2041 Sanctuary (Let There Be Light)

by Robert Storey

  Held on by Jason’s outstretched hand, she turned to see the canister explode in a shower of water as the light tore through it. Sarah stared at the shimmering form as it leapt towards her; death descended and she slammed her hand down. A red button depressed and fire shot from the Centipede’s exhaust. Its auxiliary engine ignited in a flash and a roar and the light landed on empty ground.

  The speedometer on Sarah’s helmet shot up to fifty, and then sixty miles an hour. The Centipede flew across the landscape, its wheels juddering over the terrain and jarring its passengers to pieces while the power bar on its console shrank as it thrust them onwards. Behind, the light increased its speed to match their own and Sarah’s eyes widened in horror before it dropped back. And then, moments later, she saw it stop and its light blink out.

  Knowing they were far from safe, they carried on, the Centipede transporting them through the grand thoroughfare of Sanctuary Proper and leaving a trail of glowing pollen drifting in their wake. Further back, the thing that pursued them lurked, its presence revealed, but its unfathomable desires unsated. It seemed Jason had been right, they weren’t alone after all.

  Chapter Twenty

  The Centipede’s auxiliary fuel supply petered out and the engine roar dropped to a whimper. The electric powertrain kicked back in and Sarah slowed their travel in order to preserve the diminished battery life. After a while they got off to walk, each lost in their own thoughts after fleeing the mysterious light that had pursued them.

  Trish was the first to break the silence. ‘How far have we come?’

  Sarah consulted her visor. ‘Nearly ten miles.’

  ‘This must be some type of main highway.’ Jason looked around at the vast, sunken avenue that had been carved out between the ancient Anakim buildings, shrouded in gloom on either side. ‘We’re lucky; if that thing had cornered us in the caves we’d be dead.’

  Trish looked scared. ‘You really think it would’ve killed us?’

  ‘I don’t think it was chasing us for a kiss.’

  Trish glared at him. ‘It could have just been trying to scare us off. Perhaps we wandered into its territory or something.’

  ‘Whatever – it – is,’ Jason said. ‘What do you think, Saz? Any ideas?’

  Sarah pondered the question. What could it be? There were a myriad of answers, but none seemed particularly plausible. Although considering what they’d just witnessed and where they were, Sanctuary itself, then perhaps anything was possible.

  When Sarah failed to respond, Trish spoke up. ‘Perhaps it’s some creature that the Anakim found when they built this place.’

  Jason shook his head. ‘Unlikely. I’ve heard of creatures in the deep ocean being able to biofluoresce, but nothing on land; at least, nothing that size.’

  ‘We didn’t actually see anything, though, did we?’

  ‘Your point being?’

  ‘What if it was an illusion, created by the Anakim to frighten away unwanted visitors?’

  ‘Illusions don’t obliterate water canisters,’ Sarah said. ‘Whatever it is, it’s after us. We escaped it once, we got lucky. If it comes again—’

  ‘We’re screwed,’ Jason said, taking his cue to glance behind, as they each did in fearful regularity.

  Trish then asked the question they’d all been avoiding. ‘How are we going to get to the temple now? If we can’t go back because of that thing, and we don’t know where we are, we’re already screwed, or am I missing something?’

  Jason grimaced, his expression downcast.

  ‘I’ll think of something,’ Sarah said. I have to, she thought, otherwise we’re as good as dead. She looked at her two friends, who searched her face for reassurance, making her feel even more wretched than she already did. Why had they put such faith in my plan? Because I deliver, she told herself. Because I make things happen. I will get us out of this mess. I’ve done it before. I’ll do it again. The strength of her own internal voice shored up her flagging resolve and sent her mind into overdrive to seek a solution to their plight.

  If the only way to get to the surface was by using an Anakim transportation device, then they’d either need to find one somewhere else or find the temple. They were the only choices, save that or somehow get back to the USSB, where, despite the lifelong incarceration they’d be subjected to, at least they’d still be alive. She swirled around the options in her mind, savouring the pros and cons of each one like a fine wine.

