by Simon Clark
'We've got around sixty Marines. You think we're really going to be able to fight our way into what amounts to a fortress?'
'No, we can't simply hammer our way in by brute force.' Gabriel tapped a hefty finger on the map. 'Sam Dymes believes our only chance of success is to draw the bulk of Torrence's army to the far south of the island, down here in TriBeCa and Lower Manhattan. He's going to use a strong detachment of Marines, sappers and undercover operatives to strike at the shoreline gun batteries to make Torrence believe this is the prelude to a big seaborne invasion.' Gabriel gave a grim smile. 'Believe it or not, one of our secret weapons is Manhattan's rush hour. The streets will be choked with cars when we launch the attack on the big guns down there on the river banks. Torrence's tanks and armoured cars will have to travel all the way down from Midtown to Lower Manhattan. The distance is no more than a couple of miles but with luck - and a little more mischief on our part - it will take them an hour to get through the traffic'
'But even so, our Marines are only armed with machine guns at best. They won't stand a chance against tanks.'
'That's why as soon as the Marines see them arrive they'll disengage their diversionary attack, then head back on foot to the Empire State Building. Oh, and the streets through Greenwich Village are a tad on the narrow side, and we'll leave a few sappers there to mess up the traffic a little more.'
I looked at the plan. On paper it seemed sound. But something Gabriel had said came back to me. 'You told me that the rush-hour traffic was one of our secret weapons. What's the other?'
'They don't call us The Foresters for nothing,' Gabriel said. 'For years we've used the triffids as an important line of defence against Torrence. Now we're going to use them again.'
'How?'
'See these bridges across the East River? Each one is sealed shut with a thirty-foot fence. We've set explosives to blow those fences sky-high at five o'clock sharp.'
I gave a low whistle.
Gabriel went on: 'Torrence's people are going to have to contend with a lot of mean triffid plants when they come stomping over the bridges into Manhattan. And every Torrence soldier we can draw away from the Empire State makes our prime objective that little bit easier.'
'Gabe,' I said, 'there are tens of thousands of men, women and children on this island. They are innocent people who have nothing to do with Torrence's regime. You're going to have their blood on your hands.'
Gabriel disagreed. 'New Yorkers have a contingency plan. When the alarms sound - and they will be screaming all over this damn city, just you wait and see - then folk will, if they're away from home, take to the subway tunnels for cover. Once the electricity for the rail system is cut off they can accommodate thousands. Trust me, David. The general population will be safe.'
I took a breath. The idea of encouraging triffids to rampage through a hitherto safe area ran seriously against the grain for me. 'Anything else I should know?'
'Only that there are a few more surprises in store.'
'Such as?'
'Ah, those, David Masen, are kept secret even from me.'
Indeed, there were surprises to come. But not all of them were planned by the very able Sam Dymes.
CHAPTER FORTY ONE
ZERO HOUR
THE build-up to five o'clock that afternoon passed slowly. A painful slowness that the leaden ticking of the clock on the wall did nothing to alleviate.
By midday most of the unit that had been camping in the basement had left for their respective destinations. I whiled away the time with Marni. She'd found a travel-chess set that had been left by one of the sappers. By the third game, when her queen, rook and bishop were again crowding my king into a corner, I didn't complain when Gabriel said, 'Right, David. Time to kit out.' He nodded towards a packing case from which an assortment of muzzles pointed at the ceiling. 'You know how to handle a sub-machine gun and grenades?'
I told him I did.
'Good. Take your pick. The Ingram's the lightest to carry but the old M3A1 packs more of a punch. Oh.' He'd remembered a detail. 'Later, when the balloon goes up, if someone you don't know shouts the word "Sacramento" at you, answer "Berlin". Otherwise they're likely to shoot you dead.'
A useful bit of information. I hoped I'd remember it when the time came.
***
Five o'clock. Rush hour. The sound of traffic grew louder outside. More feet pitter-pattered over the glazed grille. What I did not hear were any explosions. Nor the gunfire of Foresters attacking gun batteries down in the south of Manhattan.
