Malig Tumora

  Dedication

  FOR ALL THE BOYS IN MS O’NEILL’S

  PASTORAL GROUP, VILLANOVA, 2005

  Contents

  Cover

  Dedication

  One Captive

  Two The Menagerie

  Three Meeting Malig Tumora

  Four A Cruel Experiment

  Five Despair

  Six The First Maze

  Seven Three Boxes

  Eight The Second Maze

  Nine The Last Obstacle

  Ten Malig Tumora’s Creations

  Eleven The Suitable Subject

  Twelve Held Captive by a Machine

  Thirteen The Usefulness of Spoons

  Fourteen Inside the Obsidian

  Fifteen Obsolete

  Sixteen In Amongst the Mayhem

  Seventeen Underground Again

  Excerpt from The Doomsday Rats: Book Four

  Excerpt from The Doomsday Rats: Book One

  Excerpt from The Doomsday Rats: Book Two

  About the Author

  Others Books by James Moloney

  Copyright

  ONE

  Captive

  BERRIN WINCED AT THE harsh grip of the claws around his wrists. He looked up at the creatures that held him captive. They were Gadges, huge and powerful beasts, half man, half wolf, their repulsive heads reaching well over two metres from the ground when they stood on their hind legs. Their bodies were covered in coarse fur, cream across the belly, the rest of it the colour of honey.

  But there was nothing sweet about these creatures. As they stared down at him, a heavy drop of saliva fell from the lips of the larger one, landing on the boy’s shoulder. Both Gadges saw it wet his shirt and shared a chilling smile.

  The patches of black fur on the drooling Gadge’s throat made him even more sinister. Though there was no fur at all to hide the livid scar on his shoulder. Only another Gadge could have inflicted that wound and Berrin guessed it may have been their leader, Gadger Red.

  The smaller Gadge had lost an eye. His left ear was torn and one of his hind legs seemed stiff, giving him a limp. Obviously, he had come off second best in too many squabbles with his heartless companions. His strength was more than a match for poor Berrin, who felt the steely grip tighten. ‘Too bad there’s not much of him,’ the Gadge commented sourly.

  Berrin certainly wasn’t very big. That was hardly surprising since he was only ten years old. He had been raised in the dormitories by the barely human Dfx, until they tried to feed him to a lumbering Crocodilian. With help, he had evaded that grisly fate and joined the Doomsday Rats, a band of skinny children like himself, who scampered free in the concrete tunnels beneath the city. They were the only humans who had escaped the control of an enemy they knew as Malig Tumora.

  Holding Berrin’s wrists, the Gadges dragged him roughly along the road. The sun was high in the sky now and growing hot. He wasn’t used to it. Life underground had begun to rob his skin of its colour. He could feel the sun burning and noticed that a pinkish tinge was rapidly growing on his arms.

  Where were they taking him? He struggled in their grasp, desperately trying to look back at the banks of the flooded creek where they had caught him.

  ‘Checking on your handiwork, are you?’ snarled Black Throat. ‘Well, you can’t do much without this.’

  In his other paw, he brandished an oddly curved weapon. It was the small cannon Berrin had salvaged from the remains of the scorpion that Malig Tumora had sent into the pipe system to exterminate the Rats. When this failed, he had sealed and flooded the tunnels to drown them all. The tunnels would still be awash with water if Berrin hadn’t used the scorpion’s tail to blow open the huge pipes. At that moment, tonnes of water were gushing into the creeks and open drains leading towards the river.

  ‘You didn’t do your friends any good,’ One Eye goaded him. ‘We spotted two bodies floating in the creek already. All of them are dead.’

  Berrin could only hope it wasn’t true. As for those two bodies, he had seen them as well. Belle and Wendell. Both of them had saved his life before today, yet he had not been able to save theirs. His heart sank and he felt himself close to tears.

  The cruel Gadges saw the emotion in his face. ‘Don’t feel too sorry for them. Their deaths were a lot easier than yours will be,’ Black Throat laughed.

  Berrin’s mouth went dry. Death was one thing. To be eaten alive was another.

