Terminal

  Chester’s brow furrowed. ‘Bairns? What’s that?’

  ‘You know – babies,’ Martha replied. ‘That was why I’d been able to overpower her. She was with young, and it made her slow. The bairns were born in little bags, and from them came tiny Brights, like little fairies. Smaller even than the Miner Birds you get in the Colony.’

  ‘And they didn’t go for you or attack you or anything?’ Chester asked.

  ‘No, because of their mother. I’d kept her tied up, and I kept the bairns all well fed with rodent catches while my hand and ribs healed.’ Martha rubbed her rather rotund chest to emphasise how painful it had been for her. ‘And when it was time to move on I didn’t have the heart to kill them. So I cut her free, but she stayed with me, and as you can see she’s still with me, and looking out for me.’

  ‘Truly a guardian angel,’ Chester laughed.

  Martha nodded. ‘I reckon at one time they lived up here on the surface, because in a matter of weeks they grew used to the gravity. You can see how fast they are now.’

  ‘So maybe Dr Burrows was right,’ Chester said. ‘They were up here once, and maybe they’re why we have those stories about mythical creatures. The idea for angels, even.’

  At the mention of Dr Burrows, Martha stopped grinning. ‘But, my sweet, you’ve had a rough old time of it, haven’t you? I told you not to trust Topsoilers. They’ll never be your friends. That man back there did for your family, didn’t he? What made him do that?’

  Chester didn’t feel prepared to go into it right there and then. ‘Parry? It wasn’t him exactly, but he was in on it. Look, Martha, I’ll tell you all about it later, but my mum and dad got caught up in someth—’

  He ducked as two Brights crossed right in front of them, in opposite directions. ‘My God, they’re quick,’ he said. He’d only had the briefest flash of white intersecting with white before they were both gone.

  ‘Shhh!’ Martha said. ‘And load this for me, will you?’ she asked, keeping her voice low as she passed her crossbow over.

  Chester took it from her. She’d been parted from her ancient-looking crossbow back in Norfolk, and this replacement was definitely Topsoil-manufactured, the lighter materials making it more suitable for single-handed use. And Martha had made a few modifications to it, which included a few strips of muddy sacking wound around it and a few clumsy dabs of paint to camouflage it.

  ‘Sure,’ Chester confirmed. He cocked the weapon, then from the quiver over her shoulder selected a bolt. As he seated this in the crossbow, he noticed the shaft was stained with blood, and that tiny pieces of meat were stuck to the point.

  Martha was scanning behind them.

  ‘What is it?’ he whispered.

  ‘See how they’re flying low and to the sides,’ she said. Chester could just about make out the blurry streaks as the Brights zipped above the trees to the left of the path and in the lee of the cliff on the other side. It was as if they were stalking prey. ‘You see, my fairies warn me if anyone comes close,’ Martha continued. ‘Let’s get in here and wait for them.’

  They moved into the trees, and Martha raised her crossbow. After a short while, Chester spotted a head bobbing along as someone climbed the path up a slight incline. He turned to Martha. ‘Looks like just one person. Will the Brights attack them?’

  ‘They won’t do a thing without my say-so,’ Martha whispered. ‘You know that person, don’t you? Wasn’t she with you?’ she asked, pointing with her chin.

  As Chester looked back, his heart skipped a beat.

  Where the path rose from a slight depression, a single figure was in full view and striding purposefully along.

  ‘It’s Steph!’ he exclaimed. ‘But what the hell is she doing all the way out here?’

  Martha was immediately suspicious. ‘Could be some kind of trap they’re setting for you. But if it is, then she’s alone. I can tell from the way my fairies are shadowing her.’

  Stephanie was completely unaware of the lethal animals circling not far above her and under the lip of the cliff only feet away.

  She had almost reached where Martha and Chester were hiding when Martha stepped out, her crossbow levelled at the girl. ‘What do you want?’ Martha shouted, her voice cold and threatening.

  Stephanie nearly jumped out of her skin. ‘Oh, hi, is Chester with you?’ she asked, her voice quavering. ‘Oh, you are,’ she said, as Chester emerged from the trees. In her warm coat and woolly hat, and with the rucksack on her back, she looked like she could be on a school outing.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Chester demanded. ‘Why didn’t you fly off with that lying bastard and your grandfather?’

