Outpost (38 page)

'Jesus,'
said Punch. 'I barely spoke a word to the man. He seemed nice, though. Quiet,
but nice.'

'Bollocks,'
said Jane. 'Don't give me that. He was one of Nail's muscle clones. None of you
could stand the guy.'

'I
asked him to sign his name on a couple of safety chits,' said Ghost. 'He put a
cross. I don't think he could write at all.'

'How
do you think they got in?' asked Punch. 'I swear those barricades were solid.'

'There
were two waves,' said Jane. 'The first bunch, the bunch in fancy dress, they
didn't trip any grenades. I heard screaming and shouting long before the first grenade
blew. They must have found a way to circumvent the barricades. A back door.
Something we missed. God knows how. I swear we had all the exits covered. But
they just showed up in the corridors like they had been invited, like someone
let them in. They second wave smashed their way inside. They crashed the party.
They wanted some of the action, and that's when the fires began.'

'We
should lower the platform lift,' said Punch. 'Some of the other guys might have
survived.'

Jane
checked her watch.

'It's
been nearly two hours. If anyone stayed aboard
Hyperion,
hid or something, they burned.
The ship was gutted, top to bottom. And if they made it over the side, they
died of exposure. Face it. We are the only ones left.'

'Yeah.'

'And
you know what? A little part of me is glad. Happy families. But look around.
Whole lot of empty chairs. Whole lot of dead guys. Four of us left. Are we just
going to sit around all nice and cosy and watch each other die?'

'It
might be better if they didn't make it,' said Ghost. 'Nail. Better if he
doesn't show up again.'

'Why's
that?' asked Sian.

'I'm
pretty sure he killed Mal.'

'You're
kidding me.'

'There
was some kind of argument, some kind of confrontation.'

'Jesus.'

'He
might not even be Nail Harper. He might be using a stolen name.'

'Christ.'

'Nothing
we could prove.'

'What
happened? What was it all about?'

'There
was some dealing going on. Murky shit. Even if he made it off
Hyperion
, he's too dangerous to allow
back on the rig. I vote we pull up the drawbridge. Fuck him.'

'That's
pretty harsh,' said Sian.

'Come
on,' said Jane. 'Is there anyone in this room who isn't glad he's gone?'

Jane
sealed the blast door that connected the accommodation block to the rest of the
rig. She ripped the switch panel from the wall with a knife.

The
rig was now a fortress. Accommodation Module A was their castle keep. Even if
anyone managed to climb aboard Rampart they would freeze in unheated rooms and
passageways.

'It's
minus fifty out on the island,' said Ghost. 'Insane wind- chill. No one could
survive more than a couple of minutes.'

'Let's
be double-sure. Just for the next day or two, so we can sleep safe in our beds.
Touch the wires and the door opens, all right? Otherwise it stays closed.'

'We
should have stayed here all along. My idea to move to
Hyperion.'

'It's
all right.'

'It's
not all right. People died.'

'I
crashed the fucking ship into the island, so we've both got blood on our hands.
But no more grenades, okay? No more booby traps. We've had enough excitement.'

'None
left. We used them up.'

'The
fire probably took care of most of them,' said Ghost. 'The infected. Everyone
aboard the ship is toast. Couple of hundred left on the ice. They won't last.
Nothing can survive that intense cold for long.'

'Great.
But our ride home just went up in smoke.'

'I'm
heading downstairs for a while,' said Ghost. 'I need a bit of quiet time.'

Jane
returned to the canteen. She sipped tea.

'How's
Ghost doing?' asked Punch.

'He'll
get his shit together soon enough. He's a practical guy.

Not
the kind to sit and mope. He wants to get out of here as much as any of us.'

'So
what now?'

'We
leave,' said Jane. 'We've wasted too much time pursuing abortive schemes. No
more home-made rafts. No more sit-and- wait. We cook up a solid strategy right
here, right now. Seriously. We've spent all our time reacting to events. Fuck
that.'

'We
should head for Canada,' said Punch. 'Fetch the snowmobiles from the bunker.
Load up and run for it before the sea melts. Yeah, I know. It's an old idea.
You've heard it before. But I still say it's our best shot. It's mid-winter.
The sea is cold as it is going to get. If we are going to travel, if we are
going to make use of the ice, we'd better do it now.'

'We
would never make it,' said Jane. 'Not all four of us. Too much kit to haul.
Food, clothes, tents. Besides, what if the sea didn't completely freeze this
winter? Global warming. I doubt we have a clear run to Canada, even now. We
need to do better. We need a fighting chance.'

'So
what's on your mind?'

'Get
your coats. It's easier if I show you.'

Jane
led Punch and Sian to a gantry overlooking the corner of the rig. Fog-shrouded
walkways. Pipework and decking slick with ice.

They
stood shivering in the darkness. Jane shone a heavy spotlight downward at one of
the massive cables that anchored the refinery to the seabed.

'What
if we detach the cables and float the refinery free?' said Jane. 'We already
lost one of the cables when
Hyperion
collided with the refinery. Three left.'

'How
do you plan on doing that?' asked Punch. 'Each weighs the same as a battleship.
You need monster equipment to manipulate them.'

'There's
no way on earth we could cut the cable. It would take an atom bomb. But look at
the coupling. That's the weak point.

It's
anchored by a four-tonne pin. If we could kick the pin out of its socket then
the cable would drop and Rampart would drift free.'

'Be
my guest.'

