The greatest miracle
Hiccup & Eleanor - Part 1 - Chapter 7
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)
Hampshire, England
27th September 2074
Blood thumped in Eleanor’s throat as she panted, trudging her way through the weeds and brambles behind a determined Hiccup. Her fatigue weighed heavy on her eyelids, and she dreamed of sleep. They had been walking, climbing and scrambling all day and the treacherous route had sapped all of her energy. Hiccup was relentless: head down; legs churning; arms parting the encroaching, overgrown greenery.
They walked with the woodland on their left and the grey-brown, still waters of the canal on their right. The path was littered with debris from the war and, at times, blocked entirely. A large explosion had torn a six-metre-wide hole into the footpath, which meant they had to double back and veer from their direct course; up into the dense wood. They found roughshod, lean-to structures, seemingly long abandoned, though disturbing in their quiet disrepair, nonetheless. They rested for a brief time beside one of these half-metal, half-wood, ramshackle hovels while Eleanor ate beans from a ration-pack. She shivered with every rustle of wind in the crusting leaves overhead and every cursory bird-screech. They didn't stay long and returned to the canal where the path was still usable.
Eleanor felt more comfortable beside the water, despite the bodies and the stagnant smell. She found the woodland overbearing; it felt as though there were eyes everywhere, leering and judging and machinating. Each shadow cast by a tree was a potential hiding place for some terrible monster and, given how much her understanding of reality had already shifted, she could no longer disregard the thoughts as illogical. Anything is possible now. The open space of the canal-path offered her room to breathe that the woods denied. Hiccup was more nervous at being out in the open air, Eleanor could tell, and his footsteps quickly slapped into the mud as he drove them on. I trust you, Hiccup. Somehow, I trust you. Hiccup stopped abruptly and crouched low to the ground; his body leaned into a mass of reeds which reached pleadingly out of the water. Eleanor stopped and crouched down behind him.
Hiccup
"What is it?" She asked in a whisper. He tilted his head slowly in response, staring at the ground as he listened intently to what seemed like nothing at all. In the silence, Eleanor strained her ears to cling on to each and every murmur: every crack of a dying leaf; every muted footstep in the dense, dark woods. She noticed the small, blackened handprint on his chest from where she had burned him the night before and felt a wave of guilt. Does he know that I did that? Would he be angry if I did? She set aside her anxiety for what this burning might be. I need to keep it to myself until I know he won’t be mad with me.
"It is nearly nightfall; we need to find a place to rest soon. Away from the water." Hiccup turned to face Eleanor, and she flinched at the mention of returning into the wood. "How are you feeling?"
Eleanor gulped loudly; a lump sat firmly in her throat. "Tired. Scared. Hot." She wiped her brow with the back of her hand and felt a cold sweat against the heat of her skin. Hiccup raised a finger and touched her cheek as his face glowed a soft green, like the vibrant plants that surrounded them. Like a disguise.
"You have a fever. Come, let us find somewhere to rest. You need water and some sleep before we carry on." Eleanor’s face flashed with fear, and she glanced into the deep gloom of the woods. "Do not worry. I said I would protect you. I meant it." This made her frown soften and she followed close behind as he jogged up a steep, dirt hill cut into the rampant flora.
Hiccup
The thin haze of dusk eased its way closer to them, boxing them in, restricting and distorting their view beyond a few feet. Eleanor trailed Hiccup closely, almost standing on his heels. Her hands were trembling. He led them to a small clearing, surrounded by clusters of spiny vegetation and thick, looming trees. The silence was more pervasive here: birds and breeze were shut out by the natural brown and green walls; there was a density to the air which seemed to contain them, to lock them inside. It was claustrophobic. Eleanor felt her throat tighten as she tried to breathe the thick air.
The robot gestured for her to sit on a fallen log, and she obliged, suddenly feeling the weight of their efforts and the heat from the fever. Her whole body seemed to simmer with a heat that unnerved her. This is a fever; it is not me creating the heat. Like before. It can’t be. The pain in her ribs and arm began to vie for attention, thrumming softly out of their dormancy. I need more painkillers, Eleanor thought as she watched Hiccup dart in and out of the clearing, ensuring it was safe.
