Coldbrook (Hammer) (38 page)

Several shadows stood or squatted just within the breach, firing bolts and arrows into the mass of zombies. Jonah checked the furniture that he and Holly had piled outside the doors. It seemed secure. But he was shaken, and as he backed away along the corridor everything inside him screamed at him to wait. Soon they would be through, and he wanted to be there for that moment.
He wanted to see those people from another Earth. But he had a responsibility to Holly, and even more so to Coldbrook.

Furies fell, and the air in Control filled with the dust of ages.

Holly brought the screwdriver down again and again, each impact juddering through her hand and wrist and arm. In the wild torchlight bits spattered across her thighs and stomach, and she screamed to rid herself of the sickening noise, and retched to purge the terrible slick taste of the dead flesh. Now that it moved, it was easier to discern which body part was dead and which was not within this merged mass, because the fury had not begun to rot.

It fell away from her, its burned hands slipping down her body. The face was shattered from twenty impacts from the screwdriver, thirty, more. She kept striking until all movement ceased.

‘Jonah,’ she croaked, unable to shout. ‘Jonah.’ But she no longer needed Jonah. She stopped stabbing. The screwdriver felt like an extension of her hand, and she was unsure she’d ever be able to rid herself of its feel.

Holly turned away from what she had done.

‘Few switches blown,’ she said. Her hoarse voice was
surprisingly loud in the dark space. She kept the torch beam on the tangled bodies, and now neither of them moved. Each time she breathed she tasted death. ‘I can take them from other boards. Clean it down. Make sure there’s no . . . stuff still causing shorts.’

Talking to herself made it easier. She set to work again, slipping the screwdriver into her pocket first and wiping her hands on her trousers.

She cleaned the damaged board, bypassing a melted area, replacing wires with temporary cold-set solder, moving switches, cannibalising the distribution board that served the entertainment system.

Holly closed her eyes after a few minutes and took a deep breath, then carried on.

When she’d finished she stepped back, looking down at the corpses.

I got it all over my hands.

She flicked a lever switch on the board and heard the hum of power.

Under my nails, in the creases of my skin, and maybe I cut myself with the screwdriver
.

From the plant room she saw a faint glow of light, and knew that her repair had worked, for now.

Jonah should be shouting but he’s not there, or if he is he’s waiting for me with his mouth open, his eyes empty
.

‘Jonah?’ she said. She made her way back through to the plant room.

Jonah was not waiting there.

Outside, the corridor lights were on again, and she heard that low background hum of Coldbrook that until now she hadn’t realised had been absent.
The hum of life
, she thought, and she had never welcomed the thudding of her heart so much.

If she became a fury, would it cease?

Next to the plant room was a small closet-type door, and behind it she found stacks of cleaning equipment and products. The bleach was in a large industrial bottle, unbranded and strong, and Holly poured it over her hands, rubbing them together and crying as the fumes got into her eyes. She gagged, pouring more bleach because maybe the first splash hadn’t got right down into her nails, or into those wounds she could not see. It burned. It hurt.

When arms closed around her from behind she almost screamed, but then she smelled Jonah’s familiar breath and allowed herself to collapse against him.

‘Hey, hey,’ he said, taking the screwdriver from her hand. She hadn’t even realised that she’d drawn it from her pocket.

‘Jonah,’ she gasped.

‘You did it.’

‘There was one of those . . . one of them . . .’

‘Come on,’ he said, and he was as strong as ever. ‘Hurry.’

‘What?’

‘I think your friends are coming to find you.’

‘Drake?’

‘I’m a little disappointed, truth be told. It means I don’t get to go through and find him.’

With Coldbrook lit up and alive around them once more, Jonah led her towards Control.

As they reached the window, Holly saw Drake and the people he had brought through the breach with him. Most of them were gathered by the doorway. They were all heavily armed, and several of them patrolled the room, stabbing fallen furies through the head.

Drake and Jonah gazed at each other, and Holly knew that this was the true meeting of worlds.

FROM THE MOMENT
they left Baltimore, Vic knew without asking that the helicopter was overburdened. Gary concentrated on flying, and for the next hour Vic saw the pilot glancing nervously at readings on the display panel that Vic could not see, and probably would not have understood if he had seen them. It would do no good mentioning it to anyone else. Things were bad enough already, and Lucy had always been a nervous flyer.

