The place felt empty. I can’t really explain that, but a building or a house has a different feel to it when there’s someone else there. Maybe it’s the tiny noises, or minute air currents that have been disturbed, that our subconscious processes as a feeling. Maybe I’m just full of shit. Either way, it’s true.
I crouched down beside the pallets and gnawed on a knuckle, working to order my thoughts. I hadn’t actually expected to get this far, and the lack of any plan bothered me.
“Get out. That’s a good first step,” I muttered to myself, drawing a raised eyebrow from Mackenzie. Getting out was all well and good, but it would be exceptionally crap to escape and then die of hunger or thirst.
We moved in spurts, darting between rows of pallets towards the farthest wall. The retractable doors were hard to miss; tall, metal structures that would roll up to allow the forklifts out to bring in supplies. It was only as I reached them that I allowed myself to relax. The place was empty.
The door beside the roller doors was small and set into the wall to the left of them. Sunlight streamed in through a small window, painting a splash of light on the floor. I pressed myself close to the door and peered out, enjoying the touch of the sunlight on my skin. It felt good, like a warm caress. I didn’t let myself dwell on the fact that it was the first natural light I’d seen in months.
The view didn’t tell me much, though. I couldn’t see any roads or paths. A large, clear area off to my right suggested what might be a landing pad for a helicopter, but the narrow field of vision didn’t reveal much more than that. All I could really see was dusty, sun-baked dirt, which didn’t tell me much of anything.
“We’re going to need some supplies,” I said, turning to Mackenzie. “Water especially. Can you go and see what you can find? I’ll buy us some time.”
She glanced around the loading dock for a moment before nodding. Maybe she needed that minute to convince herself it was safe, at least for now.
I watched her go then made my way back towards the forklifts.
“What are we doing, Roasties?” Johnson asked, falling in beside me as Pearson followed and Turner took point. “We’re sneaking around this warehouse like we’ve broken into fucking IKEA.”
I ignored him, but Turner grinned, looking back over his shoulder. “He’s looking for the meatballs, mate. It’s the only reason to go to IKEA. They put crack in them.”
Johnson shook his head. “They do not put crack in the meatballs, Turner.”
“No,” Turner shook his head, agreeing. “Not crack, but they put something in. My brother met a bloke down the pub who works for them. He reckons there’s an additive that makes you crave them.”
Johnson gave him a long look. “A bloke in the pub? For fuck’s sake, mate. Would you listen to yourself?”
“There’s bloody something in them. I’d crawl through Helmand in a pink bikini for an IKEA meatball.”
“You’d do that for a stale cheese sandwich. I’ve never seen anyone need food like you.”
Turner struck a pose, waving a hand down at himself. “Yeah well, it takes a lot of fuel to run something this gorgeous.”
I turned, glaring at them both. “Will you two please, for the love of God, shut the fuck up?”
“I’m telling you,” Turner whispered, as I set off again. “Crack.”
The forklift looked new, which was one small mercy. The key left in the ignition was another. A brief look showed that it was almost idiot-proof too. Almost any moron can drive a modern forklift. As I pulled myself up into the seat, I hoped I’d fall into that category.
I’d driven some rumbling heaps in my time in the forces. Things that were held together by nothing but rust and pure stubbornness. The forklift was nothing like that. It almost felt like a bloody mobility scooter as I eased it backwards and up the ramp, as close to the doors as I could manage.
The nice thing about these machines is they’re not particularly stable on a slope, especially when you park them sideways. It didn’t take long for me to drive the other one up and tip the first one over. Shunting it up against the doors was the work of moments and then I was running back to find Mackenzie.
Barricading the door would only help us so much. There was at least one more way in and out of this complex and I wasn’t naive enough to believe that there wouldn’t be some guards outside too. My efforts weren’t going to hurt though, and anything that slowed them down was a bonus.
