by John Creasey
Palfrey was sitting by the driver.
Ahead of him was another Jaguar, driven by one of the Z.5 agents, to keep the road clear. In front of that was a military jeep, and behind Palfrey a third Jaguar. They sped along the flat roads of Cambridgeshire and Suffolk, then into the winding roads of the Broads, then across to Cromer. They might have saved an hour by air, but little more.
Both men were nodding.
Palfrey hadn’t slept more than an odd hour since he had first heard of the octi in Scotland. Now he was snatching some rest, which might have to serve him for another twenty-four hours, but it wasn’t true sleep. Every now and again he would hear the roar of the water in his ears, or see the way the earth had fallen away or see the village under water. It would wake him up, but he refused to allow himself to dwell on it.
He had to have a clear mind.
If there were octi at Cromer, if a whole town was undermined, then the village of Wolf would seem a trifle compared with what would happen next. And if the torrent spread, south and north to the flat lands, then – it would submerge half England.
He heard the driver’s voice, and stirred.
“What’s that?”
“Just entering Cromer, sir.”
“Oh. Good. Quick work.” He glanced round, to see that Andromovitch was just opening his eyes. “We’re there, Stefan.” Here, at least, they had taken the first precautions thoroughly. Military transport was already lined up at the side of the road. Military and civil engineers had been instructed for a plan to dig an enormous ditch round Cromer, to cut it off from the rest of the country; and to evacuate the people. The ditch would be filled with the acid which reduced the water content of the octi. What else could they do?
Palfrey watched the stream of private cars, sleeping children, scared youths and men and women.
A single line of traffic had been kept open for him and for reinforcements of the military. From radio flashes, he knew that the Military Headquarters for the time being was at a hotel overlooking the sea. A reserve H.Q. lay farther back, near the station.
A youthful-looking soldier was directing traffic. He held outward traffic up, then came towards Palfrey’s driver, who showed his authority.
“Turn left, then first right, and you’ll have to walk along the cliff front from there,” he said. “H.Q. is the white hotel, overlooking the sea, sir.”
“Good, thanks.”
Five minutes later, they were there. It was a little after eleven o’clock. Behind them, the whole town was astir, in front of them the sea looked as calm, beneath the restful stars, as it would ever look. The pier, only just repaired after its war-time damage, had a few lights on it. Boats floated gently to and fro, just off-shore. Lights spread along the cliff top itself, and showed the steep cliffs leading to the sandy beach below.
Palfrey went in.
“General Carfax is speaking to London, sir, if you’ll wait just a minute,” an aide-de-camp said.
“Yes, of course,” Palfrey said. “Or lead us to a tap, will you, and provide towels?”
“This way, sir.”
“No troubles yet?”
“No,” said the aide-de-camp, “but judging from the descriptions there isn’t much doubt that they’re the things you’re looking for. Rather like crabs, with eight legs and a jelly underbelly.”
“Got any specimens here?”
“Well, sir, we did have half a dozen, but some fool knocked the box over, and they burst. Hell of a mess.”
Palfrey said: “Where did you find them?”
“They crawled out of the sea – masses upon masses of them. Others were on the beach, coming out of the cliff not far from here. Matter of a couple of hundred yards away.”
“Oh,” said Palfrey. He shivered; and he saw the dread look on the giant Russian’s face. The aide-de-camp seemed more impressed by Andromovitch’s size than by anything else; otherwise, was almost casual.
They were in the cloakroom for three minutes, and Palfrey dried his face after the stinging cold water, and went back to the hall. General Carfax was now sitting facing the door – and facing Palfrey. He was a tall, heavily-built man, with red hair and a round, red face.
“Ah, yes, Dr. Palfrey. Glad to see you. Just sent for some more of these pesky little things, if you’ll wait ten minutes. Anything we can get you? Care for a drink?”
“No, thanks. I’d like to go and look at the spot where you’re finding them.”
