by Stephen Laws
For a long time they stood looking at the smouldering torches scattered around the park, listening to the silence.
“So now we know,” said Annie.
“Know what?” asked Jay.
“Lisa was right in the first place.”
“Right?” Alex turned to look at Lisa.
“Those horsemen,” said Annie. “The riders that the Black Stuff showed us. They’re…”
“The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse,” said Lisa flatly.
“Oh, good Christ,” said Candy, her face white in the glare of the bonfire. “No one’s coming for us, because there is no one to come for us.”
Lisa looked at Jay, and knew that he needed more explanation.
“The things Wayne said? They’re from the Bible—the Book of Revelations.” Lisa stroked the boy’s head, felt tears trickling down her cheeks. “War, famine, disease. Just like the Bible says. It really is the End of the World. That’s what’s happened here.”
For yet another night in this hideous new world, they waited silently by the bonfire.
Lost in their own weary thoughts.
Trying to make sense of the nightmares they had experienced and endured.
And waiting for the growing greyness that would herald the arrival of yet another day in Hell.
Chapter Eighteen
The Ordeal of Juliet DeLore
Juliet realised that the sky was lightening.
Gripping the rail of the inspection platform, she had kept her attention equally divided between the fire beacon somewhere off on the other side of the pit and on the Land Rover still sitting silently facing the concrete platform of the mast. Her throat was sore from the calls for help across the darkness. There had been no replies, no offers of help. But she refused to believe that it was hopeless. There was no real way of telling how far off the fire was. When day came, she would see. And perhaps then they might hear her calls.
(What makes you think they’ll hear you any better in the light, Juliet? Surely they would have heard you, even in the darkness? If that is, anyone was there?)
She refused to listen to that inner voice.
Once, she had resisted the urge to call for Trevor; just to make sure that he was down there somewhere. If she did, it would be too much like giving in, and after the most recent night terrors she needed all the courage she could muster. Had she really seen that oil, dripping and flowing the wrong way? No, she could not allow herself to think about that. There was nothing to suggest that it had happened at all. No oily marks on the railings, no smudges on the platform, no stains on the ground around the concrete base. She had to keep her attention fixed on the beacon.
But as the skies lightened, the only darkness now the darkness of the pit at the foot of the broadcasting mast (which she steadfastly refused to look down into, lest vertigo should swamp her again), Juliet realised that she wasn’t going to get a clear view after all. She could see smoke rising from where the fire had started, but her view of it was obscured by a ragged screen of tilted, fractured trees and the ruins of buildings. The ravine was perhaps three or four hundred feet wide, with the smoke rising perhaps half a mile inland on the other plateau. Surely if there was someone over there they must have heard her yelling in the night?
“Over here!” Juliet began yelling again. She looked anxiously down again for any sign of Trevor, but there was no movement. “Please, someone! Help me!” She looked out across the Chasm again to the rising smoke.
There’s no one there, Juliet.
“There must be someone!”
Everyone’s dead.
“Help me, please! Over here!”
And from down below, from the Land Rover, came an answering scream…
“I’ll help you, Juliet! I’ll fucking HELP you, my darling!”
The Land Rover engine coughed into life. Trevor rammed it into first and revved hard. During the darkness, the fearful pain in his ragged eye socket had muted, but now, with the coming of “day”, the terrible agony had returned. He took one hand from the wheel and slammed the heel of it against the socket, shaking his head like a wild animal, as if he could cast the pain aside. But it was only making things worse as the pain ate like a living thing into his head, into his face.
It was time now.
Time to prove to the Vorla that he was worthy. It was incapable of action in the light, but he would show it that he could do its bidding when it was at its lowest ebb. Deep inside his soul, that small part of the Vorla that remained hidden squirmed in anticipation.
“I’m sending you to meet someone, Juliet!”
Trevor began to laugh manically.
“A very, very good friend of mine.”
