Outpost (15 page)

STRICTLY NO UNAUTHORISED
PERSONNEL

Punch
switched on the lights. It felt like trespass.

'The
desk drawer,' said Sian. 'That's where he keeps it.'

Punch
levered the latch with a screwdriver. He took the Taser from its case.

'It
feels like a toy. Should stop him dead, though.'

'Then
what?' said Sian. 'If he has this infection we can't lay a finger on him.'

'Improvise
a straitjacket. Tie him up in a sleeping bag or something. Lock him in a
freight container. Quarantine, until we see what's what.'

Sian
examined the desk screen. A couple of clicks brought up a floor plan of the
refinery.

'He's
on C deck, right? We can track him.'

Punch
leaned over her shoulder. The C deck schematic was speckled with red dots.

'We
dropped some of the blast doors when we powered down the rig. The doors show up
on the status board. Keep watching. He might betray his location.'

'Don't
move from that chair, all right?' Punch gave Sian his radio. 'If you see
movement, shout.'

Punch
lowered the blast door, sealing himself inside the accommodation module.

He
was armed with a pool cue and the Taser.

He
slid down the wall and sat on the corridor floor with the Taser cradled in his
lap.

'How's it going?'
Sian's voice. Punch took out his radio.

'Sentry
duty.'

'Can we lock the hatches? Can we stop him moving
around?'

'The
blast doors seal tight in an emergency. Otherwise anyone can raise them. Only
the airlocks have keypads. Protection against piracy.'

'We have to assume he is infected
.'

'What
else can we do? We have to treat him as hostile until we know better.'

'I wish we could be sure. Severe blood loss. He's
going to freeze
.'

'I know. I know.
'

A
thud against the door. Punch jumped to his feet. 'Frank? Is that you?'

Punch
trained his Taser at the door. The hatch began to slide upward. He hit Close.

He
pressed the intercom.

'Frank?
Are you okay?'

'I'm cold. Very cold.'

'Are
you infected? Your arm. Can you tell me? Did it halt the infection?'

'So cold
.'
Rawlins sounded weak, delirious.

'You've
got to tell us, Frank. We have to know.'

'So tired.'

'We
can't let you in, Frank. Frank? Are you there?'

He
waited a full minute. He hit Open. The door slid back.

Nothing
beyond but an empty corridor.

Punch
called Sian.

'Frank
just tried to get in.'

'Is he still there
?'

'He's
gone.'

'
Wait. Someone just entered an airlock near Medical
.'

'Did
he go outside?'

'No. He just opened the interior door
.'

'Anyone
heard from Jane and Ghost?'

'
No
.'

'We
need those shotguns.'

Rawlins
ransacked the airlock. He struggled to pull up trousers. He shrugged on a coat.
He stepped into boots.

He
searched the rig for cigarettes. He dragged himself down dark, frozen
passageways. He slid along pipework for support. He hugged the stump of his
right arm, sheathed in an empty sleeve, to his chest.

Cigarettes
were forbidden. Big red signs in each recreation area.
'No unauthorised sources
of ignition.'

When
Rawlins took control of the rig five months ago he smuggled cigarettes aboard.
Two a day for the duration of the tour. He used to sneak outside and light up.
He knew most of the crew smoked weed but he didn't care. It kept the men occupied.
It kept them sedated. But he was the installation manager and couldn't be seen
to break the rules. He kept a pack of cigarettes and a Zippo hidden among fire
equipment near an airlock. He couldn't remember which airlock. He couldn't
remember much at all.

He
sat in the gymnasium for a while, one of the few rooms on the refinery with a
large window. Weak daylight. It was noon, and the sun was barely above the
horizon. Rows of cycles and treadmills glittered with ice. Centrefolds blurred
by frost. He pulled up his sleeve and examined his bandaged stump. Metal spines
protruded from the gauze. The skin surrounding his elbow had started to
blacken.

'So
here we are,' he thought. 'My dying day.'

Frank
once saw a man clutch his chest and collapse while queuing in a bank. He
guessed it was the same for most people. Walking round with a head full of
humdrum until a terminal diagnosis or myocardial infarction struck out of the
blue. Was it October? November? Hard to think straight. He was pretty sure it
was Tuesday.

He
lay on a sunbed for a while and woke up shivering. His parka had fallen open.
He couldn't work the zip.

He
remembered where he hid cigarettes. Airlock 63.

Jane
and Ghost arrived back at the rig. They winched the zodiac into the boathouse.

Ghost
showed Jane how to operate a shotgun as they rode the freight elevator to
habitation level.

'You've
seen it on TV a million times. Slot five shells into the receiver. Pump the
slide. Pull it all the way back. Nice, firm stroke. Set the safety to Fire. And
for God's sake don't put your finger on the trigger until you are ready to
shoot.'

'Cool.'

'Press
the gun to your shoulder. Brace your legs. Boom.'

They
took a shortcut. They crossed the deck and entered an airlock.

Ghost
took out his radio.

'We're
back.'

'I'm in Frank's office
,'
said Sian. '
I'm
watching the doors. Someone just opened airlock 27
.'

'That's
us. We just came aboard.'

'Watch your selves.
You
might run into him.'

They
opened the internal door of the airlock. Ghost surveyed the corridor, shotgun
at the ready.

