Primeval fic: Through the fair (Part Two)
Part one
The factory was a typical one storey metal construction with a couple of temporary office buildings set to one side. The explosion had ripped out much of one side leaving a tangle of metal, concrete and broken glass. Smoke billowed from the wreckage but there were no visible flames. Thank god for that. His men, and Abby, who had now acquired a heavy-duty assault rifle, fanned around the building. There was no sign of any occupants. Leaving a guard outside Becker led the way into the factory.
There was no need to break in. Becker simply stepped over the rubble and he was inside. Once past the initial wreckage, which seemed, so far as he could tell, to be the result of some sort of pressure build-up in the pipes rather than any sort of incendiary charge, the bulk of the structure was still intact and, at least for the moment, seemed in no danger of falling down. Initially clouds from fallen plasterboard made breathing difficult but luckily the dust was only a problem near the blast site itself. Jackson took his right hand side, Abby followed slightly behind. Becker badly wanted to tell her to go back but knew it would be a wasted effort.
The electrics had been burnt out, and away from the open wall the central corridor of the building was dark except for the uneven light from rooms set to either side. Jackson had a torch but they only needed it for a short while. Within minutes there came a familiar flickering glow casting shadows. Rounding a corner into what had obviously been some kind of a processing lab they saw the anomaly itself.
It was about eight foot high by six foot across and hovered perhaps a foot off floor level.
In silent assent they skirted around the walls of the room but there was still no sign of any occupants. There were, however, dozens and dozens of empty cages of the kind used to transport animals but made of plastic rather than metal. Of course, thought Becker, anything magnetic would have been swept away immediately in an enclosed space with an anomaly of that strength and size.
“So this is what all the fuss is about. It’s like something from a film,” said McLachlan who was last to enter the room. This was his first anomaly and the look of wonder on his face made it obvious that as far as he was concerned it was thing of beauty.
“Don’t be fooled by the pretty, they’re fickle bitches, and liable to spit out all kinds of dangerous crap,” warned Jackson, motioning with an arm that his colleague was to stay back.
McLachlan nodded but it was clear he didn’t really comprehend just how dangerous a doorway the glittering mass could be. He’d learn.
“Do we go through?” asked Abby. Her blonde hair had picked up the light and framed her pixie face with an otherworldly glow. Becker was grateful that she’d asked and hadn’t simply gone haring off as he replied in the negative.
“Not yet. We need to look around here properly first. You get the creatures from the truck and the anomaly closing equipment so we can set that up ready to be used. Jackson and I will carry on checking the rest of the factory. McLachlan can stay and watch over the anomaly.”
He gripped McLachlan’s arm to make the point. “Listen, Rob, if there’s any change in the anomaly, it starts to flicker, or if something or someone comes out of it, you call for backup. Otherwise stay quiet. If there is anything lurking in the rest of the building we don’t want to alert it too easily to our presence.”
Abby had already disappeared before Becker finished speaking. Leaving McLachlan to guard the site, Becker followed Jackson out the glowing room and back into the central corridor. Jackson kept his torch switched on as they went, swinging its beam slowly and methodically from side to side, ceiling to floor, so that if there was something of importance to find they wouldn’t miss it.
Some of the side rooms had natural light but the main processing areas had been built without windows or skylights. Fear of industrial espionage, Becker supposed, he knew that many successful companies kept their recipes and production processes firmly under wraps. There were security cameras at regular intervals. That didn’t surprise him either. They already knew that Farley was paranoid about intruders.
At first the only sound was of their footsteps as they walked slowly along the building. After a while these were joined by a low thrumming sound that became louder as they went. It sounded like an emergency generator, suggested Jackson. Becker agreed. It would be unlikely that a manufacturing facility like this would have made no provision for sudden fluctuations in power.
The rooms in this part of the building seemed to be part of the main preparation and cooking process and contained large stainless steel machines fitted with conveyor systems. They were standing idle but piles of trays and catering trolleys lined the walls ready for use. Becker was beginning to wonder if he had made a mistake and they should have gone through the anomaly when there was the sudden unmistakable crack of a gun being fired and a cry cut off abruptly.
He pushed past Jackson and ran towards the sound. These rooms were the main kitchens themselves. The stench of burnt animal flesh was strong enough to block out the acrid smell of smoke from the initial explosion. Two of the three giant industrial vats had burst their lids and bubbled and frothed with an unattractive and pungent yellowy green sludge. Becker suppressed an urge to heave as he ran across the room, slipping and sliding on the puddles of spilt liquid as he crossed the tiled floor guided only by the bouncing light of the torch Jackson was carrying as he followed.
They found them in what appeared to be an office. This room had windows, thank goodness. Connor was tied to an old-fashioned wooden chair. Danny was sprawled sitting with his back against a wall holding his pistol in both hands. They were both spotted with droplets of the green muck. On the floor between them was the body of a man lying face down on the floor. Blood formed an uneven puddle from beneath the crumpled folds of his suit. It was clear from his unnatural stillness that he was dead.
Quinn had automatically raised his gun and pointed it in the direction of the new arrivals but dropped the barrel downwards when he who saw who it was. “You took your time,” he complained. “Where’s the rest of the cavalry?”
