After a time I relented and just placed it in the corner of the courtyard, where hopefully it would be out of the way if Max came writhing past.
My mind moved on to the next consideration. It was time to leave Perish.
“Tomorrow morning. That’s really the time to go,” I mused as I paced about.
I went through my satchel to double check items, even though I knew every single knick-knack in there. I checked the compass to make sure it was working. Flicked the lighter on. Checked the bristles on the toothbrush. Shook the can of whiskey next to my ear to judge the volume. All of this was totally unnecessary, but I felt compelled to do it anyway. My mind was racing like a runaway freight train, and I seemed powerless to stop it. All I could do was try to hold on until it slowed down of its own accord.
I fussed around like that until evening fell and then realised, with a degree of horror that I'd completely forgotten about the military base. I'd forgotten about the parts for Max, about the plan to get him out of here. Perhaps that was why he'd fallen into such a foul mood.
“Max, I'm going out to the base first thing in the morning,” I said, scratching my plans of leaving Perish so soon. “Okay?”
He just grunted at me, seemingly uninterested.
Left to my own thoughts, I also began to wonder about the cryotanks out at the base. If plant life was returning to the world, could there be survivors out there who had been thawed out? Could they be cultivating crops right now, building a community? The idea caused a great sense of excitement within me, and the night crept past at a snail's pace as I waited for light to come.
When it finally did, I set off early, enthusiastic about what else I might discover.
I stood on the bridge and contemplated where to go from here.
I found it just as Max had described. Long and narrow, it curved away to the north across a broad expanse of water. The far side led into a road that snaked its way up into the foothills. A low mountain range appeared blue and hazy in the distance.
It was all just as he’d said, apart from the gaping hole that opened up before me, halting my progress. Stuck half way across the length of the bridge, I was undecided about what to do next.
The gap wasn’t huge. I had a very good chance of making it with a well-timed leap. It all came down to how badly I wanted to get to the other side, and whether I was willing to take the risk.
I thought again of my debt to Max, and I knew I had to do this. The fact that he’d agreed to tell me about the base must have meant that at least some part of him wanted my help, that he hadn’t given up all hope of ever getting out of Perish. Otherwise he would have let me walk off, down the street and right out of the city.
I was reaching him. I was getting somewhere.
Looking back along the bridge, I decided that if I turned around here, I’d have a few hours walk back to the city, and from there I’d need to make my way west and try to find an alternative route. It was a long way back, and would probably add another day to my stay in Perish.
Or, I could make this one small stride and be on my way.
It was a coolish day. Autumn, I thought. Yes, it was definitely getting colder. I could feel the touch of winter in the breeze that swept along the river. It shifted the dust at my feet this way and that, made it swirl across the fractured concrete. I edged toward the gap, and dust sprinkled over it and shimmered in a little cloud that fell toward the sluggish brown water and the concrete far below.
It would be a stupid way to die.
Caught in the crook of the concrete bridge supports far below was the wreck of a car. It was wedged in so hard that the front end had crumpled like an accordion all the way to the cabin.
“Get on with it,” I muttered to myself. “Just get on with it.”
I walked over to the narrowest part of the gap. It was barely two metres in length at that point, not a difficult assignment. I lifted the satchel from my back and took out the compass. It was the only thing inside that looked breakable. I held the compass in my hand and swung the satchel around in an arc. It flew through the air and landed on the other side, the gear inside jangling noisily.
No turning back now.
I backed up a little way, set myself. I judged the gap and looked for the spot where I’d land my foot for the take-off. I ran.
My foot slid in the grit as I took off. Not much, but enough to leave me well short of where I’d intended to land. I hit the other side of the gap, half over it and half under it, the compass flying out of my hand and clattering across the concrete. I scraped and scrabbled for purchase, my hands floundering and finding nothing. I lunged to the right and grabbed a twisted section of steel reinforcing that jutted out from the broken bridge. It was enough. I shifted both of my hands across to it and swung my feet up and over the edge.
I lay there, my knee throbbing where it had connected with cement, rueing the moment of stupidity. I wouldn’t be coming back this way, that was for sure.
Despite my worst fears, the compass was intact. The cast metal case was scratched up, but it had done its job. I flipped it closed and gathered up the satchel.
I still had a few hours until nightfall. Hopefully I could reach the base in time.
The highway curved east up into the foothills as Max had foretold. In places it had been overtaken by the wasteland. I had to backtrack a few times when I lost the road under dirt that had blown across and disguised its presence. Finding the ‘third turn right’ was a decidedly difficult task. Impossible, actually. In between the cratering of missile strikes, the shifting sands and the work of water erosion, I couldn’t find any sure sign of connecting roadways. A few times I thought I was following a side road, only to find myself at a dead end. Tracing back along my footprints I’d begin the process again, steadily heading north and wondering if there was any chance in hell I’d find this place.
