Mutation Read online

  mutation

  Born in Sydney in 1985, Chris Morphew

  spent his childhood writing stories about

  dinosaurs and time machines. More recently he

  has written for the best-selling Zac Power series.

  The Phoenix Files is his first series for young adults.

  Chris Morphew

  mutation

  The Phoenix Files: Mutation

  published in 2010 by

  Hardie Grant Egmont

  85 High Street

  Prahran, Victoria 3181, Australia

  www.hardiegrantegmont.com.au

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publishers and copyright holders.

  A CiP record for this title is available from the National Library of Australia.

  Text copyright © 2010 Chris Morphew

  The moral rights of the author have been asserted

  Illustration and design copyright © 2010 Hardie Grant Egmont

  Design by Sandra Nobes

  Typesetting by Ektavo

  Printed in Australia by McPherson’s Printing Group

  1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2

  To the real-life Jordans and Georgias at PLC Sydney.

  May you keep on living great stories!

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 1

  THURSDAY, JUNE 11

  63 DAYS

  My fists clenched in my lap as Shackleton approached the podium, a hint of his sick, grandfatherly smile still pulling at his lips. He stared down at the coffin, clearing his throat with a sound like a dying animal.

  I shivered, digging my nails down through the fabric of my skirt. You already killed him, you filthy parasite. Isn’t that enough?

  ‘Friends,’ Shackleton began solemnly, his arms casting long shadows out toward us. ‘Thank you all so much for being here. Officer Reeve was a dear friend of mine, and it is an honour and a privilege to be laying him to rest here this evening.’

  We were in a clearing in the bush at the north-west corner of town, where the Shackleton Co-operative had set up a makeshift cemetery. They hadn’t thought to include one in the original designs for the town. Phoenix was the one place where people weren’t supposed to die.

  There were maybe fifty people at the funeral. Almost half were colleagues of Reeve’s from the security centre, neat rows of black uniforms melting together in the shadows of the trees.

  Luke, Peter and I had debated all week whether it was even worth showing up, knowing Shackleton would be running the service, knowing it was only ever going to be an insult to Reeve’s memory.

  But here we were.

  ‘Reeve was a great man,’ Shackleton said. ‘A loving husband, a devoted father, and a security officer of the highest calibre.’

  Luke leant forward in the seat next to mine. He let out a heavy breath and put his head in his hands.

  It had been a week since our disastrous trip to the Shackleton Building. A week since Shackleton had ordered Reeve’s brutal execution right in front of us.

  Two other men had died that night, but neither of them had been given a memorial service. If anyone asked, they’d been ‘dismissed due to professional misconduct’.

  But Reeve had family in Phoenix, so his death was harder to explain away. The Co-operative was forced to concoct an elaborate story about a malfunctioning ventilation unit and Reeve getting sliced up by one of the fans.

  They’d done a pretty slick job of it too. Blood on the fan blades. Aaron Ketterley coming forward and corroborating the whole thing. All pretty grizzly, though nothing compared to the true horror of that night.

  Almost without thinking, I reached behind and traced a finger over the weeping scab on the small of my back, the mark of my failed attempt to take a kitchen knife to Shackleton’s tracking device. It was healing up surprisingly fast, given the mess I’d made.

  But the suppressor was still there. A little piece of Shackleton buried in my skin, touching me, dirtying my insides. I didn’t care what Luke said, I could feel it.

  Shackleton paused to survey the crowd, and I drew my hand back to my lap.

  ‘To his wife, Katie, and son, Lachlan,’ he continued, nodding at a seat in the front row, ‘I offer my deepest condolences. Know that the Shackleton Co-operative stands beside you in your grief.’

  Lachlan rocked back and forth on his mum’s lap, oblivious to Shackleton’s words. He was dressed in a little shirt and tie, tears running down his face. He stared around at the rest of us like he was expecting to find his dad waiting for him somewhere in the crowd.

  I imagined Georgia sitting there in his place, all dressed up, trying to make sense of all these miserable grown-ups. I thought of Mum, in and out of the medical centre all week, and I imagined what it would be like if anything happened to her, imagined trying to explain to my little sister why one of our parents was never –

  Tears pricked my eyes, but I fought them back. No way was Shackleton going to see me lose it.

  I caught Peter watching me. Probably trying to figure out if he could get away with putting his hand on my knee. I glared at him and he quickly turned his head the other way.

  ‘If there is anything – anything – we can do to ease your suffering in this tragic time,’ said Shackleton, ‘please do not hesitate to let me know.’

  Reeve’s wife gave a shaky nod.

  I gritted my teeth, not knowing how much longer I could just sit here and absorb this. Shackleton tearing this family apart, murdering an innocent man like it was no worse than squashing a bug, and now standing up there getting weary, grateful smiles from the woman he’d made a widow.

  Shackleton paused again, gaze suddenly resting on Luke, Peter and me.

  My skin crawled. Shackleton’s smile stretched the tiniest bit wider.

