Almost as soon as they swerved onto the smooth asphalt of I-15, Yuri pulled over. “You…take over,” he said, panting.
Bobby helped him move across into the passenger seat. “Jeez, I’m sorry, I forgot about your hand.”
“I have that morphine now.”
“Yeah. We don’t have much time,” Bobby said as he rummaged around in the med kit. “Look!”
Yuri followed his finger as he pointed through the windshield. A light was moving across the sky from the direction of the solar plant.
“They’ve sent a helicopter.”
“Bad guys?”
Bobby twisted open the bottle and gave Yuri two pills. “Yeah. We don’t want them to find us.”
“The sergeant?”
“They’ve got him.”
Bobby climbed into the driver’s seat and put the Humvee into drive as Yuri leaned back and cradled his injured hand. In the distance, the light descended. They were landing. How long before they took off again in pursuit of Yuri? Bobby pushed down on the gas and wondered how they were going to hide in this open landscape driving a Humvee.
#
“What is plan, Batman?” Yuri said. He’d been dozing while they’d traveled along the smooth highway. A combination of the morphine, the fact he hadn’t slept and the small matter of having returned from a space station he’d lived in for over six months.
While he’d been asleep, Bobby had tried to calm his mind so he could go through his options. The first thing they had to do was disappear. A helicopter could cover a lot of ground, especially if it was looking for a Humvee. So, they had to ditch it and find a civilian vehicle. Already, they’d passed several cars heading for Vegas. Far fewer were heading north, but they only needed one. Bobby hoped that the helicopter would break off its pursuit at some point—it might be all very well to fly across the border and grab a target, but he didn’t imagine the Nevada state government or the Union of the Mountain States would tolerate what it saw as an alien power flying with impunity across its airspace.
“We need to find new transport,” Bobby said.
“Da. We are like, what would you call it? Sitting goose?”
“Yeah. If we’re to have any chance, we need to disappear.”
“We are not going to airport in Vegas?”
“No, that’s where they expect us.”
Yuri shrugged. “Pity. I have never been to Vegas. I am curious to know if all they say is true.”
“It is. Maybe you’ll get there someday. For now, though, we’ve got to keep you out of their hands.”
Bobby glanced over his shoulder to where the helicopter had landed. The sun had risen over the mountains ahead, and there was no sign of it lifting off again. Maybe they’d gotten lucky.
“They came for capsule?”
“The capsule and you.”
Yuri rubbed his chin. “In Russia, we would use Mi-26 heavy lift helicopter.”
“Yeah. I’m guessing a Chinook, but I’m no expert.”
“Ah, yes. Double rotor. Nice bird. Not good for hunting, though.”
He had a point. A Chinook could hardly chase them across Nevada with a Soyuz capsule dangling from beneath it. They would have to make a choice: recover the capsule, or go after its occupant. He guessed they wouldn’t want to hang around in what was enemy territory for any longer than necessary.
As if to answer his question, he spotted movement behind them. A helicopter lifted into the air and beneath it hung a smaller shape. So, they would return with it to California, but he couldn’t imagine they would give up the chase.
“They found us last night,” Bobby said. “So, they have some sort of land transport.”
“What I saw in Antarctica, my friend. They do not want me to speak. We must get away while we can. How far to airport?”
“Warren said over four hundred miles.”
Yuri sighed. “Much can happen in four hundred miles.”
Chapter 12
Skull Island
Within a matter of days, the water surrounding Buzz’s island had fallen fifty feet according to Max’s measurements. They’d watched, day by day, as scraps of land had emerged from beneath the sea. A few miles to the south, a radio mast rose like an accusatory finger, marking where the small town of Branson lay. If their measurements were any guide, it had emerged into the air for the first time since the day of the deluge.
Buzz sat gripping the edge of the inflatable, wrapped within his thick coat trying to keep as warm and dry as possible, but failing at both.
