Insequor (3 page)

Phones rang, people talked rapidly and cups of coffee seemed to float around the room. The interior of the police station was a lot bigger than it looked from the outside. Daniel sat at an empty desk after being delivered by the two cops. As his eyes read the faces of the people around him he noticed the one thing they all had in common was confusion. Sure there was anxiety, focus too and lots of adrenaline as all the cops busied themselves. But the bewilderment was there on everyone’s faces; subtle and shielded beneath the professionalism. Nobody really knew what was going on.

Another figure walked into the room. This one was different. He was older, mid-fifties Daniel guessed, black skin with a fine beard. His eyes were tilted slightly but they looked alive, almost mischievous. An air of calmness seemed to billow out behind him like a cape and thankfully he appeared to be heading in Daniel’s direction.

As the stranger approached the desk he stopped, took a brief look around, before taking off his coat and hanging it neatly on the back of the chair opposite. He sat down, cleared some space and took out a pen, before finally meeting Daniel’s expecting gaze.

“You must be Daniel.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes, sir.” He wasn’t in the habit of calling people ‘sir’ but for some reason it seemed appropriate.

“Detective Jones. You watched the news?”

“Yes.”

“And that was the thing you saw?”

“Yes.” Daniel leaned forward, “I had to take the sheriff’s car to escape.”

Jones kept looking at his notes and held up a hand; he held the pen in between the fingers like a sorely missed cigarette. “We’ve spoken to the officer in question, don’t worry. You’re not in any kind of trouble.

Daniel breathed a little easier. “Thanks.”

“I’m sure you did what you felt was necessary at the time.”

“It was trying to kill me.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.” Jones's gaze trickled up to a TV on the wall. “Whatever it is, it seems non-hostile.”

Daniel shook his head. “It tried to attack
me
.”

“It’s not attacking anyone. It’s just walking. But we don’t know where it wants to go or what it’s going to do once it gets there.”

When Jones spoke, his eyes looked Daniel up and down initially, but then momentarily held his gaze, offering comfort. He leaned back into his chair and ran his hands through his hair.

“Where is it heading right now?” said Daniel.

Jones picked up a manila wallet and with his other hand took some glasses out of his inside pocket. “About five miles south of here, where we picked you up. The army had us evacuate the area.”

“What are they going to do?”

“Stop it,” said Jones, with a sense of finality. “Now, I need you to tell me exactly what you saw so we can get it down whilst it’s still fresh in your head.”

“Fresh in my head? It walked through my office building. I’m not going to forget that.”

“But before that,” said Jones, once holding up a soothing palm. “Did you see or hear anything?”

“No.”

“What were you doing?”

“I was at work in the office with everyone else.”

“And when did you first see it?”

“I was at my desk when I noticed everyone had gone to the window. It was coming through the car park. Nobody knew what it was. They thought maybe an earthquake.”

Jones sucked on his pen. Daniel continued, “The fire alarms went off. We went outside and stood there, waiting. And then it just…walked through the building. There’s no other way to describe it.”

Jones hadn’t been writing; his eyes had barely moved and the pen hung inches from his mouth. “Go on.”

“Well, when we saw it come through we all ran out of the car park. Everyone was stood in the middle of the road, the traffic had all stopped. I was further down, near the fast food place. Everyone was watching the car park entrance. But it didn’t come out of the entrance. It came through a wall, right near me and kept on walking toward me.”

There was a sudden influx of phones ringing and shouting. Mobiles, desk phones, radios…everything seemed to go off at once.

“You sure it was walking toward you? Not someone else, something nearby.”

“No. It turned. As
I
ran
it
turned. Then followed me until I took the car. The last I saw of it was in my rear view mirror.”

A young curly haired policeman came through the room, stopping at each of the desks and updating people. He got to theirs. “Detective, we have orders to evacuate. It’s heading this way.”

Jones looked at Daniel. “Thank you.” He stood up, and grabbed his coat. “You’d best come with me.”

