The Drift, page 6
‘Looks like you have the deciding vote,’ Sean said, looking at Meg.
She considered. It had been six years since she and Paul had split up, five since she had last seen him. It had been an acrimonious split. Any past feelings she had were just that – in the past. And ultimately, whatever she might or might not have felt for Paul, he was dead now. Worse, he was a problem. One they could do without. One she could do without. If anyone discovered their connection, she would be the prime suspect. Sean was right. They couldn’t arrive at the Retreat with a dead body on board.
‘Okay.’ She nodded at Sean. ‘Let’s dump the dead weight.’
Sarah threw up her hands. ‘I want no part in this.’
‘No one says anything about it,’ Meg said. ‘That’s the deal.’
Sean worked the hatch open quickly, finding the lock and releasing it with a click. Meg got the impression he was no stranger to breaking into things. Karl and Max carried the body over and laid it next to the hatch. Meg tried not to look at Paul’s face.
‘Everyone step back,’ Sean said. ‘It’s going to be windy and cold, and you don’t want to fall through.’
The rest of the group moved away.
‘On three,’ Sean said to Meg. ‘One, two, three –’
Together, they lifted the metal trapdoor. It fell back with a clang. Immediately, a gust of freezing air and snow blizzarded into the car. The roar of the wind was deafening. It had felt cool before. Any remaining warmth was now evaporating.
‘We need to do this quickly!’ Meg shouted to Sean over the wind.
He nodded and dropped the knife out of the hatch. It disappeared in an instant.
He turned to the body. ‘Ready?’
It was on the tip of Meg’s tongue to say yes when, suddenly, she thought of something. She grabbed Sean’s arm.
‘Wait!’
‘What?’
‘We haven’t searched him.’
‘For what?’
‘I don’t know.’
He gave her a look of exasperation but nodded.
‘Make it quick. We’re losing heat fast.’
She leaned over the body, patting it down, stuffing her hands in pockets. She didn’t know what she was searching for. In fact, she thought she was going to come up short when her fingers closed over a small piece of card.
She pulled it out. An old photo.
‘Can that wait?’ Sean yelled.
‘Yeah, sure.’
She stuffed the photo in her pocket. They rolled the body to the edge of the hatch. Their eyes met. Meg nodded. They shoved the body overboard and watched as it was swallowed by the hungry storm, within seconds just a black speck against the white.
Meg stared after it, the wind making her eyes tear. And then a sudden gust of wind rocked the cable car. She fell backwards. Another gust rocked it back the other way. She felt herself slide towards the hatch, feet kicking into open air. Sean caught her arm, hauling her back. Behind them, someone screamed. And then, it all happened quickly. As the cable car swayed, Max grabbed a handrail, but Karl staggered forward, off balance. Sarah moved towards him; arms outstretched. Her fingertips touched his back … and with one shove, she sent him toppling head first out of the open hatch.
Carter
You weren’t supposed to leave the bodies. It was one of the rules. The risk, however small, of a sixth-degree infection.
The virus was primarily airborne. The problem was that there were many variants. Blood, faeces, bodily fluids, tissue, bone marrow. All channels for infection. Even cooked meat had been proven to harbour traces of the particularly unpleasant Choler variant.
Carter stared at Jackson’s body. He hadn’t been prepared to drag a live Jackson back to the Retreat so he sure as hell wasn’t going to drag a dead one. Not with the dusk dropping faster than a teenage boy’s pants at third base and the snow falling harder every second. And not with the howl of the wind disguising any other sounds.
Of course, the storm would help. Jackson would be buried within minutes. No one would know, and by the time his body was found – if it was found – it would be so decomposed there’d be no way of telling how he’d died.
Carter would have permitted himself a small smile if his face hadn’t already been frozen into a rictus grin. He put his head down and pushed on up the slope.
The first sign that something was not good, not yet bad – that would come – but definitely not good was when Carter finally reached the top of the ski run. Ahead of him, he could see the electric security fence that bordered the Retreat. Outside, to his right, sheltered among the pine trees, was the incinerator. Hidden from view, for obvious reasons.
