2041 Sanctuary (Dark Descent) (44 page)

‘Copy that, sir,’ the response came back over the radio.

‘Thank you, Commander,’ Goodwin said. ‘I’m glad you and your people are here.’

‘Sir, if I may speak freely?’ Hilt asked.

‘Of course,’ Goodwin said, somewhat exasperated by the man’s continued need for such formality.

‘What possessed you to go into the city without an escort?’

Goodwin glanced at Kara, who looked suitably guilty.

‘It was my fault, Commander.’ Kara spoke up before Goodwin could say anything. ‘I saw the light and decided to investigate.’

Hilt looked from Kara to Goodwin, who gave his Darklight friend an apologetic half-smile.

‘You’re lucky things turned out the way they did,’ Hilt said, formulating his words carefully as he trod the fine line of reprimanding his director.

‘I can’t believe it chased us,’ Kara said. ‘I was so scared I nearly passed out.’

Goodwin held out a hand, which Kara took before flashing him a strained smile.

‘Whatever, or whoever, it was,’ Hilt said to them, ‘you followed it into the city, effectively chasing it, and then cornered it. What did you expect it to do?’

There wasn’t much Kara or Goodwin could say to that. The man had a point.

‘So there’s something down here with us,’ Goodwin said after Kara had returned to her tent with an armed escort, at Goodwin’s request.

Hilt looked at him across the table, his heavy features, as ever, masking his emotions. ‘It looks that way.’

Goodwin sighed. ‘And I thought things couldn’t get any worse.’

Chapter Twenty Five

Dazzling light momentarily blinded Professor Steiner as – almost immediately – a deafening clap of thunder announced the storm’s presence overhead. Rain hammered down like stair rods, the intensity soaking him to the bone. Behind, Colonel Samson lit their way with a torch attached to the side of his tactical assault rifle. Every so often Steiner felt a nudge in the small of his back, the action an attempt by Samson to encourage him to move faster across the uneven and rocky topography of the New Mexican desert.

Steiner’s thoughts still lingered on those who had just perished, a harrowing guilt over their deaths gnawing deep into his heart. His orders and his alone had seen them to an early grave. Captain Iwamoto and his lieutenant, a powerful woman whose name he couldn’t recall, had been taken out by some unseen assassin. The rest who’d made the arduous journey to the surface from USSB Steadfast had been cut down on Malcolm Joiner’s orders and by the callous actions of Samson, whose company he now had to endure alone.

‘Get down!’ Samson shouted from behind.

Steiner, shoved to the ground, had the air squeezed from his lungs when the Colonel landed painfully on top of him, the man’s heavy bulk pinning him to the muddy earth.

‘What are you doing?!’ Steiner said as Samson held him down.

‘I’m shielding your body, don’t move!’

A loud, penetrating roar shot by overhead, the very earth trembling at its passing.

Steiner knew that sound; it wasn’t anything produced by nature, but by a high velocity, low flying aircraft. Peering out from underneath the Terra Force leader’s camouflaged body, Steiner caught sight of the twin afterburners of a jet fighter as it banked steeply, vanishing up into the flickering storm clouds above.

The weight lifted from Steiner’s back and a metal shrouded hand heaved him to his feet.

‘This rain will wash away our tracks,’ Samson said, as the two men moved forwards once more, ‘but they’ll keep searching the area in case they missed anyone. We need to up the pace.’

The ground sloped down, Steiner stumbled and grabbed onto a stunted, sodden tree. The branch he’d selected, too brittle to support his weight, snapped with a resounding crack. Falling to his knees, Steiner found himself looking into a small hole sunken into a shelf of bedrock. Peering back at him out of this shadowy pit was a face, its eyes wide.

Steiner barely had time to move as a small figure flashed past him, out into the rain and off into the night. Scrambling up, Steiner saw Samson had raised his gun, preparing to shoot. Without thinking Steiner threw himself at the Colonel just as a stifled shot exploded from the muzzle with a flash of flame and smoke.

‘Are you out of your fucking mind?!’ Samson’s voice seethed from within his helmet.

‘I just stopped you from murdering a small boy.’

‘No, you just compromised our position!’ Samson shoved his heavy rifle into Steiner’s unresisting hands and loped off, his indistinct outline fading quickly from view.

Now all alone, Steiner directed the small light from the heavy weapon at the rain swept desert floor, gingerly following the path taken by Samson and the startled boy. A full quarter of an hour passed before Samson returned; the limp body of a child under one arm.

