The Stone Man - A Science Fiction Thriller (22 page)

Sometimes Paul got up to stretch his wobbling legs, and went out into the garden for some air. I found myself listening to my Dictaphone recordings in these breaks. They made me feel strange.

The light from outside dimmed further as the hours passed—we hadn’t opened the blinds, didn’t see any need to—and the late afternoon turned into early summer evening, the sun sitting lower in the sky. Shadows lengthened, and Paul’s pile of matches steadily outgrew my own. I liked playing Blackjack as a rule, but Paul seemed to have a better handle on the tactics than I did, sometimes sticking when I thought it insane and hitting when I thought it meant his certain downfall. More often than not, he turned out to be right.

I was deciding which way to go on a hard sixteen (Paul was the dealer on this one, with an upcard of nine showing) when we both became aware of a sound from outside. It was low and steady, but still sounding far away. We strained to listen, but couldn’t quite make it out over the sound of Patrick’s constant chatter. I moved to the window, and Paul joined me.

“Helicopter,” Paul said. “News or military, but either way … everyone’s coming.”

“Yep,” I said, looking over at Patrick’s wide-eyed and unseeing face. Were we responsible for that? Would it have happened eventually anyway? “It’s, what … at least an hour away yet?”

“I think so.”

“So I think we’ll be getting a visit soon. There’ll at least be people close enough—authority people—that we can try to talk to. Didn’t the Home Secretary say that they’d be doing house-to-house checks well in advance of each evacuation?”

“Something like that. He’s danced about on it so much, I can’t really remember
what
the plan is supposed to be,” answered Paul, picking the remote up and turning the TV on. The picture showed the Stone Man, surrounded again by a circle of soldiers walking in step with it, standing at a distance of about ten feet on all sides. It was crossing a field again; it was apparently back in a rural area once more.

“Well, either way, they’ll be here long before the Stone Man is,” I said, sitting back on the sofa. “And that’s the time we’ll need to convince them that this guy has to meet it. We can’t leave him in the house, because it’ll be flattened with him inside it …”

“And if they take him, they’ll put him in the hospital and that could be disastrous,” finished Paul, nodding. “I’ve been sitting here assuming you have some kind of genius plan lined up to convince them that we’re on the level. Any time you feel like sharing said genius plan, I’m all ears.” I smiled slightly, and reached for my bag.

“Well, I had an inkling of an idea earlier, and I’ve been thinking about it while we were playing … and I reckon I might have something,” I said, opening the bag up.

“Never doubted it for a second.”

“It’s not even particularly complicated. I think ... if we do this and it works, they’ll at least give us a chance to talk to one of the higher-ups. And then it’s just a case of whether it’s enough to convince them completely. As well as a few little bits of bullshit, but that’s just a risk we’re going to have to take. You can bullshit, right Paul?” I smirked at him, but it was friendly.

“Like a pro. Okay, sounds like a winner. I love it when a plan comes together. Talk me through it.”

I did. It wasn’t much, but we didn’t have anything better.

***

Chapter Four: Persuading Private Pike, Facts About Patient Zero and Radiation Spikes, and Andy Discovers a Very Different Point of View

***

Ten minutes or so had passed when we heard what sounded like—after the last day of abandoned roads—an almighty noise coming up the street. Two days ago we wouldn’t have even noticed it; the sound of several large vehicles moving at once, which before today would have just been background noise. We moved to the window to watch. Army personnel trucks, about eight of them, parked up in a line about three hundred metres away from the house, and soldiers began to pour out of them and make their way to houses on either side of the street. Many more trucks continued on down the road, on their way to clear the next area. The soldiers were only carrying sidearms strapped to their legs, and I saw only one carrying any kind of heavy automatic weaponry; the guy standing nearest to the trucks. I got the impression they didn’t expect any issues from the residents other than perhaps a reluctance to evacuate … but they weren’t completely certain.

“Here we go,” muttered Paul, and patted me on the shoulder. “It’s up to you, old boy.” And then, out of nowhere: “What did you say the day job was again?”

“Writer,” I said, cursing internally. Now, of all times.

“Oh?” Paul seemed genuinely surprised, despite the urgency of the situation. “Anything I might have read?”

“Not that kind of writer,” I said, and changed the subject. “Stay in here when he comes to the door, okay?”

“Why?”

“Just extra pressure if you’re watching. If this works, you’ll be in the mix soon enough.”

“Okay, okay. Your play.”

I nodded, and then went to the front door and opened it. I looked out into the street and saw people heading towards the trucks, some complaining, some carrying pre-packed suitcases, some hurrying children along. There weren’t many; I wondered if some were simply refusing to answer their doors, or were hiding, or had already left. The evacuations could have simply been the authorities’ way of making sure houses along the path were cleared.

