The Reckoning (Earth Haven Book 3)

by Sam Kates

  Lavinia and Wallace both gasped. A burst of fire came from Lavinia’s gun, but the shots spattered the gravel wide of Stark’s group.

  Milandra worked quickly, laying a trail to Stark’s mind and, by extension, his people’s whose intellects he still controlled.

  Continue to resist she sent to her Deputies. Make him work to prevent you from shooting them. When the time comes, blow them to hell.

  My friends, do not blame Peter for what is about to happen. I made him do it as it is the only way. Live good lives. Farewell.

  She paused and took a deep breath. A single tear trickled from her eye. She was aware of Grant turning towards her. He was too late.

  “Now, Peter,” she whispered.

  * * * * * * *

  Much as Tom disliked firearms, he felt a little exposed without the shotgun. He stood with his arm around the shoulders of Will and those of Bri who stood next to the boy, his fingertips brushing the arm of Ceri, who stood the other side of Bri. He had shut Dusty inside the conservatory so that the newcomers would not attempt to use the dog for their own purposes.

  He was only vaguely aware of the protective blanket Bri and Diane were casting over them, like a warm, unfocused sense of security a child feels with his parents.

  Milandra and the man from the spaceship were talking, but Tom barely listened. He was engaged in a whispered conversation with Will who was disappointed that the spacemen did not look less like ordinary people.

  When the dusky Lavinia discharged her gun, Tom jumped and his fingers dug into Ceri’s arm.

  What happened next took everyone completely by surprise.

  Peter stepped forward, holding a pistol. He stooped a little to pass his left arm around Milandra’s waist—she leaned into his embrace as though expecting and welcoming it—and placed the barrel of the pistol to the back of Milandra’s head.

  “N–” There wasn’t time for Tom to form the full word.

  The front of Milandra’s head exploded in a spray of blood. Peter moved the pistol down to between her shoulderblades and leaned back to take the weight of her slumping form. He fired again and lowered her body to the ground. The pistol dropped from his hand.

  This took place in a matter of seconds, too quickly for anyone to react.

  Jason Grant stared at Peter in mute horror. He raised his Uzi and pointed it at Peter’s face.

  Peter turned aside and vomited.

  George Wallace stepped around Grant and took hold of the end of Grant’s gun, forcing it to point at the sky.

  “Hey, man,” he said in the softest tone Tom had heard him use. “She said not to blame him, right? This is what she wanted.”

  “But, why?” Grant’s dark face had turned chalky with shock.

  Wallace nodded at the people from the spaceship. “That’s why.”

  Tom looked beyond the Deputies.

  The man who stood at the front of the group had dropped to his knees, face slack and eyes glazed over as if all his attention was focused inwards. The twenty-nine people standing behind him remained on their feet, but their intense expressions had been replaced by looks that mirrored the vacuity of the man. Some of them swayed as if they might topple.

  Lavinia looked from them to Wallace. “What the fuck?”

  “Stark’s receiving Milandra’s memories. Not just hers, but the entire collection. And because he’s controlling the others, they’re getting them, too.”

  Lavinia grinned and glanced at the humans. “Grab your guns, people. Time to make hay.”

  She stepped forward, bringing her gun to a firing position at her hip. Wallace joined her. After a last dark glance at Peter, Grant stepped alongside them. Around Tom, people began to move back to where they’d left their weapons.

  He glanced at Ceri and she nodded. Together they led Will and Bri back into the hotel so they wouldn’t see the slaughter.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Those early days of May continued bright and warm. In meadows and hedgerows, abandoned gardens and parks, flowers bloomed. Insects proliferated and the balmy nights filled with their chirp and zither. The somnolent hum of bees and the scents of sap and pollen held promise of a long, hot summer.

  Mounds of freshly dug earth scarred the field adjoining the hotel. The scars would scab over with grass and gorse, the mounds would melt into the rolls and hummocks that seemed to be the default state into which all the arable land, the previously ploughed and seeded and orderly, was returning.

