“So, what’s up with her?” Alfie asked as Zoe unleashed another volley of punches and jabs. Their basketball match with Felix had to be postponed due to the storm, so they were both in the gym, training with the boxing equipment.
“What?” Zoe paused her onslaught, which Alfie took as a cue to unstrap the pads and rub his sore hands.
“You need to chill with your swings,” he complained.
Zoe scoffed. “I barely touched you.”
Alfie ignored her. “Bruv, answer the question.”
“What? Oh.” Zoe’s eyes lit up with comprehension. She tilted her head to the side. “Who?”
“Beth. How come she was so emo today?” He smirked lewdly. “That time already?”
Zoe punched him on the shoulder, and pointedly ignored his protests. She purposely reached for her water bottle and took a long gulp to prolong the answer, just to ensure maximum irritation. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“The hell does that mean?”
For the longest time, Zoe stared at him, weighing the pros and cons of divulging a facet of Beth’s life that had clearly flown over the head of her oblivious friend. On a positive side, it would forewarn him of Beth’s condition and instil him with a touch of sensitivity. Conversely, Alfie didn’t have a sensitive bone in his body. He was an irritating whirlwind of tracksuits and floppy hair and skateboards.
“She just needs space, sometimes,” Zoe summarised. It was clear from Alfie’s stare that he didn’t properly grasp the implications of her statement. And why would he? Most of the world hadn’t yet grasped the full extent of mental illness. “Tomorrow’s a big deal.”
“What’s tomorrow?”
“Never mind,” she eventually sighed. “Let’s go again.”
Alfie groaned petulantly. “Allow it, we just had a go.”
Zoe bit her lip. She couldn’t help but recall that primal look in his eyes as he beat Carter Carmichael to a pulp, that thirst — desire — to inflict pain was haunting.
She cleared her throat, and shrugged in a manner that she hoped conveyed indifference. “Still. It’s a good way to get rid of stress. Unless you wanna get through that.” She motioned towards the window, where the rain poured down in waves, sure to drench any unsuspecting victims.
Alfie looked down at his white Nikes, pursed his lips, directed his attention to the rain, and sullenly turned back to the boxing gloves. “Nah, fam, that’s a drag.”
Zoe smirked smugly. “Told you."
The bus sped on through the countryside, the world becoming a blur around Beth. It almost felt as if she were looking at it all from new eyes, with the trees and the fields and the slate-grey, slowly morphing into inky black, evening sky, becoming all blended. It was a strange journey on that intergalactic bus, with so many people from all over the universe, so many species from so many planets and so many star systems — but it was as if that journey was making the world fathomable. And as Beth gazed out at the window, with the countryside whizzing past around her, sinking away into a blur, it was as if the lines of the world weren’t so distinct, and the boxes that defined it were collapsing away — and with the barriers down, it was like the world appeared whole.
“You don’t need me to tell you,” Liz began, sitting back in her seat at the far end of the bus, with Beth to her right and an Ood to her left. “That this isn’t going to be some kind of religious experience.”
“Yeah,” Beth said. She understood. While the world might have seemed fathomable at that moment, she knew that there would never be a time when everything just fell into place. She’d already worked that out though, in a time that seemed almost like an age ago, plodding around the side of that lake, entirely lost to the world.
Liz smiled sadly, as if there were something sad about the situation. But for once, as Beth looked at the miscellany of people around her, from so many different places, she felt almost relieved — like she’d suddenly realised that she was with more people who could grasp her situation, people whom she could share some kind of mutual understanding with. For so long, it was hard to have a twin who didn’t get her, a mother who was just the same. At least she had friends who understood — and she felt a sudden twinge of regret that Zoe, Dan, and even Alfie, weren’t with her — and even then, her stupid mind seemed insistent on keeping anyone out. Masking them away behind stupid jokes.
“So, how does this work, then? The Oyster?” Beth asked. After all — it just seemed like a normal bus, with beaten seats and suspicious globules of chewing gum, and faulty stop buttons and handrails dangling from the ceiling, and an orange glowing sign at the front that didn’t quite work. Except, of course, it was so different, as a vivid epicentre of so many different people, all of whom had experienced some kind of mental illness, and some kind of trauma. “Are you… counsellors? Guardians of the galaxy?”
“Yeah — oh, hold on a sec,” Liz glanced down at her watch. “Sorry, I think my circuits are phasing. Follow me.”
Liz stood up, and with a strange ease, she began to make her way down through the aisle. Of course, anybody with a remote degree of clumsiness — in fact, the majority of even the most agile and dexterous — would have an issue negotiating down the aisle of a moving bus, without toppling over. With such a tumultuous and shaky journey, the ground beneath one’s feet was never quite still, and never quite stable, ricocheting back and forth as it responds to the circumstances and events of one’s life, to stand upright would be a near impossible doing.
And yet, Liz managed it with ease, as if the Oyster bus was stable, and calm, and safe, in a way the outside world wasn’t — as if it were meant to be a place where one could navigate safely and freely, without the fear of being cut down at any given opportunity.
Beth decided to take the leap of faith — and knowing that if she gave herself time to think, she would back out, she decided to throw herself straight into it. Her two feet stepped, and she hoisted her body from the seat — and just like Liz, she began to walk down the centre of the bus.
It was the oddest sensation. While the bus whizzed beneath her feet, she could still move with clarity and fluidity, like she was walking upon the stillness of the Earth. The bus seemed to be a rogue fragment of stability for her to embrace, as she walked past the Ood, and the bird-like couple sat together, and the tusked, one-eyed woman from some distant world, and the tentacled, kindly old man from some far galaxy — and so many others, some talking, some laughing, some speaking seriously, some nestled quietly away on their own. And while the general noise buzzed on, at the same time, it was as if Beth could simply zone out. Like this world were a place where she could feel safe — whether that be through being understood by those around her, or just being alone with her thoughts. And even if it were only for a short time, at least it could help her ground herself, whenever she needed it.
Liz stopped at the bottom of the bus, where the driver sat in his little booth, tiny, almost paw-like hands gripping the immense steering wheel, a flying saucer in comparison to the tiny individual nestled away behind it. Beth held onto a railing for support (before realising that in that bus, she didn’t actually need to), and looked down at the driver’s seat to receive quite a surprise.
There was a strange figure, small, and oval-shaped, gazing up at her with little, black, blinking eyes. It was like a little blob of fat, with tiny feet, and tiny arms, and it gave her a tentative wave, and a small smile, displaying a lone, jutting tooth as it did so. And then, it took its tiny right arm up to its little bus drivers’ cap, and doffed it gentlemanly to her.
“Hiya Norris,” Liz said with the manner of someone who typically passed such a phenomenon everyday on the high street.
Beth looked down at the little living blob of fat. “Wait — Norris? As in Norris from Corrie?”
“Fortunately, nothing of the sort,” Liz laughed. Oh, what an unbearable fate that would have been. “No — they just share a name.”
“I was gonna say,” Beth laughed. “It would make me crazier.”
Liz gave Beth a glare. Yes. They’d spoken about this. Beth needed to stop saying those things about herself. But, it was hard to stop, and no matter how many times Liz hammered it home — Beth still found it so hard to believe.
Liz turned quietly to Beth. “Norris is an Adipose.”
Beth could vaguely remember hearing the word adipose before… some sort of faint memory being dredged to the top of her mind, in the way that memories so often carried themselves.
“Good evening,” said Norris the Adipose.
Beth stepped back, and found herself nearly choking on nothing, so absolutely taken aback by the voice of Norris the Adipose that she was almost breaking down into an awkward state that was completely alien to her usual smooth, if internally erratic, behaviour.
Yes — for Norris, the tiny, cute, waving, one-toothed Adipose, spoke in a smooth, silky, bass voice, like that of a powerful classical singer. It was almost hypnotic, like melted dark chocolate, and as Beth listened to its polite greeting, she could almost picture slow, sultry waterfalls of cocoa, lapping and slathering over each other. Yes. It was a weird analogy, but it was quite marvellous.
Beth regained herself. “Er. Hi. You… sound like the Rock.”
“The what?” Liz looked at her as if she’d sprouted another head.
Beth shifted nervously, suddenly self-conscious of the reference that had seemed to fly over the AI’s head. “Er, this wrestler called Dwayne Johnson. His codename is the Rock.”
“Oh!” Liz’s eyes lit up. “Dwayne! Oh, Norris gets that a lot. How is he these days?”
Beth blinked. “Fine, I guess. You know Dwayne Johnson?”
“Yes,” Liz waved a hand dismissively, “but that’s a story for another day. Norris has a question.”
“Oh.” Beth turned back to the little blob with the baritone voice.
“How are you, on such a fine evening?” Norris asked her, sitting back into his chair, as if he were trying to look cooler than he was. Except — Norris was so cool, that it didn’t even look as if he were trying. He just looked naturally awesome.
“Yeah. Good,” Beth lied. Norris smiled his sole-toothed smile, knowing full well the truth — but it was a calming, and understanding look, and instantly Beth felt at ease. She didn’t even feel as if she’d have to lie.
So, for once, she changed her mind.
“Been better,” she acknowledged. But she would be okay, in the end. “You?”
“Ah!” Norris sighed — not out of misery, but out of pure contentment. “I am always on top of the world, doing what I’m doing.”
Beth nodded understandingly. That was what she thought mattered — living a life that one enjoyed, and abandoning the baggage, unless it was so desperately necessary. Beth looked out of the windscreen, as the grey clouds were sinking deep to the horizon. As the skyline slowly gobbled the rain and the wind up, there was the faint glimmer of a pink, candyfloss wisp of sky, sweeping across the distance, as if quickly drawn on with the flick of a paintbrush. An artist’s work of a sunset, perhaps — and in her eyes, through her own perception, it felt like her own interpretation, of the world she often helped to save.
While the Oyster and the respite it gave her was nourishing, and she was so very grateful, Beth also knew she could not leave behind the fulfilment she gained from doing what she enjoyed — and from doing what mattered. Saving the world. Oh, the happiness that she got from that — the feeling of doing something good, and the feeling of returning something to the world. Simply from helping those who needed it.
“Norris,” Liz leaned against the bus driver’s little booth. “Can you give me a quick energy diversion? Think I just need a bit of a pick-me-up, y’know?”
“Absolutely, Liz. Two seconds,” he murmured, as he flicked around with some of the switches on his dashboard, murmuring quietly to himself, “…I’ll pulse it through. Ah, goodness, dimensional phasers are faulty again, blasted things…”
A few seconds later, the bus driver pulled down a lever at the side, almost like that from behind a bar — and a sudden zap of blue light zoomed through Liz. She gave a quick shiver, glanced in the front mirror to check her hair, and when satisfied, turned back to Beth and Norris. “Thanks, Norris.”
“No problem Liz. Anytime.”
Liz turned to go, and Beth prepared to follow her. But before she did so, Norris tapped on the side of the booth, which as much force as his little hands could manage. Clearly, he had something to say that he felt strongly about.
“Stay safe, Beth,” Norris looked upon her with his kindly eyes. Beth felt oddly safe with him — as if there were something reassuring about the fact Norris always knew there was more to one than met the eye. Just like one would not look at a little ball of flesh and expect him to speak in a sonorous, bass voice, Beth knew how Norris understood it was important not to look at anybody, and judge them in such a way. “That’s what we’re here for,” he smiled at her again.
“Thanks,” Beth smiled at him. “Though if you ever get bored of bus-driving, pretty sure Foxgrove’s church choir will take you.”
“What can I say?” Norris winked at her. “I can give a wonderful chorus of Gaudete come Christmastime.”
“Wow. They’ll kick my headteacher out for you.”
Norris the Adipose waved Beth off, as she followed Liz to the back of the bus. And as they sat down again, Liz hesitated — and then she spoke.
“You asked me earlier, what it was we do,” Liz said, her circuits processing what Norris had said. “What the point of the Oyster was. And I think Norris summed it up perfectly. The Oyster is a safe place, for anybody who needs it.”
That made Beth smile. There was barely enough of that on Earth — barely enough people who cared to want to do anything like the Oyster. The idea of that strange bus should have been something for the world to aspire to, Beth thought — and it was awful that so many people were willing to cast away the wellbeing of so many, for such futile reasons — because of money, because of ‘weakness’, because of an ‘ungrateful younger generation’.
“And that’s why we travel right across the universe,” Liz gestured out the window, at the parting clouds — at the pink sky, and the blue bleeding through it, smudging the heavens above their heads. “We take the form of public transport most relevant to the society, and we take in anybody who needs help. Unfortunately, we can’t be everywhere at once.”
“I was gonna ask,” Beth had felt a pang of guilt inside her ever since she’d first discovered the purpose of the bus. “Why me? Why… here?”
Liz shook her head. She didn’t have an answer for Beth. “You need help.”
“Yeah, but I don’t need it any more than loads of other people in other parts of the universe. What’s the point in a safe place for everyone if you can’t take in everyone who needs it?”
“Beth, you misunderstand. For the world we are on, we take in anyone. The point is, there aren’t enough programs like the Oyster — and so there are people who cannot reach people like us.”
Beth sat there melancholily. “But that’s like… a quarter of the people here you have to take?”
“And we will be here, for all of them, if they want us. Gradually, we will make ourselves known to them all, one by one.”
