by Mark Walden
‘What soldiers?’ Sam asked urgently. ‘Where do they come from?’
‘Dunno,’ Mag said with a shrug. ‘I stay clear of them now. I’ve seen them shoot other people like me and take them away in their helicopters. There used to be a few of us; now there’s just me. They stuck together – it made them too easy to find. I’ve always preferred to go solo, seems safer that way. The soldiers are bad news – trust me.’
‘We have to try and find them,’ Sam said. He didn’t tell her how much she reminded him of himself when he had been alone in London after the invasion. He too had believed it was better to hide. It was only later that he had learned to fight.
‘Did you not hear what I just said?’ Mag asked, frowning.
‘You don’t understand,’ Sam said. ‘Those soldiers must be the ones who made the transmission that brought us up here in the first place. If I can get my hands on whatever radio equipment they’re using, I can get in touch with my friends in London and they can come and collect us.’
‘I’m not going anywhere,’ Mag said, shaking her head. ‘The Vore are no threat to me. I leave them alone and they leave me alone.’
‘That’s how I used to feel, but I learned that you can do more than just survive,’ Sam said. ‘You can join us and help take the fight to the Voidborn.’
‘No thanks,’ Mag said. ‘I’ll take you to the western edge of the city, then you’re on your own. That’s the direction the soldiers usually come from. If you keep walking, I’m sure you’ll bump into them eventually.’
Mag put down her fork and quickly sniffed the air.
‘You’re bleeding again,’ she said. ‘You’d better go patch yourself up. If I can smell it, so can the Vore.’
Sam finished the last of the apricots in the can, finally silencing his growling belly, and took the candle through to the dining room next door. By the candle’s flickering light, he unclipped his combat harness before removing his jacket and T-shirt, one side of which was now wet with fresh blood. He walked over to the large wall-mounted mirror and gingerly pulled the field dressing off the gash in his side. Blood trickled from the deep cut and ran down his skin. The wound needed stitches, not a field dressing, but for the moment he would have to make do with what he had. He reached into his pack and removed one of the handful of dressings that remained in the first-aid kit. He carefully applied the self-adhesive pad as Mag walked into the room.
‘Here,’ she said, placing a roll of bandage on the table and some painkillers. ‘Found these upstairs, thought you could use them.’
‘You couldn’t give me a hand, could you?’ Sam asked as he held the dressing in place beneath his left arm. He suddenly realised that she was staring at him with a puzzled expression. He looked down and saw what it was that had surprised her. He held his gleaming golden forearm and hand out in front of him, flexing the fingers. ‘Sorry, should have mentioned it earlier. Just a little souvenir of our last battle with the Voidborn.’
‘Can I?’ She reached out to touch the metal.
‘Be my guest,’ Sam said, holding his arm out to her.
Mag gently ran her clawed fingers over the golden surface. It was warm, and subtle sparkling trails were left in the surface where she had touched.
‘It feels alive,’ Mag said.
‘It is, in a way,’ Sam said. ‘I don’t really understand how it works, to be honest, but it seems to behave itself most of the time.’
‘Doesn’t it worry you?’ Mag asked. ‘After everything you’ve told me about the Voidborn, do you really want their technology to be part of your body like this?’
‘Hey, it’s this or no arm at all,’ Sam said with a shrug. ‘I try not to think about it too much. I’m more worried about the Voidborn tech up here.’ He tapped the side of his head.
‘And that’s what kept you awake when the Voidborn came,’ Mag said.
‘Yeah, lucky old me,’ Sam replied with a crooked smile. There had been moments over the last two years when he had wondered if the Sleepers weren’t the lucky ones in a way. At least they didn’t have to face the nightmare of living in a world overrun by the Voidborn.
Mag helped Sam wrap the bandage tightly round his chest, pressing the dressing firmly against his injured side. He winced slightly at the pressure on the wound, but he knew it would help staunch any further bleeding. If the Vore were still on their trail, that might turn out to be the difference between life and death.
‘I’ll go and see if I can find a clean top,’ Mag said. ‘You should burn that.’ She gestured to the blood-soaked T-shirt on the table.
