“This way,” Janet said, as she began to guide them down the corridors. There were three of the Colony people walking before Jeremy’s group, and a couple more behind.
They shuffled along the corridor, each seemingly lost in thought. Sean could feel Checkmate’s gaze upon him, his eyes desperately searching for some sort of comfort from him. Sean ignored the hacker.
A sound began to thump through the corridors. A slow, rhythmic pounding of discordant drums. The captors straightened their backs, took on a weird solemn attitude.
The group finally reached a metal door, and stopped. The drums were louder, now. Janet raised a hand and knocked three times – three loud, clear knocks, as if this were part of some established ritual amongst these people. The drumming stopped.
“Come in,” a deep voice called out. Sean had no doubt this was Jacob.
Janet pushed the door open, and they found themselves in a large room, one that might have once been a canteen or something. On their left, a high chair with Jacob sitting in it. Opposite him, and to their right, a dozen or so of his people sat staring at them with wide eyes. Old pans and buckets were resting on their knees, the makeshift drums they’d used as musical accompaniment to their arrival.
Sean gasped. Despite the unease he had felt in the corridors, and despite the obvious effort these people were making to come across as some sort of structured, dangerous cult, they just looked pathetic. Weak, sick and pale, their fearful eyes darting from their charismatic leader to the prisoners.
Jacob alone appeared confident. Sean observed his unblinking eyes, that were deep-set but protruding, giving him an air of constant, insane watchfulness. An automatic weapon of some sort was resting across his knees.
“Come on in,” he invited them, with mock hospitality.
Those who had escorted them sat down among the public, while Sean and the others were left standing awkwardly by the entrance. Jeremy stepped forward, subservient, head low and shoulders hunched. Sean had never seen him like this.
“Thank you. Thank you, great leader of the Colony,” the old man said. Suddenly, he really did look old. Old and humble and feeble. He took in the room, breathing deeply. “You aura is strong, sir. This place is barely wide enough to contain it.”
“Hm,” Jacob grunted. In the brief pause that followed, Sean caught a glimpse of satisfaction on Jacob’s face.
He likes the adulation, thought Sean. He took a quick glance towards his ramshackle followers. The adulation and the power.
Jacob regarded Jeremy, his piercing gaze fixed on the hippie. “You said you had something to tell us, old man.”
“Absolutely,” grinned Jeremy. He took a tentative step towards the centre of the room, then stopped. He looked at the Colony’s leader. “May I?”
Jacob waved a careless hand in the air. “Go on,” he said, then shuffled around in his armchair, getting comfortable.
Jeremy stood before him, at an angle, in order to address both Jacob and his people. He cleared his voice, and began. “People of the Colony, you have lived in almost absolute seclusion for some time now. Perhaps, despite your closeness to the gods – the images on the walls here are testimony to that – and your leader’s brave rule upon you, you may have overlooked the importance of the role you are to play, in this new world of ours.”
Sean, standing by the wall alongside his fellow travellers, eyed Checkmate. He was staring at Jeremy with the same focus and fascination as the rest of the Colony’s people. As usual, it was rather hard to detect the thoughts of the man in the uniform, but he too seemed to take in each and every word that poured from Jeremy’s lips.
“You see,” Jeremy said, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial tone, “across the globe, in old Europe, there are people who are aware of you.”
His words struck the audience. Mouths hung open and gasps were sounded. Even Jacob began to seem impressed. Although, thought Sean, there was a self-assurance in his eyes, as if he had been expecting this revelation.
“There are people,” the hippie continued, “people I serve, that have received dreams about you, from the very gods that adorn the Colony. In these dreams, messages were passed, instructions laid out.” He nodded knowingly. Basking, Sean thought, in the undivided attention of his spectators. “And these instructions… these prophecies, all lead to you. But mainly,” he added, turning towards Jacob and bowing his forehead, “to your leader.”
