Lisa the Legend: Chapter 82 - Last Night on Earth now up! (24th June 2013)

[Gavin Luper]

Hullo readers! ^_^

Okay ... a long time between chapters for which I have little excuse, because Chapter 67 was finished a very long time ago, but one particular passage in this chapter kept niggling at me, which meant that the flow of chapters being posted was halted in its tracks purely due to this tiny annoyance.

And so much has been going on in my life since I posted the last chapter, but I won't bore you guys with the details. Suffice it to say, this evening I blocked everything else out and sat down at my laptop and fixed that niggling passage until I was happy with it.

To Sike Saner and Chris 2.1, I do apologise for not replying to your feedback and comments a lot sooner; I had convinced myself that the next reply I made ought to also contain the next chapter, and that was my undoing, also. It feels a little late to respond but I'm stoked that the two of you are still reading and that you enjoyed Chapter 66 so much (Sike, if I can keep hitting you with those Holy Shit Moments, then I'll feel like I'm still doing my job; and Chris, thanks for the comments about my use of description and exposition to propel the narrative rather than dialogue - that kind of feedback really solidifies my confidence in the particular style I've developed over the years).

To all readers, sorry to have kept you waiting. With any luck, it shan't happen again!

And so, let the flow of Book Three continue onwards, fluid and free, as it should have back in December! Last time we were with Lisa, she was plummetting through the sky above the Whirl Islands on the back of a borrowed Altaria, the murderous leader of the Union - Joseph Sterling - in hot pursuit, his Murkron just beginning to unleash the nefarious Hypnotic Stare technique ...

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Chapter 67 – No Such Thing.


“Don’t look, Altaria!” Lisa screamed in the cobalt-blue pokémon’s ear.

A palpable red glow began to emanate from Sterling’s Murkron’s eyes: waves of vermilion energy pulsed across the air toward them. Lisa felt her mind become suddenly light; she shut her eyes instinctively, and at once the lightheadedness disappeared. Gripping Altaria’s fluffy back with one hand, she used the other to shield its eyes from Murkron’s Hypnotic Stare attack.

“Altaria – use Swift attack to your left!” she called, blindly hoping that the creature knew the attack.

She opened her left eye just enough to see Altaria blindly launch a volley of radiant white stars from its mouth; to Lisa’s complete bemusement, most of the stars veered off in the wrong direction, but three were squarely-aimed at Murkron. The red pulse of the Hypnotic Stare broke as the dark pokémon was forced to produce a shimmering brown Reflect to protect itself, which knocked back all three stars in quick succession.

The adrenaline was pumping now. Lisa found herself back in trainer mode; this was no different to an ordinary battle, she told herself, though the massive emptiness below still chilled her. She moved her hand from Altaria’s eyes.

“Good work, Altaria, now keep flying toward Red Rock Island!” she commanded. “And try a Speed Star attack, if you know it!”

Keeping pace with them, but still fifteen metres off, Sterling and Murkron were glowering viciously. As Altaria burst forth with a buoyant soprano note, simultaneously producing five enormous golden stars, Sterling roared, “Faint Attack!”

Sterling and Murkron shimmered in the high morning sun before disappearing entirely. Altaria sang an uneasy off-note as the five golden stars arced toward the place where the black bird had been, only to circle back toward it, hovering over Altaria’s head like a protective charm. Lisa tensed herself, scanning the sky … any second now …

“HA!”

The shout came from barely two feet away; Lisa jumped as Murkron and Sterling spontaneously materialised almost on top of her and Altaria. She felt Sterling’s hand roughly grab the back of her jumper and attempt to pull her off; wrapping her legs tighter still around Altaria’s middle, she swiped at the dark, hairy arm clutching her hood, but Sterling’s grip was intense –

“Taa wooo!”

“Croooo!”

“NO!”

Lisa felt Sterling’s hand relinquish her jumper as the glowing halo of stars circling Altaria’s head mobilised on demand: all five sliced through the air with breakneck speed, slamming hard into Murkron’s feathered underbelly. The bird squawked in pain and veered off to the left, forcing a gap of about five metres between the two combattants as they rocketed toward the earth.