“Didn’t want to deprive you of your chance to shine,” replied Becker, focusing his attention on Connor. “The others are keeping an eye on the anomaly. Are you hurt, Conn?” he asked, unable to resist a brief feather kiss to the hollow of Connor’s neck as he knelt to untie the ropes holding Connor captive.
Connor fidgeted in his seat. “No. No, I’m fine. Can you hurry up? Is the anomaly still open? Farley said it rarely stayed open for more than three or four hours at a time. It properly screwed up production, he said, as he needed to empty the factory immediately each time it was expected to appear. He wanted to know if there was something to control it.”
“I take it Farley’s the man on the floor?” asked Becker. He was working with a knife on the cords trying Connor’s wrists. “For goodness sake, stop moving or I’ll end up cutting you.”
He felt obscurely flattened by Connor’s lack of welcome but brushed it aside to get on with the job. This wasn’t exactly the place for tender caresses.
“Sorry,” said Connor, not sounding it, but obediently holding still while Becker cut the ropes binding his wrists. He seemed to pick up on Becker’s mood. “I’m glad you’re here. I just...I need to get to the anomaly. Are you sure it’s still open?”
“The anomaly’s fine. I told McLachlan to shout if there was any change or activity coming from that direction. Abby’s set up the kit so you can close it as soon as we get you free. Now, is someone going to tell me why there’s a dead man on the floor?”
Quinn supplied the information. “That, as you have probably guessed, is the late and unlamented Mr Farley’s Pasties who did not like people snooping around his factory. He had a nasty way of dealing with intruders which young Connor was shortly going to experience personally.” Quinn paused and regarded the gun he still held loosely in his hand. He seemed in no hurry to move from his position on the floor. Becker considered this but Quinn didn’t seem to be injured so he was probably just being contrary.
Quinn clicked the safety catch on his gun and put it down. He looked over again at Becker and concluded his story briskly. “Edward Farley, owner of Farley’s Forest Pasties, fine foods from the future in case you haven’t yet made the connection. He’d come across a cheap and apparently inexhaustible source of protein and wasn’t about to let it go to waste.”
Becker hadn’t spared the time to think about the cages and their contents but now the pieces fell into place. “Bloody hell!” He paused then added, “Presumably they weren’t that green when they were fully cooked. I hope your digestion’s good.”
“Fuck off,” said Quinn.
Becker couldn’t quite blame him. As Quinn had finished speaking Becker had cut through the last knotted strand on Connor’s wrists and unwound the cords from around the wooden slats of the chair. Once free Connor staggered up, arms windmilling slightly as he tried to get the circulation back, and sprinted out of the room. Becker stared after him.
Quinn finally decided that now would be a good time to get up. He moved to Farley’s body and pressed a finger against the man’s neck, not that there any doubt that he was dead. “No need for a medic.” He sounded strangely unconcerned about the fact he just killed a man. Becker recognised the detachment. The reality of taking a life would hit later.
Abandoning the examination of Farley’s corpse, Quinn looked across at Becker and Jackson. “Time to get going,” he said. “There’s already been one explosion and Farley was definitely nuts enough to have rigged traps around the building.”
“No arguing here. As soon as Connor’s shut the anomaly we’re getting out. You’d better call Lester the moment we get a signal and warn him there’s going to be a major clean-up operation needed and a product recall on health and safety grounds.”
“That’ll go down well,” said Quinn. “This day is turning out just great.”
Becker laughed as he left the room.
*
He expected to be greeted by a team packing up and ready to vacate the premises. Instead the anomaly was still in place, glowing and pulsating, and his forces men and Abby were watching it open-mouthed.
“Where’s Connor?” Becker asked, surprised.
Abby pointed.
*
Becker always felt a frisson of anxiety on occasions he had to jump through these time portals - even when the creatures coming through had given them an approximate time period for reference there was no real clue about what they would find on the other side. If Becker was afraid now it was masked by such an intense feeling of rage that no other emotion had any chance of making its way through. What the hell was Connor playing at? Was he even armed? If he hadn’t got himself killed already Becker was going to fucking kill him as soon as he dragged him back to safety.
Beetle-world, for lack of a better name, could have been in the extreme past or the far future for all Becker knew. It was certainly a bleak place with red sandy soil spotted with what looked like termite hills and wizened trees without leaves. The temperature was summer-warm and the sky a cloudless blue. After the relative darkness of the factory building Becker found himself blinking rapidly against the sudden brightness.
He looked around. There wasn’t much to see, with the only feature a series of nearby cliffs dotted with what appeared to be cave entrances on several levels. There was no sign of Connor but with the landscape flat on the remaining three sides and no visible movement on the horizon Becker turned and headed for the cliffs as his likeliest destination.
Occasional specks of sludge and footprints from Connor’s boots marked the way and told Becker he had guessed right. More worryingly the sands were criss-crossed with other larger prints that most certainly did not belong to human shoes. Fear did come now and a spine-tingling feeling of being watched, though quick glance around still showed no other life forms. Behind him, the anomaly shivered and glimmered in the hot sun. Was that a heat haze or was it the first sign of fading? Becker really needed to find Connor quickly. He started to sprint, his gun thumping heavily against hip and thigh with each stride, mouth too dry to swallow.
