Freefall

by Roderick Gordon

  Rebecca stared at him, unblinking. “Martha’s son salvaged a ton of stuff from here before he came down with the fever.”

  “So?”

  “So did he really lug all that metal back to the shack by himself? Or did some of the men go with him? Did they help him get it there? And, if that’s the case, what happened to them?”

  Will looked askance at her. “Are you saying that he … or Martha … did something to the survivors?” She shrugged.

  “Are you saying they killed them?” Will asked. He happened to look at the next photograph, and it took his attention away from what Rebecca had been saying. The men appeared to be standing next to a tall boulder with a symbol on it. Will stuck his head closer to the print, trying to make out what the symbol was. He saw three single lines that splayed out, like the top of a trident. He immediately touched his chest, feeling the pendant under his shirt that Uncle Tam had given him, and which had exactly the same symbol on it.

  “What’s going on in this one?” he asked, holding up the print. “I know this sign.”

  Rebecca was dismissive in her answer, perhaps a little irritated that Will had been distracted from what she’d been saying. “Oh, sure, you find it carved on stones in the Deeps.”

  “But none of the people from this submarine are likely to have been to the Deeps,” Will reasoned, “so they must have come across it down here somewhere.”

  “As I was saying, Will, just keep your eyes open,” Rebecca said.

  “Martha isn’t like th —” Will began, about to defend the woman.

  Rebecca gave a harsh guffaw. “Martha and her brat were renegades. They’re capable of just about anything. And you didn’t investigate the graves behind the shack, did you? … You didn’t see how recent some of them were?”

  “No … did you?”

  Ignoring his question, Rebecca continued, “You know she can tell a porky when it suits her. You caught her out big time when she fibbed about the medicines. She won’t forget you did that in a hurry. The only one of us she gives a jot about is Chester.”

  “Yeah, but —” he started to say.

  “Keep the photos — they’re yours,” Rebecca said. She turned on her heel and strolled away from him, swinging her hips as she went. There was no longer any sign of her limp. She lingered for a moment on the threshold to the next compartment.

  “Watch your back, Will,” Rebecca said ominously, then snickered. “Because if we run low on meat, she might just eat it. And that’s all I’m saying.” Then she was gone, leaving Will with the photographs in his hand, and serious doubts in his mind.

  Will found it hard to sleep after the conversation with Rebecca. Every time he shut his eyes, he saw the haggard, desperate faces of the submarine crew. But worse even than that, his imagination was working overtime as he pictured Martha digging new graves behind the shack and rolling bodies into them. He tried to dismiss the image. His faith in Martha had been largely restored after she’d helped them find the submarine, but now that was being undermined.

  Rebecca was right — Will had gone up against the woman when he’d caught her in a lie. Would she eventually dump him, keeping Chester as her surrogate son? Will could easily see that happening. And Martha had nursed Elliott, but he was sure that this was only because the girl was important to Chester — he didn’t get the feeling Martha really gave two hoots about her. Would she somehow engineer Elliott’s disappearance, or death, too? And as for Rebecca, she was a foregone conclusion — Martha wouldn’t think twice about using her for crossbow practice.

  If Martha was really that ruthless, then Will had to be prepared for the eventuality that she might make a move against him, or any of the others. He had to try to second-guess her, and his mind churned with all the possible outcomes.

  Will tossed and turned on the narrow mattress in the lower rankings’ quarters, where the bunks were three high against the wall. He was in the top bunk, while Bartleby had curled up in the bottom one and was snorting like an angry warthog, his limbs twitching as he had one of his feline dreams. Yet again, Will wished he could trade places with the animal and have a simple, uncomplicated life.

  18

  AS THEY ALL CLUNG to the ladder in the conning tower, Martha lit a large bundle of Aniseed Fire. She lifted up the outer hatch, lobbed the smoldering plants outside, and then slammed the hatch shut again. “We should give it a couple of minutes,” she said.

