Outpost H311

by Sara Jayne Townsend

  After her radio, he became ever more fixated on how things worked. He taught himself quite a lot by trial and error. By the end of secondary school, he’d worked out that he could get paid rather well for taking things apart and putting them back together again as long as he could make them work properly when he was done.

  He had not been long out of engineering college when he’d landed a job with OLKON Energy. Financially, he was doing well for a man of his age. He hadn’t had many friends in school – most of his classmates had found him far too nerdy and uncool to spend any time around. During college there had been a couple of guys he’d hung around with. While other students had spent their weekends watching football, chasing girls and drinking beer, David and his mates had had marathon videogaming sessions, trying to out-do each other’s scores.

  Since college his contact with those mates had dropped off, as they had saddled themselves with mortgages and wives and kids, weekends spent changing nappies or going to the park or whatever it was that men with young families had to do.

  David’s salary had allowed him to get a decent enough place close enough to the city for a short tube ride to work every day, but there had never been anyone he wanted to share his life with.

  In secondary school he’d spent his fair share of time mooning over unobtainable girls like all the other boys. But girls had just never been attracted to him. He’d dated a couple briefly in college, but they’d broken it off fairly quickly, claiming he was boring.

  So now he was resolved to the life of a singleton, resigned to the fact that there probably wasn’t a woman out there for him. With no one in his life to spend money on, he invested it in his property and in various saving schemes. He had simple tastes. When he wasn’t taking things apart at home to see how they worked – his dining room table was perpetually covered in parts from whatever project he was working on at the time – he read science fiction novels and played video games. He liked travelling and made a point of going on holiday for at least two weeks every year to a part of the world he’d never seen before.

  Taking things apart engrossed him. One of the common complaints he’d had from women he’d attempted to date was that he paid more attention to the parts strewn across the table than to them. Which he couldn’t deny was true.

  As he concentrated on the task of taking apart the radio in the abandoned base, he didn’t notice the strange creaks and moans that echoed through the corridors, he was so focused on the task in hand. As he removed each part from the radio, he laid it out in a neat line along the console. Over the years he’d learned what he’d done wrong when he was six years old. Back then, he’d removed all the parts and put them in a jumble on the kitchen table. When it came to putting it back together, he couldn’t remember what went where or in what order they had to go back. Now he took things apart in sequence, laying all the parts out in a line so that when it was time to reassemble something, he could use the same sequence in reverse. Everything went back in the right place, nothing was overlooked.

  He couldn’t initially work out what was wrong. There were no parts missing, and although many of them were worn, he couldn’t figure out what wasn’t working. He found a frayed wire and wondered if that might be the problem. A frayed wire should produce a crackle, though, not make the radio completely dead, so that was unlikely to be it. He decided the radio needed replacement parts, but he had no idea where to get them from. The store cupboard in the kitchen was mostly foodstuffs and everyday items. Jake said the map that they had found of the base indicated there were other storage areas beyond the blocked corridor. If they could get past the blockage, would they find anything as useful as spare parts for the comms system?

  He rubbed his hands together and blew on them. He’d taken his gloves off to do the work and was now suddenly aware of how cold he felt. He checked his watch, surprised to realise that Ellen and Jake had been gone for nearly four hours. He did tend to lose track of time when he was working on fixing something. That was another common complaint from women.

  He left the comms room. In the kitchen, he warmed his hands in the heat from the pot-bellied stove. It was likely to be several more hours until Ellen and Jake came back with the others. They had to get there, organise moving all the kit and then come back with five more people, a couple of whom were injured. He may as well have some tea. That would help him warm up.

  He turned on the gas hob under the pan with the melted snow and rummaged through the supplies for a tea bag.

  He found a tea bag and a tin cup and held his hands close to the heat as he waited for the water to boil. The water, he thought, had an odd taste but he didn’t doubt that it was clean, especially after boiling. In fact, this water was probably purer than anything they drank in London. David wondered if perhaps he’d got so used to drinking water with chemicals added that pure, untampered-with water tasted odd to him.

