The crack in the substrate went on for about thirty steps, twisting and turning before descending at a shallow angle. They were now covered from above and on both sides. Eva felt like they were spelunking again – without the benefit of flashlights, ropes, or expert guides.
They eventually came through to a wider opening where it looked like two sheets of plate had collapsed against each other, creating a triangular space beneath.
‘I think we’ve gone far enough,’ Eva said, worried they’d come to a sinkhole, lava tube, or some other human-swallowing feature. ‘Hold up.’
Marvin, at the front of the line, stopped and knelt down.
‘What is it?’ Duncan asked as he moved up beside the admiral.
Eva and Marcus joined the others so that they were now standing in a circle around the older man. Eva knew what he was going to say before he said it; the smell of smoke was obvious.
‘Fire,’ Marvin said. ‘It’s cold, but it looks like we’re not the only ones to decide to use this as temporary shelter.’
‘Keep your voice down,’ Victoria said, hushing him. Their voices were amplified in this hollow space – who knew who might be able to hear them? From above, they could just make out the sounds of rain and wind, and the rumbles of thunder.
‘We should use this as a chance to dry off,’ Marvin said.
‘And set up a watch,’ Eva added. ‘We can take it in turns to go back to the entrance and keep an eye out for any random guests. I’m sure they’ll have to sleep at some point, so as soon as the way is clear, we can carry on the search for Gracefield.’
‘Agreed,’ Duncan said.
‘Marcus and I will take first watch,’ Eva said, knowing she’d be the only one able to tolerate him. It would also keep him and Duncan separated. Besides, she had seen Annette and Duncan getting on well lately, so she figured they could enjoy each other’s company. It still felt strange, even after a few days, to have new people along for the fun. She was at least glad for their company, though, especially since losing Tom and Li.
‘Okay,’ Marvin said. ‘If we have to, we’ll wait it out until dawn; we can use the daylight to see where they’ve set up camp, especially if we can get to higher ground.’
The group left to dry off and rest while Eva and Marcus made their way back to the entrance. Before they got to the opening, however, Marcus gripped her arm and pulled her back into the shadows.
‘What is it?’ she whispered.
Marcus held a finger up in front of his mask before gesturing upwards. Eva waited for a moment, not seeing anything, but then she heard it: footsteps, clambering over the giant cobbles above them. A minute later and the steady, sickly, off-white beam of a flashlight licked down the sides of the fissure.
Marcus and Eva stepped farther back, even though they were already out of sight. Two male voices with American accents echoed down into the gap. The first one, a deep baritone, said, ‘We’re gonna miss it if we don’t get a move on.’
‘Nah, we’ve got time,’ said the other man. Eva thought he sounded like a teenager or perhaps a young man in his early twenties. ‘The trial ain’t for a while yet. Gracefield was still back at his hut with Yolandie when I left. You know what they’re like. They’ll wait for the storm to pass first. Besides, I think he likes to make ’em wait. Anyways, I don’t want to stand out here all night.’
‘You wanna take the east route? They’ll only ask if we’ve done our patrol.’
‘Nah,’ the younger man said. ‘Fuck it. No one’s going to check up on us.’
The chatter continued as the two men traversed the fissure and headed southwest, towards the shore. If Eva remembered correctly, there was a flat area down that way next to the dock.
Eva and Marcus waited for a minute and then continued to where they had first come in. Marcus gave Eva a boost, and she peered over the edge. She could see the dark shapes of the two men, limned by moonlight, moving over and around the rugged landscape, heading away from them.
‘Turn me around,’ she said quietly. ‘I’ll check the other side.’
Marcus gripped her legs more securely, turned carefully round, and leaned her towards the wall of the gouge on the opposite side. The cliff side appeared to be deserted. She scanned the island from left to right as far as she could see and saw no signs of light or movement.
‘You can bring me down,’ she said.
Marcus helped her down until she was facing him again. ‘Well? Anything or anyone else out there?’
‘None that I could see or hear,’ she said. ‘I think we should give it a while, then check again before going back out. It seems like we’ve got a good opportunity if there’s some event going on occupying people’s attention.’
