With the accelerator pressed to the floor, the transit van did just over 70mph. The motorway stretched on and on. The glowing studs zipped by, but not quickly enough for Firdy's liking. He was unaware of the confines of the van and of distance; only time. At this speed, he’d be in East London in about an hour. In an hour and a half, he could have Sarah. So in three hours he could be back at the house and things could really get started.
Three hours, he had to admit, was a painfully long time. It would be getting light by then. That was no good at all. It could delay proceedings another day and time was running out.
The headlights of vehicles coming the other way caused spots of light to hover in front of his eyes and his skull was pounding. The Third did not agree that he was doing the right thing by abandoning Simon, but It trusted him enough not to incapacitate him. He had his reasons. He would be quicker without him. He wouldn't have to worry that Simon was going to grab the wheel at some point and try to run them off the road. He trusted the Dog to keep an eye on him and prevent escape. Again, the Third disagreed.
He thinks of you as 'The Creature', Firdy thought angrily.
The Third's response was another spike of pain, like a needle going through the back of his head.
Okay, okay.
To the best of his ability, he kept his mind on his driving. Driving came naturally to him and it was something he enjoyed. Sometimes it even helped him to relax. He wished the van would give him another ten miles per hour, but it was probably for the best that he was stuck to the speed limit. He didn't want to get pulled over with the Cat in the back. That could be messy.
He could sense that the Cat was pleased to be away from the Dog, but was frustrated and confused by her continued confinement.
Your time will come, he thought and she settled somewhat, though he imagined that she was facing the exit, eyes wide in the dark, tapping her claws.
The Third hadn't been keen on his taking the Dog or Cat with him, but his confidence in their ability had convinced her to let him try. He had been looking forward to this night for weeks; he wasn't about to do anything to jeopardise its success. The Third knew that, though she kept a close and constant watch on his thoughts and (stabbed) tugged every now and then when something worried her.
It was all going to be okay though. Sarah had got away, but he and the Cat would soon retrieve her. It was a good thing he had decided to bring her as she'd be useful to him if anything else unexpected happened. He knew that sometimes she left home and hunted; she was a good tracker and based on appearance alone she'd be good for crowd control.
He had everything worked out.
You see, he thought. You see how I care for you.
He was changing lane to head for the centre of London when he felt a sudden sensation of falling.
It was as if he had been dropped.
He hit the brakes, too hard, and swerved across three lanes, the back fanning out. He wasn't wearing his seatbelt so the sudden drop in speed threw his body into the wheel. He freed his hand and turned the wheel hard to correct the skid, but his foot slipped from the brake and hit the accelerator. He swerved and braked again, tires screaming.
A truck moved over to the middle lane to avoid him and rushed by, its canvas-covered load flapping like a sail. It was all multi-coloured lights and a roar of disapproval.
On the hard shoulder, Firdy regained some semblance of control. He hit the bank and skidded to a stop. Something came off the van. A hub cap. It rolled on and on and then veered into the lanes of traffic.
Firdy rested his head against the steering wheel, hostage to a panic that was less to do with the fact that he had almost died, but more because the Third was gone and it had happened in a matter of seconds. She had never withdrawn so quickly before. It meant that something was wrong, something he didn't want to think about.
The Cat was mewing in the back, though it sounded more like a dog's whine or a child's groan. She was a big Cat. She was missing the Third too. For a while she would be lost without her.
“It’ll pass,” he said out loud. The sound of his voice, however, only served to punctuate the loneliness and make any attempts to defeat it seem futile.
He had to get out of the van. The nothingness, the silence, was crushing him. He fumbled the door open and half-fell out of the cab. His knees buckled and he had to haul himself up, stagger around the van. He stumbled up the bank and sat down in the wild grass, breathing hard.
Take a moment, he told himself. It's always the same. It always feels like this, but I'm still here.
He became aware of trucks thundering by. The world – their world – was enormous, sprawling, and it would destroy him, because he didn't fit.
The vehicles' momentum, however, reminded him that although it may be impossible to complete the mission, he should take the opportunity to make up time. He had to hope that the Third would return as usual, refreshed and recharged, refocussed and ready. She could do so before the day was out.
It would get better.
Another positive was that his headache was gone. He was free to think broad and deep without questions and disapproval. He could get things done; his way.
Knees aching, he forced himself to his feet and staggered like a much older man back down to the van. He would have expected it to be rocking from side to side as the Cat threw herself at the walls, but all was utterly still, physically and mentally.
He sought his connection to the animal, which usually persisted even when the Third was gone, but there was nothing. He grasped at the familiar strings, but none of them were connected, neither to the Cat nor the Dog.
He put his ear to the door, but couldn't hear anything above the occasional sound of engines on the motorway. He didn't have time for this, so he lowered the lever, paused for a moment with his weight against the door to judge the Cat's reaction and then, when he thought it was safe, he pulled the door open. It was only open a crack when the Cat slammed against it, knocking him to the floor and leaping over him, landing with hardly a sound, only the clicking of claws on the tarmac beyond him. Firdy span on the ground so he was lying on his stomach, face to face with the animal.
Like the Dog, its mouth appeared to be a permanent smile.
“It's okay,” Firdy said. “Alright.” He got to his knees before the Cat began backing away.
He didn't have long before somebody saw it and called the police or the National Enquirer.
Get in the van, Firdy thought, but the Cat did not respond and so he said it out loud, enunciating clearly. “Get in the van.”
The Cat bolted up the incline and paused at the top, half-hidden against a background of trees.
“Don't do this,” Firdy said.
It darted over the summit and beyond the tree line. By the time Firdy had scrambled back to the top of the hill, she was gone. He couldn't even tell which direction she had run in. Not without the Third's help.
Thinking of the Third now made him feel queasy. He was going to be in big trouble for losing the Cat. Keeping her hungry no longer seemed like such a good idea.
He had starved the Dog too. Although he trusted him more than the Cat, there was a chance, he realised, that he'd be found lying beside Simon's half-eaten body.
He called after the Cat, mentally and vocally, hoping that if he got her back he could reconnect with her, and then through her reconnect to the Dog. After a quarter of an hour of trudging through leaves and branches and vegetation, however, he had to admit that he had no control over either animal. He barely had control over himself. His legs were shaking with fear. Everything was falling apart.