The Kingdoms Of Time And Space

Synopsis…

Morgan Lane (15) has a superhuman memory and a gift for designing amazing 'gizmos'. Together with his sidekick, the Chinese American Lin Rainbow, who has the power of prophecy; and their pet orangutan Winston – transformed by magic and science into a genius with the power of speech – he is catapulted into a cosmic adventure across the multiverse to the dimension where time and space are one.

The comet Cygnus Hyperbole heralds an amazing event: the sudden disappearance of all animal life on Earth. This coincides with Morgan's scientist father perfecting a microbe that can eat pollution and reverse climate change.

The mysterious Guardians choose Morgan to memorise 'The Cosmic Algorithm', the key to all creation as a power-crazed scientist (controlled by cosmic parasites known as the Shadix) designs replacement animals, nanosaurs (air sharks, perfumed cats, flying dogs and a plethora of weird, bizarre and unstable creatures) including Taurus, a seventeen-feet tall minotaur – the first of a nanosaur army destined to control all mankind.

Morgan must protect the 'Cosmic Algorithm' and the super microbe from the clutches of the scientist at all costs.

But the world is descending into chaos as Morgan and his friends battle across a dystopian landscape to locate the Guardians (they occupy a breath propelled starship inside Mount Everest) as they race against time to the next stage of their quest.

Excerpt...

PART ONE

1. The angel of life

Morgan glanced back at the tense group of boys gathering in the ancient courtyard, dwarfed by the shadow of Evanstone College’s towering façade, and took a huge lungful of air before slipping in through the prohibited entrance.

The voice had entered his mind as he was walking across the gravel, still rigid with fearful anticipation after his rash acceptance of the challenge. Morgan came to a halt in the mote-ridden gloom and listened. He had read about people who heard voices. They were mostly mad as bats in a maze. He shook his head to try and rid himself of the weird intrusion. But this voice was distinctive and hard to ignore. It had spoken his name softly but urgently.

“Morgan, I have been sent to help you.”

If this was madness then how come he felt perfectly normal? The voice sounded as though someone or something was standing right next to him. He began to step cautiously across the well-trodden oaken floor towards the staircase.

“Morgan, you are not mad, believe me.”

Morgan stood without moving, his hand reaching out into the murk to grip the carved banister. The voice was real despite its existence being totally impossible.

“Who are you?” he asked, half inclined to laugh at his own stupidity.

The voice seemed to sigh as if what it said next would be even more unbelievable.

“I am an angel, Morgan. My name is Oriel.”

Morgan spluttered, choking back laughter. “Angel? Don’t be ridiculous,” he muttered to himself. “Stress more like. Come on,” he urged himself, “get a grip,” Morgan climbed the musty mahogany staircase that wound its way creaking and twisting into the darkened upper floors of the school. He crept past abandoned classrooms filled with the cobwebbed ghosts of dead pupils and long forgotten knowledge. It was strictly out-of-bounds and his heart was pounding for fear of being caught but more so the fear of the do-or-die dare he faced after he had stupidly allowed Barker to provoke him.

“You can fly. Trust me. I will hold you in my arms as you fall.”

Morgan shook his head then clambered out onto the roof, four storeys high, where the empty wind from Salisbury Plain whistled over the tiles and between the ludicrously tall chimney stacks. The voice was so insistent, so distinctive. It didn’t feel like an hallucination. He shrugged to shake off his nerves as he shuffled his way forward until his toes reached the crumbling edge of the roof where the ancient guttering creaked, hanging on rusted supports. He glanced down quickly then up again and stared fixedly at the horizon to try to stop his heart from pounding so violently.

Pale blobs of indistinct faces, clustered like a sea of white pebbles, stared back up at him. They were silent. They were watching and waiting. Morgan couldn’t recognise any individual after such a quick glimpse when they were so far below, and he refused to look down again. But he knew Barker would be there grinning, his tongue lolling over his lips and his small eyes unblinking like a waiting snake.

“I am with you. Look into the sky.”

Morgan didn’t believe in angels. He only believed in whatever could be proven by experiment or by design. The existence of angels wasn’t logical. So, where had the notion of this angel come from? Whatever it was, it surely couldn’t be some disembodied spiritual entity. It had to be some other part of his subconscious trying to inject some much needed courage into his veins. He gazed across the Wiltshire landscape as the early morning sun flooded the awakening fields. Pools of light and shade drifted over the flocks of sheep scattered like white freckles on the smooth, round hills. He slowly looked up into a sky where strips of cloud were being carried on a higher wind.

A large blob of orange light caught his attention. It was distinctly brighter even than the watery sun. It must be some kind of military aircraft; this was Salisbury Plain, after all. But, something about the intensity of the light and the way it seemed to be focusing on him and entering deeply inside him caused Morgan to doubt his perfectly reasonable explanation.

Of course. How could he have forgotten? Cygnus Hyperbole was world news. For a crazy moment he imagined it was the comet with the weird name that had been talking to him.

