Chapter Seven

The Journal of Jay O’Connor:

The Tower

Back at the Rendezvous, in the communal room, we had what I suppose you could call a “council of war”. Feelings were running high, and no one could be blamed for that. After all, there’d been new hope when the microlight made its appearance, even if, to my mind, there’d been little real chance of rescue. I think everyone really knew that. It was just the prospect of seeing new faces, of having new people to share experiences with; just the knowledge that others had been able to make it on their own and get this far in New Edmonville without having fallen prey to the living dead and the Vorla. To have it all dashed by the appearance of what seemed to be a tribe of wild kids who only wanted to get over here and do God knows what.

No one could forget the sight of that one adult; the guy who had thrown the young girl into the Chasm. Maybe he’d given instructions about throwing stones, or making direct contact, or maybe he just did it for the hell of it. Whatever, it was this act that convinced everyone of the tribe’s hostile intentions. No one thought they wanted to come over and share polite conversation. Fortunately for us, the fissure between their side and ours was wide enough to ensure that they couldn’t come over and visit.

“Know what I think they want?” asked Alex.

Everyone looked at him.

“I think they want everything we’ve got. Food, fuel, everything.”

“Those kids didn’t look scrawny,” said Annie. “For the most part they looked pretty well fed. Maybe they’ve got more over there than we’ve got here.”

Lisa laughed derisively. “Maybe they’ve come to share what they’ve got with us.”

“The man,” I said. “The big fella. I think his body language told us everything we wanted to know. I think dropping the girl over the side was supposed to tell us something about what they have in mind.”

“Why haven’t we heard or seen any of them before?” asked Annie. “I mean, it’s been nearly a year now. And there’re plenty of them. Why suddenly show their faces after all this time? There’s been enough going on over here to let them know that there were survivors on this side.”

We talked everything through, looked at it from every angle imaginable. But, as in the past when considering the bloody strange things that happened in New Edmonville, we ended up talking in circles and getting no nearer any of the answers. We did agree on one thing. In the morning, we’d head back to that cliff-edge and try to make contact again, if that was possible. If they were still there. At the very least, we could show them that they weren’t the only ones capable of making threatening noises. Perhaps it wasn’t such a positive plan, but we couldn’t think of anything better. The generators had been checked, the floodlights and streetlamps were illuminating the Rendezvous in preparation for the night. We were all set to take our worries to bed when the noises began.

Gordon was the first to hear something, pausing just ahead of Juliet and me on the stairs, on our way to our rooms. At first I thought he was turning back to tell us something he’d just remembered. But by the way he held his hand up and cocked his head I knew that he was listening.

It was a thin and distant clattering, somewhere way outside.

“What the hell was that?” exclaimed Annie.

It came again; the sound of metal on metal, a long way away.

By this time, everyone had heard it, and we hurried back down to the communal room to look out of the window into the darkening sky. Annie was in the kitchen area, peering out, but couldn’t see anything. Now the sounds were coming more frequently. Irregular, erratic. Crashings and clatterings, as if someone were at work in a distant junk-yard.

Moments later, everyone was in the front garden, looking every which way for some sign of what was making the noise. The floodlights and streetlamps made it impossible for us to see anything beyond the immediate area because of the glare.

“Where’s it coming from?” asked Candy.

No one answered. The acoustics in New Edmonville caused constant confusion. Sounds here were sometimes flat and hollow; sometimes they seemed to echo off into the vast greyness for ever. It was as if there was a whole new set of rules about sound. It was impossible to tell where the junk-yard sounds were coming from. They were almost constant now. But, thank God, they didn’t seem to be getting any nearer. Even so, given what I’ve said about the acoustics, this didn’t offer anyone a great deal of comfort.

“The Vorla?” said Juliet.

Again, no one answered. It had been a long time since the Black Stuff had put in an appearance, but that didn’t mean that it wasn’t out there somewhere beyond the lights, swirling all around us and looking for a way in. But this wasn’t the sound that the Vorla usually made. This wasn’t a sea of voices, mumbling and hissing and screeching at us.

“The crops,” said Lisa. “Maybe it’s ruining the crops.”

