‘What are you doing?!’ Jason said, but Trish had already disappeared into a grove of trees.
He lowered Sarah to the ground as the strange light continued its course and Jason realised he wasn’t looking at the horror of a Pharos, but a set of headlights. It was a car!
‘It’s okay, Sarah,’ he said, looking down at his dying friend, ‘help’s coming.’
♦
Light flared and the sound of an engine roared loud. Doors banged shut and raised voices drew near. A babble of activity engulfed Sarah’s senses and she was lifted from the ground.
‘How far is the nearest hospital?’ someone said.
‘El hospital, ¡¿hasta dónde?!’
Another voice responded in a rush of words before doors slammed and wheels spun.
‘They’re taking us to the airport,’ Trish said.
Sarah’s head rolled sideways as they bounced over uneven terrain.
‘What!’ Jason said. ‘Why?’
‘The nearest hospital’s a hundred kilometres away.’
Sarah felt Trish take her hand.
‘Oh, Jas, we’re not going to make it.’
Sarah drifted into the dark and a moment later she opened bleary eyes to see she was being carried across a floodlit field of grass. Blood trickled down her cheeks like tears and her chest rose and fell in ragged bursts.
The person who held her adjusted their grip.
‘Keep fighting, Sarah,’ Jason said, ‘keep fighting.’
Sarah wanted to do as he asked, but she had no more energy left to give.
Moments later the whir of a helicopter sent vibrations pounding through her head and they were airborne. Sarah managed to open her eyes again, and she could feel the end draw near. Another light emerged from the dark, its yellow glow appearing before her eyes like the spirit of God. The blinding brilliance blazed so bright that she could feel its warmth beating down upon her skin.
‘Sarah, look,’ Jason said, pointing, ‘we made it to the surface. Look, it’s the Sun, the dust cloud is clearing.’
Sarah gazed out of a window into the glory of a breaking dawn. Below, swirling mists parted before a light breeze, and shining blue rivers glistened and shimmered in the morning light. A flock of exotic birds flew up from the canopy of the forests below, where vibrant greens fought back the withered limbs of an embattled ecosystem.
The dust cloud still encircled the planet, but gaps were appearing in its thinning shroud.
For now the darkness was in full retreat and Sarah smiled a small smile as the beauty of life gifted her one of its greatest sights. Her friends were safe at last. And she knew, somewhere … out there, beyond the black, her mother and Riley would be waiting for her on the other side.
Finally at peace, Sarah’s eyes fluttered closed and her consciousness passed into the wonder of a dreamless light.
Chapter Sixty Five
‘What do you make of it?’
The man coughed into a handkerchief and wiped away a string of blood-laced spittle. ‘Fascinating,’ he said, his voice rasping and breathing laboured, ‘our attempts at replicating the design always met with failure.’
‘It doesn’t look much different to the dome.’
‘To the casual observer I can see why that would be the case, but believe me,’ – he paused for breath – ‘when I say this is a marvel beyond measure.’
General Stevens scratched his bulging stomach and glanced at the man next to him. Dagmar Sørensen, the director of the GMRC’s secretive and highly classified Research and Development Division, was a sallow-faced individual with pockmarked, sunken cheeks and an expression that had probably never felt the touch of a smile, let alone a grin. With the majority of people, it was easy to incorrectly stereotype personality based on looks; however, in this case, the initial presumption of the man’s internal nature – by any outside observer save the blind – would have been correct. The man looked … wrong – evil even – and it wasn’t just his features or manner, but something in his eyes, those dead, bulging, unblinking eyes. And from what Stevens had heard about the R&D director’s experiments, such a label was fully justified.
Perhaps it’s because I know what he’s capable of, Stevens thought. Would he creep me out so much if I hadn’t heard the stories? Dagmar turned his gaze toward him and Stevens looked away, unnerved. Yes, he decided, suppressing a shudder, he would. Trying to dispel the gnawing unease at being in such close proximity to the sickly R&D director, he concentrated on the vision before him.
