Instinct (2010) (29 page)

‘This is Bishop’s room,’ Jacobs continued. ‘So this
must be the area you’re talking about.’ She pointed to the corner of the blueprints that showed what was behind the office. Her finger traced along the narrow pair of lines that led from the office to the Abdomen.

‘What’s this?’ she asked Taj.

‘Beats me. Some kind of heating duct?’

‘But then there’s this.’ They all looked at the area the ‘heating duct’ led to.

‘If that’s another space, then it’s bigger than the rest of the complex put together. And there’s more.’ She unfolded the blueprints to show two areas identical to the new one but drawn separately, unconnected to the rest of the complex.

Taj looked thoughtful. ‘This would explain where those motion sensors are. Still don’t know what the hell it is, but if it’s a big slice of MEROS that we ain’t never seen, then it makes sense they could be alive in it.’

Madison wasn’t paying attention, but he was pretending to.

‘So what is it?’

Taj whistled through his teeth. ‘Ain’t you been listening? We don’t know. All ideas welcome, pilot man.’ Madison looked awkward. He wasn’t helping, and now he’d made that obvious.

Mills was still sitting on his own by the cargo ramp. Jacobs knew they were going to need him at some point, so she may as well coax him back now with a little flattery.

‘Hey, Mills! You know anything about blueprints? Didn’t you supervise some huts and stuff being built
when you Brits helped out in Afghanistan?’ It worked better than she had hoped. Mills sighed at their ignorant incompetence and walked over.

‘Show me.’ He took a look at the plans.

‘OK. This means the areas are on different levels, and these lines might be stairs to connect them. What I don’t understand is
these
stairs.’ He was pointing out another set of zig-zag lines and the number 969.

‘OK, so we’ve got more of MEROS than we thought. A walkway from Bishop’s office connects to this big area. If Mills is right, then it’s three floors deep,’ said Jacobs.

‘So what do we do?’ asked Madison.

‘No idea,’ replied Jacobs. ‘Maybe we should check those motion sensors and make sure the people in there are still alive.’

Each of the groups had aimed for one of the lit areas of Level One. Pools of foggy blue light hung like miniature clouds along the concrete walls, showing the monotonous features of the room.

The fear was distant now. They had spent long enough in the Abdomen to doubt there was anything there to threaten them, which meant their thoughts were directed towards escaping rather than staying alive.

‘What are we going to do here?’ Laura asked Webster.

‘
We’re
going to wait. You are too valuable to lose.’

‘Am I? Why’s that?’

‘Huh?’ Webster had not expected to be asked that question. ‘Well, you’re the best entomologist here, so your knowledge is the most useful. Bishop knows this place as well as me, and Andrew … well, he doesn’t deserve any of this.’

Andrew was just out of earshot, using his Swiss Army knife to scrape away at the termite nest. Bishop noticed he was off by himself and, knowing that Laura would not be able to give an honest appraisal of the Abdomen while her son was around to be scared, took the opportunity to get her read on the situation.

‘Miss Trent.’ He had to act quickly, but his instinct
to prepare the ground before ploughing it up was too strong to suppress. ‘You must find the potential of this environment to be quite fascinating.’

‘I’m not sure that’s the word.’

‘Indeed, indeed … but I was wondering if perhaps there might be elements of your analysis that could be relayed to myself or Major Webster now that …’

‘Now that what?’

‘Well, it’s just that I understand there may have been a degree of reticence about any overly negative …’

Webster knew they didn’t have time for all this dancing around. ‘Miss Trent, is there anything you want to tell us that you can’t say in front of Andrew?’

‘Oh.’ She looked round to see if Andrew was within earshot. He had found another hole to widen with his knife. ‘There
was
something that concerned me.’

‘And what’s that?’

‘I can’t see any reason why these creatures could not sustain themselves over a period of ten years. Given the elements that were set in place for the subjects’ growth, and the fact that this environment was designed to accommodate humans for long periods of time, I’d say that the hardier survival abilities of insects would mean they could make a great deal of success of a place like this. They could grow, feed off each other and grow some more.’

‘You think that’s really possible?’ he asked weakly.

