Z. Apocalypse

by Steve Cole

  ‘Can.’ The brute head nodded. ‘Fly far.’

  ‘There’s . . . there’s nowhere far enough.’ Adam felt a faint prickle of tears at the back of his eyes. Zed was a miracle creature whose skills outshone those of troops and terrorists alike. He’d been trained with a thousand combat moves, he could defuse bombs and crack codes and commit countless acts of espionage. And yet while he knew so much, he understood so little. It’s like I’m the dad trying to break bad news to his kid in a way he’ll understand, thought Adam. But I’m the kid.

  Trying to talk his friend and guardian into what could well be a suicide mission, Adam found a part of him desperate to take Zed up on his deal – to run away and just give up. There would be somewhere safe from the bombardment, wouldn’t there? Some speck on the planet where life could carry on . . .?

  The desolation Adam had seen in the Geneflow simulation resurfaced in his mind. Suddenly he pictured the centuries-old forest and all its icy serenity exploding in the firestorm, the tall trees incinerated in a split second – nothing left, but ash shadows and scorched earth, poisoned and dead . . .

  ‘Are you scared, Zed?’ he murmured.

  Zed looked past Adam towards the armoured truck behind the trees, a growl building in his belly. Slowly, he nodded.

  ‘Course you are. It was my brainwaves that helped shape you – and I’m scared to death.’ Adam placed a hand on the cracks and scales of Zed’s gigantic tail. ‘I don’t like trying to be brave. But I guess . . . some things you can’t run from.’ Now it was his turn to shrug. ‘I don’t want to go on this mission and neither does Zoe, but we have to, yeah? Because we’re the only ones who’ve been to the Geneflow base. And Colonel Oldman and his troops won’t have time to scope out the place for themselves, or set up weapons to try to break inside, ’cause once Josephs knows we’re coming she’ll send everything she’s got after us . . .’

  ‘Come.’ Zed moved his lips awkwardly, like he was chewing the words as he spoke them. ‘Have . . . to come.’

  ‘You’re sure? You’ll come with us to Geneflow’s base?’ Adam felt an uneasy mingling of hope, fear and guilt. ‘Thank you. Oldman’s preparing the strike force at some old airstrip thirty kilometres from here. I have the coordinates written down . . .’ He trailed off, unnerved by the intensity of Zed’s stare. ‘Uh . . . you OK?’

  ‘You.’ The word was a sandpapered whisper. ‘Got . . . my back?’

  Adam swallowed hard and nodded. ‘Like you’ve got mine,’ he whispered back. ‘Always.’

  The wind took the word and blew it into the conifer shadows. Then Zed flicked out his stubby wings.

  ‘It’s all right,’ Adam told him. ‘We’re not due to leave till dawn tomorrow. There’s last-minute stuff to test out or something.’ He forced a smile and pressed the paper with the coordinates written on it into Zed’s five-fingered hand. ‘Thank you. I’ll . . . I’ll see you first thing tomorrow. Come and meet me at the airstrip. Yeah?’

  With a flick, Zed folded his wings away and nodded.

  Adam turned and stumbled away towards the truck, his legs like water, his mind spinning. He could tell the grown-ups that he’d done it. He’d got the ‘good guys’ their trump card – their surprise attack. But now he wasn’t sure if he should feel proud of himself – or ashamed.

  I just hope Oldman plays things straight, thought Adam. And that setting up this mission isn’t the last thing any of us will ever do.

  Chapter 22: Good to Go

  ‘WON’T BE LONG now.’

  Adam stirred from his half-sleep. The driver of the all-terrain vehicle was a big, dark bear of a man, his voice drowning out its rumbling engines with ease: ‘The party should be happening just over the next hill.’

  A tremor of anticipation shook Adam properly awake. Zoe was sat in the bucket seat beside him, quiet but alert. It was still dark outside and Adam checked his watch: close to six in the morning. The news feed at the base had been filled with reports of anti-American demonstrations in Moscow and Beijing. Neither side would rule out the use of nuclear weapons.

  Faint streaks of light were stencilling the dark. Dawn was on the approach. We’ve taken an hour to cover thirty kilometres, Adam reflected. Wonder how quickly Zed would cover the distance.

  Wonder if he’s as scared as I am right now?

  Zoe yawned noisily. ‘Is it too late to change my mind and go back to the camp?’

