Blakey gives a satisfied nod.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
An uncomfortable silence falls on the group crowded into the small reception room. Until that point, Toby, an impressively tall, and broad-chested man with a huge copper beard, and larger hands, had been surprisingly jovial as he’d explained exactly what items they’d need if the government did go ahead and ‘poison the lot of us’.
Tabitha, Toby’s teenage daughter, another robust and imposing redhead, eyes Nate then Ellie from the opposite side of the room, and repeats her last statement. “We should wait.” Green eyes, bright and direct, scan each of them as she speaks.
“Tab, I’m not sure that’s the best option.”
“Well,” she counters. “We don’t know who is infected, so we should wait ... to see if any of them ... turn.”
“What if it’s you that ‘turns’?” Ellie counters. “How do we know that you’re not the ones that have been infected?”
Tabitha stares directly at Ellie. “I guess we don’t. Which is why it’s safer to wait.” She steps away from her father to the coffee machine in the corner of the room, pulls a squat mug from the stack and slots it beneath the dispenser.
Nate can’t help but admire her laid-back style and confidence, though her lack of urgency is frustrating. “They could drop their poison across the city at any moment. We need to leave.”
The machine hums into action as Tabitha presses the button for coffee.
“She’s just being paranoid. None of us are sick,” Ellie adds.
The coffee machine fills the silence.
Toby takes the coffee offered by his daughter. “She’s being realistic.”
“Yes, but the greater danger lies in staying.” Nate’s frustration rises despite finding the pair surprisingly likeable. He knows they’re right about the infection; a shudder creeps down his back as he quickly assesses each face in the small room. He can see no sign of infection. His need to leave the city is stronger than his fear of any of them turning. “Ellie’s right. None of us are sick.”
“That we know of,” Tabitha counters.
Tension rises as furtive glances and scans are exchanged.
“What do you suggest?” Ellie’s face is pinched and white, her anxiety obvious in her irritation. “That we tie each other up and then watch if one of us becomes a blood-thirsty monster?”
“Well-”
“That’s absurd.”
“I’m just saying that-”
“Calm it, all of you!” Toby steps forward. “How many of us here have been in close proximity to ... one of them?”
Nate, Ellie, Mimi, Tina, and Todd raise their hands.
“Josh, too. He’s been the closest.” Nate adds with a glance at the stretcher parked just outside the room where Josh lays unconscious.
“Me and Mimi, we were on a plane full of them.”
“The meteorite hit the apartment block next to mine,” Tina adds.
“Ground zero then.”
“Yes, and we’ve – me, Mimi, and Todd - been parked up there for the past couple of days.”
“Tim and Cathy?” Toby asks.
“We rescued Nate from one. We went to ground zero.”
“Doesn’t mean we’ve had close contact with the bug, chemical, or whatever it is that’s doing this though,” Tim posits.
“So, it’s fairly certain that Nate and Josh, Ellie, and Mimi have been exposed to the ‘infection’ and not turned.”
“As far as we can tell. Josh ... It made him sick, but he didn’t become aggressive.” Nate’s impatience spikes. “I’m not sure where this is taking us. What we need to be doing is getting the hell out of here. If they drop that stuff-”
“Why can’t we just stay here?” Mimi asks. “I don’t want to go back outside.”
“Well, we need to get away because ...” Ellie falters, glances at the stacked shelves. “Perhaps we should stay and wait it out. Mimi’s right; it is dangerous outside. I can’t believe we actually got here alive.” She pulls Mimi closer, and the girl slips an arm around her waist. “And anyway, all the roads are blocked. They won’t let us leave.”
“Tim? What do you think? Can we wait it out then leave the city once their guard is down?”
“I know it sounds like the easy option, but-”
“We can stay here, Tim.” Ellie is animated now. “Look around you. We have everything we need to survive here. There’s food, water-”
“That’s my stock!”
