by Gary Gibson
‘You’re not the only one,’ Sam muttered with considerable feeling. He looked around at the orchid-heads they’d dropped, their water long since drained away into the not-grass. ‘Let’s try not to get killed by anything on the way back.’
* * *
Later that day:
‘You’re saying this thing came down on a fucking rope?’ asked Angel, sounding incredulous.
‘We’re out of our depth here,’ said Sam. ‘We have no idea what works or what dangers there are. It shows how much we have to stick together, instead of just wandering around.’
‘Sticking together didn’t help Piper much,’ Traynor noted. His eyes flicked towards Sun and back to Sam. ‘And I seem to recall you wandering off last night without much of a leave-by.’
‘Point taken.’ Sam looked around the rest of them, gathered once more around the campfire, and every one of them looking even more miserable and tired than earlier. ‘Unfortunately, if we want water, we still need to go back to the stream.’
Sam, Ethan and Sun had returned to the lander in silence, casting frequent and nervous glances at the forest canopy as they retraced their route. By then, Traynor and the three men who’d gone with him had returned with armfuls of roots they’d dug up. They’d been sufficiently industrious that they had also found the time to build makeshift traps further out in the woods, triggering more protests from Kim.
Irish, who had been listening to Sam’s story, looked aghast. ‘Are you serious? Go back where that…thing is waiting for us?’
‘It’s either that or we die of thirst,’ Sam reminded her. He shuffled back as Jess and Wardell made their way over to the campfire, carrying a load of scavenged firewood. ‘At least we know what to watch out for.’
Irish muttered something profane under her breath, then offered her help to Jess and Wardell. She followed them over to the forest’s edge to help gather more loose branches.
Traynor watched her retreat, then nodded at the mound of roots and weird-looking fruits he and his companions had deposited close to the campfire. None of it looked remotely like any kind of vegetable Sam had seen before, edible or otherwise. Neither did any of it look remotely enticing.
‘So,’ said Traynor, looking around at them all with a taut smile, ‘who’s volunteering to be the first to eat?’
‘I volunteer you,’ said Karl, and DeWitt laughed.
‘Or we could draw short straws,’ said Sun, regarding the haul with clear revulsion.
‘Oh, for God’s sake,’ said Kevin, scooping up something that looked roughly analogous to a potato. ‘The longer we wait, the worse it’s going to get.’ He prised at the vegetable’s skin and it broke apart in his hands, exuding an aroma reminiscent of unwashed socks.
‘Jesus,’ he exclaimed, wrinkling his nose and dropping it back down where he’d found it.
Traynor stared at the mound of maybe-food dubiously, then nodded towards the fire. ‘We might be better cooking them,’ he suggested, ‘rather than trying to eat them raw.’
DeWitt stood and grabbed up a twig from the growing pile left by Jess and Wardell. He speared it through something that had more than a passing resemblance to desiccated dog shit.
‘Well,’ he said, looking around, ‘I always said I wanted to die in a far-off and exotic land. I kind of hoped it wouldn’t be death by alien carrot.’
* * *
While DeWitt took charge of cooking the vegetables over the flames, the rest of them got busy putting together makeshift shelters for the night with whatever they could find. Before long they had constructed crude-looking lean-tos from scavenged branches and leaves which, Sam could see, weren’t nearly big enough for all fourteen of them crammed in together. But they might offer some small protection against the freezing nights.
Some instinct born of the need to show himself a capable leader persuaded Sam to volunteer to eat the first of the cooked roots. The only other one willing to volunteer his stomach was DeWitt himself.
‘You know, it’s not that bad,’ said DeWitt later that afternoon, chewing at the pale brown flesh of something that might, with caution, be described as a yam. ‘Mash it up, it might even be halfway decent.’ He offered it up from where he sat cross-legged by the fire. ‘Anyone else want to try it?’
‘I’ll pass,’ said Wardell, regarding it with clear revulsion. If anything, it smelled even worse than it had when raw.
‘The taste is weird,’ said Sam, chewing stolidly at a lumpy brown root. ‘Like leathery chicken.’
‘Chicken-flavoured boot leather is closer to the mark,’ said DeWitt, and Jess grunted out a laugh. ‘Takes some serious chewing.’
