by Cole, Robert
While they waited for the doors to open, Alex took one last look around the carriage. No one had moved a muscle since they had seen Elaine. The same horrified but vaguely fascinated expression was on all their faces at this revelation of a world beyond their own. The doors opened and Alex and Elaine pushed out through a surge of impatient people. Moments later the station was emptying and the train sped on its way.
They began walking quickly through the corridors of the fourteenth sector, soon becoming lost in a maze of glossy tiled tunnels. After a few minutes they reached quieter corridors with brick walls and coarse grey carpets. The walls were punctuated at regular intervals with wooden doors, inscribed with family names. Elaine was starting to flag again. Alex put his arm around her and propped her up, examining her face hurriedly. One of her top teeth was missing and several others were loose. She was coughing up so much blood that he couldn't tell whether it was coming from her lungs or her mouth. Gently he eased her arms away from her chest and unbuttoned her shirt. Her ribs were badly bruised; that could explain why her breathing was so shallow.
The plate on the nearest door read ‘Dr. F. Harris’. He knocked hard and impatiently, but there was no answer. Hurrying to the next, he tried again, without result. But the third door, labelled ‘Dr. M. Crean’, suddenly opened at his knock and a tall, dark haired woman came forward inquiringly. She stopped short when she saw Alex, first astonished, then shocked, then horrified by this apparition. She tried to retreat, but Alex jammed his foot in the door and quickly dragged Elaine inside.
He laid her at once on a large sofa, near at hand, ignoring the woman who had rushed to scoop up a little girl sitting at the table. Mother and girl backed away as Alex looked up.
‘Are you alone?’
She nodded, looking very frightened.
‘My friend here is badly hurt. Do you know first aid?’
Elaine had rolled over on her side and was choking and spitting out more blood onto the carpet.
‘Please!’ he appealed to the woman, who still hung back. ‘She could be bleeding internally.’
The woman put the child down and came over. Alex knelt down beside Elaine and examined her.
‘There doesn't seem to be anything broken,’ the woman said after a quick inspection. ‘The blood she is coughing up has probably run down from her mouth.’
‘Are you sure?’
The woman looked up. ‘I’m not a doctor, but I've done nursing,’ she said, ‘and I don't think there's anything worse than severe bruising.’
‘If you're not a doctor, then who is Dr Crean?’
‘My husband. He has a PhD in Biochemistry.’
‘And where is he?’
‘Still at work.’
The clock at the train station had shown 20.06, Alex recalled. ‘He's a bit late, isn't he?’
She shook her head firmly. ‘He works late most nights. He'll be home around nine o'clock.’
Now that they were talking, the woman seemed to have lost her immediate fear of him, although much unease still remained. But he detected no trace of disgust and contempt, which had been so prevalent among the guards.
‘The military will probably be searching this area very shortly. Do you have a place we can hide?’
She stared at him for a moment, evidently not expecting this. ‘Yes,’ she said at length, seeming as though she had come to a decision. ‘There's a ventilation shaft in the hallway that leads to part of the old tunnel system. If you took that grid off, you might be able to squeeze through. I'll show you.’
She led the way into a corridor at the back of her flat. A large fly wire grid, blasting out warm air, covered part of the ceiling. The woman found a stool and a screw-driver and Alex quickly unscrewed the grid.
‘It leads to a large shaft,’ the woman explained. ‘There are manholes along the shaft which open out into the tunnels.’
‘And where do the tunnels lead to?’
She shrugged. ‘Everywhere. The whole region is honey-combed with them. The guards would never find you once you reached the tunnels.’
He looked down at her anxious face and knew she hoped that they would reach the tunnels and keep on going. He couldn't blame her. Then she would be able to tell the soldiers where they had gone with a clear conscience without further danger to her family or herself. But Elaine was in no condition to run anywhere. She needed food and rest.
