Wraith

by Shane Smithers

  Again, Erebus looked at his watch. ‘I should have plenty of time, but who knows?’

  He thought for a moment, muttered under his breath, ‘Contingency plan,’ and then headed back the way he had come. It wasn’t the best way to the Legal Department, but the lawyers often used the back entry to avoid getting caught up with other staff. It would give him an excuse for cutting off the third guard before he discovered Collins. He reached into his jacket and took out an envelope, withdrew some papers and pretended to be looking over them while hurrying toward his imaginary office.

  The third guard, Laike, was different from the others. He was alert and fit, and had obviously studied the security manual. ‘Stop right there!’ he shouted as he drew his gun with his right hand and radio with his left.

  Erebus raised his hands, kept walking and started to say, ‘I’ve just got to check a . . .’

  ‘Stop right there or I’ll shoot you in the head,’ shouted Laike. Erebus stopped. Laike pressed the button on his radio, ‘Attwater, do you read me?’

  Erebus knew Attwater didn’t read him. Erebus had taken Attwater out just minutes ago. ‘I’m Douglas from Legal. I’m in court first thing and I just need to grab a file.’

  Laike squinted a little, held his gun a little tighter and pressed the button on his radio. ‘Attwater, I’ve got an intruder,’ was all he said before clipping the radio back on his belt. ‘Down on your knees.’ Laike continued to aim his gun at Erebus as he knelt.

  ‘I know it’s after hours, but . . .’

  ‘Lie face down, hands on the back of your neck.’

  ‘This is absurd,’ protested Erebus. ‘I work in the Legal Department. I can show you my card.’

  ‘Face down, hands behind your head.’

  Erebus did as he was told. Laike approached cautiously, lowered his left hand and reached for the cuffs he kept on his belt. As he knelt down to cuff Erebus’s hands, he said, ‘John Douglas is my cousin, you moron.’

  Erebus used this moment to take advantage of Laike’s divided attention. He rolled his body and swung his legs around, sweeping Laike’s legs from under him and knocking him to the floor. Quicker than the eye could follow, Erebus kicked the gun from his hand, but Laike used his momentum to flip himself over and land on his feet. Before Erebus could defend himself, Laike landed a hard kick in the middle of his chest, sending him flying. Laike was on him in a flash. Erebus deflected blow after blow, ducked high-kicks and evaded others with some fancy moves of his own. Laike went for a roundhouse high kick, but Erebus was too fast. By the time Laike turned, Erebus was high in the air and, with a movement so swift it was almost a blur, he struck the guard, knocking him backwards down the corridor. But Laike flipped over, from hands to feet, flipping again and again like an Olympic gymnast. He’s going for the gun, Erebus realised, dashing after him. But it was no good. Laike reached out, found the gun before landing on his feet, his body moulding into that perfect pose – feet well spread, shoulders square, both hands holding his weapon – Erebus in his sights.

  ‘Freeze!’

  Erebus froze. He had no misconceptions; he knew Laike was ready to shoot. For the first time, he felt a little nervous. He was ready to concede when he heard an otherwise innocuous noise and glanced over the guard’s shoulder. Laike turned to see if someone was there. Seizing the moment, Erebus leapt high and aimed a kick at Laike’s hand, but the guard evaded the kick and slammed Erebus into the wall, shattering the glass panel embossed with the Akwatronics logo into a thousand tiny shards. Erebus landed awkwardly and then slid down the wall to the floor.

  For several heart-stopping moments, there was silence. Erebus groaned and raised his eyes to see the guard standing in front of the lift doors, his gun barrel pointed at him.

  ‘Don’t move,’ said Laike gruffly. ‘Who are you? What are you doing here?’

  ‘I’ll talk better without the gun in my face,’ said Erebus. Laike took a step back and motioned with the gun for Erebus to get up. ‘Don’t try anything, or I will shoot.’

  Erebus nodded and then slowly got up, the sound of broken glass crunching beneath his feet.

  ‘Put your hands where I can see them,’ said Laike. Erebus held his hands up in front of him. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not the sort of guy that wants to die.’