  As they waited for the go-ahead from Martha, it seemed to Will that Chester was studying her, as if he was weighing what he thought of her. Perhaps this was all in Will’s mind, because he’d told him what Rebecca had said about the woman. Will had expected Chester to dismiss it out of hand — not least because he didn’t trust Rebecca as far as he could throw her — but the instant rebuttal from his friend never came. Instead, Chester just looked confused and murmured, “I don’t know,” several times.

  As the seconds ticked by in the conning tower, Chester broke the silence with a cough, and shifted on the ladder. It was obvious that he was itching to get going but, equally, was extremely nervous about what was waiting for them on the outside. “These Bright things — are they really that dangerous?” he asked Martha.

  “Yes,” Martha confirmed. “That dangerous.”

  “You didn’t see it, Chester,” Will put in. “It was really nasty-looking.”

  “But the Aniseed Fire will protect us, won’t it?” Chester asked.

  “It’s better than nothing,” Martha replied.

  “It works with the spider-monkeys, though,” Will said.

  “The Brights are a different story. Once they’ve picked up your scent, they’re like stalkers — they don’t give up.” Her eyes became unfocused, as if she was remembering something. “Every so often a Bright would pop up in the Deeps, but they’re heavier there, so they’re slower. One had been shadowing us for mile after mile as we moved across the Great Plain, and we knew we had to get it before it got us. I eventually brought it down with a lucky shot. I tell you, even when it was grounded, its body all broken up, it refused to die. It was crawling toward us and snapping at us until the last drop of blood had pumped out of it.” She shook her head. “I don’t know any other animal that can match its hunger.”

  “Horrible,” Chester said, shivering.

  Martha touched the point of the bolt slotted in her crossbow. “Some say they’re as old as the hills … that they ruled the skies long before there were any Topsoilers.”

  Elliott moaned, tossing her head, the only part of her body she could move now that she was trussed up again in a blanket and bound to the stretcher.

  “That should be long enough,” Martha decided, placing her hand on the underside of the hatch. “Everyone ready?”

  The boys answered, although Rebecca remained silent.

  “Once we’re away from the ship, we move as a group. And remember — keep the noise down.”

  She pushed open the hatch and they climbed out onto the observation platform, then abseiled down the side of the conning tower using the chain.

  “Easy, boy,” Will whispered as he released Bartleby. But rather than scampering off as he usually did, the cat didn’t seem to want to move. His large ears were twitching like animated satellite dishes, as if they were homing in on something. Martha had been checking the darkness above the submarine for any sign of the Brights, but now she wheeled around to face the cavern. Raising a hand to indicate they should all stay put, she continued to scrutinize it, tilting her head as if she was straining to hear something. Will couldn’t understand what she was doing. Weren’t the Brights the biggest threat right now? Why wasn’t she leading them away from the submarine as she’d said she would?

  Will and Chester glanced at each other, wondering what was wrong, when they both heard the murmur of distant voices.

  A light flickered from the mouth of the tunnel at the far end of the cavern as two figures wandered out from it. Will couldn’t see them clearly, but one of the figures was taller than the o
ther, and he heard a voice — it sounded angry.

  Martha had remained statue-still. Hardly moving her lips, she spoke to them. “When I tell you to run, break in that direction. There’s a passage there,” she said, glancing briefly to their left. “And don’t wait for me.” She brought up her crossbow.

  As the two figures came closer, making absolutely no attempt to conceal themselves, Will was able to hear what the voice was saying.

  “What’s with all this stop-start business, anyway?” it demanded. “We bat along for mile after mile, then — for no apparent reason — you say we’ve got to wait. We’ve wasted days just twiddling our thumbs. We could have used all that time for something constructive.”

  “Dad?” Will gasped, loudly enough for the others to hear. “Is that my dad?”

  “Can’t be,” Chester said, shaking his head in disbelief.

  Will instinctively knew it was Dr. Burrows, and his natural impulse was to run toward him, but for reasons he couldn’t explain to himself, he found he was checking that his rifle was loaded. Perhaps it was because he’d spotted Rebecca dumping her rucksacks and edging stealthily forward, as if she was about to make a break for the center of the cavern. Or perhaps it was because he also instinctively knew who the smaller figure accompanying his father had to be. An alarm bell was ringing in his head, and it was growing louder by the second.