The curly haired officer proceeded to the next desk to despatch the news. “How long have we got, officer?” said Jones.

The young cop looked back, his eyes a kind of crazy, “About a half hour, sir. But they’ve plotted its course and it’s heading straight here.”

Jones led Daniel outside to his car; it was a black saloon and looked pretty new. Inside, paperwork and books were scattered across the back seat. He started the engine and drove off, picking up his walkie-talkie with one hand.

“Control, this is Jones. I’m taking my witness to Langcroft. Will check in, over.”

The hollow voice at the other end confirmed they understood and Jones switched off the unit. Then he turned on the radio.

“’…where an army M1 Abrams tank attempted to halt the entity. Reports indicate at this point the creature pushed aside the tank. The tank returned fired at the entity, or robot as some people are now calling it, but it was not damaged; our sources confirm it was a direct hit. Again, I must state the robot has not retaliated in any way. Tom, what are we dealing with here?’

‘Well, Sally… –‘”

Jones switched it off. “Quite a day,” he said, almost casually.

For a while they drove on; the late sun threatening to abscond behind the mountains. As they headed out of town they noticed a lot of the streets were empty. Cars lay abandoned with their doors wide open and groceries on the floor. But then, equally, some roads had people stood outside their houses talking, looking up to the sky…even carrying shotguns.

Once they hit the main road Jones seemed to relax, he put his foot down and they coasted along the straight corridor.

“How close did you get?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” said Daniel. “I guess maybe ten feet?”

“You sure it was trying to attack you?”

“Yes, I’m sure!” Daniel was tired of having to justify himself. “It walked straight past the sheriff to get to me. If the Sherriff was shooting why didn’t it go for him?”

Jones regarded him sideways. His brown eyes looked shiny and wet. Wisdom sat behind them, but it was guarded, almost as if he kept his intellect a secret. “You understand my curiosity. Police, army, air force; just about everyone has had a shot at this thing. Nothing, not even a scratch.”

Jones let this hang in the air for a moment as he turned his concentration back to the wheel. They passed a hotel; the parking lot deserted, rooms wide open with their doors flapping in the breeze.

“But it’s not retaliated,” said Jones. “Not even once. Yet you’re saying it tried to harm
you
?”

“Yes.”

“Well I hope you’re mistaken, Daniel, or I’m sitting in the wrong car.”

“I’m afraid nobody gets in here, sir.” The guard raised a gloved hand from his rifle, putting it between Toby and the entrance to the camp.

“Hi.” Toby held up his wallet and let the bottom dangle open. Passers-by may have seen a glimmer of metal from within, but nothing more. Whatever the I.D. badge said, the soldier saluted and stepped aside.

“Thank you.” Toby oozed past, smiling politely. The camp was a collection of vehicles and tents scattered across the town square. Soldiers rushed past, not paying Toby any attention he casually clocked their faces; alarm, but not panic. Their training was kicking in and everyone had a job to do. He spotted the command tent with two more men outside and a whole array of electronics equipment at the side.

Several officers were gathered around a display screen and two more were sat next to a captain leering over a map. As Toby entered the men at the VDU looked up and raised their eyebrows. He smiled back and mouthed ‘Hello.’

The captain leaned back in his chair and continued to talk. He was muttering something about a ‘recon line.’ The two officers had noticed Toby, who flashed another grin, before one of them finally spoke. “Sir,” he said, before indicating what he took to be a civilian.

“Don’t get up,” said Toby.

The captain ignored this and rose, face to face, with Toby. Unfortunately, he was much shorter and wound up looking up at him; the ridiculousness enhanced by the proximity of his puffed out chest.

“Who in the hell are you?”

“I’m Toby.”

“Toby?”

“Just Toby. I‘m here to see if I can help.”

“Who sent you?”

Toby again took out the wallet and let it hang. The emblem inside bounced back light from the captain’s eyes. “I work for a government agency, captain. We have an interest in this situation and your commander has agreed to give us his full cooperation, and by that, I mean yours.”

