Дэниел Смит - Below Zero

None of them moved.

With a sigh, The Broker pulled his smartphone towards him and touched his thumb to the recognition pad. When it lit up, he tapped an icon in the shape of a phoenix.

The phone rang once before Phoenix answered. ‘Sir.’

‘I can assume you saw everything?’

‘Yes, sir. I’ve been trying to contact the team. I have direct comms, but there’s no reply. It’s like they’re zombies. What did that boy do to them?’

‘I don’t know, but I want to find out. I want to talk to him. Track that aircraft. Find out where it goes.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘And send someone to bring back Lazarovich. I can’t afford to see another one of my agents go rogue.’

‘Sir.’

The Broker didn’t wait for anything else. He cut off the call and stood up, allowing his fury to flare with a sharp, sudden explosion. It surged through him, uncontrollable and violent. He swatted the ‘World’s Best Dad’ mug from the table beside him. There was a ting! when his wedding ring struck it, and the mug shot across the War Room. It slammed into the far wall and exploded into a hundred pieces.

Before the fragments of the mug hit the ground, The Broker grabbed the table from beside him, and launched it at the wall.

The table struck the centre screen with a loud crash! The screen dented in the middle, and a crack flared out in both directions, running diagonally from corner to corner. As soon as the table dropped to the floor, The Broker surged forward, kicking it out of his way. He grabbed the screen with both hands, and with one powerful wrench he tore it from the wall. He lifted it over his head and brought it down hard on the floor, over and over again until the screen came apart, components spilling out and scattering across the floor. He threw the carcass aside and grabbed another screen, about to rip it from the wall and—

Knock knock.

A gentle tap at the door.

The Broker stopped.

Knock knock. ‘Everything all right, Dad?’ A voice outside. His son.

Still holding the screen, The Broker turned to look at the door. ‘Yes, David, everything’s fine. I dropped my mug. Sorry – it’s the one you gave me for my birthday.’

‘Oh.’ There was a pause. ‘Well, anyway, Mum says there’s coffee and cake if you want it.’

‘I’ll be there in a second.’ The Broker cleared his throat and let go of the screen. He dusted himself off and straightened his hair, taking a moment to calm himself before going to the door.

When he left the War Room, his son David was waiting outside.

‘You sure everything’s all right?’ David leant to one side, trying to look into the room.

‘Fine.’ The Broker closed the door. There was a click as it locked.

‘It’s just… I thought I heard—’

‘Everything’s good.’ The Broker ruffled his son’s hair and smiled. ‘Sorry about the mug.’

‘It’s all right,’ David said. ‘We’ll get you another one.’

‘That would be great.’ The Broker put his arm around his son as they strolled through the house to join the rest of the family. ‘So,’ he asked. ‘What kind of cake are we having?’

Zak stared at the book on the table in front of him.

Jackson Jones and the Ghosts of the Antarctic .

It was the same book he had been trying to read on the plane to Outpost Zero. The same book he had been trying to read for the past two weeks, without any success. He’d only managed a few slow pages because he couldn’t concentrate on anything. The events at Outpost Zero hung over him like a dark cloud. They followed him wherever he went. The world wasn’t what he used to think it was. He had seen things that made him question everything. And there was something he couldn’t get out of his mind. The blonde woman with the ordinary face. When he dreamt at night, he didn’t dream about insect swarms, or nightmarish robots coming to life – he dreamt about her.

Zak put his hand inside his blazer and touched his right shoulder, feeling the bump of the gross scab that had formed there. He ran his fingers along it, remembering how the bullet had grazed him. A bit further to one side and it might have killed him.

Eliminate everyone , the woman had said, and every night Zak dreamt her saying those two words, speaking them without any feeling at all. Over and over he relived the moment when she had shot Sofia. And there was a name too. Phoenix. Zak wondered what it all meant. He had discussed it many times with May, and on FaceTime with Sofia, the three of them becoming close friends through their shared experience – but they hadn’t come to any conclusions. The only thing Zak was sure of was that life could never be the same for him. How could it? His doctors had looked inside his head and confirmed that he was as healthy as a twelve-year-old boy could be. Healthier , in fact. They couldn’t explain it, but there was no sign he had ever been ill. How strange was that ? And there was the other thing. The way Zak could push his mind into someone else’s. The way he could make them do what he told them. Zak had been thinking about that a lot ; about what he could do with it, how he could use it.

Of course, Mum and Dad had told him never to tell anyone about it. Never to use it. Never to make someone do something they didn’t want to do. That would be wrong.

But, despite everything, here he was back at school, sitting in the dining hall with his best friend, Krishna, pretending everything was the same as it had always been. Mum and Dad said it was important to get back into a routine, to be normal , but Zak didn’t even know what that meant any more.

‘You gonna finish that?’

Zak looked up from the book. Everything around him had been muffled, as if he’d been underwater, but when the voice broke through to him, it was like coming back up to the surface. The world popped back into existence – the hubbub of voices around him, the clatter of cutlery and crockery, and the jostle of other kids pushing past.

‘Earth to Zak. Earth to Zak. Do you copy?’

Zak looked at his friend on the other side of the table. ‘Hmm?’

‘The cake,’ Krishna said. ‘You gonna finish it or not? ’Cause if you’re not, I’ll have it.’

‘Seriously?’

‘Yeah.’

‘OK.’ Zak pushed his tray across the plastic tabletop. ‘Whatever.’

‘Cheers.’ Krishna grabbed his spoon, dug off a piece of Zak’s leftover cake and stuffed it in his mouth. He chewed, swallowed hard and pointed his spoon at Zak. ‘You all right?’

‘Yeah, why? What do you mean?’

‘I don’t know, you’ve been a bit weird since the beginning of term.’ He shovelled in the rest of the cake and licked his spoon clean.

‘Yeah, I guess. It’s just… stuff. You know.’

Krishna looked at Zak as if he was thinking about that, then he shrugged and pushed his chair back as he stood up. ‘You coming outside to play footie?’

‘Dunno.’ Zak put his hand on the book in front of him. ‘I might go to the library. See if I can read a couple of chapters.’

Krishna rolled his eyes. ‘Whatevs, nerd.’

‘Later, loser,’ Zak replied. He smiled and watched his friend take his tray over to the clear-up trolley and slide it into the rack. When Krishna was done, he wiped his hands down the back of his trousers and headed out of the dining hall.

As Krishna left, Zak spotted May heading in for lunch with a couple of friends. As usual, she was wearing heavy black eyeliner and her black hair was hanging over her face. The lapels of her blazer were decorated with pin badges, and she was carrying her Evil Dead backpack.