But that wasn’t right either, because we could see the floodlit area where we’d toiled to raise our own food. There was no sign of the slithering black sea flowing over the furrowed ground.

“What about our new arrivals?” said Alex. Everyone looked at the ruined line of houses on the other side of the street, as if it were somehow going to be possible to see all the way past the park and the ruined apartment block to the cliff-edge where the newcomers had made their intentions so plain.

“Working outside in the night?” I said. “If they’ve managed to survive this far, then they must know all about the Vorla coming out in the dark.”

“Maybe,” said Gordon. “Bonfire.”

“Yeah, I suppose they could have built one,” I said. “The way we did. But I can’t imagine it’s going to make them very comfortable, watching that Black Stuff all around them, waiting for a way to get to them through the light.”

“I’m going to check the generators again,” said Annie.

“Do you need to?” I asked.

“No, but I don’t like that sound. And doing something will just make me feel a little better.”

Alex joined her as we all made our way back into the Rendezvous. When they returned, the noise was a constant banging and jangling. Still distant, but near enough to get everyone’s nerves jangling nonetheless.

It was a bad night for everyone. We all stayed up longer than we’d intended, just for the company. But we’d already talked everything through, and no amount of speculation was going to give us any more answers. Maybe they were just having some kind of wild party out there?

Only Robin managed to get any proper sleep, lying across Lisa’s lap on the sofa. I sat opposite with Juliet, both of us putting away a couple of brandies as we listened to the noises in the night. I watched him sleep; examined his young, innocent face. It brought back images of the Crying Kid. I don’t know why I was still so disturbed about that. The poor little bastard, being driven away. But it still got to me. I looked around for Damon, but he was nowhere to be seen. I was aware of Juliet then, watching me. She gave me a faint, worried smile, and I knew she wanted to ask me what was wrong. But she didn’t, and I was glad, because this was a part of me that I couldn’t understand, couldn’t give any answers for.

Later, when we went to bed, we lay awake in each other’s arms for a long, long time. I’m not even sure if we slept. But the noises just went on and on, as we waited for the darkness to become grey again, and for another day to dawn in New Edmonville. When it did, maybe then we’d have our answers.

 

The buzzing of the microlight woke everyone early.

When Juliet and I made our way down to the communal room, we could see that everyone was already out in the front garden, looking up at the sky. Sure enough, there was that big motorised kite again, circling the Rendezvous; first swooping low as if whoever was flying it was trying to get a better look at us all, and then flipping back up into the sky like he or she was showing off. I couldn’t tell whether the banging metallic noises were still going on or whether the droning of the microlight was covering up the sounds.

“I think it’s time to find out whether our friends were making that noise in the night,” I said.

Everyone was ready. After a night of jangled nerves, we all wanted to discover just what the hell had been going on out there as quickly as possible. This time the microlight was following us as we made our way over the street and past the ruined houses that bordered the park. No one felt inclined to wave or cheer up at it as we made for the cliff-edge. As we picked our way through the ruins, there was no sign that the Vorla had been up to anything in the night. The ploughed-up area where we’d planted seemed okay. Behind us, there was the familiar whining of the generators as Annie switched off the lights. We waited for her to catch up, then we all started off across the park towards the ragged trees on the other side.

The microlight circled and followed.

That was the first time I noticed that something was going on between Damon and Candy. Alex was walking ahead of us; Candy and Damon were at the rear. Then I realised that Alex was deliberately not looking back, as if he didn’t want to see. When I glanced back, Candy and Damon pulled apart. They’d been holding hands. It was a strange sort of reaction, them pulling apart like that. If something was going on between them, then it was going on—and it had nothing to do with me or anyone else. But I did feel bad for Alex. I knew how hard he’d been trying to make everything work between them, and if he knew what was happening now then it was bound to be tearing him apart. But the way Candy and Damon acted when I looked back—it made me feel like I was a disapproving parent or something. If this was what being a leader involved, then they could keep it.

Beyond the trees, the demolished apartment block.

Beyond what was left of the apartment block, the ruined flyover.

