Knightfall - Book 1 of The Chronicle of Benjamin Knight



  The Chronicle of

  Benjamin Knight

  Book 1

  Knightfall

  Knightfall

  by

  R. Jackson-Lawrence

  Copyright 2013 R. Jackson-Lawrence

  The moral right of the author has been asserted.

  All rights reserved

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any forms or by any means, without the prior permission in writing by the author.

  All characters and events depicted in this

  book are fictitious and any resemblance

  to real persons, living or dead, is

  purely coincidental.

  Cover designed 2013 by Spiffing Covers

  Edited July 2013 by Hercules Editing and Consulting Services

  ISBN 978-1-909425-16-3

  For Karen, Jessica and Jacob

  You make everything worthwhile

  And to Jake, Scott and Nyah

  Thanks for the feedback

  Chapter 1

  I

  The driver hit the curve far too fast, but the handling of the car was more than adequate to cope with it. He braked at the last minute and swung the car round the bend. Had anything been coming in the opposite direction, he would have hit it head on, but this time at least, they were lucky. Over the past four years, Ben had travelled along these winding mountain roads many times a day, going back and forth to the laboratory from the home he had in town.

  His driver, Stefan, had been bringing him along this route for the last eighteen months, and as usual, they were late. It had become a running joke with the rest of the team. Weren't teenagers supposed to spend all day in bed, moaning and complaining when asked to get up and get washed? Though he was far from a typical teenager, Ben liked his bed and every morning was a struggle.

  Had he always been that way? Sometimes he struggled to remember what he did yesterday, the days blurring together as his great project moved forwards. At other times, he could picture every detail in his mind, imagining that he could reach out and touch it. It had been almost three months since he had last seen his parents, but he could still picture every line on their faces, the slight limp his father now had when he walked, the tear in his mother's eye when he left for the departure gate at Heathrow.

  Ben had first come to the attention of Excelsior Technologies at the age of five. They were responsible for pioneering new educational modules at his primary school, making everything computerised as part of a government pilot scheme. Whilst other children in his class were learning how to spell cat and dog, Ben somehow managed to hack and rewrite part of the code to allow him access to the internet. The techs thought it must have been some sort of fluke, until he did it again on request and explained where the errors in the code were.

  By age six, he was solving complex equations and reading everything he could get his hands on about physics and mathematics. Soon afterwards, his parents were 'asked' to take him out of school, and that was when Excelsior stepped in with their fully funded private education package.

  How exciting it had all seemed in the beginning, meeting professors and scientists, playing games that Ben later learned were detailed tests of his abilities. By age eight, he could solve problems faster than any supercomputer, and at nine, he had rewritten some of the foundations of quantum mechanics.

  He was still living at home with his parents at that time. It seemed like he had met scientists and researchers from half the world, and words like “savant” or “prodigy” were often mentioned, though it meant little to him. He just liked the numbers; they made everything make sense. Then Excelsior had suggested that there was little more he could learn in England, but they had a shiny new research and development division being built in Europe. Ben jumped at the chance; he could finally bring the theories of his equations into reality. He hadn't realised at the time what the consequences would be.

  At first, his parents were coming with him; of course, they were. On the day of the flight, everything was packed and he was raring to go. They were each allowed two cases and everything else would follow in the coming weeks. As long as he had his laptop and access to the internet, Ben needed little else. Then, something happened at the airport. Passport and visa problems, the official said. His dad was surprised, but said it would all be sorted in a day or two and he would follow on then. His mum would be there, so that was okay.

  Two days after that, his aunt fell sick. His mother had to return home straight away, since the doctors didn't think that she would last the weekend. Sadly, it turned out that they were right. Then there had been the accident after the funeral, shattering his father's leg and putting his mother in intensive care for a week.

  The suits from Excelsior were all very sorry. They put him on the first flight back to London, sending Andre along with him to take care of him. Andre had been his first driver.

  First carer.

  First jailer.

  Andre had taken him straight to the hospital as soon as the plane had landed. His mother was still unconscious but his father was waiting for him, his leg in plaster with metal pins sticking out in all directions. He cried and hugged his father, swearing that he would never leave him or his mother again, his father insisting the same.

  Then the nurse took him to see his mother and Andre stayed with his father. He wasn't allowed into the room, but he stood outside the window, staring at the lifeless body of his mother, which was surrounded by tubes and machines. He could still see it now, every detail with pinpoint accuracy. He felt like he had stood there for hours, but it was only minutes before the nurse returned him to his father.

  His father was crying again, but he seemed different. He told Ben that they couldn't care for him whilst they were in hospital. He had to go with Andre, back to the airport, and the family would be together soon. Ben sobbed and held his father tightly until finally his father pushed him away whilst trying to hold back great heaving sobs of his own.

  He had seen less and less of them since then. The last time had been for his fifteenth birthday. His mother looked so thin now and his father just looked lost, broken. He hadn't realised it for a long time but now he knew. He wasn't theirs anymore; he belonged to Excelsior.

  They dressed it up with empty promises and extravagant luxury. He lived in a big house with a heated pool and massive television. Every games console and game that was available. The best food. The constant presence of Andre. He had managed to get away from the house twice, but they found him within hours. There was woodland surrounding the house for as far as the eye could see, but both times, he found the helicopter hovering over him, blowing dirt and leaves in his face.

  After the second time, Andre had just disappeared, replaced with the straight-backed, stern-faced Stefan. The rest, as they say, is history.

  The car turned off the road, onto a dirt track leading further into the mountain, throwing up a cloud of dust and loose stones behind it. As it braked in front of the concealed doors to the research laboratory, the cloud of dust seemed to catch up with the car, engulfing it in a murky greyness, and then slowly dissipating to coat the vehicle in a fine layer of dust, dimming the once bright shine of the car’s paintwork.

  As he watched, a large section of the mountain moved slowly into the ground in front of the car, destroying the almost perfect illusion of natural rock. The pager all employees carried triggered the doorway, and Stefan's was currently attached to his belt.

  The rock face was designed to move when a pager was within five metres of the doorway on either side and close when out of range. M
uch to his disappointment, Ben wasn't allowed a pager of his own.

  Stefan pulled the car into its allocated parking space at the far end of the cavern, and as they approached the lift, activated the car alarm with a beep.

  The holding area was the uppermost portion of the laboratory, a natural cavern sixty metres at its highest, and the starting point for the remainder of the excavation. It had been reinforced with beams and panels of titanium steel designed to withstand a direct nuclear assault. In case of an emergency, two helicopters and an armoured all-terrain vehicle dwarfed the expensive cars belonging to the lab’s employees.

  A solitary lift shaft led down to the next level of the lab, where security ensured that there would be no unwelcome visitors, and from there the rest of the lab could be reached. A central stairwell gave access to the habitat and laboratory levels, with the self-sustaining nuclear reactor a distance below them. The stores held enough food and supplies to keep the lab’s occupants alive for twenty years or more, without them ever having to leave the complex, while the reactor could continue to provide power and purified water for as long as anyone required it.

