Tim Heath Thriller Boxset

by Tim Heath

  “That was something,” John said, irony clear in his voice. It was excellent that he had spoken first. Instead of shutting down or even denying what he was seeing, he was offering his willing help, involving her. That was a very encouraging sign. None of the others had been like this.

  “Tell me what you saw this time, John,” she said in reply, so warm and gentle, always inviting and never demanding. Just as she'd been so thoroughly trained to do the day she signed up for this.

  “There was a man. I was in some building, but I think that's not important. It might even have been just my mind. The man even said he was just my imagination projecting thoughts into a figure.”

  “Our minds are mighty things.” There seemed nothing more to comment.

  “Anyway, I saw what once had been a city, I guess. It was destroyed now, but you could tell. The bricks and debris. The rooftops now on the ground. There were bits of cars everywhere. Smoke was rising in little columns as far as I could see in every direction. I couldn't tell where it was. I asked when it happens, and I remember that now. I didn't get an answer. But there was this overriding feeling. This sense. It was death, and I felt it before I even walked out of the door. The darkness was pressing into that room before I laid eyes on anything.” He paused.

  “I'm scared you know. I don't know why I see this or where or even when it happens.” Lorna just watched him, kept smiling, desperate not to let her panic and feelings show. He had to go through with this. They needed him to understand.

  The moment passed. John seemed to regain a little composure.

  “But I must be seeing this for a reason. The man said I could save millions of people. That the next visions were important, that they were going to show me something I needed to see. Show me some way that I could help. I won't let you down. I'll tell you all I'm told, all that I see. We'll get there, together. I don't want to do this alone.”

  Lorna wanted to cry, to shout, to scream. Her heart raced, her emotions flowed. That was a most encouraging step that John had taken. It made what he was about to see far more crucial. Maybe he would be able to do this. Hope started to fill her aching heart.

  3

  Present Day

  John found himself standing in the same large room and, as far as he could tell, he was on his own. He took a moment to take in where he was, the reality of it. The smells and sounds. He was aware that this was another vision, and it bothered him. He was still struggling to come to terms with all that was happening, let alone why it was happening to him. How could he possibly be able to help, other than tell some crucial people what was going to happen?

  His mood was about to change, fear waiting in the wings to come and steal any hope that might still be lingering. As if knowing this, the man appeared again from the shadows, the man John had seen in these visions.

  “Hello again, John,” he said, in a soft, almost fatherly tone.

  “Hello.” John thought of nothing better to say in response and was now working hard at burying those thoughts and fears that moments before had been looking for a way in. He didn't want to let on what he was thinking, to tell this man, this stranger, that in fact, he wasn't up to the task. John couldn't do what was required, and he would naturally fail them if they carried on pushing him.

  “Walk with me,” he said to John, leading off to the side again, in the direction of the door that he had walked through last time, the sense of death still very fresh in his memory. He went through the same door he thought he'd walked through last time but it led instead to another large hall, an aircraft hanger. It had that same sense of death, but it was less oppressive. Less aggressive, more regular, somehow. Having taken his eyes off the high ceiling where the light was brightest, he took in the floor and could soon see why that sense of death was still so evident. Covering the entire floor space were rows and rows of body bags. The black plastic was fresh, each one sealed, but it was clear what they were and what was inside each one. John looked up at his companion.

  “Yes, John, a lot of people are going to die. That is nothing in comparison to who could die. Millions are at risk. And you can save them all.”

  John froze on the spot with that last sentence. His resolve kicked in again, bringing fresh life.

  “How? How can I save them all?” John asked, his head turning, ears straining for anything that he could catch.

  “You'll know soon enough,” was all that came back in response. John knew better than to reply to another comment or argument. He wanted to drill the guy, to drain every last bit of information from him. John wanted to be told straight what he had to do, when and how. He wanted to be presented with all the facts to be able to make an informed decision. That was how he worked and what he most wanted. Not all this guessing. Not all this walking into strange rooms in strange visions, not knowing where he was, or when. But in himself, he knew it would be pointless to press all this, to ask too many questions at this stage because he was barely dealing with what he was being told, let alone with anything extra.

  Besides, he knew he was not really in control of the visions. These warnings were driving him, and he reminded himself.

  “You're going to wake up now. Remember to tell the nurse all that you've seen. Don't leave out any details and don't forget to mention something that might be vital. You can trust her.”

  The room faded, John's vision vanishing and in a moment his own eyes were open. One blink and he went from there, wherever that was, to his hospital bed, which felt as safe a place as any the world had to offer at that moment.

  Three Weeks Ago

  James arrived home earlier than usual, dropping his bag in the hallway. It had been a hard day. Lorna was in the kitchen but came and greeted him, kissing him on the cheek. Their eyes met, but no words were spoken. There had been a silence growing over the last few weeks, and she didn't know why. Clearly, it was something to do with work, or so she hoped. Better that than something more serious. She knew it wasn't another woman. She followed him into the kitchen, the kettle already on. He took time to wash his hands at the sink.

