The Flood (20 page)

Then the door of the lift opened, and Davos came in; with him was Faversham; behind them Barney and two other men, whom Woburn had not seen before.

Eve and Woburn were by the window.

The men stood by the open door for a moment, and then Davos and Faversham came forward slowly. Davos looked old, sad, hopeless. All the life had gone out of him, all the benign serenity. Mad he might be; but he was looking at the ruins of a dream of great and surpassing grandeur.

Faversham looked – murderous.

Davos glanced at his daughter and at Woburn, and then began to speak very slowly, as if it hurt him to pronounce each word.

“So you have heard and you rejoice,” he said, and shook his head. “Perhaps you sent the message, perhaps you killed Lidgett. I thought that Adam had, but – it doesn’t matter. This is no time for rejoicing, Eve, this is a time for grief. All I have worked for, all my hopes, all mankind’s hopes, are broken now, and soon I shall die, taking the ruins of it with me.”

He stopped, and his smile was painful, twisted, hurtful.

“And you must come with me, Eve,” he said. “We must go to join Naomi. You believed, of course, that I sent her into the village, but it is not so. I did not know that she was going, she went without my approval. Had it been possible, I would have stopped the first of the floods when I knew where she had gone.

“But the
octi
were burrowing, then, through the rocky earth, and it was too late.

“So, Naomi died and I killed her; and I had wanted her to live, to help to people the new world.

“She could not.

“We shall all die, now. If we should be caught by Palfrey, by the Governments of men, Faversham and I would be killed, as common murderers, but we shall not be caught. I was bred with a conviction of my own greatness, a conviction that the new world would be conceived in my mind and born through my body, but it is not to be.

“So, Eve, we shall go into the room which was to have been your bridal chamber and the place of the world’s rebirth.

“And these men, who served me well, will kill us as Palfrey is killing all my hope. Dr. Faversham, who has shared my dreams and my endeavours, is agreed that we have no choice but death. So great was his passionate loyalty that when he learned that his wife had been trying to send word to London about our plans, he killed her.

“And none of us shall live.

“These men, my servants, will stay on the island until the arrival of the troops who cannot be long delayed now. And they will use the same gas as Palfrey is using, so it will be quickly over.”

They were near the great room.

The doors were open, and Woburn could see the bed upon its platform, and the paintings on the walls, the pictures of the new Garden of Eden. Already the face of Adam Reed had been painted out on some of the panels, and his own had been put in its place. That added to the sense of unreality, to the refusal to acknowledge that doom was so near.

Davos led the way.

Faversham was behind them, with the other two men. He marched erect, with his shoulders right back. He carried a gas-pistol, of the kind that Adam and the keeper Barney had carried. Woburn wondered whether it was the killer-gun.

The great staircase was close by.

If Woburn once went into this room there would be no hope of escape. If he turned and ran, there might be no greater hope, but there would not be the sense of waiting for the moment of death, of accepting it without any attempt to fight.

If he were to be killed, fighting . . .

The door was only five yards away from them, the staircase as far. Faversham stamped ahead. Davos was actually inside. The other two men were pressing close on Woburn’s heels, and Eve had her arm linked lightly in Woburn’s. He was sure that she did not really believe that it was going to happen, could not accept her father’s ultimate madness.

Woburn moved his hand to grip her arm; and stopped.

Faversham barked: “Go on, go on, hurry!” The two men moved a little to one side, one of them nearer the head of the stairs, as if they were ready for the attempt to escape.

“Mr. Woburn, nothing will help you,” Davos said quietly. “I am determined that we shall die, as my dreams are dying. These men can gas you, as you well know, so that your muscles will be useless, but you will be able to think, to see and to feel. You would be carried into the crypt of the new world, and it would be a cowardly way to die.

“Don’t you agree, Eve?”

“You love this man, of course. I have sensed that from the beginning. Do you want to think of him as a coward?”

Eve didn’t speak.

Woburn said slowly, softly, as if helplessly: “All right, Davos, I’ll take it.” But he pressed Eve’s fingers tightly, trying to tell her what he really meant, and pulling her slightly towards the stairs.

If they could get out of the range of the gas-pistols, there was still hope. There
must
be.

They were two yards from the door.

“Come on!” he roared suddenly, and pulled her away from it, towards the head of the stairs. A man was there, gun in hand – but before he could raise his gun, Faversham leapt at Woburn, striking out wildly. Woburn turned, bent his leg, and drove his knee into the man’s stomach. Faversham gave a squealing groan of sound, and reeled backwards. As he did so, something fell from his coat and struck the floor with a heavy, floppy sound.

It was a gas mask.

