by Seth Patrick
‘I want to get a message to Annabel. Annabel Harker. I was talking to her when we were attacked. She must have gone on the run by now, but I want to let her know we’re OK. We’d agreed on ways to get in touch if something happened. Safe ways.’
Kendrick frowned. ‘Safe ways, hmm? I’ll consider it. Your disappearance has hit the headlines, by the way. The story they put out has you – a top reviver, no less – kidnapped by extremists, and in the current climate it’s a firecracker. They released phoney descriptions of two of the attackers. One looked very like Tess, apparently. The other could have been my twin.’ He raised a sarcastic eyebrow. ‘What are the odds?’
There was another concern Jonah had, one he wasn’t eager to raise. ‘The medication Tess is using,’ he said. ‘It’s dangerous at high doses. You must know that. She looks sick.’
‘I know,’ said Kendrick. ‘But the medication alone doesn’t explain how quickly she’s been getting worse. She thinks she’ll lose her mind if she stops taking it, but I think the lack of contact with the being inside her is the main problem.’ Kendrick drained his glass. ‘I think it’s killing her.’
38
Jonah woke in pain the next morning. His hand went to his cheek for an instant, to the spot where Hopkins had daubed his favourite drug, but it was the complaints from the rest of his body that were the source of it: every muscle in his back, every sinew in his neck.
The pain spread to his mind, then, as the pieces came back. The impact. Bob Crenner’s death. The screams of Never across the intercom as the drug was put in both eyes . . .
He got up with care. He’d kept the blister pack of pills Never had handed him, and now he took two right off as he pulled on his clothes. He’d slept solidly – Kendrick was right about that at least. He lay down on the bed again, waiting for the medication to grant its respite. Only then did he take time to glance around the room he’d slept in. The night before, he’d not paid the room any attention, oblivion sneaking up on him before he knew it. The room was bare bones just like the rest of the house, with another of the odd lamps on the ceiling by the door. ‘Sunlamps,’ Kendrick had explained when they’d asked. ‘Tess insisted. To ward off the shadows. Whether they’re worth a damn or not, well, let’s hope we don’t have to find out.’
As the pills kicked in, Jonah heard snoring from the room next to his. He got up and entered, to see Never fast asleep and looking peaceful. He left the pills by Never’s bed and went downstairs.
Tess was sitting at the table, blank-faced and staring ahead.
He said nothing, thinking of sleepwalkers, of the notion that waking them was a terrible thing to do. Her expression scared him, the sheer weariness it carried. He crossed to the kettle and switched it on, hunting for the makings of coffee, being noisier than was really necessary.
In gradual steps her awareness surfaced from somewhere deep inside. ‘Jonah,’ she said, his presence a surprise to her.
‘You want coffee?’ He hoped his question sounded casual enough to hide the anxiety he felt for her.
‘No . . .’ she said, still vague. Then she looked around herself, and shook her head. ‘Jesus. This must look terrible, but please don’t worry. I’m just a little dazed now and again. It’s the medication I’m taking.’
‘Kendrick told me.’
She nodded. ‘Did he explain why?’
‘He did. You can’t keep doing it. Not indefinitely.’
She changed the subject. ‘Larry’s gone out for supplies,’ she said.
‘Kendrick thinks there must be a way to stop Andreas. He thinks you’re the only hope for finding out how. All this time, I hadn’t doubted for a second that Andreas died that night. I saw what it was inside him. I saw it destroy other civilizations, and I knew that if Andreas was alive, then it would already have happened here, too. So why hasn’t it?’
‘The power it had was vast, Jonah,’ said Tess. ‘This is a creature that gains its strength from the souls it consumes, and it had eaten the souls of a thousand worlds. It escaped its prison with only a fraction of its power. The rest would have taken weeks to come through the conduit that had been forged. Then it almost died, and the conduit collapsed. The flow virtually stopped. If it hadn’t, the world would have been lost to the Shadow long ago. The Beast would have won. The evil that’s in Andreas is nothing compared to what it would be if it could find that power again, and unlock it. Andreas believes he’s close to knowing how to do that.’
