The field wasn't empty today. Tom counted a hundred and seventeen tents, three caravans, and two motor homes. One of the fire pits was alight, and figures were silhouetted against the flames. Vegetable stew. It wasn't the smell that gave it away. All of them had been present partially or fully for the washing, chopping, and preparation of the meal. All of their food came from donations by local villagers who felt strangely impelled to make sure the youngsters on Craxton's field were adequately nourished.
The parents of some teenagers, often accompanied by the police, had been regular visitors for the first few days. They had been warmly welcomed, given a tour of the camp, and had left feeling reassured. They couldn't have articulated why it was they were no longer concerned about leaving their children in a field full of strangers. But the parents returned home, and the police took no further action. Eventually, thought Tom, someone would question exactly what was going on in Craxton's field, but by then, it would all be over.
Whatever it was.
No one called to Tom as he climbed the stile and walked among the tents. There was no need. Another tent was going up three along from Tom's. More teenagers still arrived every day.
He was hungry, so he went to the fire pit. Before he was halfway across the field, he stopped dead.
Spinning.
Can't breathe.
Tom sat down on the dry grass, his eyes no longer seeing the tents, the fire, his friends. Around him, many others did the same.
Blue darkness.
Can't breathe.
Need to find the light.
Darker. Tighter. Must breathe.
Tom's own breaths were shallow, sweat beading his forehead.
Have to breathe, can't hold out.
Too late, it's too late.
Not like this, please.
Not like this.
Not like—
The connection lost, Tom looked around him to see the same expression on everyone's face. Pain, fear, and loss. But loss of what? Or of whom?
20
There was no warning before torpedoes were fired at the unarmed container ship.
"I guess we'd better let the crew out," said Daniel, his arm around Saffi. "Do you think they'd drop us off in Cornwall?"
TripleDee snorted. "I think they'll do whatever we bloody tell them to do, the treacherous bast—"
The location of the first impact, combined with the fact that Daniel and the others were watching Abos and the First leave from the port side of the Liberace, saved their lives. The torpedo hit the centre of the ship, the explosion making the vessel rear up like a rodeo bull. When the second torpedo punctured the hull, a huge plume of water was drawn up as a gas bubble from the initial explosion collapsed. This caused the Liberace to break apart and begin to sink.
Daniel had kept one hand on the guardrail and the other on Saffi as the initial blast tilted the Liberace like a fairground ride. Sara and TripleDee were knocked off their feet, sliding across the deck. Sara threw both hands out in front of her. With no time to finesse what she was planning to do, the wave of energy she summoned hit both her and TripleDee like a punch from a giant's fist, sending them flying away from the stricken vessel, landing in the churning waves.
Daniel, hanging on to Saffi as the ship tilted, saw Sara and TripleDee thrown clear of danger. He yelled, "We're jumping!" using all his strength to propel them both as far as possible. He twisted as they fell, ensuring his back took the impact when they smacked into the water. They sank below the surface, then Daniel kicked hard and powered them back.
Saffi gasped with shock.
"Are you hurt?' said Daniel. She panted a few rapid breaths, then shook her head.
"I don't think so. Where are the others?"
Daniel was scanning the ocean as the waves rolled around him. The stricken ship continued to break apart, each end tilting until nearly vertical, towering over them like skyscrapers.
"There, Daniel! I see them!"
He followed Saffi's line of sight and saw Sara, her hair plastered across her face. She was thirty yards away. Even as he drew breath to shout, Sara dived beneath the waves.
"Fuck!" said Daniel, fixing his eyes on the spot he'd last seen her. "Where's TripleDee? I've got to—"
He swam away, then stopped, aware of Saffi behind him.
"Go on," she said, treading water. "Been a swimmer since I could walk. Go help her."
Daniel broke into a fast front crawl, the water churning behind him like the wake from a jet ski. Once he reached the spot, he stopped and turned three hundred and sixty degrees. There was no sign of Sara or TripleDee. He looked back and caught sight of Saffi.
