Skyquakers (24 page)

More and more of the ship began to seal off as warnings of
contamination blared throughout the cloud. Elevators shut down: they could no
longer go up. The only direction, then, was down. Captain dragged Psycho into
the stairwells, kicking down doors with Lo still in his arms. They could hear
shouting above them and the rapid feet of approaching decontamination teams.
They hurried. Two storeys down. Three. A stairwell door burst open in front of
them and a giant in a gas mask lunged forward, swinging a steel, two-pronged
electric cattle prod with an angry roar. Psycho was short enough to duck;
Captain seized the handle of the prod mid-swing with his free hand. The
attacker went to pull out a gun – a black, lethal version of the glass rifle –
but Captain disarmed him, kicked him against the wall, and then stabbed the
electric pod through his face mask with a vicious cry of insanity. The mask
shattered, leaving the giant with both a face full of glass shards and 50,000
volts running directly into his eye socket. The giant
’
s head was
cooked from the inside out, and eventually he collapsed to the ground in a
twitching mass of burnt flesh and ruptured eyeballs. Psycho, who had held that
same weapon many times and used it for his own purposes, could not help but to
feel ill by the scarred, fried face gawking up at him.

‘Hurry. More coming,’ Captain said.

They ran on, dodging glass bullets flying at them from the
stairwell above. At last they came to a door with three pink interlocking
circles drawn on the cold steel, and only then did Captain’s true intentions
become clear. They burst through the door and were struck by a powerful, cold
wind. Captain lunged for a nearby gas mask and hastily wrapped it over his nose
and mouth, allowing him to breathe. Psycho could breathe fine; he knew exactly
where he was too. They had emerged onto the lowest level of the ship, the
underbelly of the cloud. At the railings, the two looked down upon a circular
pit of darkness and wind, through which they saw the stormy sky and heard the
thunder rippling through the atmosphere. The beams, as magnificent as they were
terrifying, sat idle, unguarded in the chaotic darkness.

‘What
the hell
are
we doing?
’
Psycho cried. He had to shout over the
hurricane-strength winds.

Captain pointed to a dashboard at the end of the railing,
almost identical to the control panels in the warehouses. ‘Get to control
bench! Just like before! Up-down lever, yes?
’
His voice
was muffled by the gas mask.

‘What? Wait! You can
’
t do this!
’

Captain moved quickly, knowing every second was precious.
With Lo still asleep in his arms, he skid down the vertical ladder with
newfound energy and landed, flat-footed, on the lower ground. Psycho watched
him approach the circular edge of the beam’s ring. He tried to call out to him,
beg him to stop, but the winds were too overpowering. Captain stepped up to the
edge of the beam’s rim. He held out his arms.

Holy shit, he’s going
to drop her.

Psycho ran to the control bench, but he didn’t make it.
Behind him, the doors burst open and an army of giants appeared, all wearing
spacesuits and gas masks. One of them was Engineer. He saw Psycho and the boy
’
s
knees went weak.

‘I tried to stop him! I couldn’t
—’

Engineer slapped him
,
hard
,
across the face. Psycho was thrown to the ground.

Engineer marched to the railings and looked down to see what
commotion had stirred everyone from their sleep. To see the captain alive and
frighteningly healthy was unexpected, and yet Engineer’s piercing eyes behind
his gas mask showed a faint sign of malicious delight. His armed giants had
their glass guns aimed at the former leader, ready to fire on Engineer’s
command. Was this what all the alarms were about? All this commotion to rescue
a native? The old coot had most certainly lost his mind, but now Engineer had
the pleasure of doing something permanent about it. He gave the orders for his
loyal soldiers to switch their rifles from glass to black.

Psycho sat up and rubbed his bruised cheek. He saw
Engineer’s crewmen take out their lethal weapons and lock onto the Captain,
aiming to kill instead of simply immobilise. The spray of black bullets would
undoubtedly kill Lo too. He panicked. He looked over his shoulder and saw the
operating dashboard, still unguarded. This was going to hurt, he could already
feel it.

Captain stood with poise and confidence before the firing
squad. He said nothing; gave no justification for his actions, no ability to
explain his sudden newfound health. He and Engineer locked eyes as old friends,
or new enemies. Engineer was not interested in listening to anything he had to
say; he knew who that native in his arms was and he suspected his actions were
a result of a massive psychotic break of some sort. It was bound to happen; age
and illness had destroyed the captain’s mind. This breach in security was only
going to result in Engineer’s promotion and Captain’s
detention,
that
was, if Engineer cared to keep him alive.