  Thinking about it in detail, there was no real finesse to the choices at all. Finding another transportation device, while feasible, was akin to chucking a dart into a dartboard with your eyes closed and hoping you’d hit the bullseye. Returning to the USSB meant returning to the route on the Deep Reach map, which meant locating the waypoint beacons they’d need to get to the temple. Therefore, by simple deduction, that option automatically rendered itself secondary to actually finding the temple itself. That meant only one thing – they’d have to go back, which also meant dealing with the light. But how do you overcome something that you know nothing about? That was the question. If they knew what its motivations were, or even had some basic knowledge on its behaviour, then it’d be a start. The only thing they knew about it was that it didn’t like their company and would chase them down whenever it sensed their presence. At least that seemed the most likely assumption.

  A spark of an idea grew in her mind. A dangerous idea, but then what other choice was there? None. She’d think on it further, refine it, and then put it to the vote. Although regardless of their decision, it was the only way, like it or not this is what had to happen if they were to ever see the surface again, if they were to stay alive longer than a few days. The time had come to make a stand and roll the dice. She just prayed they were loaded in their favour.

  Chapter Twenty One

  USSB Sanctuary

  ‘Where is he?’

  The soldier gestured with the tip of his rifle. ‘Through there.’

  Malcolm Joiner stalked across the metal floor, his footfalls echoing in the confined quarters of the army barracks. He opened a door and stepped through.

  Agent Myers and ten other U.S. GMRC intelligence agents turned as he entered. At the far side of the room a number of Special Forces Subterranean Detachment commandos stood in relaxed disinterest, rifles in hand.

  ‘Let’s get it over with, then,’ Joiner said.

  Myers gave his men some last words before moving to Joiner’s side. ‘Sir, are you sure you’re comfortable with this? I can’t guarantee your safety. If I had more time—’

  Joiner gave him a withering look. ‘I arranged this; you don’t think I know the risks? Besides,’ – he waved a hand at all the armed men on show – ‘we have our finest at our disposal.’

  ‘It only takes a second.’

  ‘If I didn’t take risks I wouldn’t be where I am today.’

  ‘I still don’t like it.’

  Joiner’s jaw tightened. ‘Noted.’

  Myers nodded. He’d voiced his concerns and his director knew the stakes; what more could he do? He waved at two of his men, who in response disappeared into a hallway, followed by six SFSD ‘Terra Force’ commandos.

  Seconds passed before a host of shouting echoed back through to Joiner.

  Myers glanced in his direction, a look of concern on his face. ‘It’s not too late for a more secure environment. We could postpone until—’

  Joiner shook his head. ‘I haven’t got time for secure. It needs to be now.’

  Myers sighed and waved two more agents forward. They ran in to assist their colleagues.

  More shouting followed before a gunshot startled everyone, the thunderous noise setting ears to ringing.

  Myers swore. He raised his arm and wagged a finger at the remaining commandos. Their leader acknowledged the gesture and moved his men through into the hall. More commotion ensued before a cluster of men emerged, struggling against a writhing shape in their midst.

  A fearsome bellow and a guttural growl made Joiner
take a backward step.

  The group approached and he held his ground as around them the remaining intelligence agents aimed their guns, ready to shoot and subdue if required.

  A marine staggered back with blood gushing from his nose.

  ‘For fuck’s sake.’ Myers snatched a rifle from a nearby agent, reversed it and waded into the melee. With a swift jab, followed by another, the commotion ceased and the men stood back in a circle to gaze at the source of the disturbance.

  Joiner pushed his way forward. He looked down and turned to Myers. ‘What is that? That is not what I asked for.’

  ‘It’s what you wanted.’

  ‘No, it is not. I wanted motivation. I wanted determination. I wanted results. This … this thing, is not fit for purpose.’

  ‘With some time—’

  ‘I don’t have time!’ Joiner said, furious.

  Myers was lost for words, unused to seeing his director so agitated.

  Joiner hung his head, his plan for control slipping from his grasp. He’d thought his idea would work, but from what he’d just seen he should have concentrated his efforts elsewhere.