Gabriel Deeds must have read my thoughts. 'We're too far away to hear any of the bridge gates being blown. Which will make life easier for us for the time being. Ready?'
I nodded.
Apart from Marni, Gabriel and myself there were five Foresters. All carried weapons concealed in a variety of ways, either in bags or musical instrument cases. Gabriel carried a submachine gun and a satchel of grenades in a guitar case. My submachine gun found a snug but temporary home in a canvas holdall.
Gabriel addressed everyone. 'OK. It's five. The attacks will have started. It'll take at least a few minutes for the news to be made public. So, for the time being, when we go up onto the street, spread out, walk in pairs… and I mean walk. Look as if you're just wanting to get home after a long day at the office.' He nodded to each of us in turn. 'And good luck. I want to see every one of you people going home. Right-oh, Benjamin, lead us out.'
Soon we were on our way. By the time we arrived at the Empire State the assault by the Foresters on the building should be nearing its objective. After that, our orders were short and simple - disturbingly so. We were to regroup, then head north to the 102nd Street Parallel. From there we had somehow to recapture our flying boats for the journey home. With a growing sense of unease, I realized that not only might we be fighting all the way back to the riverside hangar, there was also a good chance that Torrence's men guarding the planes might simply have removed the engine leads or cut the control cables, thus crippling the aircraft. If that happened we were well and truly stranded. What then? I only hoped that Sam Dymes had a contingency plan tucked up that long sleeve of his.
I turned my attention back to the street. Cars and pedestrians crowded along it. It looked like any other rush hour I'd experienced in New York. But just a few miles away, I knew, a fierce battle for control of the gun batteries had erupted.
Beside me, Marni walked with her head down, trying hard to conceal her scarred face with her long red hair. Just a little ahead, Gabriel moved with that long easy stride of his.
'Hey, Gabe!' The call came from a cab driver in his car. 'Haven't seen you in weeks… what ya bin doin' with yourself?'
Tension tightened my stomach muscles. Gabriel must be a wanted man in New York. If he was recognized by a cop then the shooting match might start sooner rather than later. Casually, Gabriel stooped towards the window of the cab. Smiling, relaxed, he exchanged a few words with the driver, then pointed at his watch. I guessed he was telling the man he was in a hurry. But by that time a green traffic light was showing anyway and the line of traffic rumbled away.
Gabriel continued walking. But I saw that he now paid more attention to the people in cars and to those around him on the sidewalk. He even raised the guitar case towards his chest as if ready to flick open the lid at a second's notice.
I pulled the zip down a little on the holdall. Glancing down I saw the glint of gunmetal. I eased the zip back to make sure a passer-by didn't see the gun. But at that moment I knew I was ready to start shooting if I had to.
Traffic still rumbled around us. Once more it looked like nothing more than a typical weekday rush hour. People sat over coffees in diners. A boy sold newspapers on a street corner. Traffic lights ran their sequences from red to green to red again. Illuminated signs on street corners flashed their familiar Walk… Don't Walk. We moved with the flow of pedestrians.
At that moment I told myself: Something's gone wrong. They've called off the attack. It's a
ll gone to hell.
Yet still Gabriel walked about twenty yards ahead. Behind me the other Foresters walked in ones and twos, trying to look part of the crowds.
Because of the tension, my mouth had dried so much by the time we reached Fifth Avenue that my tongue felt as though it had been welded to its roof. By now, I could clearly see the Empire State around four hundred yards away. A shimmering tower in the late afternoon sun, it stood aloof and apparently tranquil above the bustling city streets.
Certainly there was no sign of an armed assault on the place in progress. All I could hear were the cars, the call of bagel vendors, music blaring through the open door of a clothes store. Still not so much as a single gunshot.
Meanwhile, Gabriel could have been a man making for home with nothing more than a cold beer on his mind. But just as I was beginning to think that I'd arrive at the base of the Empire State Building to find the place going about its business as usual there was sudden pandemonium.