It had seemed a good idea when he’d suggested to Ted Pope that they explore Branson as soon as possible, but then he was hoping that perhaps Pope could take Tom rather than himself. The secret agent had resisted to begin with, but the worsening weather had finally persuaded him that they had to take action.
Tom and Dom had started building the structure of a large heated greenhouse that would, they hoped, be able to supply the farmhouse with fresh food to supplement their remaining supplies. But they had no way to glaze it, so Dom was coming with Pope and Buzz in the hope of finding something they could use. In a pinch, they could ferry sheets of glass taken from houses back and forth, but that would mean many trips, dangerously depleting their gas supplies.
Pope sat at the back of the inflatable, directing the outboard toward the distant mast. The boat was designed for short inshore trips, but it was all they had, so they’d stowed an extra can of fuel for the return journey. What Buzz hadn’t anticipated was how bumpy the ride would be once they’d passed beyond the lee of the island and onto open water.
He looked back at his island, rising like a volcano out of the gray sea. From this distance, it looked as though it was entirely covered in a layer of white ash, though he could see the unevenness caused by the lines of trees that circled and crowned it. They hadn’t had much snow, just enough to powder everything, but it was now cold enough for it to form naturally without the involvement of the xenobots. Together, Buzz and Max had worked on the math, though they didn’t doubt their conclusion: the new coating of ice had raised Earth’s albedo, making it whiter, reflecting more sunlight away and lowering the temperature even further. If nothing happened, the planet would endure the coldest ice age in its history; an ice age that would take hold in months or years rather than centuries or millennia. Humanity’s only chance, as Buzz saw it, was to understand exactly what was happening in the hope that it would yield some way out of the deep freeze.
He shivered as they closed in on the newly revealed island; the only thing keeping him warm was his hatred for Else Lundberg. If she hadn’t shot down the Minotaur, then his xenobots would be doing their job right now: rebuilding the ice cap in the right place.
Buzz examined the island as they got closer. It was perhaps five times bigger than his own, and had once been a valley with Branson nestled along the banks of the river that had carved it out on its gentle way down to the plains still a couple of hundred feet below sea level.
He could still see the contours of the valley but where there was once grass, trees, paths and the river, there was now slime and bare rock. And where the sea had fallen below the level of the land, there were fetid pools choked with the detritus of rotten and forgotten things.
And it stank.
Dom was the first to vomit, leaning over the side and adding to the disgusting contents of the water as Pope, one arm over his mouth, guided the inflatable toward a flat stretch of rock that happened to be just above the new sea level. With a bump, the boat slid onto the newly formed land.
None of them needed telling to wrap something around their noses. The cold weather had, at least, meant that they all had something they could sacrifice. Buzz pulled the collar of his sweater over his chin and pinched his nose together.
“It’s only going to get worse the farther we go,” Buzz said. He’d never smelled anything quite like it: a rich miasma of sewage, rotting seaweed and other decaying things. And it all came from the layer of brown and green silt that seeme
d to cover everything.
“I can’t do it!” Dom said. Perhaps it was reflecting off the sludge, but his face had a sickening green cast to it. “I’ll wait here, with the boat.”
Buzz wanted to be disdainful of the man’s weakness, but he wished with all his heart that he’d thought of doing the same.
As it was, he climbed clumsily out of the inflatable after Pope. “We’re not going to be able to stay long,” he said. “but I’m not going back without learning something.”
Pope nodded, though Buzz suspected that if he’d made the slightest suggestion that they should go back, Pope would jump at it.
He slipped and only just managed to right himself as he set foot on the slime. This was going to be impossible but, nevertheless, he would try. As soon as his boot settled, he could tell this wasn’t a natural feature of the landscape.
“There’s a road under here.” He kicked with his rubber boots and under a couple of inches of mud he could see asphalt.
Pope, who’d come to stand beside him, pointed ahead of them. “Let’s head for that, and take it from there.”
