Fire and Water

by Simon Guerrier

  Becker slapped Connor on the arm.

  “Don’t be daft,” he said, grinning broadly. “Everyone can see she’s only got eyes for you.”

  Connor took a moment to digest this.

  “Really? Everyone?”

  “What are you stalling for, Connor? Go on, ask her out.”

  “I will! Just, you know, in my own time,” he tailed off.

  Becker laughed. “One thing I’ve learnt on this job, Connor: there’s no time like the present.”

  They gazed at the glinting, twisting anomaly.

  “All right. As soon as she comes back through, I’m going to ask Abby if she wants —”

  He tailed off. Something moved inside the anomaly, a dark shape that was twisting and turning. Becker readied his rifle. Connor aimed the locking mechanism. They stood ready as the shape coalesced... and Abby staggered out of the light.

  “You’re,” she said, gasping for breath, “you’re gonna ask me if I want what?”

  Connor grinned sheepishly. “It can wait. Are you okay?”

  “Sure, but we’ve got a slight problem.”

  “More dinosaurs on their way?” Becker asked, and he turned a wary eye to the anomaly. “Maybe we’d better close it up.”

  “No, worse. We need all your men up here, right now.”

  The soldier lay curled up in a foetal position, his hands between his legs, moaning in agony. Sarah grabbed his rifle and turned to face the other one, who was getting to his feet and fumbling for the pistol at his hip.

  “Drop it,” she told him. He let the gun slip from his fingers and it clattered on the metal grating as he raised his hands.

  The third soldier, the man with the remote control, stood watching them. Sarah waved her rifle at him.

  “Over here.” She tried to sound calm, but her hands were shaking as they gripped the heavy gun.

  The man knelt down beside the other soldier. Sarah reached for the remote control in his hand, but before she could grab it, he quickly jabbed one of the buttons. She grabbed for it again, but as he snatched it away all she managed to do was knock it out of his fingers.

  “No, wait!” Sarah cried.

  The control box spun through the air and shattered across the grating. They all turned to watch as the blaze of energy around the creature’s neck disappeared. For an instant it didn’t seem to realise what had happened. Then it leapt towards them.

  The kneeling soldier lunged for the pistol, but Sarah instinctively kicked it across the room before he could reach it. So the man grabbed her ankle and heaved her leg out from under her. She fell back hard onto the grating, but managed to keep her grip on her gun, and slapped him in the face with the rifle.

  Sarah rolled, looking up at the creature’s hungry jaws as it closed in on her. There was only one option. She pulled back hard on the trigger of her rifle, unleashing a volley of bullets that smacked into the underside of its long, gnashing head and neck. Appalled at what she was doing, she kept on firing, gritting her teeth against the pain of the recoil as the gun bounced in her arms and bashed into her shoulder.

  More by luck than judgement, she managed to fire into the creature’s soft underbelly. It cried out, blood leaking from a series of deep wounds. She kept firing as it leapt to her right, landing its huge claws and teeth on the soldier who was still clutching his groin.

  Sarah turned away as the creature tore the man apart. The soldier with the pistol was on his feet now, firing into the creature’s long face in an effort to save his comrade. The third soldier cowered behind him, desperately trying to put the broken pieces of the control box back into some kind of working order.

  Sick with panic and fear, Sarah got to her feet and ran for the door. It had two long metal handles and a complex-looking safety lock. She slung the rifle on her back to free both her hands, and lifted the upper handle while pulling back on the lower. The heavy door heaved open just enough for her to squeeze through.

  She glanced back at the two soldiers. The crocodile-like creature had finished with their friend and was advancing on them. Sarah watched in horror as the man with the gun stood his ground. He fired a shot right at the creature. It roared with pain, then took another step towards him. He fired again.

  The gun clicked, the magazine empty.

  The creature charged.

  Sarah ran through the door — right into more soldiers. They stared at her in amazement.

