Boy X (17 page)

16 hrs and 18 mins until Shut-Down

W
hen they finally reached the pool, it was like stepping into an oasis. The place was carpeted with flat, moss-draped rocks, as green as envy. Trees grew around them in a rough circle, as if it were sacred ground, the trunks leaning forward in prayer. Complicated root systems snaked around and over the rocks. The sweet smell of fresh water filled the cool air and the sound of a babbling stream chattered somewhere out of sight.

About twenty metres from the trees, the pool itself was so clear and still that if it wasn't for the fallen tree lying in its shallows, distorted slightly by the water, Ash might not have even realized it was there.

Isabel stopped and bent at the waist, putting her hands on her thighs. She stayed that way for a moment, catching her breath, then scanned the clearing. ‘This is where we come. Papa and me. We walk here when he wants to get away from the BioSphere.'

‘I can see why.' There was a sense of freshness there, as if the water gave up its coolness to the air. Ash tore his eyes from it and looked at Isabel, seeing the way she frowned and bit at her lower lip. He could tell she was thinking about her dad.

Isabel sniffed and reached back to unfasten her ponytail. She let the hairband roll over her wrist, and when she had gathered her hair together once more, she tied it back again, pulling it tight. ‘It will be dark any moment,' she said. ‘We should get inside.'

‘Inside?'

Isabel pointed to the vegetation at the left side of the pool, but Ash saw nothing.

‘And what do you mean, “It'll be dark any moment”?' ‘It gets dark quickly.'

She wasn't joking. It took no more than a few minutes to pick their way across the rocks, but by the time they got to the place Isabel had pointed to, the sun was already dropping and much of the light had gone from the day.

‘Animals sometimes come to the pool at night,' she said. ‘It is better not to be outside.'

‘What kind of animals?'

‘I have seen boar prints here.'

A vision of that huge, ugly creature with tusks big enough
to rip a man in half, popped into Ash's head. ‘Fantastic.' Ash reached down to put one hand on his knife as they came closer to the trees on the left side of the pool. He could now see that something was there – some kind of moss-covered structure hidden by the jumbled mess of trees and intertwined branches. ‘What is this place?'

‘From when the soldiers were here.' Isabel brushed away a hanging trail of vines to reveal a rusted metal door. She put her shoulder to it and pushed hard, the metal groaning as it swung open.

The musty smell that flooded out was a combination of concrete dust, decay and a thousand years' worth of stale air. There was something else too, something that clawed at the back of Ash's throat and burnt the inside of his nostrils like strong mustard.

They're waiting for you in there
, whispered the voice.
Monsters in the dark. And they want to tell you a secret. Can you keep a secret?

‘Is it safe?' He chased the voice away. ‘It looks . . . creepy.'

‘It
is
creepy,' Isabel said, ‘but it's fine.'

‘And what's that smell?'

Isabel shrugged. ‘Bats, I think.'

‘And I'm guessing they're bigger than normal bats?'

‘Maybe a little.'

‘Do we have to go in there? Maybe we should just keep going?'

Isabel shook her head and looked back the way they had come. ‘It is better to be inside. It will be cold at night, and dangerous.'

Ash remembered the boar, the outlandish ants, and wondered what animals Isabel hadn't told him about. He imagined monstrous crocodiles in the pool, and wild cats slinking through the trees.

‘We need to rest and get dry,' Isabel said. ‘It is very bad to be so wet in the jungle. We'll get sick and be no good for anything.' She looked at Ash for a second when she said the word ‘sick', and Ash knew they were both thinking the same thing.

Isabel was
already
sick. And she was getting worse by the hour.

‘We need a fire.' Isabel turned away and Ash followed her gaze, seeing that the pool was now shrouded in a grainy light. There was a faint mist seeping in from among the trees on the other side, washing around the shore. The sun was dropping quickly and it felt as if the forest was closing in around them.

As he watched, a chilling growl sounded through the jungle. It began as a low grumbling and grew louder until it was the sound of hell itself. It echoed from the rocks and spun around the pool, searing right through him.

‘Howler monkeys,' Isabel said. ‘The loudest sound in the jungle.'

‘It's horrible.' The eerie noise pulsed in and out, as if some terrifying beast was crying out in pain. It was joined by other similar voices, all of them growling like devils until the air was thick with the sound and it was impossible even for Ash to distinguish one from another.

‘We should go inside,' Isabel said. ‘There is dry wood and
we can light a fire.'

‘Good plan.' Suddenly, the idea of bats wasn't so bad. Ash cast his eyes around the trees and thought about Cain and Pierce out there somewhere. Thorn too. Isabel had said Thorn wouldn't be able to cross the river and follow them, but there was something inhuman about him. He had found Ash and Isabel in the darkness of the BioSphere, he had escaped the storeroom without any light, and he had followed them through the jungle even though they had left no trace.

‘D'you know what time it is?'

‘About six.' Isabel turned to him as if she knew what he was thinking. ‘The sun will rise at about six, also.'

‘That's twelve hours,' Ash said. ‘We can't stay here that long.'

‘We'll rest for a while and get dry.' Isabel put her hand on his shoulder. ‘Please. We'll see what kind of moon it is. Maybe there will be enough light to travel at night. Maybe . . . maybe the animals will leave us alone because you are here, but we should rest a while at least.' She wasted no more time, using the last of the light to pick fruit from the trees that grew clustered around the concrete building.

‘Why are there so many fruit trees here?' Ash asked. ‘It's like someone planted them.'

