The Prometheus Effect (20 page)

Coffey left the asphalt road and carefully navigated the now muddy, sodden track which wound through the trees for a mile or so before ending at Vincent's clearing. Driving with the utmost caution, he could not afford to damage his new vehicle at this point, Coffey continued until about 400 metres along the track he brought the car to a sudden halt. Even with the car static, the wipers worked tirelessly to clear the screen, such was the ferocity of the rain fall. The tired and disappointed astronaut however was still alert enough to notice something up front, something on the path ahead. A dark, shadowy bulk lay across part of the track. Peering through the steamy glass of the wind-shield, Coffey could not identify the mass but it set his nerves on edge enough for him to brave the deluge to investigate.

Without a formidable coat to fend off the rain, Coffey was instantly wet through as he skipped over large pot holes which had filled with murky water. It became more clear the nearer he got that the darkened bulk was that of a decent sized deer which had appeared to be struck by a vehicle. It was surely dead, a dark rich liquor had run from its head, a sign that it may not have died instantly but may have had time to bleed significantly before finally succumbing to its injuries. The deer did not block Coffey’s path but it begged the question, what had struck this animal? It was not there two hours earlier when Coffey had taken the same path out of Kissimmee.

Taking the bold stance of leaving his vehicle he decided to continue his journey to Vincent's house by foot. Rolling the car off the track and down a short incline so that it was difficult to see from the track, he ensured he was equipped with both torch and gun which was still fully loaded and not yet to be discharged that evening. Coffey made haste down the perilously dark path, the overcast skies concealed the pink moon and although he carried a torch, he resisted the will to use it. Coffey feared for Vincent. He had feared this, he guessed it was only a matter of time before Vincent's activity was detected and traced despite the best efforts of his genial friend to cover his tracks.

An approaching haze of light and a low frequency hum caused Coffey to duck behind a clump of trees. A vehicle was coming down the track from the direction of the cabin. This could not be Vincent, his vehicle was in use and as far as Coffey was aware, Vincent only owned the one. With indecision plaguing his thoughts, the car came into view. Should Coffey let the car pass by or should he tackle this issue head on? If this vehicle had found the cabin, perhaps Vincent was in the car as a captive and unloading his weapon in a poorly conceived but frantic shoot-out could serve only to make this far worse. Coffey bit his lip hard as the car passed serenely by, it was too dark to ascertain who the occupants were or indeed even the make and model of the vehicle and as it turned the corner out of sight, he engaged the torchlight and sprinted onward fearing only the worst.

Ahead, the lights of the cabin shone and it aided Coffey’s navigation to the point where a torch was no longer required. There were no vehicles there now but that did not mean there were no protagonists present. Perhaps they had left him a nasty surprise? Coffey proceeded with great caution but his heart sank a little as he realised the front door was wide open, the light from inside beaming out across the clearing. With gun cocked and ready for action, he peered around the corner of the building and inched his way closer to the door. There was a feint noise from within that sounded like voices. Coffey immediately felt that there was someone present inside but when music could be heard, it became clear that the radio or television had been left on. Carefully cocking his head through the door, it was quickly apparent that the cabin was empty however, Coffey remained vigilant as he entered thrusting his gun outwards, scanning the scene down the length of its muzzle.

Coffey's worst fears had played out. It was clear that his enemies had been here. The computer equipment so beloved by his quirky companion had been torn apart. Internal hard drives had been removed and the rest of the components strewn about the place. Vincent was nowhere to be seen. Coffey had hoped that he had ran into the reserve and taken refuge in the thick foliage only to return at a later time but that was purely wishful thinking. A small pool of blood soaked into the rug upon the floor was a tell tale sign that someone had been gravely injured here. Coffey pummelled a computer tower in rage with the butt of his gun as he realised that Vincent was almost certainly lost. If he was fortunate, perhaps he had already died. Coffey however was not so optimistic and envisaged interrogation and torture. Despite Vincent's best intentions, he could not resist the agonies inflicted by these ruthless individuals and it was only a matter of time before Coffey was traced through Vincent's reluctant confessions.

Coffey wandered around the cabin, silent and forlorn. Vincent was the last vestige of hope, the last bastion of promise. Without his shelter, wisdom and intrigue, where could he go now? Who could he turn to? One thing was for certain, it was not safe to be here now. It could only be a matter of time before Vincent told them of his presence or surveillance would do the same job. It was not even safe to take Vincent's car as it would easily be traced by ANPR camera's set up along every major highway. Coffey needed to disappear into the night, he needed to be a shadow, a fleeting spectre if he were to remain intact.

Packing a holdall hurriedly, Coffey left the cabin. He did not even shut the door on leaving; he disappeared into the darkness leaving only a trail of footprints behind which quickly filled up with muddy water. His only hope now was to vanish into the wilderness for some time, to leave the trail cold and leave little hope for his detection. Maybe then, when the time was right he could once again take a brave and decisive step towards clarity. There were very few avenues left open to him and it might take a giant leap of faith to move forward at this point. In the days spent dining at the table of Mother Nature, perhaps the solitude and peace would help him think and compose his thoughts a little.