  “Quick!” she shouted, pointing behind her urgently, and they hurried through the door, firing a volley of bullets at the dinosaur that was feasting on their comrades.

  She paused for a moment to catch her breath, then hefted the rifle from her shoulder and started running.

  They emerged from the anomaly onto undulating plains of soft brown earth, the brilliant sunshine sparkling off their vehicles. Across the plain, the herd of enormous Sauroposeidons continued to trash the car Abby had driven through, nosing with long, slender necks at the broken metal and glass.

  “Yeah, definitely Early Cretaceous,” Connor said, scrutinising the landscape for the tell-tale conifer ferns. “Aptian or Albian epoch. I need a bit more time to be sure.”

  “We might have more pressing concerns,” Becker told him as the small fleet of army cars and trucks continued to emerge from the anomaly. Anything that could fit into the railway tunnel had been ordered back in time. Connor knew Becker’s soldiers were competent, hand-picked men who would have followed their captain anywhere. But he had seen the excitement that rippled through them at the chance of a tour back some 110 million years. As one they seemed to be thinking, Yeah, this could be a pretty good gig.

  As he waited until all the vehicles had come through, he set to work on the locking mechanism, now set up in the back of one truck. At last they were ready, and Connor fired the locking mechanism, fixing the anomaly as a floating, solid sphere. The hope was that it then wouldn’t close and trap them all there. The cars and trucks parked up around them, the soldiers assembling to hear their orders. They gazed around the incredible, alien scenery, not cracking the usual crass jokes or teasing one another. Instead they stood in silence, struck dumb with awe and wonder. The vast, cloudless sky, the scrubby alien world.

  But their eyes were inevitably drawn to the ugly canker on the virgin landscape, the squat mine belching black smoke into the otherwise perfect sky.

  Becker, though, was quickly giving orders, getting the trucks and guns aligned in a defensive formation, a ring like a wagon train expecting trouble from the Injuns. Becker always likes to play things safe, Connor thought. He, on the other hand, was anxious to get moving. This mine demanded their attention. Why bother hanging around up on the slope?

  “So, what’s the plan?” Connor asked Becker. “We just go down there and knock on the door. ‘Hi, we’re new to the area...’ What then?”

  “They’re ready for a fight,” Becker said, using binoculars to survey the factory. “I can see a Starstreak HVM system, like we used in Iraq.”

  “Oh, yeah, one of those.” Connor scrutinised the front of the factory, but all he could see was a long wall of barrels and a few cumbersome machines.

  “Is that some kind of rocket launcher?” Abby asked, pointing.

  “Short-range surface-to-air missiles,” Becker explained. “For shooting down enemy aircraft. They’ve got howitzers, too, and some things I don’t recognise. Well, not the specific models, anyway. The gist of it is that they could pound us into the ground without really thinking about it.”

  “They’re flying the Union Jack, though.” Connor pointed at the rather tawdry rectangle flapping in the breeze. “So they’ve got to be on our side. Stands to reason. Right?”

  “Only one way to find out. Wilcock!”

  “Sir.”

  “We’re going to take a car down there. Nice and slow. Show them we all want to be friends.”

  Wilcock saluted. “Sir.”

  Becker followed him to one of their SUVs. As he clambered into the front seat, Abby and Connor hurried
after him.

  “Don’t worry,” he said, “I did diplomacy at Sandhurst. Piece of cake.”

  “But we should come with you!” Connor insisted.

  “No, you should stay up here by the anomaly and the dinosaurs. That’s your speciality, isn’t it? And this is mine — I’ll take care of it. Everything will be fine.”

  “Hang on,” Abby said, “you’re meant to take orders from us.”

  Becker smiled at her.

  “I’m head of security, so this is my area. It’s not dinosaurs, but men with a barrage of anti-tank weapons. Soldier stuff. It’s fine.”

  “The more you keep saying that...” Connor responded, knowing it just couldn’t be right. If there were British people back in time, why hadn’t the ARC been informed? The only reason he could think of was that these people weren’t wholly on their side.

