1. Just One Damned Thing After Another (12 page)

They warned us over and over at St Mary’s, but until it actually happens to you, you can have no idea of the speed and silence of a raptor attack. I saw and heard nothing. The first I knew was when something solid caught me across my back and shoulders. I staggered heavily, the path gave way, and I lost my balance and went over the edge.

I rolled, fell, and bounced for what felt like a lifetime. Other things hit me; hard things, rocks, boulders, branches. I had a mouth full of shale. It went up my nose. I had no idea which way was up. I tried grabbing at things to slow my fall, but everything was falling with me. I hit something solid and stopped. I could feel debris piling up around me. I tried to bring my arms up to protect my face and give myself a little breathing space. And then, I think, I passed out.

I only became aware of things very slowly. It was raining and the moisture felt pleasant on my face. I lay under a great weight. Turning my head carefully, I could see I was partly wedged under a fallen tree trunk and partly buried by what felt like half a mountain. I spat gravel and took stock. My back hurt, but I suspected that came from the initial attack. My helmet and vest had done a good job of protecting me on the way down, but every exposed piece of skin burned with Cretaceous road rash. My first instinct was to try and wriggle free, but second thoughts told me to stay put. I had no idea how long I’d been out, seconds or hours. There might still be raptors around and if they heard or saw me moving they’d be down here in a flash. And I was in a very precarious position here. This tree trunk was the only thing keeping me from falling any further and I would like it to continue doing so. It looked a long way down.

It was a bloody long way up, too. Not only that, but the ground looked treacherous and unstable. If I did manage to get free then I would have to have to work my way over to the left, to solid bedrock and try to get up that way. Some dinosaur deity somewhere was smiling on me though, because the rain felt soft and warm and refreshing. If it turned into a typical Cretaceous downpour I’d either be washed away or maybe drown. How can you possibly drown half way up a mountain? Maybe I should be looking at office jobs again.

Activating my com, I whispered, ‘Sussman, can you hear me? Davey, are you there? Report.’

No reply. Nothing but static. Trapped as I was, I dared not try again.

I decided to go at this slowly. I was lying more or less the right way up and on my back, so I gently wriggled my left foot. It came free. Good start. My other leg was wedged under the tree so I left it for a while and tried my left arm. Inch by painful inch, I got that free. But as soon as I tried my right arm, the shale started moving again. I rolled over onto my side as best I could and gently began to ease my arm free. The problem was my leg. I couldn’t afford to dislodge the tree trunk which was the only thing preventing me from tumbling down the lower skirts of the volcano into the dinosaur’s feeding ground below. Finally, my brain started to work and I hit on the idea of digging under my leg and easing it out that way. Many, many ruined fingernails later, I struggled free.

Free, but not safe. I can’t say how long it took me to work my way across the scree; one step across, two steps down. But once there, the actually climb up was quite easy. I took my time getting over the top, lifting a careful eye above the edge and scanning the area. I waited perhaps ten minutes until my arms started to tremble, hoisted myself over, rolled to my feet, got my bearings, and set off for Eight.

Activating my com again, I said quietly, ‘Sussman, are you there? Sussman, answer me.’

Nothing.

‘Sussman, report.’

Nothing.

Shaking like a leaf now, I inched my way cautiously along that bloody path and then I saw why he wasn’t answering. Pools of black, sticky blood lay all around. Away, off to one side, I saw a boot. His foot was still in it. Something brittle snapped inside me. I grabbed it, ran as fast as I could on trembling legs, shouted, ‘Door,’ crashed headlong into Eight, and lay gasping and shaking on the floor.

I gave myself twenty minutes. No more, otherwise I’d never get up. I double bagged the foot and went to put it in the chiller. I saw a bottle in there and was sorely tempted. I made tea instead and moving like a robot, showered carefully, cleaned my wounds, plaited my hair, and exhausted, pulled out my sleeping module and closed my eyes.

And climbed back out again and found my photo. Getting back into bed I hugged it tightly and curled myself around it. I missed him. I could go back, feel the comfort of his arms around me. No one would blame me.

I would blame me.

After another minute, I gave up the idea of sleep completely and let my mind do what it wanted, which was to think of Sussman being Sussman; alternately loved and loathed. I remembered his kindnesses, especially to me. I found it so hard to believe that this time yesterday he’d been snoring away beside me. And now he was dead. I wished to God I could have this day again and do things differently. Do them better. Suppose he’d tried to get back to my pod. I’d put a lock on it. He wouldn’t have been able to get back in. Common sense told me that was rubbish. Once the raptors closed in he wouldn’t have been able to go anywhere.

