by Tim Heath
What stood before them was like no scene either of them had ever seen before. Lorna felt physically sick. It was the closest she'd been to where James had died, and until that moment, she'd had no idea it would have such an effect on her. Fear engulfed her for a moment, and she instinctively gripped John's hand even harder. He felt the squeeze, which was beginning to hurt, and he understood this was no game. He could see the fear in her eyes.
Still two miles from the crash site, there was already a vast field of debris lying before them. Buildings stood destroyed, cars burnt out. If this had happened that morning, a lot had changed since then.
Just at that moment orders were given from somewhere behind.
“From here on, Mr Westlake, you need to go in this special armoured vehicle. It will take you most of the way, and it will keep you and your driver safe from the radiation. Ms Brookes, you need to stay with us.”
Lorna turned to acknowledge the instruction.
“Ms Brookes, is it? I've not heard you being called that,” John said.
“That's because I'll always be Lorna to you, John, or 'that nurse who wouldn't leave me alone.' I think Lorna is shorter.”
They both smiled. It was Lorna who spoke next.
“Can I travel with John?” she asked, turning to the man who had given the instructions just a moment before. He looked at them both, before granting permission.
“Be my guest. Only John is to get out of the vehicle, mind you. Here, put this on.”
He passed her a hideous looking chemical suit. It was yellow and had a hood that wouldn't have been out of place on a deep sea dive.
They both got into the second vehicle, much more military in design, making the moment even more sinister. But now, here Lorna was, returning to the place where her husband had died. Returning with another man, a man who loved her, and in her different way, she too enjoyed. He was here to make the site safe. Finally. The last two months had been the most stressful of her life. Nothing could compare.
They were joined in the back of the vehicle by another soldier, who wasn't wearing a suit, so they presumed, correctly, wouldn't be joining them for the journey. Instead, he handed Lorna a small telephone, which he attached to the outside of her suit, the hood already with its own built-in speakers and microphone.
“Now you can speak to each other through the phone,” he said, before turning to John and saying:
“It's vital, that once you've walked around the south side of the building, you leave this device on the ground before you continue. This device cannot go in with you. Do you understand?”
John nodded, not bothering to give a civilised response to what he felt was a ridiculous request. He was about to give his life, and they were concerned about a mobile phone. Although he was sitting next to her, he called Lorna with the phone, as the vehicle pulled away slowly, and her voice came through clearly over the noise of the engine.
“So this is it, I guess? Thanks for coming with me,” he said.
“It's important for me to be here, with you....” She said, pausing, as if not knowing what to say next but wanting to continue. “It's the first time...I mean...” but she didn't know what to say.
“This is where James died, isn't it!” John said suddenly, the pieces finally starting to slot into place.
Even through his yellow hood, he could see her facial expression, near panic appearing for a while, then a tear. She wasn't going to lie anymore.
“Yes, it is,” she said quietly; no other words seemed to fit any better.
John did the maths in his head very quickly. Her James had been dead before he'd first spoken with her. That had been one of the first things he'd picked up from her. A hint of sadness behind her happy, outward demeanour. But if he had died here then, and this was her first time back, there was no way that this had all happened like they said it had overnight. The damage alone, what he'd seen when they changed cars, had been there for a long time. The burnt out buildings and vehicles long since extinguished. It was some game.
“This hasn't just happened, has it?” John said.
Lorna sank deflated in her seat, as if all hope had been knocked out of her at that moment, like a boxer taking two heavy blows to the head, one after the other.
“I don't know what to say,” she said. She felt exposed and very vulnerable, alone for the first time in the process, with no cameras watching her. She was unaware that MI5 were listening in on the conversation, although they were unable actually to communicate with her, just listen. They too were shocked at what John had just said. Were things about to fall apart at the last minute?
“Well, why don't you start with the truth. Tell me what is really going on.”
Without a second thought, Lorna launched into the whole thing. In the five minutes it took the vehicle to navigate its way slowly through the debris that made movement difficult, she told him the entire truth. She left nothing out, explaining how she'd been fetched with James, the last time she'd seen him, all that then happened. Alison and the other patients. The first time she saw John. Everything. He was most fascinated to hear about why he had stood out, why he'd been picked. Why he'd been found alive. He asked what he'd been doing on the site, but she didn't know, which was the truth. No one knew. He was just a lucky survivor. She explained what she knew about the chemical makeup, the protection in his body that had soaked up and destroyed the radiation poisoning, which was killing so many, that this would keep him safe now. She explained about the danger from the power plant. That if it exploded, everyone would die. She would die. She assured him that if it were shut down, the problem would end, it would go away. The country would survive, would continue, would recover. She told him how he would also die anyway if nothing were done. If it weren't from the radiation poisoning, it would be from what followed. All life in the UK would be dead. Most of Europe would be affected. There would be no food, no clean water. No power or transport. He'd be stuck here, with no way of getting away, and no one coming to rescue him. The fallout would be too dangerous. Weather patterns would change. If starvation or thirst hadn't killed him, the colder weather would. A freezing country as nuclear winter set in. That today wasn't about him making a choice between life or death, but between dying with the millions, or dying to save the millions. It was a genius line of reasoning, and the listening ears at Thames House could not have scripted it better if they had tried.