Davos saw that, and stood with hands raised and lips parted. The nearest guard gaped. The other took a step towards Woburn, but he was too late. There was a moment of stupefaction, as Davos and the others realised the simple truth; Faversham had not intended to die, but had come prepared to save himself. The moment of discovery gave Woburn a chance.

He leapt at the guard near the stairs.

He wrenched the gun from his fingers, thrust the man aside and, shouting:
“Run, Eve, run!”
he squeezed the trigger. The little puff of stupefying gas enveloped Davos and the other armed man. Faversham was trying desperately to get up.

“Come on,” Woburn gasped, “come on!” as if words mattered. He saw Eve moving towards the stairs, followed, passed her and flew ahead. He reached the foot of the stairs; in the great hall; and no one moved. He opened the door as Eve raced towards it – but before she reached the porch and the peacefulness of the courtyard, someone had fired a bullet from the head of the stairs.

Eve staggered.

Woburn waited for her, and she nearly fell into his arms. He hoisted her to his left shoulder and carried her out of the hall, as he had once carried her down the hill-side before the torrent came. Two more shots sounded, sharply. He wasn’t touched. He turned towards the back of the Castle, for the portcullis was still down; if there was a way out, it was over the wall and from the branches of the trees of the compound; there was no other way. He heard men shouting, but was not hurt. He reached the gate leading to the compound, thrust it open, and went inside.

There was Barney, opening the doors of the panther’s cage, and the great beast stalked out.

Barney struck at it with a whip, and the lash cut across its face. It yelped, then backed swiftly, and growled with savage anger.

By then, Woburn saw what Barney had been doing; saw that the animals were all loose, that every cage was open, that beasts were coming out, puzzled and quiet, but watching Barney in this new, vicious guise.

Then the panther leapt.

Barney didn’t scream, but stood his ground until the weight of the great beast carried him back. There was a growling, ripping sound – and with it a roaring and a menace from the other beasts close by.

Eve said, clearly, quietly: “Bob, kill me, please.”

That was all.

As her words faded the lion came leaping from its cage, fell upon a squealing buck, and ripped. Suddenly the animals were in uproar, all semblance of serenity gone. They turned upon one another, and as they did so Woburn saw that the lion’s cage was empty, the lion’s mate was now prowling among the trees.

Woburn bent down, then cradled Eve in his arms, and went into the cage. He pulled the iron gate, and as it clanged the roaring of the brutes outside increased to the level of thunder.

Davos came into the compound.

He was alone. He walked slowly, with a hand stretched out, as if he were groping, and could not see. He stood for a moment, not far from the roaring, leaping, rending animals, and then he seemed to see his daughter, and he turned towards her.

Eve saw him.

Then the panther, Barney just a shambles beneath its great paws, eyes reddened as if the smell of blood was maddening it, saw Davos.

It leapt.

All night Woburn and Eve stayed in the lion’s den, listening to the unfamiliar sounds, the rustling, the squealing, the occasional growl. Woburn had bound up the wound in Eve’s leg; a flesh wound that wasn’t likely to be serious. In the calm summer night they were not cold. When the morning came they saw that except for a few of the smaller animals, most of the beasts had gone from the compound, for the gate was open where Davos had left it. They would be roaming the glen.

Woburn opened the gate and got out, climbed to the top of the cage, and could see over the wall.

Here and there, men lay dead.

The panther was dead, too; perhaps shot, perhaps mauled. There was no other sign of life, except the birds – until, a little later, there was the sound of an aeroplane, and soon the sight of it.

Woburn climbed to the top of the cage again, waving his shirt wildly, looking down at Eve as she lay there. The first aeroplane made off, but soon others came, then helicopters. The first to land carried Palfrey, the second the Russian, each with a guard of Commando-trained men.

Dr. Palfrey and Stefan Andromovitch drew up in a Jaguar outside a small apartment hotel in the West End, and, as they got out, glanced up at a second-floor window. Woburn was waving. By the time they reached the front door, Woburn was opening it, looking fit, bronzed, carefree; and handsome, too.

It was several months since the floods, he and Eve had been married for most of this time, and had lived here ever since. Woburn had seen a great deal of Palfrey and the Russian, and was gradually beginning to feel fully at ease with them.

“Come in,” he said, and shook hands warmly. “Eve’s waiting upstairs.” They used a lift which was so small that Andromovitch had to crouch while in it. The door of the apartment was open, and Eve greeted them.

“They’ve arrived,” Woburn said gustily, “the great men themselves. When I think back—”

“Oh, never think back,” Palfrey said. “Always forward. Don’t you agree, Mrs. Woburn?”