“As you like. Won’t come with you myself, ought to be on the spot here. London rings up about every five minutes.” That displeased him. “If it were possible to do more, I’d do it. Can’t. Shouldn’t think there are a hundred people left along the cliff top. If they come trooping back tomorrow, find it was a panic decision—”
“General,” Palfrey said, “yesterday I saw some mountains of Scotland fall into a loch, and fifty square miles flooded.”
Carfax opened his mouth, then closed it again. He didn’t express his disbelief; just looked it. That didn’t matter. His job was to evacuate Cromer, and he was doing it; no one would do it better.
“Mr. Holden,” he said to the aide-de-camp, “take Dr. Palfrey along to the spot where these creatures were found, will you?”
“At once, sir.”
Troops in battledress lined the beaches, as if to repel an invasion. A few landing craft were drawn up beneath the cliffs. Offshore, more craft were coming in, slowly. A long way off along the coast the lights of a pier glimmered out at sea.
Palfrey and Andromovitch walked as briskly as the sand would allow them towards a spot where a small searchlight was rigged up, and shining on the cliff. There were clusters of men about. As they drew nearer, Palfrey saw that a trench, several feet deep, had been dug in the sand; close to the sea, it had been filled with water; close to the cliff, it was almost empty. Boards had been thrown across this and an area of perhaps fifty square yards was isolated, On this two or three armed men were standing close to the boards, and a little group was thrown up vividly in the light which shone on the cliff.
In the middle of the isolated patch a sentry stood on guard over a small table which was piled with oddments. Passing this, Palfrey saw ice-cream cartons, cigarette packets, buckets, spades, some odd shoes, a bathing cap, a fountain pen, apple cores, banana and orange skins.
“He might not believe in it, but he’s doing a job,” Palfrey said. “Everything found near the spot, presumably. Well, let’s have a look.”
They reached the centre of interest. Two officers and two sergeants were standing at attention, waiting for them. Here a large section of the rock had been hacked away; and a hole, perhaps twenty feet deep, had been dug. The side of the hole had been lined with massive steel sheets. At the foot there was a little water, and in the water, ‘things’ were swimming. A light had been rigged up so that it shone into the hole and Palfrey felt the familiar tingling at the back of his neck at sight of them.
“Just have to dip down to get some up, sir,” an officer said.
“Will you?”
“At once, sir.” The officer nodded, and one of the sergeants lowered a small tin can into the hole. It was on a length of rope which looked big enough to haul a motorcar out of a ditch. The tin disappeared for a moment; then the sergeant began to pull it up. As it drew nearer, octi were seen, wriggling.
Palfrey glanced at the face of the cliff.
He saw cracks, which might have been there before, and might have been made that day. Several octi appeared, out of one crack, scuttled, and then disappeared into another. He didn’t need any more telling, and he didn’t need to look at the samples.
“Put those in a sealed can,” he said, “don’t jolt it, and have it sent straight to London for the attention of the Home Office Laboratory. Mark it O – Urgent, in red. Now, back to Headquarters.” He turned, and was heading for the boards leading to the rest of the beach when he saw the table of oddments. He stopped.
“Anything here?” he asked the sentry.
“Seen no sign of movement, sir.”
“Hmm,” said Palfrey. He studied the heap for a few seconds. Andromovitch was beside him, like a giant shadow. “Shouldn’t think—” he began, and then stopped abruptly.
An apple rolled over, as if of its own volition, and stopped against a cigarette packet.
“Seen that before?” he asked the sentry.
“No, sir.”
“Hmm,” said Palfrey again. The mood and the air of detachment stood him in good stead; he didn’t feel detached, but more frightened than he had ever been in his life, “Lend me your glasses.” He put a long forefinger on the apple and turned it over.
He snatched his finger away.
The bright light shone on a mass of writhing, wriggling creatures as if the apple had been taken over by maggots; only these weren’t maggots, they were much too small. The whole of the inside of the apple had been eaten out; the little remaining of the outside looked as if it were suffering from brown rot – normal enough, if it had been lying in the open long enough.