A few minutes later Sam pulled his jacket back on over the clean, if much too large, T-shirt that Mag had found upstairs. He tossed the bloody shirt into the kitchen sink and Mag passed him a small tin of fire-lighting fluid. He squirted the clear liquid over the shirt and tossed a lit match on to the sodden cloth. It went up with a flash, the flickering flames lighting up the room for a couple of minutes before fading away to nothing.
‘That’s better,’ Mag said, sniffing the air. All that Sam could smell was the smoke from the burning cloth, so he decided to take her word for it that he was no longer a walking dinner invitation for the Vore.
‘You should get some sleep,’ Mag said. ‘You have a long walk ahead of you tomorrow.’
4
‘You OK?’ Jay asked Rachel. He had found her sitting on the boot of a car near the ruins of Big Ben, staring into the distance.
‘Not really,’ she replied with a sigh.
‘Me neither,’ Jay said, sitting down beside her. ‘I can’t help wondering if I’d just held on to Sam a bit better he might not have fallen. I can’t get the look on his face out of my head.’
‘It’s not your fault, Jay,’ Rachel said, putting her hand on his knee. ‘It’s no one’s fault but theirs.’ She pointed up at the colossal Mothership hovering above them.
‘I know.’ Jay stared at the ground. ‘Doesn’t stop me wondering what if, though.’
‘We didn’t . . . we couldn’t have known what we were walking into,’ Rachel said, shaking her head. ‘Who knows what other new horrors the Voidborn are cooking up for us?’
‘I don’t want to think about that at the moment,’ Jay replied, ‘but I tell you this – I’d rather take on a Grendel solo than face another swarm of those things.’
‘I suppose you’ve had Stirling grilling you too,’ Rachel said.
‘Yeah, I think he’d quite like us to go back and get him a live sample.’
‘Don’t think he’ll get many volunteers for that mission,’ Rachel replied. Sam’s death had knocked everyone in the group’s morale. It had never been formally decided, but they had regarded Sam as the leader of the group. After all, without him they would now either be dead or still hiding in a hole in the ground. His sudden loss had come as a devastating blow to everyone.
‘Hell, it’s just another bug-eyed Voidborn freak,’ Jay said. ‘What more does he need to know?’
‘He’s just worried,’ Rachel said. ‘To be honest, I am too. You saw how many of those things there were – what happens if the Voidborn release more of them here?’
‘Then we’ll beat them back,’ Jay said. ‘As long as we’ve got our own pet Voidborn. we’ve got an advantage that no amount of those freaks can offset.’
‘I hope you’re right,’ Rachel replied, ‘because I don’t want to know what would happen if a swarm of those things found a building full of Sleepers.’
‘I know what you mean,’ Jay said, flashing back in his head to the horrifying sight of the thousands of creatures swarming up the sides of the department store in Edinburgh. ‘It’s weird. The Hunters and the Grendels are bad enough, but at least they always felt like they were under some sort of control. Those things up in Edinburgh, man . . . that was just bloodthirsty chaos. It’s as if the Voidborn don’t care about whether or not they could control those things. They’re like a force of nature.’
‘Scorched earth,’ Rachel said quietly.
; ‘What?’
‘It’s something that Jackson once taught me,’ Rachel said, remembering the words of the ex-marine who had trained them all to fight before heroically giving his own life to save theirs. ‘An army in retreat will destroy everything as they fall back to make sure that there’s nothing left for the enemy to use. Humans used to be really good at it – maybe the Voidborn are the same.’
‘You think they’re just going to wipe us out?’ Jay asked with a frown. ‘If that’s true, why didn’t they do it when they arrived? There’s nothing anyone could have done to stop them.’
‘Perhaps,’ Rachel said, ‘but maybe that’s the point. There was no need to wipe us out when we’re no threat to them, but if we become a threat by, say, capturing one of their Motherships, maybe we’ve gone too far and they’ll just wipe out everyone in the country. Let’s face it, what’s one little island worth when you have the whole of the rest of the world in the palm of your hand?’
