All Fall Down

by Louise Voss

  With that, she climbed back into the driver’s seat, put on her own seat belt and re-started the vehicle, taking a right turn. They must be so close to the city, thought Rosie, but in the dark she was unsure exactly where they were. Somewhere close to Mulholland and Topanga Canyon. Heather turned on to another, quieter, road. In the near distance, Rosie could hear helicopters. She thought she could smell burning too, very faintly.

  Yes, Rosie realised, this was Topanga Canyon. From here, steep hills sloped down towards the city, the lights of which stretched out beneath them. They were driving along a curving ridge. Rosie expected them to turn the corner around the great rock-face.

  But instead, Heather turned the wheel right again and Rosie let out a shriek. ‘Whoo-hah!’ whooped Heather as the SUV dipped over the edge of the road and began to plummet down the slope. The vehicle bounced and shook as Heather continued to yell. Rosie was certain this was the end, with the SUV rushing towards the bottom of the slope, levelling out for a moment, then shooting down another steep hill, picking up speed as the engine roared. Their seat belts held them, but at that moment Rosie wished Heather hadn’t bothered. They were going to die anyway, so wouldn’t it have been quicker to crash through the windshield?

  37

  Morning light penetrated the small, barred window. Kate lay on her bed rubbing her sore arm and noting the progress of the large purple bruise slowly blooming across the skin above her elbow, like mould growing in a Petri dish.

  She had cleared up the soup, with a squeegee mop and a bucket of soapy water one of the women had left, but only because the smell of it was making her feel sick. Having something to do, however menial and short-lived, had helped her collect her thoughts, too, distracting her from the fear that squeezed her insides.

  The fear was back again now. She wrapped her arms round herself to try and stop the trembling, and cast her eyes over the small room. The two single beds and stark white walls gave her a sense of déjà vu. Somewhere she’d stayed in her early twenties, and there had been a room-mate there too … Of course: the Cold Research Unit. The place where she had first met Paul’s twin, Stephen. The two rooms weren’t that dissimilar. The main difference was that, even though she had been in isolation back then too, there hadn’t been a lock on the door. And her last room-mate had ended up dead.

  She looked across at Junko, praying that history wasn’t about to repeat itself.

  ‘Right, Junko,’ she said, rolling on to her side, propping herself up on her good arm. ‘Let’s figure this out, you and me. What did you read in my notes that could possibly be the inspiration for your discovery – and how come I missed it? I wrote the damn paper!’

  Junko didn’t stir. Kate started to mentally review her entire thesis, chapter by chapter. She knew it so well, it had taken five years of her life to complete, and she had since, along with her co-author Isaac, lectured on it, lived, breathed, eaten and slept it. How could Junko have found something that Kate hadn’t already thought of?

  ‘Fair play to you, if you have,’ she commented, aware that her voice sounded strained. ‘I think you should wake up, so we can get cracking, don’t you? We would make the most fantastic team. Imagine, if you’re right about whatever it was you found – and I’m sure you were, because nobody’s ever looked as excited as you did when you were about to tell me – we could get a vaccine prototyped in days. Some of the FDA testing process would have to be bypassed because of the urgency – so we’d need to be pretty certain that it would be safe – but what alternative do we have, unless someone over at Harvard or the CDC has managed to crack it already? God, if we can’t, I hope they have …’

  Junko slept on, and Kate felt her throat constrict with frustration and worry. She had to get them out of here! There was one small window in the room, too high to see out of, so Kate dragged her bed across to the wall and climbed on it. If she stood on tiptoe she could just about look out, but there was not much to see. The room was clearly at the rear of the property, because all that was visible was an enormous field of what looked like the same variety of wild flower – something with a tangle of low branches and star-shaped red and white flowers. It looked vaguely familiar to Kate but she couldn’t identify it, not being au fait with the flora and fauna of the American west coast. There were no roads or paths in sight, and the bare peaks and crops of mountains loomed on the horizon. From the position of the sun, Kate calculated that she was facing east. The thought that she was looking in Jack’s direction was a tiny bit comforting.

