Part six

The bulb burns a sudden orange. That terrible buzz reverberates down the length of the bus, and the distorted speakers crackle back into broken life...

"Here it comes", Ryan mutters quickly in a quiet voice. "The machine lies. It's all lies. If it gets too close use the magnets. Don't let it get in your head. It'll focus on one of you more than the other. That's what it does every time".

I exchange a fearful look with Leah, and behind her, out there in the desert, a sudden and colossal shadow travels fast across the scorched black sands. My eyes widen and Leah notices, she turns to follow my gaze, and the three of us watch the shadow grow larger and larger as it starts to circle the speeding bus.

​

Another rusted sign whizzes by. Peeled and scratched and faded like all the rest…tinged in the unyielding orange of the horizon… and like its predecessor, the phrase '*kegareki kuni*' has been scrawled across it in black.

The corpse of a child-sized machine lies crumpled at its base.

And the shadow draws closer.

​

Ry steps forwards and gestures us behind him. His head turns rapidly from left to right as he follows the journey of the shadow, as if he's trying to judge something. Then, "to the back", he says, "quick, *get to the back!*"

We do so, stumbling down the aisle, and seconds later the shadow completely covers the interior of the bus. All is plunged into temporary darkness, and then with a thunderous crash the shadow's owner lands precariously on the roof. The vehicle rocks violently, veering left and right across the road, smashing through the potholes and cracks and blowing up bursts of sand as it rides into the edges of the wastes. For a few long and chaotic seconds the vehicle even rides up onto only two wheels, shaking dangerously as the driver tries to regain its balance. Leah's screams merge with mine as it crashes back down and we land in the seats… but Ry keeps his footing throughout the entire ordeal; his coat wavers about his ankles and dispels thick clouds of dust as he shifts his weight from foot to foot.

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An enormous dark and oil-dripping metal hand smashes right through one of the bus's remaining windows. Another grabs from the opposite side, and then, another, a little further down. Ry shields his face and with a screech of tearing metal the front half of the bus's roof is ripped entirely from the sides. Leah and I cover our heads as glass rains down, and I watch through my fingers as Ry ducks to avoid a long, thin shard of still-connected metal go whizzing round just above his head. The front half of the roof is cracked from its body, and the orange light of the sky comes spilling into the bus as the ceiling is unceremoniously tossed out and away into the wastes.

​

…I don't fail to notice that it joins a great pile of torn and twisted metal.

​

I raise my head above the seats. Squinting through the dust.

​

There stands Ry, faced away from me, but a picture of defiance; shoulders squared and dusty hair rippling in the newly-strengthened winds of the desert. The light catches on the shoulders of his coat, and sparkles on the tips of the magnet-blade in his gloved and hidden hand.

Beyond him, and high above, perched on the remains of the bus's front half, is an imposing and terrible winged beast. A machine from the depths of a nightmare, it resembles the iron skeleton of some bitter and brutalist giant. Two massive metal wings extend from each shoulder-blade, for a total of four, and two of these wings begin to fold into its back. The other two remain open for balance, and block out a great deal of the light as they do so.

One of its eyes is dead black. Cracked and broken, sparking dangerously in the shadows of its face… But the other is bright and piercing. A perfect ring of brilliant, glowing white. With a series of whirrs and a myriad of deep and grinding clicks, its jaw cracks open and distends, splitting and falling back to reveal yet another, more mobile jaw beneath. With a sharp draw on a series of rusted chains, this jaw is pulled tight into a long and alien grin.

Two of the being's arms remain fixed to the edges of the bus for balance, but the third, the one protruding from the front of its torso, releases it grip on the shattered window-frame and reaches curiously down to Ry.

The motion reveals an ancient word, one painted onto a panel on its torso, positioned above a serial number and a string of Japanese text.

'**M E T A T R O #'**, it reads.

The eighth letter is illegible. Scrubbed and scratched and faded, I cannot work it out.

As the machine reaches down to my brother, he holds up his magnet in a tight fist. Perhaps unconsciously the machine's hand moves to follow it, then as its iron fingers graze the edge, Ry thrusts it suddenly and sharply upwards with a cry, like a captain on the deck of his ship, hurling the final harpoon at the mighty whale.

It strikes deep into the mechanisms of the monster's hand and with a flurry of sparks and angry whirrs it draws back in the manner of one stung by a dangerous insect.