John was blown away by it all. At some level, especially since the courtyard experience, it all was starting to fit together now; it made sense. And the element of being a sacrifice, even if packaged in a lie, was still valid. He could still be the hero if he chose. Dying alone from hunger or thirst, or even the cold, didn't sound at all appealing, compared to an instant death once the safety shut off at the troubled base was activated.
When Lorna had finished, there was an eerie silence. The vehicle had long reached its spot. It now just sat there like a metal dragon, deciding its own fate. Those listening inside MI5 headquarters, as well as those in Berlin, Africa and Beijing, were all speechless, waiting in a state of anxiety for what would come next.
“Thanks for being honest with me, Lorna. That is your name, isn't it?”
“Of course it is! Lorna Brookes. My husband James was killed just as I said. Everything I've told you about myself is true. I don't want to lie to you anymore, John. I'm sorry for doing this to you. I just needed hope.”
“Hope? It was all a lie though?”
“It is genuine hope for me. For us all. It's real.”
“Why didn't you just tell me?”
“I don't know, that wasn't my decision. I was pulled in once you had already entered into the program. You were already in the hospital before I heard about you. Would it have made a difference?”
John thought about that for a moment. The truth was, he had no way of knowing. He'd felt a hero before, on some noble quest. Special. Now it was all a mask, a façade, and he didn't like what he saw behind it all. Lorna, of all people, had been centra
l to this episode, this betrayal. Yes, he felt betrayed, and he wasn't afraid to admit that. But what good would that do?
“It was just wrong,” he said.
“I know––and I'm sorry, John. I really am. But the clock is ticking. There really is a crisis, and it's a few hundred metres away, around that building. If this thing isn't stopped immediately, we all die.”
“So we all die!” he said, a little too rashly. He regretted it immediately but didn't let it show. It wasn't how he wanted to play it.
Lorna started to cry, her resolve giving way. For too long she'd hidden behind this hope that John would end it all, that she'd get to live through it, and that there was light at the end of the tunnel. Now, at this moment, she had to come to terms with her death quickly.
“You're right, John. I don't deserve to live. I'll take this suit off right now if you want. I'll step out of this vehicle with you and go as far as I can.” She made as if she was about to take off the hood, getting the response from John that Lorna had hoped she would.
“No, stop! Don't do that. You don't need to do that.”
She paused.
“It's up to you. Do I get to live or die today? If you don't make this walk, I might as well take this suit off. I'm as good as dead. Why wait any longer?”
“Okay, you've made your point,” he said, pausing briefly. “I loved you, you know.”
“I know, John––and I'm sorry.”
“Sorry? Why do you say that?”
“Because you loved someone without knowing what I was doing to you. Without knowing who I really was.”
“Isn't that just it? Didn't we both become new people during those days in my room? Around my bed. Me with no memory, forming new ones all the time, determining who and what I was to become. You, fresh from loss, starting over again. Growing who you were to be by doing what you were doing. Isn't that who I fell in love with? The Lorna who is sitting before me now. The Lorna who has nursed me back to life. The Lorna who kissed me this morning.”
“I know...” she said, blushing a little, but not embarrassed about it one bit.
“Tell me, Lorna. If it had all been different, would we have had a chance? You and me, I mean?”
“If it had all been different, I would never have met you. And I wouldn't be a widow.”
“Yes, of course. That's a clever way of not answering my question––and, so that you know, I forgive you.”
“What?”
“I forgive you. I don't want you leaving this place feeling I blamed you for all this. So I forgive you. I'm making this choice, in my own mind, knowing all that you know. I'm choosing to do this to myself, not you. So I forgive you.”
“John, I don't know what...” and she slumped in her chair, even more, tears pouring down her face, her whole body shaking as if a huge weight was being taken from her shoulders at that moment. They were tears of sadness, but also tears of promise. Great big drops of hope pouring down each cheek, as she sat there, barely able to see John through the mist that was forming on the inside of her hood from all the moisture, but at that moment it didn't matter. John was going to take a walk and was doing it of his own free will. She wouldn't have to carry on with life knowing what she knew. And that was a huge weight lifted from her. It meant a fresh start really was possible.
“Look, I know you really need to go now...” she finally said after a few moments of composing herself. “I wanted to tell you in person, as I've told no one yet, and really don't know what it means. I am pregnant with James' baby, and if it's a boy, I'll name him after you.”
John looked down for a moment, as if weighing up that last statement, before he looked up again, more determined that she'd ever seen him.
“Then that does it. That's the hope I need that you are coming through this. If you are pregnant, and I really hope you are, then that's my motivation, right there. My memory will live on. I won't be this forgotten stranger who didn't even know who he was himself.”
