Empty Planet

by Lynette Sloane

  C said, “Clear the room and bring a body bag.”

  Now light and withered, the ancient body was lifted into the bag. With all moisture gone, the body was little more than a skeleton that disintegrated to powder at the slightest touch.

  Chapter 22

  Gemma and I had been the last team to return from the jump and were immediately ushered into the Hub for debriefing. This would normally have happened in a debriefing room, but C wanted several of his experts and higher-ranking officers, including Dad and the genetic engineering team, to be present to hear what we had to say. The Hub was the only room big enough to accommodate all these people.

  C began by explaining that he had instructed one of the genetic scientists to run DNA tests on the remains of the visitor, cross-matching it with Section employees to see if there was a chance he was a distant descendant of any of the Section workers.

  Afterwards, Gemma and I took turns recounting our amazing story to our excited audience.

  “The discovery of a cave dwelling civilisation living so far in the future confirms that the vaccinations have worked,” said C when we had finished speaking.

  “And we now know the antibodies have to be applied to every generation,” Dad added. “It was a good thing the technology was at hand to make covers for roofless caves. Ordinary Perspex would have been no good. I have an idea what they used.”

  “John, it might be down to us to make sure that technology is saved and available for use in the future. Get on this.”

  C checked the monitor next to him. “Right,” he said. “The DNA testing is complete. Our visitor was indeed a descendant of several Section members, some of whom are in this room.” He looked up from the screen and added, “Each will be notified later today by email. The Visitor’s body appeared to be several thousand years old. When the body bag was opened all that remained was powder. Only recent discoveries made the DNA tests possible.”

  While we were still listening to C’s words a loud explosion ripped though the roof sending debris crashing down all around us. Another explosion sounded nearby and a section of the back wall blew inwards. Broken bricks and pieces of concrete flew everywhere, some of it hitting the people seated towards the back of the room. Instinctively we all ducked down, listening to more explosions coming from other parts of the complex.

  C yelled, “Follow alpha procedure!”

  This meant we were all to regroup in Area B, the vortex centre. Gemma was still beside me, shocked but unhurt. I looked around for Dad; he was staggering near the back wall, blood running down the side of his head. I ran over to him, leaping over chunks of wall and fallen ceiling. Several of his team were already dead with fatal head wounds. Rapid gunfire sounded nearby adding to the confusion. Earth-Cry had found our headquarters. There were many Section Headquarters around the world, but these were the Primary Headquarters for the whole of Europe.

  Gemma shouted above the din, “Look after your father, I’ll go after C.” The Commander had already left the Hub taking with him a couple of his team whom he’d retrieved from under a cross beam fallen after the first explosion.

  I checked that Dad was able to walk and wasn’t too badly hurt.

  “It’s ok, it’s superficial, my head feels a little clearer already,” he said. “Get as many of these as you can to the arranged regrouping area and I’ll meet you there. Make sure you’re armed. This is war; if you come across the enemy shoot to kill.”

  Several men and women were beginning to stir after being knocked unconscious by flying rubble. I helped a few to their feet and told the less badly hurt to follow alpha procedure. They all understood and made their way through the door at the front of the Hub, or what was left of the Hub, some of them helping others to do the same.

  A number of security personal ran into the room through the side entrance carrying firearms. At the same moment a dozen or more Earth-Cry members poured through the hole in the back wall and started shooting at everyone and everything. It was clear they were not only trying to kill Section employees, but were aiming to destroy all vortex technology and take down the computer and communication systems. The security personal returned fire; more than half of the attackers fell to the ground covered in blood: mortally wounded.

  A guard threw me a weapon shouting, “Follow alpha procedure now, we’ll bring the rest when we’ve cleared the area.”

  I took the handgun and headed to the side door. Two of the attackers, a young man and a woman, followed me into the corridor. I saw the woman raise her firearm and take aim at me so I ducked behind a wall, the shots narrowly missing my head. I swung around firing my semi-automatic weapon towards my assailants. They slumped to the floor, both shot several times in the chest and stomach.

  I didn’t have time to feel disgust at what I had done; I was once more running on adrenalin and fear and knew my actions were a necessary evil.

  Three more communications offices stood between Area B and me. Gunfire, shouting, and explosions came from every direction, making it hard not to get disorientated, and now smoke poured into my corridor making my eyes sting. I coughed and pressed forward holding a handkerchief over my nose and mouth.

  The door of the next room had been blown off its hinges and lay on the floor beside me. I cautiously peered through the opening, approaching it from the left side, my weapon held pointing up, my hands near my chest, ready to fire at the enemy at a seconds notice. There was no one in the room. I ran through it pausing to assess the situation outside the back door of the adjoining room.

  Shouting and more shots rang out from the other side of the door. I burst through it, keeping low and taking cover behind a desk. Gemma was shooting at someone in a passageway leading off to my right, her attacker hidden from my field of vision. She ducked down behind an upturned table to change her gun clip. Unaware of my presence, two men ran out from the passage shooting at her. I immediately raised my gun and fired at them, instantly killing them both with clean shots through their heads, their gore splattering against the wall as they fell.