I saw Gabriel react. He stopped suddenly, then looked sharply back at me. I didn't like the expression on his face. A mixture of shock and bewilderment. I hurried forward, looking for the source of the sudden outbreak of screaming. Then I saw it.
It had nothing to do with what might or might not be happening at the Empire State Building. Instead a wave of people were charging out from one of the cross streets.
A yellow cab roared down the side walk, sounding its horn. A truck tried to weave through traffic but struck a bus. While people on foot were fleeing from something I couldn't see, all of them running and stumbling in the same direction. I watched in astonishment as this flood of humanity streamed across Fifth Avenue to vanish into the streets opposite. This made no sense whatsoever.
I caught up with Gabriel. 'Gabe, what's happening?'
'I don't know.'
'I can't hear gunfire.'
'Me neither.'
'But what are those people running from?'
'Search me. But whatever it is, they're scared out of their wits.'
We stood watching as the cross street disgorged more panic-stricken people. They dropped their bags, briefcases, shopping. Many had even lost the shoes from their feet in their mad dash to escape.
But to escape what?
I moved out into the traffic that had been brought to a halt by the sheer volume of cars and by the people running across its path. A truck roared crazily from the cross street and struck some stationary cars on Fifth Avenue. Now the whole road was gridlocked.
Edging a few steps further out among the cars, I looked along the street in question. New Yorkers still ran from it, some so wildly that they tripped and fell flat on their faces. More fell over them until there was a writhing mass of limbs on the sidewalk as people struggled to get to their feet, only to be knocked over again by the never-ending rush of men and women.
Then I saw the cause of the panic. My blood ran cold as I stared in disbelief at what now appeared round the corner of a building. A full sixty feet high, its stem lurching and swaying, its dark green leaves shaking with every step, the cone on top slowly turning left and right, came a triffid from beyond the boundaries of nightmare. With lightning speed its stinger shot out at the knot of fallen people. Again and again it struck like the whip of a slave-driver.
Piercing shrieks filled the air.
The triffid paused on the street corner. It was in no hurry. No hurry at all. The cone turned as if to scan the street. Then, seeming to make a decision, it moved casually on, killing with ease as it went.
'Hell,' breathed Gabriel, his dark eyes shining with horror. 'How did a triffid get so deep into Midtown? And look at the size of the thing.'
'You said the sappers were blowing the bridge gates.'
'But that wouldn't have unleashed triffids into the city itself. There are triffid squads to deal with them. They'd have been burning the damn things as they came off the bridge. There's no way triffids could get onto these streets!'
'Well, that one has.' I nodded towards the plant as it continued its lurching walk on its three massive yet still strangely stumpy legs. I'd never seen a specimen that size before. Like the aquatic variety of the killer plant we had encountered in Columbus Pond, these huge triffid variants must have been growing in America's hinterland, far away from human eyes. Once more this hinted at the plant's intellect. Had triffid 'high command' concealed the variant as a secret weapon to be launched when it deemed humanity to be at its most vulnerable?
This monster must have been five times the height of its tallest brother plants. It also appeared to move five times as fast. It crossed the road and disappeared into a side street.
'Don't bother about that,' Gabriel told me. 'The triffid squads will soon burn it.'
He'd barely said it when a whole mass of greenery seemed to burst from another cross street behind us. I counted perhaps eight of the killer plants. They were easily as tall as their comrade that had just gone lurching in the direction of Times Square. Stings lashed out. More screams. Now there was total panic. Car engines roared as drivers tried to find an escape route, but with the traffic already at a standstill all they succeeded in doing was ramming into other cars. Many relied on the protection of their vehicles and sat cowering inside them with the windows shut tight. But they were to discover - the hard way - that they weren't as secure as they'd hoped. The sheer force of those gigantic stings shattered windscreens with one blow while the follow-up strike found the car's occupants, poisoning them with lethal efficiency within seconds.
