The Devil's Triangle

by Mark Robson

  Sam looked at his friend. Callum looked thoughtful, but Sam could see that he had not been put off the idea by his mother’s explanation. Callum was still in information-gathering mode.

  ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘This is our current headquarters. We should be safe here, so we might as well get comfortable as I try to answer some of your questions. It might take a while. There’s a place to sit through here.’

  She led the boys away from the trapdoor, which had now been sealed again. The raptors and men had dispersed through three different doors. Claire walked into a room that had been furnished for human comfort. There were several seats of varying size and design, a large central table and several smaller ones. A large bookcase on one wall was full to overflowing with a mixture of hardback and paperback books in several languages. Some of the books appeared leather-bound and very old. Others were very recent. Pictures adorned the walls, two of which looked to be from Earth, but most appeared to have been painted locally.

  The boys sat together on a bench-like seat covered with cushioned material that was surprisingly soft.

  ‘Would you like a drink, boys?’ Claire asked, opening a cabinet to reveal shelves of cups and bottles. She picked up an earthenware flagon. ‘This is a local cordial that’s tasty.’

  ‘Yes, please,’ they answered together.

  ‘Here you go then,’ she said, pouring two cups and passing them across. She sat down next to Sam. ‘Now where to begin? Tell me everything you can about the last nine years, Sam. Which school are you in? How’re Matt and Niamh?’

  Sam did his best. He had never been a particularly good storyteller, but prompted by frequent questions, he spoke for quite a long time before he was finally allowed to ask some questions of his own.

  ‘What about you, Mum?’ he asked. ‘I think Dad might have a fit if he saw you carrying all those guns. What happened after you crossed into this place?’

  ‘Well, you’ve crossed, so you know what that bit was like,’ she said. ‘The storm we emerged into was terrible. My work colleague, Jane, didn’t make it to shore. She was swept overboard by a wave, but I couldn’t even say when it happened. At the time, I was so focused on keeping the boat afloat that I didn’t notice her go. I felt terrible when I realised that she wasn’t onboard any more, but I didn’t dare turn the boat round and look for her. Starting my life here with her death on my conscience wasn’t a great way to begin.’

  Sam placed a hand on her arm and she squeezed it gratefully.

  ‘When I finally beached the boat, I found myself in the Reserve. A couple took me in and looked after me until the storm passed. They told me enough to prepare me for my first encounter with the local raptors. Initially, I was frantic with worry about you all. I was desperate to try to get back, but by the time I got back out to my boat, the raptors had stripped it so thoroughly that it was no longer seaworthy. I had no way of going out, which with hindsight was probably a good thing. I tried to convince some of the other humans in the Reserve to help me build a boat, but they all said the same thing – it was hopeless. There was no way back. When the raptors realised I was a scientist, they were very keen to get me here to the City of the Imperium to work alongside their people looking for solutions to the problems they’re facing with their ecology. To begin with, I was naïve. I thought they wanted real answers and I worked hard to find them. Turns out what they really wanted was to find a way to blame us humans for what was happening.’

  ‘Figures,’ Callum said, nodding.

  Claire perched on the edge of a nearby chair and thought for a moment. ‘You can’t have failed to notice by now that the raptor civilisation is highly technologically advanced. In many areas, their scientific knowledge and engineering skills are significantly ahead of our own. From what I’ve learned, raptor scientists first developed nuclear power about eight centuries ago, but they made many mistakes and suffered several catastrophic disasters.’

  ‘Brad didn’t mention nuclear disasters. That’s not good,’ Callum noted.

  ‘Sure isn’t!’ Claire agreed. ‘But they were unwilling to give up such a powerful source of energy and so they persisted. Eventually, they not only overcame the more obvious problems, but they expanded their use of nuclear energy until it was in everyday use throughout raptor society. There was a price though.’

  ‘Nuclear waste,’ Sam said.

