Torchwood: Exodus Code
Page 26
Jack turned and stared in horror as Isela began sinking into the earth, being pulled towards the edge of the basin next to him.
‘No, Isela! Not you,’ he screamed, his throat raw. ‘You don’t have to be part of this.’
‘But the sacrifice must be three,’ choked Isela, the smouldering ash thickening around her. ‘Gaia, the puma from the darkness of the underworld, you, the cóndor from the heavens, and someone of the Earth, bound intimately to our world. There is no one else. It must be three. That’s the prophesy.’
Overwhelmed with the intoxicating fumes, Isela collapsed to the ground, silver veins shooting out of the mountain, darting along the smoking crevices and binding Isela’s feet, then her legs in threads of silver light.
Suddenly Jack realised why the hydrothermal vents had been pulsing out the ecto-hormone; it needed to find the third sacrifice, the female whose connection to the Earth was strong, and who would be a worthy sacrifice.
But not a child. The universe could not take another child. He would not allow it to take a child again.
The pulsing veins of silver were whipping themselves round Jack’s ankles, and he felt himself welcome them, the sensation as wonderful as he now remembered it. Renso stepped into the circle with him, wrapped himself in his arms, kissed his lips, then took his hands in his. Jack tasted lemons and felt every fibre of his being ache with longing.
‘Get that girl out of there, now!’ screamed Anderson, shooting into the sky because she didn’t know what else to do.
Jack was being sucked into the ground, being tugged towards the dark abyss of the basin. He turned to the outcropping of rocks where Vlad and Eva were hiding and watched in terror as Gwen shot out from their grasp, sprinted across the clearing, hit a sheet of rock and leapt from it, landing in the circle next to Isela.
‘Gwen! No,’ screamed Jack. He tried to clamber towards her, but his feet were encased in the earth, wrapped in the tightening silver veins that were dragging him fast towards the rim of the mountain. He threw himself flat on the ground and stretched out his hands towards Gwen.
Behind him, the ground opened and the mountain swallowed Gaia, her descent marked with a thunderous boom that bounced across the mountain peaks.
Anderson dropped her gun. Loosening her rappelling wire from her kit, she dodged the widening crevices on the plateau to get to Gwen, who ripped at the tendrils and veins, freeing Isela from the earth’s grip. At the edge of the circle, Anderson shot the hook into the trunk of a smouldering Kapok tree, tossing the other end to Gwen, who hooked it onto Isela’s belt. Anderson slammed her palm on the switch and the winch dragged an unconscious Isela from the circle of fire into Anderson’s arms.
‘Gwen, what are you doing?’ screamed Jack, most of the lower half of his body mummified in silver threads, the pain and the pleasure indistinguishable.
‘What any good mother would do,’ she sobbed, her eyes stinging from the sulphur and the burning chemicals in the rock, ‘saving the world for my children.’
A fissure shot from the lip of the mountain into the circle, pulling Gwen to the ground, the silver veins quickly mummifying her. She stretched out her hand towards Jack, their fingers touching for a second, for the briefest moment in time.
‘You made my world a better place, Jack.’
The earth shook, the circles tightened around Jack and Gwen like fiery lassos, pulling them over the lip and into the vast gaping abyss.
*
Rhys woke up suddenly, and stared in horror at the television in front of him.
The news channel showed the picture out at sea, of the chimney of rock growing around the fountain of water appearing to spin out of control, rising higher and higher above the jet and then folding in on itself, falling down like a pile of building blocks, falling in on itself and the sea, sending an enormous wave crashing out towards Swansea.
He was about to turn for the stairs, run to Anwen and carry her down to the basement, when a tower of silver threads, like electrical filaments, shot up from the sea, spiralling around the disintegrating chimney and then exploding like a flowery burst of brilliant fireworks, blasting the remnants of the chimney in a million points of light.
The Ice Maiden
73
Off the coast of Miami, two weeks later
‘PERMISSION TO COME aboard, Captain,’ said Jack, climbing off a classy speed boat being driven by an expensively dressed sailor.
‘Are you sure that’s what you want?’ asked Hollis, steadying the boat as Jack climbed out and onto the Ice Maiden’s platform.
‘Permission granted,’ said Cash from the deck above.
Jack laughed and embraced Hollis. ‘I’m more than sure. Besides I’ve been missing your po’boy sandwiches.’
‘I could go for one of them too,’ said Sam, leaning over the portside next to Dana.
‘I’m all about sharing,’ laughed Jack.
‘It’s going to be a long noisy voyage, I can tell,’ said Cash, grinning and slapping Jack’s back. ‘Glad to have Torchwood on board.’
Climbing up the ladder to the Ice Maiden’s deck, Jack hesitated. He had a sudden memory of the horrible climb out of the smoking volcano where he’d lain, broken and mummified for days, waiting in agony for the Earth, the mountain and his body to heal, believing then that with Gwen’s sacrifice his heart never would.
And then he’d rolled over the lip of the basin into the hazy ash-filled sunlight and he’d seen her, sitting on a deckchair next to Vlad and Eva in the cracked and swollen clearing, waiting for him as they had been every day since the mountain had taken him.
When Jack had walked out of the white haze, Vlad nudged Gwen who scrambled out of the deckchair and raced into his arms.
Suddenly, Shelley morphed at Gwen’s side, looking in every way identical to her, including a chromosome sequence that Vlad had coded into the avatar mimicking Gwen’s genetic code, using the information in Jack’s notebook.
‘Fuck – me!’ said Gwen, who had very little memory of the previous few weeks.
‘That program is now fully functional,’ said Shelley.
‘Luckily,’ said Vlad, leaning over and kissing Eva, ‘I don’t need it.’
Acknowledgements
To bring Captain Jack and Torchwood alive in these pages was a distinct privilege if a bit daunting. We may have an inside track on the Captain, but Torchwood’s creator, Russell T Davies, remains the Titan in the Torchwood universe and ours. We salute you, sir.
Many thanks to the folks behind the publication of Exodus Code, especially to Steve Tribe and James Goss, our terrific editors, who are masters of the Torchwood universe, and to Albert DePetrillo and Nicholas Payne at BBC Books. Thanks also to Gary Russell and all at BBC Wales for allowing us to tell this tale in the first place.
A team of talented friends and family toil behind the scenes to make it possible for us to collaborate on our many projects. First, we’re sending cake and hearty thanks to Gavin Barker of Gavin Barker and Associates Inc., Georgina Capel of Capel and Land Ltd, and Rhys Livesy.
Without Kevin Casey, Carole would spend all day in her pyjamas, eating only chocolate raisins, and getting in fights with her imaginary friends (there are many).
Without Scott Gill, John would not know the wonder of a bacon buttie on a Sunday morning.
And without Marion, John, Clare (welcome to Team Barrowman, Casey) and Turner, we would think everything we did was funny and worth sharing.
Finally, the histories of the ancient peoples of Peru are rich ones, but the Cuari tribe in this novel have no relationship to the city in Peru and the people living there, then and now. The Cuari living within these pages are purely fictional.
John & Carole
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