by Dan Smith
‘You OK?’
Ash nodded and rubbed his face. ‘No one’s getting down that way.’
‘Then what do we do?’ Isabel’s voice rose. ‘If we use the road they’ll catch us. Or shoot us. I’m sorry. We shouldn’t have come to the steps. I thought . . .’
Ash looked at the loose wires from the railings, then down at the beach below. The boat was so close. He stared at it for a moment, wishing there was some way of getting down there quickly, some way to— He jerked his head round and looked up at the tower to his left. ‘There,’ he said. ‘Maybe there’s another way.’
Ash put his shoulder to the heavy front door and pushed it open on moaning, rusted hinges. A damp smell oozed out, accompanied by a flutter of disturbed wildlife and a long, low creak from the heart of the building.
Ash hurried in, aware of the ghosts that had haunted him: the white and gold house, the monster with needle-like fangs. He had been in this place. A long time ago, when he was a different person, his feet had touched these floors. Images swam in his memory, overlaying the mansion as it was now with images of how it had been. Just being there made his stomach cramp.
But he had faced Pierce. This place held no power over him.
I am Ash McCarthy. I am strong. I can do this.
He ran across the main hallway – a huge space, with a high ceiling and a wide central staircase that split halfway up and swept around to either side of the first floor. The balustrade was flaked with peeling gold paint, and the steps were covered in carpet that was once scarlet and plush but was now threadbare and grime-coated.
Damp had eaten through the ornate ceiling so that rotten beams and plaster hung from holes like the building was spilling its guts. The walls were a mess of peeling wallpaper and huge patches of mould, and the corners of the room were thick with bird droppings.
‘We need to get to the tower.’ Ash started up the stairs, wondering if maybe this was a bad idea, but they only had a few more minutes before Cain caught up with them.
At the top of the stairs, the landing stretched in both directions, with windows all along the front giving an awesome view of the bay. The glass in every window was smashed, and plants forced their way through, bursting like green explosions along the wall.
Dodging the broken floorboards, they sprinted along the landing and came to a door hanging crooked from its hinges. Beyond it was a narrow flight of stairs.
‘I think this goes to the tower,’ Ash said as they climbed. ‘I remember it.’
‘Madre de Dios, it stinks,’ Isabel complained.
‘Imagine how I feel.’ The stench of decay was overpowering and Ash put a hand over his mouth and nose, concentrating on pushing it away. The air stung his throat and lungs and made his eyes stream with tears, but he kept going until he came to the top and pushed through a door into a huge square room with a giant bed against the far wall.
There were still sheets on the bed, but they were tattered and covered in a dense layer of filth. One leg had been gnawed right through by animals, so the bed was at a crooked angle, and the floor around it was thick with droppings and rubbish collected by birds to build their nests.
Three massive arched windows lined each side of the room
‘Look!’ Isabel ran to the window at the front of the building and pointed at the figures heading across the scrub towards them. ‘They’re getting closer.’
‘Get away from the window. Don’t let them see you.’ Ash hurried to the opposite side of the room, but when he looked out at the sea a sudden tidal wave of dreamlike memory crashed over him.
He faltered under the weight of terrifying images, and he was suddenly a toddler again, pressed close to the open window with Pierce’s hand on the back of his neck.
They have come up to the tower to watch the storm over the sea. Each time lightning flashes, the boy shudders. Thunder follows, drowning the sound of the waves crashing on the black beach. It is dark inside the tower and Uncle Damian takes the boy to the window. A spark of lightning gleams on the needle as it goes into his skin, and when it is over, Uncle Damian lifts him and holds him close to the open window so he can look down at the churning sea. ‘This is our secret,’ he says with a soft grin. ‘You can’t tell anyone. Not even your mother. If she finds out, I’ll bring her up here and make her fly from this window. You think she can fly? Imagine what would happen to her if she couldn’t. See how far it is to fall? You don’t want that, do you?’ When the scientist releases him, the boy looks up and his eyes fix on the badge on the scientist’s jacket. The boy is old enough to know the letters on the logo, but too young to form the words. BioMesa. But instead of an ‘O’ there is a black sun with eight points radiating from it. To the boy, though, it doesn’t look like a sun.
