This is Hiccup & Eleanor, book two of The White Age, which I will be releasing as a serial - with one chapter per week - over the coming months. You can also preorder the book here or catch up on Substack here.
Book one, Absolution, is available for purchase on Amazon, or you can catch up here.
i)
Ross-shire, Scotland
30th September 2074
Hiccup and Eleanor gathered their supplies, and the robot collected the girl up into his arms before setting off towards The Doctor’s house. The sea air lapped with cold tendrils at their faces and Eleanor shivered in reflexive response. She could taste salt in the air, the moisture of the vast ocean clung hopefully to her lips, exciting an intense thirst like nothing she had felt before.
Eleanor saw birds swooping in grand formation, squawking with excitement as they surged between the rising spray of the crashing ocean and the gleaming rays of moonlight. Not like the vile and vicious beasts that swarmed above the piles of death in the canal; these creatures were beautiful in their chaotic freedom. She felt overwhelmed with exhaustion and the stunning nature which faced her. It was a bafflement of sensory data, and she drew it all in, savouring every inch of the landscape. It was perfection.
ii)
The pair approached the house after walking for twenty minutes; Hiccup’s slow steps exacting caution over the mud and the rock, made heavier by the child in his arms. Eleanor scanned the building’s vastness with tired eyes, still attempting to absorb everything placed in their path. It was all so new and bold and bright. Each piece of reality that formed her present was a sharp, antagonising reflection of her past. Everything feels so real. So much more real than all that has come before now.
A thin, cobbled path cut right, away from the sheer drop of a cliff down to the sea, and through a riot of unkempt foliage, which used to be a garden. Flecks of colour showed where attention had previously been paid, but now there was only abandonment and the smothering of writhing weeds. A wave crashed far below with a boom of thunder. Eleanor could feel the thin veil of seawater penetrating the air and scattering over her goose-bumped skin.
A two-story, crumbling, white wall presented itself as the front of the house that - Hiccup assured her - belonged to the Doctor. It was like nothing she had expected. It was homely; warm though withered. She had been imagining something more sterile and medical, not a picturesque wonderland. Four square windows spread themselves evenly across the front of the building and a squat, red door stood shut, slightly off-centre.
Flower-baskets spewed forth blackened, crisp skeletons of long forgotten beauty. Hanging limbs trembled in the endless breeze, which poured in from the sea. Slate roof-tiles supported flecks of green moss and showed cracks of restless age. With a nonchalance Eleanor had not yet seen, Hiccup strolled up the path to the door, and sounded the rusting knocker three times, before stepping back and waiting. Nothing happened for long enough to instigate a nervousness in Eleanor; what if nobody is here, what if The Doctor has left, or is dead? Before she could dwell on the question, she was snapped from her reverie by the door swinging all the way open in a quick, fluid motion.
“Oh my word, it's you.” The Doctor stood before them: thin, white hair rippling back away from her face in the sea breeze; wide, watery eyes weighing their two forms. What an odd pair we must look! Eleanor almost chuckled at the thought. The Doctor wore a white dress, which hung down to her knees and did nothing to detract from her likeness to a ghost. Her grey skin was withered and leathery. She was the oldest woman Eleanor had ever seen, and it wouldn't have surprised her if she learnt she was the oldest woman on the planet; such was her antiquated appearance. Her words hung in the air for several moments before she stepped towards them, hands outstretched. Her eyes were only for Hiccup, it were as though Eleanor was not there at all. Stretching, wood-like fingers brushed past her and found the robot’s face: searching, caressing; as if blind. “Oh, you are wonderful!” Hiccup didn't flinch, he just stood, absorbing the contact in silence. “Though somewhat dishevelled.” Her fingers found the holes in his chest, the grazes on his arms and the stumps where fingers used to be. Only then did she notice Eleanor, cradled like a baby in his arms. “And who have we here?” She leant forward, her breath smelled of perfume and decay, which mingled seamlessly, and Eleanor held her breath, longing for the fresh smell of the sea to fill her nostrils once again. Longing to be away from this old woman; everything about her was simply terrifying.
