by Dave Lacey
“I’ll be fine,” Jack insisted, staring at a point just above Bill’s head.
“Okay,” said Bill. “I can’t make you do anything you don’t want to do, can I?” Jack shook his head. Millie looked from one to the other, and back again, her face a mask of confusion. Jack spared her a glance. “Right, good luck,” Bill said, all traces of a smile gone, his hand held out to Jack. Jack looked at him warily, then took it. They shook. “But you two aren’t staying,” Bill said, his eyes locked on Jack’s. Jack nodded once, agreeing with Bill. Smithy and Millie shook their heads in protest.
“No, he’s right,” said Jack. “I don’t need either of you to stay. And you need to stop worrying,” he continued, matter of factly. “If I do this right, they’ll never know where I am, and they’ll just scarper.”
“And if you do it wrong?” Millie asked, almost at the end of her tether.
“That, sister,” he shot her a smile “is a different matter altogether.”
Chapter 25
Jack found a small cleft in the ground, as though a giant had scooped out a handful of earth, and waited. He had three hundred rounds of ammunition. It might take two hundred of those rounds to convince any chasers to turn tail. The other hundred were there purely as insurance. As the sun rose through the morning, it felt to Jack like he was seeing an old friend. It warmed his skin, and he turned his face up to it. Eyes closed, he could almost be on a summer holiday.
As he waited, Jack considered his life up to this point. The highs and lows, the dark times, and the not so dark. What might life be like in the years to come? If this...mission…turned out to be the real thing, if they found the right seeds...well, one could dream. His mind turned to another problem he didn’t yet know the answer to. If they found the seeds, how would they get them up to the Moon? Surely they couldn’t risk a ship coming down to get them. That would be suicide. He turned it over in his mind, trying to think of a solution. As he slowly left those thoughts behind, unable to answer them, he looked at the still scorched earth around him.
Not even the grasses had grown back. The landscape looked volcanic, though to Jack it was still beautiful. Living beneath the ground granted you a more forgiving eye for what lay above. As he scanned, he noticed the crumbling dish and outbuildings of the Jodrell Bank Observatory. He took a tin of beans and a snack bar out of his pack of supplies. As he scooped out the beans, he surveyed the horizon. Almost nothing moved. There was little left to move, save the odd bird. How many of them remained? Well, if there were insects, there was still food for most of the birds. Then he began to dream of that faint flicker of life, of hope that the scientists were right.
The seed bank would contain pretty much everything they would need. Ordinary plants and plants they could cultivate for food. They really could start again. It would be slow. The whole process of natural pollination would take a long, long time to come back. That’s if there were even any bees left to help. But if there were, they would return as soon as they detected the pollen. So it would be man’s responsibility to farm, to re-stock with animals. Maybe humanity would even have learned something from all this.
As his mind began to fill with promises for the future, the sight he was waiting for came into view. A group of men and women approached, moving with purpose. Maybe a fifth of them were armed, out of around fifty or so.
Rather than wait for them to get close, Jack took aim and fired a burst way above their heads. He was careful to aim high enough such that there was no chance of the bullets hitting anybody. He had no intention of killing anyone else. He just wanted to encourage them to rethink their plan.
The effect was almost comical. Most of the men and women dived headlong onto the undulating folds of earth. Some ran, knees and elbows pumping, arms and legs flailing. He fired another burst, not quite as high. This time, he wanted them to hear the bullets passing. He decided to change positions while they were still confused. Jack ran, doubled up, fifty yards to his new position. And from there he aimed high again and fired another burst. The change of position would convince them there was more than one person.
As he readied himself for another move, the armed men and women found their courage and began to return fire. At first, in their over-enthusiasm, they fired too long; they obviously had no idea where he was. Then the firing stopped. The leader must have reined them in, Jack guessed. Silence fell over the barren landscape. Jack raised his head high enough to get a quick view of things. The unarmed members of the group had stopped running, or else he couldn’t see them. Either way, it made him uneasy. They had adapted quicker than he had thought they would. As the silence continued, Jack’s feeling of unease grew. He hadn’t considered this outcome. He bobbed his head up again, and realized he’d been scuppered.
