The Stone Man - A Science Fiction Thriller (48 page)

There was silence on the phone.

“You’re right, Andy,” Paul said at last, solemn. “It
is
worthy. I just wish … fuck me, Andy, I just wish it wasn’t us.”

“Yeah,” I said, but I didn’t add the sincere
Me
too
that hovered on my lips. I thought it would somewhat take the shine off the noble point that I’d just made.

“How’re you gonna …” Paul asked, not needing to finish the question.

“I’ll figure something out,” I said, already having it planned. I just didn’t want to talk about it, but I was going to do it in private; undisturbed and on my own terms. They wouldn’t get to walk across my country and wreck it, or at least not the one coming for me. I would be long gone. It occurred to me that maybe the kid’s death—Target Three, as I would only ever know her as—had maybe not been in vain. It gave us information, knowledge about how to at least stop them early. The thought didn’t bring any comfort, though. I had my own death to worry about.

“Are you gonna talk to Straub first?”

“Yeah. Not just yet though. Gonna wait ’til they arrive—it’ll be soon, I think, a few hours, tonight at the latest—then try the map, see if I can get anything. Give them a head start if possible.”

“Right … the Third Arrival. Fucking thing,” said Paul, his voice low. “I think … I think I’ll call Straub too. Speak to her about … getting some help. You know. Keep it quick, like.”

“Okay, mate,” I said. “But look, you know, don’t forget. After seven or eight hours … after they’ve started walking …”

“Yeah. Yeah. The things, the … the barriers.” He sounded sick.

“Yeah, them. Just keep them in mind, time-wise I mean. I’d, uh … I’d best be going.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

“Good luck, Paul. Hope it goes … ah, fuck, forget that. It was nice knowing y …
ah
Christ
, that’s even worse. Sorry.” Paul actually laughed in response down the line, but it was punctuated with sniffs.

“Fantastic send-off there, buddy, brilliant,” he said, voice trembling even more, but I gave a sniff-laugh of my own in return. “I appreciate the thought, though,” he said, “and the same to you man … I don’t care what you say. I think you’re a good bloke.”

“Thanks, Paul.”

There was much more to say, and yet there wasn’t.

“Take … take care then.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you too. Bye.”

“Bye.”

With a sense of finality that was nearly overwhelming, I pushed the ‘End’ button on the phone. That was the last time we ever spoke to each other.

***

I did start off by mentioning you, Paul, when I began recording this, and I wish to God that you could have a listen to it. I’d love to hear if I missed anything, or if I was getting anything wrong. A real shame, that.

Anyway. Time is ticking … always is, right? Heh … anyway. There’s just a bit more to tell. Just time for a little bit more. Just a bit longer.

***

I drove back to Birmingham, after calling ahead to the hotel that I’d been staying in whilst the workmen had renovated the house. I didn’t want to take care of business in that building; someone would hopefully live in it again someday, maybe a family, and it just didn’t feel right. People died in hotels all the time, didn’t they? That’s what I thought, anyway. And, I admit without any shame, it would stall time quite nicely. I could have stalled until the moment they actually came back if I wanted, but I knew that would be a bad idea. The longer I waited, the longer I would have to talk myself out of it.

Everything on that twenty-five-minute drive took on an extra air of sweetness; songs on the radio—ones that I’d previously not even cared for—now sounded like masterpieces, and the inane chatter of the DJ sounded like life itself. The industrial buildings either side of the M6 now had a dark beauty to them, buildings that I’d looked at in the past and had no desire to ever see again. My vision blurred with tears many times, and I nearly pulled over once or twice as the enormity of what I had to do hit me. And then I would think of Henry, and how he’d handled things, and how he’d managed it even in the state he’d been put into, and I would tighten my hands on the wheel and carry on.

As I drove, I rang Straub. I’d rethought my previous plan, and decided to at least give her a heads-up. She needed a chance to get the wheels turning as early as possible, get units ready to scramble, even if I couldn’t tell her where to scramble them to. For once, they would know that the Stone Men were coming
before
they arrived. All I could get right now whenever I locked in was that horrible, screaming wind that signalled my own death, and there was no way I was facing that noise again. It was like hearing the screech of a nightmarish pack of hounds as they fell upon me, and the memory of that sound made me picture teeth finding their way into my spine. I was doing more than enough for my country as it was. I would just have to wait until the Stone Men were actually here, and try to get their individual destinations if I could. I doubted it, but it was worth a try.

Once she picked up, I gave her the details. I told her to prepare for the Third Arrival, who at least two of the targets were, and what I planned to do. As expected, Straub was a consummate professional about the whole thing.

“Mr Pointer … Andy … I’m sorry to hear that,” she said, taking a deep breath. “You seem to be … taking it rather well.”

“I wasn’t exactly having the fucking time of my life beforehand, to be honest,” I replied, wishing for the fourth or fifth time on that drive that I had a bottle with me and feeling deeply, deeply sorry for myself. “All that cash as well, eh? What as asshole. What a fucking
asshole
.” I punched the wheel and the horn beeped, causing the driver next to me to look my way. I didn’t return his gaze.