  Ben stopped in front of the elevator and waited. Above the elevator was the next part of the laboratory's security system, after the hidden door. The camera had a wide view of the entire cavern, equipped with an infrared filter to compensate for the low light levels in much of the cavern. Whirring as it moved to focus on the much closer targets, the camera looked Ben and Stefan up and down before opening the elevator doors and allowing them access. Like the rest of the cavern, the elevator was designed to withstand a colossal explosion and still not permit access to the lower levels. With no panel with which to call the lift, the only way to gain entry was if the lift was sent to you by someone from down below.

  As the camera finished its downward sweep over Ben's body, he heard the hydraulic hiss as the elevator doors opened in front of him. The rear wall of the elevator bore the logo of the Excelsior group. The symbol was a sword crossed by a lightning bolt. This was the first indication as to who owned the laboratory, though on the lower levels, the emblem was found almost everywhere.

  Ben turned to face the doors as they closed, and went again through the mental checklist in his head. Today was to be the day when he would get the chance to test all of his radical theories, but as the lift descended, Ben thought more about the security systems and construction of the laboratory. Were they merely just to protect the lab from the outside world, or did the outside world need some protection? If he was right in his theories, Ben's work would no doubt change the world forever, but if it went wrong?

  Brushing his hair through with his hands, Ben stepped through the lift door as it opened into the shiny metallic corridor beyond. About two metres away, a table obstructed half of the corridor, behind which sat Adam Lucas. He lowered his firearm and moved his hand away from the alarm switch as Ben smiled at him. Stefan glared as usual.

  Adam was the stereotypical military type. Broad shoulders, square chin, and a short shaved hair cut. He was also one of the nicest men Ben had ever met. Always quick to smile and offer a friendly greeting, Ben wondered how much he and the rest of team knew about the people they worked for. Adam’s granite face melted into a smile as Ben approached and picked up his security card to pin to his shirt.

  “Morning, Ben,” Adam said as he handed Stefan his pass, “I hear today’s the big day? Everyone's been talking about it all morning, and here's you, late as usual.”

  “I bet if I got here on time, you'd think I was an imposter and lock the place down tight,” Ben said with a laugh.

  “You may have a point there,” Adam replied. “There was another email last week about corporate espionage. You sure you aren't James Bond in disguise?”

  “That's me, shaken not stirred.” Ben chuckled.

  Stefan urged him forward as Adam flicked the switch for the lift door to close, not noticing as Stefan attached a small metal cylinder to the side of the desk. As Ben made his way around the security table, he saw his car on the monitor screen, half-hidden in shadow. The infrared image showed his car positively glowing compared to the rest of the vehicles. Exactly how long had some of his team been waiting for him?

  “Good luck,” Adam called from behind him as they turned the corner.

  The fluorescent-lit corridor led to the stairwell, from which every other level of the complex could be reached. This was his domain and nothing Stefan could say or do could take away what he was about to achieve. Taking the steps two at a time, he soon passed the habitat level and was opening the door to the laboratory. The balcony on which he stood gave an overhead view of the banks of computers and the output of the particle accelerator beyond. The lab was a hive of activity, with people sitting at computers, flicking switches and checking readouts while intermittently scratching their heads. Ben hurried down the last few stairs to his team below.

  “About time. Have you any idea how long most of us have been waiting?” Klaus muttered as Ben took his place beside the main console. Klaus was the oldest of the team, a German professor of physics who was insanely jealous of Ben's position as head of the project. It was his work that had so intrigued Ben at age seven when he was soaking up every book and paper about physics that he could find. Klaus would always see it as his project, and he resented having a child coming in and telling him what to do.

  “We had to stop for breakfast; you couldn't expect me to do this on an empty stomach could you?” Ben replied. Klaus grunted and turned to look back at the nearest row of computer screens.

  “Ignore him; we're only just about ready to start anyway,” Susan said. “I've in-putted the refined equations and checked the seals on the coils. Are you sure about this? I mean, really sure?”

  Susan pulled him over to one of the monitors so that he could check that all the equations were up and running correctly. She was the only other Brit on the team and keen to prove herself to Excelsior. She had a daughter two years younger than Ben and often seemed to mother him in front of the rest of the team.

  “I've done everything I can think of. The only way we're ever going to know if this works is to try it,” Ben replied. He chewed on his lower lip as he compared the equations on the screen to those in his head.

  “I know,” Susan muttered. “It's just that playing with the laws of physics, well, kinda scares me.”

  There was a cough from the back of the room as someone called for silence. Susan squeezed Ben's hand before standing up straight herself.

  “Ah, Benjamin, so good of you to join us,” Ezekiel Mustaine said as he stepped into the centre of the room. As usual, he was flanked by advisors and personal assistants wearing suits that cost more than most people’s cars. Founder of Excelsior, advisor to governments, and third richest man on the planet, Ben always wondered how much he knew about the actual running of the company. He was always friendly and keen to hear about progress, and he made a point of asking after his parents. Was it all a ruse or was someone else really pulling the strings?

  “Ah, sorry, Mr Mustaine, I think Stefan must have taken a wrong turn or something,” Ben replied, avoiding Stefan's glare.

  “Well, no matter, no matter,” he continued. “Are we on schedule?”

  Ben glanced over the equations again. “Yes, I mean, I think so, Mr Mustaine,” Ben reassured him. “This screen monitors the flow of gravitons as they distort a localised area of space-time and tap into the energy of a pocket-universe.”

  “Good, good,” he replied, nodding at the running equations as though they were pound signs. “I believe that you are going to make Excelsior an awful lot of money today, my boy. Limitless free energy. We really will change the world!”

  There was a half-hearted applause from the team before Ezekiel Mustaine turned and climbed the stairs to the observation room, his entourage in tow. Ben and Susan struggled to stifle a giggle.

  Ben turned to look over the lab one more time, conscious that every eye in the room was on him. “Okay, peop
le, what are we waiting for?” he announced with a smile. “We should have got this started hours ago!”

  People moved to monitors and consoles, pressing buttons and flicking switches as LEDs lit up and screens flickered to life. He could hear the faint pulsating hum as the particle accelerator warmed up and started firing the matter through the two-mile long magnetised piping that surrounded the mountain.

  “Magnetic couplings check out, particle speed ten to the seven and rising,” Susan said to his right. Ben looked over to a monitor that depicted the eddy currents surrounding the particle accelerator. The hum increased in pitch as the speed of the particles increased. “Okay, Ben,” she continued. “We're at optimum speed and everything checks out, ready to go when you are."

  “Safety measures in place?” Ben asked.

  “Check,” Susan replied.

  “Right then, people, here we go,” Ben said, crossing his fingers behind his back. “Start the hydrogen infusion.”

  The pulse grew faster and the hum pitched even higher as the hydrogen was injected into the portion of the accelerator visible in the laboratory.

