Coldbrook (Hammer)(72)

Charlotte rings the bell.

Lucy answers the door. ‘Charlotte! You’re looking well. Death becomes—’

And Charlotte goes at her, dead fingers clasping, ragged teeth biting, and as Lucy giggles at the mess of her own face Vic hears his daughter’s singing from inside the house.

Vic woke up with a gasp and everything came back to him at once. Lucy was staring at him, her head pressed into the pillow. There was a tear nestled on the bridge of her nose, and as he watched it ran down across her face.

‘She’s dreaming,’ Lucy said, and Vic heard his daughter mumbling to herself. He could not discern the words, but Olivia’s voice was unhappy. She was not crying but pleading.

‘She’ll be okay,’ Vic said. Such a hollow platitude.

‘I didn’t hear you come in.’

‘Didn’t want to wake you.’ Vic looked at his watch and rubbed his hands across his face. ‘Four hours. I only wanted to crash out for an hour.’

‘What happened with Marc?’

‘We spoke to Jonah.’

‘He’s okay?’

Vic frowned. ‘I think so. Alive, at least. But . . .’

‘He’s an old man.’

‘Only in years.’ Vic smiled.

‘And no news from Holly?’

Holly, Vic thought, and blinked at a sudden intense memory of loving her in the shower. ‘Nothing yet,’ he said.

‘Hey.’ Lucy touched his cheek and turned him to face her. ‘We’re here, and we’re all okay together. That’s good enough for now.’

He kissed her and held her against his body.

‘You should go back to Marc,’ she said. ‘Lots to do.’ She sat up and ran her fingers through her hair. Olivia had settled, breathing softly in the cot at the foot of their own bed. The room was barely big enough for the three of them.

‘What’re you going to do?’ he asked, and Lucy nodded at the laptop on the table beside the bed.

‘Catch up. Try and call my folks. Email them, IM, Facebook.’ Her voice was filled with dread, and Vic thought he should stay. But seeing the disaster together could not lessen its impact.

‘Okay. Not as if there’s far to look if you want me.’

Lucy smiled up at him as he dressed, and he bent down to kiss her again. Her breath was stale and her shoulders tense.

‘Be back soon,’ she said, and Vic nodded.

Marc was in his communications room, talking with another tall man. The room was small, square, and each wall was lined with benching. There were laptops and telephones, and on one wall a blank screen promised much. There were also radios and satellite communication equipment. It was as basic as Vic had already come to expect of the bunker – the walls were bare, the furniture functional – but the equipment was top drawer. Cigarette smoke hazed the air.

‘Vic,’ Marc said as soon as he entered. ‘I was going to wake you. There’s bad news, and f*cking terrible news. Which do you want first?’

Vic shook his head. How could he answer that?

‘Well, we’ve lost touch with Jonah.’

‘No,’ Vic said. He glanced from Marc to the other man, and felt his stomach drop. ‘Nothing at all?’

‘Email’s out, satphone gets nothing. He’s no longer online.’

‘Could be a power fault in Coldbrook,’ Vic said.

‘With luck that’s all it is,’ Marc agreed. The alternative was too grim to voice.

‘So if that has happened, what’re his chances?’ the other man said. Vic stared at him, then glanced at Marc.

‘Vic, meet my partner Gary Volk.’

‘You’re English?’ Vic asked.

‘Only until they ask me to pay my taxes,’ Gary said.

‘Jonah will be cut off down there,’ Vic said. ‘If the main power’s gone, backup should kick in. But there’s no saying what damage has been done to Coldbrook. He’ll have plenty of air and supplies, and there are torch stocks in every room. But without power he won’t be able to get out. Ever.’

‘But the core?’ Marc asked.

‘Balanced, and self-sustaining. It doesn’t need any outside power source.’

‘So why not run Coldbrook from the core?’ Gary asked.

‘Because you don’t use antimatter to run your food blender,’ Vic said.

Gary raised his eyebrows, then smiled. ‘Forgive me. I’m just a musician.’ His smile was disarming, his eyes filled with a constant glimmer.