The Book of Josiah - Chapter 14a

    The searing heat from the explosion still tore at his face and hands, a hundred scorpions striking one after the other. Josiah could see only the afterglow, nothing else was real. But even before he fully realised what was happening, Josiah had drawn his gun and was diving for cover. A soft-drinks dispenser now served as a barricade. Someone was shouting orders but Josiah couldn’t tell who it was. As his eyes began to clear, colour returned in stark contrasts. Stuttering flashes drove spears of light across the hall. What the hell was going on?
    Somehow, Lovecraft materialised beside him, hands nervously twitching as they held a sleek pistol. He popped his head around the machine, fired twice and darted back.
    “Where’s Amber? Where’re the others?” Josiah asked, fighting to concentrate.
    “I do not know,” Lovecraft replied jerkily, “I lost them.”
    Flashes of light burst across his eyes. Josiah felt the machine behind him shudder with sudden impacts. His hands were shaking and he looked at them curiously. He was holding a gun. What should he be doing? He had to do something. The noise was too loud. Bursting volcanoes of sound. Bones quaked, teeth shook. What should he do? What could he do? More flashes of light, gut-tearing eruptions. He had to get out of here.  Where was the exit? There had to be a door, a window, a way out. He shouldn’t be here. He had to get out!
    “Breathe slower,” Lovecraft said evenly, not looking at him. “We can get out of here if you concentrate. Pick up your gun, then wait for a lull. Shoot the people shooting us.”
    For a moment Josiah did not comprehend the words. It was all noise on top of noise. His pulse beat strong and fast in his ears, throbbing. Breaths were short and shallow. But when he became aware of this Josiah could fight for control. Lovecraft was right. He tried to slow his breath and waited for a pause. Without letting himself think, he was shooting across the platform. One shot, two shots. He hardly registered the recoil before ducking back into cover. Two more. Back into cover. They came more easily now. A fifth.
    Then he caught sight of Amber, crouching behind a stack of metal barrels in the ditch that had once held the railway lines. A weight lifted from his chest - at least she was okay. And beside her was Theano, pale but seemingly uninjured.
    Josiah slipped back into cover a moment before the return fire slammed into the wall behind him - for a moment the air was full of dust and shards of concrete. When it cleared, he peeked out from behind the drinks machine, searching for a target.
    The smoke from the explosion obscured everything, all the overhead lights had gone out as well, Only the flickering glow of flames and the flashes of gunfire lit the room. The sound of shots filled Josiah’s head from ear to ear until it became nothing but background noise. Between the staccato sounds he heard someone barking orders.
    “MOVE WIDE!” someone shouted but Josiah could not tell who it was.
    There! He could see one of the Nightmares behind a metal crate. Carefully, Josiah took aim.
    Cold metal pressed against his neck.
    “Drop your gun,” the voice hissed, “your friend as well.”

The Book of Josiah - Chapter 11 - JOSIAH

    The sounds, smells, the vibrant colours, all of it was totally bewildering - like waves of nausea they assaulted his mind, far worse than usual. The crowds poured past him on all sides, threatening to drag him below the swelling tide of flesh. The whirling masses crushed against him, until he felt like a tall tree in a storm, struggling to keep upright. Even the roof seemed close and suffocating. And above it all was the stench of sweat, stale alcohol and putrid tobacco. He fought back the urge to throw up.
    Above him, from every side, strange creatures loomed menacingly, breaking out of the very walls of the buildings. A rhino was frozen, mid-charge, his horn lowered to do battle, semi-absorbed by the stone. Opposite was a white unicorn, horn of polished pearl, white wings spread to embrace the darkness. She seemed about to spring into the air and ride the thermals up to heaven. But this was the Deep, and heaven was a thick layer of cement.
    Clouds of incense wafted above the crowd, forming a thick layer of smog that blocked the fluorescent lights but did nothing to disguise the all-pervading stench. It billowed out from market stalls and the open doors of shops, curling and twisting, a madman’s dance; it caressed those who walked the streets and gently played across their clothes - the incense cloud welcomed him with open arms.
    Above the shops, and through the haze of smoke, were delicate arches, formed of finest marble, Greek style, that seemed to support the roof of the tunnel. But the paint was peeling, and revealed the pillars as a mere façade. The real roof supports were hard and straight, of red iron and blackened steel, criss-crossing at random junctures. The smoke embraced everything, sharp lines were swallowed in a vague fog.
    All around him half-seen faces lurched out of the mist, laughing madly or making obscene remarks, never quite looking in his direction. A man with a stud through his eyebrow and several across his head staggered along the road, barely keeping his feet - a low weeping sound trickling from his open mouth. A woman in black leather smoked a rolled cigarette slowly, staring into the trail of smoke as if divining the future in its strange formations.
    And above it all was a low murmur, a hum of conversation drifting through the incense cloud like wine through water, broken by hoarse shouts or stuttering laughter. And somewhere there was a shop playing music, just below the level of conscious hearing.
    Josiah swam through the crowd with Amber close behind. Camden always made him uneasy, and it was worse today than usual. With the temperature below freezing, it seemed that all the Deep had gathered to keep warm. He dodged a few drunkards and neatly side-stepped someone on a skateboard. He hoped that they would soon find their informer.
    They reached a clearing, a large cavern lit by burning braziers. A crowd had gathered and were toasting bread over the ethereal flames.
    “The end!” a voice shouted, loud and clear, breaking over the hum of conversation and silencing it in an instant.
    “The end is coming! It is already here!”

