IMPACT_A Post-Apocalyptic Tale_The Complete Series

by Matthew Eliot

  “The CCTV!” said Jeff as if this explained everything.

  Walscombe turned to the three small security feed monitors in a corner of his room. They were pointed to the endless rows of nuclear missiles in the storage hangers, and Walscombe only turned them on for a few minutes a day as he went through his safety checks. Today, he’d forgotten to switch them off.

  Nothing odd there. Just the usual, boring images.

  “What’s wrong with them?” Walscombe asked.

  “Not those,” Jeff replied. “The ones in S and S – come and see.” Jeff was already setting off, his whole body twitching with concern.

  Normally, Walscombe would have dismissed such an invitation, especially when busy playing chess. But not today.

  He quickly tapped a message on his keyboard.

  walscombej@atl.mil> Ivan, Gotta go. Think I’ll be back soon, but it might take me a while.

  Walscombe stood up. As he was about to leave the room, Ivan’s reply came in.

  ivan@556.mil.ru> Off to consult ‘Playing Chess for Dummies’ again?

  I wish, he thought. He was inexplicably nervous, like walking out that door and following Jeff could lead him to darker places than Security and Surveillance.

  “Come on!” came Jeff’s voice from the corridor.

  Despite his concerns, Walscombe hurried after him.

  * * *

  Security and Surveillance was a small monitoring station on level 3, crammed with CCTV screens that received feeds from cameras along the perimeter, on ground level, and from a number of Atlantis’s inner corridors. It monitored all entrances and exits for vehicles, personnel, and visitors. S and S had been manned by a small team of five or six people who’s names Walscombe had never bothered learning.

  He was finding it difficult to keep up with Jeff. He’d never seen him so nervous.

  “What were you doing up in S and S?” he asked.

  Between pants, Jeff replied, “I… well, sometimes I like to go up there, and read. It’s really quiet. I know everywhere is quiet, but the quality of the silence there–” he waved his hand, as if this had nothing to do with anything. “Anyway, I got this crazy idea that Don had decided to leave. To go outside. So I went to check. I haven’t seen him all day, you know–”

  Walscombe nodded. Neither had he, but this wasn’t necessarily out of the ordinary.

  “And? Did he?”

  “No–” said Jeff as they finally entered the small office. His body was almost shaking now as they crossed the room, heading for the CCTV monitors. “I mean, he might have, I don’t know. But I didn’t see him on the screens.”

  “So?”

  Jeff was standing in front of the monitors that displayed images from the north side of the base. They were labelled EXT.N.1 through EXT.N.8. “Thing is, I didn’t see Don, but I saw this…”

  He stepped to the side, allowing Walscombe to see for himself.

  And there, replicated in those rectangular screens, was the wasteland that surrounded Atlantis on ground level. Each of the images providing a different perspective of the same uninspiring view, one that the impact of Colossus had barely made more desolate. Immutable, unchangeable, fixed desolation which was constantly guarded by the electronic eyes of the cameras. It was like listening in on a conversation in which demented men were constantly providing their dull view on nothing at all.

  “What, Jeff, I can’t–”

  The other man rested his trembling finger on a corner of one of the monitors.

  Walscombe leaned forwards, holding his breath as his sight focused on that small portion of the screen.

  A colourless, pixelated shape was moving. A human shape. And it was waving towards them, arms outstretched and desperately signalling its presence.

  Jeff looked at him, his eyes suddenly large and bulging.

  “There’s someone out there, Walscombe.”

  Chapter 20

  An Encounter

  Adrian was beginning to lose hope.

  Here they were, in England, just a few miles from Bately, after months of tiring travels and more dangerous encounters than he cared to remember. And yet, they were lost.

  Every step they took might be leading them farther away from his aunt’s house, closer to some unknown danger. And there were lots of those out there.

