by David Gullen
Andriewiscz chewed down on his smile. ‘Get to it.’
Soon all that could be heard was the roar of diesel tractors and the groan and crash of falling trees. The air was blue from the smoke of 20,000 chainsaws as far as the eye could see. The invasion of Canada had begun.
A few minutes after the rear echelons had pulled north of the border a swarm of dragonfly-like creatures flew over the army at a height of around twenty feet. Darting back and forth, they passed almost unnoticed until a cook swatted one that dipped low above his canteen. When he saw the hair-fine wires running the length of its body he took it to his officer. It was soon with Andriewiscz. By then it was far too late. Minutes later, all clothing, all cotton, linen, and wool, all gun webbing, belts and shoe leather had begun to disintegrate.
Soon afterwards, the chainsaws began to splutter and die as their fuel turned to gummy gel. Vehicles ground to a halt, generators died. The communications blackout enveloping Crane’s estate ended.
- 64 -
‘What’s your name?’ Novik said to the orderly as they lifted the drunk and rambling President onto the bed.
‘Janis.’ She hesitated, then held out her hand.
Novik didn’t take it. ‘Well, Janis, can I trust you?’
Her voice shook. ‘Would you believe me?’
‘With President Snarlow, yes.’
‘I’m just a triage nurse. I fit them up with saline and clean the wounds.’
‘You do that here. And Janis, there are real monsters in the woods. If you run away they will kill you.’
She was so frightened she started to fold over. ‘I just did what I was told. The President–’
‘You always do what you’re told?’
She couldn’t meet his eye. Novik left her to it.
In the medical room, Crane called up screen after screen of data on the consoles, moving from keyboard to keyboard.
‘That orderly can’t do much for Snarlow,’ Novik said.
‘I could not care less.’ Crane’s complexion was grey, his face lined and pouchy, ‘Snarlow fooled me twice, never again. I’m not prepared to spend a single second away from Ellen.’
‘Snarlow alive might help Ellen.’
Crane rested his hands on the instrument console. ‘You’re right. Very well, connect her to the secondary instrumentation in the recovery room. It will stabilise her until Chandra arrives.’
‘How do I do that?’ Novik said.
Crane raised his voice, ‘This is Palfinger Crane. Attend.’
‘Attending,’ a synthesised voice said.
‘Mary had a little lamb.’
‘Confirmed.’
‘Authorize Novik.’
Crane showed Novik where to press his thumb, then Novik spoke his name and the recognition phrase.
‘The medical AI will now obey your reasonable requests,’ Crane said.
Novik returned to the side room. Snarlow sprawled untidily on the huge bed. Janis sat on a chair beside her and stood as soon as Novik opened the door. ‘I think she has a punctured lung.’
‘Fucking outstanding,’ Guinevere slurred. ‘I’ll give myself a Purple Heart.’
Novik looked down at Snarlow and knew he hated her, and that he was going to help keep her alive.
Novik confirmed his identity to the AI and ordered it to care for Guinevere. Armatures emerged from the bedframe, sensors and probes descended from the ceiling gantry and attached themselves to her body.
Swearing and grumbling Guinevere drunkenly tried to fend them off. A nozzle puffed mist into her face and she became drowsy. A cuff clamped itself to her left bicep, measurements and assays were taken, her condition began to stabilise.
Out in the main room Crane sat beside his daughter. Novik pulled over a chair, ‘Snarlow’s okay, I think.’
‘This life,’ Crane shook his head in wonder. ‘She tried to kill us all, now we’re looking after her.’
‘Palfinger,’ Novik said cautiously, ‘Back before all this, I was trying to help.’
Crane sat very still. A little of the tension left his eyes. ‘I know.’
Together they watched the displays from the systems tending Ellen’s vast and terribly damaged body. All across the monitors and readouts the trend curves imperceptibly flattened, numbers and percentages moved further from optimal, histogram bars and status lights phased from green to amber, amber to red. What was happening was obvious to them both. Ellen was dying.
‘When will Chandra arrive?’ Novik said.