'This
feels a bit over-dramatic,' said Jane. 'This is Frank we are talking about. He's
probably just confused.'

'You
saw that shit growing out of his hand. Want that to happen to you?'

'Not
particularly.'

'Don't
point that thing at me, all right? Point it at the floor.'

Rawlins
hugged a corridor wall. Dancing flashlight beams. Two figures stepped out of an
airlock. Jane and Ghost. They carried shotguns.

He
padded behind them as they entered the pipe store. He stayed in shadow while
they crouched and examined the floor.

'This
is where Sian found him,' said Jane.

'Blood
drips. Must have been squatting here a while. Wonder what was going on in his
head.' Ghost took yellow spray paint from his pocket, shook the can and circled
the blood drips. 'We'll have to clean this level room by room. Bleach the whole
fucking place.'

'Sian
said his eye was black.'

'Could
be a haemorrhage. Not necessarily proof of infection.'

Rawlins
stood behind them. He fought rising bloodlust. He wanted to seize them. He
wanted to bite. He wanted to rip and tear.

He
ducked behind a pillar as they stood and turned.

'Might
be worth re-checking Medical,' said Ghost. 'It's been a while. He might go
back. He might want something for the pain.'

They
made their way to the accommodation block. Ghost pounded the blast door with
his fist. He shouted into the intercom.

'It's
us. Me and Jane. We're coming in.'

He
hit Open. The door slid back.

'Frank
tried to get in,' said Punch.

'Is
he infected?' asked Jane.

'I
heard him. I didn't see him.'

'He's
alive at least.'

'Look,'
said Ghost. He shone his flashlight at the deck plates. Footprints on frosted
metal. 'He left a trail.'

'Where?'

'See
that?' he said, pointing at a cluster of prints. 'That's us, coming and going.
But look here.' Bare footprints near the wall. 'That's him. Is Rye upstairs?'
'Yeah.'

'Find
her. Tell her to load a hypodermic with some kind of sedative.'

'You
want me to tag along?'

'No.
Just me and Jane. Keep the door shut, okay? We'll be back in a while.'

They
tracked footprints to the gym.

'Looks
like he took a nap,' said Ghost, examining a sunbed. 'More blood. Here and
here.' He took out his spray can and circled the drips. 'He can't give us the
run-around much longer. Not in this cold.'

They
tracked prints down a C deck corridor.

'Boots,'
said Ghost. 'Fresh.'

'Sure
it's not us?'

'We
haven't been down this way.'

The
footprints led to an open doorway.

FUEL
STORE

'Put
your safety catch on,' instructed Ghost. 'No shooting, all right? Don't want to
blow us all to hell.'

Ghost
stood in the doorway.

'Frank?'
he called. 'Are you okay?' No reply. 'I'm coming in, Frank. Is that all right?'

Ghost
shone his flashlight into the storeroom. Stacked oil drums. Jerry cans. Tins of
kerosene.

'Frank?
You there?'

Ghost
went inside. Jane followed.

Rawlins
was kneeling in the corner shadows. Jane saw him first. He was soaked in
kerosene, an empty fuel can by his side and an unlit cigarette between his
lips.

'Hey,
Frank,' said Jane. 'How have you been?'

'Fucked-up
day.' His fringe dripped like he just stepped from the shower.

'Yeah.
It's been a bad year all round.'

Rawlins
had taken off his coat. His arm and neck were bruised black and yellow. His
empty eye socket wept blood.

'So
what do you say, Frank?' asked Ghost. 'How about we take you back to Medical
for a while and look after you?'

Rawlins
gave a woozy smile and shook his head. He gestured to his mutilated arm, his
missing eye.

'I
don't think Lemsip is going to help much, do you?'

'Yeah,
but I'd rather you didn't light up. You have to show a little consideration for
others.'

'There's
no way home. We all know it, so why drag it out?' He stroked the black flesh of
his throat. 'It wants things. This disease. It has an agenda.' He reached into the
pocket of his ragged trousers. 'Sorry, folks.' He flipped open his Zippo. 'I've
got to go while I'm still me.' He closed his eyes and struck the lighter. Blue
flame washed over him.

Jane
and Ghost ran for the door. They slung the shotguns over their shoulders and
snatched extinguishers from the wall.

Frank
was dead and burning. They trained jets of carbon dioxide at the fire, but the
flames spread between oil drums.

A
propane tank blew. It ricocheted off three walls and burst a couple of jerry
cans, triggering a massive fireball.

'We've
lost it,' yelled Ghost. 'Let's get out of here.'

They
ran for the door. Jane hit Close. The door dropped like a guillotine, blocking
the tide of flame that threatened to flood the corridor and incinerate them.

Ghost
touched the door but quickly snatched his hand away. Superhot metal.

'Let
it burn. It'll drink all the oxygen soon enough.'

They
jogged down the corridor.

'You
okay?' asked Ghost.

'Yeah.
I'm fine.'

An
explosion punched out the fuel store door like a fist. The heavy hatch
cart-wheeled down the corridor towards them, propelled by fire.

They
ran for the stairwell. Jane hammered the Close button with her fist. The blast
door slid down as a juggernaut of flame rushed to meet them. Fire flickered
round their boots as the hatch slammed shut.