by Mark Morris
"Come on," said Steve. "Everyone up for a jog?"
The girls nodded, and the three of them clumped across the field, the wind in their faces, adrenaline and exertion making them pant.
Abby was first to the stile. She hauled herself up the slippery steps and onto the wooden platform at the top.
"I can see the airfield!" she shouted.
"What about the helicopter?" said Steve. "And Sue and Max?"
"I can see the helicopter. Oh, and I can see Sue and Max. They've got their guns out. They're walking towards a man by the helicopter who's got his arms in the air."
"Oh dear," Libby said.
"Come on," said Steve. "Let's get down there."
They climbed over the stile and thumped down the gentle incline on the other side. The airfield, positioned on a natural plain at the bottom of the hill, consisted of a couple of long landing strips and several buildings, all enclosed within a now sagging and rusty chain-link fence. The fence had been flattened in places, allowing them easy access to the site. Abby, Steve and Libby ran across one of the landing strips towards the buildings a couple of hundred yards away. They saw the helicopter pilot, hands on head, move away from his aircraft and over towards the smallest of the buildings. Outside was what appeared to be a picnic area or beer garden, evidently a place where people had once sat with sandwiches and coffee to watch the planes come and go. The picnic tables and benches had been cemented into the ground, so were still in place, albeit black with water damage. Prompted by Sue, the pilot walked across and perched on the low wall surrounding this area.
"What's going on?" shouted Steve as soon as he was within earshot. "I heard a shot"
"It was only a warning shot," Sue said curtly.
"What happened?" Abby asked.
"He saw us coming and tried to get back to the helicopter," said Max. "Sue fired into the air, but told him she'd put the next bullet in his leg."
Steve came to a halt beside Sue and palmed sweat from his brow. "We're quite friendly, really," he said to the man.
"Is that so?" the man said dubiously. "Does that mean I can take my hands off my head?"
"'Course you can," said Libby, embarrassed. "You're not our prisoner."
"So you wouldn't stop me if I got back into my helicopter?" he said, the hint of a teasing smile on his face.
"Well... no," Steve said, "but we hope you won't. We've just run a mile and a half to talk to you."
The man sighed, albeit good-naturedly, and settled himself into a more comfortable position. "Okay," he said, "I guess I owe you that, at least. In the past four weeks, you're the only people to have caught me, so to speak. Mind you," he added, flashing Sue a facetious grin, to which she failed to respond, "you're the first mob I've come across who've got guns. Where did you find them?"
"None of your business," Sue snapped.
Steve scowled at her. "I apologize for my friend. We've had a tough few weeks. We've lost some people along the way."
The man nodded thoughtfully. "I haven't seen you lot before, have I? When I flew over earlier I thought a couple of you looked like people I'd seen in London weeks back. But I told myself I must have been mistaken. There were more in that group-nine or ten."
"That was us!" said Abby. "We waved to you, and you waved back."
The man grinned again. He was around thirty, with blond hair and a neatly trimmed beard of the same color. He was well-spoken, with an easygoing manner. He didn't seem put out that he had finally been "caught," despite Sue's hostility.
"Well, well," he said, "small world. I'm amazed you've made it this far on foot."
"Because of the aliens?" Libby asked.
"Aliens? Is that what you think they are?"
"We don't know," said Steve. "We just call them that for the sake of convenience. Is there anything you can tell us about them? Presumably you've spent the past few weeks observing from on high? What does it look like from up there?"
The man puffed out his cheeks. "Well, much as I hate to be the bearer of bad tidings, it's not good. I'm guessing you've been traveling on the motorways, stopping... what? At service stations?"
They nodded.
"So you haven't taken a detour in the past two or three weeks? Checked out any of the surrounding towns or cities?"
"We know about the eggs, if that's what you mean," said Libby. "We went to this town called Whitthorpe about two weeks ago. There was a pile of bodies covered with this sort o f... b lue jelly, and these... egg things. They had creatures moving inside them." She shuddered. "It was disgusting."
