The Stone Man - A Science Fiction Thriller

by Smitherd, Luke

  The engine started, and we had to go. We stood there dumbly, glancing at each other, until Straub’s voice sounded in our ears. She was all business again, not that she’d ever fully stopped being so.

  “Time to go, gentlemen. We’re on the clock.”

  Without thinking, I grabbed Henry’s hand and held it; he started slightly at my touch, but his eyes opened and he looked at me. Though his expression was terrified, to my amazement, he weakly patted my hand.

  “Not your fault. Appreciate … respect,” he said, barely getting the words out, then released my hand. It was the last thing he said to us.

  Paul had to pull me away, and out of the truck. We couldn’t see Henry as soldiers shut the door and the ramp retracted, and then the truck was heading away up the street. The soldiers were already running towards the APC, and Straub was ushering us back into the jeep.

  “I’m sorry, gentlemen, but you need to get in the air,” she said, signalling the driver to start the engine. “I’m waiting here to hear if Mr Williams gets out of the immediate area. If he doesn’t, I’ll be taking care of things here, and someone else will be meeting you on the other end.”

  “Will he be awake?” asked Paul, voicing the same thoughts that I’d been having. He spoke quietly but firmly. He wasn’t angry; he just wanted to know. “If he doesn’t end up like Patrick, if he gets through the barrier and is fine … will you sedate him? Does he have to be aware?” Straub shook her head at this, meeting his gaze and holding it.

  “We plan to sedate all targets, at least to the point that they won’t be consciously aware,” she said. “It will make our job easier for us, and more humane for them. But … gentlemen, all bets are off where Caementum is concerned, as you know. We don’t know how it works. We don’t know if it bypasses …” She caught herself, and her expression hardened. “You’re leaving, and right now. If Mr Williams gets through, as I say, someone else will be taking over the delivery process and I’ll be joining you wherever you are in Birmingham.”

  The jeep began a three-point turn. We were already off onto the next part of our world-altering adventure, but I wasn’t really aware of any of it. All I kept seeing was the same moment, over and over again, as Henry’s uniform came into view. He’d gotten dressed for it, dressed for it, dressed for it. I sat with my hands limp in my lap, the pull lessening with every second as Henry travelled away from us. My head rolled limply on my shoulders as the jeep turned. Straub was saying something again, stood in the street with her own ride waiting. She’d moved on already, completely, a model of compartmentalisation and efficiency.

  “Don’t forget to check the outside perimeter at Target Two,” she called. “You might be bullshitting through your teeth for all I know, but at least you’ve proved that you can be trusted to do a difficult job, one that other civilians might not have had the balls to do.” She looked us both over for a second, and then continued in a voice that was only marginally softer. “That went smoothly. I know it was difficult for you. But I want it that smooth on the other end, got it?” I nodded in my seat without looking at her, staring at the floor and only seeing Henry, Henry, Henry. Paul leant a forearm on his lap and put his head on it, then waved his free hand weakly in her direction as the jeep began to pull away.

  “Good luck,” she called, and then we were on our way once more, to claim another member of the British public for the greater good. Nobody knew it then, of course—we all had concerns of our own—but there was something very unexpected waiting at Target Two. We would find out in less than two hours’ time.

  ***

  I found out later that their theory turned out to be right, of course. The real perimeters weren’t up yet. They drove Henry out of there and loaded him onto a helicopter without any problem, and took him to the Stone Man. By then it had just passed the outskirts of Coventry. I didn’t see it, and even though I could probably have requested to do so later—they trust me now, and some spook will definitely have filmed it—of course I couldn’t watch it.

  For Henry, I gather they picked the nearest securable area along the trajectory with good access, and brought Henry and the original Stone Man together. I don’t know if he remained sedated. I think of Patrick’s horrific screams, and I hope with every fibre of my wretched soul that Henry stayed under. On a purely practical level, I do know the essentials of how it went.

  Part removed, Henry dead, Stone Man gone.

  Just like that.

  Gone.

  ***

  I don’t remember much about the helicopter ride to Birmingham. I have a dim memory of being offered water by someone, and drinking it. I remember the sensation as it trickled its way down my parched throat; it made me think of sand being washed off rocks, and I realised how dry my throat must have been. I remember hearing someone announce over the radio that the rendezvous between Target One and Caementum had been ‘successful’. Straub would be meeting us once we’d pinpointed ‘Target Two’. And I remember that every time I let my mind wander, it went straight to Henry’s face, his wide, frightened eyes looking into mine whilst he said Not your fault.

  Other than that, the main part of the trip was pretty much a blur, or at least it is to me now. I just sat there, slumped like a limp bag of meat and bones, whilst I tried to hold on to any sense of purpose. I tried not to catch Paul’s eye the whole time. I couldn’t have handled that if it had happened. The steadily growing shakes were almost welcome this time, as they gave me something to try to focus on, something I could spend my energy fighting against instead of thinking. I tried to remind myself that I was saving lives, that I was part of a heroic undertaking, but the words were fundamentally hollow. What had I ever really done? I desperately sought some kind of escape, some kind of mental refuge, but there was none. I tried to think of going back to New York, of being the main man once more, trying to take solace in the idea, but that world seemed to belong to someone else. In the remembered champagne smiles and backslaps I saw the jeering, cheering faces of the crowd in the Coliseum, baying for blood.

