The Night of the Triffids

  I stopped in my tracks. 'Kerris?' I said in disbelief.

  The rifle was lowered to reveal a surprised face. 'David Masen? It's about goddamn time.'

  CHAPTER FORTY THREE

  HIATUS

  I just stood and stared at Kerris's face. Until that moment I'd found it hard to believe that I'd ever set eyes on her again.

  She smiled. 'I was beginning to think you were never going to get here.'

  'As trips go, it was a little on the eventful side,' I managed to say.

  A moment later Gabriel walked up. 'You'd better finish off that embrace inside,' he told us with a tired smile. 'We might have company at any minute.'

  We moved deeper into the corridor. Two Guardsmen lay dead along the walls. From a side door burst Christina. 'David! David!' She lunged at me and hugged me hard enough to remind me about the state of my arm. But despite the lively waves of pains ebbing and flowing across my forearm, I gave her a delighted hug. 'Hey, it's good to see you again… you've not been harmed at all?'

  Christina's face shone with excitement. Then, in a surprisingly articulate manner, she said, 'Kerris made us a war up here! She shot the bad men. Then built the wall. Then we sat waiting for you…' She gave me a sudden scolding look. 'But you took ages and ages to get here, slowcoach.'

  I smiled. 'Well, I'm here now.' I looked at Sam. 'All we have to do now is figure out how to get everyone away from here.'

  Sam touched his jaw thoughtfully. He looked surprised when he saw the blood on his fingertips. 'I guess we can't go anywhere in a hurry. What strikes me, however, is that at some point those elevator doors will open. Then either Torrence's men or our own people will come out. So until then I better make sure there's a guard on the barrier.'

  He went to have a word with the Marine, who took up a position behind an upturned table with his machine gun.

  Meanwhile, Marni stepped forward. Kerris started when she saw her. Both women looked searchingly at each other. As if unconscious or the action Kerris ran a finger across her face, following the same line as Marni's scar. It was the action of someone looking at their reflection in the mirror.

  'You're my sister, aren't you?' whispered Kerris.

  'Marni can't speak,' I said and told Kerrrs briefly what I knew of her background.

  Kerris nodded. She seemed stunned by the sight of the woman who stood in front of her. 'Long ago I did wonder if I had a twin. After all, I have plenty of brothers and sisters, and some of those were sets of twins. But we must have been separated at birth. Just look at her eyes. They're identical to mine… only her poor face… I'd like to get my hands on the rats who did that to her.'

  'It looks like you've already made a start.' I nodded at the dead Guardsmen.

  Kerris told me what had happened. She'd been staying with Christina when the attack alarm had sounded. There had followed some garbled telephone calls from the ground floor saying that what amounted to a battle was being fought down there. Guardsmen holding the ninetieth floor had told Kerris that she and Christina were being moved to another part of Manhattan. Clearly if that happened Sam and his men would then have the problem of finding the two women all over again. Kerris, therefore, had decided that the time for action had come. She knew that the Foresters had managed to infiltrate three operatives into the nursing staff stationed on the floor. So, arming themselves from a hidden cache of weapons, they had shot dead two of the Guardsmen, then managed to barricade the entrance to the corridor. More Guardsmen had made it to this floor where they built a second barricade. The ace that Kerris held - and she knew it - was that the Guardsmen wouldn't risk injuring Christina and the precious egg cells that she carried in her ovaries by trying to shoot their way in.

  In turn, I told her that the battle downstairs had been further complicated by an influx of triffids onto the streets.

  For a while an uncanny silence settled over the ninetieth floor. It was neither stormed by Torrence's men nor relieved by ours. No telephones rang. The electric lights burned steadily. Beyond the windows a blood-red sun settled on the horizon. We busied ourselves checking weapons and dressing our wounds. Fortunately none of us had suffered any serious injury. Probably the worst hit was Gabriel. A bullet had smashed through his calf. Nevertheless, he continued to hop round with the aid of a broom, the brush part tucked below his arm in a fair imitation of Long John Silver.

  I joined Kerris at the window.

  'Can you see anything?'

  'We're too high. From up here everything looks perfectly normal.'