‘Absolutely. Except for one important factor.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Lack of moisture. It’s odd, though: even though
there doesn’t appear to be an independent water source, the air is very humid. I can only suggest that whatever air-circulation system you have here is bringing in the precipitation from the jungle – but that wouldn’t be enough for creatures of the scale you describe.’

It was too dark for Laura to notice the look that passed between the two men. Webster understood that Bishop wanted to maintain a degree of secrecy, but he also knew that this was definitely not a situation for withholding information.

‘What if there were a substantial water source?’ Webster asked.

‘What are you saying?’ asked Laura, lowering her voice.

‘I’m saying that the levels below us were used for plant research, and those plants were grown …’

‘… hydroponically,’ Laura concluded. ‘Of course. There’s no sunshine down here. Where does the water come from?’

‘There’s a pump from a small reservoir on the surface. It serves the new MEROS area, too. That’s why it hasn’t been shut off,’ said Bishop. ‘The expense would have been too great, and everyone assumed this place would just wither and die.’

‘And you’re saying all this is happening on the floors below?’ asked Laura. Webster nodded. ‘That might explain why we haven’t heard from them. If the only way up here is through a stairwell that’s blocked by the nest, then we might be OK. Let’s hope that
is
the case, because if you have heat, water, vegetation, genetic
compounds we have no idea about, and uncharted interference with the juvenile and ecdysone hormones …’

There was a pause, before a small ‘Yes?’ from Bishop.

‘Mr Bishop, this is all theoretical, but you have just described perfect conditions for almost limitless growth. Without those hormones, there’s nothing to stop the insects reaching the size of …’

The scream came shrill and sharp, passing through them like a murderer’s ghost.

All eyes turned in its direction, and a bubbling acid of fear poured into them.

It was Lisa. She continued to scream as Wainhouse squinted through the darkness to work out where she was. The sound was coming from the floor, so he bent down and moved closer, to see that she had fallen up to her waist into some kind of hole. Her fingernails scraped and scrabbled on the floor around her as she desperately tried to claw herself out.

And all the while the terrible screaming.

‘Wait, shhh, calm down, calm down,’ said Mike, who was crouching next to her. ‘Lisa, have you just fallen through the floor or are there … insects?’

Lisa stopped screaming long enough to thrash her words out. ‘I’m hurt! Oh God! I think I’m bleeding!’

‘But have you … is it an insect?’

‘No! No! Please help me! AAAARRRGGGHH!’

‘OK!’ shouted Wainhouse. ‘She just fell through the floor. No insects. We’ll get her out.’ He held her arms to stop her falling any further.

‘Jesus Christ!
EEEUUUGGHHH!
This hurts so much!’

On the floor below, the vibrations of the screams had disturbed the creature a little. The high pitch had sent a shivery ripple through its long, glassy-brown antennae and down into the hard, wide exoskeleton.

The antennae moved of their own accord, the ends twitching towards the sounds, stretching and sweeping through the air, trying to latch on to something they could use. Over the years, the pickings had become more and more scarce, but the creature recognized the opportunity for food when it came along. That was in its DNA, along with many other things.

It stretched its limbs, which were thin for a resident of the Abdomen but far thicker than those of the rest of its species. They unfolded like a deckchair, pushed through the leaves and found the solid floor, making a light scraping noise as they straightened out.

Now it stood, squat and flat, continuing to scan the dense, humid air, which had not undergone a change like this for so many years.

Mike and Wainhouse had succeeded in calming Lisa enough to keep her quiet, or at least quieter.

‘I think I’ve cut myself. I think I might have fallen against something sticking out. My left side … Urrggghhh … my left side hurts from my thigh to my ribs.’

‘OK, Lisa, hold on. We’re going to try to get you out of there,’ said Wainhouse.

‘Be careful!’

‘Of course, of course. Now give me your arms. Yeah, cross them over like that, it’ll make it easier for me to pull you up.’

‘Please be careful.’

‘Trust me. OK, on three. One, two, three.’ Wainhouse leaned back and gave a strong tug upwards.

‘
AAAAAAARRRGGGHHHHAARRGGGHHH!
’ Lisa had barely moved.

‘Stop! Stop! Stop!’ she yelled. ‘There’s something in my side.
URRRGGHH!
Oh God!’