He found Connor in the second cave, crouched over a pile of sand and stones. It smelt musty in here, cool and stale with a hint of some unknown animal. Connor looked up at Becker’s arrival but did not pause in whatever it was he was doing. Becker should have felt relieved, but paradoxically the fact that Connor was uninjured and apparently oblivious to the trouble he was causing, added fresh fuel to the rage that previously been subsiding.
Barely aware of what he was doing, Becker stalked over and grabbed Connor by the shoulders roughly pulling him up and round so they were facing each other.
“What the bloody hell do you think you are playing at?” he asked furiously, fingers digging in to prevent Connor’s attempted escape. Connor visibly flinched at this handling but Becker was too far gone to stop. He pushed in deeper, hard enough to bruise, feeling the muscles shift under his thumbs as he held his captive tight. “Well? I’m waiting for an explanation.”
“Let go of me.”
Connor didn’t really do shouting. He talked a lot, often loudly and excitably but when he really meant something he said it simply and without fuss. It acted like a bucket of cold water. Becker immediately dropped his hands and took a step back. He was still angry but the anger was now mixed with shame. Connor looked shaken but determined. Becker didn’t want to imagine what he looked like. He forced himself to speak calmly, “What exactly are you doing, Connor?”
“Looking for proof,” said Connor as if that should mean something. “We haven’t got much time before the anomaly shuts so I have to get on with searching.”
“Proof of what? What’s so important that we’re risking our lives here?”
“No one asked you to come.” However Connor intended it, the words came out sulky and Becker reacted accordingly.
“Don’t be an idiot,” he snapped. “It’s my job to protect you. If you insist on doing something stupid then, yes, someone has to risk their life alongside you.”
“And that person’s you?”
“I wasn’t going to risk anyone else’s life on a whim.”
“Is that what you think of me? That I’m completely stupid and I’m risking your life on a whim?” Suddenly Connor was blinking back tears. He made a move to get past Becker who put a hand out to stop him and then dropped it without making contact.
“Conn!”
Connor sniffled and pulled himself together with an obvious effort. “We don’t have time for this. I’m going to look in the next cave. OK? And, just so we’re clear about it, you’re not my line manager and you don’t get to order me about and tell me what to do. Not here and not now.”
“What exactly are we looking for?” asked Becker, still confused. He forced to himself to focus. He was a trained soldier. He could put his personal feelings aside, at least for the moment.
“Bones,” replied Connor. “Clothing, I don’t know, anything that proves a death.”
“The missing children,” said Becker, finally understanding at least on one level. “But Connor, it’s been years, if they are here then they’re dead and nothing you can do will help them now. It’s not a whim but neither is it worth risking yourself for.”
“No, we can’t help them,” agreed Connor. “But you saw that woman’s face. We can give her proof and some kind of closure. We have to at least try. Professor Cutter would have done it.”
Becker gave up. Unwittingly or not, Connor had come up with the one argument against which no rational defence would hold force. There was nothing he could say about Nick Cutter.
The next two caves were also empty while the fourth had suffered some sort of rock fall that had buried all but the first few metres past the opening. They were in the fifth when Conner spotted a small bundle of clothing and a rucksack lying half buried by fallen soil. They were brushing away the debris when Quinn’s voice became audible, shouting their names. Connor stayed gathering up the pathetic remains while Becker called out to let Quinn know their exact location, moving to stand at the cave entrance so that Quinn would see as well as hear him.
“The anomaly?” Becker asked as soon as he was able to speak without shouting.
“Still there, getting weaker,” said Quinn, running the last few metres that would bring them together. “But that’s not the most pressing of our problems. There’s some hungry-looking bear-like things creeping around this place. Has Connor found anything?”
“Just,” said Becker, adding coldly. “You should have stopped him, Danny.”
“Connor,” shouted Quinn over Becker’s shoulder and into the cave. “We need to get out of here.” He dropped his voice so that only Becker could hear. “You’re right. I should maybe have guessed and stopped him or gone instead of him but that’s between Connor and me and not you and me. Keep your relationship out of this.” He raised his voice again as Connor approached. The tiny rucksack still speckled with dirt was slung was over one shoulder, clothes haphazardly gathered in his hands. “Whatever you’ve found, Connor, that’ll have to be enough. There’s no time for more searching. Push everything into the rucksack as you’ll need your hands for shooting. Lots of nasty beasties around.”
“Bugs?” Connor looked doubtful but he did as requested, slinging the now bulging rucksack back over his shoulder before taking the weapon Quinn was holding out to him.
Quinn laughed. He was always at his best in a crisis. “You wish! No, these are definitely more on the large carnivorous side of the food chain and they’re not too happy about intruders messing about in their caves. I’m hoping we can fire a few rounds and scare them off. You go first, just run as fast as you can towards the anomaly and fire at anything you see moving. Becker and I will follow.”
The words were followed by a push to the back and Connor took off. Becker looked at Quinn who laughed again in honest enjoyment. “What? You can go last, if you want. Hero isn’t in my job description.”
Quinn raised his assault rifle and fired off a couple of rounds across the mouths of the caves. “That should hold them!” he grinned and started running.
