2041 Sanctuary (Dark Descent) (42 page)

‘Failing those, we can go east,’ Hilt replied.

‘Which is in the wrong direction to the USSB!’ Goodwin slammed the tabletop in anger, sending everything on it jumping an inch into the air.

Hilt stared at Goodwin, unfazed by his sudden outburst.

Goodwin calmed himself. ‘I’m sorry, Commander.’

‘Perfectly understandable, sir, given the circumstances.’

‘I feel like I’m letting everyone down.’

‘No one else thinks that.’

‘No, you mean no one
says
that. They’re all thinking it. I am, so they are. I brought us here, apparently out of the fire and into the damn frying pan.’

Hilt didn’t deny it, opting to stay quiet.
The man never was any good at moral support
, Goodwin thought,
damn him
.

So their future prospects didn’t look good. Goodwin didn’t need to ask what would happen if none of these ideas panned out. Some would end up dying down here while the remainder would have to endure an increasingly bleak existence as equipment slowly failed over the years and decades. Goodwin pushed such thoughts from his mind. That way led to madness.

‘I’ll schedule a briefing with my officers and your management team,’ Hilt said, breaking the silence. ‘Everyone needs to know our objectives.’

Goodwin bobbed his head, acknowledging the comment, his mood as dark as it ever had been since they’d been in Sanctuary. Even the name of the place elicited a bitter taste in his mouth.

The two men discussed their options in more depth before Goodwin decided he needed a break. ‘Get some sleep, Commander. We can resume this later.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Goodwin turned to leave.

‘Sir, one more thing,’ Hilt said.

Goodwin looked back inquiringly.

‘I forgot to say. Tell your people not to go in the water, even if it’s just ankle deep, and to take extra precautions on their rafts.’

‘Why’s that?’

‘One of my men sustained an injury when he and his unit were out surveying the lake.’

‘What sort of injury?’

‘Leg lacerations; they’re not deep but they look to be festering.’

‘What caused it, a fish?’

Hilt paused. ‘Perhaps – something caught him, came out of the water. They didn’t get a good look at it.’

‘He was attacked then?

‘The wound didn’t look like any fish bite I’ve ever seen. Just make sure your people know.’

‘Will do, Commander,’ Goodwin said, leaving Hilt to it.

Walking back through the camp Goodwin decided to make a detour, heading out to the nearest section of the lake. Switching on his torch, he left the lights of the camp behind and ventured out into the black void. In the distance he could just make out the twinkling lights of his GMRC staff as they collected water and fished for food. Treading carefully, he slowed, giving himself plenty of warning in case he came upon the lake quicker than expected. You could never be too careful in this place, the lack of light was inhibiting at the best of times, but add to that a completely alien environment and the dangers went up considerably.

The dry layer of soil that covered this area of the chamber crunched under his boots as he moved forwards. Another thing about the chamber was the muffling effect it had on noise; as soon as you were any distance away from other people the silence that closed in around you was almost intense, the absence of sound complete.

A silky shimmer ahead, an effect produced by his beam of light, announced his arrival at the water’s edge. Goodwin was still some way from the activities further down the shoreline. With care he negotiated some small boulders, leaning on a couple with one hand to pick his way through the uneven surface. Hopping down, his feet sank into a shingle beach, but the jarring landing made his torch flicker and go out, plunging him into darkness. Goodwin swore and rapped the torch with the palm of his hand in an attempt to restore the battery’s electrical contacts. It didn’t work. With his eyes rendered redundant his other senses launched into overdrive, his ears detecting the sound of the water gently lapping at the shore nearby and a faint odour specific to the lake tickling his nose and taste buds. He dialled back the torch’s intensity and the light sprang back to life, albeit fainter than before.
The batteries must be low
, he reasoned,
not a good thing to happen out in the middle of nowhere
. A tiny splash out in the lake brought his attention back and he flashed his torch out in the direction it came from. Nothing could be seen, except for an ever expanding ring of ripples, the only evidence of whatever had seen fit to disturb the surface.