“You have nowhere to go, girl!” Sterling shouted, his sallow face damp with sweat. “You have no parents to hide behind this time – no dumb luck. Surrender to me and I will release you once I am done with you.”

More from giddy adrenaline than anything else, Lisa laughed.

“You must take me for an idiot!” she cried. “You think I’d believe the word of a murderer?”

“I am a VISIONARY!” Sterling roared defensively. “I am building an empire and you will yield to it! My genius is no different to that of any of the other great emperors. There is always a revolution before the Golden Age!”

“Do you hear yourself?” Lisa cried into the wind, unsettled. “You’re INSANE. You’re absolutely insane!”

Murkron swooped ever closer, the two flight paths collimating just three metres apart as Sterling spoke.

“I am the only one on this planet wise enough to know that fulfilling the Legend is the key to an immeasurable power. A power that would render me invincible … a power that would make all my endeavours eternally successful …”

“A power that isn’t yours to take!” Lisa shot back. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted the rapidly-growing landmass down below; the island was close.

“And whose IS it, then?” Sterling barked. “Is it the birthright of a precious few? People too dumb and too small, and too trapped in the conventions and superstitions of ancient myths to ever aspire to greatness?” His eyes darkened dangerously. “I have always hated that kind of exclusive bullshit.” He reached for his black pistol again and aimed it at Lisa. “I will give you one last offer. Surrender to me now, and I promise to spare your life after you give me your fragment of the Sixth Key!”

Lisa swallowed the lump in her throat.

“Never!”

Sterling cocked his pistol.

“I thought we already established this in the helicopter!” Lisa cried, her voice cracking as a shiver of terror danced down her spine. “You need me too much … You won’t risk shooting me!”

Sterling’s eyes flashed.

“Again with your precious birthright!” he snorted, and his black eyes looked genuinely unbalanced for the first time. “You’re showing your ignorance of the Legend, Lisa. Haven’t you ever wondered what would happen if a guardian were to die?” He seemed to savour the greedy smirk spreading across his face. “Your family’s blood does not make you immortal, Lisa Walters,” he said levelly, flicking the safety off the pistol.

As his finger closed on the trigger, Lisa felt her heart jump-start itself in panic.

“ALTARIA, DIVE!”

If there was a shot fired, Lisa didn’t hear it: her ears were battered by the force of the wind tunnel Altaria created as it speared through the air toward the approaching form of Red Rock Island. After only a few seconds of flight, however, Altaria jolted wildly, shuddering and almost throwing Lisa off as it squealed in pain.

Lisa spun round: Altaria’s left wing had been scorched black by some kind of ranged attack from Murkron. Sterling was still pacing them in hot pursuit.

“Altaria, try an Aurora Beam,” Lisa ordered, brushing the embers from Altaria’s wing. Deciding it was hardly a time for ethical battling, she retrieved the crimson Buzzball from her pocket and, holding it out in Sterling’s direction like a weapon, cried, “Electrify!”

A crackling streamer of ultramarine electricity irrupted the air as a wide beam of rainbow-tinged light from Altaria’s mouth exploded toward the two foes. Sterling shouted something at Murkron and a shimmering, protective Light Screen suddenly enveloped them. The Aurora Beam bounced soundlessly off the orb-like shield and arced off toward a low cloud; the bolt from the Buzzball zapped the Light Screen and shattered it, but failed to penetrate, leaving Sterling and his charge undamaged.

“MURKRON, SHADOW BALL!” commanded Sterling.

“TRY A HYPER BEAM!” Lisa cried, but Altaria shook its head vehemently. “Oh – God – another Aurora Beam then!” she amended, panicking.

She glanced at the rapidly-moving landscape below. They were now almost above Red Rock Island. They had descended so far now that people could be seen on the beach, pointing up at the fierce battle in the sky.

As Murkron crowed and jettisoned a pulsating purple-and-black orb toward them, Altaria cooed and projected a second Aurora Beam at its adversary. The two ranged attacks collided with a bang; momentarily, everything seemed to freeze and hang in the air – Lisa could barely feel the wind whipping at her bare skin – and then, devastatingly, the Shadow Ball glowed and rolled right through the rainbow beam.