‘So what about the rest of us?’ asked Irish, watching them with hungry fascination. ‘I’m not sure how much longer I can go without eating.’
‘You can go weeks without food if you have to,’ Traynor said from nearby. ‘You’ve clearly never experienced genuine hunger.’
‘Hold off until tomorrow, is my suggestion,’ Ethan said to Irish. ‘Don’t take it the wrong way, Sam, but I’d rather wait and see what it does to the two of you before the rest of us go near any of it.’
The meal, such as it was, settled uneasily in the pit of Sam’s stomach, but at least it stayed there. When night came, they crawled inside their crude shelters, one side of each left open to face the campfire.
Sam lay nearest the opening of his shelter, listening as the half-dozen others crammed in around him grumbled and shifted as they got ready for their second night in the open. He closed his eyes, thinking he wasn’t tired, but within seconds he had fallen into a deep, if uneasy, sleep.
6
THE BAY DOOR
Sam woke deep in the night, his skin burning with an inexplicable heat.
He was still lying curled up on his side, facing the campfire. He struggled upright and bumped his head against the low roof of the shelter. His tongue felt like it was coated in grease, sharp spikes of pain driving deep into his belly.
He crawled outside, people mumbling and shifting around him as he brushed past them before emerging into the chill night air. He yanked down the zip of his jumpsuit, his skin awash in icy sweat despite the freezing air. The ground swayed beneath him as he stumbled forward, collapsing to his knees before he got halfway across the clearing.
He hardly noticed when a hand grabbed him by the shoulder.
‘Sam!’ Ethan shouted, bending over him. ‘Are you all right? What’s wrong with you?’
‘I don’t know,’ Sam gasped, wiping his mouth with one shaking hand. He put it back down hurriedly when the ground shifted and rolled beneath him with sudden violence.
‘I’m guessing those things you ate aren’t too good,’ said the other man, his voice weary.
Sam swallowed. ‘What about DeWitt? Is he—?’
‘Same thing.’ Ethan nodded back towards the campfire.
Sam glanced around and saw Karl leaning over a figure collapsed by the campfire. Sam hadn’t even seen them when he’d staggered out of his shelter.
Karl glanced towards them and signalled frantically. ‘Hey, Ethan! I need you here!’
‘I want you to stay here a minute, okay?’ Ethan said to Sam. ‘I’ll be right back.’
Sam grunted in acknowledgement and watched as Ethan hurried over to the two men. He tried to stand back up, only for the ground beneath him to roll with sudden and renewed violence. Then it inverted itself, leaving Sam clinging to a grassy ceiling above an infinite starry void.
He moaned, digging his fingers deep into the soil, afraid to let go in case he fell and kept falling forever. The world slowly spun the right way around again, and he finally found the strength to climb back up onto his feet.
The next thing he knew, he was somewhere in the forest with no idea of how he’d got there or any sense of time having passed. He was on all fours again, crouched next to a tree, the world rolling around him like a ship caught in a storm.
He sensed he wasn’t alone. Looking up, he saw Mohammed Jahaar watching
him from out of the shadows between the trees. Or at least, he thought it was Jahaar, though the most he could make out was a vague, ragged silhouette, its eyes gleaming in the silent darkness.
It couldn’t possibly be Mohammed Jahaar, of course, because Mohammed Jahaar was dead.
Sam squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them again, the figure was gone. An illusion, nothing more.
‘Goddammit!’
Suddenly Ethan was back in front of him, his expression furious. ‘What the hell are you doing wandering off like that?’ he demanded. ‘You want to wind up like Piper?’
‘I don’t know how I got here,’ Sam mumbled through cracked and dry lips.
Ethan cupped both hands over his mouth. ‘Hey, Karl!’ he shouted. ‘I found him!’
Karl’s shouted response came a moment later. Ethan looked back down at Sam and shook his head, then leaned down until he could get an arm under his shoulder.
Sam staggered as Ethan helped him stand. ‘Lean on me,’ Ethan muttered, guiding him back out of the forest and towards the campfire flickering through the trees. ‘DeWitt’s completely out of his skull. All I can say is thank your lucky stars you didn’t eat as much as he did.’