A man was on lookout, and as soon as Jack lifted his head, he was spotted. He sank down low, face to face with the scorched earth, his mind speeding through his limited options. He could hear voices now. Not chatter, but orders being given. The leader was thinking his way through it. Good for him. Bad for Jack. It was likely the unarmed subgroup were moving round him, outflanking him. He felt edgy and chewed at the inside of his cheek. “Shit,” he hissed in a stage whisper. He decided to risk another look. He was right – they were moving around him.
As they saw Jack’s head, they dropped out of sight. He fired a burst anyway, lower this time. He stayed on one knee, watching. He caught sight of movement off to his left. Followed by his right. He was right about that much anyway. They were outflanking him and they were getting ready to flush him out.
As he waited, he licked his lips nervously, his eyes roaming the ground. The next time they stood, he was going to have to shoot one of them. He jumped as a voice rang out across the clearing. “You can’t kill all of us, asshole. You should surrender. Now.”
“I wouldn’t count on that, douche bag.” Jack licked his lips again as he muttered to himself, then he shouted out to anyone who could hear. “Just pop your head up and we’ll see how it works out for you. I was being nice with the first few bursts, I didn’t want to hurt anybody.” He paused. “You’re leaving me no choice now though.” Jack’s voice rose nervously. It’s different on your own, he thought.
“Well, you already shot one of us,” came back the voice; the leader, Jack guessed. “One of you did anyway. That’s good enough for me.”
Jack winced. “That was…unfortunate. I woke and he was stealing our stuff–” Jack winced again as the man cut across him. He shouldn’t have said I.
“So it was you?” the man shouted. “You shouldn’t have killed him. Did he kill any of your men or women?”
“No, he didn’t. But he was about to shoot me.” Jack knew it sounded lame, but he could do nothing about that.
“Really, and you know that for certain do you? Beyond reasonable doubt?” Jack cursed himself; this was getting silly now. ‘Beyond reasonable doubt?’ Really? In this day and age? He heard a sound off to his left. He cursed himself again. They were continuing to outflank him. He turned both left and right, looking for any movement that would give away their position. If he wasn’t careful, he would end up with no escape route.
“I take it from your silence, that’s a no,” the man continued, his voice heavy with sadness. “That’s what I thought.”
Jack tried to think his way through it. He could make a run for it, or he could try to scare them off. But he didn’t like the odds of option B. He was fast coming to the realization that this group weren’t going anywhere quickly. His difficult position began to loom before him. They would have brought supplies as well as weapons. They could wait. He couldn’t.
“Look, it’s bad, I admit that. I had no intention when I woke this morning of killing anything other than ‘Landers if they happened to get in my way. Your friend…” He paused as he tried to find the right words. His mouth felt dry and his ears felt sensitive to any sound. “Your friend startled me. He was taking our stuff. I woke, he drew, I fired.” Jack paused again. “I wish I had
n’t done it, but it was just a reaction.”
“My brother,” the man called across the gap.
Jack thought he had misheard. “What was that?” But then he felt the cold flush of horror as his brain caught up.
“He was my brother.” The voice came back.
Silence settled like a blanket across the dead ground. Jack swallowed. He was dead. He took a deep breath, and heard feet scrambling for purchase, less than fifty yards away. He darted a look, and took his would be assailant by surprise as he fired a burst over his head. There was more hurried scrambling, then nothing.
“Look,” he called, louder than he had meant to. He could feel his heart thudding in his chest. Sweat was stinging his eyes as he squatted with his back against the earth. “This is all a big mistake. I never meant for any of this to happen. I’m sorry. If I could do anything about it, I would. But I can’t now, it’s too late.”
