by Sam Kates
“Thank you.” Peter reached out and briefly gripped her hand. She did not return the squeeze but neither did she pull away. “This is going to be exhausting. We’ll need to go straight to the kitchens afterwards and eat like teenage boys. Come. Let’s sit on the bed.”
They sat side by side.
Peter glanced at Diane. “Ready?”
She nodded.
“Right then. Let’s do this.”
Peter took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He let his mind slip free and found Diane’s. Combining into a whole more powerful than the sum of its parts, Peter reached. . . .
* * * * *
With the heating system turned up high, the interior of the executive coach was as warm as slippered feet by the hearthside. Although the coach’s occupants did not need to sleep except when recovering from physical injury or great mental fatigue, many felt their eyelids growing heavy. Lulled by a combination of cosiness and gently rocking motion, some gave in and dozed, chins lolling on chests.
Seated around a table near the front of the coach, three of the Deputies played poker. The game was punctuated by accusations from Wallace and Lavinia that Simone was using her powers as the Chosen to peek into their minds when they were concentrating on their hands. For chips, they used diamonds, rubies, emeralds and sapphires they had found in a suitcase in Bishop’s flat. Troy Bishop had been a keen hoarder of precious gems.
Milandra and Jason Grant sat across a table from each other on the other side of the aisle. Grant’s eyes fluttered closed occasionally and he’d jerk his head upright as his head dropped forward. Milandra smiled at his latest wide-eyed snap back to full consciousness.
“Why fight it?” she said. “I know how hard you’ve been working to get the Grid ready to be switched back on and to make sure today runs smoothly. Have a nap. Revitalise.”
Grant returned her smile. “You know, I might just do that. It’s snug in here.”
He reached down to a button at the side of his seat and partly reclined the back rest. Folding his arms across his chest, he closed his eyes.
Milandra watched as his breathing slowed. Then she turned her attention to the white scenery outside. The frost was so thick in places that it looked like snow.
She became aware of the other presence as soon as it appeared, pressing against the barrier around her mind, requesting an audience. She allowed it to enter.
Milandra?
Wait! There are others near. Let me pretend to doze off. . . .
She glanced around. The three Deputies were too engrossed in their game to pay her any attention. Grant’s mouth had opened slightly to emit soft snores.
Milandra gave a great yawn and turned her head a little towards the window. Crossing her arms over her ample bosom, she closed her eyes.
Okay. So, Peter, you’re not alone.
Diane Heidler is with me.
Fully recovered from her injuries, I trust?
Yes. She says thank you.
And the reason for your visit?
The girl. Brianne. We’ve looked inside.
And?
As you suspected. She is accessing areas of her brain that are dormant in other humans. Fresh neural pathways have opened, connecting the newly-functioning areas with the regular parts of her mind. The new pathways begin at the site of the trauma to her temple.
I knew that injury must be connected to the girl’s abilities. How did she sustain the trauma?
She can’t remember. That part of her memories is obscured.
And how is she physically?
There’s a lot of damage. She needs medical treatment.
If any doctors survived on the mainland, they’ll be of no use to anybody now.
We sense that you have already anticipated this need and acted upon it.
Your senses do not fail you. I noted the injury when viewing the girl through another’s memory and suspected that she would require medical attention. I began to scan our memory bank for medical knowledge, but it is like hunting for one shrimp in an ocean without being sure that the shrimp is even there. It is uncertain whether any of our people gained the requisite knowledge to heal humans of physical harm. We have certainly never required such knowledge for ourselves. Only the geneticists would know.
And they were all left behind on Earth Home.
Indeed. So the knowledge of any who have since died has not passed to me. I considered the team who created the virus, but its activities were confined to the cellular level. I doubt that any of them will possess the necessary know-how to treat a head wound. No. Our collective memory, vast as it is, will not provide the answer.
Then how?
