Part 23 (1/2)

179.

The Peace Men were awestruck as beautiful things began to stir under the sand on the beach. Animals began to claw to stir under the sand on the beach. Animals began to claw their way up, pus.h.i.+ng their way to the surface where they their way up, pus.h.i.+ng their way to the surface where they breathed in the beautiful fresh air. Tall animals with breathed in the beautiful fresh air. Tall animals with ma.s.sive tails which hopped rather than walked, small furry ma.s.sive tails which hopped rather than walked, small furry ones with snouts and big eyes, wingless birds who waved ones with snouts and big eyes, wingless birds who waved their long necks as they sought out the smells and sights their long necks as they sought out the smells and sights with their newly created senses. Lizards of all shapes and with their newly created senses. Lizards of all shapes and sizes, more birds and mammals. sizes, more birds and mammals.

'These shall all be yours. Uniquely. No one else may have them and they will honour you if you love them,' she said. them and they will honour you if you love them,' she said.

'Treasure them and this world can be yours,' he said.

'Teach us,' said the leader of the Peace Men. 'Teach us to sing like you. To continue the beautiful life. To build homes, sing like you. To continue the beautiful life. To build homes, lives and roots for ourselves. Please.' lives and roots for ourselves. Please.'

Before they agreed the Walkers explained about the violent New Men. violent New Men.

'Show us how to sing and we will protect this beautiful land, these beautiful creatures, for the rest of time from the land, these beautiful creatures, for the rest of time from the evil New Men.' evil New Men.'

The Walkers, now accustomed to having lost their own roots, agreed - in the Peace Men, they had found purpose roots, agreed - in the Peace Men, they had found purpose and reason. 'This is your land - your aboriginal sites,' she and reason. 'This is your land - your aboriginal sites,' she said. 'The others are the invaders, who would be evil and said. 'The others are the invaders, who would be evil and desecrate the world. The animals we have given you are desecrate the world. The animals we have given you are G.o.ds for you to revere and honour.' G.o.ds for you to revere and honour.'

'It will be done,' said the Peace Man. Together the Walkers - Walkers - 'Tell me about the battles,' Dent giggled. 'Tell me the bit about the Aborigines wiping out those other evil ones and how beautiful they made this country.' He sat back in his wooden cart, staring at the endless expanse of white above, beside, behind and below them, rubbing his blunt nose and staring at Mrs Wilding in fascination.

'Another time,' she said. 'I have other patients to tend now.' Wilding ran a hand through Dent's scraggly black 180 hair, trying to disguise her fondness for him by pretending she was making him look tidy.

Instantly, they changed, re-adopting their Victorian appearances. Dent's brain improved. 'Tarwildbaning, I don't now how much longer I can keep rejuvenating my synapses.

One day I'm going to regress to our Walker state and lose it.'

He s.n.a.t.c.hed at her hand, a tear pus.h.i.+ng its way down his face. 'I don't want to lose my mind!'

'We have to leave this world and get back amongst the stars where we belong. Only there, away from G.o.dwanna's plans; can your brain properly readjust. Unless. . .' Mrs Wilding straightened her pinafore. 'But until then I have to find a way. Remember - I love you.' With that she smacked the back of his head and he twitched, his giggling old-man personality instantly re-engaged. 'We must conserve your resources,' she said.

A tear, as desperate as his had been, fell down Mrs Wilding's face as she left him chortling at some insane private joke and went to tend her new charges.

'h.e.l.lo, Mrs Wilding,' dribbled one. 'Have you come to clean me?'

'Yes, Professor, I'm here to look after you. Always.'

'Is Mr Dent not well again?'

Mrs Wilding nodded mechanically. 'We keep trying to reach G.o.dwanna's hyper-reality. We could all be safe there, but she's still sealed the final nexus.'

Bridgeman nodded. 'I like this place. It's clean.'

'It's white. Is it heaven?'

Mrs Wilding looked across at a second man wandering aimlessly in circles, trying to keep his balance walking around an imaginary circle. 'No, Mr Simms. Not in the way you mean. But it's not exactly your home planet either.'

'So where are we?' asked Bridgeman. 'Nate and I have been wondering that for. . . oh, yonks and yonks and yonks.'

Nate walked over. He put his head on one side and stared up into Mrs Wilding's face. 'You've been crying. Do you love Mr Dent?'

181.

'Oh, Mr Simms, what a question! I do apologize for him, Mrs Wilding.' Bridgeman pulled at Nate's sleeve, trying to pull him to sit on the ground with him.

As he allowed himself to go down, Nate giggled. 'I can see right up your nose!' He pointed at Mrs Wilding. 'It's very dark up there!'

Bridgeman went red. 'Nate, please.'

Nate Simms suddenly looked at Bridgeman as if noticing him properly for the first time. He reached for Bridgeman's nose. 'You've got a nose, too.' Then he frowned. 'Do I know you?'

Bridgeman nodded. 'Yes. We were playing together earlier in the garden.'

Mrs Wilding stopped her ministrations. 'What garden, Mr Bridgeman?'

'He's a professor, you know. A clever man. He went to university. He's got qualifications.'

'Lots,' agreed Bridgeman. 'Lots and lots and lots and lots and -'

Mrs Wilding put her hand on his shoulder. 'What garden?'

'What garden?'

'I asked you that. What garden were you in?'

'No garden. No garden. No garden.' Nate rolled on his back and kicked with his legs in the air, as if he was riding an invisible bicycle. 'No garden.'

'Nicky?'

Bridgeman looked at his knees and began picking at an invisible scab there, ignoring his trousers. 'He told me not to tell. Big people are bad. Tell us off.'

'I won't tell you off,' said Mrs Wilding. 'Look, tell you what - you tell me how you found the garden, and we'll go together. That way, it can't possibly be bad, can it?'

Bridgeman pouted. 'I don't know, Mrs Wilding . . .'

'Can I come?' called a voice. Pus.h.i.+ng himself across the white nothingness in his Victorian wheelchair was Dent, his eyes alight with excitement. 'Oh, let me, please, please, please, pleeeeeeze,' he whined.

182.

Mrs Wilding shook her head. 'No! If she finds us there, she might do anything!'

Dent was suddenly back into his rational self: 'But they know where it is, how to get there. Tarwildbaning, what else can she do? She crushed my legs, she probed my brain and fudged it. What more harm can she do? Kill me? It might be a blessed relief!'

Mrs Wilding suddenly burst into tears. 'Don't you understand, any of you? What if she does something to me?

Who's going to look after you?'

The sudden outpouring of emotion spurred Dent on, knowing he had to be as rational as possible before the insanity kicked back in. He grabbed Mrs Wilding's hand.

'But that's the whole point - eventually she's going to do something. She's like that. We know that Thorgarsuunela has let us down and despite our meeting with Atimkos, I doubt he'll be much help. It is down to us.'

'Atimkos will. . . he must help,' murmured Mrs Wilding.

She knelt beside the chair. 'We spent so long looking for them both, they must help us.'