Aftershock

by Sam Fisher

  They heard a groan and Harry almost tripped over the small boy huddled against the edge of the pool. He was shivering and sobbing. It was Nick Xavier. Jim crouched down beside him. ‘Nick,’ he said.

  The boy looked at him uncomprehending.

  ‘He’s in shock,’ Harry said. He turned to the boy. ‘Nick, come on. Up you get.’ He made to lift him from the low wall at the water’s edge, but the kid pulled back.

  ‘It’s okay. We’re here to help you. There’s been some kind of terrible accident. Are you hurt?’

  Nick shook his head, but stayed silent. His eyes were huge in the green half-light.

  ‘Come on. We’ve got to get out of here.’ He took the boy’s arm, and this time the kid did not resist.

  ‘How’s that?’ Harry asked when Nick was standing up. ‘Everything working?’

  The kid nodded. ‘Where’re my mum and dad?’

  ‘I’m sure they’re not far,’ Jim said reassuringly. ‘Where did you see them last?’

  ‘They were close by at the table. Some of the others had gone up to dance. I went up there. My sister stayed behind. Then...’

  ‘Okay, Nick. Okay.’ Jim gripped his shoulder.

  They made their way back towards where they had been eating, stumbling through the wreckage.

  Alfred made them stop. ‘Hang on. What’re we doing?’ he asked, turning to Jim, then Harry.

  ‘Hello?’

  They turned at the sound and saw two shapes approaching. In the dim light they could make out little more than the outlines, but as the pair drew closer, they recognised them. It was Danny Preston. He had his arm around the shoulders of a young woman, Kristy Sunshine.

  ‘Are you hurt?’ Harry asked.

  ‘I’m okay,’ Danny said.

  ‘And you?’ Harry asked, stepping forward to look at the singer. He lifted her chin and saw that she had a cut on her forehead. Blood ran down her right temple. She was in shock. ‘Nothing too serious,’ Harry concluded and helped the two of them back to the others.

  ‘Did you see anyone else?’ Alfred asked the new arrivals. Kristy looked at him, speechless, her eyes slightly glazed.

  ‘There’s a group over there,’ Danny said.

  ‘Did you see my mum and dad ... and Emily?’ Nick asked, his eyes desperate.

  ‘I think I did,’ Danny replied. ‘There was a group of about 30 people. They were nearer the stage. Kristy and me were separated from them when the first lighting rig collapsed. Kristy ran stage right. I was in the wings. We dashed this way because it seemed the safest place to be. Not sure why now.’

  ‘All right...’ Harry was about to say something else and stopped suddenly, mentally checking himself. What was he doing? What had come over him? Why was he playing the leader all of a sudden? He hadn’t behaved like this in years. But a second later he was stepping forward, doubts swept away by the desperate urgency to survive, to get out of this place at any cost. ‘Follow me,’ Harry declared and headed into the murk, back towards the wrecked stage.

  It was hard going. The floor was slick with liquid. Metal beams and chunks of plaster had scattered at random. As they approached the stage they could hear moans and cries for help. From further off came an ominous creaking, the sound of the infrastructure of the dome reacting to the strain.

  Then they saw the main group of survivors. They were close to the devastated stage, around 30 of them huddled together. But as Harry and the others drew near, they were pulled up short by a great fissure in the floor. It ran across the room, 3 metres wide.

  Harry edged towards it and looked into the opening. Through the gloom, he could see lights. Flames were licking up from the third floor, some lapping over the edge of the fissure. Jim approached and stopped a metre or so behind him.

  A figure appeared on the other side of the chasm. It was Michael Xavier. His suit was in shreds, his face smeared with blood and dust. ‘We can’t get across,’ he called.

  ‘Isn’t there an emergency exit your side?’ Harry shouted back.

  ‘It’s sealed shut.’

  ‘What!’

  Nick took a couple of steps towards the fissure.

  ‘Nick,’ Michael exclaimed. ‘Thank God. I thought...’

  ‘I’m okay, Dad. Where’s Mum? And Emily?’

  ‘They’re here. They’re fine.’

  ‘Are you hurt?’