High up in Tower Central, USSB Sanctuary’s soaring Anakim edifice, the lush greens of the New Park district of the subterranean base’s uppermost tier – the Dome level – lay sprawled out far below like a patchwork quilt. Above this scene of beauty, the great dome itself blocked out the rest of his view as the tower intersected its convex twenty mile wide expanse.
In front of and above General Stevens’ position, massive supporting cables tethered the immense weight of the dome below to the ceiling of the even larger chamber that housed it. And it was this sight that was unusual. While the dome created simulated skies, sunlight and weather for the many millions of people living out their days as productive Sancturians, it didn’t shed its illumination outwards, thus the exterior was always shrouded in darkness – that was, until recently. The last twenty-four hours had seen a catastrophic failure throughout the USSB’s power grid after a strange wave of energy had swept through the entire chamber and the human construct nestled within. Plunged into the pitch-black, the whole base had been in turmoil ever since, with engineers rushing to reboot the dome’s mass of systems.
Those with a keen mind would ask, if the illumination in the base had gone out, then how could the level below be bathed in such a radiant light? Stevens gazed up at the chamber’s ceiling which shone bright with clear, blue skies. The answer was astounding, unbelievable, and one he was still having trouble accepting. The ancient ceiling, which must have been nearly a million years old, had somehow reactivated and even through the glass window before him, he could feel the power of its rays warming his skin.
‘And you say it’s operational beyond this chamber?’ Stevens said.
Dagmar gave a slow nod of his head. ‘We already have … teams analysing its output. If we can find the source of its power we might be able to harness it.’ The R&D director cleared his throat and took a rattling breath. ‘Failing that, we can attempt to simulate its energy signature.’
‘To activate the Anakim tech?’
‘I hear concern in your voice, General,’ Dagmar said, ‘Are you afraid of our research?’
Stevens glanced behind him and the empty corridor beyond. No one was within earshot, but he knew their conversation was being recorded. The Committee sought leverage like it was going out of fashion; he’d learnt that lesson to his cost. Now I’m theirs, he thought, and I’m up to my neck in it. No, it’s worse than that, much worse, I’m ten foot under and treading water. There was no one else, no other organisation with as much power and reach as the Committee, they had people everywhere. No one could match their scale of operation and neither could anyone match their thirst for control and power, save perhaps one man, a man they now sought to bring to heel. Stevens knew they needed Malcolm Joiner, but how badly? That was the question. He was the conduit through which their eyes and ears were inextricably linked. And yet it was the GMRC’s Intelligence Division itself they craved. As far as Stevens knew, they’d had designs on Joiner’s vast operation for years, but without the intelligence director’s unique talents they would find it increasingly difficult to maintain the groundwork Joiner had worked his whole life to create. Stevens had been well aware of the intelligence director’s methods and reputation prior to their meeting; he’d been given a dossier to read. What he hadn’t been prepared for was the man’s ferocious intensity and how far he was willing to go to get what he wanted. The profile the Committee had drawn up on Joiner needed to be updated, of that there was no doubt.
Stevens wasn’t
stupid, at least he liked to think he wasn’t, and that he was alive today was testament to that fact. But he’d underestimated Joiner’s resolve on more than one occasion and he wouldn’t make the same mistake again. And until the Committee had him fully under their control he would seek to distance himself from the man as far as was humanly possible. He remembered the satisfaction he’d felt when he’d knocked Joiner out cold; he felt it still. His fist couldn’t have connected with the man’s chin any sweeter and while it was a memory to savour it was still regrettable. The late Grant Debden, Joiner’s primary aide, had warned him Joiner would bear a grudge, and Stevens didn’t doubt it, which was why he’d pushed hard for the intelligence director’s expulsion from Sanctuary, although it seemed Joiner’s fate was well beyond his power to control. If he was lucky the Committee would see fit to end the intelligence director’s miserable life.