A captivated silence filled the room. It was a silence Sean recognised, from back in Bately. The same silence that had charmed the Afflicted, when Jeremy had addressed them. Addressed them with a load of lies, Sean thought. He squirmed, breathing in an uneasy sigh. The last thing he wanted, now, was to stand through another one of Jeremy’s insane speeches, watch his audience lose its mind to his words and promises. He didn’t even care if, for once, Jeremy actually believed what he was saying. It didn’t matter. Five more minutes of this, and Sean felt like he could collapse, lose it. Yes, five more minutes of this, and–
But he needn’t have feared. The whole speech was over in two minutes.
Jeremy was still speaking. “So, if I may reveal this message of hope to you, oh chosen people of the post-impact world–”
Sean never saw it coming. Neither did Jacob.
Jeremy had been facing the audience. An instant later, his body twisted at insane speed, elbow held outwards. It crashed with a loud crack into Jacob’s jaw. Blood spilled almost instantaneously, painting the man’s beard a bright shade of red. His body bounced back against his chair, with a groan.
Jeremy’s hand snapped out and grabbed the automatic weapon. A slight pressure of his index finger, and Jacob’s body quivered, shaking with every bullet that entered him.
Time had stopped. Stopped, it appeared, for everyone but Jeremy. Sean couldn’t move, couldn’t begin to even let out the scream that was squeezing against his chest. He simply stared at Jeremy, who had lost all meekness, all bowing subservience. He was now tall, strong, muscular. And merciless.
Sean watched as he turned towards Jacob’s men. None of them had moved a finger. They all just gazed in absolute horror, incapable of doing anything at all, now their overpowering leader lay dying on the floor. Jeremy fired a quick burst, carelessly fanning out bullets. Sean saw large red stains appear on Janet’s chest. She seemed to stare at them in surprise, before falling to the ground. Bodies collapsed, but no one shouted. Not yet.
Jeremy ran to Sean and the others, tossing the rifle at the soldier, who instantly pointed it at their former captors. Ready to shoot.
“Quick!” he said, pushing them towards the exit. “We have to go before the others get back.” Sean found he had suddenly been drained of all will. He obeyed, following Jeremy as if in a dream. The hippie led them, then came Sean, followed by Checkmate. The soldier was trailing behind, weapon raised.
Just as they left the room, Sean noticed something shatter in the lost expressions of the people of the Colony. They turned towards Jeremy, and the rage and despair of a child who has been torn from their parents filled their eyes. A collective howl began to brew, exploding into shrieks and screams of fury as Sean entered the passageway.
He heard gunfire, as shots were fired by the soldier. There were howls of pain, but only hardly audible behind the shouts and curses. They were being chased now, by desperate, senseless people who wanted revenge.
Ahead of him, Jeremy was running towards the exit. Suddenly, Sean pieced it together.
The hippie had sought their opportunity when part of the Colony people had left on their scavenge hunt. They always took weapons with them. He knew they had very few, because there were often fights over who was to carry them. Jeremy must have known this too. Of course, it had been a reckless gamble to attempt Jacob’s murder like this. But Jeremy was also the one who had flown them across the ocean in a near-suicidal attempt to carry out his plan, whatever it was.
And now, in that exact instant, Sean realised he was really no different from the crazed people who we
re chasing him. He too had surrendered all will to someone else. Someone who was as twisted, as deranged as Jacob. If not worse. And although he saw this, there was nothing he could do about it. Nothing but follow this strange man through the dirt passages of the Colony, entrusting him with their escape. With his life.
“Grab your things!” Jeremy yelled, pointing to the bundle of their belongings in front of their cell. With trembling arms, Sean scooped up his backpack, the weight of his laptop inside it providing a fleeting sense of relief.
They ran, gunshots and shrieks enveloping them, until they reached the hatch. Jeremy lifted the bolt that kept it locked, and heaved it open. The light poured in, stinging Sean’s eyes.
Jeremy leaped out, and extended a hand towards Sean. “Quick kids,” he said, “we have to get out now.” Sean reached out, hating himself for having no other options but to follow.