There was only one way to ensure that the woman wouldn't inform on them. Alex jumped off the stool and crossed to the living room where he had left Elaine. She was sitting up, the girl watching her wide eyed at a distance. Without warning, he strode over to the child and grabbed her arm. The woman gave a scream and rushed forward, but he drew his revolver and barred the way. ‘We're taking her into the ventilation shaft with us,’ he said flatly.
The woman suddenly lost all control, wailing, imploring, beseeching; it wrung Alex's heart. Seeing her mother in such distress the girl also began to cry. Alex assured the woman that if she denied seeing them, her daughter would be perfectly safe. But it was Elaine who finally managed to calm her down enough to listen to reason. Eventually the little girl stopped crying and meekly went with them into the vent.
A few minutes later the woman's husband arrived home. Alex could hear the fevered rush of voices as she explained the situation. Soon afterwards the security guards burst in. Both of them denied loudly seeing or hearing anything strange as the rooms were hurriedly searched.
When all was quiet again, the husband unscrewed the grid and they slid out.
He was a small, balding man, with blunt, ruddy features and a curiously pointed nose. His eyes widened when he saw the condition that Alex and Elaine were in. Alex drew his revolver and handed it to Elaine, then lifted the daughter down. She ran to her father, who swept her up protectively and hugged her to his chest.
‘Did Security do that to you?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ Alex said coldly. ‘Routine procedure, I understand. All mutants receive a good, thorough interrogation.’
The bitterness in his voice drew the couple closer together.
‘Now look here,’ said the man in a trembling voice. ‘Don't think we have anything to do with the military.’
‘We,’ snorted Alex. ‘Who's we?’
‘The scientists. This whole sector houses the scientific community of the city. We are a completely independent entity and have no say over the military's policies or actions.’
‘And I suppose you'll tell me that they have no control over you?’ Alex asked sarcastically.
The man ran his fingers through his thinning hair. ‘No, not exactly. What I mean is that they run the city and leave us to our own research without any interference.’
‘So, you have no idea what the plans of the military are?’
Dr. Crean shook his head.
Alex glanced at Elaine.
‘I'm not lying,’ the man continued. ‘They administer the city and also act as security police. I'm sorry they've been so rough with you.’
‘Who directs your research projects?’ Alex asked.
‘All the work we are currently engaged upon was already well under way before the war.’
‘Here?’ Alex stabbed his finger towards the floor. ‘You worked down here before the war?’
‘The research was with secret government funded projects on the surface,’ Dr. Crean said defensively. ‘We were invited down here before the holocaust.’
‘And you have no inkling of what happened on the surface once the bombs started falling?’
‘We were told that it was total devastation, a nuclear wasteland,’ the woman interrupted. ‘The radiation was so bad that no significant numbers of survivors were left after a few months.’
‘And you swallowed that without question?’
‘Two sectors of the city were completely destroyed, over seven thousand people killed. We had no reason to doubt them.’
Alex could see they were telling the truth as they saw it, but the thought of the
ir living at ease in their plush flats, while the world died overhead grated badly.
‘Don't you care what has happened to the rest of humanity?’ he asked bitterly. ‘What about all your relatives and friends who were not fortunate enough to be picked for this underground city? Has it never occurred to you to go up on the surface and look for yourselves? You've been three years down here, staying put because the military says so. Not very scientific, is it?’
The couple looked perplexed at Alex's harsh words. ‘The authorities have always told us that the few survivors that remained had reverted to total savagery. They said they were diseased and too badly contaminated for medical help,’ Dr Crean said.
‘Do we look like we're too badly contaminated for medical help?’ Alex asked scathingly. ‘Are we your idea of savages? You just don't care, do you?’ he raged, taking a step forward. He could see they were frightened, but was too angry to care. ‘You've no idea what it was like to survive the holocaust. To watch tens of thousands of people die...’
‘Stop it, Alex!’ Elaine cried from behind him, labouring to form the words between her puffed lips. ‘You're no better than they are if you take your anger out on them.’
