by Mark Walden
‘Keep firing!’ Sam shouted as more of the creatures poured towards them from the escalators, barely slowed by the mounting bodies of their fallen.
‘You’ve got to be kidding me,’ Jay said, as he saw the first one of the creatures that he had hit slowly pushing itself back to its feet, despite the massive injuries it had suffered.
‘We’re going to be overrun,’ Sam cried out. ‘Everyone fall back!’
Jack slung the sniper rifle over his shoulder and pulled the pistol from the holster on his hip, shooting into the mass of monsters while slowly backing towards the door leading to the kitchen. The others followed suit, firing at the swarm of creatures as they retreated, trying desperately to stem the nightmarish tide.
‘What are these things?’ Rachel spat through gritted teeth as she fired another burst.
‘I don’t know,’ Sam said, pushing the kitchen door open and glancing inside, ‘and I’m not sure I want to. Looks clear, let’s go.’
They all hurried through the door, Jay firing one last burst before slamming it shut.
‘Here, give me a hand,’ Sam said, pushing hard on a large steel cabinet that stood to one side of the door. Jay joined in and they sent the heavy unit slamming down on to the floor, blocking the entrance with a crash. Moments later something heavy rammed against the door, shaking the frame.
‘That’s not going to hold them for long,’ Sam said. ‘We have to get out of here.’
‘We can’t go back outside,’ Jack said, sounding slightly panicked. ‘We have no idea how many more of those things are out there.’
There was a sound of splintering wood as the barricaded door began to give way.
‘We head for the roof,’ Sam said. ‘From there we can signal the drop-ship for a pick-up. At full throttle it shouldn’t be more than a couple of minutes away.’
‘I thought it was too risky to bring the drop-ship into the city,’ Rachel said as they hurried across the darkened kitchen to the door marked ‘Fire Exit’ on the far wall.
‘That was when we thought that there was a Mothership here,’ Sam said, taking up position on one side of the door. ‘Besides, we either risk it or get torn to pieces by those things. Your call.’
‘You’re getting no argument from me,’ Jay said, moving to the other side of the exit. ‘You ready?’
Sam gave a quick nod and Jay slammed the door open, weapon raised, covering the stairs leading upwards. Sam followed right behind him, scanning the stairwell below for any sign of movement.
‘Clear,’ Jay yelled, heading up the stairs.
‘Clear,’ Sam responded as Jack and Rachel followed them into the stairwell.
Behind them was a splintering crash followed by the sound of scraping metal on the tiled floor as the things that were pursuing them forced their way past the hastily improvised barricade. The four of them bolted up the stairs, heading for the roof, knowing that their pursuers would only be seconds behind. Sam took up the rear, trying to resist the urge to look back over his shoulder as he took the stairs three at a time. He didn’t need to look – the growling sounds of ravenous pursuit from below them were more than enough to keep him moving.
Jay was the first to reach the top of the stairs, slamming his shoulder against the door leading to the roof. It didn’t budge.
‘Locked,’ Jay said, levelling his rifle at the door’s handle.
‘Whoa,’ Rachel yelled, pushing Jay’s rifle barrel down towards the floor. ‘That’s a solid steel door. You start shooting it up there’s going to be bullets flying everywhere in here. Jack, you’re up.’
Jack gave a quick nod and unslung his pack from his back before reaching inside.
‘I’m gonna need a minute,’ he said breathlessly.
Sam nodded and unclipped one of the anti-personnel grenades from his combat harness. The others pulled back from the stairs, flattening themselves against the wall. Sam wrenched the pin from the grenade and released the striker lever, taking a breath and making a silent count of two in his head before dropping it over the edge. The grenade fell through space as Sam turned his back to the stairs, his fingers going to his ears. A split second later there was an impossibly bright flash from below followed by a thunderous boom, the concussion wave almost knocking Sam off his feet. For a moment, he could hear only the ringing in his ears as clouds of smoke began to billow up from below, but then, as his hearing returned, he could hear the screeching howls of the injured creatures that had been caught in the blast. Sam peered over the edge and could make out nothing through the clouds of smoke other than the flickering light of a fire. There were still sounds of movement down there and Sam realised that all he had really done was buy them some time.