'That
stuff from the seismic research station. The explosives. There should still be
a bunch of C4 left, yes? Couple of cases at least. Ghost hid it in the bunker.
We could pack a big wad of plastic round each pin and touch it off. Fire the
pin clean out of the coupling. It would be our last roll of the dice, but worth
a try.'

'Yeah.
Fuck it. Let's go out with a bang.'

Jane
went looking for Ghost. She found him on C deck, the lowest level of the
accommodation block. Dark, low ceilings. Pipes and discarded tools. The kind of
place a grease monkey like Ghost would instinctively make his den.

Ghost
was stripped to the waist. He stood over a table. He was strapping a couple of
SCUBA tanks together.

Jane
kissed him between the shoulder blades. She put an arm round his waist.

'You
okay?'

'Yeah,'
he said. 'Just got a little frustrated at myself. I got seduced by
Hyperion.
The luxury. You were right all
along. We should have stayed here. Kept focused.'

'I've
got a plan. Fetch explosives from the bunker. Blow the lock-pins and release
the tethers. Float our way out of here. What do you think?'

'I
think you're stronger than me, and smarter than me, and if you want to give it
a shot then I am along for the ride.'

'Cool.'

'So
you want to head back to the island?'

'One
last time.'

'Then
I've got something that may help.' He shouldered the SCUBA tanks. 'Let's go up
to the helipad. I want to show you something.'

The
helipad. Big as a basketball court. A big red H lit by a ring of floodlights.
Ghost wheeled an office chair to the centre of the H and draped a parka over
it. He helped Jane strap the SCUBA tanks to her back. Thick hose led to a spray
gun.

'Diesel
pressurised with nitrogen,' said Ghost. 'Press that button on the barrel.
That's a butane lighter from the kitchen. The igniter. Gives you a little
nozzle flame. The big trigger releases fuel. Watch yourself, all right? Brace
your legs, and don't pull the trigger unless you mean it.'

Jane
stood twenty metres from the chair. She sparked the igniter. She adjusted her
grip on the spray gun and pulled the trigger. A roaring, high-pressure jet of
fuel-fire engulfed the office chair. Upholstery foam shrivelled and dripped.
The plastic chair withered in a hurricane blast of flame.

Nail
and Gus sat by the fire.

'I
feel like a caveman,' said Gus, prodding the embers.

'That's
because we are living in a cave.'

'I
could use a big juicy bison about now. What do you reckon? The infected. They
hate fire, right? Maybe we could cook the virus out of them.'

'You
want to eat a sailor?'

'Right
now I'm prepared to give it a shot.'

'You
are the sickest of fucks. So how are you feeling? Hunger aside?'

'Parched,'
said Gus. 'It's fucking ridiculous. We can't even go outside to grab some
snow.'

He
stroked the remains of his beard. Weeping blisters. Scorched stubble clotted
with pus.

'The
burns feel like they are tightening up, you know? Like the skin is contracting.
I'm frightened to move in case I split right open.'

'Maybe
you should lie still a while.' Nail was preoccupied with his own misery. He was
starting to sweat cold turkey. He didn't want to talk.

'The
pain comes and goes. Ice helps.'

'Maybe
we should grease you up. I think that's what you're supposed to do with bad
burns. Seal the wound.'

'What's
she doing?'

Nikki
stood at the bunker entrance, ear to the door. She was mumbling to herself.

'Is
she talking to them? Look at her. She speaks. She listens. She speaks again.
She's holding a conversation.'

'Trying
to work out how many of those infected fucks are out there waiting for us,'
said Nail.

'Looks
like she's having a nice long chat with them through the door. They act in
concert sometimes. You've seen that, right? Watched them out on the ice? What
if she can read their thoughts? What if some people can actually tune in?'

'Doubt
it.'

'Where's
her boat? If she made it back here she must have a boat.' 'Yeah.'

'She's
insane, you know that, right? All that stuff last night. All that babble.
Walking cities. Oceans of fire. She's lost it.'

'She
sounds better this morning. She's actually making sense.'

'Do
me a favour, all right?' said Gus. 'Don't leave me alone with her. Just don't
leave me alone.'

'I'm
going to get some wood. Take it easy.' Nail stood up.

'Hey,
Nikki,' he called. 'I'm going to fetch some more firewood. Care to join me?'

He
led Nikki deep into the tunnels. They each held a piece of burning bed frame as
a torch.

Damp
concrete. Nail hadn't been outside for days. There would quickly come a time
when he wouldn't want to leave. He would become habituated to the soothing
silence of the passageways. A creature of the shadows.

'Better
watch our step,' he said as they traversed damp, subterranean caverns. 'This
place is only half built. They might have dug vertical shafts.'

'I
think I might know this place better than you. These days I think of it as
home.'

'What
about food? What have you been eating this past couple of weeks?'

'Cans.
I ate them all. None left.'

'So
do you want to tell me about it?'

'Tell
you what?' she asked.

'You
took my boat. You sailed away. Now you are back, talking trippy bullshit about
walking cities. Did you leave at all? Jane told us you sent radio messages. You
went south, then sank. Was it all lies? Were you here all along?'

'It
was a long journey. I passed Greenland. I nearly reached Norway. There were
storms. I'm not entirely sure what happened. My memory plays tricks.'

'But
why? Why come back? All that effort to get away, and you came back. If Europe
has turned into some God-awful hell-world I need to know.'

'I
saw cities on fire. And other stuff. I saw cities get up and walk. Strange
creatures. Leviathans. It was madness. I knew it at the time. I knew it wasn't
real.'

'But
what will we find?' asked Nail. 'Your psychosis aside. If we actually make it
back to Britain what will be waiting for us?'