Still, Beth was not convinced — although she knew it was a true, and cruel fact — and an important issue that people should have taken into their hearts.
Liz smiled sadly. “You’re expecting me to explain to you why it’s fair. And it’s not. This is something that needs to change.”
“Yeah. It really does.”
“Because that’s what we want for everyone. A place to go, a place to talk, a place to think. People like us, because that’s who we are.”
Beth didn’t say anything, but she gazed out of the window — and perhaps that said it all. Because for once, in Beth’s silence, it was evident that she was content. She could sit back, the evening sun creeping through the sinking clouds, before the sun itself fell wistfully into its nightly slumber — and she could watch it, and feel her inner self sink away quietly with the scenery around her, with her entire self falling away to a place of serenity.
“Oi, Zoe.” Alfie waited for Zoe to stop walking before he spoke again. “How come you never told them lot about what I did to Carter?”
Zoe considered the question as she adjusted the strap of her bag, which contained her baseball bat and gifted jacket from Ace. They were wading through the forest, a shortcut to Fox Plaza, stealthily avoiding the mud. Well, Zoe avoided the mud while Alfie complained about ruining his new trainers.
“Oi,” Alfie said again, and Zoe realised she’d zoned out.
“Dunno,” she replied with a shrug. Alfie pulled a face, as if her answer was a felony, so Zoe elaborated. “I just… dunno.”
“You ain’t got a clue ‘bout nothing,” Alfie scoffed, although there was a hint of suspicion in his tone. He didn’t fully believe Zoe’s claim. “Come on,” he urged. “What’s going on in your head, bodrick?”
After a pause, Zoe said, “You have to.”
“You what?”
“I didn’t tell Sarah Jane about Carter ‘cos you have to tell her,” Zoe clarified, glancing pointedly in his direction. “It’s your anger issues.”
“Sure.” Zoe wrapped an arm around the bark of a thin tree, and swung in a full circle. “So, you gonna tell her?”
Alfie paused, thoughtful. “Dunno.” He shuddered. “But I ain’t going to no counselling.”
Zoe laughed at the thought, but her phone’s ringtone went off before she had a chance to make a quip. She dug it out of her pocket, frowned at the caller ID, and pressed it to her ear. “Housekeeping,” she said, her tone exaggerated comically.
“Funny,” said Laurel dryly. “Is Beth with you?”
Zoe furrowed her brow. “No. Why?”
“She’s been gone for ages. Er…” Laurel trailed off awkwardly. “I think I made her mad.”
“How?”
“Doesn’t matter!” Laurel snapped.
“All right!” Zoe shouted back. She shook her head in exasperation. Laurel could be very defensive sometimes. “I’ll go look for her.”
“Thanks.” Laurel hung up. Zoe pocketed her phone with a vexed sigh. She had promised to babysit her cousin for the evening, but it was looking like she’d have to cancel. Catching Alfie’s puzzled expression, Zoe waved her hand dismissively.
“Beth’s missing. We gotta go find her.”
“Oh, why?” Alfie whined. “I was gonna skateboard.”
“Shut up. You’d break your arm anyway if you tried it in the rain,” Zoe said with an air of finality, before striding off down the path. “Come on,” she called out.
“Where we going?” Alfie asked, confused.
“Park. Maybe she went there.”
The bus continued on its journey, driving so fast through the countryside of Essex, that time seemed to slow around it. And as it felt like the hands on the clock dropped to a more sluggish pace, Beth seemed to withdraw from the very fabric of it — as if this construct of hours, minutes, and seconds was something she were an observer to, and not a victim of the wounds it inflicted on everyone under its spell. To sit on the outside of it made it understandable — the way existence moved, the past and the future of a life — it made it less intimidating, and a little bit more bearable.
And Beth felt ready to tackle it — her need to move on, to forget everything about the past — but the future was almost as scary, looming over her, keeping her paralysed in the present. While nervous, she felt readier to allow the passing of time to undertake the business it was most attuned to — passing. While it made her feel uneasy, and occasionally made her stomach churn, at least she was not so afraid of it.
Beth had spoken to Liz, she had spoken to the Ood, and a funny old couple from the Empire who had survived a Dalek camp — whatever a Dalek was. She had sat back and let the bus drive her steadily over the world. And through all of it, Beth was beginning to understand, just a little bit, how to live as herself. She had come to realise that it did not have to destroy her life, or make her feel as if she wasn’t quite human.
With time, and with help — with a safe place to go — Beth could live with it.
And that was why Beth had decided she liked the Oyster. It was a place, almost like a space capsule floating away in the chill of the stars and space, distant from the outside world — a room for her to get away to, whenever the perpetual turn of the Earth got a little bit too much. A place to show her that she was not alone, or guard herself against people who didn’t understand — and in her case, a place to show her that she didn’t have to guard herself against people who did understand.
Just somewhere… safe. But in that moment — the bus came to an abrupt halt, knocking Liz forward in her seat, bashing Beth’s head against her window, making the Ood’s translator ball flicker in a bizarre influx of static, causing the two bird people to flap their wings and send a plume of feathers exploding all over the bus, leading the tentacled man to give a large growl — as well as causing the miscellaneous chatter to cease, the general laughter to stop with immediate effect, and every single sound on the bus, including the engine, to draw to a close.
And darkness fell, the only light shining from the tender sky outside, the first glimmer of a star gently poking through, before creeping back behind a cloud again.
“Everything all right?” Norris’ sonorous voice reverberated down the bus.
All the passengers either replied in the affirmative in their respective languages and tongues, or they signalled with some kind of gesture of their okay-ness.
“What was that?” Beth rubbed her head. That was going to come up with a bruise. “Norris drive into a badger or something?”
Liz frowned, as if she’d never wanted more for the cause of their stopping to have been some kind of rogue omnivore. “I don’t think so…”
At that moment, Liz stood up and strode to the centre of the bus.
“Hello everyone,” she called out to the Oyster’s passengers. As soon as she spoke, the noise level began to decline. Liz waited until everyone was silent. Her voice seemed to have a knack of carrying. “We are very sorry for what’s going on. Please, don’t panic, or stress — because we are going to bring this incident to a close as soon as possible. Before we can get moving again, please, talk amongst yourselves, speak through one of our Chatterboxes to a professional, listen to music, read a book — whatever floats your boat, just while we give the bus a once over. Thank you everyone, and we hope you can support us.”
Liz nodded, and then moved to the front of the bus, where she quickly began talking in hushed tones to Norris the Adipose. Gradually, the talking resumed, a few people flicked open books, or iPads, and Beth could faintly hear the drumbeat of some tune drifting from a pair of headphones.
When Beth realised she didn’t want to be sat alone at the back of the bus doing nothing, she picked herself up, and began to walk down the central aisle.
After all, she’d seen the look on Liz’ face. Something wasn’t right, and Beth was sure of it — and like a moth to a flame, Beth seemed to be drawn to trouble.
As she walked down the aisle of the bus, there was something different about it; its previous stability had gone — her means to stride down it untroubled, the bus being a sole beacon of constancy — all of it had collapsed in on itself. It had been like journeying with everything else at a distance, an easy means of passing with no fear of attack from the outside. And most haunting was that in this new state of uncertainty, the bus was still.
And its previous warmth, and that feeling of being nicely tucked away from the outside world, had evaporated. Now it was like being in a vulnerable, metal skeleton, entirely open to the elements and everything that raged on outside — with no protection at all. And as the bitter chill swept through the bus, all of the passengers glanced around nervously, as if their fortified haven had crumbled, and a pack of hungry wolves were circling, the scent of fear drawing them closer.
Beth approached Liz and Norris.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“Nothing for you to worry about, Beth,” Liz’s concerned expression dissolved into a somewhat kindly expression within an instant. “Go and sit down.”
“I can help,” Beth protested. “You know I can!”
Liz and Norris looked at each other, solemn looks etched upon their faces. It was definitely something serious — Beth was sure of that, for a grimace on the face of an Adipose was enough to tell anybody.
There was a pause, like the hesitation that occurs when one isn’t quite sure how to say something important. Inside, Beth was mentally hurrying them along. Just tell me, she thought.
But thankfully, Liz continued. She spoke gravely, and her words hung in the air.
“Our computers have been… infiltrated.”
“She’s not here,” Zoe finally admitted after searching the entire park twice. Alfie lazily lounged on a swing, having watched her scour every nook and cranny with a delighted grin.
“You don’t say,” he said smugly. “Why the hell would she run here? She’d be found in five seconds.”
Zoe scowled. He had a point, but that didn’t mean he deserved to relish in his supercilious behaviour. Besides, he didn’t know Beth as well as she did. And Zoe knew that, sometimes, Beth needed her friends by her side.
“Yeah, well, maybe we’d find her quicker if you actually did something,” she snapped, roughly pushing him off the swing, smiling as he landed back-first into mud and swore loudly. “That’s what you get.”
“Hey!” cried out a familiar voice. Zoe turned to see Dan hurrying towards them. “Found her yet?”
“No,” Zoe murmured, distracted. She glanced over at Alfie, who appeared just as confused by the presence of their friend, before she turned back to Dan. “How’d you know?”
“Laurel called me,” he revealed. “So, where is she?”
Zoe shrugged. “I thought she’d be here, but I dunno now.”
“She don’t know anything,” Alfie declared loudly.
“I swear I’ll punch you,” Zoe hissed through gritted teeth.
“Guys,” Dan interrupted. “D’you think she’s in trouble?”
“I don’t know.”
“Just ask Sentinel,” Alfie said, with a surprising lack of ignorance. “Duh.”
Zoe and Dan looked down at him, surprised. Neither of them had expected such wisdom from their friend, and were feeling a little miffed they hadn’t thought of the solution themselves. Alfie winked self-approvingly, leaning his arms on the swing seat, grinning impishly as he watched Zoe pull her phone from her pocket.
“She’s not in,” Sentinel said, appearing abruptly on the screen without a summon.
Zoe recoiled in surprise. “What?”
“Sarah Jane. She’s following up a Zygon story in London,” Sentinel responded matter-of-factly.
“That’s not what I want to know,” Zoe said slowly.
“Squidward,” Dan breathed at the same time. Alfie stared at him in bemusement.
“Oh.” Sentinel paused and whirred for several seconds, as if he were trying to process the declaration, before he finally spoke. “What do you lot want, then?”
“We need your help. Beth’s gone missing.”
“Oh, has she?” Sentinel grumbled. “It’s always the same story with you four. Always wandering off. Three weeks ago, it was you who’d blundered into that basement on Retention Island, and now it’s her turn. Which one of you will be next? I dread to think. I dunno how Sarah Jane manages to contain you lot.”
Zoe shared a blank look with Dan and Alfie. “You gonna help us or not?”
“Of course I am!” Sentinel exclaimed, affronted. “What do you take me for, a mongrel? Beth’s been active for the past hour or so, but she seems to have stopped someplace outside the village.”
“Show me,” Zoe ordered, motioning for Alfie to join her. He picked himself up and followed her down the path. As she walked, Zoe turned to Dan. “We’ll tell you when we find her.”
“But I’m coming with you.” Dan said haltingly.
Zoe paused and looked at him, uncertainty flashing briefly in her expression.
“What?” Dan regarded his friends, and managed to catch the nervous glance they shared. Finally, he clocked on to the reason for their hesitance: his heart condition. He held up his hands placatingly. “I’m fine!”
Zoe didn’t look convinced. “You sure?”
“Yeah!” he assured her. “As long as you don’t scare me. Or make me run.”
“... all right,” Zoe reluctantly conceded.
Alfie thumped his fist against his chest. “My man,” he said proudly.
Zoe clapped her hands, and took charge. “Right. Where do we start?”
Suddenly, the bus felt even colder. Not only was it like they were vulnerable now, with the wolves merely circling — this time, it felt like the wolves were closing in, padding closer, and howling blood-curdling howls from the outside of the bus, as if they wouldn’t be outside for long.
Beth wished she could forget the stupid wolf analogy. It wasn't doing her any favours, but for a computer to look nervous, it must have been serious — and Liz, the Oyster’s AI, looked beyond concerned.
“How do you mean, ‘infiltrated’?” Beth asked nervously. “You been hacked or something?”
Liz shook her head like she wished it were just a simple case of hacking. “Oh no. It’s a sort of malware thing.”
“Like a virus?” Beth saw Norris pull a screen just above the dashboard, and tap a few buttons on a keyboard.
“Not quite,” the Adipose said. “It’s a sentient computer program-turned-virus. X.A.N.A.”
“X.A.N.A?” Beth repeated. A small smile crept onto her face. “Zoe’s gonna love that. So, what, it’s evil?”
Norris shook his head. “It wasn’t always like that. Originally, it was Maxie, specially designed to help those who struggled with communicating about their mental illnesses. And according to the promotional footage, it worked.”
“Maxie worked telepathically,” Liz explained. “With the patient’s consent, it entered their psyche and searched out the emotions that weighed them down, or the patients could share their thoughts without necessarily saying them aloud to maximise the help that mental health services could provide. It worked both ways.”
Norris spoke again. “But something went wrong, and we don’t know how. Maybe there was a miscalculation in the development stages, or it was sabotage, but X.A.N.A went ballistic, targeting anything or anyone related to mental health.”