  Adam gave a hollow laugh. ‘Wouldn’t that be nice! But you heard what Oldman said.’ He thought back to when the Colonel had dropped in on them late last night. ‘We’ve been to Geneflow’s base. We’re expected to show them the way inside.’

  ‘If his spy-satellite pix of the city hadn’t been so rubbish we could’ve marked the entrance on them,’ Zoe complained. ‘I don’t see why it takes two of us. You’ve got to go anyway to look after Zed, but me . . . I feel like a hanger-on.’

  ‘If anything happens to me, you’re the only one Zed will trust,’ Adam pointed out. ‘Anyway. Just sitting around waiting’s got to be as tough as taking part.’

  ‘Oh, sure. Easily.’ She looked at him. ‘Who d’you think you’re kidding?’

  He smiled. ‘Not even myself!’

  They managed a laugh between them.

  ‘Anyway, at least we’ll be going by plane,’ said Adam. ‘Not “beak class”.’

  Zoe nodded. ‘I hope Keera will be all right on her own. Mum said she’s getting stronger all the time, but . . .’

  ‘She’ll make a miracle recovery. You’ll see.’ The transport rocked a little as it crested the hill, and Adam peered out the window, ready to get his first view of the airfield. ‘Well, we’re here.’ He turned from the tinted windows, frowning. ‘But where’s everybody else?’

  Adam had expected his first glimpse of the strike force to be like something out of a movie; awe-inspiring hardware, fighter jets and assault helicopters gleaming in the fire of an enormous red sun, low in the sky . . . Dozens of troops, good to go in a heartbeat when the call to action came. The reality was as different as it was disappointing. A thin mist hung like a ghostly veil in the air, part-obscuring the long, wide airstrip. There were trucks and transporters and tankers and ground crew but—

  ‘No planes?’ Zoe frowned and turned to their driver. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘Wait a minute . . .’ As the car rumbled on down the slope towards the military ants’ nest, Adam thought he could see sharp lines and graceful steel curves mingled in with the mist. ‘Am I seeing things or—’

  ‘You’re not supposed to be seeing things,’ said Zoe, wide-eyed. ‘OMG, Ad. They’ve got stealth-tech going on down there!’

  Like some magic-eye puzzle scattered over real life, Adam could just discern the bulk of a passenger aircraft through the haze; he soon found the trick was not to look at it directly, but to observe from the corner of his sight. ‘They’ve been studying Keera for almost a fortnight,’ he murmured. ‘Makes sense they’d want to know how she turns invisible.’ He narrowed his eyes; further down the strip he could just make out two more planes, massive, heavy-duty constructions.

  Air transporters, he realized. One of them must be there to carry Zed.

  ‘This has got to help our chances, right?’ Excitement was shining now in Zoe’s eyes. ‘I can’t believe they didn’t tell us they’d done this!’

  ‘It makes sense of why they’re willing to risk crossing the Russian border,’ said Adam more cautiously. ‘I heard at the Pentagon that the Z. beasts slipped past radar systems in stealth mode, so if we can do the same . . .’ He looked up and saw a hazy shape circling high above in the lightening sky. ‘Oh, man. Heads up.’

  ‘Zed?’ Zoe peered up through the window. ‘Wow. We really are using Geneflow’s own weapons against them.’

  As their armoured transport got closer, Adam could hear a fierce protesting drone, like generators being run to their limits and beyond. Finally it wound down, like a screaming mechanical siren, and as it did so the plane and the air carriers began to shi
mmer into plain sight.

  ‘Your escorts will take you from here,’ called the driver, hitting the brakes as three soldiers ran briskly up to the vehicle. He pointed to the big white jet adorned with stripes of pale blue. ‘And you’ll be riding in style. That’s a VC-25A, military version of a Boeing 747. Worth three-hundred-and-thirty million dollars. The President’s own plane.’

  Adam swapped a nervous glance with Zoe. ‘Wow.’

  ‘Those other two are C17 Globemaster IIIs,’ the driver went on conversationally. ‘Heavy lifters for operations in theatre. They can airdrop over a hundred paratroopers and equipment.’

  Or one dinosaur, thought Adam. Then the doors of the vehicle were yanked open and stony faces pressed in, arms extended to help him and Zoe down onto the tarmac. The cold air was intense, like a physical attack on the senses.