‘Is that what Winnerden Flats is for?’ said Jonah. ‘Finding out how to open the door?’
‘The lead researcher at Baseline is someone you know, right?’
‘Stephanie Graves, yes.’
‘She’s not one of Andreas’s people,’ said Tess. ‘Neither are the researchers she’s gathered, as far as we can tell.’
‘I thought it might be some kind of misdirection. To keep the strongest revivers out of the way, and reduce the chance of them stumbling into something the way I did.’
‘That’s probably an important part of it. But half of the facility is hush-hush, supposedly where the cryogenics research continues. As far as we know it’s really where the work to open that doorway is going on. Baseline’s acting as a smokescreen to let them funnel money into the project.’
He reached out and took her hands in his. They felt cold. ‘Do you think we can stop Andreas?’
‘I don’t think he’s invulnerable, but beyond that I don’t know. I’m scared to learn anything new now. Knowledge could be dangerous. I could learn exactly what would allow Andreas to rise. That’s the word he uses for regaining his power: his rise. And then – well, you know what happens then.’
Jonah nodded his head, the sound and sight of the Great Shadow filling his mind: the Beast strident, destruction at the tips of its claws. He remembered feeling the certainty within the creature’s mind, the utter lack of doubt, lack of weakness. He thought of Andreas, on fire and smiling, the ceiling crashing down. Somehow he’d got out of the building. Somehow he’d made his recovery, with no visible sign of injury.
Rise. ‘Yes,’ he said.
*
When his coffee was finished, Jonah left Tess in the kitchen and took the opportunity to look around the safe house, using the time to get familiar with the layout. Every room had the same level of faded décor, the same sparse furnishings, the same cabling and sunlamp fittings along the ceiling. The entire building was devoid of identity, almost as if the house itself was in hiding.
Upstairs, he checked in again on the still-sleeping Never, the snoring even louder than before. Thoughts of what they’d experienced the previous day loomed in his mind; he shoved them away, hard. He closed his eyes as tears started flowing. He left Never’s room and wiped them away, angry and confused. He leaned against the wall in the corridor, breathing slowly, the tears not stopping.
He punched the wall and swore at himself, a whispered hiss of frustration.
‘Don’t,’ said Kendrick’s voice from beside him. Jonah snapped open his eyes, stunned that the man could have got so close without making a sound.
‘Don’t what?’ he said.
‘Fall apart. We don’t have time.’ Kendrick nodded towards Never’s room. ‘And your friend needs you to be as normal as possible.’
‘He’s coping better than I am,’ said Jonah. ‘I don’t know how, but he is. Listen to him.’
‘At five a.m. he woke up screaming. You didn’t stir. What your friend went through will take a while to work itself out, if it ever does. It’s a kind of mental shrapnel. What they gave him was far stronger than the solution they gave you, and in the eyes . . . a terrible, consuming pain, but one that cuts off suddenly with no lasting physical effects. Like you imagined it all, like it meant nothing, but the memory is so strong. The incongruity is difficult to process.’ Kendrick’s eyes went to the floor. ‘It won’t be easy for him.’
Jonah made the connection. ‘You went through the same thing.’
Kendrick nodded. ‘With the same ma
n who tormented you; Never was right about that. It was after I’d realized the truth about Andreas, while I was still faking my loyalty. But I’d been careless about a small matter. They doubted me. I convinced them.’ He fell silent for a moment. Jonah thought about the pain he himself had gone through. He couldn’t imagine the strength it would take to be able to keep up a deception under that kind of torment, let alone under what Never had experienced. He looked at Kendrick with a new level of respect – and a new level of wariness.
‘I’d regained their trust,’ Kendrick said, ‘but only enough for them to let me live. That was when I knew the moment had come for me to vanish. Now, though, it’s time your friend was awake. Once we’ve had breakfast, I’ll explain the job I have for you.’
*
Jonah shook Never from his sleep. They took turns to shower, the water tepid and insubstantial but a godsend, nonetheless. Part of Kendrick’s supply run had included toothbrushes; Jonah marvelled at the way a clean mouth made him feel better armed against whatever was coming. He voiced this to Never.
