Strange Temple

by John Lilley

  Derek and Arthur descended down the high shore, picking their way carefully between the sharp outstretched thorns of the gorse.

  That smell is definitely getting stronger, Derek thought, there must be something dead on the beach?

  For reassurance, he fingered his disruptor in its shoulder holster. After fifty metres the gorse petered out to reveal an expanse of deep yellow sandy beach littered with large dark stones at random intervals. To their right, in the distance, something big suddenly moved across the beach. It had a dark, streamlined shape, well that is what it looked like at first, but then it seemed to grow in size rapidly. From where they were stood it looked like all the distant stones on the beach had all started to move towards the water at once.

  Arthur raised his binoculars: ‘Seals,’ he said, ‘I think we’ve found the source of the smell.’

  ‘Wow, I’ve always wanted to see a seal colony,’ said Derek, ‘but they do seem to be very flighty. Do you think it’s us that they’re scared of?’

  ‘Well, I can’t see anything else on this beach,’ said Arthur. ‘Come on let’s get closer to them.’

  They quickly walked along the beach, moving to the firmer sand near the waterline as they did so. The seals by then had all left the beach and were floating some 50 metres offshore, at a distance that they knew would be safe from any marauding land-animals that roamed the Cleveland Island. Derek was quite enjoying himself strolling along the soft damp sand, then he saw something just a few metres away surrounded by a cloud of small flies (Calliphora Vomitoria), it was the head of a seal.

  ‘What on earth could have done that to one of the seals?’ he asked. ‘It would need to be a fair old size because those seals are not exactly small. It looks like it’s been chomped clean off.’

  ‘I doubt if it’s anything lurking in the woods. The larger predators from the mainland forests were deemed just too big for Cleveland’s ecosystem. Although a bear could easily make it across they would have to be desperately starving, which they aren’t. It’s more likely to be something offshore, perhaps a killer-whale?’ said Arthur.

  Derek suddenly switched his gaze seawards and once again fingering his disruptor.

  Arthur was watching him carefully. ‘I doubt if that disruptor would stop a killer whale, it would just piss it off.’

  ‘You’re probably right. It just seems strange that a whale would do such a thing, they seemed such gentle creatures when we got up close to them last year,’ said Derek.

  ‘Yes, but there’s a big difference between a plankton-eating Humpback and the streamlined, intelligent killing machine that is a Killer Whale, the clue is in the name. It’s like comparing a chicken with a stoat,’ responded Arthur as he gently moved the seal’s head with his left boot.

  ‘Oh leave the poor thing alone,’ said Derek. ‘Let’s get a closer look at where the other seals were.’

  They continued up the beach. The smell was indeed getting stronger, and it became apparent what was causing it. When you have a creature with a diet consisting mainly of fish, it’s not surprising that their waste also smells of fish. In the sea, it would be quickly diluted and dispersed. However, on the beach, it matured rapidly, despite the best efforts of the flies. Adding further to this aroma there were also the rotting remains of the seal pups that just hadn’t made it. They were now standing right in the middle of the area where the seals had been. Derek was conscious of several hundred pairs of dark eyes observing him from their safe haven just a few metres out in the green waters of the Yorkshire Sea. He was actually getting used to the smell now. No doubt it would take several minutes in the shower to remove it completely when he got back to the lodge. He was contemplating putting all of his clothing into the laundry when Arthur called.

  ‘Hey, come and look at this, it looks like something has been dragged up the beach.’

  Arthur was standing 20 metres away, on the edge of the faeces infested area used by the seals. The sand at that point was a lot drier and consequently blown smooth by the wind. However, there were definitely some strange tracks on the beach. It looked like someone had walked slowly backwards away from the sea while pulling a large heavy sack. Well, not just someone, since there were definitely two sets of these tracks leading towards the gorse bushes at the top of the beach. Derek and Arthur followed the tracks into the middle of the gorse, where the tracks abruptly stopped.

