by Sam Kates
One of their number, a woman in a woollen hat that was pulled low to her eyes, had yanked her drone out of line and had him pinned against the back of a bluestone, holding the knife to his throat.
“Keep moving, people!” Milandra ordered. She saw Grant pushing through, an anxious look on his face, followed closely by Wallace and Lavinia. “Stay back, Jason. I’ve got this. Get those lines moving.”
She turned her attention back to the woman. Whatever had caused her to react like this, it looked to have passed. The woman’s shoulders sagged and she lowered her arm. The knife tumbled from her grasp. She let go of the drone and turned aside, stumbling to her knees and letting loose a thin stream of vomit.
“Hey, you!” Milandra called to a bystander.
The man raised his eyebrows.
“Yes, you!” Milandra searched for his name. “Larsson, isn’t it? Come here. Grab that knife and take her place. She’s not well.”
“Okay,” said Larsson. He sauntered over and picked up the knife.
The drone who had nearly had his throat cut prematurely seemed unperturbed by the experience. He stood leaning against the bluestone, staring at nothing. Larsson took him by the arm and led him into the stone circle. The lines of people and drones were moving again. In a few moments, they would all have taken their places.
Milandra stooped to where the woman knelt on the grass, head bowed. She reached out a hand to touch her shoulder, then withdrew it as though scalded.
Keeping her voice low so no one could overhear, Milandra hissed into the woman’s ear. “Brianne! You should not be here. There are people who will kill you as soon as look at you. Get out of here, girl. Live to fight another day.”
She straightened and glanced about. The last of the people in line was walking a drone into the circle. With no one to lead them, the remaining twenty-seven drones came to a halt. They could stay there for now.
Grant was watching her, a strange look on his face that she could not read.
“Inside, Jason,” she said. “Take your place. It is nearly time.”
Milandra followed him into the circle.
* * * * *
Bri rose unsteadily to her feet, the taste of vomit thick in her mouth. Now she knew what had happened to her before. He must have removed the clothing covering the upper half of her body while she was unconscious. What else he had done to her before leaving on her bike she hadn’t seen because the resurgence of her own memory had dragged her out of his. Perhaps it was as well.
Even so, she had come close to slicing the sharp edge across the man’s throat. It was the vacant expression in his eyes that had stayed her hand. He no longer knew what he had done or what he had intended to come back and do later. Killing the pitiful creature would not wreak vengeance on the man who had defiled her. That man was out of her reach.
She looked around. The queue that she had been part of had gone. The queue of slack-jawed people had shrunk to a handful who stood in place as if unable to move until instructed to.
Only a few other people were about, clearing away the table and boxes. They paid her not the slightest attention. In the gap between the stones in front of her, blocking it, stood a man. He had his back to her.
Bri felt deflated. Beaten. What had she been thinking, that she could somehow prevent these people doing whatever they wanted? She was little more than a kid.
Will. He would be standing in that dark field, wondering if she was coming back. He would be scared and cold and lonely.
If she could do nothing else with whatever time remained to her, she could at least be a friend, or a big sister, to a little boy who had nobody else.
Bri began to walk around the circle, making for the back of it where she would strike across the fields in the direction from which she had come.
* * * * *
Tom and Ceri crouched behind a particularly wide bluestone. A length of coarse rope had been passed around it at waist height. Ceri tried to move it with her fingers, but it was tied fast somewhere out of sight.
The beating of her heart must, she thought, be heard by those standing within the circle. Despite the cold, the shotgun felt slick in her grasp from the sweat pouring from the palms of her hands.
She risked a peek around the edge of the stone. A woman had stood in the gap between it and the next stone. She had her back turned, facing into the circle.
“It’s happening,” she whispered to Tom.
He nodded and his lips drew into a tight line. He leaned back against the stone and took deep breaths. With a grimace, he slowly closed the barrels of his shotgun. Needing to pee, needing to run far, far away, Ceri fumbled two shells from her pocket. Barely able to hold them with shaking hands, she managed to insert them into the barrels of her gun. Then, with deliberate, exaggerated movements, she closed the barrels.
She held her breath, sure that the clicks must have been heard. A voice did start to speak, but from inside the circle and it wasn’t addressing them.
Ceri could not have made out the words the voice was saying even had she wanted to. A rushing sound like a raging waterfall had begun in her ears.
This she thought is what the moment before death feels like.
She glanced at Tom and he nodded. She began to turn, to stand and step through the gap between the stones, shoving the woman out of the way, when a movement the other side of Tom caught her eye. He had seen it too. He had started to rise, but sank back to his heels.
Looking like she was enjoying a Sunday afternoon stroll, Bri came sauntering around the circle.
She saw them and stopped in her tracks. In any other circumstances, Ceri might have found the sight of her jaw dropping comical.
Bri rushed forward.
“What are you guys doing?”
The girl’s voice sounded so loud that Ceri almost wet herself. She raised her hand to her lips and made a frantic shushing gesture. Bri dropped to her knees.
“It’s okay,” she said in a lower voice. “They’re all busy. They don’t care about us.” She glanced down at their hands. “What are you doing with guns?”