Even on my own, I am able to extend beyond the shores of this island. But my reach is limited. I looked to islands lying near this one and got lucky. There is a doctor in Dublin. At that range and alone, I could only suggest, not compel, but I sensed that he already possessed the desire to travel to mainland Britain. Look for him in Holyhead. That’s in—
North Wales. I know. . . . Er, Diane wants to know why you’re doing this. Helping to save the girl.
Milandra paused before replying. She had been avoiding asking this question of herself.
There is no guarantee that the Great Coming will succeed. Our previous journeys here, and that of the ancients before us, have demonstrated that manoeuvring within the gravity of a planet a craft built for interstellar travel is fraught with danger. If it fails, we shall need to reconsider our attitude towards the surviving humans. Even if it succeeds, some—we three are examples, and I suspect there will be more—may urge a display of compassion. Before the girl became known to us, such pleas were doomed to fail. Now the girl and her abilities might lend greater weight to those who would see the continuation of the human race; an improved, maybe enlightened human race.
You mean the girl herself could stand as a beacon of hope for the human race surviving?
Hmm. . . . a beacon? Yeah, maybe. Provided she survives herself, of course. So look to Holyhead.
One last thing. The Beacon—the other beacon—when do you intend to reactivate it?
Within the week. Earth Haven and Earth Home will be in the necessary alignment at around five in the morning. There are a thousand of us on our way to the site now and another thousand or so drones. Do not try to interfere.
We won’t. But the two adult humans might.
Prevent them if you can. It will not go well for them.
We shall try. Have to go now. Exhausted. Thank you, Milandra.
They were gone.
Milandra kept her eyes shut so she could think without distraction. She had told Peter and Diane that she had started to scan the collective memory, looking for medical knowledge. What she hadn’t told them was that she had abandoned the search as a waste of time almost immediately, but had continued to sift through the depths of accumulated wisdom and experiences like an internet surfer, pausing at any items that looked interesting, passing quickly over those that held no attraction.
It had been a while since she had ventured into that realm; it was easy to forget quite how vast the stored information had become.
A notion still nagged at her, triggered by something Jason Grant had said, that she should spend time trawling the memories, looking for she knew not what but that she would recognise it when she found it.
It would have to wait. Everything was secondary to the Beacon.
Chapter Seventeen
While they waited for Peter and Diane to return, Tom and Ceri told Bri everything they knew about the Beacon. From outside came the occasional bark from Dusty. Tom crossed to the window frequently to check that dog and boy were okay. Whilst there, he glanced out at the bay, hopeful that the submarine would return; if the crew hadn’t changed its mind about bombing Stonehenge, he’d welcome another chance to persuade them. The sea remained placid, but empty.
“So they’re going to mess about with Stonehenge,” said Bri. “Rebuild it as a circle with only the smaller stones.”
<
br /> “Yep,” said Ceri. “The bluestones.”
“And that’s it?”
“There is more,” said Tom, “but we haven’t quite got to the bottom of it. Apparently the stone circle has to be activated in some way before it becomes a beacon. We don’t know how it’s activated.”
“But once it is, the others like them will come?”
“I think the others are coming anyway,” said Tom. “The idea of this beacon is to make sure they arrive at the right planet in the right solar system. Ceri will correct me if I’m wrong, but even without the Beacon the others are due to arrive in May or June.”
“Tom’s right,” said Ceri. “They don’t need the Beacon to get here, but it will limit the possibility of something disastrous going wrong.”
“And we don’t want to limit those possibilities,” said Tom.
Ceri sighed. “No, we don’t. But there’s nothing we can do.”
“So Peter keeps saying.” Tom threw his hands up in exasperation. “I can’t just sit here and do nothing.”
“Peter wants the Beacon to work,” said Bri softly.
Tom glanced sharply at the girl.
“What d’you mean?” he asked.
“When they examined my mind earlier, I caught a glimpse of Peter’s thoughts. I wasn’t trying to look. . . . it just happened.”
