Was he alone on the dance floor? Could he even open his eyes? He shouted and shouted again and then-
‘It’s OK, sssh!’ breathed Jon, kissing him. ‘The music’s just really good tonight. What is that kid DJ’s name?’
‘Eric,’ replied Brendan.
‘Oh, we’re keeping him!’ laughed Jon. ‘Anyway, to business. Which is you, Captain.’
‘So you had your machine,’ said Jack. Was he slurring? Anyway. ‘And you come to Cardiff and…’
‘We just settled for a little bar, a nice flat, and for making everyone happy. That’s all we did. Is that such a crime?’ Brendan’s voice took on a begging tone. And was he starting to glow slightly?
Jack blinked a bit, and tried to focus. Focus on making the-
‘And then we lost it. It was stolen.’
‘I know,’ said Jack. God, he was sweating. ‘They’re right,’ he thought. ‘It’s this coat. I’m wearing too many clothes. Giggle. Oh that’s funny. Always wearing too many clothes.’
‘Have you got it with you?’ asked Brendan. ‘No? OK. So we needed the device back. It was still being used, but at a long distance from us – the power it’s been demanding has spiralled. We’ve done everything we could to feed it… but it’s not been enough.’
‘You should have asked me,’ said Jack. ‘We could have helped.’
‘Maybe it’s not too late,’ said Jon.
‘It is,’ said Brendan. ‘Gods have their pride.’ Jon leaned close.
‘He’s got really good arms,’ thought Jack. ‘He’s so strong, and his hair’s so good and I love the way his eyes are so blue and there’s all that stubble and the troubled look in his face and the chest hair and cheekbones and-’
‘Jack. Listen to me, Jack,’ said Jon. ‘We had to feed it. Using the old way.’
Brendan leaned in, his long blond hair sweeping back, his perfect teeth smiling in a feral way. His arms wrapped round Jack, so strong, almost crushing the life out of him.
‘We’ve had to make sacrifices,’ someone said.
And then it was white.
JACK IS IN FOR A TREAT WHEN HE CHECKS THE CCTV
Gwen awoke, chewing hair. She realised, gradually, that it wasn’t hers, and woke with a guilty start.
She and Ianto were wrapped round each other on the Hub’s battered sofa. Gwen remembered they’d worked through the night and then just sat down, just for a second, just to catch their breath. And… how late was it?
She jabbed Ianto in the ribs.
Ianto gave a sudden snore, and snapped awake. He gazed around, blearily. ‘Gwen… what?’ For an instant, his face was dishevelled, hair unkempt, clothes rumpled. Then he shook himself like a cat, and everything fell into place. Perfectly.
Gwen narrowed her eyes. ‘Ianto! We’ve been asleep!’
Ianto stood up, and clumped unevenly towards his desk. ‘I’m missing a shoe,’ he muttered.
‘Oh god, I’m so tired,’ wailed Gwen. ‘I haven’t slept properly all week, and now this.’
Ianto checked the clock on his PC. ‘We’ve been asleep for four hours. I just shut my eyes, just for a moment…’ He smiled at Gwen, encouragingly. ‘I’ll make some coffee.’
Gwen stumbled over to her machine, and pulled up the latest reading of the energy cloud. It had increased, no, doubled, while they’d been asleep. She stared, aghast.
Ianto joined her, and they sat there for a few minutes, groggily, sipping their coffee and watching the world end.
‘It’s like a net,’ sighed Ianto. ‘Very tightly woven. Hovering just a few feet over Cardiff.’
Gwen nodded. ‘And getting ready to drop.’
‘Right,’ said Ianto, firmly. ‘We need to find Jack. And we need to get the device to him.’
‘Right,’ said Gwen. They sat there, watching the energy net weaving itself tighter and tighter.
‘What’s unique about Jack?’ asked Ianto. ‘We need something we can trace him by.’
‘Oh, you can’t track smugness,’ said Gwen.
CAPTAIN JACK GOES TO THE WALL
Jack was pressed up against the wall, Brendan wrapped around him. He was wearing a drowsy, dreamy smile. ‘What are we doing now, fellas?’ he asked, his voice thick with sleep.
Jon moved across the room, and threw an arm around Jack’s shoulder, drawing him close. ‘Oh, it’s all good, soldier.’
Jack blinked, slowly. ‘Why… Why am I here?’
Brendan laughed, gently in his ear. ‘You’ve forgotten! Oh, that’s great.’
‘We are very distracting,’ said Jon.
‘And haven’t you done well?’ said Brendan, admiringly.
‘What?’ murmured Jack. ‘What have I done?’
‘Provided us with a lot of much-needed power,’ said Jon. ‘You could call it a jump start.’
‘Please don’t,’ sighed Brendan. He started to kiss Jack’s neck. Jack laughed, slowly. ‘Listen, babe, we’ve got to go for a few hours. And you’re pretty much spent. So we’re going to leave you here.’
‘You’ll like this bit,’ said Jon. ‘Spread out your hands.’
And Jack spread out his hands, feeling the two of them wrapped round him, and he smiled, happily. None of it felt real. He looked at the wall, all neat, white plaster, and then watched, dreamily, as it changed, spreading with a blood-red stain which moved around his figure. And then rippled. And the pounding, the pounding that had been in his head for so long he couldn’t remember… oh, it got louder.
‘It’s the wall,’ said Brendan, pressing in on him. ‘Try and move your hands.’
Jack couldn’t. He managed to lift his left hand, just slightly, but the wall shifted. He struggled, and the wall just wrapped itself further round his arm. He turned, almost alarmed, but still giggly. ‘What is this?’
‘It’s the wall,’ said Jon. ‘We built a temple, after all.’
Brendan pulled close, kissing Jack and running a hand through his hair. ‘We built it out of our believers.’
And then he broke away from Jack, laughing as they pushed him into the wall. As it wrapped round his head and his body, so warm and horrible and strange, he realised that something very bad had happened. And he tried to scream. But as he opened his mouth, the wall just poured in. All warm and pulsing and red.
IANTO KNOWS THE TRUE VALUE OF A NUGGET
Ianto stumbled through central Cardiff. The streets were eerily empty, bathed in the watered-down light of winter. Buses were still running, with exhausted drivers barely lifting their eyes from the road. Shops were open, but the music was muted. The streets were full of rubbish, coke cans and chip wrappers and bottles and even the odd person, slumped in a doorway.
‘I’m so tired,’ he thought. ‘I’m so tired I could just sleep.’
He carried on walking, though. Down along St Mary Street, which was still crowded with clubbers, milling around in an exhausted, desultory way. He checked his watch, puzzled. It was either early or late. He couldn’t work it out. It was almost like they’d left the clubs and not bothered to go home, just stayed on the street. Standing fairly still, staggering from side to side, a little. Almost like they were still dancing.
Every now and then a bottle would drop to the ground, and he’d hear it rolling a little.
He made his way through the crowd, finding the fish bar.
Bren caught his look, so old, so tired. ‘Oh, we don’t close while there’s business, luv,’ she said. ‘Patrick’s still out the back.’ Her look wasn’t approving. ‘Don’t distract him. He’s got nuggets, hasn’t he?’
‘But he’s OK?’ asked Ianto.
Bren didn’t even blink. ‘Of course. Why shouldn’t he be?’