  When the water boiled, he poured some into his mug and turned the gas ring off. They had a limited supply of gas, but the coal-fired pot-bellied stove was emitting a good amount of heat. Of course, they had a limited supply of coal, too. Hopefully they would find a stash of it somewhere when they were able to explore the rest of the base.

  To his tea he added a little powdered milk and honey and stirred it. He’d never been able to adapt to drinking unsweetened tea. Most of his colleagues drank it that way, having been convinced by the media or in some cases their other halves that sugar was a bad thing. But David didn’t like the taste of tea without sugar – and surely the whole point of drinking tea, of consuming any food and drink, actually, was to enjoy the taste. There were far too many people these days getting onto the whole health-kick bandwagon – getting into skinny unsweetened soya lattes and kale and whatever the hell else. He didn’t even know what kale was. There was a girl in the office who banged on about it and its health benefits. All he could ascertain was that it was some kind of green vegetable. And he was not a big fan of green vegetables. He liked fry-ups and red meat and chips and beer. So he might not live a long time, given his lifestyle. What was the problem? It wasn’t as if he had any dependents to provide for, and he had always felt it was better to live an enjoyable short life than to live a long boring life.

  He took the tea into the comms room and set it down on the console, looking thoughtfully at the array of parts laid out on it. He wondered if he should go look in the stores cupboard for some gaffer tape. He could use it to fix the frayed wires, for starters, and gaffer tape went a long way towards fixing things that were broken. He had his own supply of electrical tape in his luggage, for he never went anywhere without it, but that was back at the plane. He hadn’t thought about taking it with them on the scouting mission. Perhaps he should have done. It would no doubt be available when the others came back with all the survivors and kit from the plane, but he was rather hoping to have the radio fixed by then.

  He heard a distant clattering. He turned his head towards the sound, which seemed to be coming from the corridor beyond the comms room, the one blocked by the wall of snow.

  They had set up paraffin lanterns throughout the complex to provide a bit of light, and David had a head torch he had been using to focus on the repair job. But the lanterns were barely enough to illuminate an otherwise pitch-black space, which apart from the vent for the stove and the hatch they had entered through was completely devoid of natural light. The flames from the lanterns cast eerie moving shadows in the corners. David pulled open the door of the comms room. As he peered down the corridor, he could have sworn he saw something moving in there. It’s just a shadow, he told himself firmly. But as he watched the shadows dancing in the corridor, he couldn’t convince himself. There was another clattering noise from the corridor. And another noise. It might have been the wind, had there been a wind howling through this sheltered underground lair, but it sounded more like a low moan. It was barely audible, but in the absolute silence of this space, it was deafening. And yet, as David stood there trying to focus on the noise, t
he sound of his own breathing, his own heartbeat, thundering in his ears, his brain was trying to convince him he couldn’t hear anything. How could there be anything out there to make a noise? The base was deserted; they had checked it.

  But you haven’t checked the area beyond the snow block, he reminded himself.

  There was nothing for it but to check, to clarify for himself there was nothing out there. Cautiously, David stepped into the corridor. The torch on his head cast eerie shadows on the ground in front of him.

  He walked down to the junction and turned left, the head torch illuminating the corridor before it was blocked by the snow wall.

  There was a figure standing in the corridor. David gasped in surprise. It was a very tall man, with wild red hair and dressed in clothes made of animal fur but adorned with ornate decoration.

  The figure turned around, and as David caught a glimpse of its face he tried to scream, but he was frozen to the spot, unable to move. The figure looked like a man, but the eyes burned with something otherworldly, something terrible. Nothing human had eyes like that.

  Fear held David in its grip, and the figure that was something other than a man raised a hand and pointed a long bony finger at him. Every fibre of David’s being screamed at him to turn and run, but his limbs felt like they were made of concrete. He was unable to control his own body.