“Are you all right?” hissed Tom. “We’ve been worried sick about you.”
“I’m fine.”
“Where’s Will?” whispered Ceri.
Bri waved her hand vaguely towards the dark fields behind them. “I’m going to him now. We need to get out of here. All of us.”
“No,” said Tom. “You go to Will and the two of you clear out. Head for North Wales. Anglesey. Peter and Diane have gone there to fetch a doctor who can make you better.”
“What about you two?”
Tom glanced at Ceri. “You go with them. I have to put a stop to this.”
Ceri shook her head.
Tom turned to Bri. “Get going. I want you out of harm’s way before the shooting starts.”
Ceri tried to swallow, but found that she had no spit left. Bri’s eyes widened at mention of shooting. She grabbed Tom’s jacket with one hand. With the other, she grabbed Ceri’s.
That was when the stone behind them began to shake.
* * * * *
Milandra strode into the centre of the circle. The last of the drones were being lashed to the stones against which they knelt. The last of her people took their places. Sixty-two of them stood in the gaps between the stones, facing into the circle. Sixty-three drones knelt face-first to the stones, lengths of rope holding them in place, feet dangling over pits. At their sides stood sixty-three people, knives in hands. All eyes of her people turned to her.
Already she could feel earth power thrumming through the soles of her boots, longing to be unleashed.
Raising her head, Milandra peered at the stars. Earth Home’s sun gave out weak light that was barely visible to the naked eye, even on such a clear night as this. It shone amidst a cluster of similarly faint stars, but Milandra had learned long ago precisely which one it was. She identified it now and sighed with satisfaction. Earth Haven and Earth Home were in precise alignment for the sur
ge of power that she was about to unleash to find its mark.
She glanced at her wrist watch. It confirmed what she already knew.
Milandra raised her hands.
“My friends,” she said in a clear voice, “we have toiled long to arrive at this juncture. From the moment that I received the message telling me that our people are coming until now, our labours have been exacting and many. You have performed them admirably. You have paved the way for our people’s arrival to be a safe one.
“This last task will ensure that they are guided to Earth Haven. Just as many of you will recall doing almost five millennia ago, we must activate the Beacon that will call our people home. Unlike the first time, some of you will, I know, find this task distasteful. I, too, find it so, but it is nonetheless a necessary one. Perform it with the same fortitude as you performed the Cleansing.
“It is time.”
Milandra brought her hands sweeping downwards. Sixty-two pairs of arms stretched to either side, touching bluestones to complete the circle. Sixty-three hands clutching knives reached out and sliced. Sixty-three drones slumped forward, held in place by the ropes. Their life blood, so full and rich and energising, gushed onto the stones.
The thrumming beneath Milandra’s feet stopped. The earth drew breath. She mentally prepared herself for when it exhaled.
The people standing between the stones gasped and stiffened as if turned to steel. The bluestones began to tremble, sending droplets of blood into the air. A high-pitched humming sounded, growing louder and higher, becoming a moan, a wail, a shriek that threatened to burst Milandra’s eardrums. The stones shook ever more violently so that it seemed they must topple, then abruptly fell still; the shrieking cut off like a switch had been thrown.
Milandra steadied herself. Nevertheless the blast of energy almost lifted her off her feet. She was barely aware of the people who stood between the stones slumping as she in turn grew ramrod stiff. Her entire being zinged with the force of the power she wielded.
For a moment, Milandra revelled in the sensation that she could do anything she wanted. For a moment, she was a goddess, terrible and almighty and filled with majesty.
Then she raised her arms and once more directed her gaze at Earth Home’s sun. With a twinge of regret, she let the energy fly.
Bereft, she sank to her knees.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Grant step forward from his place between two stones. With an effort, she raised her head and glanced about her. The last of the drones’ twitching death throes had stilled. People with knives were coming forward to cut the ropes and topple the bodies into the pits.
“Bring forth the lighter fluid,” Grant called to those who remained outside the circle. “Douse the bodies and burn them. Our work here is then done.”
He hurried over to Milandra.
“Okay?” he asked.
She nodded. “Give me a moment and I’ll be fine.”
The circle filled as people between the stones left their places, and immediately thinned out as they and those wielding knives made their way to the car park. Milandra happened to be looking at the clear space in front of the two stones between which the little boy entered.
She grasped Grant’s hand and he stared down at her in surprise.
“Jason,” she said, urgency lending her voice potency. “Get Wallace out of here. Don’t let him near. He’s only a boy.”
Grant’s brow furrowed in confusion. Milandra inclined her head and Grant looked to where she indicated.
The boy was standing just inside the circle, gazing wide-eyed at the bodies of the drones as the first flames licked over them, his top lip quivering. His voice was tiny, croaking with fear, but Milandra heard him clearly.
“Please. Has anyone seen Bri?”
* * * * *
When the flickering orange light appeared ahead of them, Peter switched the engine off and let the car coast to a standstill.
“So nobody’ll hear us,” he said. He turned to Diane. “I’m not sure if we’re in time. That bloody wreckage.”
They had lost an hour having to retrace their steps upon encountering a pile-up that blocked all three lanes of the motorway.