  ‘My friend needs her wheelchair,’ Adam began, his voice coming in puffs of steam. ‘It’s in the back—’

  ‘Copy that,’ came a familiar voice as someone appeared from the rear of the transport, wheeling the chair. ‘Welcome to the weirdest damn airport I’ve ever been to.’

  ‘Colonel Oldman!’ Adam was taken aback; how many commanding officers took the role of porter?

  It was Zoe who supplied the likely explanation: ‘How guilty is he feeling dragging kids into this?’ she muttered.

  Oldman was out of uniform, dressed casually in jeans and a parka. ‘Glad you two could make it,’ he said, as the soldiers helped Zoe into her chair. ‘Get the girl on board.’ As the two soldiers saluted and got to it, he turned to Adam. ‘Now, we’re waiting for your buddy, Zed. You’re sure that he’ll—’

  ‘He’s coming, sir.’ Adam looked up at the blur in the breaking blue above. It was growing bigger, a hazy streak on reality, descending fast . . . ‘He doesn’t like soldiers, please don’t panic him or . . .’

  ‘My crew has been briefed.’ Oldman spoke in a clipped tone. ‘You’re here because you can handle him. I hope.’ He shook his head. ‘When the Special Activities Division brought me in to handle high-threat military operations, I never imagined . . .’

  His words were lost in the thunder of Zed’s arrival. The ground shook as two huge, three-toed footprints appeared in the tarmac and the force behind them grew visible – the dark, colossal bulk of the Z. rex, blotting out the dawn light. Opening his tooth-crammed jaws, Zed threw back his head and roared. Oldman fell back in alarm against the armoured transport, but Adam stood his ground.

  ‘It’s all right, Zed!’ he called up quickly. ‘No one wants to hurt you.’

  ‘That’s right.’ Oldman recovered himself hastily, tried to act unbothered. ‘Uh, the report said . . . he talks?’

  Zed suddenly pushed his massive head down and forwards until it was level with Oldman’s; the colonel held very still. ‘Here . . . for Adam.’ The words hissed and rattled from the monstrous throat. ‘Just Adam.’

  Oldman managed a single nod. Zed reached past him with a chunky arm and pressed his hand against the side of the all-terrain vehicle. Then he scraped his claws downwards, a slow, nails-on-chalkboard effect, scoring the armoured metal and bulletproof glass.

  ‘Adam,’ said Oldman quietly. ‘Can you ask Zed to step into the back of this C17? We put some, uh, food in there . . .’ He raised a hand towards the big plane, which had a massive ramp hanging down from the rear of its fuselage. A squad of soldiers were flanking the plane, but keeping a wise and healthy distance.

  ‘It’s OK, Zed,’ Adam told him. ‘They’re going to carry you so you can save your strength. I’ll check the place out with you.’

  He crossed to the C17, Zed padding alongside him, tossing barks and growls at the soldiers around the airfield. The cargo hold looked a reasonable size; lengthwise it was longer than a train carriage, nearly four metres high and almost six metres wide. Several hunks of meat had been piled inside. Zed looked at Adam for a few moments. Then he ducked his head and stepped lightly up the ramp, curling round like a dog finding a comfortable spot to lie down. He sniffed the food, but did not eat – then looked at Adam, perhaps a little resentfully. Feeling sad, Adam mouthed a thank you to him.

  Oldman came up behind him. ‘We’ve fixed two-way comms so you’ll be able to talk to him from our own plane when you need to – and he can, uh, talk to you.’ A pause, then he lowered his voice. ‘You’re certain this . . . creature will do as you tell him?’

  ‘As sure as I can be.’ Adam wasn’t bragging; the admission made him feel bad. He raised his voice. ‘Zed, these people here are all my friends. Will you help them like you’ve helped me, and do as they ask?’

  The huge reptile shifted his head to one side and gave a soft, sulky snort.

  ‘Think that’s a yes,’ Adam murmured. At least I hope so.

  Oldman hit a red button built into the fuselage. The ramp cranked slowly upwards, sealing the bulkhead. Adam watched, heart pounding, as Zed was taken from his sight.

  As Oldman strode off towards the VC-25, which was humming and hissing as its systems came alive, he looked to be in a daze. ‘No wonder the government’s gonna deny all knowledge if we blow this thing – who the hell would ever believe them?’

  Adam tagged along behind him. ‘What’s the other C17 carrying?’