  Gemma cautiously rose to her feet behind her shelter.

  “Where’s C?” I asked. Gemma didn’t answer but ran past the bodies to the far side of the room where the Commander lay motionless on the floor.

  I joined her and knelt besides him. Blood was flowing from a wound high in his stomach.

  “Commander, can you hear me?” I said, touching his shoulder.

  “Get to the shelter,” he whispered, blood trickling from his mouth.

  “No Commander, not without you,” I insisted. “We can get you help.”

  His breathing was laboured. I undid his blood soaked shirt to inspect the wound. The hole was the size of my fist.

  Gemma demanded, “Give me your shirt.” I took it off without question and offered it to her. Kneeling over him, She snatched it from my hand, desperately using it to plug the hole and stop the bleeding, but it was too late. C’s lips had gone blue and his face was ashen. He tried to speak again, his hand urgently gripping my forearm. I had to bend over him with my ear next to his mouth to hear his words.

  “Get my niece … Get Gem to safety. That’s an order. I’ve run my race. It’s over.” His grip on my arm loosened and his chest became still. There was no need to check for a pulse.

  Gemma stared at our Commander, her uncle, not moving. This was the man who had saved my life only weeks before: a man I admired greatly. He always knew exactly what to do in any given situation, and I wondered how we were going to cope without him.

  “Gem …Gem, come on,” I urged her. Gemma didn’t respond. She stared at C in shock, his blood on her hands and T-shirt. I gently rested my hand on her shoulder. “Gemma, come on we have to keep moving.”

  She looked back at me with new impetus.

  “It’s this way,” she said, standing up and pointing down the corridor with her firearm. We crashed through another double door, and into a large room, the last before reaching Area B. The contents of this room were undamaged. Chairs faced
the many touch-screen communication devises all around the sides of the room and a large, state of the art generator stood in one corner. With its own power supply, this room had been designed to function independently even if the rest of Section had been destroyed. I’d never been this deep into Section Headquarters before, but Gemma must have; she seemed to know the way.

  “We can’t get through to Area B this way because the roofing has been blown down over the entrance,” she said.

  “So now what do we do?”

  “We have to get to the shelter. It’s in there,” she added, pointing to the small door at the back of the room with ‘Danger, Do Not Enter, High Voltage’ written on it.

  “Thank you for showing me the way,” said the unexpected, yet instantly recognisable voice of Graham Turner as he stepped out from behind the generator. He appeared older than when I had seen him on television the day Jeffery Ash had received his fatal injection, but not as old as he had appeared in Gemma’s flat.

  Clearly beginning to suffer the effects of temporal stress, age lines were etched under his eyes and across his forehead and his hair was white, although he still retained most of his muscle tone.

  “I should have known Section would disguise the entrance in such a corny way,” he declared, a lifetime of hatred showing in his eyes.

  I wondered if I’d have time to shoot him before he could shoot me. Gemma stared at him, watching for the slightest move: a finger, a look in his eye or something that would tell her he was about to fire his weapon. It reminded me of the old-fashioned stand-offs I’d seen in cowboy films, just before the good guy shoots the bad guy and becomes the hero.

  The double door at the back of the room opened and two Hub technicians cautiously walked in, hesitating for a second when they noticed Turner with his firearm. That moment cost them their lives. Graham shot the unarmed men with a high-powered hand machine gun, spraying them with bullets. They dropped to the floor. Gemma dived for cover behind a large communication interface screen, knowing that her weapon was much less powerful than his.

  With no hesitation, and feeling no remorse, I aimed my handgun between Graham’s eyes and squeezed the trigger. There was a dull click: it had jammed.

  A smirk appeared on his aging face as he turned to look at me.

  “Can’t even get that right can you Stevie babes.” His expression quickly changed to a scowl. “You don’t think I was taken in by all that ‘follow alpha procedure’ rubbish do you?” Then taking a breath and exhaling sharply he began to laugh. “Oh my, no, you didn’t know did you. They don’t tell you anything … Yet they told Gem. Area B is merely a cover, a very expensive one admittedly. It’s the entrance to what they refer to as ‘The Shelter,’ a half-mile deep bolthole and the back up system for the vortex technology. Well it was; now it’s a vast tomb because we’ve sealed the exit. And don’t get thinking anyone can escape by vortex. No vortex can pass through that much solid rock! This is how we knew there was an escape route … and Gemma’s just told me where it is.”

  Addressing Gemma he said, “Stand up girl. You know this weapon can cut you in half if you’re standing behind there or not. The MP5K fires nine hundred rounds per minute.”

  Gemma cautiously stood up and Graham continued speaking to her, “Once I’ve disposed of your little friend here you have a decision to make. You can die with him, or join us. I know you still have feelings for me.”

  Gemma looked confused, but I had enough confidence in her to know her expression was merely a ruse to fool Graham.

  “I’ll help you decide,” he said pointing his gun at me.

  In that second I knew Graham Turner was going to kill me. I saw it in his eyes. Suddenly a single shot rang out and a hole appeared in his forehead. The back of his head spread across the generator and up the wall. As he fell, his hand gripped the trigger of his gun and a volley of bullets peppered the communications equipment before his lifeless body landed on the floor.