  ‘No, son.’

  ‘Dad, what do we do?’

  ‘Look, everything will be all right, Nick. Trust me. If there is any problem in the hotel an emergency signal goes out to the surface and the authorities on Fiji will know about it straight away. Help will already be on its way, I guarantee it.’ Then he turned to Harry and the others. ‘You have to get to the other side of the dome. Over there.’ He indicated the far wall, back the way they had just come. ‘Try the exit there. If that doesn’t work, there’s another staircase. That will get you to the very top of Dome Beta – an observation deck on the mezzanine.’ He pointed up to a gallery some 10 metres above the floor of the dining hall. You’ll then have to work your way down the back stairs. There’s a set of emergency subs on the lower ground floor. It’s the best chance you have.’

  ‘Isn’t there another staircase your side?’ Jim asked.

  ‘It’s blocked. We’re working on it.’

  ‘But, Dad...?’

  ‘No buts, Nick. We’ll be okay here. You have to get out your side. I’ll get everyone to the other subs here in Gamma.’ He turned to Harry. ‘Look after him please, Mr Flanders.’

  At that moment Harry could barely imagine how he was going to look after himself. He turned and led the others away.

  19

  Michael Xavier stumbled back towards the small group of survivors. He had not been entirely honest with his son. He was hurt. He had a nasty cut running from his ankle halfway up to his knee, and he thought he had broken a rib because there was a terrible pain in his left side.

  This end of the main hall was more badly damaged. There were holes in the floor and several large girders from the top of the dome had crashed down. Through the murk, he could make out the shapes of the other survivors. There were perhaps 30 of them, huddled together just beyond the edge of the stage. The pool ran in a sparkling curve behind them.

  His mind was racing. The numbness of shock was passing, being replaced by a maelstrom of emotions – fear, anger, disbelief, and a churning confusion. What the hell had gone wrong? Had they been hit by an earthquake? Was it a bomb, for Christ’s sake? And the emergency doors? Why wouldn’t they work? The doors were supposed to be protected by a double redundant system. They couldn’t have just failed. But they had.

  He was so lost in thought it took a second for him to notice the grinding sound coming from close by. He looked up and saw a beam slide from its housing high up at the top of the dome. A metal bolt whistled past his ear and slammed into a table top, punching a hole right through it. He ducked instinctively. But as he came up, he saw the beam plunge through the air, and stood powerless and paralysed with horror as it dropped 9 metres. The beam, a hefty chunk of steel, sailed down, tipping end over end. Three metres above the ground it had rotated into the horizontal. The people on the floor of the dining hall saw it coming and scattered, but not everyone was quick enough. Covering the final 3 metres of its fall in a microsecond, one end of the beam brought down at least 10 people. An elderly man who had been slower to respond than the others was decapitated, his body crumbling as his shattered head rolled away. Another, a young woman, had her back ripped open by the leading edge of the beam. Almost split in two, she crashed forward, face first, hitting the polished wooden floor with an obscene squelch.

  Michael snapped back to reality and ran as fast as his injured leg would allow. He reached the remaining survivors, dust and clouds of metal slivers still falling from the ceiling. Instinctively, terror building inside, he scanned the faces for his loved ones.

  ‘My God,’ he exclaimed, as Hilary and Emily ran towards him. He held them and kissed the
m. He welcomed the dust on them. Beneath it, their skin was warm. They were alive. He looked around and saw Johnny stumbling his way. His face was cut, a gouge from temple to nostril, blood running down his neck. They looked at each other in disbelief.

  Suddenly they heard a cry from under the metal beam. Michael rushed over. A young woman was alive, but her legs were trapped. He recognised her through the grime and blood. It was Samantha Braithwaite, the daughter of an old college friend.

  ‘Johnny,’ he called. The younger Xavier picked his way towards them through piles of detritus. Michael crouched down beside the woman.

  ‘Sam,’ Michael said again, trying hard to keep his voice level. ‘Sam. Can you move at all?’

  She looked up at him, barely able to focus. ‘No. I can’t feel my legs,’ she said, her voice verging on hysteria.