A couple of hundred yards away what looked like one or more trees lay on their side, their roots pointing back at the observers like bony fingers. It looked as though the wave had come from behind where Buzz was standing, sweeping along the valley and destroying everything. He could see no leaves on the trees, but, except for the roots, only a vague suggestion of their trunks tangled and fallen.
He wasn’t sure what Pope thought they’d achieve by it, but he grunted agreement and they trudged carefully onward.
The stench got worse and worse as they walked. Each time the fresh breeze from the sea was cut off by a change in wind direction, the stink threatened to entirely overwhelm them. But they had their target and if Buzz and Pope had anything in common, it was sheer, mule-like stubbornness.
As they went, the only sound other than the whistling of the wind in their ears was the slop, slop of their boots on the hidden asphalt. Buzz began to imagine they were astronauts exploring the surface of an alien moon—Titan perhaps—seeing nothing familiar beyond the most basic geological features. But where Titan was covered in a layer of methane ice and ammonia sludge, this new, alternate Earth was a world of decay and slime.
Finally, they reached the tree roots. It looked as though a small wood had collapsed in the flood, leaving a tangled mess of trunks and branches. As they stood there, their eyes trying to make sense of the destruction of the familiar, snow began to fall.
“Perfect,” Buzz muttered. “Look. Is that a cabin?”
Sure enough, something low and rectangular lay within the remains of the trees.
“Careful. If we fall here, there’s lots of points to impale ourselves on and no hope of rescue.”
Buzz nodded, but he felt himself drawn to the structure. As the snow began to fall more steadily, he hauled himself through the thicket of branches and rotten thorns, his imagination having flitted from the surface of Titan to Far Far Away where Sleeping Beauty lay in her castle. He shook his head. Focus! Careful.
Within the tangle, the air was thicker but somehow less odious, though Buzz found himself dreading the gaping rectangular opening that made him think of a yawning mouth. The mouth of hell? No, I don’t believe in superstitious nonsense like that. Focus!
He bent down and pulled aside branches that had gotten wedged in the doorway, then, holding his breath, he ducked inside.
It was a cabin. Only a small one. Some sort of hunting lodge, he imagined. Mud had poured in through the open door and piled up against the far wall, almost completely submerging the brick hearth. Buzz could see pieces of sodden furniture poking through the mud and filth, the slime-encrusted black plastic corner of a large-screen TV stuck out like a wedge from within the hearth. It was as if a giant had picked up the entire cabin and given it a good shake before putting it down again.
Fee-fi-fo-fum, I smell the blood of an Englishman.
Well, ha ha! I’m not English!
Come on. Focus.
Focus and get out of here.
To his right he saw a doorframe, the door itself flattened inward, kept open by a scree of mud and small stones. He crunched across the floor to look inside. It was dark, but he could make out white metal and rust among the filth. A kitchen, then. But he didn’t want to go into it—too dark.
If you go into the woods today…
Stop it!
As he stood in the kitchen doorway, he turned back to the main room and spotted one more door. This one was closed. What was he hoping to find? He’d long since forgotten. Why was he here? What was the point?
Don’t open the door! You don’t know where it could lead!
Leaning against the slimy wall, he picked his way across to the last door. It was of good quality wood that had withstood months under the water.
Voices. Voices on the wind. Wolves? Wargs? Orcs?
He pushed at the door. Nothing.
So he pulled at it.
It opened and a slow river of mud oozed out into the living area.
Get out! Get out now!
He stood, transfixed, as the mud surrounded his rubber boots, staring into the blackness beyond.
Something moved in the shadows.
Slowly, reverently.
White against the grays and browns of the slurry.
In slow motion it came into the dim light and settled between his feet.
Dead eyes looked up at him. Hollow eye sockets in a pale skull.
He screamed.
Zombies! Rising from the grave.
He went to run but his feet wouldn’t move.
His head swam as he panicked and he flailed, falling backwards and landing in the slurry, looking sideways into the open mouth.