  ‘More than anything else, I will remember Officer Reeve as a man dedicated to protecting the town he loved, a man who treasured the values that we at the Shackleton Co-operative hold dear.’

  I shifted in my chair. I’d known all along that this night would be a travesty, but to use it to turn Reeve into a poster boy for all the evil being committed in this place …

  Luke grabbed hold of my arm, warning me to keep it together. I shook him off, but settled back down into my seat.

  ‘My dear friends,’ Shackleton spread his arms wide again and lifted his voice, gearing up for his big finish. ‘What better way to honour the memory of this great man than by working together to ensure that Phoenix continues to be the place of safety, security and freedom that Officer Reeve fought so hard to –’

  BOOM!

  A second later, the old man was face-down on the ground. The sky flashed orange and the bushland behind him erupted into flame.

  Chapter 2

  THURSDAY, JUNE 11

  63 DAYS

  The crowd was on
their feet in a second, gasping and shouting and knocking over their seats.

  ‘Crap,’ hissed Peter, craning his neck. ‘Now who’s trying to kill us?’

  Somewhere out in the bush, a fireball the size of a house had just blasted up above the tree line, impossibly bright against the darkening sky. I climbed up on top of my chair, staggering under the wave of blinding heat sweeping through the clearing. Even after all the rain we’d been getting, I could see flames starting to crawl up through the trees.

  ‘What is it?’ Luke looked up at me. ‘Can you see anything?’

  I bit my lip, knowing right away what he was thinking.

  Could this have something to do with his dad? Had he somehow escaped being hunted down by Shackleton’s people? Had he convinced the outside world to come looking for us?

  Were we being rescued?

  Don’t, I told myself, clamping down on my own wishful thinking. Not now. Believe it when it happens.

  ‘Jordan?’ Luke pressed.

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘Nothing. Just fire.’

  I jumped back down to the ground and started pushing through the half-darkness for a closer look, past upturned chairs and forgotten handbags and wild speculation about terrorists and meteorites and plane crashes. Somewhere in all the confusion, little Lachlan was screaming his head off.

  I sidestepped between another couple of people and suddenly I was right in front of Reeve’s casket. I reeled back, startled by the sight of the still, dark form in the middle of all of this chaos, like for a minute I’d forgotten why we were here in the first place.

  The guilt reared up again.

  If we hadn’t asked him to help us …

  A figure appeared from behind the casket, and I jumped back. It was Shackleton, getting to his feet, looking as surprised as the rest of us, but also kind of excited.

  ‘And there I was, worrying that my eulogy didn’t have quite a punchy enough ending,’ he coughed, resting an arm on Reeve’s casket. ‘Lovely to see you in three dimensions again, Ms Burke. Not that I haven’t been keeping an eye, of course,’ he tapped the side of his head, like I couldn’t figure out what an eye was. ‘But that blinking dot on my computer monitor really does not do you justice.’

  I glared at him, and Shackleton’s eyes glinted. He was insane, but not Crazy Bill insane. Shackleton knew exactly what he was doing. He paused for a moment to brush the dirt off his suit, then started calling out orders to the guards.

  ‘Alonzo – get in there and find out what we’re dealing with. Parker – would you be so kind as to track down Officer Calvin for me? I daresay he’ll want to take a look at this. The rest of you – get these people back into town.’ Shackleton caught my eye and smiled again. ‘We wouldn’t want anyone to get hurt now, would we?’

  He drummed his fingers on the lid of the casket, clearly enjoying himself.

  I was one breath away from taking a swing at him, but a glimpse of an approaching guard held me back. I’d seen this guy around town before. Officer Barnett, I think. He had an orange goatee and a face that said he’d have no problem getting violent if it came to that.

  ‘All right, Ms Burke,’ he said. ‘Let’s get you home.’

  Barnett brought a hand down onto my shoulder. I might not have known him too well, but Calvin had made certain that his security team knew exactly who we were.

  ‘Oi!’ said Peter, as he and Luke burst out of the crowd. ‘Hands off!’

  The guard smirked, tightening his grip on me. Peter glared, and I felt a surge of frustration. He always picked the dumbest moments to try to be a gentleman.

  ‘Let’s go,’ said Barnett, pushing me forward.

  He marched us out of the clearing and back down the road into town, roping one of his friends in to help keep an eye on us.

  I noticed none of the other funeral-goers were getting such special treatment.

  ‘Don’t think you can handle us all by yourself?’ I muttered, wrenching free of him.

  Officer Barnett just snarled.

  By the time we got out of the bush, half the town had come out into the street to see what was going on. A woman with curly hair and a little girl in her arms came running up as we stepped out of the bush.

  ‘Is everything all right?’ she asked. Her eyes fell on Luke, Peter and me, and I bit my tongue, knowing what was coming. ‘Officer, what’s going on out there? Did those three do something?’

  Barnett shook his head. ‘Lightning strike.’

  ‘Lightning strike?’

