Coldbrook (Hammer)(8)

Out of the mouths of babes.

It’s somewhere else entirely, Holly thought. A chill went through her. And the familiar conflicting desires arose to tell her father and brother all about this, or protect them from it.

Melinda glanced back at her and offered a half-smile. The biologist now seemed to occupy a state of permanent distraction.

‘You should go get some sleep,’ Holly said.

‘So should you.’

Holly nodded and sat in a swivel chair without taking her eyes off the breach. Staring into a world so far away, yet alongside their own, gave her mind a surprising freedom and focus. As she watched darker colours in alien skies, she thought about Vic and that touch on the back of her hand. However much she tried to delude herself, she could not deny that she thought of him every day. And memories of their affair were elusive things. When they were working together in Control or sharing a meal in the canteen, he was a colleague and a friend, somewhat volatile but marked by genius. His background in military research and development had given him access to the forefront of technological progress, and he was the most brilliant engineer working at Coldbrook. The science might elude him sometimes – even after all this time, Holly believed that only Jonah came close to really understanding – but he could strip and reassemble any piece of equipment they used, and make it perform better in the process.

It was when they weren’t working together that she dreamed about those two years when they had been lovers. It had ended seven years before when Vic’s wife Lucy had fallen pregnant, a mutual agreement that had hurt them both. But Holly had been pleased that they’d remained close friends. That was important.

Coldbrook was filled with memories for them both. They’d once made love in Control behind her work station, a quick, giggling liaison back when the place had been empty at night. And her own quarters still sang with the cries of past pleasure, sometimes breathed again in the dark as she remembered.

We’re grown-ups, Vic had said when they’d ended it. And we’ll always be friends. He had been right. But there were times . . .

Like when he touched my hand, she thought.

‘Holly.’

Her eyes snapped open, she jerked, and the swivel chair slipped a foot to the right. ‘Wha—?’

‘Wake up, Holly. There’s something . . .’

Holly blinked the brief sleep away, looked into the breach – and squinted as she saw movement.

She gasped and felt the hairs rise all across her body. The conviction she’d been feeling for three days pressed on her again: that they were balanced on the precipice of change. She focused, glancing to the left and right to give her eyes time to work in the dark.

There was a weak moon-cast shadow that should not be there, because there was no tree or rock to form it. Once again, it moved.

‘Melinda?’ she said quietly. ‘What do you see?’

The other woman took another step across the breach floor and lifted her binoculars. No closer! Holly thought, panic prickling her scalp.

‘Something coming,’ the biologist confirmed. ‘Can’t see what. But . . . it’s bigger than anything we’ve seen.’ She looked back at Holly and her eyes were alight with excitement.

Holly dashed up the two steps to her desk and initiated another systems check of the eradicator. ‘Let’s get ready,’ she said, louder than she’d intended. She watched the viewing screen, waiting for the shape to arrive. Satpal glanced over, then turned back to his own bank of computers. The four guards stood in their assigned positions, in two pairs. All was well.

Down by the breach, Melinda crouched with her camera.

I wish Vic was here, Holly thought. She should have contacted Jonah then, told him that something unusual was happening. This was no bird or insect. She should have called Vic as well, but there was no guarantee that he had even arrived back at his room. He might have returned to the common room to find another drink from the canteen’s small bar. So she waited instead, ignoring established protocol to give her old boss the sleep he so needed, and to avoid possible conflict with the man she probably still loved.





3


Even a third of a bottle of good Welsh whisky couldn’t grant him sleep.

Jonah lay back on his bed and stared at the ceiling. He hadn’t turned out his light when Vic had left, and the room was bathed in sterile fluorescence. The crystal tumbler was propped against his side, empty, and the bottle on his bedside table taunted him with its liquid gold.