He reached the room that housed the unit and stepped inside.
The generator was protected from the electromagnetic pulse, produced when the atomic bomb detonated over the city of Newcastle-upon-Tyne, by the nuclear bunker. As a result, it had to be vented into the outside world by an exhaust running into the wall. The fuel-powered device was otherwise started with a key.
Jason swept the beam over the casing with increasing anxiety when all he could find was an empty lock. “Come on, come on. Where are you?” he squawked. He moved around the unit and studied it from all angles, hoping to find the key placed or hanging somewhere on the device. With no success, he started to search the floor. A few minutes after, when he had all but lifted the generator to hunt beneath, he had to admit that the key was gone and was no doubt with Briggs.
He returned to the corridor and hurried down the passage to the room which contained the time machine. Inside, he moved to the monitor and touched it to activate the display. The battery would be fully charged and there should be enough power to return Sarah so she could stop him as he came out of the cinema.
The system started up and four lines of code appeared in the top left of the screen. Something was wrong. The menus were missing. Even the prompt to enter further commands was unavailable, so he would not be able to run the programs manually. He switched off the machine then turned it back on to force it to reboot.
The system started, passed the initialisation point, the display changed and returned to the screen with the four lines of code.
He switched off the unit to save power, moved around to the far side and saw a door leading into the workings of the device standing open.
He snorted. Briggs had made no attempt to hide his tampering. Why should he? He had all the power. The only advantage they had at this stage was that he was unaware of the scientist’s involvement. ‘For what it’s worth,’ Jason thought cynically.
He stepped in front of the panel and sat back on his heels, thoroughly regretting being so detailed with the information he gave with the unit.
The schematics were inside the report passed over to the MOD, so Briggs would have been able to find his way around the system easily. He would not have needed a detailed knowledge of the workings of the machine to have been able to sabotage it.
He lit up the inside of the device. At first there was no sign of any tampering, then suddenly he spotted a small circuit board missing towards the back of the system. It was a simple pop in, pop out chip which could easily be removed and returned by Briggs whenever he needed to disable or use the machine again. It was as good as a key or a lock any day.
Jason popped a neighbouring chip out of its seating and slipped it into his pocket. “Not so smart now, are you? I need you and you need me,” he muttered.
He stood, desperation and depression taking hold, and turned to leave the room. He would have to return to Sarah and tell her the bad news, then they would have to try to come up with another plan which did not involve a potentially suicidal confrontation with Briggs. He stopped and looked back towards the table.
A sheet of paper sat where previously there had been the report. He moved closer to see what was written on it. It was folded in half with ‘FAO: Sarah’ scrawled in large letters across the front.
A lump instantly formed in Jason’s throat and he felt the need to swallow to attempt to dislodge it. He opened up the sheet and read the quickly written note inside.
“You’ll never save her as I already have a head start, so don’t even try. If I kill the other Sarah, what do you think will happen to you? You should have stayed out of my business, bitch!”
Jason hurried from the room and sprinted the length of the passage.
“I was getting worried,” Sarah called when she heard the door open and saw the torch beam light up the bottom steps. “What’s wrong,” she gasped when she saw Jason’s fear, her voice echoing loudly in the chamber.
He never spoke, he simply kept climbing, the need to get out of the bunker fast overriding every other thought.
“He’s booby trapped the place, hasn’t he?” she shrieked as the scientist drew closer, his panic now infectious.
Jason looked up, close enough to the top to feel he was nearly out. “No, it’s worse than that. We have to hurry, he’s going to do something really terrible.”
Chapter Seven
Nuclear Bunker, Kenton Bank Foot, Newcastle-upon-Tyne
Jason left the ladder almost at a sprint.
“He’s going to do what?” Sarah squawked.
“He’s going to try to kill you in Morpeth.” He flung open the outside door and led the way from the complex with Sarah immediately behind. “We have to try to find some transportation.”
She struggled to keep up and was a few paces behind by the time they emerged outside. “Nothing works,” she panted, “there’s been a nuclear war, remember.”
Jason stopped, thought a moment. “Of course. The electromagnetic pulse.” He pointed, “But Briggs had a car. He must have protected a vehicle from the effects of the bomb.” He looked around. “I remember this place. There was a Territorial Army Centre here. It must have been an army vehicle he used. Come on. There might be more nearby.”
He turned right from the pipe and followed the path of the small hill which acted as a buffer to protect the structure from the shockwave of the bomb.
The side of the mound, which faced the city, was scorched to soil level when the firestorm desiccated and then ignited the grass in an instant.
“We’re wasting time,” Sarah gasped, the distance between them drawing greater as she struggled to exert herself above a walk. “We’ll never catch him up. It’s hopeless.” She stopped and burst into tears.
Jason halted and faced her. “It’s not hopeless. He might have a head start on us, but he doesn’t necessarily know where you are.”
