Island of Fog and Death: A sci-fi horror adventure

by David Wallace

  "So now, I guess you are his caretaker," he said, wistfully. "I am not sure what I am any more." He slumped back down and stared at the stars.

  "My valued advisor?" suggested Peri.

  "It would be unfair on you not to be," he answered. Then he propped himself up again. "When you - went away - and then came back," he said, slowly, "Did you meet someone?"

  "The Servator."

  "So you did meet him," he said with a nod. "Or her. A remarkably vague and ambiguous individual."

  "Indeed. She is definitely both of those."

  Gus sighed. "So she - or he - snatched you from death and sent you back to carry out a task."

  Peri sighed, too. "If she is to be believed, she is responsible for my birth, and my more recent re-birth. I know little more than that. I really would appreciate your help to understand what the hell has happened to me, and what I need to do. Will you help me?"

  "Yes," he said without a moment's hesitation. "I will help you."

  Peri smiled in appreciation. She stood and walked over to sit between the two marines.

  "Well, that was fun," she said. "Did we all have fun? How was it for you?"

  Steve gave a snort. "If that's your idea of fun, then I'd hate to be around you on a bad day." He paused, and diffidently remarked, "I'm not really sure what to report back, though. Any suggestions?"

  Troy added, "We talked it over a little, and let's face it, things happened so fast that we're not actually sure what went down."

  Peri smiled gratefully. "I'm glad. Can you please do me a favour, and keep it that way? Better to say you didn't see what happened than come out with some story that's hard to believe. You don't want to sound like you were seeing the impossible."

  "The impossible?" asked Steve. "You mean, like, a woman being torn apart and then a dog being transformed into a replica of her? That kind of impossible?"

  "Yes, that kind of impossible. You see, Steve, that sort of impossible nonsense could lead to two outcomes. Either you need serious psychiatric help, or I end up on a dissecting table so the powers that be can try to work out what I am. Worst case Is, both outcomes come to pass, and none of us sees daylight again."

  "Can't have that, now," said Troy. "I've always been partial to daylight."

  "So the best thing all round is probably that you guys stick to the truth, namely, that you're not sure what happened. Because let's face it, it happened to me, and I'm not sure what happened, so you've got no chance. Can we live with that?"

  "I can," said Steve.

  "And me," said Troy. "But you'll owe us a beer."

  "I owe you at least two," said Peri. "Thanks, guys."

  The sound of the rotor blades of an incoming Dauphin helicopter made further conversation impossible. It was time to go.

  Epilogue

  United Nations Building, New York City, 12 July, Last Year.

  Peri Carlton sat in a comfortable armchair in the waiting room of the UN Security Council Affairs Division, with her eyes closed. She may have looked asleep, but she was not. She was focused inward, trying to strike up a conversation with the second personality hosted by her body.

  "Come on, you can't hide forever. We both know you're in here."

  This was a daily routine that she had followed for the last six weeks, since the Servator somehow re-animated her. Every day, she had set aside time to try to establish communications with the ancient being, and every day she had been ignored.

  "You know I can sense your presence, and your mood. So I know you're in there, I know you've walled yourself off, and I know you're sulking. But there's no need to stay in a foul mood. It won't change anything."

  She huffed out a deep breath in frustration.

  "I think you're being childish. I do. And that's weird for somebody your age. I mean, you must be millions of years old and you're carrying on like a five-year-old. What the hell is THAT all about? Still not talking?"

  She registered the fact that someone was walking along the corridor, approaching the waiting room. She could not hear their footsteps, exactly, but she knew they were there. She was not sure how she knew, in the sense of the mechanism by which the person's approach was detected and signalled to her consciousness, but as she kept reminding herself, 'How is unimportant'. It was just another of her new alien capabilities, and she accepted it as such. Just as she accepted that the image formed in her mind identified the approaching person as Colonel Li Lixia of the Peoples' Liberation Army.

  Li pushed the door open and strode briskly inside. "Peri," she said. "Thank you for waiting." She spoke in Mandarin.

  Peri simply inclined her head in response.

  "Come with me," said Li, and set off towards the door of a small meeting room. "After a frustrating day of trying to follow the fractured and illogical arguments of diplomats who foolishly think their English is better than it is, I want to speak naturally for a while. Will you indulge me?"

  Peri replied in fluent Shanghai-accented Mandarin. "I would be happy to join you, Colonel Li. Opportunities to practice are few and far between."

  Li waved a hand, dismissively. "You need no practice, Peri. Your Mandarin is already perfect. And will you stop the 'Colonel Li' nonsense?"

  The two women sat, facing each other across the table. Li took off her shoes with a sigh of contentment. "Please forgive me, but I made the mistake of wearing new shoes when the situation really called for comfortable ones. Now that is much better." She massaged the soles of her feet by rubbing them across the carpet.

  Peri grinned. "Be careful of the cheap carpets in here, Lixia. You might electrocute both of us."

  "If it meant no more meetings like that one, I'd welcome it. So. To business. First, thank you very much for your presentations this morning. I would also add, thank you for your patience in answering stupid questions, except that of course, being Peri, you showed none." She laughed. "You were justified in questioning the point of preparing written reports if the delegates could not be bothered to read them."

  "I did not say -"

  "I know, you did not say 'bothered'. You dropped the deadly F-bomb on a roomful of people, without mercy or remorse."

  Peri opened her eyes wide in mock surprise. "Am I being reprimanded?"