‘General?’
Stevens could see Dagmar peering at him, but he remained looking straight ahead.
‘You didn’t answer my question,’ Dagmar said, ‘are you having doubts … about our course of action?’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘I think you do.’
Stevens adjusted the collar of his uniform, which suddenly felt itchy and restrictive. ‘The less I know about your little experiments, the better.’
‘They’re not little, General, you should know that better than anyone.’
‘I told you, I want nothing to do with it.’
‘And I believe you.’ Dagmar placed a gnarled hand on his arm and Stevens felt a ripple of revulsion spread through his body. ‘But we need more subjects, the trials … they’ve taken their toll.’
‘How many?’ Stevens said.
‘More than twenty … less than fifty.’
‘Fifty!?’
‘Less than.’
‘And I suppose you want them the same as before?’
‘Young adults, yes. The more athletic the better, they need … to have endurance.’
Stevens closed his eyes. The thought of what Dagmar was doing to those poor people didn’t bear thinking about, and so he decided not to. ‘I’ll get them to you within the week.’
Dagmar removed his hand and Stevens felt instant relief.
He opened his eyes to resume his scrutiny of the Anakim simulation and the electrical storm forming in the distance. ‘They say the lightning might damage the dome’s integrity.’
‘It might,’ Dagmar said.
‘Do you think it’s permanent?’
‘There’s no way of knowing.’
‘But if it is, it makes the dome redundant, doesn’t it?
Dagmar remained silent.
‘Do you know of Joiner’s fate?’ Stevens said.
‘I have been privy to some of the Committee’s deliberations.’
‘That’s a “no” then.’
‘The evaluation is about to begin. I have just facilitated its undertaking.’
Stevens looked at him. ‘Facilitated?’
‘It’s one of my … little hobbies,’ – Dagmar Sørensen turned to hold his gaze before a gruesome smile spread across his face like a sack of writhing maggots – ‘and I always aim to please.’
Chapter Sixty Six
Malcolm Joiner opened his eyes and stifled a groan. He reached up and touched his jaw, which felt swollen and tender. The back of his head ached with a dull, persistent throb while his mouth tasted of a strange, unpleasant chemical.
Sitting up, he saw he was on a bed in a plain white room. He glanced down at the medical gown that clung to his tall frame. He felt a sense of panic rising before a rush of fury squashed it like a bug.
He tried to recall the events that had led him to this humiliation. An image of an army uniform worked its way into his mind and his eyes narrowed. ‘Stevens.’
Before he had time to collect his thoughts any further, the door to the room swung open and a woman entered. She wore the plain blue clothing of a nurse and an expression of detached concentration. She moved to the end of his bed to check a transparent digital chart full of live data and streaming graphs.
Joiner reached up to his head to find a small, round patch stuck to his temple.
‘How are you feeling, Director?’ the nurse said, looking up at him.
Joiner peeled off the device and threw it to the floor. ‘Where am I?’
She removed the chart from the end of the bed and typed something onto its screen before approaching. ‘You’re being well cared for.’ She slipped the chart into a large pocket in her apron. ‘Can you lie back, please? I need to conduct a physical exam.’
Joiner didn’t move.
The nurse sighed. ‘Do you have a headache or feel nauseous?’
He remained silent.
‘Can you tell me your name?’ she said.
‘I’ll tell you nothing until you tell me where I am.’
She removed a torch from her pocket, turned it on and reached out to him.
Joiner’s hand snaked out to grasp her wrist.
She glanced down at his whitening knuckles. ‘I need to check your eyes for any sign of concussion.’
His fingers squeezed tighter and a look of pain stole across her face.
‘You’re hurting me, Director.’ She reached out and laid her other hand on his, making him flinch at the touch.
‘Get,’ he said between clenched teeth, ‘your hands off me.’
