Spiral

  There was no change in the Limiter General’s deadpan expression, but he was clearly troubled by her criticism as he looked down at the loose-fitting combat jacket and trousers. “They’re New Germanian Special Forces issue,” he explained.

  “Don’t worry about it now,” she said. “But if you’re the Master Race, you’ve got to look the part. Isn’t that right, Chancellor? Isn’t that what your wonderful Third Reich believed w . . .” She fell silent as she sought out Herr Friedrich, who was standing in the midst of the delegation. He was miles away, his head craned back as he watched a lone pterodactyl riding a thermal high in the sky. “Hey, porky boy — I’m talking to you!” she barked.

  The Chancellor, the former supreme leader of the nation of New Germania, hiccupped with surprise. He, too, had had his fair share of the Dark Light, with the expected ill effects.

  “Hello?” he said, frowning at Rebecca One.

  “Oh, forget it,” she snapped. She swung to the Limiter General. “Give me an update. How’s Vane getting on?”

  The Limiter General shook his head. “She’s exceeding all expectations.” He pointed at one of the institutional buildings that lined the road, a substantial ten-story edifice of light granite. “As you know, we filled the Institute of Geology with human stock.” He panned his finger along the other, similarly imposing buildings in the row, coming closer to where he and Rebecca One were standing. “Then we did the same with the medical facility, and the universities of antiquities and prehistory. She’s worked her way through the human hosts in all of them. That’s three hundred and fifty bodies for impreg-nation and nearly double that number for sustenance —”

  “Wait!” Rebecca One broke in. “You’re telling me that she’s impregnated that many already? She’s just one woman. How can that be?”

  “Might I suggest you come and see for yourself?” the Limiter General replied. He and the rest of the delegation fell in behind Rebecca One as she stepped over the central reservation and cut straight through the queues. The people dumbly moved out of her way. One of them, an elderly man, his face bright red from exposure to the unforgiving sun, abruptly collapsed. Rebecca One hardly bothered to look at him as he lay where he fell.

  “Yes, through there,” the Limiter General said as she reached the nearest building.

  It was a huge botanical greenhouse, its facade nearly a thousand feet in length. “Kew Gardens,” Rebecca One said under her breath as she noted the similarity to the Royal Botanic Gardens she’d driven past with Vane no more than a fortnight before.

  The Limiter General held the door of the greenhouse open for her, indicating the stairs just inside. She mounted the cast-iron steps, then she passed through another door and out onto a walkway spanning the entire width of the building. From the abundance of different trees, shrubs, and flowers that Rebecca One could see below, New Germanian botanists had obviously been collecting specimens from the jungle and propagating them here.

  The Limiter General and the Styx soldiers, two of whom had the Chancellor hoisted between them, held back as she moved to the middle of the walkway. There she peered down one side and then the other. Through the foliage, she could see the numerous human bodies lying in the soil, already monstrously bloated by the Warrior larvae growing inside them.

  “Outstanding,” Rebecca One said. “But how’s she managing to impregnate so . . .” She trailed off as she noticed that one of the bodies had already ruptured and young larvae were crawling in the rich peat of a planting bed. “I don’t believe it! It took almost a week for them to hatch Topsoil. But this has taken . . . what?”

  “Twenty-four hours,” the Limiter General answered.

  Rebecca One was silent for a moment. “But how can the life cycle have accelerated to that extent?”

  “We can only think that Danforth’s pronouncement about the conditions down here was right. Perhaps the environment — the proximity to the sun and the high UV levels — acts to stimulate the process,” the Limiter General said.

  “Even so . . . how can one woman be physically able to do this?” Rebecca One asked. “It’s off the scale.”

  The Chancellor was also peering over the side of the walkway. Some part of his mind that had survived the Darklighting was registering the carnage below — that his people were dying in the most horrible way. He began to sob.

  “Oh, do stop that!” Rebecca One reprimanded him. She returned her attention to the scene below. “Where is she?” she asked herself. Then she shouted, “Vane! Are you there?”