Gordon hurried ahead when we reached the pile of rubble that was hiding the cliff-edge. For the first time, as he climbed hand over hand, I realised how much he’d changed since we’d been stranded here. His sleeves were rolled up and I saw with surprise that his skin was tanned, and healthy-looking. Now how was that possible in a world where there was no sun, just the surrounding greyness? Even his hair seemed lighter, the way fair hair is sometimes bleached in constant sunshine. He’d lost a little weight, and was well muscled beneath his shirt. It was the same with Alex when he began to climb. He looked fitter and healthier than I remembered from the time when the ’quake first hit. Hell, it was the same with everyone. Annie had been a little overweight at the beginning; maybe Lisa had even been a little underweight. But now they both looked to be in the same shape, at the same weight and looking really good. I suppose all the physical work we’d had to do, making a life for ourselves here, had been better than any health-training programme. That, and the fact that the luxuries of junk food had been denied us. We were all looking good, and I could see the funny side of it.

Nothing like a good earthquake to get you fit again, I thought, as we all climbed to the top of the mound.

I was the last to see what the others saw as soon as we reached the top of the mound. Everyone stood silently, watching. Now we knew that the junk-yard sounds had been coming from over here, after all.

Our new arrivals had been busy throughout the night.

And quite how they’d managed to do what they’d done, without any interruption from the Vorla, was anybody’s guess.

They had been building a tower.

They were still building it now, and we just stood there and gawped at the little figures who clambered all over its ragged, angular frame.

“What the hell are they doing?” said Alex.

It wouldn’t win any architectural awards, but clearly they’d been working right through the night. Even from where we were standing, we could see that they’d scavenged through the ruins to find every piece of scrap metal or solid wood or iron tubing they could find. They’d begun with some kind of platform made out of heavy-duty pipes, a sort of solid criss-cross frame, maybe thirty or forty feet wide. From there, they’d begun to build scaffolding, lashing ironwork and wood together with ropes and wire. There were cables on all four sides of the tower, anchoring it to the ground. Since we’d seen them on the previous day, and since the construction noises had begun, they’d managed to build their tower up to about eighty or ninety feet. They must have been working hammer and tongs to get it to that height.

“They’re taking a hell of a chance,” said Annie.

I looked at her.

“Well, look at it,” she went on. “They haven’t dug any foundations for it, and they’re no more than twenty feet or so from the cliff-edge.”

“They’ve done it before,” said Alex. “Look at them. They know just what they’re doing.”

“Oh Christ,” said Juliet, and when I looked at her face I knew straight away what she was thinking, and that we knew what they were planning. It brought me out in a cold sweat, and I cursed myself. I should have put two and two together a lot faster than I had.

“The broadcasting mast,” Juliet went on. “Remember?”

There was a shocked silence when everyone else finally got it.

“That’s why we haven’t heard from them before now,” said Juliet. “Because they’ve just arrived, from another crag or a plateau out there. They’ve worked out how to travel, how to get from one cliff-edge to the other. Build a tower like that…”

“Push it over,” continued Lisa. “Across the Chasm to the other side.”

There was no doubt about it. But there was one other little detail that worried the hell out of me. There was no sign of a bonfire, no evidence that our newcomers had made any kind of defence against the Vorla. They had worked right through the night, right next to the edge of the Chasm…and it looked as if they’d had no interference from the Black Stuff. I looked all around the cliff-edge, but couldn’t see anything. I didn’t like this; not one little bit.

“Come on,” I said at last, heading down the mound towards the cliff-edge. “Let’s see if we can at least get through to them.”

The day before it had been as if they’d been waiting for us; all the cheering and yelling and abuse they’d hurled in our direction. Today it seemed that they were too engrossed in what they were doing to notice that we were paying a return visit. It was the microlight buzzing overhead that alerted someone on the ramshackle tower that we were on our way. Were there more kids on the other side than there had been the day before? There seemed to be, hanging or clambering on the tower; lashing ropes and squirming between the scaffolding poles. On the ground, several dozen were working on the base, hanging on the four cables that presumably kept the entire thing from tipping over before it was ready.

The kids on the ground began to make an excited commotion as we approached the cliff-edge, but no one ran to their own edge to make the same threatening noises at us. They were calling back into the ruined houses and buildings behind them. And I knew they were calling the big man whom we’d assumed to be their leader, if only for the reason that he was the sole adult among them.

