The Green and Pleasant Land (Book 2): Amidst The Falling Dust Read online

  Four floors down and deep in the centre of the pyramid we reach the lift that will take us down to two hundred feet below the ground to Pendragon Systems state of the art global command centre. A circle of light falls down upon the open sided lift that appears to be just a part of the floor. The light is directed down by a series of cleverly designed mirrors from the pinnacle of the structure to here.

  I usher my companions to stand within the silver circle before going to the operation console. I type in my password. I allow my retina to be scanned. I press my palm against the hand scanner.

  'Welcome Patrick Redmayne, how may I help you?'

  “We want to go down Shiva” says I to the automated building control AI.

  “Of course” replied the metallic sounding female voice. “What killed Arthur?” it asks.

  “Pride” I say before stepping onto the silver disc as it begins to lower into the floor. Trowler looks at me with an eyebrow raised. “A final line of defence, if I am compromised and somehow an infiltrator is able to get me to activate the lift. Pride is the default answer, in the event of a situation then I tell Shiva a sword killed Arthur”.

  “What happens then?” asks the sergeant.

  “Fifty high powered injectors fill the lift lobby with non-lethal, knock-out gas within zero point eight seconds. This renders anyone in the lobby unconscious”. A few seconds of silence pass before Tasker speaks. “What if they're wearing gas masks?” he sounds genuinely intrigued and it's the first time he's spoken to me without sounding like he addressing something being scraped from his shoe.

  “The gas isn't something that you will have heard of before, it can affect you through your skin and is pumped in at such high pressure and speed that it will soak in through the clothing almost as quickly as it would get in to the lungs.” This is food for thought. The journey down takes a couple of minutes and I know as military types they are mulling over this new found weapon that I have unveiled.

  “Was this something that the UK military had access to?” asked Sutton.

  “Not yet” comes my reply as the lift enters the disembarkation lounge. There are things I know which I can share with no other, I have come close a few times. Fortunately the end of our journey is a welcome distraction which ends any further questioning. What the armies of the world often failed to understand is that they were just clients and customers. We built this stuff, we created the demons, they simply unchained them.

  We walk down a short corridor and out onto a balcony which overlooks the command centre. “Shiva, illuminate”. There are several gasps. The command centre is a large underground dome which is nearly a thousand feet in diameter. There are hundreds of screens, some of them sit in small individual consoles, some of them are nearly thirty foot wide. This was the nerve centre, this is where Pendragons board monitored the world, electronic surveillance, drones, satellites, undercover operatives.

  Pendragon Systems was a company built on war, on discord and chaos. They didn't sell people multi billion pound armies in order for them to sit around domestic bases and play tiddlywinks. The company made its money from conflict, so wherever conflict was found there would be the crimson sword and the mailed fist. Such a presence requires a great deal of money, and a great deal of organisation. Hence, the command centre.

  At the centre of the dome there is a raised area surrounded by thick blue glass. It is here we head. The arrogant part of me has surfaced now I am in more comfortable territory. I tell myself that the silence of my comrades is because they are in awe of this place, in awe of what we built.

  The Core houses the primary control boards and it is from here that I begin the lengthy process of trying to establish a satellite uplink. The worry which has dogged me is beginning to fade, I feel less and less like the deceiver, the building still had power, which meant that other things were possible too. The others hover in the background. They are out of their depth and I decline their polite offers of assistance. After much button tapping and several hundred command line instructions I manage to tap into the satellite feed algorithm. It is at this point I am confident in using Shiva to assist.

  “Shiva, display visual confirmation link for Eagle Knight One.”

  “Eagle Knight One visual reply” she echoes in the large room. We all look up expectantly at the large screen in the Core. It stays blank, just the occasional static flash. “Shiva, display visual confirmation link for Eagle Knight Two”.

  “Eagle Knight Two visual reply” says the artificial lady. More empty pixels. We cycle through. Three, four and five yield similar results. After the sixth satellite feed has failed to reveal anything Tasker can no longer bite his tongue.

