“What the hell?” Andie yelped, ogling us from her stance bowed at a workbench in the centre of the lab.
She wore a white lab coat over funky street clothes, her hair twisted back in rows that ended in sparkly clips. Belted to her forehead a large, square magnifying lens bulged one eye, pinched between her raised fingers a fine insect wing. She removed the contraption from her head and carefully deposited the wing in a container.
I froze, as the door slid shut to trap me in a personal hell. Two centipedes the length of my calf made serpentine circuits of the long, rectangular room, unimpeded by technical-looking workstations – similar to a dentist’s chair – with more suspended magnifying glasses. Every table sported a technical-looking microscope. Coiled tubing hung from the middle of the ceiling attached to strange implements that resembled drills, and an array of huge computer screens were fixed to the wall in front of me. The bugs simply slithered over or around obstacles, using long feelers to guide their progress.
On large parallel benches in the middle, miniscule machinery parts and wiring were ordered in labelled, stacked plastic trays. A melon-sized tarantula scuttled about this city-in-miniature like some B-grade shocker where a giant spider attacks the town. Two colourful dragonflies winged overhead, one monster swooping to hover centimetres from my face, fanning me with its movement. The lab was alive with buzzing, clicking and humming.
“What is this place?” I asked again, rooted to the spot.
“No.” Andie raised one finger as though admonishing a naughty child. “You get to explain how the three of you breached lock-down security before we give you jot!”
“Ditto.” Bickles appeared from a battered, squishy lounge and an assortment of mismatched chairs around a knee-high table on my right, at the end of the lab. His demeanour was less than friendly.
He pulled a thin electronic pen from his pocket and rapidly tapped it on a streamlined wrist-monitor. The insect population scurried or flew away from us to a shiny, metallic wall on my left, spreading and deactivating to form a macabre mural. Apart from the incessant bleat of the alarm, the noise ceased.
“Don’t ask me, man.” Hud lifted his palms as if confronting the nasty end of a shotgun. “I feel like I’ll wake up any second, cursing that last Red Bull.”
“Vee?” Andie threw him an accusatory glare.
“Do you think you could do something about that alarm? Please?”
“And the security battalion descending on this room?” I added, watching in my mind’s eye.
“Crap,” Bickles said. “Hide in this locker until we use our Jedi powers on the Storm Troopers.”
Andie chuckled. “Good one, Ty.”
“I don’t see the humour,” Hud blurted, while Bickles pushed him first into the cramped cupboard behind us by the door.
Smithy went next, followed by me, and then the door was unceremoniously crammed shut. The three of us squashed in a space no bigger than a commercial refrigerator, fighting coat hangers, jackets and each other for a comfortable position. A clicked padlock sealed us in. I probably could have disappeared us all again, but didn’t see how that would improve our position given Andie and Bickles’ likely reaction to something so unexpected. If we got over this hurdle, that was still to come.
“Cosy,” Smithy murmured, wrapping his arms about my waist with my back to his chest. All things considered, it wasn’t the worst thing to happen today.
“Maybe for you two lovebirds. This is not my idea of a threesome.”
“Be quiet, Hud.” We heard Andie snap.
A second later, authoritarian voices invaded the lab. Minutes ticked by at the pace of a Galapagos tortoise, the rise and fall of an argument filtering into our chamber, which seemed to shrink rapidly. Hud began to squirm. Inside grew hot and fusty with our breaths, and I became more and more aware of Smithy’s taut muscles pressing the length of my body. He seemed mindful or our intimate coupling too, softly clearing his throat. The padlock rattled and we all went rigid. Light abruptly flooded in, framing Bickles.
Hud tumbled out. “What a relief.”
“You want me to ask Bickles to shut the door for us?” Smithy said wistfully in my ear.
“Tempting. But we’ve got a job to do and our time is running down.”
He sighed and released me. “Yeah, time’s really got us in a bind. Among other things.”
Bickles gave me his hand and heaved me into the lab. Smithy exited and we all retired to the lounge, my anxiety hurtling back. Andie and Bickles took the divan opposite the coffee table divide, folding arms over their chests and mutely staring us down. Hud occupied a chair on their side, both physically and figuratively.
Smithy offered me a helpless shrug and took my hand. “Just show them.” I tapped my triangles together and we vanished.
“See!” Hud exploded. “See what I’ve been dealing with all morning?”
Startled, Andie and Bickles looked at each other. “I don’t get it,” she said.
“That’s some magic act. How are they doing it? It’s got to be an illusion.”
Bickles surged from his seat and waved his hands through the void where we’d been seated, futilely testing his hypothesis. Smithy and I had already strolled across the lab, materialising as far as possible from the wall of terror.
“There they are,” Andie squealed. “Do it again.” This time, I just popped in and out a couple of times. “I repeat. What the hell?”
We joined them at our original spots. “Give me your hands,” I said.
Bea maintained the barriers separating our minds should start to dissolve between Trinity members – as my connections with Smithy and recently, Daniel, implied – and this was to be our first test of her theory. The three leaned over to tentatively place the tips of their fingers in mine, and I played the events of the past days for them, as if I’d pressed that same button on a DVD movie. Their eyes went wide and remained so when I’d finished and pulled away. I felt mentally exhausted, not looking forward to the trial of escaping this place.
The pregnant pause that ensued could’ve grown an elephant. It was at least thirty seconds before they started talking at each other, firing one sentence on top of another.
“Occam’s razor?” Andie asked doubtfully.