  When I try to remember the trip more clearly now, coherent memories start around the point where the announcement came over the headphones that we were approaching Birmingham. I didn’t look up, but Paul nudged my foot gently and I, at least, began to think about what I was doing next. I had a job to do, I knew, I just needed a second to get myself started.

  Why am I here? I asked myself, and waited for a response. The discussion in my head was efficient and to the point, parts of my brain waking up under basic cognitive process.

  To find Target Two.

  Why?

  To save people.

  How?

  I have to hunt them down.

  Any problems with that? Think.

  They have to die.

  Not those kind of problems. All business. Be all business. That’s supposed to be easy for you.

  Okay. They cut me off last time. They spotted me watching. They might be waiting for that.

  Okay. Then you wait until you’re closer. Just like last time—

  HENRY—

  Shut up. Ask them to tell you when you’re right over Birmingham, then tune in. Keep cutting off, just like before on the helicopter over Edinburgh. Get on with it.

  I spoke into the microphone, instructing the pilot to let me know when we were positioned correctly, and then finally raised my head to address Paul. One look at his face told me all I needed to know about how he was feeling, but I couldn’t let him sit this part out like before. Between the games in my own head and the now-heavy shakes, I was barely keeping it together. I needed help.

  Silently, I held out my hand, and he took it without looking away from my eyes. He simply nodded, and then I did what I do best. I got on with things.

  Some time later, through our directions, we found ourselves driving along a more affluent-looking suburban street than the one in Edinburgh. I don’t recall the name. The houses were quite new, detached, each with a small garden out front. It had taken more time to
get here on this occasion, once we’d identified the street, as we’d had to land the chopper a greater distance away. Word came through over the radio that Straub would be joining us almost immediately; she’d been true to her word, and had left to join us the instant Henry had cleared the estimated containment radius. The evacuation had had more time to take effect too, and they’d done a good job; the main roads inside the city centre, at least, were far, far less busy than in Edinburgh, and our road transport had arrived fast. The motorways taking people out of Birmingham would perhaps be the opposite by now. As we headed along our short journey through the suburbs however, a police escort was needed, then provided, to get us through the thickening traffic, and Paul and I were informed that we were in areas that hadn’t yet been fully swept for evacuation. Families in cars stared at us as we drove past, children staring at the army vehicles with gaping mouths. I don’t think anyone recognised me. Men standing on the roadside beside their stationary cars shouted abuse at the soldiers, and at one point we passed the burnt-out husk of a four-door saloon, turned over onto its roof. The fear and uncertainty in the air was palpable.

  As Paul and I directed our jeep onto the correct street, with two military transports in tow and our eyes barely open, I knew immediately that the right house was somewhere at the end of this road.

  At such close range, I noticed, the signal felt different to the last two times. Considerably different, but I couldn’t yet tell why. It was maddening … but then I remembered that I’d find out why very soon, and suddenly the answer didn’t seem important. As we drove on, I could see that we’d actually entered a cul-de-sac.

  A dead end. Nowhere to run.

  Paul and I hadn’t spoken to each other for this part of the journey any more than we had whilst in the chopper, and I wanted that to continue. Nothing to do with him, of course. I just couldn’t talk to him without addressing what had happened in Edinburgh, and I wanted nothing to do with that at all.

  The old man. The sergeant.

  I pushed it away, felt for the signal again, and that’s how I found out that it had gone.

  This time, when I reached with my mind for the signal, my whole body stiffened as the same painful, high-pitched screeching sound from before filled my head, and I let go, unable to take it. The cacophony was awful, like the squealing death cries of some unimaginably huge creature. I felt Paul suddenly lurch slightly in the seat next to me, and knew that he had lost it too. The previously nigh-unbearable shakes stopped dead so suddenly that their absence made me feel light-headed in a completely different way. The pull had vanished. The relief was missed in my confusion, fear and exhaustion. We’d been shut down again.

  “Guys?” asked the commanding officer who’d been in charge of us since we’d left Edinburgh. I never asked his name or rank, and he never offered it. What did it matter? Straub or David or this guy, there would be someone in charge who would tell us what to do, and we would do it. That was all that was expected of us. We just had to do what we were told, and hang our consciences on the fact that we were following orders. “Which house?”

  Paul and I looked at each other, confirming what we already knew, and it was Paul who responded.

  “We’ve lost it,” said Paul, quietly. It wasn’t just the shakes draining him; he had nothing left. He’d gone into Henry’s house to relieve his own guilt, but instead he’d made it so much worse. This time, I knew, fully, what he’d been talking about. Unsurprisingly, it had taken me twice as long as Paul—taken double the number of deaths—to feel it. Even the realisation that I was, once again, surplus to requirements held no concern this time around. “I think they’ve shut us down again … cut us off from the other Blue, too. I think … I don’t know. It’s one of these houses on the end. I got that much.”

