The Chaos Code

by Justin Richards

  Her eyes widened dangerously, and he thought she was going to hit him. Or shoot him. But she settled for prodding him sharply with her gun, pushing him towards his father. ‘Get it,’ she snarled.

  Matt walked slowly over and made a play of fumbling in his dad’s jacket pockets. ‘Dad!’ he hissed. ‘Dad, can you hear me?’

  His father stared ahead, blankly.

  ‘If you can hear me, try to help Mum. Try to break Harper’s control. You – we – have to get out of here. And she has to stop him copying his program code. Dad?!’

  But there was still no reaction, and Harper was shouting at Matt to hurry up. He sighed, and took the disc from his dad’s pocket over to Robin. It was made of metal, like the disc in the wooden box, and the patterns on it spiralled into the centre.

  ‘You know the location,’ Matt said, handing the disc to Robin. ‘You know what to do?’

  She nodded. With her dark blue eyes and black hair, she looked very pale. ‘And you?’

  ‘Of course.’ He tried to smile, to make light of it. ‘We’re going to get the old technology working. For the first time in thousands of years we’ll make it work for Mr Harper. And we’ll show him the past.’

  They had to hunt round at the edge of the stage for the slots in the stone floor where the discs fitted. Sand had blown into them, hiding the ancient mechanism. But Matt and Robin brushed and blew it away. A single slot on either side of the stage. Each slot the same size as one of the discs.

  Robin took the final disc and pushed it into place in the slot. Katherine Feather was watching her closely. Behind her, further up the tiered steps, Harper watched with interest.

  ‘Come on,’ he shouted. ‘Prove to me that the ancients really knew what they were doing.’

  On the other side of the stage, Matt took the disc from the box and pushed it into its slot in the stone slab. He hoped that the way the disc fitted would set the time to a baseline – to a specific time. He knew when it would be – 10,500 BC. ‘The First Time’ as the Egyptians had apparently called it. The era of Atlantis as their starting point. The disc slid smoothly into place and clicked into position.

  The sand across the huge stage area trembled and danced. It was moving, slowly shifting, rippling. Like a time-lapsed movie of someone building sandcastles on the beach, the grains were coming together to create a landscape.

  ‘Oh, it’s beautiful,’ someone said, and Matt realised with surprise that it was Harper. The big man stepped down towards the stage. ‘Is that …?’ he left the question hanging in the air as he gazed awestruck at the stage.

  Sand built up into a mountain. In its shadow, buildings rose, intricate structures that might have been made of stone. Water splashed in from the river behind, creating moats round the buildings – circles within circles within circles, islands connected by intricate bridges and walkways. People – tiny, perfectly formed figures of sand – walked across the bridges and between the buildings. Lived in them. An entire world in little.

  ‘Atlantis,’ Robin said. ‘Nearly 11,000 years before Christ.’ She looked across at Matt. ‘Go forward,’ Robin said. ‘Turn the disc towards you. Five hundred years …’

  Harper took another step down. He was standing close to Katherine now. ‘With this, we can truly control the world,’ he said. ‘Down to the last detail. An analogue model.’

  Katherine’s ice-white hair shone in the light from the huge lamps above her. A tiny drip of water ran from her hairline down her cheek. She was staring down at the stage as well. But her gun did not waver. It was still aimed at Robin.

  Slowly, gently, nervously, Matt turned the disc. And time for the sand-people in their sand-city speeded up …

  • • •

  The butt of Klein’s gun slammed viciously into Venture’s stomach. He doubled over, but he did not cry out. Klein’s boot crashed into him, sending Venture flying backwards. He landed between the banks of equipment in the central aisle of the computer suite. Sprawled on his back, he looked up at Klein’s grinning skull-face.

  ‘On your feet,’ Klein said. ‘I could shoot you now. But that wouldn’t be half as much fun.’

  Venture struggled to his feet. His face was contorted with pain. He swayed uncertainly, looking back at the brutal killer staring at him, taking in every aspect of the man: uniform; grenades; gun; attitude. Venture backed slowly away down the aisle.