He turned round sharply.
‘Don't you see?’ she continued. ‘They're just pawns in a game, the same as us. They're just as much victims as we are.’
‘Oh yes,’ Alex went on wildly. ‘It's very convenient, isn't it, to live in comfort and let the lies of the military lap over you? The meek shall inherit the earth, they say. By God, it makes me sick. And don't try to tell me you were forced into submission,’ he continued, turning back sharply to the couple. ‘We’ve seen your little party on the surface. For all we know you could even have dreamed up the slaughter of all the remaining survivors yourselves.’
He began advancing again; the two fell back, almost tripping over the furniture in their haste.
‘STOP IT, STOP IT!’ Elaine cried. ‘CAN'T YOU SEE THEY DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT ANY MORE!’
That hoarse plea came from the heart and stopped Alex in his tracks.
‘You're behaving exactly how the military has told everyone you would behave,’ she went on thickly, seeing she had gained his attention. ‘What do you want to do here, kill innocent people like a wild animal? They aren't your enemies. Their only crime was to obey an authority they had no good reason to doubt.’
Alex closed his eyes hard and then opened them again. The daughter had started to cry. The father was bouncing her in his arms, shielding his wife from a possible onslaught. They clung together, supporting and comforting each other, suddenly he saw they were just frightened and confused humans. He sighed and nodded agreement.
He saw the renewed hope and relief come flooding back into their eyes.
‘What are your names?’ he asked in a more subdued tone.
‘I'm Martin Crean,’ the man replied. ‘And this is my wife Debbie and my daughter Louise.’
A groan from behind turned Alex’s head. The crisis seemed to have exhausted the last of Elaine's strength. She tottered and only by moving fast was he able to catch her as she collapsed in his arms. Everybody helped to carry her to a bedroom and lay her down. Bandages and ointments were brought to dress her wounds.
Later, as she lay sleeping, Alex sat with the couple and told them about himself, and what had brought them to Box. He spared them the details of their treatment at the hands of the military, but he dwelt on the plans for the future that Major Collins had revealed at their interrogation. The Creans seemed genuinely shocked by it all and repeated that the scientists had never been privy to any of this scheming.
‘Scientific parties did go up to the surface about a year back,’ Martin said. ‘They reported that the radiation levels were still extremely high, especially in the cities. They mentioned nothing about large numbers of survivors.’
‘But some of the scientific community at least must be aware of what's going on,’ Alex said. ‘Those parties you mentioned probably engineered the typhus plague. Do you remember any of the names of the men involved?’
Martin left the room and came back with a thin, glossy covered magazine. ‘This is the monthly edition of the ‘Science Bulletin’,’ he said. ‘It reports all the latest scientific discoveries and local news in the colony.’
On the cover was an aerial shot of London in ruins. The place where the Houses of Parliament had once stood was shown as a huge frozen lake, which must have measured half a kilometre across. All around the lake the surface was levelled except for the distant jagged outline of suburbs. It was head-lined: ‘The Death of Great Britain’. A footnote at the bottom of the page read: ‘Full details on page four’. Alex opened the magazine at the article. The pages were liberally splashed with more pictures of London and other major cities. Selective radiation counts, records of vegetation re-growth and animal life were given for eight other cities. There was no mention of survivors, only graphic details of the numbers of dead and speculation on the possible diseases which would have wiped out the remainder of the population. The whole tone of the article left the reader with the impression that nothing could have survived the holocaust and remained human.
Alex looked up frowning. ‘And everybody believes this?’
‘Yes,’ Martin replied.
‘Well, they have been misinformed. We have no intention of standing by and letting the military pursue their final solution.’
‘What will you do?’
It was easier to put the question than to form an effective answer to it. ‘I'll warn the colonies,’ Alex said vaguely.
‘And what will they do?’
