Volkov’s lips tightened into a self-satisfied grin. Love. People entrusted their most valuable possessions to loved ones – secrets, dreams, memories, fears – often without even realising. Physical items were only the logical next step. He’d seen it more times than he could remember. Passwords in lockets. Keys on charm bracelets. Was it possible that Mr Peterson had done the same?
His affair with the Canadian, Doctor Lee, was no secret. Indeed, after his source had first brought it to light, Volkov had monitored the romance closely, fearing that it would distract Ptarmigan from his mission. Could the American really have entrusted the virus to his unsuspecting paramour?
The more he thought about it, the more it made sense, until he was quite certain. The data stick was in the possession of Doctor Ava Lee. And where was she? According to his man on the ground, she was stranded on Harmsworth along with an awkward number of other survivors: Doctors Lebedev and Ross, either of whom might also have had the data stick, and a sizeable Spetsnaz contingent. Despite his grin, Volkov felt a genuine sense of remorse that none of them would be making it off the island alive. He wasn’t a monster. He was a businessman.
Newly focussed, he slid his knife from its sheath, flipped it from one hand to the other and back, and then examined his hazy reflection in the blade. He dragged it across the back of his hand to test the sharpness. It was razor.
So the survivors were heading for the old military outpost. He resheathed the blade. If he wanted to be there to meet them, then he would need to move quickly.
Chapter 11
Possum
1
Koikov took one last look into the mouth of the cave. “Rest in peace,” he uttered. Then he turned around, spat on the floor and signalled to the two privates.
Jets of smoke erupted from their RPG housings and the explosive-tipped projectiles streaked forward side by side, scoring their trails into the air. With a roar, they careered into the ceiling of the cave and sent a torrent of rock cascading down.
Back on their feet, Privates Zakrevsky and Orlov fell in at Koikov’s side, and the three men watched together as the rumble of tumbling stone petered out and the smoke gradually cleared. Where the cave mouth had been, there was now an almighty pile of scorched rock.
“Good work,” Koikov said. “That should give those fuckers something to think about.”
He ran his gaze across the faces of the two younger men. He’d never expected them to share his sentiment, but neither had he expected the conflict betrayed in their expressions to cut so deep.
It was understandable. They hadn’t been part of the original rescue team, so they’d seen no evidence of the mysterious creatures that they were supposed to be afraid of. They were going through the motions all the same, accepting what they were told and obeying orders because they were soldiers, highly trained soldiers, and that’s what they were trained to do. But clearly there was still a part of them that wondered whether Koikov had lost his mind.
They’ll learn soon enough, he thought to himself, hoping beyond hope that he was wrong. “Let’s catch up with the others before they get too far ahead. Orlov, you man the tower.”
Koikov wove the Czilim expertly in between the outcrops of rock, and after half a kilometre or so they caught up with the rest of the team. Zakrevsky fell back in. Orlov stuck with the gun, as Koikov continued shadowing the staggered rank of troops at a distance.
As he drove, he traced his eyes across the surrounding landscape. The place looked less hospitable than ever, barren, hostile and eerily still. The glare from the midnight sun was blinding. Even the darkest stone seemed to reflect the rays directly up into his face. With a sigh, he pushed his shades firmly back against the bridge of his nose. If it wasn’t shades, then it was LVV. If it wasn’t LVV, then it was shades. Sun glare, mist, sun glare, mist… And then the rest of the year it’s pitch fucking black!
“If ever a place didn’t want to be seen,” he mumbled to himself.
“Starshyna?”
He looked around and saw Orlov staring over at him. He was an ugly one. Big nose. Buck-teeth. Ridiculous mousy sideburns. “I said we should never have come here.” Orlov pursed his lips; they were cracked and bulbous. “I thought that the moment we arrived, Starshyna.”
“What are you talking about?”
“A feeling I had. Something isn’t right.”