Becker took a final glance into the interior of the cave, not sure what he was looking for and not finding anything anyway, before following. Quinn’s shot seemed to have galvanised the hidden cave beasts rather than put them off and he was conscious of the echo of running feet dogging his footsteps. He caught up with Quinn who had in turn caught up with Connor who was a slower runner than either. The anomaly was definitely flickering now. Becker grabbed Connor’s wrist not caring if it hurt from where the ties had been earlier and pulled him along to gain a few extra seconds. They fell through the portal, still attached, staggering and dropping to their knees at the sudden change in floor level. As Becker let go of his hold Connor was already pulling away.
“Close it before it closes itself or something comes through,” urged Becker, spinning round still on the floor and preparing to shoot.
Quinn jumped through followed by a bear-like paw that quickly retreated following a flurry of shots from Jackson who was stationed nearest the anomaly edge.
Connor scrabbled over to the where the closing apparatus was set up and ready and pressed a couple of buttons. Suddenly the anomaly was no longer there.
“Is that it?” asked McLachlan. “Pushing buttons was all it took to close the sucker? Where are all the sabre-toothed tigers and dinosaurs I was promised? Two crates of bugs and a hairy arm aren’t exactly what I signed up for.” He made no effort to hide his disappointment. Apart from the gate-crash it had clearly all been a bit anti-climactic for his taste.
“Not much to look at, huh?” agreed Quinn. He paused to catch his breath. “But like the TARDIS it’s bigger on the inside and full of monsters and magic. Maybe next time you’ll get lucky with a T Rex.”
The two Special Forces men present who had had the experience of getting lucky with a T Rex made it clear that once was enough. There followed some good-natured ribbing.
The fact that Connor didn’t even acknowledge the Dr Who reference told Becker all he needed to know about his partner’s mood. Abby was hovering looking concerned, but after a few searching stares between the two of them had the good sense to keep quiet. She began dismantling the anomaly equipment since Connor was making no move to do so.
“The rucksack, Conn,” Becker prompted. “What did you want to do with it?”
“I - the office. I need to put it in the office. There’s a filing cabinet. I know the way.”
“I’ll come with you,” said Becker.
“No.” Quinn had somehow put himself between them. “I’ll go with Connor. You clear up here. We’ll meet you back at the trucks.”
Connor looked between them, clearly torn.
“Go with Danny,” said Becker turning away. “You’re on his team, after all.”
So it was Quinn and Connor, rather than Becker and Connor, who received the full force of the final explosion when the last two tanks of half-cooked entrails burst their metal bounds. Luckily the contents were no longer boiling. Becker supposed he should feel a certain satisfaction in the result. The Special Forces men certainly found it hilarious. Becker just really wanted to go home.
*
The ARC, when they finally reached it, was as quiet as a major research facility ever got, with only the night teams and general security remaining on duty, plus Lester, who chose his own hours and who was standing by the railings over the central atrium presiding over the return of the last of his bedraggled troops. The gate porter had already informed Becker that Abby and her team had finished their debriefings and departed for home about 30 minutes earlier. Danny and Connor shuffled stiffly off towards the locker room while Becker made his way up the ramp to where Lester waited for him to make his report.
“Problematic,” Lester observed.
“Not to mention messy.” It was a lame response at best and fell flat under Lester’s total non-reaction. Becker moved swiftly onto his account of the day. Of course Lester knew all this already anyway from Jenny and Abby and from Danny’s initial phoned report but he was a stickler for the formalities. So was Becker if it came to that. He summarised the day briefly and without emotion:
“The anomaly was closed successfully and all creatures safely returned or otherwise accounted for. There were no ARC casualties. We have one confirmed death, Edward Farley, although Farley confessed to being responsible for at least five other killings on the site. No further bodies were found. There is, however, material evidence that will link him to at least some of the missing children. The remainder of the damage is property related.”
Lester’s hands tightened on the railing so the knuckles showed white. He gave a humourless laugh. “So a modern day Sweeney Todd has been running an anomaly-aided savoury pie factory in the middle of Warwickshire but it’s no longer a problem because you’ve blown up the evidence?”
“It blew up before we got there,” Becker corrected him. Lester gave him a sideways glare and he continued hastily, “Otherwise, you’ve pretty much got it in one.”
“Just once I wish we could make the omelette without breaking the eggs,” Lester complained, adding bitterly, “It really doesn’t help with the insurance premiums.”
There was a pause and Becker wondered if he should go. “Anything else you want to add?” asked Lester without looking at him.
“No,” said Becker firmly. He had a good idea what else Abby and Jenny’s personal reports might have included but he had no intention of discussing it now.
“Very well, you can go,” said Lester dismissing him. “I have a bedtime story I’m already late in reading.”
“Yes. Right. Absolutely,” said Becker, since some sort of response seemed to be called for in the light of this wholly unexpected personal information. Lester had a home life? Who knew. “I’ll just have a word with my men and, um, scramble for the weekend.”
Lester sighed and looked, if it was possible, vaguely disappointed. He turned back to the deserted well where the anomaly detector glowed silently and stared into its depths. “I’ll be expecting a full written report on Monday. Take Scrappy home and try and keep out of trouble at least for a couple of days. The ARC did well today, Becker, all of you. It was the right choice to investigate.”
“Thanks,” said Becker, and surprised himself by adding. “Have a good weekend.”