  It wasn’t just the meteorwraiths and the other men (it was almost always the men) that travelled the land, threatening, stealing, killing, and terrorising. It was also the creepy people like the guy on the boat. Or the young man and his dead wife–

  “Ady, are you tired?” Alice asked.

  “Yes, I am,” he replied. It was true. Their steady pace, fuelled by his desire to put as much space as possible between them and that sad, horrid house had slowed to a weary dragging of their feet across the muddy soil. They couldn’t keep walking and the sun beyond the clouds was setting. It was getting cold and dark. It was time to find a suitable place to spend the night.

  We’re so close, he told himself, clenching his fists in exasperation. So damn close.

  “Let’s go there,” said Alice, pointing towards a copse, the curved branches of its trees mingling and resting upon one another like tired elderly travellers pausing to regain their strength.

  “It’s not quite night yet, but I think we should try and sleep, Ady,” she said, gesturing to the thickening mist around them. “Anyway, we can hardly see where we’re going.”

  Adrian nodded. We don’t even know where we’re going..

  “Looks all right,” he said.

  The two children laid their things at the centre of the small clearing below the branches, and began the familiar routine of preparing for the night. They each drew their own sleeping bag from their weathered backpacks, and unfolded them, carefully positioning them on top of the sheets of cardboard they had found somewhere along the way. Then they gathered branches and leaves, whatever they could find to help conceal their position. It had been tiring, at first, but they were now used to it, proceeding through each step efficiently.

  The evening ritual demanded that each of them quietly found a spot for their private activities before bed. Adrian waited for Alice to grab her toothbrush and head over to a corner of the copse, behind the trunk of the largest tree she could find. Once she was gone, he did the same, walking towards the opposite end of the group of trees.

  He brushed his teeth by rubbing the dry toothbrush against them, its bristles curved, worn, and unpleasant in his mouth.

  Making sure Alice couldn’t see him, Adrian unzipped his trousers. He always hoped that Alice couldn’t hear the noise of his pee. The thought made him uncomfortable.

  As his urine painted a dark arc against the tree trunk in front of him, Adrian thought that perhaps things might be easier in the morning. Maybe the mist would clear away, and he’d recognize a street or a detail, something that would lead them to Bately. Chances were the town was only an hour’s walk away if they hadn’t veered too far off course.

  A ray of light suddenly beamed through the trees, startling him. His first instinct was to cover his private parts. His second was to duck down as quickly as he could.

  It was a car, or a vehicle of some kind. With the headlights blinding him he couldn’t be sure. He hid behind the tree trunk, feeling his urine dampening his jacket.

  “Alice!” he cried, trying to whisper and shout at the same time.

  She had seen the lights too. He saw her crouching behind another trunk, her pale skin made whiter by the car’s lights. She looked at him, worried, then slipped behind her tree, hiding like he was.

  Adrian held his breath, and waited for the light to go past. It didn’t. The vehicle had stopped.

  He heard one of its doors open, and then slam shut.

  * * *

  “I saw you. I know you’re there,” cried a deep, harsh voice beyond the trees. “Come out now!”

  Adrian froze. Had this man seen both of them or just him? He flung a glance in Alice’s direction. She was well hidden.<
br />
  It makes no difference, stupid, he thought. If he does take you away, you can’t leave her here, on her own.

  Then the man spoke again and Adrian felt the blood in his veins turn cold.

  “I have a rifle,” the voice continued. “I’ll shoot on the count of three unless you come out.”

  Then all he could hear was the low hum of an engine. He wished the man had somehow changed his mind.

  But then it came.

  “One!” cried the voice.

  “Alice, stay there,” he said, as low as he could. She was still hiding behind the tree. He wished she were closer. He wished he could hold her tight.

  “Two!”

  Adrian desperately tried to picture a way to get them out of this situation. But he simply couldn’t.

  “Three!”

  As the man uttered that last word, Adrian heard the soft whimper of Alice’s fear, coming from her tree.

