Time Split Page 2

  Briggs took a deep breath and forced himself to calm. He was now pleased that amongst his essential supplies, kept securely in the boot, he had everything he needed for such an emergency.

  Hidden in a secret compartment below the spare tyre was a small arsenal of weaponry. A machete and two hunting knives were stored in holsters along with a rifle, shotgun, two sub-machine guns and a large supply of bullets. There was also enough food and water for a two-day journey. Tins of food could be stored for years, but the water was replaced every couple of days. Two days – he hoped it would be enough time to find a naturally filtered spring, or he’d have to rig something up after that.

  Clean food and water would be worth killing for any day now, that he knew for sure. It would take a little longer for the severity of the situation to sink in for most of the surviving civilians, but as a hardened soldier he was already aware of how bad things were going to get. He had seen what desperate people could do; terrible things they would later not speak of; things best forgotten and only relived in nightmares. He knew what he was capable of and it was far worse than they could imagine.

  The darkness was pitch with all the motorway lights off. This didn’t phase Briggs who was accustomed to it and actually preferred it.

  His primitive instincts were sharpened by the touch of danger and it was then that he felt most alive. He knew he was addicted to it: the danger, the hunt, and the feeling of power. The power over the life and death of another, this one gave him the greatest rush of all. This was why he became a mercenary, to do exactly what he liked to do best. Being paid huge amounts of money was just a bonus.

  A private army was useful even at the best of times, but now it would be essential. There was an RAF base at Boulmer, so he decided to head off there and see if he could entice some of the men to join him.

  He heaved his rucksack onto his back, then set off north at a comfortable pace. A small LED flashlight, with a red filter to preserve night vision, was used to gently light the way ahead.

  Tree debris, ripped loose in the shock wave, crunched gently underfoot for several miles before he finally reached the limits of its range.

  He was still a few miles away from Boulmer when, clearing the brow of a hill, he could see the town of Alnwick in the distance.

  Fire raged in the forests that spanned between the town border and the coastline to the east. The RAF base, located near the cliffs, would have been a prime target and he knew immediately what had happened.

  He stopped and reconsidered his plan. A quick scan ahead revealed the motorway, which ran between the base and the ancient town, was blocked by fire. Even so, he decided it would be best to still continue north. The Cheviot Hills, just a short distance away, would provide perfect cover and a likely source of fresh water, then beyond there was the Scottish border.

  He left the road, then crossed a field to follow a more indirect route which avoided the motorway and took him through Alnwick instead.

  A short while later as he entered the ancient town, he could see, although still relatively intact, it hadn’t entirely escaped the effects of the blast.

  A car windscreen was smashed when a roof tile, still embedded in the bonnet, had been ripped from its seating. Windows and doors were cracked or broken, debris littered the road, and streetlamps were shattered.

  Despite the lack of power the area was still well lit. Low clouds, heavy with the first snows of winter, reflected the soft amber of fires below.

  Cries for water, punctuated with screams, could be heard from the eastern borders. If the blaze weren't contained, it threatened to engulf the entire town.

  Despite all of this Briggs walked on. There would be another change of plan. There were opportunities here, but not at the moment. He would move further inland and wait for things to settle. Then, after a few days when the radiation levels had dropped, he would return to take control of the town. He had no doubt after such a trauma the residents would take commands from an experienced survivalist – and gladly so. First, though, he would let their numbers dwindle, give them a serious taste of things to come, then return as their saviour.

  Briggs smiled. Even in the bleakest of times he could turn a situation to his advantage. Whistling, he turned and headed out of town, travelling west towards the protection of the hills.

  Chapter Three

  Jason’s research changed direction, but it still took several months before he finally felt he fully understood the new system.