He lifted his foot on the clutch. The Land Rover shot forward, roaring across the grass.
Up above, Juliet clung to the rails of the maintenance deck, looking down. Now she realised that Trevor had been in the Land Rover all night, silently watching and waiting. She could hear him screaming inside, but couldn’t make out the words. Frozen in fear, she could only watch as the vehicle came straight at the mast. She gripped the rail tight, not understanding.
“Trevor, no!”
The Land Rover smashed into the concrete base.
Juliet felt the ringing impact in the rail she was clutching. The mast shuddered with echoes. When she looked down again, steam was rising from the buckled hood.
Inside the Land Rover, Trevor gagged against the wheel. He hadn’t fastened his seat belt and the impact had thrown him forward. His neck had whiplashed and there was a crushing pain in his chest where he had hit the steering wheel. The pain was good. The Vorla would know that he was trying to prove himself. Trevor shook his head and looked up. The windscreen was covered in cobweb cracks. Was that steam rising from the hood or was his vision out of focus? No matter.
Laughing again, Trevor jammed the Land Rover into reverse and roared away from the concrete base. When he saw that the cracks at which he had been aiming were wider and that there were fragments of concrete scattered on the grass at the base, he began to shout “Yes, yes, yes!” When the vehicle lurched to a halt, he was much further back. Had Juliet realised what he was planning to do? Trevor wound down the window.
“Games are over, Juliet!”
He revved the engine again as…
Juliet braced herself against the rail once more. At that moment, as the Land Rover roared forward again, she finally realised what Trevor was trying to do. She saw the widened cracks at the base of the platform, the chunks of concrete. But surely, surely, it wasn’t possible? He would wreck the car first. The engine block would fracture. He couldn’t believe that it would be possible…and then Juliet felt the pull of the Chasm on the other side of the mast; knew that it was balanced right on the edge, that the platform was cracked, that the soil all around the mast was crumbling. And then the shivering echoes rang in her ears, the entire platform beneath her feet shuddered, the rail to which she was clinging stinging her hands with its vibrations when…
The Land Rover slammed into the concrete base again. This time the windscreen exploded out across the buckled hood. The cracks in the platform widened, ran up to the foot of the inspection ladder and on to the centre of the base. Steam gushed from the hood now. And surely it must all be over; the vehicle was wrecked and Trevor’s mad plan to topple the mast into the Chasm was at an end. Juliet’s legs felt weak. She leaned forward to look down, the steam from the vehicle rising to meet her. Should she risk climbing down now? Perhaps she could make another break for it; find somewhere else in the ruins to hide? Below, the Land Rover was still. Yes, she had to give it a try. Maybe Trevor had knocked himself senseless. Juliet gritted her teeth and stepped forward to the top of the ladder as…
The Land Rover growled into life, reversing away from the platform. Sparkling fragments of glass slithered in sheets from the hood. Something had broken beneath the chassis, the gears grinding, the engine racing as it lurched away in a shroud of steam. Inside, Trevor spat out a too
th and felt more pain in his gut. For a second time, he had been slammed forward against the wheel. This time he had cracked a rib. But he still wouldn’t fasten his seat belt. He knew that the Vorla inside him was watching and waiting. He would not fail the Test. The Land Rover swerved and wobbled back over its own ragged tyre tracks. Trevor could see that the cracks had spread. Chunks of concrete littered the grass.
“GOING DOWN, JULIET!” he screamed, revving the wavering engine madly. He began to laugh again; wild, ringing peals of laughter. Now growing even more manic when the laughing made the pain in his gut match the hideous agony in his eye socket, his neck and his broken rib. He jammed down the accelerator once more and the Land Rover roared forward again as…
“Then DIE, Trevor!” yelled Juliet. “Smash yourself to pieces you mad, sick, stupid animal!”