  Above Laike’s head, Erebus noticed a number on the wall light up. The elevator was on its way up. This wasn’t good. Had Attwater woken up and called for backup?

  ‘Now, who are you?’ growled Laike.

  ‘Um.’ Erebus’ eyes flickered to the elevator numbers. Whoever was in there was only two floors away. They’d be here any second.

  ‘Answer me,’ said Laike, moving his gun forward. Erebus opened his mouth to respond as the elevator dinged its arrival. Laike jerked his head around in surprise, giving Erebus the opportunity to attack. He ran at Laike, driving his shoulder into the guard’s ribs and shoving him into the concrete wall. Erebus was desperate, not knowing how many guards might be here in the next second. He ducked a wild swing from Laike, grabbed his arm and flipped him onto the floor with a thud. The elevator doors opened just as Erebus struck the base of Laike’s neck with a short hard blow, putting him out cold.

  Erebus was about to run for it when he heard a familiar voice: ‘Hey, Boss.’

  ‘Wilson,’ said Erebus. ‘I never thought I’d be so happy to see your ugly mug.’ Wilson stepped out and eyed the unconscious guard. ‘Looks like you’ve been havin’ some fun.’

  ‘You could say that. Any problems with the security system?’

  ‘I hadn’t seen one like it before, but nothing I couldn’t handle.’ Wilson pointed to Erebus’s shoulder. ‘You’ve got a rip in your fancy jacket.’

  Erebus glanced across to inspect the damage. ‘Some people have no respect,’ he said with a wry smile, before straightening his coat and tie.

  They found Collins in the process of shutting down a computer containing confidential employee information. Hacking the system, downloading the required files, covering his tracks and signposting fake searches and downloads had taken Collins less than five minutes. His mother would’ve been proud – if she’d known anything about computers.

  Erebus looked at his watch. ‘Gentlemen, we’re cutting it fine. We’ll have company any minute now.’

  Erebus ran as fast as he could, Collins right on his heels. Wilson struggled to keep up. Bypassing the lifts, Erebus headed straight for the fire escape. Collins flew past him and started descending the stairs at a rapid pace. He was remarkably agile for his huge size.

  Erebus held the fire escape door open. ‘Hurry up, Wilson.’

  ‘I’m coming,’ gasped Wilson, barely past the lift doors as they dinged the arrival of more trouble. The sound spurred him on, and he managed to slip past Erebus into the stairwell just as armed security guards began to emerge. Erebus closed the door as quickly, and as quietly as possible.

  SEVEN

  Kurrajong, New South Wales, Australia

  The house was in darkness when James arrived home from the airport. It must have been close to midnight. He was exhausted. He’d travelled in taxis, trains and buses, and even walked several kilometres, just to carry out Darren’s elaborate plan. He still couldn’t believe that Darren’s mum had fallen for it, and he wasn’t sure that he’d ever be able to look her in the face again. Out of habit, he crept up the stairs to his room and collapsed into bed without even bothering to undress.

  For the next week, James came and went as he pleased, ate what he liked when he liked. He levitated whenever he wanted – no more using a chair to get to the food on the top shelf of the pantry. He even flew up the stairs instead of climbing them. But Darren made sure James didn’t get too carried away, insisting that he keep the house tidy, just in case his parents returned home early. Darren didn’t want any telltale sign of him or James being there. James almost laughed when Darren said, ‘I want you to be like a shadow in the night.’

  Best of all, Darren had perfected the VPR unit. The VPR not
only made flying faster, it made manoeuvring easier and helped James’s landings. It was the coolest invention ever. The bad thing was that Darren wanted to step up James’s training regime.

  ‘I think you need to practise carrying stuff when you’re flying.’

  James threw up his arms. ‘Why? I can’t, like, fly to the shops or anything.’

  ‘Well, you know . . .’ started Darren, momentarily averting his gaze and scratching the back of his head,‘ . . . you might want to take someone for a fly, that’s all.’

  A wide smile cut across James’s face. ‘There’s no way I can lift you.’ Though he was at least five centimetres taller than Darren, Darren was built,something that James silently envied.

  ‘You could work up to it.’ This sounded an awful lot like pleading, something Darren rarely did.