  “Hydrogen at peak concentration, Ben,” Klaus told him. “Time to combine?”

  “Just give me a second,” Ben said as he took one last look at Susan's monitor to reassure himself that everything was going to plan.

  Taking a deep breath, he addressed the room as one. “Okay, combine it now.” The pulse reached maximum intensity as the particles were combined and the first subatomic particles were released. “Right, initiate the containment field,” Ben ordered.

  It started with a speck of light and then the faintest blue swirls became visible beside the particle accelerator, winding around themselves to form the faintest outline of a sphere. Ben stepped around the consoles and approached it, being careful to stay within the safety zone. Slowly, the rest of the room came to stand at his side, watching open mouthed as the sphere grew, first to the size of a tennis ball, and then to the size of a football, still growing.

  “What's the reading now?” Ben asked.

  Klaus stepped back around to his monitor, holding his head in disbelief. “Gravitational distortion equivalent to two earth masses,” he said. “I can't believe it; it's stable. It's stable!” He turned his attention back to the growing sphere, now the size of a beach ball. “My God, I can't believe that it works.”

  Ben thought that there was the hint of laughter in the old man's voice, but as he and the rest of the team knew, Klaus had no sense of humour.

  Within one year of Ben's arrival on the team, his theories had allowed the group to prove the existence of the graviton, the particle accelerator producing three conclusive graviton particles for one millionth of a second. The remainder of Ben's work had involved finding ways of harnessing graviton particles to create a stable artificial gravity well that could bend space-time and draw power from the pocket-universe. It had taken a further two years just to realise the means of producing gravitons in sufficient numbers, and then the last two years to devise and construct the containment field to stop the surrounding area imploding as the gravity well grew. Now he could be within a few metres of the gravity well without being torn apart.

  Klaus looked down at the monitor. “Ben, gravity distortions at point nine solar masses,” he said. “Do you think we should start winding it down?”

  “Is it still stable?” Ben asked.

  “As far as the readings show, containment's still holding,” Klaus replied.

  Ben finally took the opportunity to exhale and allowed himself the time to fully appreciate the beauty of what he had created. Susan was first to start the applause, though soon the entire lab was aloud with clapping and cheers. The blue orb continued to swirl and pulse away behind them with its own mystic harmony.

  Susan pulled him close and hugged him for all she was worth. “Now this is a time to celebrate!” she announced as she presented him with a large bottle of champagne and a strip of plastic cups. “Care to do the honours?”

  Ben accepted the bottle and shook it slightly before popping the cork, imitating sports stars all over the world. The white froth ran down his hands as everyone cheered again, gladly accepting a cup as they were passed around.

  When everyone had their cup, there was a loud shout of cheers. However, before anyone was able to take a sip of the champagne, the upper doors to the laboratory were suddenly kicked open. They turned as one to see seven or eight men descend the stairs, brandishing assault rifles. They were all dressed the same, entirely in black with balaclavas covering their faces. Before anyone had time to react, they were all staring down the barrels of guns.

  No one spoke for what seemed like an eternity. The gunmen continued to point their weapons at the bewildered scientists, and the bewildered scientists passed terrified glances between themselves. It took the entrance of a third party to break the silence.

  “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen,” a man said from the top of the stairs. “Please relax. If you do as you are told, no one will get hurt.”

  The man was dressed in a military uniform, but Ben didn’t recognise the rank or country. He stood at the top of the staircase, surveying the laboratory with calm precision, taking in every detail about the room around him. Just like everyone else in the room had done, his gaze lingered longest on the sphere.

  When Stefan stepped forward, Ben thought he was going to help, wrestle the gun from one of the soldiers, and save them all. It was when Stefan saluted the soldier and went to stand at his side that Ben realised all was lost.

  “What's the meaning of...” Ezekiel managed to say before he was shot expertly between the eyes, his assistants running back towards the observation room.

  The soldier cleared his throat. “Everyone here is alive by my will,” he bellowed. “And my will alone. My orders are to take this complex by any means necessary, and I fully intend to carry out my orders. I have no qualms about killing each and every one of you if you make me, so just bear that in mind.”

  Everyone was silent, exchanging more furtive glances. It was Klaus who had the courage to speak up. “Who are you working for?” he asked. “What do you want?”

  “That really doesn’t matter,” the soldier replied. “But let us just say that there are people who don’t like to see this sort of power in the private sector.” There was a faint murmuring from the team that was quickly silenced as the soldier descended the steps and moved towards the sphere.

  It was then that Ben thought of Adam at the security desk. After four years of friendly greetings, he was probably his closest friend. “What, what happened to the guard at the desk?” he asked.

  “He managed to wound two of my men before I killed him,” the soldier replied, his voice devoid of emotion.

  Ben looked down at his feet, his anger growing. The thought of Adam’s body lying dead at the lift entrance made him sick. He looked back towards the soldier, meeting his gaze. “Look, you can’t just do this,” Ben demanded. “You can’t just walk into here and...”

  There was a loud crack and the soldier’s chest blew outwards in a shower of blood and bones. Adam stepped through the doorway, pistol held loosely in his hand, his once clean white shirt now a dark shade of red. He was obviously weak, but he managed to squeeze off two more shots before the surprised gunmen finished him off. The gunmen reacted in accordance with their training, turning their weapons on the scientists and opening fire.

  Susan pulled Ben to the ground as the bullets started flying. Monitors exploded and people were thrown in all directions as their bodies were torn apart. From his low vantage point, Ben saw most of the rear wall of the lab explode as bullets ripped through the housing of the particle accelerator, showering the survivors with rubble and twisted metal.

  Ben was crawling toward the stairwell when a piece of the ceiling fell away from its supports, striking many of the gunmen who had begun to make their escape. Klaus was littered with bullets as the remaining gunmen fired wildly in all directions, not even l
ooking for targets anymore. Ben felt his shoulders being lifted off the ground as the floor where he was lying was also peppered with bullets that made an array of sparks as they struck.

  Susan pushed him away from her as she was killed and Ben met the gaze of the gunman as he fell backwards, understanding for the first time what the whites of their eyes meant. In mere moments, his life had changed irreparably, good friends lost forever and now he was set to join them. He felt nauseous, angry, terrified, and a hundred other emotions all at once as the gunman turned the rifle towards him.

  His life was spared as another explosion blew rubble in the direction of his assailant, causing him to shoot off target. Ben had the impression that he could actually see the bullets in flight, slowing down as they passed by the side of his head and then accelerating again. He made his way to the ground in slow motion, where he would no doubt be littered with bullets as everyone else had been.

  An empty plastic cup flew past his head as the containment field began to fail and another explosion shook the laboratory. Ben had not realised how close he was to the sphere until he saw the blue radiance wash over his flailing arms, or maybe it was just that the sphere had grown in the last few moments since the containment field collapsed. In any case, it was no longer of any consequence to Ben.

  As he fell into the blue light, he experienced the world around him expanding and contracting, the laboratory both exploding and imploding. The last thing he remembered seeing was a flash of light, and then the purest darkness.