It was late afternoon by the time I came across it. Max wasn’t wrong - they’d really carpeted this place with missile strikes. Sections of a battered chain-link fence leaned heavily to one side around the perimeter. There were no buildings to speak of, just the fractured and charred remains of walls and twisted bulks of metal, the original purpose of which I couldn’t determine, such was the damage they had sustained. I wound my way through it, noting with some dismay that the chances of finding anything worthwhile here were slim. Everything was shredded.
I found my way to the eastern side of the complex, but it was hard to figure out where the buildings began and ended. Ultimately I chose a spot and just started searching. There was no other way to go about it.
As light began to fade I pulled a small black flashlight from the satchel. It had been one of my more useful finds in Perish, along with a little solar-powered charger and accompanying rechargeable batteries. Both the solar cells and the batteries had deteriorated, but when left out in the sun for the day, I found they could power the flashlight for the best part of an hour. I’d left these charging on Max’s windowsill for the past couple of days, and they were holding about as much juice as they were capable. I considered using the flashlight to extend my search into the night, but then thought better of it. Instead, I went and found a place to sit in the rubble and lay on my back, staring up as the stars filled the evening sky.
When morning came I returned to my search, using a length of jagged steel I’d found like a crowbar to shove debris aside, but the task was quickly eroding my patience. Maybe there was nothing here after all. I clambered across a piece of corrugated iron, headed to the next mound of rubble, when I heard something that caught my attention. I stopped and took a step back. There it was again. I stood and tapped my foot on the sheet of iron. It sounded hollow. Shifting bits of rubble aside, I was able to get my fingers underneath and lever it upwards. There was definitely a dark space underneath it.
It took me another half hour of clearing rubble and scooping away dirt with my bare hands, but I eventually got the corrugated iron lifted up and hoisted aside. Underneath was a hole filled
with more rubble. But there too, down below, was the unmistakable outline of a door.
Inspired by this one meagre discovery, I pushed on with renewed vigour, clearing away the rubble from what turned out to be a stairwell. In time I’d cleared a path, and I shined the flashlight down into the dusty confines. Carefully picking my way down, I found that the door, grey in colour and with a stainless steel handle, was crumpled slightly inward. I heaved into it with the steel bar and it gave way after half a dozen bashes. I moved inside.
Squirming for a few metres through a low crawl space, I came out into a narrow corridor. The dust I’d stirred was like a fog, a drifting precipitation of motes in the yellow of the torchlight. I swung it about, but there was really only one way to go.
I inched forward slowly, listening for any sound that might indicate an imminent cave-in. I was confident that, since it had stood here for decades, it wasn’t going to fall down unless I started to push or pull things aside. To that end, I made sure to keep my hands to myself.
The flashlight illuminated the dull red of a fire alarm mounted on the wall, and an electrical outlet further along. Past that the corridor turned to the right. I followed it along, finding empty storerooms and what looked like a small office space. Further still I found another doorway. I could see the bulk of a metal object jutting out from the wall nearby, and upon moving closer found that it was a filing cabinet that had fallen through a doorway.
I shoved it into the room and crouched as I surveyed the area. There was a desk on its side in front of me, and I directed the beam across a garbage bin, an empty tool rack and a jacket slung across an office chair.
Then, right next to me, the beam fell on a human face staring up at me.
I cried out and lurched backward, tripping over the filing cabinet and landing on the flat of my back. I scrambled desperately to a sitting position and thrust the flashlight in front of me, jerking it this way and that until it found the face again. I held it there, shaking. Pale skinned, his eyes wide open, the man didn’t react. It was then that I realized it was not the face of a man, but of a synthetic.
Or rather, part of a synthetic. There was really only a head and a few parts of the torso laying there. No arms, legs, or innards to speak of. No power core. It was either a fallen soldier who’d been gutted and brought back for repairs, or just a jumble of spare parts. I couldn’t decide which. His face was relatively unmarked, so I decided he’d probably never been taken into battle.
Unfortunately, without the legs, I wouldn’t find the parts I needed for Max. A cursory sweep of the room revealed that there wasn’t much else in here. An old security droid, hunched over and inactive, sat in one corner, and nearby there was a cupboard that contained only stationery. I took some paper and a pencil as a consolation and placed them in the satchel, then rested on the filing cabinet while I decided what to do.
I grabbed the clank and slid him toward me, turning him over to see what I could scavenge. The only bones present were the spine and the ribs, like a big grey cage sitting under his head. I tapped my lip thoughtfully. If I could at least take back a few ribs, it might give me something to work with. The spine itself, while possibly of some use, would be too hard to separate.
From the satchel I produced a hacksaw blade I’d found a few days back and, placing the flashlight on the filing cabinet, began sawing away at the first rib. It was slow going, and the scree-scraw of the saw grew monotonous very quickly. I couldn’t find a decent angle from which to operate and had to make tiny little motions that also slowed my progress. With determination and patience, I eventually separated three ribs and placed them in the satchel by the time the flashlight began flickering. The batteries were dying, and I’d have to make do with the few parts I’d acquired if I wanted to explore anything else.