‘Jack,’ Sam said, ‘I need that door open.’
‘Ten seconds,’ Jack said, trying to ignore the smoke irritating his lungs. ‘I mess this up and you’ll know all about it.’
He placed the cube of plastic explosive on the door’s locking mechanism and then inserted a small pencil-shaped device.
‘Fire in the hole,’ he yelled, turning away from the door as the charge detonated, destroying the lock mechanism with a bang. Jack gave the smoking door a quick, hard kick and snow blew in from the darkness outside.
‘Let’s go!’ Sam yelled as he began to see dark shapes moving in the smoke just a couple of floors below. The others did not need to be told twice, sprinting out on to the store’s windswept roof. Sam reached into one of the pockets on his belt and pulled out the small black crystal that would act as an emergency beacon to the drop-ship. He felt the Voidborn technology inside the crystal responding to him and with a small mental nudge he gave it a silent instruction to transmit. It might be risky, but there was no way they were getting out of there without it. Sam heard another series of howls from the stairwell and unclipped the second and final grenade from his harness. He tossed the grenade through the door and then ran over towards the others as it detonated behind him with a satisfying thump.
‘Cover the door,’ Sam yelled over the howling wind. ‘The drop-ship should be on its way.’
The four of them raised their weapons, training them on the doorway, which now had smoke pouring from it. Barely ten seconds later the first of the creatures burst out of the smoke, galloping on all fours across the roof towards them, its razor-lined mouth wide open. All four of them opened fire and the creature was cut down, falling in a twitching heap just a few metres from their feet. More of them began to pour out of the door, almost climbing over each other in their eagerness to reach their prey. The sound of gunfire became constant as the four members of the scouting party slowly retreated, firing all the time as they backed towards the edge of the roof. Sam looked over his shoulder as he felt his heel hit the low parapet well that ran round the edge of the roof. It was a nine-storey drop straight down to the pavement.
‘Reloading!’ Jay yelled, the empty clip falling from his rifle and clattering to the ground as he slammed another into place. The creatures were dropping like flies under the hail of gunfire, but their numbers did not appear to be diminishing in the slightest. They were advancing relentlessly and their prey had nowhere left to run.
‘I’m out!’ Rachel yelled, dropping her rifle and unholstering her pistol in one fluid movement. She fired twice and then glanced over at Sam, her expression matching the feeling in Sam’s gut perfectly.
They weren’t going to make it.
Sam glanced back over the edge of the roof as the creatures closed in on them. It was a long way down, but better that than being eaten alive. Suddenly, he was almost knocked off his feet as the down draft from the drop-ship’s engines hit him, the soft yellow lights on its hull appearing without warning from the swirling clouds of snow. The hatch in its side slid open, level with the roof, a metre-wide gap between the snow-covered concrete and the safety within.
‘GO!’ Sam bellowed, turning back towards the advancing creatures who now scrambled to climb over the piled-up bodies of their fallen, as if suddenly realising th
at their prey might escape. He fired a couple of bursts into the nearest of the monsters as Jack leapt across the gap and into the safety of the waiting drop-ship.
‘Ladies first,’ Jay called to Rachel and she shot him an icy glare before running towards the hovering vessel and leaping inside.
‘You’re next,’ Sam urged. ‘I’m right behind you.’
Jay gave a quick nod and then followed the other two, jumping on board the drop-ship and turning to offer his hand to Sam.
‘Come on!’ Jay shouted. ‘We’re leaving!’
Sam felled one more of the creatures and then sprinted for the drop-ship. He sprang across the gap and caught Jay’s outstretched hand just as one of the pursuing creatures reached the edge of the roof and leapt behind him. The monster’s outstretched claws caught Sam’s ankle in a vice-like grip, and the creature dangled below the drop-ship as it drifted away from the roof. Sam’s hand slipped from Jay’s and he flailed for a handhold. His fingers brushed past the edge of the door and for one fleeting instant he was framed in the doorway, a look of horror on his face before silently toppling backwards into the snow-filled void.