Captain had long known that his time was up and knew he
would not have the strength to build a campaign against Engineer for the return
of his captaincy. So he was accepting of his fate. The fate of his child, on
the other hand, was not Engineer’s decision. In his frail arms, he cradled Lo.
He stroked her hair one last time. He looked down and felt the cold wind
gushing up from the abyss at his feet. Through the cloud-cover, he could see
the orange glow of dawn approaching.

Engineer shouted at him to put the contaminated specimen
down and submit peacefully.

Captain complied. He dropped her.

‘No!
’ Psycho
screamed.

Engineer snarled at such cheek and slammed his fists against
the railing. He ordered the captain
’
s arrest. The crewmen set upon
him, seizing his wrists in cuffs. Captain struggled against them. He cried out
to Psycho, in English, ‘
Do it! Do it
now!’

Engineer spun back and saw his native servant, working the
control bench. In rage, he seized a cattle prod and marched towards him,
ordering him to step away from the beams. Psycho pretended not to hear. Lo had
fallen to Earth; he did not have long. Rapidly his hands worked the dashboard
as he had learnt using the identical system in the warehouses: three power
switches initiated the nuclear reactor, unleashing a high-pitched whir as the
generator began working at full capacity. Pink and purple light began to surge
through the cables and surround the circular brim of the beam’s outer ring. A
blazing halo of light in the centre of the floor hummed brighter and brighter,
building strength and power, waiting to be unleashed in a tremendous blast.

Psycho felt Engineer’s shadow tower over him from behind, a
raised electric prod in hand. With seconds to spare, Psycho seized the heavy
lever and pushed it down into the ‘drop’ position. A moment later, the sting of
the prod up his spine threw him to the ground.

The beams struck, rocketing down through the clouds with a
colossal eruption of built-up nuclear energy. Hopefully, somewhere many
thousands of feet down, Lo was trapped in this beam, saving her from plummeting
to her death. There was no way to know, though: perhaps she had fallen out of
range; perhaps she was already dead.

Psycho was paralysed on the ground. He felt a powerful kick
to his ribs, causing him to choke and gasp for air. Engineer, standing over his
body, began cursing under his breath in the language of the giants, calling him
a liar, a traitor. At the dashboard, he pulled the heavy lever back to idle,
shutting down the whole system. The beam was cut off and the machines powered
down. Engineer then checked the digital screens and suddenly he swore: the
specimen had landed on Earth, alive. Psycho, at his feet, could suddenly
breathe again. Below the railings, he could hear the captured Captain laughing
hysterically in victory. Engineer ordered his crew to take the bastard away and
chain him up somewhere. He then bent down and, with a long, bony arm, he took
Psycho by the scruff of his hair and dragged him to his feet. He slammed him
against the wall.

‘I’m… sorry…’ the boy choked out.

Engineer told him what had to be done: that specimen was a
contaminant, a pathogen which had the potential to ruin all of his work. Psycho
was going back to Earth.
Find the escaped
vermin. Kill it before it spreads
.

Reluctantly, Psycho said he would not let him down.

PART THREE

Her first message read:
‘
RUN.
’

To which he replied,
‘
What?
’

As they spoke casually, hiding their ulterior conversation
from the prying ears beyond the door, she wrote another:
‘
Leave
them all, and
RUN
.
’

‘No!
’

‘
Shh
!
’

‘What are you? Tell me!
What are you?
’

An angry, suspicious fist began banging on the door,
shouting,
‘
Ned! What
’
s going on
in there? Open up!
’

Then the dog started barking.

Ned saw his rifle, resting next to the door. He leapt up to
grab it. Lara cried,
‘
You
’
ll only
make it worse!
’
but he wanted it anyway. He
hurried to the window and parted a small gap in the thin curtains to see what
was happening outside.

‘Oh, god
…’
he panted.

Zebra Rock was surrounded by ghosts, by transient creatures
which appeared from the cumulonimbus ether in a single clap of thunder. Their
silver threads and dark shades were masks over dead and lifeless faces,
obscuring the absent soul of killers. The Suits, they were known as, were never
meant to have become such a reckless force. These people, these slaves, were
not particularly large in size, not military trained, nor were they the
demented offspring of some vicious alien experiment. They were simply boys and
girls, old ladies and bald men, who had lost their grip on the world long ago,
along with all conscious processing, and anything resembling their original
human selves. These erased faces were meant to be harmless, but now they stood
with weapons in their hands and blood on the soles of their leather shoes. They
had learnt to assemble, and under the right – or perhaps, wrong – leadership,
these kidnapped souls had fallen victim to the sadistic pleasure of one.

