Terminal (25 page)

Elliott had been moving her fingers over the console, but now she leant towards Will. ‘You'll have to help me find it.'

Will realised then that of course she wouldn't be familiar with the world's topography – why would she, when she'd spent virtually her whole life in the Colony and the Deeps?

‘There,' Will said, pointing. ‘Close in on that area where the sun's setting.'

The whole of central Europe now filled the walls, although to the west a dark shadow was advancing across it as evening set in.

‘And now zoom in on that area …' he directed her, pointing at part of the wall, ‘… but more over to the left.'

‘Look Jürgen, there's the Ruhr!' Werner said in an excited voice. ‘And there's Cologne … and Essen, where our parents grew up. Isn't that incredible!'

It wasn't that easy to see the river and the surrounding valley itself because dusk was settling over the area, although
the various towns and cities along it were sparkling with all the many lights in them.

‘Okay, now can we go west towards England? I'd like to have another look at it,' Will said, again pointing so Elliott knew where he wanted her to move the focus. The wall flickered, then settled down as France appeared, its cities iridescent against the evening sky.

‘Now go up,' Will directed, as Elliott moved the view across the English Channel, and then stopped. ‘There it is again!' he exclaimed excitedly, then was silent for a moment. ‘But why's it so dark?'

Although nothing had appeared amiss the last time they'd seen England, it had been in daylight. The picture that greeted them now was alarmingly different. There was none of the wash of illumination you'd expect to find in London, or indeed any of the major cities in the South East.

‘That can't be right,' Will said, trying to find an explanation for the darkness. ‘Zoom in a bit closer, will you?'

Elliott did, so they could see that there were a small number of areas in the capital that were lit up, although these were few and far between. And several areas radiated a different type of light, with a red hue.

‘No. Are those fires?' Will asked, his voice thin. ‘What's going on down there?' He looked at Elliott. ‘Unless there's some sort of major power cut right across the UK, it's all gone horribly wrong.'

‘So maybe my father and Parry didn't stop the Phase and—' Elliott began.

‘And the Styx have already done
that
to England,' Will finished for her, unable to tear his eyes from the ominous darkness across London.

Elliott took her hand from the console and the image was immediately extinguished. ‘Not just them,' she said. ‘Maybe it's the Armagi.'

Grinding his fist against his palm, Will was filled with foreboding. ‘I have to find a way to get back,' he said. ‘If it's not already too late.'

In broad daylight, Drake and Jiggs stole through the disused airfield until they found the Portakabin where the security men were usually based. The door was unlocked and nobody was inside, nor was there any sign of a vehicle.

Jiggs tried the light switch, clicking it on and off. ‘No power. Somebody forgot to pay the bill,' he commented.

Drake had gone straight to the telephone on one of the desks. ‘This is dead too,' he said. As he replaced the receiver, he noticed some unfinished tea in a polystyrene cup. ‘There used to be an around-the-clock guard on this place, but there's mould growing on that drink. Appears that nobody's been here …' he pulled a face as he peered at the mould in the cup, ‘… in weeks. Wonder why that is?' For a moment Drake considered the bars of light coming through the strip blinds, where motes of dust danced slowly. ‘Anyway, the priority is to get in touch with my father or Eddie. Let's figure out the fastest way to do that without compromising ourselves.'

There in the cabin they carried out an equipment check, laying each item of kit out on the floor. The problem was many of the items that Drake had had on him or been carrying in his Bergen had been badly burnt in the nuclear blast.

‘This is totally kaput. The circuits are fried,' Drake said, lobbing his satphone over to Jiggs, who also tried to make
it work. ‘So we've got some weapons and ammo, a couple of empty booster rockets, my lens, a tracker and a couple of beacons.'

‘And my knackered shortwave radio, which won't get us anywhere,' Jiggs added, putting it on top of the pile. As he began to pack the equipment away again, Drake slumped into a chair at one of the desks.

‘We have to get to the nearest house with a phone and leave a message on the remote server,' Drake said. ‘As we have no idea where Parry's got to, it's the only way I can think of to contact him, and find out how the operation's gone up here on the surface.'

‘I agree, but unless we're lucky and find a vehicle, we're going the slow way – on foot,' Jiggs replied, swinging the Bergen onto his shoulders.

‘So be it,' Drake said, hauling himself up wearily.

Although it was still winter, the sun was shining brightly in the clear sky as they ducked through an opening in the airfield's perimeter fence and headed across a field of wild grasses towards the nearest road.

‘Warm for the time of year,' Jiggs commented, undoing another button on his shirt.

Drake tried to catch the rays on his face. ‘This is glorious. Funny how much you take for granted,' he said poignantly, allowing his eyes to shut for a moment. ‘I've probably been out in the morning sun on a thousand days precisely like this one, but this is first time I've really
felt
it.'

They pushed through a hedge and scrambled down a grass verge, finding themselves on a minor road. Their boots thudded on the tarmac as they walked as fast as Drake could
manage, neither of them remarking on the branches and debris scattered everywhere. The road shouldn't have been in such bad condition, unless there'd been recent storm winds, and neither of them could see any other evidence for this.

Drake pointed at a small wooded area. ‘That's where I hid the Range Rover when I dropped Will and the poor old Doc off.' He laughed to himself. ‘It wasn't that long ago, but it feels like a lifetime now.'

‘Hold up,' Jiggs cut in, bringing them both to a halt. ‘See the vehicle up ahead?' He unclipped the top of his holster but didn't take his handgun out.

‘Got it,' Drake said.

They advanced slowly towards the car, taking their time because it had been left at an angle right across the road, making it impossible for anything to get past.

‘Someone stopped in a hurry,' Drake noted, directing Jiggs towards the skid marks. ‘What happened here?'

