Soul Taker

by John Garforth

  The phone was about twenty yards away, he turned off the light, ears straining for any sound, sense depravation was making Jake even more jumpy. As they shuffled off, still walking in tandem, Carlos stumbled, almost dropping to his knees, Jake turned and steadied him. The noise seemed to echo loudly on the cold, empty platform, both men tensed, feeling disorientated in the dark, listening for trouble that thankfully never came.

  Aware that there was a wall up ahead, they moved forward even more gingerly than normal, until, at last, Jake’s outstretched hand made contact. Turning to the right, he pressed his left arm to the wall and slid it along until he hit the phone, knocking it off its cradle. Knees bent, his fumbling hands followed the phone lead until his hand wrapped around the receiver, lifting, he pressed it to his ear. Nothing. He put the receiver back on the cradle, then back to his ear, he rattled the receiver with his fingers, nothing worked.

  For no good reason, he’d felt certain that this phone would be the one and their quest would be over, disappointed didn’t even come close to how he was feeling. Both men had to face the long trek back along the platform, if they used the torch this time, they’d be pointing it towards the Drones. Turning around they began their slow return, walking into the first two phones without using the Torch.

  But as they drew nearer to the Staff Room, the more difficult the journey became, Jake could tell by Carlos’s mutterings that he wanted to take a break, he sympathised with the man. But Jake’s priority was the telephone, if there was a phone anywhere in the station that was connected to the Molers he had to find it and quickly. It was probably their last chance, without it they would have to fight their way through the Drones, dragging Piper up the stairs behind them.

  They seemed to lose all sense of time as they trudged through the blackness, the tentative half strides they were taking made their legs weary and jumpy with cramp. Jake could see a thin white line ahead of him, he thought that perhaps his eyes were playing tricks, until he realised it was light, leaking under the bottom of the Staff Room door, they were back where they started. This was where it would become extremely dangerous, not for the first time, he longed for some night vision goggles.

  The Drones were waiting in the dark, somewhere nearby, but he had to use the torch before they could move forward. Heart thumping, he pressed the button, the beam of light stabbed through dark, about ten feet away on the right was a doorway to a public toilet, beyond that, there was a telephone on the wall.

  Forming a corridor and opposite the phone was the staircase going up to the next floor, lining each tread of the stairs were the Drones. Jake saw them twitch as they sensed the light, he snapped it off and stood there holding his breath, as the darkness engulfed him again he thought he could hear a rustling sound off to his left. Both men waited, nerves twitching, but nothing materialised.

  Jake began to move and Carlos followed, taking the usual tiny steps, they walked towards the phone on the right, breathing through their mouths as they passed the Drones lining the stairs to their left. Jake dislodged the phone with his right hand, almost knocking it off its cradle, luckily, he caught the phone quietly, before it fell off and hit the wall.

  Another long pause, as they stood, heart in mouth, waiting, finally Jake put it to his ear, to be rewarded by the steady purring of a dialling tone. In his excitement, he squeezed Carlos’s arm to let him know that they’d struck gold, then it hit him, he would have to speak down the phone with the Drones only three feet away.

  He turned and pulled Carlos towards him and began unzipping his Combat Tunic, hoping that the man knew he hadn’t gone mad, then he unzipped his body warmer as well. Manoeuvring Carlos quietly to the phone and into the position he wanted was difficult, pushing his head under the loosened clothing and up Carlos’s back with the phone still pressed to his ear was almost impossible.

  With his left hand free, he felt for the buttons on the keypad, remembering the positions from the last time. Once he’d punched in the numbers he waited, for what seemed an eternity of clicks and hums before the line connected and the phone began to ring. Eventually someone picked up the phone and a man’s voice answered.

  “Ja,” he said, “wer ist das?

  Jake couldn’t speak a word of German, he had no idea what the man was saying, so he did the only thing he could do, he spoke as quietly as he could in English.

  “Hello, is Anna there, I’m calling for Piper.”

