Chapter Twenty-Eight

Hierarchical Advancement

Theo, dressed in his school uniform, swam into Savannah’s mind. Around them, the play park that they had spent so much time in when Theo was alive filtered in. Theo charged to where she sat on the bench, Aaron chasing him, wide, daft grins smeared on both. Aaron’s eyes were bright and effervescent, and his skin conveyed a liveliness it had lacked towards the conclusion of his life.

Savannah turned her head to the right - Lyra was seated next to her, wearing a shallow smile.

‘Hello, my baby,’ Lyra placed her hand on Savannah’s.

Savannah turned back to watch Theo and Aaron. ‘This isn’t real, is it? I’m basically back in that tunnel, aren’t I? This is all in my head.’

Lyra watched them too. ‘Yes, baby, you are. But this is real to you, that’s what’s important.’

‘So you’re not-’

‘No. I’m not really here. I’m… far away, now. So are the boys. That doesn’t mean we aren’t real. We’re… a fragment, we’re the parts of us inside you. We’re… little more than a memory. Real to you, baby.’

‘So, what’s the point of this? Why am I here? Where’s Alexis?’

Lyra’s smile dropped. ‘You committed an act of true purity. In telling Lauren to save Alexis… you sacrificed your own chance of salvation.’

Savannah peered down at her chest. Every inch of her white shirt was dyed red with her blood. She placed a hand over the open wound. Blood oozed, but there was no pump in her heart, no breath in her lungs, no pain in her chest. In here, everything was numb, muted.

‘You gave yourself up, of your own volition, to save Alexis though you knew it would cost you your own life. You, my baby, deserve everything good in this universe… if you survive, your actions today will have major ramifications for you in the future.’

‘What do you mean?’ Savannah pawed at her chest.

‘I can’t answer that. But, I can tell you that it will make all the difference.’

Savannah looked at the ground and gripped Lyra’s hand firmer. ‘Will I survive? Am I going to be alright?’

Lyra’s eyes hardened and she looked away. ‘I expect so. You’re going to be alright either way. If I were to be selfish… I’d have to say the truth is I hope Alexis… doesn’t regain consciousness. I know I’m awful for saying that; imagine your own mother telling you that, but… am I a poor mother for wanting us to be together? It’s not so bad, where we are…’

‘No, but you might be considered a poor mother for abandoning us in the first place.’

Lyra bit her bottom lip. ‘I’m… sorry for the hurt that’s caused, but I will not apologise for the act itself. I made the right decision, for me, and I’ve since been proven right. You can make the right decision for you, now, if you want to. You can let go. You can choose to depart life now, while it’s still your choice to make. Or, you can choose to fight your mortal wounds and give over to hope, placing your survival in the hands of Alexis. You can join us now, or not… but you’ll be with us and Grandma eventually. I will accept whatever you choose. You’re so young…’

Savannah, without hesitation, shook her head. ‘My mind is made up. Nothing can change it. I can’t leave Alexis on her own. You, the boys, and Grandma have each other - if I choose you, Alexis will have no one. I can’t abandon her to this life alone. It’s been about survival - I intend to fight on, not least so I can make sure she can do the same. I’m sorry, mum - you made your choice and now I’m making mine.’

Lyra wrapped her arm around Savannah’s shoulders. ‘I accept that. I knew you’d choose that. You’ve got unfathomable amounts left to do. I’m immeasurably proud of you. In everything you’ve done and will go on to do… I’m proud of you, baby. I wish I had half of your strength.’

Theo sprinted over, Aaron in tow.

‘Are you coming with us, Savvy?’ Theo shifted from foot to foot.

Savannah shook her head, tears threatening to spill. ‘No, angel, I’m not. One day, I’ll see you again. I’ll come back to you with Alexis.’

‘Aw,’ Theo’s lower lip extended outwards. ‘It’s nice though, there’s no dad here. We just… miss you and Alex.’

Savannah ran her finger along Theo’s cheek, down, and across his jawline. ‘I know you don’t understand, but it’s not my time… just like it wasn’t yours, my little angel. I’m - I’m so sorry for what you’ve gone through. Are you happy where you are?’

Theo broke into a wide, toothy smile. ‘Yes, I’m very happy, especially now mummy’s here. It was just me and Grandma at the start and it was fun but I missed mummy. And you, and Aaron, and Alexis, and Lauren… but I am happy now.’

‘Good,’ Savannah rubbed his arms and examined every inch of him for the final time. ‘But I can’t come with you while I have the choice. Alexis would be all alone, and the world is a terrifying place to be alone in.’

