Contact (20 page)

It was some kind of database. Underneath each photo was the person's name and age, and the same three words in green letters:

Genetic suitability confirmed.

‘Genetic suitability?' I said. ‘For
what?
'

Luke stopped at his own photo. It was the same one that had been sent around with the email from Dr Galton. He clicked the photo and a new page came up with a more detailed profile and a stack of links to even more stuff: academic documents, medical records, police history …

‘They knew who we were,' he murmured.

‘Huh?'

‘All this information,' said Luke, clicking back to the screen with all the photos. ‘You don't just put something like this together overnight. They
knew
we were going to come here.'

‘Course they did,' I said. ‘Only reason any of us are here is because the Co-operative offered jobs to our parents.'

‘Obviously. But why us?' Luke waved a hand at the screen. ‘Why
these
two thousand people?'

‘Probably our
genetic suitability,
' said Jordan. ‘Whatever that's supposed to mean.' She turned away from the computer. ‘We should find that communications centre.'

Luke jumped straight up, like he couldn't believe he was wasting time on photos.

We spread out across the room again.

‘Just gonna head up the back,' I said. ‘See if any of those little side offices –'

I caught a glimpse of something moving and bit my tongue.

It was coming from one of the offices across the room. Something was sending a flickering red glow out from under the door.

Luke followed my gaze across the room and mouthed,
is there someone in there?

‘No, they would've heard us by now and come out,' said Jordan.

Or maybe they're just waiting for us to come to them,
I thought, but my feet were already carrying me across to the glowing door. The others followed, a couple of steps behind.

And then I was close enough to make out the sign on the door. Two words stamped into the wood in neat silver letters.

External Communications.

I felt my breath catch in my throat. I pulled up short, stopping at the end of a narrow aisle between two rows of computers. Jordan leant in close behind me, peering over my shoulder.

‘C'mon,' she said, giving me a shove. ‘Get moving.'

The touch sent a shiver up my spine. I rolled my shoulders and nodded.

‘Yeah,' I said. Then, more confidently, ‘Yeah. We're doing this.'

This was it.

Time to end this nightmare.

Time to hand it all over to someone who could actually do something about it.

I closed the gap to the door, shoved it open, and stepped inside.

Chapter 27

T
HURSDAY
, J
UNE
4
70
DAYS

The room was tiny.

Nothing inside but a desk, two chairs, and a flat-screen computer monitor with cords running into a hole in the wall. A slowly spinning Shackleton Cooperative logo lit up the screen, which explained the glow I'd seen through the blinds.

There was no keyboard or mouse. I pulled one of the chairs aside and reached across to tap at the monitor. The screensaver flashed off and a message appeared on the screen.

System Ready.

I tapped the monitor again.

Nothing changed.

‘What do we do?' Luke asked, reaching for the screen like it would work if
he
touched it.

‘We stop asking stupid questions and let me think about it,' I muttered. I knocked his hand out of the way and stood up to examine the monitor.

It took me way longer to figure it out than it should have. My mind was still echoing with gunshots and screaming, and Luke's heavy breathing made me want to lean back and smash his head into the wall.

But I got there eventually. There was a dock at the top of the monitor.

I jumped back from the table, head almost smacking Luke in the teeth, and dropped down to the floor, yanking at the leg of my jeans. I stood back up again, phone in hand.

There was tiny
thunk
as I plugged the phone down into the dock.

A long, continuous warbling blasted from the speakers on either side of the monitor, filling up the room.

A dial tone. I barely even recognised it.

The screen flashed again, revealing a telephone keypad.

‘Yes!' I grinned. ‘All right, who do we –?'

But before I could even get the question out, Luke had shoved me aside and was tapping in a number. The dial tone stopped and the speakers bleeped and blooped with each button he pressed.

No need to ask who he was calling.

I jumped as a hand wrapped around my shoulder. Jordan.

Doing what? Thanking me?