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

December 17
^th
2020

Headington, Oxford

Joshua stood in his empty lounge and surveyed the desolate room picking up a small piece of dark fluff from the beige carpet. A stack of packing boxes were piled high in the corner and the room reverberated as Joshua pulled a ream of parcel tape from its spindle. He had finally found a suitable place to live in the heart of London, a small flat not so far from work and for the first time in a number of long weeks, some kind of normality was returning to his everyday life. The country had recovered well from the chaos, perhaps even better than expected. The mobile phone networks were once again back on line although the internet had not returned as promised. There was much debate about the risk to public safety on its restoration, the government continued to demonstrate its rigid stance concerning ongoing security and limiting every possible avenue of alien plotting. Even the mobile networks seemed unresponsive and patchy. Word on the street seemed to suggest that calls were being filtered, monitored. There often appeared to be long satellite delays which sometimes ran to seconds making conversations stunted at best. Television updates seemed to suggest that new chip technologies were being looked at to allow valid chip holders access to network services, meaning only those who had passed the Censure could gain access to the Internet and other important tools such as banking and the like.

Normality was returning but with subtle differences; many welcomed the advent of the chip technology feeling safe in the knowledge that they were genuine specimens of humanity, others felt that it was a step too far. It mattered not; it was inevitable due to the newly increased level of alien activity which had now spread from cyber attacks and sabotage to out and out terrorism.

The first bomb to be detonated in the UK was in Cheshire. The Hill Vale power station complex was targeted. Television reports that 16 people lost their lives and two million homes were without power for a couple of days. The next, a research laboratory in Cambridge. A further 3 dead including a leading chemist in his field. Needless to say, the public's perception of the clear and present alien threat changed radically and suddenly the feeling of general safety they had taken for granted was all but snuffed out. Many wondered why such an imposing and powerful threat would stoop to such small scale tactical warfare. Why did the aliens not eradicate the human infestation with nuclear weapons or photon laser beams? The tension on the streets was now palpable and the distrust in their fellow man was evident also.

Joshua had worked hard collating the views of the community and had compiled several A4 folders of statements which offered an insight to the feelings of the man or woman on the street. They did not really uncover any clear evidence to either support or devalue the government's actions; it seemed the lack of networking had limited the public's knowledge to only what they had been told on the television although some were very forthright in their opinions. It never ceased to amaze Joshua how much the average Joe would conform to the accepted truth. If he had gained one useful piece of knowledge in his studies it was that in general, the public had faith in their government and supported their actions.

Joshua had not come any closer to discovering the whereabouts of Sarah or the others who did not make the Censure. The government sector of the City of London was out of bounds and highly protected. Long gone were the days when you could walk down Whitehall or stand at the gates of the Houses of Parliament. Trafalgar Square had become a military base of sorts and was as far as you were ever going to get to the people in the know. Joshua had tried to talk to some of the soldiers who rigidly guarded the area but those who took the time and maybe the risk of talking were very much in the dark too. If anything, they appeared even more scared than the general population. Not knowing who their enemy was or how to recognise them even if they were standing in front of their face made them incredibly edgy and Joshua could feel their apprehension every time someone approached.

Joshua peered out of his window waiting for the removal van. He was fortunate to have found a company who had resumed a normal service although he was paying way over the odds for the pleasure. Prices of any service had risen steeply, fuel costs alone were enough to make travel prohibitive for many but for Joshua, the only place where he could be at that moment was in London and he had pretty much emptied his account in order to move so soon after the crisis had begun.

There was a sudden and startling noise and Joshua's quiet contemplation was rudely interrupted by none other than his telephone. It was a noise he had not heard for many a day and the emptiness of the room served only to make its beckoning chime more impactive. Joshua picked up the handset, more than intrigued who would be calling him on the number which was very soon to be discontinued.

“
Hello?” The reported said with more than a hint of intrigue in his voice. There was a pause, a barely perceptible hiss and some crackles, it was a terrible line.

“
Hello?” Joshua once again said this time louder.

“
Hello, can you tell me who this is?”
The reply was unorthodox to be sure, generally people have some idea who they wish to speak to. Joshua played it cagily, anything out of the ordinary was to be distrusted at this point in time.

“
Well, if you tell me who you are then I’ll tell you who I am.” Joshua replied with a hint of playful belligerence. There was a protracted silence.

“
Look, I don't have time for games, can you please tell me who this number belongs to?”

Joshua was rather taken aback with the tone of the callers voice. It was an American accent, or perhaps Canadian.

“
You look, I'm not about to reveal who I am until you reveal who you are. After all, you called me remember?” Joshua stuck to his guns.

“
I know that, but I...I can't tell you who I am until you tell me who you are?”

The conversation was getting farcical and Joshua shook his head with mild frustration.

“
I can tell you're British, this is a British dialling code.”

“
Yes, you worked that one out.” Joshua was obviously receiving an overseas call which explained the very poor line. The silence resumed, the caller refusing to budge.

“
OK, mystery man, my name is Joshua.” Joshua gave little away.

“
Thank you Joshua, now tell me your surname.”

“
This really is getting ridiculous. There's enough going on in this world at the moment that would make me want to hang up right now so you have very little time to make me want to reconsider hanging up on you.”

Another silence ensued.