“Eleanor.” She spoke with a thin, cracking voice, wriggling free from Hiccup’s arms so she could stand. So she had a chance to run. Where to, she didn't know, but at least she now had the option in case this disconcerting woman tried to grab hold of her. I don’t trust her. I only trust you, Hiccup. Hiccup seemed to have faded into a state of hypnotism: the colour had vanished from his face. He stared blankly at The Doctor and no longer seemed Eleanor's protector; he was distant and unengaged, submitting wholly to this woman.
“Such a beautiful name.” She smiled, showing wide, bustling, brown teeth. “Come now. Let's get inside and have some tea. I’m sure there's much to tell.” She spun and marched off, leaving the pair of them briefly alone with the raging waves and bulbous, white moon. Eleanor looked up at Hiccup, who seemed to have awoken somewhat, looking back at her with a dull, blue glow in his cheeks. He nodded and took her hand, leading her inside.
Okay, Hiccup. Let’s go.
iii)
Eleanor sipped the tea, hated it, and left it to go cold on the table in front of her. They told their story, as the old woman pottered around the kitchen by candlelight, seemingly doing nothing at all: moving cups here and there; washing something briefly before returning it to the sink; opening and then closing a cupboard or a window for apparently no other reason than the sheer joy of causation. The kitchen was low-ceilinged (Hiccup had to hunch slightly when standing) and messy. A spilling clutter of unmatched kitchenware, crockery and random decorations filled every available space, a claustrophobic dissonance.
The Doctor didn't say a word but began whistling a tuneless melody over their story. They ploughed on regardless: Hiccup outlined the bulk of their journey and Eleanor chimed in where she felt a point had to be made more clear; she felt able to provide a greater depth of colour and sound to the raw data that the robot relayed. The Doctor slumped down in a rickety chair once they had finished, tapping her chin with an out-stretched, bony finger while she considered a response.
“So, why are you here?” She looked at the ceiling distractedly, head tilted to one side and her eyebrows furrowed. Hiccup looked at Eleanor, and then back at The Doctor. He was weighing a thought, trying to work out if or how he should say something. Why is he worried about me?
“I need you to fix me.” Hiccup said, after a brief hesitation. The Doctor threw her head back and laughed a full-blooded, sickening laugh before staring at him, a half-smile plastered across her weathered face.
“And why would I do that?” She glanced around, raising her arms to gesture at the room around her, “I am retired. I live in peace. What makes you think I even have the means with which to fix you?”
“Because I remember you, and I remember the man who created me. And I know that you would honour his wishes, your husband’s wishes. Because I believe you will want to help me. To help us.” Hiccup’s voice was flat, and the smile faded from The Doctor’s face.
“Who taught you to believe?” Her head tilted to one side as she surveyed him, questioningly, her eyes narrowing with a rising doubt. Eleanor watched the exchange, unsure of what all of this meant. Of why this was taking so long. This was all supposed to be so easy.
Hiccup
“Will you stop making that infernal noise?!” The Doctor shouted and Eleanor nearly fell from her chair. Silence filled each crevice of the room, routing out any warmth and chilling it in an instant. “I suggest you leave.” She muttered, rising to her feet. Eleanor felt an anger rise in her. After all that they had been through, all that they had done, and for what? To be cast aside by the one person who can help them? No. This cannot be it!
“Hiccup can't help it!” Before she knew what was happening, she was on her feet, with every muscle in her body tensed, almost to breaking point. “You need to help us. We have nowhere else to go.” Her voice cracked with the emotion, and she tried to hide behind her raised voice. The Doctor met her gaze with a thin smile and then her eyes dropped, steadily getting wider, to Eleanor's hands. Eleanor followed her stare and saw, with a gasp, that her hands were coated in a thin layer of rippling flame. She could feel the warmth on her face and arms and chest. Yellow light found each surface of the room. Hiccup rose to his feet: a defensive reflex. The colour of his face replicated the burning orange of her hands.
“Well well.” The Doctor’s face stretched into a sickening grin as the wrinkles merged and twisted and stretched with incongruous momentum. “Isn’t this interesting?”
“Eleanor?” Hiccup spoke quietly as she began to weep, staring at her raised, burning hands. You weren’t meant to see this, Eleanor thought, you weren’t meant to know that there is something wrong with me!