‘There are easier ways to destroy us surely,’ Jay said, shaking his head. ‘You can’t tell me that machines with the intelligence and power of the Voidborn don’t have nukes or something like that.’
‘I suppose,’ Rachel said, staring at the shattered remains of the massive clock tower on the other side of the square, ‘but if that’s true, why haven’t they used them?’
‘No idea,’ Jay said with a shrug. ‘Who knows how they think? Come on back to the compound – it’s freezing out here.’
‘Give me a minute,’ Rachel said. ‘I won’t be long.’
Jay looked at her for a moment, studying her face. ‘OK,’ he said, ‘don’t make me send a Grendel out here after you.’
She gave him a weak smile and watched him walk up the road towards St James’s Park. She turned back to the ruined Houses of Parliament and recalled the time they had finally confronted the Voidborn in the skies above London. If it hadn’t been for Sam, they would all have died that day. Now he and his unique connection to the Voidborn were gone, along with perhaps their only hope of ever achieving such a spectacular victory again.
Sam woke with a start, feeling a hand press down on his mouth. His eyes shot open and he looked up at the shadowy figure of Mag, a single finger pressed to her lips. She pointed down at the bedroom floor and a moment later Sam heard a crash from somewhere beneath them.
‘Vore, two or three of them,’ she whispered. ‘We have to go, quick and quiet.’ She reached round to the small of her back and pulled out Sam’s pistol, passing it to him. ‘Don’t use it unless you absolutely have to.’
Sam gave a nod and climbed off the bed as Mag moved over to the bedroom window. She lifted the catch and swung the window open slowly. Sam looked down at the shrubs below.
‘When you hit the ground, run,’ Mag whispered. ‘Don’t look back.’
Sam nodded and climbed carefully up on to the window sill before turning and lowering himself backwards out of the window, dropping the last metre or so to the ground. He raised his pistol, straining to spot any sign of movement in the dark shadows of the surrounding garden before setting off across the snowy lawn at a sprint. Mag dropped down behind him and hit the ground running, catching up with him effortlessly.
‘Faster,’ she whispered. She was picking up the scent of more Vore nearby, lots of them.
Sam tried to increase his pace, but his battered, exhausted body had nearly reached its limits, even with the adrenalin pumping through his veins. They reached the road a few seconds later, pounding through the snow as a series of blood-curdling screeching howls filled the night air.
Suddenly, a bush to Sam’s right seemed to explode as a Vore burst from it, claws outstretched. The monstrous creature hit him hard, slamming him to the ground and knocking the wind out of him. Sam struggled desperately, trying to push the creature off him, gasping in pain as he felt its razor-sharp claws stabbing into his shoulder. The Vore’s mouth opened wide. It was too strong and Sam felt a moment of pure mortal terror as its fetid breath washed over his face.
Mag fell on the Vore like an animal, her own claws raking across the charcoal-coloured skin of the creature’s back, leaving long, gaping wounds. The wounded Vore turned on her with a pained howl, releasing Sam and staggering to its feet as Mag sprang towards it again. She knocked the creature to the ground, flat on its back, her razor-sharp teeth snapping closed on its exposed throat with a grisly crunch. The creature thrashed helplessly for a moment and then lay still. Sam backed away from Mag as she turned towards him with a feral hiss, the creature’s black blood covering her face. He heard another roar from behind him and turned to see at least a dozen Vore galloping on all fours down the moonlit street towards him.
‘Run!’ Mag growled. Sam did not need to be told twice. He turned and sprinted down the road, nothing in his head now other than the animal instinct to survive. He felt a moment of pure dread as the road fifty metres ahead of them was suddenly filled with more charging Vore. There was nowhere left to go. Sam raised his pistol and fired at the nearest creature, the impact of the bullets barely seeming to slow it. He kept firing and eventually the creature staggered and fell as the hammer of his pistol hit an empty chamber with a final click. Mag rounded on the advancing creatures, a low guttural growl coming from her throat. Strong as she was, Sam knew there was no way she could ever hope to keep them all at bay.