  Stephanie bit her lip nervously.

  ‘They have gone, haven’t they? I thought I heard a helicopter,’ Chester said.

  Stephanie nodded.

  ‘So what are you still doing here?’ he repeated.

  ‘Um …’ she replied. ‘I couldn’t let you go off thinking that I’d known about Danforth and what happened to your mum and dad, because I didn’t. I swear I didn’t know anything at all about it. Nobody told me.’

  ‘Fine, but you’re not answering my question,’ Chester said urgently. ‘What are you doing here?’

  Stephanie’s voice was very small under the sound of the wind and the waves crashing at the bottom of the cliff. ‘Um, I came because I was really worried about you … and you left before I could speak to you. So while Parry was helping Gramps – he wasn’t hurt that badly – I sneaked away. I grabbed as much of your stuff as I could because I thought you’d want it.’ She swung around slightly so he could see the Bergen filled to bursting point on her back, then looked awkwardly down at the ground. ‘I … er … I wondered if maybe I could come with you, Chester. That we could be together.’

  It was clear to Chester that she was embarrassed and would have said more if Martha hadn’t been there. And he had no idea what to say in response. He’d been so consumed with anger that he’d been numb to everything else. The truth was that at the moment the first Armagi had made its entrance, part of him hadn’t actually cared whether he lived or died.

  But this wasn’t about him now. During the weeks in the cottage Stephanie had shown him nothing but kindness and affection, and he’d rebuffed her. He liked her very much, and right now he was very frightened for her; Martha was incredibly possessive, and that made her unpredictable. And, Chester didn’t doubt, murderous.

  By following him, the girl had well and truly put her head into the lion’s mouth.

  ‘You have no place here,’ Martha growled. Chester saw her tense her arm as she steadied her aim, lining the weapon up for a shot at Stephanie’s chest. ‘We don’t need no one along to slow us down,’ Martha added, glancing up and obviously considering whether she should instruct her Brights to tear Stephanie apart as an alternative to using a bolt on her.

  ‘Wait a moment,’ Chester said quickly, and stepped closer to Martha. It was no accident that he laid a hand on the woman’s rounded shoulder and kneaded it while he whispered into her ear.

  As she listened, Martha scratched her chin with the stumps of her finger. ‘Is that right?’ she said eventually, turning to him.

  ‘Absolutely,’ he replied.

  Martha was looking penetratingly into his eyes. ‘And that’s all?’ she asked.

  ‘Definitely,’ Chester confirmed, putting on his sweetest, most endearing smile. Martha lowered her crossbow and let out a whistle to her Brights. ‘Come over here, girly, and join us,’ she said to Stephanie, grinning with all her black teeth on display.

  Chester quietly sighed a huge sigh of relief.

  ‘I expect a slug of this wouldn’t go amiss,’ Jürgen said, offering Will the hip flask that he’d taken from his rucksack.

  Taking it from the New Germanian, Will sniffed at the neck of flask, then wrinkled his nose in distaste. ‘Oh, no, I don’t think so,’ he said, quickly handing it back. ‘What is it, anyway?’

  ‘Schnapps,’ Jürgen replied, about to
offer it to Elliott but then thinking better of it.

  They had decided to return back to the base of the tower, not least because Elliott was in such a state. Will had never seen her this distraught before, and had been forced to help her all the way down the circular flight of stairs. As the two of them sat together on one of the fractured boulders, her head was buried in Will’s shoulder. She’d stopped crying, although he could still hear her take the odd involuntary breath as if the tears weren’t far away.

  Jürgen glanced at the bushman, who was hunched over on the ground ten or so feet away from everyone else, then leant back against the tower and took another, even bigger mouthful from his flask. He swallowed noisily and then exhaled just as noisily. ‘This stuff is jolly wizard for steadying one’s nerves,’ Jürgen remarked after a moment.

  ‘Jolly wizard?’ Will repeated, wondering why all of a sudden the New Germanian’s language had become so odd.