  II

  When Ben awoke, the world was composed of shades of red, interspersed with momentary flashes of blue. He had never been a believer, but for a moment, he thought that he had gone down instead of up. He imagined that the shadows around him hid demons within their depths, waiting for the chance to pounce and tear him limb from limb. Every childhood nightmare came rushing to the forefront of his mind, but as he surveyed his Hell, he realised that he had travelled nowhere at all.

  He climbed to his feet, wincing at the pain in the back of his head. The world around him was red because of the emergency lights around the perimeter wall of the laboratory, indicating that there must be a fault with the primary power source at some level. The blue flashes were caused by the damaged electrical equipment sparking around him.

  To his surprise and amazement, he was alone in the room, at least as far as he could tell. He remembered the carnage and death that the gunmen had brought with them, but there were no signs of any bodies, his team, or anyone else. One of the machine guns that the gunmen had brought with them was lying on the floor to Ben’s right, so he picked it up, just in case. He did not have the first clue how to use one, but he hoped that the fear factor would work as well on any attacker as it had done on him earlier. He slung it over his shoulder and turned to look at the area put aside for the gravity containment field.

  The glowing blue sphere was now gone, replaced by more darkness. Most of the containment field apparatus was damaged or destroyed by the gunfire that had torn through the casing. He drew his hand back quickly as a blue spark shot from one of the bullet holes. It could probably be rebuilt, but Ben doubted that he would have anything further to do with the project.

  He made his way towards the stairwell that led to the balcony, picking his way through the semi-darkness. All of the monitors that he passed were dead, at least all that had survived the shooting and subsequent explosions. Ben did not understand why he was still alive, and alone, within the desolated laboratory, but all of that could wait. Right now, he needed to get out and find . . . what? Someone, something, maybe? It didn't matter. He needed to get out before the sensation of the walls closing in on him in the darkness got worse.

  As he reached the top of the stairs, he kicked something across the smooth floor and against the door. Looking down, he found that it was one of the tablet computers that some of the team were using to monitor the experiment. The visual display was still backlit, so Ben picked it up.

  Though the glass in one corner was cracked, he found that it was still working and, incredibly, it was still connected to the mainframe. Scanning through the menus, he came across the command that switched on the main lights and selected it. Ben’s heart sank as the room went entirely black for a second as the emergency lights were switched off, but the overhead neons soon flickered on, at least those that were left. Most had been destroyed by the explosions, but even the dim light cast by the few remaining fluorescent tubes was superior to the eerie red light of the underworld.

  Even from his vantage point, Ben could still see no one else in the laboratory, dead or otherwise, so he opened the door and stepped cautiously out into the main corridor.

  The corridor was damaged even worse than the laboratory. Many of the overhead supports had collapsed, dropping rubble into his path, though for as far as he could see there was still a route through. Only a single fluorescent tube had been spared destruction, and this was flickering on and off in the long corridor, casting the far end near the stairwell into darkness. He had never before suffered with claustrophobia, but the sensation of the walls creeping in towards him was far worse there than in the laboratory, and every nerve in his body was shouting for him to run, get away, get out before he was trapped within the tiny space.

  Ben was breathing faster now, on the verge of hyperventilating, the sound of his heartbeat pounding in his ears. He leaned against the corridor wall, grimacing at its icy feel beneath his hands, trying to control his breathing. The machine gun fell from his shoulder to swing uselessly on his outstretched arm.

  The single tube continued to flicker annoyingly a short distance ahead of him, strobing the rhythmical, pendulum like movements of the machine gun. He felt his stomach knot as the first wave of nausea swept over him, felt it grip the inside of his chest as he vomited. Whatever was left in his stomach quickly collected in a small puddle between his feet, but he continued to wretch for another minute or two before his stomach decided it was truly empty.

  For the moment at least, his fear began to subside and he made his way slowly over the rubble towards the darkness of the central stairwell.

  He tripped once over an iron beam in his path, landing heavily, and took the rest of the path to the stairwell even more carefully, feeling his way along the wall through the darkness as the light from the tablet cast eerie shadows against the walls. The overhead beams above the door had partly collapsed and were trying to hold the door closed, but with a swift kick, the door revealed the relative brightness of the stairwell. Ben half expected the ceiling above the door to fall on him then, but for the time being at least, luck was with him.

  The stairwell had been spared much of the devastation that had affected the laboratory and the corridor. The metal staircase looked sturdy and most of the fluorescent tubes were lit, even if they did appear somewhat dim compared to how he remembered them. In the grips of his fight or flight response, he nearly ran past the habitat level, until the rational part of his mind intervened and drew him to a stop. If there was anyone else in the base, they could be hiding in there.

  The upper level of the base was as unaffected as the stairwell. The first room he came to was the mess hall with its associated tables and sets of uncomfortable steel chairs. Two of the chairs had been knocked over by one of the explosions and Ben absent-mindedly picked them up as he made his way through the room. In the early days of the project, the base had been full of scientists and engineers, working on the construction of the particle accelerator, but in more recent times, the laboratory complement had fallen to Ben and the rest of the team.

  Finding the mess hall empty, Ben pushed his way through the swing doors to the kitchen area beyond. He surveyed the area quickly, and was about to return to the mess hall when he noticed a plate near the sink, waiting to be cleaned. This was not unusual, they were all an untidy bunch who were more concerned with that next vital revelation than with putting the dirty crockery into the dishwasher, but the mould was certainly nothing he had seen i
n this kitchen before. On closer inspection, the green and white mould had grown to cover most of the plate. The food upon which the mould had grown was now unidentifiable, but Ben was convinced that the plate had not been there the previous day. They had all been together at lunchtime, in the kitchen, and they would have definitely noticed something like this by the sink. He also knew that this much mould should not have grown in a matter of hours, unless he was dealing with some sort of new super strain of mould.

  Ben dropped it in the sink and automatically turned on the tap, a small section of the back of his mind thinking that maybe he would wash it up later. Just one more puzzle to add to the growing list.

  The door on the far side of the mess hall led to the rooms that were used by the scientists and engineers during the times when they were too busy to go to their homes in town. He opened the door cautiously. If there was anyone else back there, he couldn't be sure if they were friend or foe. The long corridor beyond had doors to all of the rooms, as well as to the toilets and showers set at regular intervals along the walls.

  Ben burst through the first door to his left, almost tearing it from its hinges as he hoped to catch anyone in there off guard. This room belonged to Susan, but was empty as far as he could see. The photograph of her husband and daughter, the only piece of personalisation in the otherwise sparsely decorated room, had been knocked from the bedside cabinet, the glass within the frame smashed to form a web-like pattern. He paused to pick it up, looking at the image of family bliss, one that would never be repeated. Would they ever know what had happened to her, that she had sacrificed her life to save his? Ben felt the overwhelming weight of his guilt as he returned the picture to its rightful place.

