by Nick Jones
Another huge bubble of water surged up from the centre of the room below. A thin mist of water sprayed over him.
‘Mr Powell,’ the intercom said. ‘There is a panel in front of you. Can you please enter your unique ID for me?’
‘My what?’ His voice was higher than it should be.
‘Your identifier pin. We can drill through the locks, but we need to deactivate the security first.’
Powell felt the chill of real fear grip him. He didn’t know it. He hadn’t needed it for years.
Oh Christ.
The water pushed up through the square grating of the walkway and over his ankles, sending a sudden shock through his legs.
‘Sir, we have a team on the other side of the door, we can reach you, but you need to be act quickly.’
‘You think I don’t fucking know that!’ His teeth were banging together uncontrollably, the water almost at his knees.
Think, Owen, for God’s sake think.
He began punching numbers. His daughter’s birthday.
Red light.
His birthday.
Red light.
Room filling with water. Red lights. Floating dead. Red lights.
‘Oh Jesus. I can’t remember it.’ He thumped his hand against the wall, tears welling up in his eyes.
Wait. Wait! It was the day he became CEO, wasn’t it? The most important day of his life.
He pressed it into the console, his finger almost slipping on the last digit. Green light.
‘That’s it!’ he screamed, chest tightening against the cold. ‘Get me out of here.’
‘The team are drilling now. Stand by.’
The water pushed and swirled, threatening to drag him sideways and under. He looked around the steel room, filling up, black, freezing. There was no way they were getting through the door. It was twelve inches thick. He felt the water lifting him and gasped against its harsh chill, screaming out, begging for escape. His head bumped against the ceiling of the server room. He pressed his hands against it, part of him hoping it might move, that something would happen, something would give. He panted, crying out as the water filled the space. Owen Powell, CEO of Baden Corporation, screamed and thrashed, drowning in a mass of silvery bubbles.
He thrust himself forwards, taking a massive gulp of air, his scream suddenly finding a sound in the blackness surrounding him. Then, a hand, touching him, warm and dry.
‘Darling, it’s okay.’
Powell’s heart felt as though it was about to pop from his chest. He was soaked in sweat but otherwise dry, surrounded by air, not water.
His wife held his shoulders. ‘Darling, it was a dream, it’s okay, you’re safe.’ She flicked on the sidelight and he saw their large bedroom. Expensive, plush and as described: safe. He exhaled loudly, his body heaving one singular sob. The relief was huge, but he couldn’t recall ever crying in front of his wife; he certainly wasn’t going to start now.
‘Are you okay?’ his wife asked.
I thought I was dead, I really thought I was dead.
‘I’m fine.’ He stood and walked to the bathroom. ‘Bad dream, that’s all. Go back to sleep.’
Facing the mirror, trying to compose himself, he fought the urge to cry.
Red light. Drowning.
He swallowed hard, rubbing his face, not wanting to close his eyes. He shuffled out of the bedroom, deciding on a glass of water. There was no way he was sleeping, not for a while.
Walking the stairs in darkness, bare feet padding on the soft carpet, he chose not to activate the interior lights. He stopped in the hallway and approached the window, pressing his face to the glass, breath creating clouds. All was quiet. Tall trees swaying, lit from below, surveillance, cameras, an eight-foot-high perimeter wall. He and his wife had lived here for three years without incident. Security was tight and it seemed people got the message. This was private property; keep out. He walked across the hallway and into the kitchen, the dream still bothering him.
Jen was rigid, pressed up against the exterior wall of his house. As Powell walked away she closed her eyes, breathing out heavily, heart thumping. Accessing him during his sleep, without alerting him, had been difficult. She had been about to tell Nathan they would have to come up with a new plan when she’d managed it. Suddenly, like a key clicking and then twisting in a stubborn lock she was inside his dreams, inside his mind. Then it was simply a case of suggestion, of creating the right dream, or in his case, nightmare. Convince him that he was trapped inside the Shiryaevo Vault, fill it with water and let panic do the rest. The plan had worked. She had Baden Corporation’s vault number – where they kept their dirty secrets – and also Powell’s manual override code to get inside.
His sudden jolt awake had left her with a strange sensation, though, as if she were stuck in a layer somewhere between the dream and the reality. Strange, floaty. She needed to concentrate, release Powell and slip away. If anyone knew she had been here, then the whole plan was screwed.
As she struggled to focus she heard a voice. It was distant, but it made sense to her somehow, muffled words forming a recognisable sound. With increased urgency the voice ripped through the fabric of her state. It was Nathan. She tapped her ear and heard a short blip followed by some interference.
‘I’m here,’ she said, not knowing how long she’d been standing there in a daze.
‘Where the hell have you been?’ he barked. ‘I’ve trying to reach you.’
‘What’s up?’
‘We’ve got trouble.’
Chapter 35
Jen saw them: two men emerging from the long shadows, cutting across Owen Powell’s well-maintained lawn. His warning had hit her like a slap on cold skin. Her body began to shake as clarity returned in a mixture of nerves and adrenalin.
‘Why are they here?’ Jen whispered.