She braced herself against the rails. The ringing echoes from the last impact were still quivering, whispering and shivering in the ironwork, growing fainter. But there was another sound now that filled her with sick fear. It was a low grinding sound. Wildly, Juliet looked around to see where it was coming from. But it was all around her, and she couldn’t pin it down to one source. Stretching, grinding, slowly groaning.
“Oh God…” said Juliet, and then…
The Land Rover smashed into the concrete base again.
Trevor was hurled from his seat, out across the hood.
He bounced in a tangled flurry of limbs, hit the concrete platform hard. Arms flopping, he slid lifelessly from the hood as steam gushed around him, hiding his body from sight on the grass at the side of the Land Rover.
Despite the damage that had been done to the vehicle, the third impact was the greatest by far. Cracks radiated around the platform on all sides. A massive chunk of it had fallen away by the side of the vehicle. Something inside the platform gave a massive, rending groan as…
Juliet was flung from the rail to the maintenance platform deck. The impact snapped her jaws closed, blurred her vision. Sprawled face down, looking through the metal lattice-work, it took her several seconds to make sense of who she was, where she was, and what was happening. Down below, she saw the Land Rover wreathed in steam.
Trevor was out of the vehicle, crawling on all fours out of the steam cloud. She tried to shout down at him again, but the impact had knocked the breath from her lungs as…
Trevor staggered to his feet, weaved from side to side like a drunken man and fell back against the side of the Land Rover. His bottom front teeth had been loosened. He spat out bright red blood, wiping his chin. He knew that something else inside had been badly damaged, but didn’t know what it could be. He knew only that inside, where the hurt was, the Vorla was smiling. He returned the smile, spat blood again, and fumbled at the door handle. When he looked up at the mast, at first he thought it was swaying, ready to topple over the brink. But when he steadied himself on the Land Rover roof, he realised that he was the one who was swaying.
“Nexsht…” Trevor spat out another tooth. “Next time.”
He pulled the door open, pausing like a drunk to get his bearings.
And then Trevor fell inside, as…
Juliet pulled herself to the rails again.
Even from that height, she could see that Trevor was badly hurt; could see that nevertheless he still wasn’t going to give up. All around her, the groaning, grinding sound had become louder. She could feel vibrations in the metal platform beneath her feet. It seemed impossible, but Trevor was going to succeed. If she was going to act, going to do anything, then she had to act now! She saw Trevor fall into the Land Rover and knew that she had to get down, no matter what. Suddenly the immensity of the drop into the Chasm behind her was no longer paralysing her, no longer holding her back. Even the drop from the maintenance ladder to the ground wasn’t as daunting as she lunged at the top rails. Turning, she stepped hurriedly down and then paused. Taking two quick breaths, steeling herself, Juliet started down the ladder as…
Trevor started the engine again, couldn’t seem to locate the clutch, and stalled the vehicle. He tut-tutted, another tooth falling from his mouth in the process. He started again, dragged the damaged gear lever into reverse. When the vehicle began to lurch away from the concrete base something cracked, and Trevor looked up in delight to see that a fissure was opening right across its top. The door was buckled outwards. With the joyful sound of grinding and cracking filling the air, Trevor guided the Land Rover back over the rutted ground as…
Juliet felt the ladder tilt beneath her. She pulled herself hard against the cold metal, hanging on grimly. Her face was pushed up against a rung. She could hear the groaning, deep inside the mast; like some great animal, trying with a dying effort to raise itself.
I can’t move! I can’t open my eyes and I can’t look down because if I look down I’ll be paralysed or I’ll fall or…
“No!” Juliet banged her head against the rung.
She began to descend again as…
Trevor saw Juliet climbing carefully down the ladder and began to laugh again.
No! said the Vorla deep inside. Don’t let her. It’s time.
The laughter died. Trevor’s face was a blank and bloodied mask.
“Time,” he said, and then stopped the Land Rover. With the precise and mechanical actions of a robot, Trevor engaged first gear, revved—and then brought up the clutch. The Land Rover roared over the churned grass.