  Michael looked at his brother, who crawled to the other side of the beam. From there he could see the lower part of the woman’s legs through her ripped ball gown. Her left leg was mangled, the right torn to shreds from the knee down. Johnny met his brother’s gaze and slowly shook his head.

  ‘Okay,’ Michael said. ‘We need some more help.’

  As Michael turned, two men appeared. He knew them immediately – the engineer, Miguel Bandonis, and the American financier, Sigmund de Silva. ‘Miguel, Sigmund. Get to the end of the beam. Johnny, go with them. Try to lever your fingers under the rim.’ Then, turning back to Samantha, he said, ‘Sam, we’re going to get you free. Don’t worry. We have three strong chaps here. When I tell you, I want you to try to push back from the beam. I’ll pull.’ He tucked his hands under her shoulders and turned towards the three men at the end of the beam. Johnny nodded. Groaning loudly, they just managed to lift the huge chunk of metal a few centimetres, and Michael yelled, ‘Now, Sam.’

  Michael stumbled back and Samantha Braithwaite almost landed on top of him. She had just cleared the metal beam when it came crashing down again, the sound reverberating around the dome.

  ‘Is there anyone with medical training here?’ Sigmund de Silva asked, as he knelt down beside the injured woman. Michael turned to his wife. ‘Do you know, Hilary?’

  ‘The only doctor here was Simon Frasier. But, he’s...’ And she suddenly crumpled, sinking into a heap on the floor, sobbing loudly.

  Samantha gasped and gripped Michael’s arm. He looked down at her. The woman’s eyes were wide with terror. She started to shake, and Michael held her tight about the shoulders. He looked across to Sigmund. His face was a mess of small cuts, rivulets of blood smudging the dust, his eyelashes white with powder. The injured woman exhaled loudly and went limp.

  Michael lowered Samantha to the ground, pulled off the remnants of his dinner jacket and covered her face with it. Taking her hands from her face, Hilary looked at her husband and screamed, throwing her head back down into her hands. Michael walked over and sat beside her, putting an arm around her bony shoulder.

  ‘I’ve seen Nick,’ he said quietly. She looked up, her eyes red raw, tear streaks lining her cheeks. ‘He’s okay. He’s with some of the others, the journalist Harry Flanders and some people from our table.’

  ‘Where?’ Hilary asked, barely able to contain herself.

  ‘There’s a huge chasm in the floor, near the stage. Can’t get over it. They’re on the other side. I told them to get up to the mezzanine and try to reach Dome Beta. I think things might be better there.’

  ‘And what’re we supposed to do?’ Johnny asked, turning from the dead woman, a look of desperation on his face. ‘The emergency doors are screwed. We’ve gotta do something.’

  ‘I need to see what shape these people are in first,’ Michael replied. He walked over to a small group of survivors, huddled together close to the edge of the stage. Most of them were in shock, their faces pale. Everyone was injured in some way, bloodied, their clothes ripped. They had the hollow-eyed look of those suddenly transported to a real-life horror movie.

  Michael crouched down beside a young girl. Her arm was bleeding. Then he moved on to an elderly man, one of the major shareholders from an American bank. His suit was ripped and he had a deep gash across his forehead. Michael stood up. ‘Okay,’ he said to the group. ‘This is the situation. The floor has been split in two. There’s a 3-metre-wide fissure back there and flames are shooting up into the opening. I don’t think many of us could get across in our condition. We’ve tried the emergency doors. There are two on this side of the chasm and two over the other side. They appear to be out of action. I guess the servo-systems have been knocked out by whatever caused this. I think the best chance we have is to try the stairs up to the mezzanine. I’ve seen a group of survivors on the other side of the fissure and they’re trying the stairs. I think you should all wait here and my brother and I will try the door to the stairs.’

  ‘I’ll come with you,’ Miguel Bandonis said.

  ‘Me too,’ another youngish man offered. Michael recognised him. He was one of the security team from the hotel, an Australian, Craig Deloray. His left arm hung limp at his side.

  ‘Craig. Your arm.’

  ‘I’m okay,’ Deloray said. ‘It’s not broken.’

