Adam Baker - Terminus

‘So what’s the plan?’

‘Tell Sicknote. Make sure he understands. These folks are our ticket out. We need them, bro. We need them alive.’

The boat drifted through the tunnel darkness.

Nariko unhooked her radio.

‘Donahue. Come in, over?’

‘Go ahead.’

‘We’ve made contact with at least one survivor. Heading back.’

‘Ten-thirteen. Roger and out.’

Nariko pulled the Glock from her belt and press-checked for brass.

‘What’s up?’ asked Cloke.

‘Ten-thirteen. Urgent assistance required.’

‘Lupe?’

‘Who else?’

Fenwick Street. They waded across the submerged platform to the steps. They stood in the stairwell.

Nariko drew the Glock.

‘Get me out of this suit.’

Nariko kept the pistol trained on the ticket hall above them. Cloke and Tombes flanked her. They pulled back duct tape and zippers, helped her squirm from cumbersome NBC gear.

‘You guys hang back.’

She crept up the ticket hall steps, pistol gripped in both hands. She was stripped down to T-shirt and pants. Her skin prickled in the cold. Her breath fogged the air.

Cloke and Tombes followed behind her.

A face appeared at the top of the stairwell. A chubby guy with black-frame glasses.

‘Hey,’ shouted Nariko.

Shotgun roar. Smack of impact. The wall beside Nariko erupted. She shielded her eyes from whirling tile splinters and stone chips.

She fired back. 9mm rounds blew craters in the ticket hall roof.

Gunfire died slow like thunder. Silence and dust-haze.

Nariko heard a distant shout. Lupe’s voice. She couldn’t make out words. Angry, like she was calling some kind of ceasefire.

Nariko crept upwards.

The ticket hall.

Wade, sitting on the bench. He sat, legs crossed, arms stretched over the back of the seat like he was sitting in a park, enjoying the sun.

Nariko took aim at his chest.

‘Where’s Donahue?’ demanded Nariko, glancing round the empty hall. ‘Where’s the other guy? The guy with glasses? The guy with the shotgun?’

Wade didn’t reply.

Tombes grabbed a crowbar from the equipment pile. Cloke grabbed a hammer.

‘Donahue?’ shouted Nariko. Her voice echoed through the vaulted ticket hall.

‘Donnie?’ yelled Tombes. ‘You okay?’

Muffled shout from the office:

‘Yeah. I’m all right.’

Nariko turned back to Wade.

‘Come on. Talk. Who the hell are you?’

‘Just a guy waiting for a ride.’

‘Who’s the other creep?’

‘My spiritual advisor.’

Something weird and unfocused about the convict’s expression. Nariko leaned sideways. His gaze didn’t shift as she moved from his field of vision. He continued to stare straight ahead.

‘Cut the crap. What do you want?’ she asked.

‘Like I said. I’m looking for a way off this island.’

Nariko crept closer. She waved her hand in front of his face. No reaction.

‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Maybe I can get you a ride.’

Wade twitched, startled to hear her standing so close.

‘That easy?’

‘You were down here with Ekks, is that right? You were one of his lab rats?’

‘Yeah,’ said Wade.

‘Listen. I honestly don’t give a damn who you are, or what you want. But I don’t have time to waste on some lame-ass Mexican stand-off. Just stay out the way until we’re done. That’s all I ask. Call off your friend. I’ll get you home.’

Nariko engaged the safety and tucked the Glock into her belt. She sat beside Wade.

‘You’re blind.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Totally blind?’

‘Yeah.’

‘How long?’

‘Couple of days. Vision went blurry. Thought my eyes were tired. Tried to sleep it off. Woke the next day and couldn’t see a damn thing. Nothing. Not even black. It’s got to be a temporary thing, right? Eye strain. Down in the dark too long. Be fine, once I’m out of here and get some sun.’

Nariko checked out Wade’s shin. Red on red: a deep crimson streak below the knee of his scarlet state-issue pants.

‘What’s up with your leg?’

‘Cut it shaving.’

‘Let me take a look.’

Tombes picked a trauma bag from the equipment pile and threw it skidding across the floor to Nariko.

‘Roll your leg.’

Wade rolled his pant leg. Black, crusted blood.

‘That’s a pretty bad sore.’ She double-gloved and cleaned the wound. She probed the lesion. Wade winced.

‘Doesn’t look infected.’

She packed the wound with gauze and wrapped bandage round his shin.

Cloke discreetly unhooked the Geiger counter. He set it to silent. He took a background count, then swung the handset towards Wade. Flickering digits. The LCD readout flashed a threshold warning.

‘You folks here for Ekks?’ asked Wade.

‘Yeah,’ said Nariko. ‘Any member of his team left alive. Failing that, his research.’

‘The guy is long gone.’

‘We know where he is. Just got to figure how to reach him.’

‘You’ve got a chopper set to pick you up?’

‘Yeah. A JetRanger. It’s fucked up, but it flies.’

‘And go where?’ asked Wade.

‘Ridgeway. An old airfield upstate. It’s a temporary base. A few cops, reservists and civilians. Handful of folks trying to stay alive. You can join us, maybe find a role. Or we can dump you by the side of a highway somewhere, if you want. Try and make it on your own. Your choice.’

Wade cocked his head, tried to gauge if she was lying.

‘Yeah?’

‘It’s Year Zero,’ said Nariko. ‘I don’t give a damn who you are, or what you did. Doesn’t matter much any more. I’m happy to give you a ride out of here. I’m happy to blow your brains out. Honestly don’t care either way. I came here to do a job.’

‘On the level?’

‘A straight deal. Stay out of our way, and you get a ride.’

‘What’s waiting for us at this airbase?’

‘It’s safe. Safer than here.’

‘Have they got doctors? Can they fix my sight?’

‘Let me take a look.’

Nariko shone a pen torch into Wade’s eyes. No dilation.

‘They’re okay, yeah? My eyes. No actual damage?’

‘Where were you when the device exploded?’

‘Hiding in the plant room. Me and my buddy. Waiting for the bomb. Felt it before we heard it. I was about to drink some water. Had the bottle raised to my lips when there was a sudden weird change of air pressure. My ears popped like I was dropping in an elevator. Then the ground shook. A massive jolt. Half a second later, we heard the blast. The loudest thunderclap you can imagine. We covered our heads. Thought the roof was coming down. Thought we were dead for sure.’

‘We have to tell him,’ said Cloke.

‘Tell me what?’ demanded Wade.

‘The bomb,’ said Cloke. ‘It was a Sandman. A tactical nuke. Small. Probably fit in the trunk of a car.’

‘And?’

‘The Sandman is an enhanced radiation warhead: a fissile core jacketed with cobalt. At the moment of detonation the device pulsed a wave of fierce neutron energy strong enough to pass through bedrock. Everyone for miles around caught a lethal dose. Wouldn’t matter if you were sheltered within a building or hidden in a basement. Wouldn’t matter if you were shielded by lead, steel, or concrete. The wave would pass right through you like an X-ray.’

‘We were forty feet below ground.’

‘Not deep enough.’

‘But I feel good. Apart from my eyes. I feel fine.’

‘Open your mouth.’

Wade opened his mouth. Cloke peered inside.

‘Ulcers. Bleeding gums.’

‘Yeah.’

‘You’ve got a sweet taste in your mouth right now, don’t you?’ said Cloke. ‘Kind of like honey.’