  Struggling to deal with the overwhelming feelings that gripped him, he opened the door to the wardrobe, finding only a few changes of clothes, and not the crazed gunman that his imagination was warning him about. He was reluctant to leave the room, but he knew that he had to keep going, to keep searching for answers.

  The next room belonged to Klaus, and was as empty as the first. He found a waterproof rubber torch in one of the drawers and forced it into his back pocket, just in case any more of the base was veiled in darkness. His own room had a can of coke on the bedside table, which he quickly drank. His watch had stopped at some point, and the alarm clock in his room was blinking 12:00, so he had no idea what time it was. His empty stomach was telling him that it was ready for something, though.

  The remainder of the rooms were either similarly empty or locked shut, so he made his way back to the stairwell and climbed the last flight of stairs to the main reception area. The Excelsior insignia in the wall beside the security desk was riddled by what Ben saw to be bullet holes, and the monitors on the desk were all black, giving Ben no idea as to what was happening in the rest of the base.

  Leaning over the desk, he keyed in the sequence to open the lift door, but to no avail. All of the security controls at the desk appeared to be dead, either shot to pieces or out of power. Speeding through the options on the tablet menu, he selected the command to call the lift. There was a hiss in front of him as the doors began to open, followed by a crack, which could have been any of the door components, and the doors stopped moving. Ben selected the option again, then tried to return power to the security panel on the desk, all without success.

  The opening in the lift door was enough for him to get his hands in, but nothing more. With an effort, he was able to force the doors apart enough to squeeze between them, but there was no chance of the lift taking him anywhere. His claustrophobia was creeping up on him again, crawling its way from the back of his mind and seeking to take hold of his sanity. He could feel his heart racing as his palms grew sweaty, and he realised that he needed to do something decisive, and fast.

  Sliding the tablet into the back of his trousers, he freed both his hands to open the overhead panel. Pulling himself up through the small rectangular hole, he was glad to find that the torch still had some life in it as he used it to locate the emergency ladder that led to the upper level. He hadn't realised until he was halfway up the ladder exactly how far into the mountain the laboratory was. His ascent was in darkness, even though he used the torch periodically to check that his path was clear and safe. When he reached it, the upper lift door was still closed, though with the torch in his mouth and the computer balanced precariously on the small ledge at the door’s base, it was soon opened. Either this door had been spared completely, or was on a different power circuit, but it opened fully and with the familiar smooth hiss of the hydraulics.

  After closing the lift door, Ben powered down and concealed the tablet beside the lift shaft as best he could, though he doubted he would be back here given the choice. Turning to survey the cavern, he found it was just as he left it, with all of the employee’s cars parked in their rightful spaces. He had hoped that the cavern would be empty and that everyone else had managed to get away from the explosion, but for the time being he was still left with the problem of what had happened to everyone else in the base, those dead or alive.

  Added to the normal collection of vehicles was a black limousine with opaque windows, parked just within the hidden doorway, along with two black Land Rovers, blocking his way out. Ben was cautious to approach the first vehicle, as he could not see inside it, and found that to be the case even when he was right outside the driver’s door. The machine gun was held tightly in his right hand as he pulled the unlocked driver’s door open, but after a heart racing inspection, he discovered that the car was as empty as the rest of the installation.

  The keys were still in the ignition, and he turned on the engine from the relative safety of the car doorway. The car roared to life at the twist of his wrist, and with a last cautious inspection of the back seat, he tossed the machine gun onto the passenger seat and climbed in after it. He was too young to have driven a car before, but he knew the basics.

  Looking to his right for a gear stick, he realised that the limousine was an automatic. Putting the car into drive, he tapped lightly on the accelerator, making the car jerk forwards. He quickly pulled his leg back and the car slowed to a crawl, but didn't stop until he applied the brake. Turning off the ignition, he got out, taking the machine gun with him. If he couldn't manage a few metres in a straight line, there was no way he would manage the twists and turns of the mountain road.

  As he made his way towards the huge doorway that was his way out of the cavern, he remembered that he would need a pager to get it open. Another security measure, the internal override needed a security key that Adam would have had in the event of an evacuation. He knew that Stefan had kept his clipped to his belt, so he quickly took to searching the other cars parked in the cavern. Few people kept them locked and several even left the keys in the ignition. It wasn't long before he found a pager resting on a dashboard.

  Walking towards the large door, the pager gave the reassuring beep as the door began its slow descent. Though the outside was made to blend in with the rock wall, this side of the door betrayed the illusion, being constructed of smooth interlocking sheets of reinforced steel.

  Instinctively, Ben shielded his face as the first pieces fell through the crack of light created by the slowly opening door, stumbling backwards. When he had plucked up enough courage to peer through the cracks in his fingers, he discovered that the landslide that his mind's eye had showed him was in fact partially compacted snow, breaking up as it struck the ground at the entrance to the cavern. Getting to his feet, he stepped forwards to investigate, and felt the bone chilling snap of the icy wind blowing in through the ever-increasing gap in the doorway. Without a jacket, his shirt offered minimal protection against the sub-zero temperatures of the outside world.

  The door was now at waist height, and Ben could see that the snow had drifted against the door and was falling in much bigger clumps at his feet. He scooped up a handful and compacted it into a ball, throwing the snowball over the drift left by the now fully opened door. He kn
ew that it hadn't been there that morning as he had driven in the glorious sunshine that made August what it was, and his first thought reflected the growing fear and paranoia that had started when he awoke in the lab only an hour or two before; nuclear winter.

  The rational part of his mind tried to convince him that that was madness. When he woke that morning, most of the world was in a state of relative peace. Of course, there were the usual skirmishes going on in the Middle East, but he was almost sure that at no point on the morning news had they said, “…helped the stranded kitty out of the tree. Oh, and by the way, here’s your four-minute warning.” Besides, he was positive that it took more than a couple of hours for that sort of thing to set in. Well, almost positive.

  He rubbed his hands together as another icy gust cut through the open doorway and caught him off guard. Ben climbed the snowdrift, catching himself as he slipped into the snow up to his knees, but he was soon over it. Beyond the drift, the snow was only five or six inches deep, but he didn't want to risk just trekking through it. For the time being, there was not a cloud in the sky, but he couldn't risk just hanging around for the snow to melt or for another foot or so to fall.

  Returning to the cavern, the door began to close as he got too far from the entrance. Placing the pager on the ground, he moved to the back of the cavern to see what he could find. On any ordinary day, security would have manually overridden the door mechanism if it hadn't closed, but this was anything but an ordinary day.

  Rummaging through the cars, he was able to piece together an extra t-shirt, two sweaters, and a light jacket. As long as he wasn't picked up by the fashion police, he should be able to hold off the cold for a short while at least.

  Returning the machine gun to his shoulder, he retrieved the pager and climbed over the snowdrift again and out into the bright sunshine. After only a few metres, the huge rock face began to close behind him.

