Extracted

by RR Haywood

  ‘SHIT,’ Harry booms with a voice bordering on panic. He starts backing up with a look of fear as Safa and Ben glance round to see another spider coming from the bush making that scuttling, dragging noise. As it pushes through so they get a glimpse behind it of strands of web snaked over the ground and a hole the size of an entrance to a badger set. This thing is enormous. From a nightmare with a black body covered in stubbly hair and nasty-looking pincers at the front that waggle up and down. The back end is brown and striated with lines that look like veins bulging from the skin. Spiders don’t normally bother Ben, but this thing does and something about it sends a signal to his brain that screams to either kill it or run away as fast possible, but instead, like a fool, he remains rooted to the spot next to Safa. They watch as the monster goes across the ground to the base of a tree and starts climbing with wickedly sharp claws that dig into the bark. It climbs quickly too, getting faster as it aims for the web holding the dragonflies. The dangling spider carries on dropping to the highest trapped insect until it lands deftly on its own web and digs its pincers into the creature, injecting venom that liquidises the insides.

  Another step is taken but closer now, and with a soft blast of air that silences the entirety of the vicinity. Everything freezes. The climbing spider holds perfectly static. The one on the web holding the now dead dragonfly in front does the same. Silence everywhere. Even the trapped dragonflies go silent and unmoving. Fear grows. Something bad this way comes. Something these creatures know and fear. Time pauses. The continental drift ceases. The earth stops spinning. Nothing moves. Another snort of air. Deep and hungry, then it bursts into action, running towards them with pounding feet that no longer remain stealthy.

  They run. They run without warning or words needed, but simply breaking from static to all-out sprinting as they charge frantic through the undergrowth.

  Harry turns to look over his shoulder and stops dead to stare back with a grin stretching across his face. ‘Slow down,’ he calls out softly to the other two still blundering on. Safa looks back, seeing Harry staring, and reaches out to touch Ben’s arm. Bringing him to a gradual stop. They look back at Harry, Safa breathing easily while Ben gulps for air with his hands on his knees and the binoculars hanging from his neck.

  ‘What is it?’ Safa calls back softly.

  ‘Come and look,’ Harry whispers, motioning for them to go back. They go carefully, picking a quiet route back to Harry, who is grinning widely.

  Every image they have ever seen of bipedal dinosaurs is right there, with two strong back legs holding it upright, a long tail for balance and a head like a lizard with two cunning eyes. Lizard-like but less reptile and more animal with two forearms stunted but fingered with digits that twitch.

  ‘Oh my God,’ Safa mouths in delight. ‘He’s gorgeous.’

  The dinosaur is tiny. Standing no higher than Safa’s waist as it stops beneath the dragonflies caught in the web.

  ‘Watch,’ Harry whispers. The dinosaur back-steps a short distance while staring up at the dragonflies. Intelligence in its eyes. It runs, jumps, snags another one and lands to chomp and munch in apparent bliss with eyes rolling happily. The mini creature takes a quick and darting step as it spots the huge spider on the side of the tree. The fingers twitch. The eyes blink and focus. It swallows what it already has as its tail lifts from the ground. The speed it then generates is stunning. Going from standing to full-on charging in the blink of an eye. At the last second it launches up, snaps the spider cleanly in its jaws and drops down to the ground. It lets go instantly, jumping back like a dog does when it’s scared of something. The spider rallies, spinning on the spot with the huge fangs held up as the bipedal creature simply jumps up and lands down, bursting it apart underfoot with a sickening crunch of shell mingled with the sound of legs snapping. The final touch is a twist of the foot and it steps away, turns and looks down at its handiwork before dropping to devour the mashed-up remains. Lip-smacking noises soon fill the air. The dinosaur chomps away then flicks a big chunk up into the air, letting it fall down into its open mouth before crunching the bits up.

  Goo dribbles down its chin and the eyes roll back in an obvious display of enjoyment, so animal-like as it eats fast like this could be its last ever meal.

  ‘Fuck,’ Safa whispers.