“In its eyes, those that have mental health should be…” Liz hesitated, “purged.”
“And when he was done with that, he toppled the planet,” Norris added.
Beth shivered, understanding why one would not want somewhere like the Oyster, but to desire to close them for those who were so grateful for its services, was a terrible notion. After all, what harm was it doing those who did not want to see the Oyster? It was merely a refuge, and not some kind of place of division. And the thing that made Beth’s skin crawl the most was the very thought that someone might think those with mental health conditions were weak.
As someone who had experienced bipolar, while she was not arrogant, Beth was quite content in saying that those who suffered were certainly not weak.
“I hesitate to use the word hive-consciousness,” Norris said. “Because it’s a disorganised virus — but each individual part of it has manifested itself as an electronic form. It’s a dangerous movement — one that we must do our greatest to remove from our systems.”
“We owe a lot to it,” Liz mused.
Beth looked at her in surprise. “Why?”
“Well, in a way, we wouldn’t be here without it.” Liz noticed Beth’s puzzled expression, and added, “The Oyster was created as a result of X.A.N.A’s new… decisions. We didn’t support or agree with that movement in any way, so we decided to create this: an alternative. A safer option for everyone. It wasn’t easy, and we didn’t have our government’s support, but we managed, eventually.”
“You could’ve just let someone else do it.”
Liz smiled sadly. “Beth, you know better than most that if we don’t fight this battle, no one will.”
“... Yeah.”
Beth decided, then.
She would have to do it.
If this so-called X.A.N.A was so willing to fan the flames of the stigma surrounding mental health, then it was Beth’s time to stand up against it, and to ensure that those with mental illnesses were not discriminated against. She had been so relieved to finally find a place where people understood her, a place where she could truly sit and talk. She wasn’t ready to lose that anytime soon.
“Where do I find it?”
Without a clue of what was going on, Liz sort of half-spluttered, “What are you doing?”
“Stopping that X.A.N.A thing.”
“Oh, Beth, I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You’re not asking,” Beth pointed out.
“It’s a virus capable of tearing down whole communities,” Liz stressed. “I won’t take the choice out of your hands. I just want you to be absolutely sure.”
“I am,” Beth insisted. “I can help. You know I can.”
Liz pursed her lips. Beth recognised the look. It was the same expression Sarah Jane had when she, Zoe or Dan offered to do something innately dangerous. Despite that, Beth could see the AI had a proud gleam in her eyes.
“Okay,” Liz conceded. “But not alone. I want you to take your friends with you.”
“Sure,” Beth agreed. She planned on summoning them anyway. “How do we stop it?” she asked, turning back to Norris.
“I can’t help you there, but I can tell you where to find it,” Norris rumbled. Beth nodded. It was a good start. “It’s been trying this for a while now — hacking into our circuits. I managed to trace the signal. It’s reaching us at the Chafford Hundred station, in the Lakeside mall. That’s where the malware is getting into our system.”
“Got it,” Beth said. “Drop me off there, and I’ll call up my friends.”
“I have enough juice left for an emergency hop or two,” Norris said, kneeling over to grab some wiring beneath the steering wheel with his pudgy hands. “Just gimme a mo…”
“Beth,” Liz said. “Be careful.”
“Mm…” Beth managed a wry smirk. “Can’t promise that.”
Liz smiled tightly, respecting Beth’s decision with resignation.
“Emergency spatial shift activated,” Norris announced. “We’ll be there in fifteen seconds.”
Beth nodded, and turned to the doors. The backdrop was still the same — a nondescript country road with grazing sheep and cows.
“Beth,” Liz said again, her expression serious. “Why are you doing this?” She didn’t ask the question with malicious intent, or inherent confusion, Beth could tell. The AI was just curious. That was fine. Beth was curious herself. Pondering on the question for a few seconds, she finally reached a conclusion.
“I… I just wanna help,” she replied simply, just as a shuddering tremor rocked the bus. Surprisingly, Beth’s balance remained intact.
Liz stared for a long time, before she eventually nodded. “Good luck. We’ll pick up your friends for you.”
Beth smiled, and nodded back, grateful that there was somebody who finally understood her. “Thanks.”
With that, she turned to the doors as they swung open, and stepped out into Chafford Hundred.
Zoe, Dan and Alfie had practically wandered the whole village searching for Beth. They’d checked Sentinel’s supposed location, found nothing, proceeded to then check every nook and cranny they could think of, but there was still no sign of their missing friend. Dusk was rapidly approaching, and it was starting to weigh down on the trio, who were currently wandering the wildlife area of Diamond Way.
“The hell are we doing here?” Alfie complained, loudly. “Beth’s just being a saddo. Who cares? My legs are gonna fall off.”
“Shut up,” Zoe growled.
“To be fair, we’ve been walking for ages,” Dan pointed out.
“Exactly!” Alfie proclaimed smugly.
“You should go home, then,” Zoe directed at Dan, pointedly ignoring Alfie. “Are you even supposed to be walking?”
“Yeah. I’m just tired.”
Zoe glowered accusingly at him. “The hell, Dan?”
“I’m not that tired,” Dan assured her. “The doctor said I’d just get tired easily, but that’s normal. Trust.”
“I don’t believe you,” Zoe declared. “Go home.”
“There’s nothing to do there!”
Alfie watched their back-and-forth argument, trying desperately to stifle a yawn. Surprisingly, it wasn’t because he found the conversation boring, but because he was exceptionally tired. Rubbing his eyes, he briefly wondered when he’d last had a decent night’s sleep, before deciding that it was so long ago he couldn’t possibly remember. He paused, his hand hovering beneath his eyelid, when he got the distinct impression that he was being watched. He turned, and noticed a big tree in the nature reserve, towering over the rest.
He tilted his head. It looked familiar, although he couldn’t explain why. It was like he had a song in his head but couldn’t remember the name. It should have been frustrating, but it simply captivated him. The more he looked at it, the more he realised that he could hear voices that didn’t belong to Zoe or Dan. They echoed loudly in his head, and he focused on them.
There was the sound of a giggling girl, a squealing boy and a woman. She was scolding the children, but he didn’t know what for. The three strangers were drowned out by a loud gust of wind — almost deafening — that scrambled the coherency of his thoughts and left him grasping desperately for the mysterious voices. He tried and tried for several seconds, but they wouldn’t come back.
Then he heard something else in his jarringly vacant head.
“Welcome home, Alfie.”
The words echoed, with a sharp, familiar pang, but he couldn’t explain why. Before he could mull further, Zoe stepped into his line of sight, cutting off the tree from his vision. Immediately, it was as if a spell had been broken, and he stared at her in surprise.
“Tell him,” she demanded. For a second, his mind went blank, but he eventually realise that she was probably talking about Dan. He turned, with an easy grin, to his other friend, who was visibly fatigued.
“If you die,” he said airily, “I want your computer.”
Dan tilted his head to the side curiously. “Why? You hate computer games.”
Alfie shrugged. “I’m broke.”
Before Zoe could complain — loudly — about Alfie’s idiocy, and the innate deja vu, the sharp honk of a horn caught her attention. She turned around just in time to see a bus barrel down the road and come to a stop in front of them.
The door flew open, and a woman poked her head out. “Zoe, Dan and Alfie?”
The teenagers stared at her in utter bewilderment.
“The flip are you?” Alfie spluttered.
“Just call me Liz. There isn’t time. We need your help,” the woman urged. “It’s about Beth.”
Zoe was immediately vigilant. “What about her?”
“She’s walking into a dangerous situation,” Liz revealed. “And she can’t do this alone. She needs you.”
Zoe and Dan shared a look, nodded resolutely, and hurried into the bus, stopping short at the sight of Norris the Adipose. Alfie remained rooted to the spot, unsure, conflicted.
“All of you,” Liz emphasised when she noticed his hesitance.
Zoe whirled around. “Come on!” she said.
Reluctantly, Alfie trudged forwards. He paused just outside the bus, and glanced at the tree, his expression distant.
“You know, we help those who need it.” It was Liz who’d spoken, her expression reticent. “It doesn’t matter who they are or what they’ve done.”
Alfie looked at her, feeling a flutter of something in his gut. He didn’t know why, but he felt a desire to say something — anything — but he was acutely aware of Zoe and Dan’s quizzical looks. He bowed his head and mumbled, “Dunno what you’re on about.”
Somehow, that wasn’t what he wanted to say.
Liz simply smiled, sadly, and moved aside to grant him entrance. Alfie shook his head to clear his chaotic thoughts, and crossed the threshold.
The journey had been mostly uneventful after the initial awestruck stage. Zoe and Dan felt uncomfortable, as if they were intruding on a private sanctuary, while Alfie stared blankly out the window, completely silent. Liz explained the situation to them, which did nothing to alleviate their concerns.
The bus lurched at high speed, blurring the Foxgrove countryside and the roundabouts of Chafford Hundred together, until they screeched to a halt outside the station. Zoe immediately bundled out, with a baseball bat in hand and Ace’s jacket secure around her shoulders, followed by Dan and Alfie, as they left the Oyster behind.
“Be careful!” Liz cried out, but they had already disappeared. She sighed to herself, calculating every possible outcome that would transpire from the teenagers confronting X.A.N.A. None of them comforted her.
Except one.
“Norris,” she said, slowly. “Plot a course for London.”
Zoe, Dan, and Alfie did not stop walking. While they knew that they were most definitely traipsing towards danger, they were adamant in their search for Beth. After all — she could have been anywhere. Not making matters easier was the fact that the night was deeper and darker, with the gentle lapping of waves masking their footfalls — a catastrophic trap for anybody granted the misfortune of getting lost in its perpetual murkiness. Even with the baseball bat clasped securely between Zoe’s fingers, they felt uneasy. As the three of them searched, they knew that it would be so easy, to lose their way, and to meet great trouble in finding a way home, even with Zoe and Dan as veterans of the shopping centre.
And because of the danger of the night shadows, all three of them knew, in some strange, unspoken way, that they could not give up. The fact the night was so ready to grab any of them and tug them beneath the dark night’s ocean was confirmation enough that they could not give up on Beth — for none of them were willing to let that fate befall their friend.
And suddenly, it seemed as if they were in luck.
At the far end of the boardwalk, beside the sliding doors, the shadows and the murk and the gloom remained thick. But there was a solitary figure stood still, a blot of ink in the mist.
Beth Petite was stood in front of them.
“Beth!” Zoe cried out, lowering her bat. “You’re alive!”
“Told you she was just being emo,” Alfie grumbled.
Beth stared at them all in surprise. “How did you get here?”
“Your creepy computer friend,” Dan said. “She brought us here. Said you needed help.”
“But…” Beth regarded the trio, her mouth flapping open and closed. “I changed my mind. You’re not supposed to be here.”
“Tough,” Zoe said cuttingly. “What do we do? Where’s X.A.N.A?”
“Inside, I think,” Beth said hesitantly. She had stood alone in the dark for a long time, shrouded by the fog, and she was suddenly incredibly doubtful. Her earlier bravado had escaped. “But we can’t go in.”
Zoe blinked. “Why not?”
Beth anxiously chewed on her bottom lip. “I don’t think we can handle it. We need to call in UNIT or something.”
“No way!” Alfie protested. “It’s an alien. This is our jam!”
“And it might run away before they can get here,” Dan pointed out. “We have to go in.”
“Yeah!” Zoe added, brandishing her bat. “We can handle this. We’ve stopped Sontarans, Choosers and Time Lords. This is nothing. We’ll be fine, as long as a Scyphozoa doesn’t jump out and kill us.”
“But —”
“Trust us, we got this,” Zoe interrupted confidently.
Beth sighed resignedly. There was something inspiring in Zoe’s unshakeable faith. “All right,” she said begrudgingly.
Dan clapped his hands. “Awesome. Let’s go.”
The shopping centre was vast. The sheer size was enough to catch anyone off-guard. Shops that were normally teeming with activity were closed and empty for the evening. Shadows flickered and danced around the teenagers, bathed in the moonlight from the skylight above. There was a general lifelessness that they couldn’t shake.
“This place is dead,” Alfie muttered, his eyes darting from shop-to-shop, as soon as they broke in with assistance from Sentinel.
“Yeah, you’re right. Why is it so empty?” Dan wondered, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s usually open till eleven.”
“Maybe it’s the virus,” Beth said. “Forced them all to go home early or something, I dunno.”
“Maybe they’re dead,” Alfie suggested.
“Maybe. But if it can do all this…” Her breath hitched in her throat.
“You okay?” Dan, the only one who noticed Beth’s hesitation, asked in concern.
“Yeah,” Beth replied. “Just… thinking.”
“That lady, Liz — she said you wanted to help,” Zoe interjected.
“I do! But then I thought about it. Properly thought. This thing’s killed loads of people and planets, even civilisations. How do we stop it?”
“I dunno — deactivate the tower?” Zoe suggested flippantly. “We can do this.”
Beth sighed heavily. “Yeah. Maybe.”
Zoe stopped, and everybody else stopped as well. “You okay, Beth?”
“For real,” Alfie chimed in. “You’re proper emo today.”
“Cheers,” Beth said to Alfie with an eye-roll. She then regarded Zoe, and sighed heavily. “Yeah. It’s just…”
“One of those days?” Zoe guessed knowingly.
“One of those days,” Beth echoed.
