Freefall

by Roderick Gordon

  “Who’s he? And what’s he doing sneaking around here?” Mrs. Burrows demanded.

  “He’s been with us the whole time, and you can call him Leatherman,” Drake said.

  “I don’t care if he’s the King of the Fairies,” she snorted. “Where’s he from?”

  “He’s originally from Fiji. He was in my unit for a while.”

  “What — an army unit or something?” Mrs. Burrows hissed, her lip curling viciously as she became increasingly angry. Will took a step away from her, worried that she might be about to start throwing punches again.

  Drake shook his head. “I suppose you could say that we worked for the government, in a sort of unofficially official capacity, until the relationship was disrupted by our dear friends, the Styx. That’s all you need to know,” he said flatly.

  The man drew alongside Drake and stood as if waiting for an order. A full head taller than Drake, he looked about as solid as the trunk of the old oak tree. His short-cut hair was black, and he had a well-trimmed moustache. His skin was burnished, as if he spent all his life in the open, and as Will thought to himself how much it resembled old, tanned hide, the wry suggestion occurred to him that his name was very apt. The man was dressed in a knee-length Barbour coat and jeans and, reacting to a nod from Drake, he opened his coat. Will caught a glimpse of a stubby-looking weapon suspended at his side.

  “Assault rifle?” the boy asked.

  The man paused to give Will a friendly smile. “Sawn-off twelve-gauge,” he said, tugging something from an inside pocket. Some sort of camera.

  “You were saying,” Mrs. Burrows snapped at Drake, clearly not the slightest bit impressed by the newcomer’s abrupt appearance, or the fact that he was armed.

  Drake took the camera from Leatherman and flipped open the small screen on the side.

  “So, tell me, why can’t I take Will off somewhere, away from all this nonsense?” Mrs. Burrows asked impatiently.

  “Because of this,” Drake said, holding the screen so she could see it.

  “Ben? Is that Ben?” she asked. Grabbing the camera from Drake, she peered at the screen as the piece of green-tinted film played back. “It is — you’ve been snooping on Ben! You’ve got no right to do that!”

  Will managed to see the screen, although his mother’s hands were shaking as she held the camera. It wasn’t only Mrs. Burrows’s friend in the picture — he was with two thickset men in flat caps, wearing dark glasses. And then the screen went blank for an instant and another clip started in which Will could see Ben Wilbrahams with a single Styx. “So, no question that he’s an agent?” he said.

  “None. And apologies for the poor quality,” Leatherman said, as if it really mattered. “The meetings were held at night, and I couldn’t risk getting any closer.”

  Mrs. Burrows gave Drake a half shrug. “So some people approached Ben. What does that prove? These might have been chance meetings — they could’ve gone up to anyone,” she burbled.

  “On six different occasions? In isolated locations?” Leatherman said pithily. “I don’t think so, sister.”

  “I’m not your sister, Mr. Leather-soles or whatever your name is,” Mrs. Burrows spat, then peered at the screen again, shaking her head. It was obvious that she wasn’t convinced by the films. “Tell me — precisely when were these filmed?” she asked.

  “I told you — on six different occasions, and all at nighttime. The first surveillance was just after you went back to Wilbrahams’s house — the evening the Colonists were pursuing you.”

  “Mum?” Will began with a look of concern. “You went back to his house?” Dr. Burrows said. “At night?”

  Mrs. Burrows gave her husband a frosty look, then closed the small screen and threw the camera back to Drake with unnecessary force. He caught it in one hand. “So if this is all true, you’ve known about Ben for a while, haven’t you?” she accused Drake.

  “We had our suspicions,” he said.

  “And still you let him see my husband and son. You let Roger blunder in to get me, so Ben would know he and Will are back in Highfield.”

  Drake nodded. “The Styx knew already, but, yes, I took a calculated risk in allowing the Doc to show himself, because I need to lure the Styx out into the open.”

  “But why?” Will asked him.