  “Yes, I know,” Becker said, and he nodded, seeming to read Connor’s thoughts. “So keep your fingers crossed.”

  And with that the car started forward, making its way gingerly down the slope towards the heavily fortified facility.

  “Keep it slow,” Becker told Wilcock as they trundled down towards the mine. He withdrew the SIG .229 from the pouch at his thigh and checked the magazine.

  “We’re not expecting fireworks, are we, sir?” Wilcock said.

  “You got something to be rushing home to, have you?”

  Wilcock shrugged. “Game against Arsenal tomorrow, I suppose. But don’t fancy our chances much. Or with the football, either.”

  Becker smiled, slotting the pistol back into the pouch.

  “You know what they used to tell us at Sandhurst?”

  “It’s not the winning that matters...”

  “It’s the money and pretty girls.”

  They continued on. Ahead of them a group of soldiers emerged from the mine, alert and carrying rifles.

  “Um, sir,” Wilcock said, “aren’t they wearing uniforms like ours?”

  The soldiers carried H&K G36s and wore exactly the same black body armour as Becker and his men. Their boots, the guns in their hip pockets... They were definitely the same issue.

  “Well, that makes things easier,” Becker said, somewhat reassured. “Guess they are on our side.”

  Wilcock continued to drive slowly down towards the soldiers, anxious not to cause them any undue concern. The soldiers continued to gather around the front of the mine, grouped in formation, showing that they had been well drilled. Men stood by the anti-tank and anti-aircraft stations. More soldiers appeared, wielding the kind of handheld rocket launchers and mortars Becker hadn’t used since he’d been seconded from the regular army.

  “I expect that’s some kind of hero’s welcome,” Wilcock said nervously. “Rather than, you know, a show of force.”

  “Keep going,” Becker told him, though he, too, didn’t like the look of this. Surely the two of them in this one ordinary SUV wouldn’t present any kind of threat. Anyway, there were rules of engagement. They were meant to parlay first.

  Something rocketed up into the air from in front of the mine, a dark blur, moving almost too fast for Becker to follow with his eye. A half-second later he heard the crump of the mortar that had fired it.

  “Wilcock!” he yelled, but the man was already reacting, swinging the car around sharply and putting his foot down. They sped away as the mortar smacked hard into the brown earth behind them, only yards from where they’d been. The explosion slapped against the back of their car.

  Wilcock zigzagged, trying to present less of an easy target. But as they sped back up the way they had come, Becker realised they were in serious trouble. A single car, exposed out in the open, and none of the other vehicles higher up on the plain had anything like the resources they would need for this sort of fight.

  “Retreat,” he told his earpiece. “Everyone back to London. Now.”

  A second mortar exploded ten metres to their right. Wilcock swerved, swearing under his breath.

  Seconds later, a third mortar crashed down so close behind them it shattered the back window.

  Connor gaped at the missiles as they rained down on Becker’s tiny car. Abby cried out.

  “What are they doing? We come in peace!”

  “Sir,” said a female soldier nearby. A moment later Connor realised she was talking to him. He turned to face the serious-looking woman who was saluting him.

  “Yes, um,” he said, “er, sorry, what’s your name?”

  “Goldman, sir. Captain Becker has radioed to say we’re to retreat back to London.”

  “Right, thank you Goldman, good plan. I’d better unlock the anomaly, then.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Connor followed her over to the truck where they had stowed the locking mechanism. Vaguely enjoying the way the soldiers demurred to him, Connor worked the controls with a flourish, and a few moments later the locking mechanism powered down.

  Yet the anomaly remained locked, a solid sphere floating serenely in the air.

  “Oh,” Connor said, “that shouldn’t happen.”

  An explosion sounded only a few metres down the hill from them. Mud pattered down onto his head.

  Abby ran over to him.

  “Come on, Connor. They’re almost on us!”

  “Yeah,” Connor said, frantically working the controls, “but this thing isn’t working.” He twiddled a dial and bashed at it with his fist, then stared down the end of the machine. A terrible thought struck him.

