No Survivors

by Jack Heath

  The timer was at 00:31.

  'Open the door for me,' Jarli said. 'Quick!'

  Doug did. 'This isn't going to work.'

  'It's our only shot.' Jarli ran halfway up the stairs and leaned over the glass. The liquid nitrogen bubbled less than half a metre below. It was so cold.

  He hesitated. What if dropping the bomb into the lake set it off somehow?

  The timer was at 00:12. He was out of options.

  Doug was shaking. 'This isn't going to work!' he yelled again.

  Ignoring him, Jarli dropped the bomb into the liquid nitrogen.

  It landed with a splash and sank like a brick. Jarli watched through the glass as the bomb hit the bottom. For a second it seemed to be shrink-wrapped in a thin layer of air, but then the air bubbled away to nothing.

  The screen of the timer cracked and the countdown disappeared. Frost spread across the wires. The yellow clay turned white at the corners.

  Jarli held his breath.

  Nothing happened.

  'Did it work?' Doug asked finally.

  Jarli exhaled. 'I think so. Wow, that was scary.'

  'I can't believe it. We should get out of here, just in case it goes off anyway.' Doug peered through the glass. 'Hey, are those the keys?'

  'What?' Jarli looked. His jaw fell open. Yes, there they were—the keys from the control room, lying next to the bomb. He'd still had them in his hand when he picked up the bomb. He must have dropped them into the liquid nitro gen when he threw the bomb in. Now they were inaccessible.

  'Oh. Whoops,' he said.

  'Nice work, Jarli,' Doug said. 'How are we going to get out now?'

  'Uh . . .' Jarli looked around. 'Maybe we could use the crowbar.'

  'I'll get it.' Doug ran back down to the loading dock and then returned carrying the crowbar. 'Geez, this thing's heavy.'

  He dipped the crowbar into the liquid nitrogen. Jarli watched, teeth chattering, as the end scraped across the floor towards the keys. The mist washed over them.

  'Don't breathe,' Doug said.

  'I thought you said nitrogen wasn't toxic?'

  'Yeah, but it displaces oxygen. If you completely fill your lungs up with it, you'll pass out.'

  It was no good. The end of the crowbar was too wide to fit through the keyring. Doug could drag the keys over to the glass-like barrier, but he couldn't lift them.

  'Let me try,' Jarli said.

  Then a red light flashed.

  Jarli immediately looked at the bomb, but that wasn't where the flash had come from. Something was whining above him. Jarli had been so distracted by the bomb that he hadn't noticed it until now.

  'Drone!' Doug yelled.

  The drone descended like a pterosaur. The whining turbines blasted Jarli with cold air.

  'Get down!' Doug yelled, and he swung the crowbar like a baseball bat. The bar clipped one side of the drone, sending it spinning away across the ice-cold factory floor.

  'They know we're here,' Doug said. 'We need those keys!'

  'I have an idea,' Jarli said.

  'Whatever it is, do it quick,' Doug said.

  'I think I can just reach in and grab the keys.'

  Doug stared at him. 'It's liquid nitrogen, Jarli. It's minus two hundred degrees. It'll freeze your hand off.'

  'Not if I'm quick,' Jarli said. 'Did you see the bubble of air around the bomb as it sank? We talked about this in chemistry. My skin will heat up the nitrogen, making a protective glove of gas. For a second or two, at least. It's called the . . . something-or-other effect.'

  'I think your brain is frozen,' Doug said. 'There's no way the gas will protect you long enough for you to grab those keys.'

  'We have to try.' Jarli's trembling hand was poised over the liquid nitrogen. He told himself this would work.

  'One,' he said. 'Two . . . Three!'

  MAGNETIC WARP

  Just as Jarli was about to dip his hand into the nitrogen, Doug pulled him away from the edge.

  'Wait,' Doug said. 'I have a better idea.'

  Jarli let the air out of his lungs. His heart was racing. 'What?'

  Doug ran back up to the catwalk and leaned over the edge. The crowbar was just long enough to reach one of the conveyor belts below. He hooked the end through the cabling on one of the RCG devices, and tried to lift it.

  'It's too heavy,' he grunted.

  Jarli ran up and grabbed the crowbar. Together, they hauled the RCG up onto the catwalk. The box was made of thick plastic, ice-cold. It burned Jarli's hands when he touched it. He was suddenly glad he hadn't dipped his hand into the nitrogen.