“No way, Andie. How can the supernatural be the simplest explanation?” Bickles said.
Hud shook his head, his afro bobbing. “Man, I am really going to have to reconsider some of my beliefs, throw a prayer out there every now and then, just to cover all bases. Finesse is really hot.”
Andie smacked the back of his head. “How can you say that?
“Ouch. Well, she is.” He massaged his cranium.
“We need to scrape you up a proper girl. Preferably someone other than the Antichrist,” Bickles said.
“Or Cherie the Snake-charmer. She’s no lady either,” Andie said primly.
Hud grinned. “That’s kind of the point.”
“This definitely puts a novel spin on the metaphysics debate. So much for hardcore scientific principles based on the rational,” Andie said.
“Makes trekking the unexplored jungles of Borneo kind of tame.”
I hadn’t dared take this encounter to its conclusion, but a reasonable guess wouldn’t have included such easy acceptance. I glanced at Smithy, who slouched glumly beside me, looking like he’d expected this all along.
Bickles glanced from me to Smithy. “I think I speak for all when I say, you can count on us.” The other two agreed. “And I’m glad we don’t have to plan an intervention for your dependence on human growth hormones. We couldn’t believe you’d do steroids, Vee, but there wasn’t any other explanation for your superman abilities.”
Andie nodded vigorously. “Shame our second assumption on your imminent elopement wasn’t true, though. I dibbed best woman.”
“There’s a reason it’s called the institution of marriage,” Smithy muttered darkly. I rolled my eyes. For smart people, his friends were truly dumb to broach their friend’s least tolerated topic. “And thanks a bunch for sharing with the judge. He thinks I’ve knocked Bear up.” He peeked at me with a glint in his eye that clearly conveyed how much he’d enjoy trying. My cheeks turned a shade of red bright enough to provoke a bull.
“Ahem,” Hud said. “So, what’s our role? What can we do to help?”
Andie sat back, her features smug. “I’ve a few very good ideas on that.”
Bickles reached across for a fist bump. “If you’re not living on the edge …”
“You take up too much room,” she finished.
“Like I said.” Smithy hadn’t taken his eyes off me. “Mad bastards.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Hud said. “And you’re no one to judge.”
“Leave it with us. We know what to do,” Andie said.
“We do?” Hud said.
“Aren’t we wasting time with all this yakking, Vee?” Bickles said. “The witch will fly over on her broom and you’ll still be sitting around with your hand on your stick.”
“As long as you all understand the potential outcome, which may be disadvantageous to your ongoing health.”
“Have you ever been to Borneo? Intestinal parasites the length of your ‘stick’,” Hud smirked. “They worm beneath your skin and have to be scraped out with a scalpel. Flesh-eating ulcers, pustules to rival the plague and some of the fevers put you in a coma for years.”
“Yes, but we established long ago you’re deranged,” Smith said. “You saw Winnie’s family tree. Hardly anyone survives the association. In fact, Fortescue’s the only outsider still living.”
“Fortescue’s a legend. I’ve always wanted to learn how to throw a spear.”
“This is a private research facility contracted to a host of secret organisations,” Andie said. “We’re the best in the field at micro-robotics. Most of our rivals couldn’t put Ikea together. Let alone the stuff we do here. It’s not for the faint-hearted.”
“Can anyone put Ikea together?” Hud asked.
Andie continued as if he hadn’t interrupted. “I draw your attention to the fact you’re in the outsider category with us, Vee. And we thrive on risk. All of us were considering jumping from a hot air balloon from the edge of space in squirrel suits next year. We were going to invite you. I guess we’ve found something better.”
“Like I said. Lunatics.”
“And what happens to people if that witch gets her Stone back?” She challenged Smithy with a look.
“Anything she wants,” I said.
“Objections done. Come with me, I’ll get you two out the back way. Hud, you stay and be useful.”
“For once,” Bickles said.
“I’ll try really hard. You’re not going to perform weird experiments on me, are you?”
“Only to improve you. The work will be extensive.”
“I want bionic eyes.”
“We’re best at eyes on stalks. Or you could have a pair of compound eyes where your ears are.”
“Hot! I’ll be even more of a babe magnet.”
“Or remain on par. Sub, that is.”
Their voices muted as Andie led us from the lab out along the hallway in the opposite direction from which we entered, up several flights of concrete stairs and into a slim back alley. She gestured up another set of stairs streaming overcast daylight into the urban canyon.
“You’ll come out behind the building you entered into the staff car park. If you scale the fence and head to the left, the Mini is a block away.”
It seemed a contradiction to all the security, but that wasn’t my concern. “They don’t seem worried at all, which really worries me.”
“Bear,” Andie said sympathetically, resting an arm about my shoulders. “We’re the type of people who routinely jump off cliffs. We get meticulously well prepared or we don’t survive. And trust me, we’ll be ready for anything those—” she uttered several highly offensive words in Mandarin—“Anyway. We’ll be ready and waiting.”
We made arrangements for the trio to meet us at the warehouse later that afternoon. Smithy and I returned to the car unmolested, the cruising guards no longer invested in a fruitless search. Once belted firmly into the passenger seat, I turned to him.
“Are they always so overconfident?”
Resigned, he nodded. “Usually, for good reason. But this time … I don’t know.”
I didn’t know either. How did one prepare for the inconceivable? Even with the added help, the Trinity was an entirely inadequate match for the Crone and her fiendish hordes.