  ‘We should go,’ Harry adds in his deep voice. The dinosaur looks over on hearing Harry. Those cunning eyes staring with obvious curiosity before it goes back to eating the spider.

  They start back through the forest. Ben sweats and looks round, feeling the weight of everything pushing down again. They do not belong here in this world. They caused those dragonflies to scatter. They caused them to get trapped in that web, which caused the spider to climb the tree and brought the dinosaur over. Infractions of the timeline. Those thoughts bring the despair and homesickness back.

  They get inside the bunker and through the decontamination hand dryer in silence. Each of them absorbed in what they saw. Ben walks to his room and that simple last journey from the exit door to their rooms brings his mood sinking down deeper and harder. He goes into his room and closes the door, feeling the distance of a hundred million years or more between him and anything he knows. He curls into the foetal position, clutching the pillow beneath his head while squeezing his eyes closed. He does not want to be here. He cannot stay here.

  I want to go home.

  Nineteen

  ‘Done it?’ Alpha asks.

  ‘Not yet,’ Bravo mutters pointedly, tapping on the screen of the tablet held in his hands before freezing to sniff the air. He turns to Charlie on his left then Delta on his right, sniffing through the balaclava covering his face.

  ‘Him,’ Alpha says, nodding at the man on his knees. ‘Pissed himself.’

  ‘Please . . . I’m begging you . . .’

  Bravo tuts and steps away to stop the puddle of piss reaching his boots.

  ‘Done it?’ Alpha asks again.

  ‘Not yet,’ Bravo mutters again.

  Hans Markel thought he was a tough man. He was in the army. He served in conflict zones. He was versed in weapons and tactics and was security-minded. His home was secure. The locks were solid. The windows were triple-glazed and the alarm system was state-of-the-art.

  ‘Done it?’ Charlie asks.

  ‘Nope,’ Bravo mutters, tapping away.

  ‘Please . . . I have money . . .’ Hans sobs. On his knees in his bedroom. He has no idea how the five black-clad, balaclava-wearing men got in his house, only that they did. He’s already told them what he knows, that the twelve men were hired for a prototype detention centre, that three were dead on arrival at the clinic and three more died soon after. Hans has already told them two men and a woman beat his twelve men in an underground bunker. One was called Harry. They were English. The woman was very attractive.

  Now he doesn’t know what they want. Only that four of them are waiting for the fifth to write something on the tablet device.

  Alpha sighs and adjusts his grip on the pistol held at Herr Markel’s head. Bravo is the best at this but he takes so long. Alpha sighs again and casts a look at Bravo, who pauses, cocks his head to one side then carries on tapping. Charlie exhales noisily. Delta taps his foot. Echo looks round at the room. Bravo tuts at them trying to rush him and continues tapping for a few more minutes while Hans sobs and begs for his life.

  ‘Done,’ Bravo says, looking up and round, and although the thin black material of the balaclava covers his face, they all know he is looking smug and satisfied.

  ‘Finally,’ Alpha says, lowering the pistol. He looks down at Hans and switches to fluent German. ‘Herr Markel, do you want to live?’

  ‘Yes!’ Hans gabbles urgently. ‘Yes . . . anything . . . I have money . . .’

  ‘This,’ Alpha says, nodding at Bravo to hold the tablet screen so Hans can see it, ‘is a legal authority from you for your six men to be transferred to a state-of-the-art private facility where their medical treatment will continue. We need yo
u to sign it.’

  ‘Yes!’ Hans blurts, nodding eagerly while shuffling towards them on his knees through the puddle of urine.

  ‘Thank you,’ Bravo says politely in fluent German. ‘Sign here.’ He holds a black-clad finger over a dotted line while offering a stylus to Hans. Hans snatches it then apologises for snatching it and signs the section indicated. ‘And here,’ Bravo says, still politely, now pointing at a different section. ‘And finally here . . . thank you . . . and my stylus?’

  ‘Sorry . . .’ Hans passes it back. His knees hurt from the stress position. His hands shake.