Mackenzie had been busy. Four large jerry cans stood close to the door, next to a small heap of food and supplies.
“I didn’t know how much to get,” she said with a shrug, stuffing the supplies into a pair of bags she’d pilfered from somewhere. “I figured too much was better than not enough.”
“Yep,” Johnson muttered. “She’ll do.”
“Okay,” I said, puffing out a breath as I reached for the door handle. “Stay here for a minute while I have a look around.”
I didn’t give her time to argue, though I could feel the look she gave me as I eased the door open. I walked calmly along the outer wall of the building, fighting to move without limping and trusting in the boots and uniform to disguise me, rather than trying to hide. Half of concealment is letting people see what they expect to see. A man in a security uniform, even one with paler skin than normal, would raise far less eyebrows than some idiot trying to run for cover.
The area outside the complex was a flat plain that stretched out forever, littered with rock formations and low hills. Dust, sand, and rock, surrounded by more dusty rocks. A large formation facing the complex looked to have been quarried out, and regular shapes in the shadows of the cave hinted at a concealed store. A number of other small caves faced out towards the roller doors. I glanced behind me at the complex as I headed for the largest cave.
The thing was a work of art, nothing that anyone would have looked at twice. It looked to have been concealed beneath the overhang of a large rock formation, and from above it would have been invisible. The roller doors themselves were painted, or tinted, somehow to blend in with the surrounding rocks and dust. Someone could pass within five hundred yards of this place and never see it for what it really was. A plane, or a satellite, would have no chance.
I turned back to the cave just as a man emerged. He waved me over, calling out something, but he was speaking faster than I could ever hope to follow, even if I had known the language. I made some vague gestures, cupping my free hand to my ear as I walked towards him to close the distance. Shooting him wasn’t a great idea. There aren’t many things that will carry as well as the sound of a gunshot. Surrounded by rock formations like this, the noise would echo on for ages, and I had no idea how many men might be out there.
I nearly made it. The guy was within twenty feet of me when he stopped, eyes narrowing as his hand flew to the gun on his belt.
Mine was already in my hand. He didn’t stand a chance.
I grimaced as the gunshot echoed off the rocks, the sound rolling around the hills as blood stained the sand. I stopped long enough to take his gun and then made my way past the body.
“Well that was subtly done, Roasties,” Turner said, giving me a slow clap.
I glanced back at him, fully intending to give him the finger. Pearson crouched low over the body, fists balled up against his cheeks as he looked at me in horror. The silent accusation was clear enough.
Another death.
Another killing.
And again, all my fault. I wondered sometimes if Pearson was my conscience, silent but still there, accusing me of all the awful shit I’d done. The rest of the time I just wondered how to make the bastard piss off and leave me alone.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
The cave was deeper than I’d thought. I’d hoped to find vehicles and wasn’t disappointed as I slipped between the cave wall and what looked to be an old Soviet military transport truck. Beggars can’t be choosers and I’d take it if need be. Those things are just about immortal, and will run forever, but they’re not
the fastest set of wheels on Earth. Right now, I really wanted to put some distance between me and this place.
I was smoke as I drifted along the back of the cave. Shadows have made more noise than I did. The cave was quiet, but someone had to have heard that gunshot, and now was not the time to relax. The line of trucks ended at a small collection of Toyota four-wheel drive pickups, all clearly being worked on. They’d be faster, but not ideal, and I’d rather take the old Soviet beast than something that might conk out after a mile or two.
The helicopter stopped me in my tracks, and I stood gaping at it as I dreamt up new swear words to use. It was an old Soviet bird by the looks of things. It was also easily the single biggest kick in the teeth since Mackenzie had let me out of my cell.
If this were a movie I’d just climb in, flip a switch, and off we’d go. In real life, flying a helicopter isn’t that simple. I’d heard that just about anybody could fly a plane once it was in the air. Most people could even struggle through a take-off with some help. Helicopters aren’t like planes. Flying through the air with a windmill strapped to your back takes some serious training. I couldn’t fly one, and I wasn’t about to try now. All of that said, the fact it would have solved all our problems in one fell swoop was not lost on me.