‘Not planted,' Isabel said. ‘They grow here because people threw the seeds on the ground.' She reached up to tug a large yellow fruit from a tree with spreading fronds like a short palm. ‘They were here a long time ago – seventy years, Papa said.'

‘But why? What is this place?'

‘It was a place for soldiers,' she said. ‘We are close to Panama, where the canal is, so it was important in the war. And
Isla Negra
has many unusual plants and animals, so maybe they did experiments here.'

Out by the pool, a long creaking sound joined that of the howler monkeys.

‘Frog,' Isabel said. ‘Nothing to be afraid of.' As if in reply, the sound repeated, followed by another answering from further away.

‘What about the monkeys?' Ash asked. ‘Will they come here?'

‘Maybe.' She shrugged. ‘But they have never been dangerous.'

15 hrs and 57 mins until Shut-Down

T
he old war bunker was littered with rubble and the walls were crawling with moss.

‘Be careful where you stand,' Isabel said.

Close to the door there was a large, tattered opening where the floor had collapsed into the darkness below. Metal reinforcement bars protruded from the edges like a witch's clawing fingers. Chunks of concrete clung to them in places. There was a similar hole in the ceiling, which would have let in light during the day.

They skirted round the hole and went deeper into the room. When they were a safe distance from it, Isabel put down the fruit and sank to the floor.

‘How do you feel?' Ash didn't really need to ask, and he
didn't need to use his heightened senses to know that she was exhausted. For the first time since she had mentioned it by the river, Ash was beginning to consider that he might have to continue alone.

‘We need to make a fire,' she said. ‘But I don't think I can get my hands to work. I'm cold. Is it cold in here?'

‘Yeah. It's cold.' Ash couldn't feel it, though. He hadn't been hot in the jungle and he wasn't cold now. ‘You want me to try getting a fire going? You got matches or something?'

Isabel frowned. ‘I had waterproof matches in my pack.'

‘Oh.' Ash pictured all their gear being washed away down the river. ‘Nothing else?'

‘There is a fire steel on the sheath of your knife. You know how to use it?'

‘I think so.' Dad had showed him a few different ways to make a fire without matches, so Ash pulled his knife from its sheath, grabbed a thin, dry stick from the woodpile and began whittling. He stopped every now and then to scoop the shavings together, and when there were enough he arranged a wigwam of sticks around it.

After that, he took out the fire steel and scraped the back of his knife along it. His first attempt was useless, so he repeated the action until he was showering the tinder with sparks. The ends of some pieces began to glow and small tendrils of smoke rose from them.

‘That's it.' He cupped his hands around the wigwam, blowing gently until the flames grew, then sat back and fed the fire with more wood.

The orange, flickering light revealed a room about half the size of a school gym. In the far corner, a rotten table with only three legs was pushed up against the wall, leaning at an awkward angle. Underneath it was a pile of empty, rusted tins, a ragged mound of papers, a beaten-up typewriter and a rotten boot with the sole peeling away from the leather. There was a dirty tarpaulin there too, twisted and wrinkled like a decayed corpse. On the adjacent wall stood a wonky row of corroded filing cabinets, while one or two others lay on their sides like dead monsters. Thrown on top of them was a cage much like the kind a dog owner might have for their pet.

The walls were just bare concrete, but the one to the left of the entrance was painted with a faded black eagle with its wings spread wide.

Ash studied the eagle, with the growing sensation that he had seen it before. This exact one. Right here, on this wall.

You've been here before
, said the voice.
But that's our little secret.

No, that wasn't possible. He must have seen it in a picture. Maybe in a book. He went over to the table and touched the toe of his boot to the papers, trying to spark a memory.

‘Papa said we have to leave everything as we find it. There might be something important here about the island.'

‘What's through there?' Ash pointed to the door opposite the entrance.

‘Other rooms. And some stairs going below. Papa said not to go. It's too dangerous.'

Ash nodded, but he wanted to know what was down there. He had such a strong sensation that he'd been here before, and he wanted to prove himself wrong. He went over to the fire to pull out a burning stick and then crept towards the edge of the hole.

‘Be careful.' Isabel didn't need to tell him, though. As soon as he saw that gaping, bottomless pit, Ash had to stop himself from thinking about falling in. His stomach lurched the same way it had done when the rope snapped on the river crossing.

Dust cascaded from the broken edges as he inched closer; there was a soft sound down there, the shuffle of leathery wings. The light from the burning stick wasn't strong enough to reach the bottom, but daring to peer closer, Ash could see the light reflected in something below.

‘There's water down there.' He let go of the burning stick and watched it fall for a couple of seconds before it hit a pile of rubble on the floor about seven metres below. It erupted in an explosion of sparks, causing a flurry of clicking and chattering that made him step back in alarm. When the sound died down and he risked another look, the stick had settled into a slowly fading burn and he could see that the room beneath was more or less the same size as the one they were in. Black, stinking water shimmered from wall to wall like an oil slick, and there was an island of rubble in the centre, where the floor above had caved in. Four or five rusted barrels lay part-submerged, and one wall was stacked high with cages. Others were lying in the
rancid water. Ash could also make out a large table and a couple of benches, various bottles and jars, and more papers.

‘Wouldn't want to fall down there,' he said. ‘What is all that stuff?'

‘Papa thinks it was used for experiments a long time ago. He said some of the papers look like research, but he didn't know what. The cages must have been for animals. Better to keep away, I think.' Warmed by the flames, Isabel was starting to sound better. She removed her boots and socks and placed them near the fire to dry, then lifted her T-shirt away from her body, wafting it in the heat. ‘You did a good job with the fire,' she said. ‘I'm sorry I—'