‘By event, you mean a trial,’ Marcus said. ‘What the hell’s that all about? Think Gracefield’s set up some kind of law system?’
Eva shrugged. ‘Perhaps. From what Marvin’s told us of him, he sounds like a guy with control issues. After all, he left the others behind for disagreeing with him. I think it’d make sense – to him at least – to set up some kind of system of control over the rest of the A20.’
‘He’d be better off creating some kind of wacky religion,’ Marcus added. ‘That’s what cults do, ain’t it?’
‘Who’s to say this isn’t a cult?’
‘I guess we’ll find out soon enough,’ Marcus said.
He didn’t look so sure now. Eva wondered why he had come if he wasn’t that bothered about finding the truth, and what this whole Banshee Project was about. He continued on, as though reading her thoughts.
‘It’s not that I don’t want to hold someone accountable, you know? I want to find out what happened, and whether it was us stupid humans that fucked the world over, but . . .’
‘But what?’
‘I don’t know, just . . . What’s the use in it all? Let’s suppose that Gracefield and his followers are responsible for the drowning, that the device, weapon, whatever the hell it is was the catalyst, and suppose we find them and get to the truth of it – what then? We kill them? Give them a trial? What good is it now? There’s almost no one else left. Is this so-called justice worth it?’
Eva considered his questions, letting them rattle around in her brain. Although she knew Marcus could be thinking of his own self-preservation, or even hers, she had known him long enough now to realise that he often had insightful ways of looking at things. Was he right? Was this all just a waste of time and too little too late?
‘Maybe you’re right,’ she said, for argument’s sake. ‘Perhaps it doesn’t really matter now. Perhaps it doesn’t matter whether the drowning was caused by solar flares and other natural phenomena, or by Gracefield’s experiments. But I believe justice still matters, one way or another. What else do we have to live for? Existing for existence’s stake is not enough. This lot have to face up to their actions. It’s how the world works – or should work.’
The two of them stood there, just inches apart, the toes of their shoes almost touching, yet the thin gap between them felt to Eva like a chasm. On her side was justice, her reason for joining the police force; on the other was Marcus, a man who had lived a life of crime for his own ends, regardless of the noble intentions.
‘We’re still so far apart,’ Eva said, looking down. ‘For a while, I thought you might have understood.’
Marcus lifted her chin. ‘Understood justice, or understood you?’
‘Both?’ She said it so hopefully that it made her cringe inside. Why should it matter to her so much whether he understood her or not?
‘I understand you,’ he said, his voice barely a whisper now. ‘And I’ll support you, even if I don’t agree with the reasons for all this.’
What the hell was happening? Her heart was racing. For him? For Marcus Graves, of all people! She closed her eyes and stepped back. She sighed. ‘I . . . I appreciate that, but this is bigger than me, bigger than any individual. It’s fundamental.’
‘You still talking about justice?’
he shot back, eagerness in his voice.
Eva calmed herself, remembered where she was. ‘We should get back to the others, let them know the situation.’
Embarrassed by her feelings, she brushed past him and headed back through the twists and turns. Marcus followed, and after a few minutes they rejoined the rest of the group. They were sitting around in a circle, chatting quietly. Marvin spoke first, his words urgent. ‘Any news?’
Eva and Marcus filled him in on what they had heard.
‘Trial?’ Duncan mused. ‘As in criminals?’
‘This is not beyond him,’ Victoria added. ‘Back at the base he did something similar.’
‘Which is why we have to stop him,’ Marvin added. ‘He did it to us. When we dared to accuse him of killing the scientists to cover up his crimes, he held a trial – and, of course, it was no such thing. It’s more of a witch-hunt with him. He turned the rest of the A20 against us – hence our exile. The infection that quickly followed actually turned out to be a good thing for us.’
‘Why would you care about the well-being of Gracefield’s followers?’ Marcus said. ‘What’s it to you if they’re given a fake trial and punished? They exiled you, after all. They could have sided with you against Gracefield, but they didn’t. Why’d you care about what happens to them now?’