We’d been together for four years, bickering, laughing, competing, always trying to get the edge, but not any more. Never again. This was my mission. How could I have let this happen? I couldn’t believe I’d never see him again. And so on and so on, all that long night, recrimination, grief, and regret surging around inside until, finally, I fell into an exhausted sleep just before dawn.

The next day I dressed stiffly, stuffed some food in another backpack, took what I needed, hefted my blaster, and stood by the door. I took two or three deep breaths. I’d checked all the proximity alerts. Nothing lurked nearby. Get back on the horse
,
Maxwell.

I opened the door. I don’t know why I was surprised to see everything exactly as it had been. I set off, but not for the northern end of the valley. That was too far on my own, but I could do useful work further along towards the lake, on the eastern side.

I found a crack in the cliff face where I could safely wedge myself and started work. I filmed, measured, and noted the vegetation. Conifers on the high slopes – pinus and metasequoia and broad-leaved trees lower down. All trees were here, from oaks to palms.

Around mid-afternoon, I trudged back; keeping a careful watch, weapon ready, but all was quiet. I’d worried the raptors might return, looking for more of the unusually flavoured mammals, but I guess they’d moved on. I checked all our equipment, collected the used disks, and replaced them with new ones. I’d left it all out overnight and none of it seemed to have suffered at all, so I decided to leave it in situ. It was heavy and I didn’t want to break anything by trying to lug it around by myself.

It was difficult going into Three. Sussman’s stuff lay all over the place. I tidied it all carefully away, concentrating only on what I was doing and not allowing my mind to wander. I watched my hands fold his clothes and stow his kit neatly. I took the readings, turned off the lights, and left without looking back.

Approaching my pod from a different route, I found myself looking down on the clearing and path. The stains were still there. I didn’t want to attract predators so I went down, kicked dust and gravel over the blood, and picked up what I could find of our packs.

I climbed on to the pod roof, checked the scanner alignments, changed the disks, and climbed down again. Inside, I showered, ate, wrote careful logs for that day and the day before, and did my data entry. I filed the disks and still slightly surprised at this calm, efficient me, went to bed.

And that was pretty well the pattern for the next fifteen days. It was hard work alone, but I needed it. I drew strength from my photo, now set up on the console where I could see it. I felt sad and shocked and lonely and for the first time in my life I missed someone, but this work had to be done and only I could do it. Each day I went out, did what had to be done, and came back. I talked to the photo. I talked to myself. I think I even chatted briefly once with a rock.

Whether all the drama had been used up on that awful day, I don’t know, but everything remained relatively trauma-free. On the other hand, I had sprayed so much cabbage spray all over me and my kit that everything probably thought I was a walking bush. My wounds seemed to be healing without infection and I told myself the worst was over.

I spent the last two days heaving all the kit back to Three. That bloke who said, ‘Give me a lever and a place to stand and I can move the world,’ obviously never stood up to his knees in a Cretaceous swamp, trying to manoeuvre a refrigerator-sized packing crate uphill.

I spent half a day in Three, prepping for the jump and setting the countdown. I shut the door and watched it go, then stared for a while at the flattened area where it had been – no idea why I did that – before making my way back to my own pod, carefully, because I didn’t want to get into trouble now.

I sorted my pod, dictated my final notes, updated the logs, and checked all the disks were present and correct. I looked at the small mountain of boxes in the corner. Data. Unique, priceless, hard-won data. I got the sky scanners off the roof and packed them away. There really was nothing left to do.

I made a cup of tea and sat in the doorway. This had been my home for three months. Sussman had died here. I felt reluctant to leave. I watched the activity around the lake. A solitary Torosaurus trundled down to drink alongside a pair of Parasaurolophus with their banana-shaped crests and still no clues as to their purpose. Resonating chamber? Sexual display? Enhanced sense of smell? Someone else would study the data and decide. My favourite, Andrew Ankylosaurus, shuffled around with his great tail. And the bastard raptors, doing what raptors do. Who could blame them? And the infamous velociraptors. They were smaller than I had expected, but clever. I hoped someone would pursue the link between meat-eating and intelligence. And a group of Proceratops; we had some great shots of their nests with their eggs laid in those fascinating spiral patterns.

I had a huge affection for these creatures; old friends now, all of them. And dead. All dead. Long dead.