A tunnel closed in on his vision as he saw a skeletal hand walking on its fingers through the open door. It was coming for him.
#
He was floating!
Buzz cried out, opening his eyes to see the sky flowing past. He tried to pull his hands down, but they were tied.
“Are you okay?”
A masked face appeared between him and the scudding clouds.
“Dom?”
“Thank God.”
The pressure on his hands relaxed and he came to a halt. Dom helped him sit up.
“What the hell?” He looked back the way he’d come. There was the tangle of branches and trunks and, beyond, the dark entrance to the house of horrors. “You dragged me out?”
Dom kneeled beside him, nodding. “I heard you; you sounded terrified. Found you on your back. There was a skull. And more. Are you okay? What happened?”
“I thought I was hallucinating. My mind’s all a fog.” He rubbed his temple. “I’ve got the mother of all headaches developing. Jeez. Carbon monoxide!”
“Can you help me with Agent Pope? I’m not sure I can manage him on my own.”
“Oh my God!” Buzz had completely forgotten about Pope. He’d imagined the agent was following him as he moved into the thicket, but hadn’t checked. Then he’d gotten lost in a fog of fairy tales and horror.
He was so filthy now, he no longer cared that he was caked in mud and heaven knew what. “What happened to him?”
“I don’t know. Same as you, I guess. I ran past him when I came looking for you.”
Buzz got onto his hands and knees, retching again as his movement stirred up another batch of stink. Pope lay just beside the nearest fallen tree.
“I got him this far, but I wanted to get you into the boat first before I came back.”
“I’ll help,” Buzz said.
And somehow, the two of them managed to get the unconscious Pope back to the boat.
“It doesn’t smell so much,” Dom said as they settled Pope between the benches. “The snow; I think it’s covering it up. Sealing it in.”
Buzz sat on the floor of the inflatable and looked back. Dom was right. In the—what was it? Thirty minutes?—since they’d arrived, a shallow layer
of snow had settled on the newly liberated land. If they’d arrived half an hour later, they wouldn’t have needed to cover their faces at all. Except from the snow itself. Somehow, though it looked cleaner and more normal than it had when they’d arrived, this pristine landscape scared him even more. How long would it be before the whole country was buried beneath a layer of snow? How long before he’d give anything for the rotten browns, greens and grays he’d seen when they’d arrived?
Dom pushed the inflatable across the slippery road surface and back into the water, then jumped in and fired up the outboard.
As he watched the new land recede, Buzz couldn’t help thinking they’d been sent packing, barely escaping with their lives. They hadn’t gotten close to the town itself. Would they dare to return? Did the town promise enough supplies to make it worth the horrors that lurked within it?
#
A reception party had gathered on the slopes of Buzz’s island by the time they returned. Dom had called on the walkie-talkie once they were in range and Buzz could see Tom, Anna and Jo gathered around a pair of ATVs, huddled close together within their coats.
As soon as the boat grounded on the mud, Tom ran toward it and pulled it onto dry land. Then he retreated, waving his hand at the others.
“Don’t come any closer. They stink!”
“Oh, for the love of God, Tom!” Jo snapped, striding past him. “We’ve got hurt people here!”
Buzz felt warmth seep back into his core for the first time since he’d left the island for the abortive trip as she looked at him.
“Are you okay?” She was staring into his eyes, and then quickly looked him over. “You really are a mess. What were you doing over there? Mud wrestling?”
He shook his head. “It was horrific. But I’m okay.”
“You are not! You’re freezing. And I don’t think much of your new cologne!”
“Take a look at Ted.”
Jo shook her head, but joined Anna as she tried to get Pope to sit up. The special agent had recovered enough to be able to help a little, but it was only when Tom returned having gotten Dom off the boat that they were able to examine him properly.
Ice: Deluge Book 4: (A Thrilling Post-Apocalyptic Survival Story) Page 10