‘I missed an outgoing alert,’ he replied. ‘They’re security. The house wasn’t breached so they haven’t alerted the owners. Not yet, anyway.’
Nathan had deactivated the security systems but obviously missed something. It didn’t bode well for the tasks that lay ahead.
She tried to think. The guards would perform a scan, meaning they would pick her up any second. She needed to get across the lawn and back over the wall.
The dream. It’s fading.
Jen knew it was critical she remembered, but like any dream, the clarity was shifting, becoming something else, something hazy.
The guards were close now. She didn’t dare speak again.
427B.
No wait. 457B. 457B. The date he became CEO.
She repeated it over and over in her head. Powell had delivered, shown her where Baden kept their secrets. Jen had recognised it instantly, hidden under snow-covered mountains, wrapped by a silver river. The Shiryaevo Vault. Now she knew the vault number and code – but there was more. During her search, Powell had revealed something else. Something unexpected. As he drowned, believing he was about to die, he had revealed his biggest secret, something he would never tell a soul.
Powell knew what the Hibernation chip was really designed to do.
‘Don’t move,’ one of the guards said.
Jen raised her hands but concentrated on the Histeridae. Inside her bag, unseen by the guards, it glowed, its intense power flowing through her. She wondered if it worked that way for everyone, some kind of bond that grew stronger each time. The men became outlines in the darkness, unaware of the beautiful light show Jen was seeing. Like the roots of a luminous tree in search of water, the whispery thought tendrils began their work. Jen let them guide her, marveling at their organic beauty as they shot, swirling across the porch and out towards the men. Spinning tunnels of light gripped the first guard’s mind before jumping across to his companion. Jen let out an involuntary gasp, a mixture of relief and triumph. Her power over the Histeridae was increasing. She was now connected to three minds; she had created some kind of neural network.
‘Fuck me,’ she whispered.
&nbs
p; ‘Say again?’ Nathan replied, confused.
She ignored him. Her vision, a kaleidoscope of images, her mind filled with voices, concerns and thoughts, all rallying for attention. Mental stimuli poured in from all three men. Powell in the kitchen, drinking water, watching the box, and the two guards approaching the house. She could see what they were seeing, through their eyes.
No, no.
Stop!
It was too much.
Something was wrong.
Jen’s heart was banging. I’m overloading, she thought. I can’t do it. The men in her newly formed neural network were breathing fine, but she had stopped. Finally gasping for air, as if she’d just surfaced from the bottom of a pool, she understood. The key was relaxation – not easy considering her situation – but she needed to stay calm, keep her heart rate down and concentrate.
The effort was mental, not physical. The two guards were held, fixed, but she could feel them struggling against her. She focused, the crackling purple streams around their heads glowing brightly as she concentrated. She reassured them, working on simply holding them still as she slowed her heart rate. She then shifted her attention to Powell. He was watching the screen in his kitchen and eating cereal now, unaware of the silent battle taking place on his lawn. Jen carefully retreated from his mind, the thought trails drifting like cinematic mist played backwards through the corridor. Jen tried to split her mind, to separate the information she was receiving.
Two security guards.
She managed to block out their visual input, tuning purely into their minds. Once there, she began an orchestrated form of conversation between them, discussing the fact the grounds appeared to be clear.
They both agreed.
They nodded.
She assured them it was okay to head back to base. They relaxed, turned and walked away.
As the gates closed and the final glimmering strands dissipated, Jen allowed herself a smile. She wasn’t sure if the fake conversation between them had been verbal or not, but that didn’t matter. She had managed to control the situation and couldn’t deny that right now she felt unstoppable.
Nathan was parked two streets away. By the time she reached him, that confidence had faded. She didn’t feel well; her heart was pounding in her ears. She dropped to the pavement.
‘Are you okay?’ Nathan crouched beside her. ‘What happened?’
‘I’m fine,’ she said, gasping for breath.
He helped her up, guided her into the passenger seat and waited until her breathing settled.
‘It’s the Histeridae.’ Her voice was thin and scratchy. ‘I controlled three people, like a network or something, but it takes it out of you.’
He nodded and waited.
Eventually, he couldn’t wait any longer and asked, ‘So, did you find anything?’
She smiled, remembering the secrets Powell had revealed, what the Hibernation chip was designed to do. ‘Yes. More than I was expecting. We hit the jackpot. Seriously.’
‘Go on.’
‘Searching was just the beginning.’
* * *
Nathan drove, the wipers working overtime against a downpour that had been hammering for the last twenty minutes. Jen hadn’t talked much since leaving the mansion. Half an hour ago she couldn’t even move.
‘Shit.’ He sighed, looking ahead at the long queue of traffic, searching for a reason, a roadblock or checkpoint. He couldn’t see anything. ‘As long as they aren’t scanning, I’ll stay on this road.’
When they finally crawled past the large construction site, the traffic jam made sense. It was one of many Hibernation centres being built across London in preparation for the universal rollout. Men in hard hats clambered around, glistening in the inky wet night. Huge machinery hammered and welded. This building would be home to city dwellers during their twelve-month cycle. Functional and practical. Human resource reduction, intrinsically linked to your location, to services, to the power grid.