Both Lisa and Altaria screamed as the violet ball of Ghost energy slammed into them: Lisa felt as though her left side had been washed in acid, such was the intense burn of the attack; her left hand involuntarily relinquished the fur of Altaria’s damaged wing, but she squinted through the pain, clutching her right hand ever tighter –

– but to no avail. She screamed as she realised that Altaria had gone limp, plummetting through the air in free-fall.

Sterling was cackling. As Lisa fell, she caught, from the corner of her eye, a glimpse of several white boats. Then it came – the rat-tat-tat of gunfire – and a flood of cold water drowned out the rest of the world.

*

“Don’t touch me!”

Strong hands were sliding over Lisa’s wet neck.

“Calm down …” said a voice.

“I’ll NEVER help you, you son of a bitch!”

“Mate, calm down, we’re just tryin’ to help you.”

It was the ocker voice that brought Lisa to her senses. She stopped brandishing her arms around and opened her eyes. A tanned, blond man wearing a plain white polo shirt that had the word ‘COASTGUARD’ emblazoned on the chest was kneeling over her, his thumb and forefinger placed on the poképort around her neck.

“Retrahere, Altaria,” he said, pronouncing the Latin word in a broad Australian accent. “Poor thing looks buggered.”

Lisa was aware of a flash of golden light as Altaria was returned to the poképort, but the pokémon was the last thing on her mind.

“Where is he?” she demanded, sitting up abruptly and feeling a sharp pain in her chest. “Where’d he go? He won’t be far away …”

She turned her head back and forth, frantically surveying her surroundings. She was seated on a beach of fine vermilion sand, about two metres from where the waves were breaking and hissing. There was a wooden jetty nearby that extended far into the water, where about a dozen white boats were moored. A cluster of people was standing on the beach behind the coastguard, looking at her curiously.

Lisa’s heart hammered: there was no sign of Sterling or Murkron …

“Where is he?” she repeated, now looking at the bleached-blond coastguard for answers.

He straightened up and crossed his muscled arms.

“You mean Sterling? He bailed, ay,” he said, his youthful face insouciant.

“You’re wrong,” Lisa shot back, scanning the faces in the watching crowd in case the Union leader had hidden himself among them. “He wouldn’t stop chasing me – he’ll be here somewhere –”

“No, he won’t,” said the coastguard firmly. “We scared ‘im off.”

“Oh right, how did you do that?” Lisa said disbelievingly.

An older, even bulkier man, who also wore the coastguard uniform, leaned in from the onlooking crowd and said, in a guttural voice:

“We shot ‘im.”

“What?!”

“We shot at ‘im,” corrected the younger man. “Our boats’ve got pretty good guns. Dunno if we pegged ‘im though …”

“I did,” interjected the other man, who had the appearance of an experienced, middle-aged seadog. “Got ‘is fuckin’ shoulder, but.”

“Spewin’,” said the younger man.

“So he just – left?”

The younger man nodded as he began to roll a cigarette. “Pissed off on ‘is bird, the bastard. We had that many clear shots at ‘im, too … woulda been legendary …”

Lisa scanned the sky for the umpteenth time, but it was unnervingly clear. Had Sterling really given up?

“I called the coppers,” added the blond man, meticulously packing the tobacco. “So you can give ‘em a statement when they get ‘ere. What’s yer name anyway?”

Lisa had opened her mouth to reply when two thoughts simultaneously jostled for pole position in her brain: Larry telling her, barely an hour ago, that the Union now had a strong presence on Red Rock Island; and the thought that, if the Army guarding Redwood Hospital had been infiltrated by Union agents, it was entirely possible that the Red Rock Police could have been, too.

Coughing, she said, “Charmaine.”

The man tucked the freshly-rolled cigarette into his mouth and extended his hand. Lisa allowed him to shake hers without expending any energy herself – her exhausted mind was racing again.

“I’m Darren,” added the man. “Senior Officer in the Whirl Islands Coastguard.” He released her hand. “So, Charmaine, ya gonna tell us what ya were doin’, havin’ it out with Joseph Sterling?”

Lisa barely heard him; she was checking her pockets for the Buzzball. As she looked down at her body, she realised how bedraggled she looked. She was completely soaked, her hair matted and the left sleeves of her both her sodden jumper and her T-shirt had been torn apart by the Shadow Ball. The strap of her broken bra was hanging beneath the bottom of her jumper. She was a mess, her ribs and knuckles were aching sharply … but she had made it out alive.