Oh, for God’s sake. I threw away the remainder of my tea, did the FOD plod, the POD plod, and had no reason to stay any longer. I let the computer initiate the jump – and it was done.

Chapter Nine

Finally, I was home. The blue decon light flickered and I felt the hairs on my arms stir. I took a breath and savoured the moment. I was home. Craning my neck slightly, I could see Number Three down at the other end of the hangar. Techies swarmed around it, doing techie things. I sighed. Suddenly, I felt very tired.

Someone tapped at the door. I had to open it. He would have seen that Three was empty and come straight across to Eight, expecting us both to be here. I was going to have to open the door and let the world in. I hit manual. He stood on the threshold and took in the lack of Sussman.

His face said everything. He didn’t ask what happened, which was just as well, because for a moment, I couldn’t speak.

‘Are you all right?’

I nodded. It was enough simply to hear his voice after all this time.

‘Take your time.’

I took him at his word, leaned back and closed my eyes. I heard the door close and when I looked, he stood just inside. He said, ‘Come here.’

I stood shakily, took a step towards him, and put my arms around his solid warmth. He held me tightly. He really was the best of men. He said nothing, rubbing my back gently. I went to pull away but he tightened his grip and said, ‘No,’ very softly, so I laid my head on his chest and listened to his strong, steady heartbeat.

Time rolled on and if I stood any longer, I would be there for ever. I started to pull my bag towards me but he stopped me. ‘I’ll take it. Come on, let’s get you to Sick Bay. Can you manage?’

Nodding, I opened the door. A small orange crowd waited outside. Someone said, ‘Welcome home.’ I could see them looking over my shoulder for Sussman. Behind me, I guessed the Chief was making signals because they all moved back. I looked up to Kal and Peterson on the gantry and shook my head.

We took the lift to Sick Bay. After three months in the Cretaceous I couldn’t remember what stairs were for. Helen and her crew waited as the doors opened.

Farrell handed over my bag and said, ‘We’ll make a start with the tapes and upload to you as soon as possible. Dr Bairstow will be along later, I expect. Get some rest.’ He walked away and I felt disappointed and alone.

Helen treated me quickly and gently. I was scanned and had my wounds dressed. There was no infection. I crawled into bed and slept.

Next morning I showered and found my blues in the wardrobe. Helen came in. ‘Yes, you can go,’ she said, sarcastically.

Nurse Hunter came in with a printout which they both scanned. ‘It all seems fine. Battered and bruised, Max, but nothing permanent. Report here tomorrow morning for a final check-up. Now, let’s go and get some breakfast in you.’

I walked into the dining room to a round of applause. Not wild applause, because of Sussman, but congratulations were in order nonetheless. Mrs Mack beamed and handed me eggs, bacon, and hash browns. And fruit to follow. Helen nodded. ‘At least two pieces of fruit a day, Max, that’s an order. You’ve been on rations for three months. You’ll be like a log jam on the St Lawrence.’

We sat with Kal and Peterson, both of whom were quieter than usual. Just as I finished, the Chief turned up. He looked serious and didn’t smile. Dr Bairstow wanted me. Of course he did.

Dr Bairstow was surprisingly brisk. I thought out of respect for Sussman he might tone it down a bit, but he got straight to it. ‘We were surprised, Miss Maxwell, to find a lock on Number Eight. Apparently only you had access to that pod.’

Shit, shit, shit, I’d forgotten to take the lock off. Sometimes I think I’m too stupid to live. I wasn’t looking forward to explaining this at all, but I didn’t have to. He said into his com, ‘Mrs Partridge, would you come in now, please?’

Normally she sat beside or just behind the Boss, but today the Chief put a chair for her next to me. She wore Paris. I’d never noticed before.

The Chief activated the screen. For five seconds or so, it remained dark. Shockingly suddenly, Sussman’s face appeared, close up, slightly distorted, fiddling with the controls. Apparently having adjusted the camera to his satisfaction, he stepped back and I could see what it was pointing at. Me, asleep in an untidy heap in my sleeping module. I lay on my back, a light sheet over me with one leg stuck out the side.

The Boss said, ‘We’ll go and organise some tea,’ and to my astonishment, he and the Chief left. I stared at the door and then at Mrs Partridge and she gestured back towards the screen. On it, Sussman knelt beside me. He reached out and, oh so very gently, began to lift the sheet off me. I wore T-shirt and shorts and even as I watched, he began, an inch at a time, to lift my T-shirt. He turned to the camera and grinned.