"Believe me, it's worse now," the pilot said grimly. "Those mounds of corpses are everywhere. I see dozens every day. There's at least one in every town, usually several in the big cities. And they all have people guarding them day and night-"
"They're not people," said Steve faintly.
"No," the pilot said. "I know. But they look like people most of the time. Strange, really."
"So the eggs haven't hatched yet?" Libby said.
"No, but I suspect it'll be any day. As the blue jelly has expanded, the corpses beneath have been shrinking down. The eggs themselves are much bigger now-each about the size of a child, I'd say. And even from the air you can see things moving in them."
"What do you think'll happen when they hatch?" Max asked.
"Who can say? Maybe they'll stay where they are. Maybe they'll swarm. If I were you, I'd find somewhere you can defend stoutly, then stock up and sit tight."
"And what will you do?" Libby asked.
"Stay airborne as much as possible, I expect. The sky's the safest place at the moment, and will no doubt remain so, unless these bloody things learn how to fly-which, incidentally, I wouldn't put past them."
"What's your name?" asked Abby.
"Adam," he said. "Adam Holland. What's yours?"
"Abby Marshall," Abby said. She introduced each of them in turn. Sue scowled when Abby told Adam her name, as if he could somehow use the information against her.
"So, what's your story, Adam?" Steve asked. "How did you escape the flood?"
"Pure luck, really," Adam said. "Up until a few weeks ago I was managing director of CCS-Cameron Computer Software?"
They all looked blank.
"Ah, well, there's a big pin in my ego balloon. Not that it matters a fig anymore. Anyway, on the night of the flood I was in my office, conducting a major deal. Real Premiership league stuff. I had guys on the line from America, Australia, Japan, Germany-big hitters all. It was three, four in the morning, and we'd been at it for hours, but after a tricky start I was finally seeing dollar signs ker-chinging in front of my eyes. And thensod me-the lights went out and the phone lines went down."
Max nodded. "Then the water came, right?"
"Then the water came," confirmed Adam. "My office was on the eighth floor. The lifts weren't working, so I went down the stairs to find out what was going on. Got to floor four, a n d... splash! I was up to my ankles in water.
"It didn't take long to work out that the water was risingand bloody quickly too-so I ran up to the roof, where we kept the company chopper. Bloody extravagant, I know, but there you are. I'd been out in it a few tines, even had a couple of pseudo-lessons from Bob, our pilot, but I wasn't qualified or any of that. Once the water reached the roof, though, my only option was to jump aboard and take off. It was a bit hairy at first, but I soon got the hang of it. Trouble is, these babies can only go three hours or so before you have to refuel. Soon as I realized the water was here to stay I plopped down on the highest roof I could find to wait it out. Over the next couple of days I did a few recon flights to see what was what, but I didn't stray far from my roof. I thought I was done for until the water started to go down. Since then I've been hopping from here to there, refueling where I can. Luckily, there was a list of refueling stops in the cockpit, so I was able to work out a rough route of where to go. My aim was to recon the whole country, get a picture of the overall situation, and then decide what to do from there."
"And have you done that?" asked Steve.
"Pretty much. Like I say, I've stayed airborne as much as possible, but I've had to touch down a few times to sleep and find food and whatnot. Had a few hairy moments with the natives, but until I n et you lot I'd been lucky" He shrugged. "Ah well, I was bound to get caught eventually. All good things, and all that."
Libby smiled. "But like we said, you're not our prisoner."
Adam winked at her. "Ah, but at the same time, there's no way you're going to let me get back into my machine and take off, is there?" He nodded at Sue. "She's not, at least, and I can't say I blame her. If I was in her position, I'd feel exactly the same. I mean, what have you got here? Only means of transport for miles around? The chance to do a journey in a few hours that would take you days on foot? You're not going to let something like that go, are you?"
"Are you open to negotiation?" Steve asked.
"Try me," said Adam.
"Okay, here's the thing." Steve told Adam where they were headed, and why.