  “What the pissing hell is going on Redmayne?” he asks eloquently. For a moment or two I consider how to frame the complexities of the satellite system to him in words he will understand. “The uplink was a system which required around the clock monitoring and maintenance. Tiny adjustments to the satellites trajectories and alignments were made in order to keep the uplink functioning. The system has been out of action for too long and is too far out of synch to give any kind of visual feed.”

  “Sounds like bullshit” comes the sneer.

  “Keep trying Patrick” says Trowler.

  We cycle through the next five without any success. We have flown hundreds of miles out of our way, and put ourselves in the position where we may never make it back to the sea going tomb waiting offshore for us. For nothing. It has been futile and only seeks to hammer home just what a waste our every action since the downfall has been, mankind is finished, the dead have risen and this is their time.

  “Shiva, display visual confirmation link for Eagle Knight Twelve”,

  “Visual link confirmation” says the machine in the same tone as she has the previous eleven times. A tone that belies what comes next. There is no static this time, the screen bursts into life and reveals a satellite feed of the ball of rock and gas that is Earth. Data streams down either side of the image, but none of us pay it a single iota of attention. We are transfixed, hypnotized by the cruel brilliance of what we see. This is a picture that will turn in my mind for the rest of my numbered days.

  Thirty seconds later the picture is gone. I try to re-establish. No luck, I work at it for a few minutes, then ten, fifteen, twenty. The next thing I know I have spent over an hour trying unsuccessfully to get the feed back up. In the background I am forced to listen to the mixed reactions of the others. Tasker rages, at me, at the world. Trowler just keeps saying that he doesn't understand while the others are silent, pensive, demon wrestlers. I give up. The chair creaks as I sit back.

  I look around the command centre, I dazzle myself with the lights which cut through the darkness of the dome. Then a thought hits me, it sucker punches my consciousness so hard I nearly fall off the chair. “Shiva, is it dark outside??” I ask frantically.

  “Can you clarify the query?” she asks me with not a hint of panic.

  “Has the sun gone down???”

  “Sunset was twenty two minutes ago” she states.

  “Shiva, switch off all internal and external lights above ground level”,

  “I am sorry Patrick, the manual overrides that you put in place to power the system prevent me from doing so, you will need to use the main junction box in the utility centre to turn off the lights”. I start to run with the others hot on my heels. I am given a taste of Lieutenant Taskers brutal physical strength as he grabs me by the scruff of the neck mid run and pulls me from my feet.

  “Where are you running to?” he bellows.

  “Let go of me you fool” says I which with hindsight was a mistake. The words are barely out of my mouth as the barrel of his weapon presses against my skull. I raise my hands in a placating manner. “Lieutenant Tasker, buildings like this give off a lot of light, which is bad enough, but this building in particular was designed in such a way to maximise the use of that light to create a pillar, a beacon of light which shines high into the sky”.

&n
bsp; “A beacon” whispers Patricia sounding horrified. Deep inside Taskers eyes I see that same horror, though the man masks it with many other hardier emotional constructs. Now we are all running. The lift up is agonisingly slow. The corridors do not seem to end as we race to the utility centre. I locate the physical breakers for the lighting systems and flip all twenty of them down in quick succession. The room goes dark. We breath deep for just a few moments. “Were we in time?” asks Sutton.

  “No” says Trowler from the security console where screens display a feed from the buildings external cameras. We all go over to look despite knowing full well what we will see. There is a line of Cadavers all around the building, with hundreds more joining them every minute.

  Chapter 6, Off to the lakes

  The rattling of empty fuel drums is like a death knell. A gong signalling the cadavers below to be seated for the final meal. Tasker throws down the last empty drum in disgust. “They're inside” says Trowler from the edge of the helipad as if the noise of breaking glass hadn't been enough of an indicator.