“You’re kidding?” Nate interrupts. “Stop here whilst they drop Novichok 7? Have you any idea what that stuff is capable of?”
“I’ve heard of it. It killed the Skripals in Salisbury.”
“No, they survived, but let me tell you, if they use Novichok 7 on us, we could all be dead within minutes.”
“Well, if they survived,” Ellie replies, “it can’t be that bad, and I just don’t believe they’ll do that. It’s mass murder. Our government wouldn’t do a thing like that, not to their own people!”
“The stuff is deadly, Ellie, make no mistake about that. It’s so potent that you can stop breathing within seconds, go into cardiac arrest or suffocate from the fluid in your lungs within a couple of minutes. You can die, Ellie, within thirty seconds of it touching your skin! Is that something you want to risk?”
“Of course not!”
“It’s easy for them to use too. It can be a gas, a powder, a liquid. They can stick it in artillery shells, bombs, missiles, or even spray it.”
“He’s right, Ellie. Novichoks were designed to be more toxic than any other chemical weapons, so some versions can take effect within thirty seconds.”
“But it’s murder-”
“It’s what Nate has been told, by someone who works for the government.”
“Gareth, an old colleague,” Nate explains. “He works for the Civil Contingencies Secretariat in the Cabinet Office. They’re the ones who decide how to respond to ... emergencies.”
“They’re the ones who decide to nuke you when the shit hits the fan.”
Ellie’s eyes widen, a disbelieving and disappointed child. “But surely ... they’re supposed to protect us, not-”
“Are you prepared to take the risk that they won’t drop it?” Toby asks. “I’m not. Tim, what do you say?”
“I say we kit ourselves out and get the hell out of here.”
“How?” Cathy asks. “Ellie said that all the roads are blocked and you’ve seen for yourself that the place is gridlocked.”
“Like I said, it’s who you know that’ll help you in this situation.”
“Tim! For crying out loud, quit it with the mystery, and tell us how we’re getting out of here.”
“I’m coming to that bit, love.” Tim’s eyes gleam, delighting in the spotlight. “Well, it just so happens that I know the perfect escape route.”
“Tim!”
“Go on.”
Tim gives Toby a knowing wink. “The National Grid have just finished digging a tunnel beneath the river.”
“A tunnel?”
“Beneath the river?”
“Yep. And they broke through on the other bank last week.”
“What kind of tunnel? I haven’t heard of anything.”
“It’s to replace the current pipeline which is in a trench just below the river bed. It’s fascinating! They’re digging thirty-five metres below the river for this one.”
“Pipeline? For what?”
“Gas.”
Nate imagines them crawling through filthy river mud on their bellies. “It’ll be too small!”
“Nope. The tunnel is four metres wide. They’re digging it with Mary.”
“Mary? Who the hell is Mary?”
“A colossal drill. It’s one hundred and fifty metres long. Can you imagine that?”
“So, big enough for us to walk through?”
“Big enough to drive a car through.”
“Wouldn’t make a difference if we did, the roads are blocked.”
>
“Not round here, they’re not,” Toby smiles, “and the entrance to the tunnel is just half a mile down the road. The construction lorries have been going past the warehouse every day for the past six months.”
“Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go!”
“We’re waiting to see if any of us turn,” Tabitha insists.
Silence falls again and the tension returns.
“How about we test for it?”
“Test for it? This is getting ridiculous?” Nate’s patience snaps. “We need to leave, people!”
“How about if we start feeling a bit ...”
“Like we want to rip each other’s heads off?”
“I was going to say poorly, but yes, if we feel any kind of ... rage coming on, we tell someone.”
“And then what? We tie them up?”
“Well ...”
“Listen. None of us has turned so far, so I think we’re in the clear.”
“Or just not been infected.”
“OK, perhaps just not infected, but we have to get out of here. I say we focus on that. They could be dropping that poison on us at any minute.”
“Or not.”