“Not right? I’ll tell you what isn’t right, Orlov, the Albanov’s gone and the creatures living on this island keep eating members of my team.”
Orlov turned his attention back to the mounted gun. “There’s something else, Starshyna. Something bigger. I can’t put my finger on it, but—”
“You keep your finger on that trigger, Private.” In truth, Koikov sensed it too; this place was making puppets of them all. But there was no time for daydreaming.
Bringing the Czilim to a halt on high ground, he raised his binoculars. From here, he could pick out most of the team as they disappeared off along the winding valley that arced towards the island’s heart. They were progressing just as he’d ordered, in a series of four- and five-man teams at hundred-metre intervals. With few exceptions, they looked alert and battle-ready. Still he was uneasy. Clustered, linear movement was inadvisable in hostile situations; it presented a soft underbelly just crying out to be assaulted. And the image of what could happen to soft underbellies was still fresh in his mind.
The reinforcement team had brought considerable firepower over with them that morning, but he wasn’t about to let his guard down. All the weapons in the world wouldn’t be worth dick if Harmsworth turned on them. And he still didn’t have any clear idea how many of those things there were. He prayed not many, but deep down he feared the worst.
He lit a papirosa and scratched at his scar; the cold had caused it to swell and he could feel his pulse, hard but steady, beneath the scabrous tissue. Inadvisable or not, the situation was what it was. There was no alternative. They needed to get to the compound and get there fast.
A sudden burst of static flared up in his ear. It was Marchenko: “Starshyna, you should check out Hjalmar.”
Koikov cast his gaze up over the Hjalmar Ridge. The ever-present spine of rock towered to his right. Banks of scree, tinged green with lichen growth, were piled against its flanks, and pats of remnant snow and ice clung to cavities in the shadows of the rockface.
“What is it, Starshyna?” Orlov asked.
“Shit!” Koikov raised a hand to his throat. “Spread the word. From the looks of it we don’t have long.”
“Starshyna?”
Koikov spun around. “Goddamnit, Orlov, would you use your eyes!” He pointed up towards the top of the ridge, beyond the glacier. But it was no longer visible. A dense blanket of mist that had been teetering on the edge had now tipped over the side and was flooding towards them like fumes spilling from a volcano.
“Marchenko, get the men to find cover, now! Something tells me we’re gonna have company.”
2
“Did he say anything else?”
Zakrevsky slotted the remaining rounds into his magazine and clipped it back into his rifle. “Koikov? No. Just got me and Orlov to take out the roof.”
“Waste of grenades if you ask me,” Tsaritsyn replied.
“Keep your voice down, Private,” Corporal Yevtushenko snapped. “The mist amplifies your voice. They can probably hear your whining back on the mainland.”
Tsaritsyn went to reply. Then he closed his mouth. He looked around. The three of them and Private Ilyn had taken cover beneath an overhang. They were in the middle of the caravan, and they had been passing over a low rise when the mist had flooded over them. The call had gone out from Sergeant Marchenko and within seconds the world had become a very different place. The vast, sweeping landscape that they had been traversing had vanished from sight, and a new and claustrophobic one had squatted. It felt heavy, drizzly, lik
e millions of tiny raindrops prickling at his skin. And it was freezing. He could feel it heavy in his throat and lungs with every breath, and when he exhaled, the same oily grey cloud escaped his lips.
Through the haze, he could barely make out Yevtushenko’s features, though the man was perched right next to him. The others, sitting with their backs to the rock opposite, were visible in outline only. In truth, it was the closest thing to a thrill that Tsaritsyn had felt since being posted to Harmsworth: a foreign location, near-zero visibility, a state of high alert and the threat of ambush, no matter how far-fetched the supposed enemy.
“So you think the Starshyna is imagining these creatures?” Ilyn asked.
“Of course he’s imagining them,” Tsaritsyn replied. “Lizard monsters with feathers and killer claws? I never heard such fucking nonsense.”
