It's Only the End of the World Read online

  For my son, the real Charlie Ray.

  With grateful thanks to Eve, Samantha, Siobhan and Anne.

  Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  One Month Earlier

  Part 1: The Shake-up

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  Part 2: The Scheme

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  Part 3: The Breakout

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  Part 4: The Battle

  30

  31

  32

  33

  34

  35

  36

  37

  Part 5: The Reunion

  38

  39

  40

  41

  Copyright

  One Month Earlier

  Gerry Ray’s head shot up, penlight clenched between his teeth. One by one, the overhead lights were flickering to life.

  “Someone’s coming, Frankie!” he hissed. “I thought you were keeping a lookout!”

  “My bad.” A metallic voice crackled out of the computer speaker on a nearby desk. “Everyone makes mistakes, Gerry.”

  “Not a bloody Artificial Intelligence! You’re supposed to be infallible.”

  “Well, that’s nice of you to say, but I took myself offline while you corrupted Manticorps’ databases. Y’know, in case you wiped me by mistake.”

  “I’m sorely tempted now. You said the place would be empty.”

  “It was when you broke in. Not my fault your sabotage is taking so long.”

  “What will I do?”

  “You could always pretend to be the pizza delivery guy, but I’d suggest hiding.”

  Gerry crouched down in a corner, scrunched behind a chrome console, sweating face pressed against the cold metal.

  A group of men and women in white coats made their way through the room, oblivious to his presence. The crowd were practically falling over each other to please a stout middle-aged woman marching in the centre. Small wonder. She was vice president of Manticorps and her foul temper was legendary.

  “We’ve made another breakthrough in the Marginal Science Division, Mrs Magdalene,” a tall man said excitedly. “What we’ve achieved is nothing short of extraordinary.”

  “That’s vice president,” the woman snapped. “And it better be or you’ll regret dragging me out here at this time of night.”

  “We felt it best for you to witness the results in person.” The lead scientist elbowed his companion out of the way. “Our new research is… eh… highly controversial. Not the kind of thing you can send an internal memo about.”

  “Make it quick then.” Mrs Magdalene looked at her watch. “I’ve got tickets for Wicked and it starts in half an hour.”

  She pressed her pass key to the lock. The door slid open with a whoosh and the human convoy vanished into the corridor of Manticorps’ Marginal Science Division.

  Gerry Ray waited until they were well out of earshot. Then he scrambled to the nearest computer and began to type.

  “Shouldn’t you be escaping, Gerry?” Frankie asked. “This is no time to be posting your predicament on Facebook.”

  “As soon as the vice president of Manticorps and her research team reach their destination, they’ll see we’ve ruined their precious research.” Gerry finished with a flourish. “So I’ve overloaded the security systems in the east wing and shut the entire section down.”

  “You’ve done what?”

  “It’s fused the electronic doors.” He grinned triumphantly. “They’re trapped in their own labs.”

  “Then get out now,” the voice said urgently. “I’ll take it from here.”

  “They’re not going anywhere.” Gerry sprinted down the corridors and out of the building.

  As he raced across the car park, there was a dull whump behind him. He skidded to a halt and turned.

  A plume of smoke was billowing from the roof of the Marginal Science Division and he could hear muffled screaming from the flaming interior.

  “Oh my God.” Gerry Ray put a trembling hand to his mouth. “Frankie, what have you done?”

  Part 1

  The Shake-up

  A lot of people try to shape the future. Parents.

  Governments. Bankers. The police. But it’s the young ones who live in it. And we will fight for it.

  – Matt Wolf, Teenage

  1

  Charlie Ray huddled under the covers, listening to the stranger hiding in his cupboard.

  He’d woken when he heard the window slowly slide up. The creak of a floorboard and the click of the cupboard door softly closing had convinced him he wasn’t dreaming. Now a strange crunching noise emanated from inside.

  He opened one eye and saw the digital clock read 3.00 a.m. Far too late for any of his friends to be playing a stupid prank. Anyway, he didn’t have any friends.

  Charlie lay perfectly still, pretending to be asleep, forcing his breathing to remain rhythmic. A month ago he would have pulled the pillow over his head and curled into a ball, hoping the intruder would leave him alone.

  Not any more. These days, the only thing that scared Charlie was himself.

  His mother was sleeping in the next room, but he had no intention of shouting for help. There was no way he was going to put her in any kind of danger. This was his problem and he would deal with it.

  He remained motionless, calculating which object in his room would make the most useful weapon. There was a guitar on its stand by the window, a baseball bat leaning against the bookcase and a baseball Blu-Tacked to the second shelf. A heavy paperweight lay on his computer desk.

  Charlie threw back the covers and rolled across the floor. He grabbed the bat and sprang to his feet, clutching it in both hands.

  Pthhhhhp.

  He blinked rapidly.

  “You in there.” He looked incredulously at the closed cupboard door. “Did you just… fart?”

  “Couldn’t help it,” a muffled voice retorted. “I’m scrunched up like an accordion.”

  Charlie could see the key was still sticking out of the cupboard’s lock, so he marched over and swiftly turned it. The handle rattled a few times then stopped.

