Текст книги "Noah's Ark: Encounters"

Автор книги: Harry Dayle

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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

Seven

THE TOWN HALL meeting was turning ugly. The security team were doing their best to enforce some kind of order, but they were a small group against a lot of people with frayed tempers and strong views.

Dan Mitchell sat at the end of a row of seats, halfway back in the auditorium. He’d come as soon as the call had been put out announcing the meeting, not wanting to risk missing out on getting important news first hand. In the end there had been plenty of room and he’d regretted having arrived so early. It meant leaving Vicky on her own, and he hated leaving her alone. Especially now.

The announcement had not been what they had been hoping to hear. As he’d waited there, listening to those around him gossip and whisper before the meeting got underway, he’d imagined Captain Noah walking onto the stage and telling them that they’d found land; uncontaminated land. He knew it was unlikely, but that didn’t make it any less desirable. So when the news finally came that yes, there were probably other survivors, but that they were on a boat, Dan’s heart had sunk.

As matters started to get out of hand, he stood discreetly and made for the nearest exit. Under the rationing system, he’d lost a lot of his excess weight – more than most in fact, as he’d been missing out on two-thirds of his meals. Even so, he still had to squeeze his way up the side aisle in the semi-darkness, excusing himself and apologising as he went.

Outside at last, he went straight to the lift and punched the button for deck ten. As the floor beneath him began to rise he quickly jabbed out his finger again, ordering the car to stop at the next deck instead.

Out on deck six he walked the short distance to the Colaeus Restaurant where he entered a six-digit code on the door lock and went through to the preparation area.

Ration service had ended, and there were only a few stragglers left in the restaurant outside. Those who worked night shifts, or who were too old to be allocated to any team, or who were enjoying a rare day off. Behind the scenes in the preparation area too, most had left. A handful of young men and women were busy with the washing up, but Dan wasn’t interested in them. Instead he ducked into the tiny side office, where he was delighted to find Elizabeth Lethbridge. She was sorting out a stack of ration records.

“Hello, Dan,” she said without looking up.

“Hi, Mrs Lethbridge.”

“Not at the big meeting?”

“I was for a while.”

“Is it true then? What they’re saying, them lot out there? They seen another boat?”

“It’s true.”

“Well, bugger me. Big one is it? Like this?”

“No. Very small.”

“I suppose that’ll mean more mouths to feed.”

“S’pose.”

Dan stayed hovering in the doorway, saying nothing. Lethbridge finally looked up at him, peering over the top of her spectacles. She sighed, then tugged open a desk drawer and extracted two bread rolls. One had had a bite taken out of it. She tossed them to him, and he caught both in his large left hand.

“You’re in luck,” she said. “That meeting meant a few folks left early and didn’t finish those.”

“Thanks, Mrs Lethbridge. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.”

“You could try,” she said, but with a wry smile.

Dan blushed and turned to leave.

“Dan! Come here a minute.”

He did as she said, taking a step back inside the office.

Lethbridge peered up at the window. Satisfied nobody was within earshot, she spoke in a loud whisper. “Listen. If they find people on that boat, they could be sick. You remember what it was like for us, with the virus?”

He nodded.

“If the doctors get overrun again, they won’t be able to help. Do you understand what I’m saying, Dan? She needs to see them. You have to take her to see them before we take anyone else on. That means today.”

He made a face, twisting and puckering his mouth into awkward shapes.

“I’m scared.”

“You think you’ll be punished? You know what? You might. And you know what else? You’re already being punished. You’re punishing yourself every day, living off scraps. The important thing is that she’s looked after, don’t you think? You have to take her, today. That Vardy chap is nice. In fact, if I were twenty years younger…” her voice trailed off. “Take her, Dan. Tell them. Before it’s too late.”

Dan nodded, and left before she could say any more.

• • •

Jake strolled into the classroom and was met with smiles and greetings from parents who had come to collect their children, as well as the teachers who were keeping an eye on those who remained behind. Lessons had finished half an hour earlier, but lots of children stayed on because their parents worked on teams, or simply because they enjoyed spending time with friends somewhere other than in a cramped cabin they called home.

The conference room was completely transformed. Gone was the dull beige corporate colour scheme, designed to be as inoffensive as possible to any group hosting events on the ship. It had been buried under drawings and posters, as well as maps and charts, bookcases, and even a sizeable aquarium that had been moved from one of the public areas.

He spotted Erica on the far side of the room. She was with her friend Andrea, sitting at a table, drawing a complex picture. When he got closer he saw that it was of two ships, one large and one much smaller alongside.

“Hi, girls,” he said.

“Jake!” Erica jumped up and hugged him. “We’re drawing the boat, the one with the new people on it.”

“Cool. How did you know what it looks like? We can’t see it yet.”