  ‘Precisely! They’ve generated vast quantities of it over the years. To begin with, they dumped it in the deepest parts of their oceans, but soon they began to notice strange mutated creatures appearing. Some proved incredibly dangerous and so the raptor scientists, terrified that mutations might somehow begin to spread through their own population, began to look for alternative solutions. So, as your friend told you, they started to pump the waste into the Earth’s core. The idea was to reduce the raptor dependence on nuclear energy, safely dispose of the nuclear waste and develop a clean, new energy source – the Earth’s natural magnetic field – all in one fell swoop.’

  ‘That’s how they have such advanced technology like the train we travelled on to get here?’ Callum asked, frowning.

  Claire Cutler nodded. ‘Spot on. Clever lad, isn’t he?’ she noted, giving Sam an approving smile.

  Sam nodded. ‘But the scientists couldn’t have achieved that overnight.’

  ‘No. It took centuries. That’s part of the problem. The raptors have invested so much time and energy into creating this supposedly clean energy system, that they’ve closed their eyes to the ongoing and increasing catastrophe that makes our global warming problem back home look like a storm in a teacup.’

  ‘Wasn’t it dangerous, pumping the nuclear waste into the magma?’ he asked.

  ‘As it turned out, yes,’ Claire answered. ‘But not as directly dangerous as you might imagine. The one scientist’s plan to despose of the waste worked exactly as he had anticipated. Unfortunately, what he hadn’t predicted were some of the nasty side-effects. He had expected increased vulcanism. That was an obvious one really. Heat the magma, it expands and the pressure has to go somewhere.’

  ‘And volcanoes began erupting all over the world. Brad mentioned that too,’ Callum replied, shaking his head. ‘I’m guessing that was easy enough to dismiss as a natural phenomenon.’

  ‘Right again,’ Claire said, giving him an approving smile. ‘That’s exactly what the Imperium did, but it wasn’t the worst of it by far. What the raptor scientists failed to anticipate was that the increased magnetic field of the Earth is accelerating the mutation process among their population just as surely as dumping nuclear waste into the ocean or trying to bury it in remote sites, maybe even more so. Oh, it’s not as dramatic or as quick, but it’s happening. And worse, it’s happening right across the globe, not just in localised areas.’

  ‘So how are the raptors combating it?’ Callum asked. ‘Surely they know what’s happening.’

  ‘Yes, they know,’ Claire confirmed. ‘They’ve known for centuries. That’s why the bulk of raptor society lives in these especially designed geodesic structures. Another of their scientists worked out that within a structure like this the inhabitants are protected from the effects of the increased magnetic field. It acts like a sort of protective cage, channelling the magnetic effects through the structure.’

  ‘But not all of the raptors live under the domes?’

  ‘Correct.’

  ‘And the storms?’ Sam asked.

  ‘Are the other major side-effect,’ Claire confirmed. ‘The raptors’ historical records show that the level of storm activity around the globe has been steadily increasing ever since they started pumping the waste into the core. In turn, the number of rifts forming between dimensions is increasing too. The Imperium has chosen to blame the storms on the unfortunate humans who have crossed here because they are stubbornly refusing to lose the benefits of the blend of nuclear and magnetic energy. They keep the general population in the dark about what is actually happening, but they know.’

  Callum and Sam l
ooked at one another for a moment, but neither said anything for some time. It was an amazing situation.

  ‘At least in our world people are doing something to combat global warming,’ Callum said eventually. ‘All right, it might not be much and it almost certainly isn’t enough, but they are doing something.’

  ‘It all comes down to political will,’ Claire said firmly. ‘When I delivered the findings of my joint study with the raptor scientists, the Imperium decided to ignore them because the truth was too bitter a pill to swallow. I quickly discovered that my work was being swept under the carpet and I questioned why nothing was being done. This turned out to be less than wise.’

  ‘What happened?’ Sam asked.

  ‘A series of attempts on my life followed,’ she replied, her blue eyes narrowing with cold anger as she momentarily relived the experiences. ‘But I was lucky. Two of my fellow researchers were raptors who had recognised the truth in my findings. They protected me and risked their lives to help me escape. We three became the founder members of AIM – the Anti-Imperium Mob – and we’ve been fighting the Imperium and its agents ever since.’