  “Shit,” cursed the officer, turning to look at the five houses arranged in a circle at the end of the cul-de-sac. “We’ll have to go house to house. Wait,” he said, suddenly whipping back around to face us, looking alarmed. He was older than me, I could see, but not by much. “What about these barriers or whatever? Did you see any of those, I mean, can you still you still see those?”

  Paul looked at me, eyes suddenly alert, and for once I couldn’t read his face. If he’d gotten the chance to blag this again, to get to go into another target’s house, I’ll never know if he’d have taken it, because he never got that chance. I do know that he hesitated to respond, at least. All I know for certain is that if he’d tried to rope me into it again, on that day, at that time, I wouldn’t have gone with him. I wouldn’t have been able to do it. I knew now that I could be the tracker, the finger man … but also that I couldn’t get my hands dirty again. The thought made me feel deeply ashamed and dirty, and it still does; like a grubby little blotch on my soul.

  Either way, at that moment, the decision was taken out of Paul’s hands as the radio squawked into life, and Straub’s voice came over the speaker.

  “Straub here. Rendezvous in five minutes. Stand down and wait for my arrival, repeat, wait for my arrival before advancement.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” replied the officer, looking at us as he spoke. “There’s been a further development here, ma’am. The two civilian advisers appear to have lost the signal. They say they’ve been cut off from it.”

  There was silence from the other end of the radio, in which I knew that Straub would be swearing somewhere, sitting in a moving jeep. After a few moments, the radio clicked as she pushed the talk button on her end, and her voice came back.

  “Roger that. Sit tight until I get there.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I was just about to clarify the situation regarding the presence of any barriers around the building, whether or not they could still identify those.”

  After was another pause, during which we all sat and waited patiently, Straub’s voice spoke again. This time, her words scared me to death.

  “Don’t worry about any barriers. There are none. Rendezvous in five. Over and out.”

  I stared at Paul as my blood drained into my feet, and swallowed hard, my throat dry once more. She knew. She’d done as she’d promised, and it hadn’t been a bluff. The only hope we had in hell of getting away with our lives intact was that her promise of swift and severe retribution had been a hollow one. Knowing what I knew of Straub, I didn’t think that this would be the case. I might have been numbed to my very core by what had happened in Edinburgh, but that flat statement of Straub’s—There are none—managed to punch through.

  And Paul, to my astonishment, closed his eyes, sighed, and then began to laugh hysterically. He fell back in his seat, tears streaming from his eyes, and shook his head as he giggled like a child. And to my further astonishment, after a moment I was caught up in it and had joined him, slumping in my seat and losing it, cackling like a loon. He was right. What else was there to do? What other response was there? And it was hilarious, when you looked at it; we’d blagged the British Army, after all, and now we were busted, sat in an army jeep surrounded by the same guys that would probably be taking us to a military prison. After all that had happened, all we could do now was wait for our judgement as we sat and watched, our usefulness at an end, our bartering position totally gone. When you thought about it, the most sensible thing we could do was laugh. Officer no-name simply sat back in his seat and waited, ignoring our hysterics and watching the houses at the end of the street as the military transports’ engines idled behind us.

  We still hadn’t fully subsided by the time that Straub arrived, but the sight of her certainly calmed us down. Her jeep pulled up near ours, and two additional, larger vehicles that had arrived with her drove past us and pulled up near the houses at the end of the street. One, I noticed, was similar to the vehicle that had taken Henry away. She and officer no-name exchanged salutes, and I saw that David was with her now as well. They spoke with no-name quietly, a few feet away from our jeep, and we couldn’t really hear what was being said.

  As we watched, Straub then listened to her walkie-t
alkie, and seemed startled by what she’d heard. She immediately turned to David, who looked equally startled, but then waved off whatever she’d just told him and began to dial into his mobile phone. He then hurried away to make the call. Straub turned back to no-name and gave some instructions, and no-name moved away and started barking orders to various soldiers. They’d already disembarked from the transports, and had used the spare time before Straub’s arrival to quickly sweep the rest of the street for civilians. I’d already assumed that they wouldn’t find any; none of the houses had cars in the driveway, on a street where the average car quota for each house would have been at least two. These people had clearly all hit the road as soon as the evacuation had been announced, not waiting for the government sweep or to be taken to holding centres. One simply couldn’t be subjected to that kind of thing, could one? The soldiers began to take positions outside the five houses at the end of the street, forming small teams. One house, I’d noticed—and I couldn’t have been the only one who did—had the upstairs curtains drawn. None of the others did.

  There was no car on its driveway, however, but the garage was closed, and there may have been one inside. Either way, I was sure that particular house was the one, and it was nothing to do with any pull or signal; it just had that air of foreboding about it. Those closed curtains, to me, said it all.

  Straub approached us in the jeep, her hands behind her back. Her face was blank, as inscrutable as ever.

  “Gentlemen,” she said, quietly, and we nodded back, in wide-eyed silence. She turned for a moment to look at the assembling soldiers at the end of the street. “Here we are,” she said, still not looking at us. “Target Two …” She trailed off, and I could see nothing in her face to suggest exactly why. She turned back to us. “And I gather that your abilities are, for the time being at least, neutralised?”