Yevtushenko grunted. “So what killed Dolgonosov then? And Sharova? And Yudina?”
“Either it was a polar bear, or…”
“Or what?”
Tsaritsyn pulled his hat down over his ears and scratched at his patchy stubble. “Or it’s not a question of what killed them.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“I’m not suggesting anything,” he replied. “I’m just saying that something really fucked up is going on. First people start getting killed, then the Albanov explodes and we’re stranded. Then we’re on a monster hunt. I’m telling you, something’s going on and we’re being kept in the dark about it. It’s a conspiracy.”
“Well, I’m with Koikov,” Ilyn said. “He’s straight up. Always has been. Plus Marchenko backs his story up.” He drew his knees in to his chest. “Anyway, your conspiracy theory sounds just about as crazy as theirs.”
“We may not have seen anything in that cave,” Yevtushenko added, “but I sure as hell feel like something’s with us on this island. I’ve felt it since the moment I first got here.”
“I’m just not sure it’s here we should be worried about,” Tsaritsyn said.
“Meaning?”
“For a start, whoever blew up the Albanov must’ve had inside help. There’s no way they would’ve got their explosive on board and beat security without it.”
“You think it was intentional?”
“I’d bet my sorry excuse for a pension on it. I was demolitions for four years before I joined Department V, and I’m telling you it’d take more than a haphazard explosion to take out a ship that size. It’d take a real expert, and it would take them time and resources.” He banged the butt of his rifle down. “Either this is an inside job, or I’m the next president of the Federation.”
“So what’s your point, President, Sir?”
Tsaritsyn grinned. “Blowing up an icebreaker is a big deal, especially if it belongs to G&S. Whoever masterminded it must have a fucking good reason, and that scares me.”
“Why?”
“Because what if we don’t form part of the plan?”
At that moment a burst of gunfire rang out in the distance, followed by the familiar percussive booming of grenades.
A voice crackled into their earpieces: “This is Corporal Fermanov on point. We’re under attack. Private Rykov is down and we need help out here!”
Yevtushenko’s voice rang out in response: “This is Corporal Yevtushenko. I read you and we’re on our way.” He turned to Tsaritsyn. “I guess it’s time to test your theory.”
3
There was no doubt in Callum’s mind about the source of the distant cracks and rattles. It was the sound of machine gun fire. He glanced at Lungkaju, who nodded.
“They have found Tansu Taibaa.”
With everything that had happened over the last few hours, Callum had forgotten. “You think so?”
“I am certain of this.” Lungkaju repeated his words from the tunnel: “The only difference between myth and history, Doctor Ross, is that we choose to believe history.”
A louder explosion sounded off in the distance. Fenris sat bolt upright in the middle of the emergency shelter and growled. His enormous ears were pricked, and the hairs along his back had tensed up into a ridge. Lungkaju stroked his side and spoke to him softly in Nganasan. The dog’s ears flattened once more and, with a yawn, he turned and lay back down again with his head in Callum’s lap.
“Remarkable,” Callum said. “What did you say to him?”
“I told him it is only bad dreams.”
“I wish that worked for me.”
“That was a grenade, right?” Ava broke in. “That explosion. They’ve found the monsters.”
Sensing her panic starting to build, Darya reached out a comforting hand and placed it over hers. But it was no use.
“They’re Special Forces, though, right? If they’ve found the monsters they should be able to kill them? Shouldn’t they?”
“Starshyna Koikov is a very good soldier,” Lungkaju said, his voice calm. “We can trust him.” He shuffled up onto his knees and checked his rifle.
“Where are you going?” she demanded.
“I must go and look around. I must make sure that we are still safe here.”
“You’re going out there? But why don’t you just wait here with us until the mist goes? It’s safe in here. Surely it’s safer in here? You won’t be able to see anything anyway—”
“It is okay,” he replied. He fished around in his pack, producing what looked like a pair of very narrow sunglasses. There was a distinct silvery sheen to the single lens, which gave it a holographic appearance. “I have this.”
