Outpost

‘I wanted to kill you. I was going to kill you all. I hated you so damn much. I don’t know why. But I want you to join us. I’m not going to force you. Nail? He’s a child. I had to decide on his behalf. But I want you folks to volunteer.’

Jane walked through a series of plant rooms. Most of the ceiling lights were smashed. She wanted to save her flashlight batteries. She struck a flare. It burned fierce purple.

Ventilation flues. Dehumidification filters.

The air conditioning was shot. The plenum fans that should have pushed air through the complex were rusted and still. Yet, when she took off a glove and put a hand to the wall-vent, she could feel a breath of wind.

She found the canteen. Metal tables and chairs. A communist mural of heroic agricultural workers holding sickles and scythes, gazing towards a golden dawn. She got tired of searching.

‘Punch,’ she shouted. ‘Where are you, dude?’

Jane stepped into the corridor. She was faced by a dozen Hyperion passengers. They stood the length of the passageway, lit by flickering strip-light.

Jane backed away from the stink of piss and rotting flesh. A dozen ravaged faces. A dozen pairs of jet-black eyes. She expected the foul creatures to attack. They stood quite still, as if awaiting instructions.

They shrank back into darkened doorways. A clear invitation for Jane to proceed.

Nikki approached the situation board, a flickering, back-lit map of the western hemisphere. A figure was fused to the glass by metal filaments.

‘She’s here,’ murmured Rye, slowly lifting her head. Metal tendrils from her eye sockets. She was plugged in to the walls, plugged in to the collective conscious, monitoring the inhabitants of the bunker with strange new senses. ‘She’s outside the door.’

Nikki turned to face the entrance.

Jane looked around the ops centre. Ghost, Punch and Nail lashed to chairs. Bodies melded to the walls and ceiling. Jane looked up. An old woman spread-eagled on the ceiling directly above her head. The woman gently squirmed, like she was trying to work out how she came to be pinned to the roof.

Nikki at the centre of it all, hands in her pockets, smiling a welcoming smile.

Jane glanced at Ghost and Punch. Quick inspection for injury or infection.

‘Good to see you, Jane,’ said Ghost.

‘You guys all right?’

‘Punch is all right. I’m fine. Don’t think Nail will be coming home.’

Nail sobbed. The big man snivelled and drooled snot.

‘I’m so glad you came,’ said Nikki.

‘That’s sweet.’

Jane edged around the room. She held the flare like she was warding off a vampire. Spitting, fizzing purple flame. Wax dripped over her gloved hand.

She dug in her pocket with her left hand and took out her lock-knife. She flicked open the blade with her thumb and handed it to Ghost. He cut his wrists free then released his ankles. He quickly shook and stretched to restore circulation.

‘I want to talk to you,’ said Nikki. ‘Just talk.’

‘Sure,’ said Jane, super-calm, placating a lunatic. ‘Fire away.’

‘I want you to stay with us. Europe is a radioactive cinder. There’s nothing for you back home. Just death and ruins. But there’s a place for you here, a place to belong. Call Sian. She can stay too.’

‘Sure she’ll appreciate the sentiment.’

Ghost cut Punch free and helped him to his feet. He dropped the knife in Nail’s lap.

‘Hey. Nail. Do yourself a favour. Slit your throat while you have the chance.’

‘Look around you, Nikki,’ said Jane. ‘Take a moment and look. Why would anyone spend a single second in this fucking abattoir? There are some diesel drums in the plant room. Seriously. Torch the place.’

Nail cut himself lose. He moved on Nikki, gripping the lock- knife like he was ready to shiv her in the gut. She stepped back. Two rotting Hyperion officers shuffled forward to block his path. Nail ran from the room.

Jane, Ghost and Punch edged towards the door.

‘Why be scared?’ asked Nikki. ‘What do you have to lose? Your body will change, but so what? It’s not like any of us danced for the Royal Ballet. You’ve been fat all your life. You got thin, but you still bear the marks of obesity. Wide bones. Splayed feet. What’s so great about being you? What are you holding out for? I’m trying to help. I’m trying to do the biggest favour of your life.’

Nikki stepped forward, arms outstretched in a pleading gesture.

‘Join us. Join us, Jane.’

Jane threw the hammer. A spinning blur. The hammer smacked Nikki’s forehead. She was knocked from her feet.

The phalanx of Hyperion crewmen began to shuffle forward, antibodies preparing to repel an intruder.

Jane took the jar of kerosene from her pocket and dashed it on the floor. She threw the flare and shielded her face from the eruption of flame.

She tossed Ghost her radio.

‘Run,’ she said. ‘I’ll be right behind you.’

Ghost grabbed an extinguisher from the wall, like he was ready to stand and fight.

‘Don’t be a fucking idiot,’ said Jane. ‘Take Punch. Get a head start. Go on. Run.’

She picked up an office chair and held it, ready to fend off attack.