‘Because I’m not a fucking psychopath hell-bent on shaping the world in my vision,’ Marvin said, his voice taut and full of anguish. ‘I happen to think many of the people here are just scared; they just want to survive. But, under him, they’re only going to suffer.’
Duncan stepped into the conversation. ‘So why do they follow him?’ he said. ‘What’s it about Gracefield specifically that stops these people from rebelling?’
Marvin shook his head and sighed heavily. ‘You just can’t see it, can you? Ask yourself how people like Osama bin Laden, Hitler, Gaddafi, or any other despots of your choosing rule and control the population. Gracefield is no different.’ Marvin took a breath, calmed himself, before adding, ‘He’s a megalomaniac; a brutal, charismatic one. Hell, there were a few weeks before my exile when I was almost convinced to follow him myself.’
‘He’s right,’ Victoria added. ‘Gracefield’s descent has been a long, slow one. I don’t know if it was always his plan, or whether his psyche gradually degraded over time, but his slow transition from idealist to power-crazed manipulator has been like slowly boiling a frog. Those in the water often don’t notice until they’re boiling, and then it’s too late.’
Eva leaned against the rocky wall, feeling tired. As she did so, she felt a rhythmic wave pulse into her back. In fact, it was coming up from the ground too. The tempo of the pulse was slow, no more than thirty beats a minute, she estimated. ‘Anyone else notice that?’ she asked.
Annette cocked her head at Eva. ‘Notice what?’ she asked.
The group became silent and stared at Eva, but eventually, one by one, their faces showed small hints of surprise, then confusion. ‘What the hell is that?’ Duncan said, looking around and then up as though the answer hid in the shadows.
Victoria and Marvin shared a look. Eva caught it. ‘What is it? You two know what it is, don’t you?’ Their expressions said it all. ‘It’s the Banshee Project, isn’t it? The bastards have switched it on again.’
Marvin’s chin dropped an inch: a small gesture, but one that held the weight of regret.
‘At least this confirms it,’ Marcus said. ‘Gracefield and the others are here, and they’re still fucking with things. Instead of hiding, worrying that we’ll be found, I suggest we head out, rifles drawn, and put an end to this bullshit once and for all. I, for one, am getting bored of skulking in the shadows.’
‘Really?’ Duncan said. ‘I thought that was your thing.’
‘Boys,’ Eva snapped. ‘Enough. We’ve got the confirmation we needed. I agree with Marcus: I think we should head out now, find the source, and end it. Forget waiting for dawn; we can use the element of surprise.’
The atmosphere in the small cave shifted. Eva had the unmistakeable sense of being watched. Seconds later, soft padding noises came from behind the group.
‘What‘s that?’ Duncan said. He reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out a small flashlight, clicked it on, and pointed it into the darkness. The narrow beam reflected off a pair of brown eyes, situated about waist height. And then the teeth: long canines. The dog – a German shepherd – growled but stayed where it was. A dirty hand appeared from the shadows and scratched the dog between the ears.
‘Look, girl,’ a woman said in a rasping voice. ‘We’ve got guests . . . Ah, Admiral Johnson. I thought you were dead.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Warm fingers traced down Jim’s back, made him grin in a way he’d never thought he would again since losing his wife. He had remained single for years after Morag died of cancer, afraid to get too close to someone else, but here was Gloria, snuggled into his chest, her warm breath stroking a rhythmic breeze across his neck.
‘This is good,’ he said, running his hand over Gloria’s hip and thigh. ‘Shame our shift is due shortly. I could stay like this forever.’
Gloria pulled her long, black hair behind her ear and peered up at him.
Jim, for a moment, expected to see embarrassment and regret etched into her dark, Latin features, but he saw no such thing. To his welcomed surprise, she was smiling, happy.
‘I know what you mean,’ she said. ‘After all the tragedies, the struggles, it’s nice to finally connect with someone. I feel like a human again.’