“Not for me it isn’t.” The voice came again, patient and heavy. Jack checked the magazine in his assault rifle, then nervously inspected those that remained in his pack. It was getting very close to decision time. Much longer, and he would have no decision to make. As he braced himself for a response, he heard a cry. He waited, breathing as lightly as he could, so that he missed nothing. His mouth open, he drew air gently over his tongue, into his lungs. His ears strained for whatever had caused the commotion, and his eyes swivelled in his head.
From his position, Jack could hear the scrabble of feet, and the occasional shout of panic or command. Then a voice rang clear over the others. “Get to the trees.” The leader’s voice was full of fear. “Make for the trees,” he yelled. “Now! Move!”
Something had spooked them, and Jack could only think of one thing that would have stopped them coming for him. ‘Landers. He risked a peek over the top of the fold of earth he was crouched behind.
The ship came in low, from behind him, and as it did it fired. Clods of earth from the already blackened landscape and tangles of limbs were blown into the air. Jack couldn’t run now, that much was obvious. He scooped at the ground around him, loosening anything that he could. Earth broke free, sliding down the low embankment and pooling around him. Not a great deal, but enough maybe, for what he needed.
Then a thought struck him. He had a bayonet in his pack. He removed it, and began to dig further and faster into the earth around him. After a few minutes, he heard a double thump as both the ship’s axles landed within a second of each other, the hiss of hydraulics as it settled. The metallic thunk as the door dropped down, acting as a ramp, followed by the clacking of taloned feet as the ground troops exited the doorway.
Jack moved faster. He moved the loose earth, began scraping it over himself. He didn’t need to bury himself, just to be invisible to the casual, distant observer. After a few frantic minutes, he was as covered as he was going to be. He took a pen from his top pocket and stripped out the ink tube inside. Then he piled loose earth over his face and used the tube to breathe through.
The minutes ticked by slowly. From over the ridge, Jack could hear screams and the sound of weapons being discharged. The pen’s narrow bore acted like a rudimentary demand valve and forced him to regulate his breathing. His mind raced with possibilities, even as his body remained absolutely still. Was his cover good enough? Was this just a kill team? Were they looking for food? Would he suffocate? An ache developed in his back and shoulders from the tension of holding still. He forced himself to slow his breathing even further.
It helped, a little. Involuntarily, he gave a small shudder, and felt some of the earth displace around him, deadening his hearing. His sight and hearing might have been impeded, but he could feel. The odd crump of an explosive. The return fire from the gang. And he could feel a sense of the distance between himself and the action. It wasn’t much. Luck would play a huge part in whether or not he survived. His jaw clenched. Luck was a whimsical thing to have to rely on.
Inwardly, he cursed himself, his fists clenched with annoyance. He shouldn’t even be in this position. His judgement was not what it had once been. If they found him, he was dead. And he was no use to anybody then. He attempted to formulate a plan. It wasn’t going to be easy. Although the ‘Landers were distracted, they might only be twenty or thirty yards from his position. He considered low crawling his way as far along the fold in the land as could, before making a bolt for it. There was also the possibility of rising slightly, enough to survey the scene, and potentially picking off enough of the ‘Landers to allow him to make a break for it.
He lay with his back to the fight, whilst he knew that in front of him the land fell away relatively steeply. It would be enough to speed his departure and hide him from the ship and soldiers. Even though he had run a few such scenarios through his mind, he lay still. Fear had clamped its suffocating tentacles around his body. He knew now what he wanted to do, but was unable to see it through. There were more sounds now, closer. He could hear running feet and the accompanying sound of ordnance. Whoever it was, was drawing the ‘Landers attention. And they were leading them closer to Jack’s hiding place. The tension in Jack’s body increased further, if that were possible, and pain racked his muscles.
The thunder of human footsteps got closer, until there came the sound of scrabbling over the lip of the ground. The runner had landed just feet from Jack, and he could hear their breathing coming in great gasps. Whoever it was, was mumbling, probably praying to whichever god he or she believed in for help. Jack felt the shiver of temptation. He could help them. But how? Jack prevaricated. Part of him really wanted to help, but the rest of him knew it would be a wasted gesture. If he revealed himself, the two of them would perish.
