Brian Aldiss - The Monster Trilogy

Clift started to retch.

‘Let’s get out of here,’ he said. ‘We should never have come.’

Bodenland would say nothing. They edged round the table. The fish gaze of the victim on the table followed them, eyeballs palely bulging.

Twisting an unfamiliar type of latch on the door, they moved out into a corridor. Bodenland covered his eyes and face with a broad hand.

‘I’m sorry I got you into this, Bernie.’

The corridor was even darker than the torture compartment. No sense of movement reached them, though every now and again the corridor swerved, challenging their balance, as if it was rounding a bend at speed.

No windows gave to the outside world. At intervals, glass doors led to compartments set on the left of the corridor as they progressed.

Inside these compartments, dark and dreary, sat immobile figures, their bodies half embedded in moulded seating. The whole ambience was of something antique and underground, such as a long forgotten Egyptian tomb, in which the spirits of the dead were confined. The mouldings of the heavy wooden doors, the elaborate panelling, all suggested another age: yet the tenebrous scene was interspersed by tiny glitters at every doorway, where a panel of indicators kept up a code of information.

The men moved down the corridor, and came to an unoccupied compartment, into which they hastened with some relief. They shut themselves in, but could find no lock for the door.

‘We didn’t come armed,’ Bodenland said, with regret.

When their eyes had adjusted to the dimness, they saw plush mummy-shaped recesses in which to sit. Once seated, they had in front of them a control touch-panel – electronic but clearly of another age, and made from a material fatty in appearance. Bodenland started to fiddle with the controls.

‘Joe – suppose you summon someone …’

‘We can’t just sit around like passengers.’

He began to stab systematically with his middle finger.

A lid shot up like an eyelid on the wall facing them, and a VDU lit. Colours flowed hectically, then a male face snapped into view, a heavy aquiline face that looked as if it had been kept in deep freeze. Seeming to press its nose against the glass screen, it opened its mouth and said, ‘Agents of Group 16, prepare to leave for —— Agents of Group 16.’

‘Where did he say?’ asked Clift.

‘Never heard of the place. How come we can’t see through this window?’ Bodenland ran his hand over a series of pressure plates. The window on his left hand turned transparent. It was barred, but permitted a distorted view of the outside world in tones of grey. With this view, a sense of movement returned; they could see what looked like uncultivated prairie flashing by.

And at the same time, phantasmal figures, looking much attenuated, drifted from the train, to land on a grass mound they were passing.

‘There go the agents of Group 16,’ commented Bodenland. ‘Whoever the hell they are.’

The train then appeared to gather speed again.

More investigation of the control panel brought forth from its socket a small terrestrial globe. A thread-thin trace light revealed what they could only believe was their course, heading north-west. But the continents were subtly changed. Florida had extended itself to enclose the Caribbean. Hudson Bay did not exist. Indications were that the train was now crossing what should have been the waters of Hudson Bay; all that could be seen were forests and undulating savannah lands.

Numerals flashed across the VDU. Clift pointed to them with some excitement. He seemed to have recovered from his shock of fear.

‘Read those figures, Joe. They could be calibrated in millions of years. They certainly aren’t speeds or latitudes.’

‘You think that’s where we are – or when we are? Not simply moving through distance, but some time before Hudson Bay was formed …’

‘Before Hudson Bay … and when the climate was milder … In a forgotten epoch of some early inter-glacial … Is it possible?’

Bodenland said, ‘So we’re travelling on – a time train! Bernard, what wonderful luck!’

Clift looked at him in surprise. ‘Luck? Who knows where we’re heading? More to the point, who controls the train?’

‘We’ll have to control the train, Bernie, old sport, that’s who.’

As he rose, a last group of zombie figures could be seen to leave the train, drifting like gossamer with outspread arms, to land safely among tall grasses and fade into night.

At which point, the train swerved suddenly eastwards, throwing Bodenland back into his seat. The thread indicator also turned eastwards, maintaining latitude. The electronic numbers on the screen diminished rapidly.

‘Well, that’s something,’ Clift said. ‘We’re coming nearer to the present instead of disappearing into the far past. If our theory’s right.’

‘Let’s move. There must be a cab or similar up front.’

As they rose, the aquiline face returned to their VDU.

‘Enemy agents boarded the train at Point 656. They must be terminated. Believed only two in number. They must be terminated. Group 3 also organize death-strikes against their nearest and dearest.’

‘Hell,’ said Clift. ‘You heard that. We have to get off this thing.’

‘You want to jump? I don’t like this either, but our best hope is to try and hijack the train, if that’s possible.’

‘And get ourselves killed?’

‘Let’s hope that won’t be necessary. Come on.’

He opened the door. The corridor appeared empty. After only a moment’s hesitation, he eased himself through the door. Clift followed.

Larry had bought himself a big white cowboy hat in Enterprise, after taking a few drinks in a bar. He drove in his hired car back to the Old John site.

The change in three days, since the news of the strange grave had been given to the world, was dramatic. There was no way in which the Bodenland security force could keep everyone away. As Bodenland had predicted, the world had descended on this quiet south-west corner of Utah. The media were there in force, not only from all over the States but from Europe, Japan, the Soviet Union, and elsewhere. Hustlers, hucksters, and plain sightseers rubbed shoulders. Big mobile diners had rolled in from St George and Cedar City, bars had been set up. It was like a gold rush. Chunks of plain rock were selling fast.

Temporary TV studios had been established, comfort stations, mobile chapels, all kinds of refreshment stalls and marquees. The actual digs were barricaded off and protected by state police.

Larry made his way through the thick traffic, yelling cheerfully to other drivers out of the window as he went. Once he had parked, he fought his way through to the trailer he had hired.

There Kylie was awaiting him, her fair hair capturing the sun.

She threw her arms round him. ‘I’ve been here all day. Where’ve you been?’

‘I was drowning my sorrows in Enterprise.’

‘You got a girl there?’

‘I ain’t that enterprising. Listen, Kylie, forgive me, sweet. I shouldn’t have walked out on you as I did, and I’ve felt bad ever since.’

She was happy to hear him say it.

‘We were both too hasty.’ She stuck her tongue in his mouth.

‘Come on the bed,’ he said. ‘I’ll show you how I feel about you. I’ve had three days here, kicking my heels and feeling bad.’

‘Bed later. I got in this morning with Mina. I flew to Dallas and she flew me here in her plane.’

‘That old Bandierante? It’ll fall to pieces in the air one day.’

‘Come and see her. She’s worried crazy about Joe. You’ll have to tell her – and me – exactly where he is and what happened.’

He made a face, but was in no mood to argue.