Lester merely grunted.
*
Part Three
The factory was a typical one storey metal construction with a couple of temporary office buildings set to one side. The explosion had ripped out much of one side leaving a tangle of metal, concrete and broken glass. Smoke billowed from the wreckage but there were no visible flames. Thank god for that. His men, and Abby, who had now acquired a heavy-duty assault rifle, fanned around the building. There was no sign of any occupants. Leaving a guard outside Becker led the way into the factory.
There was no need to break in. Becker simply stepped over the rubble and he was inside. Once past the initial wreckage, which seemed, so far as he could tell, to be the result of some sort of pressure build-up in the pipes rather than any sort of incendiary charge, the bulk of the structure was still intact and, at least for the moment, seemed in no danger of falling down. Initially clouds from fallen plasterboard made breathing difficult but luckily the dust was only a problem near the blast site itself. Jackson took his right hand side, Abby followed slightly behind. Becker badly wanted to tell her to go back but knew it would be a wasted effort.
The electrics had been burnt out, and away from the open wall the central corridor of the building was dark except for the uneven light from rooms set to either side. Jackson had a torch but they only needed it for a short while. Within minutes there came a familiar flickering glow casting shadows. Rounding a corner into what had obviously been some kind of a processing lab they saw the anomaly itself.
It was about eight foot high by six foot across and hovered perhaps a foot off floor level.
In silent assent they skirted around the walls of the room but there was still no sign of any occupants. There were, however, dozens and dozens of empty cages of the kind used to transport animals but made of plastic rather than metal. Of course, thought Becker, anything magnetic would have been swept away immediately in an enclosed space with an anomaly of that strength and size.
“So this is what all the fuss is about. It’s like something from a film,” said McLachlan who was last to enter the room. This was his first anomaly and the look of wonder on his face made it obvious that as far as he was concerned it was thing of beauty.
“Don’t be fooled by the pretty, they’re fickle bitches, and liable to spit out all kinds of dangerous crap,” warned Jackson, motioning with an arm that his colleague was to stay back.
McLachlan nodded but it was clear he didn’t really comprehend just how dangerous a doorway the glittering mass could be. He’d learn.
“Do we go through?” asked Abby. Her blonde hair had picked up the light and framed her pixie face with an otherworldly glow. Becker was grateful that she’d asked and hadn’t simply gone haring off as he replied in the negative.
“Not yet. We need to look around here properly first. You get the creatures from the truck and the anomaly closing equipment so we can set that up ready to be used. Jackson and I will carry on checking the rest of the factory. McLachlan can stay and watch over the anomaly.”
He gripped McLachlan’s arm to make the point. “Listen, Rob, if there’s any change in the anomaly, it starts to flicker, or if something or someone comes out of it, you call for backup. Otherwise stay quiet. If there is anything lurking in the rest of the building we don’t want to alert it too easily to our presence.”
Abby had already disappeared before Becker finished speaking. Leaving McLachlan to guard the site, Becker followed Jackson out the glowing room and back into the central corridor. Jackson kept his torch switched on as they went, swinging its beam slowly and methodically from side to side, ceiling to floor, so that if there was something of importance to find they wouldn’t miss it.
Some of the side rooms had natural light but the main processing areas had been built without windows or skylights. Fear of industrial espionage, Becker supposed, he knew that many successful companies kept their recipes and production processes firmly under wraps. There were security cameras at regular intervals. That didn’t surprise him either. They already knew that Farley was paranoid about intruders.
At first the only sound was of their footsteps as they walked slowly along the building. After a while these were joined by a low thrumming sound that became louder as they went. It sounded like an emergency generator, suggested Jackson. Becker agreed. It would be unlikely that a manufacturing facility like this would have made no provision for sudden fluctuations in power.
The rooms in this part of the building seemed to be part of the main preparation and cooking process and contained large stainless steel machines fitted with conveyor systems. They were standing idle but piles of trays and catering trolleys lined the walls ready for use. Becker was beginning to wonder if he had made a mistake and they should have gone through the anomaly when there was the sudden unmistakable crack of a gun being fired and a cry cut off abruptly.
He pushed past Jackson and ran towards the sound. These rooms were the main kitchens themselves. The stench of burnt animal flesh was strong enough to block out the acrid smell of smoke from the initial explosion. Two of the three giant industrial vats had burst their lids and bubbled and frothed with an unattractive and pungent yellowy green sludge. Becker suppressed an urge to heave as he ran across the room, slipping and sliding on the puddles of spilt liquid as he crossed the tiled floor guided only by the bouncing light of the torch Jackson was carrying as he followed.
They found them in what appeared to be an office. This room had windows, thank goodness. Connor was tied to an old-fashioned wooden chair. Danny was sprawled sitting with his back against a wall holding his pistol in both hands. They were both spotted with droplets of the green muck. On the floor between them was the body of a man lying face down on the floor. Blood formed an uneven puddle from beneath the crumpled folds of his suit. It was clear from his unnatural stillness that he was dead.
Quinn had automatically raised his gun and pointed it in the direction of the new arrivals but dropped the barrel downwards when he who saw who it was. “You took your time,” he complained. “Where’s the rest of the cavalry?”
