‘And where have you located this heat source?’
‘We were stuck over that - until Chris suggested the old swimming baths. The place has been closed since they opened the leisure centre on the other side of town. We’ve arranged the heaters at the deep end of the baths, with the blowers directed down into the pool - which is empty of course.’
‘And if it works, what then? When you have a swimming pool full of scorpions?’
‘We freeze them.’
Camperly’s face, illuminated by the oil lamp remained impassive. He drained his coffee.
‘Freeze them?’ His question was tinged with incredulity.
‘Liquid oxygen,’ Allan explained. ‘In a pressurized container - almost like a gigantic thermos flask - to keep the temperature down. I’ve already got a tanker backed up behind the baths. A hose has been fed into the building. At a pre-arranged signal the liquid oxygen will be released. The moment it comes into contact with the air it freezes, and will do the same to anything it comes into contact with.’ Allan smiled in the darkness. ‘That’s the theory of the exercise - it should work, but we may have missed something.’
Camperly remained silent for a while. When he did speak his voice was edged with concern.
‘I hope it does work, Allan, because at the moment all our efforts to find an anti-toxin have failed. We need time, more time than the situation allows. You’ve got to make this plan of yours work!’
Allan glanced at his watch. He picked up the phone that connected him to Duncan, who was in a mobile-operations vehicle parked beside the old baths. Behind the police vehicle was a mobile generator to provide electricity for the blow-heaters.
‘Allan?’ Duncan’s voice.
‘Switch on the heaters. Run them for half an hour to build up the heat and then have your people open all the windows and doors in the building.’
‘Okay.’ Duncan paused. ‘Good luck to us all,’ he said.
***
They had sat for hours in the confines of the mobile-operations-vehicle, watching, waiting, sweating not through warmth but because of tension. It was quiet inside the vehicle, the only sound coming from the open radio channels, the volume turned down so that there was a constant grumble of voices.
Allan stood beside one of the armored-glass windows, looking out across the deserted main street. He glanced at his watch; the minutes were dragging so slowly, as if time was deliberately taunting him. Come on, he begged silently, where are you? Right at that moment he would have been downright relieved to have seen a scorpion. He knew only too well that his plan was a last-ditch gamble, a wild attempt to save the day based on pure speculation. For all he knew the bloody scorpions might have already left Long Point by another route, maybe losing themselves in the heavily wooded country on the far side of town. Yet despite his mood of depression a small voice at the back of his mind kept telling him he was right. The scorpions needed the conditions he’d simulated. Hadn’t they sought out Long Point from an even greater distance, using their body sensors to pick up the heat radiating from the town? Okay, he argued with himself, it’s a gamble. But what else was there? Nobody had come up with any alternative suggestions. He had to be right.
‘Hi!’ A soft voice murmured close to his ear.
Allan glanced round. ‘Great way to spend a day,’ he grinned.
‘How many other girls get to spend their dates in a police van with a mad scientist?’ Chris said.
‘That’s no way to refer to Doctor Camperly.’
Chris giggled softly.
‘Well, maybe you’re right anyway,’ Allan said. ‘I think I was mad to expect this to work.’
‘Hey, you can cut that out. I don’t like quitters.’
‘Allan!’
Duncan’s voice cut across the silence. He gestured violently. Allan and Chris moved to join him at a window further down the vehicle.
‘I don’t believe it!’ Chris exclaimed. ‘Can you see them?’
Allan watched in utter silence.
Moving across the wide, empty street was a thin line of scorpions. No more than a dozen or so, but they were crossing the street, their line of travel taking them towards the swimming baths. They were moving slowly, and Allan knew that this was the effect of the long, cold night and the early morning frost that was barely starting to thaw. He watched one scorpion falter. It paused, raising itself on its front legs, casting to left and right. Then it set off again, crawling in the wake of the others.
‘Let’s hope the others follow suit,’ Camperly said.
Over the next two hours a constant stream of scorpions converged on the old building. They emerged from shops, appeared from behind buildings, crept from every crevice and dark shadow. An increasing tide of moving insects, flowing jerkily across the deserted streets and pavements. The first few built up to hundreds and these were increased by the thousand.