‘I know what you mean,’ Never said. ‘And if fluoride is fatal to the terrifying shadow demons, we’re sorted.’
By the time they went downstairs a smell had filled the house, one that was calling to Never like piper to rat.
Kendrick was standing by the sink, plunging a frying pan into the water. On the table three places were set, the plates loaded with scrambled eggs, bacon and pancakes, toast on the side.
‘Wow,’ said Never. ‘He also cooks. I’m not hallucinating, am I? I can eat that, right?’
Kendrick nodded.
‘Larry, my man,’ said Never, taking a seat. ‘You are full of surprises. And not just the lethal national-interest kind.’
‘I’m also hopeful,’ said Kendrick, ‘that a full mouth is a quiet one.’
‘A funny man,’ said Never, starting to shovel food into his eager maw. ‘Optimistic, too,’ he said around it.
‘Where’s Tess?’ asked Jonah, taking the seat next to Never.
‘She’s sleeping,’ said Kendrick. ‘She needs it.’ He sat and started to eat. ‘You asked me last night about Annabel. You mentioned ways to contact her. I need to know the details of what you’d agreed.’
‘What for?’ said Jonah.
‘To bring her here. For her own safety. My sources tell me Andreas is very keen to locate her. It’s possible he wants her as a bargaining chip, but there may be more to it than that. Whatever the reason, if I can frustrate their efforts, it’ll make me a happy man. For that, I need to know what “safe” ways you’ve arranged to get in touch.’
‘Oh, do you, indeed?’ said Never, eyebrow raised.
‘I do,’ said Kendrick. ‘Or maybe you think this has all been an elaborate ruse just to find her?’
Grudgingly, Never shook his head. ‘OK, OK,’ he said. ‘I’ll tell you. We’d planned for this. Well, not this, exactly, because that would have been some fucking spectacular planning, but we’d planned how we could get in contact securely, so even if any of us was caught, their phone couldn’t link back to us. I mean, if a specific phone is ever linked to you, it can be tracked, but we have a bespoke proxy server making all communication anonymous. As long as your server isn’t compromised, it’s impossible to trace. Ours is state-of-the-art, Annabel had a guy, a—’
‘A hacker in London?’ said Kendrick.
Saying nothing, Never closed his mouth. His eyes narrowed.
‘A hacker,’ continued Kendrick, ‘who had helped with Annabel’s initial investigations into the death of her father, and who was again helping with her work investigating Andreas Biotech. A man distinguished by being exceptionally good at breaking the law, yet one Annabel has placed her full trust in.’
‘Yeah,’ said Never, wary. ‘That’s the one. Somehow I don’t think I’ll like what you’re about to say.’
Kendrick reached into his pocket and pulled out a sheet of paper. He unfolded it and held it up. A printout, small-font text filling the lower half, the image of a man’s face above. An overweight, unhappy, and notably bruised face.
‘Terry Weald,’ said Kendrick. ‘Based in London. Married with four kids. Annabel Harker was first put in contact with him a few years ago while researching a piece on hacker activists. Only ever knew him by the online alias Yaffle. Terry was arrested four days ago. I say arrested, but really it was much less formal than that. He’s been helping with inquiries, shall we say, into a recent spate of hacking offences in this country. We have such a close relationship with the British. From the look of the bruising, they must have used rather basic methods of ensuring the suspect’s cooperation. But it clearly did the job.’
‘Fuck,’ said Jonah. He looked at Never.
‘Yes,’ said Never. ‘Fuck.’
‘Indeed,’ said Kendrick. ‘What was it you said, Never? Everything is fine as long as your server isn’t compromised? I think you’d better tell me all you can about the server you were supposed to use. Then you’d better hope Annabel Harker doesn’t use it. Because if she does . . .’ Kendrick put the sheet of paper on the table, Terry Weald’s bruised and defeated face looking up at them all. ‘Then they can locate her phone. And they’ll know exactly where she is.’
39
Annabel was asleep before she hit the bed.