"We should be fine here. I will make you some food." He stood over her with his shoulders relaxed and his face emanating a soft blue. This, in turn, calmed Eleanor and she managed a smile in spite of the pain and the heat. He handed her a bottle of water and popped a syringe out of the cavity in his right-arm, gently inserting its contents into her left shoulder as she gulped and leant back against a thick, squat tree. Hiccup then busied himself with a tin and quickly started a fire close to where Eleanor sat. Out of sight, she thought, feeling a nervousness rising again. We could be surrounded by monsters, and we wouldn’t even know it. She looked out into the mass of grey and black density between the trees that encased them and wished that she was back at home, in the cupboard under the stairs, where she knew she was safe. My cave. She felt untethered; cut adrift, like she was floating away in a current and there was nobody there to stop her. This world is not what I imagined. It is twisted and scary. Branches eased their way into the clearing like broken, pointing fingers. Wakey wakey. Vines choked the trees and wound their way up in search of a distant, invisible sky.
Eleanor fought through the nausea and ate from the tin as Hiccup paced quietly from one edge of the clearing to the other. He is relaxed, but wary, Eleanor noted. "Are you worried, Hiccup?" She asked once she had finished her last sausage with a scoop of beans. He stopped and looked at her, before walking over and taking a knee in front of her. He looked like a knight in the stories her father used to read her, giving his sword for the endangered princess. She wasn't sure if this made her feel safer or unsettled her further. You can be my knight if you keep me safe, Hiccup.
Hiccup
"I do not like this place. But we need to rest."
"Why? Why don't you like this place?" Eleanor could guess why: the oppressive dark; the unseen eyes; the ominous quiet.
Hesitantly, he continued: "it reminds me of a place I used to go a lot, when I was younger. A dark place." Hiccup’s face flashed briefly to red and then softened back to green.
"I don't like it either. It feels like we're being watched."
"I will protect you." He touched her knee, and she found herself not wanting to flinch away. She felt she could trust him again. “Will you try to sleep?” Eleanor nodded and rolled onto her side, pulling the sleeping bag up and tight around her head. She lay there with her eyes open for a while, listening to Hiccup pacing steadily on the soft ground, packed dead leaves and mud. She didn’t think she could sleep, not in this place. This place is horrible. Every slight sound, which punctuated the silence, made her pulse race: a distant bird cry; a scratch on wood; a hollow thud; a crunching footstep. Within minutes, though, her eyes were softening and her eyelids slipping down as the painkillers began to take hold. The world, from which she had been sheltered for so long, was terrifying and keeping up with its horrors had made her so jaded. Sleep was catching her, and she couldn’t avoid it; she was glad for its embrace.
Thunder grumbled above the distant canopy of the trees and the deep, red sky could be seen peering through the tiny gaps in foliage. Her heart slumped to a gentle rhythm in her chest and the world went black, as she fell asleep.
ii)
28th September 2074
Eleanor awoke and, when she opened her eyes, the world was a stillness: the haze of the evening had given way to a dense, suffocating fog of night. It refracted the darkness and filled every crevice of the wood, which loomed on all sides. The floor was a silver-black puddle. Trees were pillars of onyx jutting up into the boundless pitch-dark. As her eyes adjusted, she could see a sheen of silver where the moonlight fought to penetrate the thick canopy of the ancient trees high above her head. There was a stench of lifelessness; the stale betrayal of unlife that seemed to simmer all around her. She daren’t move her head or peer out of her sleeping bag.
Something is here.
There was drumming; vague and distant though still tangible through a persistent, faint throbbing of the ground. It was a pulse of sound, a quivering vibration that travelled through her body as though it were the heartbeat of the Earth itself. She felt the sad, tired life-force of the world beneath the cold, hard crust on which she lay and could suddenly fathom its immeasurable beauty. A power linked them, and it made Eleanor want to cry with the weight of her knowing. I am linked to the Earth. The tired and dying Earth. It was calling to her as its pulse entwined itself with her own. “Fire. Fire. Fire.” The beating seemed to whisper. She rose to her feet, unsteady and hazy with sleep. The mist was a silver-grey gloom which sucked at her skin, moistening her cold, goose-bumped flesh and making her shiver.