  There was no way out of that window. Even if by some miracle she managed to remove the bars and get the thick glass out of the frame, it would be too small for her to squeeze through. Kate turned and surveyed the room from her vantage point. Just the bathroom off to the right, no lock on the door, and no window in there. Nothing she could use as a weapon … Wait – the mop and bucket! Kate jumped off the bed and moved them out of sight behind the bathroom door. Perhaps the women would forget she had them. Perhaps she could fill the bucket with hot water and throw it in one of their faces, then poke the end of the mop in their eyes? She shook her head. It would hardly be as effective as the liquid nitrogen.

  A key turned in the lock, and Angelica re-entered the room. Kate flushed the toilet and walked casually back to the bed, automatically checking to see if Angelica was holding a gun, feeling the same frisson of fear in the pit of her stomach that she did every time the door opened.

  But all Angelica brought with her was a waft of the sort of perfume that cost a small fortune, and two cups of steaming green tea. Kate caught a very brief glimpse of the corridor outside, decorated in shades of terracotta and burnt orange, as tasteful and opulent as a five-star hotel in contrast to their simple room.

  ‘Not a lot to see out back, is there?’ Angelica commented, taking in the bed under the window. She handed Kate one of the cups.

  ‘I wanted to look at something beyond these walls. See the sun,’ Kate said. ‘I get claustrophobic.’

  ‘I want to talk to you,’ Angelica continued, her voice soft and dreamy, as if Kate hadn’t spoken. She pulled the bed back into place and sat down on the edge of it.

  Kate decided to go along with her, clutching at the straw of hope that she was worth more to them alive than dead, if Angelica had somehow become convinced that she was ‘one of them’. She sat down obediently next to her.

  ‘Do you believe in God?’ Angelica asked, seemingly apropos nothing.

  ‘Kind of, I suppose,’ said Kate. ‘I don’t belong to any specific religion though. Do you? Believe in God?’

  Without a beat, Angelica said, ‘It’s true that there is a design to the universe, and an omnipotent ruler, but it’s not Jesus, or a prophet like Mohammed, as many think. Because of the ridiculous myths surrounding these deities and notions of heaven and hell perpetuated throughout history by the ruling classes to suppress the workers, few have ever come close to the truth. The Ancient Egyptians did, at the start of the Cycle, as did the Mayans. A few groups in India understood elements of the truth. But most of Earth’s population were not privy to the real facts.’

  Kate was taken aback by Angelica’s answer. ‘Cycle?’

  ‘The Golden Age. The entire history of the world is contained within a five-thousand-year cycle, that goes around and around for eternity. You and I have had this conversation innumerable times, in this room, using these words, with these events unfolding around us like the endless reflections in a room of mirrors. We are at the very close of this particular cycle. Time is almost up.’

  ‘Yes.’ Kate decided it was probably best to humour her. ‘I remember hearing that the Mayan calendar ended in 2012. Funny how we’re still here.’

  Angelica smiled. ‘A very minor miscalculation; a few months, that’s all.’

  Kate had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. ‘But one of your colleagues mentioned Sekhmet earlier – wasn’t she an Egyptian deity, one of many? If you don’t mind my saying, your philosophies seem a bit … pick’n’mix.
What makes you think this Sekhmet is so important?’

  Anger flashed on Angelica’s face. ‘You speak as though this is some kind of fantasy. This is not a trivial whim, an embroidered story like those in your Bible, evolving over the years from what their authors wanted them to be until they became little more than Chinese whispers … This is the truth, and I know it because I am the one Sekhmet chose to tell.’

  Kate glanced over at Junko, who now seemed to be sleeping more peacefully. ‘How could a mythical being from thousands of years ago tell you anything?’

  Angelica smiled. ‘She is not mythical. She exists, but in a different sphere to this earthly one. She came to me in a vision. I will explain more, but first I want you to understand how it feels. I have a gift to give you. Would you do me the courtesy of meditating with me?’

  Kate almost laughed. ‘You want courtesy, after you’ve killed all my colleagues and taken us prisoner?’

  ‘It’s the only way you can begin to receive a taste of what is to come.’