  She nodded out across the island to where the Hudson River gleamed red-gold in the sunset. 'Beautiful, isn't it?' Wistfully she added, 'It could be something out of Paradise. I once went on a fishing trip upriver. You could see what remained of all the millionaires' mansions on the hillsides, and just for a minute you could imagine what they were like before everything went wrong. In my mind's eye I could see children playing in swimming pools and moms and dads reading in deckchairs or cooking sizzling steaks on barbecues…' She shook her head sadly. 'Do you think those days will come again?'

  'In some parts of the world they already have,' I told her. 'Back home we still have Bonfire Night. We build big fires outside, fire off skyrockets, and bake potatoes. Children love it. Adults, too.' I smiled. 'But all the adults seem to wake up with hangovers the next morning.'

  'Bonfire Night? What's that?'

  'An old pagan custom.' I felt a grin breaking across my face. 'Probably linked to some fertility rite or other. We burn effigies of a man called Guy Fawkes on the fire, too.'

  'What a curious people you British are.' She wrinkled her nose, amused. 'And to think I went and did something as ridiculous as fall in love with one.'

  I kissed her. 'If we're going to do this thing properly,' I told her, 'you must come home and meet my family.'

  She looked round the office where we were perched hundreds of feet in the sky. 'When we get out of here, the pleasure will be all mine. Then, to comply with those other Old World conventions, we'll get married too, won't we?'

  I smiled. 'Why not?'

  And just for a moment I felt suspended in a bubble of happiness… one as wonderful as it was incongruous.

  ***

  Perhaps as some kind of natural antidote to that precarious time high in the skyscraper people busied themselves with trivial distractions - brewing fresh jugs of coffee, playing cards for matchsticks. Later I found Sam Dymes sitting on a desk, jotting notes on a pad.

  He glanced up, noticing my bandaged head. 'Say, David, how's the ear?'

  'The bit that's still attached to my head stings like crazy.' I gave a tired smile. 'As for the other chunk that's lying somewhere down the corridor, it doesn't hurt one bit.'

  Sam chuckled. 'I guess that's what you English call gallows humour. Coffee?' He poured the steaming liquid into a paper cup. 'Torrence certainly doesn't stint on quality.'

  'Thanks.' I took the cup. 'How's the arm?'

  He raised the arm in its sling a little. 'Oh, fine, fine. Just nicked me in the crook of the elbow.' In that characteristic way of his Sam suddenly changed conversational tack. 'You know, a funny thing happened to me in the middle of all that fighting. Of all things, the answer to an engineering problem that had been bothering me for months suddenly popped into my mind. There I am, firing at living human beings and I suddenly say to myself, "Sam Dymes, why don't you run the rail track to the north of the lake, not the south, because…" Oh, you don't know what on Earth I'm talking about, do you?' His speech speeded up as he became enthused. 'Before my military service I was a railway engineer, and I will be again when my tour of duty is over - God willing. You see, I'd got this thorny, even downright bamboozling problem of running a railway line from a new harbour on a lake to town. Only there were all these hills and crags and dirty great ravines in the way… bothered the hell out of me. Whatever I planned it never worked out right. Then, as we came storming up that corridor, guns blazing, grenades booming away like the coming of the apocalypse, I sud
denly said to myself: "Sam, why don't you run the rail track to the north of the lake… You'll save miles of track and months of labour…" Now, David, that strikes me as a mighty peculiar time to have such an idea, right bang in the middle of a blood-and-guts battle, huh? So now I'm taking a few minutes to write it down so I don't forget.'

  Sam talked on for a while. I realized that, like Kerris and I making dreamy plans for the future, the gangling engineer had found a temporary refuge in his vision of a new railway line.

  I glanced round. Marni and Christina had found an instant rapport. Smiling, they communicated with an impromptu sign language that both appeared to understand. The Marine chatted to female lab technicians who'd been part of the undercover team. Kerris still gazed out of the window. Now night had fallen. Lights burned steadily from neighbouring buildings.

  Only Gabriel Deeds sat on the barricade. He watched the elevator doors with brooding eyes. Beside him stood a heavy machine gun that he'd taken from a dead Guardsman. I knew he was waiting for the moment when Torrence's men would rush from the elevators.