“Was there a red ball on me when you pulled me out of the water?” she asked bluntly.

Darren raised a dark eyebrow toward his crop of bleached hair, clearly affronted that she had ignored his question.

“Um – there was,” he said. “Abe, where’d ya put that ball?”

The old seadog turned and called out in a gruff voice, “OY, BLUEY, GET ‘ERE!”

A Growlithe bounded out from beneath an overturned dinghy and ran up to his feet, dropping a crimson, saliva-coated ball from its mouth onto the sand.

“There ya go,”growled the seadog, patting Growlithe affectionately.

Lisa crawled forward to retrieve the Buzzball. Just as she was wiping the drool off against the sand, she noticed that the old seadog’s eyes seemed intently trained on her chest. Uneasy, she looked down to notice that her frayed jumper had torn even further, almost exposing her through her soaked white T-shirt.

Shooting a disgusted look at the man, and feeling rather disgusting herself, she grabbed the Buzzball and used her other arm to hold her jumper against her chest.

“Is there somewhere I could dry off?” she asked Darren, who was apparently unaware of the seadog’s leering.

He took a look at the rent in her jumper and nodded, emitting a puff of smoke from his mouth before he said, “Absolutely. If ya go to the red and yellow tent just up the beach there –” He pointed to an enclosed marquee twenty metres away. “– ya can use our towels. We have Surf Lifesaver shirts in there too, if you need to change into something,” he added, understandingly. “Don’t be long, though, the coppers are just around the corner.”

Lisa clambered to her feet. “Don’t worry, I won’t take long!”

Pocketing the Buzzball, she jogged through the still-gawking crowd, some of whom were still excitedly whispering about sighting the notorious Joseph Sterling in the flesh, and headed for the tent.

The flap closed behind her, shutting her in the cool semi-dark of the tent. It was a welcome break from the attention of Darren and the others: the only thing she could hear in here was the seafoam rushing against the red-tinted sand, and the distant calls of deckhands on the jetty.

There was a pile of fluffy white towels on an empty milk crate on one side of the tent. Checking to make sure she was completely alone, Lisa stripped off her destroyed jumper and T-shirt, and threw her bra to the ground, shuddering slightly at the memory of the old seadog’s close attention. As she dried herself down, she realised she was trembling quite violently.

No wonder, she thought. For a minute there, escape had seemed impossible.

Pressing her ebony hair against the towel, she scanned the tent for clothes. There was a lot of junk strewn about the place – surfboards and paddles for dragon-boats, a couple of battered eskies, an unwieldly collection of grey lever-arch files stacked precariously on a bodyboard – but eventually, Lisa spied a plastic bag overflowing with traditional red-and-yellow T-shirts and, grabbing the first one she saw, threw it over her head. It was a size or two too big, but it was dry and welcome.

She considered abandoning her sopping clothes in the tent, but there was no point leaving clues. She emptied a plastic bag and shoved her jumper, T-shirt and bra into it, along with the towel, and tied the bag up tightly.

She crept back to the flap through which she had entered and peered through it. Near the start of the jetty, Darren was standing beside a group of four blue-clothed policemen, talking and pointing at the sky. Lisa decided not to take any risks. She hurried across to the other side of the tent and opened the flap on that side. This part of the beach was further away from the boats and fishermen, and thus far less frequented: aside from a young couple sunbathing about fifty metres ahead, the shoreline was deserted.

Nearby, a wooden sign fixtured at the mouth of a broad, sandy track proclaimed, “Town Centre – 1.2 km”. Without looking back, Lisa began the arduous jog inland.

*

The main street of Red Rock Island was much as Lisa remembered it: colourful market stalls spilled out onto the flagstones as brightly-dressed locals haggled with merchants and fishermen. Despite the approach of the cooler months, the throng of tourists seemed just as great as in November – a fact Lisa appreciated as she weaved her way, eyes on the ground, through the cobbled mall. At least she would be less visible in a crowd – and wearing a Surf Live Saver’s uniform would hopefully keep any Union spies off guard.