When he peered back down, he saw Checkmate grabbing onto Jeremy, his face as pale as December snow. A little further back, the man in the uniform was advancing slowly towards them, fending off enemies with both bullets and the butt of the weapon. He was moving slowly, but somehow finally managed to reach them. He held out his hand to Jeremy, ready to be pulled out, but two ragged colonists hurled themselves at him. They held on to his clothes, hissing and panting, dragging him back in. The soldier grumbled in frustration, and began shaking them off.
Jeremy pushed Sean aside, and leaned in the hole. But instead of grabbing onto the soldier, Sean saw him take the rifle from him. The other man looked up, and for once the expression on his face was clear. Surprise, disbelief, horror.
Under Sean’s terrified gaze, Jeremy lurched back, and slammed the heavy opening shut. The soldier began pounding against it, from inside.
“Keep it shut!” Jeremy shouted at the two of them. Something in Sean’s eyes stopped him in his tracks for an instant. Now, they could hear the soldier calling out, but his voice was quickly fading beneath those of his assailants. It was all too easy to picture what was going on behind that door.
Jeremy stared at Sean with wide eyes. He gestured towards the door. “Sean,” he said, as if having to explain the obvious. “He doesn’t matter. They don’t matter.” He shook his head slightly. “The only thing that matters is you. You and Checkmate.” Then, grabbing his shoulder and throwing him against the surface of the hatch, he added, “Keep that fucking thing shut, now.”
Sean closed his eyes, and felt Checkmate’s body beside him. The desperate pushing from below shook his body. Up and down, with every desperate thrust. He couldn’t tell if it was the soldier trying to escape, or those people, wanting to kill them. He bit his lip, and felt tears run down his cheek.
The roar of an engine. For a second, Sean feared the scavengers were back, but it was Jeremy. He was waving his arm in the air, frantically. “Get out of the way!”
Sean and Checkmate rolled over just as Jeremy drove the vehicle above the hatch. As the weight of their bodies vanished, its door was immediately pushed open, only to be halted by the vehicle. A few inches that would never have allowed them to creep out. Sean caught flashes of bloodshot eyes and scratching nails, cursing him, cursing him forever.
Jeremy leaped out of the truck, and darted towards the remaining one. Checkmate ran after him. Sean lay there for an instant longer, staring into the rage of those trapped beneath the hatch door.
“Sean!” Jeremy called out. “Sean. We go. NOW.”
Then, he was up. Running and crying and not knowing what to think any more. Not wanting to think. He took his seat in the truck beside Checkmate, heard the engine rev up. Sand was thrown in the air, the they began to speed off. He was thrown about, as the wheels met uneven dunes beneath them.
From a world away, he heard Checkmate say, “Where are we going?”
Jeremy’s reply was as surreal as the whole world had become.
“We’re going to Atlantis, boys.” After a brief pause, he repeated that word, but quietly, solemnly, as if to himself.
“Atlantis.”
Chapter 26
Alice and Adrian
In the dark of the tent they shared, Adrian watched Alice’s quiet movements, as she prepared for bed, wondering what it was, exactly, that he was meant to say.
Ana had told him to go ahead, tell Ally that he cared for her. But what was caring? Was it wanting her to be safe? Wanting to be near her, at all times? Not being quite able to picture himself without her?
These things were all true, and he understood them. But when he tried to put these feelings into words, they came out all muddled and wrong. He tried reciting them to himself, in his head, but whatever he came up with felt confusing, incomplete. Nothing he’d ever dare to share with Ally.
There she was, right next to him, wearing an oversized pajama she had been given by Ana, trying to get comfortable in her sleeping bag. She looked so soft and perfect.
It was difficult to describe what she was, to him. Familiar was a word he’d heard, one he thought might fit quite well. Also, it sounded a bit like family, and Alice and him were sort of like family, weren’t they? He nodded to himself. She’s the only family I need, and something in that thought suddenly made his eyes well up with tears. He had to look away, for fear she might notice, coughing away the weakness in his throat.
