Coldbrook(73)

Now came a sound more familiar to airports.

‘Jesus!’ Sean said, darting to the window. ‘Pilot must have survived.’

It was the aircraft they’d come in on. It taxied away from them, one emergency chute still hanging deflated from a rear door. Its big wheels passed over one of the prone shapes beneath it.

‘Maybe he locked himself in the cockpit,’ Jayne said.

‘Or the survivors have had a vote. Not much to stay here for.’

‘Didn’t the stewardess say they were flying on fuel fumes?’

‘Yeah,’ Sean said.

They watched, standing side by side. Five minutes after firing up its engines, the plane powered along the runway and lifted off. It climbed quickly, tilting its wings and catching the rays of the sinking sun as it headed north.

‘Canada?’ Jayne said.

‘Maybe.’

They moved to the other side of their aircraft to see the escaping one climb away. It was little more than a diamond in the sky, reflecting the tired yellow of late-afternoon sunlight, while Sean went to find another drink.

And Jayne could not breathe as she watched the aircraft die, a falling star, barely visible as it plummeted into the hazy distance. She did not see the impact, and she turned away as Sean returned and asked her what was wrong. She told him.

‘Fumes,’ he said.

They opened another bottle of wine.





8


Every minute I’ve been out of it, Holly thought as she came around. Every minute, every second, it’s getting worse. The scenes that she had seen in the casting room flashed before her again and again, and before she opened her eyes she saw a parade of dead children and bloodied, blank faces.

Drake Slater was sitting beside her as she surfaced. The fainting fit pulled away quickly, her senses returned, and she realised that she’d received a far lower dose of whatever had knocked her out than she had last time.

‘Nice way of greeting a visitor,’ she muttered.

‘Sorry,’ Drake said, not sounding like he meant it. ‘We’ve grown used to looking after each other.’

‘And you drugged me because I was losing my temper?’ Holly sat up on a cot bed. The room around her was sparse and functional She ran a hand through her knotted hair, wishing for a brush, some shampoo. She was beginning to understand why the people here wore their hair short or in tight braids.

‘Moira heard you say “God”.’

‘Oh?’ She’d already clocked their aversion to the G-word.

‘We’re people of science. But that doesn’t mean we don’t fear the Inquisitor.’

Holly remained silent, hoping that he would continue. And he did.

‘I’m as convinced as I’ll ever be that you’re telling the truth, so . . . I suppose that now it’s safe to tell you. There are those who believe that because some of us survived, the Inquisitor will return one day.’ He smiled, with little humour in his expression. ‘It’s the opposite of the old Jesus legend.’

‘This Inquisitor – it’s a legend?’

Drake shrugged. He seemed suddenly nervous again, evasive. So Holly tried another tack.

‘You cast God aside so easily?’

‘Easily?’ Drake asked. ‘Not easily at all, as far as I’m aware. When I was a child God was a comfort to many, though not all. Much like in your world, I suspect. My father was a true believer but, since the Furies, God has been down there with them. And any mention now is an offence.’ He shrugged, at the same time trying to smile.

‘Just because this happened doesn’t mean that He doesn’t exist,’ Holly said.

‘Perhaps in your world. But keep it to yourself. There are people here who’d attack you if they heard that, and some who might even kill you.’

‘I don’t understand.’ Holly shivered.

‘We believe the End was God’s fault,’ Drake said. Holly snorted, but he continued. ‘That’s what most of us believe. It’s what the Coldbrook journals tell us – that the Inquisitor was a servant of God, and it came through to ensure that the Fury plague took our whole world. It oversaw our demise, and then took Coldbrook’s chief with it. To another new world. A new Inquisitor to continue spreading the disease.’

‘The Inquisitor sounds like a ghost.’

‘Most people believe in it.’

‘And what do you think?’

‘I think God was as much to blame for the Furies as he was for a hundred wars through history.’

‘But that was forty years ago. You’re maybe forty yourself? I haven’t seen anyone here old enough to remember.’

‘There are a few. But blame is handed down through the generations. And there is proof.’

Holly leaned back against the wall, saddened, and convinced more than ever that Drake was only telling her parts of the story.

‘I’d like to know . . .’ Drake said, but he trailed off as if he was unsure.

‘Know what?’

‘Where we parted,’ he said. ‘Where our Earths became different possibilities.’

Holly smiled. ‘You’re talking Jonah’s language now.’

‘We seemed to be far ahead of you,’ Drake mused. ‘Our technology a long way further on than yours. Perhaps that’s why the Furies hit us first.’