Dodging an obese man who seemed to be wrestling a live chicken into a cage, she raised her eyes briefly from the ground to get her bearings. The local pokémon centre was just a few shops down – it was the only place she could think of that would offer a free telephone service.

“BERRIES!” a greasy-haired hag appeared from nowhere, roaring in Lisa’s face and brandishing a handful of bulbous purple berries. “Pseudoberries for sale! Trick your opponents in battle by making them think you have berries attached to your pokémon, when in fact they are purely ornamental! Only forty dollars for four! What do you say, dear girl?”

Lisa’s face screwed itself up involuntarily against the woman’s musty halitosis.

“I’ll pass,” she muttered briefly, sidestepping the old woman, who launched into a brief tirade of abuse before recycling her spiel on the next passer-by.

The pokémon centre had apparently undergone renovations since Lisa’s last visit. The exterior façade was now comprised of bamboo, and the roof was now thatched, perhaps in an attempt to make the place appear more exotic, although the entrance, Lisa noticed, was still an electric sliding door.

Dodging another pushy vendor who thrust a vial of cloudy liquid in front of her (“Second-hand Mystic Water!”), Lisa made her way inside the centre and immediately felt as though she had stumbled into a party. The place where the front counter used to be was now occupied by a high dais, upon which a calypso band was jamming. The dreadlocked lead singer was gazing at the ceiling and chanting the same syllable over and over while a small collection of spectators – who lazed, lizard-like, on cushions and beanbags clustered on the cement floor – looked on, apparently entranced.

Lisa surveyed the rest of the foyer. Apparently the traditional trainer’s lounge had been replaced: in the far corner of the room, there was a multicoloured mat splayed across the floor, upon which two pigtailed trainers were stretching into yoga positions.

“What the hell …” Lisa mumbled to herself, just as she felt a hand push roughly into her back. Startled, she wheeled around, her hand leaping for her pocket until she realised the person behind her was simply a pale, peroxide-blond teenager who seemed to be having trouble keeping his balance.

“Whoa …” he muttered, straightening up and holding a hand in Lisa’s face. “Sorry, dude … Peace, ay?”

Had she not had other matters on her mind, Lisa probably would have laughed at him. “Peace. Sure …”

As she turned away, the young man tapped her on the shoulder again.

“You seen Trent? He owes me money ay …”

Lisa nose crinkled; she could smell a savoury, intoxicating scent wafting from the teenager’s clothes.

“I don’t know, sorry,” she said. “Listen, is this still the pokémon centre or have they converted it into … something else?”

The teenager’s bloodshot eyes darted around the bamboo walls, as though he had just realised where he had wandered into. “Yeah, yeah, this is it,” he mumbled. “You need to fix up your pokes?”

“Yeah – but I don’t see where I’m meant to go,” Lisa added, rapidly feeling as though she was asking a blind person for directions.

The young man yawned and scratched his crotch unabashedly. “Outside, dude,” he muttered, pointing vaguely in the direction of the two girls on the yoga mat. Following his gaze, Lisa realised there was a bamboo door cut into the wall just behind the girls.

“Right – thanks, then,” she said, keen to get away from the thick odour surrounding the young man.

“Peace!” slurred the voice behind her.

It was with relief that Lisa opened the door and saw a breezy courtyard filled with trainers who looked at least slightly less doped up. Beneath a crossing of two palm branches stood an auburn-haired, middle-aged Nurse Joy, loading pokéballs into a healing apparatus.

“Morning,” the nurse greeted in a lazy, lilting voice as Lisa approached the counter. “What can I do for you?”

“I just need my Altaria healed,” Lisa said, releasing the catch on her poképort and handing it over to Joy. “And, if it’s possible, could I use your telephone?”

Nurse Joy wrapped the poképort in a square of white material and placed it in a clear plastic dish. “Totally. What was your name, honey?”

“Charmaine,” Lisa lied.

“Lovely to meet you. I’m Joy, of course,” she smiled, adjusting a rainbow ribbon she had braided into her hair. “Now – we don’t let trainers use the phone for free anymore, but I make exceptions for you Surf Lifesavers. I really admire the work you people do. How long have you been with them – you look quite young …?”