A soldier spotted me standing in the doorway, and raised his hand. He then began to beckon me over. I shook my head, and then beckoned him in return. The soldier seemed taken aback, then annoyed. He turned around and shouted something to another soldier, who looked at me, and then shouted something back to the first soldier, who shook his head and then ran over to me. He was young, a lot younger than me, which I thought might help things. It was all dependent on how big of an authority kick the guy was on.

“Sir, you have to leave the area, sir,” the soldier said once he was at the end of the driveway. He didn’t come any closer. “It’s only temporary. We’re taking everyone to a holding centre, and it should only be for a few hours until the Stone Man has passed, or we know it’s safe to come back. If your house isn’t fit for residence afterwards, we will arrange temporary accommodation for you and your family. If there is anyone else in the house with you, please get them and bring with you only essential items.” This was said automatically, clearly learned from a prepared statement, and recited with the air of someone who is sick and tired of repeating it. He wasn’t in the mood for any complications, which was unfortunate for me. Even so, I couldn’t help but notice him calling the Stone Man by its media-given name. That just sounded unusual.

“I understand that, Private,” I said, instantly regretting it. He could have been a goddamn officer for all I knew, and if so I’d just insulted his rank massively. I’d just assumed he was a private because of the way he seemed to ask somebody else if it was okay to come over. I carried on speaking anyway, and he didn’t correct me, so either I was right or he was just too sick of all this to care. “But I need to speak to your commanding officer, please. It’s extremely important.” The soldier nodded, and gestured towards the trucks.

“That’s fine, sir, I’ll make sure he speaks to you once we’re back in the trucks, but we have a lot of ground to cover today so if you’ll please get your things then we can go. Is there anyone else in there with you?” he replied, doing a reasonable job of hiding his impatience.

“Yes, there is,” I said, “But I’m afraid I need to speak to the officer in charge before we get in the trucks. I’ve got something that I need to show him.”

“That’s not going to happen, sir,” replied the soldier, testily now. His voice was very flat, and it was clear that this was someone who had just decided that they’d had enough crap for one day. “I’m sorry. I’ll make sure he speaks to you on the truck. But we do have the authority to move you, sir, if you make things difficult. I don’t want to do that, so why don’t you just come along nicely and we can get this over with as quickly as possible.”
Jumped up little shit
, I thought. I didn’t have a problem with him carrying out orders, but when someone at least ten years younger than me tells me to ‘come along nicely’ it’s never going to get on my good side. Even so, I kept my cool.

“I tell you what, then,” I said, trying to keep my voice sounding pleasant, “why don’t I show you? You won’t even have to come in the house. Then you can decide whether it’s worth bothering him with, but I think you will. I don’t want to be removed forcibly either, and it’ll only take, literally, about a minute. If you want me to go once we’re done, no problem, I’ll go.” I smiled, and raised my hands and eyebrows in a
Waddya
say
manner. The solider started to shake his head, but hesitated. He’d obviously been told what to do when met with resistance, but not what to do when presented with a deal; especially one that would end with it being his choice as to whether I went in the truck or not. If I’d asked him to go in the house, it might have been different; that would have been more suspicious. In this instance, he clearly decided that it was easier to humour me than force me to enter the truck at gunpoint.

“Can you come to the end of the driveway to show me then, sir?” he said, sighing slightly and stepping back a few feet. I didn’t know if his moving away was to show me that he wasn’t going to grab me, or to demonstrate that he wanted me to come out of the house.

“Nothing funny now, eh?” I asked, trying to make a joke with what I hoped was a winning smile. It wasn’t returned.

“Sir, our orders are to evacuate any residents as peacefully and pleasantly as possible, and to only use force as a last resort. I’m taking you at your word that you’re going to show me whatever it is you have to show me, and then you’re going to get in the truck nice and easy. I’m trusting you on that, sir. So the quicker we get this done, the easier it is all round, right? Obviously, ‘nothing funny’ goes for you as well.” He was trying to be reasonable, at least. I appreciated that, but not enough to forget
come along nicely.

I nodded, and started to pick up my bag.

“Leave the bag on the floor please, sir. Take out whatever you’ve got,” he said, and I noticed his right hand straying towards his sidearm. He wasn’t worried, but like the man over by the trucks, he knew something
could
happen. They didn’t know where the Stone Man had come from, after all. I think if I’d just come out carrying a suitcase, that would have been okay—presumably there were checks at the holding centre—but I’d been acting oddly, and that obviously meant extra caution. It made sense.

“That’s okay, that’s okay,” I said, holding my pale and shaking hands out as I bent down to the bag. I fumbled around in it for a second, found my camera and held it above my head. As I made my staggering way over to the solider, he glared at me impatiently, clearly thinking I was some kind of mental midget out to try to get a piece of the bigger action. He was half right, thinking about it.