  Two of the sailors Tom and Ceri hauled from the sea had survived their ordeal. The third had not been so fortunate. His body, together with the bodies of two more who had been washed from the deck of the Argute, were left ashore when the next high tide receded. The bodies of three more missing sailors were never recovered.

  “I’ll be on my way, then,” said Acting Lieutenant Commander Irving.

  “Glad to see you’ve dropped all the ‘classified this’ and ‘classified that’ bullshit,” said Ceri.

  “Yes, well, old habits die hard,” he said.

  “What made you drop the bio suit and come back?” asked Tom.

  “A number of things. We were travelling on the surface and heard the voice talking about coming to the U.K. to witness mankind’s final reckoning. That’s when we realised that, crazy as you sounded, you might have been telling the truth. We tested corpses at the U.S. Navy hospital for any trace of contagious diseases and found none. We found no evidence that the United States Navy still exists in South Georgia, but we did find a survivor. He, too, tested negative for infection. He didn’t babble on about aliens and suchlike, but he did confirm what you said about the speed with which the virus had spread and he told us about the previous voices, the ones we didn’t hear. He’d been about to attempt to cross the Atlantic single-handedly in a six-foot yacht. We offered him a lift.”

  “You came back still not convinced about the alien stuff?”

  “We returned to Scotland to see if you were still there. On finding no sign of you, we followed the coastline south and came across Colleen in Kent. She had built a campfire on the beach and was roasting chicken. She knew where you’d be and came with us.” He shrugged. “I still wasn’t convinced about the alien mumbo-jumbo. I only fully believed you at the end when that craft dropped from the sky.”

  “Better late than never.”

  Irving held out his hand. “No hard feelings?”

  “No hard feelings.” They shook. “You know, you don’t have to return to sea. You’re welcome to come with us.”

  “Thanks,” said Irving, “but it’s where I belong.” He glanced sideways at Ceri. “Even without all that classified bullshit.”

  Ceri and Tom waved as the Argute slipped away. Standing on the open deck, Irving waved back until he was gone from sight.

  * * * * * * *

  Peter sat at the water’s edge, tossing pebbles into the waves. He heard the footsteps scrunching through the shingle behind him.

  “They’ve gone,” said Diane.

  “Who?”

  “The Deputies. The cockney drove them away in his red bus.”

  Peter let out a bitter sigh. “No fond farewells, then.”

  “I don’t think Lavinia and Wallace hold any grudge against you. But I’d steer clear of Jason Grant in future.”

  Diane sat next to him, sighing as she tilted her head back to enjoy the sun. Peter waited, but the silence stretched on. He cleared his throat.

  “If you’re not going to raise it, I’ll begin.”

  Diane glanced at him sharply. “What do you mean?”

  “You know very well what I mean. When our minds were melded, helping Simone, you know that I probed. Just a little, but enough to see.”

  Diane’s lips drew into a thin line. “You probed? Without my consent?”

  “Oh, bollocks to that. Besides, I know that you probed me back.”

  “I–” Her shoulders slumped. “Oh, what’s the use. But you started it.”

  “I make no apology. It’s curi
ous…”

  “What is?”

  “That we went through similar experiences. Except that where I embraced it, you rejected it.”

  Diane stiffened again. “I did. And I do.”

  “You sure about that?”

  “Absolutely. What you’re thinking is madness.”

  “I disagree. Madness would be having the means and not employing them.”

  “But you don’t have the means.”

  Peter was silent. He sensed that her words were masking her true feelings, as she was so long accustomed to doing. Her lover had been a doctor, a field surgeon with whom she had worked in France. She had spent the rest of her life after he died denying to herself that she had been in love. Peter had seen the truth dwelling deep inside her where she could pretend it didn’t exist.

  It took a few minutes, but then Diane spoke again. “You do have the means?”

  Peter paused before replying. It was still too raw to talk about comfortably; would probably always be so.