The woman leaned in close and whispered, ‘You still have friends.’ She removed her hand and flicked her eyes down at the digital chart, which she raised from its place of concealment in her apron.
Joiner focused on the words written on its screen:
THEY’RE WATCHING!
DO AS I SAY!!
Startled, Joiner suppressed the urge to react.
He released his hold and she dropped the device back into her pocket and reached out and lifted up his left eyelid before half-blinding him with the torch.
Apparently satisfied with the left, she moved onto the right while Joiner’s mind shifted into overdrive.
‘Move closer, please,’ she said.
He leaned towards her and realised she was trying to conceal any interaction between them, so he whispered, ‘Who?’
‘The Committee.’ She dropped something into his lap, a tiny, white pill, which he scooped up. ‘Swallow it,’ she said, ‘it will help.’
‘With what?’
‘Keeping your mind your own.’ She switched off the torch, held up her hand and raised her voice back to a normal level. ‘Follow my finger, please.’
Joiner did as he was told while the tips of his fingers investigated the small capsule clasped in the palm of his hand.
The nurse moved away and poured him a glass of water from a nearby sink. She held it out to him. ‘Would you like a drink of water?’
I have no idea who this person is working for, he thought, I have no idea what this pill might do. For all I know she might be working for the Committee. Another part of his mind screamed at him: Never put your trust in blind faith!
He hesitated and the nurse flicked her eyes to where she knew he held the pill. ‘Dehydration leads to cognitive deficiency,’ she said, ‘and you need to keep your fluids up; I believe you have an important appointment scheduled.’
A knock on the door made them both look round.
It opened and an armed soldier entered. His purple armour glittered under the lights and he bore no visible signs of allegiance except for the emblem of USSB Sanctuary on his shoulder. He looked from Joiner to the nurse. ‘Is he ready?’
She nodded and he disappeared back outside.
Left alone once more she placed the glass down on his bedside table. ‘You need to get dressed, Director, they’re waiting for you.’
‘They?’
‘Ms. Dubois and her business partners. It’s best if you don’t keep them waiting.’ She moved to the door. ‘I think they like to adhere to a strict schedule and my advice, like theirs, is in your best inte
rest.’
‘So you say.’
She glanced at the glass of water before giving him a meaningful look. ‘Sometimes we just have to trust our instincts.’
The nurse left the room, leaving Joiner to mull over his decision. Take a pill from a stranger who works for someone aligned against the Committee, or keep the status quo and rely on the Committee not to manipulate me by devious means. The choice was not an appealing one, as either way his action would lead to a complete loss of control. My life lies in the hands of another. The thought of not being master of his own destiny shook him to the core. But there was no third option he could see, he had to make a choice, for good or for bad.
He swung his legs from the bed to place bare feet on a cold floor.
His suit, shirt and undergarments hung from a hanger on the back of the door. Ignoring the glass of water, he stood up and walked over to slip the pill into his jacket pocket before going about the chore of dressing himself. When he’d finished tying his shoes, he looked into a full length mirror and breathed a sigh of relief. Adjusting his collar, he removed his spectacles from his top pocket and slid them on. Satisfied with his appearance, he manoeuvred the capsule back into his hand and approached the bedside table.
He stared down at the glass of water. Should I take this pill or not? he thought. That is the question. The structure of words brought a famous paraphrase to mind: ‘It is not in the stars to hold our destiny, but in ourselves.’
And better to put my hands in the unknown than the Committee’s, even more so considering our recent clashes. He simulated a cough and slipped the pill into his mouth before sipping the water to let the fluid carry the small object off his tongue and down his throat.
A sense of anxiety made his stomach tense. There was no turning back now.
Committed to his course, Joiner grasped the door handle and emerged into a massive, crystalline hallway. He realised where he was: Tower Central, the Anakim creation positioned at the heart of the subterranean base.
2041 Sanctuary (Genesis) Page 28