He said: “Malic acid, Woburn said. Malic acid makes ‘em grow, here they are growing in an apple. Stefan, lend me your glass.” His voice was so taut that it affected the guard.
One of the officers came over, quickly.
“Found anything?”
“Not sure,” said Palfrey softly. “Just having a look.” He took the magnifying glass from Stefan, and peered at the apple. He closed his eyes, after the first moment, looked again and then handed the glass back. “You have a look.” Andromovitch took the glass and peered at the writhing mass, while the officer said: “Ugh.”
Stefan lowered the glass, very slowly.
“They are octi” he said. “Tiny ones, feeding on—”
“Apples – which are four or five per cent malic acid,” Palfrey exclaimed. “Apples.” He swung round, and the officer and the corporal looked as if he had gone mad. “Come on, let’s get to that radio.” He started to run, then checked himself. “Put that apple in a container, seal it up, get it to Headquarters as fast as you can.” He turned and ploughed on through the sand towards the steps.
He didn’t get that far at first, for a sentry near the foot of the pier gave a wild shout. Another bellowed, and there was enough light to see the water which sprayed about them.
Palfrey swung towards them.
Men were shining torches on to the beach, the sea, the legs and iron work of the pier. It showed the horror of the invasion. The beach and the sea, the pier, the groynes, were swarming with octi, everything Palfrey had feared was on them now.
Suddenly the pavilion at the end of the pier collapsed, smashing into the sea.
Palfrey gave the order to get off the beach, then ran to the steps; he hadn’t run so fast for years. Troops stood aside. A coach stood outside some hotels at a small crescent near the Headquarters, and a policeman was arguing with a man and woman who stood at the open door of one of the hotels; that was the only one where lights were on; all the others were in darkness.
“Get that coach load out of here,” Palfrey called. “If they won’t come, leave them to drown.” He turned towards the hotel entrance and went inside. Carfax was on the telephone, speaking in a long-suffering voice: “No, you can take it from me there is no sign of spreading, and—”
Palfrey said: “Sorry, stop.” His bark made the General jerk his head up, and drew the telephone away from his mouth; and put a spark of anger into the protuberant eyes. “Every indication of the thing spreading disastrously. There are millions coming out of the sea. Already taken over the pier. You’d better move headquarters at once, General, I wouldn’t like to give Cromer front another half hour.”
“What the devil are you talking about?”
Palfrey said: “We’re going to get the biggest flood in history probably in half an hour or so. Get everything moved. Who are you talking to – the War Office or the Cabinet Room?”
“War Office. Do you seriously think—”
Palfrey said with great deliberation: “I will lay you a fiver on it, General.” He moved towards the wireless officer, who was looking on without expression. “Get me the Cabinet Room, will you? They’re expecting a call from me.”
“Yes, sir.”
Palfrey lit a cigarette with quick, jerky movements. He heard General Carfax make some curt comment, and ring off. Carfax raised a hand for an adjutant, and gave instructions – get the men off the beach and the cliff. The adjutant saluted smartly, and went out.
The wireless officer said: “It’s a Mr. Kennedy, sir, is that right?”
“Yes, thanks,” Palfrey said, and picked up a receiver. “Hallo, Jim.” Kennedy had been transferred to Number 10 only this morning. “Well, Cromer cliffs are riddled with the things and the town’s being invaded.”
“So are the cliffs at Westcliff,” Kennedy said in a cold, aloof voice. “We’ve had octi samples rushed down from the Fen district, the Wash and Scarborough, where the cliffs are swarming with them. There’s been a small tidal wave at Filey, and the Holiday Camp there is flooded, and is being evacuated. The Cabinet’s in session.”
Palfrey said: “I’m coming back at once. Jim, listen. Malic acid’s our one common factor. Concentrate on fruit orchards, mountain ash, bilberry trees – any growth which has malic acid in it. Woburn knew what he was talking about.”
“You know, we’ve got something,” Kennedy said tautly. “Since we’ve started the malic acid angle, we’ve discovered that the Westcliff business started at an orchard. The first place affected at Scarborough was a house with a big garden and some prize apple trees – that’s on the report. In Wales the flood started near some mountain ash.”