  “Tough day?” Lorna said. It had been three minutes since he'd arrived home.

  “Something like that,” he said, a smile flashing across his face for a moment. He dried his hands on a towel.

  When the water came to the boil, she poured two cups of tea and joined him in the lounge. The doors to the garden were open from earlier and James stood looking out before walking through them and going over to a flower bed. He pulled out three weeds.

  Lorna placed his tea next to him but left him to it. She couldn't tell which were weeds and what was meant to be there. Besides, he always did the garden when he needed time to think. She walked back into the lounge and sat down in her chair, a magazine open on the arm, but she just watched James for a moment. Something had been bothering him for a while, and he still didn't feel ready to talk about it with Lorna. That realisation was starting to worry her.

  It was the following morning, and they both woke with a start. Their pagers were bleeping, demanding as always their immediate attention. A large-scale disaster was unfolding, and they were being summoned. A van was on its way to pick them up.

  Just one hour later they were both sitting in an army truck with three other passengers. None of them knew what was happening. James and the other three were to be taken to the main crash site, Lorna was to be flown by helicopter back to the hospital where she worked as the wounded were now being brought in and the existing staff were already being overwhelmed by the quantity and severity of their injuries.

  “You are about to enter a secure military zone,” the soldier shouted above the noise of the armour-plated vehicle that had transported James to the incident site, now being code named Point Zero. “When you get out,” he continued, “you are to proceed directly to Major Jeffers in the main hangar that will be in front of you. Here, put on these now.” He passed them each a set of chemical suits and the tense atmosphere that already existed got even more nervous as each pe
rson put on the bright yellow outfits, the boots a few sizes too big but that was the least of James' concerns.

  Moments later, the truck came to an abrupt stop, and the rear door flew open, orders, noise and shouts filling the small cabin that they were sitting in, kicking them into life as one by one they exited the vehicle. They made their way, at speed, into the vast aircraft hangar. The soldiers said something to a man inside before they ran over and turned a corner, disappearing out of sight.

  James could now not see the other three, as his mask only allowed him to look straight ahead at the man he assumed was Major Jeffers, the guy the soldier had mentioned just a few minutes before.

  “Listen carefully,” the Major started. “What you are about to be told is highly sensitive information. You are standing on one of the most top-secret RAF sites in the UK. At precisely zero-three-hundred hours this morning, we lost control of a nuclear-powered space probe which we have been testing in partnership with NASA. That was one of four state-of-the-art satellites that are currently orbiting the earth, eight-hundred miles above the atmosphere. We had just uploaded re-entry coordinates to bring it back to this very base. Twenty minutes after losing control, we lost all contact with the probe but had initiated evacuation procedures for everyone on the base. Only priority personnel remained. These include the small team of people responsible for the whole program. They are the only ones keeping the other three satellites in orbit at the moment. The program, shall we say, is far from being bug-free.” He took a sip of water from the glass that sat on the small lectern style piece of furniture to his right. “Precisely one hour after losing control, the probe crashed to earth right here on the base. It's taken out half of the buildings and is dangerously unstable. We are in contact with the control team but are unable to reach them due to the possible risk of fallout. The collision has put a large split in the main reactor.” He paused, as all of those who were listening looked up at this last piece of information. This was news to everyone in the hangar for there was no public knowledge of this facility having a nuclear reactor. “Needless to say,” he finished calmly, “we have a major containment issue on our hands. There is the risk of this getting totally out of control. We can't afford any mistakes with this one.”

  Lorna was lost in her thoughts since arriving back at work following the helicopter trip to the helipad above the A&E department. The past thirty minutes had exposed her to the worst kinds of injuries she'd ever witnessed in her whole career: severe radiation burns on the sick and dying, and these were just the ones that had lived long enough to make it to the hospital. She was unprepared for it, as were all the staff at the now overstretched hospital. Men, women and children of all ages. Face, legs, torso; there seemed no part where people were not affected. Four people had already died since she arrived. Several more were likely to at any point. Lorna walked around in a daze. Trying to save a life was in her blood, but most were too severely injured to be saved. Thirty minutes later she was outside, desperately in need of some air, tears running down her face, as thick waves of grief flooded her one after the other.

  James had been at Point Zero for an hour when the sirens rang out, and an evacuation ordered. With the chemical suits on and the noise from all around them so deafening, it was impossible to hear the sirens, and James would have been unaware had it not been for the orange light that flashed as well, its piercing spinning glow illuminating the dark corner he was searching for survivors in. He signalled to the other man near him to leave and went off to look for the third person in their party, who was at that moment on the other side of the building.

  Major Jeffers met the first guy as he came running out.