  ‘Will we have to seal up the tunnels again?’ One Eye asked his companion.

  Black Throat dismissed the idea with a snort. ‘No need. Those bodies prove the water did its job. The rest will be flushed out soon enough.’

  No, it wasn’t true. Berrin wouldn’t let himself believe it. His friends, Olanda, Quinn and Dorian, and the other children were still alive. He had no way to prove it, but he would not give up hope. Most of all, he made himself believe their leader, Ferdinand, had survived.

  ‘The Rats aren’t finished,’ he said. ‘There will be more like me and they will beat you in the end.’

  Black Throat flicked his paw at Berrin. To another of his kind, it would have been no more than a pat. But to Berrin it felt like a hammer smashed against his jaw. He tasted blood from a cut lip.

  ‘That’s enough. You humans are the noisiest species. Let’s hear how much you squeal now.’ The Gadge raised the same paw to show Berrin the four vicious claws that began to protrude. A cruel pride filled his eyes. Malig Tumora had made the Gadges to be his killing machines and they were well-equipped for the role.

  Using a single claw, like a human being would use a finger, Black Throat traced a line across Berrin’s throat. The tip was needle sharp and left beads of blood where it punctured the skin. Berrin felt the sting and tried not to flinch. Let it be quick, he begged, though not out loud. He might be about to die, but he would never show the Gadges how afraid he was.

  ‘What say we make him join his friends?’

  ‘What, drown him?’ asked One Eye, who seemed a little afraid of his companion.

  ‘No, you idiot,’ came the sharp reply. ‘I say we slit his throat here and now and share him between us. I mean, look at the scrawny little thing. There’s not much to go around if we take him back to the others.’

  ‘Especially when Gadger Red will get the best parts anyway,’ muttered One Eye bitterly.

  ‘Exactly.’

  The two Gadges stared at their captive hungrily. ‘Which part would you eat first?’ asked Black Throat. ‘The legs have the most meat on them, don’t you think?’

  Despite himself, Berrin looked down at his scrawny legs. They couldn’t be serious. Mind you, when it came to squeezing through the narrowest tunnels underground, these legs had served him well.

  ‘I’d be happy with an arm,’ said One Eye and pinched the flesh of Berrin’s bicep as he spoke. Instantly, the other Gadge growled and he snatched his paw away.

  Well, if they do kill me now, Berrin thought, I’ll bet One Eye won’t get much of me to eat. It wasn’t the most comforting of thoughts, but he was too tired to squirm. Not a good sign. He stirred himself and gritted his teeth. I will survive, he repeated in his head. I have to, for the sake of the others. There will be a way.

  But as the Gadges stood slicing up Berrin with their eyes, a beast he feared even more appeared around a corner. Gadger Red himself! He was running on four legs and in half-a-dozen loping strides was with them. Immediately, he rose up on his hind legs, taller by a head than either of the others, who watched him warily.

  Berrin had seen Gadger Red once before. From that day, he had hoped never to be this close again. The reddish fur of the Gadge’s tail and ears and along his back stood out as he panted, regaining his breath.

  ‘I’ll take this boy,’ he growled.

 
‘No!’ said Black Throat defiantly. ‘We found him. He’s ours. There’ll be plenty of dead children in the drains soon for you and the others.’

  Gadger Red turned to face him. The colour of his fur reflected in his narrow eyes. The growl in his throat deepened and grew louder. The terrible rumbling worked towards a crescendo as he took a pace closer to Black Throat, then let forth a frightening snarl, half the bark of a savage dog and half the roar of a lion.

  One Eye backed off but Black Throat was more determined. ‘You just want him for yourself. As soon as you’re out of sight, you’ll swallow the little runt in a single gulp.’

  Gadger Red’s paw moved almost too fast for the eye to see. Four claws raked Black Throat’s furry cheek, drawing blood. He howled pathetically and staggered backwards.

  ‘Do you still want to argue?’

  The other two shook their heads sullenly.

  Gadger Red smiled. ‘That’s settled then. But I don’t want the boy for myself, as you seem to think. Malig Tumora has ordered the boy’s life spared.’