Goodwin wondered what sort of fish came out of the water to attack a person. His mind returned to Hilt’s words.
The wound didn’t look like any fish bite I’ve ever seen
. Goodwin searched the water in front of him with large slow sweeps of his torch.
Who knows what lies out there in the depths
, Goodwin mused, an equal measure of curiosity and foreboding stealing over him. Gazing out beyond the reach of his light, Goodwin shuddered and turned, his need for the company of others suddenly an overwhelming compulsion.

Chapter Twenty Four

Another large raft reached the shore. Its dark timber hull breached the shallows, cleaving its way through the water to grind to a halt on the gravel beach that awaited it. Ten people knelt on board its deck, five on each side. This civilian crew held a variety of crudely fashioned paddles which they’d used to propel the simple vessel through the water. In the centre of the craft, a large lamp hung at the top of a pole. Hemming in this sturdy post at all sides lay a mass of pale scaly bodies, which in turn were held in place by a bulging fabric fence.

Goodwin caught one of the lines as it was thrown to him from atop the vessel. Together, with around sixty other people, they heaved the craft up out of the water and onto dry land.

‘Looks like you have another good haul,’ Goodwin said to one of the crew after they’d hopped down to the ground next to him.

‘One of the biggest catches yet.’ The man grinned and gave Goodwin a congenial slap on the back before moving away to help his friends unload the fish from the centre of the raft.

Goodwin dusted his hands off on the side of his trousers and walked away to the top of the beach, his boots displacing the loose pebbly surface with each step. Not far away, on a rocky outcrop, Kara Vandervoort sat waiting for him. Smiling, she gave him a little wave as he approached. ‘Having fun?’ she asked in her rich and vibrant South African accent.

‘It makes a change from organising rotas and deliberating on finding the USSB.’ Goodwin sat down next to her and kissed her in greeting.

‘Physical exercise is always good to clear the mind,’ Kara said with a twinkle in her eye.

Goodwin smiled and accepted the small flask she held out to him. Taking a swig of water, he savoured its refreshing taste as he quenched his thirst. He’d been working with the teams at the lake for half the day. His hands had been rubbed raw and his arms ached, as did his back, but despite all these niggles he felt reinvigorated, his fears temporarily pacified. What Kara said was true, exercise helped relieve stress and he’d needed some release after the less than inspiring news delivered by Hilt earlier that morning.

Sitting beneath one of the lighting rigs, it felt nice to be bathed in light; he could almost feel it warming his skin like the rays of the sun he often craved. As the saying went, you don’t know what you have ’til it’s gone – and it was true, you didn’t. Goodwin often woke up these days with dreams fresh in his mind. Some faded quickly, without trace; while others lingered on, their message clear. It was one of these dreams that Goodwin could always recall with clarity throughout the day, the heat from the sun on his skin as he sunbathed on a holiday he’d never taken. The crash of waves as they broke on a beach he’d never been to, the distant sorrowful cry of gulls circling in a cloudless blue sky.

He’d been underground for many years in Steadfast, but the base that had been his home possessed a powerful artificial sunlight generator, strong enough to produce heat for those under its glare. He’d also had a special screen fitted to his USSB office in order to fight the bouts of depression he suffered due to his underground existence.
This place, on the other hand, is a whole different kettle of fish
, he thought, absently noting the inadvertent pun in the phrase. The months spent underground in the darkness tended to suck at a person’s soul after a while, even for the hardiest or most sun averse; which was probably why Kara and Goodwin weren’t alone where they sat. Many others had gathered to bask in the steady glow of the floodlight. In fact, whenever people took a break from their duties they congregated in the light, drawn like moths to a very bright flame. Even now as Goodwin looked along the shoreline, every pool of light had attracted its own group of workers, each taking a much deserved rest.

They watched the fish being gutted and carved up, ready to be taken back to camp. The overwhelming stench drifted up the beach in waves, making Goodwin wish he had a cold to dull his senses, which protested at the gag-inducing onslaught.

‘I hear things didn’t go too well,’ Kara said.

‘No, not the best,’ he replied, distracted.

‘I’m sure you and the commander will come through for us in the end.’ She placed a comforting hand on his knee.

‘Yes.’ He put his hand on hers. ‘I’m sure we will.’ Whether Kara could hear the defeat in his voice, Goodwin was unsure. If she did she didn’t acknowledge it.