  Carlisle had risen. Tens of thousands of crimson eyes which had been aimlessly shuffling through the streets several miles away had looked up from their activities when the light went up. The Sword of Pendragon, as it had been known, had been the cause of much controversy and conflict between the company and the people who lived there. Some saw it as a welcome symbol of a thriving British industry and a company which supplied thousands of local jobs. Others saw it as ostentatious light pollution. The cadavers saw it as the dinner bell and had flocked towards the light.

  “Stefan Kessler” the thought comes to me suddenly.

  “What about him?” says Tasker.

  “He, and several other top execs had access to the secure underground car park, he drove a bomb proof Rolls Royce with bullet proof windows, he drove the kind of car that we might be able to get out of here in”.

  “Keys?”

  “His office, on the penultimate floor, just below the board room.” We sprint down the stairs. As I go I look down and far below I can see shadows dancing within the low level emergency lighting. The cadavers were shambling their way up to meet us.

  Stefan's office is opulent. I am reminded that no matter how high I thought I might have risen within Pendragon I was still a long way from a top spot that I would never see. The paintings on the walls were not replicas and the carpet underfoot was as expensive as it felt. Three of the walls were glass, the fourth was home to book shelves and a door which led to the CEO's private bathroom suite.

  We ransacked drawers and upturned ornaments looking for the keys, but they stayed hidden or were not there. Tasker was becoming angry. He smashed the butt of his gun through a glass tabletop for no other reason than to apparently try and alleviate some of the rage, it did not work.

  I was not immune to the feeling, after going through the empty drawers of Stefans three hundred year old, gold inlaid oak desk, for about the tenth time, I slammed my fist down on the unforgiving surface in frustration. I was surprised when I looked up to see a face looking back at me from Stefans computer monitor, the face was that of the man in whose chair I sat.

  “Patrick?” said the figure with a slight Scandinavian twang to his voice. The fifty seven year old looked in remarkably good health, he was well groomed and dressed in an expensive looking suit, I could make out little of his background, though I was certain that I could see shadows shifting slightly behind him.

  “Mr Kessler” I returned his greeting. The others came running as soon as they heard the voice from the speakers. “Patrick” said my former CEO in a friendly tone “What are all these people doing in my office?”

  “Trying to survive Mr Kessler...sir, where are you?” I ask still in disbelief at what I am seeing. “Far away Patrick, far away and safe”.

  “Well that's good to hear sir, I wish that the same could be said of us, Edenpark has been infested Mr Kessler, we are in here looking for the keys to your car in order that we might escape?” The blond billionaire mulls this over thoughtfully.

  “My heart, my heart goes out to you Patrick, truly it does...but survival, survival is not for everybody my boy, sometimes it is easier to accept your fate, in times such as these, really there is no escape.” I do not get a chance to respond. I have felt his hot breath coming over my shoulder the whole time and after what was just said there will be no containing him.

  “Well bugger you very much Mr CEO but some of us want to survive anyway if it's all the same to you, so be a good chap and tell us where the god damn keys are would you?!” Tasker almost screams into the webcam and covers the screen in spittle as he does so.

  “And who are you?” says Kessler apparently unphased by Taskers rage.

  “Lieutenant Tasker, British Army”

  “Ah, a military man, well I am sorry to hear that your brave endeavours are coming to an end, perhaps you should turn that weapon on yourself, after putting your comrades out of their misery first yes?” I can scarce believe that I am hearing, Stefan Kessler had always seemed like a mild mannered compassionate man. Despite his calm smiling demeanour there was no mirth or mercy about what he was saying, he seemed to be speaking to us in the same way that a scientist would address a lab rat.

  “Mr Kessler,”

  “Yes Patrick,”

  “Eight years ago on a company retreat in Eastern Europe we went white water rafting on the Danube, do you remember that sir?” Stefan nods.