  ‘Done?’ Alpha asks, staring at Bravo, who checks through the form he just downloaded, changed, doctored and made to appear legal.

  ‘Er . . . yes, yes, all done,’ Bravo says, lifting his covered head to nod at Alpha.

  The shot is quiet. The round travelling from the barrel through the silencer and into the forehead of Herr Markel.

  Alpha twists the silencer from the pistol, staring down at the corpse while the others do a forensic sweep to ensure nothing of theirs is left behind. ‘There was a camera on the door,’ he remarks casually.

  ‘I wiped the system on the way in,’ Echo says. ‘Uploaded a corruption file.’

  ‘We done?’ Alpha asks, tucking the silencer into a pocket. The rest nod.

  The two private ambulances stop outside. Five men dressed in the green jumpsuits of paramedics disembark, chatting noisily as they stretch from the long journey.

  Alpha walks round with a tablet and thumbs the screen as he checks inside the back of both vehicles. The men joke with him. He smiles and chats for a few seconds before heading inside the reception.

  ‘Hi.’ Alpha beams at Clara.

  ‘How can I help you?’ Clara asks, without a flicker of reaction.

  ‘We’re here for them,’ Alpha says, as though they should be prepared and waiting.

  ‘Who?’ Clara asks.

  Alpha frowns and smiles as though somewhat confused. He checks his tablet screen. ‘Didn’t Herr Markel update you?’

  ‘Er . . .’ Clara hesitates, showing some mild confusion.

  ‘Damn it,’ Alpha tuts. ‘This always happens. Mind you, he’s got a lot on . . . you know . . . with the families of the deceased. Anyway, yes, we’re here to transport the remaining six patients to another facility.’

  ‘I am sorry, sir. I have not been informed of this. We cannot release the patients without—’

  ‘Got it right here,’ Alpha says, smiling at the pretty receptionist as he hands her the tablet. She takes it in her perfectly manicured hands and scrolls down the authority form.

  ‘I shall require a copy.’

  ‘Of course,’ Alpha says with the air of someone who has done this hundreds of times and is used to the bureaucracy.

  Clara connects the device to her system. A copy of the form is shared directly into their database. A second later the printer spews a hard copy out under the desk. She reaches down, smiling at Alpha, who smiles back. He is really quite attractive. ‘What company are you from?’ she asks casually.

  Alpha holds the smile. He saw the look in her eye, the tiny nuance that telegraphed her reaction to his physical appearance.

  ‘Medicare patient transport services,’ he replies with that same air of someone who has said the same thing hundreds of times. He has, too. He has said it hundreds of times over the last few hours until the words came out so easily it conveyed that exact air. ‘You, er . . . you full-time, then?’ he asks, equally as casually.

  ‘I am,’ Clara says, seeing the overt look he just shot her.

  ‘Might have to come back then,’ Alpha says quietly, smiling coyly.

  ‘I think you should,’ Clara tells him, nodding wisely with a glint of mischief in her eyes while she goes through a series of system procedures to release the patients. ‘Okay, that seems to be in order . . .’

  ‘Great. Karl?’ Alpha calls out. ‘Karl?’

  ‘Yeah, what?’ Charlie asks, coming to the door. ‘They ready, are they?’

  ‘Yeah, give them a hand,’ Alpha says, winking at Charlie in a way he knows the receptionist will see. ‘I’ve, er . . . got to do the paperwork.’

  Charlie nods, rolls his eyes and motions for the others to follow him. ‘Paperwork . . . course you have,’ he mutters.

  ‘So,’ Alpha says, turning back to Clara as the other four file into the hospital, tutting and rolling their eyes. ‘Do you enjoy working here?’

  The art of flirtation. The subtle mastery of conveying an interest by asking mundane, boring questions to work out if the other person is returning the interest. Clara knows he isn’t actually interested in the questions he asks, like how long she has worked here or if it’s a good job and whether she enjoys it, but that he is asking them to see how she responds. She asks her own questions too, and conveys the same subtle interest.