‘SAM, NO!’ Jay yelled, desperately flinging himself after his friend. Rachel, grabbing the back of his combat harness, stopped him from also falling to his doom.
‘Take us down,’ Jack yelled at the air.
‘That is impossible,’ the Servant replied, her voice coming from all around them. ‘The area below is too hostile to attempt a landing.’
‘What do you mean?’ Rachel demanded. ‘Take us down now!’
‘I am sorry – I cannot,’ the Servant replied. One of the drop-ship’s bulkheads shimmered for an instant and then resolved into a thermal image of the area below them. The entire street was filled with countless thousands of the creatures they had just been fighting, their faint heat signatures blurring together into one seething mass.
‘Oh my God,’ Rachel said, her voice a broken whisper. Behind her Jay stifled a sob. Their friend was nowhere to be seen. Not even the fading heat of his body was visible. Sam was gone.
3
The drop-ship landed in the compound in the ruins of St James’s Park with a soft thud. Rachel was the first down the boarding ramp, her eyes still red from the tears she had shed for Sam.
‘Rachel, what’s wrong?’ Nat asked.
‘It’s . . . it’s Sam,’ Rachel said, her voice cracking. ‘He didn’t make it.’
Nat’s mouth fell open in shock as Jay and Jack slowly walked down the ramp, looks of grief-stricken shock on their faces too. ‘Oh God, no,’ she whispered, feeling her stomach lurch. ‘What happened?’
‘It was . . . There was . . . It was horrible,’ Rachel said, fresh tears trickling down her cheeks. ‘He never stood a chance.’
Doctor Stirling approached, looking older and more tired than any of them could remember. ‘I’m so very sorry,’ he said. ‘The Servant informed me of the situation. Sam was a very brave young man. I’m sure we will all miss him, but we need to debrief immediately.’
‘Seriously?’ Rachel said angrily, jabbing her finger into his chest. ‘Is that it? Sam’s dead, the person who saved all our lives, the person who let us take London back from the Voidborn, and that’s all you’ve got to say? Well, screw your bloody debriefing. I have a friend to grieve for.’
‘I know how much this hurts,’ Stirling said to Rachel’s back as she stormed away, ‘but we have to understand what these creatures are. They’re like nothing we’ve ever seen before – this could be a whole new threat.’
‘Leave it, Doc,’ Jay said quietly.
‘But you don’t understand,’ Stirling said, ‘if this is some new sort of Voidborn weapon, we need to understand more about it so that we can properly defend our –’
‘I said leave it,’ Jay hissed.
Stirling opened his mouth as if to say something else, but the expression on Jay’s face made him think twice. He watched in silence as the other young men and women who might just represent mankind’s last hope for concerted resistance to the Voidborn slowly gathered around Jay and Jack, their shared grief obvious.
In the dormitory, Rachel sat down on her bed and buried her head in her hands, trying desperately to forget the last image of Sam that she had burned into her memory, the single look of fleeting horror on his face before he was gone for ever. She wiped the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand just as there was a soft knock at the door.
‘Go away,’ Rachel said, her voice hoarse. ‘Whatever it is, I’m not interested.’
‘As you wish,’ the Servant replied. ‘I have something important to discuss with you, but we may address the situation later if you prefer.’
Rachel took a deep breath before standing up and opening the door. The Servant was walking away down the corridor.
‘Wait,’ Rachel said. ‘What do you want?’
The Servant turned and looked at Rachel with something that almost seemed like curiosity.
‘I have been given certain instructions that I must follow in the event of the death of the Illuminate,’ the Servant replied.
‘Sam,’ Rachel said quietly, ‘his name is . . . was . . . Sam.’
‘The Illuminate made his wishes quite clear as to what should happen if he were killed. I am to answer only to his chosen successor.’