  “Anna, ja, wer ist Piper?”

  Jake could hear a woman’s voice in the background, shouting in German, then the phone began to crackle and finally he heard a woman’s voice on the other end.

  “Anna hier, ist Piper dort?”

  “Sorry, do you speak English?

  “Nein.”

  It was an impasse, frightened of being overheard, but feeling this was his last chance, he took the plunge. Speaking very slowly, he tried to condense the information and give Anna the basic facts.

  “Piper is sick, Frascati Station Rome, Help. Do you understand?

  “Nein”

  Jake desperately repeated the sentence, again and again until finally the line went dead. Gasping for air, he pulled his head out from under Carlos’s clothes, angry and frustrated at his inability to communicate with their last hope. He felt that he’d let everyone down and the humiliation almost overwhelmed him. The silent Drones were still unaware of their presence, so, moving as silently as possible, they retraced their steps back to the Staff Room, opening the door and closing it behind them as quickly as possible.

  “Any luck?” Said Mary, getting to her feet, obviously pleased to see them return.

  Jake told her everything, unable to hide his feeling of failure. Mary read his mood and tried to brighten it.

  “From what Piper told me, this Anna is a very resourceful woman. She won’t just leave it at that Jake, she’ll follow it through as best she can.”

  “But how can we know for sure Mary? Like we said, we can’t sit and wait until the lights fail. I don’t give much for our chances, but in my opinion, I think we should make a break for it. Sooner rather than later, they’re all out there waiting for us on the stairs, if we surprise them and just keep pushing, maybe we’ll get through.”

  “Ok,” said Mary, “sounds like a suicide mission to me, but you’re right Jake, we don’t have much choice. Let’s do it.”

  Jake looked across at the two Marines.

  “You alright with this?” He asked.

  They both nodded as they strapped Flashlights to their weapons and sorted out the ammunition. Mary pulled the unconscious Piper up into a sitting position, allowing Jake to pull her across his left shoulder, leaving his right hand free for his M4. They gathered in a little group behind the door, body language tense, fear written large across all their faces, each one knew that this was probably the end.

  “This is what happens,” said Jake, taking command, “we go out fast and in tight formation, Carlos and me together, Jack, you on Carlos’s left, Mary, you on my right. Rapid short bursts and no stopping, I’m counting on our speed and the flashlights to dis-orientate them, they’ve been stood in the dark for a hell of a long time.”

  Jake put his hand on the door handle.

  “One, two, three. Go,” he screamed, throwing the door wide open.

  They ran, firing their weapons, the Drones, illuminated by the Flashlights, began to jump and twitch as they became more animated. There were dozens of them, Mary kept firing as she followed Jake, but she knew it was over, there was no way that they’d get past all of them and up the stairs.

  Then, between the gunfire, she heard another sound that had terrified her since her childhood, squeaking, scratching, screaming and the patter of hundreds of running feet. The rats were coming again. She grabbed Jakes arm, slowing him, he glanced towards her, his face as black as thunder.

  “What the hell?” He shouted angrily.

  As he spoke, the first huge rats appeared out of the tunnels, this time there were hundreds, the ‘mouth-w
atering’ stench of the Drones had attracted the animals from miles around. Without any hesitation, they launched themselves up the staircase, ignoring Mary and the team, as they began to rip the Drones to pieces.

  “Fall back to the Staff Room Jake,” said Mary, “the rats are doing the job for us, this might be just what we need to get us back in the race.”

  Jake held up his hand, to stop the two Marines, then turning he squeezed her arm, by way of an apology. Walking backwards, keeping their eyes on the slavering, snarling carnage on the staircase, they retraced their steps.

  There was a loud bang behind them, Jake spun round, dropping to one knee, carbine at his shoulder.

  “Vieni qui,” a small man had thrown open the Toilet door, the one between the Staff Room and the phone. He was holding the door open wide an impatiently gesturing for them to hurry. They began to move towards him as quickly as they could, as Jake drew closer, the little man pointed his finger at him, but looked at Mary as he spoke.