“You could head back to the bus,” Zoe offered. “You and Dan. He’s not supposed to be out here.”
“Fam, now’s not the time for High School Musical,” Alfie complained. Zoe punched his gut, and he clutched his abdomen, wheezing out a volley of curses.
“I’m not going!” Dan protested.
“Nah, neither am I,” Beth added. “I said I’d help, and I want to.”
Zoe shrugged, begrudgingly. “All right.” And she was back in action. She raised her baseball bat, and took the lead as they marched through the mall. “There’s only two places X.A.N.A could be if it wants maximum destruction: GAME or the cinema.”
Dan cocked his head to the side. “Why only those two?”
Zoe looked at him incredulously. “What’s it gonna do with Debenhams? Kill us with clothes?”
“Yeah, but what about all the computers in the other shops? It could be using one of those.”
“Like I said: maximum destruction. X.A.N.A’s a virus, right? Viruses are always hidden in the obvious places. Those places are the most obvious, depending on how much of a show-off it is.”
“There’s the main generator as well,” Beth pointed out. “The place that has all the data and stuff.”
“We’re getting good at this,” Dan said cheerfully.
“So where do we start?” Zoe pondered.
Beth was about to make a suggestion, when someone grabbed her arm and yanked her backwards. She glared accusingly at Alfie, who hurriedly put his fingers to his lips. He turned to Zoe and Dan, who were still walking ahead, oblivious to the danger. He opened his mouth, to warn them, but it was too late.
“Oi, you two!”
Zoe and Dan skidded to a halt, startled by the unfamiliar voice. A brusque security guard ambled towards them from the other end of the centre, a torch in one hand and a radio in the other.
“Put your weapon down!” he hollered.
Dan looked at Alfie and Beth, who were obscured in the shadows, and then at Zoe. “Maybe he doesn’t mean us.”
Zoe sharply stared at him. “Are you dumb?”
“We’re not carrying any weapons, though!”
Zoe held up her baseball bat. “The hell is this, then? A handbag?”
Dan groaned. “You should have left it on the bus.”
“As if,” Zoe scoffed. They both looked at the advancing guard.
“Maybe he’s friendly,” Dan suggested.
“Threats to X.A.N.A must be eliminated,” the security guard stated.
“So much for being friendly,” Zoe said. “We’re gonna have to run.”
“Where?” Dan hissed, eyeing the security guard. He was quickly edging closer with purposeful strides.
“The generator,” Zoe revealed, glancing over at Beth, who nodded. She nodded back. “We’re definitely gonna have to run.”
“Great,” Dan said sarcastically. “Ready when you are.”
Zoe looked down at the bat in her hands, considered her options, and flung it across the mall. It landed with a thud and rolled away. She grabbed Dan’s sleeve without dwelling on it. “Run!”
And they took off.
“Oi!” the guard cried, and chased after them. Beth and Alfie slunk into the shadows, waiting with baited breath until they passed. Once the footsteps receded, they tentatively stepped out of their hiding place.
“How’d you know he was there?” Beth asked.
“I ain’t stupid. I used my eyes,” Alfie said condescendingly. “Where did they go?”
“Generator. I used my ears,” Beth said confidently. She walked over and scooped up the bat. “They’re buying us time to check out the other stores. Come on.” She tossed the bat over to him. “We gotta start now.”
“Where the hell do we go first?” Alfie wondered, catching the bat fluidly.
“GAME store. It’s over there.” Beth pointed at the other side of the mall, where the security guard had come from. Alfie nodded, and the pair hurried away.
Zoe and Dan had jumped over seats, weaved around plants, and even run up and down an escalator or two, but they were unable to evade the security guard, who was still hot on their heels.
“This isn’t gonna work,” Dan said, unhelpfully. He was panting, and starting to slow down.
Zoe spotted a junction ahead and thought on her feet. “Split up,” she said. “He can’t follow both of us. You got left, I’ll go up.”
Dan nodded, and branched off just before they reached the escalator. He heard Zoe’s footsteps as she blitzed up the stairs, and turned back long enough to see the security guard hesitate, before deciding to chase after Zoe. Dan suspected it most likely because she was the bigger hooligan in his eyes. He wasn’t entirely wrong.
Suddenly, Dan stumbled over his own feet and almost buckled. He managed to correct his balance in time, but the exertion took a heavier toll on him than he anticipated, and a sharp jolt of pain shot through his chest. He grunted, and slowly staggered over to the closest shop he could find, River Island, one step at a time.
As he approached, the shutters slowly slid open. He smiled up at a security camera.
“Thanks, Sentinel,” he said, certain the camera winked at him. He stumbled into the shop, and collapsed against a counter, slowly sliding down to the ground as he idly watched the shutters close again. He felt exhausted to the bone, and hoped someone would find him soon.
Surprisingly, help came sooner than expected.
Beth and Alfie crept around the centre, glancing furtively to ensure they were alone. They would occasionally hear footsteps, which set them on edge. Alfie clutched the baseball bat tightly. He was strangely protective of it.
The GAME store had been empty, which was both a relief and an annoyance. They had decided to set their sights on the cinema, as Zoe had suggested, and were slowly skulking towards their destination.
“So, you chill now?” Alfie suddenly asked.
Beth spared him a glance. “What?”
Alfie shrugged. “You were bare emotional today for no reason. You didn’t chat to us at break.”
Beth sometimes wondered if Alfie needled others for his own amusement. It would explain the rowdy, obnoxious crowd he hung out with at school. “You were being annoying.”
“Nah, fam, I was jokes.”
“No, you weren’t,” Beth retorted with an air of finality. Alfie quietened after that, but Beth could still feel his eyes boring into her. “What?” she finally asked.
“You depressed?”
“No!” Beth hissed.
“Fruity?” Alfie pulled a face at that. “You like Dan?”
Beth sighed. “You wouldn’t get it. And now’s not the time.”
“Aye, you’re fruity,” Alfie drawled triumphantly.
Beth resisted the urge to face-palm. “I don’t swing that way, mate. Look, I’ll tell you if we don’t die.”
Alfie considered the offer. “I’m game,” he eventually decided.
There was a brief pause. The pair continued to shuffle in the shadows, edging closer towards the cinema when --
“Oi, Beth.”
“What?” Beth snapped. She was growing wary of Alfie’s barrage of questions.
“You think those aliens are legit?”
Beth frowned. “Don’t you?”
“Nah. They’re all shady.”
Beth shook her head. “No, they’re not. Not all of them. Some just wanna help, like the Oyster.”
Alfie pulled a face. “Sure.”
“If you’ve got such a problem with them, how come you helped me with Bumble?”
“No offence or nothing, but I just helped so you’d shut up,” Alfie replied. “I don’t give a toss ‘bout politics.”
Beth’s expression soured. “Cheers,” she grumbled angrily.
“Oi, you don’t even like politics either,” Alfie said defensively. “You just did that last time cos you were high.”
Beth ignored him. “We’re here.”
“Eh?” He looked up, noticing for the first time that they were standing outside the cinema.
Beth pressed her hands against the handles of the door. They were cool to the touch. She turned to Alfie expectantly. “Ready?”
Alfie tensely raised the bat. He was ready for anything. “Let’s go.”
When Zoe was a child, her uncle Eric used to make her run laps in the forest with her cousins, James and May. Originally, she considered it to be a fruitless task, but then she met Sarah Jane Smith and started reaping the benefits. Zoe was proud to consider herself physically fit.
She darted through the mall in a mad dash to shake her pursuer. No matter how hard she tried, the security guard was always a few feet away. At least Dan had managed to slip away, and Beth and Alfie were still safe.
Carefully surveying her surroundings, Zoe spotted an opening. She glanced behind her to make sure she wouldn't be spotted, and then she lunged through the door and over the counter before the security guard spotted her. She waited with bated breath for several seconds, before sighing in relief when his footsteps grew steadily fainter.
Zoe cautiously poked her head over the counter, just to be on the safe side. She was in the clear. Sighing in relief, she picked herself up and ran in the opposite direction of the security guard. She had to find her friends.
The doors swung open to reveal a dark, chilly hallway, dotted with several double doors that led into the viewing areas. Beth and Alfie opened every door, only to find empty viewing rooms devoid of any life. They kept searching, their footsteps echoing noisily in their ears, until they reached the final room at the far end of the hall.
Beth huffed. Predictable.
“Move,” Alfie ordered brusquely. Beth obeyed, shifting to the side. Alfie moved into the spot she’d vacated and with a deep breath, kicked the doors wide open, pouncing in with the baseball bat. “What the hell?”
“What?” Beth scurried inside, but stopped short. “Oh. That’s… shady.”
The viewing room was almost the same as the others, the only key difference being a generator beneath the large screen, pulsing and sparking, and the cinema screen displaying camera footage of her and Alfie. The recording was grainy, but there was a sharp, refined edge to it, as if the flickering was implemented on purpose to perpetuate bewilderment and intrigue.
A glowing white eye slowly opened in the centre of the screen. It seemed to focus on Beth specifically, before closing again. When it next opened, Beth found herself staring at a perfect digital replication of her face. She felt an unnerved shiver run up her spine.
“This geezer looks like you,” Alfie commented offhandedly.
“It is me,” Beth confirmed. “How are you doing that?”
“I am programmed to look like anyone my patients require me to be,” a deep, sickly sweet voice projected into Beth’s mind. Telepathic. There was even a trace of her own voice, buried in the background; recognisable, but overpowered.
The voice was deceptively gentle, Beth realised, when she felt her shoulders relax. For a second, she almost forgot her objective, but the thought of the Oyster replenished her, and she stood at her full height. “Yeah, well stop,” she ordered. “I don’t want you looking like me.”
“As you wish,” X.A.N.A hummed smoothly. There was a faint whir as computer-Beth’s eyes closed. When they opened again, it was X.A.N.A’s solitary eye.
She glanced over at Alfie, noticing how tightly he clasped the bat. X.A.N.A’s voice seemingly had the opposite effect on him. She tapped his arm, snapping him from his tense reverie, and motioned towards the flight of steps. Alfie nodded, and followed as they cautiously approached the cinema screen.
“You are Bethany Petite,” X.A.N.A said.
“You know me?” Beth asked warily, slightly surprised by the revelation.
“I know all my patients.”
“I’m not your patient.”
“As you wish.” X.A.N.A’s tone was indifferent. Beth got the impression that it would have shrugged if it had a corporeal form.
“So…” Beth started awkwardly, “you’re X.A.N.A, right?”
“That is correct.”
“What did you do with all the people outside?” She paused. “Are they dead?”
“No,” X.A.N.A replied. “I have sent them all home.”
“But not that security guard.”
“No,” X.A.N.A agreed. “He has been given a new purpose: to guard me.”
“Did he agree to that?”
“The matter was taken out of his hands.”
“You brainwashed him,” Beth realised in disgust.
“I purged him. He was insecure and scared of life before I found him. Now, he has found salvation. Do you want salvation?”
“Oi,” Alfie said spontaneously, derailing Beth’s pitiful attempt at an interrogation. “If you can look like anyone, how come you still got that eye?”
“It is for the maximum comfort of my patients.”
Alfie pulled a face. “You what?”
“Some people don’t want to talk about their feelings to some bloke,” Beth said sympathetically. She knew the feeling. “Sometimes it’s easier to just talk to a randomer you can't see, like on the Internet or something.”
“Why?”
Beth smiled sadly. “They can’t tell your parents, and you can’t see them judge you. And it’s just so bloody hard to talk to people who don’t understand.”
“That is correct,” X.A.N.A chirped. Beth and Alfie turned to look at it. “I can change my face and voice at will to provide maximum comfort for my patients.”
“I’m not your patient,” Beth repeated forcefully.
X.A.N.A was silent for a second. “You are diagnosed with the bipolar two disorder. Have I misdiagnosed?”
“... No,” Beth said begrudgingly.
“Then you are my patient,” X.A.N.A affirmed. It sounded strangely chipper.
“Rah, this roadman,” Alfie scoffed.
X.A.N.A ignored him. “How did you find me today, Bethany Petite?”
Beth got the distinct impression that the virus was looking directly at her. There was something hypnotic about its eye. She suppressed a shudder, and proudly declared, “I’m here for the Oyster.”
X.A.N.A immediately hissed as if it was suffering from an allergic reaction. His sole eye changed from a gentle white to a blazing red. “The Oyster must be purged,” it declared in a loud, intimidating voice, the sweetness long gone. “The Oyster is weak.”
Beth remained silent, stunned by the sudden shift in attitude. She was starting to see why X.A.N.A was considered a threat to the Oyster.
“It’s not weak,” she muttered feebly, but quickly found her voice, and boldly stated: “They’re not weak!”
X.A.N.A’s solitary red eye darted towards her. “You are here on their behalf, little girl?”
“Um…” Beth was taken aback by the harsh accusation in its tone. She glanced over at Alfie for support, but he seemed to be lost in a world of his own. His eyes were cloudy, his jaw tight and his expression reticent. Beth cleared her throat. “Yeah, I guess.”
“Then you are their agent.” Slats on opposite ends of the cinema screen slid open, and a pair of mechanical clamps slid out.
“I didn’t do anything!” Beth protested as she stumbled back. “There’s no need for this, Maxie.”