"Sounds reasonable," Adam said. "So am I presuming you'd like me to take you there?"
"More than that," said Steve. "Personally, I think we should join forces. I mean, you've got the helicopter, but there's not a lot you can do with it on your own. You can fly around, see what's what, try to keep out of trouble, but the fact remains you're incredibly conspicuous in that thing, and as you admitted, extremely vulnerable when-out of necessityyou're forced to land. Which happens-what?-three or four tines a day?"
"Sometimes more," said Adam.
"Exactly. So three, four, five tines a day you're putting yourself at risk. You admitted you've been lucky until now, but if you ask me, you're still lucky because you've run into us.°°And we're very nice people," said Libby, giving him a grin.
"Albeit weird," said Steve dryly "But no, Libby's right. I'm sure there are groups out there who are desperate enough to cut your throat for that machine of yours before even thinking about how they're going to fly it. I mean, the only way any of us have ultimately got any chance of surviving is by being able to move around a large area quickly, and by being able to de-fend ourselves." He gestured towards the helicopter. "In that thing we can check out the lie of the land, pinpoint the most likely areas where we can get supplies and the best places to avoid. And when we do land we can at least defend ourselves. All right, so bullets don't seem to kill the aliens, but they do hurt them enough to drive them away. And of course, guns will work against other humans-though hopefully we won't have to demonstrate that."
"Three meals from primitivism," Adam said.
"What?" said Max.
"Isn't that what they say? That no matter how civilized we are, the human race is only ever three meals away from reverting to savagery?" To Steve he said, "So this place you're heading for-"
"Castle Morton."
"Right. You say there's somewhere there we could use as a base?"
"The clue's in the name," said Steve. "In Castle Morton there's-"
"A castle," supplied Abby.
"An old ruin, you mean?" Adam said.
"No, we're talking a solid, beautifully restored castle, complete with thick walls, narrow windows, moat and drawbridge."
"It's my school," said Abby. "It's called St. Catherine's."
"And you think we can live there permanently?"
"We can at least check it out," Steve said. "Though it wouldn't surprise me if people were living there already. Think how delighted they'll be when we turn up with a helicopter and guns."
"Yeah," said Sue heavily. "Like an invading army"
"I'm not talking about taking over," said Steve. "I'm talking about cooperation, building a proper community. We'll get nowhere as a species if we stick to our little cliques. We've got to unite against the common enemy"
"You have a very idealistic view of human nature," said Sue.
"Idealism and optimism is all we've got left to keep us going," Steve countered.
"So, what do you think?" Abby said to Adam. "Are you going to join us?"
He shrugged as if the issue had never been in doubt. "Why the hell not? So, tell me, how far away is this castle of yours?"
"About two hundred miles," said Steve. "Just north of the Kyle of Lochalsh."
"So we should be able to make it on a full tank," said Adam.
"How long will it take us to get there?" asked Max.
Adam shrugged. "Ninety minutes. We should be there for afternoon tea."
They looked at each other in wonder. Ninety minutes. On foot it would have taken them ten days, maybe two weeks.
"'Course, we'll have to make two trips," Adam said. "She's only a four-seater."
"Can't we just cram in?" asked Libby.
"Maybe in an emergency, but it's not advisable. I wouldn't like to-"
"We've got an emergency," Sue said suddenly.
"What?" Steve said. He followed her gaze and saw several dark objects moving towards then across the runway. From this distance, with the noonday glare in his eyes, he couldn't make out what they were.
"What-" he said again, but already she had turned and was running back towards him.
"It's the dogs!" she shouted. "It's them!"
Suddenly Steve could see them, a pack of identical Dobermans, tearing across the tarmac. They were still several hundred yards away but closing in fast. The six of them began to run towards the helicopter, which was maybe fifty yards from where the group had been clustered around Adam on the low wall. Steve trailed at the rear, his legs hollow and heavy, his backpack dragging at his shoulders. Sue reached the helicopter first and hauled open the door. Steve fancied he could hear the dogs right behind him-the rapid patter of their feet, the snarling rasp of their breath.