  He closed his eyes and clutched his knees. All this was because he hadn’t been able to find Bately. This was all his fault.

  “Wait!” a different voice cried. Another door opened and Adrian heard steps in the grass.

  “Don’t get close, Father,” the first voice said. It sounded angry. “He might be dangerous.”

  “I-I think I saw a child, Neeson,” this voice was gentle, kind. “Please, just one second.”

  “Just don’t stand in the line of fire, Father. I’ve got him in my sights.”

  The steps moved closer. Again, there was silence. Perhaps if he could stay low and creep towards Alice, they might be able to make a run for it.

  He turned, and to his absolute horror, he saw Alice standing there, clearly visible in the vehicle’s headlights. She was shivering, tears trickling down her face.

  “Stop it!”

  It was Alice. She was shouting. Adrian was left speechless.

  “No more threats, no more, PLEASE,” her voice was loud and high-pitched. She looked frightening.

  “Just go away and leave us alone. GO AWAY OR I’LL KILL YOU MYSELF.”

  “Alice, no! Get down!” he called. But she didn’t move. She looked like she really could have killed someone.

  He scrambled to his feet, almost slipping on the earth beneath him. He wanted to get in front of her, between her and the rifle, protect her from these people.

  The car was some sort of off-road vehicle. Two black figures where silhouetted against the blinding beams of the headlights, the larger figure really was holding a rifle and aiming it at them, and the smaller, gentle figure who was walking towards them. Adrian noticed how the light seemed to bounce off his shoulders and the contours of his body, creating a surreal halo around him.

  Behind these two figures, others stepped out of the vehicle, but he couldn’t quite make them out.

  He inched backwards, afraid, not knowing what to do. He needed to reach Alice. He could hear her fast, broken breathing behind him.

  Then the closer figure exited the light, his features finally visible.

  It was a handsome young man with sad eyes and black hair. His palms open in front of him, as to reassure them, to show them there was no threat. Adrian noticed he was a priest.

  The man stopped and looked at them, and Adrian was somehow certain that, after all the worry and danger and horrid people they’d come across, here was someone good. Someone who would understand what they’d been through. Already he saw the concern growing on this man’s face, as if he could read their minds and knew about their misfortunes.

  “Put down the weapon, put down the weapon!” the man said hastily to his companion. The sense of urgency in his voice convinced him to immediately.

  The man turned to them again, and spoke kindly. “It’s all okay, children. It’s all okay.” He was coming closer, and Adrian was surprised by the fact he didn’t feel the impulse to run or hide or draw his knife. There was something about this man that made him believe there really was nothing to fear.

  “You’re safe with us,” he said. “Please, come – we’re going to Bately, a town nearby. You’ll be safe–”

  But the man was unable finish the sentence, because Alice suddenly ran up to him, throwing her arms around him. She was crying. For once, they weren’t tears of fear or anger, but of relief.

  Before he knew what he was doing, Adrian too was tied in that embrace with Alice by his side. He was crying too. He cried because they were finally with someone they felt they could trust. He cried because they were headed for Bately after so long. He cried because he was tired of fearing the people they came across, of constantly doubting whether he’d manage to protect Alice.

  As the man’s large, warm hands comforted them and softly patted them on their backs, he realised he was just a child.

  And children – even brave ones – have the right to cry.

  Chapter 21

  A Guest in Atlantis

  “What’s it say?” asked Jeff.

  Walscombe squinted. The security camera’s resolution wasn’t excellent and, coupled with the dust blowing outside, it was pretty difficult to make out what the sign said.

  It was a woman and she’d come prepared. At first, her black and white image had waved tirelessly at the exterior camera, until they had figured out a way to let her know they were aware of her presence.

  “Pan,” Jeff had said.

  “What?”

  “Let’s pan, move the camera, so she knows we’re here.”