  The taller of the two figures came to a standstill. Will saw the glint of his glasses.

  “Dad?” he yelled. “Is that really you?”

  The figure started with surprise.

  “WILL!” it cried, beginning to walk quickly toward him. “WILL!“

  “Oh no,” Martha breathed, switching her head from one side to the other.

  At either end of the submarine stood a man. With their tall, thin bodies they were unmistakable. They were Limiters. Emerging from the shadows, they were standing to attention like Topsoil soldiers, their spears held ready.

  “We’re in big trouble,” Will said.

  Bringing his rifle up, Chester made a whining sound.

  “We’re in deep pooh,” he muttered.

  Dr. Burrows was about a hundred feet away from the submarine when the smaller figure at his side shouted. “That’s far enough!” it ordered him. Will had seen by now that it was indeed the second Rebecca twin who was accompanying his father. She seized Dr. Burrows by the arm, bringing him to an abrupt halt, then aimed a kick that struck him just behind the knee. His leg buckled and he dropped into a kneeling position. Before he had time to react, she had looped her arm around the top of his head and pressed a scythe to his neck.

  “What are you doing? Stop this nonsense, Rebecca!” he cried. “Stop it this moment!”

  Will still hadn’t moved a step, but when he saw that the Rebecca twin behind him had begun to creep forward again, he acted immediately.

  “Not so fast,” he said. She shrieked as he caught her by the hair and swung her in front of him, forcing the rifle muzzle up under her chin.

  “Will! No! Please let me go,” she begged. “It’s her you want … not me!”

  “Yeah — like I still believe you! You told me you were alone down here,” Will growled. “Chester was right — it was all a big act.”

  Her whole demeanor changed in an instant. “You have to admit I was rather good, wasn’t I? Had you eating out of the palm of my hand,” she said smugly. “Drama always was our favorite subject at school.”

  The fact that the twin had stopped the pretense didn’t make Will feel any better about the already horrendous situation. It was clear that the twins thought they had the upper hand once again and could do as they pleased.

  “Another Rebecca?” Dr. Burrows gabbled, having registered the second Styx girl beside Will. “How —?”

  “Poor old Dr. Buckwheat,” the twin at his back cooed. “You always were a bit slow on the uptake.”

  “But how?” He tried to get up but she dug the scythe sharply into his neck.

  “Stay put,” she snapped. “You stupid old goat, we’ve played you right from the start, right from that day we sent Oscar Embers into the museum with the luminescent orb. We wanted to get you on the hook, knowing how it would play out. Knowing that sooner or later it would flush Sarah Jerome into the open.”

  “Sarah Jerome?” he said, not knowing who the twin was talking about.

  “We didn’t give a toss about the rest of you. You’re all expendable,” the twin said, then turned her attention to Will. “But isn’t this nice?” she sneered, her voice dripping with insincerity. “The gang’s all here. And Daddy’s with his little boy — all together again.”

  The twins began to speak in the Styx tongue.

  “Shut up!” Will yelled, pressing the rifle muzzle hard into his twin’s throat. “Or I’ll shoot you.”

  “What, are you going to put a bullet in my head? I don’t think so, somehow,” she said in a strangled voice. In complete defiance, she began to speak in Styx again.

  “I mean it,” Will said. “I’ll do it!”

  “No you won’t,” the other twin behind Dr. Burrows shouted. “You’re a big wuss. You haven’t got the guts.”

  “Will, what are you doing?” Dr. Burrows exclaimed. “You can’t —”

  “Stay out of it, Dad,” Will cut him short. “You’ve got no idea what’s going on.” Will then addressed the twin behind his father. “What do I call you? You can’t both be Rebecca.”

  “Whatever,” she replied curtly.

  “OK, um … Rebecca Two, looks like we’ve got a standoff here. What do you want to do?”

