The Stone Man - A Science Fiction Thriller

by Smitherd, Luke

  “Aspects of what?” asked Paul, confused.

  “Sorry,” said Straub, “the Stone Man, you call it the Stone Man. Just the name the research team gave it at first. Latin. We’ve been monitoring certain aspects—the few that we can—such as radiation.”

  “It’s radioactive?” I asked, suddenly thinking of all the time I’d spent close by it in Coventry.

  “Very slightly, but only at a level that you would need some major exposure to if you wanted to have any issues caused as a result. I’m talking about hours and hours, Mr Pointer, and you couldn’t have been near it in Coventry for more than two; it wasn’t there long enough. Don’t worry. That’s not the issue here. The fact is that at 3:56 p.m., our men logged a comparatively huge spike in its rad levels, and one considerably higher than the other two spikes we’d seen before then. We theorise these were some kind of broadcast or signal boost, although we don’t fully understand their purpose or how they work. But the time of that last spike adds up with your version, and you couldn’t know that.” I thought about the other two previous spikes she’d just mentioned, and thought about my passing out on the flyover bridge and fitting at Shaun and Laura’s, but I said nothing. Paul and I exchanged another glance.

  “All that,” Straub continued, “plus the fact that no footage of the C.I.s has been leaked online yet—along with this man here having the exact same post-incident catatonia and appearance—says to me that he is probably connected with Caementum to some degree. How useful he may be to us is one thing, especially as he’s a civilian and not currently one who can make his own decisions in the eyes of the law.”

  “Okay, so that’s the good news,” said Paul. “What’s next?”

  “The next bit is that yours are not the first reports of psychic visions and the like.”

  My jaw dropped, but Paul snorted slightly.

  “Not surprised to hear it,” he said, “I can only imagine some of the bullshit that’s come out of the woodwork. But I assume you mean reports that actually check out.”

  “Yes,” admitted Straub, “about five or six that have been accurate enough, and detailed enough, to warrant further investigation, but none that have actually led anywhere. But these people did know things that they couldn’t have done by conventional means; someone in Scotland describing a victim that hasn’t even been declared dead yet, and the exact manner and time in which they died. One person in Cornwall, and another in Newcastle, knowing—but only once—where the Stone Man would be passing through at a certain time, and knowing it ahead of time. Both of those referred to two separate incidents; both were visited after their report was proved correct and asked to reproduce it. They couldn’t. The most interesting one, to us at least, was someone in Wolverhampton phoning the police three days ago and saying they were certain something terrible was going to happen in Coventry, and then spread north. They were adamant. We have him in custody now, but we think we’re going to let him go. He knows nothing. But these have all been little flashes, people picking up little glimpses and finding themselves unable to do it again. But you two are the only ones with any kind of credibility and evidence to claim to have done it consistently and continuously … and believe me, the evidence here is the important point with regard to me believing you in any way. Plus background, telephone and e-mail checks have shown it to be unlikely that you two have any prior knowledge of each other before today.”

  This time Paul’s jaw dropped, and neither of us said a word. I thought I might have noticed that little mouth twitch again on Straub’s face. She then continued.

  “Basically, gentlemen, as you’ve probably guessed, what I need from you before we can continue is some kind of proof of this … ability of yours. Let’s be honest; you have the photos. You were there at the start, no doubt, and therefore probably saw C.I. One, at least. You wouldn’t be the only one. And this house’s resident is obviously connected to Caementum; again, there’s pretty much no doubt about that. You two could have worked out its trajectory more accurately than others have; there’s probably only one amongst the hundreds already online that’s absolutely accurate, they just don’t know it for certain. But it is feasible that you found your own way here through simple maths, and then somehow met Mr …” she paused as she caught herself, “this man here, and then watched him have his incident, and put it together with C.I. One in Coventry and realised that you were onto something big. Why, you could have gone from house to still-standing house along the parts of the trajectory not yet evacuated until you found someone who was linked to it. It would have been an effort, but you’ve had twenty-four hours, after all. Other have tried it already, we know, they just haven’t had the correct, specific line to follow. You wouldn’t be the only newsman who realised what this could do for their career, Mr Pointer.”

