by Jo Zebedee
His face was tense, though, and when they drove under a street lamp his eyes looked shadowed with worry. Josey scrunched herself up in the seat and sent a quick prayer that Sean and his ma and da would be okay. The town fell behind as they reached the open road. She was going to have a wild lot to thank God for when all this was over.
***
The policeman had driven from Coleraine even faster than her da would have. He’d stayed to the country roads and when he’d reached bumps in the road, one after the other, he’d driven over them so quickly that by the last one the car was flying and her stomach had been left behind. When she’d looked over, he’d been smiling.
“Been years since I drove the Seven Sisters,” he said. “My father used to go twice as fast as that – by the end I was nearly ready to jump out of the car, even if it was still moving.” He’d lifted his phone from his pocket and it was a good one, one of the smart ones. “I want to ask you some questions, if that’s okay, and record your answers. When we get to Belfast, there’s someone else who’ll need to do the same thing again. This is like a practice run.”
“Do you want to ask about John?” She kept her eyes on the road ahead, trying to decide whether she should trust him. Gary and his gang definitely hadn’t.
“Partly,” he admitted. “But mostly I want to know what happened to you. Who you were with and what they told you.” He stopped at the end of one of the country roads and then pulled out to the left. She had no idea where she was. If Belfast was anywhere close, there was no sign of the city. Nor could she see the sea. She crossed her arms over her body, and watched out the window for a moment. A sign came up at the end of the road, and she read it. Belfast, 30 miles. Her shoulders relaxed – he was taking her the right way, at least. He quirked an eyebrow at her. “Well? Will you tell me?”
“What do you want to know?”
“Tell me what happened the day they kidnapped you.”
She had to trust someone, she couldn’t keep it all to herself. She thought back to the day waiting in the house for John, knowing already that he wasn’t coming back, and said, “I heard them coming into the house; they were breaking down the door...”
He was a good listener. He didn’t interrupt, except once or twice to check something she’d said. When she told him about the Barath’na – she had to, someone had to know – he hissed through his teeth but didn’t interrupt. By the time they reached the outskirts of Belfast it was getting dark, and she’d told him everything. Even about Gary’s offer and how she’d felt. She finished and glanced at him. Was he annoyed at her? She chewed her lip. He looked angry.
“Josey...” His voice was croaky. He swallowed, and shook his head. “That’s an incredible tale.”
“You don’t believe me?” This was what she’d been afraid of, that she’d get back and be told it was all lies.
“Oh, I believe you,” he said, quickly. “I think you did well getting away.”
He wasn’t annoyed. She’d done the right thing. She had to bite back tears; she’d been so scared she’d mucked everything up. He turned the car into the entrance of a complex of buildings, all made of the rainbow metal, faceless and austere. He pulled up outside one of the buildings.
“I have a friend waiting here. Her name is Catherine, and she’s a lawyer. She’s trying to help John.”
She got out of the car and followed him up the path, but when the door opened it wasn’t a woman, but a soldier with red hair. A cigarette dangled from one side of his mouth.
“About time you got here,” he said to Carter.
“Nice to see you too, Peters.” But the cop smiled, taking any sting from his words.
Josey’s eyes widened – this was the promised Peters. He wasn’t as friendly as she’d expected. Carter ushered Josey in. He stopped on the doorstep and checked outside, but it was quiet, and then headed into the living room where a woman was waiting. She gave a smile and Josey melted with relief – she looked nice.
“They let her go?” Peters nodded at Josey. “No problem?”
Carter pointed to one of the armchairs. “Go on over and sit down, Josey. Catherine needs to chat to you.” He turned to Peters. “I had to use your name. Does anyone in Ireland not know you?”
The big soldier shrugged. “You were lucky. The call went out about half an hour ago, identifying her.”
“There didn’t seem to be anyone looking – the roads were quiet. I came by Ballymena and across country, though.”
“What about the two lads?” asked Peters. “You saw them?”
