Contact

by Chris Morphew

  Calvin grunted from across the room, clearly still wishing he could just put a bullet in us.

  ‘My goodness,’ said Shackleton, examining a silver watch on his sleeve. ‘What a night. I suppose we’d better get you children home to bed. Doctor Montag, would you be so kind as to escort them out? Officer Calvin and I have a phone call to trace.’

  Luke let out a strangled sob. I gave his shoulder a tug, and he slowly lifted his head.

  Dr Montag nodded at Shackleton and took us away, back down to what everybody else thought was the top floor of the Shackleton Building.

  We followed Montag down the hallway, past the rows of Shackleton’s nature paintings. Nobody spoke. We were alive, but it didn’t feel like it. I felt so tired, and cold, and sick. My back ached. My body was running on remote control.

  Jordan staggered in the middle of the hallway. She doubled over and started throwing up. In some dark, back corner of my mind, I noticed that she was standing in the exact spot as she had been the day Dad brought us all up here, when she’d had that dizzy spell or whatever it was.

  She leant forward, coughing violently, bracing herself against the wall with both hands. I stood beside her, patting her on the back. Dr Montag waited patiently until she was finished.

  We took the main lifts down to the ground, and the doc led us out through the front doors. The rain was still coming down outside, splashing noisily into the fountain. The sky was black and empty, not a single star anywhere.

  Montag stopped at the bottom of the steps. He paused, as though waiting for us to –

  What? Thank him?

  Not happening.

  He might’ve saved us from getting shot, but only because he didn’t want a pesky murder putting the brakes on his progress with Luke’s mum. He’d still stood by and let Reeve get killed. He’d still raced to protect Shackleton when Jordan had gone for him. He’d still put those things into us.

  ‘Straight home, children,’ said the doc, finally. He turned away and headed across to the medical centre.

  ‘We killed him,’ whispered Jordan, when Montag was gone.

  ‘Huh?’ I said.

  ‘It’s our fault,’ said Jordan. ‘It’s our fault Reeve is dead.’

  ‘No,’ said Luke. ‘They killed him.’

  ‘He didn’t even want to help us,’ said Jordan, shaking her head. ‘He only did it because –’

  ‘He helped us because he found out what was really going on and he wanted to do something about it,’ said Luke, obviously struggling to keep his voice steady. ‘And it wasn’t for nothing, either. We got the message out. Some of it anyway. My dad –’

  ‘Mate,’ I said, my brain too fried to consider whether saying this out loud was actually a good idea. ‘They’re tracing the call. If they find your dad …’

  ‘Peter,’ Jordan snapped, giving me a dark look.

  ‘They won’t,’ said Luke, starting to sound slightly crazy. ‘They’re not going to find him. He’ll get away. My dad won’t …’

  He broke off as a scream rang out in the street.

  A dark shape was moving up the street towards us. At first I thought it was Crazy Bill, but then it lumbered closer and I realised it was –

  ‘Dad!’ said Jordan. ‘Mum! What’s –’

  Jordan’s mum let out a groan. Jordan’s dad hurried her forward, supporting her with one arm and carrying a sobbing Georgia in the other.

  ‘Jordan!’ he hissed. ‘What on earth are you doing out here?’

  Mrs Burke cried out again.

  I heard footsteps behind us. Dr Montag had heard the screaming and was running over.

  ‘Doc!’ called Jordan’s dad, not stopping to wonder why he was out here in the middle of the night. ‘Thank goodness!’

  Montag didn’t say a word. He was back in doctor mode, crouching down to examine Mrs Burke.

  ‘It’s –’ Jordan’s mum began, but then another spasm wracked her body.

  Georgia buried her face in her dad’s shoulder.

  ‘It’s the baby,’ said Jordan’s dad, grabbing Montag by the arm. ‘There’s something wrong with the baby!’

  www.thephoenixfiles.info

  The countdown continues

  in August 2010...

  mutation

  Jordan’s world is falling apart. She’s a prisoner in her own skin, trapped by an enemy who can paralyse her at the touch of a button.

  And the questions in Phoenix keep piling higher.

  Why is Jordan starting to see things before they happen? What’s wrong with her mother’s pregnancy? And why do Peter’s old friends want to talk to him again?

  The clock is still ticking.

  There are seventy days until the end of the world.