“You’d seen some awful things that you weren’t trained for, Andy. And you were deeply involved with them. You couldn’t be expected to shrug all that off.” She sighed, and it sounded as if she was moving into a chair. It was a rare sound from Straub, one from the heart. “I blame myself for that. I should have made sure we got you counselling, or at least trauma therapy … things were just so crazy afterward, and our first priority had to be preparing for a return. If you’d have asked … no, you shouldn’t have had to. I’m sorry, Andy. We let you down.”

“Doesn’t matter, Brigadier,” I said, biting back more fucking tears, “I’d still be screwed now, either way. At least this way I’m in the mood for it.”

“Andy,” she said, talking closely into the phone, her voice softer. “Is there anything we can do? To make it … easier? We could sedate you, you know. Then a final injection. You wouldn’t feel a thing. Peaceful.”

“Thank you, Brigadier, but I think I want to be on my own. I think it’ll be pretty painless as it is, to be honest. I’ll leave the spook phone on so you know where I am; you don’t have to worry about me getting cold feet. I’m …” I sighed, and realised that the sun was starting to set in the grey horizon.
Jesus,
I thought.
That is some bleak shit.
“… I’m doing this.”

“You’ll be a hero, Andy. We’ll make sure of it.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just give all my money to Coventry Refugee fund, okay?”

“Done.”

“Andy … how many are coming this time?”

“No idea. How are your new backup guys checking out?”

“Everything adds up with three of them. They know things they couldn’t possibly know, with complete accuracy; we think that if we get them together, like you and Paul, we’ll have another hunting unit. You’re not leaving us unmanned, don’t worry.”

“And what are you going to tell them? About what happened to me and Paul?”

She fell silent, but only for a second.

“We’ll tell them what they need to know of the truth. That you were cut off.”

“I see.”

“My job is to look after the country’s best interests, Andy. You know that.”

“Mm.” A dark thought occurred to me. “Did you suspect this? Did you think this might happen? To me and Paul?”

Straub sighed again, but it was sad, reluctant one. When she next spoke, as ever, she was direct. The softness in her voice was gone, however, and the distance had returned.

“It was one scenario we anticipated, yes. We couldn’t be certain, obviously, but once you were cut off we thought it might happen.”

“Do tell.” I wasn’t even angry. Hadn’t I thought the same with the others, that it just had to be done? How could I stand in judgement now that I was the one being offered up?

“There’s a common factor amongst the targets, obviously,” Straub said. “People within a certain genetic bracket. The Stone Men connect with them, and then hunt them down. Fair enough. And the targets seem to know on some level that they’re picked, have an ability to receive the signal, or what have you. And there are those who are sensitive to it, the ones who got migraines or were sick, people perhaps on the outskirts of that genetic bracket. And on the other end of the scale are people like you and Paul, the ones who can not only receive it but
search
for it, who can tune between different frequencies. And all of those people, we theorised, must have something in common, something the Stone Men, or their masters, want. I think you yourself might have suspected that they just pick the first target they find, yes? Distance and time aren’t a factor for them; their targets are going nowhere once they’re pinned in place, after all.”

I heard her catch her breath as she realised who she was talking to. Being Straub, the effect was only temporary.

“Sorry. That was insensitive. Anyway, we wondered—especially once you’d been noticed and cut off—if it wouldn’t be a case of them …” She paused, the phrase
killing two birds with one stone
clearly about to pass from her lips and being caught there. “… neutralising you and Paul permanently, and—seeing as you were within the right bracket, if our theory is correct—getting what they want from the two of you as well. Of course, this could just be a simple ‘hit’. They might be sending two of their Stone Men purely to take you out, and wasting one gene-harvesting trip to do so. Again, time doesn’t appear to be a concern for them, so in their eyes, why not?”

“Why not indeed,” I said quietly, wishing I hadn’t called. I thought about how time had always been a concern for me, spending life all too aware of the ticking of the clock (at least until recent events had turned me into a bumbling drunk). And now all of my time was up.

“Can I ask you one favour, Andy?”

“Whatever the fuck you like, Brigaddy-Wiggady. I’m all yours,” I replied, giddy and dead inside at the same time.

“Will you wait until they arrive? Check a map for us, maybe give us a head start? We’ll have the … replacements ready now anyway, but just in case. Help us correlate. You might not get anything, but—“

“Don’t worry, Straub,” I said, cutting her off and wanting to wrap this up. I’d had enough. “I’d already planned to do so. I’ll let you know.”

“Laura,” she said.

“What?”

“My name is Laura.” It should have had impact, but it didn't.

“Oh. Right. Well … good luck, Laura.”

“Good luck, Andy. Thank you. The country thanks you.”

I thought about this, searched for a weighty reply, and gave up.

“No, they don’t.”

I hung up on her. I realised I should have added
But I’m doing it anyway
to give it a more heroic feel … but then decided it was better without. I couldn’t go to my grave with that load of cheese appearing in the headlines.