Jen looked past him, into the darkness. ‘I found out something tonight,’ she said cryptically. ‘Something important.’
Nathan nodded, his eyes following hers as she watched the men moving around the site like ants; organised and focused. ‘Tell me.’
‘They want control.’ Her voice was slow and distant, heavy with the weight of information and what it meant.
Nathan turned to her. ‘How do you mean?’
‘It isn’t about searching,’ she said, her voice trembling with raw emotion. ‘That was just the beginning.’
‘The beginning of what?’
‘They don’t just want to know what you’re thinking. They want to tell you what to think.’ Her voice was getting louder. ‘During Hibernation. Don’t you see? They want to put ideas in.’
Jen squinted out over the building site, her distant expression giving way to one of stoic determination. Nathan was suddenly struck by her beauty, a timeless quality that went beyond the obvious allure men experienced on meeting her.
She turned to him, reflected raindrops streaking down her face.
‘The Hibernation chip works both ways,’ she said. ‘That’s what Hibernation is all about. They’re brainwashing us.’
Chapter 36
The rain finally stopped around 3am. The roads were practically deserted. Another ten minutes and they would be back at Thomas’s. Jen wasn’t in the mood for any more challenges.
Nathan stared straight ahead, his expression unchanged. ‘All I’m asking is how much of this did you get from him, and how much of this is your idea?’
‘What are you implying?’ She frowned.
‘I’m not saying I don’t believe you.’ He flicked an eyebrow and shrugged a little. ‘I’m just saying that we need proof.’
Jen laughed. ‘You think I don’t know that? I’m a police officer.’
Her words hung between them and Jen was reminded that her life as a Duality officer was over.
‘I was a police officer,’ she corrected herself.
They passed over a crossroads. Green lights all the way.
‘Look, I know it sounds unbelievable –’
‘You’re talking about Hibernation,’ Nathan growled. ‘It’s going to save mankind, Jen. Our backs are against the wall and it’s our only chance. Everyone knows that. And now you’re saying it’s all about mind control, about brainwashing?’ He raised his voice, the frustration clear. ‘Why the hell would they do that?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said, flatly.
Nathan continued, ‘People are hibernating because they know it’s right. They don’t need to make us. Everyone knows it’s our only chance.’
‘I don’t know,’ Jen said again, ‘but I’m going to find out. With or without you.’
Nathan tutted, ‘Oh, let’s just waltz into GCHQ or MI5 or something and ask them to hand over their dirty laundry. Just ask them to spill their guts on this great conspiracy.’
‘You’re tired,’ she said. ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Oh, fuck you,’ he replied sharply.
They spent the rest of the journey in silence. Truth was they were both tired, and whilst Jen didn’t like to admit it, the less said now the better. Her thoughts wandered. The Hibernation chip. He did have a point. Why go to such lengths to control people when there were clearly bigger problems? People were already united. Accelerated warming was a global threat, a common foe. They didn’t need control – did they? Her thoughts moved to Callaghan. He had sounded crazy, but he was right, and now he was dead. She shook it away. Sleep would come soon. She needed it. Nathan was still scowling, gripping the wheel, knuckles white.
Interesting, she thought. The schoolteacher has a bite after all.
* * *
Jen awoke. It was midmorning and the smell of coffee and bacon hung in the air. She sighed and rubbed her face. It had been a while since she’d eaten and she was starving. She could feel an aching in her bones like the first few days of flu. The Histeridae, she supposed, must have
drained her. She lifted the sheets and pulled herself out of bed. As she stood in her pyjamas and stretched, a worrying thought crossed her mind.
Could it be harming me? Maybe even killing me?
She heard Nathan’s voice and felt bad again. He’d told her to fuck off. She smirked at the memory. It had been quite funny, actually, and it was good to know he had some fight.
‘Jen, get in here.’ Nathan’s voice was raised and clearer now. ‘Quickly.’
She walked into the lounge. Thomas was back and stood with Nathan watching the box.
‘What is it?’ she asked.
Nathan was shaking his head. Jen approached and saw her face on the screen. She ascertained two things quickly: they were watching the news, and it was bad.
‘Oh, shit.’ She began to process what the news reporter was saying.
‘Jennifer Logan, a long-serving Duality officer, is wanted for the murder of Peter Callaghan…’
Her image moved to the side as two more images appeared.
‘…and James McArthur. She is armed and dangerous and police are advising, if you see her, not to approach her directly. Contact them immediately…’
Thomas turned the volume down. ‘People might have seen you,’ he said, his face ashen. ‘They might have seen you coming here.’
Jen stared at the screen. Peter’s picture was an old one, Mac’s recent.
Mac. Dead.
She’d seen it in his eyes when she’d left him, had suspected he might take his own life, but decided instead to focus on seeing him again. That day would never come.
She noticed beads of cold sweat on Thomas’s forehead as he began pacing the room.
‘Did you kill them?’ he snapped.
‘Please, Thomas. Of course I didn’t.’ She took a step towards him. ‘Calm down.’
‘Calm down?’ he screamed. ‘I could go to prison for this.’ He stopped as if considering what that actually meant, a confused look washing over him. ‘To prison, for you?’