Once they were back in the clearing, Sam was distantly aware of other hands taking hold of him and settling him down near the flames. The heat had gone from his skin, the cold air biting deep.
‘You gonna puke?’ asked Ethan, leaning in close and peeling back one of his eyelids.
‘Don’t think so,’ Sam rasped.
Ethan laid a palm against Sam’s forehead. ‘You’ve got a serious temperature going.’
‘Toxic shock syndrome,’ Sam mumbled.
‘Yeah,’ said Ethan. ‘I guess you’d be familiar with that from Asia.’
‘How’s DeWitt doing?’ asked Traynor, coming over to look down at Sam.
‘Shouting about being eaten by bugs,’ said Ethan, ‘so between the two of them I figure Sam got off lightly.’
Sam reached out a hand. ‘Wait—!’
‘Rest,’ said Ethan. ‘We’ll check on you later.’
Sam tried to say something more, but a great tide of black molasses rushed over him, pulling him down into darkness.
* * *
Sam dreamed he was standing in the middle of the same junction where Jahaar had died. He could see the man’s corpse, blackened and still burning, within the tangled wreckage.
Jahaar turned towards Sam, flames licking out of his eye-sockets. He reached ponderously for the door of his limousine and pushed it open. He stepped out and stood on the road, his body consumed by fire and his flesh hanging in tatters, and walked over to stand before him.
‘You shouldn’t have gone looking for her,’ said Jahaar, as cars flashed in either direction along the autobahn.
Sam tried to breathe, but couldn’t. It was like being underwater: his lungs worked to draw in air that wasn’t there.
‘I had to,’ he somehow managed to say.
‘No, you didn’t.’ Somehow Jahaar had become Sarah, her voice soft yet reproachful. ‘I should have remembered you were never any good at listening.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Sam, but Sarah had become Jahaar again. The dead man put one scarred and burning hand on Sam’s shoulder, his jumpsuit smouldering at the touch. ‘Too late for regrets,’ said Jahaar.
‘Wait,’ said Sam, watching helplessly as Jahaar pulled open the door of the burning limousine and climbed back in. Jahaar slumped forward, his lower jaw dropping open and flames emerging from the ruins of his throat.
Before long, his body blazed like a torch.
* * *
Sam was woken by the sound of someone shouting.
It was still dark, but red tinged the pre-dawn gloom past the trees. The shouting came from the direction of the lander. The campfire still hissed and popped inches away from where he lay.
He managed to sit up, his throat swollen, and felt the ground sway again. This time, it lasted only moments before passing. A dull sourness filled his belly, but it was nothing like the burning pain he’d felt before.
He glanced around. Apart from DeWitt, huddled and unmoving on the far side of the campfire, he was alone. He could however see that a knot of people had gathered around the base of the ramp beneath the lander: Wardell and Jess stood near the top of the ramp, holding onto Amit by either shoulder. Amit himself looked pale and terrified. Those gathered at the bottom of the ramp were arguing amongst themselves.
Sam levered himself upright and clutched at his belly, thinking he might puke. He waited until the feeling passed, then grabbed an unburned branch lying next to the fire and leaned on it as he pushed himself upright.
Slowly, and on unsteady feet, he made his way over to the lander. He got halfway there before Joshua saw him and came hurrying over.
‘Jesus, Sam!’ Joshua hissed, round-eyed with worry. ‘What the hell are you doing? Go back over by the fire and get some rest—you look like hell!’
‘Fuck that,’ Sam mumbled. The roof of his mouth felt gritty, like it was coated with sand. ‘What’s going on?’
Joshua glanced at the ramp, then back at Sam. ‘They caught Amit inside the lander.’
Sam blinked in puzzlement. ‘You mean inside the cargo bay?’
‘No.’ Joshua shook his head. ‘I mean inside the lander—on the other side of that door that won’t open for the rest of us. Wardell and Jess nabbed him sneaking back out of it.’
Sam stared at him, thunderstruck. ‘And nobody noticed him going in?’
‘I guess we were lucky Wardell and Jess just happened to be together in the cargo bay last night when Amit showed his face.’