  James chewed the inside of his cheek. ‘I guess I could give it a go,’ he said, a few seconds later.

  After an hour of trying to lift Darren’s dumbbells, it was obvious that James would be able to carry little more than a bottle of water and a snack when in the air. Carrying Darren was out of the question.

  ‘You’re just too heavy, Bra’a,’ said James, shaking his head.

  Darren shrugged and attempted a smile. ‘Well, it was worth a try.’

  James ran a hand through his hair. It would’ve been pretty cool to take his best friend up to show him some awesome sights. But what if something had gone wrong and he’d dropped him? James shuddered at the thought. He was much better off flying alone. He gazed up at the blue expanse above him and tried not to sound too eager. ‘Do you . . . do you mind if I . . . you know . . . go for a bit?’

  Darren shook his head. ‘No, Bra’a, you go,’ he said with a sigh. ‘I’ve got some stuff I need to do back at the house anyway.’

  James tightened the strap on his helmet and zipped up his jacket, ‘Are you sure?’ he asked, his feet already hovering a couple of centimetres above the dirt.

  ‘Yeah Bra’a, go, just watch those lan . . .’

  James didn’t hear Darren finish his sentence. He rock-eted upwards into the open sky, shivers of excitement running the full length of his body. He flew toward the gullies in the lower Blue Mountains. No one would see him there. He raced over the forest treetops, brushing the highest leaves with his hands, the air cool against his face, his jacket flapping in the wind. He climbed high into the air, zooming through the scud that hung like wisps of smoke beneath the clouds, beads of water clinging to his face and goggles. He dived into the forest trees, weaving and ducking through the tall blue gums. A moment later, he was roller-coasting past the clouds again, his stomach trying to keep up. No dream he’d ever had could compare with this. He’d never felt more alive, more free. Time didn’t matter.

  It wasn’t until he reached Blackheath, where the delicate mist of Bridal Falls and the sandstone cliffs of Govett’s Leap loomed ahead, that he realised just how far he’d flown. He was near the top of the mountains. Below him a flock of cockatoos took flight, their white bodies vivid against the dull green foliage. The world looked so beautiful from up here. James wanted to keep going, but the air was turning cold and the sun was on its final descent. I could visit our Mob at the Gully, he thought. It’s been ages since I’ve seen them . Then he remembered that he was supposed to be at his gran’s, and even though Gran lived in South Australia, she talked to the Aunties at the Gully all the time. He should go home.

  One more climb, he thought, eyeing an odd-looking cumulus cloud above.

  He turned upwards and flicked the VPR unit on. However, the closer he came to the strange cloud, the more uneasy he felt. As big as a school bus, shaped like an anvil at one end, this cloud wasn’t like the rest. It was darker and thicker. And, while the other clouds floated with the air currents, this one remained still. James inclined his ear. Was he going crazy? The cloud was humming!

  He quickly skimmed across its damp surface, searching for the noise. The sound seemed to be emanating from somewhere deep inside. Curious, he reached out, sliding his hand up to his elbow into the grey mass. It felt cold and moist – and hard! James reefed his hand back with a jerk. He’d read enough about clouds since he’d started flying to know that they were definitely not supposed to be solid; clouds were made of water vapour.

  Then, right before his eyes, a tiny spot on the cloud’s side began to swirl, slowly at first and then with more speed. James hovered a little way off, mesmerised by the growing vortex. He ignored the small voice inside his head urging him to leave. The air around seemed to drop another few degrees and, suddenly, James’s jacket billowed out in front of him like a sail and his hair whipped wildly around his face. With a gasp, he realised the spinning vapour was tugging at him, dragging him in. He fumbled for his VPR, but his fingers were ripped away from the unit. The vacuum intensified, and even though he struggled with all his might, he was powerless against its pull. He grimaced as he flew forwards into the vortex. It spun him around and around until he was sick; chunks of his own vomit splattered against his face and he lost all sense of direction.