  Myers came to stand by his side, the noise in the room subdued. ‘Sir, we can find another way. Perhaps I can be of use? Or we could reach out to another service; there are plenty of alternatives, surely? This was always a gamble—’

  Joiner put up a hand to silence him. He needed to think and his brow furrowed in concentration. ‘I wanted this,’ he said, coming to a swift conclusion. ‘This was the best option, the only option.’ He made a decision. ‘Have you got it?’

  Myers looked shocked. ‘After what you’ve just seen, I don’t think—’

  Joiner gave him a look that could melt iron.

  Myers stopped talking and waved an agent to him. The man presented him with a small grey case. Myers opened it, removed the single needle inside and attached its shiny length to a glass cylinder containing a green liquid. He then held it up for Joiner to see.

  A marine gave a shout of warning and a shadow rose behind them. Weapons were raised and fingers moved to triggers.

  ‘Stick that thing in me,’ a gravel-laden voice said, ‘and it’ll be the last thing you do.’

  Joiner and Myers turned. Before them, surrounded by a ring of guns pointing at his chest, battered and bruised, cut and bleeding, was the dishevelled figure of the man Joiner wanted to lead the search for Sarah Morgan. The man who could bring him what he craved.

  Joiner’s expression changed, a glimmer of hope bringing with it a smirk of pleasure. ‘Ah, so there is someone in there after all.’

  Colonel Samson took a step forward, burning madness in his eyes. ‘I’m still here,’ – he coughed up some blood and spat it on the floor – ‘but I’ll make you wish I wasn’t.’

  Chapter Twenty Two

  ‘Hold him!’

  Samson surged forward, knocking aside two marines before four more grappled him to the floor. Snarling like a rabid beast, he twisted, and a scream rang out as he bit into a man’s shoulder.

  Joiner moved back as they fought to subdue the tortured beast he’d gone to so much trouble to acquire.

  ‘I said hold him!’ Myers moved in close, needle at the ready.

  A huge marine grasped Samson round the neck, while many others pinned him to the floor. Samson’s insane eyes rolled like a maddened animal, teeth bared, skin red, tendons and veins fit to burst.

  Myers bent down to rest the needle on Samson’s neck and he struggled again. Myers cursed. ‘Tighter!’

  The marine’s biceps bunched and shook with tension. The skin on Samson’s face turned purple and Myers stuck the needle in his neck, pressed down the plunger and extracted it in a heartbeat. Samson gave a final twitch before going limp, a trickle of froth seeping from his mouth.

  Joiner relaxed.

  ‘He should be out for ten minutes.’ Myers gave his Director a look of reproach. ‘It would have been a lot easier to do this before he came out of sedation.’

  ‘I needed to see if he could listen to reason.’

  ‘Could he ever?’

  Joiner removed his glasses. ‘The man’s been taken to the brink; we need to bring him back if he’s to be of use. I have to admit, though, I didn’t expect him to be that far gone.’

  Myers nodded. ‘The surface is starting to buckle, civilisation is breaking down. The people may not realise it, but base desires and behaviour are asserting their grip. The FBI turned a blind eye and the police encouraged the guards to inflict as much pain and suffering as they wanted.’

  ‘And Steiner?’

  ‘Some of the same, but nowhere near the extent that Samson received.’

  ‘That’s not what I meant. Did he survive the fire?’

  ‘Our priority was Samson, you made that clear.’

  ‘So he lives?’

  ‘He does.’

  Joiner gave a nod, his emotions mixed. He disliked the professor and would see him dead, but even he had limits. The treatment Samson must have received he wouldn’t have inflicted on a dog – on a dead dog. He knew he enjoyed the suffering of others, sometimes at a whim, and sometimes under torture, but he’d worked with Steiner for many years in the early days of the council and he felt an unusual sense of sympathy for him. Perhaps that’s because I may find myself in the same position, he thought. The Committee seemed to have him in their sights for whatever reason. However, now they’d shown their hand he could prepare his defence.

  ‘Shall we secure him before he wakes?’ Myers said.

  Joiner gave him a look. ‘Considering what we just witnessed, what do you think?’