  ***

  The elevators, despite Gabriel's state of readiness, remained resolutely inactive for the rest of the night. We slept in shifts. Sam, Gabriel and I took it in turns to keep a watch on the elevator and the corridor that led to the stairs. In the morning we made a breakfast from food still in the canteen. Sam made sure that drink and food reached our captives in the storeroom.

  As I took my turn on guard at the barricade Sam ambled along, a cup of coffee in his hand. After gazing for a moment at the silent elevators he rubbed his now-stubbled jaw. 'You know,' he said, 'I'm beginning to take the view that our people didn't succeed in capturing the building. They'd have contacted us by now, surely.'

  'But then, we haven't heard from Torrence's men, either.'

  'That's true… that's very true.' Thoughtfully he ran his finger along the bridge of his nose. 'But we do hold what Torrence now considers his most valuable assets.'

  'Christina.'

  'And yourself, don't forget. You, David, are Torrence's key to the Isle of Wight and that machine of yours that turns triffid sap into gasoline. Both are of huge value to him. And both, if they were in his hands, would enable him to continue building his empire until…' Sam stretched out his arms as if encompassing the whole globe. 'Well… I don't think Torrence has set a limit on his ambitions, do you?'

  'So you think it's unlikely that Torrence will send his Guardsmen in here firing off machine guns and hurling grenades?'

  'Not yet.'

  'So it's a case of sit tight and see what he does first.'

  'Or do you think we should take the war to him?'

  I shrugged. 'I'm just uneasy about giving him time to cook up some plan.'

  'But sitting up here on the ninetieth floor leaves us with no place to go.'

  'I agree. Maybe we should consider trying to find out what's happening on the ground. After all, there is a third possibility.'

  'And that is?'

  'That maybe Torrence has lost the battle too. What if the triffids have taken control of the place?'

  'I guess you might be right about that.' He pondered. 'Mmm. You know, I think I'll ask Gabe if he'll take a little walk downstairs - if his leg's up to it.'

  Gabriel Deeds was keen for some action. He snatched up the machine gun.

  'No heroics, Gabe,' Sam told him. 'Just see if you can find out what's happening down there, then get back here as fast you can. OK?'

  'OK.' He picked up a couple of grenades in one huge hand. 'But I might lay a couple of these eggs on the way.'

  I followed Gabriel to the stairwell. He still limped along, using the broom as a crutch, but he wasn't going to let a little thing like a bullet wound slow him down. Reaching the stairs, he took the first step down. Quickly I stopped him descending further, then put my finger to my lips, because faintly, hardly more than a faint echo, I'd heard a stealthy footstep.

  I eased back the hammer of my revolver. Then, leaning forward a little, I called down the stairwell, 'Sacramento!'

  My voice went echoing downward. There followed a long pause.

  I called again, 'Sacramento!'

  Then came an echoing answer: 'California!'

  My shot in answer to that went ricocheting down the stairwell.

  Clearly Gabriel wouldn't be making his descent along that route. For the next ten minutes he and I hauled desks from a nearby office before shoving them down the stairs. By the time we'd finished anyone making a dash up the steps would have to climb over a messy tangle of furniture. Of course, that left the staircase ascending to the next level. I noticed that a gate could be drawn fully across it. Without a padlock we made do with lengths of electric-light flex, until the gate was firmly tied in place. I added the finishing touch with a hand grenade taped to a table leg, the pin attached by a cord to the gate. Anyone managing to open the gate would encounter a rather nasty as well as a very noisy surprise.

  We reported back to Sam.

  'I guess now we know,' he said in a low voice. 'Torrence must have beaten our people. His Guardsmen are in charge of the building.'

  It wasn't long after that that a telephone rang. Sam looked at it for a moment, then commented, 'I guess someone wants to parley.'

  That someone was Torrence himself. He confirmed that his men held the building. That the triffid invasion had been thwarted and that his cohorts had their tight grip on the throat of Manhattan once more. He demanded our immediate and unconditional surrender.

