‘Then what?’
‘You fly to Exeter to refuel and the pilot will decide whether it’s feasible to airlift any survivors out.’
‘And that’s why I came here?’ Tim burst out angrily. ‘What about my wife?’
The major remained adamant. Until they were actually in the hospital he refused to commit himself one way or the other. Had the helicopter been able to land, that might have been a different matter; as things were, like it or not, Tim had to stay on board.
In disgust, Tim pushed the face-mask back into his pocket and sat slumped in his seat, broodily watching the men preparing to jump.
They flew in from the same direction and again hovered for a few seconds just beyond the clump of trees before beginning their descent. Despite the obvious power of those engines and the great turning blades, Tim was only too conscious that the slightest shift in the wind could send them all plunging to their deaths in that sea of jellyfish below.
The soldiers opened the door on the leeward side and two men took up positions there, spraying the ground below with sub-machine guns. Next, they hauled a heavy, close-meshed net over to the entrance and dropped it out in such a way that it spread like a dark cloud as it fell. Its purpose, he knew from what the major had said earlier, was to contain the jellyfish in the immediate area where the men would land, at least until they were properly on their feet. How effective it would be, no one could tell.
‘Go!’ the sergeant yelled, his voice muffled behind his respirator.
The major went first, followed by the others in rapid succession, each man swarming down a rope which reached to within a couple of feet of the ground. Once down there, they spread out ready for their sweep through the jellyfish to get to the hospital. Some now carried rifles, he saw, though two had flame throwers and some were still armed with garden hoes.
Tim pulled on his gloves. No way was he going to be left behind, he decided.
The last man went over the edge. With a wave to the pilot, the sergeant followed him.
‘Hang on! I’m going too!’ Tim bawled above the intolerable roar of the engines.
He paused only long enough to see the two startled faces peering back at him from the flight deck. In a couple of strides he’d reached the door. H swung his legs over the side, grasped the rope and a second later he was swinging freely in the wind, his arms feeling as though they were being dragged out of their sockets.
Hand over hand he went down, trying to grip the rope between his feet to steady himself but not always succeeding. The ground seemed one hell of a long way down — and down he had to go, for there was no chance he’d be able to climb back up into that cabin again, even if he’d wanted to. But then would he make it at all before the pilot found himself forced to regain height? Or before the helicopter crashed, with him directly beneath it?
Despite his gloves he felt his hands slipping on the rope, unable to hold on any longer. He glanced down — and there was the ground, no more than five or six feet below him. He could see the jellyfish wriggling beneath the net.
Tim landed on his hands and knees; unable to steady himself he rolled over, skidding across the slime. Miraculously, he managed to get to his feet, shaken but otherwise unhurt. Only his face was unprotected; without the net to restrain them, one of those tentacles might well have found him.
He looked around. A couple of soldiers glanced back and gesticulated towards him, but then went on, moving cautiously towards the hospital. They clearly had no intention of waiting for him. He was on his own, and with no means of defending himself. His hoe was still in the helicopter which was now soaring far above the trees.
Every step had to be taken slowly and carefully. Through the thick rubber of his waders he could feel jellyfish exploring his ankles. He needed a stick, a spade, anything…
Just beyond the trees, he remembered, was a small building standing on its own. He headed for it, hoping to find something suitable there before attempting the longer walk to the main hospital. The moment it came into sight, he spotted someone signalling urgently from one of the windows.
‘Sue!’
It was unmistakably Sue and she was waving a lighted torch, hoping to attract the soldiers’ attention. They couldn’t see her, that was obvious, from the direction they were facing; nor, inside those anti-gas suits, were they able to hear her calls.
‘Sue!’ he shouted at the top of his voice. ‘Sue! Hold on! I’m coming!’
Trying to hurry, he almost fell face down in the midst of a cluster of five jellyfish which had gathered hungrily in his path. He had to force himself to slow down again. Before each step he had to be quite certain the ground was firm under his foot.
‘Tim, don’t go round the front!’ she screamed. ‘Tim, they’re everywhere! In the corridor, coming up the stairs — oh, God! Oh, I’m glad you’re here!’
Beneath the window was a small lean-to shed; against the wall next to it were half a dozen plastic milk crates and — to his relief — a stoking shovel.
‘OK, I’m coming up through the window!’ he called back to her. ‘Sue — I love you! It’s going to be all right!’
A look of astonishment replaced the hysteria on her face. Then she laughed. ‘Oh, you are an idiot, Tim! What a time to say it! But I do love you too!’
Jellyfish were crowding around his feet, almost willing him to make a false move. He spotted one on the lean-to roof as well, but pushed it off the far side with his shovel. Clearing a space among those on the ground — slicing a couple in half for good measure — he arranged the milk crates against the side of the shed and climbed up.
The shed roof sagged alarmingly beneath his weight but somehow he managed to scramble over it. Sue grasped his arms to help him through the window.
‘Oh, Sue, thank God I found you!’
He took her in his arms, holding her close. His heart went out to her as he took in the smashed door held shut by a cupboard pushed up against it, the long knife strapped to the broom handle, its blade glowing green with jellyfish slime, and the sick child wrapped in a blanket on the desk. She must have been through hell, he thought, and it wasn’t over yet.
‘Tim — the window!’
She broke away from him and reached for the knife. Across the sill over which he had just come lay one of the most beautiful jellyfish he had yet seen. Its delicately-patterned red-and-pink body pulsated gently as though it were preening itself.
‘Where did that come from?’
Sue was too busy to answer. She held her broom handle like a halberd and skilfully sliced the jellyfish in half, prodding at the wriggling remains in order to push them outside.
‘I hate them!’ she exclaimed passionately. ‘Why have they come here? What have we done wrong?’
A second jellyfish dropped down on to the window-sill, and then a third.
‘They’re coming from the roof!’ Tim cried. ‘Bloody hell, how many more?’
He struggled to pull the window down while Sue did her best to keep them at bay with the knife, cutting into them, chopping off those waving tentacles and trying to shove them outside again, although several pieces fell into the room. At last he managed to get the window down until it jammed, leaving a gap of about four inches at the bottom.
It was then, looking around for something he could use as a weapon, that he noticed another jellyfish squeezing itself in through a crack at the foot of the door. Through the gaping hole left by the broken glass dozens of jellyfish were to be seen piling up outside the door, one on top of the next, the whole mountain of them quivering as if in anticipation of the food on the inside.