The Night of the Mosquito

by Max China

  ‘Thank God, he’s unconscious,’ Soames yelled.

  ‘No, I think he’s dead,’ Styles said.

  Soames approached the cadaver, dropped to his knees and rolled it over. ‘Christ,’ he yelped, ‘What’s happened to Wolfe’s face?’

  ‘It isn’t him,’ Styles said in horrified awe. ‘Wolfe – he did that. Fuck! There’s only one other man I know anywhere near his size who’d have been around here, and that’s Chisolm.’

  ‘But how did they survive the fall?’

  Styles puffed out his cheeks. ‘Because of their size? How the fuck would I know? What I do know is a killer’s on the loose. We have to warn people.’

  ‘Sir,’ Soames examined the corpse, ‘These marks on Chisolm’s face . . . ?’

  ‘What about them?’

  ‘Wolfe chewed it off, didn’t he . . . ?’

  ‘Well of course he fucking did. He’s a cannibal, isn’t he? Get back to the bus,’ Styles said, wiping his mouth in disgust, ‘and tell the others, while I go on to the nearest police station to report this, and warn them the devil is at large.’

  Chapter 21

  Priestley police station. 10:45 a.m.

  ‘Traffic Officer Williams, I want you to gather everyone who made it into the station this morning for a meeting in the briefing room,’ Emerson said. ‘No, on second thoughts, make it the canteen. You as well, Jordan. Now.’

  ‘Right away, sir.’ Williams wanted to take his superior to task. He’d only applied for his new position to get away from Emerson’s oppressive regime, but he said nothing as he slid from the corner of the desk. ‘Feet are killing me,’ he quipped to Jordan. ‘Not used to all this walking.’

  The inspector looked over the small group. Three constables, including female officer Croft. A sergeant, plus Williams and a prison officer. Emerson settled his eyes on Croft’s chest. ‘Who’s going to get the phone if it rings, Lara?’ he said, his voice edged with sarcasm.

  Croft shifted uncomfortably.

  ‘I was joking, Lara,’ Emerson said. ‘Right, we can’t just sit on our hands waiting for the power to come back on. We need to think about what happens if it doesn’t.’

  ‘Are there contingency plans in place for a situation like this?’ Jordan asked, sauntering over to the drinks machine. ‘Don’t tell me this doesn’t work without electricity.’

  ‘That only keeps it cool,’ Croft said. ‘It should work.’

  Jordan parted the slats at the window and looked out. ‘Have you seen how many people you’ve got queuing up outside?’ He pulled a plastic cup from the stack. ‘There’s been a lot of talk about cyber terrorist attacks lately, but no clear direction on how we’d cope if there were one. In a prison environment, we can still turn locks with keys. But what about the emergency services? How can they run?’ He filled the cup. ‘No answers? Okay, where’s the nearest army base?’

  Emerson inwardly seethed at the lead taken by the prison officer. With no immediate answers, he diverted their attention to the foyer. ‘The electronic keep on reception won’t be working. Has anyone thought to physically lock the door with a key?’

  A series of exchanged looks and shrugs followed, but no one answered.

  ‘Who was the last one in?’ Emerson scowled. ‘It was you, Williams, wasn’t it? Get down there and secure it. Otherwise we’re relying on good behaviour to keep that bloody crowd out, for Christ’s sake. Speaking of which.’ Emerson paused, listening intently. ‘It’s too quiet. I don’t like it. What are they up to?’

  Williams leaned out into the corridor. ‘I can hear Professor Young talking,’ Williams said. ‘He must have their attention.’

  ‘I thought he left half an hour ago.’ Emerson’s brows knitted together. ‘What can he still be talking about? Let’s go and have a listen.’

  The professor had hit his stride. He stood in the open doorway to the entrance ramp, in what had become an extended alfresco lecture theatre. ‘Some of you may have noticed the behaviour of birds earlier on this morning, wheeling in great flocks in the sky. I wondered if they were trying to realign themselves to the Earth’s magnetic field, en masse.’ He searched the sky. ‘Migratory birds mostly. None out there at the moment,’ he said. A dozen pairs of eyes switched their focus from looking up, fixing on the professor as he continued. ‘Think of it like synchronising watches. Insects too, I should imagine, especially bees, wasps and the like. It’s going to be a while yet, I suspect, before normality returns.’

