by Gary Gibson
She shook her head. ‘Because . . .’ I waited as she searched for the right words. ‘Because I knew Casey was just going to do his best to remind everyone he’s an attention-seeking moron.’
‘So you know what he’s doing in there?’
‘I was on that expedition with him,’ she replied. Her whole body seemed tense with nervous energy. ‘I’ve seen the footage already. Having to watch it first time around was bad enough.’
I glanced back towards the entrance at a sudden squeal of feedback, followed by a murmur of voices. Someone put on some music, and I guessed the show was finally over.
‘I think they’re done in there,’ I said. I patted my pockets as if I was looking for a wallet, then looked up at her with a frown. ‘I’d stand you a drink, but I’m a little short right now.’
That got a flicker of a smile, and I realized that her cheeks were damp with tears.
‘Look,’ I said carefully, ‘I don’t know if this makes any sense, but I have the weirdest feeling that we got off on the wrong foot somehow. So if there’s anything at all I can do to—’
Suddenly her arms were around me, pulling my head down towards hers, her lips pushed against mine.
My nostrils filled with the scent of her; my senses were overwhelmed by the touch of her skin until I felt almost drunk on her. It had been so very, very long since I had held a woman in my arms, and I revelled in the smooth, soft sensuality of her body beneath the thin material of her shirt. I only gradually became aware that I was painfully erect.
Then, just as quickly, she was gone, running back into the night, vanished within seconds into the shadows of the nearby houses as she fled for the second time that day. I stared after her, speechless and bewildered and groggy and still full of the taste of her lips.
Some instinct made me turn to see Nadia standing on the steps behind me, with a look of terrible sadness on her face. I wondered how long she had been standing there, and how much she had seen.
‘I don’t understand what just happened,’ I said, waving my hand after Chloe. ‘Why did she—’
‘I’m sorry, Jerry,’ she said.
‘Sorry? What for?’ I demanded.
She opened her mouth, then seemed to change her mind about whatever she might have been about to say.
‘Just go home,’ she said instead, turning away.
‘Wait.’ I stepped closer. ‘Why did she—’
‘Go home,’ Nadia repeated, much more forcefully this time.
I watched Nadia disappear back inside the hotel, feeling nearly as distressed as I had the day I found myself being tracked through woods by a retrieval team intent on rescuing me – whether I liked it or not.
EIGHT
A week later, and not long before midnight, I reported to the base compound outside town, and the hangar housing the transfer stages.
I’d had little in the way of free time in the month following my release from quarantine. When I wasn’t undergoing weight-training and cardio in a gym, I was receiving constant check-ups and such a variety and quantity of shots that I eventually gave up asking what they were all for. One of my trainers, whose job was to teach me how to track both people and animals as well as evade them, claimed to be half-Navajo. I learned as best I could, and any remaining traces of fat in my body were soon replaced by lean, hard muscle.
You might wonder what a man who managed to survive alone on a desolate world for more than a decade might have to learn in terms of survival skills. But everything I had done to keep myself alive during those long, hard years had been learned through trial and error – with the emphasis on error. In my desperation to find more of the antidote Red Harvest had developed, and which kept me alive, I had taken such enormous risks that it pained me to remember them. The fact that I had survived at all had been as much down to luck as anything else.
My last week of training following Casey Vishnevsky’s apocalyptic brand of show-and-tell, however, had more to do with logistics and operational procedures. I learned how to program a transfer stage control rig to get me back to the island in an emergency. I learned more about the ‘null sequences’ Nadia had warned me of, and how very dangerous inputting one could be. They showed me how to operate the specialized walkie-talkies used by the Pathfinders, and how to set up an impromptu communications network in case the main one failed. Finally I learned about the automated reconnaissance drones they used, and how they could be controlled through a computer built into the control rig itself. They could also be operated from remote machines that were essentially rugged laptops. There was more than enough to keep me too tired and worn out to do anything remotely resembling socializing, let alone have the leisure to wonder about that whole bizarre encounter with Chloe.