But it was the Retreat that had caught his attention and caused the breath to snag in his throat. The large picture window was dark. Carter frowned. He could see other lights on, dotted around the building. But no lights in the main living area.
That was odd. Mostly, the lights were left on all the time. Unlike most urban conurbations, they didn’t need to be too careful with their power. Their electricity was supplied by a combination of two massive wind turbines further up the mountain and solar panels. A battery stored the energy and supplied the Retreat at a constant rate when required.
At least, it was supposed to.
Over the last few weeks, Welland had noticed a problem. The battery was leaking energy. This meant that its supply was inconsistent, causing power spikes and outages. The back-up generator could compensate, but they only had a limited supply of propane … plus, there was that lag between the power cutting and the generator kicking in.
Welland had seemed at a loss as to how to fix the problem. Generators and heating were not Miles’s speciality. Science and medicine were. As Welland was fond of saying, ‘Doctors can perform brain surgery, but they still need someone to keep the lights on while they do it.’ Carter had to give him that one.
He advanced slowly towards the Retreat. That dark expanse of glass gave him a bad feeling. Fortunately, as he neared the gate, he could still hear the low hum of the electric fence. He fumbled off one glove to punch in his code, pulling it hastily back on as his fingers tingled with cold. The gate buzzed and he pushed it open, dragging the groceries behind him. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled, as they always did. Crossing the boundary, from danger to safety. Lowering your defences. A final moment of vulnerability before the gate clicked back shut and he was secure.
Of course, the fences and gate were only an illusion. In reality, Carter knew he was in as much danger inside as out there. Just different enemies. While he remained useful to Miles, he was safe. But Welland would love an excuse to throw him under a bus (or off the nearest mountaintop). The feeling was mutual. Caren tolerated him, and while Carter liked Julia and regarded Nate as a friend, the fact was they were all survivors here. And survival was a solitary business.
Carter approached the front door, tapped in a second code and let himself in, dragging the groceries into the huge entrance hallway. The door swung shut heavily behind him. He pulled off his gloves and looked around, listening.
Everything sounded quiet. Too quiet? The alarm wasn’t sounding, which was good, he guessed. He glanced towards the darkened spiral stairway which led to the main living area. If no one was up there, he wouldn’t expect to hear any noise. But still, that silence.
And what about Dexter?
While not the world’s most alert guard dog – he had been known to sleep through the alarms – he usually noted Carter’s absence and came bounding down to greet him on his return.
Instead, silence.
Carter lugged the supplies over to the storeroom, unhitched the bag from the skis and shoved it inside. He’d unpack it later. Then he propped the skis in the rack, pulled off his gloves and boots and peeled off his snowsuit. Beneath, he wore a sweatshirt, jeans and thick socks. He could feel the warmth from the underfloor heating immediately start to permeate up through his feet.
The door to the pool and spa was ahead of him. To his right, the storeroom and utility room, which housed the fuse boxes and system controls for the Retreat. The elevators and stairs were on his left. Carter walked towards them and then paused. No one was going to be sitting around in a dark living room. He turned back and walked over to the door which led to the spa and pool. He pushed it open. It was heavy and soundproofed, like all the doors in the Retreat.
He walked into the open-plan changing area. Benches lined one side and lockers the other. There was a small dressing area in the centre with mirrors and hairdryers. To his left, a frosted-glass door led to the showers and toilets. To his right, a small corridor led to the pool.
The changing area was empty. Carter pulled out his gun and tentatively checked the showers and toilets, pushing open the cubicle doors one by one with his foot. No one home, not even a floater.
He crept back into the changing rooms. He could hear the faint sound of water lapping from the pool. He walked down the short corridor. At the end, small sprays shot water into a shower tray. Carter peeled off his socks and stuffed them in his pocket, then splashed through and out into the pool area.