‘Lisa, Lisa!’ Mike knelt down by her and tried to hug as much of her as he could. ‘Just hold steady, and we’ll get you out of there as soon as we can, I promise.’

The creature could make out another wave of vibrations, and its search became more earnest. It had to make sure it was first to the source in case others had been alerted. Lower, quieter sounds followed the louder noise, and it began to salivate.

Like rusty machinery being oiled back to life, it felt movement returning to long-dormant parts. Its front legs searched for steady ground, but it had to be careful: if it disturbed anything else, it might have competition for the prey.

‘Major Webster, sir!’ Wainhouse hollered across Level One.

Webster ran across to the hole and crouched down beside Lisa.

She was exhaling in hard, shallow gasps, trying to cope with the pain, along with the realization that she would not escape from this without that pain increasing.

‘Can you feel everything – your limbs, your feet?’ asked Webster, squatting in front of her.

‘Uh-huh,’ gasped Lisa, blasting air through her gritted teeth like a weightlifter about to snap a barbell above his head.

‘And where does it hurt?’

‘My left side. I think it got caught on something as I fell through.’

Webster tried to peer into the part of the hole on that side, but the light was too poor to make anything out.

He could smell that slightly metallic tinge in the air that meant only one thing: blood.

‘What is it?’ she asked, her face a few inches from the top of Webster’s head.

‘Can’t tell for sure. I think you’re bleeding though.’

The glutinous red drips were slipping down her legs and on to the plants below.

It was the sound of these gentle
plops
that the antennae came to first.

As they brushed the leaves, a tear of blood landed on the end of one probing stalk, causing a reaction of surprise, then voracious recognition. The creature could still hear the sounds, and it sensed for certain that this was what it had been waiting so long for.

Lisa had fallen above a mess of foliage that grew and spread throughout most of Level Two. Many of
the things that lived down there had made the dense vegetation either a home or a source of nutrition.

The cockroach was going to use it to climb.

‘OK, Lisa, I can’t see any way around this without it hurting some. I’m sorry, but we don’t have what we need for a hell of a lot of situations here, and this is one of them,’ said Webster.

The intense pain and loss of blood had taken all the fight from her. Another agonized grunt squeezed from her throat.

‘I’m going to push you sideways off the jagged edge, and Wainhouse is going to pull you upwards, OK?’

‘Uh-huh,’ she gasped.

Webster put his hands in position around her ribcage, and Wainhouse stuffed his fingers under her arms.

‘OK. One, two –’

She screamed.

She screamed so loud and so close to Webster’s ear that he loosened his grip and took a half-step backwards. He looked to Wainhouse, but he had not moved.

‘What’s … ? Lisa, what’s the matter?’ he said urgently.

But her screams worsened: foul screeches of dragging metal and tortured animals emanating from her grotesquely contorted face.

‘Lisa! Lisa!’ No response.

The foot was gone, passed back through the mouth of the six-foot-long insect, and now the cockroach was gnawing hungrily through her left ankle.

Flesh and bones and blood slid over the mandibles as they powered hungrily through to her shin.

‘Fu– Jesus! …’ More screaming. ‘Help me, please help me,’ begged Lisa, with desperate, strangled effort. She grabbed Webster’s neck and pulled him down to her face.

Over by the nest, Laura’s hands covered Andrew’s ears, but to no effect. The gurgling screams and terrifying pleadings made use of the clear acoustics to fill the room just as Lisa’s bloody stump was filling the cockroach’s jaws.

It was up at the shinbones now, inching its way towards the knee. Lisa could feel the deep scrawl of every scrape of the mandible.

The hard outer bone gave way to the soft marrow inside. It felt as if every atom was connected to a fishhook and wrenched from her.

Then the cockroach started to pull.

It was trying to bring its prey closer.

Webster could see that Lisa was slipping and told Wainhouse to grab her under the arms again. He did as he was told, and a tug of excruciating agony began.

Just when they thought the noises could not get worse, they took on a desperation that made Lisa seem possessed. And there was no escape.

They were praying for something to bring this to an end. Everyone’s ears were being subjected to an overwhelming torrent of sounds, as if they were standing neck-deep in rapids.