by John Barlow
“Who!” they all cried.
“It’s... ehm, it’s someone I met.”
“Oooh!” Coby said. “Ben’s got a girlfr...”
“Shut up!” Ben said, irritated. “Anyway, what’s she doing with Sawyer?”
The melted man and Pol approached.
“You’re back!” Sawyer yelled, excited, every flabby inch of him wobbling with energy. He pointed at Ben. “Here he is! Here’s the fella!”
Pol stared at Ben, her face lightly blushing, and her eyes starting to swell.
“Ben! Ben Brewer,” she said. “That’s really you?”
Ben nodded.
“Leader of the Underground!” she said, laughing as she said it.
“What?” said Ben. “No, no, that’s my dad...”
Ben looked at Sawyer, then at Terra. Then at Pol again.
“You should see what you started in there!” said Pol.
“Whole place is in revolt,” Sawyer added. “It’s civil war!” He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “Unbelievable!”
Ben looked at Pol, his eyes nearly popping out. She nodded.
“Hold on!” Silver said, not wanting to be left out of things. “How did you know we’d gone west? How did you know we’d be here? How did any of you know?”
Sawyer shrugged. “We have our contacts,” and he waved a hand in the direction of the deserted guardhouse. “The guard is a friend of ours. What we didn’t know was, whether you’d make it back.”
At that moment Tah thundered towards them on his emu, with the Jeep not far behind.
“Tah!” Sawyer said, eager to tell his emu-lator friend all about what was going on inside the Complex. Tah, though, had some seriously bad news.
“It’s the twins,” he said, his long ginger beard quivering as he spoke. “Sullivan’s told them. He’s told them... that they’re... infected.”
“Sawyer,” Ben said. “You can talk to them, can’t you? Tell them it’s not the end of the world? They might not even be infected, isn’t that true? We just don’t...”
Tah shook his head. “I don’t think it’s going to be that easy.”
“Why?” said Ben, seeing the emu-lator’s face become more and more hopeless.
“Because they’ve switched sides. They’ve joined forces with Sullivan.”
“What!”
Terra shuddered. She drew her son in her arms, and moved backwards with him, towards the gates.
“The twins are Sullivan’s men now,” said Tah. “And who knows what damage those three can do together.”
It was too late to wonder. The Jeep skidded to a halt about ten paces away. Out jumped the three of them. They bound over towards the gate in big, thundering strides, their shoulders rounded, their faces hard and determined, Sullivan in the middle, with one of the twins on each side.
And that’s what they were: twins. They didn’t even have to look at each other. They could read each other’s minds. And they knew exactly what they were doing...
Sullivan stood there, legs apart, arms folded. He glared down at Ben, then, one by one, at the others, his face twitching with satisfaction, something close to madness.
Meanwhile, Worse scanned the area, found what he was looking for. Marching quickly over to the motorbike, he unstrapped the shotgun, then returned to Sullivan’s side, holding the gun. Bad stood, motionless, watching his brother carefully from the corner of his eye.
“Ben!” Sullivan said, cheerily. “Have you met my new friends, Bad ’n Worse? Look, men, this is little Ben Brewer, who came to find his daddy after all these years. And Terra!” he said. “Terra! Always been trouble, haven’t you. And Sawyer! You’re gonna tell me you were part of the Underground all along? Don’t bother, fatty. Too late now. And as for you,” he pointed at Tah, “I thought you lot were too stupid to take sides? Idiots!” He tutted, brushing away such ideas with a swish of his blood-caked hand.
“You’re finished, Sullivan!” someone said.
It was Sawyer. His fleshy jaw shook as he spoke, but there was such hatred in his voice that even Sullivan looked surprised.
“You’re finished,” Sawyer said a second time. “You’ve lost control inside the Complex. There’s nobody left to protect you. It’s over.”
“And these two?” Sullivan said, raising an eyebrow, as he looked first at Bad than at Worse.