  The figure opened its mouth and spoke in a dissonant voice that sounded like a thousand voices speaking over each other. It was the voice of heaven and hell and everything in between all at the same time. “Die,” it said.

  It was the last thing David ever heard.

  CHAPTER 13

  “What is it in that fire that’s so fascinating?” Neeta sat down beside Pete, who had wrapped himself in a blanket and was staring intently at the fire. She wrinkled her nose. “It smells really noxious.”

  “It’s the stuff we’re having to burn in it,” Pete said. “There are a lot of chemicals in those seat cushions.”

  “As long as we don’t all get asphyxiated.”

  Pete shrugged. “The smoke’s blowing outside, so we should be fine. Besides, it’s better than freezing to death.”

  “You’ve been staring at the fire for ages. I’m surprised you’re not behind the camera as usual,” Neeta said.

  “It’s just the same old,” Pete replied. “Allison making endless lists, and Nathan griping as usual.”

  “You know as well as I do that you have to film for hours before you get the golden moment, and you don’t know when it’s coming.”

  “Yes, but I haven’t got a lot of power left, so I’m trying to save the battery,” Pete said.

  “I’m sure we can charge it through the generator.”

  “Not while Allison’s rationing energy the way she is.”

  Neeta looked back at the others. Allison was setting out the pieces for Scrabble, alone. Nathan was hiding under a blanket, either in a sulk or pretending to sleep, and Daniel was at the back of the plane, asleep. “She’s trying to organise a game of Scrabble, but no one else seems very keen.”

  “Scrabble’s not really my game,” Pete said. “Besides, I’m happy sitting here. Thinking.”

  “Well, I can see that,” said Neeta. “Are you thinking about Chloe and Lucy?”

  Pete looked at her. “How did you know that?”

  Neeta smiled. “How long have we worked together now? Every time you get that pensive look on your face, you’re worrying about your daughters.”

  “Huh. Gemma always said I was married to the job, not to her. Maybe she was right. You know me better than she ever did in twelve years of marriage.”

  Neeta touched Pete’s shoulder. “You’ll see them again, Pete. We’ll get out of here.”

  Pete sighed. “I miss them, of course I do, but it’s not just that.”

  “What is it then?”

  “I had a big row with Gemma just before I left on this trip.”

  “I thought you seemed a bit distracted when we were waiting for the plane,” Neeta said. “Forgive me for saying, but you rowing with Gemma isn’t unusual.”

  “This was a particularly vicious one,” Pete said.

  “I guess it was about the girls, as usual. You and Gemma always seem to have very different perspectives on how they should be brought up.”

  “I told you she was seeing this American actor.”

  Neeta nodded. “Pete, she’s a costume designer. She meets actors all the time.”

  “This one’s different. She seems to be serious about him.”

  “But he’s a big deal, or he thinks he is. Once he’s finished filming he’ll dump her and go back to Hollywood,” Neeta said. “And I guess Gemma will be crying on your shoulder once more.” She picked up one of the blankets scattered around the cabin and pulled it over her shoulders, moving closer to Pete to share his body heat.

  Pete shook his head. “This is the thing. He’s wrapped up his filming, and he’s asked Gemma to go back to LA with him. With the girls.”

  Neeta stared at him. “Seriously? What do the girls think about this?”

  “They’re all wrapped up in the idea of palm trees and sandy beaches and the glitz and glamour of Hollywood,” said Pete. “They seem to be fixated on this idea that American high school is like an episode of Beverley Hills 90210 – all hunky boys and perky cheerleaders and beach parties all year round. And Chloe is obsessed with being a famous actress. She thinks Los Angeles is the place to be.”

  “But you’re their father,” Neeta said. “Gemma needs your permission to take them out of the country. If you refuse, they can’t go.”