  ‘But what does it all mean for us, professor?’ a young woman said, shifting her child higher in her arms.

  ‘Now, that’s hard to predict. Aurorae displaying in daylight? It’s unprecedented. It could be days or even weeks before we start getting back to where we were before.’

  ‘Why haven’t we been affected like the birds?’

  ‘We’re not wired up in the same way.’ He laughed. ‘Though the bushmen among us claim to feel it through the soles of their feet. Seriously, we’ve been around a long time, living under our closest star. Our atmosphere protects us, always has. And that’s the thing. Throughout the years, we’d have noticed bright skies, coloured lights and so on, but beyond that, we were largely unaffected.’ The sky darkened, lowering the light levels still further. A faint green glow ghosted the features of those present. A low murmur burbled among them. ‘See that,’ he pointed enthusiastically. ‘That shimmer of emerald light.’ His eyes shone. ‘Never heard of that in daytime, let alone seen it.’

  ‘This is like the end of the world.’ The Italian crossed himself.

  ‘Or the beginning of a new one,’ a voice cried.

  ‘It isn’t anything like that,’ the professor’s smooth baritone assured them. ‘In the past, we weren’t heavily reliant on technology; we had no communications to speak of. The last major flare before technology really got going was 1859. And at that time, it knocked out telegraphy. The strange thing was, because it overloaded circuits and wires caught fire, we discovered that some gadgets carried on working even after being unplugged, running on what became known as the celestial battery. That’s what we’re seeing out there. Geomagnetic waves.’

  From the doorway, Emerson interrupted and addressed the crowd in a loud voice, ‘We appreciate your patience,’ he said. ‘As soon as we hear anything meaningful, we’ll let you know.’ He opened the door wider. ‘Professor, seeing as you’re still here, a word if I may?’

  The old man nodded. He moved backwards, adding, for the benefit of the mass of people now gathered. ‘According to some, ancient aboriginal art seems to indicate they saw the skies lit up much as we have here today. In other words, it’s nothing new.’

  Five minutes later, in the corridor by reception, Professor Young surveyed his meagre audience. ‘I was asked earlier, how it was that no one knew about this, event. Well, let me tell you,’ he said. ‘This storm was predicted. NASA calculated it would miss us, but the size of it was clearly far bigger than anything previously recorded.’

  ‘I didn’t hear any warnings—’ Emerson said.

  ‘They don’t generally filter through to the public. So many predicted events amount to nothing. There’s no point in causing needless widespread panic. If I can finish outlining the scenario we’re facing, we can then base our response on what we know so far.’

  Williams shook his head, addressing Emerson. ‘I can’t believe that other than following routine emergency guidelines, nothing definite has been laid down.’

  ‘It’s fucking ridiculous when the officer in charge doesn’t know what to do.’ Sergeant Mike Adams, nearing retirement, wasn’t known for his tolerance.

  ‘Okay, Adams,’ Emerson said. ‘If I weren’t here, it would be down to you. So come on. What would you do, eh?’

  Adams flushed, eyes blazing.

  The professor’s smooth voice cut in. ‘I don’t think anyone took it seriously until a few years ago. Some countries strengthened their power grids. Others spoke of shutting down before the storm arrived to protect them, thus switching bac
k on once the threat had passed. Scientists have long been able to predict a big storm beforehand. They spot a flare, followed by a coronary mass ejection. I heard about it yesterday, read about it on the Internet, and even before it arrived, I noticed birds and insects behaving strangely. Swarming. Aggressive even. Of course, I didn’t put two and two together at the time; never seen it before, not like that. I have to say, I don’t think anybody had pre-planned for a total wipe-out of communications.’

  ‘You were talking out front about us having them before?’ Williams said.

  ‘That’s right. The last big one, Quebec, in 1989, took a couple of days after it was first observed to reach Earth’s magnetic field. As I was saying to the people outside, our atmosphere protects us, but geomagnetic current transfers into the ground and overloads the grid. Anyway, from what we know, if it’s as bad as the one known as the Carrington event in 1859, then we can expect at least two days of disruption, followed by however long it takes to rebuild. The difference between now and then is we’ve created a vast infrastructure that is vulnerable. Fail-safe devices work within calculated parameters, but until tested by an actual event, they only work in theory.’

