Part 19 (1/2)

I collapsed, arms outstretched, hands inches from him. The ground seemed to shake underneath me.

The woman moved, I thought I saw her hand curl around the gun to hold it in place against her head. The gun began to smoke. Her voice was quiet now, almost inaudible. But her body was making other sounds. Other melting sounds.

Chris's finger tightened on the trigger. He was going to do it. Oh Benny, he was going to - The night lit up around us? Torches. Figures in s.p.a.cesuits with lighted helmets, guns and sprays shooting clouds of ice-cold, choking moisture.

One of the figures seemed to have three eyes.

I looked across at Benny in the light from the torches, and almost screamed again.

It wasn't her.

It was horrible. The woman was in her fifties. She was wearing what looked like a pressure suit. Her hands and face were exposed? Blisters covered almost half her visible skin surface. The rest was blotched. Some was peeling away. Her eyes were squeezed tightly shut. s.h.i.+ny tears emerged from the corners and cut smoking tracks through her cheeks.

But she wasn't Benny. Wasn't Benny! She could still be alive. I felt an overwhelming sense of relief.

Then the woman opened her eyes and stared up at Chris. I gasped. One eye was almost intact; the other was a mess of milky fluid and blood. She grasped the gun more firmly, her gaze locked on Chris. 'Shoot me. Kill me.

Now. Please. Please!' She coughed blood. The coughing turned into another scream. 'Please!'

But Chris could only stare? The gun shook in his hand. In both their hands.

The barrel smoked as acid attacked it. Chris muttered something - I thought I heard him say Roz Forrester's name.

But still he waited.

'I can't,' he muttered.

'G.o.d almighty, Chris, she's in agony! For G.o.d's sake do as she says!'

Chris seemed about to answer but was interrupted as a voice boomed in the darkness?

'DROP THE GUN. THIS IS NATO COMMANDER JEREMY FIELDING. I HAVE AUTHORIZATION TO USE LETHAL FORCE TO RECOVER THIS.

ARTEFACT. I REPEAT: DROP THE GUN AND MOVE AWAY FROM THE.

BODY OBEY NOW OR WE OPEN FIRE.'.

Chris hesitated another moment, then put the gun down. The fact that his own skin must be burning as well seemed not to register.

The figures approached then. All we could do was watch them put the gun and the woman into separate plastic bags and carry them away?

I seemed to hear her moans in my head for a long while after she was gone.

They put us into a big military chopper and flew us out of the area? We flew for a short distance and then landed. We were taken out of the chopper - which was then sprayed heavily with what was obviously some kind of very strong industrial disinfectant - and from there marched towards a tracked vehicle.

The vehicle was obviously some kind of mobile HQ. It was wide and tall, with independent motors on either side to drive four sets of treads. It looked like nothing more than four double-size tanks connected by a rigid structure of gantries and Quonset huts. It must have been fifty metres wide, twice that long and about two storeys high. Spotlights and instrument packages were bolted haphazardly to the frame. An uplink antenna clunked slowly around on the vehicle's roof, pointing at the sky. I wondered at that for a moment - then realized that the vehicle was moving forward, very slowly, chewing its way across the floodlit rock, overhanging the road on either side by many metres. I wondered why we hadn't seen it when we'd overflown the area. Then as we were marched up to the entrance I saw a huge helicopter land and disgorge another mobile section from its cargo area. The section snuggled up to the front of the vehicle and was clamped in place. The helicopter flew off.

We were taken to an airlock; our clothes were removed and we were sprayed with disinfectant. The clothes were put into sterile bags marked with LEVEL FIVE: HOT MATERIAL stickers. I nodded to Chris. Thinking back to South Africa, I said, 'Level One is safe. Level Four is the Ebola virus. No known antidote.' He nodded but said nothing. The bags were taken away by suited figures.

After the decontamination we were taken along a corridor lined with UV lights and irradiated. After that came a number of injections. After that a skin scrub. After that we were forced to inhale a pink gas that made me sick. The vomit was placed into bottles marked LEVEL FIVE: HOT MATERIAL and taken away. After that the whole process was repeated.

'Ivice.

Disinfection apparently concluded, we were led to a room which resembled a miniature hospital ward, given a set of plastic coveralls and shoes and left to our own devices. We waited there an hour, while the floor swayed gently underneath us with the motion of the vehicle.

When the hour was up four suited figures came in and gave me the most thorough and embarra.s.sing medical I had ever been subjected to.

Finally, two hours after my original infection, if that's what it was, doctors, if that's who they were, treated me with painkillers and alkaline solution for the acid b.u.ms on my hand.

About once every five minutes during this process I demanded loudly to know if they had found Benny, where she was, if she was still alive, what was happening to her.

Apart from directing terse medical questions at us, n.o.body spoke a single word during the entire time we were being examined.

Their examination complete, the doctors left the room. While we were dressing another suited figure entered. The name FIELDING, E? J.

appeared on a name badge. I peered through the visor of his helmet.

Fielding was grey-haired, green-eyed. He looked very tired. Or perhaps very scared. He put a LEVEL FIVE: HOT MATERIAL bottle containing what seemed to be vomit down on the table in front of us. He took off his helmet, folded it neatly and placed it in a pocket of the suit. Then he unlatched the top of the HOT MATERIAL bottle and opened the lid.

'You're not infected. Your clothes are contaminated to Level Five and lethal, but you're not infected. You care to explain that?'

So we told him all about it. Well, I told him all about it. Chris said nothing.

Neither of us mentioned the Doctor. We just told him we were part of an archaeological expedition investigating possible resting sites of Noah's Ark.

I told him I was married and demanded to know if his people had found Bernice.

'Bernice?'

'Yes! Bernice Summerfield. My wife. I want to go and look for her.'

'Well you can't. We have a situation here, in case you hadn't noticed. A Level Five situation.' The way he said 'Level Five' drove a spike of fear right up into the base of my brain. I shuddered.

'I don't care! I have to = 'I couldn't give a bra.s.s monkey's b.a.l.l.s what you ”have to ”, Mister!'

Fielding's voice snapped out like a whip. 'This is the deal: I am in charge.

You do as I tell you. Non-compliance will be met with lethal force. Do you understand?'

I nodded slowly, trying to hold back tears. It was all just too much.

Chris said, 'You've told us we're not infected. Not infected with what? I'm trained in forensics. Perhaps I can help you.' Fielding sighed. 'Forensics? A copper, eh? They say when cops go bad they're the worst. Well, you can help all right. But I guarantee you won't enjoy it.'

He spoke into a microphone. Another figure entered the ward. A huge figure that dwarfed even Chris, with three eyes and green skin. I studied the Earth Reptile quietly. 'I didn't think you guys were moving openly in society yet,' I said by way of an opening gambit.

It was a dumb thing to say. Fielding jumped on it immediately? 'Imorkal, I want you to interrogate these two. Find out how they know sensitive information like that. Find out how they come to be immune when their clothes are lethal. Do it fast. We're depending on you.'

Imorkal nodded thoughtfully, his crest dipping. His central third eye opened slightly, peering at us with cold intelligence? Imorkal looked at Chris. He fell over. The gaze raked over him. Chris was gibbering quietly. I realized he was telling them everything that had happened to us, everything we had done since he had arrived in Turkey. Chris shut up. It wasn't enough.

Imorkal turned his gaze on me. I felt something reach into my mind. Felt a presence there. Something cold, inhuman, terrifying. Something that reached into my memories and dragged them out so that I experienced every moment of the last few weeks in excruciating detail, love, fear, hope, terror, all crammed into a few minutes' garbled mumbling?