  “And Chloe and Lucy will hate me for blocking their dream of American high school,” Pete said. “Not to mention Gemma’s capacity for holding grudges. If I say she has to keep the girls in the UK, she has custody so she has to stay as well. Her Hollywood leading man will go back to his glamorous lifestyle and forget her, and she will forever throw in my face the fact that I blocked her happiness. But I can’t let her take them away, Neet. They go live with this actor, who’ll throw money at them and give them rides in a private jet, a house with a swimming pool, probably even buy them sports cars to learn to drive in, and how long before they start calling him Daddy? How can I compare to that?” He sighed and went back to staring gloomily at the fire.

  “I see your dilemma,” Neeta said. “But you’re their dad and they love you. They won’t forget you.”

  Pete picked up a shard of wood that had been torn off something in the wreck. He tossed it onto the fire and listened to it crackle as it got consumed by the flames. “I keep thinking of that old adage that if you love something you should set it free and let it come back to you. Logically I know the right thing to do is to let them make their own choices.”

  “That sounds like a wise plan.”

  “But my daughters are thirteen and fifteen. One teenage girl was bad enough, having two is a complete nightmare. They’re not always very good at making the right choices. They’re easily influenced.”

  “But they’ve also got short attention spans,” Neeta said. “They might go over to LA all excited, but the novelty will wear off when they realise just how far away you are. And Chloe’s only three years away from turning eighteen.”

  “A lot can happen in three years,” Pete said. “Hell, a lot can happen in forty-eight hours. Two days ago we were in Oslo getting prepped for what we thought was going to be an uneventful documentary.”

  A rustling behind them made them turn around. Allison was approaching, one of her many lists in hand. “We’re just getting ready to bed down for the night,” she said. “I thought we should do a watch rota. Just to make sure the fire doesn’t go out and to keep an eye out for the others returning.”

  “Or anything else that might be out there?” said Pete.

  Allison hesitated. “Well yes, we have to consider all possibilities.” She consulted her list. “We’re not including Daniel as he’s wounded and needs to rest, so there are four of us doing two h
ours each. That should ensure six hours of sleep for everyone.”

  “I’m happy to take first watch,” Pete said.

  “Are you sure?” Allison said.

  “I’m sitting here anyway, and I’m not at all tired, so I’ll go first,” Pete replied.

  “OK then.” Allison made a note on her list. “Neeta can be next, then Nathan, and then I’ll take last watch because I’m on breakfast duty.”

  “Great,” said Pete. To Neeta he said, “Go get some sleep. I’ll wake you up in a couple of hours and you can take over.”

  “Are you sure you’re going to be OK?” Neeta asked.

  Pete smiled. “I’ll be fine. And thanks for listening. It really helped.”

  * * * *

  Allison felt like she’d only just drifted off to sleep when Nathan shook her awake, eager to pass on watch duty so he could go back to sleep.

  She pulled her sleeping bag around her and sat by the fire, grasping some comfort from its noxious warmth. Allison carefully positioned the grill over the flames and balanced the kettle of melted snow on it.

  As she waited for the water to boil, she stared out beyond the fire flickering at the edge of the plane’s hull. There was nothing out there but a wall of darkness. She thought about the three that had gone out to scout and hoped they were still alive out there, that they had found shelter for the night and would be back in the morning.

  But what if they weren’t? An insistent doubt nagged at the back of Allison’s mind. What if something had happened to them? What if there was something out there? Something dangerous? If that was the case, there was no one coming to rescue them and they’d have to figure out how to survive on their own. The five of them might be the only people left alive, and one of them was wounded. Their only source of medical knowledge was Jake.

  She took a breath and stared up at the sky. Without light pollution, the stars were breathtakingly bright. They sparkled in the sky like diamonds, the milky way a brilliant white streak. Allison didn’t know much about astronomy. Her father had been into it, and when she was a child, he’d taught her to identify the constellations. But she’d only been eight years old when he died. She couldn’t remember much about them now. She could find The Plough, the one shaped like a saucepan, and she could find Orion because of the distinctive line of three stars that made up Orion’s belt. And of course, the Milky Way. She searched the stars for familiar patterns but recognised no others.