To him, it is a spider.
‘So what now?’
‘Hmm?’ Ash shook the memory away.
‘What now?’ Isabel looked at the wire Ash had taken from the railings by the cliff. He had gathered a length of it and twisted it into a coil that he now held in his right hand. ‘Is that for what I think?’ she said.
‘Yes. It is.’ Inside, he was a wreck, but he tried to sound brave. He was overwhelmed by memories of what had happened here, and petrified by what he was going to do next, but he really couldn’t see any other way.
Other than surrender, this was the only choice they had.
01 hr and 10 mins until Shut-Down
Ash unlatched the broken window and shoved it open. His stomach cramped when he leant out and turned round to look up, but he told himself he was strong. He could do this. It was Pierce who had made him afraid, but now Pierce was gone.
About half a metre above his head, a large metal plate was bolted to the wall, with a thick taut steel cable protruding from it. Ash reached up and tugged it hard to test its weight.
‘You’re crazy,’ Isabel said. ‘You can’t use that.’
‘It’ll be like a giant zip-wire.’ Ash turned and scanned along the cable, seeing where it stretched over the balcony, past the cliff with the rickety steps and out across the bay. It continued at an angle, running all the way down to the concrete building on the beach below. ‘I’m not heavy, so it should hold me.’
‘Like the river crossing? No, it’s too dangerous. Stay here, and—’
‘And what?’ he asked. ‘As soon as Cain gets here, she’s going to kill us and take this bag.’ He patted the messenger bag he was carrying across his chest. ‘And she’s going to leave in that boat. There’s no choice here. No. Choice. I mean, if you can think of any other way,’ Ash said, ‘please tell me now. Anything.’
Isabel took a deep breath and shook her head. ‘I don’t have anything.’
Ash blinked hard. He felt as if he was floating somewhere above his body, looking down on a crazy boy about to do a crazy thing.
‘Once I’ve called for help, I’ll use the last of the HEX13 to damage the boat.’
‘You remember the channel number and the message?’ Isabel asked
‘Seventy-two,’ Ash heard himself say. ‘Titan Down.’
‘Right.’
With his heart stuttering, Ash took a bandage from the survival pack and split it in half, winding the pieces around his small hands for protection. He touched the identity tag and muttered the McCarthy mantra, then unravelled the wire he had brought from outside. He wrapped it tight around one hand and leant out of the window to throw the loose end over the steel cord that ran down to the beach. After wrapping it tight around his other hand, he lifted his feet off the floor to test the strength of the cable.
‘Don’t forget . . .’ His voice trembled. ‘Try to break the cable once I’m down. They mustn’t follow me.’
Ash stepped up onto the window ledge and sat down, looking out over the endless drop beyond. The breeze whisked about him, chilling the sweat that had broken out all over his body. He couldn’t feel his legs any more. All he could feel was the hammering beat of his heart.
He tugged once more on the wire to chec
k it would take his weight, then tried to shuffle further forwards on the window ledge, but his body didn’t want to work.
‘Buena suerte,’ Isabel said. ‘Good luck. And . . . thank you.’ She paused. ‘For doing this.’
‘De nada,’ Ash mumbled, and tried to make himself drop, but couldn’t. His muscles were frozen in fear. ‘Isabel?’
‘¿Sí?’
‘I need you to push me.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Push me!’ He shouted the words, forcing strength into himself, making himself angry and determined and unafraid. ‘Push me!’
He felt Isabel’s hands on his back.
‘Buena suerte,’ she said again, and gave him a good, hard shove.
There was a moment of weightlessness, then a sudden jolt as the wire became taut. It dug into his palms, tightened in the places where it was wrapped around the back of his hands, and cut off the blood supply to his fingers. But Ash didn’t notice any of that. All he could think about was falling.