  Jürgen grinned. ‘Sorry, that’s probably something I picked up from the English books we had in the city library. The Jeeves and Wooster stories somehow found their way onto a helicopter when the first settlers flew in.’

  Jürgen’s radio suddenly crackled, and he pushed himself upright to fumble in a pocket and retrieve it. As he spoke to his brother in German he was waving his flask demonstratively in the air.

  Although Will didn’t understand what was being discussed, Jürgen’s side of the conversation grew rather terse after only a short time.

  Will used the opportunity to speak to Elliott. ‘Are you feeling better now?’ he asked her softly.

  She nodded but still didn’t show her face.

  ‘It’s all been too much for you – for all of us. You’ve had a bad shock – that’s all,’ he tried to rationalise to her.

  She nodded again, simultaneously shivering despite the heat.

  ‘You don’t ever have to go back inside again,’ Will said. ‘No, maybe that would be for the best. We can leave this place – you and I – and never come back here again.’

  Jürgen finished his conversation on the radio. He looked angry.

  ‘What’s the matter? Are Werner and Karl going to join us?’ Will asked him.

  ‘They are, but my brother says I must be mistaken about what we’ve found. He even went as far as to accuse me of drinking too much when I described what we all saw. My own brother doesn’t believe me.’ Jürgen had been about to take another swig from his flask, but instead he suddenly jerked his head as if something had stung him. ‘What are we talking about here, Will?’ He was silent for several seconds before he continued. ‘If we accept that the new, exposed pyramid and the tower are connected, and all indications point to that …’

  ‘And Woody’s ancestors built on top of the pyramids many thousands of years ago …’ Will put in.

  ‘… then we’ve just seen a display of technology that could pre-date us – Homo sapiens – as a species by … well, who knows how long? And the big question is how it came to be here. And maybe the right answer is that it’s non-terrestrial.’

  ‘Non-terrestrial?’ Will repeated with a frown. ‘But my dad’s ancients must have been around at the time, because they saw those views of the planet.’

  ‘How do you figure that?’ Jürgen immediately challenged.

  ‘Because they were able to draw their maps inside the pyramid from them. That’s why they were so accurate,’ Will replied. ‘So it follows that the technology was in use then.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Jürgen said, holding up his flask as something occurred to him. ‘But talking about those views … they’re from outer space … but from what exactly?’ he asked, his voice oddly flat. ‘And from when? I mean, from what time?’

  Will hadn’t had the opportunity to examine the scenes in any detail as they’d circulated around the walls, but because of the size and appearance of London in the images it hadn’t occurred to him that they were anything but current. He was about to comment on this when Elliott stirred.

  ‘From now,’ she said, her voice barely audible because her face was still pressed against Will.

  ‘So they are from now? You mean they’re live images? How do you know that?’ Will asked her gently.

  ‘I just do,’ she answered.

  Jürgen had been staring out over the fields of soil that were gradually turning grey under the fierce heat of the sun, but now he swung his head towards Will. ‘It’s evident that the technology … all the technology we’ve seen so far … appears to be have some form of empathy with your friend. Except for her, none of us has any degree of control over it. And the reason for that has to be because she has the blood of the invaders in her.’

  ‘You mean the Styx,’ Will said, tightening his arm around Elliott to comfort her. He’d have preferred that she wasn’t hearing any of this. But he also felt that it would be unreasonable to ask the now slightly inebriated New Germanian to put a sock in it, as he might take it badly.

  And, besides, Will’s mind was buzzing with all the possibilities too.

  ‘Yes, the Styx.’ Jürgen took a single step forward as if bracing himself. ‘So, Will, does that mean that the Styx – or their predecessors – were …’ His voice seemed to give out. He cleared his throat. ‘Are we talking about …?’

  Will met the man’s eyes, waiting for the next word.

  ‘Talking about …?’ Jürgen half-whispered.

  There in the shadowed lee of the tower, with just the calls of the birds and the odd snatch of Woody’s muttered prayers reaching them, neither Will nor Jürgen felt prepared to say the word.

  It was just too outlandish, too bizarre, and how did it tie in with the evolution of humans?

  And with the history of the world?

  The implications were too great to contemplate.