  ‘Got you scared have we?’ Klein gloated. ‘On the run? Frightened for your life? Your little girl’s life?’ He advanced slowly on Venture’s retreating figure. ‘Because the way I see it, you’ll soon both be dead.’ He raised the gun.

  But something in Venture’s face made him hesitate. The pain was gone, dropped like a mask. Instead there was an expression of resigned determination.

  Julius Venture moved like lightning. Not away from Klein and the gun. Straight at him.

  The gun went off, bullets ripping wide and smacking into a set of computer storage units, tearing holes in the metal casings. Venture’s weight drove Klein backwards. His arms were wrapped round Klein as he knocked him to the floor.

  But Klein was twisting away, heaving the gun clear of Venture’s grasp. He struggled free and knocked Venture back. Broke away and smacked the butt of the gun into Venture’s face, sending him falling, skidding along the floor.

  Klein got to his feet. Legs braced, taking his time, he aimed directly at Venture.

  Venture didn’t move.

  ‘Thought you could get my gun, did you? Way I see it,’ he said, breathless after the struggle, ‘you’re dead right now.’

  By contrast, Venture’s voice was calm and unflustered. ‘Maybe we see things differently.’

  ‘You guys – amateurs. You think you’re tough, but when you’re really up against it you just go all to pieces.’

  Venture was smiling, his lips moving slightly as if he was still talking under his breath.

  It unsettled Klein. He paused, gun still raised. ‘What are you doing? What are you saying?’

  ‘I’m counting.’ The lips continued to move.

  ‘Counting? Why?’ Klein jabbed the gun forward. ‘Counting your last seconds? Get your hands up.’

  Venture obligingly raised his hands. Still the lips moved silently.

  ‘What’s in your hand?’ Klein demanded. ‘What are you holding? Show me!’

  Venture opened his hand and something fell out. Something small and metallic, that made a tinny sound as it bounced on the floor.

  ‘I wasn’t after your gun,’ Venture said.

  Time slowed down again. Harper and Katherine Feather were watching in awe as the tiny people went about their business.

  ‘It’s exquisite,’ Harper said. ‘Such detail. Such … control.’

  ‘And see what it brought them,’ Robin said.

  The mound of sand at the back of the stage was moving, the top bulging. A sudden tremendous blast of sand and earth across the stage – over the sand-city. More sand was running down the side of the mound, crashing into the buildings below.

  ‘The eruptions,’ Harper breathed. ‘So, it’s true.’

  The water was rising in the narrow rivers. Washing out across the landscape, tearing away the bottoms of the buildings.

  ‘Imagine that on real buildings,’ Katherine said, smiling. ‘Real people.’

  A tiny piece of metal bounced on the floor of the computer suite. A ring big enough for a man to push his finger through.

  Klein stared at it, and felt his whole body go suddenly cold. In front of him, Venture took a step to the side of the corridor, close to one of the large computer banks.

  Klein barely saw him move. Still holding the gun, he looked down, already knowing what he would see.

  Three grenades, hanging from his belt. One of them – the middle one – was missing its detonator pin.

  And Venture was counting.

  ‘Just about now, I think,’ Venture said, and stepped behind the computer.

  But his words were drowned out by the explosion tha
t ripped through the room. It blew computers and equipment aside, shattering screens, tearing metal to shreds.

  Through the smoke and the fire, Julius Venture walked calmly back to the door. He paused to look back, checking that nothing remained intact. ‘Thanks for your help,’ he said. ‘Amateurs,’ he muttered as he closed the broken remains of the door behind him. ‘Think they’re tough, but when they’re really up against it they just go all to pieces.’

  ‘Ultimate control over the world,’ Harper said, staring transfixed as the water surged across the stage and the sand crashed down. He was watching the tiny figures running for their imagined lives. ‘That’s what we shall have. That’s what they were striving for. We can take events like these from the past and replay them at will – anywhere, anytime. Yes, imagine it!’

  ‘You don’t have to imagine it,’ Matt told them. ‘Because you’re right – that’s how the model works. Like your control over the elements. And like you said, what happened then can be replayed now.’ He looked at Robin, and found she was staring back at him.