Suddenly, Sara resurfaced, gasped, and disappeared again.
Daniel took a breath and dived, grabbing her and pulling. He could see why she was struggling. Her right hand was gripping TripleDee's collar. Daniel grabbed TripleDee by his upper arm, helping to pull him to the surface.
Sara couldn't speak straight away as she filled her lungs with air. Daniel supported TripleDee's heavy, sodden body.
"Is he...?" Sara took another breath and tried again. "Is he...?"
The man in Daniel's arms coughed up seawater.
"No, he's bloody not, pet. Not yet, anyhow." TripleDee's voice was weak. He coughed again, struggled, slipped out of Daniel's grasp and sank.
"Bloody hell!" Daniel reached down and pulled him back to the surface, spluttering. "What the hell's wrong with you? Don't you know how to—"
"—swim?" TripleDee's voice had an edge of panic Daniel had not heard before. "No, man, I don't."
He sank a few inches and kicked wildly, getting his face back above the surface.
"Don't fancy teaching me, do you?" he gasped. "Really fucking quickly, like?"
Daniel moved his arm under the big Geordie's chin, pulling his body towards him.
TripleDee stiffened in alarm. "What the fuck are you doing?"
Shut up," said Daniel, "and stop struggling. It will be difficult, but I need you to relax and keep still, or you'll drown both of us. I'll tow you back over to Saffi."
Sara swam alongside Daniel as he pulled his half-brother through the waves. TripleDee kept up a sting of half-strangled swearwords, some of which Daniel had never heard before.
"Trip," said Daniel. "If you don't conserve your energy, you'll drown."
"So, er, shut up, then. That's what you're saying, is it?"
"Yes."
"Righto."
Saffi and Sara hugged as they reached each other. "Can you support him?" said Daniel, looking back at the container ship. "Between the two of you, I mean? For a few minutes?"
Both ends of the Liberace were sinking fast.
"We can do it," said Sara.
"I'm gonna relax," said TripleDee.
"Go get them," said Saffi. "But be careful."
Daniel looked at her, wishing he could think of something to say. Then he turned his back, kicked out his legs and set off to rescue the crew.
Close to the Liberace, the water frothed and spat around Daniel as if it were boiling. He tried to find the part of the ship where the crew were locked in, but the lack of two eyes and the violent waves made it difficult. He knew which half of the ship to head for, at least. He took a few deep breaths, preparing to dive.
Onboard the Smithwatson, Admiral Conley saw the huge swimmer powering towards the Liberace faster than any human. He watched the man dive towards the rear of the sinking vessel. He waited for half a minute, seeing the man reappear twice, then dive again. Conley followed his orders. He spoke into the handset.
"Aim at the stern of the target," he said. "Fire torpedo."
Daniel reached the door of the Citadel on his third attempt. The room was submerged by the time he got there. The door, designed to stop pirates, could not withstand Daniel's enhanced strength. It took almost everything he had left to force it open against the pressure of the water.
Inside, Andreas and his crew huddled in the far corner, their heads pushed into an air pocket.
Daniel heaved the door to one side and swam over.
The dozen men and women making up the crew had three scuba tanks between them and were passing around the regulator. When Daniel's head broke the surface of the water, their eyes widened with fear.
"Door's open," he said, "follow me."
He dived, not bothering to check behind him, keeping his pace slow enough for the crew to stay close. The door had closed again under the pressure. He drove his shoulder into it and held it open as the crew came through one by one. His lungs hurt. Everything was happening too slowly. His body sent urgent messages to his brain insisting he went somewhere where gills were unnecessary as soon as possible.
And that was Daniel's intention. But, as the final crew member emerged from the Citadel and kicked away from the doomed Liberace, the second torpedo exploded. The rescued crew all died within the first few seconds, pieces of the ship flying in all directions. Those whose bodies weren't broken by debris were knocked unconscious by the shock-wave and drowned.