“I’m going to want to check this,” said the captain, holding his hand out for a phone. A Sergeant placed one in it.

Toby started to browse the map on the table and adjusted his glasses. “I would expect nothing less from a man of your calibre with such a fine body of men; there’s a real ‘espirit de corps’ around here. I merely want to be privy to your invaluable investigation results.”

Toby looked up from the map. He was smiling. He was always smiling.

Langcroft was small and empty looking. Jones pulled the car around the town centre; a rusting bandstand with a tattered flag on some yellowing grass. Daniel got out and Jones’s head popped up from the other side.

“We better find the local sheriff and get you safe,” he said, “and I still need to finish your statement. I’m hungry too.”

They both scanned around. In the near darkness the scattered houses showed no signs of life except the subdued blinking of screens behind shades. Everyone was watching TV.

Jones pointed to an official looking building next to a rundown neon-lit diner. As they walked, Daniel managed to catch glimpses of white faces staring at the televisions in each home. Whole families gathered around watching the news.

When they got to the police station it was no different. The cop behind the counter was eating takeaway food and staring at a screen up on the wall. He barely noticed the two walk in, but managed to tear himself away from his noodles and greet them.

“Evening.”

“Evening. I’m Detective Jones. This here’s a witness of mine. Headquarters should have called it in.”

The cop nodded, “Yes sir, got it written down right here. Looks like you just missed the robot, huh?” He nodded up to the television.

Immediately, Daniel recognised the very police station he had been sat in about an hour ago; a modern, brown bricked structure. The picture was taken from a helicopter some distance above the ground, but you could still see the gaping hole in one of the walls. The thing must have marched right through.

After a few moments the camera panned further up the street. There, it hovered for a second, before finally focusing on another sight. The robot was walking along the tarmac, police cars with flashing beams all around it maintaining the same speed but keeping their distance. It was the first time he’d managed to get a prolonged look and it was bizarre. Looking at the thing, the way it walked, no visible joints or seams in the metal, it almost looked fluid. Like some kind of badly drawn cartoon.

The image switched to another camera that must have been further up the road. It zoomed in on the head. Those eyes, again, broke through the dust; the light intensely beaming straight at the camera.

“They’re saying it’s some kind of military weapon that’s gone out of control,” said the cop, returning to his dinner.

“Now that I
can
believe,” said Jones. His nose twitched and he looked at the takeaway. “We’re both hungry, is there any place good to eat?”

“Sure, the diner next door.” The cop gave a nod toward Daniel, “What about him?”

Jones ushered Daniel softly toward the door. “He’s a witness, not a suspect. If headquarters wants me, we’ll be next door; my radio’s in the car.”

They headed outside again and Daniel realised how warm the air was. It was maybe nine now and he felt exhausted. Jones grabbed them a couple of seats in the diner; it was your run of the mill place, the kind that could be found in any small town. Probably hadn’t been decorated since the fifties and probably still had the same menu.

It didn’t matter, sitting down Daniel finally realised how hungry he was. They ordered a couple of steaks and sodas, both choosing not to look at the television that hung in the corner as if in some unspoken pact. It wasn’t fear though. Truth be told they both just wanted to sit back and have a moment. Finally, as the waitress brought them their drinks, one eye on the screen, they both shifted to take a glimpse.

“When can I go home?” said Daniel.

“I’ve no idea. That whole area is off limits until further notice.” Jones took a slurp of his soda. “I knew something strange was going to happen today. My dog was in a funny mood.”

Daniel looked across the plastic coated table at the detective. His stoic face held not a trace of insincerity. “Right,” he said.

“Whenever he’s in a funny mood, I have a bad day,” said Jones, shrugging his shoulders.

“Ok,” said Daniel, looking around. Where was that steak?

“Don’t get me wrong, he ain’t the cleverest of pooches. In fact, he’s kind of dumb; even for a dog. But he can smell trouble.”