  The physics of it seemed as though the machine behaved towards time as if the subject were a heavy ball in the centre of a rubber diaphragm. The energy required for a traveller to be sent through time was the same as if the ball were being propelled from the centre of the diaphragm towards the outer edge. The greater the energy input, the further from the point of initiation the traveller could go. Alternatively a shorter distance could be achieved, but with the same amount of energy the traveller could stay for longer periods away from their own time. Once all the energy was consumed, as with the ball on the diaphragm, the traveller would automatically return to their initial point in time.

  Travelling into the past was naturally a progressive part of Jason’s experiments and his first test in backward time travel triggered a memory for Jessica when Bell disappeared from the pod.

  “Remember last year when we saw that rat in the kitchen?” she said, her eyes wide and thoughtful.

  “So?”

  “Do you think it could’ve been Bell?”

  He tightened his mouth and stood silent a moment. “I hadn’t thought of that,” he said slowly, then smiled and nodded admiringly. “It’s quite possible.” He patted his wife’s behind. “Clever girl.”

  Jessica laughed, swatting his hand away.

  Suddenly the machine powered up and their playful banter stopped. They turned their attention to the pod.

  Jason was accustomed to the high-pitched whine preceding a subject’s return, but the thrill of seeing them materialise again never dulled. Each return brought with it new excitements, new discoveries – and this time was no different. He laughed, a brief throaty laugh. “Look.” His eyes sparkled in delight. He picked up the rat and pulled a finger along a wet streak down her back.

  Jessica smiled broadly. “The water pistol you used when it ran under the unit.” She raised her brow. “Nice shootin’.”

  Jason made his way to the basement with Jessica behind.

  “You could be completely screwed up if you think too much about it,” she said.

  He returned Bell to the cage. “About what?”

  “Last year you were destined to create this device, even though back then you were working on teleportation. Time travel hadn’t even crossed your mind.”

  “I see what you mean.” He laughed. “It’s enough to make your head spin.”

  In bed that night, still buzzing with excitement, neither could sleep. Instead they discussed the implications of the most recent discovery.

  As Jessica raised herself up onto an elbow her long blonde hair slipped from her shoulder. “What would you do with your time machine?”

  Jason paused, thinking carefully before he replied. “I would go forward in time to study the advances of human development.”

  “Oh... Don’t be so boring.” She laughed, poking him playfully in the chest.

  His face dropped in a mock hurt expression.

  “Wouldn’t you want to see the dinosaurs? Or meet one of your heroes?”

  “No!” He sat up, looking down at her. “It must never be used to go back. The consequences could be devastating. I would never use it for that,” he added loftily.

  She looked surprised. “Well why are you experimenting in backward time travel?”

  He deflated. “I’m just curious. I needed to see if it could be done.”

  “You wanted to be the first,” she teased.

  “No, I didn’t.” He shook his head in emphatic denial, stopped, then smiled, embarrassed. “Yes, you’re right.” He justified his
actions. “If I didn’t do it, someone else at the MOD would have.”

  “Perhaps.” Jessica pushed up and kissed him on the cheek. “It would’ve taken them years instead of the few months that it’s taken you.”

  He beamed with pleasure, basking in her praise.

  She lay back against her pillow. “Wouldn’t you want to go back to do something good?” she persisted.

  “No, nothing.”

  “Wouldn’t you even go back to help your own mother?” Instantly she regretted the words which had so casually spilled from her mouth. “I’m so sorry, sweetie,” she said, as a look of pain washed through Jason’s face.

  He lay down.

  “Shall I make some cocoa?” She softly stroked his chest. “It might help us sleep.”

  He attempted a smile, but failed, then gave a slight nod.

  Jessica rose and, without another word, donned a dressing gown, then hurried downstairs.

  It was still several hours before Jason eventually drifted into a troubled sleep, disturbed by images of his mother. His dreams had started happy, but as the night drew on he found himself again lying in his childhood bed, listening to her cries in the night.

  Regularly she’d had a recurring nightmare which wasn’t a creation of her imagination, but the past recalled. She relived the horror of watching her mother being repeatedly raped, then beaten to death.