The humid air shrink-wrapped itself to his skin. The smell of chlorine made his eyes sting. The lighting here was dim. Uplighters were arranged around the stone walls. Loungers lined the sides. At the far end, another picture window mirrored the views of the living area upstairs. The pool itself was half Olympic length, but narrower. Underwater lighting lent it a beautiful azure tone.
A body lay at the bottom.
Long dreadlocks floated up like seaweed. Drifting in a cloud of red.
‘Fuck.’
Carter moved forward, needing to be sure, even though there was really only one person it could be. No mistaking that hair.
Julia.
Cool, hipster Julia. They hadn’t been close, but he’d liked her. Found her company easy. And now she was dead.
He swallowed, trying to keep calm. How? Why?
Fuck. He needed to find Miles. He turned and headed back through the changing rooms, pushing open the door into the hallway. The door to the utility room opened.
Carter spun around, gun raised, finger tensed on the trigger.
Welland wobbled out, nodding away to whatever was playing on the headphones clamped over his ears. He looked up and spotted Carter.
‘SHIT!’ His eyes widened. ‘Why the fuck are you pointing a gun at me?’
‘What were you doing in there?’
‘Trying to sort out the power.’
Carter stared at him. Hair yanked back in a ponytail, sweat patches under the arms of his T-shirt, belly only just contained by the stained fabric. But no bloodstains.
He lowered the gun. ‘What the hell’s going on?’
‘You tell me. The power went out again. When it came back on, only half the systems were running. Miles sent me down here to see if I could fix it.’
Which he obviously hadn’t.
‘How long have you been in there?’
‘About an hour. I think the lights to Main 1 might have fused, but fuck knows where the spare fuses are. I’m gonna have to try and re-route some of the power –’
‘Julia is dead.’
‘What?’
‘Julia is dead. In the swimming pool.’
Welland continued to stare at him, mouth hanging open like someone had unhinged his jaw.
‘I don’t – Julia?’
Carter nodded.
‘Drowned?’
Carter thought about that cloud of red.
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Fuck.’
‘Where was everyone when you came down here to look at the power?’
‘Er … Nate was making something to eat. Julia was watching TV. I don’t know where Caren was … or Jackson.’
‘Jackson is gone.’
‘Gone?’
‘He left.’
‘When? Where did he go?’
‘Who knows? He’s probably already wolf meat.’
Welland blinked at him. Like someone had put him on power-saving mode.
‘Where’s Miles?’ Carter asked more urgently. Now was not the time to discuss Jackson. Not yet, anyway.
‘He went down to the basement, to check everything was secure.’
Carter felt his throat constrict. ‘How long was the lag this time, Welland?’
Welland blinked again. Then his large face crumpled. ‘I told him. I told him it was getting worse, man.’
‘How long?’
‘Eight seconds.’
Eight seconds and the automatic locks in the basement released.
‘Jesus Christ.’ Carter ran a hand through his hair. ‘And did you see Miles come back from the basement?’
‘No, man. He told me to get down here right away and try to fix the problem.’
Oh, they needed to fix the problem. Question was – just how big of a problem did they have?
‘We need to find the others,’ Carter said.
Welland nodded, lip and chins wobbling.
‘Have you seen Dexter?’
Welland shook his head.
Carter glared at him. ‘And take those fucking headphones off.’
They walked across the hallway. Welland headed for the elevators. Carter caught his arm. ‘We take the stairs.’
‘Why?’
‘Because we don’t want to announce our arrival.’
Although, Carter thought as they started to climb the spiral, open-plan stairway, if anyone was up there, they had undoubtedly already heard them by now. He stared up. Darkness enveloped the top. He pulled out his torch.
‘You got a torch?’ he whispered over his shoulder to Welland.
‘Yeah.’ Rustling, grunting and a sudden blinding beam of light that illuminated the whole stairway.
‘For fuck’s sake,’ Carter hissed. ‘Keep the beam low.’
‘Oh. Okay.’
The light dimmed. Carter sighed. They might as well have congoed to the top and set off some fireworks.
They finally reached the living area. Outside, the storm howled and raged, audible even through the triple glazing. Huge wads of snow clung to the glass, almost obliterating the outside world, cocooning them inside a tomb of white.