I was right. It didn’t take long for him to put in an appearance.

He emerged from one of the ruins, surrounded by teenagers. They were clamouring for his attention, pointing across to us. But he ignored them, and with the air of someone who was completely in charge, he just walked slowly through them and around the base of the tower. The kids became quiet, gathering behind him as he moved right up to the cliff-edge. Same black waistcoat, same red belt for a headband. The kids still up on the tower stopped what they were doing and looked down eagerly.

Now this was what you might call a leader.

Snap my fingers, do this. Snap my fingers, do that.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone look as confident as he did.

He just stood there on the edge, waiting for us. The kids were making no noise at all now, just waiting for something to happen.

Suddenly I realised that I was in the lead. So this was it, then? I’d agreed to be the leader of our own bunch, so now it was down to me to say or do something. Right then I didn’t feel very much like I was in charge of anything. Even though it was a couple of hundred feet across to the other side, I could see every detail of the big man. I’d seen that blank expression before, on the streets. This was the kind of dangerous bastard who was so sure of himself he didn’t feel the need to give anything away. There was nothing soft about him. If I had to guess, I’d say that he was into working out; probably long before the ’quake had hit Edmonville.

“Nice job,” I said, pointing up at the tower. Not the best opening line I’ve ever come up with, but right then I was stuck for something to say.

The big man just stood there and looked at me.

“You look like a caring kind of guy,” I said. “Taking it on yourself to look after all those kids. Gives them something to do during the night. Keeps them out of mischief, eh?”

No reaction. He just stood and looked.

“You a scout leader?”

Nothing. But it was clear that the big chief of all these little Indians was trying to stare me out, psych me out. Well, with two hundred feet between us at the moment, it was a game I was prepared to play. Mouthing sweet nothings, or appealing to the possibility of a better nature, seemed like a complete loser from the very beginning.

“Yes, it’s a nice piece of work,” I said, returning my attention to the tower. “Bit lacking on the health-and-safety angle, though. And most of these kids look a little young to be members of the union. Hope you’re not breaking any child labour laws.”

Silence; just that slow, evil smile appearing on his face.

“So…you build it up to…what? Two hundred feet or so. Reinforce it a little more, maybe. Then you cut the four cables that are holding it there. Give it a hard shove, and over she goes. Instant bridge, and party time. Am I right?”

Slowly, the big man raised his hand and pointed at me.

In exactly the same manner as the previous day, he pointed to all of the others on our side. One by one. The threat was unmistakable. They were coming over here to get us.

“You think that’s what’s going to happen?” I asked.

The big man looked back at me, still smiling.

“Wrong,” I said. “Want to know why?”

Nothing.

“Because it’s going to take you another day to get that tower as high and as strong as you need it to be before it can take the impact. I’ve no doubt you’ve tried it all before, and it works. But you see…we’re just not going to let you do that.”

Suddenly, the man flung his arms up to the sky and howled.

It was a wild animal’s cry; savage and full of hate, and mockery. At the sound of it, all the kids behind him began to howl too. The kids up on the tower began yelling and screaming, whooping and banging on the metal poles and the support structures, like they didn’t really care whether the ramshackle thing was going to pitch over into the Chasm or not.

I don’t know whether the big man gave a signal or not, but he must have done, because in the next instant all the kids over there were grabbing up rocks and stones and pelting them over at us. I backed off, trying not to make it look as if I were being chased away—a hard job when you’ve got chunks of concrete and pieces of lead piping dropping all around you.

While the mad tribe howled and shrieked and jeered at us, we made our way quickly out of their throwing range and climbed the rubble mound of the apartment block once more.

“Want to pick another leader?” I asked them all when we reached the top and looked back down. It looked like big party time over there now as they pranced and jumped and leaped all around the big man. He remained still and silent, watching us; even from there trying to psych me out. “As you can see, I’ve got that mad bastard scared shitless.”

“What are we going to do?” asked Candy.

“We’re going to stop them,” I said.

“How?” asked Juliet.

“What goes up,” I said, “can also come down.”

We looked at the microlight circling above us.

When we headed back to the Rendezvous, it followed us all the way.