  ‘How so? Did they sprout wings? I’d hate to encounter a giant flying seal, imagine the mess it would make to your windows if it struck,’ said Derek.

  ‘Very strange, it’s almost as if someone has deliberately done a clean-up job to hide the rest of the tracks. We may be onto something here mate. Mother said that we should look out for landings along this beach. Let’s spread out and see if we can pick up the tracks again,’ suggested Arthur.

  They circled around the nearby bushes and moved in parallel away from the sea back towards the woods. Twice Derek’s coat sleeve became snagged on the thorns of the gorse. In the second clearing that Derek entered, he saw some more tracks. This time there were hundreds of them. They were very small, probably a fox or some other four-legged creature. One set of the tracks came into the clearing from the inland direction, and another went back in the opposite direction. Derek remembered enough of his backwoods skills to be able to distinguish the direction of travel of the creature. It had definitely been attracted by something in the clearing because its tracks circled it again and again. Then at one side of the clearing, it looked like it had been trying to dig something up. Derek approached the hole for a closer look. It was about ten centimetres deep, but poking up from the bottom was a piece of dark looking material. Derek reached down and touched it.

  ‘Fur,’ he gasped and pulled his hand back sharply, wiping it on his trousers. ‘Arthur! Over here mate.’

  Arthur was with him in seconds, joining his stare towards the item at the bottom of the hole.

  ‘Feels like fur, could it be a dead seal?’ said Derek.

  ‘Well it could be, but it would be most unusual for the seals to bury their dead. There is definitely something fishy about this,’ said Arthur, this time not being able to control his smirk and breaking into laughter.

  ‘OK Mr Joker, come and help me dig it up,’ said Derek.

  The two agents dumped their packs on the sand and attacked the hole, using their machetes to scrape the sand away. It was definitely beginning to look like a seal, but then they found the zipper. Both men stared in disbelief but redoubled their efforts with their blades. Although he was even more puzzled by what they’d found, Derek was feeling a bit relieved that it was not a dead and decaying seal. Those things smelt bad enough when they were alive, and he desperately did not want to encounter an extremely well-rotted one. The first seal suit came out after a few more minutes digging and they could see the second one beneath it. They each took one of the suits and turned them over in their hands. The suits were quite heavy, probably 30 kg or more and seemed bigger than the seals they’d seen on the beach.

  ‘I’m going to put a call into Mother,’ said Arthur. ‘I think we’ve found what we were looking for.’

  He raised his link and waited for the connection.

  ‘OK Arthur, what have you found?’ It was Jeremy, one of Mother’s goons.

  Arthur told him in great detail and showed him the skins.

  ‘How long do you think that the seal’s head had been on the beach?’ enquired Jeremy.

  ‘Fairly fresh, I’d say, probably no more than two days,’ said Derek.

  ‘OK, I think we’re now looking for two simulants who came ashore in those seal skins. I’ve already allocated three scanning vessels to search for traces of the vehicle they used to approach the shore. Please take a sample of the material inside the skins and drop it into your portable analyser,’ said Jeremy.

  Derek unzipped the main compartment of his pack and removed the black plastic case that contained the analyser. It took him less than a minute to assemble the device and power
it up. The skin material was tough but yielded easily to Derek’s surgical steel pocket knife. He dropped the small sample into the hopper at the top of the analyser and poured in some purified water from the kit’s water bottle. Closing the lid, he pressed the red button to start the process. The analyser was already connected wirelessly to Jeremy’s terminal back in Britannia. Five minutes later Derek picked up the return call and flipped it onto speaker:

  ‘Amazing,’ said Jeremy, ‘I thought at one point we wouldn’t be able to see what this is without bringing it back to base. It’s very different to anything we’ve seen for a long time. At first, it appears to be organic, but it’s completely inert and too uniform in construction. It’s an excellent copy of seal blubber, but it’s a synthetic copy. We do have some records from way back that suggest that the ability to create such convincing copies was around in the US, but over 200 years ago and even then it was only experimental. The group concerned were effectively outlaws from their own government, so we don’t know if they made it through to current times. Perhaps just their ideas came through? However, there are also traces of whatever was inside the skin, and it’s definitely not natural and a different technology from the skin. Its composition suggests that its origin is North American, based on what we found at an attack site in Wales over 25 years ago.’