There was plenty of air traffic. Most of it was military – Chinooks, heavy transports, and fast jets that screamed across the sky. But there were also private flights, mostly
helicopters. Once they saw a distant speck in the sky spinning earthward, and watched as it struck the ground and bloomed into flame.

‘Marc, I just want to check out the map,’ Vic said. He opened Marc’s laptop and casually angled it away from Olivia and Lucy.

Marc paused for only a moment before he realised what Vic meant. ‘Click on US-map-red,’ he said, without turning around.

‘Right.’

‘For the world map, it’s world-map-red.’

Vic opened the map of North America first. The clock in the screen’s corner refreshed and started skipping forward from zero. In seconds it had passed Day One, and the spread of red dots merged and flowed like spilled paint. He tried to keep his face neutral, tried to keep the screen turned away from Olivia and Lucy’s line of vision. But his wife leaned over their daughter’s head and tilted the screen her way.

As the counter hit Day Four and clicked over a few more hours, the spread was extensive. The entire eastern seaboard was solid red, and to the west there were concentrations of colour, mainly centred around cities and the coastal regions. Looking at the screen chilled him, and when Lucy turned away without even acknowledging him he grew colder still.

‘What about France?’ Sean asked, leaning across and
tapping Vic’s knee. He had realised what Vic was looking at. Beside him Jayne stirred, also waiting for the reply.

Vic closed the window and opened the world-map-red file. It took longer for this program to load, and with the timer starting from zero again the spread of red was slower, and less detailed. The spots spread across the map like measles. North America had the greatest concentration, South America was speckled more heavily to the north, and Alaska and Russia were also infected. Europe sprouted its first spots in Britain and Spain, and they spread quickly to the south and east, appearing all across northern Europe before heading towards the Middle East. Africa developed its own blemishes. The old Eastern Bloc countries succumbed. It looked as though a child had flicked its paintbrush at the screen before taking a breath and then concentrating on colouring in certain areas more fully.

Sean clicked off his safety belt and leaned over the open screen, looking at the mass of red slowly filling out France and Britain. He remained motionless for a few seconds, then quietly sat back down and refastened his belt.

Jayne whispered something in his ear and he nodded, unable to look at her. ‘And England?’ Vic heard her say. Sean’s hard expression did not change. Vic saw their sadness and grief, and he closed the laptop and switched it off, unable to look any more.

His heart was racing and he felt sick, and even though he heard Marc’s voice hissing from the headphones around his neck, and the man was turned around in his seat, Vic could not move his hands to slip them on again. Marc saw his expression and stopped talking, and Vic was glad he did not have a mirror. His face, he knew, told it all.

Panic gripped him, and he considered what the fall would feel like. He could open the door and fall out sideways, sure that Sean would leap across and close the door before anyone else was endangered.

But his family were here.

Just before he thought he might go mad and start screaming, Lucy took his hand. He could not bear to look at her, in case that uncertainty was still in her eyes. But he took comfort from the contact, and allowed himself to calm down.

They flew on, the silence between them heavier than before, weighted with knowledge and consequence.

Half an hour later Olivia started prodding him and said that his pocket was beeping. Vic pulled out the satphone. There was a message waiting, and the name on the screen was the last he’d expected to see.

‘What?’ Lucy asked.

‘Jonah.’ He read the message. It was from just before they’d lost contact with the Welshman. He must have
sent it but it had failed to transmit, and now for some reason it had come through late. Vic sighed, because it could mean nothing. Perhaps he was about to read the old man’s final message.

And look after that family of yours, you bastard
, the message read. Vic smiled and showed it to Lucy. She pointed at the phone.

‘What?’

‘Next to Jonah’s name.’

And Vic slapped his forehead because he had been so stupid. The small green square meant that Jonah was available, the line between them live, and that
must
mean something good.

‘Marc!’ Vic said, slinging on his headset. ‘I think I might be in touch with Jonah.’ He called Jonah’s speed-dial and held the phone to his ear. Somewhere in Coldbrook a satphone might be ringing, and Vic could not help imagining what might be hearing that noise, the things passing it by.

