2041 Sanctuary (Let There Be Light) (26 page)

‘Trish wants me to go first,’ Jason said, his voice coming through her helmet’s speakers. ‘She wants to see how I do it.’

Sarah gave them the thumbs up; her nerves getting the better of her as he latched onto the winch cable. Unlike Sarah, Jason wisely chose to hang underneath the cable, like she had on the rope, and all went well until he neared the pillar.

A warning flashed up on Sarah’s visor. ‘Jason, stop!’

He ceased his motion, while beneath dust and debris fell from one of the undercuts, further eating away at the column’s stability. The degeneration dribbled to nothing and Sarah got back on the com. ‘Keep going, but go slower, try to keep your body as steady as possible, no side to side motion.’

A grunt of affirmation was his reply and he moved forward again, inching across so slowly it felt to Sarah like someone was pulling her teeth out a with a pair of pliers a nanometre at a time … without anaesthetic.

When he finally reached his target without further incident, he kept his movements slow and with care hitched himself onto the rope and begun the whole process over.

After what seemed like an eternity, Sarah helped Jason up beside her.

‘Trish, it’s your turn.’ Sarah waved her over. ‘Just take it nice and slow and you’ll be fine.’

‘Hook your legs together like I did,’ Jason said, ‘and keep your elbows in, it makes it easier to stop the sideways motion.’

Trish didn’t reply, she was too in the zone and full of nervous energy. Fiddling around and triple-checking she was attached, Trish edged out, moving even more slowly than Jason had.

Another warning message appeared on Sarah’s visor and Jason saw it too. He covered his helmet mic so Trish couldn’t hear. ‘That column’s ready to go.’

‘You need to speed up now,’ Sarah said to Trish, trying to keep her voice calm.

‘You said to go slow,’ Trish said, ‘make your mind up.’

She moved forward a little quicker and more warnings appeared on Sarah’s visor. ‘You need to go faster, sweetheart.’

‘I’m going as fast as I can,’ Trish said. ‘Is something wrong?’

Sarah could hear the anxiety in her voice.

More rock tumbled from the overhang and the column rocked sideways. Trish screamed as the winch cable sent her swaying.

‘Stop moving!’ Jason shouted.

Trish did as she was bid and the pillar steadied.

Sarah palms were slick with sweat. ‘Very slowly now, Trish, very slowly, move forward.’

Trish pulled herself along again and once more rock fell and the cable swayed. Trish froze in place, mere feet from the unstable column.

Seconds passed and Trish began again, stopping each time the stone pillar moved, until finally she reached the top of the precarious finger of rock.

‘Switch over the safety cord,’ Sarah said, ‘quickly!’

Trish’s hands shook as she fought to unlatch herself. Managing it on the fourth attempt, she snapped the clip onto the rope.

A mass of hazard symbols appeared on Sarah’s visor and the column lurched sideways. A shriek echoed into the chamber as Trish clung on for dear life. The overhang disintegrated and the column sank a metre before toppling toward the cliff.

‘Trish!’

Behind, the Centipede jerked forward and smashed into the aqueduct channel as the cable bit into stone. Held aloft by the winch and sheered in two, the column teetered on its own foundation while Trish dangled from the rope, which was still held fast by the anchor bolt.

Jason grabbed Sarah. ‘DO SOMETHING!’

A screech of metal on stone drew all eyes to the Centipede as it crept onto the lip, sparks flying from its wheels as it was dragged forward.

The column let out a groan and shattered.

Clinging onto the rope, Trish flew through the air and slammed into the cliff face, the top of the column beneath exploding into pieces as it thundered home a millisecond after. The rest of the structure smashed into the remnants of the aqueduct that entered the temple’s mount and a gush of lava spewed forth, dousing the rock close to where Trish hung, fifty feet beneath Sarah and Jason. Out of the gloom the Centipede spiralled end over end through the air, its lights appearing and disappearing until it hit the wall a hundred feet down. Its main beams flickered out and its crumpled carcass broke into pieces as it disappeared into the depths, clattering downwards towards the river of lava at its nadir.

Chapter Thirty

Heat flooded up the rock face in waves as the lava continued to pour from the side of the mountain on which the Anakim temple towered. The aqueduct had turned out to be a lavaduct and even now it threatened those who fought for life beside its coronal glare.