Tom nodded, remembering Peter telling him something similar about seeing some of his and Ceri’s thoughts when showing them the montage of spaceships and tsunamis.
“Are you certain?” asked Ceri. “That he wants the Beacon to work?”
Without hesitation, Bri nodded.
“But why?” said Tom. “I thought he was on our side.”
“I only saw that he wants the Beacon to be activated,” said Bri. “I didn’t see why.”
Ceri shook her head slowly. “The sly bastard. That’s why he was so keen on trying to get us to go to Norway. So we’d be out of the way. And he was the one pressing for us to get back up to Scotland when we’d found Bri and Will in Nottingham.”
“Yes, he was,” agreed Tom. “He insisted on leaving their bikes behind when I offered to find a van and bring them back with us.”
“He promised he’d find us cycles just as good in Wick.” Bri sighed wistfully. “That was the best bike I’ve ever ridden.”
“Maybe he’s afraid,” said Tom. “Afraid that we’ll stop the Beacon being activated. Which must mean there is something we can do.”
Ceri frowned. “I still don’t see what.”
“What will happen?” asked Bri. “When the rest of them come. What then?”
Tom shot Ceri a glance and gave a brief shake of his head.
“No,” said Ceri. “She’s entitled to know.”
“Entitled to know what?” Bri’s eyes had grown wide.
Tom sighed. “Okay. Bri, you know why, according to Peter, the Millennium Bug was let loose?”
She nodded. “We’d become too many and too violent.”
“Exactly. Well, the rest of their civilisation are coming to Earth—Earth Haven they call it—to make it their new home.”
Bri’s eyes grew wider still. “They won’t want us around getting in their way.”
“Something like that. It won’t be decided until they’re all here, but it seems highly likely that they won’t want to take a chance on humans growing strong again, becoming too many for them to control.”
“And they’ll get rid of us.” Bri brought one hand up to her mouth and her eyes filled with tears. “How will they do it?”
Tom glanced again at Ceri who nodded for him to go on.
He took another deep breath. “Peter thinks they will hold a Commune. It’s what they call it when they all get together and combine their minds. Remember the voice you felt inside your head telling you to go to London? That was just five thousand of them. When the other seventy thousand of them get here, they’ll hold another one. With the combined force of seventy-five thousand minds, Peter is certain they’ll be able to control all the surviving humans throughout the world. They’ll make us kill ourselves.”
“That’s awful.” Bri’s eyes brimmed over and she swiped at the tears running down her cheeks. “We must do something,” she said. “Starting with this beacon thing.”
“I agree,” said Tom. “We have to at least try.”
“Oh, shit,” said Ceri. “I suppose you are right. But, Tom, just me and you, okay?”
Tom nodded.
“Wait a minute,” said Bri. She sat up straighter. She had already stopped crying and Tom felt a surge of admiration. If he had been told when a sixteen-year-old that he had mere months to live, he would have fallen to pieces. “I’m part of this. So is Will.”
“No!” said Ceri. “He’s just a boy.”
“And you’re injured, Bri,” said Tom. “You told us they have guns. We can’t take you and Will into that sort of danger.”
“That’s not your decision,” said Bri, her chin jutting out. “You’re not our parents. They’re dead.”
“No,” said Ceri, “we’re not your parents. But I had a son. Rhys. He was the same age as Will. I could do nothing to protect him. I’m going to do all in my power to protect Will. And you, Brianne.”
“If the others come, we’re going to die anyway,” said Bri. She shrugged. “Die now trying to stop them. Die later. Same difference.”
“Maybe,” said Ceri. “Nevertheless, you and Will can’t come with us. And that’s final.”
Bri said nothing more, but Tom recognised the spark of defiance that burned bright in her eyes.
* * * * *
The only time Clint became animated was when, at Howard’s prompting, he fantasised about his life as a bodyguard in Wyoming. Colleen didn’t join in. She knew she would be unable to keep the scorn from her voice and had no wish to antagonise the man.