I felt physically sick. With a nasty heave of my stomach, I remembered all the times I’d woken with the sheet on the floor.

Back on the screen he’d got my T-shirt nearly to my breasts and the other hand was bashing the bishop as fast as he could go. And any second now … Yep, there I was. One minute dead to the world and the next minute I’d got my feet on his chest and pushed him backwards. And here I was with the pepper spray. He got a mouthful. And I sprayed his penis as well, on the grounds that if he hadn’t had it out and been waving it around then it wouldn’t have come to any harm. Watching myself on the screen, I stopped feeling sick and began to feel a little better. There’s nothing like good, healthy anger. Mrs Partridge turned to me. ‘Good move with the spray.’

‘Thank you.’ My voice came out more wobbly and hoarse than I was happy with.

Back on the screen, I’m giving Sussman the bollocking of a lifetime. He’s scrabbling round the pod, grabbing his clothes and whatever of his stuff he can carry. I grab the blaster and he makes a bolt for the door.

Mrs Partridge blanked the screen. ‘The tape runs out about thirty minutes later, just after you put the lock on,’ she said calmly. She paused. ‘We found three more tapes. In them he is not so – bold, but there is no doubt he was escalating.’ The sick came back. And the anger.

Little Jenny Fields from the kitchen came in with a tea trolley, followed by the Boss and Chief Farrell. I saw Mrs Partridge nod slightly. Suddenly, I didn’t want her to leave. I turned to her and she sat down again. Farrell poured the tea.

The Boss seated himself at the head of the table. ‘This tape and any others of a similar nature will be destroyed immediately on conclusion of this meeting.’

I nodded.

‘You appear to have dealt with the situation with your customary aplomb.’

I nodded.

‘Should I perhaps be reviewing our customary pairings of one male and one female, do you think?’

I shook my head (for a change). ‘Hard to see how you can, sir. Firstly, there are only three of us now until the next intake qualifies and that’s not for at least another six months. Secondly, and this should have been firstly, Peterson would die at the stake rather than pull a stunt like that and, thirdly, one male one female works best. There are always places women can go and men can’t and vice versa. We would be shooting ourselves in the foot, I think.’

‘Very well, we will continue as we are for the time being.’ He paused. ‘No one outside this room has seen these tapes and no one will. I understand the unique bond between our three historians, but I would appreciate you not discussing this with anyone else, Miss Maxwell; unless you feel the need for professional counselling, of course.’

Yes, sir. And no, sir.’

‘To spare you any undue speculation from others, the usual procedures for Mr Sussman will be followed; the service and so on. Please do not feel under any obligation to attend.’

‘Thank you, sir.’

‘Is there anything you wish to say? Or any questions to ask?’

‘I don’t think so, sir.’

‘You are surrounded by friends here. If you find yourself in difficulties you have only to ask.’

I nodded.

In the outer office, I said, ‘Thank you, Mrs Partridge.’ She smiled slightly. It changed her face. I couldn’t help smiling back.

‘I think a change of scene would be good for you today, Miss Maxwell. If offered the chance, take it.’

I was staring out of the window in my room when the Chief turned up with my kit as promised. He dumped a box on the table then dug a disk from his pocket. ‘Where’s your laptop?’ I lugged it out from under the couch and switched it on. He sat beside me and inserted a disk.

‘What’s this?’

He looked at me with an odd mixture of concern and sympathy that alarmed me more than I would care to admit. ‘More unpleasantness.’

‘What’s going on?’

‘You need to see this. Just watch please.’

I sat back, curled my legs under me and watched a clearing in the Cretaceous come to life. ‘This is …’ I paused. The angle wasn’t right. ‘Where did you get this?’

‘This is from my pod. I’ve just been back to the Cretaceous. You need to see this. And I’m sorry. I’m very sorry.’

Again, that chill. I uncurled my legs and sat forward.

Number Eight’s door opened and I stuck out my head. Obviously all was clear because I stepped out, followed by Sussman. I looked at the Chief. Why was he making me watch this? He nodded back to the screen.

I watched the two of us cross the clearing. I watched us walk single file where the path narrowed. I watched Sussman pick up a piece of wood from behind a rock and hit me hard across the back and shoulders. I watched myself stagger forwards and sideways. I watched the path crumble away beneath my feet. I watched my struggle for balance. I watched myself fall. I watched Sussman toss the branch aside, walk to the edge, peer over, shout, ‘Up yours, you fucking, jerk-off bitch!’, and spit.