  At this the Limiter General and his men drew back. The last thing they wanted was to attract the attention of the Styx woman. They’d already witnessed the unfortunate deaths of their comrades as she’d been conveyed from one building to another.

  There was a rustling, and a head popped up between two date palms. Vane’s blond hair was matted with gore, sweat, and the fluid slopping from her mouth. No change there. But the aspect that made Rebecca One’s eyes widen was that instead of the single ovipositor, Vane now had an additional two of them swinging from her mouth. And her abdomen was hugely extended as her reproductive system continued to operate in overdrive to churn out new egg pods.

  Vane gave Rebecca One an enthusiastic thumbs-up, then rubbed her belly proudly.

  “Go for it, sister! You’re breaking all the records!” Rebecca One congratulated her.

  The Chancellor was still sobbing, even louder than ever.

  “Oh, Christ, you big baby,” Rebecca One groaned. “Just chuck him over, will you?” she ordered the Limiters. “Juicy fat treat on the way!” she called down to Vane.

  Vane again gave the thumbs-up, then there was a thrashing of the undergrowth as she began to move at speed.

  The Limiters hiked the man over the balustrade of the walkway, his arms and legs flailing for the short distance down. His fall was cushioned by the soil in the planting bed, so he wasn’t badly injured when he hit the ground; he sat up and looked around himself dazedly.

  “Check him out!” Rebecca One shouted to Vane. “Enjoy!”

  The explosion was so loud that several of them cried out. And the tremor so powerful that their teeth rattled and their vision blurred.

  Then the concussive wave swept into the Hub. Will’s ears popped. There was a sudden crash as if something large had struck the door from outside.

  Saucepans clattered down from the shelves above. As a crack opened up across the ceiling, sprinkling dust on their heads, the caterwauling from the wicker baskets reached fever pitch.

  Stephanie began to cry softly to herself while Sergeant Finch recited the Lord’s Prayer in broken sentences. Will couldn’t help but notice that Chester, his head still down, was trembling violently — the explosion was obviously bringing back unwanted memories of his parents’ death. Elliott had noticed, too, and was holding Chester tight.

  As the blast subsided, there was a low groaning sound.

  “I hope that’s not the roof of Level 2,” Parry whispered.

  Then, except for the confused calls of Sergeant Finch’s cats, all was quiet.

  Drake stood up, brushing the dust from his head. “Bring lights and fire extinguishers,” he said.

  The Colonel picked up Sergeant Finch, and Drake pushed the door open. The Hub didn’t look any different, but as they went down the stairs and out into Level 2, there wasn’t much left standing — nearly all the interior walls close to the stairs had been blown away.

  Drake and Parry were checking the roof immediately above them as they advanced farther into the level, but the dense dust and smoke prevented them from seeing very far ahead. They all covered their noses and mouths with scarves and pressed forward, negotiating the rubble strewn over the ground. Eddie and Sweeney were blasting away with the extinguishers at small fires in their path.

  As they made their way around a bath thrown on its side, the smoke cleared a little and Will caught sight of a chair. It was still the right way up, but every part of it was ablaze.

  Holding up his
fist, Drake came to a stop. He unwound his scarf. “Feel that?” he shouted.

  And they all did.

  The air on their sweat-drenched skin felt cold. A breeze was coming from somewhere.

  Filled with hope, they ventured farther into the floor, where the corridor had previously been. In one place their way was blocked by debris, but Drake and Sweeney heaved aside a partition wall, enabling them to proceed farther.

  The fires were more numerous as they came closer to the end of the floor. They were using the extinguishers and kicking pieces of burning timber out of the way, when Drake yelled a warning and they all hastily retreated.

  There was a crash as a whole section of the ceiling not ten feet in front of them simply dropped to the floor.

  They waited, but as the rest of the ceiling seemed to be holding in place, Drake waved them on again.

  They came to where the rooms packed with explosive had been. As they stepped around a large hole in the concrete floor, through which the level below was visible, they were all far too preoccupied to notice what lay ahead.