  “Milandra knew that if she established a path to Stark’s psyche and she died, our group memories would, in the absence of the Chosen, flow to him. Even with the support of his people who he was controlling, he would not be able to cope with such an influx of memories without slipping temporarily into a trance during which he and his people would be completely defenceless.” He coughed. “In return for me agreeing to assist her carry out her plan, she shared with me all the relevant knowledge that passed to her when the craft went down to the ocean bed.”

  “Well, good luck to you,” said Diane. “If that’s what you truly want–”

  “Of course it’s what I want. Look what I agreed to do in return for the knowledge!”

  “You possess her hair. I do not have anything, of his.”

  “You know where he’s buried.”

  Diane gasped. Peter looked out at the sparkling waves, but could feel her stare burning him hotter than the sun.

  It came from her in little more than a whisper. “Okay. Oh, god, yes. Okay.”

  * * * * * * *

  At Hillingdon Hospital in West London the gung-ho attitude, anger and sense of doom had dissipated. Exhaustion and sorrow dominated.

  People recuperated in the hospital grounds and nearby parkland. They had been provided with ample food. Their dwindling medical supplies had been restocked so that the wounded could be treated, the fatally wounded made comfortable.

  They had been promised that their dead—those that lay in the shuttered warehouse in the industrial park, and those that lay where they’d fallen in the streets and alleyways—would be disposed of. The plume of dark smoke that, for a day, darkened the sky to the east attested to the method of disposal.

  “They’re burning them,” Elliott said.

  Zach nodded. “Easiest way. Thorough.”

  Sarah stared to the east, fingers parted over the increasing spread of her stomach, her expression hard. Tears slipped unchecked down her cheeks. To her credit, she did not look at Amy to give lie to her assertion that she did not blame her for Frank’s death. Nevertheless, Zach thought it might be as well for Amy to move on. He would be doing the same.

  A feeling of restlessness was growing inside him. It wasn’t the old demons trying to return; their stridency had diminished to little more than white background noise many years ago. It was more a longing to be on the move. In the past few months he had driven a substantial portion of the east coast of the United States and had cruised across the Atlantic Ocean, but this had only whetted his appetite to see more. Aside from the jungles of Vietnam, of which he’d seen his fill, there was a wide, empty planet to discover.

  He knew that he would never return to his cabin in the foothills of the White Mountains. The certainty did not fill him, as he might have anticipated, with regret. The cabin had served its purpose, had given him a sanctuary from the claustrophobic press of a planet inhabited by seven billion people. He no longer needed it.

  Zach glanced at the woman.

  “I’m coming with you,” she had murmured in the night. “It won’t be safe to travel alone. I’m as good a shot as you. I’m a better driver.” She’d snorted. “You might be a better sailor.”

  Now she returned his gaze, jaw firm, resolute. Zach knew he’d met his match and the knowledge made him feel more alive than he had in decades.

  “Yes,” he said. “Come with me. Please.”

  Aletta smiled.

  * * * * * * *

  Tess Granville met them just off the motorway in West Drayton. She hopped onto the bus and Rodney Wilson drove on towards Wembley Stadium.

  “Everything is ready,” she said.

  Jason Grant held out his hand and took Tess’s firmly in his. “When she suggested you for the task of overseeing operations in London, Milandra chose well,” he said. “Thank you for all you have done.”

  Tess smiled. “It was a blast.”

  “Where will you go, Tess? Back to Australia?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe.” Her smile faded. “It might take me some time to get used to the idea of being an individual, rather than a small cog in a large machine.”

  Grant squeezed her hand and released it. “Time is one thing that’s not in short supply. When this is done, I’m heading back to Florida. You’re welcome to accompany me.” He glanced at Lavinia and George Wallace. “You’re all welcome.”

  “This is the last ever Commune, right?” said Wallace.

  “Yes,” said Grant.

  “How come?” asked Lavinia.

  “There won’t be any call for another.”

  “So no more Keeper or Chosen?” asked Wallace.