  Leatherman took over. He raised his hand, the two phials dangling from his fingers by their cords. “Because we drew a blank on these. You’ve been had, Will. One’s full of Ultra Bug, and the other’s the vaccine for it. I’m sorry to tell you there isn’t a trace of the new virus, not in either of them.”

  “No Dominion virus!” Will gasped. “So it was a lie right from the very start, and they even kept it going when they said they wanted the phials back at the submarine. Do those evil little cows ever stop playing their stupid tricks?”

  Leatherman addressed Mrs. Burrows. “It doesn’t make any difference whether the Styx know your husband’s Topsoil or not, your days are numbered, anyway.”

  “Huh?” she said, not looking quite so sure of herself now.

  “You would have been disappeared before long — you’ve been digging too deep … if you’ll excuse the pun,” he said without any hint of humor. “But now you’ve had contact with the Doc and Will, they’ll assume you know everything they know, so you’re marked. You’ve got no option — you’ve got to run. But you don’t have the know-how to keep ahead of the Styx and, believe me, they’re good. They will catch up to you and kill you. It’s only a matter of time.” He retrieved the camera from Drake and put it back in his jacket. “That’s the way the cookie crumbles, sister.”

  “So you may as well take your chances underground, all three of you,” Drake said bluntly.

  “Underground?” Mrs. Burrows echoed, a look of horror spreading across her face. “Me?”

  “Great,” Will piped up, with a glance at his father. “That’s exactly what we wanted, isn’t it, Dad … to go back.”

  “Shut up, Will,” Mrs. Burrows murmured, in evident distress from the way she was trembling.

  “No, Will’s right,” Drake said. “If he and the Doc were able to hike themselves out of the Pore, then there’s every chance the Rebecca twins might do the same. Sure, they could already be dead, but somebody’s got to make sure. If they survived Elliott’s explosion, they’ve still got the real Dominion virus on them. And we can’t risk that.” He looked into the middle distance, as if a thought had just occurred to him. “However, there might be something you could do for me up here, Celia.”

  “What?” she croaked.

  “Well, you’re not really cut out for all that grubbing around underground, are you?” he asked.

  Mrs. Burrows blanched, and as she tottered on her feet, Will thought she was about to faint.

  PART 6

  DEPARTURE

  28

  IN THE LITTLE CHEF restaurant, Will and his father sat on one side of the table, Drake and Mrs. Burrows on the other. Their food had arrived, but Mrs. Burrows hadn’t touched hers. She’d pushed away the plate and instead stared at the motorway through the window, watching the endless stream of cars.

  Drake had told them that when they were finished eating he was going to drive Will and Dr. Burrows back to Norfolk, and Leatherman — although he was nowhere to be seen — would be taking Mrs. Burrows to London. So this was to be the parting of the ways, the final meal before they went on their separate paths.

  At other tables lone truck drivers sat eating in silence, and a young couple with their noisy infant in a high chair fussed in a far corner. There was a loud crash as one of the waitresses dropped a pile of dishes, and Mrs. Burrows recoiled. It didn’t take much to see that her nerves were strained to the breaking point. She hastily took a sip of water, her hand shaking as she replaced the glass on the table.

  “You had to meddle in things you didn’t understand, didn’t you? If you’d left well enough alone, none of this would have happened,” she said very quietly.

  “Who �
� me?” Dr. Burrows asked, his fork poised in front of him.

  “Who d’you bloomin’ think?” she replied bitterly.

  “Please don’t start whacking him again,” Will said, giving her a wary glance as he pulled his bowl of fries toward him.

  Mrs. Burrows rested her head in her hands and sighed. “No, Will, I haven’t got the energy to do any more of that.” She looked up at him. “And it really doesn’t matter about your father or me. We’ve already had most of our lives and made an abominable mess of them. But you’re young. You’ve got everything ahead of you. I’m so sorry, Will.” She reached out a hand and squeezed his forearm. “I’m so sorry you’ve been dragged into the middle of all this.”

  Will wiped tomato ketchup from the corner of his mouth. “Mum, I am the middle of all this. There was always a chance my real …” He trailed off.

  “Your real mother,” Mrs. Burrows helped him out.