The hotel was just outside Billings, Montana. Her eyes had taken in so much asphalt that when she closed them all she saw was road.
She’d driven almost solidly for twenty-four hours. Besides refuelling she’d had only one other roadside stop – what she’d intended as a brief sleep, necessary the moment she recognized the onset of a dangerous fatigue. That had been close to dawn; as she’d long-since dumped her cell phone, she had no alarm clock, but she’d thought the light of day would wake her within an hour or so. Instead, she woke over three hours later in a haze of terror, the sensation of being hunted all that she remembered from her nightmare.
Since taking her car and leaving Sacramento she’d headed north, thinking only to put as much distance between herself and her apartment as she could. It was only when she got as far as Portland that her thoughts turned to any kind of planning, rather than just the simple urge to run. Run, and blank out what she’d heard on her phone before she’d left. Jonah, crying out in fear. An impact.
Then silence.
Of all the things she was frightened of it was her own tears that had scared her the most, streaming out of her even though she felt numb, tears that seemed entirely divorced from emotion. A purge that her damn tear ducts seemed to understand better than her mind did.
She’d kept the radio on. News was still coming in about Andreas and his research effort. Any uneasiness about the repercussions of soaking up the best revivers in the country was muted. There was a palpable feel of expectation. Andreas himself was interviewed at the Winnerden Flats facility, and Annabel had to restrain the urge to switch off. It occurred to her that instinctively she’d chosen to drive north because it took her further away from the site, away from Andreas.
And then it had come: breaking news. Extremists, trying to derail Andreas’s grand project. A murdered detective. A kidnapped reviver, identified as Jonah. No mention of Never, either way.
Kidnapped.
The tears began again, but this time there were emotions behind them, a confused bag of fear and hope and pain.
A plan formed, for what it was worth. Head east, back towards Richmond. She could keep her head down but at least be nearer to where the kidnapping had happened, where the investigation into it would take place. And she would be a few thousand miles away from Andreas.
Caffeine and purpose fuelled her body; gas fuelled the car. She drove, half-hypnotized by the road, barely aware of the miles as she left Oregon, then Washington, then Idaho.
By the time she’d hit Billings she could feel herself close to collapse and had known she had no choice but to stop and rest properly. She’d swung into a hotel car park, taken a room, and had aimed herself at the bed.
She woke ravenous, showering fast and getting directions to the nearest grocery store, loading up with an assortment of canned food, bottles of water and cola to keep her on the road as long as her body could stand it.
She sat in the car in the store’s parking lot and ate a can of corn with one of the plastic spoons she’d bought, so damn hungry it didn’t really feel like it counted as eating. It was just something she had to do, and she might as well get it done quickly.
Then she hit town, getting just one thing: a prepay phone. She needed to get online in case she got word from Jonah or Never.
Back in the hotel she set the phone up, configuring it to her London contact’s proxy server. She hunted around online for what little additional information she could find about Jonah. Still exhausted, she planned to get another few hours of sleep before she continued on the road.
And before she let herself sleep, she went to the Richmond FRS website. There, not yet removed from the staff profiles, was Jonah’s picture. She looked at the smiling face for long minutes, finding herself unable to close the browser, feeling a curious superstition that if she did so, the picture would vanish from the site forever.
At last, she set the phone beside her and went to sleep.
40
Kendrick ventured out after breakfast with stern warnings to the others about keeping inside the safe house. With little to distract him, Jonah found himself obsessing over Annabel: where she was, whether she was safe, what she’d heard about his own disappearance.
When Tess emerged from her room at noon, she looked just as tired as she had before her sleep. She and Never stayed out of each other’s way, and it was almost a relief when Kendrick returned to the house late that afternoon and told them all to sit.
‘I’m taking Jonah out to earn his keep,’ Kendrick told them. ‘To understand what you’re going to do, Jonah, you need to know more about Winnerden Flats. Tess has already told you there’s more than meets the eye to what’s happening there.’ He laid out a plan on the table. Jonah recognized it as the alternative site plan Annabel had uncovered. He shared a look with Never, but said nothing.