‘Have you ever wondered how the air is so breathable down here?’ she asked, perhaps in an attempt to change the subject and take his mind off the worries that she had just inadvertently reignited in his mind.

‘I have, although since you were in charge of the bio-chambers back in Steadfast, I’d have thought you were better qualified to answer that than me.’

‘I have a few theories.’

‘Are you going to enlighten me then?’ he asked, when she failed to continue.

She grinned, her eyes alight with mischief; an expression he knew all too well. Kara was quite cheeky when she had a mind to be. Her buoyant mood always seemed to rub off on him and was partly why he loved her so.

He tried to keep his own smile in check and failed miserably. ‘Am I going to have to beg?’

‘Later,’ she said with a wink, ‘but seriously, though,’ she continued, looking around their surroundings, ‘there’s nothing to suggest there should be any air down here at all; nothing to produce it in the quantities and quality that we’re experiencing.’

Goodwin looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to further enlighten him.

‘The algae and other plant life in the lake may produce a certain amount of oxygen,’ she said, ‘but not enough to keep the air fresh and perfectly balanced. The nitrogen levels, according to Darklight’s high-tech sensors in those helmets of theirs, also stay at a constant seventy-eight per cent. There don’t appear to be any kind of mechanisms down here, mechanical or otherwise, to ensure this consistency. Sanctuary’s USSB, like Steadfast itself, will undoubtedly have its own integrated air generation and purification system. The USSB isn’t connected to this part of Sanctuary, however, and even if it was, unless I’m missing something, it couldn’t possibly churn out the volume required to fill this place.’

‘So what’s happening, then?’ Goodwin was intrigued.

‘There must be something elsewhere producing a breathable atmosphere on a Biblical scale.’

‘What, a machine of some kind?’

‘Either that or a big – and I mean big – ecosystem, replete with copious amounts of flora, able to sustain significant oxygen output.’

‘We have a lot of water here,’ Goodwin said, ‘couldn’t there be some kind of plankton creating it?’

‘Phytoplankton, yes, but they require energy from the sun which, if you’d noticed, there isn’t much of down here. And as big as the lake is, its surface area is too small.’

‘Won’t the lack of sunlight prevent other plant life flourishing?’ he asked.

‘In most instances, but we do know plant and animal life can exist in the deepest oceans; congregating around thermal vents and thriving without any sunlight at all. Since the professor told you Sanctuary reaches twenty miles down, then it’s possible it operates by harnessing the heat from a magma chamber located beneath, or even within, the structure itself.’

‘Inside?’ Goodwin didn’t like the sound of that idea.

Kara laughed and slapped his thigh, picking up on his concern. ‘Don’t worry; if these Anakim were as clever as they appear to have been, then it was probably built into the design plans. A permanent source of energy for something this large would have been a must, I imagine.’

‘They weren’t that clever or they’d still be here,’ he said.

‘Hmm,’ Kara murmured in response.

A shout went up from the people unloading that day’s catch. Kara and Goodwin stood up to get a better view, as did others around them. It seemed a large cod-like fish wasn’t dead. The poor beast thrashed on the deck of the raft. Some workers got out of its way, while others moved in to subdue it. A man carrying a large block of wood finally dispatched it with one swift blow to the head, the fish flopping limp. The show over, Kara and Goodwin took it as their cue to leave. Goodwin had to get back to assist Hilt with his planning and Kara was needed to help with the logistics of distributing the food and water supplies amongst Steadfast’s evacuees.

Leaving the lights and people on the shoreline behind them, they switched on their respective torches and slipped away into the darkness. In the distance a single lantern, glinting like a tiny star, had been erected at the outskirts of the encampment to act as a guide to those returning from the lake.

‘One of Hilt’s men got bitten then?’ Kara said as they trudged along, hand in hand.

‘Yes. I’ve relayed the message to all the team leaders that no one should venture into the water, including the shallows.’

‘And you’ve banned all bathing and swimming, too?’

‘Bathing in the water, yes, but people can still clean themselves, in fact I encourage it. We need to be careful with hygiene; we can’t afford an outbreak of anything down here.’