“Didn’t want to deprive you of your chance to shine,” replied Becker, focusing his attention on Connor. “The others are keeping an eye on the anomaly. Are you hurt, Conn?” he asked, unable to resist a brief feather kiss to the hollow of Connor’s neck as he knelt to untie the ropes holding Connor captive.
Connor fidgeted in his seat. “No. No, I’m fine. Can you hurry up? Is the anomaly still open? Farley said it rarely stayed open for more than three or four hours at a time. It properly screwed up production, he said, as he needed to empty the factory immediately each time it was expected to appear. He wanted to know if there was something to control it.”
“I take it Farley’s the man on the floor?” asked Becker. He was working with a knife on the cords trying Connor’s wrists. “For goodness sake, stop moving or I’ll end up cutting you.”
He felt obscurely flattened by Connor’s lack of welcome but brushed it aside to get on with the job. This wasn’t exactly the place for tender caresses.
“Sorry,” said Connor, not sounding it, but obediently holding still while Becker cut the ropes binding his wrists. He seemed to pick up on Becker’s mood. “I’m glad you’re here. I just...I need to get to the anomaly. Are you sure it’s still open?”
“The anomaly’s fine. I told McLachlan to shout if there was any change or activity coming from that direction. Abby’s set up the kit so you can close it as soon as we get you free. Now, is someone going to tell me why there’s a dead man on the floor?”
Quinn supplied the information. “That, as you have probably guessed, is the late and unlamented Mr Farley’s Pasties who did not like people snooping around his factory. He had a nasty way of dealing with intruders which young Connor was shortly going to experience personally.” Quinn paused and regarded the gun he still held loosely in his hand. He seemed in no hurry to move from his position on the floor. Becker considered this but Quinn didn’t seem to be injured so he was probably just being contrary.
Quinn clicked the safety catch on his gun and put it down. He looked over again at Becker and concluded his story briskly. “Edward Farley, owner of Farley’s Forest Pasties, fine foods from the future in case you haven’t yet made the connection. He’d come across a cheap and apparently inexhaustible source of protein and wasn’t about to let it go to waste.”
Becker hadn’t spared the time to think about the cages and their contents but now the pieces fell into place. “Bloody hell!” He paused then added, “Presumably they weren’t that green when they were fully cooked. I hope your digestion’s good.”
“Fuck off,” said Quinn.
Becker couldn’t quite blame him. As Quinn had finished speaking Becker had cut through the last knotted strand on Connor’s wrists and unwound the cords from around the wooden slats of the chair. Once free Connor staggered up, arms windmilling slightly as he tried to get the circulation back, and sprinted out of the room. Becker stared after him.
Quinn finally decided that now would be a good time to get up. He moved to Farley’s body and pressed a finger against the man’s neck, not that there any doubt that he was dead. “No need for a medic.” He sounded strangely unconcerned about the fact he just killed a man. Becker recognised the detachment. The reality of taking a life would hit later.
Abandoning the examination of Farley’s corpse, Quinn looked across at Becker and Jackson. “Time to get going,” he said. “There’s already been one explosion and Farley was definitely nuts enough to have rigged traps around the building.”
“No arguing here. As soon as Connor’s shut the anomaly we’re getting out. You’d better call Lester the moment we get a signal and warn him there’s going to be a major clean-up operation needed and a product recall on health and safety grounds.”
“That’ll go down well,” said Quinn. “This day is turning out just great.”
Becker laughed as he left the room.
*
He expected to be greeted by a team packing up and ready to vacate the premises. Instead the anomaly was still in place, glowing and pulsating, and his forces men and Abby were watching it open-mouthed.
“Where’s Connor?” Becker asked, surprised.
Abby pointed.
*
Becker always felt a frisson of anxiety on occasions he had to jump through these time portals - even when the creatures coming through had given them an approximate time period for reference there was no real clue about what they would find on the other side. If Becker was afraid now it was masked by such an intense feeling of rage that no other emotion had any chance of making its way through. What the hell was Connor playing at? Was he even armed? If he hadn’t got himself killed already Becker was going to fucking kill him as soon as he dragged him back to safety.
Beetle-world, for lack of a better name, could have been in the extreme past or the far future for all Becker knew. It was certainly a bleak place with red sandy soil spotted with what looked like termite hills and wizened trees without leaves. The temperature was summer-warm and the sky a cloudless blue. After the relative darkness of the factory building Becker found himself blinking rapidly against the sudden brightness.
He looked around. There wasn’t much to see, with the only feature a series of nearby cliffs dotted with what appeared to be cave entrances on several levels. There was no sign of Connor but with the landscape flat on the remaining three sides and no visible movement on the horizon Becker turned and headed for the cliffs as his likeliest destination.
Occasional specks of sludge and footprints from Connor’s boots marked the way and told Becker he had guessed right. More worryingly the sands were criss-crossed with other larger prints that most certainly did not belong to human shoes. Fear did come now and a spine-tingling feeling of being watched, though quick glance around still showed no other life forms. Behind him, the anomaly shivered and glimmered in the hot sun. Was that a heat haze or was it the first sign of fading? Becker really needed to find Connor quickly. He started to sprint, his gun thumping heavily against hip and thigh with each stride, mouth too dry to swallow.