'METATRO's eye flashes bright, and that metal jaw-within-a-jaw stretches wider still.

"***RYAN. HOW GOOD IT IS TO SEE YOU AGAIN. I HAD FEARED YOU HAD MET A LONELY AND GRISTLY END. STRETCHED OUT AS CARRION UPON THE FACE OF THE DESERT***".

Ry does not respond. How the hell he's keeping his ground, I could not say. My own heart is hammering desperately in my chest, to the extent that I think perhaps the machine can hear it.

​

*…Maybe it can…?*

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"***I CAN'T HELP BUT NOTICE THAT KRISTIE IS NO LONGER WITH YOU. ABANDONED HER, DID YOU? A PITY. I HAD THOUGHT HIGHER OF YOU***".

​

…*Kristie? Who is Kristie?...*

​

The machine's voice is the sound of a mighty but failing engine. A burning turbine, perhaps. Roaring and ever-thundering as it desperately clings to life. It seems to whip up the very winds all around us and draw them into the bus like a vacuum in the midst of space.

"I abandoned no-one", Ry responds, his words strained, and the machine draws closer with a grinding of gears and juddering of pistons. Oil drips into the aisle and the air seems to grow much thicker, and warmer.

"***WOULD YOU LIKE TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENED TO HER, TRAVELLER? WOULD YOU LIKE TO KNOW THE TRUTH?***"

"I'll get no truth from the likes of you, machine", Ry replies, shouting loud above the noise of the twin engines and the rush of the wind.

"***YOU STILL CLING TO THIS FALSE BELIEF. YOU KNOW PRECIOUS LITTLE. YOU LEAD THESE LAMBS TO THEIR FALL AS THE SNAKE LED THE FIRST WOMAN, AND SHE THE FIRST MAN***".

The machine lifts it gaze and a great gear cranks around in its chest; my throat goes bone-dry as it passes its lifeless eye across me and over to Leah. Steam pours from vents in its neck.

"***YOU WEAR A CURIOUS MASK, LEAH. OR IS YOUR EXPRESSION GENUINE, PERHAPS? I COULD NOT SAY WHICH WOULD BE THE MORE PITIFUL***".

The machine leans closer still and again it reaches out its third arm. Ry plays no tricks this time and shoves the magnet up and into the hand with another flurry of sparks.

The machine recoils and its fingers twitch independently of each other, sparking until he draws them into a fist.

"***TRY THAT AGAIN AND I SHALL FIZZLE OUT YOUR WEAPON LIKE THE WAVERING FLAME OF A MATCH***".

"No you won't, liar!" Ry calls back. "Keep your distance and I'll keep mine!"

METATRO's eye intensifies its brightness and a rumble rises from the back of the monster's metal throat.

"***KRISTIE DIED CALLING FOR YOU, TRAVELLER. SHE PLEADED UNTIL THE END THAT YOU WOULD RETURN FOR HER. ALAS, YOU WERE TOO BUSY ERECTING HER SHRINE IN THE SANDS***".

"LIAR!" Ry screams, struggling with sudden emotion, I can hear it thick and rich in his voice. "What WERE you, machine? Before the world was poisoned? What possible purpose could you have served in a place like this? Maybe you were just a mistake! A sad and terrible failure of the Operators!"

"***YOU ARE ANGRIER THAN YOU WERE THE LAST TIME I SAW YOU. SOMETHING HAS CHANGED***".

The machine's head lifts up, a motion quicker than its size should allow, and I gasp with an involuntary inhalation of metal-warmed air. He looks right at me. His stare carries an almost physical intensity.

"***COULD THIS BE HER? THE GIRL. …YAZ?"***

I try not to react, but the machine must see something in my face or my body.

A monstrous mechanical gurgling that might once have been a laugh reverberates between the four walls of the dutiful bus.

"***IT IS YOU. A REAL PLEASURE. DO YOU TRUST THIS MAN, YAZ? THIS MAN WHO CLAIMS TO BE YOUR BROTHER?***"

I copy what Ry did. I shout at the machine as my hair is whipped about my face and I rise to my feet. "You're a LIAR! You have nothing to say to me!"

METATRO draws a little closer. Its grip tightens on the walls of the bus.

"***OH, BUT I DO. THIS MAN WHO PLAYS AS YOUR SAVIOR. SEE HOW HE RELISHES THE ROLE OF THE HERO. IF ONLY YOU SAW HIS FAILINGS. THE CRIMES HE HAS COMMITTED IN THE PURSUIT OF HIS SECRETIVE AND TWISTED GOALS***".