And he could not help thinking of Jonah as one of
them
. Much as he and the old man had never really been friends, the idea of such an ignominious end for Jonah broke Vic’s heart.

The phone was answered.

‘Vic?’

‘Holly?’ he gasped, feeling a surge of emotion. ‘Jesus,
Holly
!’

‘Vic! You’re okay, you and Olivia and Lucy?’

‘We’re fine, all fine. We’re flying from Baltimore back to—’

‘What are you doing there?’

‘Long story. But you! Jonah said you went through. Did you? What happened? And where is he?’

‘Right here with me,’ Holly said. She sounded close enough to touch, and an unbidden image flashed across Vic’s mind – Holly naked in his small room down in Coldbrook, smiling contentedly, skin flushed and hair awry. He blinked hard and looked at Lucy, mouthing
Jonah’s okay
. She nodded and smiled.

‘I haven’t been able to reach him,’ he said. ‘I thought he was—’

‘What’s it like out there, Vic?’ Holly asked. He wasn’t sure how to answer. Wasn’t sure he
wanted
to.

‘It’s bad,’ he said. Across from him, Jayne averted her eyes and Sean looked out of the helicopter window. Dawn had smeared itself across the landscape, and the sun was trying to break through clouds of smoke heavy in the air. Somewhere to the south of them, a city burned. ‘And it’s spreading.’

‘How far?’

‘Everywhere,’ he said.

‘Washington? New York? What about south, how far south?’

‘Everywhere, Holly. South America. Europe. It’s . . .’
He heard her repeating this information, and even below the helicopter’s thudding rotors he heard Jonah’s voice.

‘Pass it over,’ Jonah said in the background, then he was on the line. ‘Vic. It’s good to hear you. But Europe?’

‘We think so.’

‘Where are you now?’

‘We’re airborne from Baltimore back to Cincinnati.’

‘Is Baltimore okay? What the hell were you doing there?’

‘No, it’s fucked,’ Vic said. Marc was leaning back over the seats with his hand held out, gesturing with his fingers:
Pass the phone
. ‘Jonah, Marc wants to talk,’ Vic said. ‘But you’re okay down there?’

‘Yes,’ Jonah said, but everything about the tone of his voice said
No!
‘Sitting here right now with my other.’

‘Your what?’ Vic said, confused.

‘From over there. My opposite, from through the breach. It’s seriously fucked there, too.’

‘Oh, Jesus.’ Vic stared at Jayne where she leaned against Sean. Her eyes were drooping, and her skin looked incredibly pale. It wasn’t just the early-morning light. ‘Jonah, we went to Baltimore to get someone who’s immune.’

‘Immune?’ Jonah said. Behind his voice Vic heard others, a babble of excitement. One was Holly’s; he didn’t recognise anyone else’s.

‘Here. Marc.’ Vic passed him the phone and sat back down.

‘Are we going to see Uncle Jonah?’ Olivia asked, and Vic shook his head, stroking her chin when she pouted in disappointment.

Marc talked briefly into the phone, then snapped it shut.

‘That was quick,’ Lucy said.

‘Yeah.’

‘So who was that?’ Sean asked.

‘Friends of ours,’ Vic said. He didn’t think explaining would be for the best.
We made a hole into another reality and the zombie plague came through and I let it out and now it’s spread everywhere and . . .

‘Glad they’re safe,’ Sean said.

‘Me too.’

Marc was talking to Gary, headphones pulled back so they could communicate directly. Gary was shaking his head slowly, tapping a couple of dials on the control display before him. Marc became more animated, glancing back into the cabin. He was looking at where Jayne and Sean sat with their backs to him, and Vic knew what was being discussed even before Marc addressed them.

‘Change of plan,’ Marc said.

‘We’re going to Coldbrook,’ Vic said. ‘Good idea.’

‘Hope so.’ Marc gave him a piercing glare, then turned around again.

‘Why are we going back there?’ Lucy asked. ‘I don’t want to go back. I don’t want to
see
.’

‘Not Danton Rock,’ Vic said. ‘Straight to Coldbrook.’ He didn’t want to see what had become of their home town either.