If I’d had the time, I’d have ripped a few choice wires and parts out of the other vehicles, especially the helicopter; but time wasn’t something we had much of. I went back to the Soviet truck, threw three large cans of fuel into the back and climbed in. One good thing about military vehicles is they don’t generally have key-start ignitions. The bad thing? Dear Christ, the engine was loud.
Mackenzie was already coming out of the door as I pulled up, dragging two jerry cans with her. I ran past her for the rest of the supplies, and we ferried it all into the back of the truck.
“What the hell is this thing?” she demanded as we clambered in.
I gave her a look. “It’s all I could find,” I muttered and stamped on the accelerator.
It would have been nice if we’d pulled away with a screech of tires and flying dust, but that’s just not how these things work. They’re like a boulder on a shallow slope; almost impossible to stop once they get going—but it’s the getting going. Her silence spoke eloquently of her disdain for the full five seconds she managed to hold it in, but it was never going to last.
“Seriously? This is it?” she demanded. “We need to move, Carver. Let’s go!” She looked out the window for a moment as we trundled along. “Would it help if I got out and pushed?”
Afridi’s complex had no fence or perimeter wall. It didn’t need one, and it would have made the place impossible to hide. What it did have was its location, and as we gathered speed, I began to realise just how effective a wall that was. There was nothing as far as the eye could see in any direction. Sun-baked dirt, dust, low hills, and rocks. Anyone escaping the place on foot would be lost in an hour, and dead within days. I tried not to think how long we might last if the truck gave out. It’s not often the heat that kills you in the desert, it just feels like it. Normally it’s your body being unable to stay hydrated enough to cope with the temperature, and there was no way we could carry enough water with us to make a difference if we ended up on foot.
I heard the impact of the bullet rather than the shot itself. The Soviet truck was loud, and we might have been shot half a dozen times already for all I knew.
“Shit,” I muttered as I glanced in the wing-mirror.
“What?” Mackenzie asked. “Carver?” But there was no need to explain, she was already leaning to check the mirror on her side.
The truck looked like an old Toyota Hilux. The damned things are nigh-on indestructible, but the guy driving it seemed determined to test this theory as he threw it over the dust, and patches of rough ground. Whoever was driving the car following looked to be as bad.
I watched a man lean out of the passenger window again, levelling the handgun at us. Being shot at is never a pleasant experience; watching it coming in a mirror didn’t improve it any.
The gun jumped as he fired again, and I flinched. I wasn’t particularly worried about the odds of actually being shot myself. The Hilux was bouncing around like a thing possessed, and he would have enough trouble just hitting the truck. If he got lucky and hit the tyres, that would be a different matter. I’d rather take the bullet myself, than die of thirst out here.
“Carver?” Mackenzie said again.
I chewed on my lip. We didn’t have a whole lot of options. “Do you think you can…?”
She glanced into the mirror and back to me. I was asking her to commit an act of extreme violence at best, cold-blooded murder at worst. Her thoughts were clear enough, and they flickered over her face before she closed her eyes in concentration, and then they were lost in her rage.
Anger was the key. I knew this now. It had always been the key. Whatever powers Afridi had unlocked in the people he’d had chained up in his zoo, they were never going to usher in a golden, magical age. These were powers born of rage and torment. They would only ever bring pain and destruction.
Mackenzie glared into the wing-mirror for long moments before she leaned out of the open window. The flames came out of a clear blue sky. A pillar of fire that drove down into the front of the Hilux, boring through the metal of the bonnet in moments before it tore into the engine. The car that had been following slammed into the side of the Hilux as it slewed sideways and exploded, though I doubt any of the passengers really noticed the collision. Neither one of them were going to be going anywhere.