“I'm sorry.” She spoke through the thickness of her tears.
“Do not apologise, Eleanor.” The Doctor walked toward her, as though closing in on a wild cat, her hands before her, one barefoot step following the other with silent progress. “This is a gift. A beautiful, wonderful gift.” Her hands were inches from Eleanor's, reaching for the fire, getting closer and closer, until Eleanor knew that she would be burning from the heat.
“No.” Eleanor dropped her hands, and the flames vanished in a ripple of clawing smoke. The Doctor’s eyes did not leave the young girl’s; she was mesmerised, transfixed. Something in her tearful gaze captivated Eleanor and drew her in, preventing her from looking away. She could see the old lady’s lips were moving as she chanted something inaudible under her breath. Hiccup stood off to the side as he watched the two of them in silence.
“Lucy.” Eleanor heard the name as it was uttered softly from The Doctor’s lips. “You have come back.” Tears ran from the woman's browning eyes and formed streams in the creases of her face.
“What?” The Doctor shook her head and smiled a light smile as Eleanor spoke.
“You have such power, child. You must harness it. I can teach you how.” Her hands crept up and clutched Eleanor’s with too much force, causing her to jump. “Don't be scared. I will help you. Help you both.” She spun and nodded at Hiccup, who bowed his headed slightly in acknowledgement. “But sit, sit. I will make more tea, and you can tell me again why you are here, and what you have been up to.” She filled the kettle and lit the stove as she spoke, before turning to face Eleanor once again, “and I need to know all about when you learned this little trick.” The smile on her face stretched out as though yawning, revealing crooked, wood-brown teeth before a yellowing tongue. Eleanor shivered in spite of the heat.
iv)
So they sat and spoke again, telling the same story but this time with more detail. The Doctor interrupted them with countless questions as her interest was now engaged. She thirsted for each minuscule detail: who they saw; what they left behind; the weather; the smells in the air; their feelings. Particularly Hiccup’s feelings. She wanted to know how he felt and what he thought about everything. As though trying to catch him off guard, to say something he had not intended. To reveal some secret hidden deep within. What does she know about him, Eleanor thought, what is she trying to make him say?
After three hours of thorough interrogation, The Doctor’s eyes began to tire, and their lids slumped over the white-brown pupils. Her voice became slurred as exhaustion crept over her. “I need my rest now, my cherubs.” She rose to her feet with clumsy, staccato movements, “there is a room down the hall on the right, which you can use, Eleanor. Please make yourself at home. Tomorrow, I will check you both over so you can be getting on your way.” She muttered the last words over her shoulder as she parted from the room, leaving them in silence.
“You need your rest.” Hiccup spoke after a minute and then continued, as though sensing her trepidation, “we can trust her. I know we can.” Eleanor remained seated, staring at him, and eventually he rose and offered a hand to lead her out of the room. She obliged and followed him out of the kitchen, where he had to duck the low doorway, and along a narrow, dark corridor. Ahead were stairs they had heard The Doctor ascend and two doors lined either side. The first door on their right was open and Hiccup peered inside before leading her in.
Compared to the bland, antiquated detail of the rest of the house, this room was a riot of colour: the walls were saturated with a baby pink and the curtains were a floral, stitched cacophony; a thick, cream rug sprawled across the floor and disappeared under a regal, four-poster bed; under a brawl of multi-coloured, stuffed animals, a patchwork quilt lay, tucked in neatly at each edge. The little girl’s room looked as though it had been waiting patiently for Eleanor, a time capsule of girlish charm and sweetness. Eleanor retrieved Bilbo from their backpack and Hiccup stepped aside as she walked towards the bed, mouth agape. She ran her hand with precise and gentle intent over the toys and then the blanket before she lay down amidst the cushioned chaos. With her teddy clutched to her chest, she succumbed to the comfort and sank into sleep as the smells of perfume and must filled her nostrils. She felt consumed wholly by the preserved beauty and love of the bedroom.
v)
Eleanor was walking on lava, and it burned her bare feet with every step. Her mother was in the distance, her hands outstretched, beckoning her to come to her.
Quicker.
Quicker.