  The rushing air roared in his ears as he was carried deep inside. In one last-ditch effort, James twisted his body into the wind and managed to find the VPR controls. Just beyond the spinning vapour was blue sky and freedom. He turned the knob to maximum and flicked the switch. He shot forwards, aiming for the vortex’s centre, focused on the patch of blue, pulled his arms and legs in straight and tight – anything to help him escape this nightmare. Air battered and rippled his cheeks. He was nearly there. Just a few more metres.

  Suddenly, the VPR faltered.

  ‘No!’ He rapidly flicked the switch off and on. He couldn’t believe it – the VPR was out of gas.

  James watched, horrified, as the vortex hole snapped shut.

  EIGHT

  Atmospheric Sampling Unit

  The wind stopped. James lay breathless, on a cold, moist floor, surrounded by inky blackness. The vortex had vanished, along with his chance of escape. He tried to gather his thoughts. Where was he? This was no ordinary cloud. He ran his hands along the floor, feeling for anything that might help him understand. A burning, hot lump formed in his throat. How was he going to get out of here? He doubted there would be a door.

  On his hands and knees, he groped through the darkness. The floor curved upwards in a gentle arc. He was in a sort of large tube – some kind of wind tunnel perhaps. James worked his way along the floor until he finally reached a wall. The complete lack of light was disorienting. His stomach churned violently and he would have vomited if he hadn’t already.

  For more than an hour, James explored his dark prison with his fingertips, hoping to find a way out. But the walls and floor felt perfectly smooth. By now, it would be night outside. Darren wouldn’t miss him until tomorrow. He cursed himself for not bringing his mobile. He could have called Darren or used the phone for light. The blackness was pressing in, suffocating him. He screwed his eyes closed, waited a few seconds and then opened them again. But it made no difference – the darkness was the same. Freezing, wet and alone, James sneezed. He huddled against a wall, not for warmth, because there was none, but rather for comfort.

  A long time seemed to pass, and then the soft humming began again. Was the vortex going to open? James’s heart skipped a beat. This might be his chance to escape. He stared blindly into the inky blackness, searching for signs of the spiralling vapour – the vortex could open up anywhere. A gentle breeze brushed his face. There! Ten metres away, a single ray of soft light pierced the jet-black chamber.

  It must be moonlight, thought James, his hopes of escape rising.

  He jumped to his feet, his head spinning. He felt horribly dizzy, but he sprinted toward the beautiful silver beam. He could see the swirling cloud, the vortex growing larger. Almost halfway there, his feet slipped on the smooth, damp floor and he lunged forward, arms outstretched. Before he realised it, he was sliding on his belly, head first, through the darkness, but still toward the light. He
gathered himself and scrambled to his feet. The hole in the vortex had expanded to twice its size and the gentle breeze had now become a gale. James found himself running on the spot, getting nowhere, and then he was flying backwards through the air, powerless against the wind’s force. He flailed, before he smashed into the back wall, his breath knocked out of him in one violent motion. He remained pinned against the wall until the vortex closed once more and he dropped to the floor. He closed his eyes and, from sheer exhaustion, passed out.

  When James finally woke, his throat ached, his nose ran and he was shivering uncontrollably. He felt as if a thousand elephants had trampled him. Unashamedly, he sniffled loudly and then began to sob. He was never going to get out of here. He was going to die in this cold, dark place and no one would ever find him. With another great sob, he wondered why someone would make such a machine. It didn’t seem to have any purpose, except to draw in air – and where did the air go?

  James sucked in his last sob. Where did the air go? he wondered. The air came in and had to go somewhere – it couldn’t just stay in there. It was like a giant wind tunnel, so there must be a place for the air to escape, maybe a vent? James reached out in the dark and touched the side of the chamber. He’d been blown towards the wall; maybe there was a duct. He ran his hands over the smooth surface, feeling for any hint of an opening. He was about to give up when his fingers brushed across a sharp edge just above his head. It was the corner of a grate – too high for him to reach from the floor, so he had missed it earlier. Now, James levitated to get a firm grip on the bars. He positioned his feet against the wall and heaved with all his strength. Nothing happened.

  He gritted his teeth. ‘Come on! MOVE, DAMN IT!’ The grate shifted less than a millimetre, but it was something. He tried again . . . and again . . . and again, until finally the gap was large enough to squeeze through.