The rest of the time, Clint remained aloof and watchful. He seemed particularly fond of watching her. Whenever there was a lull in conversation or as they cleared away the dinner things, Colleen felt his regard upon her like an itchy rash. She grew increasingly uncomfortable and resolved not to drink heavily while in his presence.
Clint did not appear interested in alcohol. When Howard offered him a shot of whiskey or whatever else took his fancy from the array of bottles behind the bar, Clint shook his head curtly.
“I don’t indulge,” he said. “Part of my discipline as a bodyguard, you see.”
Howard nodded knowingly. He really was very good at leading the man on. “Ah, yes. Must maintain control at all times. Wish I had your will-power.”
Howard helped himself to a double shot of Jameson’s. He remained behind the bar and Colleen could hear him rooting around on the shelves.
“A-ha!” he exclaimed. He came back to where they were sitting, clutching a packet of cheap cigars and a box of matches. “Your cheroot reminded me,” he said to Clint. “Every Christmas Day, after dinner, I smoke a Cuban cigar. Except for the Christmas just gone. For obvious reasons.” He glanced at the packet of cigars. “These aren’t exactly Cuban, but they’ll do.”
He extracted a cigar from the packet and unpeeled its cellophane wrapping. After a few false starts—the matches were a little damp—he managed to light the cigar and the bar became redolent with the earthy aroma of tobacco smoke.
Clint cleared his throat. “Where do you folks take care of, um, business of a personal nature?”
Colleen nodded to the main door.
“The pub across the road. There are some bowls and pans outside which should have rainwater in them. Use one to flush away afterwards. Then leave it outside to fill up for next time.”
After the door had closed behind him, Colleen peered out. She watched him locate a bowl, pick it up and disappear into the pub opposite.
She turned back to Howard.
“He gives me the creeps,” she said. “He keeps watching me. And that knife. . . . he hasn’t even told you he’s got it. He must know I’m bound to tell you.”
/> Howard breathed out a cloud of blue smoke. “He couldn’t keep his eyes off you on our way here,” he said. “I fear you have become part of his fantasies.” Howard took a deep sip of whiskey. What he said next chilled Colleen. “When he comes for you, I’m not going to be able to stop him. Even if I was handy with my fists, which I’m not, he’s too big.”
“Then let’s do something to him first.” Colleen glanced at Howard’s black case. “Don’t you have something in there we can give him to knock him out? Better yet, kill him?”
Howard shook his head slowly. “There are drugs in there that could do him serious damage. Probably even kill him. But I could no more administer them than I could stick a knife in him. I’m a doctor. I extend life, not shorten it.”
“Things have changed.”
“Yes. But I haven’t.”
Colleen felt her shoulders sag. “What can we do then? Run away from him?”
“That’s the only thing we can do. But he’ll come looking for us. I sense a controlling, manipulative man beneath that ridiculous outfit. That sort won’t just let us walk away. He has no one else over whom he can exert control or with whom he can play out his fantasies.”
Colleen shuddered. “I’ve known his type. But this is a big city. He’ll not find us easily.”
“True enough. He’ll not give up easily either. Do you want to spend the rest of your days looking over your shoulder?”
“Then let’s leave the city. Go up to Belfast or down to Waterford.”
“Or leave Ireland. That’s the only way we’ll be sure he’s not following us.”
With a sinking feeling, Colleen realised that Howard was probably right. She had met men, and women, like Clint before. Not content unless they had some sort of hold, some power, over others. Although they had not been in Clint’s company for long, she recognised the signs as much as Howard did: the reluctance to take instruction, the close watchfulness, the need not to relinquish control of his faculties.
“Okay,” she said heavily. “We’ll go to Britain in your boat. When?”
“I doubt he’ll try anything tonight. Too soon. He’ll want to be sure of his ground first. Tomorrow is when he’s likely to feel secure enough to act. We must leave before he does. Can you drive?”