“Sure, Ellie, or not. But we’ve agreed hanging around is not worth the risk. OK. Executive decision.” Nate declares. “We pack three cars. Kit ourselves out in protective clothing and breathing apparatus, and make our way to this tunnel. If we feel a bit rage-y we tell someone.” He stares around at the silent people. “Agreed?”
“Agreed.”
THE CONVOY ARRIVES at the construction site to the angry roar of jet engines above the clouds. Ellie winds the window down as Tim darts from his vehicle, bolt cutters in hand, and slices through the padlocks securing the gates.
“They’re doing it! They’re bloody well dropping it.”
“Do that window up, Ellie.” Nate barks.
Tim pulls the gate open and leaps back into his car with a fearful look at the sky, his protective suit making him bulky, and his movements awkward.
Nate slams the Range Rover, stolen from the rental company neighbouring Toby’s warehouse, into first then third, and follows the speeding vehicles in front. Josh groans from the backseat as the car bumps over deeply gouged dirt tracks and descends towards the mouth of the tunnel. Nate glances at him in the rearview mirror. He’s slumped against Tina, still unconscious, but safe within his suit. Mimi and Todd are squeezed beside him. Ellie gasps as they drop into darkness, voice muffled by her helmet. Nate focuses on the cars ahead as sunlight is replaced by headlights, gloved hands gripping the steering wheel.
The cars slow, but keep a steady speed as they progress through the tunnel. The minutes pass, and the tunnel glows red from the bright tail lights of the cars in front. The temperature drops and Nate shivers.
“How much further?”
“Not far,” Ellie placates.
Minutes go by and then Ellie leans forward, pointing through the windscreen. “I can see light!”
The cars in front pull ahead as the circle of daylight grows large and brightens.
“We did it!”
The Range Rover bounces as it hits the lip of the tunnel, jolting them forward. Nate slows to a stop, pulling alongside Toby’s blue Volkswagen Transporter, and winds down his window. Toby leans out. “Where now?”
Infested. The lowlands will be infested. “We keep going.” Nate replies, a vision of dark hills, paths winding through trees, up and over moorland, returning. Infested. “We go up high; to clean air.”
Nate shifts into first, pulling away from the tunnel as the convoy resumes. Josh coughs, white mist seeping as a delicate and twisting tendril from his mouth.
MORTAL SKIES 2
CHAPTER ONE
The atmosphere in the room is tense, the air close, as the video plays on the screen. Littleton watches as the drone’s footage scans through streets deserted of life, but not of bodies, and then the four tower blocks locally known as ‘The Stacks’. Two are still intact, one clipped at the corner, and one semi-demolished. The debris of a hundred lives lies scattered around the crater at its foot. A fire engine sits shunted at the entrance to the first tower and numerous emergency vehicles sit with doors open. The corpses of at least twenty men and women lie strewn along the street as well as the trackway used by the infected to approach the basement where the ‘thing’ had made its lair. Littleton shivers with disgust as he remembers the footage of the creature sitting on the hill of broken bodies in the dark. The horror that the footage had exposed had been too much for several personnel; the arrogantly academic, and socially-challenged, Su-Li had shown her true colours and excused herself along with the spineless, dough-faced Minister for Defence, David Blakey.
The area is littered with black objects and Littleton leans to the screen. “Rewind,” he demands, jabbing a finger at one of the black lumps. “What is that thing?” The video rewinds for a few seconds and then re-plays.
Doctor Helen Blaylock, a rather plain and dumpy Professor of Animal Psychology from the University of Lincoln, brought in to study the creature, takes a step to the screen. The curls of her wiry hair obscure Littleton’s view. “Could be a rat.” Littleton sighs inwardly, and makes a mental note to talk to Gareth Smaller about the calibre of personnel he has managed to accrue. Surely the Civil Contingencies Secretariat can do better than the motley crew assembled here? It was, for God’s sake, a civil emergency of the highest order!
“Black rats?”
“It looks to have very long legs for a rat.”