  “Yes … a chance that Sarah Jerome would show up again. It’s what the Styx were trying to make happen.” He picked up a fry with his fingers and chewed it slowly. “And I was a problem for them, too. I’d have been grabbed or killed at some point, anyway.” Will glanced sideways at Drake. “Isn’t that right?”

  Drake put down his cup of coffee and nodded. “They play the long game. They would’ve tidied up sooner or later,” he agreed.

  The infant began to howl, its ear-piercing shrieks making the truck drivers shift in their chairs and grumble under their breath as if they’d just been roused from a very deep sleep.

  “I can’t stand this,” Mrs. Burrows said suddenly, rising to her feet. “I’m going.”

  “Once you’re outside, walk toward the gas station. Leatherman will pull up beside you in a white van. Get into it,” Drake told her.

  “So be it,” Mrs. Burrows said.

  Dr. Burrows and Will also stood up.

  Mrs. Burrows offered her hand, and after a split second of hesitation Dr. Burrows took it and they shook. “Good luck,” Mrs. Burrows said.

  “Good luck to you, too,” Dr. Burrows replied, then promptly sat down again.

  It was such a formal act, as if two strangers were bidding each other farewell, that Will didn’t know what he should be doing.

  He hovered in front of his chair, then Mrs. Burrows stepped around the end of the table to him. “Come here, you,” she said, taking him in her arms. She was crying, and it was all Will could do to stop himself from crying, too. She kept on hugging him, as if she didn’t want to let go.

  “Take care, Will. Always remember I love you,” she finally said in not much more than a croak, and strode toward the exit, wiping her eyes.

  “I love you, too, Mum,” he said, but she was through the door and outside in the parking lot, striding quickly away.

  Will sat down heavily in his chair. He glanced at his remaining fries, then looked away from them. He couldn’t remember the last time his mother had spoken to him with such affection, or said those words to him. He knew she must have done so when he was younger, but he couldn’t remember a single occasion. As the infant in the corner of the room shrieked again, he was hit by the realization that it had taken all the nightmarish events to clear away the chaff that had been their Topsoil lives and reveal how his mother really felt about him. And how he felt about her.

  He was overcome both by a sense of moment and a sense of aching loss.

  As the waitress came with his order of ice cream, three dollops of chocolate, strawberry, and vanilla, he stuck a spoonful into his mouth, more as a diversion than anything else, because he didn’t want his father or Drake to see him choking back his emotions. But the taste of the ice cream just made it worse — a far-off taste of childhood, of lost years. He got up from the table and tore toward the door, wanting to speak to his mother one last time before she went.

  But once he was outside, he couldn’t see her, or the van Drake had said would be picking her up. He ran over to the gas station to check if his mother was there, then he came back to the Little Chef, where he desperately searched the parking lot. But again there was no sign of her. He was too late.

  Drake and his father would be waiting for him in the restaurant but, at that moment, Will felt too upset to face them. Instead, in a corner of the parking lot, he ducked behind a large dumpster on wheels where no one would be able to see him. He looked up into the sky and cried and cried.

  By late afternoon, they arrived at the perimeter of the old airfield. Drake steered the Range Rover down a side track and stopped. Will was sitting up front with Drake, while Dr. Burrows was stretched out on the backseat. Will and Drake could hear his steady breathing as he slept.

  “Are you OK with everything, Will?” Drake asked him in a quiet voice. “I think so.”

  “Once you’re back down, your first priority is to link up with Elliott,” Drake said.

  “I’d do that, anyway,” Will put in. “And Chester.”

  “Yes, of course you would. But when you find her, brief her on what I want done. We have to be certain the Rebecca twins and their remaining Limiter aren’t still operative, and that any risk of the Dominion virus resurfacing has been neutralized. You, Elliott, and Chester have to do whatever it takes. Don’t let anything get in your way.” He stopped speaking as Dr. Burrows stirred in his sleep and made some snorting noises. “Or anyone,” Drake told Will, and glanced at Dr. Burrows on the backseat to emphasize who he was referring to. Then he sighed. “I’d be coming with you, but there are a few things I have to see through up here.”