Daniel knew nothing of this. He had been holding the door at the moment the torpedo hit. He was still holding it when the force of the explosion tore the thick steel off its hinges and sent him tumbling into the depths of the Atlantic, the rest of the Liberace not far behind him.
21
The climb to the top of Mount Pico, the highest point in the Azores, had taken the Swedish couple three and a half hours. The guide had warned that over a third of those who attempted the climb gave up before the summit. The cheeky bastard had looked at Pelle when he said it, too.
Much to his annoyance, Pelle was having a little trouble keeping up with Monika. She was fifteen years his junior, but he was still running half-marathons and entering the occasional triathlon. And he'd paid for this bloody trip of a lifetime, so the least she could do was wait for him to catch up. They hadn't been getting on well for the last few weeks. Pelle suspected Monika would break up with him when they got home. She would take the all-expenses-paid trip first. He watched her muscular bum as she climbed the final steps. They were supposed to reach the summit together, dammit. Pelle decided tight, muscled buttocks were ugly. His next girlfriend would have softer, more curvy buttocks. Despite being surrounded by a stunning view from the top of an isolated mountain in a remote island, thousands of miles from anywhere in the middle of the Atlantic, Pelle visualised the rear end of Anne, his new office manager.
"Pelle!"
He didn't answer straight away. Yeah, well done, she'd got there first. She didn't even sound out of breath.
"Pelle!"
He decided he'd break up with her first. In the airport at Stockholm. Casually, as if he didn't care. Because he bloody didn't.
"Pelle! My God! Look!"
Yeah, breath-taking views, volcanic steam, ancient lava, fluffy clouds. Whatever.
Monika made a funny snorting noise, like a surprised pig. Pelle looked up to see her faint and crumple, sinking to her knees before slumping against a rock.
Ha! Not so fit, then. She'd been trying to show off, and she'd overdone it. Pelle looked at her lying there, vulnerable and in need of his help. He broke into a stumbling jog, feeling bad about the detail in which he'd imagined Anne's bottom.
When he reached her, he unscrewed his water bottle and held it to her lips, supporting her head with his hand.
"Here, take a drink, you'll feel better," he said. "It's probably a touch of dehydraSHIT!"
Pelle saw what Monika had seen. He let go of her head. She dropped to the ground, and he spilled the contents of his water bottle over her face and chest.
Floating about ten yards above the dormant volcano's crater were nine figures. Eight of them were naked. There were five women and four men. They were all huge. Six of them had their eyes open. Their eyes were gold.
Titans.
Pelle realised the clothed one was looking straight at him.
"Shit," he said, his voice shaking as much as his legs.
"Go back," the titan, commanded.
"Okay," said Pelle. "Yes. Going back now. Thank you. Goodbye. Thank you."
He helped a dazed and soaked Monika to her feet, keeping her back towards the titans. She gripped his arm, terrified. He managed a reassuring smile, despite feeling sick, and let her lean on him as they began the long descent.
Ten minutes later, an instinct made him turn and look back at the summit. The clothed titan was flying upwards, leading two others. The rest stayed where they were. The lead figure paused, looking for all the world as if he were checking his phone. Did superheroes need to check their route on Globmaps? Pelle had never considered the question before, but he supposed there was no reason one of their superpowers should be the ability to navigate without maps or compasses. Still, he couldn't help feeling a little disappointed.
A second later, his disappointment vanished as the three titans flew into the clouds in a blur of speed.
It would take him and Monika at least another two and a half hours to get back to base camp. As they walked, Pelle wondered if the ten million dollar reward for the recovery of the titans had been claimed yet.
22
When the second torpedo hit the crippled Liberace, Saffi said nothing, blinking tears away as she looked at the spot she had last seen Daniel. Seconds after the explosion, the water forced outwards by the shock-wave reached them, lifting them like corks and pushing them away from the smoking wreck. The rear end of the container ship slid beneath the surface.