She inhaled sharply, her breath coming in juddering gulps. Slowly, she calmed. “You’re right.” She pointed to Jason’s backpack. “I skimmed through your report and I remember you mentioned you met me in Morpeth, but you never said where.”
“Excellent. There you go.” He smiled. “We could still reach you before he does. Come on; there’ll be no giving up. I can’t imagine a man like Briggs not having a backup plan for getting out of here.” He nudged his head upward. “Help me find where he hid that vehicle and let’s see if there’s another one.”
The pair continued around the hill and at the far side were delighted to find a large door buried in the soil. Inside the bigger structure was a smaller door which allowed personnel to enter without the need to open the main hangar.
Jason approached the opening and tried the handle. “It’s locked.” He was not surprised. He glanced around for something to use as a lever.
The debris field caused by the nuclear explosion was vast. Houses lay in ruins in the immediate vicinity and for up to two miles north away from the site, but still there was nothing suitable instantly at hand.
“Stay here,” he instructed.
Sarah stepped up to the door as she watched Jason moving away. Huddled in a corner, she found some protection from the cold. A slight breeze, which gathered itself into gusts from time to time and dropped the single figure temperatures to nearly zero, could not quite make it into the corner and only managed to tug at her clothing around the cuffs and fringes.
Jason made his way in the direction of the road, more out of habit than anything else. Even at a distance he could see the unmistakable markers of an ordered track, exposed occasionally from beneath bricks, shattered furniture, wood and slates.
He could not tell whether it was glass or frost that was sparkling in the failing light; either way, it crunched under foot and seemed to cover everything on his route to the tarmaced trail.
Once on level ground Jason quickly found his way blocked by destroyed homes. Mounds of bricks, snapped wood and twisted piping were piled almost to the height of the original structures. He switched on his torch, the m
urk becoming an issue, and searched through the rubble for something to use as a lever.
There was plenty of plastic piping and wood that was too thick to use as a wedge, but he was frustrated to find it surprisingly difficult to locate something long enough and strong enough for the required job. His growing urgency did not help. Drifting into a state of panic, he was sweeping the torch beam rather than carefully searching and when he skidded on a plank of wood, slippy with frost, and nearly fell onto a pane of glass broken into jagged points, he knew he had to slow his exploration and calm down before they found themselves trapped in this hellish world for ever simply because he had a stupid accident. He focused his mind and was soon delighted when a short time later the torch beam fell on a solid metal bar the width of his thumb.
He grabbed the object and tried to lift it, but it was weighed down by something hidden beneath a sheet of corrugated metal. Jason released the bar and lifted one end of the dislodged plate and flipped it over to see what was holding the rod in place. He returned his attention to the shaft and instantly recoiled in horror when he saw it buried in the stomach of a woman.
She wore a white cardigan over a pastel blue cotton dress, dotted with daisies. Her clothes were splattered with mud and covered in a fine coating of black ash and were soaked to her skin, where rainwater had pooled beneath the body. Her face, drawn tight against her skull, was shrivelled, dark grey and was sunken at the cheeks and eyes. She did not appear to have been burned, despite the bricks near the body being blackened along one side, and must have been protected by the house when the bomb exploded. Instead, she seemed to have been crushed when the building was destroyed; a gaping hole in her scalp, which revealed the skull beneath, provided possible proof of this hypothesis.
Jason returned the corrugated metal to cover the body and continued his search for another lever.
He moved on deeper into the rubble, picking his way over mounds of crumbled bricks and shattered furnishings. Skimming the wreckage, he looked, but not too deeply, now fearful of what he might find.
On his left, a leg protruding from beneath a crushed chair alerted him to look sharply right. Further on a mass of matted hair, grey skin stained with blood from the eyes, mouth and nose, prompted another quick change of direction.
This time, though, the new route proved to be a good one as he had a lucky find when he caught his foot on something as he returned to the grassy bank. Looking down he saw it was another, slightly heavier and thicker bar, more suited to the task. He picked it up and hurried back to Sarah.
“It’s slightly longer than I would have liked, but we can’t afford to be choosy. You’d think...” his voice became strained as he jammed one end of the split pole into the small gap in the door near the lock, “that in the rubble left over from the destruction of at least a hundred houses, there would be quite a few substantial objects you could break into a...” he paused to add a bit more weight against the rod, briefly unable to speak as he forced his body against it, “high-security facility with.”
A loud groan confirmed Jason was making progress. Briefly, the metal buckled near the lock and just as he thought the rod might be the one to give first, the frame snapped and the door popped open.
He flung the bar off to one side. It made a noise like someone had just hit it with a rubber hammer before rolling a short distance away and coming to a silent halt up against a pile of soft mud.
Jason opened the door to reveal blackness concealed the contents of the room beyond. He switched on the torch and swept the beam ahead. “Wow! What a find.” He stepped inside with Sarah immediately behind.
“Do you think it’ll start?” Sarah stopped beside one of the five army jeeps dotted about the warehouse.
“I would imagine this building would have additional shielding for this very reason.”