I had other things on my mind too. Earlier that week, while grabbing something to eat at the Hotel du Mauna Loa, I had learned from Nadia just how the whole Pathfinder project came into existence.
‘Casey Vishnevsky was the first of us they retrieved,’ she had explained over a bowl of broth, a bottle of beer by her side. ‘They didn’t go looking for him. They just found him, while they were exploring his alternate.’
‘And he was the last man alive there?’
She chuckled and took a sip of her beer. ‘Who knows? Maybe there were other people out there, but they didn’t happen to find them. Are you certain there was no one left alive anywhere on your alternate?’
‘No, of course not. There might have been, but . . .’
She nodded. ‘No way of knowing. Anyway, they interviewed him, since he was a witness to the extinction event that did for his world. Once he understood they were trying to find something of value to them, he became a kind of native guide. I think he was worried that, if he didn’t, they might leave him there. Anyway, that worked out so well that they took him along on a couple of expeditions to other post-extinction alternates, and he was so damn good at it they figured that if they were exploring those places, they might as well take a look and see if they could find anyone else who might be as useful as him.’
‘And that’s how they found you and Rozalia and all the rest?’
She nodded. ‘Bingo. Same for all of us. I guess the kind of people who have the stamina and determination to survive, when everyone else around them is dead, also have some quality that makes them good at pathfinding.’ She drank more of her beer and let out a loud burp. ‘Not to mention,’ she added, ‘that we were all so fucking delirious at being saved, we’d have done just about literally anything in return for not having to stay where they found us one second longer.’
‘It still doesn’t explain . . .’
‘Stop right there.’ She gave me a slightly unfocused look, and I wondered how many beers she’d had before I arrived.
‘You don’t even know what I was going to say!’
‘Yes, I do. You still want to know the ultimate purpose of all this, what we’re looking for, why we’re looking for it, what the Authority get out of it, and why these particular worlds.’
I shrugged. ‘Well?’
‘Focus on the reward,’ she said, leaning towards me slightly. ‘Stop asking questions none of us can answer and just do what you have to, so they let you retire. Nothing else matters.’ She fixed me with a steady gaze. ‘Understand? Nothing else matters.’
What I was slowly coming to understand was that I hadn’t been far off the mark when I’d wondered if I was surrounded by functional alcoholics. The amount of booze the Pathfinders collectively went through was prodigious, as if by drinking themselves into oblivion they could avoid asking themselves the very same questions that still plagued me. When I found Oskar and Haden standing on one of the stages, along with Oskar’s monstrous hound, Lucky, and a vehicle that looked like a cross between an SUV and a tank, I didn’t fail to notice that Oskar’s eyes were bloodshot. Haden seemed to be the exception to the rule in that I had never seen him drink alcohol.
‘Got your shots?’ asked a slightly green Oskar, as I joined him and Haden on the stage. I rubbed my a
rm where a medic had given me multiple injections the previous day and nodded. Oskar’s bull mastiff came over to sniff at me before collapsing back at her master’s feet in a sprawl. A technician sat next to the stage’s control rig, looking bored.
‘Sure I have,’ I replied. ‘Is that thing coming with us?’ I asked, nodding at the dog.
Oskar just chuckled. ‘Of course.’
Oskar was small and rail-thin, like a jockey, and wore a pair of mirror shades too big for his face. I had learned the hard way not to make jokes about the collection of fetishes he wore strung around his neck, and in which he put a worrying degree of faith. This evening he was wearing a rabbit’s foot, a crucifix and a number of other less identifiable objects, strung on chains and leather twine. Then I remembered the half-coin hanging around my neck and wondered if I was really so different.
I nodded at the pimped-up SUV. ‘Where the hell did that thing come from?’
Now I was closer to it, the car looked like some millionaire survivalist’s weekend excursion vehicle. It had four enormous, rugged-looking wheels, along with a swept-back windscreen and mesh-covered headlights. The windows were small and high, while the chassis was covered over with some kind of armour plating. Small, directional klieg lights had been mounted above the windscreen.