“I am not Maxie. I am X.A.N.A!” the virus shrieked angrily. “You will be purged!”
Beth turned and ran up the stairs. She managed five steps before she realised that Alfie wasn’t following her. She whipped around in alarm. “Come on!”
Alfie didn’t listen. To her surprise, he charged towards the cinema screen, darting and weaving between the two clamps, whacking them viciously when they got too close. He dove for the generator, intending to smash it to pieces, when a clamp grabbed his arm and yanked him back. The bat fell out of his hands and rolled harmlessly to the side.
“You are angry.” X.A.N.A lifted him up into the air, leaving him to dangle helplessly. Harsh crimson light splashed across the screen, bathing the room in a scarlet glow.
Alfie struggled against his restraints, beating the bottom of the clamp with his free hand repeatedly.
“Alfie!” Beth cried out. “What are you doing?”
Alfie whipped his head around to glare at her, and Beth froze. His expression was murky and unfocused, with a primal, animalistic tinge visible in his eyes. It was as if he didn’t see her at all. His dog tags rattled uselessly around his neck as he continued to struggle and punch.
Beth watched helplessly, unsure of what to do, when Zoe burst into the room.
“Alfie!” she cried out sharply.
The result was instant: Alfie stopped struggling immediately, and blinked at her, nonplussed. Beth was perturbed by the instant switch between hostility and docility.
“Let him go!” Zoe yelled.
“No,” X.A.N.A roared. The second clamp surged forward and blocked her path. “He shall be liberated. As shall you, Bethany Petite. Your anger, your weakness, they shall all perish. You shall be purged.”
“Oh, I don’t think so.”
Beth whipped her head around, surprised and delighted when Sarah Jane Smith strode into the room, with the staggering Dan by her side.
“There'll be no purging on my planet tonight.” She produced her sonic lipstick and tossed it over to Zoe, who caught it and disabled Alfie’s restraints. She watched as Alfie safely fell to the ground, then turned to Beth. “Are you all right?”
Beth nodded belatedly, her eyes wide. “How did you find us?”
“A woman called Liz found me. She said you needed my help.”
“Yeah,” Beth said. “The Oyster’s being terrorised.”
“The Oyster is weak,” X.A.N.A growled into their heads. “They shall all perish.”
Sarah Jane regarded the virus, calmly. “Beth, could you support Dan for a moment?”
“Sure.” Beth reached over and wrapped Dan’s arm around her shoulder, holding him steady. He mustered a weak smile in her direction.
“Thank you,” Sarah Jane said. Then, she strode towards the cinema screen. “You’re X.A.N.A, I presume?”
X.A.N.A’s red eye reverted back to its milky state. “That is correct,” it said in a smooth, genteel voice. “Are you a patient?”
“No, I wouldn’t say I am. My name is Sarah Jane Smith.”
There was a whir. “Scans indicate that this is true.”
“How very perceptive of you,” Sarah Jane said dryly. “Tell me, what is your purpose?”
“To purge the ill and give them salvation.”
“By… killing them?”
“Yes. It is the only way.”
“No, it’s not,” Beth protested. X.A.N.A’s eye darted over to her, its entire demeanour shifting again. The red eye was back, and it rumbled a hostile snarl.
“It doesn’t like you,” Dan mumbled unhelpfully. Beth bit back a scathing rejoinder.
“Leave this to me, Beth,” Sarah Jane interjected, with an air of authority. “Why is it the only way? What makes you think that?”
“My purpose,” X.A.N.A stated firmly.
Sarah Jane narrowed her eyes. “And who gave you that purpose?”
“My masters. They give everyone purpose, on every civilised planet. They keep everything organised.”
“Who are your masters, exactly? The company that created you, is that it?”
“No. My masters have a further reach. They are revered. They are powerful. They have complete control.”
“What, like an alien slave owner or something?” Zoe questioned, still huddled on the floor beside Alfie, who was clutching onto her arms, looking confused and burnt-out. “Is that what we’re dealing with?”
“I don’t think so.” Sarah Jane folded her arms. “It’s true that there are species out there that want nothing more than conquest.”
“Yeah,” Dan murmured, “like the Cybermen.”
“Precisely. But I think that X.A.N.A is referring to something a little closer to home.” She regarded the cinema screen with a knowing look. “I think these masters are the government on its original planet.”
“What?” Dan murmured, puzzled. “Why do you think that?”
“Something Liz told me.”
“They didn’t have the government’s support,” Beth realised, recalling her earlier conversation with the AI. “They thought it was sabotage.”
“Yeah, but the government?” Dan said sceptically. “Seriously?”
“Yeah, it’s their job to help us,” Zoe chimed in.
“You’d be surprised by the things our own government have done to their citizens,” Sarah Jane murmured, her tone brittle and distant. “Children especially.” She scrutinised X.A.N.A. “Are we correct?”
“Yes.”
“Then this stops now.”
“I’m afraid not,” X.A.N.A said politely, exaggerating its gentlemanly tone. “This planet needs help.”
“Every planet needs help every once in a while. That doesn’t mean a quarter of the population deserve to be slaughtered,” Sarah Jane said pleadingly. “Please, Maxie. Just stop this.”
There was a brief pause. For a second, Sarah Jane was sure she had gotten through, and then X.A.N.A coldly said, “No.” Its eye beamed an angry red. “I am not Maxie. I am X.A.N.A. And this world shall be purged of the weak.”
“You can’t do this!” Beth shouted.
“I can do anything, girl,” X.A.N.A boomed.
“My AI’s disabled your other generators. You don’t have the power to do anything,” Sarah Jane warned.
“I have enough to send you to hell,” X.A.N.A replied ruthlessly.
“No!” Sarah Jane cried out, but it was too late. The virus sprang to life, its red eye pulsing as energetically as a beating heart. The generator beneath the cinema screen gave off an ethereal hum that accelerated with each passing second, whirring like an overheated laptop.
“What’s going on?” Zoe asked.
“It’s started,” Sarah Jane said worriedly. “It’s building up an energy wave. With that, and the patient records, it can do what it wants.”
“Kill everyone who needs help, and people who want to help,” Beth surmised. “We have to stop him. He’ll destroy the Oyster!”
“Give me the sonic.”
Zoe obliged, tossing the sonic lipstick over. Sarah Jane caught it, unclasped the lid and zapped the generator. Beth expected there to be a shower of sparks as it deactivated, but nothing happened.
“It’s futile,” X.A.N.A chuckled darkly, its voice crackled and distorted. “I have the power to raise a barrier faster than your neurons can carry signals.”
“I can’t get through,” Sarah Jane murmured gravely.
Zoe bit her lip. “What do we do?”
“We need to shut down that generator,” Sarah Jane explained. “It’s the last one in the chain. If we can just buy Sentinel some time —”
A large tremor interrupted her, throwing the group to the ground. A powerful, deafening gale whipped at their faces, slowly merging with the sound of the overheating generator to create a discordant, unearthly wail.
Zoe, who was already kneeling on the ground, recovered first. “How?”
“We need to kill it,” Alfie growled.
“No,” Sarah Jane refuted immediately, her tone critical. “That’s not what we do.”
“Then what?” Dan asked. “We need to do something.”
“Chuck your bat at it!” Alfie suggested immediately.
“Provoking it will only make the situation worse. We need a distraction.” Sarah Jane pointed the lipstick in the virus’ direction. “X.A.N.A still speaks to anyone who seeks an audience. It can’t shake off that programming. If I can keep it talking long enough, Sentinel can break the encryption and shut it down.”
“No,” Beth suddenly said. Her friends turned to her in surprise, and even she had to admit that she was caught off-guard by her own assertiveness, but she pressed on. “If this goes wrong, we need you.”
“She’s right,” Zoe agreed.
“But we can’t just do nothing,” Dan argued.
“We’re not.” Beth took a deep breath. “I’ll distract it.”
“What?!” Dan spluttered, protectively tightening his grip around her neck.
Beth shot him a small, reassuring smile. “I can do this.”
“Beth,” Sarah Jane said slowly. “Are you sure about this?”
She wasn’t taking the choice out of her hands. Beth smiled, and nodded. “Yeah,” she affirmed. She tentatively deposited Dan in Sarah Jane’s arms, and with steely resolve, took a step forward. “I can do this,” she repeated, to reassure herself.
“It’ll kill you,” Zoe said worriedly.
“Someone’s always trying to kill us,” Beth pointed out. “I… I need it to see.”
They stared at each other for the longest time, puzzling out each other’s responses from their eye-contact alone. Suddenly, the double doors flew open, and the security guard loomed menacingly in the entrance.
The fierce spark in Zoe’s eyes slowly diminished. “We’ll stop him,” she said simply, and prised her bat from Alfie’s grip.
“Listen to me, Beth,” Sarah Jane called out, capturing Beth’s attention. She was frowning down at her wristwatch scanner. “The energy output levels are staggering. Whatever you’re going to do, you have to be quick.”
“I need time,” Beth said.
“I’ll try,” Sarah Jane replied. “Be careful.”
“Yeah,” Dan mumbled weakly. “Don’t die.”
Beth smiled fleetingly in his direction as she strode forwards. The closer she got to the imposing screen, the more she felt her nerves gnawing at her, her determination seeping away. A million different reasons her plan would fail became crystal clear, and she stood idly as X.A.N.A glared down at her from the screen, the blood red eye even more menacing at close-range.
She couldn’t do it. She wasn’t the person who could save the Oyster.
“Beth, to your left!”
Sarah Jane’s voice snapped Beth out of her tumultuous thoughts, and she reacted in time to see a metallic claw shooting towards her. She stumbled back in shock, bracing herself for the impact, but the claw drew to a stop inches before it reached her face. She whipped her head around to see Sarah Jane pointing her sonic lipstick at it. Behind her, Zoe was fighting the security guard on the steps, wildly swinging her baseball bat to keep him at bay. She was pulling her punches, hesitating to inflict any lasting damage.
“I can’t hold it down for long,” Sarah Jane grunted, gripping the lipstick in both hands. “Run!” she said, and released the button.
Beth dove out of the way, narrowly avoiding the swinging claw, and made a beeline for X.A.N.A. Her friends’ efforts meant they all believed in her to make a difference, and that spurred her on. X.A.N.A leered at her, but Beth pressed on, unfazed. She shielded her face with her hands, expecting to crash into the erected barrier, but she surprisingly sprinted the distance unharmed. She skidded to a halt, trying to determine the best course of action.
“What are you doing, child?!” X.A.N.A rumbled loudly.
“You can’t destroy the Oyster!” Beth protested.
“The Oyster is weak.”
“No, they’re not!” Beth said angrily. “They want to help!”
“They cannot help,” X.A.N.A growled. “I will purge you of your weakness. I will help you.”
Beth winced at its harsh words. They stung a little. “But you don’t get it,” she whispered sadly, her anger shifting into pity. “You don’t get what it’s like.”
“I have access to every medical record on any planet I visit,” X.A.N.A boasted. “I have the capability to seek out the troubled, the diseased. I am equipped to handle trivial matters like this.”
“That’s your problem. You think it’s ‘trivial’, but it’s not. You hate people like me cos your government told you to. You don’t actually get us.”
“I can read the thoughts of every single patient.”
“Doesn’t mean you understand them,” Beth pointed out.
A sudden, deafening hum caught her attention. Smoke billowed off the generator in droves, and Beth could feel the searing heat on her face. The hum grew louder and louder, ratcheting to an excruciating volume.
“Sentinel did it!” Sarah Jane exclaimed over the din. “The generator’s shutting down. Beth, move!”
Beth slowly walked backwards, her gaze transfixed on the generator, fearing it would blow up if she moved any quicker. Her heart hammered in her chest, an irrational fear taking hold of her brain and immobilising her legs.
Despite the protests of her friends, she could only stare and watch as lightning sparked from the top of the generator, signalling the completion of X.A.N.A’s weapon, before it all exploded before her eyes. The sheer power knocked the air out of her lungs, and before she had a chance to recover, the fog dispersed and an intangible blood-red serpent slithered towards her, darting and weaving through the air before it pounced at her.
Beth brought a hand up to cover her face, waiting --
— but there was nothing. No explosion, no snake, no pain.
“Bethany.”
The voice was comfortingly familiar, but more detached and distant than she was used to. Beth pulled her hand away from her face, and found herself looking at her mother.
“Welcome.” Chrystal Petite’s expression was hollow, and her words stilted, as if she’d rehearsed them to the point of monotony.
“You’re not her,” Beth said simply.
Chrystal tilted her head, intrigued. “How can you tell?”
“She’s not called me ‘Bethany’ in months.”
“I see.” Chrystal sounded uninterested, but not mockingly so. She narrowed her eyes calculatingly, as if she expected a reaction. Beth didn’t give her the liberty.
“What happened?” she asked instead. “The explosion…”
“Never happened.”
Beth furrowed her brow. “What?”
“It was all in your head,” Chrystal explained.
Beth scowled. “‘Course it was. What about the snake?”
Chrystal narrowed her eyes, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. “What do you think it was?”
Beth paused, studying her mother’s impassive face for several seconds. “You.”
“Yes,” Chrystal confirmed.
“You’re X.A.N.A.”
“That is correct.”