‘Look at the variation in sizes,’ Chris said. ‘From four inches up to at least eight.’
‘Is it my imagination,’ Duncan asked, ‘or are the biggest ones almost herding the others along?’
‘They are,’ Allan said. ‘The larger ones dominate the others.’
‘Not all that much different to our world,’ Duncan said quietly.
Allan moved to a microphone, flipped a switch and spoke urgently. When he’d finished he returned the switch to its original position. A voice came over the speaker.
‘We can see them. They’re well inside the building now. Some of the first ones in have located the pool. They seem to be undecided about going in.’
‘What’s the temperature like in there?’ Allan asked.
‘Terrific. It’s overpowering.’
‘I think we’d better switch off the heaters,’ Allan said. ‘The temperature will stay up for hours now. If it’s too hot they might not go in.’
‘Will do.’
There was a long silence while the man stationed on the roof of the building relayed the message to the generator operator. When his voice came back over the speaker it was tinged with excitement.
‘It’s working, Doctor Brady! It’s bloody working! I think it was the force of the blowers that made them hesitate. But they’re going in now - dropping into the pool. More of them shoving in from behind. It’s incredible. The whole damn place is alive with them.’
Allan rushed back to the window. The stream of scorpions, though still thick, seemed to be trailing off. A few groups of stragglers were scuttling across the road to join the tail-end of the stream.
‘What do we do, Allan?’ Duncan asked. ‘Assume that’s it? Or risk waiting?’
‘I think we let the last ones go in and close the doors,’ Allan said. He glanced round to see if anyone had any objections.
His eyes met Camperly’s. ‘Go ahead, Allan,’ Camperly said.
Allan moved to the radio again. ‘Make sure none of our people are inside.’
‘Are you releasing the oxygen?’
‘Soon!’
Without a word Allan crossed to the door and let himself out. It was cold after the long hours in the vehicle’s controlled atmosphere. Walking to the front of the vehicle Allan watched the scorpions disappearing inside the building. He didn’t move until the last one had crawled over the step and had gone inside. Then he ran across to the front of the building and dragged the heavy double doors shut. Making his way to the rear of the building he caught the eye of the driver of the big tanker and gave a quick nod. The tanker was backed up to the door of the old boiler room, a reinforced hose snaking its way inside. The hose had been fed up the metalwork of the diving board support, the nozzle hanging down over the pool, fixed in a rigid position so that the force of the escaping oxygen didn’t push it off centre.
‘Ready when you are,’ the driver said, his hand on the valve-release controls.
Allan glanced up at the roof of the building. A figure was standing there, looking down at him. It was the man Allan had spoken to over the radio, one of Duncan’s sergeants. The man rai
sed an arm and gave the thumbs-up sign. Allan took a deep breath.
‘Let it go!’ he said to the driver.
As the driver released the valve the hose rippled along its length. There was an audible whoosh from inside the building, rising for long seconds as the pressurized liquid-oxygen found its way of escape through the long hose. Curling tendrils of white, milky vapor drifted out of the open windows and the dirty glass suddenly turned frosty. A few panes shattered, glass tinkling to the ground.
‘You want me to release it all?’ the driver asked.
Allan nodded without hesitation. This either worked or it failed. He was determined to give it all he had.
The driver opened the valve fully and let the contents of the tanker gush out. After what seemed an eternity he began to close his switches.
‘That’s it, mate. The lot!’
Allan nodded and walked quickly to the parked vehicle where the others waited. The door opened as he neared it and Chris came running to him.
Well?’ she asked.
‘Let’s go and have a look.’
The others followed in silence. There was no way they could see inside the building because all the windows were covered in a thick white frost on the inside. Duncan and Allan pushed open the double doors. A rush of chilled air blew in their faces. They stepped inside the entrance hall. The liquid-oxygen had billowed down the length of the building, even as far as where they were now standing, and they could see the effect it had created.