‘He was a fast little bastard,’ Samson said as he approached.

‘You killed him?’ Steiner was horrified beyond measure.

Samson didn’t reply, opting instead, to dump his lifeless load at Steiner’s feet.

No sooner had Samson let him go than the child sprang up, making to flee once more. Samson’s arm struck out like an uncoiling viper, his cat-like reflexes snuffing out the boy’s escape plan in the blink of an eye.

‘Let me go!’ The child struggled against Samson’s unyielding grip, his limbs and body contorting wildly in an attempt to break free.

Samson placed a hand over the bedraggled boy’s mouth and knelt down to his eye level. The colonel’s mask-like helmet, emanating an eerie green glow, must have been a terrifying sight to behold for one so young.

‘Be quiet, boy,’ Samson said, pulling out a long serrated bowie knife, which he then held in front of the child’s terrified eyes, ‘or I’ll make sure you stay silent – permanently.’

‘Leave him be, Colonel,’ Steiner said in his most authoritative tone, placing a hand on the boy’s small shoulder and moving to stand in front of him, shielding him from Samson’s monstrous form.

Samson stood up, towering over Steiner and their new companion. ‘You’d risk our mission for a child?’ Samson’s voice was cutting. ‘He’ll be dead like everyone else soon enough; in fact he might even be better off dying now, considering what’s to come.’

‘Life is still life, Colonel, regardless of its longevity. I’ll look after the boy if you’re so worried about him.’

Samson stared down at Steiner, the faceless visor concealing his expression. ‘Fine, but if he becomes a problem I won’t hesitate to do what’s necessary.’

‘You’ll do as I command, Colonel, and you won’t touch another hair on this child’s head. Do you understand me? Not a hair!’

Samson grunted and lent down, extending his shrouded face towards Steiner’s own. ‘If you think you’re still in control, old man, you’re mistaken. Keep the infant close; he’s your responsibility now.’

Reclaiming his rifle, Samson stood aside and motioned for Steiner and the boy to lead on, and lead on they did. The rain had slowed now, the storm shifting its position northwest as the troop of three headed east, away from Steadfast and the U.S. military that guarded its exits. Despite the passing of the tempest, the night sky remained oppressive, its starless nature a poignant reminder as to the ever present dust cloud drifting in the upper atmosphere high above them.

‘We need shelter,’ Samson told Steiner after they’d walked another half mile. ‘They’re sending out more drones and helicopters from Fort Bliss to search the area.’

‘How do you know that?’ Steiner picked his way with care through a dense section of brush, the small lad close on his heels.

‘A marine was kind enough to let me borrow his radio. I patched into their feed. I don’t get all communications, but enough to improve our chances of evasion.’

‘There is no shelter.’ Steiner felt desperation rising. ‘We’re still miles from the Darklight compound. If we’re caught out here they’ll kill us all where we stand.’

‘I know a place,’ a timid voice spoke up.

Samson turned his torch light onto the young boy’s face; he blinked against the sudden brightness, his pupils contracting while drops of rain trickled down his face.

Steiner bent down on one knee, giving the boy what he hoped was a friendly smile. ‘What’s your name? Mine’s George.’

The child glanced at Samson looking fearful.

‘Don’t worry about him.’ Steiner gave Samson a stern stare. ‘He’s just a nasty bully. Do you have any bullies at your school?’

The boy nodded mutely.

‘And what have your parents told you to do when dealing with a bully?’

‘My father says I must stand up to them,’ the boy said, regaining confidence at the mention of his parent.

‘That’s right,’ Steiner said encouragingly. ‘A bully is a coward, we all know that, don’t we, Colonel?’

Samson gave a growl. ‘Don’t push your luck.’

Steiner laughed, trying to show he wasn’t scared by Samson’s threats. ‘See, he’s not so scary is he?’

‘Kuruk,’ the boy said, ‘my name’s Kuruk.’

‘Kuruk,’ Steiner repeated, pleased he’d managed to get him to open up. ‘Do you know somewhere we can hide, Kuruk, a building maybe?’

Kuruk nodded his head again. ‘There’s a barn not far from here, I go there to play sometimes.’

‘Does it have a storm shelter?’ Samson said.

Kuruk looked to Steiner, still clearly afraid of the colonel. Steiner raised his eyebrows and smiled once more, conscious that forces from Fort Bliss closed on their location.

