Empty Planet

by Lynette Sloane

  Miss Durham and her camera and sound crew followed him through the reception area, past an elaborate staircase and into the drawing room where the two immaculately dressed children sat awaiting their vaccinations. Mrs. Lightfoot, a smartly dressed woman in her early thirties, joined her family and sat besides the children smiling and trying to make them feel at ease.

  Thomas Lightfoot spoke into the cameras explaining the importance of the vaccinations, and why he had asked the news crew to witness the occasion, then introduced the family Doctor as Charles Carrington. Doctor Carrington smiled at the children, addressing them, “Sarah, Timothy, how are you today?”

  Timothy answered, “Fine thank you.” Sarah didn’t answer; she looked a little worried.

  “Now this won’t hurt,” said the Doctor, “Who wants to go first?”

  “Sarah,” said Timothy.

  “No,” said Sarah, “Timothy wanted to.” Mrs Lightfoot gave her daughter a firm look. “Oh ok, I’ll go first,” the girl said begrudgingly.

  Both children were wearing short-sleeved tops to make it easier for the Doctor to administer their vaccinations.

  When it was all over the presenter knelt down next to them and asked, “How are you both feeling?”

  Sarah answered, “I’m fine thank you.”

  Timothy said, “The needle hurt. Can I play football now?”

  Angela stood, addressing the Lightfoots, “Thank you Prime Minister and Mrs. Lightfoot for inviting us into your home today, and thank you Sarah and Timothy for sharing your vaccinations with us.”

  In closing, Miss Durham spoke directly into the camera, “Ladies and gentlemen you can see that everything has gone well here and it is safe for you all to get immunised against this super-virus. Further updates highlighting the children’s health will be broadcast throughout the day. However, first signs show that they are well. Even at this early stage they are fully protected from the anti-virus.”

  Adopting a more serious expression she continued speaking, “But anyone who does not have a vaccination will not be safe. Please make an appointment to have yours at your local clinic. I’m having my vaccination today.

  “This has been Angela Durham for the B.B.C news at one. Good afternoon.”

  The masses were torn in their conclusions to the broadcast. Some believed the warning that a terrible super virus was going to annihilate mankind within weeks, but were still scared that the inoculation might kill them, while others doubted the virus was coming, thinking that it was just government propaganda. Still more believed the virus would probably come, but thought it wouldn’t affect them.

  Sarah and Timothy Lightfoot continued in perfect health. Over the next couple of days film footage of them at school and at play was shown on national television. This encouraged a few people to book their vaccinations for the following week when the next shipment was due. The anti-virus couldn’t have been mass-produced before as it had a very short shelf life.

  Dad said that as more people survived their vaccinations public confidence would grow and this would lead to others being encouraged to follow their example.

  Chapter 21

  The early morning alarm gave several shrill bleeps, but as I didn’t need to go into Section, or anywhere else, I pressed the snooze button and went back to sleep: several times. The alarm bleeped a little louder, awaking Anna. She turned over in bed, carefully considering her baby bump, which at nearly six months gestation was getting quite large.

  “Steve, are you awake? Steve?”

  “I am now. You ok Sweetie?”

  “Yes, quick, give me your hand. The baby’s kicking.” Anna placed my hand on her stomach and the baby obediently kicked again.

  “Wow,” I said, “I never get tired of that. I think men miss out on so much. Women get to feel new life growing inside them, it’s like sharing in God’s creation.”

  “Yea, and backache, morning sickness and labour pains.”

  “Ok, I get your point,” I said, cuddling up to her. “Just think, in about three months time we won’t be able to lie in bed like this. There’ll be nappy changes, crying and sleepless nights.”

  Anna giggled, “Yea and the baby will need my attention too.”

  “Oh thanks,” I replied, tickling her for teasing me.

  Suddenly serious she asked, “It will be ok won’t it Steve?”

  “Yes, of course, I’ll be there at the birth to help you through it.”