  Kate thought she had better go along with it, considering the alternative might well be a bullet through her forehead. This ‘peace and love’ philosophy was at complete odds with the women’s behaviour so far – but she needed to try and understand what was going on here, and what they thought their mission was …

  She shrugged. ‘OK then.’

  Angelica pointed to a framed picture on the wall, the only decoration in the room. Kate had noticed it earlier; an abstract painting of a white dot surrounded by red and white light rays fanning out around it.

  ‘Don’t close your eyes. You need to stay alert to the world around you, whilst losing yourself in the power of the Goddess … Look at the picture, focus on the pure light, the energy of Sekhmet condensed into something stronger than anything in the universe … pure energy, pure goodness and justice, pure creation and destruction, pure Knowledge … Om Shanti, Sister Kate, Om Shanti.’

  Om Shanti, thought Kate, remembering hearing those words once in a yoga class. They meant ‘Peace be with you’, or ‘I am a peaceful soul’ – something like that. She almost laughed. ‘Peaceful’ was the last word she would ever use to describe Angelica’s actions …

  Angelica’s voice dropped to a low, comforting hum. Kate turned her body on the bed so that she was facing the picture too, and copied Angelica by sitting cross-legged. She stared at the dot. After a few moments she found herself mesmerised by it – it was beautiful. But she couldn’t still her mind, nor rise above the stress of the situation. Plus she had no desire to lose her wits in the presence of this woman. Above the sound of Angelica’s voice, Kate could still hear Junko’s laboured breathing. She sat completely still, trying to ignore the pain in her arm, and pretended that she was as lost in the meditation as Angelica was.

  After what seemed like an interminable amount of time, Angelica stopped speaking, shook herself slightly, and turned to Kate, a beatific smile on her face.

  ‘Well?’

  Kate cleared her throat. ‘Well. Yes, um, very restful.’

  The smile vanished in an instant. ‘You think I am insane, don’t you?’

  Kate kept her face blank as Angelica continued.

  ‘What you need to … assimilate, is that I am speaking the truth. There is no debate. And you, Dr Maddox, do not have a choice. Sekhmet told me you can be one of the chosen ones. If you accept this, and pass the trial, you will take your place alongside us.’

  Kate absorbed this. A trial? What did that mean? ‘And if I don’t …?’

  ‘The Prophecy foretells a great cleansing of the earth: plague, pestilence, fires, war … scorching the planet, razing civilisation in one hundred and one days. And from the smoking wreckage of the world seven women will arise who will rebuild civilisation, sculpting a new world in the image of the Goddess, Sekhmet. If you choose not to join us, then so be it. You will join Dr Larter in Hell.’

  38

  Jack almost immediately began to feel queasy in their hiding place – the built-in closet in the Airstream’s bedroom. It was really bumpy on the road, and every time Riley drove round a corner, Jack felt as if the Airstream was about to detach from its hook-up and swing loose, and he’d be left behind. Having nothing to hold on to except Bradley didn’t help either as, with each turn, he got bashed by his hard-sided suitcase, which was in there with him. Plus, the closet was baking hot, and smelled of Riley’s armpits. The boys had giggled a lot at first, but after about half an hour Jack could bear it no longer.

  ‘Brad,’ he said, in a needless whisper, ‘Riley’s driving, which means he can’t see us. We don’t have to stay in here the whole time, only when he stops.’

  ‘Oh yeah,’ Bradley replied, giggling again. ‘I didn’t think of that. Let’s get out of here.’

  They emerged gratefully from the closet and flopped down on the bed, breathing in the very slightly fresher air. There was an odd, stale, sweet smell to Riley’s grimy bedclothes, but Jack didn’t care – he was just happy to be out of the cupboard.

  As he lay spread-eagled on the bed, partly to keep his balance in the rocking motion of the trailer and partly to stretch out his cramped limbs, Jack wondered when his dad would get back and find the note. Shirley had got so sick the night before that his daddy had taken her to the emergency room. It was great though, that Gina had invited him for a sleepover – it had made stowing away so much easier. Bradley had woken them up at five a.m., leaving pillows humped under the duvet on his bed and on the blow-up mattress on the floor Jack had slept on. Then they had hidden in the garage until they saw Riley emerge to get supplies from Gina’s kitchen, which had been their cue to sneak themselves and their suitcases into the Airstream.