“Just John. I was coming from the prison when your call came through.”
John really was in prison, then. Carter went over to the window and perched on the sill. His eyes flitted from looking outside, to her, to Peters, and back outside. “There’s something going on in the prison. A sickness. He thinks it’s related to the virus.” He paused, and then said, in an even quieter voice, “He also said Taz is ill.”
“Taz...?” Josey looked up at Catherine. “What’s wrong with him?”
“He hasn’t been very well,” said the lawyer. Her face was worried, but she didn’t have that look adults gave when they were lying. “But we thought he was getting better.” She glanced up at Carter. “I can contact the GC and ask that he's checked.”
“No. Definitely not. I need more information first.”
“You certainly do.” Peters folded his arms, his face skeptical. “How does the boy-wonder know this?”
“He’s the one in there.”
“So you don’t know.”
“We didn’t get much of a chance to chat about it. A Barath’na at the door can be a bit off-putting.” He jerked his head at Josey. “But it’s not just John. McDowell confirmed to Josey the Barath’na were behind the virus.”
“No wonder they’ve put in an all-units search for her.” The soldier ran a hand over his chin. “If you start snooping where you shouldn’t, you will lose your job. You’re hanging on by your fingernails as it is.”
Carter gave a snort that might have been a laugh. “I’m fuc–” he glanced at Josey “– buggered anyway. They’ll take my badge in the morning.”
“I can ask around,” said Peters. “I’m in the colonel’s good books for not being the one who got his high-profile operation in the shit. Apparently the GC threatened to put a Barath’na in place of Downham. If you were one of his men, he’d have you demoted to toilet cleaning duties for a year.”
“If I was one of his men, I’d be facing a military tribunal,” said Carter. “And that’s one of the reasons you can’t be seen to be involved with this. That and the fact you have two kids. Phil... if John and Josey are right, it must go high up. Someone in authority must know about it.” He paused, and he looked scared for the first time, his face pale and drawn. “If I don’t find anything at the station, I might need you to get me into the barracks. After that, you leave me to it. I’ll give you a shout in the morning, once I know what’s happening. Until you hear from me, stay away from it.”
Peters crossed his arms. “This could all be a load of shite, you know that, don’t you?”
“Let’s hope so. I’d rather look like an arsehole than be right.” Carter’s eyes flitted back to checking the street. “I need Catherine to take a formal statement from Josey. After you have the statement, get Josey hidden.”
“What are you planning?”
Carter cracked his fingers. “I’m going to see if I can find anything to corroborate what John says. Faked audits, maybe? He says the prisoner numbers are out." He fished around in his pocket, and pulled out his phone. “Speaking of which, I need you to hold this. It’s got Josey’s testimony on it – I recorded it as we drove down. An insurance policy, if you like.” He cleared his throat. “One other thing – if you don’t hear back from me, get in contact with Bar-eltyr, in the Zelo command. Tell him, and only him, what I’ve told you. They have to know about the Barath’na.”
Catherine got up and went over to the cop. “Be carefu
l,” she said. “Don’t take chances.”
“I’ll try,” he said. “But whatever is going on – and I really don’t know – it stinks worse than a Zelo. I can’t ignore it.”
“I know.” Her voice was small.
Carter gave Josey a tight smile, half-saluted Peters, who nodded back, and then pulled up the collar of his jacket. He left the room without looking back.
***
Sean leaned forward, taking in the interior of the Barath’na transporter. He hadn’t wanted to take the lift, but they’d insisted on it. Slowly, he looked over the control panel. No joystick or wheel, just a flat panel of swipe controls.
The Barath’na pilot got in, running its paws across the control panel. The transporter rose to just above traffic level, hovered for a moment, and zipped off. It followed the main road from Coleraine, passing cars so quickly that if he’d blinked, he’d have missed them. The transporter was smooth, its engines purring. Even at this speed, the panel read-outs showed it was using barely a quarter of the power. This baby must be able to go at a serious speed. Sean wondered was it space-worthy, but a quick look round showed him no hand-holds for zero-G, no protective core or air supply. No, this was designed for Earth flight. He’d love one.