  ‘There are over six hundred myths around the world that concern civilisations destroyed by a great flood,’ Robin said. ‘They were all inspired by this one event. The event being replayed here and now.’ She continued to stare right at Matt, her eyes wide, face pale, looking scared but triumphant. ‘Do it!’ Robin shouted. ‘Do it now.’ She reached for the disc, turning it to a new position. Setting another location.

  Harper took a step forward, as if realising at last what was happening – what had happened. What was going to happen. Here and now. ‘No!’

  ‘Or what?’ Matt turned the disc, changing the time to the present just as Robin had set the location to the mountain above. Brought the end of Atlantis to them. Here and now. ‘Goodbye, Robin,’ he said.

  Chapter 21

  The whole mountain trembled. The ground heaved beneath them, shaking the last of the sand model on the stage to pieces. Harper and Katherine were struggling to keep their balance. Chunks of rock crashed down from the roof of the cavern, and the lights toppled and fell, sending shadows lurching across the ground.

  The river was a raging torrent, lapping over into the amphitheatre, washing across the stage area and sweeping away the last of the sand. The ground shuddered again, and the river seemed to rise up in a colossal wave, surging through the lower part of the ruins.

  The water crashed down over Matt, drenching him, sweeping him away. He scrabbled for a handhold – found something, clung on.

  It was Robin. She heaved him out of the water, pulling him up onto the lower tiers of the amphitheatre. They lay there gasping for breath as the water rushed past.

  ‘What have you done?’ a voice hissed from behind them. Katherine Feather was still holding the gun. Her eyes were icy with fury.

  Another surge of water. Matt and Robin ducked down, clinging to each other as the cold wave swept over them. It slammed into Katherine’s legs and took them from under her. The gun went flying. Her cries were lost in the roar of the water.

  For a few moments, as the water receded again, they could see the woman’s ice-blond hair matted to her head. Her features seemed to blur as if they were being washed off by the force of the water that crashed over her. Her arms moved desperately as she tried to swim to the edge before the current took her into the tunnel. The whole cavern was shaking now. Dust and debris were falling like a blizzard. A huge section of the roof ripped away from the rest and crashed down. Into the roaring river. On top of Katherine. Sending her spinning away, into the tunnel, under the water. Out of sight.

  Robin scrambled to her feet, pulling Matt up too. ‘Where’s Harper?’ she yelled.

  ‘Computers!’ Matt shouted.

  They ran through the confusion and falling rock, leaped over the puddles and the debris and the ruins. Towards the area where the computers and screens had been set up the air was full of dust, like smoke. It curled and drifted. And it was hot.

  Steam was coming from the raging river now. The puddles started to bubble and boil. Above them, the mountain was coming back to life. It rumbled and shifted. Glowing red was dripping through the cracks that opened in the walls and the roof. Bubbling up through the floor as the volcano awoke.

  People ran through the smoke while the pyramid shook around them. It was impossible to tell who was – or had been – on which side, who was wearing what uniform. They just ran, getting out as fast as they could. With Harper’s computers wrecked, his control over Smith’s attacking soldiers was broken. His own guards, less disciplined and outnumbered, were racing with their enemy for the exit.

  Only one figure moved in the opposite direction, knocking aside anyone who got in his way, kicking though the collapsed heaps of earth and stone and rubble. The corridors and stairways buckled and heaved around him, but Julius Venture seemed not to notice.

  Smoke was pouring from the top of the mountain and red rivers ran down its sides.

  ‘We should get out of here,’ the pilot told Mephistopheles Smith.

  With an almighty crack, the side of the mountain split open and a torrent of orange and red poured out. The waterfall shifted, casting rainbow reflections of the eruption across the stepped pyramid now visible behind it as the angle of the cascade changed. The mountainside buckled and moved, the water sprayed sideways, slowed, then burst out of the rock again. But now it was no longer pouring with spectacular majesty into the lake below, but crashing down into the top of the pyramid, running down its sides, burrowing through the stonework …

  ‘We wait,’ Smith said. His dark glasses reflected the torrent of water and the anger of the fiery mountain. ‘As long as possible. As long as it takes.’