Beth frowned thoughtfully. It explained a lot. She studied her surroundings carefully, but couldn’t pick out a distinctive feature. The area was nondescript and intangible. A cold darkness cocooned them, blocking out everything else. Beth tentatively outstretched her hand, but pulled it back quickly when it faded from sight. She nervously brought it up to her face and sighed in relief when she found it intact.
“Do you know where we are?”
“This is your telepathy, right? That’s how you work.” Beth paused, and gingerly added, “that’s what the Oyster said.”
Just as she predicted, X.A.N.A reacted negatively, and hissed angrily. It was shocking to see the seething hatred on her own mother’s face, and Beth was forced to look away. Everything went blood-red for a few seconds, before settling back into the cold, murky darkness.
“Am I right?” she asked.
“Partly. We are inside your mind,” X.A.N.A explained, matter-of-factly.
“What?” Beth looked around sullenly. “But it’s really… empty.”
“Not quite. Your memories have been… hidden.”
“By you?”
“By you,” X.A.N.A revealed. She scrutinised Beth curiously. “You flee from your memories. Why?”
Beth shifted uncomfortably. “Why’d you choose her face? What’s so special about her?”
“This woman preys on your thoughts often,” X.A.N.A, still in the Chrystal avatar, explained politely. It had affected the genteel tone in her presence ever since they’d entered her mind. “She is the perfect avatar.”
“For what?” Beth asked, her agitation leaking into her tone.
“I can see that she troubles you —”
“Thought you needed permission to go through my head,” Beth grumbled.
“— but I cannot fathom why,” X.A.N.A continued. “You are perhaps my most perplexing patient to date.”
“I’m not your patient,” Beth repeated vehemently. “And quit going through my head.”
X.A.N.A ignored her. “Your emotions are not the primary source of your woes, but your memories. Curious.”
Beth sighed, resignedly. “What do you want?”
“I wish to understand you. Your background is ordinary, your life is ordinary, and yet, you are deeply sad.”
“Guess I am.”
“Sadness is a weakness.”
“One you wanna purge, right?” Beth sneered. “Why do you kill us?”
“Purge you,” X.A.N.A corrected. “I am merely fulfilling my purpose. I am helping the universe, and you.”
“Really,” Beth said vacantly.
“Yes. You are crippled by your disorder, your sadness. That sparks anger, and hatred. It is a liability.”
“You know, I get it now.”
X.A.N.A tilted its head again, curious, beckoning her to continue.
“Why you chose her face,” Beth elaborated. “Chrystal thought she was helping too.”
“She was helping. She hid something that merely bolstered your… condition. And yet you admonish her. Why is that?”
“Don’t you know?”
“I do not.”
“She lied to me — for ages — about stuff I should’ve known… stuff I deserved to know. It changed everything.”
“So your memories are the cause of your disorder,” X.A.N.A surmised. “You are nothing without it. Your memories dictate your actions, and they are tainted.”
X.A.N.A brushed the air separating them, and ripples started to pulse outwards, thrumming as if they’d been disturbed by tiny droplets of water. Warped images started to form in the space between them, memories Beth didn’t want to dredge up. She jerked her head to the side, refusing to pay it any attention, but the memories crystallised there as well. Beth stubbornly turned away, again and again, but they started appearing all around her, forcing her to face her unwanted past.
She saw everything that went wrong in her life; her father’s death, her mother’s lies, the disappearance of her old friend group, the death of her grandfather, the move away from Manchester, Melody’s loss, her family’s inability to understand her, and — perhaps the worst of all — the crushing loneliness. The misunderstandings. The days where she wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed and let the world pass her by.
Every little action or consequence that had sent Beth spiralling throughout her life ambushed her, stifling her at every possible turn. At the centre of it all was the face of her own mother, staring down at her with cold, unyielding judgement. The darkness wrapped tendrils around her, submerging her in waves of apathy, leaving her confused and alone. She squeezed her eyes shut, desperate to blot out the emotions, but her resistance was futile.
And then she heard the voice.
“Live like lightning.”
They were three simple words, but they snapped Beth out of her reverie. She looked up at X.A.N.A, who regarded her with interest. The darkness faded, and the memories slowly shifted out of view, until it was just the two of them again.
Beth struggled to control her trembling hands. “You’re right,” she sighed shakily. “I’ve got a condition. I'm bipolar. Sometimes, I get sad, and angry, and stupid, but I’m usually tired. Just bloody tired. And that sucks.”
“You must be purged.”
“No, I don’t,” Beth retorted. “You don’t get it, do you? You never did. This… isn’t all of me. This isn’t all of the people you killed.”
The area suddenly started to brighten. Warmth seeped into Beth’s bones and bathed them in golden light, banishing the coldness effortlessly. The memories changed and solidified around them, enveloping them both.
“What are you doing?” X.A.N.A didn’t sound frightened, but mildly interested.
“You said you wanted to understand me.” Beth held out a hand. “I’ll help you.”
X.A.N.A regarded her for the longest time, its eyes boring into her expression relentlessly. Finally, it conceded and clasped its hand over Beth’s. “Very well,” it said.
And together, Beth and Chrystal Petite closed their eyes.
“Come on, Beth!” Laurel huffed, trying to pry her sister off the swing and towards the hubbub of activity in the village square. There was a pre-emptive Christmas festival hosted by the local village hall. Beth had forgone the festivities in favour of a lone swing in the far corner of the square, where her feet were stubbornly planted on the ground and resisting Laurel’s incessant pushes.
“No,” Beth said grumpily. “Why not?!” Laurel demanded. “None of your business,” Beth retorted. She didn’t feel up to celebrating Christmas, especially since their mother had left to oversee the exhumation of their father’s grave and left them in the hands of her work colleague, a woman who had already left them to their own devices so that she could mingle with fellow villagers. She didn’t know why ‒ maybe it was the crowd of strangers, or the overly bright lights, or the loud chattering, but she just wanted to go to bed and sleep. Laurel eventually gave up, with a dramatic sigh, and skipped off to hang out with one of her new friends. Beth watched her go glumly, wishing that she had the motivation to go join her. Instead, she remained at the swing, aimlessly swinging back and forth for a few minutes and staring at the ground until a pair of sneakers invaded her vision. “Hi!” Beth looked up to see an overly exuberant girl around her age beaming at her, with a blue hair band atop her messy brown hair, and a t-shirt depicting ‘Hello Kitty’ with an assault rifle. She regarded her almost lifelessly, and managed a slight grunt. “Hi.” “I’m Zoe.” “Mhm.” Beth continued swinging back and forth, lapsing back into silence. The girl stared at her, slowly growing impatient. She narrowed her eyes, crossed her arms, and pouted. Eventually, Beth looked back at her. “What?” “Tell me your name,” the girl demanded. “Why?” “‘Cos you know mine!” “So?” The girl, whoever she was, didn’t seem to like that answer. If it were possible, her eyes narrowed even further. “So, you’re obligated to tell me yours!” Beth tilted her head. She didn’t know what ‘obligated’ meant, and she didn’t really care. She hated English. She heaved herself off the swing and ambled towards the gate, closely followed by her new accomplice. The girl watched with crossed arms as she clambered onto the wooden gate and gripped the wall for support. Beth looked back. “You’re still here?” “Tell me your name!” the girl repeated, more firmly. “It’s not hard!” Beth sighed. “Beth,” she said half-heartedly. “My name’s Beth.” “I know,” the girl said triumphantly, grinning up at her. “You’re in my class!” “Then why ask?” The girl’s grin widened, and she looked almost sane for a girl with a ‘Hello Kitty’ machine gun t-shirt. “Cos I felt like it!” Beth couldn’t help but smile at that. She hopped off the gate, brushed her hands on her panda t-shirt, and mustered a lopsided smile. It looked almost freakish combined with her pigtails, but the girl didn’t seem to mind. “So, if I’m Beth, who’re you?” The girl frowned at that, and punched her arm. “Ow!” “It’s Zoe!” the girl, Zoe, bristled. “I said already!” “When?” Zoe rolled her eyes. “You’re so annoying!” She then grabbed Beth’s hand and dragged her down the path. “C’mon! Wanna play AQW?” Beth blinked, wondering how they had jumped from ‘annoying’ to going off to go games together. “What’s AQW?” “Adventure Quest World!” the girl declared loudly. “It’s an adventure game, bet you didn’t guess that! You can choose to be whatever you want, and there’s this rock lady with a guitar, and my brother danced to her song and fell off the bed and hit his head.” “Mhm,” Beth managed, not quite keeping up with the conversation. “And there’s this evil bad guy and this kicky thing called Twilly ‒” “Zoe!” a woman called out from further down the square. Beth peered over the rambling girl’s shoulder to see a woman around her mum’s age carrying a sleeping boy in her arms. “What are you up to?” “We’re going home, mum!” the girl declared. “We’re gonna play games!” Her mum didn’t seem impressed. “What, alone at this hour?” “Yeah!” “And who’s your new friend?” “Beth,” the girl replied as if it was obvious. “Duh.” “Hi, Beth!” The woman waved at Beth cheerily. “Well, fine. Remember what to do if someone tries to touch you?” “Thump them!” “Zoe Smith, you’re learning!” the woman declared proudly. She waved them off and disappeared back into the crowd. Zoe grabbed Beth by the arm again and dragged her down the path and through the park. “This way,” she said. “It’s a short cut.” “Your mum just let you go?” Beth asked incredulously. “My mum never lets me do that.” “Pfft, it’s fine,” the girl waved her hand dismissively. “Besides, my Uncle Eric’s following us. Don’t look now, or he’ll know we know. Mum and Dad don’t think I know that they have him watch us, which is weird, but parents are weirdos.” Again, Beth found herself replying with a simple, “Mhm.” “So, what level are you in AQW?” “I don’t play,” Beth sheepishly admitted. The other girl skidded to a halt and stared at her as if she had committed a crime. “You’re clearly not a kid!!!!!!” she declared somewhat petulantly, before following it up with a suspicious, “What do you play?” “Er…” “Habbo?” “Not really,” Beth responded. “Club Penguin?” Beth nodded enthusiastically before she could stop herself. “Yeah! I love it!” The girl grinned toothily. “Yay! C’mon, let’s go,” she whirled around and marched down the path energetically, with Beth slowly following her. She had no idea how she went from feeling grumpy to following a girl she had just met to her house to play video games, but it felt nice to have a new friend in the village. She had only moved in last month and didn’t really know anybody yet. She supposed that it was the isolation that made her reluctant to celebrate. She had her sister, but their dad’s birthday was soon and she didn’t want a reminder of that. Instead, Beth looked at the back of her new friend and smiled. Zoe Smith, her mother had said. Beth had a feeling that she liked Zoe Smith.
“Come on, Beth, keep up,” Chrystal called over her shoulder as she strode through the shelter with more energy than a person had any right to possess.
Beth sullenly followed, taking extra care to drag her feet for maximum effect. She had been unwillingly dragged out of the house, away from her games and her friends, while Laurel was given free reign. Beth had initially been ecstatic about the prospect of her own pet, but her enthusiasm had died almost instantly when her mother had rejected the idea of a puppy.
“You’re just being ridiculous now,” Chrystal said disapprovingly.
“I don’t want to be here,” Beth complained.
“You’re the one who wanted a pet!”
“I want a dog!”
“Dogs are high maintenance. You need something small. Easy to handle,” Chrystal declared firmly. “How about a hamster?”
Beth scowled angrily, but her mother obliviously launched into a tirade about her own experiences with a childhood pet as they continued ambling along. Beth tuned out the dull rant, focusing on the numerous pets instead. Her curiosity grew with each distinct animal they passed, awed by their variety and sheer beauty.
She followed her mother into the adjacent building. And that was when her gaze landed on him.
Beth redirected her trajectory and stepped into the garden, wandering towards the enclosure at the end. She stooped down to get a better look at the rabbits hopping around the hutch. A particular white bunny caught her attention. It lazed around in the sunshine, staring up at her blankly. Beth stared back, fascinated.
“I see you’ve met Mr Nibbles.”
Beth startled at the voice, spinning around to see a blonde woman smiling kindly down at her. She glanced at the ‘Animal Care Assistant’ badge pinned to the woman’s blue polo shirt, and scooted over to grant her space, mumbling a quiet, “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” the woman said as she knelt by the hutch. “Just checking up on them.”
Beth nodded shyly, and the conversation dwindled, silently watching as the woman performed a systematic check up on each rabbit, until she got to the proclaimed Mr Nibbles. “Why’s he called that?” Beth finally asked, unable to keep a handle on her curiosity.
“He likes to nip at people for attention,” the volunteer explained warmly. “And he does this little thing where he nibbles at his food and then stops to look at you like you’d just stolen his food.” The woman comically widened her eyes in demonstration, coaxing a laugh out of Beth. “He’s lovely though, isn’t he?”
“Mm,” Beth hummed. “How come he’s so small?”
“He’s still four months old. We found him in bad shape, the poor thing. We reckon he escaped from a fox. The rest of his litter was less fortunate.”
Beth winced. Reality could be a harsh place sometimes. She stared at Mr Nibbles thoughtfully. The rest seemed to pale in comparison. “Do you think he likes me?”
The woman smiled gently. “I can’t decide that for you.”
Beth accepted the answer.
“Beth!” Chrystal snapped as she stormed towards her, hands on her hips. “I thought I told you to stop running off all the time.”