 

  III

  Ben stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets as he cautiously made his way along the winding mountain roads, only slowly breaking through the frost that seemed to have set in throughout his entire body. The roads were just as he remembered them, only covered in snow, an undisturbed blanket of white as far as he could see.

  The sun began to set some way off to his left, giving his descent a new sense of urgency. The sky was still clear of clouds, but the setting sun gave it an orange glow the likes of which he had never seen before, making the sky appear to be on fire. Cautiously leaning over the edge of the road, he looked down to see how far he still had to descend to reach the village, horrified by the sight that greeted him. Arms braced against the guardrail for support, he surveyed the view below him. The village that he had visited with Stefan to buy food and supplies had been replaced by desolate buildings and overgrown vegetation, all covered with a blanket of the purest white snow. With the snow covering, it was difficult for Ben to get a true picture of what remained of the village, but as far as he could see, there was not a single building left standing. No lights shone through the darkness, and the village was completely devoid of life. A momentary gust of wind blew his hair into his eyes, which he was reluctant to remove in case the world below him had refused to change.

  Returning to the centre of the road, he continued down the mountain with added haste. He walked in a trance-like state while desperately trying to understand the world around him. He was reminded of a film he had seen some years ago, where a man had woken to find that he was the last man on Earth. The similarities were becoming scary.

  Ben’s mind kept returning to his earlier paranoid thoughts, nuclear war, nuclear winter, which would certainly explain the destruction, but this morning the world had been fine. If some crazy world power had nuked the planet this morning while he had been out cold, why wasn’t he dead already from the radiation? And what had happened to everybody else?

  Ben’s memory returned to the destruction of the lab, but the scale of destruction was nothing in comparison to what he had just seen. He tried to pull himself away from the images of the dark, cramped corridors, and the feelings they stirred within him, but a part of his mind kept pulling him back. It insisted on repeating the pictures of the lab’s destruction in his head, as though his mind was whispering an answer to his questions from a great distance away.

  As the sun disappeared over the horizon, the sky was momentarily awash with a redness that could only be compared to the colour of blood. Ben switched on his torch in an attempt to scare away the growing sense of dread that was resting on his shoulders.

  A light snowfall began soon after Ben reached the base of the mountain and made his way along the main road that led into the centre of town. He passed a few of the outlying houses, or what remained of them, beneath the vine like plants and snow. There was still no evidence of any occupants, and not a single car had passed him by on his journey down the mountain. He continued slowly forwards, in towards the centre of town, though spending more time looking to his left and right for any clue as to what was happening than watching where he was going.

  Following a natural curve in the road, Ben found that he could go no further. What at first appeared to be rubble and wreckage blocking the road in both directions, quickly revealed itself to be a barricade of some kind in Ben’s torchlight. The burnt out remains of two cars had been pushed together with corrugated iron panels tied or wedged against them. Ben was suddenly elated and scared at the same time. Construction meant there was someone around to build it; a someone, a survivor.

  His attention was drawn to movement to the left of the barricade. A figure stepped from the darkness into the glare of Ben’s torchlight, shielding his eyes. The figure appeared to be dressed in rags, an old blanket cut to be worn like a poncho, layers of old and torn clothes covering the figure's legs. Ben couldn't tell if the figure was male or female, the way the clothes hung obscuring the shape and build. It wasn't until it moved closer that Ben got a good look at his face.

  “Wha’d’ya want?” he asked.

  The man had a long unkempt beard tucked into the blanket around his neck. His eyes were bloodshot, but remained piercing despite their unhealthy appearance. Ben stammered and took an involuntary step backwards. “You're alive,” he said. “Please, please tell me, what happened, what’s going on?”

  “My town. Wha’d’ya want?” the man said again, the stench of alcohol on his breath unmistakable.

  “Please, what happened,” Ben pleaded. “It wasn't this way this morning. Who did this? Was it terrorists, a nuke?”

  “No nuke, don’t know no nuke. My town, wha’d’ya want,” the man said for a third time.

  A voice from the shadows helped cut the edge from Ben’s growing frustration. “Sebastian, step away from there,” it said as a second man appeared behind Sebastian and tapped him gently on the shoulder, directing him back towards the barricade.

  This man looked very different from the first. His clothes were relatively clean and still held a discernible shape, that of faded denim jeans and an old red/green striped shirt. The long thick woollen coat that covered them had seen better days, but there was still enough of the garment to protect the wearer from the elements. The man's face had a serene quality, a peaceful and calming demeanour that put Ben at ease. His beard, though still untidy, was trimmed much shorter than Sebastian’s, and his eyes held Ben’s stare with confidence.

  “You’ll have to excuse him,” he said as he extended his hand. “Sebastian may be my brother, but his manners leave much to be desired. How can the people of Garstang be of assistance to you?”

  “At last,” Ben replied, returning the handshake. “Please, I just need to know what happened. Who did this to us?”

  “Did what?” the man replied, looking Ben up and down and scrutinising the gun hanging from his shoulder. “I can see you’re not from around these parts. Southern Baronies, yes?”

  “Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ben replied, taking another involuntary step backwards. “
I don’t know of any Southern Baronies. I just went out this morning and now, whatever happened, happened. Just tell me what’s going on!”

  “Don’t know no Southern Baronies,” he mocked. “Just out for a stroll and you find yourself in the shit, eh?” The man took a step forwards and released a belly laugh that could have been heard all the way back at the laboratory.

  With a movement almost too fast for Ben to see, he had suddenly taken hold of Ben's jacket and was inches away from his face. Ben fumbled for the gun, but it was quickly knocked from his grip and clattered to the ground. “We may not fit in with your southern ways up here, boy,” he said, “but don’t try taking Bosen for a fool. It’s cold, and I’m tired, so let's stop this messing around. You want to go through Garstang, you gotta pay the toll, simple as that.” The pleasant face the man had demonstrated at the start of the conversation returned.

  Ben struggled and twisted in the man's grip but to no avail. His gun gone and at the mercy of a madman, he slowly gave in to the inevitable, his half-hearted kicks and punches becoming weaker as he began to cry. Bosen pushed him to the ground, Ben landing heavily and painfully on his buttocks in the cold snow.

  “How,” Ben coughed. “How much?”

  “There you go, friend.” Bosen smiled. “Just the answer I was looking for.” He stepped over to the gun, picking it up and turning it over in his hands, a wry smile on his lips. “This'll do for a start,” he said. “What else you got?”

  Ben stood up slowly and rummaged in his pockets. Finding a few coins, he offered them to Bosen. The laughter started again and this time Ben lost it. Putting all of his weight behind his shoulders, he threw the coins at Bosen's face before driving himself into Bosen's midsection, knocking him off balance and down onto the road. Not stopping to see what would happen next, Ben ran as fast as he could through the snow towards the nearest buildings. There was an animalistic scream from behind him as Bosen got to his feet, followed by a burst of gunfire.