  “No, I don’t mean that. I mean the virus and everything. It’ll be Christmas in a couple of weeks and I’m twenty-two, so this virus thing’s supposed to start very soon … You said David told you I’d catch the virus when I fetched Dad’s Christmas tree in the pickup, Dad catches the virus off me and he gives it to David.”

  “That’s right, but you’ve had your vaccination so you won’t catch it.”

  “I know Dad and David refused to have the vaccination, but if I don’t pass the virus on to them David won’t catch it and build up the antibodies in his blood, and then he won’t be able to give his blood to save the human race. How’s it going to work now? I mean, in having the anti-virus I’ve altered the timeline.”

  I wondered how to answer Anna’s question. I didn’t want to upset her, but I’d also promised to always tell her the truth.

  “I don’t know what’s going to happen,” I said, “but everything will be all right. David will catch the virus from someone else. Don’t worry; time has a way of working things out.”

  “Steve, I really tried to convince Dad to have the vaccination. I don’t want him to die,” Anna said sadly.

  “I know Sweetie.” I paused a moment before tentatively adding, “I’ve got to go on another jump tomorrow.”

  “Oh Steve, I always worry when you go on those things. You still talk in your sleep you know.”

  “Oh?” I said, wondering what I’d let slip this time.

  “Yes, what’s this about a giant fish trying to eat you and it’s head landing in the vortex room? And did C loose a hand saving your life?”

  I told her the whole story, assuring her that nothing like that would happen again. She was nearly convinced, but not quite.

  At that moment my tab-phone rang.

  I grabbed it and pressed the receive key, “Steve Blakely.”

  C’s authoritative voice came back at me. “Steve I sent a secure email to all Primary Jumpers and Section personnel this morning and you’re the only one who hasn’t responded.”

  “Sorry Sir, I was still in bed and hadn’t check my emails.”

  “I thought as much. I haven’t got time to go through the details again now; check your email and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Yes Commander, sorry.” C hung up without answering.

  Anna looked apprehensive, “It’s all right,” I said. “ I still don’t need to go in ‘til tomorrow. I’ve got to check my emails that’s all.”

  “Ok, I’ll do breakfast like a good little wifey.” She smiled and kissed me, then went down stairs to the kitchen while I grabbed my tab-phone off the bedside cabinet and logged onto Section’s secure website. The home page opened. I signed in and tapped the ‘my email’ logo.

  I deleted the one from Vanessa entitled ‘When are we having that drink?’ and opened C’s email, which read:

  ‘Primary Jumpers, we have known for a while that Graham Turner and Martin Haliday are heading a new group, ‘Earth-Cry’. Fresh intelligence has revealed that they are actively looking for all Section Headquarters—not just in the UK, but also at our sister locations across the globe—with the view of destroying us and all vortex technology.

  Loosing the other rebel Jumpers was only a minor setback to Turner and he has returned with a much larger and stronger following. They are of course misinformed as to the source of the 6:8 Tragedy, which, as we know, was Turner himself, and they hold us entirely responsible for the deaths of their children and young people. Watch out for Earth-Cry members. We don’t know many of their identities or just how many of them the
re are, so trust no one.

  PS: This latest faction calls itself ‘Earth-Cry’ because they say ‘the Earth cries for her children, for they are dead.’

  Anna called me down for breakfast and we spent a lovely, lazy day together, amongst other things talking about our plans for the birth and bringing the baby home. I told her I would kit out the spare room with a cot and changing table and whatever else babies needed, and use our bedroom for my vortex transfers.

  She hugged me and said, “Thanks Steve. I sometimes wish I didn’t know anything about the future, then I wouldn’t be worried about the super-virus and loosing Dad and everything.”

  “I know. I wish I was a norm and didn’t know any of this too. So many people have refused to have the vaccination; the earth will be a very different place this time next year, but it will recover and we will be a part of that recovery. Our baby will have a wonderful future.” I didn’t mention that it would be a future without me. I would probably have been sent on my final, one-way jump before the baby arrived.

  The next Day I drove Anna to George’s house so she could spend the day there. She said she wanted to spend as much time with her Dad and brother as possible.