The Book of Josiah - Chapter 9 - JOSIAH

    The chaos was unbelievable.
    Three times Josiah looked around the room, never quite seeing its full extent. It was as if his eyes refused to take in the information, or that his brain rejected the images as obviously false. Such things did not happen to real people. This simply could not have happened.
    Josiah closed his eyes, half-expecting that everything would return to normality when he reopened them but nothing changed. It was the stuff of fiction but somehow it had invaded his world. His room had been ransacked, his papers and possessions lay strewn everywhere. Why would anyone steal from him? He had nothing. It was incomprehensible.
    It took Josiah a few moments to remember that Amber was beside him, and had an arm around his shoulders. Somehow, he was on the floor amongst the mess, though he had no memory of getting there.
    “I just can’t believe this. I don’t have anything worth taking!”
    “Calm down,” soothed Amber, “it can’t be that bad.”
    Amber was right, of course. It was only stuff, only material things, nothing of any lasting value. His most precious possession he carried with him, anyway. Josiah took a deep breath and fought to still his whirling mind. This was his room, it had been invaded, and he was going to get some answers.
    Amber waded into the mess, found an unbroken glass and filled it with water.
    “Fancy a drink?” she asked with a smile, as she offered the cup to Josiah.
    “Shouldn’t I be offering you?” he retorted, “but thanks, I could do with some water. Then I’d better start tidying up - I always think better when I’m busy.” He smiled devilishly, burying his worry as he downed the water.
    “Can I help?” asked Amber.
    “Sure, I’ll start with the papers.”
    “Then I’ll start with the clothes. Where do the trousers go?”
    “Top drawer,” Josiah answered, picking up the black chest and fitting the shelves back in their proper places. “I appreciate the help.”
    “Don’t mention it, my pleasure.”
    Josiah began to gather the scattered pieces of paper that were lying all over the room. Most of them were filled with strange-looking equations and complicated diagrams of his time machine. The rest were shopping lists, to-do lists, old diaries, odd doodles, vague sketches of designs that had never come to fruition, snatches of sermons and theology, snippets of the Great Machine code and other mundane items. Josiah didn’t like to throw away anything he wrote. Every scrap of paper was saved for possible use in the future. Whoever had taken the room apart seemed to have taken special interest in the papers. Paper clips and staples had been ripped out, as if they had made sure to read every page. Carefully, Josiah piled the papers back inside the wall-safe. One of these days he really ought to sort them out more thoroughly, he thought.
    “What do I do with the shirts?” Amber asked, folding the clothes more neatly than Josiah ever had.
    “Bottom drawer,” replied Josiah distractedly, watching Amber move as she bent down to pick up clothes from the floor.
    Amber suddenly looked up, saw him watching her, and smiled. Embarrassed, Josiah turned away and made a show of gathering up the mattress and sorting out the bedclothes. As he did so, a logic broke into his mind - it was really quite simple.

The Book of Josiah - Chapter 2 - JOSIAH

 One moment he was scurrying along the city bottom, the next he was lying face down on the concrete. A taste of copper told him that his lip had been cut in the fall. A sharp kick in his left side knocked the rest of the air out of him.
    Dazed, Josiah found himself being lifted off the ground. A huge, leathery hand held him firmly  by the scruff of his neck. He wasn’t going anywhere.
    “Give us your money, and we might not have to hurt you,” growled the man who held him. He was very tall -  well over two metres - with mismatched eyes, a chin covered in bristles and a stud through his lower lip. His nose was reddened by too much drink, his teeth burnt from too much smoke.
    “I don’t have any money,” Josiah protested, struggling vainly.
    “We think you is a liar but it’s more fun this way. We think we start with an ear or two. You ain’t using them, right?”
    He chuckled to himself - empty and cold - and leered at Josiah, revealing blackened gums. A knife flashed in his hand.
    And then he crumpled to the floor, part of his torso obliterated. Blood spray hit the walls - a sombre red against the psychedelic spray paint.
    Josiah put his gun away and hurried off down the tunnel.  He glanced from side to side. There was no one else around. That made his life a lot easier. He wanted to get off these streets as fast as possible and into the Lock. He quickened his step; kept his eyes fixed on the ground.
    Then it hit him hard, like a blow to the chest. He had killed a man. Shot him with the gun he held in his hands. He had never used it before today. There had been no time to think, no choice. Him or me. Josiah’s guts twisted themselves into painful knots, the smell of blood still clung to his nostrils like a stain, the dying man’s eyes, suddenly and paradoxically alive with shock, filled his mind. I had no choice, he thought furiously, fighting down the urge to panic. I have to focus on my objectives. Where am I going?