Theo’s chin pointed downwards. He gave a heaving sigh. ‘Okay.’

He jumped up and enveloped her in a hug. Aaron joined in, and Lyra leaned over and put her arm around them all.

All too soon, it was over.

Lyra stood and took Aaron and Theo’s hands. ‘Goodbye, Savannah. Look after yourself, and Alexis. We’ll be waiting for you, as long as it takes. Dead or alive, you are always in our hearts, and we will always be in yours. One day, we’ll be together again.’

With sad smiles all around, Lyra, Aaron, and Theo turned and exited the park. A blinding, white light enveloped them and the scene. Savannah wiped her tears away, and everything faded to black.

*

‘Okay, Alexis, is it done?’ Nyla’s voice entered her head. ‘Then she should wake up… right about…’

Savannah’s eyes jerked open.

The blood-orange light of sunset poured in through the windows. A rose oil and vanilla scent hung on the air, trailing Nyla, who mopped at Savannah’s brow with a damp, white rag.

Savannah brought her wrist up to her shoulder. The movement was fluid and easy, even more so than usual. Her sight and hearing had sharpened. She touched her chest - there was no wound to feel; there wasn’t even scarred tissue. Her breathing was easy, and she had enough physical energy to run 100 miles. Her mental state was another matter.

‘God, I feel like shit,’ she told Nyla. ‘What- what the fuck?’

‘Don’t. Ever. Scare me like that again,’ came Lauren’s tough tone.

Savannah lifted her head to see Lauren, her eyes rimmed red and tear tracks down her cheeks, with a pale Alexis, who swayed close to fainting, standing at the foot of her bed.

A laugh escaped Savannah. ‘Trust me, I have no intention of doing that. A word from the wise - never get stabbed. It fucking hurts.’

Alexis snorted and jolted to the side. Nyla darted over as Lauren steadied her. Together, they helped her over to the adjacent bed. Alexis lay down and lost consciousness again. Nyla pressed the back of one hand against Alexis’s forehead and took her pulse with the other.

‘She is in good health. The effort appears to have sapped her of any remaining energy she possessed, the poor sprite. She will recover in due course.’

Savannah let out a long breath. ‘Good. Any other injuries?’

‘No,’ Nyla said, moving over to her workstation in the corner. ‘She is in full physical health. There were minor injuries, but we healed them while you were in slumber, by Trivac’s grace.’

‘Who the f-’

Lauren waved her hand. ‘Don’t bother. A lecture on Alphin culture is the last thing you need right now.’ She lowered herself onto the edge of Savannah’s bed. ‘How you feeling?’

Savannah tugged her earlobe and recounted what had gone on in her mind while unconscious. To her surprise, Lauren laughed.

‘Our dear departed. They try to be ambivalent, but their selfish desires always shine through. They’ll never be content until we’re reunited. You’re lucky your dead love you - for the questionably motivated…’ She clicked her tongue. ‘Not that it matters.’

‘Were… were they real?’

Lauren shrugged and tilted her head from side to side. ‘Yes, in a way. They’re soul fragments - when a loved one dies, a fragment of their soul binds with those they leave behind, for better or for worse. It’s not all of their soul, though, so, yes and no. That doesn’t mean you’ll have regular conversations with them - they hold no sway in our conscious world, no influence outside of dreams and quasi-psychosis.’

‘But those fragments are with me, always?’

‘Yes.’

‘Huh.’ A nagging sensation at the back of Savannah’s mind eased - knowing that her loved ones were never truly away from her, despite being taken from her in a physical sense, was a small comfort. ‘And Alexis?’

‘Yes. For all we know, she could be communing with them as we speak. They could be having a party up there in her brain - who knows.’

‘I’ll never get used to all this,’ Savannah said, her gaze drifting to the window.

Lauren patted her leg. ‘You will. Look on the bright side - the threat’s averted. You two are safe and free to continue your progression in the order and to get used to everything. I’ll get you both enrolled in the other Quarters. You can get some experience and training with each… then, you can pick a discipline. Your futures are before you. The pain of the past is behind - all we have to worry about is the pain the future promises. You did well, by the way. For a moment, I thought you were finished.’

‘So did I. It… still hasn’t really hit me. Even when it was happening… it didn’t register. I’m not proud of it, either way, and I don’t want you to be proud of me for it.’

Lauren crossed her legs and frowned. ‘What do you mean? Why shouldn’t I be proud? You fought well, and you came out alive, even if it was a close call. I can’t really ask for more.’