Whoever it was, was dead, he thought ruefully, they’d just forgotten to lie down. Then it came. Three maybe four ‘Landers thundered up the slope behind Jack. The survivor got up and ran for it, but didn’t get five yards before Jack heard a sudden thump, a cry and the sound of gnashing teeth. Jack’s breathing suddenly sounded terribly loud in his own head, they must be able to hear him. He held his breath. The aliens began to talk, at least that’s what it seemed like. It was a series of soft growls, grunts and guttural sounds.
Then one of them stood on his foot. He thought it was going to snap the bone. He began to sweat uncontrollably, his whole body instantly bathed in cold brine. He could feel the pull on his tendons as the monster shifted position, its huge heavy feet striving for purchase. Jack fought the urge to scream and rise up out of the earth, firing indiscriminately at the real enemy.
The desire to shout made it impossible to hold his breath any longer, and he took in his first stream of air for almost a minute, which might as well have been a week. He breathed out, then back in, agonizingly slowly, all the time praying that they couldn’t hear the sound of the air rushing through the plastic tube. But the aliens were distracted in their task. Two of them began to squabble over the body, but the one standing on his ankle moved its weight back even further. Jack was imagining every bone in his ankle smashed, when there came another shout.
The ‘Lander standing on his ankle turned, and as it did so he could feel the tendons shift. It was excruciating. Then it pushed off, using his ankle as a launch pad. Something finally gave. Agony shot through his lower body and he wanted to lash out, but again he controlled the urge to move. A moment later, he heard the ‘Landers moving off, away from him, away from his route out of here. Jack relaxed a little. Tears sprang to his eyes; his foot would need a splint before he could go after his companions.
Slowly, carefully, he moved his arm and brushed away some of the dirt from his face. Like a cave dweller, he blinked rapidly as his eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight. He could smell the fresh earth, and, overlaying it, was the stench of fresh blood. Without moving his head, Jack swivelled his eyes, looking for danger. There was nobody, and nothing, there. But he waited. Waiting could save your life. If he moved too soon, they could still be there. Waiting just for that move. So Jack remained where he was for anot
her ten minutes. Then he heard the ‘Lander ship taking off. As the engine sounds lifted, he heard the sound of gunfire.
Members of the gang must have come out from hiding, angry at the destruction of their friends and comrades. Jack shook his head, dislodging some of the earth that still mostly covered it. Theirs was a stupid, pointless reaction that could only bring more death on their heads. Slowly and quietly, he moved his arms and legs, shaking off more of the earth. When most of it had tumbled off, he rolled away from the earthen wall he had been backed into. He lay still, on his stomach, allowing his body a moment to recover. He felt exhausted. Utterly drained.
He breathed deeply, his mouth wide open. Then he rolled onto his back. Everything had returned to normal. Above him, an endless blue sky was studded with powder puffs of white. The world looked innocent again. But that was because he was only looking skyward. He knew that if he looked around him, down towards the battlefield, things would seem different. He lay still for another few minutes until his breathing settled. Then he heard voices from down in the shallow bowl, where the gang had first assembled. He scrambled up into a crawling position and moved towards the lip. Peeking over the edge, he could see them checking the bodies that lay on the ground.
Some moved, some didn’t. Jack felt sadness for the loss of life, but he knew that, pretty soon, they would remember him. He had to get moving. Jack turned and checked his kit. He stripped down his rifle quickly, making sure there was no earth remaining that would spoil a shot. The next one could be vital. All seemed in order. He took one more look over the ridge to make sure their attention was elsewhere, then turned. He scrambled as low as he could over the opposite lip, then ran as quick as his ankle allowed him down the slope. Pain tore through him, and he broke out in a cold sweat once more. He made it to the dead trees, a small copse in the open fields, before he had to stop. He leaned against a trunk and let his kit bag drop to the floor.