Motorists quickly realized that the only means of escape was on foot so, throwing open their car doors, they ran for it. Many weren't fast enough. Hundred-foot stings cracked through the air with uncanny accuracy to strike exposed faces. Soon dozens of bodies lay twitching in the street.
Screaming men and women ran one way towards apparent safety, only to be faced with yet another triffid lurching round a corner. They were forced to run back the way they had come.
I looked down the street. A narrow subway entrance had become blocked with panicking New Yorkers as people fought and clawed their way to what they desperately hoped would be safety underground.
The particular timbre of this frenzied screaming attracted the attention of a triffid. It stopped moving north. The cone on top of the stem turned to - and there was no doubt in my mind about this - to look at the mass of humanity scrambling for the narrow staircase. Knowing where to find easy prey, it changed direction to come lurching towards the hundreds of frantic people.
And this monster of its species could move fast. The stem whipped back and forth high above the trucks. I could see the whorl of the sting contracting as it tensed, ready to strike.
I'd seen enough. Pulling the sub-machine gun from the bag, I aimed, then let the vile plant have a good long burst, shredding its cone and destroying its stinger.
Gabriel's glare stabbed at me. 'You shouldn't have done that, David.'
'I'm not going to stand by while innocent people are massacred by those things.'
'David, that is not our objective.'
'Objective be damned!'
The gunfire had attracted the attention of other triffids. They came lurching eagerly along the road. Panic-stricken people surged toward us. Marni was knocked aside. I grabbed her and dragged her back to the relative safety of a shop doorway.
'OK, David,' Gabriel said. 'You've brought the big guys this way. What now?'
I looked at the swaying forms of the gigantic plants. Clearly I couldn't shoot the tops off them all.
'Hold this.' I handed Gabriel the gun. Then I turned to Marni. 'Help me turn on the car radios. As many as you can… turn them up full!'
Gabriel's expression indicated that he thought I'd gone mad. But Marni didn't hesitate. She ran with me along a line of grid locked cars. All had been abandoned, yet some had been left with their engines idling. It only took a moment to switch on the radios, then turn them up full. Soon a mixture of classical music, jazz and talk stations blared out of the
open car doors.
Marni and I worked our way back towards Gabriel, turning up radios so loud that the cars' bodywork vibrated under our hands.
By this time the triffids should have reached us. But they stopped at each car to investigate the source of the sound. I'd just reached the cab of a truck and had switched on the radio when the bluegrass guitar music was cut off in mid-chord. An urgent female voice said: 'Attention. Attention, please. This is a public announcement. Triffids have been sighted on Manhattan. If you are at home or in a secure building, stay there. If you are in a car or hearing this in a public place, make your way north to the 102nd Street Parallel. The gates there will be opened and you can take refuge north of the wall until the danger is over. I repeat. For your own safety make your way to the 102nd Street parallel. Gates will be opened for you to-'
At that moment I had plenty to occupy my mind without thinking through the implications of tens of thousands of New Yorkers suddenly finding themselves in such a grim neighborhood north of the prison wall.
'Smart move, David,' Gabriel acknowledged reluctantly. 'You've given those people a chance to save their necks.' He handed me back the gun. 'But it's time we did what we set out to do. Come on.'
With that he led our little band in the direction of the Empire State Building. By now the streets were largely empty of people. Either they'd rushed into office blocks or they'd headed down into subway tunnels. There at least those monster triffids could not reach them.
Which was more than could be said for our own exposed position. We constantly had to weave through the jam of abandoned cars as triffid after triffid lurched into Fifth Avenue. That was when it became clear to me that this was no haphazard rampage by a few triffids but a coordinated attack. As far as I could determine, they were moving east to west, driving people before them. Then they would leave one of their number at a street corner to guard the intersection. If this continued, the triffids would soon be able to stop all movement of unprotected pedestrians. Moreover, the sheer bulk of these plants wouldn't permit you to simply shove them aside with a car. They'd have to be tackled with flame-throwers and bulldozers.