White frost lay everywhere, clinging to the walls and the exposed dangling pipes of half-dismantled plumbing. It crunched beneath their feet as they stepped carefully over piles of rubble. Emerging into the pool area itself was almost like entering a silent, white arctic cavern. Pale spumes of vapor still drifted in the cold air, over everything lay a thick crust of brittle whiteness.
Allan walked to the edge of the pool and glanced in. The scorpions had layered the bottom of the empty pool, covering the tiled surface with their hard, dark bodies, probably pushing and fighting with each other as they savored the embracing warmth rising up from the heated pool. Now they were bonded together in a rigid mass, bodies instantly frozen solid as the liquid-oxygen had erupted from the hose in a cloud of foggy whiteness. It was hard to define their individual shapes, save for the odd one which had been caught in the act of rearing up, pincered claws raised towards the high roof of the building; it had been immobilized in that almost defiant act, frozen solid in a threatening, angry pose.
‘How long will it hold them?’ Duncan asked.
‘Hours,’ Allan said, and realized the meaning behind Duncan’s question. ‘What do we do with them?’ He grinned, almost shyly. ‘I hadn’t thought that far ahead.’
‘May I make a suggestion?’ Camperly offered. ‘While they’re here in the pool, they can be completely disposed of.’
Duncan glanced at him. ‘How?’
‘Spray them with…’ he thought for a moment. ‘Yes… that would do it… sulfuric acid. A highly concentrated dose will simply dissolve them.’
‘Can it be done?’ Duncan asked.
Allan nodded. ‘Yes. There are a number of chemical firms with the capabilities to deliver and utilize the stuff. If I remember correctly there’s one fairly close. They could have it here in an hour or so - and the people to do the job. I’ll go and set it up.’
He took one last look into the pool and its grim occupants before he hurried out of the building to make his call.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
‘With the threat of the scorpions removed, the town of Long Point, and its people, begin the return to normality. And at this moment in time we end our film report and turn to our guest in the studio… Doctor Andrew Camperly, Head of the Tropical Diseases Research Unit at the Greenbank Hospital…’
The aerial view of Long Point held for a moment and then dissolved to a live studio shot of Camperly seated next to the interviewer. Camperly was in his element - the golden boy of the hour. He had neatly stepped in and stolen the glory from Allan. Not that Allan was bothered. He was glad it was over. It meant he could return to his work and Chris. The relationship had developed almost of its own volition, though neither of them had complained - Allan least of all. When Chris had suggested he move into the cottage with her, it had seemed the logical thing to do - as she had pointed out, there was plenty of room and she did possess the bigger bed. So it was together that they sat and watched Camperly’s euphoric image appear on the screen of the portable television…
‘We’ve seen the film, Doctor Camperly. We have the closure of the Long Point Nuclear Plant and we have the assurance of the authorities that the scorpions have all been destroyed. Can the public stop worrying now? Are they safe from further attacks by these creatures?’
Camperly turned his gaze on the camera. ‘I think I can safely say that the threat is over. Constant checks are still being carried out to ensure that we have in fact removed the possibility of anything recurring…’
‘Can’t we forget all that for a while?’ Chris asked, sliding down off the couch to join Allan on the floor beside the fire.
He glanced at her, smiling. ‘Why? Have you something in mind?’
She whispered in his ear.
‘I was warned about women like you at a very early age,’ he said.
‘Oh, and what effect did it have?’
Allan drew her to him. ‘It made me grow up very fast,’ he said.
His concentration was drawn from the television, though he caught one of Camperly’s soothing assurances… ‘I’m certain we’ve seen the last of them…’ A shadowed image rose briefly in his mind, fragmented and dark; it brought back a memory of what he’d seen in that underground chamber.
‘We’re all going to look damn silly if he’s wrong and they do show up again!’ Allan said.
‘What show up?’ Chris asked as she drew him down to the soft carpet.
‘Oh… nothing,’ Allan said. He didn’t want her to know what he was thinking. He just hoped none of them ever had to think about scorpions again.
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