‘OK, so now you belong to Stirling. What’s that got to do with me?’ Rachel said impatiently.
‘I fear you misunderstand me,’ the Servant replied. ‘Doctor Stirling was not the Illuminate’s chosen successor. You were.’
‘Me?’ Rachel asked, sounding bewildered. ‘Why? I don’t have any connection with the Voidborn other than this damn chip Stirling put in my head when I was a baby. I’m not like Sam – I don’t have some kind of weird psychic bond with you or the Mothership. I can’t control the Voidborn or anything like that, so what exactly is it that makes me qualified to take over from him?’
‘You were chosen by the Illuminate – it is not my place to question his decisions. My only function now is to serve your will.’
‘Just what I need,’ Rachel said with a sigh, ‘something else to worry about. Stirling’s going to love this.’
‘Is there anything I can do to assist?’ the Servant asked.
‘No, not really,’ Rachel said, shaking her head. ‘Just help Stirling work out what those things in Edinburgh were. We need to find some way to stop them, because I have a horrible feeling that this won’t be the last we see of them.’
‘Understood,’ the Servant replied. ‘I will render whatever assistance Doctor Stirling requires.’
The gold-skinned machine turned to walk away.
‘Did you feel it?’ Rachel asked. ‘When Sam died.’
‘No,’ the Servant replied, turning back towards her, ‘that was not the nature of the connection between us. I could sense his presence when he interfaced with a part of my consciousness in some way, but that was all. The Illuminate is gone; you are his successor. I do not feel anything. That would be an emotional response and as such it is not possible for me to experience it.’
‘So you don’t care,’ Rachel said, feeling her usual resentment towards the Servant’s cold, mechanical nature.
‘I cannot care,’ the Servant replied. ‘It is not part of my architecture.’
‘Yeah? Well, sometimes I envy you,’ Rachel said, feeling the knot of grief in her gut. ‘I really do.’
Everything hurts, Sam thought to himself. Everything really, really hurts, but that’s a good sign. It means I’m not dead.
First question, he thought. Why am I not dead?
He slowly opened his eyes and looked around. He was in a long, narrow chamber, but it was hard to make out any detail as only the faintest grey light filled the space. A slightly brighter light was coming from somewhere above and behind him, but he couldn’t crane his neck to make out exactly where because it would involve moving, and right now his entire body was telling him that trying to move would be a massive mistake
.
So you’re just going to lie here and freeze to death, then? Sam thought to himself. Great plan.
He took a deep breath and tried to push himself up off the floor. The sudden searing pain in his side made him feel slightly light-headed and he fought the overwhelming urge just to lie back down again, but he knew that would only end one way . . . not well. He gingerly touched his side and his fingers came away wet with blood. He took a breath and forced himself to feel the wound area again, his fingertips brushing against something cold, hard and sharp that was protruding from under the edge of the body armour beneath his armpit.
‘Whatever it is, don’t pull it out,’ Sam said to himself, trying to remember his field-medic training. Pain was better than bleeding to death – that much he knew. He sat there for a moment or two, building up his strength for the next challenge: standing up. He made it to one knee before the pain in his side and back made him stop to catch his breath. As his eyes began to adjust to the gloom, he slowly realised where he was. The long, narrow chamber was lined with snow-covered windows that were only letting in the barest splash of light, but he could just make out the shape of the seats that surrounded him. As he began to see more detail, he realised that those seats were separated by a central aisle that led down to another single seat with a steering wheel in front of it.
‘How the hell did I end up on a bus?’ Sam said, slowly standing up. He turned round and saw the source of the brighter overhead illumination: the soft dawn light outside poured through the shattered remains of the large skylight in the bus roof. On the roof outside he could see snow piled nearly a metre deep. His last memory was of losing his grip on Jay and then falling into blackness. He must have hit the snow, and that and his pack absorbed the brunt of the impact. Their combined weight had presumably proven too much for the skylight, which had given way beneath him, dumping him inside. He supposed that made him incredibly lucky, but he certainly didn’t feel it at that precise moment.