Soil (The Last Flotilla Book 2)

by Barnes, Colin F.

  ‘But not you?’ Jim asked.

  She shrugged. ‘I suppose I did for a while. All of us who worked within the A20 did, to an extent. We had to, though, given the escalating hostilities between us and the Chinese–Russian compact.’

  ‘You know, I don’t buy this whole secret project thing. How can one individual cause the kind of effects we’ve seen? It’s not like just a small change in the weather or the ionosphere: we’ve seen massive plate movement, the release of trapped water, rapid heating . . . The scientists were right about the solar flares.’

  ‘Sure, the external factors were undeniably part of the issue,’ Gloria said. She sat up and moved next to Jim so that her arm touched his. Their legs dangled off the edge of the bunk. ‘But I believe the scientists at the weather station thought it was the catalyst. To quote Professor Breslin, one of the meteorologists, “It was a perfect storm of circumstances.”’

  ‘Perfect storm, huh? I guess he got that much right.’

  ‘She,’ Gloria corrected. ‘Breslin was a woman.’

  ‘Oh, sorry. Well, either way, she had a point. As far as storms go, there’s likely never been one more perfect.’

  After a few heartbeats of silence, Gloria added, with a firmness to her voice, ‘This is why we have to find them, and stop them. If the device, or whatever it is, was a contributing factor, we can’t let them use it again. Who knows what else might happen?’

  Jim let the question hang in the air for contemplation, until they were interrupted by a rap against the cabin door. Gloria snatched the covers up over herself and Jim, but no one entered.

  Through the door, Brad said, ‘Wake up, Jim. Your shift’s starting, and we’ve got something interesting for you to look at on the cameras.’

  ‘I’ll be right there,’ Jim called out. When he heard Brad’s footsteps echo off towards the command centre, he helped Gloria down from the bunk. The two of them got dressed in silence. As they made to leave, Jim grabbed Gloria’s elbow and pulled her back towards him for one last, lingering kiss.

  ‘Now I’m ready,’ he said.

  Gloria patted him on the butt and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. ‘Me too. Let’s get moving, Captain.’

  Jim entered the command centre to find Patrice, Ahmed, and Karel gathered around the video monitor. Patrice turned to Jim. ‘Bonjour, Captain,’ he said.

  ‘Evening, Patrice. What’s going on?’

  The Frenchman look pained and said nothing for a moment. Gloria came into the command centre, having hung back so as not to arouse suspicion. The last thing Jim wanted was idle gossip breaking the crew’s concentration. Ahmed and Karel stepped back to allow Jim to see what the fuss was about. Patrice hovered by his shoulder and pointed to the screen, indicating several points of light. Jim counted three at first in the gloom, but then, as his eyes adjusted, there were many more.

  ‘We first spotted them about an hour ago,’ Karel said. ‘There were just a few then, but now more and more.’

  Jim reached for the controls and boosted the brightness by altering the camera’s aperture setting. Given how dark it was, with little in the way of stars or moonlight, it wasn’t perfect, but it did help him to block together major shapes, such as the shore, the dock, the cliff face to the rear.

  ‘There’s something on the shoreline,’ Gloria said from Jim’s left. She pointed to the bottom edge of the screen. ‘See? It’s kind of like a pyramid. There’s a group of lights around it.’

  ‘Yeah, you’re right,’ Jim said. ‘There must be at least fifty or so there,’ he added, then to Gloria, ‘How many did you say had left with Gracefield?’

  ‘Must have been around a hundred,’ she said. ‘Perhaps a few more? It was difficult to tell exactly because when they split there was a lot of fighting – and some deaths.’

  ‘That sounds reasonable,’ he said. ‘I think they’re having some kind of meeting there on the shore.’

  While Jim continued to watch the feed, he dismissed Patrice, Ahmed, and Karel, wanting them to get their rest so that they were fresh for their shift later that day. Brad and Gloria took up their positions at their assigned stations, Gloria taking the sonar and Brad the navigational controls.

  More and more torch-lights appeared around the pyramid shape. It was then that Jim realised it wasn’t a pyramid at all: it was a bonfire.

  The bloom of light that erupted from it lit up the surrounding area, showing a group of people circling it. Off to one side stood Gracefield and two others Jim didn’t recognise. In front of the bonfire, two people were hunched over on their knees, hands behind their backs, faces looking to the ground.