Throughout all this, Ben had been staring at the twins. From the moment they’d got out of the Jeep, he’d been watching Bad, standing there at Sullivan’s side. Ben couldn’t believe what was happening. He simply refused to believe it. And for his part, Bad had avoided Ben’s stare, looking blankly into space like an obedient soldier, ignoring everyone.
Sullivan turned his attentions to Jason:
“Let’s forget all this, Jase? Shall we, eh? Just forget all this ever happened?”
At that moment, Worse sighed. Sullivan stopped what he was saying and looked at him.
Then Ben saw Bad wink. Silver saw it too. Coby thought he’d seen it, but wasn’t quite sure.
Worse yawned a second time, so loud it sounded like a grisly bear with the toothache.
“Shall I...” he said to his brother, whilst rubbing his chin, doing a pretty good impression of being bored stiff, “...shall I tell him? Or do you want to?”
“Be my guest,” Bad said.
Worse took a couple of steps back, lifted the gun, and aimed it at Sullivan.
“You must think we’re a couple of real jerks, Sullivan,” he said.
“Ha!” Sullivan shouted, smiling, his arms wide open, treating it as a joke. “What a sense of humor you’ve got, Worse! But there’s only one shot in that gun, you know, and I’d hate it to go off in my direction by mistake. Eh?”
“Try this for a sense of humor!” Bad shouted, and kicked Sullivan’s feet from under him, giving the big man a hefty shove backwards.
Sullivan fell to the ground, which seemed to rock as his great, heavy body slammed down onto it.
Ben was so proud of the twins he could have, well, he didn’t know exactly, but now he knew what it meant to have comrades. Bad ’n Worse were standing over Sullivan, keeping him down with a jab of the boot here, a suggestive poke with the shotgun there. And a big, heavy man on his back is pretty helpless, a bit like an up-turned tortoise.
The noise from inside the Complex got louder. Distant cheers and shouts floated on the air, and with them the unmistakable sound of destruction.
“What is going on in there?” Ben asked Pol.
“They’re tearing the place to bits!” she said. “The fight that you lot started. It just got bigger and bigger. People came from all over to join in. The commandos have fled, and the whole place is being ripped apart. It’s incredible!”
From down on the ground Sullivan listened. He peered up at Ben Brewer. Ben Brewer, he said to himself, it took a kid like that to destroy the Complex.
And that was exactly what was going to happen, the Complex was going to be destroyed. Because Sullivan had planned it that way, just in case things didn’t turn out as well as he’d hoped.
Sullivan stayed there, on the ground, knowing that despite everything, he had won. He had won, because now he knew where the Survivors were. He had his prize. His revenge. Trying not to smile, he kept a fond eye on Ben, who was about to learn the true price of being a hero.
“Right, you lot!” Bad said. “What’re we gonna do?”
They all turned to Ben.
“We’re going in,” he said.
“Excellent!” came Sullivan’s voice. The big man got to a crouch, then pulled himself to his feet, paying no attention to the twins. “Excellent, Ben. All of you, I wish you luck.”
Bad ’n Worse were confused. Wasn’t this guy supposed to be their prisoner?
“You’re coming too!” Ben said to Sullivan.
“I’m not going in there, Ben!” Sullivan said.
Sawyer huffed: “You wouldn’t dare, Sullivan. They’d rip you limb from limb!”
“Perhaps you’r
e right, gutbucket,” he said in answer to Sawyer, but keeping his eyes glued in Ben. “Anyway, I’ve made alternative plans. Just in case. Just in case something like this happened.”
Sullivan dusted himself down, stepped casually away from the twins, who had still not decided what to do, and propped himself up on Terra’s bike.
“Jase,” he said. “Are you coming with me? I think you should. They don’t like you much in the Complex either, you know.”
“Shut up!” Terra snapped. “He’s got me now.”
“He’s got all of us!” Silver added.
Worse snorted like an impatient horse. “Whoa, whoa! What is this?” He pointed a finger at Sullivan. “He’s our prisoner. We’re not gonna let him get away, are we?” He waited for a response, but none came. “Right. You lot do what you like, I’m not gonna let him get away!”
He aimed the shotgun at the big man.