  Will nodded as Drake continued.

  “And afterward, if you, Chester, and Elliott decide to return Topsoil, I’m sure we can work something out. I can’t say it’ll be easy for any of you, but —”

  “Thanks,” Will said, not needing to hear the rest. “But what about Dad?” he asked.

  “I get the feeling he wants to be as far away from the surface as he can get, after the way things have turned out with your mum. I don’t think he’s planning on coming back for quite some time.” Drake consulted his watch. “Right, we’d better rouse Sleeping Beauty so we can get the gear sorted out and you on your way again.”

  On the open tailgate of the Range Rover, Drake checked that they had everything they needed for the trip. He’d brought large military rucksacks for Will and his father, which he referred to as Bergens, each holding considerably more than the one Will had been using.

  “And now we get to the interesting stuff,” Drake announced. He pulled a holdall onto the tailgate and unzipped it. “Here’s the headset, Will. It’s fully functional again.”

  “What was wrong with it?” Will asked.

  Drake showed him where there was a ring of plastic heat-wrapped around his repair to the cord. “Someone made a tiny incision to sever the circuit. No way was this from wear and tear — it was tampered with.”

  “Rebecca One,” Will said slowly. “Seriously! She must have nobbled both my headset and the rifle scope. Chester was dead right to suspect she’d done it. The twin obviously didn’t want us to spot that a Limiter was following us!”

  “You got it,” Drake said, then yanked out a box that contained what appeared to be aerosol cans, although they were plain gray and without any markings. “We ran some tests on the sample of Aniseed Fire and found that on oxidation it releases large amounts of N,N-Diethyl-mefa-toluamide.”

  “That’s easy for you to say!” Will laughed.

  “DEET, for short. It’s a common garden insect repellent, but the stuff in these aerosols is industrial-strength. Handy if you come under attack. You could also try spraying your clothes and kit with it. Should keep the spiders at arm’s length, and your friends, too. Just avoid getting it on your skin. Understood?”

  “Got it,” Will said.

  “And the fuel for the outboard?” Dr. Burrows chirped up.

  “All in good time, Doc — I’m not finished yet.” Drake held the holdall open so Will could see what else was in it. “I’ve given you some climbing ropes. And becau
se you’re so fond of your fireworks, I’ve stuck some emergency flares in here, too, along with some other goodies.” Drake pulled a third Bergen toward them and undid the top.

  “Explosives,” Will said, recognizing the canisters Drake and Elliott used in the Deeps.

  “With one difference — it’s not my homebrew in them this time, but C4 … plastic explosive. This lot is for Elliott, but you have to tell her to be careful how she sets these babies, because they’re more potent than anything she’s used before. And last, but not least,” he announced, and lifted out a shiny black plastic box from a side pocket of the third Bergen. It was the size of a pack of playing cards and had a length of wire trailing from it. “This is a radio beacon,” he said, then lifted up the wire so Will and Dr. Burrows could see it. “It puts out a radio signal called VLF, which stands for Very Low Frequency. The technology is still in its infancy and nobody knows the extent of its effective range yet, but leave these at strategic points on your route, and it’ll help you find your way around.”

  “Like Hansel and Gretel leaving a trail of bread crumbs in the woods,” Dr. Burrows commented wryly.

  “Something like that, but these are digital bread crumbs with twenty-year batteries. I’ve given you fifteen beacons and a couple of trackers,” Drake said, then swung around to face Dr. Burrows. “And your spare fuel is already in place for you, Doc.

  I had Leatherman move in at night and stow it by the quayside, next to the kit you left there.”

  “He found his way down there, just like that?” Dr. Burrows asked, amazed.

  Drake retied the top of the Bergen and slid it toward Will. “We’re not amateurs, you know,” he said.

  “No, clearly not,” Dr. Burrows sniffed, disgruntled. “You’ve got access to weapons, labs for viral analysis, cutting-edge night-vision equipment, and other technology the likes of which I’ve never seen before. Just who the blazes are you?” he demanded. “You haven’t told us.”