‘I don't know.’ He began to feel pressured and irritated. ‘Together we should be able to work out some strategy to stop them.’
‘Do you have any idea,’ Martin went on, ‘of the scale of the military arsenal in this city?
Alex nodded grimly. The Major had spilled out the frightening details in the moments before he had shot him.
‘You can't hope to win against such a force. Nevertheless,’ Martin continued, ‘we scientists are not without influence. I'm a member of a committee, which reviews the progress of all the research projects in the city. My fellow members hold powerful positions within the main frame of the government. I'm sure that if they were told of the attack they would take steps to stop it.’
Alex was caught flat footed by the offer. It was more than he could have dared hope for and, glancing at Martin's face, he could see he was being sincere. It was an open face, guileless, a little naive, like his own used to be. The face of one who, still in spite of everything, believed in heroic values. Or, to put it another way and less kindly; a dangerous innocent.
‘You realise what the military will do to you if they catch you interfering with their plans, don't you? Elaine and I got away but if they caught you they would tear you apart.’
Martin winced, and glanced quickly across at his wife. ‘I'm aware of the risk,’ he said. ‘But in spite of your poor opinion of me, I do care about what happens to the survivors. We can't just stand by and let this happen, no more than you can.’
Alex nodded. He was growing to like the good doctor and he was sure he could trust him. It was, in any case, no time for looking on the dark side. He felt in his back pocket and pulled out a wad of badly crumpled papers and a note pad. ‘You'll be interested in these. They confirm everything I've told you. I got them from Major Collin’s desk. There are personal communications between him and the Commander-in Chief, setting out the attack strategy; with detailed requirements of military vehicles, personnel and objectives…it's all there.’
‘May I see?’ Martin examined the papers carefully, turning over page after page. When he looked up again, his eyes were glowing with excitement. ‘This is dynamite,’ he said. ‘Will you allow me to take copies? The copier is just down the hall. Wait till I show these to the committee!’
‘Sure, copy them if you like,’ Alex said. ‘But how can you be sure that the membe
rs of the committee aren't in league with the military?’
‘I can't,’ Martin admitted. ‘I can only speak for them as colleagues, and to my mind, decent ones at that. I happen to know the scientists who were involved with that article, and none of them are on the committee.’
The next day Alex slept in, and when he awoke, at ten o’clock, he could not for a moment imagine where he was. Then Debbie Crean, the doctor's wife, came in bringing a hot drink and the news that the military had scaled down their search; no doubt they assumed that the two intruders had already got away. Martin had gone off to work and Elaine had had a peaceful night, although she was stiff and sore from the ill treatment she had received.
It was a touching moment for Alex when he realised how easily the Creans could have betrayed them while they slept. Fate had thrown them in with people who were not, like Major Collins, scalped of all human decency. It gave him hope, despite the ominous signs, that a genuinely free society could one day be built.
Martin came in later with news that he had managed to convene an emergency meeting of the science committee for nine o'clock the following morning. He had kept his reasons for making this unusual request deliberately vague, saying only that he had discovered something the military had done that would affect the whole city.
Alex was very pleased and suggested that to increase the impact, he and Elaine should be present at the meeting, to be able to amplify and verify statements as required. Martin, to his surprise, absolutely condemned the idea.
‘The evidence should speak for itself,’ he said firmly. ‘It would be better to say that you had escaped to the surface. Then, if anything goes wrong, at least they won't come looking for you. It will also allow me time to assess their reaction. If it's favourable, I can produce you later to back up my claims.’
This was the first clear evidence Alex had as to Martin's doubts about the loyalties of some of the committee members.
Martin left for the meeting early the next morning, and in good spirits, promising to return as soon as he could to bring them the results. But when he did come back, it was with such a trailing step and sorrowful face that Alex knew at once the news was bad. He sat thoughtfully in a chair and for a moment, saying nothing. ‘I'm convinced that most of them knew about the plans before I told them,’ he finally lamented.
