Guinea Pig (10 page)

A missile was streaking across the sky. A ball of fire trailing flames and black smoke behind it, and instantly Will knew what it was. He'd seen the documentaries. He'd seen lava bombs before. They were quite common with volcanic eruptions. The only thing he didn't understand was where it had come from. There was no active volcano anywhere nearby. There was no smoke on the horizon anywhere. In fact ever since the traffic had stopped and the fires had burnt out, the skies above Los Angeles had been a perfect blue. Just like this one.

Of course it wasn't alone, and even as he sat there staring, he watched another dozen fireballs tearing their way across the sky behind the first. A glorious sight but a deadly one. Because soon he knew, they would come down. And wherever they hit the land would turn to hell.

Slowly, as if it was really unconcerned about gravity, he watched the first lava bomb begin its gentle arc down towards the ground, and he mentally braced himself for whatever was coming. If he could. He knew it would be bad.

And then it hit. A mile or two away the ball of burning rock touched down somewhere and Will had an immediate urge to throw himself to the ground. But nothing happened at first. There was no explosion. He couldn't see any fire leaping into the sky. The ground wasn't shaking.

For a second or two Will didn't understand. None of them did as they all stared at one another in confusion. Then Will realised the shocking truth. It was like lightning. The thunder took its time to follow.

Sure enough three seconds later the thunder hit them, a noise like a cannon blast that rattled the plate glass windows in their frames and shook the floor. And at eleven hundred feet per second and six seconds between the impact and the sound, that meant it had hit seven thousand feet away. Roughly a mile and a bit. If it was that loud for them what must it be like for those closer to the impact site?

Will didn't have to wonder for long as he watched the next few lava bombs streak down out of the sky and smash into the city and knew that at least one of them was much closer. Two seconds later the entire shop front exploded showering glass over all of them and causing several people to scream. Even as he ducked and covered his ears Will knew it was only just beginning. In the perfect blue sky there were at least a couple of dozen more fireballs streaking towards them. And each one of them could be the one that killed them all.

“Duck and cover!”

Will yelled it out as loudly as he could the instant the noise had died away, but he wasn't sure anyone heard him. He could barely hear himself over the ringing in his ears. He didn’t even think it was the advice they gave to people facing lava bombs. Actually, he didn’t know if there was any advice to give for them except maybe “don't be there”. But that was not something any of them had a choice about just then. But it was the only advice he had and the only thing he could do as he crawled under the computer table by the back wall. Others saw him and abruptly seemed to have the same idea. It wasn't much and it wouldn't protect them against a close strike let alone a direct impact, but it was the only safety they had.

Soon the entire group was lying there huddled under the tables. More tables had been dragged across the room until they had built what almost looked like a child's play fort. Many were crying in fear. Other tables had been pushed up against the windows and then tipped on their sides to act as barricades against flying glass from the shop front.

After that it was time to pray. Again. This time though the praying did not stop. Not while the missiles kept flying. And they didn't seem to be stopping.

For hour after hour the deadly missiles rained down across the entire city, and they huddled there like frightened mice, all of them hoping that none of them landed on them. Some came close, too close, and things went flying everywhere each time. Computers, paper, the cheap plastic chairs, and even occasionally people as the shock waves hit them. At one point a wrecked car was tossed into the air in front of them and they watched in terror as it flew down the street past them.

Fire broke out and they could see flames leaping for the sky in the distant buildings. Will saw at least a dozen different blazes from the restricted viewing angle he had. How many more there actually were, he couldn't even guess. The noise when the lava bombs crashed was unbelievable and after some of the bigger ones Will could hear little more than ringing in his ears. He couldn't even hear the screaming of the others huddled together with him. But he knew they were screaming, just as he was.

There was one thing more he noticed as he lay there, though he was sure it was his mind playing tricks on him. It did that so often lately. But there was someone out there in the street. Someone simply standing there, apparently completely unconcerned by the fiery missiles flying all around them. A figure he could make nothing out about. A man he couldn't quite see. When he looked through the distant gaps in the glass between the tables straight at him he wasn't there. But when he looked away sometimes he was. A man with long white hair.