“Sorry,” Beth mumbled, refusing to make eye contact.
“What have you found there?” Chrystal kneeled down to examine the rabbit, and gasped. “Oh, he is a cutie.”
Beth glanced fleeting in her mother’s general direction. A rogue thought strayed past her mind, and she seized upon it. “Mum?”
“No,” Chrystal said immediately.
Beth turned to her pleadingly. “But he’s so cute!”
“That may be, but rabbits are high maintenance,” Chrystal retorted firmly. “And they’re bleedin’ difficult to litter train.”
“Thought you liked him,” Beth grumbled.
“Doesn’t mean I want to train him! I’m busy, you know that. Besides, these things can be rough.”
“No, they’re not!”
“Don’t argue with me, Beth!”
“I’m not. Just ask her!” Beth and Chrystal sharply turned to the assistant, who jumped a little at their expectant glares, but recovered smoothly.
“If you keep it in a suitable hutch, a rabbit’s relatively straightforward to litter train and clean out. They’re not particularly messy animals,” the assistant said assuringly.
“See,” Beth answered petulantly.
“Although they are indeed high maintenance animals, more so than cats —”
“— see,” Chrystal retorted just as petulantly, which Beth found ridiculous for a woman in her thirties.
“ — but not as much as dogs,” the assistant concluded. Beth surmised that she must have dealt with immature families on a daily basis.
Chrystal whirled around to face the assistant, and plastered on her signature ‘professional doctor’ smile. “I appreciate the advice, Miss…?”
“Long,” the assistant replied. “Ruth, please.”
“Miss Long,” Chrystal said regardless. Beth rolled her eyes. “As I said, your advice was helpful, but we’re in the market for a smaller… manageable pet.”
“It’s not my place to make decisions on your behalf,” Miss Long said diplomatically. “I’d be happy to give you any advice you might require.”
Chrystal nodded appreciatively. “Thank you.”
“But they’re good pets!” Beth protested, just as Miss Long stood up to leave.
Chrystal struggled to suppress her exasperation. “Beth —”
“I want Mr Nibbles!” she declared fiercely. “She said they’re easier than dogs!”
“So?”
Beth narrowed her eyes critically. “You had Red as a kid.”
Chrystal winced at the memory. Red was the family dog she had adopted from a shelter as a child, despite the reservations of her parents. She stared down at Beth for the longest time, studying her determined expression.
Beth glared back stubbornly, counting the seconds down with bated breath, wondering if she’d finally be acknowledged.
Finally, Chrystal turned to Miss Long with a sigh. “I suppose I require some advice.”
Realisation dawned on Beth, and she loudly cheered. Chrystal smiled weakly at her enthusiasm, and a random old lady huffed disapprovingly as she hobbled past, but Beth didn’t care. She beamed happily at Mr Nibbles, who peered back up lazily.
It might have been her hyperactive imagination, but as Beth curled her fingers around the metal fence of the hutch, and the rabbit scooted over to tentatively nibble on her thumb, she was certain she could feel a connection forming between them already.
“So…” Melody looked up at the immense shelf in front of her, feeling slightly intimidated by the wealth of fiction towering over her. Stories were fascinating, and cavernous, and she longed to uncover the history behind each and every one of them. “What’s the scientific explanation for the wardrobe?”
“Er…” Dan spluttered unhelpfully.
Zoe sighed, sick of having to listen to Dan's uselessness. They were in Waterstones, surrounded by a seemingly infinite collection of stories. Melody had curiously picked up a stray copy of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, and now Dan was bringing down their London trip with his inability to speak creatively. “It’s not about the science, it’s about the adventure,” Zoe interjected, barging Dan out of the way.
Melody looked between the two of them, her interests conflicting. “Adventure?”
“Yeah,” Zoe encouraged. “Four kids running around and fighting bad guys. It’s like us!”
Melody pursed her lips. “But the wardrobe —”
“It’s just magic,” Zoe said dismissively. “Bigger on the inside, basically.”
“I don’t think I like bigger on the inside things…” Melody murmured.
“So, who’s who?” Beth asked, her voice carrying down the aisles as she drifted around the cosy store. She wasn’t much of a fan of proper books, but there were a couple of series she loved to read.
“I’m Peter,” Zoe immediately declared with a dramatic bravado. She nudged Dan mockingly. “You’re Edmund.”
“Why am I Edmund?!” Dan huffed.
“‘Cos I’m brave and you’re a loser,” Zoe hummed. “Mels is like Lucy.”
“Guess I’m Susan,” Beth grumbled in dissatisfaction. She stopped suddenly at a particular aisle, and gestured Zoe over. “Look!” she cried eagerly.
“What?” Zoe asked as she hurried over, growing increasingly certain of where they were headed. The shelves neared, and eventually the section so prized in Beth’s mind stood in front of them.
Manga.
Beth held up a volume of One Piece, grinning widely. “It’s the new edition!”
Zoe crossed her arms, unamused. “So you’ll look at that rubbish but not Naruto?”
“I’ve started watching it!”
“Not good enough,” Zoe decided, hauling Beth over to the Naruto section and picking out the first volume.
Beth furrowed her brow. “I’ll read that, if you let me tell you about this.”
Zoe heaved a dramatic sigh. “Fine. But make it quick.”
Beth smiled, and opened the pages. As she began to summarise the story to Zoe, she found herself slowly falling away into fiction, the story almost pulling her out of the world, and into somewhere better.
The festivities were well underway by the time Beth entered the park. Villagers danced and conversed under the lights with drinks and other refreshments, while older people squirreled themselves away in the nearby village hall with soothing cups of piping hot tea and a chair to rest on. The children played and ran around energetically, and Beth spotted Zoe and Finn doing the same, running their weary father ragged.
She continued scanning the crowds, spying Dan happily latched to his parents, Chris with his usual band of stooges, and Laurel hanging out on a bench with her friends and — surprisingly — Nathan Drake. She furrowed her brows, trying to puzzle out their association, when a tap on her shoulder disrupted her thought process.
Beth spun around, and her eyes widened in welcome surprise. “Sarah Jane! You’re back!”
Sarah Jane quirked a humoured brow. “I wasn’t gone for that long!”
“Sarah Jane!” Zoe cried out before Beth could speak further. She jogged up to them eagerly. “When did you get back?”
“About an hour ago, and it seems I was just in time,” Sarah Jane remarked, scanning the festivities in fascination. “I don’t think I’ve seen the village this lively before.”
“They’re always like this at New Year’s,” Zoe said in disinterest. “How was London?”
“Lovely. It was nice to be with Luke, especially since we couldn’t have Christmas together,” Sarah Jane replied.
Beth glanced at her assessingly. It had roughly been two weeks since Melody’s abduction. It hadn’t fully registered for her, or Zoe or Dan, but the toll it had put on Sarah Jane had been clear. In the lead-up to Christmas, she’d never seen Sarah Jane so reclusive since their first meeting. Now, Beth was relieved that she seemed a little more settled.
“How have things been here?” Sarah Jane asked curiously, breaking Beth’s train of thought. “Anything exciting?”
“No,” Zoe said glumly. “No aliens. Only funny thing was that I dared Finn to enrol at this stupid school in London.”
Beth furrowed her brow. “Why?”
“She’s weird,” Dan chimed in, barging into the space between them with a smile. He waved at Sarah Jane.
“And bored,” Zoe addeed, pushing Dan back. “It’s not like he’ll get it, anyway.”
“And what about you, Dan?” Sarah Jane asked. “Are you happy?”
“Yeah,” Dan said enthusiastically. “Never better.”
“Sarah!” Gita exclaimed loudly, bounding towards them with Haresh in tow. “You’re back!”
“I do wonder how many people will keep telling me that,” Sarah Jane murmured to the trio, before loudly adding, “Yes, I just got back!”
“Just in time, too!” Gita clapped excitedly. “It’s so exciting, isn’t it, my darling? I’ve never been to a village celebration before! I helped to arrange the flowers, do you want to see?”
“Perhaps later,” Sarah Jane managed.
“It looks like they’re preparing for the countdown,” Haresh noted, nodding at the villagers congregating in the park’s centre.
“So they are!” Gita gripped her husband’s arm so quickly he let out an undignified squeak. “Come on, we’d best get to the heart of it all. Will you join us?”
“No, I’d prefer to watch from here,” Sarah Jane politely declined. Zoe, Beth and Dan murmured similar rejections. Gita simply nodded and dragged Haresh down the path.
“I heard they’re planning to adopt,” Dan said.
Sarah Jane looked at him in surprise. “How?”
“Word travels fast,” Zoe hummed. “They better not be annoying.”
“You don’t have to talk to them,” Beth pointed out.
Zoe scoffed and threw her arms around Beth and Dan, drawing them close. “I talk to everyone.”
“Well, that’s your fault,” Dan retorted.
“Shut up, Dan.”
“Well, as long as they don’t get in our way, I don’t care.” Sarah Jane laughed and redirected her attention to the chanting crowd, watching them count down the minutes with a soft smile. “I wanted to thank you three.”
“For what?” Dan asked.
“For being here. During the summer, I wasn’t sure I could fit in anywhere ever again, I’d just be an old woman cast aside. But you changed everything. Thank you.”
“Not everything that’s changed is good,” Zoe pointed out glumly. “Mels is still gone.”
“I know,” Sarah Jane sighed sadly, keeping her eyes fixed on the crowd. They had reached the final ten seconds. “But all we can do is move on.”
Then, as if they were designed to punctuate her words, fireworks whistled into the air and burst into a mesmerising display of patterns and colour. The gang watched them, transfixed.
“I hope this year’s better,” Beth murmured, touching her pixie cut for resolve. She watched as Gita and Haresh ran back to them with streamers.
“Oh, Beth,” Sarah Jane said with a twinkle in her eye, wrapping an arm each around the Chandras. “There’s no doubt. Happy new year, to all of you.”
Beth smiled at that. “Happy new year, Sarah Jane.”
“Hurry up!”
“Gimme a minute!”
Beth huffed in frustration, leaning over to the bowl of popcorn. She was mere inches away from grabbing a handful, when Zoe yanked the entire bowl in one fell swoop. She shared an unamused look with Dan.
Zoe shrugged nonchalantly. “Tough luck.”
In a small act of revenge, Beth swatted Zoe’s feet off the coffee table. “My house, remember?” she added when Zoe glared at her in betrayal.
Dan stared at the television screen glumly. “We ever going to watch this?”
“Ask Laurel, not me,” Beth grumbled. It was a blazing day outside, and the group had all decided to capitalise on the nice weather by having a marathon, but Laurel had singlehandedly disrupted their plans five seconds in, and was delaying progression for some unknown reason.
“Get a grip, Dan,” Zoe interjected. “You waited for ages already.”
“Three months,” Beth said precisely. Zoe and Dan both stared at her in bewilderment. “I really like Game of Thrones,” she said defensively.
“Nerd,” Zoe scoffed.
“To be fair, we’ve been busy,” Dan said slowly, a smile on his face. “I mean, we were at that Alton Towers…”
Beth cringed at the unwanted memory, while Zoe burst out laughing. Sarah Jane had taken the trio to a newly opened theme park, where an alien had demanded that Beth become her daughter. She had flatly refused, and the enraged alien had gone on a rampage, snatching people’s hair to power her strange contraption.
It had been a bizarre day.
“Oi, shut up, fam,” Alfie grumbled, swatting at Zoe distractedly. She scrutinised him incredulously, and slapped his hand away.
“Who are you talking to?!” She paused when she didn’t receive a response, and noted the intense concentration on her new friend’s face as he fiddled with his phone. “What are you even doing?”
Alfie swore under his breath, furiously jabbing at the phone’s buttons. Then, with a look of triumph, he cheered victoriously and leapt onto the coffee table, discarding his phone on the sofa.
Beth gawped at him, absolutely scandalised. “Move yourself off my —”
“CON LOS TERRORISTAS,” Alfie's phone blared, silencing Beth immediately. He clapped and hollered to the growing music, forcing Beth to sink into the sofa in secondhand embarrassment. Zoe swore quite loudly at him, but Dan, possessed by some other force, was surprisingly laughing along.
Alfie refused to relent, and continued to scream laddishly. The music reached a crescendo, and he started to jump up and down.
“Oi, mate, you break that, you’re paying,” Beth threatened, but Alfie ignored her. She’d only known him for a short time but she had a feeling that it would become a recurring habit.
“DO THE HARLEM SHA —” Alfie screamed along, and then he was suddenly flying off the table. Beth recoiled at the sudden movement, and watched as he unceremoniously dropped into the toy crate.
He recovered quickly, and glared accusingly at Zoe. "What the f —”
“I told you to stop,” Zoe retorted, drawing back her leg.
“No, you never.”
“Yeah, I did.”
Alfie scrutinised her. “Are you dizzy?”
“What do you mean?!” Zoe argued back. They traded insults for quite a long time, and Beth was left wondering how two people could argue with such ferocity when they barely knew each other. She shared an awkward look with Dan, wondering how long they would continue bickering, when the living room door flew open.
They all snapped to attention, startled by the dramatic display. A girl stood in the doorway, blonde wig slightly askew, dressed in a shoddily cut blue dress. She pouted strikingly, and uttered, “Real dragons do not —”
“Shut up, fam,” Alfie crowed, chucking a cushion at her.