Quicker.
With every step towards her mother, the flames grew hotter, and her feet shed more charred skin to the ash.
I cannot go on.
I cannot do this any faster.
There were hands reaching from the fire, from the red-hot embers beneath her toes, and they were reaching for her feet and her ankles, trying to drag her within their molten hell.
“Come to us, Eleanor.”
“Let the flames bring you down.”
Down.
Down.
Her mother’s face was further away now as the black-red fire pushed away towards the empty void that hung in the distance. She was crying and her tears reflected the burning glow.
No, mother. I will come to you. Wait for me.
And then she was consumed by the ash and the hot, liquid rocks by a thousand reaching hands that dragged her into their midst.
Her last breath was of smoke and dancing, wet flame.
vi)
When she woke, Hiccup was nowhere to be seen, and The Doctor sat at the very end of the bed. She was humming a tune Eleanor didn't recognise as she held up a floral dress, running it, with compounding sensuosity, through her rickety fingers. Light trickled in through the open Venetian blinds and swam about the room, consuming any stubborn darkness. The plethora of colour could still be seen in the half-light, humming in the background. The Doctor stopped whistling with an abrupt note of awareness before turning and seeing Eleanor was now awake. How long has she been sat here? Eleanor wondered, with the groggy fatigue of waking. The woman's eyes had a renewed sparkle and focus, which made Eleanor all the more wary.
“Eleanor.” She rolled the word with pretension around her aged mouth, tasting each syllable before delivering it into the otherwise silent room. There was an invigorated darkness to her demeanour, as though her thoughts had gathered like storm-clouds through the night, amassing in a tumultuous, black-grey. “I am so glad you're awake. I have a dress for you to wear.” She raised the dress up in her left hand without breaking the stare she shared with Eleanor.
“Whose room was this?” The question felt too abrupt, too assertive, and laid bare the simple fact that it no longer belonged to a little girl. It had been preserved with the dust of age and had become a shrine of a long-dead past. Did I sleep in a ghost’s bed? She needed to know, regardless of how upsetting the thought might be for The Doctor. The old lady’s face dropped quickly, her eyes losing a sheen of sparkle in the burgeoning sunlight.
“It belonged to my daughter.” She paused as emotion tugged at her vocal cords, “Lucy.”
“Where is she now?” Every instinct told her not to push too hard, this woman had an unpredictability that she did not want to exacerbate. But she needed to know. Something wasn't right. And the dream she had had last night, though she couldn't quite remember what it had involved, still troubled her. Flames around my feet. The hands were dragging me down. The Doctor dropped the dress and stood, turning away to face the door.
“Her father took her from me. He took her.” Eleanor could hear tears in her voice and felt a pang of regret at her insistence.
“I'm sorry.” She stared at the woman's shuddering shoulders.
“It was a long while ago.” The Doctor turned to face Eleanor again, her face now wet with tears, “tell me, do you forgive your parents for leaving you all alone?”
The question caught Eleanor off guard. She had forgotten telling this lady her story. Do I feel anything towards them? They didn't come back for me, but they may have done if I had waited longer. They wouldn't have forgotten me. They did what was best for me. She knew that. “Yes. I do.”
“Good.” The Doctor nodded with enthusiasm, “Lucy will forgive us.”
“Forgive you? Why?”
“Now,” The Doctor continued, ignoring the question with a falsified smile, “will you try on the dress? I think it will fit you perfectly.” The question was rhetorical, and Eleanor stood to oblige her. The old lady turned away as she changed from her dirty jeans and t-shirt into the dress, in front of a mirror which was taller than herself. The Doctor turned back and grinned with elation. “Oh my! How beautiful!” She was crying again, her throat emitting a clacking sound with each sob as she looked Eleanor up and down, circling her without ceasing her analysis.
“How old was Lucy,” Eleanor needed to say something, and her curiosity got the better of her, “when she was taken away?”
“Nine.” The Doctor stared at the floor as she spoke, recalling a painful memory.
“Where did they go, her and her father?” Had she said? Eleanor couldn't remember. The Doctor was hiding something, though she couldn't gather what it was. Her mind flicked back to the drifter who had broken her arm, seemingly a lifetime ago. Her forearm throbbed with recognition and she, with a surging concern, wondered where Hiccup was. Please just go and fix him so you can let us go. I hate it here.
