Coldbrook (Hammer)(137)

The pull of Gaia grasped him as he walked forward, stretching his skin, tugging his hair, and he thought he was trapped in a particular moment, ripped apart and smudged across this veil between realities. And then he staggered forward into another Earth, and the first breath he took cleared every vision from his memory.

He’d emerged into a high-ceilinged, cathedral-like building. Bright moonlight came through a ragged hole in the roof high above him, reflected from what seemed to be broken hanging mirrors and chandeliers. The structure rose and curved inward to enclose him like a giant shell, its extravagantly painted ceiling faded with dust and time. The breach was resting within a circular stone wall. He climbed a small set of steps and mounted the wall, and the true size and grandness of the place struck him.

He’d been in some of the largest and most beautiful cathedrals in Britain – York Minster, Lincoln, St David’s – but this place was easily three times their size and it took his breath away. Birds flew in its upper reaches. Plants sprouted from ledges and cracks in the walls. Three-storey-high windows had been smashed, and where any glass remained it was heavily obscured by dust or mould. He was afraid to move, in case the echoes of his footsteps came back at him. He took in a breath, and let it out again in a slow, amazed exhalation.

Then he noticed the statues. They stood in alcoves at floor level all around the building. Many were hidden by shadow, but where moonlight touched some their features were evident. He had seen their likeness before, deep in Gaia’s Coldbrook where that wretched creature was kept.

Jonah descended the steps from the breach’s containment wall, passing tangles of technology – round containers, wires, and a scatter of circuits spilled across the floor – and sensed movement in the distance. His heart thudded, and he pulled the pistol from his belt and flicked off the safety catch. He still felt vaguely foolish holding a gun.

After a pause he moved on – and then he saw the Inquisitor. It was standing among a spread of chairs and desks, apparently set around the breach at random. Many of them were broken now, or perhaps rotted down into disrepair, and the Inquisitor seemed unaware. It was concerned with nothing but him.

Jonah put his hand in his pocket and held the soft round object. Then he turned and ran.

He was surprised to find that the building’s door was made of heavy wood with metal crosspieces, just like a church door at home. For these people, perhaps their breach had been a god, encased in a building of devotion and worship.

‘It is required that you accept.’ The Inquisitor’s voice echoed, but Jonah didn’t even turn around.

‘Fuck you!’ he shouted. Outside, a shadow rose within a mass of brambles. Not the Inquisitor. Jonah paused, lifted his gun and fired. The shape fell out of sight.

Moonlight revealed the landscape to him. Lowlying buildings dotted the surroundings like stone igloos, their curved roofs reaching down to the ground, and tall poles rose high above them. They supported complex frameworks of wire and mesh, and he thought they must be aerials. They might have looked like Neanderthals, but the people who had lived here had been at least as advanced as him.

Jonah wanted to stay to discover more, explore the remnants of this Earth’s art and culture, their amazing architecture, the sad story of their demise. But another shadow was coming at him now, long-armed and heavy-shouldered, shambling, and he waited until it was close enough before putting a bullet through its forehead.

Something tugged him onward, and the building behind forced him away. His skin tingled. Perhaps the Inquisitor was exerting some repelling influence on him . . . but he thought not.

He thought it might be another breach.

Sad at everything he was missing here, Jonah started to run. ‘Not yet, you bastard!’ he shouted again, wondering how long it had been since words were last spoken here.

Other worlds beckoned.





6


The car stank of unwashed bodies – and fear. No one seemed to care. They wound the windows down and breathed in the fresh mountain air, and Vic didn’t understand how the views could still be so beautiful. Wasn’t the world stained now? Wasn’t it tainted? It took him a while to realise this was not the case at all. Humanity was stained and tainted. The world was doing just fine.

Jayne was sitting behind Sean, leaning against the door and groaning in pain. Whatever weird disease made her immune – and she’d shown him her bite, wet and infected but not deadly to her – he wasn’t sure it was anything better. She was a pretty girl aged by her disease, face drawn and eyes pale with the knowledge of pain. She’d told them about the boyfriend she’d lost.