  ‘And they didn’t work,’ Emerson said. ‘That’s obvious. From where I’m standing, that means we’re fucked. If we don’t get the power up by tonight, there’s going to be anarchy in the streets and there isn’t a thing we can do about it.’

  Adams, taut-faced, slow-clapped his hands.

  ‘Don’t, Mike. He’s doing his best,’ Croft said.

  ‘That’s right. I don’t know what it is with you two, but let’s keep personal scores out of it,’ Jordan said. ‘When I came from the bridge on the back of a motorbike, there were already queues forming outside food shops. Fights breaking out between the owners and people trying to pay with plastic. All the main roads are jammed—’

  ‘How can we be sure our partners are safe while we’re here? My missus was going to the shops,’ another officer said.

  ‘My little girl,’ Croft said. ‘I’ve left her with a babysitter. If things aren’t back to normal by lunchtime, I’m going home.’

  The agitation spread beyond the confines of the corridor. In the foyer, fear and anxiety grew. The men at the head of the queue listened, their ears pressed against the doors, relaying what was being said. Dissent soared. ‘What’s going on in there? Open up. We’ve a right to know what’s going on!’

  Someone hammered on the door. Unsecured as it was, the repeated blows swung it an inch into the corridor.

  ‘For Christ’s sake Williams, didn’t you lock it?’ Emerson yelled.

  The crowd surged forward. Adams reached for his truncheon.

  The professor held Adams’ forearm down. His voice had natural calming qualities. A Welshman, he’d sung in choirs throughout his youth. Until he’d given it up a few years before, he’d been well known on the local karaoke circuit, often winning prizes; he had the respect of the community.

  ‘Simmer down. All of you.’ He shot Adams a glance and released him. ‘Don’t worry. Together we’ll get through; no falling apart now. The strong must look out for the weak. The officers here will do their best. Nothing like this has happened to us before, so it’s all new, see?’

  ‘What if it goes on for days – won’t we run out of food?’ a young woman with a small child said.

  ‘Look, so far as I know, Powergen or whoever it is responsible has a mountain of transformer spares stockpiled for just such an event. Could be the engineers are working even as we speak—’

  ‘A few minutes ago, the lights flickered and then went out again,’ Emerson said.

  The professor sighed. ‘There you are. It isn’t all doom and gloom. Someone’s onto it already.’ He scanned the faces around him; they looked less anxious. He continued, ‘The army has older vehicles at their disposal which should work. Any equipment that wasn’t turned on should function once the power’s restored. Only certain components are vulnerable, so not all modern cars are useless, but mobile phones need satellites to work. Worst case scenario, we could be looking at a day or two for the storm to die down enough to get signals again. Radios, similar – though some wavelengths could still work.’ He turned to Emerson. ‘Where are your spare radios?’

  ‘On charge from last night.’

  ‘They could be okay. We’ll scroll the frequencies, establish a connection. If not, we can try CB. Thinking about it; that should work. Once we’re in contact with each other, we can make inroads. Are we all clear?’ Noting most heads nodding, he continued. ‘The roads. We must get out to other police stations. We can do this. Can we count on you lot cooperating?’

  A walking stick waggled in the air at the back. ‘I’m with you,’ an elderly man shouted.

  Zimmer-frame woman added her voice. ‘And me.’ This was followed by a reluctant grunt from the youth.

  ‘Include me in,’ the Italian yelled.

  The professor smiled. It seemed all agreed.

  The inspector picked up an officer’s cap. ‘You’d better put this on, professor,’ he said. ‘You didn’t say how you know all this stuff.’

  ‘No, I didn’t. I graduated in physics at Cardiff University, and then later became a lecturer at Cambridge University.’ He grinned. ‘You’d be surprised what us academic folk talk about.’

  ‘Right,’ said Emerson. ‘Let’s get all our radios together and see if any are working. Then we get ourselves out there, reassuring people on the streets. We’ve got bicycles. What we need are some older cars. Use our emergency powers to commandeer them. Do we know anyone with an older car?’