His face set, Trevor aimed straight for the largest fissure that had appeared in the base.
One second before the Land Rover slammed into the concrete base, he yelled Juliet’s name as…
Juliet screamed, feeling the terrifying impact as it shivered and rang in the ladder rungs. The groaning sound became a roar, like some gigantic avalanche. Beneath her, the Land Rover was wrecked beyond repair. It had mounted the fractured platform, both front wheels off the ground, steam gushing from the hood now, the chassis fractured and ravaged. The side and back windows had shattered. Glass lay around the wreck like snow. Juliet looked down and saw that, impossibly, the vehicle was beginning to rise. Its nose was tilting slowly up, like some animal trying to stand on its hind legs. The groaning had become a screeching of steel on steel. The ladder moved. Juliet clung tight again, her heart hammering. The Land Rover stood upright—and then slowly fell over on to its back with a juddering crash.
Something was rising from the ground beneath it.
Something that had flipped the vehicle over on to its back.
A gigantic metal strut, one of the broadcasting mast’s support structures, now tearing open a great chunk of earth, sending furrows of ploughed earth in all directions.
Oh God, no, this can’t be happening…
But it was happening.
Juliet clung to the ladder, still a hundred and fifty feet from the ground, as the broadcasting mast pitched over towards the Chasm.
Her screams were lost in the screeching, rending cacophony as the mast toppled over the edge, the concrete base crumbling as the other steel supports burst from the fractured earth in explosions of soil clods and spewing clay. The cliff-edge around the base disintegrated, the out-facing wall of the broadcasting studio falling apart in an avalanche of bricks and dust, showering down into the abyss. The mast was no longer on a smooth trajectory. It juddered and swung out like a crane, hit the edge of the studio with a shivering crash. The base became tangled in the remaining rubble.
And then the mast fell out across the gaping fissure, dropping with a rending screech into the Chasm.
Chapter Nineteen
The Journal of Jay O’Connor:
The Mast
Suddenly, I was awake.
I hadn’t been able to stop the bad dreams, but something had woken me up. When I looked around, I wished that I was back in that other nightmare place. Because this was the land of real nightmares. A place that I really couldn’t escape from. I screwed my eyes shut, and willed myself awake. It wouldn’t work, because I was already awake—and the realit
y of where I was, and what was happening, couldn’t be wished away.
The bonfire was still burning steadily. The pile of wood had lasted well through the night. Overhead, the sky was its blank and alien grey. Grey smoke from the fire seemed to be drawn up into the blankness, like it was feeding into the sky or something. We were still surrounded by the same ruined buildings and crooked trees. The dump truck stood where we’d left it, with no evidence of the previous night’s horrors. No smears or smudges where the Black Stuff had tried to cover it and had been driven away by the light. Aching all over, I pulled myself up and remembered that we’d worked out a “night shift” to watch for any sign of the returning Black Stuff or remnants of the walking dead. I must have crashed out as soon as it was my turn to lay down my head. Apart from all the up-front horror that had burned me out, I was suffering from the same thing that everyone else seemed to be suffering from. Too much happening, too many things that didn’t make sense. The Black Stuff. Burning dead people. Little kids with teeth like wolves who could move faster than you could see. The Horsemen. Annie telling us that the quotes the Wayne-thing had been shouting at us were evidence that we’d died and gone to Hell. We couldn’t talk about these things yet, couldn’t give them head-room without it all threatening to send us round the twist. Maybe everyone thought that with the return of “day” in this place, someone might be able to put it all together and make sense of everything.
But it still felt like Hell this morning.
Now everyone was awake, and looking around for the same something that had woken me up.
“Listen!” said Lisa.
And then I heard it.
A faint cry for help.
“Where’s it coming from?” asked Alex.
It was impossible to tell. Everyone got up and began walking around, looking. But the way sound carried in our new world, it could have been coming from anywhere.