Crane checked his hand-held and spoke in monotone. ‘He’s landing at Vancouver in an hour. Door to door from there, two hours.’
‘That’s not too long.’
The exoframe continued its work. Ellen’s chest rose and fell in a slow cycle, her breath sounded like the slow retreat of the tide on a distant shore.
Crane looked across Ellen’s body to Guinevere Snarlow, relaxed and comfortable in the side room. ‘It’s not fair,’ he said.
That somebody such as Crane should even think like that felt grotesque, yet Ellen did not deserve this, and neither had St.John. Novik thought of Josie again, the hundredth time that day, and felt his heart change. Where was his own comfort?
Crane recalled the conversation he had with Ellen back on the island, under the calabash trees. As ever she had been the realist, he the ever-hopeful optimist, the denier. Underneath, he had known she was right, that one day he would have to confront the inevitable. Now, that day had come.
The urge to speak grew in Novik. ‘I don’t want any more of your money.’
Crane gave him a look that had stilled CEOs, Presidents, Kings and Prime Ministers. ‘Tell me you came here by chance.’
‘Josie and I… We thought if we had enough money we could change the world.’
The same old same old, Crane thought. Except Novik’s partner had been killed, and still he’d come. Then Novik and his friends had put their lives on the line for Ellen, and for him. The least he could do was listen to what the man had to say. ‘Just how were you going to do that?’
‘We thought we might persuade you to give us yours.’
‘And then what?’
‘We’d buy everything there was and give it away.’
‘Sounds crazy.’
Looking back, of course it was. Josie must have known that, she’d been waiting for him to catch up. ‘I thought it was worth a try.’
Ellen’s eyes twitched from side to side beneath her eyelids and she mumbled incoherently. A light on the autosurgeon’s array blinked amber, then burned steady red. Ellen’s head lolled, she fell silent. Somewhere behind the far wall came the low thump of a compressor.
Finally Crane stirred. He stood up, leaned forwards and kissed Ellen’s brow. ‘Come on,’ he said to Novik. ‘Let’s give that idea of yours a go. What have I got to lose except my credit rating?’
Back in the study Crane activated his desk and made some calls. Some of the people he spoke to raised their voices, others talked at some length. Crane listened to them all and repeated his instructions.
‘I’ve just transferred my controlling holdings in large-scale co-operative agriculture and managed forestry in Africa, Indonesia, Paraguay and Pakistan to the local collectives.’
They were back beside Ellen when the phone rang. Crane held it in his hand, rooted to the spot.
Novik plucked it from Crane’s fingers, ‘Hello?’
‘This is Chandra Smith. Who are you? Where is Mr Crane?’
Novik handed the phone over, ‘It’s your doctor.’
‘This is Palfinger.’
Crane adjusted the phone and Chandra’s voice filled the room: ‘What’s happened? The data feed opened up, I can see Ellen’s information.’
Crane’s voice flattened with disappointment, ‘That’s why you called? Information access?’
‘Yes, indeed. I can see her condition, poor child. Is Snarlow there? Did she open a data tunnel?’
Ellen lay on the table, around her instrument lights winked o
r pulsed steadily, nothing appeared to have changed.
‘What can you tell?’ Crane glanced at Novik, ‘Has Ellen lost any more weight?’
Chandra spoke slowly as he studied the flow of medical data. ‘This is very complicated. Ellen is bleeding, the exoframe is replacing fluids and also trying to drain several oedema. You’re expecting more weight loss? How so?’
‘Chandra, please, just tell me how my daughter is doing.’
‘Better, just a little. Or rather, no worse. She is less unstable, her heart is a fraction stronger, blood pressure – perhaps. It’s not clear. As for weight, some, maybe. I really can’t tell.’
‘If she did lose weight, substantial amounts, would the operations to remove the bullets be easier?’ Crane said.
‘Yes, of course, much safer. Unfortunately, also impossible. Palfinger, remember, we have already tried – everything.’ Chandra took a breath. ‘Is that it? There’s something new?’
Crane checked the time, ‘Perhaps. This is all rather radical, nothing’s for certain–’
‘We? Don’t listen to those army doctors.’
