I can’t think anyone would walk willingly into . . . that. Even I can’t tell what lies on the other side of this Door. You took everything they had and gave them nothing. So I think it’s time for some old-fashioned justice.”
I threw him through the open Door. He disappeared into the blur, his last horrified scream cut suddenly short. I waited, but that was it. I turned back to the others.
“Is that what usually happens?” I said. “Give or take the scream?”
A few heads nodded, here and there.
“All right,” I said. “Time for some more justice.”
“I thought you said you didn’t kill!” said Ms Smith.
“I’m giving you a chance,” I said. “The same chance you gave your victims.”
I held up one hand, to show off the energy weapon I’d taken from Perrin. I aimed it at them, and they scattered. I blasted the exit door with the gun, and the raging energies sealed it shut. I crushed the gun in my golden hand and let the pieces fall to the floor. There was a loud babble of voices, as the Travel Bureau people realised they were trapped in the Departure Lounge with me. And the open Door. Some of them beat on the exit door with their bare hands, but they couldn’t budge it. Some yelled at me, saying it was all nothing to do with them, that they just worked here.
“You all knew,” I said. “You all profited. You’re all guilty.”
And I grabbed them one by one and threw them through the open Door. Some of them fought me, and some of them tried to run, and some of them just cried miserably. It didn’t make any difference. There was no room left in me for mercy. Some of them fired their guns at me, and some thrust other people forward in their place, shouting Take her instead of me! Some offered me money, or information, or threats—anything they thought I might want or fear. I just kept grabbing them and throwing them in.
Mister Genuine Muscle walked through of his own accord rather than fight a Drood. He had his dignity. The others, mostly, didn’t. I had to chase the last few round the Departure Lounge, but there was nowhere for them to go, nowhere for them to hide. The last few sobbed and pleaded, their voices like those of frightened children. But all I could think of were the missing people. Some of whom I’d known, and some of whom I hadn’t; but all of them deserved better than this. Until finally, I was the only one left in the Departure Lounge.
I stood looking into the terrible emptiness of the open Door and raised my voice.
“Well?” I said. “Any complaints?”
No one answered me. And the cold rage that filled my heart wouldn’t let me feel bad about it.
I considered the open Door thoughtfully. I did wonder . . . whether I might just stick my head through, to see what was on the other side. Trusting to my armour to protect me. It might not be that bad . . . and it would only take a moment. I could place both hands on either side of the door frame to brace me, and keep from getting sucked in. Just one quick look, so I could know for sure . . . where I had sent so many people. But in the end I decided not to. There was something about the Door. It felt surprisingly inviting, like a trap. Or perhaps, a trap-door spider. So I took a firm hold on the Door and forced it shut again.
Justice, of a sort, had been done. Now that my anger was starting to fade away, I wasn’t so sure about what I’d done. But I had saved other people from being taken advantage of by the Travel Bureau, and I decided I’d settle for that. What mattered . . . was that I was no nearer getting to Molly. I’d just lost my only lead. How was I going to get to the Shifting Lands now? And then I stopped, as I remembered how easily my armour had hacked Ms Smith’s computer. I looked thoughtfully at the coordinates dial on the Door. It might be stuck on one setting; but I’d back my armour against a Door any day.
A dimensional Door creates a momentary break in Space and Time, connecting two places and slamming them together just long enough for someone to pass through from one location