I placed the hacksaw inside the satchel and gave the room one last sweep. Then I returned to the corridor.
The next door was more solid, and took quite a deal of prying and bashing to open. I was lucky that power was no longer supplied to the door. Had the mag-lock been engaged, I would never have gotten through.
With a final heave the door crashed open, revealing a ramp that led down into blackness. Cautiously I trained the flashlight inside and descended the short distance to the room below. It was a large, rounded space with a low ceiling, benches in the centre cluttered with instruments and backpacks and clothes, as if a bunch of people had decided to disrobe and take a shower and never returned for their belongings.
Over by one wall, a large touch panel display sat covered in so much grime that it was almost unrecognisable, like an ancient relic. Embedded into the curving exterior of the room were a row of twelve half cylinders stretching from floor to ceiling, their opaque glassy surfaces also thick with dust.
The cryotanks.
This was it. This was the place.
At the end of the row was another security droid. I let the flashlight linger on it for a moment. An early precursor to human-like synthetics, these things had still been popular as a cheap alternative for basic tasks and routines. It was about waist height, a blocky and primitive build comprised of a ballistic weapon on one arm, a rectangular body, stout round head and little flat discs for eyes. Propelled by a row of wheels on either side, its rubber treads had deteriorated to the point where they were falling apart.
Sweeping the flashlight away, I brushed my hand against the glass of the first tank, carving a broad slash through the grime, but couldn’t see what was inside - there was only nebulous darkness within. Returning to the touch panel, I started to scrub away at the surface to see if there was any way to activate it, when, as if in response, a red icon began flashing in the bottom corner.
Auxiliary Power 1.2%
There must have been a minute amount of residual charge still left in the cells, but at such a low level these cryotanks weren’t going to be sustained for long. If there were survivors inside their time was running out.
Tapping at the panel, I brought up the controls. Icons and parameters flared across the screen in drab shades of yellow and blue, the drained cells churning out barely enough power to illuminate the pixels. Data from the cryotanks began populating the screen but it was garbled, nonsensical. The system was practically useless.
Inside the cryotanks, dim lights had been activated, shining from the upper extremities and creating shadowy outlines of what lay inside. I could make out the silhouettes of people in there: heads and shoulders, the hint of arms, but not any specific details.
They were going to die in there if I didn’t get them out.
Desperately swiping at the touch panel, I tried to initiate the ejection procedure, but the screen was jumping and twitching constantly, a moving target. Using both hands I jammed my fingers at the screen, hoping I would land on the correct button. It worked. A moment later a short, sharp buzzing sound echoed from each of the cryotanks in turn, cascading from one to the next like falling dominoes. The seals were broken, and the doors edged open a crack before stopping abruptly to the chorus of more buzzing alerts.
Grabbing the steel rod from the bench, I hurried to the first tank and jammed it inside the crack, working desperately back and forth as I tried to pry it open. Leaning to get the required leverage, I forced my full weight upon it, and suddenly it creaked fully open.
A sodden, decomposing and foul smelling corpse towered above me, its skin eaten away to reveal mushy brown flesh that dripped and pooled on the floor of the cryotank. I reeled back, raking my arm across my nose and mouth to cover the stench, as the organic goo began to spill out onto the floor like viscous, lumpy soup.
“Ugh,” I said in disgust, stepping away. As I watched, the rest of the cylinders made a clacking sound and resumed their unfolding, revealing eleven more of the ghoulish remains, their flesh sloughing off their bodies as the sudden vibrations coursed through them. The stench was like a solid wall that hit me and almost knocked me over.
The grisly corpses splayed out before me like a pantheon
of necrotic monsters.
There was no one here to save. They’d been dead a long while, their flesh partially preserved within the confines of the tanks. This was not the place where I would find live humans after all.
I fumbled for my gear and prepared to leave when I heard yet another noise. At the end of the row, the security droid’s eyes were glowing dully yellow, and from inside came a clicking noise that sounded like someone slowly cranking a socket wrench.
“What the hell?” I muttered.
The droid began to draw itself up and the light from its eyes intensified.
The damn thing’s reactivated.
I had time to duck under the bench before the droid loosed a warning bugle as its boot sequence completed, loud enough to shake dust from the ceiling. It was deafening. A red light swept across the room and I heard its treads begin to rumble along the floor as it headed my way. Poking my head up, I saw it jerk the weapon on its arm at me, and suddenly the backpacks and instruments on the bench were exploding in a blizzard of noise and bullets and shredded fabric, raining down all around me.
I crouched low, spying the ramp just a few paces away. I could reach it in only a couple of seconds, but even that was too much time. The droid would rip me in two.
I heard the wheels of the droid turning, closing in, the sound of the rubber tracks scattering about the place as they came apart. The wheels themselves ground against the floor as they struggled to find purchase, and I thought I could sense it labouring through the gunk that was spilling on the floor from the cryotanks.
After the Winter (The Silent Earth, Book 1) Page 8