“Spain.” The smile appeared again as she spoke. “Would you like some more tea, dear Eleanor?”
“No, thank you. Where is Hiccup?”
“Hiccup? Oh, you mean Zero. How quaint. Yes, he is being prepped for examination. I intend to work on getting him fixed up today. Would you like for me to take you to see the ponies later? They're a delight. I'll just go and get that tea. Won't be long.” She spoke without seeming to breathe as she glided toward the door. With the last syllable, the door slammed shut and Eleanor's heart thudded in her throat in unison with the click of the key turning in the lock.
vii)
Hiccup
The ceiling was a pure white and made him think of heaven as he lay on his back, absorbing its boundless simplicity. He wondered what heaven would feel like. If that was where he was going. The concept was beautiful. If that was where he would end up, then he hoped Eleanor would be joining him, when her time came. Not anytime soon though, he thought.
“…so many bloody questions.” The Doctor walked in, muttering under her breath. Hiccup sat up and hung his legs over the edge of the table so as to face her more easily. Her eyes widened as she saw him, calculating with a frown for several seconds, as though remembering who or what he was. “Ah, Zero. What's the problem?” She walked over to the table and began checking his wounds with her wiry fingers as she hummed tunelessly.
“I need you to destroy me.” The humming stopped and she rose to face him. The blood had left her face, and her bottom lip trembled.
“Oh my.” She stepped back, as though scared, and looked at the ground in contemplation. “A suicidal disposition. An awareness of self. A trust imbalance.” She was whispering at the floor, ignoring the robot before her. A smile found her lips as she looked back at him, “this is amazing. How long have you had thoughts like these?”
“I know that I have a power within me, and that is why I am being chased. I am worried that I will be harnessed for evil. I think it best I am destroyed. Only you will know how.”
“Oh, this is perfect. It must be true. I call you here and you not only bring a girl with distinction, but you justify all of Ralph’s work. He was right about you. He was right! Tobias and Mia will be thrilled! Two perfect gifts!” She reached both arms up toward the ceiling and laughed. She called me here. She knows about me. She will release me. She will destroy everything. No, it cannot be!
Hiccup
“You called me here?” Hiccup voice was flat and measured though a pang of concern made it shiver slightly.
“Of course.” The Doctor smiled a side smile and lowered her gaze, as if what she was saying was the most obvious thing in the world. “When I donated you to the UNA, after Ralph went insane, I made some little tweaks to ensure that I would always be able to beckon you, should the time arise that I required your help. I doubted your power: Ralph was adamant, but I was not so sure; he had gone rather off the rails at that point. But, just in case it were true, why should I allow the UNA to have all the fun? I’ve been reading his journals, and I think he might be right. Not only that but I think I have found the key to making you what you were designed to be; to reach your full, irascible potential!”
Hiccup shifted slightly, aware of the room’s lack of doors. Aware of the instruments in the trays beside him. Aware that Eleanor was nowhere to be seen. His face swam with a deep, pulsing red. “Where is Eleanor?”
“You will be the key to my redemption, both of you. I cannot tell you how pleased I am you are both here.” She ignored his question as she grinned a wild grin into his face. She rubbed a hand firmly across his chest and then up to the side of his neck, squeezing his hard form as her lip trembled.
He dropped to his feet and pushed her hand aside. “Where is she?” His hand reached up and clutched for the, still smiling, old lady’s throat. But then it stopped, as though hitting a pane of glass in midair; it simply could not move any further.
“Oh, silly little Hiccup.” She screwed up her face and presented the wood-brown strips of disorganised teeth, “We created you, remember? I know all there is to know about you. You think Ralph would allow you to hurt me?” He slumped back and collapsed onto the table. His head was an electrical storm: thunder and lightning disoriented him and sent shooting strips of colour across his face. “I know of what you are capable, and I will unlock it. You don't want to die. That would be so so selfish of you! Now have a sleep as I make you wonderful.” The world went black for the first time and Hiccup dreamt for a moment that he was dead.