What that meant he didn't know. That his mind was starting to fracture under the stress. That he was seeing things. Or that there really was a white haired man out there that he couldn't quite see. But he was sure he didn't like it.

They stayed down, sheltering under the desks, as far away from the store front as possible. They prayed because there was nothing else they could do. Especially when they could see on some of the monitors that there was a new volcano out in the sea just off shore. Apparently some of the patrons had been catching up on the news like him before all hell had broken loose. They couldn't hear what was being said by the reporters, but they didn't need to hear anything to understand that the conical mountain rising out of the water and spewing fire in all directions was a volcano. As they lay there they could also read some of the captions. Big bold words streaming across the bottoms of the screens that spoke of disaster and doom, and of course the fact that the experts had no clue as to how it could be happening. Until the power finally failed and the computers went dark. Maybe that was for the best.

After that all they could do was huddle in the shop and pray. And though it seemed impossible somehow everything missed them. As the hours went by and the city was pounded relentlessly, not a single lava bomb smashed into them.

Was that a miracle? He didn't know. And if it was what did that make the volcano rising up out of nowhere? Another miracle? Could there be both good and bad miracles?

Will didn't have a clue. But he did know after the impacts had finally ceased for a good twenty minutes and they were finally ready to risk poking their heads above the ruins of their fort of desks and tables, that the city had just ended. Los Angeles had died.

It wasn't the fire they could see burning across much of the city that had spelled its doom. It wasn't the new damage that the lava bombs had done. It wasn't even the massive numbers of people that would surely have been killed and injured. All of those things could be dealt with. People could recover from them. In fact while thousands, perhaps millions had fled after the ice storm, most had stuck it out thinking that they would recover. Hoping that things would come right.

Now though that thought was gone. There was no hope. And that was what had just killed the city. Will knew it. He could see it in the faces of the others as they carefully looked around, all of them with the same question in the back of their minds. The same two terrible words trying to worm their way out of their mouths. What next?

Sink holes, ice storms and now fire storms. No one had a clue what was happening, but they all knew that something was happening. And they all knew there was more coming.

It was time to leave. To evacuate the city. To flee.

Chapter Eleven.

The lava bomb was huge. A ton or more of rock sitting in the middle of the road, making it all but impassable for traffic. It was still glowing. And it was hot, the tar seal around it still molten and in places burning. As Will carefully rode around it, trying to keep as far away from it and the flames as possible, he could feel the heat radiating off it. Just as he had with all the other lava bombs he'd ridden past. And the thing that amazed him still was that this thing had flown through the air. What sort of power did it take to hurl a rock this huge miles and miles through the air?

Other people – and there were many others in the streets staring at the lava bomb and the ruins of their neighbourhood – were probably wondering exactly the same thing. The thing defied reason. Make that things. And every road he'd been on – every street – was filled with people staring at these things and sometimes battling the fires they'd caused.

Still, after he had made his way past it and continued his slow trip home, the other question returned to bother him. How much more could the city take? Cycling home after the bombardment had finally run its course; that was the question that kept running through Will's mind. How much more?

After four hours of bombardment the city was in ruins. Multi-story buildings were burning and some had actually toppled. Clouds of black smoke were rising into the air above the damaged city and Will was sure that in time they would blanket everything. They would cover the entire city and more besides. Much more.

The outer suburbs had been hit hard as well. This had not been a targeted strike on the city and a few suburbs like the ice storm. It had been a massive all-out assault on the entire region.

There were fires everywhere, most of them burning out of control. There were no fire services running any more. There were few roads left which could take a fire truck even if there had been some working and the crews to run them. The roads were mostly filled with craters from the ice missiles and the wreckage of cars. To get around after the ice storm the National Guard had had to resort to trying to bulldoze them clear. And they simply didn't have enough bulldozers. Now they would have to start all over again.

The air was filled with smoke from the fires and the smell of sulphur was everywhere. It stung the eyes as Will rode through it and he was certain it couldn't be good for the lungs. Many of the survivors had clothes around their faces to filter it out and he was thinking that maybe he should do the same when he got back. But the strange thing was that there was no ash. He would have expected it during a major volcanic event.