But Jiggs was already by the driver's door, staring intently at it. ‘This is odd.' The door panel itself was pushed in as if it had been hit with some force from the side, and the window had been broken – pieces of it were scattered over the road. ‘The key's still in the ignition, and there's dried blood on the seat,' Jiggs said as he ducked his head inside the car.

‘Here, too, where someone's been dragged,' Drake said, as he stepped slowly away from the car, following the dark smears of blood. ‘But no sign of a body, just some personal belongings.' He picked up a wallet and mobile phone from a drainage ditch at the side of the road.

‘I don't understand,' Jiggs said, as he tried to piece together what had happened. ‘Something impacts the car – hard – then the driver is yanked out through the window?' he asked, as he
squatted to examine the pieces of torn-off cloth that had snagged on the broken edges of window, and all the blood on the exterior of the door itself.

Drake was trying the mobile to see if it was working. ‘Typical! No signal,' he said, ‘although it could be because the battery's low.' Then he flipped through the wallet he'd found. ‘The driver was local,' he began saying, but then abruptly dropped the wallet and began to sway on his feet.

Noticing something was wrong, Jiggs helped him over to the car.

‘Sorry,' Drake said. ‘Legs went on me all of a sudden.'

Jiggs was looking at him with concern, at the sheen of fresh sweat on his face and the way he was shaking as he leant against the car. ‘You'd better get in, and we'll make tracks for the nearest village,' he suggested. ‘I need to get you to a hospital.'

The car started without any problem, and they set off along the road. They hadn't been driving for more than five minutes when they went over a small humpback bridge, only to squeal to a halt because the road was blocked by a group of around twenty men. Some were wielding shotguns and small calibre rifles, while others had pickaxe handles and even pitchforks.

‘Good grief – are we about to be butchered by a lynch mob?' Jiggs said.

‘I suppose we are in Norfolk,' Drake replied.

A portly man in a tweed jacket stepped forward from the group. ‘Would you two gentlemen please step out of the car?' he asked. ‘And for all our sakes, kill that engine!'

Drake began to cough – it sounded so raw that it was painful to listen to him. Jiggs leant out of the broken window,
but left the engine running. ‘Why?' he asked. ‘And what's the story here?'

‘Turn off the engine and step outside the car, then we'll tell you,' the portly man said impatiently. As Drake continued to cough, the man glimpsed his head and all the bandages covering his burns. ‘Your friend … he doesn't look in great shape.'

‘He's not,' Jiggs said, studying the portly leader. He guessed the man must be in his sixties, while a number of others appeared even older. Then there were some young bucks in the mob who clearly liked being armed. Jiggs could tell that from how they were holding their weapons, and he immediately began to worry about twitchy trigger fingers.

‘Okay, I'm coming out,' Jiggs agreed, switching off the ignition and opening his door slowly. Then, with his assault rifle held high in one hand, he stepped out onto the road. He turned to Drake, who seemed to have recovered from his coughing fit. But as Drake emerged from behind the car door and finally raised his head, in each hand he had a Beretta pistol. Trying to ignore the pain from his wounded shoulder, Drake was aiming one pistol at the portly leader, while moving the other over the rest of the group.

‘Who are you lot?' Drake demanded. ‘Because I feel as though I've just wandered onto the set of
The Wicker Man
. And I never liked the way that film ended.'

‘Very droll,' the portly man replied. ‘We're just people from this area, trying our best to stay alive. And every second we dilly-dally here makes that less likely. So I suggest we all put our weapons away,' he ordered, casting an eye over the other men around him, who immediately complied. ‘And you should do the same,' he said to Drake. ‘Then come with me to somewhere a little less exposed than this.'

Catching Drake's eye, Jiggs gave him a nod. Drake lowered his handguns, and then, with the portly leader walking between them, they left the road, following up a slightly inclined field.

‘You two soldiers? We've had quite a few army bods through here,' the man asked, his eyes flicking from Drake to Jiggs. The man was wheezing from the exertion by the time they reached the top, and turned towards Drake. ‘And what's the matter with you? Your breathing sounds as rough as mine. Asthma?'

‘No, radiation sickness,' Drake gasped, his chest heaving as he broke into another coughing fit. It took him a moment to recover, then he asked, ‘You have to tell us what's been happening recently.' He frowned. ‘I mean, what's with all the weapons? And why aren't the mobile networks working?'

‘You really have no idea?' the man asked with astonishment.

‘Assume we know nothing,' Drake replied.

The man drew in a wheezy breath before he began to speak. ‘The TV and newspapers reported that there were terrorist attacks when it first kicked off, and then it turned into something far worse.' The man gave Drake a curious look, as if suddenly suspicious of him. ‘So you don't know how it's brought about the collapse of … of everything?' he answered, groping for the right words. ‘You two been hiding in a hole or something?' he asked.

‘You're not far wrong,' Drake told him, as the portly man waved them over to a copse of trees.

‘If you've missed out on all the fun and games while the country's gone to rack and ruin, you might want to watch this,' he said, pointing down the slope to where several of the younger men had remained with the car. They had the bonnet up, while another was playing out a cable from a drum. ‘We
reckon they're highly sensitive to the vibrations engines give off. It draws them in from miles away.'

‘Draws who?' Jiggs quickly asked.

‘The glass beasts – you'll most likely see one for yourself in a jiffy.'

‘Glass beasts?' Drake repeated in a croak.

‘We honestly don't know what they are. There's a group of them by the old airfield in West Raynham – if you drove close to it, you were damned lucky to get this far. But because you brought that car into our area, they'll not be long in turning up, and we can't have them nearby or we'll be overrun like the other villages.'