  ‘What the . . .’ Jim said. ‘Is this . . . an execution or something?’

  Gloria left her post and stood next to Jim. ‘Shit. You don’t think it’s . . .’

  Jim knew she meant Eva, Duncan, and the others. Could they have been captured?

  ‘Gracefield has a thing for execution, doesn’t he?’ Jim asked.

  Brad joined them and stared at the screen. His lips moved, but Jim didn’t hear his words. The thought of Duncan or any of the others being killed had created a ringing in his head.

  Gloria was shaking him by the shoulder. ‘Jim! Jim!’

  He snapped back to it. ‘We’ve got to stop this,’ he said. ‘Now. Back to your stations and await my orders.’ He reached for the radio and brought the transceiver to his ear.

  White noise and static crackled down the line. It was no good; he wouldn’t be able to get through. They were being blocked by something . . .

  The Banshee Project, he thought. If Gracefield was running it again, perhaps that was the cause of the interference.

  The static had a rhythm to it, he noticed. A pulsing. The video screen stuttered once, then twice, then filled with white snow as the image broke up. Jim fiddled with the controls. Nothing he did altered the bad image. The feed continued to break apart and flash to black, then became completely still.

  ‘Damn it!’ Jim screamed, slapping his hand against the screen. ‘Why now?’

  Gloria looked over Brad’s shoulder at the navigation computer. ‘We’re close to the island,’ she said. ‘Perhaps Gracefield’s project is creating the interference?’

  ‘Oh crap,’ Brad said, as his controls switched off. One by one, the systems in the command centre shut down, until, a moment later, even the lights cut out.

  Jim frantically tried to restart the systems, even using the backup generators, but nothing worked. They were stuck inside a sub with no power, in complete darkness, which also meant no life support systems: air recirculation, heat, and water recycling . . .

  ‘We’ve got to evacuate, right now,’ Jim said.

  The submarine lurched violently to an oblique angle. Jim smashed his face against the sonar console and collapsed to the floor. Gloria screamed. Brad fell next to Jim with a thud. The sound of rending metal roared through the submarine. After a few moments of silence, Jim realised they were no longer moving. His head throbbed with pain.

  ‘What the hell happened?’ Brad asked from next to Jim.

  The two men helped each other to their feet and Jim soon realised that the sub had crashed. They were held at almost a forty-five-degree angle. ‘Gloria?’ Jim called out, trying to see her in the gloom.

  ‘I’m . . . okay,’ she said from the other side of the sonar console. Jim used it to descend the angled hull until he found Gloria and helped her to her feet.

  ‘Are you hurt?’ he asked.

  ‘No, just a bit banged up. I’m all right. Brad?’

  ‘I’m good,’ he said. ‘We’re really fucked, though. I can hear water coming in.’

  Jim, Brad, and Gloria felt their way through to the central passage. They had got halfway through when Patrice called out to them from somewhere beyond the mess.

  ‘We’re leaking!’ he shouted. ‘Big split in the hull down here! We’re already a few inches deep.’

  ‘Grab your supplies and head to the escape trunk. We’ve no option but to evac
uate and head for the island,’ Jim said. A cold dread slithered over his skin, settling in his guts. But he had Gloria with him. He had Duncan out there, somewhere. He couldn’t crumble this time. Now was the time to be the old Jim: the strong, capable Captain Reynolds. And yet, briefly, he doubted that person had ever existed. But whether he had or not, he had to be that person now.

  ‘Come on, get your supplies,’ he said again. ‘Bring any weapons you find, too. We have the waterproof bags from the base to keep them dry. I want you all in the lockout trunk in thirty seconds. Go!’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Eva stepped towards the woman. The dog snarled, keeping Eva at bay – as did the pistol in the woman’s hand, which she raised to point at the back of Victoria’s head.

  ‘Anyone moves, and you can say goodbye to everyone’s favourite hacker,’ the woman said. She was beyond the group, who sat in a circle. Eva eyed their packs of supplies – and weapons – leaning against the wall a few feet behind the woman.

  It occurred to Eva that there must have been another tunnel to the rear of the space, a tunnel they had failed to notice. Eva thought about going for her, despite the dog. Perhaps the chaos would buy her time . . .