He found Connor in the second cave, crouched over a pile of sand and stones. It smelt musty in here, cool and stale with a hint of some unknown animal. Connor looked up at Becker’s arrival but did not pause in whatever it was he was doing. Becker should have felt relieved, but paradoxically the fact that Connor was uninjured and apparently oblivious to the trouble he was causing, added fresh fuel to the rage that previously been subsiding.
Barely aware of what he was doing, Becker stalked over and grabbed Connor by the shoulders roughly pulling him up and round so they were facing each other.
“What the bloody hell do you think you are playing at?” he asked furiously, fingers digging in to prevent Connor’s attempted escape. Connor visibly flinched at this handling but Becker was too far gone to stop. He pushed in deeper, hard enough to bruise, feeling the muscles shift under his thumbs as he held his captive tight. “Well? I’m waiting for an explanation.”
“Let go of me.”
Connor didn’t really do shouting. He talked a lot, often loudly and excitably but when he really meant something he said it simply and without fuss. It acted like a bucket of cold water. Becker immediately dropped his hands and took a step back. He was still angry but the anger was now mixed with shame. Connor looked shaken but determined. Becker didn’t want to imagine what he looked like. He forced himself to speak calmly, “What exactly are you doing, Connor?”
“Looking for proof,” said Connor as if that should mean something. “We haven’t got much time before the anomaly shuts so I have to get on with searching.”
“Proof of what? What’s so important that we’re risking our lives here?”
“No one asked you to come.” However Connor intended it, the words came out sulky and Becker reacted accordingly.
“Don’t be an idiot,” he snapped. “It’s my job to protect you. If you insist on doing something stupid then, yes, someone has to risk their life alongside you.”
“And that person’s you?”
“I wasn’t going to risk anyone else’s life on a whim.”
“Is that what you think of me? That I’m completely stupid and I’m risking your life on a whim?” Suddenly Connor was blinking back tears. He made a move to get past Becker who put a hand out to stop him and then dropped it without making contact.
“Conn!”
Connor sniffled and pulled himself together with an obvious effort. “We don’t have time for this. I’m going to look in the next cave. OK? And, just so we’re clear about it, you’re not my line manager and you don’t get to order me about and tell me what to do. Not here and not now.”
“What exactly are we looking for?” asked Becker, still confused. He forced to himself to focus. He was a trained soldier. He could put his personal feelings aside, at least for the moment.
“Bones,” replied Connor. “Clothing, I don’t know, anything that proves a death.”
“The missing children,” said Becker, finally understanding at least on one level. “But Connor, it’s been years, if they are here then they’re dead and nothing you can do will help them now. It’s not a whim but neither is it worth risking yourself for.”
“No, we can’t help them,” agreed Connor. “But you saw that woman’s face. We can give her proof and some kind of closure. We have to at least try. Professor Cutter would have done it.”
Becker gave up. Unwittingly or not, Connor had come up with the one argument against which no rational defence would hold force. There was nothing he could say about Nick Cutter.
The next two caves were also empty while the fourth had suffered some sort of rock fall that had buried all but the first few metres past the opening. They were in the fifth when Conner spotted a small bundle of clothing and a rucksack lying half buried by fallen soil. They were brushing away the debris when Quinn’s voice became audible, shouting their names. Connor stayed gathering up the pathetic remains while Becker called out to let Quinn know their exact location, moving to stand at the cave entrance so that Quinn would see as well as hear him.
“The anomaly?” Becker asked as soon as he was able to speak without shouting.
“Still there, getting weaker,” said Quinn, running the last few metres that would bring them together. “But that’s not the most pressing of our problems. There’s some hungry-looking bear-like things creeping around this place. Has Connor found anything?”
“Just,” said Becker, adding coldly. “You should have stopped him, Danny.”
“Connor,” shouted Quinn over Becker’s shoulder and into the cave. “We need to get out of here.” He dropped his voice so that only Becker could hear. “You’re right. I should maybe have guessed and stopped him or gone instead of him but that’s between Connor and me and not you and me. Keep your relationship out of this.” He raised his voice again as Connor approached. The tiny rucksack still speckled with dirt was slung was over one shoulder, clothes haphazardly gathered in his hands. “Whatever you’ve found, Connor, that’ll have to be enough. There’s no time for more searching. Push everything into the rucksack as you’ll need your hands for shooting. Lots of nasty beasties around.”
“Bugs?” Connor looked doubtful but he did as requested, slinging the now bulging rucksack back over his shoulder before taking the weapon Quinn was holding out to him.
Quinn laughed. He was always at his best in a crisis. “You wish! No, these are definitely more on the large carnivorous side of the food chain and they’re not too happy about intruders messing about in their caves. I’m hoping we can fire a few rounds and scare them off. You go first, just run as fast as you can towards the anomaly and fire at anything you see moving. Becker and I will follow.”
The words were followed by a push to the back and Connor took off. Becker looked at Quinn who laughed again in honest enjoyment. “What? You can go last, if you want. Hero isn’t in my job description.”
Quinn raised his assault rifle and fired off a couple of rounds across the mouths of the caves. “That should hold them!” he grinned and started running.