  The bullets had somehow missed us both, but Gemma was in deep shock. Despite everything he’d done, Graham was the only man she had truly loved.

  She looked stunned. For the second time in the space of a few minutes she’d had to deal with the death of someone she loved. I took her gently by the shoulders and spoke softly, “Gemma come on, we gotta get to the shelter.”

  “But I killed Gra …why did it have to be him? Why couldn’t he have been one of us?”

  “I don’t know; he made his own choices. We all have to live with the consequence of our choices.”

  I gave her a hug and she rested in my arms for few moments. “Thank you for saving my life,” I said softly.

  “You saved mine first.”

  “We have to look out for each another.”

  Gemma pulled away from me and walked to the small door with the high voltage warning, carefully avoiding looking at Graham’s remains. She felt around the side of the door with her fingertips and pressed a small, discrete button. The door opened. Behind it was a small cupboard filled with electrical apparatus, circuit boards and wiring.

  “If I get this wrong it will give quite a ‘kick’,” she said.

  “How come you know all about this?” I asked.

  “I needed a higher clearance level when I was working undercover. C raised mine to an A7.” This was two levels higher than mine and only one level lower than my father’s.

  “And if anyone was to get past this first obstacle,” she said lifting a panel, “this second circuit gives an electric shock large enough to stun an elephant. The secret is to know exactly where to set this.” She turned and pushed a dial, and the whole of the back wall, containing all the hi tech circuit boards, moved back effortlessly revealing a narrow but well lit corridor where Dad stood anxiously waiting for us.

  “What kept you?” he asked, “the others got to the shelter through Area B before it was destroyed, and Zee just texted me to say the security guys brought the last of the injured into the shelter through a vortex a few moments ago.” He paused, looking past us. “I hoped C was with you.”

  “Sorry Dad, he didn’t make it.”

  Dad looked physically shaken. He and C had been friends and work colleagues all their adult lives. “Are you sure? Isn’t there a chance?”

  Gemma spoke this time, “Sorry John, we were with him ’til the end.”

  “Then I have to seal this doorway,” Dad said, his voice a little shaky. “You two are the last; the rest didn’t make it.” Dad waited for us to step inside the corridor then broke a glass seal placed high up on the wall to the right of the door. At once a heavy stone panel began to slowly descend between the doorway and us.

  “I hope there’s another way out,” I exclaimed, “That looks pretty permanent.”

  Dad didn’t answer, choosing instead to remain silent; I knew he was grieving the loss of his friend.

  We followed my father down the long, windowless corridor. Occasional overhead lighting picked out the level stone floor, and red brick walls. Soon our escape route began to slope sharply downhill and the air became cooler telling me we were underground. The passageway changed in appearance, the semi circular scarring on the stonewalls indicating that it had been cut through solid rock. After a few minutes we rounded a sharp corner to the right where the only option was to descend a stone, spiral staircase.

  Gemma whispered to me, “Don’t worry there is another way out.”

  The staircase seemed to go down forever and reminded me of childhood days spent exploring the Ludlow Castle ruins. Unlike those ancient stone steps that led from ground level up three floors to several towers, turrets and battlements, these showed no signs of wear and were obviously quite new.

  Dad said, “These steps will take us to a shelter about half a mile underground. It’s been reinforced to withstand a direct hit from a five tonne bomb and to survive a nuclear war.”

  After a few hundred metres descent the air began to smell quite damp and I noticed green algae growing around the wall lighting. Our footsteps echo
ed as we quickly made our way downward. Gemma was understandably subdued.

  “Why didn’t they just install a lift?” I asked.

  “In an emergency the power might have been cut off trapping us all underground. Be grateful you don’t have to climb back up,” Dad replied.

  I was relieved to hear that—not that I was complaining again.

  Thank goodness, I thought when I noticed we were arriving at the bottom: the spiral effect was making me feel a little dizzy.

  In front of us, an imposing, solid steel door blocked our way stopping us from continuing any further. With no handle or obvious way of gaining entry, I wondered how we were going to get past it. However, as we approached it slid open revealing a small reception room cut from solid rock. We walked into the room, and the entrance door closed securely behind us.

  After the three of us had been identified by retinal scan another steel door opened at the far side of the room leading into a large, brightly lit room where a number of technicians anxiously worked on flat, touch-screen interfaces as if the end of the world was at hand. Several large, high tech screens showed scenes from around the world: rioting, various Section Headquarters under attack, and hospitals overflowing with people appearing to be paralysed and suffering from flu-like symptoms.

  “The Frumscyld-Ábitan super-virus has struck,” said Zee as she walked into the room. “It’s too late for most people now. The ones who had the vaccination will be safe from the virus, but for everyone else … nothing can save them. A few healthy people may get to the medical centres, where I am informed the medical staff are still giving vaccinations to people who present themselves with no symptoms of the virus, but for many hundreds of thousands—millions even—there is no hope.”

  The main screen showed a crowd of people trying to enter a medical centre in Liverpool, but they were being turned away as they had clearly already contracted the super-virus.