  “You will recall that you fell from the raft and struck your head. By the time you came to you were in the hospital, do you remember that also sir?” Again he nods.

  “Stefan, I was one of the people who jumped in, I helped pull you from the water, I pressed my mouth to yours and I literally breathed life back into your body”. I let the silence hold for a moment or two before adding “That sir, was an act of compassion.” I do not need to elaborate, he gets the point, I just hope it is enough. I hear several voices from the background on his end of the transmission and Stefan appears to be listening and nodding to someone off camera.

  When he looks at me again the smile is gone and a slight frown furrows that surgically perfected brow. “In the private bathroom there is a towel cupboard. The wall at the back is false, behind it is a ladder which goes down to an escape tunnel which leads out to the hills well beyond Edenpark.” The others move straight away. I sigh a relieved sigh which is cut short by the banging on the office door. They have arrived.

  “Thank you sir, goodbye and I hope to see you again one day”, the smile is back on Stefan's face but he shakes his head at my statement. Just as I make to move away he speaks. “Patrick” he calls.

  “Yes sir?”

  “Fey Le Nar raen” he says before the screen goes dark. I carry my confusion with me as I reach the bathroom, see the broken panels at the back of the towel cupboard and follow my comrades down the ladder which leads into the gloom of the escape tunnel.

  There is a light on the horizon as I exit the tunnel into some hills just to the north of Edenpark. The site is far away, yet I can still see the terrain around it shifting slightly as the cadaver swarm ebbs and flows around the pyramid. The tunnel had been long and dark but the passage was smooth and well built. I tripped and stumbled under my own steam not because of any architectural flaws in Kessler's escape route.

  The others did not wait for me, I was not surprised, I could hear them getting further and further ahead the whole way up the tunnel but I did not call out, I would not shame myself any further. There is relief as I see them sitting waiting for me as I emerge, the relief does not last, as soon as I am in the open they are on their feet and start surging down the hillside towards a nearby farmhouse. Thanks for the rest guys.

  Edenpark was a revelation on more than one level. Pendragon Systems was a progressive company, it did not believe in standing still or having its progress come about as a reactionary measure. Pendragon wanted to control the market, to control the scenario. I'd always been a supporter of thi
s proactive approach, but the events of the past day led me to question whether or not the lines had become blurred. Stefan Kessler and his company seemed to have been remarkably well prepared for an apocalyptic nightmare which no one, apparently, had seen coming.

  I shiver as I stand under a tiny canopy on the side of one of the farms outbuildings. The rain pours steadily down the corrugated corridors and splashes noisily at our feet. Across the way Tasker and Trowler are fiddling with the engine of a run down looking Range Rover. Patricia, Mark and Daniel stand with me, they do not seem to be shivering, but all of us are silent, alone with our thoughts. Any attempt at conversation is struck down, for all I know we are all standing here thinking the same thing but we're just too afraid to broach the subject.

  Or perhaps it's just me, perhaps I alone am worried and filled with fear, perhaps they are stoically staring out at the rain and thinking of successes to come, planning a way out of the mire. Perhaps not. But I am not yet dead, and will not be reaching into anyone's brain to seek out their thoughts any time soon.

  There comes a throaty rumble from the car. Trowler gives us a thumbs up, Tasker pays us no heed at all, I honestly don't think it would make any difference to him if we came along or not.

  The vehicle is cramped. We still carry a fair amount of munitions and supplies, gun barrels dig painfully into peoples ribs, boxes of ammo weigh heavily on our feet and will lead to a numbness that the rest of the body would envy if it knew what other kind of fates might be in store.

  We drove to the top of the drive which leads out on to the main road. I volunteered to open the gate, once the vehicle was through I closed it back up and jumped in the car. Tasker was scowling, the others had grins painted on their weary faces.

  “What?” I ask of the amused collective.

  “Felt the need to close the gate eh old chap” says Mark Kirby.

  “Ah” said I realising the source of their mirth “Old habits die hard”