TripleDee coughed up water, and Sara lifted a hand from his shoulder, wiping away some of Saffi's tears.
"He's the strongest man I've ever met, Saffi," she said.
TripleDee was too tired to protest. Besides, he knew she was right.
"He'll be okay," continued Sara. "If anyone can get out of there, it's Daniel."
They watched the surface, and Sara said nothing more.
Triple Dee saw the approaching figures before anyone else.
"Abos," he croaked.
Sara and Saffi turned to see three people flying towards them. Abos was flanked by two naked women, one tall, black, hairless, the other white and muscular.
"It must be Shuck and Susan," said Sara. "This is the third body they have grown since Abos found them. The process will be faster for them."
TripleDee didn't respond, amazed that Sara could reason logically at the same time as supporting a half-drowned Geordie in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean while an aircraft carrier tried to kill them.
Then he felt it. He shot a glance at Sara. One look at her face and he knew. The connection with Daniel, first formed when they had broken out of the White Sands prison, had always been there, like background noise.
Until now.
There was a splash near the floating wreckage where the rear of the Liberace had sunk. Abos had dived for Daniel.
Drowning was no fun at all.
Seven seconds after the exploding torpedo had pushed him and the Citadel's door deep down into the Atlantic, Daniel regained consciousness and knew he was in trouble. Not the kind of trouble where quick, decisive action might save the day. No. This was the kind of trouble with permanent consequences. The kind of trouble without a surprise twist and a happy ending. The kind of trouble that finished up with someone dying.
In this case, him.
He opened his eye to stinging, blue-black darkness with no up, no down, no left, no right. He looked for some point of reference, anything that might help. There was nothing. Everything was the same.
Daniel held the door as if it were a talisman, his fingers locked onto the thick steel.
He needed to breathe. He desperately needed to breathe.
After too many beers, Daniel had often announced that he desperately needed a piss. Now he knew better. There had been no need back then, no desperation. Real need, followed by real desperation, happened when all other options had gone.
He had two options. Breathe or die.
In a moment of clarity, he released the door. It fell away from him.
The last, feeble kick he could manage pushed him in the opposite direction, away from the door. But it was too late. It was much too late.
Daniel acknowledged he didn't have two options anymore. It wasn't breathe or die. It was simpler than that. Much simpler.
It was breathe and die.
He thought of Saffi and took a breath. The seawater flooded his mouth, throat and lungs. His brain had no alternatives to suggest so his body obeyed its instinct to breathe again, and his lungs filled with water.
His body jerked like a fish on the boards of a boat.
TripleDee managed one quiet word. "No." Sara started crying. Saffi continued treading water, but her strength ebbed away, her mind becoming as numb as her body.
She didn't react when she felt herself being lifted clear of the water, along with Sara and TripleDee. The two First were above them, and the bizarre-looking group of naked superbeings and soaking, exhausted humans flew a few yards above the waves.
They headed towards the half-submerged prow of the Liberace. It had stopped sinking and was rolling onto its side. TripleDee, his breathing returning to normal now he was out of the water, looked up at their rescuers. One of them was holding her hand forward as if coaxing the stricken ship. Around fifty thousand tons of metal moved in response to her gesture.
By the time they reached the Liberace, the front half of the ship had rolled onto its side, presenting a large flat area. The two First landed, then watched as Saffi and the halfheroes touched down beside them.
All three of them sat unmoving, looking towards the area where Abos had dived. The water was still churning, the wreckage below breaking apart while it sank.
When Abos broke through the surface of the water and hung for a split second in the air, he looked like an engraving by William Blake, or a painting by Giulio Romano. A soaring giant, muscular, most of his clothes ripped away by the speed of his return. The rich, warm light of the evening sun made him look like a god.
The Last Of The First (Halfhero Book 3) Page 12