Laurel glared accusingly at him. “Do I even know you, you randomer? I am Daenerys Stormborn of House Tangerines —”
Beth lobbed a cushion at her sister, her patience wearing thin. Zoe and Dan, also irritated that they’d waited on Laurel for hours, followed suit, hurling popcorn and various assorted items.
Laurel shielded herself from the pelted objects. “You’re all going to burn for this!”
“And that’s me.” Beth she opened her eyes, suddenly feeling very small in the bright bubble of her own mind, but smiling through the adversity. “That’s Beth. I have good days. I have bad days. Sometimes I cry, sometimes I want to fight, and sometimes I don’t wanna do anything at all. Do you get it?”
X.A.N.A tilted its head, beckoning her to continue.
“I’m not special, and I’m not diseased. I’m just… me.” She laughed at the notion; in a way, she felt low, but at the same time, she didn’t feel confused.
For the first time in a while, Beth Petite knew who she was.
“I don’t really want much. I thought I did, but I just really want to become a vet, and I want to be understood.”
“Yet you hide behind facades,” X.A.N.A countered. “You bury the memories that dictate your actions.”
“I can’t help it,” Beth admitted quietly. “Sometimes I want help. I need help. So do a million other people.”
“The defects.”
“We’re not monsters. We’re just a little different. I get that now.”
X.A.N.A was silent for a moment. “And what do you intend to do with that knowledge?”
Beth shrugged. “I dunno.”
“You… don’t know?”
“Mhm.” Beth sheepishly scratched her cheek. “Live, I guess. Become a vet. Help people like me. People who need it.” She eyed her mother’s avatar carefully. “They could use your help, too. We just need to be heard.”
Beth carefully studied the impassive expression, seeking out an unspoken answer from the silent figure.
A modicum of glee slipped through the virus’ stoic veneer. With a chilling certainty, X.A.N.A uttered two simple words: “You’re wrong.”
Beth's eyes snapped open, and she instinctively lurched backwards. Her movements were sluggish and disoriented, and she was unable to support herself when her foot caught against a dismembered clamp.
She fell — straight into waiting arms.
“I've got you, you're okay,” Sarah Jane said, cycling through numerous assurances that helped Beth to calm her racing heart. She glanced around the room; Alfie and Dan were slumped against the seats, watching her warily, and Zoe was further up the stairs, prodding the stirring guard experimentally with a foot.
Eventually, Beth’s breathing steadied, and she managed to croak out, “Did it work?”
“Yes. You did it,” Sarah Jane said encouragingly. “It’s over.”
Beth’s eyes darted over to the generator, which had been reduced to a smouldering wreck. Her gaze turned upwards, towards the cinema screen, and she was strangely affected by the blankness of it all. She sighed deeply. “It’s over.”
For some reason, she was unable to squash the disappointment in her tone.
Once they’d established the security guard had merely been knocked unconscious by a well-placed strike by Zoe, Sarah Jane and Beth supported Dan by slinging an arm each over their shoulders, while Zoe allowed Alfie to lean on her.
Together, the five filed out of the theatre and slowly made their way to the centre’s exit. Beth took the opportunity to look at each of her friends, and consider the rhythm they’d built through their experiences together. She considered Zoe and Dan, her best friends who’d stuck with her through thick and thin; she considered Sarah Jane, who had always showed her gentle kindness and understanding whenever they’d had a heart-to-heart. She even considered Alfie who, despite his shortcomings, was still right by her side.
“What you did today was dangerous, Dan,” Sarah Jane said, jerking Beth from her musings. “I understand you still want to help, but your safety always comes first.”
“Yeah,” Dan wheezed sadly, briefly clutching at his chest. “I think I get that now.”
Sarah Jane squeezed his hand comfortingly. “It was very brave, nonetheless.”
Dan mustered a weak smile. “Thanks.”
“But still stupid,” Zoe interjected.
Dan rolled his eyes good-naturedly at the jibe.
“And Beth, you were amazing today,” Sarah Jane continued.
Beth smiled. “Thanks.”
They withdrew from the centre, heading straight for the bright red bus parked at the end of the road. Even the mere sight of it filled Beth with surging pride and happiness.
As they reached the edge of the pavement, an emerald bubble enveloped them. Before they could react, a person appeared to them with a bright smile.
Liz.
“Hello,” she said, her mancunian accent echoing around the chamber.
“Hello.” Sarah Jane smiled. “It’s nice to meet you properly. You must be the Oyster.”
“Yes, and I can only say… thank you. X.A.N.A — Maxie— has been neutralised before he could do any harm to our systems. You helped us. Thank you all. Especially you, Beth.”
Beth smiled. “It’s what we do.” “You’d be a good ambassador for the Oyster,” Liz said carefully, holding out her hands. Beth stepped forward, and held them. “You’re an inspiration. Norris and I would be more than happy to open up a vacancy for you, if you want it.”
Beth’s smile faded slightly. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t tempted by the idea of going off into the stars, helping whoever asked for it, but Beth had always been a pragmatic person, and the logistical aspects of her disappearance recited themselves methodically in her head.
Besides, as Beth looked at her friends — Sarah Jane, with her deadly lipstick and wisdom; Dan, with his easy smile and beating heart; Zoe, with her warrior jacket and kindness, and Alfie, with his easy grin and piercing gaze — she knew she couldn’t leave them.
Not yet, at least. One day, Beth would achieve everything she ever dreamed of, and she’d accept change with brave acceptance.
And until then, she’d take every day as it came, spending time with her friends.
“I’d love to,” Beth admitted truthfully, “but… I’ve got things to do here.”
Liz nodded in understanding. “You know what you want to do with your life. That's all I could ask of you. I just want you to go out there and show them what you’re made of. Because Beth Petite overcomes adversity, and she shines.”
Beth smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Thank you, for everything.”
“Thank you,” Liz said, “for being yourself. I know it can get hard, so if you ever need us, We’ll be there.”
Beth nodded, as if there was no question about it.
The green light faded away, and Liz with it. They were back on the pavement, as if no time had passed at all.
Beth looked ahead, and noticed the bus was missing.
For now, at least.
"Come on,” Sarah Jane said, gently. “Time to go home.”
And just like that, the five walked back to the royal blue Mini Cooper with quiet acknowledgement. All in a day’s work. Beth frowned at that.
“Are you all right, Beth?” Sarah Jane asked, glancing over at Beth with a knowing look.
“I thought I could change it,” Beth admitted. “Make it see that it was wrong.”
“Some people can’t be helped,” Dan said sagely.
Zoe nudged him teasingly. “All right, Gandalf.”
“True though, ain’t it?” Alfie said, staring at his hands with a troubled look. “People are messed up.”
“Some people are,” Sarah Jane conceded. “And some people are less accepting of the truth, even if the evidence is right in front of them... but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try to help them understand.”
Beth regarded Sarah Jane curiously. “Do you think we can get better?”
Sarah Jane nodded. “Yes.”
Beth looked doubtful. “Are you just saying that?”
“No,” Sarah Jane said, gripping her necklace thoughtfully, “but I don’t think it’ll be easy, either. Humanity is brilliant, but we have a long way to go if we want to be a shining example. It’ll be a hard journey, too, and I don’t want you to think otherwise, but people are fighting for it every day. Look at the Oyster, and us.” She gestured at all of them with a sweeping hand. “It’s what we do, and not many can say that. But slowly, we can change things, if we keep making our voices heard. Have faith, Beth. I know we’ll get there one day.”
The calm certainty in Sarah Jane’s voice alleviated a lot of Beth’s concerns, and as her friends piled into the car, she took a moment to look out at the twinkling night sky. The Oyster had gone, and she had no idea where — but that was okay. They would continue to help people who were shunned, or couldn’t help themselves.
They had a long journey ahead of them, and people like X.A.N.A populated every corner to make things a bit more difficult, but Beth was certain that they’d help others like they’d helped her. One day, maybe, she would join them on their crusade.
But until then… the gang had a story to tell themselves. A world to save. People to help.
Now that was important.
A few hours later, Beth left the steady comfort of 53 Diamond Way and made her way home. As she gently pushed the key into the lock, she hesitated on the doorstep, and glanced at her phone. Eleven-thirty. Nearly midnight. She pondered for a moment if her sparse texts had made a difference, or if Chrystal was typically panicking in the living room.
But even then, Beth knew she would be asleep or elsewhere. Strangeness had become a norm in their quaint village long ago, and she knew not to worry. Beth didn’t like that, so she pushed herself into the house to ignore it all. That was how she functioned, wavering from place to place, with the occasional bouts of mania. Beth liked to think of it as keeping her on her toes, like it made things easier. And as Beth quietly closed the door, she wondered, briefly, whether anything had changed.
She stopped, and breathed, taking herself out of the world for a few seconds. Then, she turned, and it hit her. Something had changed.
Laurel was awake, for a start, staring at her with wide eyes. For a second, Beth didn’t know how to react. She’d grown so comfortable in her routine of avoiding home and family at every possible opportunity that she was left floundering.
“Come here.” Laurel gestured her over, and Beth reluctantly crossed the distance and stepped into the living room, taken aback by the numerous Mcdonald’s takeaway bags. “Midnight feast,” Laurel offered simply, flopping onto the sofa.
Beth sat down next to her, and couldn’t help but make an observation. “You’re wearing my blazer.”
“Yeah…” Laurel drawled sheepishly, tugging at the grey blazer. “Went through your stuff. Peace offering?”
Beth accepted the proffered box, and bit into the savoury Big Mac. She’d had a filling pizza party at Sarah Jane’s, but she always had room for Mcdonald’s. It wasn't as if she wouldn't burn it all off during the next alien incursion, considering they happened every other week.
Laurel watched her for several seconds, probably scouting out the right moment, before casually saying: “Mum’s up at Gran’s.”
“Mm,” Beth grunted. The last thing she wanted to do was talk about Chrystal with her sister.
“I didn't go. Wanted to wait for you,” Laurel continued. “I still think you're being weird with her. But… I guess I understand the Capri Sun thing.”
Beth rolled her eyes. “Cariprazine.”
“Whatever,” Laurel said dismissively.
“You still don't get it,” Beth grumbled.
“Yeah, I don't.” Laurel fumbled around the sofa in search of the remote, almost knocking an irate Beth's Big Mac halfway across the room. “‘Cos Mum can only give an opinion to the doctor, right? And he has to check if you actually need it. It's you who decides if you take it or not.”
“Thought it didn't matter what I think,” Beth said petulantly.
“I mean, you can’t argue with the doctor’s orders. If you need it, you need it,” Laurel reasoned. “If you don’t, they can’t prescribe it to you. Mum can’t change that.”
“Suppose,” Beth conceded.
“And…” Laurel relinquished her search and looked at Beth imploringly. “You were right.”
“‘Bout what?”
“Not getting it,” Laurel said with a shrug. “I don’t. But I know it sucks, and I know I’ve been a bit—”
“Mental?” Beth suggested.
“Yeah.” Laurel offered her a consoling smile. It was the closest to an admission she was probably going to get from her, but it was the acknowledgement alone that warmed Beth’s heart. “You’re not psycho.”
“I know,” Beth said with a confidence she’d been lacking for so long. “I had a walk — thought about it all.”
“Did it help?”
“Yeah.” Beth didn’t even hesitate. For so long, bipolar had just been a word assigned to a thing in her head. While she knew of the condition she was born with, she’d never truly been able to accept it. It was like having a word in her head, knowing what it was, and being able to quote the definition with precision, but never truly being able to feel or understand it.
Things had changed. Laurel had the potential to be one of them.
As she mentally affirmed the fact, Beth’s eyes wandered over to the clock. Midnight. Time had passed them by.
“He’d have been thirty-five,” Laurel murmured. “What a dinosaur.”
Beth laughed at that, and Laurel soon joined in. It was comforting to reach a place where they were able to enjoy each other’s company again. “Should probably get to bed,” she murmured. “School in the morning.”
“Or,” Laurel dramatically grabbed the laptop from the nearby cushion, and opened up Crunchyroll, “we could watch Naruto.”
Beth chuckled, drawing her feet up to her chest, watching Laurel angrily fumble with advertisements. She acknowledged their little midnight marathon-slash-feast, and considered it not only a strange toast to the life of Joey Petite, but a fresh start for herself.
The moment could never last. While there was no secret to the universe, nothing that could ever bring her a happy ever after, there were moments. Living, where things just seemed to slot into some kind of pattern. And it didn’t make sense, for it was all at the mercy of the chaos of the universe – but in its randomness, it had created something: a paradoxical thing, trapped between two poles, where the universe didn’t make sense, but through that, it made more sense than ever.
Beth knew that the moment would die, and the randomness of the universe would be nothing more than that. Randomness. Night would creep closer to her again, and maybe she’d feel terrified, or anxious, or she’d want nothing more than to curl up into a ball.
But for now, curled on the sofa with her sister, laughing at the antics of fictional characters while consuming far too much junk food, Beth didn’t feel uneasy. Instead, she thought of the father she’d never truly meet, and the amazing people who’d helped her to understand herself.
And in her acceptance, Beth saw hope.
Bethany Petite felt alive.
The Sarah Jane Adventures returns in The Unspoken Words...