“We don’t know, silly. It’s just a guess. Miss Linders said that it was smaller than the Spirit of Arcadia. And I think it’s blue. Andrea thinks it’s red, which is silly, it’s obviously blue, but she didn’t believe me, so we were going to toss a coin to see who got to choose the colour, only we didn’t have a coin, so instead we tossed a piece of a jigsaw puzzle and I picked the side with the picture, and it landed with the picture showing, so I won, so we’ve drawn the ship blue.” The young girl took a deep breath, then broke out in a smile, erasing the serious expression she had until then been wearing.

“Wow, right. Okay! Well I hope the boat we find is as nice as the one you’ve drawn.”

“It will be. I thought Lucya was coming to fetch me this afternoon? Lucya usually comes. Is she busy?”

“She wanted to come, but I was already nearby so I called her and said I’d get you instead. That way she gets to boss everyone round on the bridge for a bit longer.”

Erica giggled. “She is very bossy sometimes!”

“Come on, let’s go. There’s someone we need to see before we go and find Lucya.”

“Okay. Bye, Andrea. See you tomorrow!”

Her friend smiled and the girls hugged, before Erica skipped off, holding onto Jake’s hand.

“Who are we going to see? Are they nice?”

“I expect she is, but I’ve not met her before. We need to go to cabin 811. I don’t think I’ll be able to find it on my own, so I was hoping you could help me?”

Erica gave an exaggerated sigh and pulled on his hand. “Come on then, let me show you the way.”

When their lift car opened onto deck eight, Jake felt Erica’s hand tighten in his own, and some of the colour drained from her face. He knew it would take a long time for the horrors of what had happened there to fade. He gave her a smile. “So, which way?”

“Hmm…this way!”

Erica, good to her word, led Jake directly to the cabin they wanted. She was also happy to knock on the door, and even introduced them when a young Japanese woman opened it.

“Hello,” she announced. “I’m Erica, and this is Captain Noah.”

“Hello, Miss Erica,” the woman said kindly. She reached out a hand and shook Erica’s. “Hello, Captain Noah. This is a great privilege.” She gave a little bow, before shaking Jake’s hand.

“Miss Matsuo, I presume?” Jake asked.

“Yes, Captain.”

“I wonder if you might be able to help me with something?”

“Of course. It would be an honour. Please, come. My room is not large, but you sit here, on the bed. Be comfortable.”

“Thank you.”

Jake sat down and took in his surroundings. The cabin was very small. There was just enough room for two single beds and a tiny cupboard. Miss Matsuo had pinned some photographs of family or friends onto the wall beside one of the beds. On the bedside cabinet sat a portable computer and a couple of expensive-looking cameras.

Erica made a beeline for a stack of books in the corner of the room. “Wow! Can I look at these?”

Matsuo nodded. “How can I help you today, Captain?”

Jake reached into his pocket and took out a notebook. “This is a bit of a long shot, but I was wondering if you might know what these symbols mean? I thought they might be Chinese or Japanese. I’ve asked a Chinese man, and he refused to answer me, although I got the impression he recognised them. The man is a prisoner, one of the disciples. I don’t trust him. I understand you used to work as an air hostess in Japan? If you’ve travelled a lot in Asia, perhaps they will mean something to you?”

Matsuo nodded. “Let me see.” She took the notebook and studied the six symbols that Jake had copied from the raft. After looking at them for a few seconds, she inverted the book. “Ah, that’s better.”

Jake looked up, surprised. “You recognise them? This is Japanese?”

“No, these are not Japanese. But I recognise the forms. I think these are Hangul.”

“Hangul? Is that Chinese? I knew it! Zhang knew they were Chinese.”

“No, not Chinese. The Chinese writing system is Hanzi. Hanzi is more complex, more…ornate. We use many of its forms in written Japanese. Hangul is the alphabet of the Korean language.”

“Korean? This is Korean text?”

“Yes, I think so, Captain Noah. Is it important?”

“I don’t know. It could be. Do you know what it says? Any of it?”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry. Perhaps there are some Koreans here. You find them with your list, yes? Like you find me?”

“Yes, maybe. Let’s hope so. Listen, you’ve been very helpful, Miss Matsuo. Thank you for your time.”

“Oh, this is no problem. It is my pleasure!”

“Erica, time to go. Let’s get back and find Lucya.”

“Yay!”

Jake pocketed his notebook, and the two of them set off back towards the lifts.

When they arrived on the bridge, Jake took over in the captain’s chair, relieving Lucya of her command.

“Still nothing on the radio?”

“Nothing,” she confirmed. “I’m transmitting on all the common channels, and there’s still my automatic scan which runs across the whole frequency range twenty-four seven. If they were calling for help, we should hear them by now, but there’s just silence. And before you ask, yes, the radios are working. I run regular comms checks with the Ambush.”