  But Drake had sped up. As he led the group, he’d been the first to spot the jagged breach in the Complex’s outer wall.

  Then they all saw it, and clambered through behind him.

  There were shouts of joy when, within a short distance, their feet ground not on shattered concrete but on the rocky ledge they’d seen in the cross-section plans on Drake’s laptop. They were high up on the side of the mountain, experiencing something that they hadn’t known for weeks.

  There was a huge open space above them.

  The night sky.

  “Stars!” Will yelled. “We bloody did it!”

  The Colonel was jumping up and down with Sergeant Finch still on his back, and they were both cheering.

  “Oh, yes! Fresh air!” Stephanie cried. “And snow!” she added as she held out her hand to catch the flakes.

  Everyone was hugging everyone else. Will grabbed his mother and squeezed her hard. It had been a long time since he’d done that and it felt a little strange. But he was quite unprepared for what happened next as Stephanie suddenly appeared before him and gave him a kiss on the lips.

  “Oi!” Will laughed.

  As Colly scampered madly around, Will saw that Drake and Parry were already at the end of the ledge, where they were pointing at the tiny points of light from a distant village.

  Chester hadn’t moved very far from the jagged opening in the mountain. He tried to say something to Will, but a sudden gust of wind snatched his breath away.

  “What was that?” Will shouted, but Chester averted his face as a flurry of snow fell in his eyes. He began to shake uncontrollably, although it wasn’t from the cold. Now that they’d escaped from their airless tomb in the mountain and were out of immediate danger, the stark reality of his parents’ death was finally coming home to him.

  He was gibbering to himself as his legs buckled. Elliott had already begun to move toward him and was able to catch him before he hit the ground. Mrs. Burrows was also at the boy’s side, helping to support him.

  Parry had been watching as Chester collapsed. “That snake Danforth is going to pay very dearly for his actions,” he promised in a growl.

  “First things first. We need some transport,” Drake said. “If it’s true that we haven’t yet neutralized the Phase, we’ve lost valuable time. The key thing now is that we cover all the bases.”

  Parry was looking at his son, waiting for him to continue.

  “We’ll split into two groups, one to conduct a search up here on the surface,” Drake suggested.

  “I’ll coordinate that,” Parry said. “I’ll call on the Old Guard again.”

  “And I’ll lead the second group to the inner world. We can’t take the risk that Danforth was spinning us a line about the Phase resuming there.” Drake abruptly wheeled to his father as he thought of something. “Those TNDs,” he said. “How many did you say there were?”

  “I didn’t,” Parry replied. “There are twenty in total, starting with a couple at one kiloton up to the largest, which used to be known in intelligence circles as the Party Stopper — a single fifty-megaton device.”

  “That’s way too much — a pair of the one-kilotons will be sufficient for what I have in mind. But I need a fast way to get them down to the Colony. From there I can take them on to your world, Colonel.”

  Colonel Bismarck had come over to listen, and his distress was evident as he nearly let Sergeant Finch slide from his back. “You intend to destroy it?” he asked.

  “Nothing that extreme,” Drake told him. “I just want to seal the two ways in that we know about.”

  “Gott sei Dank!” the Colonel exclaimed, looking at the ground.

  “Unless I’m left with no alternative,” Drake said, which made the Colonel’s head jerk up. “But time’s short and I need a really quick route down,” Drake continued, directing the request at Eddie.

  The former Limiter shrugged. “There are any number of ways down to the Colony. You can take your pick.”

  “We’ve got all the muscle we need,” Drake said, glancing briefly at Sweeney before he addressed Eddie again. “But I really don’t fancy lugging a pair of even the mini nukes down your usual convoluted routes. And, of course, the Norfolk river route is out of the question — there are just too many of us with too much equipment to risk shooting the rapids. No, something with an elevator would be perfect,” he joked.

  Will’s ears perked up. “I think I might be able to help there,” he said.