  Michael looked at him doubtfully. ‘Glad for your help,’ he said.

  ‘No worries. Lead the way, sir.’

  20

  Semja Alexandry, Arctic Ocean

  The island of Semja Alexandry is a deserted strip of rock about 60 kilometres by 15, located some 700 kilometres due south of the North Pole. During the Cold War, the Russian owners of the island built a radar station there. Today the derelict building looks like a rotten molar half-buried in the snow. Close by lies a potholed airstrip. When the UN-affiliated group who created E-Force first approached the Russian government to investigate the possibility of leasing Semja Alexandry, it took three weeks to find someone who actually knew where the island was.

  Now, three years after the lease was signed, a circular metal platform 40 metres in diameter stands close to the radar station. The Silverback, Paul, with Josh in the pilot’s seat, landed vertically on the platform. Josh recited a coded alphanumeric into his comms and a voice came over his headset: ‘Welcome back, Josh.’

  The platform descended on a single gigantic hydraulic support, lowering the slate-grey Silverback 40 metres into the frozen tundra. A few moments later, it stopped, the hydraulics emitted a loud hissing sound, and Josh popped the canopy.

  The hangar lay at the northern edge of the underground base. The entire complex, all 1.6 hectares of it, had been carved out of solid rock, making it virtually untouchable and unobservable by anything but E-Force’s own detection equipment, the BigEyes. Designated Polar Base, 50 men and women worked there. It was one of seven stations dotted around the globe, each serving a multitude of tasks. These included processing data from the BigEyes, repair and maintenance of the vast array of hi-tech equipment used by E-Force, and acting as the location for training programs that could not be conducted on Tintara.

  Steph met Josh as he climbed down onto the floor of the hangar. ‘How’d it go?’ she asked.

  ‘Good. The modification to the remote guidance system works a treat.’

  They had been on the island for over a week and it had been hard. This was their first day of relative calm. The rest of the time they had either been up to their necks in freezing water, abseiling down an icy cliff or trying to catch food on a two-day total immersion survival exercise, which had started with them being dumped in the middle of the island without cybersuits, without food or water, without a radio, without even a map or a compass.

  ‘You enjoyed a morning off?’ Josh asked.

  ‘It was hardly a morning off. I had to reconfigure the computer systems without a manual, and then I had a really fun two-hour simulator course. I feel bruised all over.’

  Josh laughed and gripped her shoulder.

  ‘Ow!’

  ‘Come on, let’s grab some lunch.’

  Josh led the way along a metal gantry. A flight of steel sta
irs took them down to a long passageway. At the end of this was a glass-fronted elevator. They stepped in and Steph pushed the button marked ‘Level 3’. The elevators stood at one end of a vast opening in the earth. Around the other three sides were gantries on each of the 14 levels. On some of the levels they could see windows opening onto laboratories, service areas and workshops. Next to these, passages led away to accommodation and recreation areas.

  The cage stopped and the door opened automatically. A short, brightly lit corridor took them to the mess hall. Here, everything was automated. One wall consisted of a bank of food dispensers and plasma displays. Josh walked up and touched a screen. The computer chirped up.

  ‘Luncheon selection today: 1. Roast chicken with vegetables of the season, roast potato. 2. Sea bass with beans and mixed salad...’

  It went on to list 10 more dishes. Josh listened carefully then asked for selection Number 6 – lasagne. Walking along the row of machines, he reached a service hatch. Steph placed her order. They picked up their trays and ambled over to a table close to the far end of the canteen.

  ‘This lasagne isn’t half bad,’ Josh said after a couple of silent spoonfuls.

  Steph had a mouthful of food and just nodded, waving a fork in the air above her plate.

  It was then that Josh’s comms sounded. ‘Yes,’ he said.

  ‘Josh. Is Steph with you?’

  ‘Hey, Mark. Yeah, she’s sitting across from me stuffing her face with clam chowder.’

  ‘There’s been an incident. We need you there, asap.’

  21

  Steph and Josh were back in the hangar in under three minutes. On the way, Tom filled them in on what they knew of the disaster near Fiji.