Max scrambled aboard the helicopter behind Sue, then hauled Abby inside. That done, they each grabbed an arum of Libby's and lifted her into the aircraft. As Libby pitched forward, Steve saw Abby look up, her eyes widening.
"Come on, Dad!" she screamed. "Run!"
He didn't need to look behind him to know that the dogs were closing the gap. Sweat was bursting out all over him, running out of his straggly hair, down his face and into his beard. In his lurching vision he saw the rotor blades of the helicopter begin to turn, slowly at first. He didn't know how close the dogs were, but he felt sure they'd be on him before he could make it to safety, leaping at his back, bearing him to the ground. There was a clattering in his ears, a rumbling vibration in his chest. He was yards from the helicopter now and Abby was yelling at him, urging him along, like an overcompetitive parent at a child's sports day. He threw out his hands and touched the sides of the helicopter, but the door was too high; he couldn't possibly make the step, not with lead boots and hollow legs and the pulverizing weight of the rucksack. Then hands were grabbing him, one closing around his injured arm and wrenching, making him scream. But the hand didn't lessen its grip, and Steve felt himself yanked upwards. He lifted his foot, scrabbling for the step. Then he was falling into the helicopter, across the lap of Libby, who was fumbling with the strap of her seat belt, fear on her face.
As he lay there, panting, Steve was half aware of Sue stepping around him and raising her gun. The gun roared and something squealed. There was a tilting sensation and Steve raised his head and peered through the transparent domed window of the cockpit. He was surprised to see that they were airborne, the ground rushing away. Above the howling wind and the whirring clatter of the rotor blades he heard Adam shouting, "Close the door! Close the door!"
Then Sue's voice: "We've got a passenger!"
Abby screaming at Adam: "It's hanging on to the runner thing!"
Sue again: "Move out the way!"
Adam: "Don't hit the ski, whatever you do!"
Then there was a shot, a sudden lurch, a bang as the door closed.
Then Adam's voice again, calmer this time: "Is everyone okay?"
And then nothing but the sky.
Despite the many horrific sights they had seen over the p
ast weeks, looking down on the world from above still came as a shock. Edinburgh resembled a war zone-many of its buildings damaged, with several in a state of complete or partial collapse; the streets littered with wrecked cars, uprooted trees and human detritus; and everything coated in a thick black silt that looked like the soot from some colossal fire.
Plus there were the alien "eggs," dotted here and there like splotches of glistening blue fungus. Adam had been right. Even from up here they could see that the eggs had swelled since their encounter with the inhabitants of Whitthorpe two weeks earlier.
Abby leaned forward to get a better look. Because of the lack of space in the helicopter she was sitting on Max's knee, and he grunted as she shifted her weight.
"Watch it, girl," he muttered. "My legs are numb enough without you making it worse."
She elbowed him gently. "Don't be a wuss. Besides, if your legs are numb you shouldn't be able to feel anything."
"Okay, you got me there."
She pointed downwards, through the transparent bubble of the cockpit. "Those things look ready to hatch any second. What's going to happen when they do?"
Max shrugged. "Maybe if we're lucky they'll leave us alone."
Abby thought of the dog leaping onto the helicopter ski as they were taking off, hanging on with its front legs until Sue shot it in its snarling face. Abby had watched it fall, twisting and trailing blood, to the earth below.
"Yeah," she said without any conviction, "maybe they will." Having taken off in a jumble of arms and legs several minutes earlier, they were now settled, their rucksacks heaped in the cramped space behind the seats next to Adam's limited provisions. Sue was in the passenger seat next to Adam, glowering down at the ruined and deserted city. Dad and Max had taken the back seats, and she and Libby had perched themselves on their laps without any discussion.
In front of her, Sue leaned towards Adam. "Can you take us in lower?"
He glanced at her. "Sure. Something in particular you want to see?"