“We’ll not exactly be able to sneak into Morpeth in a jeep, remember there are no other noises: no aeroplanes, no cars, not even any people,” she shrugged, “well not many anyway. There’ll be nothing to disguise the sound of an engine.”
A line of keys hung on hooks above a long wooden bench littered with engine parts. Jason crossed to examine them. They were all colour coded, but without a corresponding chart it would be down to trial and error. He followed the line, searching for one that looked like it might be suitable for a vehicle. Some of the keys could be instantly disregarded as they were obviously not designed for cars, but when he came to a cluster that looked like they were used to start up an engine, he looked over his shoulder at Sarah. “Can you see some colour coding on any of the jeeps?” He held his hand high to light up the nearest car and waited whilst she searched the bodywork for any markings.
She circumnavigated the vehicle, then shook her head. “There’s nothing here.”
“Try looking inside.”
She leaned forward and peered through the driver’s window, paused a moment, then stood. “There is a small blue mark circling the ignition.”
Jason returned to the hooks and found a key with a glossy blue splodge of what looked like nail varnish on the handle. He removed it from the hanger and moved to the car beside Sarah. “We don’t have to be discreet,” he told her, “we just have to be quick. As long as he doesn’t find you first, then we should be in and out before he can stop us.” He slipped the key into the lock then looked at her with a satisfied smile when he turned it and was rewarded with a distinct click.
Chapter Eight
Morpeth
Briggs took the Telford Bridge, which crossed the River Wansbeck on the outskirts of Morpeth Town Centre, at speed. The gentle hump would cause a more cautious driver to slow slightly to keep the vehicle stable, but not the aggressive warrior who was completely unfazed when for a moment all four wheels were airborne before they re-engaged with the road in time for him to make the turn at the roundabout on the far side. He swung left, his main beam lighting up the front of the terraced houses which had been converted into businesses in the early part of the twentieth century, and entered the main high street. He drew to a halt in the middle of the road, switched off his lights and scanned the windows for signs of life.
Jason had not stated in his report where he had found Sarah, but he had mentioned a window glowing from the light of a nearby fire had been his first connection with the woman.
The ancient town had houses which dated back to the 16th century, all of which would have been heated solely by open fireplaces. He had no doubt there would be a number of properties suitable for occupation in a post-apocalyptic world and if anything they may well be at a premium.
Briggs stepped out of the vehicle and waited for his eyes to adjust to the blackness of the night before looking in both directions as far as he could see.
The fronts of the houses remained engulfed in darkness. The only fluctuations offered to his eyes were the different tones and shades of the cold bricks, stone and windows, all of which remained black within their frames.
He popped open the back and slipped a night vision torch from his belt. The soft red glow emitted by the device was just enough to illuminate the interior for Briggs to find what he was looking for. He retrieved the device, closed the boot and activated the hand-held thermal camera.
Slowly, he moved the front of the unit up the street. The screen remained dark and cold, with no heat sources revealed until halfway up the road an alley appeared in the range of the scope and the display changed colour.
A living entity glowed hotly in the centre of the camera. Briggs lowered the unit, but his eyes picked up nothing other than the all-encompassing night. The source was quite small and, if human, would likely be a child, but still there was a chance it could be an adult huddled up on the ground. He moved to investigate it further and got no closer than seven yards, enough for the entity to begin to take form, before suddenly a fox rose from a crouched position and hurried across the road, carrying a small animal that looked like the remains of a rabbit.
He watched it move up the street then
turn onto a road that travelled down towards the river.
The Wansbeck, a wide deep river which ran south of the main high street, was well populated by ducks and swans in better times and Briggs now wondered how many still remained. Six weeks after the nuclear war, he guessed that most food sources would have probably run out and the people who had stayed in the region would now be desperate enough to have to start hunting for themselves. The ducks and swans, who were used to being fed by hand, would be an easy target and any that were still alive now would be a lot more cautious than they would have possibly been two months ago.
He continued with his sweep. A few minutes later he had completed a scan of the whole street and the camera had remained cold.
He returned to the car, removed a map, identified Bridge Street and put a cross on the page. He climbed back into the vehicle, started the engine and drove to the top of the road where he stopped and repeated the process again.
A short while later he returned to the car, when the camera stayed dark, and continued up on to Newgate Street. As he drove up the road his lights briefly illuminated a number of brown and red stains on the tarmac. As he passed the spot a cluster of empty tins, which had rolled into the gutter, caught up in the wake of his wheels, clattered and span until they ran out of momentum and settled once again further down the hill.
Two hundred yards on he turned right at a junction and joined a road which ran around the northern edge of the town. There he stopped, scanned the shops, small terraced houses and upstairs flats, before returning to the car and driving on again. A swing in the road had taken the buildings beyond the range of the camera. He rounded the bend and halted to check the row of dwellings which had been beyond the reach of the scope. He stepped out of the vehicle and looked ahead.
Time Split - Briggs Page 4