  “Piper?” he asked.

  Mary realised that he didn’t mean Jake.

  “Yes, Piper, she is sick.”

  He shrugged and nodded, then turning, he waved for them to go on before him. When they’d passed, he quickly closed the door, which was steel on this side, then he chained and padlocked it. Then, pushing past them to the front, he led them down a short, narrow, dimly lit corridor to the ‘Ladies’ door, which, when opened, was the entrance to a dark tunnel. Jake signalled Jack to give him a hand with Piper, Carlos took point and Mary brought up the rear.

  The tunnel followed a steep incline that was difficult to negotiate without slipping. When it levelled out, there was a heavy metal door with rusting hinges that groaned as the small Italian opened it onto a much wider, brighter lit tunnel, with a waiting train. The Italian waited until they were all through, then busied himself padlocking this second door.

  Mary, Jake and Jack, had never seen one of the Molers trains and they were fascinated. The cobbled together, scrap yard trains were amazing and the adapted, motor car carriages were charming in a very quaint way. First impressions were of a children’s train set, a clockwork toy, but in truth they were steam driven, coal burning, workhorses. The train and carriages obviously belonged together as a unit. This one was beautiful, hand liveried with exquisite detail and baring the image of a Peacock, with the bird on each side of the Engine and the tail feathers covering the carriages. Jake, a child at heart, was the most impressed. Their rescuer, finally, ushered them onto the train, helping Mary lay Piper on a bench seat at the front. When they’d finished, she stopped him and tried to make conversation by asking his name.

  “Antonio,” he said grinning.

  “Where are we going Antonio?” She asked, pointing at the train and pantomiming the question.

  He managed to grasp what she meant quite quickly.

  “Cern,” he said, speaking slowly, “Ginevra, Svizzera.”

  “If I understand him correctly,” she said, turning to Jake, who was stood at the side of her, “we’re going to Cern, near Geneva in Switzerland.”

  “But that’s a hell of a long way Mary, for starters, how are we going to get there and then there’s the why, what is the point of going and finally, just how long will a trip like this take?”

  “I would suspect that we’re going on this little train,” said Mary, “as for the other questions, I’ve no idea. My advice to you Jake, would be sit back and enjoy the ride, count yourself lucky, because it’s a miracle that we’re all still alive.”

  CHAPTER 18

  There was a sharp knock on the Mahogany double doors that led to the Presidents quarters on the Aircraft Carrier the USS Donald Trump. The secretary, at the desk nearest the door, checked the CCTV, the cameras showed that there were two young Marines stood at attention on the other side of the door. The Ship’s captain, Commander Rick Tilson, had telephoned ahead to warn of their arrival, so the young secretary pushed the door release button. The two men marched into the room and snapped to attention.

  “We have orders to escort the President to the viewing deck, ma’am.”

  At that moment, Clara Powell, President of the United States of America, breezed into the office, a broad smile on her face. She’d been watching on a screen in her inner office, waiting for the best moment to make her entrance. The two Marines saluted her, then turned to face back out of the door.

  “Lead on.” She said, with a smile, waving goodbye to the staff in her office

  Frank Lister, her Chief of Staff, hurried after her, stuffing papers into his Briefcase.

  When the elevator reached the Viewing deck, everybody stepped out, it was a glorious day, mid-afternoon and not a cloud in the sky, the sea was bright blue with an onshore breeze that kept the temperature pleasant. They were led to an observation room where Commander Tilson was waiting for them, drinks and snacks were laid out on a table in the corner. The President and her Chief of Staff were both given Binoculars as they moved forward to stand next to the Commander.

  “Good afternoon Madam President,” he said, shaking her hand, “It’s almost time and you did say that you wanted to watch the explosion.”

  Clara Powell nodded, raising the glasses to her eyes.

  “We’ve just received confirmation that the ETA is in 5 minutes, so, if you look just a little more to the left Madam President, you should see the flash. We’re anchored in deeper water, a little further out and nearer the island of Ischia so there’s no danger, but as you can see, we are still in sight of Naples.”