Sam leaned heavily on his stick. It wasn’t hard to guess what the two of them had been doing in there. They were all still crazy with hormones. ‘I want to talk to Amit,’ he said.
Joshua gave him a look that was almost pitying. ‘Oh, Lord, Sam. You, me and everyone else.’
* * *
Joshua didn’t try to stop Sam this time, although he hovered by his side the rest of the way to the ramp.
Traynor had taken over from Wardell, forcing Amit onto his knees, while Jess stood over the Indian. She wielded a heavy-looking branch like a club, her face full of vengeful fury.
‘Start talking, you son of a bitch,’ Traynor shouted at Amit, ‘or I swear to God Jess will break every bone in your body!’
‘Let go of me,’ Amit insisted woodenly.
Traynor slapped him across the face, hard. ‘We don’t have time for this bullshit!’
It took a serious effort of will, but Sam managed to negotiate his way past those gathered at the bottom of the ramp. Angel tried to stand in his way, but Sam brushed past him, making his way up the ramp until he came face to face with Traynor.
‘How about you back the fuck off,’ Sam told him, breathing hard and his skin damp with sweat. His hand shook where it gripped the branch.
Traynor glared at him, nostrils flaring. ‘You’re sick, Mr Newman,’ he said dismissively. ‘Go back and rest.’
‘I heard about what happened,’ said Sam, pressing on regardless. He forced himself to stand up straighter and ignore as best he could the twisting pain in his bowels. ‘Beating the shit out of Amit isn’t going to get you anywhere.’
‘If you would please allow me to explain—!’ Amit started to say, his voice trembling with fear.
‘What the fuck, Amit?’ Kevin Amaro shouted from behind Sam. ‘Why didn’t you tell us you could get in there?’
Sam looked around. ‘Has anyone else managed to get inside?’
‘Nope,’ said Jess, staring down at Amit like she wanted nothing more than to test her improvised club on his skull. ‘Damn thing locked up again right after he came out.’
‘So it was you and Wardell who saw him coming out through that door?’
Jess’s cheeks coloured slightly. ‘Yeah. Just us.’
‘Let Amit go,’ said Ethan, stepping up behind Sam. ‘It’s not like he’s going anywhere.’
‘I’m not letting go of him in case he skedaddles right back through that door and never comes out again,’ Traynor spat. ‘That’s not happening unless he takes us inside with him.’
Ethan stepped up to Amit and kneeled to face him. ‘So how about it?’ he asked. ‘Want to show us what’s inside?’
Amit nodded, mute with fright.
Ethan looked up at Traynor. ‘See? And all you had to do was ask nicely.’
‘Whatever,’ Jess snapped, hauling Amit back upright by one shoulder. ‘Get us through that door,’ she hissed at him, gripping his arm hard, ‘or I swear to God I’ll feed you to whatever the fuck ate Piper.’
Traynor took hold of Amit’s other arm and they dragged him back up the ramp, everyone else following in their wake and resuming their arguing and shouting. Sam followed too, despite the overwhelming desire to lie down and curl into a ball.
Once inside the cargo bay, Sam pushed up next to the inner door until he could see the virtual projection visible only to him.
‘Can you see that?’ he asked Amit, pointing towards it.
Amit swallowed and nodded, dipping his head down as if ashamed. ‘Yes. Yes, I can see it.’
Sam resisted the urge to reach out and shake the man by the neck. ‘And is that how you were able to get in and out of the lander?’
‘Yes,’ Amit replied, so quietly this time that Sam almost couldn’t hear him.
‘Go ahead and open it again,’ said Sam, moving out of Amit’s way, still bracketed as he was by Traynor and Jess. ‘I want to see what happens.’
Amit reached out with one trembling hand, and Sam watched as the glowing icon once again expanded into a panel. Amit placed his palm against it and the door slid open immediately, revealing a short corridor terminating in a vertical shaft lined with rungs.
This time, the door stayed open. The cargo bay behind them filled with excited murmurs.
‘Listen up,’ said Traynor, pulling Amit close. ‘You fuck with us, play any kind of trick, and I will kill you without hesitation. Do you understand me?’