  ‘Operatives from Delta Force, Navy SEALs, SAS Mountain Troop . . . the cream of NATO’s special operations forces.’ Oldman nodded distantly. ‘Out of uniform of course, and no ID, so can’t be traced – while their equipment was purchased from a private arms dealer.’

  ‘But if this is the President’s air transport, isn’t it going to be obvious—’

  ‘Don’t worry about the cover story. Special Operations Group deals with this stuff all the time.’ Oldman looked up at the bare, blue-and-white expanse of the plane’s nosecone. ‘It’s already the most advanced aircraft on the planet. That’s why it was the first to be fitted with the super-stealth technology we adapted from Keera’s cellular design. That might just get us past the Russian fighter jets patrolling the borders without starting a major diplomatic incident.’ He walked up the gangway to the plane’s main entrance. ‘Come on. We’re all aboard and good to go.’

  We are? thought Adam, his legs wobbling as he followed the colonel. The mist was thinning and the sky brightening over the surrounding moorland and the distant trees. But Adam felt a dark foreboding swell inside, and as he reached the door, he hesitated.

  We’ve got one chance at this. Just one.

  Will we make it back?

  He looked towards the C17 and thought of Zed trapped inside . . . Thought of Keera lying so sick and still back at the camp . . . Thought of all the days he’d woken feeling sick and small and helpless. Thought of Zoe too, and his dad and Eve, of the carefree days they’d lost, forced down into danger.

  One way or another, he thought, that changes after today.

  Adam stepped inside, and the door swung shut on the cold blue sky behind him.

  Chapter 23: The Careful Invasion

  ADAM WAS SHOWN to a high-tech conference room on the top deck of the three-level plane. With the wood panelling, huge oak table and giant TV screen it looked to be modelled on the Pentagon office he’d visited. Only the many porthole-style windows studding the walls, their shutters half-raised to let in the morning light, reminded him that he was on an aircraft.

  Zoe was already there, strapped into a leather seat, big fingers drumming on her jeans where her leg should be, watching her mum and Adam’s dad at work. They were standing behind their untidy tumble of hardware and monitors, grappling as ever with multicoloured cables. Only this time, the Think-Send headset had extra bits and bobs attached, and was linked to a large metal box.

  ‘Ad!’ His father saw him, discarded a set of leads and enveloped him in his arms like he hadn’t seen him in weeks. ‘I’m so glad to see you. Zed’s on board the carrier safely? You’re all set . . .?’

  Adam hugged him back, but barely heard the questions, mumbling vague replies. The weighty realization filled h
is chest like cold water: This could be the last day of all our lives . . . But there was a sense of excitement fizzing among those fears. Or maybe it could be the greatest. He’d lived through so much, clawed his way through the craziest odds.

  Just imagine if we actually made it . . .

  A steady rush of turbines began to build, as though the aeroplane was gathering strength to fly. Adam felt his stomach twist with nerves – and then a dour-looking man appeared at the door. ‘Would you all get into your seats, please? We’ll be taking off shortly.’

  ‘Who’s he?’ wondered Zoe as the man stalked away.

  ‘Secret Service,’ Eve explained through a mouthful of croissant, spitting pastry flakes as she connected the last leads to a slew of wires protruding from a hole punched into the on-board comms console. ‘There’s a couple of nice men with guns on board to keep us in line – doubling up as flight crew.’

  Adam looked at the lash-up. ‘So, what does that thing actually do?’

  ‘Hopefully, and at its most basic, it’s a dinosaur jamming device.’ Mr Adlar pressed a couple of buttons and looked relieved to find a number of red lights dotted around the construction glow into life. Then he patted the Think-Send helmet. ‘We’ll transmit a loop of random code, which will hopefully be picked up by the Z. beasts’ brain implants and scramble their minds.’

  Zoe nodded. ‘So they can’t be used as weapons.’

  ‘Exactly.’ Mr Adlar crossed to the communications console and flicked a switch. ‘We’re up and running, colonel.’

  ‘Pleased to hear it, Bill,’ came Oldman’s crackling reply. ‘Will your jamming device work?’

  ‘We hope so,’ said Eve. ‘There’s been no way to test it properly.’

  ‘I think you’ll get your chance,’ drawled Oldman. ‘You can bet Geneflow will send every dinosaur in the place to attack the moment they see us coming.’

  The speaker went dead.

  Adam slumped down on the leather couch that ran the length of the cabin. ‘This thing won’t hurt Zed, will it?’