  There was more shouting and footsteps behind him as he moved between the desolated buildings, looking for something, anything that he might recognise. The cold was momentarily gone from his mind as his adrenaline drove him forwards, seeking any possible safety. There was rubble everywhere and he stumbled more than once in his bid to escape. He considered switching on the torch that he still had in his pocket, but was scared that the light would bring Bosen and his men straight to him.

  Ducking through an alleyway and skidding to a stop, Ben took a moment to try and determine where he was. He hadn’t realised how scary the town looked at night, without the usual comfort of the street lamps to keep the darkness at bay. Even though the fallen down buildings and vegetation made recognising where he was unlikely, Ben had an idea that he was on a road that would eventually lead him to his home. He didn’t know why he wanted to go home, but it was as good a place as any. Maybe it could tell him something.

  There was a blur of movement to his right as a man came running around the corner, panting and snarling as he struggled to get his breath. The dim light from the moon lit the man's smile as he spotted Ben trying to dip back towards the alleyway. “Not so fast, little rabbit,” he hissed. “Bosen wants words with you.”

  Ben raised his arms slowly as the man walked casually towards him, nodding and chuckling to himself. Ben's mind raced to find a way out, as suddenly a snarl from behind Ben's pursuer drew both of their attention. Ben thought he saw a large, wolf like creature leap from the shadows and pin his pursuer to the ground, his scream cut off as teeth tore into flesh.

  Ben turned on his heels and ran for all he was worth. His mind insisted on showing him the carnage that the beast had wrought on his pursuer. What he had first thought to be a wolf was nothing like it in his mind’s eye. The creature seemed to be composed mostly of a head and teeth, with only a small body and even smaller legs. What would have been the front legs were little more than stumps with a set of violent-looking claws attached.

  There was a shout from behind him, no doubt in response to the noise that the creature had made, and Ben tripped over the fallen metal framework of a child’s swing, long since rusted and half buried in the snow. His arms flailed wildly in the air as he hit the ground hard, knocking the wind out of him. The snow he landed in reminded him of the cold, biting at his fingers like the teeth of the beast he had just seen. He managed to clamber to his feet and make it over the low fence in front of him, the adrenaline from his fight or flight reaction momentarily keeping the pain at bay.

  Taking a random path through the gardens and desolated buildings, he heard only the occasional shout from his pursuers, each time from what seemed to be further away. He could feel himself getting exhausted as he continued to run, the pain in his calves begging him to stop with each step, and he knew he needed to find somewhere to hide soon. The stitch in his side was making him feel sick.

  The fence in front of him had fallen long ago, but the building beyond was in a slightly better condition. Most of the ground floor walls were still standing, and Ben could see the closed entrance to a cellar in the back garden as he entered. He moved cautiously up to the door, listening for the sound of any occupants inside, but as far as he could tell, the building was empty. This was the only place he had seen that would hide him from his pursuers, and give him some shelter from the snow, so retrieving the torch from his pocket, he quietly opened the cellar door.

  He switched the torch on and held it ahead of him, the palm of his hand covering some of the glow and directing it downwards into the darkness. The smell from the cellar hit him immediately as he pulled the door fully open; a musty, rotten smell that made him gag. He forced the acid back down and panned the torch around the darkness of the cellar, looking for any signs of life. He was glad to see that there was none.

  The smell was overpowering and he was about to search for somewhere else, when he heard a shout some distance behind him and the clatter of metal. The smell didn't seem to bother him so much anymore.

  With the door closed and bolted behind him, the cellar took on the same fearful properties as the laboratory corridors had done earlier in the day. He pointed the torch at every nook and cranny within the cellar and finally found the source of the foul odour. Part of the cellar had been reinforced to make a small antechamber, separated from the rest of the cellar by an open metal door. Ben’s impression was that it was some sort of freezer or makeshift bomb shelter. The back wall had four large shelves stacked high with food. He tried the light switch on the wall as he entered the antechamber, but with no effect. It looked like he would have to rely on his torch for a while longer.

  Ensuring that the door wouldn't suddenly close behind him, he investigated the food. It was all either dried or tinned food, though some of the containers had come open. The food that was collecting on the floor was in various states of decay, reminiscent of the dirty plate he had discovered in the laboratory kitchen. He was reluctant to eat anything, but his stomach reminded him of its emptiness, and carefully moving the tins and packets aside, he managed to find a tin with a faded baked beans label. He wiped his hands clean on his already filthy jeans and looked around for a can opener, finding one in a small cupboard to the right of the shelves.

  He was able to close the heavy metal door with an effort, hoping to hold the smell of rotting food at bay. It took him nearly five minutes to open the can far enough to get at the beans, but with no cutlery and a ravenous hunger, he was resorted to scooping out the contents with his fingers. The jagged edges did nothing for his hands, but he didn’t think that his blood mixed in with the cold beans could make them taste any worse. He managed to eat enough to satisfy his immediate needs before tossing the can into a corner and nursing his lacerated fingers.

  He sat cross-legged on the floor, back resting against the wall opposite the only entrance, torch resting on his lap. He had been constantly listening for any signs of activity outside, but so far he had heard none. Without thinking, he removed the small notebook from his coat pocke
t and scribbled a few notes to himself, trying to make sense of what was happening around him. He didn't notice the exact point at which he fell asleep.

  IV

  Everything was black until the flash, a silent explosion within the infinite. The light grew larger and larger until it hit him, passing him by as though he was no more real than the darkness that it was consuming. The darkness was now full of lights of all different colours and intensities, blinking at him, pulling him towards them, and then casting him away. Planets rushed past him as he flew in towards the lights, billions of worlds orbiting billions of stars, the number growing with each passing second as the first, true light continued on its path, forever away from him.

  A flash of light caught his attention and he was instantly drawn towards it, watching as it grew, reaching out to him. This light was like the first, true light, only blue, and it did not pass him by as easily as the first. As the light reached him, he was pulled into it, wrenched from his peaceful place within the infinite and thrown into the chaos beyond.

  A fine thread moved below him, flying between his legs. A hand, his hand, reached down to grasp the thread and he snapped off a piece.

  A dark and stagnant pool bubbles below him in the volcanic heat, as thunder and lightning illuminate the foreboding sky. Atoms and molecules flow towards each other as the air comes alive with electricity.

  His hand reached down to take another piece of the thread.

  Two of the last remaining dinosaurs fight for food in a world devoid of sunlight.

  Another piece.

  An early man huddles in the cold of a cave, wrapped in the furs of animals, the same animals that are depicted on the walls of the cave. A second man enters with the wood that will soon become a fire.

  And another.

  A battalion of armoured soldiers march upon a town, slaughtering all those that stand in their way.

  He takes piece after piece of the thread, his hands working in a frenzy as the thread continues to move below him, the thread gaining speed, though seemingly never reaching an end.

  The beheading of a king, his throne now the property of another.

  A battlefield awash with the blood of a thousand dead.

  The fall of an empire.

  The rise of another.

  War after war after war.

  The assassination of a president.

  A rocket to the stars.

  A man strolling on the surface of Mars.