“Her name,” Woburn said, “is Eve.”

The Russian gave his broad, serene smile.

Woburn went on: “We can talk about it now, and it’s just part of the old, bad dream. We realised a long time ago that if we didn’t talk about it freely it would probably obsess us and drive us crazy. Don’t think we’re being even slightly flippant.”

“In an Englishman,” Andromovitch said, “flippancy can always be forgiven.”

They sat down. It was evening, and already dusk.

Woburn poured drinks, Eve switched on two standard lamps in the corners. The windows were closed, except for a crack at the top, and the room struck warm.

Palfrey said: “Ah, thanks. Your very great happiness, Eve. And yours, Bob.” He and the Russian drank. “Well, I haven’t a lot of time, there’s an odd business in Australia that we ought to go and look at, so we’re flying out tomorrow morning.”

“Another?” Eve exclaimed.

“Probably a false alarm,” said Palfrey, reassuringly. “Most alarms are. This time it’s very different from the last, though, even if there’s anything in it. We may be away for several months, that’s why we thought today must be the day for a talk about things in general.”

He paused.

No one spoke.

He went on quietly: “We’ve now had a full summary and analysis of the results of the floods everywhere. This country, Holland, the United States, Canada, India and parts of China were the worst affected. The total casualties are as great as the casualties in the last world war. But – it’s all in the past. So is the material damage. New sea walls are going up everywhere. Great areas have already been reclaimed from the floods, and only here and there was permanent damage done to the land, as it was in Scotland.”

Palfrey paused again, and sipped his drink, as if he were anxious to get his facts right. Then: “All over the world a number of small towns and villages were virtually wiped out, but re-building is going on quickly, and within two or three years it should be finished.

“Most of the damage in the big cities has already been repaired.

“As far as is possible to judge, none of the trees has been seriously affected, and while a close watch will be kept on all brown rot for a long time to come, there are no signs that the
octi
survive anywhere at all, except under our control.”

Eve started.

“Are there—” she began, but didn’t go on.

“We have spent a lot of time at the Castle, of course, where the laboratory was practically undamaged. Your father’s dreams weren’t all distorted, remember; he’d first started on a search for creating rain – or water of any kind. The results of all his researches are being closely studied. He had gathered a few hundred devotees, all possessed by hatred for the corruption in the world and filled with an almost religious zeal to re-create the world. But at the end Barney saw that the dream was smashed, and let loose the beasts, sending jungle back to jungle in the bitterness of his disappointment. The beasts still roam the island, and it will become a wild life sanctuary, better than any we have in Europe.”

Palfrey paused, so that they could picture that scene. Then: “Now, though, widespread experiments in desert country are being carried out. The
octi
are released in certain areas which are cut off from the surrounding countryside, so as to make sure that the things cannot spread too far. Within days, barren land becomes fertile; within weeks, crops can be grown. And they are being used already, in India, the United States, China, parts of North Africa and Central Africa, in Russia – in fact most places where barren land has been thought to be quite useless. So—”

This time Palfrey was smiling.

“In the beginning I think your father thought that he would be a great benefactor to mankind, Eve. And in a way he has. No one else has come even to the fringe of his discovery.”

Eve didn’t speak.

Palfrey turned to Woburn.

“Bob, no one will ever quite know what a debt we owe you. When you got that message out and we knew the importance of malic acid, we really started work.”

Woburn said: “Well, it was something.”

Palfrey and Andromovitch left soon afterwards. Back in the headquarters of Z.5, they went quietly upstairs to Palfrey’s office.

On Palfrey’s desk was an envelope. He opened it, and frowned when he took out a five-pound note. Still frowning, he read a scrawl on a card pinned to the note: “Completely forgot this. Sorry. Always pay my debts. Gordon Carfax.”

Palfrey showed it to Andromovitch.

They began to laugh.

Almost two years to the day of the flood which engulfed Wolf Village and drowned her son, Jenny Robertson looked out of the window of the new farmhouse, a few miles from the site of the first. It was a glorious summer’s day. She heard a car, and put down a pastry cutter and went out into the yard.

Her husband was coming back from the valley, which was now rich and fertile.

Bill Robertson went towards the pram standing near the window, where a child lay sleeping. It was three months old, its cheeks were a clear, glowing pink, its tiny hands showed beneath the sleeves of a knitted blue coat.

“Bob and Eve not back yet?” Bill asked.

“No, not yet,” Jenny said. “Bob rang up and asked if we’d mind baby-sitting for the evening, so that he and Eve can go to the pictures.”

She smiled down on the sleeping grandson of Sir Gabriel Davos.