“I never said a word. I have total faith in you. How long before we rendezvous with them?”

“At our current speed, it will be around oh-nine hundred hours.”

“What? What happened? We should be making better time than that.”

“Yes, but they changed course and are sailing away from us. Fortunately not very quickly, otherwise we might never catch them.”

• • •

The shambles of a town hall meeting broke up gradually as the evening ration service rolled around. Half the participants had already left, leaving just the hard-core factions for and against integrating the possible new survivors to repeat their same arguments over and over, just using slightly different words each time. But even the most dedicated of these were not going to miss their dinner, so as the restaurants opened, the people left the theatre in dribs and drabs.

Max sent half his security team off to patrol the restaurants. Mealtimes always included such a presence. The other half rounded up the stragglers in the theatre and escorted them out.

Grace Garet had finished her shift for the day, and was free to leave and find her own meal. According to her ration card she was assigned to the Pytheas Restaurant, and had always dutifully taken her meals there. So had anyone accompanied her as she left the theatre, they might have been surprised to see her head directly for the Colaeus Restaurant. They would surely have been taken aback when, instead of queuing to collect a plate of food, she positioned herself at the end of the counter. But nobody had accompanied Grace; she hadn’t any friends among the security team.

Grace stopped every person as they arrived at the head of the queue, before they were served their evening meal.

“Good evening, sir. Security spot check. Can I see your ration card please?”

“Evening, madam. Security check. I need to see your ration paper. Thank you.”

Her uniform provided automatic authority, and most people willingly handed over their documents without challenge. One or two asked her why the need for an extra check when the serving staff already looked at the ration papers, but she just kindly and firmly reminded them that vigilance was a virtue. If that didn’t work and they pushed her further, she would ask nice and loudly if they perhaps had something to hide, a strategy that had an excellent rate of success.

Elizabeth Lethbridge spied her from behind the counter, but was, thankfully, too busy to leave her post and come asking awkward questions about why exactly Grace was there, and why nobody had told the supervisor about this extra security presence.

The same could not be said for Rupert Bembridge, one of the security personnel assigned to patrolling the Colaeus that evening. Before the asteroid, Rupert had been an officer in the London Metropolitan Police. He and Grace had never seen eye to eye; the cultural chasm between them was just too deep and wide to cross.

“Garet! What are you doing here? This isn’t your shift. I’m running this patrol and you are most certainly not part of it.”

Grace eyed the man. He was about her age, and – like most Brits in her view – was far too uptight for his own good. His clipped hair and clipped accent both annoyed her, although she couldn’t say why. The fact he got on so well with Max didn’t help, she knew that much.

“Bembridge. For a cop, you’re not very observant, are you? I’m checking ration papers.”

“Don’t get smart with me. I can see what you are doing. I want to know why. You’re not even on duty.”

“We’re always on duty. Didn’t you learn that in police school?”

“We’re not police. I’ll ask you again, why are you holding up this queue?”

“I’m not holding anyone up. You’re doing that, by preventing me from working. Excuse me, sir? I need to see your ration card. Spot check. Thank you.”

Bembridge exhaled noisily, his cheeks turning pink. “I haven’t been told about any security checks.”

“Perhaps Max doesn’t think you can manage the extra work?”

“Right, that’s it. I’m calling Max. We’ll put a stop to this.” He reached for his radio, unclipping it from his belt.

“Rupert!” Grace jerked her head, indicating her desire to talk to him privately. He gave her a sideways look, but obliged, pushing his way through the line of diners. She spoke quietly into his ear. “Listen, this is a special op, okay? A stakeout. I’m looking for someone.”

“Special op? Are you for real? I’m calling Max.”

“Sure, go ahead, but he’ll tell you the same thing, once he’s through hollering at you.”

“And why would he ‘holler’ at me?”

“Because he’s briefing the captain on this operation right now. And you know how cranky he gets if he’s disturbed for no good reason. So, you know, just tread careful, okay?”

Bembridge looked unconvinced, but Grace had planted enough doubt in his mind to make him think twice. “How long are you going to be here?”

“Ten minutes, twenty tops.”

“I want you gone in ten. Otherwise I’m calling Mooting and I’ll make sure you suffer the consequences.”

He pushed his way back through the queue and disappeared out of sight. Grace smiled to herself, and carried on checking papers.

She didn’t need the ten minutes he’d given her. Six minutes after Bembridge’s interference, her stakeout was over.

“Security check, can I see your ration paper please?”

“What?”

“I need to see your ration paper, ma’am.”

“Oh, yes, here it is. There are two. One’s my husband’s. He’s feeling under the weather. I’m collecting his meal for him.”

“No problem, that’s within the rules for married couples, Mrs…” She read the name on the dog-eared slip that the elderly lady had handed her, and her heart sank. “Mrs Moran.”