Falling and dying.
01 hr and 05 mins until Shut-Down
The wind lifted his shirt and snatched at his hair as he zipped out over the endless chasm.
The fear of it grabbed Ash like the devil had thrust a hand through his chest to take hold of his heart and squeeze. No breath would enter him. No sound could escape him. All he could do was force every last drop of strength into his fingers and grip the wire like his fists were made from the hardest granite.
He couldn’t let go. Whatever happened, he could
NOT
LET
GO.
His eyes watered as he stared at the drop below his dangling feet. The black cliffs sped away behind him, and then he was hurtling more than a hundred metres over the rocky beach with only the strength in his hands to keep him alive.
Tears streamed away from the corners of his eyes.
I am strong. I can do this.
He repeated the words over and over in his head as he gathered speed. The cable hummed above him, the wire whizzing along it, rasping like a giant zip unfastening. The wind howled in his ears and pummelled him as he started to swing from side to side.
Despite his strength, his hands were burning. The pain was excruciating, and when something jarred him hard the wire tugged tighter, biting into his hands. It threatened to cut through the bandages and slice into his skin like cheese wire. Ash opened his mouth and howled as another bump made the wire dig deeper, slipping further. It was uncoiling from around his fist like a snake, trying to slice through the skin as it went.
He looked up at the wire to see what was jolting him, but the speed and height made his head reel and he had to fight to stop himself being overcome by dizziness. He was moving so quickly it was impossible to fix on anything above him, so he looked ahead, seeing the kinks in the cable. And then he hit a pair of them, two in close succession, making the wire rip further from his fists. Ash yelled out in pain and fear. Too many more and he would lose his grip. Too many more and he would fall to his death.
But he was moving like a bullet, already past the cliffs and out over the water, rocketing towards the concrete bunker that was sunk into the gleaming black sand. If he hit the roof at this speed, he probably wouldn’t survive anyway. The impact of hitting the concrete would be immediate and deadly. Ash had to release before he reached it. He had to let go when he was still over the sea.
And then the world dropped into delicious slow motion as his heightened reactions kicked in. The air no longer screamed in his ears, but hummed a low and tuneful melody. The wind caressed his face and he felt the treacle-like motion of the wire slipping thought his fists. Below him the shimmering sea moved with a dreamy slowness, while above him the wire zipped along the cable without haste. He could see and prepare for every approaching crimp, and he could look below to focus on choosing the best and safest place to drop.
There?
Just a little further.
The cable purred and the wire rippled.
‘NOW!’ He shouted the word as loud as he could, the sound tearing from his throat, but his hands refused to let go. The world resumed its normal pace with a rush and a pop, and once again Ash was hurtling to his death, his fists locked tight, as if they were fused to the wire.
‘Let go!’ Still they clung to the wire. ‘Let go! Now!’
He let out a long, loud yell and focused everything into his hands, forcing his fingers open so that the wire skidded through them, slick with blood and sweat.
Then he was falling, momentum carrying him forwards as he dropped.
‘Yes!’ he shouted as his narrow frame crashed into the waves and cut deep into the sea.
The salt water bubbled and foamed around him, catching him in its tow, but as soon as his feet touched down, Ash pushed hard and shot to the surface. He broke through the waves and gasped for breath, treading water as he wiped his eyes and looked back at the tower. Isabel was there, standing in the window, so he raised a hand to her and she waved back. As he watched, though, a shadow appeared behind her.
Isabel’s hand dropped and she whipped round, but she was too late. Arms came out of the shadows and grabbed her, pulling her into the darkness of the room. In an instant Isabel was gone, and Ash watched in horror as Cain’s face came into the dark rectangle and looked down at the sea.
Acting on instinct, he took a breath and ducked beneath the waves, turning and swimming as fast as he could. His mind was filled with the awful things that Cain would do to Isabel, terrible images flashing through his thoughts as he swam to the small jetty he had seen from above. And when he reached it, he stopped beside one of the wooden struts until his breath ran out, then rose slowly to the surface and looked back.