  Glancing briefly at Berrin, he added, ‘For now, anyway.’

  TWO

  The Menagerie

  GADGER RED BENT FORWARD until his front paws rested on the ground, making him more like a savage wolf than ever. ‘That way,’ he snarled at Berrin, pointing out the direction with his snout. ‘I’ll be right behind you, and don’t even think about escaping. I’ll run you down before you’ve gone ten metres and not even Malig Tumora will save you then.’

  Berrin set off through the deserted streets with Gadger Red close on his heels. ‘Turn right here … Faster … Go left at the tall building ahead … Hurry, you’re slowing down.’ Berrin was forced into a slow trot and wondered how long he could keep it up. After fifteen minutes, his pace began to slacken but when a hot, foul breath touched his shoulders, he gulped air and urged himself on.

  Occasionally, he caught a glimpse of grown-ups working inside a building. The vacant expression he had seen before filled their faces. ‘The purple flowers,’ he muttered to himself.

  Only days before, Berrin and his companions had discovered how Malig Tumora kept the grown-ups under his control. A special flower was the key. Purple and quite beautiful to look at, millions of these flowers were grown in massive buildings made of glass. The fragrance given off by the purple flowers was piped to every building in the city. As long as the grown-ups breathed it in, they obeyed Malig Tumora’s commands.

  Seeing the helpless grown-ups hardened Berrin’s determination. He and the other Rats (if they had survived) must free these wretched people. There was no-one else who could save them. His legs ached, his lungs burned, but he kept ahead of Gadger Red.

  After an hour, strange sounds began to reach Berrin’s ears — harsh, frightened shrieks and growls. The sounds grew louder. He was being driven towards them.

  Soon Berrin could see high walls in the distance. The desperate noises came from beyond those walls. The Gadge led him along a wide road that ended in heavy gates. By the time Berrin stood before them, the snarling cries of pain had chilled the marrow in his bones. He risked a glance up at Gadger Red. To his horror, even the Gadges’ leader looked afraid.

  ‘What is this place?’ Berrin asked.

  Gadger Red glared down at him. Berrin thought the beast was about to strike him for daring to speak. Then he seemed to relent. ‘Malig Tumora’s menagerie,’ he answered.

  Menagerie. Berrin had never heard the word before. He thought it best not to try his luck by asking Gadger Red to explain what it meant. Besides, he was about to find out for himself. One of the huge gates was slowly swinging open.

  ‘Inside,’ commanded Gadger Red.

  Berrin was afraid his legs would collapse beneath him. He tried one step, a rather shaky one, then managed a second and a third. Gadger Red hadn’t moved. Fear got the better of Berrin and he turned around. ‘Aren’t you coming?’

  ‘Me! I don’t ever want to go in there.’

  A terrible scream ripped through the air. It wasn’t human, at least, not completely. The scream died away and the gate began to close. If Berrin stayed where he was, it would sweep him back into the street with Gadger Red.

  ‘Step inside,’ the Gadge ordered.

  ‘I’d rather die here.’

  ‘I would gladly oblige you, little human, but Malig Tumora has given his orders and even I must obey.’ The Gadge advanced a few paces and pushed Berrin roughly in the chest. The boy staggered backwards and, before he could recover, the gate swung into place with an ominous thud.

  Berrin stared about him anxiously. To the left and right of him were walls so high he had to strain his neck to see the sky. They were hard and smooth when he touched them. He would never be able to climb them, not without a very long rope and not without a friend to help him. The sense that he was totally alone overwhelmed him. If only the other Rats were here. Olanda would lend him some of her boundless courage, Dorian’s steady strength would help him beat back his fears and even the reckless Quinn would give him something to smile about.

  ‘They’re alive,’ he whispered, determined to convince himself. ‘If I can survive this place, if I can find a way to escape, I will fight along side them again, I know it.’

  While Berrin steeled himself with these thoughts, he turned in a circle until finally he stopped with the huge gate behind him. In front was another door which opened as he watched, revealing a long passageway as wide as a city street. He was being shown where to go.