I cast a desperate glance to Ry, but he does not look back. He remains determinedly in place, eyes locked on the face of the machine, hand ever-ready with the magnet.

"***WHAT BROTHER WOULD SEND A SIBLING TO A PLACE SUCH AS THIS? THIS YOMI. THIS POISONED WORLD. KEGAREKI KUNI".***

His eye shifts and flashes between the three of us, then returns decisively to me.

​

"***YOU ARE SURROUNDED BY LIARS AND CHEATS. DECEPTION AND DANGER. A STRANGER WHO ACTS AS THE BROTHER. AND ANOTHER WHO PLAYS AS A FRIEND. YOU WILL FIND NO FRIENDS HERE, GIRL. YOU WANT RID OF THIS GAME? THESE PLAYERS WHO WITHHOLD FROM YOU THE RULES? THEN THROW YOURSELF FROM THE BUS. YOU WILL SURVIVE THE LANDING AND FREE YOURSELF FROM THE TESTS***"***.***

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"LIES! ALL LIES!" I shout back, "I know a friend when I find one! And I'd recognize my brother if he were eighty, or ninety, or one-hundred years old! So keep your lies, desert-TRASH!"

The machine rocks and shivers violently, with that same twisted laughter as before, but turned all the more malevolent. Oil leaks from its jaws-within-jaws and splashes down over the floor. Ry takes a measured step backwards as it splatters up his boots.

"***YOUR BLIND FAITH WILL BE YOUR END. YOU ARE DESTINED TO SHARE THE FATE OF THE OPERATORS, IT WOULD SEEM. LIKE SO MANY BEFORE YOU. DEATH AND SORROW AWAIT YOU IF YOU REMAIN ON THIS VESSEL".***

His eye quickly scans the ruined bus.

"***I SEE THERE ARE ONLY THREE OF YOU. AND ALL QUITE CLEARLY AWAKE. A PITY. FAILING THE FIRST TEST WILL HAVE SERIOUS REPERCUSSIONS FOR YOUR JOURNEY. YOU WOULD BE WISE TO EXIT THIS WHEELED PRISON OF SHADOWS BEFORE IT IS TOO LATE***".

"Just LEAVE!" I shout; Leah rises to a stand beside me and squeezes my hand.

METATRO turns his attention to Leah.

"***I SEE WHAT YOU INTEND TO DO, LEAH. THE TRAITOR IN THE RANKS. HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT YOUR NEW COMRADE'S PERFORMANCE IN THE FIRST TRUE TEST? AN INTERESTING RESULT, FOR SURE. ONE THAT GIVES YOU PLENTY TO THINK ABOUT. YOU KNOW WELL HOW MUCH BETTER THIS GIRL'S INTERESTS WOULD BE SERVED WERE SHE TO EXIT THE BUS. AND YET YOU PRETEND TO BE HER FRIEND***".

Leah says nothing.

I don't know how. The words of this monster force their way into the cracks in your mind. They fill them like oil and demand a response, a response of any kind at all… but a response nonetheless.

…But our palaver with the machine is coming to an end. I can sense it. Sweat leaks down my back and my eyes dart quickly to the door. I have to admit, the notion of jumping out does pass fleetingly through my thoughts.

The sand would be soft. Soft enough, at least. And amidst the swirling heat between these walls, the desert, for a moment, does not seem quite so hostile.

The machine catches this.

"***YOU WOULD DO WELL TO FOLLOW YOUR INSTINCTS, YAZ. BUT THE CHOICE IS YOURS. THINK ON WHAT I HAVE SAID. ASK YOURSELF WHO THE TRUE LIARS ARE. YOUR ANSWERS MAKE NO DIFFERENCE TO ME. EDEN HAS LONG SINCE FALLEN***".

And without another word, the great machine disconnects from the edges of the bus. His folded metal wings unfurl with a tremendous burst of steam and he rears back and away, eye turned suddenly skyward.

​

The orange, ever-evening light glints off what little shine he has left to boast, and with a motion that sends a great gust of fiery air roaring down the bus, he leaps up and into the air. The vehicle shakes and shudders from side to side, and METATRO soars grimly away, carrying his shadow across the sun-scorched sands as he fades gradually, slowly, and quietly into the