  'Now what?' he asked, panting.

  'Now we work out how to switch it on.' Doug was already looking at the controls. There were about twenty buttons on the side, some already glowing. The device may not have been finished, but at least it had a charged battery.

  'Huh,' Doug said, fascinated. 'It's not one magnet, it's a whole sequence of them. They switch on and off so fast that they create a focused magnetic field which pulls—'

  'You want to use a magnet powerful enough to take down an aeroplane,' Jarli said, 'to fetch a set of keys?'

  'Safer than sticking your hand in liquid nitrogen.' Doug carried the RCG back along the catwalk until he was directly above the keys. He pushed a button and the machine started to hum—a sound so deep it made the air throb. Ripples quivered across the nitrogen lake. A blue dot appeared, from the laser.

  'Do you know what you're doing?' Jarli asked, as Doug aimed the machine at the keys.

  'No.' Doug pushed another button.

  The hum got louder. The catwalk shook under Jarli's feet.

  'Uh, Doug?' he said. 'I mean, Terence? Maybe you should turn it off.'

  'Just a minute,' Doug said.

  The keys burst out of the nitrogen and hurtled upwards, leaving a trail of mist in the air like rocket exhaust. They hit the front of the RCG hard enough to send Doug spinning backwards. Jarli flinched as the magnetic laser beam swept over him—but it was painless. He had no metal in his body. The magnets didn't affect him.

  'Ha!' Doug yelled.

  But before he could turn the RCG off, the keys started to crumple against the RCG. The magnetism was stronger than the steel.

  'Turn it off!' Jarli cried.

  Doug stabbed at the controls. The lamps suspended from the ceiling swung towards the RCG, spotlighting him. One of the chains snapped and a lamp hurtled straight at Doug. He dived out of the way and the lamp slammed into the RCG. Smashed glass fell through the holes in the catwalk and rained down into the lake of nitrogen. The humming of the machine became a whine, then a scream.

  The drones moved towards Doug, but slowly. They were trying to stick to their patrol routes, but the magnet was pulling them backwards. They looked like seagulls trapped in the wind.

  The catwalk groaned. The magnet was warping the safety rails. Jarli was horrified to see the poles connecting the catwalk to the ceiling were starting to bend towards the RCG.

  'Turn it off!' Jarli yelled again.

  Doug was still fumbling with the buttons. 'I'm trying!'

  Finally the lights on the RCG died and the humming stopped. Instantly the remaining lamps swung away, released from the magnetic force. The drones shot outwards, almost colliding with the distant walls.

  Jarli took a deep, shaky breath. 'That was close. Let's get—'

  One of the poles holding up the catwalk snapped.

  Jarli screamed as the catwalk lurched sideways. He hit the safety rail and held on tight.

  With a shriek of twisting steel, the other pole broke under the extra weight. One end of the catwalk stayed up, attached to the corridor which led back to the front door. But the other end fell and crashed into the liquid nitrogen. Now the whole catwalk had a steep slope, like a slippery dip, leading down into the deadly lake.

  Jarli scrabbled wildly against the freezing metal as he slid down the catwalk. Doug managed to grab the safety rail. Jarli didn't. He slid faster and faster towards the nitrogen poo
l. He was almost there when he managed to gouge his fingers through the holes in the metal floor of the catwalk. He stopped so suddenly that something popped inside his shoulder.

  The lethal mist swirled around him, displacing oxygen. Jarli tried to climb back up, but he was too cold to move. His fingers were clumsy and frozen. He was already dizzy.

  Just hold on, he told himself. If he lost his grip, he would slide into the nitrogen pool and freeze to death in seconds.

  A bulky figure appeared in the doorway at the top of the sloped catwalk. Through blurring eyes, Jarli recognised him. It was Scanner. He was still in the hazmat suit, but he'd taken his helmet off. He was cradling some kind of tube, like a bazooka.

  Scanner looked at Doug, clinging to the safety rail, and then at Jarli, dangling a couple of metres below.

  Help us, Jarli said. Or maybe he just thought it. The world was spinning and already seemed strange and dreamlike.

  Scanner pointed the bazooka at Doug. With a huge pop, a claw shot out, trailing a long cable. The claw snagged Doug's jumper and snapped shut.

