by Ryan Mark
TREMOR
RYAN MARK
First published in 2014 by:
Britain’s Next Bestseller
An imprint of Live It Publishing
27 Old Gloucester Road
London, United Kingdom.
WC1N 3AX
www.britainsnextbestseller.co.uk
Copyright © 2014 by Ryan Mark
The moral right of Ryan Mark to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved.
Except as permitted under current legislation, no part of this work may be photocopied, stored in a retrieval system, published, performed in public, adapted, broadcast, transmitted, recorded or reproduced in any form or by any means, without the prior permission of the copyright owners.
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ISBN 978-1-906954-83-3 (pbk)
Author photo by Vicki Hesketh
(www.victoriahesketh.co.uk)
The land will sink into the water, and then, the water will
evaporate into the air, taking the sky with it.
And all, but a tremor of what once was, will be gone.
Ichabod Everward, during the Fossil War.
For my Aunty Jo, the strongest person I know.
Your courage inspires me.
In memory of my Aunty Agnes,
you might not be here,
but you’ll never be forgotten.
Acknowledgements
I would like to start by thanking my mum, Judith, whose patience and support made this possible. She listened with intrigue whenever I proposed a new plot twist or idea for Tremor. By staying strong and positive during the writing process, she has helped make this an enjoyable journey, and for that, I’m truly grateful.
A thanks goes to my dad, Hugh, who helped secure several pre-orders during the campaign on the Britain’s Next Bestseller website. He’s worked tirelessly to help make this dream become reality, and there’s no doubt in my mind that he’s always believed in this book.
When I started editing Tremor, I could always rely on Vicky for an honest opinion. Her compassion has kept me smiling throughout the editing process, even when it seemed like an impossible task. Tremor owes a lot to her.
Memories have played such an important role during the writing of Tremor, and one person who has helped me create some amazing ones is Katie, a friend who has stood by me since childhood. This has made my writing what it is.
I don’t know what I would’ve done without the guidance and expertise of Jo at JMD Editorial. Her editorial skills and keen eye for detail helped shape Tremor into the story it is now.
I’d like to thank my brother, James, for his support, Claire for her kindness and Natalie for believing in me.
And a massive thanks goes to the people who haven’t been mentioned: the rest of my family and friends who’ve supported me on this journey. Tremor is for each and every one of you! Thank you.
I’d also like to express my gratitude to all my supporters and the team at Britain’s Next Bestseller for giving me this opportunity, without them, this dream wouldn’t have come true.
I’m blessed.
And finally, I want to thank you for picking up Tremor. I hope you enjoy the story written in its pages. Keep both feet on the ground, Tremor is here…
I’ve been hoping for something so unreal,
A life that could never be.
And now as the sun fades beyond the horizon,
I’m lost and deep in my dreams.
But now I’m not dreaming, I’m human, it’s real.
A life that could never be.
Thank You To All Tremor’s Supporters
Who Made This Possible