• • •

The cabin was in darkness when Dan finally returned. He hoped that she was asleep, that she hadn’t been worried about him being gone for such a long time. It was the longest he had left her since – he had to think about it – since they had been aboard the ship, he realised with alarm.

“Dan?”

Her voice drifted up from the bed. Not asleep, then. Not quite.

“Yeah. Sorry I was so long. There was trouble. At that meeting.”

She sat up and brushed her long dark hair from her face, then fumbled around for the light switch. “Are you okay? What kind of trouble?”

“Nothing serious, don’t worry. Here, here’s your dinner.”

She smiled at him weakly. He put down the plate on the little round corner table and helped her from the bed.

“So?”

“They found a ship. A boat, really. Small, they said. Probably more survivors on board.”

“No land?”

He shook his head, and sank to the bed, watching with hungry eyes as she tucked into the meagre rations of pasta, a tiny slice of ham, and a watery sauce. He would have settled for the little slice of bread on the side, but her need was far greater than his. He felt his belly rumble, and tried to mask the sound with a pillow. She looked at him, pity in her eyes.

“Did you find anything? Here, take the bread.”

“No. You eat it. You need it. I saw Elizabeth. She found me something. Honestly, I’m fine.” He hated the white lie.

“More survivors? They might know where there’s some land.”

“Maybe.”

She continued to eat in silence. When she was almost done, mopping up the rest of the flavourless sauce with the bread, Dan coughed and shifted uneasily.

“Elizabeth said that the survivors might need medical attention.”

“Yeah, probably.” She spoke through a mouthful of wet bread.

“She said that medical could be overworked when they come aboard.”

“Hmmm.” She swallowed the bread and looked at him, waiting for him to continue, but he just sat there, looking at her.

“Oh,” she said, as it dawned on her what he meant. “She thinks there could be another virus, like before?”

“Maybe. Or something like it. And I was thinking, she’s right.”

Some of the colour drained from her dark olive skin, making her look quite ghostly in the low light. “We can’t put it off any longer, can we?”

He shook his head. “I’ve been thinking about it all afternoon. We have to go sooner or later. It’s not going to be any easier, waiting longer.”

“No. You’re right. We should go. We will go.” She stood, taking him by surprise.

“Now?” He looked up, wide-eyed.

“When will we be picking up these other survivors?”

“I don’t know. I don’t remember. In a few hours, or tomorrow. I can’t remember.”

“We have to go now then, don’t we, Dan?” She put her hands around his neck, bent down, and kissed his forehead. “It’ll be okay. What can they do, really? We’ve put this off too long, and it’s silly. We’ve made ourselves afraid for no good reason. Come on. Let’s go, right now. Before I change my mind.”

Eight

HE CAME TO with a start. Something had hit him. Something, or someone. A second later he remembered where he was, and why. Despair filled his head, a thousand inescapable voices screaming at him. Why couldn’t he just die? Why were they keeping him alive?

Another kick, a foot connecting with his own.

He opened his eyes. Before him, the silhouette of a man, a cut-out in the light that streamed through the open door. It dropped something.

A bowl of rice landed between his legs, spilling half its contents across the disgusting floor.

The silhouette-man knelt, scooped up some of the white fluffy grain in a spoon, and held it to his mouth.

He wanted to refuse it. If he starved himself, he would die eventually. He had to. Yet the survival instinct was too strong, and he found his mouth opening of its own accord. The spoon was thrust inside and before he could stop himself he was chewing hungrily. The overcooked rice had no flavour, but it didn’t matter, he swallowed it down, and grunted for more.

As the food slowly made its way into his system, he found he could think more clearly. When he thought, it was of his wife. She was still up there, among them. A prisoner, yes, but not like him. She was being compelled to do their bidding, whatever that might be. His imagination got carried away, filling his mind with images of just what they might be forcing her into. It was too much. His stomach twisted, and with a heave the rice came back up, spewing from his lips and hitting the silhouette full in the face.

Silhouette-man roared with rage. He jumped back, clawing at his eyes. He shouted something incomprehensible, took a step forward, and lashed out with his foot.

He saw it coming, but that was no consolation. The heel of his captor’s boot buried itself between his legs. His groin exploded with pain and he was sick again, but his belly was empty and this time he retched dryly. The figure before him grunted and kicked at the swamp of excrement and urine on the floor, sending gobs of the foul mess raining over him.

The pain reminded him that he was alive. He had to stay alive. For her. As long as he was alive there was a chance, no matter how slim, that he could help her.

He made a promise to himself there and then: no more thoughts of giving in; no more willing himself to die. He wouldn’t let them get away with it. He would eat their rations, be an obedient prisoner. He would stay awake rather than hide in the fog of unconsciousness. And when the time came, if…when, opportunity arose, he would be ready.