A young man stood amongst his army with the face of
indifference. Behind his façade, he was exhausted and in physical pain, but
that was not the face he wanted to show, not today. Instead he stood proudly,
firm-footed. He wanted this to be over quickly.

Ned and Lara watched the scene from the window. It was
daunting to suddenly see so many converted disciples surround them in such
perfect posture, forming an arc that encompassed the gallery, the campsite, and
thirteen – now fourteen – terrified survivors. The red-eyed James was out
there, drawn to the danger by
Moonboy’s
warning. In
his stained singlet and baggy jeans, he stood with his gun, barrel pointed,
giving the Suits all a good mouthing-off. Behind him, Elizabeth and the
students cowered in terror, while Munroe stood guard in front of his gallery as
the mighty troll who would not let these scum pass. Some of the settlers were
armed and some had left their guns elsewhere. One or two joined James in his
rants, aiming their barrels and demanding they left. The Suits said nothing.
They did not respond to James’ orders to get off their property, or his insults
that they were nothing but a pack of alien-trained bitches. Elizabeth tried to
step forward and offer words of reasoning, but James pushed her back and
continued to aggravate them with patriotic rage. The Suits said nothing.

Michael then pulled himself from Violet
’
s
restraint and went limping forward, pointing an accusing finger at one young
man, one cocky Suit standing directly in front of them all. His tirades were
muffled from inside the gallery, but Ned knew what he was saying: that was
him
. That was the Suit who killed
Andrew, the one who tortured him, ignored his screams of mercy, and left him to
rot in the dirt. Michael was bellowing so hard that he was almost crying.
Violet tried to pull him back into submission, but he pushed her away and
continued limping forward, finger raised at the boy as he stood there, silent,
completely apathetic. He called him dirty, he called him a coward.

Michael was shot in the head. Violet screamed.

And then it started. Ned felt the glass pane next to his ear
shatter from a bullet, either theirs or one of the settlers
’
,
forcing him to duck down and press his back against the wall. Lara threw
herself to the ground and covered her ears from the chaos.

‘Run!
’
she screamed.

But he couldn’t leave them.

From the opposite window, an arm smashed its way through the
glass and began clawing at them with the zombie-like drone of, ‘Contamination!
Contamination!’

Ned shot him. It went off without him even realising it, but
suddenly the Suit in the window had vanished. He panted, staring at his weapon
as though it had done that by itself.

‘Oh god, oh shit
—’

‘Get up! Go!
’
Lara dragged the distressed
boy to his feet and pulled the door open.

By that stage, it was already over.

The battle had been brief, apathetic, and meaningless. Twelve
dead bodies lay scattered across the settler’s camp. Their arms were
outstretched in the dust as if reaching for the hands of one another, their
backs turned as if they had made an attempt to run. Nothing moved. Around them,
Suits stood and looked down at the bodies as if not knowing what they were, as
if the tattered clothes on their backs, so astonishingly different to their
own, made them unrecognisable as a species. They lay there, every last one of
them, with not a single glint in their eyes, not the slightest sound of a
panting breath. And afterwards, the agents of the
Skyquakers
looked up from the mess they had made and it was instantly forgotten: life,
death, humanity.

Ned was paralysed at first. A moment later he was screaming.

There was one Suit in the middle, a young man with slick,
dark hair, who did nothing but command the others. His name was Psycho. He
stood in the heat of the day, sweating in his silver suit, hiding the pain and
frustration behind his sunglasses. He and Lara looked at one another and she
could see the demented face behind his mask. He was a monster. She ignored it
in the beginning, but she had always known this fact.

The Suits raised their weapons at their true target,
standing unguarded besides the last boy. ‘Contamination!’ they all droned at
once, like an army of robots.

‘You know how this ends, Lo,’ Psycho called out over the
graveyard.

Moonboy
was still barking.
Terrified, he ran to his master and cowered behind Ned’s legs, whimpering.

‘Shoot the analogue too,
’
Psycho
added.

The alien guns were raised at
Moonboy
.

‘No!
’
Ned grabbed the dog
’
s
collar and pulled him back.

At the same time, Lara took Ned’s rifle right out of his
hands and aimed it at Psycho
’
s head.

Ned, still trying to control a hysterical
Moonboy
by the neck, seized Lara’s wrist to stop her from
making a huge mistake
—

At that moment, Ned
’
s vision
went blurry. He lost all sense of depth and direction, as though his head had
been pushed underwater. He panicked. He felt his body drift, become weightless,
and yet he wasn
’
t moving anywhere. Around him,
the world spun rapidly, in all three dimensions. His head felt as if it was
going to explode from the pressure, eventually causing him to black out.