  Marcus, standing behind her, gripped her waist belt. ‘No,’ he whispered. ‘Don’t be stupid.’

  That was rich, coming from him.

  Marvin sat opposite Victoria; her eyes expressed her fear, wide and overly bulging. The admiral looked up at the scruffy woman and scowled. ‘Wood? What the hell are you doing here? I thought Gracefield got rid of you.’

  ‘He thought that too,’ the woman said.

  ‘Wait,’ Eva said. ‘Wood as in Dillon Wood?’

  Victoria gave a small nod of confirmation. Eva could tell from her straight shoulders and slight frame that she was not a fighter – this was Gracefield’s fellow scientist, after all. She had all the menace of a university professor – but with crazy eyes that were darting to and from Duncan, Marvin, and then to Eva.

  ‘Put the gun down,’ Eva said, using her cop voice. ‘We can talk about this, can’t we?’

  The dog growled and lurched forward. Eva stepped back, bumping into Marcus.

  ‘Easy, girl,’ Wood said.

  ‘Who the hell even has a dog these days?’ Marcus said.

  Marvin answered the man. ‘That’s Bella, Gracefield’s mutt. Why’s it with you, Wood?’

  The woman let out a brief, crazy laugh, high-pitched and somewhat alarmed. ‘The mad fool was going to eat her!’ She knelt beside Bella, running a hand through her matted fur. She kept the pistol pointed at Victoria’s head.

  ‘Come on, Dillon,’ Victoria said, trying to appeal to her. ‘Please, put the gun down. We don’t have to do this. There’s been enough bloodshed, hasn’t there?’

  ‘Enough?’ she said, scowling. ‘There’s never enough . . . Gracefield won’t be happy until we’re all gone and only he and his chosen few are left – them and that cheap whore Yolandie.’

  ‘Why her?’ Marvin said. ‘What happened between you and Gracefield? I thought you were supposed to be his close friend from your college days.’ Eva noticed him inching towards Victoria each time Wood looked away. Duncan too, who was to Victoria’s left, had moved quietly from a cross-legged to a regular sitting position, his knees pulled up to his chest. He shared a look with Marvin.

  ‘We . . . had a disagreement,’ Wood said. ‘I knew he was going too far after he shot Palmer for disagreeing with him about the Project.’

  ‘Palmer?’ Eva asked.

  ‘Prime Minister James Palmer,’ Marvin added for clarity.

  Duncan snorted. ‘I’m glad that bastard is dead,’ he said. ‘Evil piece of crap.’

  ‘Ah, a Brit!’ Wood said, standing now that Bella had calmed down. ‘Yes, considering how he left your country to drown without warning . . . That was quite cruel. But I digress. At the time, I dared to challenge Gracefield’s authority and found myself removed from his inner circle.’

  ‘Then how did you get here?’ Eva said, desperate to know more about her and the Project, but she didn’t want to just jump straight to the point; she had to warm Wood up first, gain her trust.

  ‘I hid in McKinley’s tunnels until it was time to leave. You’d be surprised how easy it is to stow away on a submarine when it’s carrying tons of supplies.’

  ‘So what the hell do you want with us?’ Marvin asked.

  Wood grinned and, with her free hand, withdrew a radio from her filthy coat pocket. ‘You’re my ticket back into the inner circle – back to Gracefield’s side.’ She pressed the button and brought the radio to her ear, but received only static.

  ‘The device is on, isn’t it?’ Marcus said. ‘The project you and Gracefield built together, and which royally fucked this world. What is it, this Banshee Project?’

  ‘Shut it,’ Wood snapped, throwing the radio towards Marcus. It flew over Eva’s shoulder and crashed harmlessly against the wall, breaking into pieces. ‘Looks like we’ll do this the hard way.’

  ‘Why do you even want to be back with that lunatic?’ Duncan asked.

  ‘There’s issues I need to work out,’ Wood said. ‘Personal issues.’

  She pressed the pistol harder into the back of Victoria’s head, making her scream, and positioned herself behind her so that she stood between the group and the pack of supplies and weapons. Marvin sprang to his feet, but Wood swung her arm up, the gun now just inches from Marvin’s face, and squeezed the trigger. Marvin twitched to the side as Wood fired. The shot exploded with a booming crack; the round fired down the twisting tunnel, striking against the stone and causing a spark. Eva’s ears rang with the noise.