They veered away from the road. A direction finder blipped steady directions. Sean started to recognise where they were as they dropped lower. There were the train tracks; there Kenney’s farm. They soared over his own house and landed, barely bumping, on the front lawn. The Barath’na pilot, smaller than many of the aliens but still the size of a sheepdog, focused on Sean. Sean fought not to shiver; the alien was worse close-up when you could see its teeth, white and pointed, and couldn’t escape the sharpness in its watchful eyes.
“This is your residence, yes?”
Sean nodded and tried to find the door handle, eager to get away from the Barath’na. “Yeah. Thanks for the lift.”
The Barath’na looked around, and Sean followed its gaze, taking in the curve of the pathway, the little wall surrounding Ma’s vegetable patch and chicken coops; everything that made the house individual. It took its time and then met Sean’s eyes, as he tried to tell himself being an alien didn’t make it sinister.
The Barath’na leaned over, reaching for the door, and Sean could smell its breath, foul, like dead meat. The alien’s eyes narrowed as it looked around the yard again. Fine mist, just starting to come down, was cut through by the transport’s lights. It made everything look alien, like the Barath’na was the native and not Sean.
“You can go.”
It opened Sean’s door and cast its gaze around once more, taking everything in. Sean scrambled out, a low worry settling deep in his stomach. The ship lifted off, but his anxiety stayed, gnawing at his innards.
CHAPTER THIRTY
The afternoon stretched towards darkness. John tried lying on his bed and zoning out, but there was only so much of that he could take. Looking out the window, taking Zen-like deep breaths, proved only an excuse for scanning the skyline in the hope someone was coming to get him. Monitor line-watching wasn’t any more engrossing. Pacing brought no relief. God, he missed Jimmy; even a good, old-fashioned maths-set would have distracted him.
The buzz of the force field coming down made him spin round, his line surging into deep amber, but it was only the cell-release for dinner time. Bugger, he needed to settle down – the Barath’na would watch him if he stayed so hyped. He stepped out of his room, ready to do battle with the food, and saw Taz’s force field was still up. He tried not to look at the third tier, but did anyway. Had they already taken Taz? He glanced back at his own cell and the small window looking out on nothing but sea and sky. Come on, Carter, we haven’t got long.
John followed the crowd to the dining room below. As he stood in the queue, he saw Taz’s force field come down, and three Barath’na exited the room, sealing it behind them.
“You okay?” Neeta’s voice interrupted his thoughts.
He nodded at Taz’s room. “I’m worried.”
“You’re right to be.” She scanned the tier, her eyes taking in the closed force field and the Barath’na walking away. “Any idea why they’re so interested in your friend?”
“Maybe.” He lowered his voice. “Do they take people before they’re sick, or after?”
She paused. “Before. They get moved to the third floor. The first time, the prisoners didn’t know what was happening. Last time, they did.” She breathed, slow and steady, keeping her line down. “They fought hard.”
“Did the Barath’na do anything to them? Separate them from the others? Anything?”
She shook her head. “We can’t talk about this; they’ll hear us.”
“We’ve nothing to lose.” He looked round at her. “I had my visit today. It might make things move faster. I need to know what happens. I need to know when they’ll make a move.”
His urgency must have reached her. She pointed to the third floor. “The force fields are down.” His own fear was reflected in her eyes. “They’re getting ready for the next lot.” She swallowed. “And I’ll be in it. You might be all right, since your cop is still visiting. It might even keep your friend out of the call-up.”
A stone settled in his stomach. “No,” he said. “I don’t think that’s going to make any difference. My cop is about to lose his badge.” He leaned closer to her, and murmured, “Taz tasted the virus, the night we released it. It’s already in his system. I think that’s why they’re keeping him apart. They must be testing him.” His mouth was dry from fear. “Now that Carter’s out of the equation, Taz will be joining your trip to the third floor, and they’ll have a lot to learn from him. Stuff that’ll bring them closer to whatever they plan to do.”