My throat closed. I had to make a conscious effort to breathe. I’d been over four years with this guy. I’d liked him, worked with him, played with him, and lied for him. Massive betrayal sat like lead in my stomach. But more was to come. Other figures walked into the clearing and joined him. What? Who? Where did they come from? Who else was there? There was me. And Sussman. And Farrell. And now this lot. It was like the Cretaceous equivalent of bloody Piccadilly Circus. They all spent some time carefully looking over the edge of the path. I got the feeling they weren’t a rescue party. I tried to think.

Farrell said gently, ‘Tell me what’s happening to you at that moment.’

‘I’m wedged under a fallen tree, quite a long way down. I’m covered in loose shale and stuff that came down on top of me. I’m probably quite invisible from above. Being semi-conscious helped.’ My voice was hoarse and I had difficulty making my lips move.

Finally, the figures turned away and returned to the clearing. Sussman talked to a man in a long leather coat. He had no weapon so I guessed he was in charge. They were too far away for audio, but the body language spoke for itself. They were arguing.

‘I think,’ said Farrell quietly, ‘you weren’t meant to go over the cliff. It was supposed to be a quick, clean kill. There was supposed to be a body. For Sussman to take back.’

‘Why? To what end?

‘I think, and I’m guessing here, but that would have meant the end of the mission. This big, important, prestigious mission. This would be the final nail in the coffin. You may be unaware of how hard the Boss is working to keep us going in the face of what’s being deemed unacceptable losses. He would be removed and the unit would be taken over by – someone else.’

‘Who?’

He shrugged. ‘The government. The military. No idea. But certainly St Mary’s would go in a different direction, with different goals, different targets, and maybe instructions to turn a profit. There would be less research, more interaction. It certainly wouldn’t be our endearingly crackpot little organisation any longer. But, and again I’m only guessing here, setting the unit on a path leading straight to the state St Mary’s finds itself in in my time.

I pointed at the screen. ‘Who is he?’

‘His name is Ronan. He’s angry because Sussman made it personal. Can we talk about him another time?’

‘Why did Sussman wait so long before …?’

‘So you could do most of the work and he could get the credit.’

Unbidden, there came to my mind a picture of Sussman in France. The hospital engulfed in flames. Kal and I burst into the pod. Sussman turned from the controls and said – what did he say? He said, ‘Max, my God, I can’t believe it. I thought you were dead. Why aren’t you dead?’

Not, ‘Thank God you’re not dead,’ but ‘
Why aren’t you dead?
’ And who arranged for us to meet by the linen rooms? And who sent me in for blankets? And who had I met the day before coming
from
the linen rooms?

Somehow, I got it together. A coincidence. It had to be. I was being paranoid. He was dead and we’d never know now. What I saw next pushed it out of my head completely.

On the screen, Sussman stormed back to his pod. At a signal from Ronan, he was grabbed, held by two men and dragged, struggling, away from his pod. Ronan stepped forward, crouched low in front of him, and slashed, stepping back quickly. I watched the blood spurt and heard the scream in my head.

Everyone vanished very quickly. They wouldn’t want to hang about with that amount of blood around. They say sharks can smell blood in the water from miles away. Sharks had nothing on the local wildlife here. Sussman tried to walk but blood gushed from wounds in his upper leg where Ronan had slashed his femoral artery. No power on earth could save him now. He tried to press both hands against the wound and walk at the same time, failing to do both.

‘Davey,’ I whispered. But even as I spoke a shadow flitted across the bottom of the screen. Fast and low. Then another.

‘Davey, get back to your pod.’ I leaped to my feet and the Chief stood with me. He reached down to switch off the laptop but I pulled his arm away.

I watched as the raptors gathered. I watched them circle their victim; classic predator behaviour. He crouched low on the ground, screaming with fear, bloody arms over his head.

Farrell said, ‘Max …’ but I had to watch. Whatever he’d done, he’d once been my partner and my friend. I owed it to him and to me.

I watched as the first two leaped in a pincer movement. Deinonychus. And it’s true; they don’t wait until their prey is dead before eating. I watched them rip and tear. I watched two of them fight over an arm. I watched his head roll away and felt glad because it was over for him. I watched them snarl and gobble. I watched them disperse afterwards. I watched the empty clearing until the Chief gently closed my laptop.