“I just started this week,” Lisa said casually, ashamed of how easily the lies were coming. “I really do need to make this call though …”

“Totally, totally,” Joy muttered. She lifted a cordless handset from beneath the counter and handed it to Lisa. “Take as long as you need, Charmaine, I’ll give you a call when your Altaria’s fighting fit.”

“Thanks.”

Lisa grasped the handset and scanned the courtyard for a free seat. Groups of trainers were clustered around wooden table settings, many of them surrounded by hazes of putrid smoke; a safe distance from the fumes, Lisa spotted a free table beside the green hedge that bordered the courtyard and took it hastily.

She cradled the sleek handset in her palm for a few seconds, trying to work out what to say, and then dialled one of the few numbers that she could remember from the top of her head.

The line trilled four times before there was an electronic beep and a crisp voice said dully: “You’ve reached the voicemail of Ryan Walters. I’m unavailable at the moment, but if you leave your name and number with a message, I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.”

Lisa pursed her lips and pressed the red button on the handset. Sighing, she entered a new number and pressed the green ‘dial’ button. There was the sound of background noise and a female voice said, “Hi…”; Lisa’s heart leapt and she cried, “Mum!” before she registered.

“Hi, this is Maria Walters. I’ve got my hands full right now, but leave a message and I’ll call you back. Ta!”

Lisa flushed with disappointment; a dreadlocked girl from a nearby table pointed at her and laughed loudly – it seemed she had heard Lisa’s vulnerable exclamation.

Dialling Tom’s number yielded a similar result: the call simply rang out; apparently he had not yet invested in an answering machine for his mobile.

Lisa tapped her fingers against the table apprehensively. Surely they couldn’t all be out of range? She waited a few minutes, staring at the handset as though waiting for one of them to call her back, before she frustratedly punched in the last useful number she could remember by heart and pressed the green button.

The line trilled once, twice, three times … and then, with a click, a breathless voice cried, “OH MY GOD … LISA!”

Goosebumps popped into being all over Lisa’s body upon hearing the familiar voice: it seemed like an age had passed since they had spoken.

“Marina … hi.”

“Oh my God … Lisa … you’re okay? Friggin’ hell, I can’t believe it …”

Lisa fought to keep her voice neutral and hushed; there were simply too many people around. “I’m alright, relatively speaking,” she nearly whispered. “Listen, I need –”

“Darius! Darius, it’s Lisa! On my phone!” Marina interjected; her voice sounded slightly further away. Lisa could hear a male voice in the background and battled to stay focused.

“Marina, listen to me, this is really important. I’ve escaped from the Union and I need the Guard to come and get me.”

“Oh this is insane …” Marina gasped, apparently on the verge of hyperventilating. “Okay, where are you?”

“I’m on Red Rock Island, in the pokémon centre –”

“Red Rock Island?!” Marina exclaimed, as though this fact was of mindblowing significance. “Oh, my God. Sorry, I sound like an idiot. I just can’t believe you’re okay … Where are you exactly?”

“At the moment, at the pokémon centre, but I’m not safe here,” Lisa hissed. “Listen – where are you? Are my parents there? Or Lance?”

Lisa could hear Darius murmuring something in the background.

“Why don’t you go to the police station, you’d be safe there,” said Marina, ostensibly relaying the message from Darius.

“No, I wouldn’t. It’s a long story. Are Mum and Dad there?”

“Yes. Yes, everyone’s here. They’ve all come up to the safe house this morning to have one of their meetings.”

“I need to speak to Lance, if he’s there.”

“Okay. Alright … I’ll get him,” blustered Marina. “Oh my God …”

Trying to swallow her sense of urgency, Lisa held the line while Marina ran through the safe house to find Lance, peppering Lisa with questions all the way, which Lisa could only parry with comments like “I can’t say right now” and “I’m not sure”. The longer she sat in the courtyard, the more exposed she felt. This was a very public location, and the policemen that Darren had called down to the beach could well be searching for her already.

“Charmaine!” Nurse Joy called airily. “Your Altaria is ready!”

“I’ll be right there!” Lisa called back, without moving the handset.

The direction of Marina’s fervent questioning promptly changed. “Since when are you called Charmaine?” she asked, her tone somewhere between sarcastic and suspicious.