I drew closer to him and lowered the camera, turning it to indicate that I wanted to show him the viewscreen on the back. He took a very small step backwards, still keeping a preferred distance between us.

“I can see from here, sir,” he said, holding up his hand, palm out in a
stop
gesture. “Just show me and we can get on with things.” I didn’t respond—there wasn’t any point—and instead turned the camera onto play mode. The viewscreen pinged into life, and I pressed the play button embedded on the back. The last photo I’d been looking at appeared, which of course was the one I’d gotten ready whilst we’d been waiting for the military to show up.

The image was of the Stone Man, of course, snapped by me as it had stood waiting in the middle of Millennium Place. It was clear that, unlike all of the footage that had been plastered over the news for the last twenty-four hours, this one had been taken when it was standing still. The soldier’s impatience vanished from his face, and he was intrigued. Not jumping in the way that I’d hoped, but I had his attention, at least.

“This was taken yesterday,” I said. “I was there, at the start in Coventry. I’ve no doubt other shots of this time are out there—I wasn’t the only one with a camera, or camera phone—but you can have this shot checked. I’m sure your superiors have a copy of every available Stone Man photo that’s online, so they’ll know whether I downloaded this or whether it’s a photo I could only have taken in person. They’ll know I was there. That’s the first thing. Okay?” I waited for him to reply, but he didn’t, so I took it as a cue to carry on. “The second thing—and I’m taking a bit of a gamble here—is that I’m sure you’ve been briefed, to some extent, on the Stone Man. After all, you’re here to evacuate, you’re potentially going into the danger zone, and they’ve no idea if that thing can suddenly speed up or something, right? So they’d tell you, I think, the limited number of do’s and don’ts that they’ve been able to work out when it comes to ‘Best Stone Man Practice’. And one of those don’ts, just in case you found yourself in close proximity to it, would have been
don’t touch it
. And they’d have told you why. They have, haven’t they?” The hook line had been used; if he didn’t take the bait, we were going to be loaded into the trucks and that would be that.

“That’s restricted information, sir,” said the soldier, but he suddenly looked as young as he really was, his weary attitude now replaced by deep confusion. The awkward customer that he’d been dealing with had suddenly produced something utterly unexpected, and he was rattled, so much so that it was clear my hunch was right. He obviously knew what had happened to the kid in the green vest that jumped on the Stone Man’s back, as well as the two cops at the scene.

“It’s okay,” I said, trying to sound as sincerely reassuring as I could. I might have had the idea, but I realised that Paul should have been the guy to do this. I’d a feeling that he could do Man-to-Man better than I could. “You don’t need to tell me anything.
I’m
the one telling
you
stuff, aren’t I? Right. They didn’t have to tell the general public not to touch it, specifically. They’d already told them not to approach it, and enforced that as best they could. But
you
guys … you could well be close enough to touch. I saw what happened to the first guy who touched it; I was there, see? And I think they’d have shown you what can happen, and what to look out for in case anyone shows any of the signs. Did they take video of him? Or is there already video out there, maybe from someone else who was there and got some and put it online?”

The soldier shook his head gently, more unsure than ever, but he didn’t speak.

“Did they tell you about him instead then? Told you what happened to the people that touched it, and what they looked like as a result?” I asked, and then thought that I might be pushing it. “Never mind,” I quickly added, “here’s the third thing; I know that the path of the Stone Man will take it
directly
through this exact house. You might not, I don’t know—you might just have orders to clear this street, and others like it—but your superiors will. I know that the government hasn’t
released
an exact list of threatened buildings along the path, but
they’ll
have worked out its exact trajectory, and they’ll know precisely which buildings are in line.” Paul and I had managed to get online before the army arrived (by now, our phone networks even had 3G coverage back) and check the now-released government version of the Stone Man’s path. They hadn’t listed exact buildings, or shown the trajectory as a straight line; even calling it a path was misleading. What they’d done is show a list of ‘projected future areas’ for evacuation, listing streets by city that should be ‘prepared to leave their homes for a few hours at short notice.’ It made sense. Naming buildings that were potentially about to be demolished gave idiots too much chance to try and follow the fucking thing, to try to get a glimpse of it in action, along with many other problems. This gave Paul and I an edge; a chance for credibility.

“They’ll have a list somewhere,” I continued, pointing back at the house, “and this building will be on it. How I know that is another story, and one for—no offence intended at all—the person in charge. So, for now, here’s the fourth thing; inside that house is a man who is in the exact same state as the guys in Coventry who touched the Stone Man, the ones you know about. Except
this
man hasn’t been within twenty miles of the thing. You might think he could be faking it, but trust me, show him to your superiors and he’ll show you that he isn’t. Again, how he’s in that state is a story for another time, but I’m telling you this to convince you that the man who owns this house—this place directly in the Stone Man’s path—
is special.
”