Judith Bateman – Mum, Hugh Toal, Stevie Mayberry, Natalie Bigland, Theresa Gunn Cooper, Aaron Goodwin, Laraine Mason, Luly Pickle, Mandy Fox, James Toal, Auntie Jo, Ann Davis, Angela Sharrock, Patricia Sweeney, Lynda Flaherty, Uncle James Toal, Daniel Toal, Ewa Jones, Brian Kennah, Debbie Pattinson, Lottie Garnett, Angela Morris, Victoria Bates, Evie Johnson, Bev Tyson, Nicola Kaye, Christine Farran, Clair Johnson, Shaun Toal, Ali Cameron, Tanya, Helen Field, Dirk Stafford, Sally Thexton, Keighley McKenzie, Natalie Paylor, James Toal, Cathrine Coyles, Aunty Lou, Vanessa Bracken, Annmarie Procter, Melissa Hall, Claire Hayton, Quita Davies, Stuart Shorty Shaw, Ethan Lovell, Tracy Davis, Wendy Dawson, Henri Park, Andy Mc, Karen Dawson, Caroline Hine, Anna Hayton, Gemma Friar, Si Hayton, Sinead Yildirim, Paula Reid, Ann Nelson, Imogen Almond-Graham, Cole Mason, Shallan Richardson, Aunty Shaz, Kerry, Natalie McGrath, Jen Allder, Judith Bateman, Chloe Packham, Ronald Stephenson, Debbie Harby, Sandra Beveridge, Janis Ellison, Helen Fothergill, Andrew Bateson, Julie Wall, Katherine Hibbert, Christine Mason, Stephen Shepherd, Mr Jamie Campbell, Gemmy Hargreaves, Sue Townley, Ben Williams, Jen, Amanda Mund, Wilma Young, Annette Gunn, Katie Whitley, Marc Morris, Christopher John Costello, Liz Grimes, Mark Toal, Billy-Jo’s Mummy, Billy-Jo’s Daddy, Robert Mayberry, Glen Nicholson, Alistair Graham, Hugh Carroll, Shirley, Amanda Dixon, Matthew Woodman, Darcie Annabella Garnett, Paula Zoe Sugden, Daniel C. Toal, Jenny Taylor, Ann Ross, Angela Tinkler, Linda Davis, Carolyn Wilson, Mikala Barsby, David Hayes, Steve Hartley, Shaz Thornborrow, Susan Barker, William Marrison, Sarah O’Malley, Hayley Davis, Siobahn Gregory, Hugh Toal, Robert Greenwood, Dexter Draper, Peter & Shenna Troughton, Chris Roberts, Jayme Yates Bell, Emma, Johnny Dixon, Diane Cosgrave, Brian Parkinson, Victoria Bates, Victoria Tipping, Beverley J Skill, Tyler Croskell, Sharon Mahoney, H, Aaron Goodwin, Emma Atkinson, Gemma Kitchen, Amy Hornby, Sarah Hesmondhalgh, Alice, Sue Wilkinson, Graham O’Callaghan, Gemma Martindale, Cat Barlow, Amy Ashton, Kelly Wright, Gillian Clement, Caroline Baxter, Andrea Sephton, Linda Metcalfe, Georgina Ziggy Gibson, Vicki Slinger, Bethany Wilson, Cliff Buckley, Alvin Finch, Sam Kaye, Georgina Manning, Becca Marshall, Justine Bayliss, Jo-Anne McCafferty, James, Karen Williamson, Sue Carr, Dawn Kitchen, Caroline Metcalfe, Matt, Melissa Hodder, Clarey Neal, John Soulby, Craig Hurley, John Baxendale, Avril Malone, Andy Keatings, Ian Rowlandson, Carole Scott, Megan Mordrick (Paylor), Kath Kitchen, Alan Grindey, Dolores Newton, Chris May, Andrew Males, Zeta Nicholson, Mary Waters, Sally Burns-Lindop, Lisa Gonzalez, Kath Finn, Sara Sykes, Bekki Pate, John Wharton, Richard Crewe, Lizz Hunt, Lee Slater, Stephen Cooper, Dorothy Macgowen, Peter Cleasby, John Hammond, Chris Lister, Rose Nelson, Raymond Coombe, Eileen Ball, Stephen Turner, Kath Wilson, Julie Dixon, Jess Gibbs, Paul Carlos, Molly Gaunt and Debbie O’Brien.
Prologue
A Last Resort
She knows they haven’t got long. She looks across the frozen ocean, shuddering as the ground beneath rumbles. She turns and faces the island, chosen because of its location, the harshest place on Earth and the furthest from civilisation, where they couldn’t be influenced or found. Their mission had always been temporary, yet this place feels like home now.
Home. She hasn’t seen it for years.
Her heavy boots crunch through lichens that cling to icy surfaces, the cold biting hard. The lab bunker appears soon enough, built into the side of the volcano that dominates the island. Light from the narrow windows shimmers through the segmented rocks, illuminating her path.
‘Ready?’ her partner says, as she enters the sterilised entrance corridor. His dark brown eyes send a flash of encouragement in her direction, and a reassuring smile emerges through his beard.
As she smiles back she notices for the first time that his beard and
indeed his hair are flecked with grey. We really have been here too long, she thinks, hanging up her windproof coat.
‘Ready,’ she says, her cheery voice presenting a façade of confidence as she turns back to face him.
