‘If higher up’s better,’ Norman said, weighing a scanner block in his hand, ‘then how about RAM’s roof?’
‘Are they designed to be ...’ Tim began as Norman lobbed it, ‘... thrown?’
They watched it soar through the air. It landed with a sharp clack on the far side of the pitched iron roof and shattered into dozens of pieces, all of which clattered down to the guttering.
‘Guess not,’ Norman said as the back door of Rata Area Merchants burst open. A wiry figure in a khaki-coloured apron appeared, wielding a broom. He looked up and down the street, snorted, ‘Bloody kids,’ and went back inside.
‘Was that Rambob?’ Tim said from the shelter of some bushes. ‘I don’t think I’ve actually seen him before.’
‘The name is foreign?’ Alkemy asked.
Norman pointed to a large cartoon ram painted on the side of the building, its features a caricature of its owner. ‘His real name’s Bob, but another Bob used to run the garage, so everyone called him Rambob to avoid confusion.’
‘Funny to make up such a name.’
‘Wait till you meet meet the guy that runs the Rata Area Tavern. They call him Morrie the Rat,’ Norman said.
He led them over the road, down a side street and across a patch of waste ground. A few minutes later, they came to a squat concrete structure standing on a low hill.
‘The old water tower. Reckon that’s high enough?’
A rusty iron ladder ran up one side. It didn’t look safe, but Norman scrambled up it without a moment’s hesitation. Alkemy put a hand to her mouth. Tim shook his head in admiration. It was like when they were mice. Give quiet, bookish Norman a mission, and he’d throw himself into it with such energy that he hardly gave a thought to his own safety.
‘Whoa, it was a bit freaky near the top,’ he said, dropping to the ground and shaking out his stiff, rust-coloured fingers. ‘Some of those rungs are nearly rotted through. Great view though.’
For the next hour, they zigzagged back and forth across town, slipping scanner blocks on to roofs, tucking them behind signs, or wedging them in tree branches. Everywhere they went they saw evidence of an older and once more prosperous place. Ramshackle buildings with wood bleached almost white. Rusting machinery hidden in weeds. Areas of barren ground, some of it fenced off. Tim knew a little of the town’s history. How it had been founded in the gold rush days of the 1860s before moving on to coal. Then that ran out too. Norman added a wealth of detail, pointing out old crushing plants and tailing pits, leading them past abandoned sidings, collapsed buildings and pools of noxious looking waste.
Pioneer Park was a narrow strip of greenery that ran the length of the town. Two blocks back from the main street, partway up a gentle hill, it ran parallel to the road, continuing on past each intersecting street.
‘Used to be the railway line,’ Norman said. ‘But that got ripped out years ago, so they turned it into a park.’
They stopped at a section containing a play area and stood watching while Alkemy clambered up the climbing frame to place a scanner block on top. She paused, looked about, gave a startled gasp and scrambled down.
‘Quick, this way. Someone come.’
‘Who? What? Where?’
‘Hide. Hurry.’
She steered them to some trees on the northern side where they took cover and watched as a yellow Citroën swung into a car park near the swings.
‘The Cakeface car. I see her coming up the hill.’
Millicent Millais, principal of Rata Area School, got out and looked around.
‘What’s she doing here?’
‘You think she follow us?’
‘What, up the water tower and through the quarry?’ Norman said. ‘We probably would have noticed.’
‘Still, she is a Sentinel host,’ Tim said. ‘It’s a heck of a coincidence.’
They watched as Cakeface walked over to the swings, inspected them and tugged on one of the chains.
‘What’s she doing?’
‘Dunno.’ Tim watched. Cakeface gave him the creeps. He’d had dealings with her at school. He’d seen the effects of the Sentinels manipulating her mind and altering her memories, even as she spoke.
‘If the Sentinels did send her,’ Norman said, ‘it’s just what we want. The scanner blocks will pick up their directions.’