  Li laughed. "I would not dare. No, your report on the demise of Chen Yongjun was an exemplar of clarity and conciseness. It left no questions unanswered."

  "And yet questions were asked."

  "By idiots who had not read the report."

  The two women shared a laugh.

  "Your summary of the Welsh incident was also excellent."

  "But short of detail, I know. The British government would have preferred even less, but I let Damon Wilkinson run with that, and he can be very persuasive."

  "It certainly helped support the argument of the third presentation," observed Li. "Particularly the casualty figures, given that the creature never made it out of the caves."

  "Yes, the third part. How was the discussion after I left?" asked Peri.

  "My, my, you are impatient! I will come to that." The Chinese woman flipped open a notebook and glanced over what she had written. "So," she continued. "First, the facts presented. There was some debate about the accuracy of your data." She held up a hand, seeing Peri about to speak. "Patience, Young Carlton, patience. The committee members were very supportive. They attested to the accuracy of information supplied by their own countries and their allies. The assembly agreed, in the end, that the rising trends over time could not be disputed, and that the extrapolation over time that you produced is, if anything, conservative. So, your first conclusion was accepted. The threat level is rising at an accelerating pace."

  Peri permitted herself a smile of satisfaction.

  "Debate moved on to the question of what should be done about it. A stronger, Security Council led, initiative, well, that was the inevitable conclusion. We expected nothing else, let us be honest with ourselves. Expanding the remit, powers and global presence of the Transnational Inciden
ts and Emergencies team was the main option considered, though some delegates did propose alternatives on the fly. But your suggestion of building on UNTIE was accepted in the end. As expected, there were objections to the suggested fine detail. Just about everyone, all fifteen permanent member nations and a dozen or more from the non-members, suggested that their country should host a regional team. They could all smell the gravy-train, and all wanted a share of gravy."

  "I'm shocked. Truly shocked," Peri interjected.

  "You do not sound shocked. Anyway, the argument was accepted that thirty regional offices is far too many. The council President was quite firm in insisting on two principles, namely co-location in existing UN premises, and starting with the minimum presence to provide a follow-the-sun management structure. It could be expanded in future if necessary. So, the conclusion reached was that there should be four regional offices, to be sited in New York, Vienna, Bangkok and Seoul."

  "Not Geneva?" Peri asked.

  Li gave a snort of derision. "The council President needed to leave his fingerprints on the proposal. The task of mobilising the new organisation was given, as expected, to Ad-Hoc Committee 23. The job of director of the new organisation was debated." She smiled at Peri.

  "No! Not me!" Peri looked genuinely alarmed.

  Li laughed. "No, not you. Your carefully planned F-bombing run earlier in the day had the effect you intended."

  "I don't know what you mean..."

  "Yes, you do. I know you think you would be a disaster in such a role. No, the honour goes to the People's Republic of China."

  "You?"

  "Me. On a two-year secondment to the UNSC."

  "Congratulations, I think."

  "We'll see. What is the phrase the Americans use? A hospital pass? I suspect it was intended as a hospital pass. But my eyes are wide open."

  "And now you need to recruit your team."

  "Do I hear you volunteering?" asked Li.

  Peri laughed. "I might be persuaded, as long as you don't have crazy ideas about letting me anywhere near politicians. I'm not only an expert in dropping F-bombs, I'm good with a lot of bombs in a lot of different languages."

  Li smiled. Peri suddenly realised it was not a happy smile. "Could I trust you, Peri?" she asked.

  Peri stared, and stayed silent for a minute. Li just sat there, and waited.

  "Damon Wilkinson asked me that, six weeks ago, in the Annex," said Peri, slowly. "He asked, because you asked for me by name. He wondered why. He wondered whether I could be trusted." She sat forward suddenly, and observed that she had startled Li. "It was because you knew, didn't you? Somehow, you knew."

  Li looked slightly nervous. "I knew? I knew about what?"

  "You know about what. How did you know?"

  Now it was Li's turn to remain silent.

  Peri asked again. "How did you know?"

  "I was stationed in Shanghai, eight years ago. My work required that I take an interest in foreigners. Your saving a small boy came to my attention. The Public Security Bureau preserved camera footage for the purpose of prosecuting the taxi driver, so they carefully studied the vehicles. I believe I was the only one who paid closer attention to the pedestrians, simply because one of them was British."

  "So?"

  "Did you realise how fast you moved, to reach the boy?" She shook her head, reliving her own astonishment. "Inhumanly fast."

  The silence stretched out. Li was tense. Finally, Peri sagged back into her chair with a sigh. "Being quick is a long way from being untrustworthy."

  The stiffness in Li's posture faded slightly. "Help me, Peri," she said, softly. "Tell me what you omitted from your report. It does not need to be written down, but for us to work together there should be no secrets."

  There was another lengthy silence. Li more than half expected Peri to question whether either of them could trust the other. In the end, though, she heard Peri begin, "I became aware on Anifail Island that I am not human. It seems I never have been, not one hundred percent, and now I am less human than ever…"

  About the Author

  After a varied career in the IT industry, David Wallace retired from consulting and is now spends his time writing, and independently publishing novels. He has two grown up children and a lovely grand-daughter. His debut novel, "Child of the Servator" was published in 2017..

  Whether you loved this book, or hated it, please let David know by leaving a review.

  To keep in touch and find out about future publications, please join David's mailing list by visiting http://www.david-wallace.co.uk, or http://eepurl.com/dAHuWH