  “Don’t go fetching any Christmas trees,” I said as I kissed her goodbye.

  George asked, “Why not, we need a nice one for the front room … This time next year we’ll have a little one crawling about. I can’t wait.” His saying this upset Anna and she made an excuse to have a lie down upstairs.

  “Is she all right?” George asked. David had walked in during our conversation and answered his father’s question.

  “That’s pregnant women for you, they’re always getting emotional.”

  As I started walking to the door David called after me, “Steve, if you have time could you pick up a Christmas tree on your way home?” Before I could reply the house phone rang.

  David answered it, then putting his hand over the mouthpiece called after me, “Don’t worry about the tree, Mark Benson, is bringing one over.”

  “Ok, see you later,” I replied, my mind in a quandary. Was the virus going to strike today?

  I wanted to follow Anna upstairs and hold her in case these were our last moments together, but didn’t because this would worry her. She would know I thought this was the day of the super-virus.

  Instead, I returned home and sat on the edge of our bed waiting for the vortex. I gazed around the room thinking of Anna and reflecting on our short time together as man and wife. We hadn’t had time to collect many personal belongings as most married couples do. The day I proposed to Anna I’d bought her a glass model of Blackpool Tower. This sat neatly on a shelf next to the various crystal replicas of the many Disney Characters that George had bought her when she was a child. Anna’s new blue and white dress hung on a hanger on the back of the bedroom door. She was going to pack this to take to hospital when she had the baby I feared I would never see. I lay back on the bed, my feet still on the floor. Within minutes the bright vortex lights shone out of the spare room reflecting onto the landing.

  I reluctantly stood up and walked through to the spare bedroom. Dad was standing next to Vanessa checking some data she had entered in the temporal interface. He looked up as I stepped through the portal.

  “This will be your last jump before the final twenty thousand year jump,” he said.

  “That sounds right, George’s Christmas tree is coming today and you know what that means,” I said uneasily.

  “Time has found a way to keep the timeline constant,” Dad replied.

  “And today could be the day when those who haven’t had the vaccination start getting sick. Dad, I wanted to spend my life with Anna. If the virus attacks today, do you think I’ll see her again?”

  “I don’t know son, but this is why you were born: you have a very important job to do.” Vanessa nodded in agreement.

  The other Primary Jumpers had started arriving while we were speaking and soon all were awaiting their last returnable jump. Gemma stood at my side, her presence making me feel a little easier.

  She hugged me, “It’ll be all right Steve.”

  “I hope so.”

  “I wonder where they’re sending us,” she remarked.

  “I don’t suppose it matters, everywhere looks the same now,” I said feeling somewhat despondent.

  Vanessa announced, “You will be travelling to various destinations, all eleven thousand years into the future, and returning in three hours, your time. Collect your named survival pack from the counter to take with you.”

  I looked towards her as I selected mine, but she avoided eye contact with me. I checked the contents: sandwiches, chocolate bar, bottle of mineral water, torch with spare batteries, handgun with extra gun clip, matches and a compass. I slid my handgun into my shoulder holster, put the spare gun clip in my jeans pocket and placed everything else in my backpack.

  C entered the room and wished us all well, the remains of his injured arm bandaged and in a sling. His gaunt face prompted a few of us to ask if he was all right.

  He nodded abruptly and said, “Carry on … as you were,” then left the room.

  Each Jumper took up their correct position as the multifaceted vortex started opening. Gemma and I peered inside our portal trying to glimpse a view of the future.

  “Great, it’s raining in this one,” I complained. Gemma and I stepped through time finding ourselves soaked to the skin within seconds. I’d never seen such a bad storm. Lightening flashed and the wind blew the torrential rain hard against us. Gemma grabbed me to stop being blown off her feet, which was especially important as we found ourselves in a small clearing on the edge of a cliff. I couldn’t tell how high up we were as the storm drastically reduced visibility. It wasn’t safe to stand under any of the many enormous trees in an electrical storm so we hastily looked around for shelter, carefully moving away from the cliff edge over the slippery mosses and scrub grass.