Cakeface went back to her car, opened the passenger door, and took out a clipboard. She returned to the swings and began examining them closely, checking the wooden seats, peering up to where the chains connected to the crossbar, and making notes on the clipboard.
‘Ha!’ Norman said. ‘It’s not us at all. She’s doing some sort of safety inspection.’
‘Why would she do that? It’s not her job.’
‘I dunno.’
‘On a Saturday too. And a holiday weekend. That’s the sort of thing the local council should do.’
‘Maybe some kid got hurt on the way to school or something and she has to write a report. Who cares? It’s just a coincidence. She’s not interested in us. Hasn’t even looked this way. C’mon, we’ve still got a ton of blocks left, and now has to be the perfect time to leave a couple up at the school.’
Norman raced off through the undergrowth. Alkemy followed, calling for him to slow down. Tim paused a moment longer, watching Cakeface examining things and writing notes. Something wasn’t right. He could feel it in his bones.
* * *
Norman dropped from a tree and landed at their feet. ‘That’s it, lucky last.’ He dusted off his hands. ‘Unless you guys have any left?’
Tim shook his head. ‘I’m all out.’
Alkemy yawned. ‘Me also.’
Norman had taken Albert’s request to heart and insisted on spreading the scanner blocks as widely as possible. They’d been all over town, from one end to the other, zigzagging back and forth until their legs ached. Tim was secretly pleased they’d finally run out. If they’d had any more left, he reckoned Norman would want to plant them in the next district.
They followed him back to the main road, relieved to see the RAGS sign in the distance.
Glad looked up as they trooped in. ‘Mission accomplished?’
Norman gave her a thumbs-up.
‘If you fancy a snack, I’ve got Albert out the back cooking burgers. There’s plenty to go round. Help yourselves to whatever you like.’
Norman licked his lips and rubbed his hands in anticipation.
‘Albert? Cook?’ Alkemy said as they went through to the house.
They found him in the neatly paved back yard, bent over a barbecue.
‘It appears that an internal temperature of seventy-one degrees Celsius maintained for a period of ten seconds yields the best results,’ he said, waving a spatula as he turned. ‘Oh, it’s you lot. All finished?’
He was wearing an apron bearing the legend “World’s Greatest Mum”.
‘What you do?’ Alkemy said. ‘When we ask, you tell us you do not make the cooking.’
‘I don’t. Cooking’s robot’s work. However, Glad had several packets of meat patties nearing their expiry date and she asked if I could determine the optimal timing for heating them.’
Tim smiled. Apparently it depended on how you phrased the question.
‘And this?’ Alkemy indicated the stack of bread rolls and bowls of sliced tomato, cheese, cucumber, gherkin, beetroot and shredded lettuce.
‘Ancillary experiments. It would be a shame to waste the test material.’
‘I agree,’ Norman said, grabbing a paper plate, a bun and piling food on it.
Tim did likewise. The smell and sound of the sizzling patties made his mouth water. They’d walked a long way this afternoon. Lunch — and breakfast before it — now seemed like ancient history.
‘What of the other experiment?’ Alkemy said. ‘You make a receiver for the scanner blocks?’
‘Finished it an hour ago.’ Albert gestured at a flat black-glass panel sitting on a chair. It was the size of a serving tray and looked like an oversized tablet computer, complete with shiny chrome edging. ‘There have only been two transmissions so far. Both just after two o’clock as I was finishing it off, so not much use to us. But now it’s complete, it should start recording useful data.’
‘So now we watch and wait?’ Norman said with his mouth full.
Albert nodded.
Tim reckoned waiting was a great idea, especially once he’d finished a juicy burger with all the trimmings and found one of the reclining armchairs in the lounge. It had soft deep padding, a rich leathery smell, and seemed to swallow him up. He settled with a sigh and pulled a lever to extend the folding footstool. The night’s broken sleep and the long walk around Rata had worn him out, but as he closed his eyes, he thought about Cakeface at the playground, about their morning at the farm, and had a wild, crazy dream in which everything suddenly made sense ...