  “HELLO," THE YOUNG woman said, as she answered the door.

  “Mornin’,” Drake replied. He took a laminated card from the chest pocket of his blue overalls and passed it to her. “I’m afraid there’s a major gas leak in your house. We’re the instant response team sent to locate it.”

  “A gas leak . . . I haven’t reported one,” she said, shaking her head. She pushed the laminated card back at Drake. “There’s no leak here, I can assure you. I’m surprised you people are still working — everybody seems to be on strike these days.” Her brow suddenly creased with annoyance. “Look, this isn’t a convenient time for me right now — I have to leave shortly to collect my son from my mother’s. Can’t you come back anoth —”

  “Madam, I don’t want to appear impolite, but our grid sensors flagged this problem overnight. And they’re rarely wrong about these things.” Drake planted his toolbox on the ground by his feet as if he hadn’t the slightest intention of leaving. “If you don’t allow us in to make our report, then we’ll have to close down the supply to this whole street and several others on the same grid. Then I’ll be back in an hour with a court order forcing you to allow us access.” He hugged himself, shivering a little. “You won’t be popular with the neighbors if there’s no gas for their central heating, particularly with this cold weather.”

  The woman immediately took a step back as if she’d decided to let Drake in, then looked curiously at Mrs. Burrows beside him, who was sniffing the air. “Do you both need to come in? Only I’m not comfortable w —”

  “We do, I’m afraid,” Drake replied. “I have my electronic sniffer in here,” he said, nudging the toolbox, “but there’s nothing like the human touch. My assistant, Celia here, is what we in the gas trade call a Nose. She’s a trained detector.”

  “Really?” The young woman inclined her head as if she was about to question this, then seemed to accept it and pulled the door fully open.

  “OK, Celia, tell me what we’re looking at here,” Drake said as they entered the hallway.

  Celia stuck her nose in the air. “The kitchen’s there,” she said, turning toward the closed door on her left. “But it’s clean.”

  “Clean?” the young woman said, sounding slightly offended.

  “What Celia means is that the boiler’s functioning properly and the problem’s not in there,” Drake explained.

  “The sitting room is to the right,” Celia continued. “There’s a gas fir
e in the hearth, but it hasn’t been used for at least a year. It’s one of the older models with a ceramic grille, and faux wood panels at either end.”

  “That’s right!” the young woman burst out. “My husband says it’s too expensive to use it, and we’ve got to get a replacement. But how do you know what it looks like?”

  “She’s one of the best Noses in the country,” Drake said. “You see — she’s only just getting into her stride.”

  Celia flicked her shifting eyes to the top of the staircase. “Airing cupboard at the back of the landing, with a lagged cylinder,” she went on. “Three bedrooms — the main with two radiators, and two smaller bedrooms each with a single radiator.”

  “Right again,” the young woman gasped.

  “And . . . ,” Celia began, then stopped. Drake moved aside as she went to a narrow set of drawers up against the wall, on top of which were several pairs of gloves and a child’s hat. Celia got down on one knee and felt underneath. She pulled something out, barely glancing at it as she passed it to the young woman, who took it gingerly. “. . . the remains of a rusk,” Mrs. Burrows finished. “Nothing to worry about — the bread dried out a long time ago, when your son threw it there, but it smells of mouse. One came in from the garden and had a nibble, and you don’t want to encourage that.”

  “No, I don’t,” the woman said emphatically, as she held the rock-hard piece of rusk between her thumb and forefinger to examine it. “Yes, you’re absolutely right. There are small nibbles here at the end.” She looked at Mrs. Burrows with renewed fascination. “You’re like a circus act or something!” The young woman straightaway realized that this might have been rather insulting to Mrs. Burrows, and began to apologize.

  Drake held up his hand. “Don’t worry — we get it all the time. A lot of people react the same way you have,” he assured her.

  Mrs. Burrows’s brows formed a deep V. “The real problem is in the cellar,” she said, pointing at the door. “And it’s a Category One. It’s critical.”