  “Where are the other two of you?” the Major barked back, not looking at all impressed. He pushed the man in the right direction, sending him on his way and looked up as a giant fireball engulfed the sky, another massive explosion on a site that could bear little more. The building shook, and flames leapt across the roof as the explosion intensified into a raging, angry, fire. That was followed by another explosion, this one at ground level. The south wall began to collapse as the Major ran back for cover, narrowly missing roof debris that came crashing down. It didn't matter. Seconds later the first nuclear reactor blew and obliterated an area the size of a football field on which it was housed. Little was left of the building James had been in. Smoke was pouring from the debris now lying on the ground, as unseen fires burned. Those that had somehow survived the explosion were at that moment being exposed to extreme levels of radiation poisoning, their fate sealed.

  Lorna was ordered into her managers' office as soon as the news reached them about the explosion at the RAF base. Her boss's superior was also there. They only got together like this when the news was bad, usually a terminal condition to report to a patient, but anything was possible now.

  Over the next five minutes, they shared the news Lorna had been dreading. There had been a severe incident at Point Zero, and one of the primary nuclear reactors had exploded, and it had obliterated its surrounding area. They shared how her husband was unaccounted for, but as far as they were aware, he had been in the main hangar which had been destroyed and was dangerously close to the radiation leak. They shared how the Major, and one of James' party members had been reportedly seen dead, lying on the ground about one hundred metres in front of the fallen building.

  “I'm so sorry to be the one sharing this news with you,” her manager said.

  Tears filled Lorna's eyes. Her James was dead, and it felt, at that moment, as if her world had stopped. Nothing seemed to mean as much anymore.

  Her manager, Alison, touched her gently on the arm and continued.

  “There is more, Lorna. The control room for the remaining nuclear probes currently orbiting the earth was also dangerously exposed to lethal levels of radiation. No one but one man made it out alive, and he is in a bad way, though somehow still alive.”

  Lorna was hearing this but not taking it in. Why did it matter now, and why were they telling her all this? All she wanted to do was to go and find her husband's body, to be alone, to mourn his death. And her manager could see that on her face too.

  “Look, Lorna, take a few moments to pull things together. But we need to talk some more. We are in an on-going crisis, and we need every skilled hand that we have. God knows we're going to need it before the day is out. Get some fresh air. Then come back when you are ready; you have one hour.”

  Lorna wanted to tell her to shove the job, but she did need the fresh air. Suddenly the walls were closing in on her, and for a moment she thought she was going to fall, but putting a hand out to touch the wall, she made it along the white-walled corridor and out the main doors.

  Thick black smoke could be seen on the horizon. Lorna walked the other way, great soundless sobs now coming from her body, as wave upon wave of emotion flooded out of her uncontrollably. She sat on the ground, on a soft patch of grass still wet with dew, and cried her heart out. James was dead. And it hurt. Hurt more than anything she had ever known. A piece of her was now missing, gone––Lost. Would she ever feel complete again?

  Back at Point Zero, the RAF base was in total lockdown. The full sense of what was happening was beginning to dawn on a watching world, and that day the number of press helicopters and crew was noticeably less. They were starting to understand the danger to which they were being exposed. Four reporters had already been killed, dozens more exposed to levels of contamination that would kill them before the month was out. It was all one big mess.

  On the far side of the base, over the airfields and about a mile and a half from the incident area, which so far was in the opposite wind direction, stood the main hangar. The offices here stood to serve as the new mobile command centre. The bodies were already beginning to appear on the hangar floor, one hundred so far and counting, men and women, husbands and wives, sons and daughters. Soldiers and pilots. Good people. Alive no more.

  It was about an hour after the latest blast that the trucks star
ted turning up from the nearby villages that sat downwind from the RAF base. Three communities in particular had been severely affected. Most of those who had not heard the news and got out quickly were now dead or dying from radiation poisoning. Some trucks were taking the wounded to the hospital, though many were dead before they arrived. The dead were being brought to the hangar. It seemed the best place to contain the news and fallout.

  The scale of the incident was so overwhelming and so many people had been affected that even the Major Incident plan could not be activated. By the end of the day, the news was clear to everyone. Row after row of body bags filled the vast hangar. Those camera crews still alive knew that nuclear exposure had been dangerously high already and they carried on regardless, working to record and document what was happening, wanting their last days to mean something, knowing a painful death awaited them shortly. The same went for most of the soldiers and pilots still around. Exposure would kill them sooner or later, but they carried on serving, regardless of the personal cost. The scale of the damage just meant there was nothing else they could do.

  The footage of a hangar full of body bags was headline news around the world. Death on a catastrophic level and this was just the start.

  Lorna had gone back to her manager's office, as requested, but in truth, she had nowhere else she wanted to be or could go. The hospital was overstretched already. They needed her, and at that moment, she needed them. The pain of her loss was genuine but in the heat of battle, as her nursing had now become, she could lose herself enough to forget about her problems, before a pause in the action brought the emotions all flooding back, and she would have to compose herself all over again.