up-beat music, we chatted in a lively way. When I cut a tomato it squirted into my eye, which had us laughing as I wiped away the juice.

  That’s how Eve found us. Both laughing, Madeline leaning forward across the table to dab away a tomato seed stuck to my eyebrow. Seeing my sister standing there with reddened eyelids, her face puffy from weeping, hit me like a slab of cold concrete. Madeline immediately stopped laughing, then lowered
her head in a submissive way that reminded me of the housemaid that ‘knows her place’.

  I started by attempting to excuse the scene. ‘We were both hungry so decided to have an early lunch. Sorry if we woke you.’ My fork went down on the plate harder than I intended. Madeline flinched. ‘Damn it, Eve. We can’t stop living. What happened to our mother is terrible; that doesn’t mean we’ve got to crawl into our beds and stay there.’

  ‘You’re right, Mason. It’s essential to eat.’ Eve spoke in a way that was more restrained than I could have believed possible in the circumstances. ‘It’s also essential to take action. So I’ve reached a decision.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘You said that we couldn’t go to the police until we had evidence?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  Eve nodded at Madeline. ‘Then take her to the police. They’ll take one look at her then they’ll know we’re telling the truth.’

  ‘Do you know what the authorities would do to Madeline?’ Cold and heat flushed through me simultaneously. ‘They’d experiment on her like a lab rat.’

  ‘I figured you wouldn’t be parted from her. So now I’m proved right.’

  ‘Eve, it’s not like that. I don’t—’

  ‘Don’t explain. It’s not necessary.’ She surged on, ‘So the decision I did come to, one which I expect you to agree with, is that we go back to the school and find hard evidence that the police will accept.’

  ‘You know the danger of going to the police?’

  ‘Yes, and it’s not they’ll think we’re insane: they’ll find the cells built in the pool, and maybe even our mother.’

  Madeline tilted her head to one side. ‘Why, then?’

  Eve replied with a lick of fire in her voice, ‘Because we’re in danger from your kind. Once we go to the police they’ll force us to stay here.’ She turned to me. ‘Madeline’s not the only one thinking like you, Mason. If we have to remain in this house while the police investigate then we’re easy targets.’ She took a deep breath. ‘And don’t look at me as if I’m going to break into pieces. Mom’s dead. I’ll grieve for her when this is over. Now, whether you come with me or not, I’m going to search the school.’