Coldbrook(22)

I’m going to die and stay down here for ever, he thought. But, right now, for ever did not concern him unduly.

Satphone in hand, he swivelled in his chair and briefly examined the schematic on the wall behind him. Yellow lights indicated where internal lockdown measures had taken place, and the light over Control’s door was blinking. Failure. But Satpal’s escape was no longer important. What was important were the red lights, showing Coldbrook’s outer containment. All remained steady but one: a ventilation duct.

That one also blinked.

Jonah stood up from his chair and walked closer. His eyes weren’t what they used to be and perhaps they were watering, causing the image to flicker. But no: the light was flashing. He tapped the vent reference code into his laptop and read the information presented there. All three dampers had been closed and their mechanisms destroyed, as expected.

‘Malfunction,’ he muttered looking back at the light. ‘Melting caused a short. Has to be.’ But he had not seen Vic Pearson on any screen, in any room, dead or alive – or walking the line between.

‘Vic, I hope you haven’t done something stupid,’ Jonah said, and he dialled Coldbrook’s above-ground administration and guard block. The call rang several times before it was answered.

‘Asleep on the job?’ Jonah asked as soon as he heard the click of connection.

‘Not at all, no,’ a voice said, flustered. ‘Who is this?’

‘Jonah Jones. Is that Rick Summerfield?’

‘Yes, professor. Er . . . it’s early.’ Jonah felt a shred of relief. Summerfield was a manager rather than a scientist, but he and Jonah had always seen eye to eye, and he possessed that spark of imagination and wonder that made him a true part of Coldbrook like many others. He saw not just an experiment but something more meaningful. Jonah closed his eyes.

‘You haven’t seen that we’re in lockdown?’ he asked.

‘What? Why? There’s nothing . . . hold on.’ Jonah heard keyboard keys being tapped and the rustle of Summerfield pulling on headphones. ‘We’re showing nothing. All boards clear up here.’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ Jonah said. He knew that the small surface compound – four buildings, a car park and a perimeter fence – was linked into Coldbrook’s network, but something must have gone wrong. He didn’t know how recently the systems up there had been checked, and the ongoing endless modernisation of the facility’s IT equipment often favoured the subterranean area where the real work was done.

Unsettled, Jonah watched the three flashing LEDs as he continued. ‘Rick, something came through.’

‘What something?’

‘It doesn’t matter. Patch in to email and I’ll send you what you need to see. But . . . we have to sound the alarm. You have the protocols, a list of who to contact.’

‘Yes, I have it here. But the breach was stable! Everyone’s probably still celebrating, Jonah.’

‘Something came through. People are dead. Maybe everyone.’ There was no response to this, only a shocked gasp. ‘Except . . . before you do that, I need you to check the ventilation-duct housing on the services block.’

‘Why?’

‘I can’t find Vic Pearson. I’m afraid he might have made a break for it.’

‘It’s fine,’ Summerfield said. ‘I can see the cover from here, it’s intact, and Vic wouldn’t—’

‘Will you just check the bastard for me!’ Jonah said, anger creeping into his voice. It was shock and grief that were causing it and he reined it in. ‘Sorry, Rick. Please check. For this old Welshman.’

‘Okay, hold on.’ He heard mumbling in the background as Summerfield used a walkie-talkie, then he was back online. ‘Moore’s going to look right now.’

‘It’s a contagion,’ Jonah said. ‘Something I’ve never seen before. Never imagined. I’ll send the info but access the security cameras for the last hour, if you can. You’ll see. All of them. It’s horrible.’ He trailed off, shaking his head as if Summerfield were in the room and could see him.

‘Jonah?’

‘All of them, dead – but not lying down.’ And he had stated the truth of it at last, though he could not understand.

‘That doesn’t make sense.’

‘I know.’

‘Melinda? Satpal? Holly?’

‘No,’ Jonah whispered. He sat down and stared at the breach on the screen. What’s she doing now, and where, and is it even now for her? ‘Not Holly. She went through the breach.’

‘Holy shit,’ Summerfield said.

‘I know. Wherever she is now—’

‘I can see Moore at the duct housing,’ Summerfield cut in. ‘He touched the maintenance hatch and it fell off. It’s open, Jonah.’

Vic, Jonah thought, what the hell have you done? But he knew. Vic Pearson had stayed true to everything he believed in – his family.

‘Close it,’ Jonah said urgently. ‘Rick, seal that hatch, weld it, bury it in f*cking concrete but—’

‘Oh, hang on. Someone’s . . .’

‘Rick?’

‘It’s . . . it’s okay, it’s Alex. He looks—’

‘Rick!’ Jonah shouted. ‘Tell Moore to get back, tell him—’