Suddenly he wavered, his legs rubbery as he felt his balance shifting. A cold fear the like of which he had never experienced began to turn his insides into a feverish mush. He hated Lord Archibald Barker at that moment with an intensity that made him want to scream. But it was he, Morgan Lane, who was standing precariously on the school roof preparing to jump and not the rich, bloated oaf below. So, who was the smart one now?

Morgan wasn’t brave. He used to think he was, especially when he had faced up to his avowed enemy at the back of the school surrounded by a curious and expectant crowd. With Barker’s fleshy face thrust inches from his own, Morgan tried not to flinch from the stale odour of his breath.

“You’re just chicken, Lane, with your so-called super memory,” Barker had sneered and licked his narrow lips. “I know what you did even if no one else does. And I’ll prove it. Memory Lane, huh! I don’t think so. I’ve already told Doctor Simpson.”

The delicious prospect of smacking that bulbous toffee-nose extremely hard caused Morgan to clench his fist in pleasurable anticipation until he realized he might be in enough trouble as it was without adding assault and battery to his alleged misdemeanours. Instead, in a moment of inspiration, he had slipped his hand into his pocket and taken out his mobile phone. But, this was no ordinary device. Morgan had rebuilt it as a multi-stage transponder, decoder and scanner that could intercept encoded transmissions and decrypt them as well as having many other useful functions. Whilst keeping his eyes fixed on Barker’s ugly face in a head-to-head stare-out, he manipulated a small control into record mode.

“You’re a toe rag, that’s what you are,” Barker had growled. “My father could buy this school and get rid of you just like that.” Barker had snapped his fingers. “We don’t need types like you here so why don’t you jump before you’re pushed?”

High above the gravel and concrete, Morgan began to rock to and fro and as he did so a blanket of warm, breathily scented air suddenly enveloped him filling him to the brim with hope and courage. Some powerful outside force was at work but he could not define or locate it. He was all at once immersed in a joyous protective embrace. The mesmeric angel’s voice penetrated deep into Morgan’s inner being.

“Believe in me. Believe.”

Imbued with a sudden and ecstatic injection of utter trust in this strange force, Morgan stood on his toes and extended his arms as though they were wings made of gossamer. He felt light and aerated, his very blood corpuscles floating like bubbles of lighter-than-air gas. Smiling and looking down, he jumped.

He heard a collective gasp of disbelief explode from the crowd gathered below. He could feel himself supported by this intangible power as he glided in a perfect arc like a bird of prey riding the thermals. The angel’s voice reassured him bathing him with hope and belief.

“I have you in my arms. Allow yourself to fall. The Guardians have chosen you, Morgan.”

Morgan began to accelerate. Gravity was no longer an academic subject to be studied in the physics lab, he realized now that it was too late. It was real. As he fell, his fifteen-and-a-half years of life played themselves out like a newsreel. He was filled with love for his parents despite being an absolute tearaway in his early years and driving them to distraction. He was acutely aware of his strengths and his weaknesses and his many shortcomings and failures. But right then, as he plummeted to earth, he accepted everything about his life as being the way it was destined to be.

Images blurred, whizzing past his vision. Racing up towards him at incredible speed was the hulking shape of a huge inflatable safety cushion. It resembled a large, one-piece, bouncy castle tipped on its side. Amid the screams of amazement, Morgan could just make out the comforting sound of the generator pumping compressed air into the giant rubber pillow left in position after the school’s fire escape drill.

When he hit the surface of the inflatable something held him. Instead of the juddering impact he expected he was lowered gently into its balloon-like, claustrophobic embrace and immediately felt a stabbing thrill of relief and achievement. He had done it. He was still alive. He bounced several times and relaxed.

Within seconds, a clapping, cheering crowd of boys was pulling his trembling, weak-kneed body out onto firm ground, shaking his hand, thumping him on the back and generally making an embarrassing fuss of him. He’d conquered his fear. But, he had had some help. He listened for the voice of the angel. He wanted to say thank you.

But the angel had gone.

So much for angels. It must all have been just a trick of the mind and the light. But somehow he knew he would never have made it otherwise. He also found that he quite liked the idea of being chosen by angels or Guardians, whatever they were, despite the whole thing being completely unscientific and therefore impossible.

Instead of an angel, the rasping, spluttering sound of Barker’s voice filled his ears as the larger boy thrust his face into Morgan’s.

“Well done, Lane,” he said. “I’ll admit, I didn’t think you’d have the guts. Your types are usually all hot air.” He gurgled at his own wit. “But, it’s not over, Lane. Doctor Simpson wants to see you in his office, now.”

Morgan glared at Barker with contempt and pushed him out of the way. As he walked off across the quadrangle towards the main school building he was fingering his mobile phone containing Barker’s recorded voice. And, as he climbed the stairs towards the headmaster’s office, he knew exactly what he was going to do with it.