  I stiffened as she said it, and silently cursed whoever had carried out my background check. Paul shifted in his seat next to me, and I made sure I didn’t look at him; I couldn’t. I found myself wishing I’d just been honest. Why keep it secret in the first place? What had I expected Paul to do? By worrying about getting called out on my motivations, I’d probably just lost the only ally that I had in all of this. I tried to console myself, thinking that hopefully it would soon be over and Paul, as helpful as he’d been, wouldn’t be needed after that. I would have my story. Hell, had he even noticed what she’d said properly? Now wasn’t the time to find out.

  “So the question is,” said Straub, holding up her hands, “can you prove it? Do that, and you have my full attention. If you can’t … well, that’s a bit harder to decide. It’s not like you wouldn’t be findable if we needed you later, so I could just have you evacuated and take this man here to the military hospital to be examined. To be honest, there’s benefits for me either way; if you can’t prove it, I can get on with other things and I also have your details should I need you, but if you can prove it, then you might be useful here. I’d also be more inclined to listen to any potential advice you may have with regard to Caementum and this house’s owner.”

  This last part showed a different side to Brigadier Straub; this was her dangling a carrot, and I thought it suggested that she’d rather I could prove it. Not out of personal curiosity—Straub was a practical woman, it seemed—no, I thought she thought I could help, if I were proved to be on the level. And why not? At this stage, the military and the government were helpless. They wouldn’t even be here talking to us if they weren’t. By this point, they’d be willing to try anything that might help to end the lunacy of the Stone Man. And the good news was, I knew that I could.

  “Okay, Brigadier,” I said, reaching down to my bag, “give me a moment.”

  It hadn’t been too difficult the first time, and I had a feeling that, since Paul was nearby—and everything Stone Man-related had been more intense ever since we’d been with each other—it would be even easier now, or possibly a stronger, clearer experience. I pulled out the UK atlas, found Barnsley, and laid it out flat on the coffee table, after moving our abandoned playing cards out of the way.

  “Need me to do anything?” asked Paul, quietly, staring at the atlas.

  “No thanks,” I told him, holding my hand out and closing my eyes, “I think you’re already doing a lot just by being here.”

  “This the map trick that you said you used before?” I heard the brigadier say.

  “Uh-huh,” I said, concentrating. “Just give me a moment please, Briga—” My words cut off as I felt the connection take, almost like a clicking sensation in my head. I looked down at the map and, knowing it would work this time, and more easily, I closed my hand into a fist and extended a finger. Opening my eyes and watching my finger move like it was attached to someone else, I saw it trace its way over the Barnsley area, finding a spot in between two roads and stopping dead; then, impossibly slowly, it began to move upwards.

  “There,” I said, trying to read the names of the roads my finger was in between (my finger was pointing to a coloured area that possibl
y signified a field or park). “It’s right there, and heading this way. Check it with someone; you know I’ve been nowhere near a TV for the last fifteen minutes, and I know you’ll also find that it’s still exactly on the same trajectory as it’s always bee—” And then suddenly, I wasn’t seeing the map any more.

  I was seeing dust, and blackness, and then I winced as I saw bright daylight; I’d just walked through a wall. I was now on a deserted street, and suddenly, from my left and right, came running soldiers, who had been forced to go around the building that I’d just passed through and were now catching up to reform the circle of walking bodies around me. I could hear a helicopter above, and, farther away, I could hear several more, spread out across the sky around me. Between the gaps in the soldiers, I could see cars parked along the side of the road that crossed horizontally in front of me, a road with a few shops, including—

  And then I was back in the room, staring at the map. I blinked a few times, then my legs turned to water and I fell backwards onto the chair. I’d been riding inside the Stone Man.

  “Andy? Andy?” asked Paul, leaning over and gently taking my shoulders.