  Derek winced, he was acutely aware of that particular incident; it had destroyed his life at that time. His mind went instantly to the video footage shot from the drones as they chased the fleeing the American kidnappers. All the parents of the kidnapped were in no doubt that their children had died instantly in the massive fireball that had engulfed the American machine over Paris. The theory was that it was heavily armed and one hit from the drones sent the whole lot up. Although nothing from the American ship was ever found in the seas around Paris.

  ‘So what’s the plan Chief?’ Derek asked Jeremy.

  ‘We’ll send some more agents to join you. In the meantime, we need to consider what the motives of the invaders must be. There are currently 45 civilians on the island, and none of them are young children, so further kidnappings may not be on their agenda. There are some pretty serious biological research facilities at the Rangers Lodge, but from what we have seen in those sealskin suits, I think that they could actually teach us a thing or two. When we know how they got ashore, it might give us some further clues. What you two need to do is try to pick up their tracks again and stick with them until the cavalry arrive. I’ve just launched a high-level drone from the Lodge so we should be able to monitor the beaches better from up there, but the forests are always tricky to observe from above. Our intelligence suggests that the simulants are probably cold-blooded, well when I say blood you know what I mean.’

  ‘OK, we’ll talk again soon,’ said Derek switching off his link. He slipped his disruptor from its holster, checked that the power pack was firmly in place then switched it on and off briefly before returning it to its holster. Perhaps it was pay-back time, he thought.

  Arthur watched him stone-faced without a word, his hands firmly gripping the straps of his pack. Then he followed Derek as they picked their way carefully through the gorse and into the woods.

  44 ESCAPE

  The hovercar maintained its speed at maximum. Everyone inside was now getting thoroughly fed-up with the noise as the small craft pushed its aerodynamics to the limit. There was a low-level beat that was becoming very tiresome. Gene could feel his pulse as it throbbed through the veins in his damaged knee. He seemed to remember some medical text he’d once read about a condition called DVT, something that people used to get in the bad old days of air travel. The seat harness had been cutting into his chest and groin, but being a tough old boot, he just grimaced and gripped the arms of his flight chair even harder.

  As if he’d read their minds Jake said, ‘Nearly there guys, just hang on for a bit longer.’

  Just as Jake had spoken the craft began to slow down. As white knuckle rides went, they all felt they’d got their money’s worth. Bill found that he was grinding his teeth so hard that he wondered if they would start to crumble. Still Jake made no attempt at manual control. Gradually the buffeting subsided, and the car levelled out at around three hundred feet and a more “normal” speed.

  Within minutes the blackened outskirts of Columbia were beneath them. As they flew closer Bill, Gene and Carlos were all looking for similarities with their original home in the west coast base, but that seemed like a homely place by comparison with Columbia. In the distance, the dockyards appeared to be intact while every building more than five miles from the harbour had been completely flattened and reduced to fine rubble.

  Within seconds the hovercar had reached the inner-zone where it dropped sharply to a landing spot just outside one of the large harbour warehouses. There was nobody outside to meet the hovercar which didn’t stop once it had landed but trundled forwards on its landing wheels, heading towards the nearest warehouse, the giant doors of which had begun to open. The car slipped into the darkness inside with only inches to spare before the doors closed again. It finally came to rest, and its cabin door started to open. Everyone on board began to climb out of the car using the car’s internal lighting to show the way down the landing steps. When they were all outside, the car was suddenly illuminated by the intense light from overhead projectors. The brightness made all the passengers cover their eyes for a moment. When they recovered from their temporary blindness, they were rewarded by an almighty cheer from a group of people who had surrounded the car in the darkness. A group of people they’d not seen for some time, the Kids.