  ‘Back to your home please, ma’am,’ the guard said firmly. ‘We’ve got skid units coming through, and they’re going to need –’

  ‘YOUR ATTENTION PLEASE, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN,’ another officer’s voice boomed through a megaphone. ‘PLEASE CLEAR THE STREET IMMEDIATELY TO MAKE WAY FOR EMERGENCY FIRE CREWS.’

  The instructions got a few people moving, but others were still arriving. The explosion must have been heard all over town, and now there was a pillar of black smoke towering into the sky above the bush.

  ‘Barnett! Cook!’ shouted the officer with the megaphone. ‘We could use a hand over here if you’re not too busy chatting!’

  ‘Yeah, hang on!’ Barnett called back, looking like he’d love to take that megaphone and smack the guy over the head with it. He barked at us, ‘Straight home. All of you.’

  The curly-haired woman shot one last dirty look at me and the boys, and then headed back across the street.

  I turned, bristling, and led Luke and Peter off in the direction of my house, glancing back over my shoulder to keep an eye on Barnett. He watched until he was satisfied that we were actually leaving, then he and Cook ran off to help with the crowd.

  ‘Freaking moron,’ spat Peter.

  ‘Which one?’ asked Luke.

  ‘All of them!’ said Peter, not noticing that I was veering off the path. ‘This whole bloody town! If they had any idea of the crap we’ve been through trying to save their – Whoa! Jordan, no. Seriously. No.’

  It was really getting dark now, and a flickering orange glow was shining out through the bushland to our left. The bushland I was heading straight back into.

  ‘Come on,’ I said, ‘you don’t want to know what’s going on out –?’

  ‘Down!’ yelled Luke out of nowhere, grabbing Peter and me by the arms and dragging us into the dirt.

  There was a flash of light and a roar of sound and at first I had no idea what was going on. After almost two months in Phoenix, there were some things my brain was just not used to dealing with anymore.

  Headlights.

  Engines.

  A second later, three identical vehicles came tearing down the narrow bike path towards us, gleaming black buggies with red Shackleton Co-operative logos emblazoned on the sides. Each one had a single driver and a couple of other officers at the back, hanging off a little caged section packed with hoses and water tanks and other fire-fighting gear. The little buggies looked like they’d been custom-designed with Phoenix in mind.

  The first one flashed past our hiding place and I heard Peter swear.

  Officer Calvin was crouched at the back, staring out at the fire like he was going to destroy it with his bare hands. No crutch. No bandages. No sign at all that he’d been smashed half to death only a few weeks ago.

  I knew he’d been recovering quickly, but seriously – no-one heals that fast.

  The buggies swerved through the crowd and raced up the dirt track towards the cemetery.

  ‘See?’ said Peter, getting up off the ground. ‘Another excellent reason not to go back out there.’

  He was probably right.

  But clearly we couldn’t just not investigate.

  I got up and started bashing my way into the bush, knowing they wouldn’t let me go out there alone.

  ‘Jordan, no!’ Peter hissed at me. ‘Wait! Let’s just –’

  He broke off into a sigh and a second later I heard footsteps crashing through the undergrowth.

  ‘I swear, Jordan,’
Peter grumbled as the two of them caught up, ‘you get me killed tonight and I am going to haunt you so freaking much.’

  I stumbled forward, almost tripping over a rock buried in the grass. The bush at the north end of town was a mess of dense trees and tall grass, and stomping through this way would be a lot slower than taking the cemetery path. But it would also give us more to hide behind as we got within eyeshot of security.

  ‘What about the suppressors?’ said Luke urgently. ‘Shackleton’s going to know exactly where we –’

  ‘Shackleton’s too busy dealing with this to worry about what we’re doing,’ I said, trying to ignore the dull throb at the base of my spine, the sudden rush of images of Dr Montag holding me down over the table, digging that needle into me, Shackleton grinning down from the sidelines –

  Stop it. You’ve got work to do.

  The fire was maybe fifty metres away now, and I could feel the heat pressing against us. The flames lit up the bush, casting everything in hyperactive, flickering shadows.

  ‘You guys didn’t see anything before the explosion, did you?’ asked Luke. ‘Like a plane, or –?’

  ‘We would’ve heard a plane,’ said Peter. ‘What, you reckon this is someone’s idea of a rescue plan? Bomb the trees and fly away again?’

  I heard shouts up ahead, and engine noises. Calvin and his men had reached the explosion site. Pushing closer, I could make out the fire crews unreeling their hoses and aiming them into the flames. Loud hissing noises broke out over the crackling and snapping of the fire as the hoses began spewing water into the air.

  I slowed down as we closed in on the explosion site. I held up a hand to stop the others, and we crouched down in the grass, searching for the best way forward.

  The air around us was a haze of smoke and steam, glowing orange in the firelight. Calvin was standing in the middle of it all, shouting orders. He turned in our direction and I dropped further down into the grass.

  ‘He’s seen us!’ Luke hissed.

  ‘No he hasn’t,’ I said, watching his face, hoping I was right. ‘Quiet!’