“We’re too late,” said Diane quietly. “It’s happening right now. Can’t you feel it?”
And Peter could. A sense of being close to a source of immense power. He unbuckled his seat belt. “I’m going to see if there’s anyone left alive to rescue,” he said grimly.
“I’m coming too,” said Diane, opening her door.
Colleen uttered a shriek from the back.
“What the. . . . ?” began Peter.
A black body hurtled past him, across Diane’s lap and out through the door before he could do anything.
“Dusty!” he called, but the dog was gone. “Damn!”
He turned around. Colleen was crouched into the corner of the back seat. Howard, too, looked a little startled.
“You okay?” he asked the woman.
Colleen nodded. “It was so sudden, he scared me.”
“Both of you, stay here,” Peter said. “You should be safe. Me and Diane are going to try to find the others.”
“Mightn’t you need our help?” asked Howard.
Peter shook his head. “I’m afraid of what we’re going to find. I don’t want to place you two in danger as well. Just sit tight, okay?”
They nodded.
“Good. See you soon.”
He stepped out of the car into the cold morning air. Diane joined him and they began to walk through the darkness towards the flickering glow.
“It’s done,” said Diane. “The Beacon’s been activated. I can no longer feel the power.”
“Neither can I. I just hope that bloody fool Tom hasn’t managed to get himself killed yet.”
No sooner were the words out of his mouth, than the first echoing shots rang out. Peter broke into a run.
* * * * *
Tom, Ceri and Bri clutched each other as the stones shook. When the high-pitched humming rose to a shriek, they clenched their fists against their ears.
The stillness and silence took them by surprise. For a long moment, they continued to press their fists tightly to their ears. Eventually, like waking from a deep sleep, they blinked and tentatively lowered their hands.
“Is it over?” whispered Ceri.
Tom was about to reply when something slithered over his head. Ceri ducked and thrust her hand to her mouth to stifle a scream.
Tom looked up. His breath escaped in a rush.
“It’s okay,” he hissed to Ceri. “It’s only the rope. It’s gone slack. Looks like it’s been cut.”
Ceri glanced up, wide-eyed. Her face broke into a grimace.
“They’re dead,” she whispered. “The people who powered the Beacon.”
Tom slumped back against the cold stone.
What do we do now? he thought. Now that we’ve failed so miserably at this.
Before he could voice the thought, Ceri let out a shriek. Not the muffled squeak that she’d uttered when the rope touched her, but a full-on, blood-curdling screech that drilled into his skull.
She had leaned across to peer around the stone and was pointing through the gap with an unsteady arm.
“Will!” she cried.
Bri leapt up and dashed through the gap into the circle. Ceri scrambled to her feet, clutching her shotgun, and followed. Still holding his gun, Tom stood and tried to go after them, but his legs refused to carry him.
“No!” he muttered. “You will not let me down now, you bastards.”
With an effort of will he didn’t know he possessed, Tom got his legs moving and half-ran into the circle.
That’s when things became a little confused.
A couple of people were walking slowly around the edge of the circle, dousing in some sort of liquid bodies lying crumpled in holes in the ground. They continued in their work, apparently unconcerned by the drama unfolding around them. The corpses they had already visited
had flames licking from them and the stench of searing flesh was already making Tom’s eyes water.
Bri had reached the opposite side of the circle. She was kneeling, hugging Will close to her. He had his arms tightly about her neck as if he never meant to let go, eyes squeezed shut. Ceri stood in the centre of the circle, holding the shotgun ready, waving it between knots of onlookers.
It was the onlookers who demanded Tom’s attention.
A group of five or six people, led by a blonde-haired woman with a scornful grin on her face, was looking intently at Ceri. As he watched, Ceri froze as though turned to stone, her shotgun pointing at no one in particular. Tom’s head jerked as he felt a familiar tingling. Another group of people was staring at him. The protection put in place by Peter and Diane was rapidly being breached.
Before the last of his free will was torn away, Tom swung the shotgun around and pulled the trigger twice in quick succession. He hadn’t aimed and the shots went wide and high, but they sounded shockingly loud in the enclosed space. Most of the people in the two groups flinched and ducked. The recoil made Tom stumble, but his head cleared and his will was once more his own.
Judging by the way she swung into action, so too was Ceri’s. She brought the gun around and pointed it at the group who had been looking at her. The blonde-haired woman continued to stare, her expression of scorn unwavering.
“Run, you mothers!” Ceri yelled.
She raised the gun, aiming above their heads, and let rip. She had broken the barrels to reload by the time Tom realised that he ought to do the same.
The two groups broke up in confusion as some of their number turned and fled from the circle. The blonde-haired woman shouted after them in a high-pitched voice, like a little girl’s. One or two people paused, but most continued in their flight.
Ceri snapped the barrels back into place and pointed them at the woman.
“Begone, bitch!” Ceri screamed.
The woman’s mouth twitched into a sneer. Then she tittered. Ceri uttered such a roar of rage that Tom thought she was going to shoot the woman. The woman must have thought the same since the sneer disappeared to be replaced by an expression of unhappy uncertainty. Without making another sound, the woman turned and ran.