  It had taken them a minute or two to figure out how to access the camera on the control deck, an apparently easy task for a nuclear physicist and a skilled technician. The plethora of keys and dials had baffled them. When they had finally succeeded in getting the exterior surveillance camera to respond to the arrow keys, the image in the monitor veered from side to side, executing their commands. The woman’s image shifted to the right, then to the left in a mildly comic fashion.

  She had paused, leaning forward to observe the camera, making sure she had actually seen it move.

  “Yes, lady, we can see you,” Jeff said, the pressure of his fingers alternating on the two arrow keys.

  The woman had buried her face in her hands. She was crying.

  Walscombe surprised himself. An unusual feeling of sympathy was slowly creeping in a crack that had opened somewhere in his chest at the image of this woman alone against the desolate horizon.

  But her crying fit hadn’t lasted long. They watched as she fumbled with something off-screen, a bag or carrier of some sort.

  “What’s she doing?” asked Jeff.

  She fished something out, then stepped closer to the camera, raising it in front of the lens. It was a piece of cardboard with big letters scrawled over it with a marker.

  “I… I think it says N-A-M… no, not ‘M’… it’s an ‘N’,” said Walscombe, his eyes glued to the monitor, trying his best to make out the letters, “Nancy… Clark. Yes, Nancy Clark.”

  Jeff suddenly turned pale. “I know her,” he said, as if to himself.

  Walscombe looked at him, quizzically.

  “She used to work in IT – Mass Storage Maintenance,” Jeff said, turning towards him. “We weren’t close friends or anything, but I definitely know her, Walscombe.”

  The woman lowered the cardboard sign, her face now right up against the camera lens.

  “What the fuck is wrong with her skin?” asked Walscombe.

  Her face was riddled with rashes and what looked like huge blisters, one of them swelling her left eyelid to the point where she could hardly keep it open. A pair of large, swollen lips hung open, revealing a set of almost toothless gums.

  “My god.” Jeff was speechless. This woman, it was clear even now, had once been pretty. “What could possibly have done that to her?”

  “Hang on–” Walscombe was reminded of the stories Ivan had told him, about the sickness the meteorites had carried with them; a highly contagious pathogen that had decimated the population. Some of those affected died within hours. Others saw their body deteriorate,
dying only after months of suffering and decay. Meteorwraiths, Ivan had called them. For those in the outside world, it was very common to come across them.

  “It’s an illness. Very contagious. Something to do with the meteorites,” said Walscombe.

  He observed the woman, who was now waving at the camera again, her expression increasingly worried.

  “Let her know we’re still here,” he said. Jeff moved the camera back and forth.

  “We can’t leave her out there,” said Jeff, although his words tentative echo of a question, rather than a statement.

  “I’m not sure…” Walscombe wished he had more information about the disease. But Ivan had said little was known about it. Most of those who could have conducted research were either dead or unable to communicate their findings. Especially to those living inside top-secret underground military installations.

  “If we let her in, we might catch, well, whatever it is she has,” Walscombe said. “Not sure I want to risk that.”

  “But Walscombe,” began Jeff, a deep frown drawing lines across his forehead, “she’s alone out there.” It was like that simple argument could trump any logical reasoning against it. Walscombe shook his head, unconvinced. And yet, he found it hard to ignore the image of that sick woman. Indifference had been easy when the world was swarming with multitudes of jerks, each one another faceless human roaming around outside of his personal radar. But now, it was as if some primary instinct, something to do with species survival, rather than mere self-preservation, had awakened inside of him, shaken out of its life-long slumber by that minute figure in the CCTV screen.

  You’ve gone soft, you dumbfuck, he told himself.

  “Here’s what we do,” he said, turning towards Jeff’s begging eyes. “We open the north entrance and let her in. If she knows her way around, she’ll know we’re in S and S, and how to get down here–” Jeff nodded, listening carefully. “We close all the blast hatches, isolate her. I really don’t want my good looks spoiled by whatever the fuck it is she’s caught. But we get her inside, give her some food etcetera.”