Hexad: The Ward (2 page)

"Who are you? What do you want?"

"I'm The Caretaker, of course. You know, 'The' Caretaker." He made bunny ears with his fingers. "Sorry. Er, um, you don't remember, do you?"

"Remember what?" asked Amanda nervously, her curiosity and the sheer bizarreness of the situation stopping her from running away.

"Saving the world. Twice. Well, guess what?"

"Er, what?"

"I'm afraid you have to do it again. But you will be pleased to know," said The Caretaker brightly, "that this time it wasn't your fault. Not totally, anyway. Um, actually, it kind of was. Hmm."

"What the hell's going on?" shouted Dale, pulling up his boxer shorts, barging into the kitchen and almost sending Amanda flying as she was hanging onto the door handle.

"Dale, Dale. Thank god. There's a man, in our house. He's mad. Totally mad." Amanda hugged Dale tight, then recoiled in horror. "Oh my god, oh my god, it really happened. It's not you, it's not Dale. Get away from me, what is happening to me? Who are you people?" Amanda looked from one stranger to the other, pupils wide like a full eclipse, and she felt as helpless as she had ever felt in her life. She kicked Dale hard in the groin and he doubled over, retching and coughing as she ran into the bedroom.

She was going to get raped. Raped and killed and hacked to bits and she had gone mad and nothing made sense any longer and how the hell was she going to get out?

The door, the front door.

Amanda changed direction and turned to the front of the bungalow, heading for the front door.

"Damn, where's the key? Where is it?" she muttered to herself in a panic. They never used it, always using the door off the kitchen so the key was probably in the drawer there where they kept the spares. "This is a nightmare." She ran back down the hall to the bedroom and slammed it behind her. It caught on the jamb, leaving her alone, naked and shaking as she fumbled with the stupid bloody catch on the wardrobe door that Dale had "fixed," so was now worse than ever.

"Why don't any of the damn doors work in this house?" She managed to get it open and in a panic stepped into a pair of panties. She tripped as she tried to put her leg in and freaked out as she saw the corner of the wardrobe getting closer to her face — this would hurt, a lot.

Amanda crashed to the carpet, a gash on the left side of her temple.

She was out cold.

Cold and naked with two men she'd never met before in her life now in her kitchen.

It was a very bad start to the weekend.

A Bad Head

Present Day

"Ugh, wow, what a weird dream." Amanda sat up in bed; Dale was already up by the looks of it. Her head was killing — she'd definitely drunk too much the night before.

The dream didn't fade, however. Normally, the minute she woke up her dreams vanished, intangible and impossible to recall. This was different. She remembered Dale not being Dale, that man in the kitchen. What was he called? The Caretaker, that was it. And she remembered almost dashing out into the garden naked to dig up proof of time travel.

"What a Saturday morning." Amanda put a hand to her temple — it throbbed terribly. Hopefully, it was just from wine, and not from... "Ow! It happened, it really happened." Amanda looked down to find she wasn't under the covers, she was on top of them, fully dressed in her sleeveless blue summer dress and thankfully she had her underwear on too. Had that man done something to her? She didn't think so. What about this Dale impostor? That couldn't be right, could it?

Just what on earth was going on? Should she call the police, report that her boyfriend of over ten years smelled different but looked the same and that there was a man called The Caretaker in her kitchen? It sounded ridiculous, they'd never believe her.

Amanda got out of bed.

She moved silently into the hall, feeling warm. So, she had got up and turned up the thermostat then? At least that was something real, definite. Dale would never turn it up that high, so it must have been her.

She crept down the hall toward the kitchen, where she could hear voices. It was Dale, at least it sounded like him, and that man too. Tellan, is that what he'd said he was called? Yes, a.k.a. The Caretaker.

Could that be right? Really? "The" Caretaker? Surely not.

"Um, hello?" Amanda hung back in the doorway, too dazed and confused by the morning to know what else to do. She stole a glance at the digital readout on the oven: 09:07. She'd been back in bed for a few hours then.

"Hey, Amanda," said Dale excitedly, relief on his face. "Are you all right? You gave me quite a scare there."