"Hiccup?" She whispered out into the gloom, helplessly. She could see no further than one metre in every direction. No sound betrayed his presence. There was silence and Eleanor, with a feeling of falling, realised he was gone. She took a deep breath and straightened her back, brandishing Bilbo from within her sleeping bag. Don't be scared, she thought, there's nothing to be afraid of. A moonlit pearl of a tear slid down her cheek and she wiped it away with defiance.
Eleanor began to walk forward into the centre of the roughly circular clearing, holding her teddy by its sagging arm. "Hiccup?" She said again, her voice breaking with fear. It felt as though the thickness of the air was consuming her as she walked further and further into the night. Whispers of moonlight punctuated the treeline and bore down, with crystalline focus, onto the metallic, muddy floor. Her shirt clung to her chest and back; soaked with dew from the night air and sweat from her fever. The air was cool and made her shiver. I'm not scared, she said to herself, glancing around furtively, there is nothing here that can hurt me.
The sound of rustling, crunching leaves off to her left made her spin around to face what was coming. She held her breath, praying to see Hiccup, but only darkness met her gaze, the deep dark beyond the clearing. She focused her eyes out into the silvery darkness, trying to see some movement, hoping to see nothing. The atmosphere appeared viscous; it floated and ebbed in the shards of moonlight.
Two eyes appeared in the gloom, their owner only just out of sight, barely three metres away from where she stood. Eleanor looked up, stunned and enchanted. Terrified. She felt her bladder release hot urine down the middle of her legs and a pang of shame amidst the screaming present of fear. It’s just a dream. It’s just a dream. Steadily, she stepped back: feeling the ground with her bare feet; navigating the undulations and contours; noticing the cold imminence of the packed mud. Wake up, Eleanor. Wakey wakey. She daren't take her eyes away from whatever it was that was appearing before her. I’m sorry, father. I should never have trusted the robot. I have let you down. It didn't move, it just stared at her, invisible but for the piercing, yellow eyes, like a wolf’s. They glowed with an unflinching power as they caught the fledgling light of the moon.
She made it to the middle of the clearing, still keeping the formless eyes locked in her rigid stare, still waiting for them to speak or move, or disappear entirely. Her legs trembled and tears ran freely down her cheeks. Please don’t let this be real. I cannot bear for this to be real.
Below the eyes, a hand emerged from the invisible beyond and twisted in the air; as though it were tasting the surroundings, playing with the molecules that smothered it. It looked like an abstract sliver of grey rock, like slate or granite; gnarled and impassive. But then the fingers began to move: five metal digits whirred to life as they flexed open and closed. A robot hand that is not Hiccup's. The hand moved in her direction. The metal was black and polished, denoting its youth compared to Hiccup's tired and well-worn frame. I wish Hiccup was here. He said that he would protect me! As the hand moved, the palm throbbed with pistons and cranks, pulling and pushing to affect the shiny black digits. A soft hiss betrayed the clench of synthetic muscle. Eleanor recalled Hiccup’s grip around her throat and the immeasurable strength behind it. How easily he could have snapped her neck like a twig. I am nothing compared to this power. I am just a little girl.
The hand moved from side to side, as though testing the temperature of the air within the perimeter outlined by the trees. It moved further in from the darkness and brought with it a human arm: the metal disappearing into the broken, puckered skin of a wrist. It turned her stomach. What is this thing? She felt like screaming but the air had gone from her lungs. She felt like running but she was sapped of all energy; she was frozen, terrified. She dropped Bilbo as she stumbled back away from the oncoming beast.