‘I have to do this, no matter what,’ her thoughts silently converse with her fear. Damn, it’s been a long journey. Plucked straight from college, she’d been chosen because of her skills as a scientist. Were those exemplary grades a curse or a blessing? Both, she decides.
Oil has always been valuable, a source of control. Her father told her on several occasions that it had caused most of the recent major conflicts, and he held a firm belief that once the last oil reserve was depleted a devastating war would consume the planet. Uncharacteristically, she clenches her fists. That moment is almost upon them, that devastation about to be unleashed, and they were the ones responsible for finding more oil to prevent catastrophe, searching in the wilderness of Antarctica.
Humanity drained the Earth, and now, in desperation, the authorities have turned to a place that is supposedly protected by treaties. But treaties don’t matter anymore; just words on paper. They are insignificant in light of the alternative.
Her hands feel as though they’re burning, itching from the power within them. She’s lost ten years doing this, and as she rubs her cold fingers, she hopes it’ll all be worth it, that it’ll prevent war.
‘We’ve got two hours before the volcano erupts and the helicopter lifts off,’ he says. ‘The rest of the team have left, so it’s all down to us.’ He passes her a protective overall.
Stepping into it before retying her hair into its customary ponytail, she says, ‘I still can’t believe how much there is down there.’
‘This oil is the lifeline we needed. It’ll give us time to create a reliable replacement. Imagine where we’d be if it didn’t exist?’ Moving to the rear of the small room, he types a code into a secure door.
‘I don’t want to,’ she says.
Although she trusts and respects him as a scientist, something inside her doubts whether the huge quantity of oil gurgling beneath them will last until a reliable replacement is created. The world can no longer be reliant on fossil fuels. This is the last oil source, the very last. Once it’s gone, it’s gone. Something has to change, and perhaps today will be the start of that.
‘Coming?’ Her partner has gone on ahead and she quickly steps into the secure room after him.
‘I’ll go and key in the transfer code. Should take about twenty minutes for the oil to flow,’ he says, heading over to a control panel. ‘I still can’t believe we pulled this off. Fifty pipes drilled into the last reserve in the coldest place on the planet. Unbelievable.’
‘It really is a miracle.’ She gently touches her stomach. Not the only miracle. ‘Right, let’s get on.’ She focuses. ‘I’ll set up the rig and begin the transfer. I can’t believe this is nearly over. We can finally go home…’
He nods, his relief marked with a tender smile.
Suddenly, the bunker shakes, the fluorescent lights blink. The sound of a thousand rocks crashing into steel vibrates throughout the room. She falls back, but he catches her. An alarm begins to wail.
‘Check the transfer!’ she screams, stabilising herself.
He rushes back to his position.
Silence. She looks at him. His face and body are motionless at the controls. ‘What’s happened?’ she breathes.
‘The pipes have been severed,’ he says. ‘The oil’s escaping…’
‘No, they can’t be. All of them? What about the safety net?’
He doesn’t reply.
‘Can we cap it?’ she asks.
‘How? We’d need the boat, and that’s away with the team…’
‘Then we have to recall the team. We’ve worked too hard to let this fail.’
‘We can’t, it’s too late.’ He presses a red button and the control panel shuts off. ‘We’ve got to get out of here. I think the volcano’s erupting… Our readings must have been completely wrong.’
‘I don’t understand how, after all our planning, all that work. God, I feel sick!’ She runs across the room, lands on her knees and empties the contents of her stomach into a bin.
‘Come on, we’ll work something out. If we stay here a moment longer we’re dead.’
He reaches for her and she wipes her mouth, grabs his hand and smiles. ‘I love you…’ she whispers, gripping hard.
Before they can take another step, the island explodes in a ferocious roar of fire, rock and thick black smoke.
The entire land mass disappears, melting into the bubbling cauldron of the ocean, and all that remains of what once was is an oil slick stretching far across the water.
Beep, Beep, Beep. The sound pierces deep and it’s the only clear thing she can focus on. Her eyes flicker.
‘How the hell did she survive?’ a voice crackles near her ears.
‘The secure room she was in, must’ve been built for that kind of disaster.’
‘Will she live?’