Suddenly, the advancing Vore at one end of the street were simply gone, swallowed in an enormous ball of fire. The light of the explosion was impossibly bright, the concussion wave that accompanied the thunderous noise knocking both Sam and Mag clean off their feet. A few seconds later all that was left was a smouldering crater and the twisted burning wreckage of long-abandoned cars.
Sam’s head spun, his ears ringing as he vainly tried to force himself back to his feet. The Vore at the other end of the street had stopped, momentarily stunned by the brightness. They began to advance more cautiously, hissing and growling as they closed the distance to Sam and Mag. A sudden thunder of heavy gunfire shredded the front rank of advancing creatures in a hail of bullets. Sam flattened himself to the ground as the air filled with the angry buzz of bullets flying just above his head. He tried to look back over his shoulder and saw the silhouettes of a dozen heavily armed men, picking their way through the burning debris of the explosion, weapons firing constantly. The Vore tried, at first, to continue their advance under the withering barrage of fire, but it was futile. Only a few seconds later the handful of surviving creatures scattered and ran in all directions as their own animal survival instincts kicked in.
Sam remained on the ground as the soldiers moved towards him and Mag, weapons still raised. Mag sprang to her feet and sprinted in the opposite direction, and Sam watched in horror as one of the soldiers pulled a handgun from the holster on his waist and fired. The round hit Mag squarely between the shoulder blades, and she slammed hard into the ground as her legs gave way beneath her.
‘No,’ Sam said, watching her lifeless body fall, his voice little more than a hoarse croak. He staggered to his feet.
‘This is Recon Echo,’ the nearest soldier spoke into his mic. ‘Predator strike on target. We’ve found the boy and taken down the hybrid. We’re clear for extraction.’
‘Roger that, Echo,’ his radio crackled in response. ‘Helo inbound.’
A few seconds later Sam could hear the distant thumping drone of helicopter rotors.
‘You didn’t have to kill her,’ Sam yelled angrily as the lead soldier advanced towards him.
‘I know,’ the soldier replied, before raising the pistol again, levelling it at Sam’s chest and pulling the trigger.
5
Sam’s eyes flickered open, but the bright overhead light forced him to close them with a wince. He took a deep breath and slowly opened his eyes again, giving them time to adjust to the light. He was lying handcuffed to the steel frame of a bed in a bare concrete cell. He pulled fruitlessly at the shackle attached to his still human wrist. It was no good – he wasn’t going anywhere.
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He forced himself up into a sitting position. Now that the adrenalin had worn off he could feel every cut, bruise and scrape that covered his body, but the truth was that he was relieved he could still feel anything at all. His last memory was of the soldier raising his weapon and pulling the trigger. He carefully lifted his T-shirt and looked down at his chest. There, just above his breastbone, was a circular burn, five centimetres across with a tiny puncture wound in the centre. The pistol the soldier had shot him with must have fired some sort of non-lethal round. He realised with a sudden rush of relief that the soldier had used the same weapon on Mag, which meant that there was a chance at least that she was still alive. He lifted the dressing on the wound in his side and saw that it had been cleaned and then closed with a neat row of stitches.
‘Hello!’ Sam shouted. ‘Is anyone out there?’ There was no response. He had no idea who had saved and then captured him, but at that point he had a thousand questions that needed answers. If they’d wanted him dead, they could have finished him earlier. The fact that he was still breathing meant they must value their captives a little at least.
A few minutes later there was the sound of a key turning in the door. A tall, athletic man with short grey hair, wearing urban camouflage fatigues, walked into the room carrying a metal folding chair. Attached to the side of the man’s skull was a small black disc, which flickered with a sickly green light, clearly some form of Voidborn technology. He unfolded the chair and sat down on the opposite side of the room from Sam, studying his face for a moment before speaking.
‘My name is Mason,’ the man said, ‘and I have a few questions for you.’
‘Where’s Mag?’ Sam demanded.
‘Mag? Oh, you mean the hybrid we captured with you. Don’t worry, she’s . . . secure,’ Mason replied.
‘What do you mean?’ Sam asked. ‘Where is she?’
‘Traditionally the person handcuffed to the bed isn’t the one who asks the questions,’ Mason replied. ‘My turn. Who are you?’