“Tell the Old Man that,” said Palfrey swiftly. “And let’s have all fruit-growing districts under special watch, evacuate them where necessary, and dig—”
He stopped.
“If you’re thinking what I’m thinking,” said Kennedy, “it isn’t any good digging trenches to stop the thing spreading from trees. Bees could carry it.” He paused. “Wasps, flies, earwigs, ants, birds, the wind.”
Palfrey said: “All right. But dig, all the same, if we can trap the beasts anywhere it would help. No luck with any drying agent yet?”
“No. But now we’ve plenty of octi we can step up the pace.”
“Any more news of Woburn’s radio call?”
“No.”
“Pity,” said Palfrey, and turned away from the radio; forced a smile at the operator, and said: “Thanks.” He watched General Carfax getting up from his desk. The big Russian was at the door, looking at the last of the traffic moving off the cliff.
“Well, if we must get out, we must,” the General said, and tapped his pipe out on an ash-tray. “But when I collect that fiver, Dr. Palfrey—”
His words were cut off.
There came a roar as of an explosion big enough to wreck a town. A great, devastating, deafening, breath-taking roar of sound. It sent men staggering. It stunned Carfax. It was accompanied by a quiver in the earth so violent that Palfrey was thrown across the room. Windows smashed and glass fell inwards, Andromovitch grabbed the door for support.
There was no flash.
After the explosion there was a roaring sound, like thunder coming from under their feet. It roared and it rumbled, the earth quivered, the walls of the hotel shook. As the noise dimmed, slowly, different sounds came floating in. Shouting. Screaming. The humming of motors. The crash of cars and lorries smashing. And there was a hissing sound, the hissing which was never absent when the octi erupted.
“If we get out of Cromer alive,” Palfrey said, “we’re going to be lucky.”
They got out alive.
Sitting in a jeep with a driver by his side, Palfrey behind him and Andromovitch with his legs hanging over the side, General Carfax spoke in a curiously precise and jerky way. If it hadn’t been for Palfrey’s warning, they would never have escaped, and the townsfolk would have been annihilated. So he and those of his men who had survived were ali
ve because of Palfrey. So were the thousands of holiday-makers, who didn’t understand what had happened, and did not realise that practically the whole of the town had vanished.
The first eruption had come near the spot where Palfrey had found the apple teeming with tiny octi.
Carfax didn’t know whether it had been sent away before the collapse of the cliff. He did know that the whole of that section of the cliff had vanished, and that the sea was well inland, in spite of the cliffs.
It was as if the earth were rotting away, like the apple.
Carfax left them, to establish Field Headquarters, and they reached a spot where the roads from Great Yarmouth, Hunstanton and King’s Lynn met; a focal point in Norfolk. Here they ran into the streaming crowds, the first of the real panic; refugees who had been given no warning had struggled through the floods, watching their loved ones die.
Women were crying the names of their children.
Men were walking on, hard-eyed.
The water was coming in.
The jeep was splashing through inches of water.
They reached some high ground, ground fifty or sixty feet above sea level, and for the first time for an hour Palfrey gave word for the jeep to stop. They were in a field of barley some way past the refugees, the nearest of whom were ten miles behind.
Dawn was breaking over the east; the first light of a dread day.
They looked back.
Where there had been great fields and fertile land, corn and barley, potatoes and beet growing ready for the harvest, there was water. Great unending lakes of water. Here and there the roof of a house showed above it; or the top of a tree. On little patches of high ground, cattle and sheep gathered, dark, frightened dots. They could see the refugees, wading or driving through the water and the mud, with a terrible desperation.
And the water was coming after them.
Palfrey, Andromovitch and the driver, a young lieutenant, didn’t say a word, but there was a ridge of water, following the first crowds of the helpless. It was like a clearly marked line on the ruffled surface. It came on, remorselessly. The Severn bore was something like this, but moved more swiftly. This came slowly behind the refugees, as with stealth.