Scarlet Traces: An Anthology Based on H. G. Wells' War of the Worlds by Edited by Ian Edginton

Author:Edited by Ian Edginton
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Fiction
Publisher: Abaddon Books

WILL’S FATHER HAD often described the factory owner Mr Roebuck as a kindly man, even though increased automation using Martian technology had resulted in dozens of job losses at his factory in recent years. Will clung to that endorsement now as he and Meg climbed a tree whose branches overhung the high wall that surrounded Roebuck House, thinking that if the factory owner was as philanthropic as his father claimed, then he ought to give them a fair hearing. His hope was that the scientist who had been experimenting on the Bracknells’ chickens could do something for Meg, give her medicine to make her better, perhaps. He even harboured a hope that that was why Soames and Drayton had been searching for her—in order that her affliction could be successfully treated.

His initial idea had been to announce themselves at the front gate, but peering through the wrought-iron railings they had seen a group of men by the door of the gatekeeper’s lodge, forbidding in dark uniforms and peaked hats, each holding what appeared to be a long rod or night stick, and it hadn’t taken Meg long to convince Will it might be advisable to seek an alternative means of entry. So it was that they now found themselves creeping along a sagging tree branch like a pair of monkeys and dropping into the leaf-strewn undergrowth just inside Roebuck House’s boundary wall.

They found themselves in an apple orchard, the ground clumped with leaf mould and decaying fruit. It was late afternoon now, though the oppressive sky made it feel like twilight. At least, though, the lack of light and the trees provided them with cover.

“Which way?” Will said, looking around.

Meg hunched her shoulders. “Shall we try straight ahead?”

They marched through the trees, dead leaves crunching beneath their feet. After a few minutes the trees thinned out and they found themselves facing a long, high hedge, which stretched across their path. The hedge had been so meticulously pruned that its top was flat, its corners sharp.

Meg indicated a number of arched openings set into the hedge at regular intervals. “It’s a maze,” she said.

“Let’s go this way,” said Will, and turned right, keeping close to the hedge, trailing his fingers along its rough surface of compacted branches and waxy leaves.

When they reached the corner, Will stopped and peered around it.

“What can you see?” hissed Meg.

“A pig.”

“A pig?” She frowned, then leaned forward to peer around him.

He was right. There was a pig. On a flat patch of ground, beyond which were flowerbeds, a greenhouse, and a set of wooden steps leading to an elevated lawn, was a sizeable compound enclosed by a metal fence. At one end of the compound a fat pink pig was tied to a stake, which had been hammered into the ground. The pig seemed quite content, gorging itself on a heap of vegetable peelings and cabbage leaves.

As well as the pig’s soft grunting, Will and Meg could hear a faint crackling sound, which seemed to come from the fence itself.

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