  “Over here,” yelled Gemma, grabbing my arm again and pulling me towards a small cave in the nearby rock face. It was only about six metres away but we had to fight against the wind and rain to get there. Once by the entrance we found ourselves sheltered a little from the weather by the overhanging rocks. The opening was about a metre and a half high, so we cautiously crouched down and peered inside, checking that no wild animals lived in there. The cave appeared to be empty so we crawled through the entrance.

  Once inside we were able to stand easily. The cave was small, its limestone walls only a few metres apart. At the back was another small opening.

  “I don’t think much of this hotel,” joked Gemma, they don’t even have dry towels.

  Rainwater dripped from her hair onto her face and shoulders, and her wet T-shirt clung to her skin revealing the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra.

  “And the maid service is non existent,” I joined in, trying not to stare at her breasts.

  Gemma crouched down to look out of the cave entrance, “This storm doesn’t look like stopping anytime soon.” She stood back up.

  “Ahhh!” she shrieked, instinctively bringing her hand up to her forehead. In the dim light she had misjudged the cave wall and caught her head on a piece of jagged rock. “Oh great it’s bleeding … bet they don’t have a first aid kit either.”

  “Let me look at that,” I said, stepping closer to inspect the wound. My eyes hadn’t fully adjusted to the dimly lit cave, so I gently added, “Kneel down. I need to use the entrance light to have a proper look.”

  We both knelt and I gently brushed her hair away from the cut with my fingertips while she stared out of the entrance.

  “It’s not very deep but you could do with a dressing. Would a wet handkerchief do instead?” I enquired, pulling one out of my jeans pocket.

  “A handkerchief? No one has handkerchiefs any more.”

  “Anna thought I might need one,” I explained, unfolding the wet cloth and gently dabbing Gemma’s forehead. She winced, then for a moment looked back at me and
I remembered why I’d had that huge crush on her when I was a lad. Gemma had grown into a very beautiful woman and if I hadn’t loved Anna something might have happened between us in that cave. I could tell Gemma felt it too.

  She stood up, “Did we have a ‘moment’ then?”

  “Yes I think so, but Anna …”

  I didn’t manage to finish my sentence; Gemma touched my lips with her finger and said, “You don’t have to say anything. I’ll carry on being like a sister to you … until one day you tell me you want something more.”

  Quickly changing the subject she added, “The rain’s stopping, we’d better go out and take some photos.” I didn’t move immediately, I was feeling flattered; Gemma had hinted she might be willing to be more than a friend one day, but equally I knew my heart lay with Anna, and until time separated us I could think of no one else in that way. Maybe I never would.

  Gemma crawled through the cave entrance, “Come on,” she said looking back at me, “get with it, the rain’s stopped.”

  I crawled out of the cave. It was still very warm and quite windy outside; at least our clothes would soon be dry. I joined Gemma near the cliff edge. The view was spectacular. The ground dropped away in front of us so steeply it would have been impossible to climb down without mountaineering equipment. The vortex had positioned us at least a hundred metres up the side of the mountain. The rock face below us was bare, except for a few very narrow ledges where occasional small bushes, mosses and tiny plants grew.

  Most of the undulating landscape was covered in forestry: firs, pine, maple and the odd horse chestnut. A river snaked its way through the scene appearing every so often between the trees then disappearing from sight again. The wooded area extended to the horizon where the sky was brighter and the sun was already pushing through the storm clouds.

  Gemma took several photographs with her tab-phone while I checked around to see where we might explore. Some very thick bushes grew to our left, interwoven with prickly briars, making this route almost impossible to pass, so we chose to walk in the opposite direction between the rock face and a large oak tree growing next to a sheer drop. The terrain made me glad I was wearing strong hiking boots. We passed the mature tree and walked downhill for several minutes, picking our way through the greenery over moss and loose shale, always aware of the perilous drop on our right. Soon our ‘pathway’ narrowed and we rounded a sharp bend to the left where another sheer drop blocked our way.