  Frank Lister had left them at the window and was stood at the refreshment table with a beer in one hand and a chicken leg in the other.

  “Now, if you would just turn and look up into the Sky over there,” continued Commander Tilson, pointing towards the North, “you’ll be able to see a vapour trail. That, I believe, is our Aircraft, it’s coming in at 50,000 feet, well clear of the Monstrosity that’s now taken over Rome.”

  The handheld Radio, laid on an instrument panel at the Commander’s side, crackled into life, Tilson picked it up, then turned back to Carla.

  “The Stealth Bomber has released the ‘Castle Bravo’ Madam President, we should have detonation in a few seconds, then, hopefully we can put this bad business behind us.”

  The bomb fell silently through the cloudless sky, the Bombardier who’d launched it was highly skilled and the weapon was on target to bury itself deep into the Colosseum before exploding.

  Suddenly, without warning, an enormous pink Dome, made from thick, leathery skin tissue and supported by huge lengths of cartilage snapped into being, 12000 feet high and covering the whole inner city of Rome. The great organic bubble, covered with a rope like network of purple, pulsing veins, hung over the city like an evil malignancy, blighting the late afternoon sky.

  The large Nuclear device struck the Dome near its apex and sank from view, its velocity drove it deep into the organic defence, but not through it. When the pulsating shield had absorbed all the forward motion of the weapon, the Dome re-gained its integrity, like a catapult, its elastic membrane, threw the bomb far out to sea.

  Both the President and Commander Tilson were unaware of these developments, The President had the Binoculars trained on the coastline nearest to Rome, waiting for the flash. The radio stuttered, whined and whistled until finally, a disembodied voice began shouting.

  “Abort, I repeat Abort, weapon out of control.”

  The commander grabbed the radio and demanded an explanation, Carla stared at him, suddenly feeling anxious, it sounded like the weapon was off target.

  “It’s all gone wrong Madam President, that Thing out there has built its own defences and thrown the bomb back at us. There’s a few small islands to the north of us, the weapon has just landed in the sea near one of the larger ones.”

  Klaxons began blaring all over the ship, Clara could see men running to their stations, a cold knot of fear tightened in her stomach.

  “The Chiefs of Staff have just cancelled t
he whole mission,” Tilson continued,” I must get back to the Bridge Madam President, we have to get underway quickly if we’re to stand any chance of riding this out. Our position is so dangerously exposed that I suggest that you go below immediately ma’am, an Officer will accompany you to help you and your staff with lifebelts and emergency drill.”

  Almost as he spoke there was a blinding flash to the north of them, followed by an angry, swirling Mushroom cloud, that began to rise into the bright blue sky.

  According to reports from satellite data, the mighty bomb had landed in the sea near the small island of Ventotene, which sits just north of the bay of Naples, in an area susceptible to earthquakes. The blast, that had yet to reach the ship, had, as intended, taken place underground, causing an Earthquake, reading 7.9 on the Richter scale. The rocky cliffs that make up the South West of the Island, had collapsed into the Tyrrhenian sea creating a giant, 1,500 feet high Tsunami, the tallest ever recorded and it was now speeding in the direction of Naples.

  Radar on the Bridge was picking up the nightmare that was racing towards them. With a wave of such magnitude, their only chance was to try and turn the ship in time to meet the wave head on. Commander Tilson had given the orders, but the size of the Aircraft Carrier made any quick manoeuvres nigh impossible. The vessel needed time to turn, but that was a luxury that was quickly running out.

  The atmosphere on the bridge was tense, the duty officers were speaking in hushed tones, everybody’s eyes were fixed on the horizon. Then it all changed, the wave came into view, a great grey line that grew as it raced towards them, sucking up the blue sea as it moved. Hysteria, like a virus, reached epidemic proportions amongst the crew, the sheer size of the wave filled every woman and man on board with a deep sense of dread.