  Marvin collapsed to one knee and clutched his heart. Victoria reached out for him. Wood whipped the butt of the pistol against the back of her neck, and then aimed the gun at Duncan, who had got to his feet.

  ‘Back the fuck up,’ Wood said. ‘You’re coming with me, all of you. Or I’ll just shoot every one of you right here, right now. Who wants to be a hero? Anyone?’

  Duncan did as she suggested, stepping back until he stood next to Eva. The dog growled and bared her teeth, snapping at Duncan twice. Marcus remained lurking behind Eva in the shadows. She wondered if he had a weapon on him; she couldn’t remember.

  ‘All of you, in a group. Single file, down the tunnel,’ Wood ordered. ‘Face the exit.’ They hesitated and she raised the gun to Marvin’s face, which was twisted into a rictus of pain. He was probably having a heart attack, Eva thought – or was he being smart?

  Either way, the admiral struggled to his feet and shuffled into position at the head of the line. Duncan, Annette, and Victoria were next. Marcus and Eva brought up the rear. She turned her head to see whether Wood was about to shoot, but for a moment she had her back to the group, going through their supplies and weapons. She slung a rifle over her shoulder and put the pistol into her pocket. The dog hovered close by.

  Now’s your chance, a voice inside Eva’s head whispered. She turned and launched herself at Wood, ready to deliver a punch to the woman’s face. But Wood spun round, raising her arm and deflecting Eva’s blow. The dog launched itself at Eva, its weight knocking her onto her back. Eva kicked out, bashing Bella to one side. The dog yelped. Close up, Eva realised she was an old dog with grey whiskers around her snout. Marcus darted past Eva, readying to take advantage.

  Wood regained her balance and brought her pistol up so that the barrel was barely an inch from Marcus’s face. The two of them froze as if someone had stopped the video. Wood’s hand shook. ‘I’ll fucking shoot you right now if you don’t get back,’ she said.

  Marcus’s body tensed.

  ‘Do as she says,’ Eva blurted, assuming Marcus would likely do something stupid and get himself killed.

  Bella whimpered and sat by Wood’s feet. Somehow, despite everything, it made Eva feel sorry for her.

  ‘Last chance,’ Wood said.

  Marcus stepped back with his hands up, and Eva sighed with relief.
r />   Turning her attention to Eva, Wood aimed the gun at her stomach – an easy target, Eva thought. It was unlikely she’d be able to dodge a shot at this range; a stomach wound would kill her slowly and painfully. She’d had a colleague on the force who had got shot in the guts while out on patrol in Baltimore. Took forever to get him to a hospital, and the surgery didn’t go well. This was not an outcome she wished for herself. She’d much rather receive a clean shot to the head – or none at all.

  She followed Wood’s instructions and rejoined the group in the line.

  ‘Move forward,’ Wood said. ‘We’re all going for a little walk. I hope you don’t mind getting wet, it sounds like the storm is raging out there – again.’

  Eva couldn’t hear the storm, the earlier gunshot having messed with her hearing. Following Dillon Wood’s orders, the group moved forward, making their way through the twists and turns until they came to the point where they had climbed down. Annette was whispering to Marvin at the front, presumably checking on him. As far as Eva could see, he was no longer clutching his chest.

  Eva looked back and saw that Wood had swapped the pistol for the M16 rifle. Not a great development. Bella limped behind her, her tail between her legs.

  ‘Are you a cat person or a dog person?’ one of her boyfriends had asked her once. That was his idea of a pick-up line. She had been at some crappy youth centre, volunteering because apparently that was the thing to do back then to get ahead in the world. The job had gone nowhere, and neither had the boyfriend. Turned out he was a dog person, and Eva . . . wasn’t.

  When they reached the opening, the cold air and rain lashed through the slice in the rock, stinging Eva’s eyes until she covered them with a hand. The wind howled through the gap, a siren song of doom.

  ‘Go up,’ Wood said. ‘Everyone to the surface. Head north towards the cliff face. Stay in single file. Anyone moves an inch out of line and I’ll empty this rifle into whoever’s closest.’

  That ‘whoever’ would be Eva. She told herself to keep calm and wait for an opportunity. As far as she was concerned, Dillon Wood was completely fucked in the head and not able to think straight even if she wanted to. Eva could take advantage of this.