  “Nope,” said Grant. “The position of Keeper was artificially created to perpetuate a lie. Milandra was the last.”

  “And the accumulated memories?” said Wallace. “What about them? We can’t just lose all that knowledge, can we?”

  “It’s gone,” said Grant. “Stark had terminated the link to his people. When Milandra’s memories flowed into him, there was nowhere for them to go when he died.”

  Lavinia gave a low whistle. “That’s a shitload of stuff to just lose.”

  “All that knowledge wasn’t doing us much good. Milandra knew what she was doing.”

  “So when we die, our individual experiences and wisdom will just… disappear?” asked Wallace.

  “Well, there are other ways of saving useful knowledge,” said Grant. “Libraries. Computers.”

  “Hmm. Books and hard-drives. Might take a while to set up a viable network of computers again, but there’s plenty of paper and ink just lying about.”

  “Yep. That’s what I intend doing in Florida: writing books and growing old.” Grant sighed wistfully. “I miss that sunshine.”

  “We’re here,” said Rodney Wilson, pulling to a stop in front of an imposing structure with a huge arch extending over it.

  “Okay.” Jason Grant took a deep breath. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

  An hour later, he allowed his psyche to fly free and felt it swell as it was joined by almost five thousand other minds. Outwards the combined force soared, seeking the minds of human survivors throughout the world.

  People of Earth Haven sent Grant. This is the last time we shall address you. Most of you do not know who we are. It no longer matters.

  You have survived two threats, though many of you are not aware of the second. Some of you may also not be aware that there are other survivors throughout the world. Maybe as many as a million. That is precious few to restart a species. There is a very real possibility that mankind will slip into extinction.

  Each day you will face danger: from wildlife, from the elements of nature, from starvation, from loneliness.

  I urge you: put aside your despair. Arm yourselves; shelter and barricade yourselves; find and comfort each other; recreate families and communities.

  The final reckoning of mankind has taken place. Man has been judged and his creator has been found wanting.

  Make the
most of your reprieve. Rebuild this world. Better still, construct a new one that you can be proud to leave to the generations that follow.

  We have long referred to this world as Earth Haven. It is time to drop the Haven. Let it be Earth to us all. Let it be home to us all.

  * * * * * * *

  “I’m going to stay here with Sarah and the nurses,” said Elliott. “Play grandpa to her little one when it comes along.” He glanced at Zach. “If the little one survives.” He shrugged. “Maybe I’ll do some writing. Perhaps there will be someone around to read the next great American novel.”

  Amy stepped forward and hugged him.

  She turned to Zach. And began to cry like a baby.

  “Oh, golly,” she said. “I didn’t want to get all emotional.”

  Zach stepped forward and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Watch yourself. Stay close to Joe. You’re still hopeless with a gun.”

  Amy snorted. “I know. That’s why I’m so glad I’ll have Joe to protect me.”

  “He’d better,” said Zach, favouring the boy with a measured stare.

  For once, Joe didn’t try to brush it off. He returned Zach’s stare levelly.

  “I’ll look after her,” he said.

  “Make sure you do. And keep that hatred for those we’ve been fighting under wraps.”

  “Put it this way,” said Joe, “I won’t go looking for them. If, however, I come across any, I make no promises.”

  “Besides,” said Amy, “they murdered billions. They don’t deserve any mercy from us.”

  Zach looked at her. “You’re right,” he said, “but don’t let the desire for vengeance control you.” He held her gaze. “You helped me remember who I am. I won’t ever forget you.”

  Amy threw her arms about his neck and squeezed him tight.

  “You saved my life,” she whispered. “And my honour, for what that’s worth.”

  Zach pulled back so he could look into her face.

  “Your honour,” he said, “is worth the world. Don’t you ever forget it.”

  * * * * * * *

  Tom gave a great sigh and looked at Ceri.

  “You ready for goodbyes?”

  She grimaced. “As ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose. Actually, wait. There’s one thing I have to tell you. Been putting it off.”