Savannah turned away, her eyes shining like lightning forks. ‘I killed, Lauren - I told you I wanted no part in that. I’m not a killer and I have no desire to be. I don’t take lives. I fight only to survive, not to kill. All I wanted was for Alexis and I to no longer be in danger. And, as a consequence, I took a life. To me, that’s not something to be proud of.’

‘You took the life of someone who’d have taken yours in a heartbeat, had you not beaten him to the punch. And you feel bad about that? Where’s the sense in that?’

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Savannah didn’t answer.

Nyla turned away from Alexis and to Savannah. ‘It matters not their motivation. Even if it is a Pirik, even if it is technically not alive in the first place… it is still a life. It is like killing a fly - they may be an inconvenience, but why do we decide we have the right to end its existence? They have as much reason to be here as we do. Ending a life is to be avoided at all costs.’

Savannah looked at her, her eyebrows elevated. ‘That’s… exactly it. I don’t feel like, just because I’ve the power to do something, that I should do it. I despise it, I hate killing. Always have, when I’d hear other people do it, in the news or whatever. It’s all the same to me, there’s no grey area – a life is a life and none of us has the right to end one. I never imagined that I’d be put in that position.’

Lauren sat back, eyeing Savannah with an interest akin to a cat peering at a mouse. ‘If you never planned, and still don’t plan, to take a life, then why train so hard? Why not just let me or someone else do all the dirty work?’

Savannah turned away, teary. ‘Because I know it’s not always going to be my choice. So it proved earlier.’

Nyla shuffled past. She hugged Savannah before leaving the room. Savannah returned it – at least, in this world of super-powerful beings, she’d found someone who shared her viewpoint.

Once Nyla had left, Lauren continued to ogle Savannah. ‘Interesting…’

‘What?’

She shrugged and shifted in her seat. ‘I didn’t realise you had such a conscience.’

‘Come on. It’s Alexis that lacks one, not me.’

Lauren tilted her head. ‘True. You’ll get more comfortable with it as time goes on - sometimes we have to sacrifice our consciences for a larger, more significant goal. So… do you want to wait here for Alexis to wake up? I’ve got to return to the Mansion, but you can join if you want. Or, you can wait here and join us later, now you have a nifty travel device of your own.’ She winked.

Savannah smiled. ‘Nah, I’ll hang back here. I want to be here.’

Lauren stood and smiled down at her. ‘Okay.’

She left the room and Savannah hauled herself up, swinging her legs out of the sheet. Rather than leaving, she approached Alexis's bed. With as little movement as possible, she clambered in beside her, wrapped an arm around her neck, and held her close.

Alexis stirred. She awoke and tilted her head up to see Savannah’s face. Satisfied she was safe, she snuggled in closer. ‘W-what happened?’ she said, her voice thick and groggy.

Savannah held her tighter. ‘Shh, shh. Don’t worry, you’re safe. Everything’s fine, just go back to sleep. Rest up.’

Within moments, Alexis's breathing became heavier. Savannah lay, staring at the ceiling, with her sister in her arms, wishing that the moment would never end.

*

Shaking from head to toe, Bradshaw got back into his car. Robertson leaned against the passenger side before doing the same.

Bradshaw didn’t turn on the ignition, flick on the headlights, or adjust his mirrors. He stared off into the evening, his eyes glazed and unseeing.

The clean-up crew of creepy little creatures had done a stellar job, he had to commend them on that – even if they’d freaked him out further. The one thing he hadn’t needed after everything he and Robertson witnessed that evening was goddamn aliens. And what had shown up? Goddamn aliens.

‘What on earth do we do now?’

Robertson was silent for a long while. ‘I… don’t know. I’ve absolutely no idea how we present this. But… I told you so, didn’t I? I told you Savannah is involved.’

Bradshaw took several deep breaths. When he spoke, each word was weak and weighty. ‘You did. I suppose this… proves that beyond a doubt. Clearly, she’s part of something larger than us… something beyond our comprehension...something so surreal it can’t be real...’

‘Something well above our pay grade. I was still right.’

‘Yes, yes, I got that, you’ve got my admission, stop rubbing it in. What on earth do we do now?’

‘The only thing we can. We’re gonna have to go to the Chief Superintendent, aren’t we? He’ll know where it should go next.’

Bradshaw leaned his head against the steering wheel, resisting the temptation to smash his skull against it. ‘God… it is. I hate having to see him. We’ll do that first, then.’

He straightened, knocked on the ignition and put the car into gear. It wasn’t until they were at the bottom of the hill that he spoke once more. ‘I was hoping we could get away with leaving Jeremy to rot, y’know.’

‘Should’ve handed him to the aliens. He could do with a good probing, even if only for our entertainment.’