"Um, I'm fine. No, I'm not. My head hurts, I don't know who this man is, and, um, well, you smell funny."

"About that," said Tellan, rearranging his hat on the polished table in front of him, a mug of coffee to his right. At least it was on a coaster, but she got the feeling Tellan would always use a coaster. She wished she could say the same for Dale, slob that he was.

"Amanda? Amanda?"

"Eh? Oh, sorry, I was miles away. Look, I think something has happened to my head, nothing is making sense."

"You knocked it when you ran away from me. From us," said Dale, indicating Tellan.

"No, before that. I woke up and you smelled wrong, so wrong." Amanda peered at Dale suspiciously, too scared to get any closer for fear of reliving the nightmare all over again. Should she? Should she dare? No, if it was wrong again she knew she would freak out even worse. She gave it up as a lost cause and walked over to the kettle.

"It's just boiled," said Dale. "I put some Nescafe in your mug. And cleaned up the mess," he added.

"Thanks," mumbled Amanda, as she poured water into the plain mug and sipped it even though it scalded.

She leaned against the counter top and stared at the two men, who seemed to be feeling rather awkward judging by their frowns.

"Okay, what the hell is going on? Anyone?"

"I think you better start," said Dale, turning to face Tellan.

"Well, as I was saying before you ran away and knocked your head, Amanda, I'm afraid I have some bad news for you. Or, maybe it's good news actually," he said, brightening. "You have to save the world. All of them actually." Tellan sipped at his coffee, Dale did the same.

"Oh, is that all. Right, I'm going back to bed, this isn't happening. Either you two are crazy, or I am, and either way I'm going back to sleep until this is all over." Amanda walked across the kitchen floor, realizing she was leaving tiny smudges of blood from where she'd cut her toe earlier. The carpet would be ruined and she really didn't care.

"Amanda, please sit down, this is as freaky for me as it is for you," said Dale. He pushed back his chair, got up and moved to give her a hug.

Amanda tensed, but let him do it, hoping beyond hope that it was her Dale, not some weirdo that just looked like him but had the scent of somebody from a different world entirely.

He still smelled wrong.

Dale let her go and looked into her eyes, worry written large across his face. Amanda was as stiff as a board, her arms hanging limp by her sides.

"It's me, honey. It's Dale. Look, sit down please. You will not believe what this... this Caretaker has to say." Dale pulled out a chair and Amanda sat opposite Tellan, with Dale to her left.

"It's
The
Caretaker," said Tellan. "Capital T, capital C."

"So you really are The Caretaker then?" asked Amanda.

"I am." Tellan sipped his coffee.

"You know what that means?" asked Dale.

"Of course." Amanda sipped her own coffee. "Don't you?"
Am I really having this conversation? Shouldn't I be calling the police, or the psych ward anyway?

"No, I don't. And all he," Dale pointed at Tellan, "keeps saying is, 'I'm The Caretaker.'"

"Well, I am," said Tellan.

Dale gave him the daggers.

"Look, this is all very nice and all, but I don't believe for one minute you are him," said Amanda. "And more to the point, what's all this about saving the world, and why do you smell like somebody I should know but don't?" Amanda turned to Dale, waiting for an answer. He opened his mouth to speak but Tellan spoke first.

"I have just been explaining to Dale, once he got over the shock of me being here, and you running off and boinking your head, that all of this is to be expected, especially after Dale did what he did. After all you two have been through I'm surprised you've even ended up with a Dale that looks just like your true Dale." Tellan leaned back in his chair and finished his coffee in a few mouthfuls, then put it back down carefully. "I do apologize, but I must be going. Dale will fill you in on the details, it's best I don't interfere too much. Things are complicated enough as it is, I don't want to make it worse."

"Hey, what are you talking about?" shouted Amanda. She turned to Dale and said, "What is this Dale?"

"Ask hi—"

Tellan was gone.

"Okay, let's take this from the beginning," said Amanda, trying not to freak out completely. "Just what did that man tell you?"

"Let me put the kettle on first, we are both going to need another coffee, if not something stronger."

"I'm off the booze, no way am I ever having another sip."