Oskar pulled the door open on the driver’s side, and I saw an interior of thick, creamy-coloured leather. Both the interior and the exterior were studded with reinforcing bolts. ‘Front and rear night vision cameras,’ Oskar explained with no small degree of pride. ‘Tinted armoured glass throughout, oxygen survival kit, inbuilt fire-control system. There’s even shielding against explosives built into the undercarriage.’ He slapped the hard steel exterior. ‘This baby’s got everything.’
‘What about the EVs?’ I asked, referring to the excursion vehicles that were ubiquitous on every alternate I had so far visited.
‘There’s one there, but we won’t be using it,’ Haden explained, his eyes glinting silver. ‘Not manoeuvrable enough, and too big as well. Plus, these things are a lot faster and nimbler.’
‘Casey found a whole warehouse full of them in the same place we’re going,’ Oskar added. ‘Any one of these babies would set you back a quarter of a million in anyone’s money – this universe or any other.’ He reached inside the truck and stroked the soft leather interior. ‘Your drug warlord’s preferred mode of travel. And bulletproof, of course.’
‘Something’s missing,’ I said. ‘Like maybe a turret.’
They both chuckled. Even Lucky let out a bark, her tail thumping at the stage.
God help me, but that dog really was a monster. I tried to imagine what it would be like, riding along with that thing sitting right behind my shoulder with its enormous jaws ready for action. I could easily picture it ripping my head off my shoulders and spitting it out of the window like a pistachio shell.
‘You’re really bringing the Hound of the Baskervilles along?’ I asked nervously, nodding at Lucky.
Oskar stared at me in disbelief. ‘You’re kidding, right? Lucky’s the reason I’m still alive. She’s my biggest good-luck charm.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Lucky led Oskar to safety,’ said Haden. ‘Isn’t that right?’
‘You know the story about my alternate?’ asked Oskar, hunkering down next to the beast and rubbing her belly.
‘Environmental collapse, I heard.’
‘Yeah. Lucky – well, Lucky’s mother, anyway – was on her way to being someone’s breakfast, lunch and dinner. I’d managed to get myself caught by some guys on my way to the coast, thinking maybe something in the ocean might still be alive and edible. They wanted to eat me too, right? Except they locked me up in this barn along with Lucky, and that damn hound not only chewed her way through the ropes holding her, but mine too.’ He shook his head and chuckled. ‘That’s when I started believing in miracles.’ He touched the crucifix hanging around his neck. ‘I tell you, I know a sign when I see one. Once we got out, I managed to kill the one guy left to guard us, and me and Lucky made it out of there.’
‘So did you make it to the ocean?’ I asked. ‘Was there anything to eat there?’
‘Nope.’ Oskar shook his head. ‘It was as dead as everywhere else. But Lucky nosed out the entrance to some government hideout filled with enough food to last us both years and years. Like a lifetime’s worth. That makes it twice the old girl pulled through for me.’
I frowned. ‘Hang on. You’re talking about two different dogs, right? Who found that hideout, Lucky or Lucky’s mother?’
‘They were both called Lucky,’ Oskar explained.
I glanced at Haden, but he just shrugged.
‘I didn’t even know the old girl was carrying a litter until we reached the coast,’ Oskar continued. ‘Every one of them died except this girl here.’ He scratched Lucky’s head, and the dog pushed up against him hard enough that it made him stagger back. ‘Hell of a girl,’ he chuckled. ‘The both of them.’
I stepped around to the open rear of the vehicle. The SUV was a four-seater, with plenty of rear storage. I threw my backpack in and slammed the door shut. ‘So exactly what is it we’re up against?’ I asked them.
‘Didn’t Schultner brief you?’ asked Haden.
I shook my head. ‘Nope. Someone told me I’d be briefed on arrival.’ I looked between them. ‘Or has someone screwed up?’
‘Oh, brother.’ Oskar rolled his eyes. ‘Yeah, sounds like it.’
‘Better wait till we’re on the other side,’ said Haden, reaching for the front passenger door. ‘Fact is, we’re late to the party. Everyone else is there and waiting for us.’