  Sam suggested that Torrence might like to take a trip to hell. Then he put the phone down.

  When Torrence rang back again he (through gritted teeth, I imagine) offered more moderate terms. A safe passage out of New York in return for Christina Schofield. Magnanimously, he even said that I could walk free too.

  Sam said he'd think about it. Then he put the phone down again.

  'Of course I don't trust the guy one inch,' Sam told us. 'He'll double-cross us the moment we walk out of here.'

  'That doesn't give us a lot of options,' Gabriel said. 'So what now?'

  'Well, how I see it, we either sit tight, safe in the knowledge that he wouldn't dare risk injuring Christina in an all-out attack. Or we surrender. Or we find some alternative way out of this place.' His blue eyes were grave as he looked at each of us each in turn. 'So, ladies and gentlemen… do you have any ideas?'

  CHAPTER FORTY FOUR

  IN THE COUNTRY OF THE BLIND THE ONE-EYED MAN IS KING

  SAM Dymes pointed out that now wasn't the time to rush into making a decision. Torrence wouldn't hurry to take us by force up there on the ninetieth floor. He too could bide his time until our resolve crumbled bit by bit. Equally, we could not wait here for ever. So when Torrence telephoned again Sam began to negotiate. This went on until late afternoon.

  At a little after six that evening Kerris held up her hand. 'Wait: does anyone hear that?'

  'That's shooting.' Sam said.

  'But who's shooting whom?' Gabriel went to the elevator doors, gun at the ready.

  I joined him at the elevator. By pressing my good ear to the doors I could hear the sound of gunfire echoing up the shaft. Initially, the gunfire rattled continuously. Then, at last, it subsided to sporadic single shots. Moments later there was silence.

  Sam stood, his head cocked to one side, listening for more sounds. At last he said, 'Well, what the hell happened down there?'

  We moved back behind the barrier of office furniture. As we did so I heard a buzzing sound. I hunted for the source of the noise until I came across a small wooden box on which were a series of switches.

  'It's the intercom,' Kerris said. 'Someone's trying to get in touch with us on the internal system.'

  Sam looked at it suspiciously for a moment. 'Why don't they use the phone like they did before?'

  'Maybe the telephone system is down?'

  'OK.' Sam picked up the wooden box. It was attached to a cable that snaked away to the wall. 'Now, how do you switch
this thing on?'

  'Here, let me.' Kerris flicked a switch on the box.

  Sam didn't say anything. He just listened. A faint hiss of static came from the speaker. Then, tentatively, 'Hello?'

  A male voice came over the speaker. 'Sacramento.'

  A flicker of hope lit Sam's eyes. Giving the answering code word, he asked, 'Who's this?'

  'Sergeant Gregory Campbell, Foresters' Marines, C division, sir.'

  'Is Lieutenant Truscott there?'

  'Sorry, he was killed just a moment ago, sir. There's been a hell of a battle down here.'

  'What's the position?'

  'We regrouped with other elements of the force, sir. Then we launched another attack on the building around half an hour ago.'

  'You're holding it now, Campbell?'

  'Yes, sir, but we can't hold it for long. Respectfully, sir, you've got to get the hell down to the lobby so we can get away. Enemy tanks will be here any minute.'

  'Thank you, Campbell. We'll be right down.'

  Sam looked at us. 'It looks as if we've just got our ticket out of here.'

  Here the elevators were automatic. Gabriel pressed the call button and within moments the elevator duly arrived.

  As the doors closed on us for the long descent Sam said, 'Keep bunched tight around Christina when we get out in the lobby. Keep your guns ready, too.' His troubled eyes locked on the descending hand of the floor indicator. 'After all, we don't know what we're going to find down there, do we?'

  I glanced at Kerris. She gave me a reassuring smile and I felt her hand rest against my forearm.

  What we did find came as a surprise. The lobby was empty. I looked round, noticing blackened smears on the marble floor where grenades had exploded, along with the rust-coloured marks of dried bloodstains, too. As I stepped out of the elevator with my companions I saw the ruined furniture had been cleared away. Strangely, despite the sounds of battle we'd heard earlier, there wasn't a single spent cartridge to be seen.