  “Uh oh.”

  “Yeah. You’re trapped, whoever you are,” Charlie announced. “Now I’m going to call the police.”

  “Good luck with that, buster,” the voice scoffed. “Your phone is in here with me. I’m lookin at your photo gallery right now.”

  Charlie glanced at the desk. Sure enough, his phone was gone. “Why?”

  “’Cause it’s boring in the closet and I wanted to have some light entertainment while I ate my crisps. What’s a prawn cocktail anyhow?” Charlie heard the sound of a packet being scrunched.

  “I’m finished now,” the voice continued. “So open this door or I’m gonna post that video you recorded of yourself singing along to Beyoncé in front of the mirror.”

  “Why are you doing this to me?” The boy’s head was spinning. “Who are you?”

  “Just let me out. I ain’t gonna harm no one.”

  “I’m going to get my mum and she can call the police on her phone.”

  “You might find it a smidge difficult to rouse her,” the voice said apologetically. “
I was told to put a few sleeping pills in her hot chocolate so she wouldn’t disturb us.”

  “You did what?” Charlie’s jaw tightened. “Nobody messes with my mum. Not after all she’s been through. Nobody!”

  He unlocked the door and yanked it open, bat raised above his head.

  A girl burst out of the darkness and crashed into him. Charlie landed on his back with a grunt, the intruder squarely on top.

  “Surprise!” she giggled, then got quickly to her feet.

  The boy stared in astonishment as she did an awkward little dance on the spot.

  “Gotta go to the ladies’ room,” she gasped. “Had a whole bottle of Coke before I got here. 1.5-litre size.”

  “It’s at the end of the landing.” Charlie was too taken aback to say anything else.

  “Back in two shakes.” She hobbled out of the door. “Nice tartan PJs, by the way.”

  When she returned, Charlie had changed out of his pyjamas and was sitting cross-legged on the bed, tapping the baseball bat into his palm.

  He studied the stranger carefully. She was a well-built girl with cold blue eyes and her round face was framed by a glossy shoulder-length bob. She wore a sparkly green top, short skirt and large black boots over crimson striped tights. He supposed she was quite pretty, in an odd sort of way, and looked about the same age as him.

  “That’s better.” She grinned, revealing a huge gap between her front teeth. “I must have a bladder the size of a pea. Should have gone before I climbed up your drainpipe.”

  Her way of speaking was decidedly strange and reminded him of the old gangster movies his father, Gerry, used to watch. But he didn’t like to think about his dad. Not if he could help it.

  “Why were you in my cupboard?” he demanded.

  “Nobody but you can know I’m here, see? I had to hide until I was sure your mom was out cold.” The stranger shrugged. “’Sides, I thought it would be funny.”

  “Do I look like I’m laughing?”

  “You sure don’t seem the jolly type,” the girl muttered. “I reckon your face would slide off if you tried to raise a smile.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “The name’s Daffodil McNugget.” She held out her hand. When Charlie refused to shake it, she stuck a finger up his nose.

  “Stop it!” He batted her away. “I want some answers or I will call the police.”

  “All right, grumpy.” Daffodil backed off. “A voice in my head told me to how to find you, so I could pass on an important message. Happy now?”

  “Well, that explains a lot.” Charlie clutched the bat tighter. “Want me to whip you up a tinfoil hat?”

  “Ooh. Is that what the in-crowd are wearin these days?” Daffodil glanced down at her clothes. “Only I reckon it might clash with my outfit.”

  “Oh, dear God.”

  “Relax, will you?” She rolled her eyes. “I’m only joshin.”

  “Stop ‘joshin’ and start explaining before I wallop you with this bat. Who the hell are you?”

  “That’s a real thorny subject. See, I don’t actually remember who I am.” Daffodil scratched her temple uncertainly. “In fact, I don’t recall much at all.”

  “Is that why you made up such a daft name?”

  “You’re one smart cookie, Chaz!” She beamed. “Howd’ya figure it out?”

  Charlie jerked his thumb at the bunch of yellow flowers his mum had plonked on the dresser to brighten the room. Next to it was an empty carton of Chicken McNuggets.

  “Ah.” Daffodil pulled a face. “That obvious, huh?” She shrugged. “Call me Mac if you like.”

  “There are several things I feel like calling you and ‘Mac’ is at the bottom of the list.”

  “All right grumpster.” She looked at him quizzically. “Ain’t you even a little curious about why I’m here?”

  “I’d be a lot more curious if it wasn’t the middle of the night.” Charlie rubbed his eyes. Now that he could see the girl wasn’t some robber, he was more annoyed than alarmed. “Right now, I’m leaning towards escorting you out the front door, using the toe of my boot. My neighbour has a four year old. Go hide in his wardrobe, if you’re into that kind of thing.”

  “Wise guy, huh?” Daffodil adjusted her tights and smoothed down her skirt, while Charlie tried not to stare. “I already said I’m here ’cause I got a message for you.”

  “From an imaginary voice in your head.”