Sullivan roared with laughter, and held his hands up in the air.
“Shoot!” he cried, mocking Worse’s threat. “Shoot, go on! Ben, tell him to shoot me, why don’t ya!” Then: “Jase! Are you coming?”
Jason’s face was empty. He clung to Terra. But then, releasing her embrace, he moved forwards, as if sleepwalking, towards his father. Everyone held their breath, as step by step Jason got closer to his father. Then, several paces from the bike, he stopped. He turned around, looked up at the Complex behind him, then at Terra and the others, who stood by the western gate, silent. He turned back to his father. With tears welling up in his eyes. Very gently he shook his head.
“No,” he whispered, so quiet that he didn’t hear the word fall from his own lips.
For a second Sullivan looked into his son’s eyes.
“Okay,” Sullivan said, just loud enough for Jason to hear, and no one else. “Keep away from the power plant, Jase.”
With that, he sat on the Harley and fired it up. “See you around, son.”
“Right!” Worse said, and was about to shoot.
Jason saw the gun pointing at his father. The boy’s face melted into a desperate, horrible scream. But nothing came out. Tears were streaming down his pale face.
Ben ran over to Worse.
“No!” he said, grabbing the barrel of the gun, thrusting it up at the sky. “No, please! It’s...” he said, as he struggled with Worse, who was determined to fire, “...it’s... his... dad!”
Worse looked across at Jason, relaxed his grip, and reluctantly let go of the shotgun.
With the gun in his hands, Ben watched as Sullivan revved up the bike.
But then, with a slow deliberateness, Sullivan turned to Ben and, dropping the revs, said:
“Ben, I’ve left a little surprise for you. The Control Tower. It’s gonna blow, the whole thing. Pretty soon. Congratulations, Ben. You’ve destroyed the Complex, just like your dad always wanted.” He revved the Harley. “And, by the way, you were right all along. Your dad’s inside. Right inside.”
The back wheel of the bike spun, and Sullivan disappeared in a billowing cloud of smoke and dust.
Chapter Forty-Three
“Faster!” Ben said, for the seventeenth time.
“It’s doesn’t go any faster!” Bad said, his foot down to the metal, the steering wheel shaking in his hands as the Jeep strained and whined through the roads of the Complex.
The map! Ben told himself. The map! The map had showed the four roads, and the Complex at the center. But it showed something else. A double map. It showed where his dad was. A cross. A big cross. That’s where his dad was. Behind the cross.
They began to drive past groups of people in the streets who were tearing down posters for Complex Smokes, laughing and shouting. The sound of the fun-fair was different now. There was no music, no heavy drumming, no sirens to mark the beginning of another shift. The sound was more of a low hum, the sound of constant laughter.
On they drove, and the streets got more and more crowded with jubilant, excited crowds. People were peering up into the sky, hardly believing what was going on, whistling and squawking to themselves, or to anybody who happened to be near.
Out on the back of the Jeep Pol and Sawyer were explaining how the fight at the fun-fair had got so bad that soon all the stun commandos had been called in.
Ben leaned back through the smashed window and listened:
“Then,” Pol said, “some of the men got hold of a commando, took him over to the carousel, and sat him on a horse!”
Sawyer was by now laughing so hard that he was almost choking.
“What’s happened to the power plant?” asked Ben, not finding any of this very funny.
“It’s...” Pol said, seeing for the first time the tense, worried look on Ben’s face. “It’s... it’s, I mean, I don’t... I don’t know...”
“Well,” said Worse, leaning forwards and staring up through the windscreen at the four towers, which were giving off some very strange smoke signals, “something’s happening. Look.”
They all saw it. Cracks had appeared on one of the great chimneys. A profound rumble shook the ground, and now they saw that the irregular streams of smoke which came from the chimneys was accompanied by sparks and licks of yellow flame. The power plant was going to self-destruct.
“Sullivan was telling the truth,” said Ben. “He’s sabotaged the whole place.”
Only then did they truly believe what Sullivan had said. It wasn’t a trick. It wasn’t a lie. The whole place was going to blow, the chimneys, the Control Tower, everything.