  Scanner put his tube on the floor and then fixed it in place somehow. The rope started to retract, dragging Doug up the catwalk towards the tube.

  After that, Jarli was too dizzy to watch. He rested his head on the cold metal. He couldn't feel his hands anymore.

  Then he realised he was falling. His numb hands must have let go.

  The mist got thicker and thicker, swallowing him up . . .

  And he splashed into the liquid nitrogen.

  FROZEN SOLID

  It was like plunging into an ice-bath. Worse, even. It was like he'd been teleported into a glacier.

  And yet he was dry. Nothing touched his flesh. He was mummified in a protective layer of gas. The Leidenfrost effect—he remembered the name now. But the vapour was melting, letting the deadly fluid closer and closer to his skin.

  He opened his mouth to scream for help—

  Then something grabbed his arm. Not a hand. A metal claw.

  The claw dragged Jarli out of the nitrogen just as the liquid nitrogen reached his skin. The sudden burn was like an ELECTRIC SHOCK all over his body. His arms and legs thrashed as the claw dragged him up the catwalk.

  'Keep still!' a deep voice yelled. But Jarli had no control over his quaking body. It was as if his arms and legs had been transformed into angry snakes.

  As he reached the top of the catwalk, rough hands grabbed him and hauled him through the doorway into the corridor. He found himself looking up at Doug and Scanner.

  'Get those shoes and socks off him,' Scanner told Doug. 'His pants, too. But don't touch them with your bare hands. They're soaked with liquid nitrogen.'

  Jarli could tilt his head just enough to see the white mist spiralling out of his shoes. A long-lost memory hit him—Kirstie, drawing a picture of him and sticking it to the fridge. Mum, laughing because Kirstie had drawn wavy stink lines coming out of his shoes. He tried to get back to the present, but the present didn't seem real enough to stay in. Maybe this was what dying felt like.

  Scanner ripped Jarli's shirt open. Parts of the fabric had frozen and stuck to his skin. It felt like a thousand band-aids getting pulled off at once. But Jarli still couldn't breathe well enough to scream.

  Scanner put a blanket over Jarli. It was rough, stiff and heavy. A fire blanket.

  'Keep him warm,' he said. 'The police will be here any minute. When they arrive, it's important that you don't tell them I helped you.'

  The sleeves of Doug's jumper were wrapped around his hands. He wrestled Jarli's left shoe off. 'Why?'

  'Because there's a leak in the department,' Scanner said. 'But Viper thinks I work for him. I've been undercover for months. He sent me and another one of his men to plant a bomb here. I ditched the other guy and came back to disarm it.'

  'We took care of it,' Doug said.

  'I know. Using the liquid nitrogen was smart. But if Viper finds out that I helped you, he'll realise that I work for the police. Then he'll kill me.'

  He showed Doug a scar on the back of his hand, between his thumb and forefinger. 'He had me chipped,' he said. 'Like an animal. There's an RFID sensor under my skin with a cyanide capsule attached. Viper can murder me with the touch of a button. That's how he keeps his people loyal.'

  'Those soldiers we saw outside. Do they work for Viper?'

  'No. They're Federal Police. They've locked down the whole town, looking for Viper.'

  Jarli still couldn't speak. But, as his brain warmed up, he remembered seeing the two hazmat-suited men searching the plane. Scanner had tripped Bagger and taken his time escaping from the garbage bag Bess trapped him in. Could those mistakes have been deliberate? Had he wanted Jarli and Bess to get away?

  Doug sounded angry. 'If you're a cop, and you're in Viper's organisation, why don't you just arrest him?'

  'I don't know who he is. No-one does. I saw a picture of him once—a man with burns all over his face—but that's not enough for a positive ID. The plane crash was supposed to expose him, but we're not there yet.'

  'Supposed to?' Doug said. 'You crashed the plane?'

  'Of course not,' Scanner said.

  Jarli's phone must have thawed out, because it beeped. LIE

  'That damn app,' Scanner grunted. 'You know how hard undercover work is, thanks to you?'

  'You crashed a plane into my house?' Doug's lip trembled with fury.

  'No. Viper did that.'

  'But you arranged it. Steven Fussell's completely made up, isn't he? You let Viper think there would be someone on that plane who could identify him. Then you planned a flight path right over my house. You wanted him to try to crash it. You were hoping to catch him in the act.'