Crane checked the time again, ‘I have to go.’ He ended the call. ‘Novik, you probably want me to try again, I agree. One data point isn’t a curve. I’ve set up two more transactions.’
Gigantic economic earthquakes, financial tsunamis and hurricanes were about to sweep the globe, all to try and save one girl. Some people would probably die. Others would be set free.
‘Wait,’ Novik said.
‘What for?’
Novik struggled to find the words, awed by the sheer improbable strangeness of what they were about to do.
Crane stared at him incredulously. ‘You doubt your own advice? Now?’
‘Yes, I do.’
‘Even though this is what you want?’
Novik nodded mutely.
‘Good,’ Crane said decisively. ‘Because it’s a crazy plan.’ He laid his hand on Ellen’s motionless shoulder, ‘I’m going to do it anyway. What else would you have me do?’
There was an endless ache inside Novik where Josie used to be. ‘I’d try everything.’
A tone sounded on the phone, Crane checked the screen. ‘There goes Walmart-Lockheed.’ Soon afterwards the phone rang persistently. Crane didn’t answer. Instead, he studied the displays around Ellen’s comatose body.
Something strange was building, Novik felt it, a weird pressure, a kind of psychic charge.
Crane muttered something, pressed a key, rotated a joystick and flipped through a series of data summaries. His phone sounded again. ‘That’s most of Australasian pharma,’ he said under his breath.
Crane studied the data flow like a hawk hovering over prey. ‘See here,’ he pointed to one of the screens. ‘And here.’
They watched and waited for a while longer. Crane’s phone rang, again and again.
Less than a minute later they were certain. Inside, Crane thought he might burst. ‘That’s it. We’ve done it.’ Much to his own surprise his voice came steady and serene. ‘I can save Ellen. She doesn’t have to die.’
Novik was beyond words. Something strange and wonderful had happened.
The phone rang again. Crane answered immediately. ‘Chandra.’
Chandra Smith’s breathless voice filled the room, the beat of rotors loud in the background. ‘Palfinger, I’m waiting on clearance for take-off. I’ve been calling. Ellen’s weight – down four kilos.’
Crane couldn’t keep the smile off his face. ‘I know.’
‘How is she?’
‘She’s good, Chandra.’
‘I– All parameters are holding except for mass. Nothing is retrograde, everything is stable or improving.’
‘Ellen’s going to lose weight fast. Everything is ready, you can operate as soon as you arrive.’
‘How did you do it?’
‘We found the cure.’
‘Yes, thank God, but what? How?’
Crane looked at Novik and laughed. ‘It was the money.’
- 65 -
The Emerald Union IS the NFC
“Sure, that was us.” Ahmed Hirsch, President of the European Union announced in a press conference following extraordinary satellite pictures of General Andriewiscz’s Northern Expeditionary Force.
“Just who are the NFC?”
“Natural Forces Combine are some very talented men and women whose hearts are in the right place.”
“But who, exactly?”
“Typical scientists, clever and modest. As opposed to insecure egoist politicians like me.”
“Why did you fund them?”
“Are these real questions? We needed a way of testing our delivery systems, obviously. Brussels and the NFC discovered we had similar concerns about where things were going. We are always happy to work with creative innovators, they had the talent, we had the resources. It is a partnership that works very well. We’ve reinvented War.”
– KUWjones.org, syndicated feed.
Theodore drew and fired his arrow in a single fluid motion. LeBlanc twitched to one side and the arrow pinned him to the tree by his jacket.
LeBlanc slipped free of the garment, drew his hunting blade and braced himself against the tree. ‘Come to me, friend,’ he waved Theodore forwards with his knife, ‘I know how to behave around bear.’
Down by LeBlanc’s feet, Gretel’s slim, grey-furred arm looped round the tree trunk. Her knife cut through both LeBlanc’s Achilles tendons. LeBlanc cried out, staggered and sprawled face down in the needle-covered loam. Theodore’s second arrow pinned him to the ground between his shoulders.
Gretel kicked away LeBlanc’s knife. His cheek pressed against the ground, LeBlanc looked into her amber eyes as he died.