Lorna was crying again, but these were tears of joy. She wanted to kiss him again, to thank him, but that was not possible with the suit on. To take it off would be to risk exposure. That would endanger any child that might be there, though she was still unsure if that was the case. Though she'd never missed a period before, she knew in trauma situations it was possible that her own body had shut down. Even carrying a foetus during this time risked severe damage to the unborn child. She had been exposed to many cases of radiation poisoning.
Without saying any more, John opened the door, placing a hand on Lorna's suit, where her knees would be, and said goodbye. She wanted to hug him, but he shut the door and banged on the driver's door for it to get moving again, which it did after just a brief pause.
Movement was a little bit slow, and there were huge piles of debris lying around, but without a suit to slow him down, John made his way, getting to a clear patch as he circled the main building. The instruction came from Lorna that it was now time to leave the phone before he continued. What could she possibly say to him at that moment that would mean what she wanted? As John got to the spot, he saw a crumpled white news van, and buildings around, and instantly memories started pouring in.
“Wow!” he shouted, with real surprise in his voice.
“What is it?” Lorna asked, concerned that he might be showing signs of being affected by the radiation.
“I remember! It's all coming back to me. I was a reporter. I was here! Right here! I've seen the van, and it's made me remember, just like the doctor said! My name is John Westlake, and I was a reporter for the newspaper. I remember it all!” Thoughts and memories were flooding his mind now, as if the floodgates of some great dam had been ripped open, the force pressing these images from his past through to his memory. He remembered a Doctor James Brookes. He recalled what he was doing to him, how he was tricking him.
“Oh, Lorna. I think I met your husband!” He didn't dare say how.
“What? How do you know?”
“I met a Dr James Brookes at this base once. Maybe three months ago.”
“Oh John, I can't believe that you met James!”
The guilt was starting to build. John felt wrong causing all that pain to Lorna's husband. He was a good man caught up in a nasty scam. Suddenly, John realised he wasn't such a nice man himself. Then the flashes came from the moments before the crash.
“Hold on; I remember something else. Right from the moment of the crash. Lorna, are you listening to me?”
“Yes, John, I'm right here.”
“There was a message. We were tracking news from the base, and I had it bugged. And seconds before the probe hit the ground there was a message. It sent a message to the base.”
“What was it?”
The tension around the world at that moment in secret little pockets, where listening ears were eavesdropping on this private conversation, was unbearable. In Beijing, they wondered what was going to be said. At Thames House, MI5, who were recording this message as well as listening in, were shocked at what they were now hearing. And in Africa, their worst fears were about to be realised.
“The message was that this was no accident. It was planned. Someone crashed the probes on purpose and made them detonate. It was an act of war. It was no accident!”
“What does this mean?”
“I don't know, Lorna. But you need to let them know. Tell them what I've told you. Make sure they know. I had a device at home. It was recording everything. That will verify what I've just told you. The message will be there. It has to be. I saw it just before the explosion. It's the last thing I remember before the crash. Make sure they know, Lorna. I'm putting the phone down now. I love you!”
With that, John placed the phone on the ground. Never before had he felt as alone as he did, and yet never had he felt such strength, such purpose. It was his moment. Maybe it wasn't the end he'd imagined, but he knew who he was now. He'd done plenty of bad things, but perhaps he had come right in the end. Maybe he would be remembered as the hero a
fter all?
Making it to the safety shut off, without any further delay, he pulled the switch. There was the sound of rushing liquids, something far off before the noise increased. The danger was growing, being released. He'd done it. For a moment nothing happened. There was silence. Stillness, before the whole building erupted, a colossal explosion throwing debris and smoke high into the air. The ground shook. Two miles away, where Lorna stood to watch from afar, she saw the fireball.
She lowered her head and wept.
27
The Days That Followed
At the RAF base, the intensity of the fires had died down considerably. Clean up crews had been working around the clock to close down the area. Radiation leakage had stopped, the final actions of John had been a complete success. There was already talk of him being given a posthumous knighthood. Nothing much could get salvaged from the site, and there were indeed no bodies to bury. Those that had fallen there, including James and John, had been burned up in the fires that followed the safety shut off, if not already in James' case. It was an untested system with many flaws. The heat generated over weeks of usage resulted in the explosion that killed John while making the site safe for everyone else, the nuclear risk resolved. A final word on the lack of bodies had not yet reached Lorna, but she hadn't expected either of them to be found, anyway.
Most important now for the MI5 and government personnel on site, was the recovery of the recording device which John had been using as a telephone, and which he'd left in the safe area before continuing on his final part of the walk.
Finding the device undamaged, they collected it and handed it to a couple of the tech guys.
“It's empty!” came the instant alarm from one of the technicians.
“Don't tell me that! Find it!”
“He's right, sir. It is empty. Nothing is on this device.”