  Water was coming through the roof now – like someone had turned on sprinklers.

  ‘I can stop it,’ Harper muttered under his breath. Over and over: ‘I can stop it. I can still stop it.’

  He shouldered aside two of his guards as they ran past. The ground quaked, and he staggered forward, into the office area to the side of the amphitheatre. The ground was at a crazy angle. Half the lights were out. But the screens were still working.

  ‘I can stop it. I can change the model,’ Harper said out loud, running for the keyboard.

  ‘No you can’t,’ someone told him calmly. ‘Not any more.’

  He spared Doctor Stribling a glance. Then he was working furiously at the computer. ‘I can. The program, the model – the whole of the compiled engine code – was copied down here.’ He hit the Enter key and looked at the screen.

  It showed a spinning, stylised H. A window opened over it. An entry field and a prompt:

  Enter Password

  ‘I stopped the copy and deleted the backup,’ Matt’s mother told him. ‘Oh, and I changed your password too. That’s good practice you know.’

  Harper was on his feet. ‘You think you’re so clever,’ he snarled. ‘You know nothing.’ He lunged at her across the desk, sending keyboard and mouse flying.

  Matt’s dad dragged her out of the way. ‘Time we were leaving,’ he said. ‘Come on.’

  Harper’s threats and curses were ringing in their ears, louder even than the exploding mountain, as they ran for the way out. Julius Venture was standing at the top of the amphitheatre, waving for them to hurry.

  ‘Where’s Matt?’ Mrs Stribling gasped.

  ‘And Robin?’

  ‘They’ll be here, don’t worry about them,’ Venture said. ‘You stopped the copy? Destroyed the code?’

  They both nodded.

  ‘Well done. Just in time too, the waterfall is pouring into the pyramid above us. I can hear it coming.’

  ‘Harper’s still down there, ranting and raving,’ Doctor Stribling said. He was staring into the thickening smoke. Coughing and breathless.

  ‘Leave him,’ Venture said. ‘Just so long as you deleted the code. And destroyed his laptop.’

  The laptop screen showed the spinning model of the amphitheatre and pyramid. It didn’t hold the entire engine code,
of course. Just a portion of it, just his first experimental program. Not enough to stop what was happening. But enough for Harper to take his revenge.

  Walking through the smoke, Harper worked furiously. The ground was bubbling red around him and scalding water poured down. He didn’t notice.

  All his attention was on the laptop screen. He walked calmly and purposefully towards the two flickering, vague, outline figures struggling to get through the amphitheatre as it fell apart around them. A boy and a girl. Somewhere ahead of him in the choking smoke. Predictably, trying to escape.

  And Harper was no longer alone. The bubbling pools swelled and coughed up molten rock in a fountain of fire. Sand and debris rolled together and formed into shapes. Lumpy, inhuman figures of sand and rock and fire and earth. Walking with Harper through the smoke and the rain that parted for them in the sudden, impossible breeze.

  The whole amphitheatre buckled and heaved around Matt and Robin as they raced through the hot fog. They had to be nearly at the river by now, Matt thought–had to be. But he could hardly see through the smoke. They leaped up another broken step, jumped over a boiling pool of mud, coughed and choked on the acrid air.

  There was a roaring in their ears. The crack of the breaking rock, the rumble of the volcano, the crash of the water. Shapes loomed through the drifting smoke. Matt could make out dark figures, closing in. He gripped Robin’s hand tight. She was looking round, aware of them too.

  Harper appeared out of the thickening air. His hair was blowing in a gale that sent the smoke skidding away in billowing swirls. ‘You think you are so clever,’ he rasped.

  Matt could hardly speak. His own throat was dry and raw. His feet were frozen despite the heat. A creature of glowing, molten rock was standing beside Harper. Its skin was blotched with dark crusts over the smouldering lava beneath. A steaming hand reached out for Matt and Robin.

  Other figures appeared, encircling them both. Some earthy and dull, some like sandpaper wrapped round a huge doll. Some glowing and smoking. All closing in.

  And behind them, from the top of the steps, a running figure – lean and human, not crude lumps of elemental matter crushed into the rough shape of a man.