‘Yes,’ Kuruk said.

Steiner brushed raindrops from his glasses. ‘Can you take us there?’

‘Uh-huh.’ Kuruk held out his hand which Steiner took. ‘This way,’ he said, pulling Steiner in the opposite direction to the one in which they’d been headed.

It wasn’t long before a rickety, high-sided barn inched into sight out of the darkness. Its walls had seen better days, with planks of wood hanging off in places, exposing the interior to the elements. Steiner pulled at the double doors. They were locked. Samson lashed out with a heavy boot, splintering the wood with ease and sending both doors swinging inwards.

Steiner went to walk inside but Samson had gone stock still, blocking his way with an outstretched arm.

‘Colonel?’ Steiner said.

Samson held up a hand for quiet. ‘Someone’s approaching,’ he said, after a moment’s pause, ‘get inside.’

Steiner did as he was told, guiding Kuruk along with him. The Colonel must have picked up a signal on the radar system built into his helmet’s HUD. This technology always seemed to Steiner to give its user the impression they possessed some kind of precognitive ability.
It’s just as well it does, considering our current predicament
, Steiner thought.

At that moment a voice could be heard, calling out into the night.

‘Kuruk! Kuruk, where are you?!’

‘Father?’ Kuruk pulled against Steiner’s hold. ‘Father!’

The boy slipped beyond Steiner’s reach, turned on a torch he’d been keeping hidden and headed for the exit. Simultaneously the barn doors swung open to reveal a Native American man holding a shotgun.

‘Drop it!’ Samson’s voice came from out of the shadows, halting Kuruk in his tracks.

The Apache Indian bent down, placed his weapon on the damp dusty floor and then stood back up, arms raised. Samson’s translucent shape hovered in Kuruk’s torchlight, the beam appearing to bend as the rays came into contact with the armour’s individual panels.

‘Who are you people?’ the man said, his arms encircling his son protectively.

Samson, his assault rifle trained on the newcomer, deactivated his active camouflage and walked round to stand next to Steiner, while Kuruk hugged his father around the waist.

Steiner moved forwards. ‘We mean you no harm.’

‘Your friend doesn’t appear to agree with you.’

‘Lower your gun, Colonel,’ Steiner said, ‘they’re not a threat.’

The imposing weapon dipped towards the floor, Samson perhaps seeing the sense in Steiner’s request.

‘Sir, we need your help,’ Steiner said to Kuruk’s father.

‘I’m no sir, but you may call me Norroso.’

‘Norroso, I need your help, it is a matter of extreme importance. Many lives depend on my actions and perhaps now, on yours too. People are looking for us and we need a place to hide, or better still some transport.’

The Apache considered Steiner’s heartfelt request, seemingly undaunted by the situation that faced him. ‘My people come to me for advice,’ Norroso said, his tone conversational. ‘They tell me things they have done. They ask me if the spirits of our forefathers see their deeds. I tell them if they are worried then their actions are shameful. If they are hopeful they need not be troubled. Do you know what my people are called?’

Steiner shook his head; the man’s measured yet abstract words almost hypnotic in their effect.

‘We go by many names,’ Norroso continued his narrative. ‘Jicarilla Apache, Native American, or in days past the white man called us the Red Indian. But we are to ourselves the Tinde, or Dinde,
the People
. Our brothers from the plains name us Kinya-Inde,
people who live in fixed houses
. Tan-nah-shis-en,
men of the woodland
. Keop-tagui,
mountain Apache
and many more. But we have another name, a little used name, Haisndayin, which translates as
people who came from below
. We are descended from the first peoples to leave the underworld, the ancestors of mankind. Our history is passed down from generation to generation, unaltered through song and verse.’

Fascinated, Steiner listened, all the time wondering what the man was leading up to.

After Norroso had let his words sink in he began again. ‘You have led man back to the underworld in our time of darkness,’ Norroso said. ‘Beneath the earth is our true nature. We belong to the land as the land belongs to us.’

Is he indicating he knows we are from Steadfast?
Steiner wondered. It certainly seemed that way. The GMRC were aware of certain theories about underground facilities that circulated amongst minority groups around the world; these tales of fancy had been around long before the Subterranean Programme had even existed. Was it so surprising that their secret was more transparent than they’d previously thought? After all, aboriginal peoples, still living off the land, were always more in touch with their surroundings than those living in modernity.