‘That’s exactly it,’ Jim responded. ‘It’s been too easy to forget how to connect. I’m very glad I’ve met you – even if it has been in such tragic circumstances.’
He thought of Tom and Li especially. In this age, it seemed to Jim, everything came with a price, and that price was massively inflated. It wasn’t just losing friends; it was losing a big percentage of humanity. Each person’s life held so much more importance now.
‘We did our best,’ Gloria said. ‘But our work isn’t finished yet. We still need to bring Gracefield to justice, find out what he did.’
This brought Jim’s mind back to Duncan and the others on the island. Without the means to communicate with them, owing to the static, he had no idea what was going on or whether they were safe. A part of him wished he had gone with them, but the injuries he had sustained back at the base would have only slowed them down.
He blamed himself to some degree for Tom’s death. If he were a fitter, stronger man, Tom wouldn’t have had to be the one to cover his escape. He could have stayed back and fought alongside him. The chattering voice in his head continued to pile on the regret and misery, saying to him that he didn’t deserve Gloria, or her intimacy. He should have been the one who died back there. Tom had had more to give than he did, the voices added.
‘What do we do now?’ Jim asked.
‘Wait. For now, anyway.’
Jim felt his muscles ache and the desire to be more active. For all he knew, Duncan and the others could be fighting for their lives while he was here screwing around with someone he barely knew. Jim eased himself away from Gloria’s warm body and sat up, his back against the hull.
‘You okay?’ she asked, pulling the sheets across her bare chest.
‘Yeah, fine, just . . .’
‘You feel awkward about this, don’t you?’ She reached a hand up to his face. ‘It’s okay; we’re both human. We needed this. Don’t feel bad about it. We need to rest and relax so we’re more able to do our jobs when the time comes.’
Jim checked the clock on the wall of the cabin. Their shift would be starting in about ten minutes. He didn’t expect much to happen. Their camera system wouldn’t pick up much, and so far the sonar and radar hadn’t picked up anything other than stationary objects.
‘Tell me more about Gracefield and the alliance,’ Jim said. ‘I mean, what do they stand for? What caused this split with you guys and the A20?’
Gloria
propped her head up on one arm and thought for a moment.
‘Well,’ she said. ‘I suppose it all stems from Gracefield himself. He was the catalyst, the big dreamer – the one with the strong, idealistic personality. It’s quite something, really. That was one of his best assets as a president. When the Chinese and the Russians started signing treaties and agreements, it was becoming ever more obvious that the West needed to do something, even if only in defence.
‘Back then, Gracefield wasn’t crazy or power-hungry. He just wanted safety. We all did. When the Russians annexed Crimea, it showed Putin and his supporters that they could get back to their former position of power. Economic sanctions only hurt to a small degree, the pain of which was easily healed by China’s trade agreements.’
‘So the A20 was just a way of skirting the UN and NATO to have . . . what? A more direct response?’
‘Yeah,’ Gloria said. ‘And it was working. But then towards the end, Gracefield started being more secretive, and, eventually, the whole thing with the Banshee Project and the drowning began to make him paranoid.’
‘Hence the scientists’ deaths?’ Jim said.
Gloria nodded.
‘If it was common knowledge that Gracefield killed them, why didn’t anyone else within the A20 object? I mean, you had other presidents, prime ministers, private sector leaders . . . Someone within that group must have rebelled against Gracefield’s actions?’
‘They did,’ she said. ‘They didn’t last long. You see, Gracefield himself handpicked most of those taken to the base during the drowning: he had taken over the base during his first few years as president and had had it brought up to date. So those who went with him owed him – a fact he used to manipulate the opposition.’
‘I watched him on TV shortly after the first instances of the drowning happened,’ Jim said. ‘I remember at the time thinking he seemed entirely too calm. Especially compared to the coverage we had on BBC, which was increasingly panicked and frightened.’
Gloria nodded and ran a hand through her long hair. ‘Yeah, that’s his thing. The calmness – it creates a kind of gravity well. People are attracted to it, then get stuck in it.’
Soil (The Last Flotilla Book 2) Page 21