I gasped as the cold hit, and watched my breath steam in the cab of the truck. Frost coated Mackenzie’s clothes, reaching out with icy tendrils to engulf the seat around her, and spread over the dashboard to the steering wheel. Mackenzie squeezed her eyes tight as she sank back in her seat, oblivious to the crunch of the frost.
She was done. Fatigue mingled with pain on her face, painting a portrait too miserable to hang anywhere. A better man might have felt guilty at having to use her like this. I never said I was a good man. I get by, I do what I can, but in the end we all take what we have to.
Mackenzie looked behind us every few seconds, checking for signs of pursuit, until she finally began to relax. She let out an explosive sigh after the second hour and looked over to me as a smile grew broader on her cheeks. “We did it!” she grinned. “We’re out. Dear God, Carver, I didn’t think we were going to make it.”
I didn’t say anything. I didn’t have to. Johnson and Turner were already yelling abuse at her from the back of the truck. It might be an army thing. Maybe it’s just me, but you never celebrate until you’re back at base with everyone in one piece, or two pieces in a pinch.
I pointed the truck away from the sun and drove. Right now, I had no idea where we might be, but it felt like afternoon. East was as good a direction as any. The terrain looked like Pakistan, but it could easily have been Afghanistan, with the rocks and scrubland. You can find dust, sand, and rocks in an awful lot of places.
It was rough going. The truck could put up with a lot of abuse but it wasn’t like there was a road to follow. For now, the ground was sun-baked earth, and level enough for me to risk some speed, but pushing much past 40mph risked cracking our heads on the ceiling of the cab.
The complex had been built at the far end of a dusty plain which looked like it might be shifting into sand dunes in the distance. That was great as far as it went. The truck managed it easily enough for now, and we made better time than we otherwise might have done if we’d been working our way through a network of valleys, but we weren’t exactly inconspicuous.
The landscape was an almost featureless expanse, and we would be visible for miles in any direction. I followed Mackenzie’s gaze and glanced behind us often, grimacing at the clear tracks and plume of dust that stretched out behind us as the hours slipped by.
We ate as we drove, sipping at the water sparingly. Mackenzie had grabbed close to sixty litres of water; it sounds
a lot but it wouldn’t last us long. By my reckoning, we had enough water to last us six days if we were careful with it. Twelve if we rationed it. Water wasn’t likely to be an issue unless things went wrong. If something happened and we lost the truck, we were basically fucked. My leg was equally fucked, and I had to switch driving with Mackenzie often, both to give my thigh a break, but also so we could snatch what sleep we could.
Wherever we were was hotter than Satan’s balls, and we were sweating out almost as much as we were drinking. If we lost the truck, we simply wouldn’t be able to carry enough water with us. Neither of us were going to come right out and say it, but we both knew the chances of things going wrong were higher than things going right.
Night came slowly as the sun sank down behind us, swallowed by the endless dusty expanse. I thought briefly about turning on the headlights but decided against it. Afridi’s men, assuming they were still looking for us at all, would be behind us, but it made no sense to advertise our location. We had no friends here, and I wasn’t about to try and make new ones in the dark.
For a time, we drove into the gloom as the light failed entirely. The truck shook violently as I drove over something that scratched and clawed at the chassis, probably a patch of dead brush, and I let the truck come slowly to a halt.
Mackenzie stirred after a moment, rousing herself and peering into the darkness. “What was that? Why have we stopped?”
“It’s too dark,” I said in a low voice. “We could hit something and damage the truck, and I can’t see where we’re going anyway. We could end up driving in circles.”
She mulled that over for a moment before shrugging. “At least it’s too dark for anyone to see us.” She hugged herself suddenly, rubbing at her arms. “Christ, it’s fucking freezing!”
“Yeah, I didn’t think about that,” I admitted. “It’s going to get a lot worse. We’ll have to huddle up.”
The Lore of Prometheus Page 28