‘He’s no bear,’ Gretel said. ‘And I’m no wolf.’
Theodore looked away into the forest towards the south. ‘Two to go,’ he growled.
Wilson and Halifax had lain low while the gun battle raged. Two great concussions came and the sounds of fighting died away.
‘We got an army behind us and a war up ahead. May as well go on as go back,’ Halifax muttered.
‘Keep quiet,’ Wilson said.
They drew their weapons and cautiously moved forwards.
Now the forest was truly silent. Only their footfalls, soft on the leaf litter, broke the uneasy calm
‘Who do you think won?’ Halifax whispered.
It bore thinking about. Gould had brought a big unit. Chances were he had done what he had set out to do and now moved on to some pre-arranged extraction point. Wilson would have to get in close. A confrontation like that, with those odds, you got only one chance.
Wilson stopped walking. ‘Look, Halifax, I’m only here for one thing. I get that done and everything else is all right with me.’
Halifax held up a finger as he scanned the surrounding woods. ‘Thought I heard something.’
‘I’m just saying,’ Wilson took a breath. ‘If there’s some other stuff you got to do, any plans, you don’t need to do this.’
‘And here’s me just getting used to the great outdoors.’
Wilson was suddenly weary. Every day since Mandy had brought him to this place, this day. ‘It’s a hell of a long walk out of some woods.’
‘Then we’ll go through them together.’
A few minutes later Wilson felt Halifax’s hand push down hard on his shoulder. They took to cover fast and quiet.
‘Someone’s coming,’ Halifax whispered.
‘You always think–’
Halifax touched a finger to his lips. Then Wilson heard it too, a steady beat, like a muffled drum – running feet.
Wilson motioned for Halifax to stay put and belly crawled a few yards through the trees. He knew it was Gould as soon as he saw the distant silhouettes through the darkening forest. Gould, and the woman who had killed Masters at the shopping mall.
Each had a rifle over their shoulder, strapped tight for running. They moved fast but warily, alert and cautious.
As they passed by Wilson he saw the ugly wound on the woman’s face and felt a cruel joy that whatever Gould had set out to do, he had failed and now fled the aftermath.
Wilson surged to his feet. ‘Mitchell Gould,’ he shouted, and shot Gould in the leg. Gould yelled, and fell to the ground.
The woman was fast but Halifax was already there, his gun aimed dead centre on her body.
‘Drop it,’ he told her. ‘Get on your knees. Do anything but breathe and this is your grave.’
She recognised him and knew he would be true to his word. She let her pistol fall and knelt on the ground.
Wilson looked down at Gould spread-eagled on the forest floor, his right arm high over his head, the gun pointed directly away from Wilson. Blood stained Gould’s left thigh, the wound was not fatal, it wasn’t even dangerous. Wilson didn’t mind. ‘After all these years, I catch up with you,’ he said.
Gould clenched his teeth in pain. ‘Who the fuck are you?’
Wilson laughed out loud, Gould had no idea who he was. In its own way this was perfect. Now it would all come to an end and his life would start again. Perfect. He raised his gun.
‘This is for Mandy.’
‘No, wait, don’t.’
Long seconds crawled by. Gould’s eyes swam with pain. ‘Get on with it, damn you.’
Wilson found he could not pull the trigger. Mandy wouldn’t let him.
He saw it now. All the years, all the risks he’d taken bringing in armed and dangerous fugitives without a lethal weapon of his own. He had never wanted to kill Gould, he had wanted the person who killed Mandy to die. That person wasn’t Gould, it was himself.
‘Kill him,’ Halifax said.
Wilson gave a chuckle of dry amusement. ‘Move your hand away from the gun, Gould. I’m bringing you in.’
Gould reluctantly brought his arm down by his side.
‘No.’ Halifax clubbed Ayesha savagely and she fell without a sound. His gun swung towards Gould. ‘Merlotta, Xiong, you didn’t see what Gould did.’
Wilson stepped between Halifax and Gould. ‘I’m taking him back. It’s what I do.’
All emotion dropped from Halifax’s voice, ‘Wilson, I’m telling you–’