  “For starters, you can give us those phials back. And we’ll also take the old woman,” Rebecca Two announced.

  “Why her?” Will said, asking himself how she could know that he had the Dominion phials.

  “Because she’s the one with the knowledge of these parts.”

  Will caught Martha’s eye. She had one hand on a bundle of Aniseed Fire stuck in her belt. She looked at Will questioningly. Will gave a shake of his head and she took her hand away from the dried plants. Then she flicked her eyes upward, indicating the area above them. Will nodded. He knew precisely what she was trying to tell him. All this noise was going to bring the Brights down.

  And right now, maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.

  “Come on, we’ll do swapsies with you — we’ll trade your father for Martha and the phials,” Rebecca Two continued. “The rest of you can go. She’s the only one we want.”

  “You’re forgetting I’ve got your sister here, too,” Will countered. “Doesn’t sound like a fair deal to me.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Will saw Martha very slowly draw her knife. She ran the blade along her forearm, cutting deep into it. Then she lowered her arm, dripping blood over the ground.

  “My sister’s not part of the equation. Do what you want with her,” Rebecca Two continued, tossing her head impatiently. “Why don’t you listen to what I’m saying? We’ll swap your father for Martha and the phials. Then the rest of you can go free.”

  “Hah! You must think I’m stupid,” Will spat.

  “Not stupid — just weak,” the girl came back. She gave the Limiters a signal with her eyes, and they immediately began to advance. “The cards are stacked against you, Will, so I suggest we agree that we’re going to agree on something.” She laughed, but it was unpleasant and throaty.

  Rebecca One suddenly babbled again in Styx.

  “Don’t do that! I warned you!” Will shouted, yanking her hair. He heard growling by his side. He gasped in surprise. Bartleby was several feet away from him and crouching low as if he was about to attack. “Bartleby!” he yelled. “What are you doing?”

  “What I told him,” Rebecca One said.

  The cat’s nostrils were flared and his claws drawn.

  “He’s just trying to protect me,” Will said, although he didn’t sound too confident.

  “Want to bet on that?” Rebecca One cawed. “Remember I told you I looked aft
er him back in the Colony? Well, I gave him some extraspecial training. And he’s not the only one,” she snickered. Then she spoke in Styx again, and the cat edged even closer to Will.

  “You … you traitor!” Will yelled at the cat, almost lost for words. It was as if Bartleby didn’t recognize him at all. Like a coiled spring about to snap open, the cat crouched even lower and hissed at him. Bartleby’s eyes were crazed and wide, as if filled with bloodlust.

  “Don’t have many friends, do you?” Rebecca One said. “A single word from me and nice kitty will be at your throat.”

  “If he does, so help me, you’re dead meat,” Will said grimly, maneuvering her body so it shielded him from the cat.

  There was a sudden cry to Will’s left, and he saw the Limiter burst into action.

  “An angel!” Dr. Burrows exclaimed.

  The large white creature fell thrashing to the ground before the Limiter. With both hands on his spear, the soldier repeatedly drove the point into the Bright until its movements ceased.

  Will caught Martha’s eye again. Her plan was working — the smell of her fresh blood was drawing the Brights like moths to a flame. There was another squeal and she spun around, firing a bolt. It swished into the darkness, but the Bright was gone. It wasn’t a perfect plan by any means — the Brights were just as much a menace to her and the boys as they were to the Styx.

  There were more eerie squeals from the darkness of the void, and dim lights streaked around like shooting stars.

  “It starts,” Martha said under her breath.

  “Interesting pets you’ve got down here. I’d like one,” Rebecca Two said, but she didn’t sound quite so sure of herself now. “Perhaps we should conclude our exchange quickly, Will, and get out of the open?”

  There was a flurry of activity from the other Limiter, but this time the Bright was the victor. They all watched as the soldier was whisked off his feet by the creature, which had its barbed legs wrapped around the man’s head. Creature and man simply vanished in a blur. The Limiter hadn’t even had time to cry out. The only evidence that he’d been there was his spear, which toppled to the ground.