  “I’m okay, I’m okay,” I told him, and, haltingly, sat up and faced Straub, who was now stood, having moved to see where I’d been pointing.

  “Radio the men who are walking with the Stone Man,” I asked, my throat feeling suddenly dry. “Ask them if, right in front of them, is a blue Land Rover and a red … I think it was a red Fiesta. And a shop named ‘Timmins’, or something like that.”

  “What? How did you …” asked Paul, incredulously.

  “That’s where they are right now,” I said, ignoring him and addressing Straub, “and what’s more, that’s what’s there. There’s no way I could know that. How could I know what cars are there? It’s not far away now either. About half an hour, I think.”

  “I know,” said Straub, and stared at me for a moment. She then turned to the two guards at the door.

  “Stay here, and keep an eye on these two, please,” she said, and turned back to us. “No offence, but I’m sure you can see why I need to make sure you stay put.” She then walked towards and out of the door without waiting for an answer, leaving Paul and I, once again, in a room where the only sound was Patrick’s nonsense stream.

  “Did you see it?” said Paul, not looking at me.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Well … I was in it. I was seeing things from its point of view.”

  Silence from Paul.

  “Jesus …” he said, after a moment.

  “Uh-huh,” I said, forgetting completely about Paul’s potential reaction to finding out about my job. “It didn’t even feel that strange, it was just like watching through a webcam or something, only clearer.” I paused for a second, thinking. It really hadn’t felt odd at all, and certainly no stranger than seeing maps come to life and forming a psychic link with a man made of stone. Like Straub, I was all business, as time was short. “The thing is … that’s just given me an idea. Well, not an idea as such, but … what I mean is, if I, as someone that probably wasn’t supposed to be able to connect with it or whatever, can quite literally get inside its head …” I trailed off, thinking of the best way to put it.

  “How did you do it? Could I do it again, do you think?” asked Paul, gesturing at the map on the table.

  “Maybe,” I said, shrugging. “Probably. Would you want to, if you could?”

  Paul stared at the map, thinking.

  “Actually …” he said, “call me a pussy, but … no. I’ve yet to link up with that thing in the same way that you have, and who knows what might happen? Who’s to say I wouldn’t end up like our man here if I did?” He looked at Patrick, and shook his head. “God … no thanks. I’ll leave that to you.”

  “Fair point,” I said, already thinking again about what riding along with the Stone Man might mean. I thought I was brushing the edge of a bigger idea, like an archaeologist uncovering the tip of some long buried monstrosity. I thought I might have just seen the edge of something that should make me very nervous. “I just wonder … if I can ride inside it, and see what it sees, or what it’s near … who’s to say it wasn’t designed so someone could do just that?” Paul stopped looking at the map and turned to me, brow furrowed. I carried on.

  “It just feels like … if there’s a remote feed from it, then there’s reason for that. Someone, or something, somewhere far away wants to be able to see what’s going on. It’s like … it must have a master. Or masters.” Paul didn’t say anything.

  “I mean, it doesn’t stop,” I continued, feeling like the room was now that bit darker, “and as far we know, it or whoever sent it knew that Patrick wouldn’t be able to run away. So why would they need to be able to control it remotely? They wouldn’t. They could use whatever barrier they put in place to keep Patrick in one small area, and then just send the Stone Man here. Set it off, and wait. And watch.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I don’t really know, to be honest. It just implies … implies intelligence, forethought, planning, I don’t know. It’s almost like …” I went a little bit cold as I brushed a big bit of sand off the buried bones, a huge chunk. I had no idea if I was right, but it felt right.

  “It’s almost like … it would be the only way they could see what was happening. Or know that the job had been done.”

  “But … of course they could see it. It’s been on the TV constantly,” said Paul, confused. “It’s hard to police the skies over an area that keeps moving. Plus, satellite feeds, all that stuff.” He’d missed the point, I knew, but before I could explain, Straub came back into the room, the two guards saluting as she did so.