  The war of wars, of man and machine, in a world so far from his own.

  He collects as many pieces as he can hold while the thread continues to flow below him, still gaining speed. He rises up from the thread, or maybe it falls below him, it no longer matters. The thread in his hands is starting to slip from his fingers. He squeezes them together into a ball, binding the pieces together as one.

  As he floats there, watching, a gentle wind collects the ball from his grasp and carries it towards a single star in a sky of brightest blue. The star catches the ball of thread as it passes, pulling it towards itself, and he watches as they drift away from him, orbiting each other as they take their rightful place within the heavens.

  He has looked upon his creation, but he does not yet know if it is good. As the star becomes the faintest of lights within the galaxy of darkness, he is reminded of three words.

  Time.

  Space.

  Gravity.

  V

  Ben woke suddenly, sodden with sweat, a scream on his lips that he was barely able to hold back. Light was shining in through the small window just below the ceiling, illuminating the cold morning within the cellar. For a moment, he wished that he was still dreaming, but he wasn’t that lucky. He tried to force himself to remember what woke him from his slumber with such terror, listening for any movement outside, but the world still seemed as silent as the grave.

  He could still remember some of the images from his dream, though they were quickly fading, except the words time, space, and gravity, that seemed burned on his retinas, floating in front of him every time he closed his eyes. He climbed to his feet, his legs feeling like those of an old man as the circulation slowly returned to them. He picked up the torch, flicking the switch one way and then the other, but the batteries had run out at some point during the night. He returned it to his pocket anyway, along with the can opener, just in case he needed them later. He took a moment to push the pager tightly onto his belt, noticing that it had worked its way loose during the night.

  His stomach was rumbling again and his head was pounding. He returned to the antechamber to look for supplies, and was again hit by the smell that had seemed to collect within the small space as if in wait for him. Taking a deep breath, he crossed the threshold and quickly looked for anything that might be of use to him. He found no batteries, but two foil wrapped cereal bars looked to be in relatively good condition, so he tucked them into his pocket. He was lucky that the jacket seemed overly blessed with pockets, but there was a limit to how much he could take with him.

  He found a box of matches on one of the shelves and a sealed bottle of water, but nothing else of value. Emptying the bottle in a few deep gulps, he returned to the door of the cellar and made his way out into the sunshine.

  The morning could have been that of a Dickensian Christmas, if not for the desolate landscape that surrounded him. He couldn’t see any footprints in the fresh snow, his or anyone else’s, but that didn’t mean that he could be complacent. Perhaps his tracks had quickly faded with the snowfall and that was why they hadn’t continued to follow him, he wasn’t sure. With his hands buried deep within his pockets, he edged his way around to the front of the building and checked the main road for occupants, though it was as empty as the rear of the building. He crossed the road in a sprint and made his way towards his next psychological landmark, his home.

  His journey home was uneventful, the outskirts of the town seemingly as empty as the laboratory he had left the day before, though the building he found did little to shed light on the mystery. His home was as gutted as the rest, an empty shell of memories that seemed to be making as much sense as the world around him.

  He tried to pick his way through what remained of the living room, but most of the upstairs bedroom and bathroom now covered it. Two of the walls of the room still stood, but the other two were reduced to small walls that only served to collect snow within its perimeter. His favourite armchair was unidentifiable beneath the fallen roof and the thick green vine that was growing down the centre of the room.

  He made his way to the remains of the kitchen, past the three broken steps that remained of the oak staircase. This room was in better condition than the living room, with two of the kitchen cupboards still holding a discernible shape. He opened one of the imitation mahogany doors, only to find the cupboard empty. The other cupboard was the same. It appeared that the remaining occupants of the town had looted anything of value.

  He returned to the living room and started turning over any rubble and any loose stone that he was strong enough to lift. He found pieces of plastic and circuitry that could have been a part of any of his electrical devices, but nothing that gave him any further clues as to what was happening.

  A noise behind him brought him to his feet in a second, his arms somewhere between attack and surrender. His heart was pounding in his chest as he searched for his unseen attacker hiding amongst the remains of the collapsed structure. As he watched, a second piece of masonry fell from what remained of the second floor, cracking the piece it landed on, the piece that had startled him moments before. With a sigh of relief, he lowered his hands and slumped to the rubble-strewn ground, waiting for the knot in his stomach to loosen.

  He sat for what seemed like hours, with his head in his hands as another flurry of snow started to fall, wincing as the temperature dropped around him, sapping his strength. He could return to the cellar he had spent the night in, but he didn’t think that he could face another night hiding from psychopaths or monsters. Beside
s, he would be in much the same predicament the next day, only hungrier.

  He got to his feet and pulled his jacket tightly around him as the wind picked up. He had seen no one since the previous evening, so he was becoming less and less cautious. Climbing over one of the small walls that was once a part of his living room, he returned to the main road on which the entrance to the house was situated. He turned and headed east, hands clenched in his pockets, shoulders hunched. The snow was falling more heavily now and the wind was blowing with added intensity, freezing him to the bone. He walked this way for two hours or more, feeling less and less of his exposed face as he followed the twisting roads towards the main motorway out of town, and perhaps towards civilisation.

  When he reached the slip road that led to the northbound carriageway, the sun was high up in the sky, perhaps two or three o’clock in the afternoon. He instinctively checked his watch, but the time hadn't changed since he had woken in the lab. He brushed the matches in his pocket and was momentarily reminded of the boy scout motto, be prepared. There was no way that he could have been prepared for whatever catastrophe had affected everything that he knew in such terrible and indescribable ways.

  Reaching the motorway, he considered his options. The psychos in town had talked about people from the south, but for all he knew they were just as crazy as the people he was running from. He knew there was a much larger city only ten miles to the north, and so he decided to head for that, in search of answers.

  The motorway appeared to be mostly intact, entirely devoid of vehicles, much like the route he had taken into town. The cold was really taking its toll, his shivering becoming uncontrollable as he made his way along the hard shoulder. His feet were like blocks of ice, becoming almost too heavy for him to lift, firing pain up his legs with every step. He imagined that he could feel his mind numbing with the rest of his body, slowing down along with his legs. He stumbled, falling to one knee, barely enough strength left to get back to his feet, but somehow he managed it. His mind kept telling him that it was time to sleep, that he should just lie down and wait for the cold to pass. His stinging eyes seemed to agree with his mind, begging him to close them against the driving snow that he was walking directly into.

  The sun was setting again and Ben could see a forest off to his left, potential shelter from the driving snow. Perhaps he could find somewhere to sleep until the snow stopped. He started to cross the highway towards the central reservation when his frozen legs caused him to stumble again. This time he landed on both knees, and for all he tried, he no longer had enough strength to stand. An undeniable tiredness swept over him, quieting his thoughts of panic at his predicament, bidding him a good night’s sleep. He fell, hands still buried deep in his pockets, face first into the snow. His eyes closed and his breathing slowed as his body drifted into an unnatural sleep.