  A look of joy instantly spread over Gene, Bill and Carlos’s faces as they all became immediately overcome. The Kids ran forward to embrace them. It was all too much for Gene who needed the support of the Kids while he dried his eyes and blew his nose. Even Bill shed a tear. It was so great to be back with the Kids. This is what they’d been missing for the past few years. The three grand-kids were also there and immediately ran to Carlos, who knelt down to give them all a hug.

  ‘Hey little guys, you’re all so big now,’ he said to them.

  ‘Are we going to your house, Grandpa Carlos?’ one of them asked.

  ‘No but I think we’re all going on a big adventure where you will meet lots of other kids to play with,’ said Carlos.

  ‘OK, sorry to spoil the party everyone, but we must get to the ship as soon as possible,’ announced Harry above the noise, but first, we need to make some introductions, Gene, Bill and Carlos, meet John, Kwahu and Tokala from the First Nation.’

  The three Natives were stood a few feet way. Bill, Carlos and Gene froze and just stared at them. They all felt a sudden rush of fear, driven by 100 years of indoctrination from Central.

  ‘Pleased to meet you,’ said Gene as he shuffled forward, his hand outstretched.

  The other two snapped out of their torpor and moved forward to meet their new companions. Their lonely existence had left them ill-prepared for meeting new people.

  ‘Pleased to meet you too Gene,’ said John Blackhawk as they shook hands, ‘Jake has told us all about you.’

  ‘Oh you don’t want to believe anything that old goat has told you,’ said Bill as everyone laughed.

  The group moved off towards the back of the warehouse, through some double doors and onto a dimly lit concrete stairwell.

  ‘Can I take the lift?’ asked Gene.

  There was some laughter, but Susan reassured Gene that they only had six flights to go down and then he would catch a ride for the rest of the way.

  Intrigued about the promised ride Gene made slow but steady progress down the stairs with one hand firmly on the bannister rail. At the bottom of the stairwell, they went through some more double doors to find themselves on a checker-plate platform where a small underground train was waiting.

  ‘We would normally cycle, but since we are a couple of miles from where the Cloud Maker is berthed, we thought that you would appreciate the ride. Besides, it all hel
ps to throw Central off the scent.’ explained Susan.

  Of all the Kids she’d always been the closest to Gene. Although she had little memory of her father, there was just something familiar about Gene that she liked.

  ‘The Cloud Maker, what in damnation is that?’ asked Gene.

  ‘Oh, you’ll see soon enough. It’s our way out of here, back to civilisation. We’ve been working on it for many months now. It will make it.’ she said.

  ‘Make it? Way out of here?’ enquired Bill who had been listening to the conversation.

  ‘Oh, I don’t want to spoil it for you. There’s nothing to worry about. All will be revealed in a few minutes time,’ said Susan reassuringly.

  The small narrow-gauge train was now picking up speed as it clattered down the dark tunnel. None of the track seemed to be straight for long, and the carriages jostled each other as they negotiated the many tight bends.

  Carlos was just beginning to enjoy the ride when the train slowed down before emerging at its destination station. A large illuminated sign indicated that they were now at Dry Dock No.3. After getting off the train, they left the platform and entered a short corridor which turned to the left and then out onto a metal inspection gantry. There were sharp gasps of breath from Bill, Gene and Carlos as they took in what they could see from their vantage point on the narrow gantry. They were one hundred feet up the side of a vast concrete chasm. To their right and left the dark wet slimy walls extended two hundred feet in each direction. The opposite side of the dock was hard to see because it was mostly obscured by an enormous strange-looking sea vessel, to be exact the strange sails were what mainly blocked the view between them and the opposite wall of the dock. Six cylindrical “sails” projected some eighty feet from the ship’s decks which were forty feet below them. The sails looked like giant Chinese lanterns.