The Factory Trilogy 01 - Gleam by Tom Fletcher Page B

rivals?’
    ‘All I am is drunk,’ Alan said. ‘You’re taking advantage of me. Listen, I’m not committing to anything – not tonight.’
    ‘At the very least acknowledge that if you want to see your son again, you have to somehow secure a supply of mushrooms from Dok.’
    Alan nodded. ‘I suppose that is the awful boiled-down truth that I was dimly aware of but was hoping to run away from for the night. Yes.’
    ‘The other awful truth you need to confront is that you’ve pissed Daunt off.’
    ‘She doesn’t know it was me who stole from her, though.’
    ‘Doesn’t she?’ Churr raised an eyebrow. ‘Well, that’s interesting. I guess I have some leverage.’
    Alan paused for a moment. ‘I guess you do,’ he said, feeling miserable.
    ‘Good. Well done. Now then. Let’s drink our tea and have fun.’
    ‘This night isn’t going the way I planned it.’
    ‘Maybe you chose the wrong woman to sleep with.’
    Alan poured his own tea. It was green with pale flecks floating in it. ‘I’m looking forward to this,’ he said.
    ‘You’re mad, then.’
    Alan didn’t say anything.
    Churr lifted up her cup. ‘To Billy,’ she said.
    ‘To Billy.’
    *
    A writhing mass of pale, arm-thick worms spilled out of the snail when it was cut open. They slithered towards Alan and wrapped themselves around his arms and legs, lifted him up, up, up into the sky. They were utterly smooth and featureless. The shell had been smashed into millions of uniform triangular pieces that formed a pattern when he looked down upon them: an intricate mosaic depicting Marion’s face. He laughed to see her again. She was smiling at him in a way that she hadn’t since before Billy was born. The mosaic covered the flat, stone rooftop, beyond which was only darkness. When Alan inhaled, the darkness rose up into the sky like black mountains; when he exhaled, the mountains receded once more, as if he were blowing them flat. The remains of the snail crawled across the mosaic, pulled by more worms, like a slug with tentacles, disrupting the pattern of Marion’s face.
    ‘Get away!’ Alan shouted. ‘Get away, slug!’ But it either didn’t hear him, didn’t understand him, or didn’t obey him. It left a thick trail of pink slime behind it. The black mountains rose and fell all around. Slowly the worms turned him around so that he was facing upwards. He could hear Marion’s voice from below: ‘Get the fuck out, swine!’ It was a scream, but it sounded distant. Ablack diamond hovered in the sky like a hole. All around it stars were pinpricks in a purple sheet. The diamond descended towards Alan’s face and he saw that it was the entrance to a tunnel. Marion’s voice came again: ‘I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.’ The tunnel was made out of black and white diamonds, receding. It was like looking into a mirror reflecting another mirror. He strained and twisted as much as the worms permitted, but the tunnel curved just enough to prevent him seeing the end of it. The purple of the sky darkened as he inhaled, lightened as he exhaled. The sound of his breath was almost deafening; he could hear it rushing into and out of his lungs, whistling through the narrow passages of his nose and throat, first one way and then the other. He could feel the oxygen filtering through into his blood and the blood moving through his veins. He felt like it was beating against the inside of his skin.
    Something was falling down the tunnel; something wet and bright. It sped towards him and he saw that it was a person. She fell out of the tunnel and landed on top of him; she was naked and covered with ink. He was naked too now, somehow. Churr. It was Churr. She slapped him once across the face, and then again. She leaned forward and opened her mouth and cold black ink gushed out of it, all over his face. The ink was ice cold. He pulled her down against him, so that her breasts pressed into his face. He grabbed hold of her buttocks, slid one hand down and