He stared at Taz’s door. It wasn’t fair; Taz was a good guy, he hadn’t done half the hateful things John had to survive. It should be John dying, and if Carter didn’t come through, it would be. The Barath’na knew he’d been on the hill with Taz; they wouldn’t keep a witness alive. Tonight, or tomorrow, or whenever the Barath’na took their next selection, he’d be in it, just as surely as Neeta and Taz, and then the shocks would be running through his body, too. He had to stop that thought right there. Carter would get here in time. He had to, there was nothing else for it…. John’s shoulder buzzed and he glared at the implant. Christ, he was getting sick of that little Inish Carraig quirk.
It buzzed again. He didn’t care, he realised. He didn’t want to be forced to calm, or made to keep his line down and behave. He stepped out of the food line. What he wanted was to see Taz and know he was alive. He didn’t know about Josey, or Liz, but he could find out about Taz. He stepped towards the Barath’na.
A hand fell on his shoulder. “John...” Neeta’s voice held a warning.
He shrugged her away and walked towards the Barath’na guards, heart pounding.
“I’d like to see my friend. I’m worried about him.” The dining area fell silent. “I want to see him.”
One of the Barath’na approached to a foot or so away, its mouth curved into a grotesque imitation of a smile. “Taz Delaney is undergoing medical treatment and responding well.”
“Then show me.” John’s voice was loud. “I’d like to see the governor and request to see Taz. I have that right, don’t I? To see the governor.” The implant twisted viciously in his muscle, and he had to bite down against a yell. ”I want to request it.”
“You cannot see the governor on behalf of another.”
“Well, he can’t make the request,” said John.
Another pang, masked by his anger, and John grabbed the alien’s forearm and twisted. Let it have some of the same medicine. Its hair was coarse under his hand, and when it tensed its muscles, they coiled under John’s grip. It threw him off without difficulty, and then raised its head and let out a call, ululating and echoing off the prison’s walls. There was nothing human in the call, nothing for the translator unit to repeat.
Barath’na exploded from everywhere, r
unning down the stairs from the fourth floor, aiming for John. This had been a bad idea. He had no choice but to see it through. He took a step back and yelled, “I want to see the governor. Now!”
“John!” shouted Neeta. She dove at the first of the aliens, her sliding tackle taking it across the floor with her.
“No, Neeta!” The Barath’na were surrounding him, but he fought to reach her. The Barath’na she was holding righted itself and slammed her against the wall. She sank into the metal, and it drew her down, like a mother’s embrace.
“Calm down!” John urged. “Close your eyes, be somewhere else, and bring your line down.” Claws grabbed him but he fought them off. “A beach. Warm, with sand and some waves...”
“Screw that.” She closed her eyes, and her chest rose and fell steadily. The metal oozed back a little. “Out on the streets, knowing you’re on top of your world,” she murmured, and gave a smile. “Quick, moving in the shadows, the pump of your heart in the dead of night.” She stepped forward, out of the metal. “Now you.”
“Fuck it.” He grinned. Turned and faced the Barath’na. Took a deep breath. “I. Want. To. See. The. Governor.”
They took him in a seething mass of bodies, each stronger than him. Claws clutched him, dragging against his skin, and propelled him towards the wall. He fought them, wilder than wild, ready to rip them all apart.
The wall hit and he pushed himself into it – fuck them if they thought they had the right to control him. “Come on, you miserable fuckers, do your worst.”
The metal came round him, tighter than before, so that each breath was an agony and panic. He laughed, breathless and heavy, and stood as the dining room emptied. The lights fell around him. Each time the metal loosened, he filled his lungs and yelled that he wanted to see the governor. When calmness threatened, he clenched his fists. Some things were worth fighting against, and he was buggered if he’d let the bastards pull him quietly from some darkened room. He’d fight them every step of the way; every single one.