“I don’t think that’s a rat.”
“Too hard to tell. Zoom in.”
As the video is stopped and the image focuses on the black lump, Captain Taylor Marks adds, “There were rats everywhere.” He pushes a hand through his short fringe, a sign Littleton recognises as stress, and to his mind, weakness. Marks continues, “A pregnant one died near the basement’s entrance when we went in to retrieve the creature. The place seemed alive with them.”
“Died?” asks Doctor Blaylock. “Pregnant?”
Littleton’s curiosity is piqued by the tone of her voice despite the monosyllabic and intellectually blunt questioning.
“Yes. Its head was mauled – I think it had been partially eaten by the ... alien, but it managed to crawl to the surface. Its belly was swollen and ... moving. I presumed it was pregnant. It keeled over and seemed to die as we went in to retrieve the subject.”
“Will the drone footage show the rat?”
“This footage?”
“Yes.”
“I’m not sure. This is the first time I’ve watched it.”
“The detail for this drone was to cover the trackway and the entrance. If we continue watching, we may see the rat as Captain Marks described.”
“First,” interrupts Littleton, “let’s turn our attention back to the object. What the hell is that thing?”
All eyes turn back to the screen. A heap of black and spiny leathery legs, and possibly pincers, fills the screen.
“Are those teeth?”
“Where the hell did it come from?” Littleton asks. “I’ve never seen anything like it. Marks, did you see anything like that in the basement?”
Connaught coughs, then speaks. “The texture of its skin is remarkably like that of the extra-terrestrial we have in the lab.”
Doctor Blaylock adds to the half-filled page on her notepad, then takes the lead. “Forward the footage so that we can take a look at Captain Marks’ rat, please.”
The room falls silent and they continue to watch as the video plays. A man lays sprawled across the trackway, his skin the colour of dark urine. Liquid, brown and oozing, dribbles from his mouth, nose, and ears. The black of his lips has spread to his face and his eyes are dark spots. His skin sags against his bones, giving him the wrinkled appearance of an elderly man.
“Necrosis has set in along with liver failure by the look of it,” Doctor Blaylock notes, scribbling quickly on her notepad.
“Yes,” Connaught af
firms. “From all the footage that we’ve managed to collect and view, organ failure begins within twelve hours of infection by the parasite. It seems to eat them up from inside. All the subjects lose weight dramatically. That process begins within hours.”
Doctor Blaylock raises her brows. “Extreme consumption of the primary host?”
“Yes!” Connaught says almost breathless. His eyes glitter. “It’s quite incredible. The parasite is a supreme predator in its own right.”
“But its primary function is to feed the mammal ... extra-terrestrial?”
“Yes.”
Littleton baulks at Connaught’s enthusiasm. “It’s a monster, Littleton. Don’t forget that.”
Connaught slides him a glance. “A fascinating monster, Littleton. It will take years of research-”
Littleton irks at the retaliatory lack of title in Connaught’s address. “You have days, Connaught. Don’t forget that either.”
Though he quickly looks away, Littleton notices the narrowing of Connaught’s eyes.
“It is certainly an apex predator the likes of which this earth has never seen,” Connaught replies.
Gareth Smaller pauses the film. “It’s a predator that will wipe us all out if we don’t deal with it quickly.”
“Exactly.”
Connaught shifts in his chair. “The Novichok appears to have done its job, Colonel Littleton. You’ve wiped out the entire city.”
Mumbles across the gathered professionals.
Littleton bites back his annoyance. “It was a necessary precaution to prevent the infection spreading to the rest of the country, Connaught. We were following protocol. So far, it appears to have done what was needed. The same protocol has been carried out in both Europe and the US. In both locations the spread of infection has been halted.”
More grumbled assents.
“Can we get back to the rats, please?”
“We can, Doctor Blaylock. Back to the rats, please, Mr. Smaller.”
Mortal Skies Omnibus Page 20