  The brutal monster who captained the cargo ship, ‘The Plenith’, had promised Jason’s grandmother safe passage out of Hamburg after her husband and son were killed. The first day passed without incident, but on the second she rebuffed his advances when he brought food. A violent and immoral man, he’d forced his attentions upon her. Attentions which eventually ended in her brutal rape and murder. Meanwhile, Jason’s mother had watched the entire incident as she cowered in the bathroom.

  Seven-year-old Claudia, too terrified to leave the cabin, was eventually driven out by hunger. When the captain caught her stealing food from the kitchen, she was told her mother was missing.

  “Fallen overboard,” he lied.

  In England, Claudia was passed to the authorities where the captain declared her a stowaway.

  Once her story was told, the captain was arrested, but with a lack of evidence and all traces of her mother gone, the charges were dropped and the man released.

  Alone in a strange country, she was placed into a foster home until relatives could be traced. Then suddenly war broke out.

  Jason woke with a jolt. He was surprised to see daylight streaming through the window. It seemed as though he’d hardly slept and he still felt exhausted. Rising, he started work immediately but, as the day drew on, he found it increasingly difficult to focus on his tasks. The previous day’s enthusiasm was now gone and his thoughts kept drifting back to his conversation with Jessica. What if she was right? What if he could help his mother? Would it make him selfish? Would it make him bad?

  By midday, unable to concentrate any longer, Jason stopped trying to fool himself he was making any progress at all.

  He opened his wallet and slipped out the passport size photograph he always carried of his mother. It was taken during happier times on a holiday in Jersey. She was relaxed and smiling on the beach, with the sea glistening in bright sunshine behind. It was a beautiful day and two years before the string of crippling heart attacks that finally ended her life.

  Slowly, Jason indulged himself and allowed a plan of least interference to form. The more he thought about it, the more it felt like the right thing to do. Several scenarios were pondered until, eventually, he decided the minimum help he could give would be to stop his grandmother getting on ‘The Plenith’.

  Passage on ‘The Plenith’, he’d been told, was all they could afford. An offer of financial assistance would allow them to travel on a passenger liner instead.

  His enthusiasm again renewed, he continued with his experiments. He now had a goal to achieve. The MOD would still get their new toy, but a little later than planned wouldn’t hurt.

  Chapter Four

  “There, that’s done.” Sarah Taylor wiped her hands on her trousers, then immediately regretted the unconscious action.

  She looked down. “Damn!” She closed her eyes, shook her head in annoyance, then sighed. The dusty marks weren’t a tragedy; it was nearly time to leave in any case.

  She had been filing all afternoon and was relieved the task was complete. The Town Hall basement gave her the creeps at the best of times, but late on a Friday, when the building was virtually empty, the feeling of being ‘watched’ intensified.

  She checked the time. There were a few more things she needed to do before going home. If she hurried, she could still beat the traffic out of Morpeth.

  She moved towards the stairs, but had only closed half the gap before suddenly the basement was plunged into darkness.

  Sarah stopped, the pitch black was complete. She scanned for a glimmer, but found there was none. Not even a slither escaped the door leading to the foyer above.

  Afraid to move, she visualized the position of the stairs before slowly making her way in the perceived direction. Inch by inch she shuffled until, a short while later, she found a supporting spindle. Groping further she quickly reached the banister, but her relief was short-lived when suddenly the whole building shuddered as if hit by an immense force.

  She fumbled for the bottom step, her panic rising, when there came screams from above. An assumption that the building was ablaze drove her on until, at the top of the stairs, she stopped to check the door. Still cool to the touch, she opened it and emerged into the foyer to find it illuminated only by the moon.

  A wash of frightened faces, made more ghastly in the blue-grey light, swept towards the exit in an atmosphere of suppressed hysteria.