Bradshaw snorted. ‘Please, don’t mention the damn aliens. You saw them too, right?’

‘I wish I hadn’t. Trezeguet’s going to guffaw when we tell him, you realise that?’

‘Yup. I’ve had enough of tonight and it’s nowhere near over. What time is it?’

‘Just gone eight.’

‘Fuck. He’ll have left the office.’ Bradshaw turned the opposite way on the road. ‘We’ll catch him at his house.’

‘Ugh, do we have to? I hate his kids.’

‘Me too, but yes, we do. We’ve uncovered a threat to our national security. He needs to know.’

*

Trezeguet, the Chief Superintendent, was a wealthy, upper-class man. An Englishman of French descent, Trezeguet had spent many decades in various law enforcement roles. That, coupled with a family inheritance sufficient for the lifetimes of several estates, meant his coffers were fat. He lived in an old, Victorian-style manor house in the middle of nowhere, perfect for retreating to after a long day chasing crime.

He’d be livid they were bringing this to his door.

The detectives pulled up to the domineering iron gates at the base of the winding, gravel path leading to the cavernous oaken doors. The upstairs rooms were all shrouded in darkness, but most of the downstairs rooms were bathed in a congenial, welcoming amber light.

‘Can I help you?’ a gruff voice came over the intercom. Trezeguet’s two children screamed and laughed in the background.

Bradshaw leaned out of the window. ‘Detectives Bradshaw and Robertson, sir. We’ve… we’ve got some rather pressing news on one of our cases.’

There was an undisguised groan on the other end. ‘Can’t it wait until tomorrow? The wife’s just made me a delightful steak and kidney pie I’d rather devour.’

‘Sorry, sir, we wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t of utmost importance.’

Another groan. ‘Fine. But make it quick. If my food goes cold, so will you.’

The gates creaked open. Bradshaw and Robertson shared a look, then advanced up the gravel drive at a crawl.

They parked beside a gargoyle at the base of intricate, sweeping wooden stairs. They hurried up, and the doors opened as they did so.

The stocky, lanky figure of Trezeguet came into view in the opening. His white hair was combed to the side, and a chalk, toothbrush moustache bristled on his upper lip, groomed to perfection. He remained in his work shirt – his potbelly threatening to pop his buttons open – but had changed into comfortable tracksuit bottoms and slippers. His moustache quivered.

‘Detectives. I wish I could say it’s good to see you, but there’s no way I can do so and sound sincere. Suppose you’d better come in.’

They did as they were bid and entered a hallway of gleaming mahogany. A grandfather clock taller than Bradshaw ticked against one wall. Above the clock were two old fashioned swords crossed on a plaque, flanked on either side by landscape paintings. On the other wall stood two bookcases separated by a glass cabinet, containing an array of expensive watches, necklaces, and Trezeguet’s prized hunting rifles. Above the cabinet, a fox pelt was punched into the wall. A dazzling chandelier hung in the centre of the ceiling.

Trezeguet’s son darted into the hallway. He skidded to a stop, gazing at Bradshaw with an insolent curiosity. ‘What do you want?’

Trezeguet’s moustache trembled. ‘Don’t be so rude. Get back into the living room and play with your sister. I’ve got some work to do, then I’ll be right in.’

The kid blew a raspberry and turned on his heel, sprinting back the way he’d come.

Trezeguet gestured for them to follow and he led them upstairs. ‘Sorry about that, you know how kids are. Hyper, y’know? Buzzing with energy and nowhere to put it.’

‘That’s alright, we’re in your home, you don’t have to apologise.’

Trezeguet led them into his study. The entire far wall was a bookcase. More hunting trophies were dotted around the room. In a locked cabinet above the fireplace to the left was a shotgun. In the room’s centre was a massive oak desk hosting a state-of-the-art computer system, an in-tray, and a ridiculous number of files. Beside the desk was a liquor cabinet.

Trezeguet pointed the two detectives into the chairs facing his own. He moved to the cabinet, pulled out a half-empty bottle of whiskey and three glasses. ‘You both look like you could use a drink.’ He poured out generous amounts and handed them over.

‘Oh, god, yes,’ Robertson said. Her hand shot out and grabbed the glass. She necked its contents in one as though it was the sweetest ichor the world had to offer. She held her glass out again with a hopeful expression.

Bradshaw pushed his glass to her as Trezeguet took his seat. ‘I one hundred per cent could do with one, but no thank you. Some of us have to drive.’

Robertson shrugged and necked Bradshaw’s glass, too. ‘Sucks to be you.’