I nodded at the SUV. ‘So if we’re driving around in this thing, does that mean there’s a chance we’ll run into trouble?’
‘Hopefully it’ll be a cakewalk,’ said Haden. ‘Long as nothing goes wrong, anyway.’ He grinned to show he was kidding.
‘Shit,’ said Oskar. He had stopped with one hand on the driver’s side door, a baleful look on his face. ‘You had to say it, didn’t you?’
‘Say what?’ asked Haden.
‘You said something might go wrong.’
‘I wasn’t even talking to you,’ said Haden, climbing in.
Oskar pressed his bunched fists to either side of his head. ‘Just shut up, will you?’
‘You’ve got your lucky card, right?’ said Haden. He leaned out the window of the SUV and looked back at me. ‘Better than plate armour any day.’
Oskar glared at the other man. ‘Don’t try and wind me up, you silver-eyed freak. I’m not in the mood.’
‘Oskar used to be a professional gambler,’ said Haden over his shoulder, as I got in the back of the SUV. I nearly got a mouthful of fur when Lucky leaped into the back next to me, and I began to wish I’d got in the front instead. Haden reached up as if to scratch his ear and slowly twirled one finger next to his ear. ‘You should ask him some time about his lucky card. Ace of Spades, right?’ he said, looking at Oskar.
‘Shut the fuck up,’ Oskar groused, and I wiped one hand across my mouth to hide my grin. Haden meanwhile leaned back out of the open window beside him, and gave the rig technician a thumbs-up. The technician nodded and put down the book he’d been reading, and within seconds the air began to flicker and shift around us. I closed my eyes and held my breath as gravity slipped away for an instant.
When I next opened my eyes, I found we had materialized in the open air. The SUV was at the centre of a portable transfer stage, which consisted of a dozen foot-high field-pillars arranged in a wide circle on scrubby grass. Beyond I saw woodlands and a motorway bridge arching over a lake, its far end collapsed. Farther away I made out a cluster of skyscrapers, a number of which looked to have been reduced to near-skeletons.
At first, the sudden shift from late evening to warm sunshine had sent my senses reeling, but I recovered quickly. From the position of the sun, I could see that it was morning. I knew by now that just because it happened to be evening in one a
lternate, it didn’t mean it would be the same time in any other. And until I had a better idea of exactly where in the world we were, I had to also consider the strong likelihood that we were in an entirely different time zone from the one that Easter Island occupied.
So far, so post-apocalyptic. But what really caught my eye was a jarringly alien-looking structure that rose up higher than the skyscrapers next to which it stood. The thing was vast. It looked like a patchwork egg, its outer surface a mottled canvas of grey, silver and brown. There was something tumbledown and rough-edged about it, as if it had been assembled from random found materials. Even from this distance, I could see what appeared to be enormous angled struts enmeshing and supporting the structure’s lower half.
I looked around until I saw a second, apparently identical, structure, rising above the treetops in the other direction, and separated from the first by a distance of maybe ten or fifteen kilometres.
Oskar carefully guided the SUV out between two of the field-pillars, then parked next to a full-sized EV and a second SUV. A standard-issue jeep stood nearby, along with a charging station used for powering and storing aerial surveillance drones. I also saw a tent crammed with crated supplies next to the charging station.
We got out and went to join Casey, Nadia and Winifred, who were studying a map spread out on a fold-down table. A couple of Major Howes’ troops from the Easter Island compound stood gathered in a knot by the jeep, smoking and chatting. Casey wore the same floppy leather cowboy hat, and the same gun holster strapped to his thigh, as when I had first met him a week before.
‘What are those things?’ I asked, pointing to the nearest of the skyscraper-sized eggs as we joined the others.
‘Those are Hives,’ said Casey. ‘Now, apart from Jerry,’ he continued, looking around, ‘most of you have already made multiple exploratory trips on this alternate. This time out, however, we’re solely concerned with data retrieval before the bee-brains have a chance to demolish our target locations.’
‘Just out of curiosity,’ said Oskar, ‘do we have any more idea yet whether the bee-brains are even aware of us?’