  “All right,” she said, her hands behind her back. “We believe that your stories are pretty much on the level; the important parts anyway. We’re going to introduce C.I. Four into the same area as the Stone Man and see what happens.” So Blondie was C.I. Four now.

  “And you’re telling us?” asked Paul, surprised, and then pointed at me. “Even him?”

  I winced slightly. He’d not missed her reveal, then.

  “Well, I see your point, Mr Winter,” she said, tilting her head slightly, “but Mr Pointer and yourself are considered essential personnel now. We’re operating under near-total fog here, gentlemen, and so far you’re the only consistent insight of any kind that we’ve had since this whole thing started.” She sighed. “I’ve been ordered to grant you high clearance. Some of my superiors are on their way right now, along with several more units for backup should it be needed, and for securing the immediate area. The science teams will be here almost immediately.”

  Paul and I shared a glance. This was very, very big. I couldn’t believe they were taking us seriously.

  “A few things, gentlemen, and these are very important, so listen to me. One, this is very much a case of speak only when you’re spoken to, unless you find that you have some sort of insight that we don’t. Efficiency is key in any kind of operation, and although we might need you, you absolutely cannot be underfoot. Understood?”

  We nodded.

  “Two, you are to stay with me at all times from now on unless otherwise instructed. Under no circumstances are you to attempt to get involved with proceedings in a physical way, and you don’t go anywhere unless told to. Understood?”

  We nodded again.

  “Three, any information about the operation will be on a need-to-know basis. Basically, don’t waste time asking questions about what’s happening, as you’ll be told everything you might need to know. Anything else, you don’t. Information will be coming one way, from yourselves to us. Understood?”

  More nodding.

  “Four, as I say, a lot of our science chaps will be here shortly as well. They might have a few questions of their own, and if they do, you will give them your full cooperation. Understood?”

  “Yes, but what—”

  “I’m not finished,” said Straub, cutting me off. “Five—and I don’t like to
play this kind of hardball if it can be avoided, but time is short and I can’t take any chances—everything you see and hear is restricted information. There’s only so much media restriction we can get away with these days, but in terms of this operation, what you know as an insider, and everything you’ve told me about your experiences of the last twenty-four hours, all of it is to be kept under wraps, under penalty of treason and—quite frankly and off the record—anything else we can think of to bury you for the rest of your lives. Or worse.” She looked at Paul and me, one to the other, back and forth, her face totally blank. She let it sink in.

  Another hammer blow to the chest, and this one was the worst, most final one yet. I could barely process the concept, but in a nutshell, she had just taken away the best chance I would ever have at a dream career; a dream career that had seemed to have been sitting in the palm of my hand throughout all of this. I opened my mouth to protest, but she carried on.

  “I know that’s the last thing you wanted to hear, Mr Pointer, but let me quickly assure you of one thing; the lockdown is a temporary thing, as far as you’re concerned.”

  “How temporary?” I asked, sounding more desperate than I would have liked. It was like having my head in the hangman’s noose and thinking that I’d seen someone coming towards me, carrying a pair of scissors.

  “Until this is over, and we know what the hell is going on. Once it is, and we do, you’ll be rewarded for your services to Queen and country and given full, exclusive rights to the truth … or our version of it. You’ll be edited by us, but we’ll work with you, not against you, and you can even admit that you’d cooperated with the military to help bring this threat to an end. Someone has to take this to the press, after all; the overall facts can’t be covered up. The public already knows about Caementum. The world knows. They want answers, and they will have them, even if they’re only the ones that we deem appropriate. And, as a sweetener—and to make sure that you are, in turn, working with us throughout all of it and not against us—I’ve been ordered to inform you that you’ll be our voice on this. You’ll be a hero, Mr Pointer. We need you fully onside; this is our way of ensuring your cooperation whilst keeping you happy.” She looked at Paul. “And you’ll be paid too, don’t worry.” Paul raised his eyebrows at me. It wasn’t an entirely unfair deal.