  ‘Nice . . . I think.’ Sam looked at his mother’s face. She was clearly passionate about what she was doing. ‘So were those raptors who chased us here Imperium agents?’

  ‘Maybe, but not necessarily,’ Claire answered, frowning. ‘Raptor politics are perhaps more complex than those back home. Take that scarred raptor who led the chase. He’s an officer in a sort of secret police force allied to one of the many Imperium subfactions. I’ve run into him a few times before.’

  ‘We think he killed our friend Brad,’ Callum said.

  She nodded. ‘That wouldn’t surprise me at all,’ she said. ‘There is always a good number of his organisation monitoring the Reserve and quietly killing off humans whenever possible. He and his group seem to have an irrational hatred of us and of raptors who are sympathetic to our welfare.’

  ‘So what exactly are you doing?’ asked Sam. ‘Assassinating Imperium members and their agents? That’s pretty radical.’

  ‘No! We try to minimise the use of violence,’ Claire said quickly. ‘The problem is that whatever peaceful protests we make are met with violence. It’s the raptor way. As they’re so fast and strong, we humans stand little chance of survival without the advantage of advanced weapon technology. Guns are the obvious solution to protect ourselves when we have to. Raptors don’t use them, but they’ve come to recognise their potency. What we try to do is to get messages broadcast on the public networks, interfering with the Imperium channels at peak times. Or we sabotage pumping stations and magnetic conversion units, forcing them to shut down.’

  ‘And does that work?’ Callum asked.

  ‘Sometimes . . . for a while,’ she answered. ‘But the Imperium are always quick to cut off our broadcasts and repair any damage we manage to do. Our efforts to date appear to have had limited impact. We have agents working in several Imperium departments. Today, for example, we knew you had been taken prisoner within minutes – long before the Imperium began broadcasting their ridiculous demands. I arranged for your two raptor friends to infiltrate the building and they agreed to bring you to our ambush point.’

  ‘So that’s how you managed to be waiting for us!’ Callum exclaimed. ‘Neat.’

  ‘So what else have you tried?’ Sam asked. ‘What about getting word through to our world? If what the raptors are doing here is going to have a long-term effect on Earth, surely one of the top priorities of your organisation should be to let the people there know what is happening. The Devil’s Triangle, as Dad insists on calling it, still has a reputation as an unsolved mystery. You’ve got the answers. The Devil has a face – the face of a raptor.’

  His mother shook her head. ‘We don’t have enough people to expend lives on a one-way trip into the middle of one of those storms,’ she said firmly. ‘It’s a nice idea, but what would it achieve?’

  ‘Getting our family back together,’ Sam suggested pointedly. ‘Dad and Niamh will be frantic by now. We should at least try, Mum.’

  Claire turned and took his cheeks in her hands. She looked directly into his eyes as she answered. ‘Sam, the most likely way our family is going to be reunited is if your father and sister cross to this world, do you hear me? Attempting to go back will only get us killed.’

  ‘But how do you know that for sure?’ Sam insisted. ‘There are times when I can sense Niamh, Mum. And she can sense me. We have a sort of invisible link between our minds. It must be something to do with us being twins. She’s more sensitive than I am. I’m fairly sure she knows I’ve found you and I’m sure she’ll tell Dad.’

  Sam stared into her eyes. He didn’t like what he saw there.

  ‘He kept looking for you for nine years, Mum,’ he continued. ‘Once Dad knows we’re both alive, there’s no way he’ll ever give up. Think about it. If they cross, they won’t know to expect a storm. Dad and Niamh could both die trying to reach shore. Don’t you think we should do something about that? We need to reach them before they make the mistake of coming here. Maybe we can use the link somehow.’

  ‘How?’ his mother asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Sam admitted. ‘But there must be some way we can use it.’