The rest of the body began to work its way into the circle of half-light, in the centre of which Eleanor now stood. The right arm was fully human, the pale skin shone as it entered the fractured moonlight. But the face was not. The bottom jaw was a mass of black metal and silver fastenings. Eleanor wanted to look away, but she couldn't; she had to be brave and face what was coming for her. She could sense the necessity, the importance of what was coming. The hybrid being terrified her. Two white, human eyes pinned their gaze on Eleanor as it walked, slowly and steadily toward her. The man’s hair was shaved short, and he wore all black: a T-shirt, trousers and heavy boots. Eleanor shivered as she suddenly noticed the cold. He must be a ghost.
"Leave me alone, please." Her voice was pathetic as it choked back tears. The oncoming beast ignored her. She slumped to the ground as the gap between them closed to only a few feet. Hiccup has betrayed me again, left me to face this monster alone. She would never trust anyone again especially not a robot. “Please don’t kill me.” Tears streamed down both of her cheeks, and she could feel them burning. Burning, again. She clenched her hands into fists and looked down at them in front of her. Are they glowing, she thought, is it happening again? Surely that was just a dream… Her mind flashed back to the moment she had burned Hiccup, and the mark it had left on his chest. I can do harm with my hands. Can I protect myself? The monster was before her now, looming over her and simply staring. Eleanor squeezed her hands tighter still, in a burst of brazen defiance, and longed for the heat.
“Eleanor.” The voice from the robot mouth was human, with the slightest undercurrent of metallic reverb. He’s human. “Don’t be scared.” Eleanor looked up at the face, the half-human, half-robot face with the unblinking eyes: the sparse silver light made the jaw glimmer as though it were precious metal embedded in rock. Eleanor stared up in wonder. The human hand reached out slowly, carefully, lovingly and wiped a wandering tear from her cheek. “You are so grown up.”
That voice. I know that voice.
“Father?” She could barely say the word; it hurt her throat. She wanted to scream, she wanted to break down in tears, she wanted to hug him so tightly and she wanted to help him, but all she could do was stand there with her mouth hanging open, her eyes running over his half-metal face and his robot arm. She backed away slowly, gasping for air. This can't be happening. This is not true.
“Try not to be scared.” His voice was the same; assured and loving, but there was an added vibrato, a songbird’s lilt to each word. The metallic, inhuman modifications weren't just aesthetic, they were internal.
“What h-happened to you?” She whimpered, pathetically.
“I was hurt.” His eyes darted to the floor as he recalled the pain and the sadness. The loss. “They fixed me.”
“Where's mother?” Eleanor glanced around to check if her mother had also appeared, but it was still only the two of them in the clearing. All thoughts of Hiccup had disappeared as her fear faded into pure love for her father. He’s back. My father came back for me.
“She can't be here, sweetheart.” He bowed his head sadly. “I can't be here for long, either. I shouldn't be here at all.”
“What do you mean?” There was so much for her to take in and she felt dizzy with the weight of thought. What’s wrong with mother? Why is she not here? How did you find me? There were too many questions for her to cycle through and to form into words.
“You need to trust the robot. He is your only friend, and he is the only person who can help you.” He lowered his gaze and narrowed his eyes as he spoke.
“How do you know about Hiccup? Do you know where he is?” She clenched her fists, feeling the heat rise up into her wrists again with the anger of being all alone, deserted by her parents and now by Hiccup. And now father is going to leave again. I hate them all!
“I came here to tell you all I can. Please listen to me.”
“Why should I trust you? You said you'd come home. You never came home.” Eleanor was crying again, she had never felt so sad. There and back again. There and back again.
“One day you will understand, but I can't explain it all now. There isn't time.” Tears gathered in his eyes as he reached forward with his human right hand, wanting to touch her shoulder, to calm her. Before he could place his hand on her shoulder, she lashed out, knocking his hand away and pushing him hard in the chest.
“No!” She screamed. “Just leave me. Leave me alone!” Embers flickered and simmered and then burst into lapping flames which spread quickly across his chest. He glanced down at the fire and then looked back at Eleanor. His gaze was soft, unmoved by the heat or the burning. Eleanor stared, wild eyed at him, her hands dancing with flames at her sides. She could feel the heat surging up and down her arms and across her chest. It was not like the fever; it was beautiful, she felt alive. The thudding of the Earth beneath her feet intensified. I am with you. Fire, fire, fire.