Daniel smiled weakly. “I don’t have a psychic dog,” he said. Jones looked offended. “I have a cat, but he’s just kind of...” Daniel searched for the right word, “…lazy.”

Jones chuckled and they both returned their gaze back to the television. A commentator was again speculating on the nature of the thing whilst another token expert offered opinions. ‘An expert on what?’ thought Daniel.

“They still don’t know what it is,” said Jones.

“Come on,” said Daniel, shaking his head at the presenter. “It’s obviously something military. I bet there’s a pilot or someone inside. Maybe he’s gone nuts or something.”

“And he wants to kill you?” Daniel noticed Jones’s eyes drift across to his. It was an uncomfortable feeling; the gaze seemed to probe around and he suddenly felt exposed. For a moment he wanted to confess, but to God knows what; he decided to sit in silence before, finally, the waitress brought the food over.

The steak looked thin, but good and he immediately started picking at his fries, hoping Jones had stopped staring. “Why not?” he said, into his plate. “I’m telling you it attacked me; its arms, they…”

“Do you know any top secret military pilots, Daniel?”

“No,” he said, through a mouthful of fries.

“Anyone in the Army? Air Force? Navy?”

“No.”

Jones sat back and placed his arms along the seat ridge behind him. “What is your occupation?”

He wiped his mouth and sat back, before changing his mind and reaching for another fry. He stirred it in some ketchup. “I’m a Support Technician.”

“Support Technician?”

“I fix computers.”

There was a pause as the two looked across the remains of their meals at each other. Daniel liked to think he was good at reading a face and the one opposite him thought he was talking crap.

“You don’t believe me, do you?” he said. “You’re just here taking down the statement of another crazy person so you can get on with your job; which today happens to be a real pain in the ass.”

“I’m not saying that.”

“What are you saying?”

Jones looked up at the television again and his eyes winced a little at what he saw. Some long forgotten memory flashed across his face.

“I’ve been in this world for nearly fifty years, son. I’ve been to a lot of places too, seen a lot of things; strange things, bad things.” The detective sucked on his soda, the last bubbles of liquid echoing around the paper cup.

“But I’ve never seen anything that walks through walls and tanks except in a comic book. I don’t think anyone knows what we’re dealing with here. Government, Army, no one.”

Daniel looked up at the images now too. It was walking through another building - this one looked like a school. Jesus.

“I hope to God somebody knows, because that thing isn’t stopping,” he said.

They finished up with a coffee and some cake before Jones appeared to reach a decision and took out his pen and notebook. “We still need to take that statement before I can get back to it.”

Daniel didn’t say anything. He was fixed to the images above.

Jones flipped through his pad looking for a page but when he looked up Daniel was still fixated.

“What?” said Jones.

Daniel looked back at the detective. Something flashed past the window behind. Then something else. He thought he caught a glimpse of a woman running with a baby.

“What’s this town called?” he said softly.

“Langcroft. Why?”

Another figure dashed past the window momentarily lit by the lights inside the diner. Black shapes could be seen further away through the foggy glass. All running from left to right.

He turned to the news program. Sure enough, there was an update in yellow writing across the bottom of the screen. Breaking news.

“I think it just got here,” he said.

Jones’s eyes opened wide before looking up into the corner of the room. “Let’s move,” he said. They both stood up, their chairs screeching across the floor, and ran to the door. Outside people were sprinting past the diner.

Daniel looked around, trying to piece together what he saw on the television, with the town in front of him. His gaze followed the trail of people to their source. The side of town they had arrived. There was the road, some houses and a gas station from whose remnants the thing was now walking toward them. They ran for the car which was parked halfway between them and it.

“Now do you believe me?” said Daniel, as they opened a door each and swung inside.

Jones started the engine and flicked it into reverse. With one arm around Daniel’s seat he backed up onto the road. “Like I said before Daniel - if you’re right, I’m in the wrong car.”