  The floor and reception area glistened, as if sprinkled with star dust. As Sarah stepped out into the foyer, and it crunched underfoot, she realised it was broken glass. Looking up she saw all the windows on the south side of the building were smashed in, with not even a shard remaining in the frames.

  She joined the evacuees. Her arms pulled in, she blended with the crowd which pushed towards the exit.

  Moonbeams, briefly illuminating people like a spotlight on a stage, allowed her to see there were some in the foyer injured. Blood, blackened in the moonlight, covered faces and hands from indistinct wounds.

  Suddenly, from behind, she heard her name. Looking back she saw her friend, Jenny Parker, pushing through the crowd towards her. As the two women drew close they grasped each other to quell the fear.

  “What happened?” Sarah asked, her voice husky with shock.

  “There’s been a massive explosion south of Morpeth,” Jenny replied breathlessly.

  “What do you mean? The whole building shook, it couldn’t have been that far away.” Sarah stumbled, caught her balance, then looked back.

  A middle-aged woman had fallen in the rush. As the crowd surged around her she struggled to get up. Sarah stopped, turned, then carried on when she saw a young man pause long enough to help.

  “What sort of explosion?”

  “I think it could have been a bomb.” Jenny began to cry. “I think it was an atom bomb.”

  Sarah’s eyes widened. “That’s not funny, Jenny,” she snapped. “Why would you say that?”

  “I opened the door to the payroll office, then suddenly there was a really bright light. I panicked and shut the door again, just as the power went off. A few seconds later the whole building shook. When I opened the door again I found Christine…” Jenny stopped, as a wave of distress overwhelmed her. Great heaving sobs suddenly leapt forth. “I found Christine...”

  Sarah wrapped a comforting arm around her friend.

  “She was dead...” Jenny blurted between howls of despair. “Flying glass...”

  Sarah struggled to hear what Jenny was saying, but the next section came through horrifically clear.

  “I looked to the window and the skyline was lit by fire. It cove
red the horizon, as far as you could see. Great rolling clouds of fire.”

  “No, you must be mistaken,” Sarah said desperately.

  Jenny shook her head. “It was like the very air was ablaze.”

  “You’re hurt,” Sarah gasped. She’d suddenly noticed the front of Jenny’s blouse was drenched in blood.

  “No, it was John Greggs. He was in the corridor with a neck injury. I tried to help, but I couldn’t stop the bleeding.” She held out her hands.

  Sarah gagged at the sight of her friend’s blood-soaked skin. She looked away and saw something more terrible than just fear in the faces, glowing in the moonlight, nearby. As they drew near to the door she felt the bottom fall from her world. Jenny must be wrong, or there was nothing left.

  They emerged outside into the freezing January air. No one around was dressed for the cold.

  Branches were strewn across the car park and a nearby wall had collapsed in the onslaught.

  Some were sobbing, but most just stood, too stunned to think.

  “What should we do now?” Sarah asked.

  “I’m going home, to check my parents.”

  Sarah thought of her own family. “We live three miles from the city,” she said, her voice quiet and her face shadowed with fear. “God knows what I’ll find when I go home.” She turned back to the building.

  Jenny grabbed her arm. “Where you going?”

  “For my coat.”

  “We have to get out of here.” She waved a hand towards the city. “There’ll be radiation on the way.”

  Sarah shook her head. “I have to know what’s happened to my family.”

  “Please, come with me,” Jenny begged.

  “I can’t. I need to know.”

  Jenny embraced her friend. “Take care,” she whispered.

  Sarah nodded, then they parted.

  As the panic-stricken residents headed north out of Morpeth to distance themselves from the city, Sarah turned south in a desperate attempt to return home. She passed many people on the way, but none travelling in her direction. Still, it wasn’t long before she found herself alone and the road became quiet, to an eerie degree. There were no lights, except the unearthly redness in the sky. The surrounding darkness added to the overwhelming sense of emptiness she felt when she thought of her family.