“Come and find me, once it is all over. The robot knows the way. Tell him to follow his heart.”
“When what is all over? What are you saying?” Her words were threadbare as her lungs struggled with the emotion.
“I cannot say more, I have to go. Remember, you are able to defend yourself. Do what you can to stay alive.” The flames had reached his neck and chest. The smell of burning synthetics and flesh reached Eleanor's nose and made her wretch. “Come and find me. Follow the robot.” He turned and ran at a sprint, out of the clearing. Eleanor stood still, staring, open-mouthed. The flames eventually disappeared out into the mists of night, beyond the clearing, and she was alone again.
She looked at the flames in her hands. They were so hot: too hot. Not in the way she had felt before, but in a deep, searing way. Her flesh was burning. She raised her hands to her face and saw the skin blackening and twisting, exposing sinew, tendon and bone. As she watched, the flames spread up over her wrists and her arms. It ate through the bandage and the splint and destroyed flesh and bone in its path. Within seconds it was at her neck, lapping at her chin and face. She opened her mouth to scream but her voice was swallowed whole by a flame which leapt down her throat.
iii)
Hiccup
Hiccup was over her; tense, taut and protective. The lights in his face glowed a soft red. “Eleanor.” He whispered, “it is okay.” She sat up, her eyes wide, with the morning sun glistening on the cold sweat of her brow. She scanned the perimeter of the clearing for any sign of movement and saw none. The clearing was empty, but for Hiccup and herself. He's gone. The realisation was an amalgamation of relief and sadness. He's left me again, she thought, feeling the familiar, choking wave of rising tears in her throat.
It was a dream, she thought. None of it was real. The thought remained for a moment before she noticed the heat in her left arm. It wasn't glowing, as it had been before, but it was throbbing and a thick heat shot repeatedly from her wrist to her shoulder. She grasped her upper arm and moaned deeply as the pain grew. The floor seemed to ripple, and her surroundings spun; the dizziness was unbearable. Hiccup was holding her, she could hear him saying something, trying to reassure her. His voice was flat and calm, but distant, intangible. There was a sharp pain in her arm, and she thought she screamed. Then everything went black.
iv)
The smell of food woke her. Her head felt impossibly heavy, and it was a struggle to rise to a sitting position. Her clothes had been changed, and she felt clean. She could see Hiccup, crouched a short way into the middle of the clearing, stirring a pot of food. Breakfast, she thought, as her stomach gurgled with hunger. Eleanor surveyed her left arm and prodded it softly with an index finger. It was numbed, she could feel no pain, and it was cold, which filled her with relief. The more she thought about what had happened to her hands and arms as she had slept, the more terrified she felt. Am I becoming a monster? What if it happens again and I have no control? What if I harm Hiccup, properly? Hiccup turned to her and his face flashed to a light green, like the lush foliage beyond him, as he nodded softly.
“Are you hungry?” He asked in almost a whisper, as though to not startle her.
“Did I hurt you?” The words held no emotion, Eleanor just needed to know. He paused, showing no sign of concern, anger or fear, the soft red of his face unmoved.
“No, not at all. You were frightened. What did you see?”
“My father. He was… not human.” Her voice caught in her throat as she spoke, remembering.
“I was here the whole time, nobody else was here. I promise.” She eyed the slight blackening of his chest in the shape of a handprint as he spoke.
Eleanor looked at her left hand as she flexed it, wondering whether to ask Hiccup about what was happening to her. Would he help, or would he run away? I'll keep it a secret. For as long as I can.
“Food is ready. You need to eat.” The flames crackled and licked at the tin of food, which Hiccup stirred distractedly as he spoke. “We are not far from the airfield; we should be there within an hour. We will rest here until nightfall and then complete our journey.”
Eleanor breathed deeply, consuming the fresh air of the wilderness that surrounded them, and closed her eyes. Tell him to follow his heart. The words were madness; they made no sense to her.
That was not my father.