  'I don't have time to discuss this, and it's classified in any case.'

  'You could have warned my family.'

  'They weren't home,' Scanner said. 'Ask yourself if that was a coincidence.'

  Had Scanner arranged for Doug's mum to be kept back late at work? Jarli spoke through chattering teeth: 'You didn't warn the pilot.'

  'You're awake,' Scanner said. 'That's my cue to leave. Remember, don't tell anyone I helped you. That will blow my cover, and lives will be lost. Definitely mine, and possibly yours.'

  He stood and walked away up the corridor. Jarli could hear sirens—or maybe his ears were just ringing.

  'We have to go,' he said. His voice was as rough as a cat's tongue.

  'Can you move?' Doug asked.

  Jarli tried to sit up, but it was as though his chest weighed a tonne. 'No.'

  'Then we'll stay. Here.' Doug took off his jumper and helped Jarli put it on. Then he wrapped the fire blanket around him more tightly.

  'The cops are coming,' Jarli said. 'They'll find you.'

  'Don't worry about that.' Doug sounded beaten. 'How are you feeling?'

  'Not great.' Jarli shouldn't have tried to get up. He was dizzy again. It felt like the shivers had spread from his hands and feet to his brain.

  'I'm sorry I dragged you into this,' Doug said. 'And I'm sorry I was always so mean to you.'

  'It's OK,' Jarli croaked. Doug had only been worried about his own family's safety.

  'It's not OK. You're a good guy, Jarli. Please don't die.'

  Jarli tried to stay awake. To reassure Doug that he was going to be fine. But the pain was too much, and he blacked out.

  'Liquid nitrogen,' Doctor Vorham marvelled. 'How many seconds would you say you were under?'

  'I don't know,' Jarli said, squinting against the bright light. 'Maybe two?'

  Vorham pocketed the miniature torch. He was a tall, silver-haired man in his fifties, but his face was strangely wrinkle-free. 'Frostbite usually affects the hands and face,' he said, 'because those areas aren't protected by your clothes. But you have the exact opposite condition, because your clothes soaked up the nitrogen while the Leidenfrost effect shielded your face and hands. There's never been a case quite like this. I could write a paper on you.'

  'Please
don't,' Jarli's mum said. She had been there when Jarli woke up, sitting next to his hospital bed, crushing a plastic water bottle in anxious hands. 'Will Jarli be OK?'

  'Fine, I think,' Vorham said. 'But you'll have to change his bandages every day until his skin stops peeling off.'

  That didn't sound 'fine' to Jarli. But at least he wasn't going to die.

  'Downstairs they'll give you an antiseptic cream to apply with each bandage change,' Vorham continued. 'Any questions?'

  'No,' Mum said. 'Thank you, Doctor.'

  With a brisk nod, Vorham left.

  'You're lucky you still have all your fingers and toes,' Mum told Jarli. 'And I'm lucky to be alive—you nearly gave me a heart attack.'

  'Sorry,' Jarli said. He had the feeling he'd be saying that a lot. He cleared his throat. 'What time is it?'

  Mum checked her watch. 'Just after ten.'

  'Is that a.m. or p.m.?' The ward had no Windows, and Jarli had no idea how long he'd been unconscious.

  'Ten p.m. You want something to eat?'

  'No, thanks. When you called yesterday, those guys who came to our house—who were they? What happened?'

  'That was this afternoon,' Mum said, 'and they were the police. One of them had seen you at the site of the plane crash at night, when you were supposed to be at Bess's house.'

  She raised her eyebrows at Jarli. Kirstie called this expression Eyebrows of Doom.

  'Why didn't you tell me the truth?' Mum asked.

  Jarli looked down at his bandages. 'I didn't want to worry you.'

  'Of course,' Mum said, gesturing at the hospital ward. 'Because all this doesn't worry me at all.'

  'It's not like I fell into liquid nitrogen on purpose,' Jarli said. 'It was an accident.'

  'The police said they went to visit you at school, but you left the school grounds to avoid them. Was that an accident too?'

  'I thought they worked for Viper.'

  Mum's gaze softened. She knew how scared Jarli had been since Viper tried to kill Dad.

  'Please, please just try to stay safe,' she said. 'Your father and I have been worried sick.'

  Staying safe would have meant not helping Bess look for the bolt, and leaving Doug in that underpass to sort out his own problems.