‘Nu-uh,’ May said. ‘There aren’t any insects in Antarctica. Nothing but penguins, remember.’
‘We’ll find out soon enough.’ Dad moved on towards the staircase.
On the first floor, one side of The Hub had a circular table with four computers on it. The other side was kitted out with a couple of treadmills, some weights, and gym equipment.
‘Where is everyone?’ May whispered. ‘This is proper creepy.’
‘No it isn’t.’ Mum spoke loudly, trying to break the atmosphere.
‘Dr Reeves is right,’ Dima agreed. ‘Everything will be horror show.’
‘What does that even mean?’ May asked. ‘You keep saying it, “horror show”, and, honestly, it doesn’t sound good.’
‘Hmm? Oh, khorosho?’ Dima chuckled. ‘It is Russian. It means “fine”. Everything is fine.’
‘Yeah, well it doesn’t sound like it,’ May muttered.
‘What we need is power,’ Mum said. ‘We need light and we need heat. It’s already cold in here, and it’s only going to get colder.
‘I’ll second that.’ Dad raised his eyebrows at Dima, waiting for his agreement.
‘Da. Sure.’ Dima shrugged. ‘We’ll go and look at the generators, see if we—’
Screeeeee!
A screeching, tearing sound came from somewhere outside. Sudden and sharp, it broke through the quiet like a scream.
‘Oh my God.’ May was the first to speak. ‘What… was that?’
Screeeeee!
It was the shriek of metal being twisted and ripped apart. This time it went on for longer. Zak and May stared at each other, both of them with their eyes wide like they were going to pop right out of their heads.
‘My plane!’ Dima snapped into action, breaking away and sprinting for the stairs. His torch beam bobbed about, jittering through the darkness in a jerking, confusing flicker of light.
‘Wait,’ Dad called after him, but Dima was already thumping down the spiral staircase.
‘Come on; stick together,’ Dad said, but before they had taken more than a few steps, they heard a sharp yelp followed by a series of bumps.
When they found Dima, he was lying on his back at the bottom of the stairs, not moving. His torch had rolled under the table and was shining across the floor in a cone of white light that illuminated him on one side, and threw his shadow across The Hub on the other.
Mum and Dad went straight to him, but May and Zak stayed at the bottom of the staircase, staring.
‘Is he dead?’ Zak wondered.
‘Of course not,’ said May. ‘He can’t be. Can he?’
Mum checked Dima over while Dad shone his torch at him. The pilot’s face was a mask of blood. It was everywhere. Running down his coat, on his hood, on the floor… everywhere.
‘Where’s it all coming from?’ Dad’s breath was like mist in the torchlight.
‘I don’t know. I can’t see a thing.’ Mum held out her torch. ‘May, get some paper napkins from the table.’
May hesitated.
‘Quickly!’
She grabbed Mum’s torch and ran across The Hub, snatching up one of the napkin dispensers. When she returned, Mum pulled out a handful and patted them on Dima’s face to soak up the blood. The napkins were drenched through in seconds, and Mum dropped them on to the floor with a disgusting wet splotch that made Zak’s stomach heave.
She grabbed another handful. ‘Shine the torch here,’ she said to Dad and May, who stood over her like lampposts. ‘And here…’ She worked her way around Dima’s face until she found the large gash on his forehead, then she wadded a pile of napkins together and pressed them hard against the wound.
As she did it, Dima opened his eyes and blinked in confusion. ‘Moy samolyet,’ he mumbled, before closing his eyes again.
‘A wound like that needs stitches,’ Dad said. ‘Or glue, or something. We need a first aid kit.’
‘What we need,’ Mum said, ‘is some power. I can’t see a thing and it’s getting colder by the minute. If we don’t get the generators working, this wound won’t matter; we’ll all free—’
‘Evelyn.’ Dad cut her short but Zak knew what she had been about to say. We’ll all freeze to death. That was the truth of it. It was minus forty degrees outside, and getting colder inside by the minute. They needed heat and light or they were going to die.
Zak stared at Dima, caught in the torch beams like he was under lights on an operating table. Beside him, Mum’s hands were covered in blood as if she was in the middle of some kind of crazy surgery. The sight of it made him sick. It made him think of mad doctors (Zak Reeves? Ah yes, it’s time for your operation. Come along, this won’t hurt a bit…) and sinister hospitals, and the awful thing growing inside his head. It made him think of the electric bone saw he’d seen on TV when he’d walked in on May watching Re-Animator with her friends. It made him think of pain and dying.
And as all those things tumbled through his mind, an ache began behind his right eye, and pulsed across the top of his head.
The ache squeezed and relaxed, squeezed and relaxed, growing more intense. Zak put a hand to the side of his head, where a scar was barely visible beneath his short, dark hair. He traced a finger along the ridge of scarred skin, then a sudden, intense pain seared through his mind. In an instant, the world fell away into nothing. He was hanging in the air over an infinite black sea, its surface shimmering like an oil slick. His ears were filled with the clicking and rustling of endless movement.
This isn’t happening. Zak squeezed his eyes shut. This isn’t happening. He shook his head and opened his eyes to see he was back in The Hub. Mum and Dad were there, Dima was on the floor, and May was standing close by.
But they weren’t alone.
The figure was back. The explorer. It stood beyond the reach of the torchlight, head shrouded, face hidden, eyes covered by those creepy goggles. As Zak watched, the figure raised its right hand and extended it towards him. Its mouth moved beneath the balaclava, and in that moment, Zak was certain the shrouded figure was Death.
Not now, Zak thought. It can’t end here. Not like this. I’m not ready. We need lights and warmth and for everybody to be OK because it’s just supposed to be me and—
And in a blink the figure was gone. It didn’t fade; it disappeared as if it had never been there. The pain in his head switched off, and there was a flicker of light from the ceiling.
Once.
Twice.
Then, in a blaze of light and a blast of warmth, the power came back on across Outpost Zero.
7
JANUARY ISLAND, SOUTH CHINA SEA
17 HOURS AGO
The Broker sipped his drink and stared out at the trail of reflected sun blazing across the sea beyond the balcony. Ice clinked in his glass, condensation dripped around his fingers, and the cold water soothed his throat. As he took in the view, he ran through the events that had happened in Costa Rica last week, but his thoughts were brought into focus when a large-screened smartphone lit up on the table beside his wicker chair.
It displayed the word ‘Phoenix’, and began to ring.
The Broker let the phone ring three times before leaning forward to place his glass on the coaster beside it. He was careful to line up the bottom of the glass exactly with the circular pattern on the coaster. When it was done, he dried his fingers on a crisp white napkin and touched the green button.