  ‘I’ll see to it.’

  Time passed and Joiner found himself sitting on a stool, waiting for Samson to reawaken. He looked at Myers. ‘How long now?’

  ‘Eighteen minutes.’

  ‘I thought you said he’d be out for ten.’

  ‘I may have given him too much,’ Myers said.

  ‘Will it affect his ability to function?’

  ‘It shouldn’t, it’ll just extend the effects.’

  ‘Good. And his mind will be clear and focused?’

  Myers gestured at Samson who’d been strapped upright to a vertical slab. ‘We’re about to find out.’

  ♦

  Samson opened his eyes to see two men looking at him. Both he recognised. He frowned as he tried to recall their names.

  ‘Do you know who we are?’ the older man said, his face gaunt and sharp, his voice grating.

  Samson shook his head, trying to dispel a buzzing sensation that cloistered his senses like a lucid dream. A flash of light flared before his eyes and a spark of remembrance ignited his brain. His eyes narrowed. ‘Malcolm Joiner … what did you do to me?’

  Joiner smiled. ‘A little medication is all.’

  ‘We need you to be all you can be,’ Myers said.

  Samson switched his attention to the CIA operative. ‘You injected me.’ He struggled against his restraints. ‘Release these straps and I’ll show you what I can be.’

  ‘That’s good,’ Joiner said, ‘very good. We want the beast harnessed, not dead.’

  ‘I’ll give you the fucking beast.’ Samson bunched his arms and the straps creaked and stretched.

  Joiner looked at Myers in alarm.

  Samson ceased his efforts and laughed, exhausted.

  A flicker of annoyance crossed Joiner’s face.

  ‘What, no longer enjoying yourself, Intelligence Director?’ Samson stared at his captor, his smile gone. ‘So,’ – he looked at Myers and then back to Joiner again – ‘what do you two fucks want with me?’

  Joiner folded his arms. ‘You’re here to retrieve something.’

  ‘What?’

  Joiner gestured at Myers, who unfurled a tablet screen and held it up for Samson to see.

  Samson looked at the picture of a slim blonde. ‘Pretty. Who is she?’

  ‘Someone I want.’

  ‘Say I give a damn.’

  ‘Then I’d
tell you she is in possession of an ancient artefact, an object many people – many important people – want returned.’

  Samson couldn’t believe what he was hearing. ‘So, let me get this straight. You broke me out of a supermax prison to help you find some trinket found in a ditch?’ He shook his head. ‘You expect me to believe that?’

  Joiner grew angry. ‘I don’t care what you believe. Only that you do as I say.’

  ‘What I don’t understand is why a suit like you wants some relic. What is it, the cup of life, the spear of destiny, the fucking Dead Sea scrolls?’

  ‘It’s an Anakim pendant of significant scientific value.’

  ‘A what pendant?’

  Joiner considered Samson for a moment. ‘The Anakim are an extinct human ancestor, who once populated the Earth. It turns out we weren’t the first ape to turn creative.’ Joiner got up and looked to Myers. ‘Fill him in while I take a break.’

  Joiner walked from the room and Samson turned his attention back to the CIA operative, his expression quizzical.

  ♦

  The annoyance that was Malcolm Joiner returned to the room sometime later after Samson, resigned to being bored to tears, had listened as Myers brought him up to speed on the fantasy that was Sanctuary Proper and the Anakim themselves. The truth, which he still doubted to a certain extent, was hard to accept. Although why would they make up something so fanciful? There’s no purpose to it. Unless they’d pumped him so full of drugs he was experiencing a full blown hallucination. In some ways that would have seemed the more likely, had the video footage of this decaying subterranean world not been so detailed and extensive.

  ‘So,’ Joiner said, reclaiming his seat, ‘can we proceed?’

  Myers nodded.

  ‘Excellent. Right, Colonel, now you’re one of us, so to speak, let’s get down to business. I want this pendant and you’re going to go out into Sanctuary and find it for me. You’ll lead the search, commanding all SFSD and U.S. military assets, along with SED and mercenary support.’