Becker took a final glance into the interior of the cave, not sure what he was looking for and not finding anything anyway, before following. Quinn’s shot seemed to have galvanised the hidden cave beasts rather than put them off and he was conscious of the echo of running feet dogging his footsteps. He caught up with Quinn who had in turn caught up with Connor who was a slower runner than either. The anomaly was definitely flickering now. Becker grabbed Connor’s wrist not caring if it hurt from where the ties had been earlier and pulled him along to gain a few extra seconds. They fell through the portal, still attached, staggering and dropping to their knees at the sudden change in floor level. As Becker let go of his hold Connor was already pulling away.
“Close it before it closes itself or something comes through,” urged Becker, spinning round still on the floor and preparing to shoot.
Quinn jumped through followed by a bear-like paw that quickly retreated following a flurry of shots from Jackson who was stationed nearest the anomaly edge.
Connor scrabbled over to the where the closing apparatus was set up and ready and pressed a couple of buttons. Suddenly the anomaly was no longer there.
“Is that it?” asked McLachlan. “Pushing buttons was all it took to close the sucker? Where are all the sabre-toothed tigers and dinosaurs I was promised? Two crates of bugs and a hairy arm aren’t exactly what I signed up for.” He made no effort to hide his disappointment. Apart from the gate-crash it had clearly all been a bit anti-climactic for his taste.
“Not much to look at, huh?” agreed Quinn. He paused to catch his breath. “But like the TARDIS it’s bigger on the inside and full of monsters and magic. Maybe next time you’ll get lucky with a T Rex.”
The two Special Forces men present who had had the experience of getting lucky with a T Rex made it clear that once was enough. There followed some good-natured ribbing.
The fact that Connor didn’t even acknowledge the Dr Who reference told Becker all he needed to know about his partner’s mood. Abby was hovering looking concerned, but after a few searching stares between the two of them had the good sense to keep quiet. She began dismantling the anomaly equipment since Connor was making no move to do so.
“The rucksack, Conn,” Becker prompted. “What did you want to do with it?”
“I - the office. I need to put it in the office. There’s a filing cabinet. I know the way.”
“I’ll come with you,” said Becker.
“No.” Quinn had somehow put himself between them. “I’ll go with Connor. You clear up here. We’ll meet you back at the trucks.”
Connor looked between them, clearly torn.
“Go with Danny,” said Becker turning away. “You’re on his team, after all.”
So it was Quinn and Connor, rather than Becker and Connor, who received the full force of the final explosion when the last two tanks of half-cooked entrails burst their metal bounds. Luckily the contents were no longer boiling. Becker supposed he should feel a certain satisfaction in the result. The Special Forces men certainly found it hilarious. Becker just really wanted to go home.
*
The ARC, when they finally reached it, was as quiet as a major research facility ever got, with only the night teams and general security remaining on duty, plus Lester, who chose his own hours and who was standing by the railings over the central atrium presiding over the return of the last of his bedraggled troops. The gate porter had already informed Becker that Abby and her team had finished their debriefings and departed for home about 30 minutes earlier. Danny and Connor shuffled stiffly off towards the locker room while Becker made his way up the ramp to where Lester waited for him to make his report.
“Problematic,” Lester observed.
“Not to mention messy.” It was a lame response at best and fell flat under Lester’s total non-reaction. Becker moved swiftly onto his account of the day. Of course Lester knew all this already anyway from Jenny and Abby and from Danny’s initial phoned report but he was a stickler for the formalities. So was Becker if it came to that. He summarised the day briefly and without emotion:
“The anomaly was closed successfully and all creatures safely returned or otherwise accounted for. There were no ARC casualties. We have one confirmed death, Edward Farley, although Farley confessed to being responsible for at least five other killings on the site. No further bodies were found. There is, however, material evidence that will link him to at least some of the missing children. The remainder of the damage is property related.”
Lester’s hands tightened on the railing so the knuckles showed white. He gave a humourless laugh. “So a modern day Sweeney Todd has been running an anomaly-aided savoury pie factory in the middle of Warwickshire but it’s no longer a problem because you’ve blown up the evidence?”
“It blew up before we got there,” Becker corrected him. Lester gave him a sideways glare and he continued hastily, “Otherwise, you’ve pretty much got it in one.”
“Just once I wish we could make the omelette without breaking the eggs,” Lester complained, adding bitterly, “It really doesn’t help with the insurance premiums.”
There was a pause and Becker wondered if he should go. “Anything else you want to add?” asked Lester without looking at him.
“No,” said Becker firmly. He had a good idea what else Abby and Jenny’s personal reports might have included but he had no intention of discussing it now.
“Very well, you can go,” said Lester dismissing him. “I have a bedtime story I’m already late in reading.”
“Yes. Right. Absolutely,” said Becker, since some sort of response seemed to be called for in the light of this wholly unexpected personal information. Lester had a home life? Who knew. “I’ll just have a word with my men and, um, scramble for the weekend.”
Lester sighed and looked, if it was possible, vaguely disappointed. He turned back to the deserted well where the anomaly detector glowed silently and stared into its depths. “I’ll be expecting a full written report on Monday. Take Scrappy home and try and keep out of trouble at least for a couple of days. The ARC did well today, Becker, all of you. It was the right choice to investigate.”
“Thanks,” said Becker, and surprised himself by adding. “Have a good weekend.”
Lester merely grunted.
*
Part Three