  ‘I have one,’ the professor said. ‘But I suspect you’ll be better off getting around through the snarl-ups on a motorcycle. I have two of those: a Norton 500 and a Triumph Bonneville 250. They still run. My grandson looks after them for me. I’m going to use the Norton. Nick will be livid, but if pushed, you can take the Bonneville.’

  Chapter 22

  St Michael’s Church. 10:55 a.m.

  Wolfe lay on his back staring at the slots in the ceiling through which the bell ropes travelled. The room above had been part dismantled – open joists and unboarded, apart from a few new-looking boards around the head of the stairs and leading across to the pulley wheels. The work had long since been abandoned.

  Unconcerned about capture, he’d taken his time with the victims. Satiated and woozy, he wondered why no one searched for him. An hour had passed since the last bells had rung and pigeons had slowly returned to roost. The birds, lined up on a rotten beam, shuffled nervously, their eyes shifting from Wolfe to the motionless woman beside him and then on to the broken-necked cadaver, which twisted, suspended from a creaking rope.

  Wolfe traced a downy white feather falling on a lazy spiralled course, picked out individual flecks of dust floating in the bars of light let through the cracks in walls and louvres. Content, he closed his eyes. His mind drifting like the feather, he felt a part of himself shift. He slipped into another world.

  Footsteps and drunken laughter echoed down a narrow passageway in the dark. A woman, dressed in a filthy white bonnet and drab skirts that dragged the ground, led a man deeper into darkness. Both stumbled over cobbles slicked with rain. Away from the main thoroughfare, save for the moon dusting silhouettes, there was no light.

  ‘This’ll do,’ the woman said, stopping so abruptly, her companion staggered into her. She giggled as he leaned into her, pawing at her clothes. She drew him further into shadow, back against a door. It rattled. Fumbling, his fingers succeeded in freeing one of her breasts. ‘Yes,’ he announced triumphantly, before lowering his mouth over the dark flesh of her nipple. ‘Mmm,’ he mumbled, nibbling and sucking greedily. She writhed against the door, expert fingers finding his cock while she hoisted her dress with the other. Parting her legs, she stroked and pulled, milking him. ‘Come on, I ain’t got all night.’

  ‘On the floor, girl,’ he said.

  ‘But it’s all fucking wet.’

  ‘The we
tter the better.’

  She shrieked, the door clattering in its frame as he wrestled her. ‘Awright, awright,’ she whispered. ‘Before you wake everyone banging against the door.’ She took the shawl from around her shoulders and laid it down. They sank onto it.

  ‘Don’t you shoot your load inside me.’

  ‘Fuck off,’ he snarled through gritted teeth, ‘can’t stop now.’

  With the frenzied thrusting of his hips and open-mouthed panting, she knew he wouldn’t stop. Timed to perfection, she jerked up and rolled away, breaking contact as he ejaculated. ‘Bitch,’ he growled, his fist coaxing the last drops of semen from a rapidly subsiding cock.

  ‘Come on, up,’ she said, getting to her knees. ‘You’re on me shawl.’ She stuck out her hand. ‘And where’s me tuppence?’

  ‘For that?’ His fingers balled. Lurching at her from a half-crouch, his fist exploded from the darkness, smashing her jaw. ‘You can ‘ave five.’

  The man staggered to his feet, adjusted his clothing and lumbered down the alleyway towards the gas-lit street.

  No sooner had the drunkard disappeared into the night than a tall man, dressed in dark clothes and carrying a polished black leather bag, stepped from the shadows.

  The woman groaned, rolled off her back and struggled onto all fours before pausing to collect her scattered wits. She stood up, one hand against a wall to steady her, and became aware of another customer. Her exposed breast popped back under her clothing, she said, ‘I’ve shut up shop for the night.’

  ‘You appear to be hurt.’

  She focused on him, saw his bag. ‘I’m awright, doctor, ‘ad worse.’

  ‘Let me see,’ he said, grasping her chin as she turned away.

  ‘Honest, I’m awright.’

  His hand slid around the back of her neck, holding her firm.

  He stared into her eyes, his desire unmistakable.