“All okay?” she asked him.
“Yeah. Yeah, ’course. Just listening out for Father Paul.” Paul slept in a tent beside theirs.
There was silence for a while, but he could feel her eyes on him.
Tell her. Do it. The way this rotten world works, we sometimes miss our chance.
Ana’s voice was loud and clear in his head. He felt like there were lots of thick strings tangling up in his chest. He feared that it could all go horribly wrong, if he spoke. But he also felt that it was right to do so, that he needed to, and the time was now.
With a deep breath, he sat up and turned to Ally. She was still staring at him, her eyebrows drawn close. Their glances locked into one another and Adrian began, “Ally–”
And suddenly, that was it. He couldn’t speak any more. Not one more word seemed willing to slip through his lips. He just sat there, in a panic, wide eyes staring into hers.
Yet, she seemed to understand. Knew it all, immediately, just from looking at him. The tangles in Adrian’s chest got even tighter, knotted up for good. At the same time, it was as if something beautiful was about to happen, something magical.
Her face became bright red. Her eyes grew as wide as his, the white showing. “Erm…” she began.
“Erm,” he replied.
“I – I,” she said, desperately trying to complete the sentence. “I think I’ll just go check on Laika.” She sprung up and out of the tent, leaving Adrian alone with huge waves of doubt washing over him.
“Yes, okay,” he replied, when she was already outside, wiggling her feet in her shoes, trying to get them on. It made no sense, of course. Laika was always out and about the Pack, exploring, ever since her wounds had healed. They’d find her sleeping by their tent in the morning, but she was never there at bed time.
Alice turned to zip up the tent, and their eyes met again. This time, there was something in them that loosened the knots inside him. Confusion, shyness. But also happiness, like a smile waiting to burst on her face. She nodded awkwardly at him. He did the same.
“I’ll be right back. Just checking if she’s here by the tent,” she said.
He dipped his chin, and watched her disappear behind the yellow fabric of the entrance. He sat in silence, picturing her body beyond that fabric, walking quietly not to wake anyone up. That body he knew so well.
Adrian lay back down and felt like giggling. He did, pressing his forearm against his lips, and laughing hard, strange shivers running through him like electricity. He bit his skin, kicked his legs in the air, embarrassment, excitement and a strange sense of relief flooding his body.
When she comes back, I’ll tell her. I’ve seen how they do it, in films. I can do
that too, it’s easy. I can do it better, much better than that. Just three words.
He began practising it, mouthing those three words silently, thinking about the face of the girl who was now walking around the tent, just a yard or two away, pretending to look for a dog who wasn’t there.
Something scratched against the tent. He jumped up, then laughed at himself. It was Ally, playing a trick on him.
“Ally, stop that,” he said, smiling.
No answer. Adrian turned his head, trying to listen, the smile fading from his face. Had he heard a faint thud? A small noise, one that could have passed for any one of the noises that the Pack made in the night-time.
It came again. Except, this time it was accompanied by something else. A little moan, a whimper of some kind.
“Ally?” he called out again, his nerves alert, legs already shifting, wanting to lead him to her. “Ally, are you there?”
He fumbled with the little zip, trying to get it open, calling out, screaming her name inside his head, a blind fear mounting inside him.
Adrian tumbled out into the dark and the silence of the sleeping Pack. He scanned the night desperately, trying to find Alice.
Then he saw the men carrying her away.
* * *
Paul had slipped into a troubled sleep.
It seemed like that was the only variety of sleep he knew, as of late.
When the shouts came, it took him a few instants to realise they were coming from the real world, and not from a dream.
Shouts. Alice’s name. Adrian, calling her desperately.
There was no conscious waking up. It was a strange, terrifying continuum that brought him from his slumber to standing outside, breathing in the chill night air.
His heart stopped.
Three men, one of them carrying a child. A set of small legs, made even smaller, even frailer, by the man’s large build. Flapping limply with his rapid movements.
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