  Jack had left a note in his dad’s mailbox:

  DEaR DAD, I’M GOING TO KALLY KAFIL CALLIFHORNiA TO SEE MUMMY. SORY THAT ARNTIE SHIRLEY IS SO ILL bUT NOW YOU WILL HAVE MoRE TIME TO LooK AFTER HER. DON’T WORY IM SAFE WITH RILEY AND Bradley – THEY ARe GOING TO SEE THERE DADDY SO IF I CAN’T FIND MUM ILL GO WITH THEM TOO. LOVE YOU, JACK XXXX

  That should be OK, Jack thought. He did feel nervous, though. This had to be by far the naughtiest thing he had ever done. He wondered if his mum would send him back to Dad’s straight away when he got there, or if she would let him (and Bradley of course) stay for a few days? Riley would most likely go off on another trip – he’d probably be fed up with them by then.

  Jack had already told Bradley that his mum would let them come in and look around the lab, like she had done one day in Oxford. He’d examined a drop of his blood through a microscope; it had been really cool. He had tried to get the address out of her on the phone yesterday evening, but all she had said was that it was on top of a mountain. Never mind, he could call her …

  The rocking motion of the trailer began to make him woozy, and after a while both boys turned on to their sides, curled their knees up to their chests and fell asleep.

  Jack awoke some time later, and noticed that something felt different. At first he couldn’t figure out what, but then he realised: the trailer had stopped moving.

  ‘Brad, quick, hide!’

  He shook Bradley awake, jumped off the bed and bolted back into his hiding place, followed closely by a wide-eyed Bradley, sliding the door closed just as the main trailer door opened. Bradley had told him that Riley said it took a whole day to drive five hundred miles, so they shouldn’t come out of the wardrobe till it was dark, by which time Riley would have gone too far to turn round and take them home.

  ‘Is California more than five hundred miles away?’ Jack had asked incredulously.

  Bradley nodded. ‘It’s, like, maybe seven or ten hundred miles?’

  Jack felt absolutely terrified about what Riley would say when he saw him, but Bradley had been confident it wouldn’t be a problem. ‘We’ll say your mom has the injection to fix my dad’s flu, then Riley will be, like, totally happy we’re there,’ he’d said. ‘We just got to make sure he don’t see us too soon, otherwise he prob’ly will take us home – and
he’ll be pissed about it.’

  Jack crouched in the closet with his arms wrapped round his knees, trying to make himself as small as possible. He didn’t want to go back to his dad’s.

  ‘Be totally quiet – Riley’s in the bathroom,’ hissed Bradley.

  The toilet flushed and the boys sat as still as rocks. Jack heard Riley come out, then the sharp crack of a ring-pull, some gulping, and a very loud belch, but he was too scared to giggle.

  Once the car started, with the Airstream juddering away behind it, the boys emerged again. Bradley went straight for the refrigerator and helped himself to a dewy-cold can of Coke, handing Jack one of his very own (he wasn’t allowed Coke at home) – and three slices of processed cheese, which he peeled out of their clear plastic sleeves and wrapped into cigar-shapes before eating them. They demolished a Twinkie bar Bradley found in the cupboard, and half a packet of cookies.

  ‘Let’s watch TV,’ Bradley said, clicking on a small wall-mounted television in the living area. There was some boring news programme on, everyone wearing white masks like Michael Jackson in the YouTube videos that Paul had once showed Jack. Even the man on the screen was talking into his microphone through a mask. Then the picture changed to a huge building full of rows and rows of beds with sick people in them. Weird, Jack thought. It looked like a basketball stadium – but how could there be beds in there?

  ‘Aren’t there any cartoons on?’ he asked, and Bradley flicked the channel button until he found some. The boys settled down on the cushioned shelf that passed for a sofa, Jack’s finger working into a small brown cigarette burn in the dirty flowered fabric.

  Three hours later when Riley next came back to use the toilet, he found them in the same spot, both curled up like commas on the cushions, fast asleep.