Luke hit the last couple of numbers, and the phone began to ring.

Ring.

Stop.

Ring.

Stop.

I counted them off in my head.

Three … Four … Five …

Jordan's hand weighed heavily on my shoulder.

Each ring seemed to last for about a thousand years.

Six … Seven … Eight … N –

There was a click and the ringing stopped.

Silence.

‘Hello …?' Luke breathed, leaning right over the screen.

More silence.

And then a warbled, distorted voice.

‘Luke?'

The expression that washed across Luke's face was beyond words. For a minute, it was as though the whole carnival of horrors we'd been through tonight had never happened.

‘Luke?' the voice said again. ‘You there, mate?'

‘Dad!' Luke croaked. ‘Yeah. Yeah, I'm here.'

‘Luke! Are you all right? I've been trying to call you, but –'

‘Yeah, me too,' said Luke, tears starting to roll. ‘But it's not – They've cut the phone lines.'

‘Who has?' asked Luke's dad, concern darkening his voice. ‘What's going on out there?'

‘It's the Shackleton Co-operative. They're –'

‘Your mum's company?'

‘Yeah,' said Luke, threatening to lose it completely, but looking determined to hold it together until the words were out. ‘I'm in trouble, Dad. We all are. We need your help.'

‘Anything, mate. Tell me where you are and I'll –'

‘I can't. I don't know where we are. Phoenix isn't – We're out in the desert or something. They're holding us prisoner out here.'

Silence from the other end. Jordan's fingernails dug into my shoulder.

‘Dad, please,' said Luke urgently, ‘I know it sounds crazy, but I swear –'

‘No, Luke, I believe you,' his dad cut in.

Luke breathed out, shoulders relaxing very slightly.

There was a ragged sigh from the other end of the line. ‘What about Mum?' his dad asked. ‘Is she okay?'

Luke hesitated. I could see him ticking the question over.

‘Yeah, Mum's fine,' he said after a pause. ‘We're all fine. But Dad, listen, there's more. They've got some kind of – I don't know, like a biological weapon or something. They're going to release it into the –'

The monitor flashed off.

‘Dad …?' said Luke.

He tapped at the screen a couple of times. Nothing happened.

‘Dad!' Luke hammered at the monitor with both hands. ‘No, please…'

‘My apologies, children,' said a voice from behind us. ‘I'm afraid we're going to have to end the conversation there.'

I whipped around.

Standing in the doorway, dressed in his usual suit and tie, was Mr Shackleton.

Chapter 28

T
HURSDAY
, J
UNE
4
70
DAYS

Noah Shackleton.

The man behind the freak show. The man who wanted to put seven billion people through the same torturous, flesh-boiling death that we'd watched Craig and Laura suffer on Crazy Bill's DVD. And Calvin was right behind him.

Shackleton stood there, hands folded neatly in front of him, looking completely unfazed by the sight of Luke using his communications equipment.

Smiling.

It wasn't the cold, dangerous smile that Calvin was giving us over Shackleton's shoulder, or the fake, dopey, pasted-on smile that we were always getting from Pryor. This was a polite, genuine, old-man smile. Almost like he was happy to see us. And somehow that was creepier than anything else.

Calvin stepped forward. He drew his gun and levelled it at the three of us.

‘No! Please!' I said desperately, holding my hands up in front of me, like that was going to stop a bullet. ‘Wait! Let's – Let's just –'

‘Out,' Calvin boomed.

Shackleton stood aside to let us past, stretching a hand out into the main office like he was inviting us in for a cup of tea.

Calvin pointed to a door marked ‘Conference Room'. He marched us inside, grunting along on his crutch, which – I noticed for the first time – he barely seemed to need anymore, never lowering his gun for a second.

The fear was incredible. All consuming.

I tried to dream up an escape, imagined myself whirling around, grabbing Calvin's gun out of his hand, and turning it on him. And then I imagined how that scene would
actually
play out; me on the floor with a bullet in my head.