  ‘Why should I go through there? Who are you? What are you going to do to me?’

  After the echo of his shouted words died, silence was his only reply. He waited; the huge door remained open. He might stay here forever and there was no way over these high walls. His only hope was that wherever he was being led, the chances of escape would improve.

  He took a deep breath, gathered his courage and passed through the door. Immediately, he threw himself low against the wall as a deafening bellow echoed around him. He could see no sign of the monster that made it though. There were more heavy gates set into the high walls and Berrin hoped that whatever terrible creatures were housed here, they were imprisoned securely on the other side.

  He walked on, past many more doors, until he reached a crossroads. Three of the four directions were blocked by gates, leaving him no choice but to turn right. Five minutes later, he was made to turn left in the same way.

  He was risking these walled streets in search of escape, but what fate was planned for him? Gadger Red had insisted; Malig Tumora wanted him alive. There was hope then that he was not simply a meal for one of these unseen beasts. But this place reeked of a nameless evil and Berrin began to wonder whether these walls shielded horrors that could make death more welcome than life.

  Where will I end up? he asked himself.

  The answer came quickly enough. The passage was blocked fifty metres ahead. After twenty cautious paces towards the blockage, he found a door open in the wall. Warily, he poked his head through the doorway.

  ‘Oh, hello,’ said a cheery voice.

  Berrin jumped backwards in alarm and tumbled over his own feet. He could not have reacted more violently if a hideous monster had roared in his face.

  When he looked up, he saw a boy like himself staring at him through the doorway. ‘I thought you would turn up soon,’ the boy said. ‘Stands to reason, doesn’t it? If they open the door and tell me not to leave, then it means there’s someone else coming. Excuse me if I don’t come out to help you up. If I walk through that door they’ll kill me. I’m sure you understand.’

  The words rolled off the boy’s tongue and out of his mouth. He hadn’t stopped to take a breath yet. ‘What’s your name?’ he asked as Berrin was getting to his feet.

  Berrin was about to tell him when he suddenly thought better of it. Best to keep his mouth shut until he knew more. He walked through the door with more confidence this time and it swiftly closed behind him. Here were those same high walls, stretching up to th
e sky with no roof overhead. The floor was covered in fine yellow sand, except in the corner where there was a lean-to and some fresh straw under it for sleeping on. A blanket was tossed untidily on the straw and against the wall was a pile of clothes that looked too small to fit this boy. Were there others who lived here as well? Before Berrin could ask, his new companion started chattering again.

  ‘You’re not going to tell me your name, are you? Suit yourself. I don’t mind telling you mine. It’s Aden. I’ve been here quite a while on my own. In fact, I can’t really remember any other humans coming to visit me. It will be good to have someone to talk to.’

  Well, as least the boy was friendly, thought Berrin. He could have been put in a pen with a creature that wanted to drink his blood. Aden just wanted to bash his ears.

  ‘Are you feeling sick?’ asked Aden and before Berrin could even shake his head, the boy was off again. ‘It’s your skin, see. It’s a bit pasty white. That usually means humans are sick. There’s a blood disease that can cause pale skin. It’s called anaemia. Could be that, because you look pretty skinny to me, if you don’t mind me saying so.’

  Aden wasn’t exactly fat, though he would have had trouble in the tightest tunnels if he was with the Doomsday Rats, Berrin thought. Perhaps this was what a healthy person looked like. Berrin checked him over. He didn’t seem much of a fighter. His hands were soft and remarkably clean, even the fingernails. Berrin looked at his own fingernails. Filthy! How could they possibly be otherwise when he had spent so much time crawling around underground?

  ‘Anaemia gives you white skin, but if your skin turns yellow, that’s called jaundice …’

  Aden prattled on while Berrin continued his examination. Blue eyes, light brown hair recently cut short, unlike his own which now straggled down to his shoulders. But the feature that stood out most was Aden’s mouth. It never stopped moving.

  He tossed Berrin a few more facts about different skin colours and what diseases caused them then started talking about something called skin cancer. ‘Your nose has gone very red, you know. Have to be careful. Too much sun and it can kill you.’