  “Nothing imaginary about it,” she corrected. “He’s called Frankie and he knows everything.” Her voice lowered in admiration. “He told me what an accordion was and how to put pictures online. I should ask him about prawn cocktails next.”

  “The kid next door could tell you all that.” Charlie pointed his bat at her. “Get out of my house. I won’t warn you again.”

  “Whatever.” Daffodil gave a disdainful sniff and turned to go. “But the message ain’t from Frankie. It’s from a guy called Gerry Ray.”

  Charlie was off the bed in an instant.

  “Wait!” He grabbed her arm. “What did you say?”

  “The message is from a guy called Gerry Ray,” she repeated. “Hey. You both got the same last name! Is he some kinda relative?”

  “Gerry Ray is my father.” Charlie steered Daffodil to his computer chair and sat her down. When he let go, his hands were shaking. “And I haven’t seen him since he walked out on us.”

  2

  “I don’t recall my own mom or pop,” Daffodil said sadly. “So I’ve been makin up stories in my head about them. There’s not a lot to do in a closet.” She gave a heartfelt sigh. “I don’t even know if they’re alive or—”

  “My dad up and left last month,” Charlie interrupted. “Cleared out our bank accounts. Didn’t say goodbye or even leave a note.”

  “Oh, I do apologise. I don’t know what day of the week it is and had to make up a name for myself a minute ago. What am I complaining about?”

  “Just give me the message.” The boy held out his hand.

  “Whatever you say. But I need a computer.”

  “Eh?” He pointed. “There’s one next to your elbow.”

  “Oh, that’s what the weird-lookin box is.” Daffodil rested her hand on top of the PC and its screen lit up. “I’m still gettin used to new stuff.”

  “You didn’t even switch it on.” Charlie stared at her. “How is that possible?”

  “Ain’t got a clue. Didn’t even know what a cell phone was till Frankie told me. He’s the only way I find out anythin.” She scratched her head. “Had to do a runner from the cab that brought me here ’cause I didn’t know I was supposed to pay.”

  But Charlie wasn’t listening. A familiar face had appeared on the monitor.

  Gerry Ray was sitting attentively, hands clasped on his lap, as if he had been waiting there for some time. He looked nervous and exhausted. His normally neat hair was dyed platinum and he had a bushy moustache to match. His usual shirt and tie had been replaced by jeans and a yellow T-shirt, and he wore a bandana round his neck.

  “Dad!” Charlie gasped. “It’s really you! Where have you been?”

  “I’ve got so much to say, my boy.” The man smiled wanly. “And so little time to say it. But let’s start with how much I love you.”

  “You got a funny way of showing it,” Charlie shot back. “Mum’s been in bits since you left. Me too, for that matter.”

  “I had no choice, son. I’m in hiding. It’s the reason for this disguise.”

  “That’s a disguise?” Daffodil sniffed. “I thought a seagull crashed into his face.”

  “Hiding from what?” Charlie pushed the girl away. “Unpaid parking tickets? You lived in a semi and still collected CDs.” He glanced at the room next to his. “I should wake Mum.”

  “No!” His father held up a hand. “I have a story to tell you, but I need to make it quick. Frankie is jamming this signal, but every second I talk increases the chances the people bugging your house will grow suspicious.”

  “The ho
use is bugged?” Charlie couldn’t hide his disbelief. “That’s crazy—”

  “Son.” Gerry Ray cut him short. “Please listen. All our lives depend on it.”

  That shut the boy up.

  “A while ago, I stole something extremely valuable from some very nasty people and they’ll do anything to get it back. That’s why I had to go on the run.”

  “So return it,” Charlie snapped. “I’ve been worried sick about you.”

  “I would if I could, but it’s not an option. However, if they knew I’d been in touch, or even cared what happened to you and Mum, they’d take you hostage to flush me out of hiding.” Gerry looked mortified. “I had to make it seem like I’d completely abandoned my family, for your own safety.” His voice lowered. “Please. Let me tell you what happened. No interruptions until I’m finished.”

  “All right.” Charlie gave a surly nod. “But this better be good.”

  “In our younger days, your mum and I were formidable computer hackers.” Gerry tapped a finger to his nose. “Corporate raiders they called us, ’cause we used to break into big conglomerates and expose their dirty secrets anonymously to the press.”

  “Pull the other one, Dad. Do I look that naive?”

  “Sure you want him to answer?” Daffodil asked innocently.

  “Oh, we were the best. Until we had you, that is. Then we gave it all up, so our son could have a normal life. It’s why we never said anything about our past.” Gerry gave a pained smile. “But I suppose old habits die hard. A couple of months ago, I got a mysterious email about a defence company called Manticorps, especially one particular department: the Marginal Science Division. It seems their scientists had developed some kind of artificial intelligence they nicknamed ‘Frankie’. Now they were using him to invent sinister new ways of waging war.”

  “Frankie?” Charlie looked at Daffodil in alarm. “He’s a bad guy?”

  “I didn’t know that,” the girl whispered. “He’s got a nice voice.”

  “Frankie is short for Frankenstein. Some bright spark at Manticorps had a pretty warped sense of humour.” They could see from Gerry’s grim expression that he didn’t appreciate the joke.