My feet lurched forward, one after the other, like a lizard's tail that keeps moving even after it's ripped off the body.

Into the conference room. Giant windows overlooking the town. Long wooden meeting table. Nine leather chairs. Computers. Data projector flashing a Co-operative logo onto the wall.

Nothing useful.

There were no two ways about it this time. We were dead.

‘Please,' said Shackleton, coming in behind us, ‘take a seat.'

We did as we were told, pulling out the closest three chairs and sitting down at the table.

‘Sir,' said Calvin impatiently, standing right behind me, ‘can we just get on with this?'

‘Now, now,' said Shackleton, taking his seat at the head of the table. ‘Patience, Bruce. We're not in any hurry, are we?'

‘No, sir,' Calvin said. But he didn't sit down or holster his gun.

Shackleton clasped his hands together on the table and leant towards us.

Jordan was closest to him. I reached over to squeeze her hand under the table. She squeezed back and I thought that even if I was going to die tonight, at least that was something.

‘I'm afraid we have a slight problem,' said Shackleton. He paused, as though expecting us to respond. When none of us did, he said, ‘From what I heard of your telephone conversation, it appears that you three have discovered the true nature of the work we're undertaking here in Phoenix.'

‘Slaughtering billions of people?' Jordan snapped. ‘That work, you mean?'

‘Yes, that,' said Shackleton, as though we were discussing the weather. ‘As you can imagine, this information is not something we can afford to have getting out into the public sphere. Not for a couple of months, in any case.'

He leant back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling for a moment as though turning something over in his head.

‘Of course, we can quite easily trace the location of the man you were just speaking to,' he said, leaning forward again. ‘So, within a few hours, he will no longer pose a problem to us.'

‘No!' Luke shouted. ‘Mr Shackleton, please, you can't!'

‘I think you'll find I can,' said Shackleton casually. ‘Which means that the only question remaining is what to do with the three of you.'

‘Just do it, then,' said Jordan. ‘If you're going to kill us, drop the theatrics and get it over with.'

I almost broke her fingers under the table.

‘Yes,' said Shackleton, nodding slowly, ‘that is starting to seem like the best way forward, isn't it?'

He sounded so offhand. Like he could've gone either way. Deciding to end our lives with about as much thought as he would put into deciding what to have for lunch.

‘You're insane!' I said, rolling back in my chair.

‘Easy,' said Calvin, stopping the chair with his hand and bringing his weapon around again.

‘Do you think so?' said Shackleton. ‘Your father said the same thing, and he doesn't know the half of what you children have uncovered. Then again, I suppose such accusations are the price one pays for trying to bring about a better world.'

Jordan actually laughed. ‘Seven billion people dead. That's your better world?'

‘Oh, I agree, that part is quite regrettable,' said Shackleton. ‘But I'm afraid it's necessary.'

‘Necessary for
what?
' Jordan shouted. ‘What could possibly justify that kind of evil?'

Shackleton let the question hang in the air for a minute.

‘
Is
it evil?' he asked. ‘Is it not humanity's prerogative to determine
for itself
what is evil and what is necessary or good?'

‘You think
this
is what humanity wants?' spat Jordan.

I put my head down on the table.

This was not the ideal time to be getting into an argument.

‘Perhaps not yet,' Shackleton conceded. ‘However, in seventy days, there will be a
new
humanity. And it is my hope that they will see things quite differently.'

‘Sir,' said Calvin, finally running out of patience, ‘enough of this. Let me take care of them.'

My head snapped back up again.

Shackleton glanced at Calvin, brow creasing in frustration. He was enjoying the conversation and clearly didn't appreciate being interrupted.

But eventually, he breathed another sigh and stood up from the table.

‘Yes, very well,' he said. ‘But do it over in the corner. You know what a nightmare it is getting stains out of these chairs.'

Calvin grabbed hold of my seat again and spun it around. ‘On your feet.'