The window was just a dark rectangle once more, and the clifftop was clear.
01 hr and 04 mins until Shut-Down
On this side, there was no obvious way to board the boat from the water, and the jetty was too high to reach. Ash swam around to the stern, where the name ‘Olympian’ was painted in bold black letters, and spotted a low swimming platform. He pulled himself onto the boat, throwing the messenger bag and survival pack onto the deck beside him, and lay face down with his cheek against the wet fibreglass.
He was terrified for Isabel. He had no idea what Cain would do to her, but had seen enough to know that it wouldn’t be good. All those bodies in the BioSphere, the blood . . . He had to put it out of his mind. All he could do was find the radio and use Thorn’s distress call. Hope that Cain would keep Isabel alive for a while longer.
‘Come on,’ he told himself between breaths. ‘Keep moving.’
He struggled to his feet, weighed down by wet clothes, grabbed the bags and climbed over the stern to drop into the boat. He crossed the deck and peered through a glass door into the cabin and galley. Plush cream leather seats were fixed in an ‘L’ shape to Ash’s left. Beyond them were the wooden worktops of the galley and a set of steps descending deeper into the boat.
The Olympian swayed with the motion of the sea, groaning and creaking as Ash scanned for evidence of a radio. Seeing nothing, he stepped back and noticed a ladder heading to the level above. Ash rattled up the ladder and found himself on the bridge where a pair of leather seats were bolted to the floor in front of an array of controls. In the centre of the panel was what looked like a radio.
Ash went straight to it and pulled the handset away from the dash. He put it to his mouth and pressed the button on one side. ‘Hello?’
Nothing. Not even a hiss of static.
‘Hello?’ he said again, keeping the button held in as he studied the main radio unit. There was a digital display on it, but it was dead – just like all the other screens on the dashboard.
‘Power,’ Ash muttered. ‘How do you—’ He spotted the ignition, close to his knees, with the key still in it. A metal ‘O’ hung from the key ring, swinging gently from side to side.
Ash took hold of it and closed his eyes.
‘Please work.’
When he turned the key, the engine stuttered and jumped into life. He had not expected it to work first time, so he was filled with a surging sense of victory. He was now one step closer. Soon, this would all be out of his hands and he could let someone else take control.
The screens and dials lit up and the radio let out a long, sharp hiss.
Pshshshshshshshsh.
‘Yes!’ Ash reached across to the main unit and pressed the channel button repeatedly, his fingers shaking, blood running from the cuts on his palms.
When the readout finally displayed a large 72, he tried the handset once more.
‘Hello?’
Pshshshshshshshsh.
His heart began to sink. Thorn had been lying.
‘Please.’ He held the button down again. ‘Please. Titan Down. There has to be someone there. Please.’
Pshshshshshshshsh.
Click. ‘Er . . . say again. Over.’
The voice made Ash jump and a burst of excitement shot through him. ‘I said, Titan Down. Titan Down.’
Pshshshshshshshsh.
Nothing.
Ash pressed the button again. ‘Titan Down. Did you hear me? Please. Titan Down.’
Click. ‘Reading you five. Loud and clear. Titan Down. Please stand by.’
There was a long pause filled with static and Ash looked up towards the clifftop, seeing no movement. The window in the tower was still just a dark rectangle. ‘Anyone there?’ he said, pressing the button on the handset once more. ‘Titan Down. Titan Down.’ He kept his eyes on the clifftop, wondering where Cain was now. ‘Titan Down. Titan Down.’
Click. ‘You can stop saying that now.’
He froze.
‘Sit tight. I’m on my way.’ Thorn’s calm voice was unmistakeable.
Ash tore his eyes from the clifftop and stared at the handset. How on earth could Thorn reply to his radio message? Wasn’t he supposed to be stuck in a dark hole in a bunker in the middle of the jungle?