  Will tightened his arm around Elliott again.

  ‘Aliens?’ he said.

  Chapter Ten

  With Stephanie tagging along at a distance behind them, Chester and Martha had been walking briskly down a fenced-off track between two fields.

  ‘Nearly home, my sweet,’ Martha cooed, as Chester spotted the small farmhouse up ahead.

  Then, as he happened to glance over the fence to one side, he stopped dead as something caught his attention. ‘My God! What on earth did that?’ he gasped, recoiling at the sight of carcases of the dead sheep strewn around the place. They had been eviscerated, their bodies brutally ripped apart and all their organs strewn over the ground. ‘Armagi?’

  ‘No, that was my Brights,’ Martha answered proudly. She hadn’t slowed as she headed towards the farmhouse. ‘They have to eat – just the same as us.’

  ‘Not quite the same as us,’ Chester whispered. Remaining where he was, he continued to watch as, further along the track, Martha gave a couple of low whistles and waved her hand. She could have been directing sheepdogs, not the weird and strangely wonderful creatures from the depths of the Earth.

  The Brights zipped over Chester’s head, so fast that it was impossible to see them clearly, like smoke or mist caught in a high wind. Martha whistled once again, then flicked her fingers in the direction of the field.

  ‘Oh, there they are,’ Chester said to himself, as several of the Brights appeared over the field, as if they’d just materialised out of thin air. They were hovering some hundred feet up or so, and for once remaining in one place long enough for him to make out their long bodies and their white wings as they beat the air.

  ‘What are they doing?’ Chester muttered, then noticed a small herd of sheep grazing directly beneath the Brights. The sheep stared vacantly in Martha’s direction, probably wondering what the crazy woman was doing, making silly noises and waving her arms around.

  They had no idea what was about to hit them. With another whistle from Martha, the Brights simply plummeted towards the ground as if in a deadfall. Chester had a glimpse of the nearest of Martha’s fairies, its mouth wide open and displaying vicious rows of jagged spikes. With their ivory-white wings outstretched, each Brigh
t landed on the animal it had selected and pinned it flat to the ground so that it was nearly impossible to make any of them out against the rime-covered grass. And it was also impossible to see what they were doing to the poor sheep under them, something for which Chester was very grateful.

  ‘That’s sick,’ he mumbled, looking at the mutilated sheep closer in the field once again as Stephanie stopped alongside him.

  ‘Yeah, gross,’ she agreed, as she leant against a fencepost. ‘But I’m just so very glad I managed to catch up with you, Chester,’ she said, smiling. ‘I really didn’t think I was ever going to see you again.’

  From where the nearest Bright was feeding on a sheep, there was that sucking sound that flesh makes when it’s torn. As the Bright beat its wings once, then settled again as it continued to gorge itself, something glistening with blood was cast aside and came to rest in the frosty grass. Chester grimaced as he saw it was the sheep’s heart. It was still beating.

  From her lack of reaction, Stephanie obviously hadn’t noticed. ‘And thank you for dealing with Martha back there. I didn’t know she was like that,’ she said.

  Chester had been completely preoccupied by the grisly spectacle in the field, but now shot a glance at Martha to see if she was watching him and Stephanie, at the same time taking a hasty sidestep away from the girl.

  ‘But what did you, like, say to her?’ Stephanie asked.

  ‘Not now!’ Chester replied in a whispered growl, intentionally not looking at her. ‘Keep right away from me while she’s around. She’s jealous, and she’ll bloody well kill you.’

  ‘Oh,’ Stephanie said, and Chester immediately set off towards Martha in the direction of the farmhouse. Stephanie remained where she was for a moment or two, looking a little taken aback, then she too continued down the track.

  It was a basic farm building of red brick, but after the night he’d had on the submarine and the revelation about Danforth, Chester was grateful just to be out of the cold and somewhere he could sit in quiet for a while. Without taking off his coat, he flopped onto the sofa in the main room, still holding the empty shotgun as he watched Martha light the fire. She fussed over it until there was a hearty roar warming the room. Stephanie, heeding Chester’s warning, carefully chose herself somewhere to sit on the opposite side of the room where she was browsing through an old magazine she’d found.