Trezeguet chuckled and sipped at his drink. ‘So, what is so urgent that you couldn’t wait until morning, detective?’

Bradshaw sighed and handed a file to Trezeguet. Trezeguet frowned, took the file and perused through it, familiarising himself with the case. ‘Right… so an old bird is murdered, there’s a tragic car crash which kills a young laddy… and a drug-related accident?’

‘Yes.’

‘And you found the same substance that was found in the drugs the lad took in the sister’s room?’

‘Yes.’

‘And the knife that was used to kill the old biddy was the same one her father used to attack her, so she used that, planting the evidence?’

‘We think so, sir.’

Trezeguet closed the file and slapped it down on the table and reclined in his chair, glowering at Bradshaw. ‘Seems to me you have everything you need, son. Is the girl in custody?’

Bradshaw shook his head, words failing him.

Trezeguet ran his forefinger in circles around the rim of his glass. ‘Perhaps I’m mistaken. Something says to me, son, that you wouldn’t come all the way to my home out of hours just to bother me with an open-and-shut murder case, would you?’ There was a threatening edge to his voice now.

‘It’s… much more complicated than that. We went to arrest her tonight…’

‘Ah. There were snags? The two of you do seem rather... dishevelled.’

‘You could say that,’ Robertson said, accepting a refill and drinking it as fast as the first two.

‘Easy, girl, I don’t want to have to carry you out of here.’ A ghost of a smile flickered across Trezeguet’s lips. He turned back to Bradshaw. ‘Well, my lad, start from the beginning and we’ll see what’s to be done.’

‘Well… we went to the suspect’s house with an arrest warrant. Like you say, it’s pretty open and shut. She was there with her sister and a friend.’

Trezeguet returned to the file, running a finger across the words. ‘Did they resist arrest?’

‘No, sir. We… were in the process of reading their rights and… god, this is mad… walking across the field behind us were… these creatures.’

Trezeguet’s brow knotted. ‘Creatures? What sort of creatures?’

Bradshaw shot a furtive glance at Robertson. ‘Zombies.’

Silence fell. Trezeguet looked at Bradshaw with an expression halfway between disbelief and humour. ‘Excuse me?’

He pulled out his phone, tapped the screen a few times and handed it to the Chief. ‘We got some photos… hopefully that’ll dissuade your disbelief.’

Trezeguet took the phone and examined the photos. The laugh that surfaced died a rapid death on his lips and sunk into a frown. ‘Christ above… this isn’t a hoax?’

‘No,’ Bradshaw said, shaking his head and staring into the corner. ‘I’m… I don’t know what to say, other than it’s absolutely real and… I don’t know how to explain it.’

Trezeguet handed the phone back. He sat back in his chair and massaged his temples, stressed. ‘Don’t fret, son, I believe you. I don’t know how you can explain it… but we’re police and the evidence is there… so, what happened to these… things? Did they kill the girl? Are they still here? Are they a threat? Should I be marshalling the army?’ He spat out each question faster than the previous one.

Bradshaw still couldn’t bring himself to meet Trezeguet’s eyes. ‘No. They’re not. The girls… they fought them and… well, they won. Then…’

Trezeguet leaned forward. ‘Go on, boy.’

‘Well… these weird… little creatures, I don’t know what they were… the girls disappeared after killing the zombies and these things cleaned up, before they disappeared too.’

‘The girls killed the zombies? Well… they may be involved in a murder plot, but at the very least we can thank them for solving that particular problem for us.’ Trezeguet sat back again, poured himself another whiskey, and drank it in one, a shadow obscuring his visage. ‘So… there are no corpses? And beyond what’s on your phone, there’s no evidence?’

‘No, sir, there isn’t.’

Trezeguet massaged his chin, deep in thought. After a few moments, he spoke again. ‘Okay, son, you’ve done all you can. Canvas the property and if even one of these girls re-emerges, arrest them immediately. Don’t waste time asking questions or filing for warrants – if you see them, bring them in, no questions asked. I want you, now, to email me those files on your phone. I’ll take this higher. Perhaps, these girls, these creatures… they certainly seem to be a national security concern… imagine if the internet were to get a hold of this... either way, this is… well, it’s above all our heads. Leave it with me, I’ll take it from here. We need the girls in custody, that’s the first step…’ He sighed and stood. ‘You two have done a fantastic job, but I’ll take it from here.’

Bradshaw and Robertson rose (Robertson’s rise unsteady) and Trezeguet moved around the desk, taking Bradshaw’s hand in his. ‘You go home and get some rest, son. And you, love. You both look like you need it. We’ll fix this.’