  “It’s not this, it’s them. They must be locking the anomaly from somewhere in the factory. They’ve trapped us all here.”

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Sarah tiptoed to a junction in the corridor and checked around the corner for soldiers, her rifle at the ready. The floors, walls and ceiling were covered with large, plain-coloured tiles. The sound of her steps echoed down the hallway, so she was moving as lightly as she could. Her nose itched from a familiar greasy tang in the air, though it took her a moment to place the sensation. The place smelt like the forecourt of a petrol station. Whatever industry they carried out here, it needed lots of petrol and, judging by the tiles, it was a dirty job.

  She had no idea where she was going. It occurred to her that if she was lucky, the creature would have killed the soldiers so they couldn’t raise the alarm that she’d escaped. Then she felt awful for thinking that, and the fact that her best bet was to have a prehistoric monster on the loose behind her.

  She tried to keep calm, to focus on her goals. Her immediate priorities were not to get caught and to find out where she was. The fact that this was some kind of industrial complex suggested that the anomaly had brought her into the future, not the past. Yet the soldiers and their equipment didn’t look especially futuristic... She passed a drinks dispenser. The cans of Coke and Fanta were all £1. She thought that sounded a bit expensive — a price from the future, maybe. But then she couldn’t remember when she’d last used a machine like this herself, or how much the cans had been.

  What she needed was a look outside. The anomaly had appeared right inside Lester’s office, which meant — she assumed — that perhaps these people could control them. Perhaps she’d not been transported in time at all.

  She heard footsteps in front of her, and dashing back the way she’d come, she hid herself around the back of the drinks machine, hugging the rifle to her body.

  I’ll be okay, she thought, so long as they walk on past; so long as they don’t want to use the machine.

  Seconds later, two soldiers strode past her, the thick soles of their boots slapping on the tiles, the noise echoing loudly down the corridor.

  “Be over before dinner break,” said one. “Sitting ducks out there.”

  The other soldier nodded.

  “It’s not a fight, just target practice.”

  Their footsteps faded as they walked on down the corridor together.

  Sarah let out a long breath, listened carefully for a moment, then swept her long dark hair out of her face and conti
nued on her way.

  Moments later, she came to another junction. She sighed with frustration, if she could only calm down and get her bearings... She seemed to have followed a route around a central space. The soldiers’ conversation suggested they were engaged in some kind of battle, which they were winning. It could be a fight against future creatures, though what they’d said seemed to imply they were fighting humans.

  She picked a corridor at random and found herself approaching double doors. She could see bright sunlight through a panel of glass set in the upper part of the doors. Fearful of someone passing on the other side, she pressed herself against the wall as she approached.

  Sarah peered through the windows, her arms shaking as she held onto the heavy rifle. She looked out across a forecourt filled with soldiers, all dressed in the same black uniforms as Becker’s men. These soldiers were in the thick of a battle, running around, manning large guns and loading rocket launchers.

  Suddenly the rockets were going off. She squinted through the bustle and smoke, but couldn’t see what they were firing at. It looked like something high up on the muddy plain ahead, obscured by the weight of explosions. But nothing seemed to be firing back.

  People were coming. Sarah flattened herself back against the wall. She heard a solider outside swipe something, and the doors beeped, opening automatically.

  She found herself bombarded by noise: the boom and crash of heavy artillery, the whoosh of missiles blasting off.

  The door swung fast towards her.

  Sarah thought for a moment that she might be crushed; the door opened right up to the wall, leaving her squeezed into a tiny triangle of space. Through the slender window she watched a large party of soldiers passing through.

  “Don’t underestimate them,” she heard someone say, a voice she thought for a moment she recognised. “The longer they’re up there, the more time they’ve got to come up with ideas.”

  Some of the soldiers ran back out into the fighting, and the doors closed slowly behind them. Sarah remained pinned against the wall, paralysed with fear.