“Are we going to...” Bad said as he steered around a corner, “...to carry on?”
Too late. Round the corner they saw the fun-fair. Tents had been ripped down, others thrown wide open. People were staggering about as if they’d just been in a fight, which they had. There were swollen eyes, a few people holding injured arms and legs, and quite a few stun-gun wounds (Sawyers recognized these, and winced). But now the fighting had stopped. Bottles of Complex Sprit were being handed around. There were no commandos left. Hopelessly outnumbered, they had fled for their lives.
“To the Control Tower!” Ben said, his voice steady and focused.
Bad did exactly as he was told.
They drove around the edge of the fair and approached the big, square concrete building which lay in the shadow of the four great chimneys. It was then that they saw them: hoards of workers, the men and women who toiled deep within the power plant, right beneath those four chimneys.
They were scrambling out any way they could, like frightened rats, their faces covered in soot, glistening with sweat, as they tried to get as far away as possible. They climbed over the high security wall which went all the way around the chimneys. They squeezed through little windows in the wall, they threw themselves over the wall any way they could and ran off, warning others not to go near. The whole plant was going to explode. As the word spread, the fun-fair began to empty of people.
“Jason,” said Ben. “The yellow door. The one with the black cross on it.”
Jason breathed so hard that it sounded as if his lungs were going to flop out of his mouth and onto the floor in front of him. Terror sped through every fiber of his body. But then he gathered up his strength, and spoke:
“It’s locked,” he said, glancing up at the Control Tower.
A series of explosions echoed across the sky. The rim of one of the chimneys began to crumble, sending chunks of concrete crashing down to the ground. Jason shook like a leaf.
Ben was already out of the Jeep, the shotgun in his hand. “Can it be opened?” he asked Jason, shouting to make himself heard. “The yellow door? Can it be opened?”
“No!” Terra cried. “No, Ben! You can’t... it’s too dangerous.”
There was a deafening thunder-clap, as if the world were caving in. One of the chimneys had cracked, half way up one side.
“She’s right,” Bad’s voice boomed, as he covered his ears with his hands to shield them from the escalating noise.
“You can’t!” Worse ad
ded, getting out from the Jeep and stepping over towards Ben.
“Back off!” Ben said. He held the gun up in front of him. Not at Worse. But nearly.
No one moved. No one spoke. Ben’s hands trembled on the cold, metal trigger. “I’m sorry,” he said.
Worse nodded, as if he knew, as if he understood.
Then, quick as a flash, Jason slipped out from the squash of bodies on the back of the Jeep and got himself down onto the ground.
“I know how to open the door,” he said.
Terra threw her head back, closed her eyes, and wailed. She screamed until there was no air left in her body.
“I’m coming too!” Coby shouted.
But Ben was already shaking his head wildly. He looked at Silver and Jason, then at the twins. He looked at them all.
“No,” he said. “No one’s coming! There’s no point. Not now.” Then he looked at Jason. “Just him!”
With that the two of them set off towards the entrance to the Control Tower. Overhead a massive explosion filled the sky with orange smoke.
Ben and Jason were gone.
Chapter Forty-Four
Inside the Control Tower the lights flickered on and off, and the rumble from the floor was getting louder. Ben and Jason ran up the first flight of stairs, taking them two at a time, their feet slamming down onto the hard concrete. The whole building was shaking. High up on the walls cracks were beginning to appear, snaking crossways and downwards, spreading and expanding like massive spiders’ webs.
They got to the second floor. The lights were failing.
“Come on!” Ben shouted. “Quick!”
Jason ran as fast as he could, but his legs were heavy and unresponsive. It was as if he were floating. In his ears was a numb, frenzied drumming noise as the rumble of destruction got worse.
Up to the third floor they went. Fragments of concrete dropped from the walls and ceilings all around them.
“Watch out!” Ben said, pulling Jason to one side just in time to see a huge lump of the ceiling above them crash to the floor, sending a cloud of dust and grit into the air around them.
On they went. Up towards the fourth floor.