Sarah and Jason heaved on the rope, sinews standing out in agonised exertion.

A weep of fear escaped Jason’s lips as he gritted his teeth and Sarah felt her grip failing as the weight below dragged them back to the edge.

She let go. ‘It’s no good, it’s too heavy!’

Jason continued pulling, his eyes full of feverish tears.

‘Jason, stop!’ Sarah grasped his lacerated hands as blood seeped through his gloves.

‘NO! I can do it!’

‘You can’t. There’s half a ton of rock on the end of the rope. I need to go down and cut it off.’

Before he could argue, Sarah attached the rope to her harness and dropped over the side.

Trish clung to the cliff face below, her head averted from the fiery heat of the lava coating the nearby rock.

The lower Sarah climbed, the hotter it got. She tried communicating with Trish via her Deep Reach helmet, but it must have been damaged in the fall as she failed to respond.

Waves of heat consumed her and Sarah deployed her breathing mask to try and filter out the hot gas that wilted hair and singed lungs.

Moments later, now just above her friend, Sarah reopened her mask and called out. ‘Trish, are you okay?! You need to climb!’

Trish didn’t respond.

Sarah dropped lower and brushed the top of her friend’s dented helmet with a foot.

Trish looked up, her eyes wild with fear. ‘My arm’s broken!’

Sarah leaned to one side. A bone jutted from Trish’s limb.

She inched closer. ‘It’s fine. You need to cut the rope below you so we can pull you up.’

‘If I cut the rope I’ll fall!’

Realisation dawned. Sarah craned her neck. Beneath Trish hung the remains of the top of the column, still attached to the bolt anchor and rope. Trish stood on the stone; the very thing that had prevented them from pulling her up also served to keep her alive. What was more, if the rope was cut Trish’s safety line would just slide off, and with just one working arm there was nowhere else to go but down.

A chunk of earth bounced from Sarah’s helmet and she looked up. The lava was forcing out more rock, the flow expanding, creeping ever nearer. The heat increased. Burning fire splashed from nearby rocks and a drop of molten liquid landed on Trish’s leg, searing through cloth and flesh. Trish screamed.

Out of time, Sarah tied herself off and held out her arm. ‘Grab my hand!’

Trish shook her head.

More debris fell around them and the lava crept closer. ‘TAKE IT!’

The temperature soared and Trish reached out to grasp Sarah’s wrist. More flaming droplets showered around them, half a dozen hitting Trish.

Terror flared in Trish’s eyes. ‘I don’t want to die!’

Sarah gritted her teeth as she braced herself. ‘I won’t let you, trust me!’

With her free hand, Sarah withdrew a knife and cut the rope beneath her. The rock anchor fell and Trish’s dead weight dragged Sarah down against her harness. She dropped the knife and grabbed onto Trish with both hands.

Fire took hold of Trish’s jacket, smoke billowed up and flames licked at the hair beneath her helmet.

Sarah grimaced and clawed a few fingers inside her friend’s collar. ‘Jason, pull! FUCKING PULL!!’

They inched up, but Sarah knew they were too heavy for him. The sight of sizzling, burning nightmares immersed her vision and fire crept up her arms.

Trish’s eyes locked to hers, terror turning to pity. ‘Let me go!’

Sarah shook her head. ‘NO!’

Shimmering flames reflected in the tears of their eyes. Trish released her grip and she slid half a foot. ‘Look after Jason.’

Pain seared Sarah’s mind, but she held on.

Trish prised loose one of her hands and Sarah clung onto her cuff.

Grip failing, Sarah stared into her friend’s eyes and shook her head. ‘No!’

‘Love you,’ Trish said, and fell.

Chapter Thirty One

California, USA

‘And it’s true, never has the United States of America seen the like, and it may not do so again for a thousand years. The rules have changed, perhaps forever. Democracy has returned to our great nation from the halls of despair and corrupted dysfunction. Out of the ashes we have risen like the phoenix to show the world the way, the way to emancipation from tyranny, a true liberation from elitist rule and the repugnant, manipulative machine that is corporate capitalism. Freedom from the hidden new world order masking themselves behind the biggest evil of them all.’ The speaker cupped a hand to his ear. ‘Who is that evil?’