“Since using my actual name became too dangerous,” Lisa whispered. “I’ll explain everything when I can, Marina, I promise.”

“You’d better,” said Marina. “God knows I’m up for a good yarn. You have no idea how boring it’s been, stuck in this hellhole for the past month.”

“Marina – Lance?”

“Chill out, Leese, I’m getting there. It’s a big house, you know. They have like, eighty-five rooms, and I’m hardly exaggerating.”

“Who’s ‘they’?”

“Oh, the Stones, they’re the people who own this place,” Marina said, panting as she ran. “They’re this old couple and it’s like they’re stuck in the 1930s or something –” Lisa heard a wooden door slam shut through the receiver, and another one creak open. “– and they make us get up at six every morning, and they give us all these chores. Darius gets all the good outdoorsy ones and I get stuck doing the dishes and helping Mrs. Stone put marmalade into jars.”

Despite her apprehension, Lisa chuckled. The thought of Marina in the kitchen was laughable.

“Oh, finally,” Marina murmured. When she spoke again, her voice had become loud and urgent. “Excuse me – hi, security guard man – I need to see Lance straight away. I’ve got Lisa Walters on the phone and it’s really, really important!”

The next few minutes were difficult for Lisa to decipher. She overheard a fairly heated argument, apparently between Marina and a security guard, which culminated in a minute-long, earsplitting screech from Marina which seemed to gain her entry to the meeting. This was followed by a louder argument between several people whose voices Lisa couldn’t distinguish. After several minutes of chaos, however, the sound of a wooden door slamming reverberated down the line and a refined, familiar voice said: “Lisa – it’s Lance. Where are you?”

Finally.

“Lance – hi – I’m on Red Rock Island, in the pokémon centre,” Lisa gushed. “I blew Larry’s cover – I’m so sorry, I didn’t have a choice, there was no way out!” Against her will, her eyes overflowed with tears; and the shakes that had struck her on the beach suddenly returned in full measure. Across the courtyard, she heard the dreadlocked girl laugh derisively.

“It can’t be helped, Lisa,” said Lance, after a short, but significant, silence. “The most important thing is that we got you out. How did you get to Red Rock? Does the Union know you’re there?”

“The helicopter – um –” Lisa wiped her eyes and tried to clear her thoughts. “Sterling was taking me to the Sepulchre … I had to jump from a helicopter. He chased me and got shot by the coastguard and he backed off, I don’t know if he’s on the island looking for me or not … but the coastguard called the police, and I don’t trust them, so I ran …”

“Good move,” said Lance sharply. “My sources tell me the police on Red Rock Island are definitely corrupt and under Union influence, which means they will be tracking you down as we speak –”

“I used a fake name –”

“Which means nothing, Lisa, if they have your description and Sterling has already raised the alarm. They will have made the connection and will be hunting you down. You need to get out of the pokémon centre right now.”

Lisa felt her heart begin to hammer; her hands were shaking more violently still.

“But where will I go?” she implored despairingly. She couldn’t keep the exhaustion from her voice; she wanted to curl up in one of the beanbags and escape into sleep.

Lance hesitated. “I don’t know Red Rock very well. Just get out of public sight – find a thicket and hide in a bush or something. Yes. That’s your safest bet, just get out of sight until I can send some agents to extract you. Do you know where the Water Colosseum is, Lisa?”

“Yes.”

“Midnight tonight, the Guard will meet you at the trainer’s entrance. I’ll send someone you recognise. Stay hidden until they call your name.”

“O-okay.”

“But for now, Lisa, get out of there, fast! Good luck!”

As Lisa was replying with a feeble “thanks”, the monotonic beep through the telephone told her that Lance had already hung up on her.

“You ‘right, hon?” Nurse Joy asked as Lisa stood at the counter, latching Altaria’s poképort around her neck with difficulty; she was still trembling uncontrollably.

“Too much coffee,” Lisa tried to smile. “Thanks again for the phone.”

“No worries, Charmaine,” said Nurse Joy after her. “Peace!”

As Lisa bolted through the courtyard, past the yoga mat and calypso band and out into the midday sun of the cobbled street, she felt a humourless smile creep over her face.

People could be so deluded, she thought. There was no such thing as peace.