The power failure and telecommunications blackout had also grown in size. How wide the blackout was now he didn't know. All he did know was that about ninety minutes into the assault the power at the café had gone off. Quite frankly he was surprised it had lasted that long when the lava bombs were flying all around. And some of them had travelled a long way further than the ice missiles had. When it had finally ended and he'd left the café, he could see flames everywhere.  They were far further inland and to the north and south of where the ice had struck.

Many more people were dead of course. How many more he suspected they would never know. Anyone with any sense would have sought safety inside buildings as the lava bombs rained down on them. And maybe they would have provided a little protection. But not from a direct strike. Nothing would protect against that. The chances were that many of those houses that had been hit and caught fire were filled with the charred remains of those who'd sought shelter inside them.

Many others would have burnt to death as well. Caught in the fires that had raged out of control. Fire was the immediate danger the city faced. If it wasn't stopped quickly the entire city would burn and millions would perish.

The authorities had realised that and acted. In desperation FEMA had drafted every plane and helicopter with a bucket that they could lay their hands on and now the entire city was being bombarded with water and fire retardants. Without a working fire service it was the best that they could do as they tried to save what was left of the city. And at least it seemed to be working. If dozens of fires were still raging, dozens more had been put out. On the other hand it was noisy and every so often you ended up getting soaked just from being too near to a fire as a plane dropped another load.

As to the cause, all he knew was that it was a volcano. A brand new one that had popped up just off shore without warning and then started bombarding the city. That was all anyone knew. He had asked the guardsmen he'd passed on his way home. They didn't know any more than that.

It was impossible of course. All the experts on the computers had all agreed on that – before they'd been cut off. Volcanoes didn't just pop up like that. There should be ash clouds. There should have been warnings like tremors first. And it should have taken days. They'd all said that for a marine volcano to just suddenly rise up out of nowhere and hurl lava bombs around was unheard of. Or they had before the power and the internet had failed. But then so too were hail stones the size of basket balls and sink holes that just opened up and swallowed small hospitals. In the end it was happening. Impossible didn't come into it any more.

His view – and he was becoming more certain of it with every mile he rode – was that hell had arrived on Earth. And it was beginning by making itself at home in Los Angeles.

The city looked like hell. Massive lumps of glowing rock were everywhere, buildings were on fire and people were out in the streets looking terrified and confused. Women were openly wailing, men too. And the smell was indescribable. And maybe it made sense in a way. After all, many had said that Los Angeles was one of the most sinful places on Earth. So where better for Satan to set up shop? All Will needed were the demons and their pitchforks to arrive and he would know he was right.

In the morning he suspected the exodus would begin in earnest. Those who had remained behind after the ice storm would pack up and leave. They would do it on foot for the most part. There were no more working cars in the city and whatever roads might have been clear before were now surely wrecked. But they would do it. In the end while no one really knew what was happening, they knew the city was under attack. They also knew that there would be more attacks coming, even if they had no idea what they might be or who was launching them. They would flee.

All that would remain behind would be a few people who held out. People who couldn't leave because they were too sick. Who wouldn't abandon their homes. And of course one man who was stuck here until he could finally make contact with his doctor.

In short, him. He had to stay. If he fled he lost all hope of finding Doctor Millen, or of the doctor finding him – assuming he was actually looking. He threw away all hope of finding a cure or a treatment, or even of learning what was wrong with him.

And he had so little to begin with. Just an email and a church. But maybe that was the paradox of hope? The less you had the more tightly you had to cling to it.

He was trapped in hell.

But at least he had a place to sleep. Turning the last corner, and making his way around another still glowing hunk of rock the size of a small car that had embedded itself in the footpath, he could see his flat ahead. Twenty houses down the street, he could see his roof covered with odd coloured patches of pink paint, but still standing there and still somehow in one piece. More or less.

Suddenly there was hope too. Just a little bit. The hope of a bed to sleep in for the night – and more bad dreams.