‘Not sure. If it weren’t for the scientist who was with her, she would have died. He shielded her, poor guy.’
‘And the baby?’
A pause. ‘No…’
She feels the pain burn through every limb, not from the wounds, but from the love she has for him and their unborn child.
The pain wraps its emotionless, agonising tentacles around her.
The people who’d ordered her to that place would pay. They would pay with blood. Her eyes flicker again.
Blood.
Chapter 1
The Collapse:
5 Years and 7 Months Later William
A tremor rumbled through the ground, rattling the house and jostling the pictures that hung precariously on the walls. The huge pile of books on his desk was doused in yet another layer of debris. William held up his hand to stop the books from tumbling, but kept his eyes locked on the journal his head had been buried in for the past five hours.
The candle close to him flickered. He yawned, his arms reaching up and outwards. His right hand disturbed the stack of books and it came crashing down to the floor, causing the thick coating of dust to swirl up into the air. William spluttered as he cleared the muck from the open page of the journal.
‘Damn,’ he whispered, carefully blowing the last few specks away, throat feeling dry. He stood up from his desk, stretched and walked across his room, briefly glimpsing the rubble-filled street as he walked by his window.
Stopping in front of a cracked mirror, he stared at his reflection. Pushing his choppy, light brown hair out of his eyes, he looked carefully into them, his pale complexion enhancing their colour. Even through the cloudy glass they shone a bright, light blue. He pulled his fringe back across his forehead, took a sip from a glass of water on his bedside table and turned away.
Thoughts of his father caused him to return to the desk and he flicked to the next page of the journal – his father’s journal. It was one of the two items he’d been clutching when his body was found in the ruins of the geology station where he worked. The other was a picture of William and his mother. His father’s wedding ring glistened in the faded picture, but that had been lost, a fact that had devastated his mother. He sniffed and moved his focus back to the journal.
William knew his attachment to the journal was bordering on obsessive, but he couldn’t help it, mostly because it was powerfully linked to the cause of everything that made his life hell. He read on to the next chapter, slowly taking in its title.
‘Tremors,’ he muttered, forcing it out, its meaning stinging his tongue. Tremors… William hated them, because they were the very things his father had been trying to stop when he died. He snatched up a pencil and drew a skull next to the word. They’d been created by a war; a war caused by greedy people who wanted oil. And Dad was dead because of them. William shook his head when he thought how unfair it all was, adding crossbones to the skull. He whipped to the next page, almost tearing it from
the spine.
The word WAR, with a big exclamation mark next to it, stared up at him. He clenched his jaw. The war had been triggered by some big heads that’d thought they were so clever. But where were they now? William shook his head again. ‘Dead,’ he said, the word slowly uncoiling from his lips. Dead, like so many others who’d fought for power and oil during the Fossil War. He balled his hand into a fist, feeling the blood flowing from his fingers.
‘And what have they left us with?’ he whispered. ‘Tremors.’ All because of the stupid weapons they used to try to save themselves. He rubbed his temples in an effort to calm himself. ‘Blasted us to bits without a second thought!’ He felt the heat rise into his cheeks and he pounded his hands on the pages of the journal.
‘Just bloody tell me how to stop them, Dad!’ he shouted, frustrated, angry tears burning the back of his eyes. He stood and smashed one fist into a framed picture above the desk, his knuckles immediately throbbing and turning red.
‘William!’ shouted a voice from below. ‘Are you awake?’
William looked down at the journal. The pages he’d been reading were covered in glass. He slammed the book shut and dived into his bed, gripping his hand. The sound of pounding feet on creaking stairs echoed from the hall.
The door swung open, crashing into more books and sending them shooting across the floor. William buried his head in his pillow and tucked himself into his sheets.
‘Oh, Will love, this has to stop. You don’t get enough sleep,’ said his mother, Judy, blowing out the candle as she entered the room. ‘And we can’t waste these, you know.’
He felt his mattress sink a little at the bottom. ‘I was asleep Mum, serious,’ he groaned.
‘You’ve been reading his journal again, haven’t you?’ said Judy. ‘Please, love, listen to me, you’ve got to stop this. Dad’s gone. And there’s nothing we can do now. There’s nothing you can do.’