  They smile and make eyes. Their tones drop quieter. She leans closer and lifts her head to show the length and shape of her neck. He leans closer too and rests his hands on the top of the desk to show his lack of a wedding ring.

  The six are taken from another exit to the waiting ambulances. The six men had no idea this was being done, but Hans did tell them he was getting a lot of attention so they figure he is moving them somewhere else for greater privacy. Not that they can argue or question anything that much. The pain medication is too strong. They are too woozy, sleepy, drugged, passive and in shock, even now.

  ‘Done,’ Charlie says, leaning in through the door to tut and roll his eyes at Alpha again.

  ‘Best be off,’ Alpha says, smiling regretfully.

  ‘Sure.’ Clara reaches out with her phone to press it next to his, which bleeps once. He smiles at her and presses the ‘Accept’ button that automatically uploads her contact information into his directory. ‘If you fancy a drink one night,’ she says quietly.

  ‘I will,’ Alpha says, holding her eye contact. ‘I, er . . . best go then.’

  The would-be lovers part reluctantly. He casts a last look over his shoulder. She smiles and waves with a blush in her cheeks. He laughs softly and turns away as his men jeer and make remarks that she can hear and laugh at. He waves again as he climbs in and offers one last smile as they drive off. Only once they are out of sight does that smile fade.

  ‘Her phone was encrypted,’ Bravo says quietly.

  ‘Let Mother know,’ says Alpha.

  Only when the ambulances are gone does the smile fade from her face. She activates her phone and checks round to make sure no one can see her.

  Five men just took them in two ambulances. Medicare patient transport services. The form is legal. One of the men was very flirtatious. We swapped numbers.

  She sends the message and goes about her duties. The manager of the hospital had told all the staff that the twelve men brought in were getting a lot of attention, but their rules were to remain the same as ever. No information was to be given out under any circumstances.

  Two days ago, she was at home. A courier delivered a package. Inside was a phone. She was puzzled and switched the phone on. A message told her to log in to the website of an established bank. She used the log-in information and gained access to a bank account in her name that held funds of one million euros. The next message told her to check the phone directory. She did so and found it was a replica of her own phone. Every contact, every message, every photo held in her own phone was now in this new one. This was surprising in that it had happened to her, but the technology of phone cloning had been around for years. The next message told her she had nothing to fear. You are not at risk. We will not harm you. The message said she could throw the phone away right now and keep the money, or she could provide information and see that balance increase. Reply now if you are interested. She wrote back. I am interested. The balance of her new account immediately increased to two million euros.

  Now she goes about her duties behind the reception desk of the private hospital. Her phone beeps. She casually checks
round to ensure privacy.

  Good work. Payment made to your account. Send a copy of the form. Inform immediately if the man contacts you. Stay at your job.

  She checks her account. It is now at six million euros. The increase from two to five came from simply sending messages about what she knew. Now it is up by another million.

  She thought that the six men leaving her facility would end the deal. She was already thinking of handing her notice in and starting a new wealthy life in the sun, but the message said to stay at her job. She muses on that and decides it does actually make sense. To leave straight away would be suspicious. Another week or so won’t hurt. Besides, that man was very attractive and there might be a way to get more money. She feels like a spy. Like a secret agent. Those thoughts send a thrill through her. Being a spy is sexy.

  Twenty

  ‘Ben, you awake?’

  ‘Yeah,’ he croaks, coming awake to the persistent yet gentle knocking at his door. The night was awful. Truly bloody horrible. He kept waking not knowing where he was and rolling over expecting to feel Steph’s warm body at the same time as knowing she wouldn’t be there. Even with the shutters down on the window, the piercing wails and screeches from outside got into his nightmares.

  He gets up in a mood so foul he feels numb but with the added pleasure of the same depressing sensation of utter homesickness pulling even harder than yesterday. He cannot stay here. He does not want to stay here. He needs his home, his world and the things he knows.

  ‘Ben! Are you up?’ Safa calls again, thumping on his door.