The people roared the name.

‘What? I can’t hear you?!’

‘GMRC! GMRC!!’

‘Long has the Global Meteor Response Council ruled our nation through the back door. The GMRC, this tyrannical beast, this goliath of dread and suppressor of hope, has forced upon us draconian sanctions and protocols agreed over twenty years ago by corporately elected politicians now retired or dead, leaving us behind to pay for their misdeeds. Sanctions that control our fundamental resources. Resources that are our God-given right as American citizens!’ The man clenched his fist and slammed it down on the lectern. ‘I’m not talking about the filth of money, but the precious necessities of water, food, shelter and electricity. While ordinary citizens, like you, like us, suffer at the hands of these unelected GMRC officials who bask in comfort and plenty, people die in the streets, in their homes, on their knees, put their by the GMRC Directorate and the mighty divisions of power they wield.

‘But change is coming, the people have voted! The old system of bought presidencies by corporate donors has crashed and burned.’

The speaker raised his fist in the air and cheers rang out. ‘Where there was oppression, I will deliver freedom. Where there was deceit, I will deliver truth! And where there was corruption, I will deliver JUSTICE!’

The crowds in the stadium roared approval, flags waved and the chanting began once more. ‘John Henry! John Henry!! JOHN HENRY!!’

The image and noise of the celebrations receded and in a separate window on the screen a newsreader addressed his viewers. ‘And there you have it, folks, not once since George Washington gave his farewell address in 1796 has this nation boasted a president outside of the two-party system. It was during his speech almost two hundred and fifty years ago that The Father of His Country warned against the dangers of a political system based on such limited choice. But now, in the year of Our Lord 2041, the American people have handed the presidency to our Commander-in-Chief in waiting, president-elect John Harrison Henry. A rank outsider only two years ago, he has been propelled to power on a wave of discontent. No one knows what the political fallout will be from this former democrat turned rebel, but there is little doubt the ramifications will be resounding throughout Capitol Hill for years, perhaps decades to come.’

FBI Special Agent Brett Taylor switched off the wallscreen. She’d seen and heard enough. Of course, the news was sensational. The next president of the United States would be an independent candidate, the first since Washington himself. Perhaps the most amazing thing was how he’d gained power in the first place. Crowdfunding had long been an institution where individuals, businesses and even countries could call upon anyone, anywhere, to donate money to their cause, be that for profit or otherwise. To use such a scheme to fund a presidential campaign had been tried before, but never on the scale that John Henry had been able to foster. When transparency was complete and donation amounts limited in order to preserve the candidate’s impartiality, it seemed the general public’s finances, be they American or otherwise, far outweighed that of the corporate bodies seeking to influence policy for their own means. It did introduce the problem that non U.S. citizens could influence the outcome of a presidential election, but then since foreign companies had been doing that for centuries anyway, what was the difference? The arguments would rumble on ad infinitum, but then that was politics, the merry-go-round of misdirection on the road to nowhere. Why change a lot when you can change a little? An apt assertion some might say for the ruling class – as legislators liked to think of themselves.

Brett moved to the washbasin and placed her holstered sidearm and badge to one side. She splashed water on her face and gazed into the mirror. Hard eyes looked back at her. Tall, with a wide face, short brown hair and a solid build, she was well suited to her role as an agent of the state, a law enforcer. A sharp mind complemented by a passion for solving crimes, she saw herself as the leading lady in a world dominated by men, a woman who’d show the testosterone-fuelled morons how policing should be done.

A knocking disturbed her. Wiping water away from her mouth and nose, she walked over and opened the door. Sniffing, she looked at the man standing before her.

He peered past her, confused. ‘Can I speak to a Brett Taylor, please?’

‘I’m she.’

‘Sorry, I assumed you were a man. I mean the name, not—’

Brett held up a hand. ‘I get it, what do you want?’

‘Ms. Taylor, the sentencing is about to begin.’

She looked at her watch. ‘They told me it wouldn’t take place until this afternoon.’

‘It’s been brought forward. The situation is unusual, what with the GMRC’s involvement.’

Brett grunted an obscurity before her computer phone vibrated. Thanking the administrator, she answered it. ‘Yes.’

‘FBI Agent Taylor?’ a man said, his voice stilted and accent strange.