  Claire sighed and shook her head. ‘I’d love to think there was a way,’ she breathed. ‘But I can’t see it. We would still need to get to the eye of a powerful storm on a hostile sea. Without a sturdy ship, our chances of survival would be minuscule, mental link or no mental link. No. The logical thing to do is to stop the raptors in this world from making matters any worse.’

  ‘But . . .’

  ‘No buts!’ she said firmly. ‘Think. Assuming for a moment we did succeed in getting back to our world – what then? There would be nothing we, or any government in our world, could do to stop the effects of what is happening here. Unless we can stop the raptors from making things worse in this world, more and more people will end up crossing here. That means more families will be split and more people will die, Sam. It’s down to us to do something. And even if, by some miracle, we do manage to stop the raptors from pumping any more nuclear waste into the core, it’s likely to take centuries to reverse the effects of what they’ve done.’

  ‘That sounds like Claire Cutler the scientist talking,’ Sam grumbled angrily. ‘What about my mum? What does she think?’

  ‘That’s harsh, Sam,’ Callum commented, frowning. He made a subtle calming gesture with his hands.

  ‘No, it’s OK, Callum,’ Claire said quickly. ‘Sam has a right to say what he thinks. It’s better to have these thoughts out in the open. I don’t want to put any of my family into unnecessary danger, Sam. You say that Matt has searched for nine years, but he’s not stumbled into a rift in that time. I think it’s safe to assume it’s unlikely that he’s going to change that record in the next few days. Let’s all take some time to think things through before we make any firm plans or promises, shall we?’

  ‘OK. I suppose that’s fair,’ Sam conceded grudgingly. He leaned across and hugged her again. As he did so, he closed his eyes. In that special corner of his mind’s eye he momentarily sensed Niamh. The sense of her presence was fading. She was hurt. He concentrated harder. He could feel her pain pulsing through his ankle, side and up his back. But from what he could tell, she was remarkably calm.

  I’ll get home, Niamh, he thought, trying with all his might to direct the words at her. I’m with Mum now, he added, forming a picture of Claire Cutler in his mind and concentrating hard on keeping it firm as the sense of contact weakened to a whisper. I’ll find a way home and I’ll bring Mum and Callum with me.

  As she approached the police car, Niamh reached inside her mind to where Sam’s presence had been so strong earlier. It was still there, but it was as if the static was building again, obscuring her view. A fuzzy image entered the space in her mind. It was faint, but unmistakable. ‘Mum!’ she breathed. ‘You found Mum!’

  ‘What was th
at? Are you OK?’ the policeman asked.

  Niamh shook her head and smiled. Sam had found their mother! Niamh realised there must be substance to the stories surrounding the Devil’s Triangle. Sam must be somewhere that was difficult to return from: somewhere so remote that their mother had been trapped there and not managed to escape in over nine years.

  She had to talk to her father. Perhaps it was a good thing that the police were planning to return her to England. If Sam and her Mum were trapped somewhere that remote, what hope had she got of finding them alone? Matthew Cutler knew just about everything there was to know about the legends surrounding the Devil’s Triangle. If anyone could make sense of the strange things Niamh had sensed from her brother, it was her father. He was their best hope now of getting Sam and their mum back where they belonged and finally ending the heartache that had started nine years ago.

  Niamh tried hard to focus on the connection with Sam. It’s going to be all right. Dad and I will find you – both of you!

  She looked up at the policemen. ‘I’ll be fine,’ she replied. ‘It’s all going to be fine.’

  She just hoped she was right.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  This book has been enriched by the input of many people. In particular I would like to thank: Cheryl Smith and Mark Howell, reporters at the Key West Citizen, Mr James E. Brooks, Public Affairs Officer at Naval Air Station Key West, LTJG Matthew Meinhold of the United States Coast Guard, Mr David E. Vaughan, PH.D., Executive Director of MOTE Marine Laboratory on Summerland Key, Mr John Hunt, Captain Patrick Langley and Officer Robert Dube, from the Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission, Marsha Martin at Schmitt Real Estate, Marathon, and Thomas L. Hambright, Monroe County Historian at the Key West Public Library.