“Oh, well, that’s okay then,” Ava replied. “As long as you’ve got your X-men costume we’re all saved.”
“What is it?” Callum asked.
“It is LVV, a low-visibility visor. It is a new technology to help soldiers to see in bad weather.” He pulled the rifle strap up onto his shoulder and unzipped the tent.
Through the open flap, Callum could see the mist billowing around them. If it was possible, then it felt even colder than usual. It seemed to have developed a faint purple tinge, and it glowed with an eerie half-light. “Are you sure this is sensible?”
Lungkaju grinned and slipped the visor on. “It is actually a very beautiful day, Doctor Ross.” He crawled out. “I will not be long. Come, Fenris.”
The dog sprang to his paws and raced out of the tent after him.
Callum watched as Lungkaju refastened the entrance zip, then he sat silently for a while, he, Darya and Ava just listening to the distant chorus of rifle fire. “It sounds like all hell’s breaking loose.”
There was no response. The others probably felt the same sense of conflict that he did: relief not to be in the thick of it, but a biting sense of guilt at not being able to help. He was no soldier; the closest he’d ever come was the cadet force at school, and even then his participation had been grudging. But neither had he ever been a spectator. And he could fire a rifle, couldn’t he? Doing nothing felt wrong.
“I hope that the soldiers are okay,” Darya said. The calm, self-assured expression that she had worn when Callum first met her was long gone. Instead she looked exhausted, distracted, and the once-vibrant green of her eyes had dimmed. “I cannot believe that I am letting one of those creatures go,” she continued. “I am such an idiot!”
Callum reached out and gently leant her head over onto his shoulder. “You’re not an idiot,” he said, kissing her forehead. “And there’s nothing wrong with being compassionate. You said it yourself. It’s what makes us different.”
“I always thought it was a sense of reason,” Ava said.
Callum’s eyes opened. Despite his fear and the sound of the gun battle, exhaustion had overcome him. He wasn’t the only one. Darya’s head was pressed into his chest, her dark hair draped over the side of her cheek. She was breathing loudly and her hand was clamped tightly onto his jacket as if, in her dreams, she was clinging to
a rockface. Ava was also asleep, slumped over onto her side with Lungkaju’s pack propped awkwardly under her head.
Lungkaju himself was still not back. Callum checked his watch. He had been gone almost twenty minutes. Given the circumstances, that was a long time. But if there was one person who seemed to know exactly what they were doing at all times, it was Lungkaju.
Having to unpeel his tongue like a strip of Velcro from the roof of his mouth was a new experience for Callum. His throat was parched. He was dehydrating in the warm, dry atmosphere inside the tent. Thankfully, Lungkaju had brought another canteen of water with him for the group to share, so they were no longer solely reliant on Ava’s. As he went to retrieve it from the tent pocket, he heard the door zip begin to unfasten.
“I was starting to worry,” he said, turning towards it.
A pair of large, black eyes was staring across at him.
4
Callum froze.
A narrow snout, over-crowded with teeth, cracked open and vented a cloud of reeking breath into the tent space. Three clawed digits crept calmly around the doorway and held back the fabric as a long neck extended towards him, into the interior.
At that moment, Ava awoke. Still lying on her side, she took one look at the face peering down at her, before sitting bolt upright. Her eyelids seized open in terror and she screamed out, startling Darya from sleep. Darya also screamed, and the creature looked from her to Ava, before unleashing its own high-pitched bray into the tent.
It burst forward suddenly, attempting to force its way in through the doorway but failing as its shoulders caught behind two of the struts. Callum scrabbled for the rifle. In the chaos it had been kicked out of reach and it was now lying on the other side of the tent. With no other option, he lashed out with his feet, kicking repeatedly at the side of the creature’s head. Beside him, Darya joined in.
Colony Page 21