"Don't be so sure. Tellan told me that we have been time traveling and saving the world and destroying it and I jumped into another me right in this room and left a big mess of pulpy flesh and we went into an inverted world and there was a factory with rows of you from other dimensions all hooked up to machines and—"

"Let's go to the pub," sighed Amanda.

"What? It's only..." Dale checked his watch, "half nine in the morning."

"So? They're open, aren't they?" Dale nodded. "Good, I'll get my bag."

They went to the pub.

Where's Our Pub?

Present Day

"Morning, Dale. Morning, Amanda," said Steve cheerily from behind the spotless bar, before he turned his attention back to the glass he was polishing with what looked suspiciously like a new cloth, not the nasty gray rag he normally wiped at the glasses with ineffectively.

"Morning, Steve," said Dale.

"Um, morning," said Amanda, as she tried to keep it together and not let the fact Steve was happy freak her out more than finding her boyfriend smelled all funny and men were appearing in her house telling her crazy stories before she'd even got dressed or had her coffee.

"Bit early for you two, isn't it? Normally you aren't in until the afternoon."

"Today's a bit of a weird day, Steve. Two pints please," said Dale. "Got any nuts?"

Steve smiled wickedly and began to lower a hand to his crotch, ready to give his favorite joke.

"Seriously? I've heard it a million times, dude."

"The best ones never get old though, do they?" said Steve with a glint in his eye.

"Just pour the pints," sighed Dale.

Amanda kept quiet. Maybe she had gone funny in the head from the bump. Or maybe she'd had the bump first then everything else had happened afterward? That would explain it: she was just getting mixed up, events feeling out of order as she had a concussion. "Eh?"

"I said, you're looking lovely today, Amanda. Got a bonk on your head though, did you? It's a bit of a funny color." Steve finished pouring the drinks and placed them down on two beer mats in front of Dale and Amanda.

"Um, yes. Er, thank you. I'll go and get the seats while you pay, Dale." Amanda grabbed the pint glasses and headed over to their usual spot in the far corner, a booth they always sat in.

"She's acting odd," she heard Steve say, as he punched in the drinks on what looked like a new high-tech touchscreen till.

Amanda focused on not spilling the drinks and walked across... It was, it was floorboards. Shiny, clean, stripped floorboards. Where was the nasty carpet you always stuck to? And come to think of it, how come there were smart looking people in the bar? And was that coffee they were drinking? It was! Steve had always said he'd never serve coffee as this was a pub, not a bloody yuppie coffee bar where people just hung around all day in comfy chairs and moaned about their problems concerning their trendy lofts. Like he even knew what one was.

It was all too strange; the bar was familiar but different. Normally there were two or three old blokes sat on threadbare stools and that was it. The place usually stank, the toilets were a danger zone and Steve was grumpy as hell — if you could find him that is, usually he was off out back in his "Office," smoking a cigarette.

Amanda sat down in a daze. She was getting really worried about herself. Had she lost weeks or months of time? Steve couldn't have done all these changes overnight. And what was with their table? It looked like the old one but it was different, like it was new and made to look old, rather than just being old.

Amanda sipped her pint. It tasted good — cold, with a satisfying hint of hops.

That's it, I've definitely lost it. I haven't had a pint that tasted nice in all the time we've been coming here.

Amanda got up; she had to leave. This wasn't right, not at all, not any of it. She needed to go to a hospital. What if she had a lump in her brain or something? At least it would explain things.

"Hey, where are you going? Take a seat, let's talk." Dale put a hand on her shoulder and Amanda reluctantly sat back down. "What's going on, honey? I know this morning has been a bit unusual to say the least, but are you okay?"

"No, Dale, I am not okay, and how can you be after what that man said? I think I'm going crazy." Amanda put her head in her hands, resting her elbows on the table. She stayed that way for a moment, then lifted her head and said, "And what's with this place? Why is Steve all happy and when did he get the pub renovated? We were in here the other day."

Dale looked at her in confusion, his hair still unruly as he hadn't had a shower. Neither had she, and that meant she was truly losing the plot — she hadn't even brushed her hair, let alone done the double conditioner she had meant to do.