The rest of the room was eerily quiet. Carter shone his torch around.
‘Man, I don’t like this,’ Welland murmured.
‘Really?’ Carter replied. ‘I’m having a fucking ball.’
The torch illuminated small patches of the room, made unfamiliar by the darkness. But Carter could see that the seating area looked as if it had been hastily vacated. Mugs of coffee sat on the table, half finished. An ashtray contained a partially smoked joint.
‘There’s no one here,’ Welland whined. ‘Can we just –’
A moan. From their left. The kitchen. Carter flicked his torch over. The worktops were a mess. Spilled food, vegetable cuttings everywhere. Which, to be fair, was usually how Nate prepared food.
Carter walked quickly over, Welland a panting, sweating shadow behind him. As they rounded the large island, Carter pointed his torch down. Nate lay on the floor, half curled on his side. His white T-shirt was stained maroon with blood.
Carter crouched down. ‘Nate?’
Another groan, but one eye flickered open. Thank fuck.
‘Hey, man. It’s Carter.’
‘Cuh-ter?’ Nate mumbled. It looked like a tooth had gone.
‘What happened?’
Nate struggled to sit up, wincing in pain. There was more blood on the floor beneath him. Carter put a hand around his friend’s shoulders.
‘Welland,’ he instructed. ‘Get him some water.’
Welland hustled to the sink and clattered about clumsily, coming back with a glass of water, which he slopped everywhere. He handed it to Carter, who placed it to Nate’s lips. Nate half drank and half dribbled water down his top. Carter gently took the glass back off him.
‘Can you remember what happened?’ he asked.
Nate frowned. ‘I was making some food … and –’
‘The power went out,’ Welland interrupted. ‘That’s when Miles sent me down to the utility room to check what was going on.’
‘Thanks, I got that,’ Carter snapped. He focussed his attention on Nate. ‘What happened to you?’
Nate blinked slowly. Carter didn’t like it. He glanced back at the bloody T-shirt.
‘I’m just going to lift your top, okay?’
Nate continued to stare at him blankly. Carter pulled up the damp cotton. Nate’s torso looked unblemished. No visible wounds. Maybe the blood was from the missing tooth. But that was a lot of blood on the floor.
‘I was making some food –’ Nate slurred.
‘And Julia?’ Carter prompted.
‘Julia …’ Nate squinted, like it hurt to force the words out.
C’mon, man, Carter thought.
‘Candles,’ Nate said triumphantly, like he’d just solved the meaning of the universe. ‘She went … for candles.’
Candles. Right. So that explained why Julia had gone downstairs, but not how she had ended up dead in the pool.
‘Did you see her?’ Carter asked Welland.
Welland shook his head. ‘No. You’re not gonna pin this on me.’
‘Julia –’ Nate said again.
‘Julia’s dead,’ Carter said, seeing no point in sugar-coating it. ‘I found her in the pool. Looked like she’d been stabbed.’
Nate rubbed at his eyes. ‘Julia.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Carter sighed.
He knew that Nate and Julia had been friendly. Maybe more than friendly on occasion.
‘Nate,’ he said. ‘We need to find who did this. Did you see who attacked you?’
‘I was –’ Nate paused. Then he leaned forward and threw up, coffee and bile splattering the floor.
Carter jumped up, dodging the spray.
‘Christ, man!’ Welland cried. ‘What the fuck is wrong with him?’
Nate remained, half bent over, drool hanging from his lips.
‘I don’t know. Maybe he has concussion,’ Carter said as the bitter smell of sick rose into his nostrils. ‘We need to get him somewhere safe, then find out what the hell is going on.’ He bent and helped Nate to his feet. ‘And we need some fucking light,’ he added to Welland.
She considered. It had been six years since she and Paul had split up, five since she had last seen him. It had been an acrimonious split. Any past feelings she had were just that – in the past. And ultimately, whatever she might or might not have felt for Paul, he was dead now. Worse, he was a problem. One they could do without. One she could do without. If anyone discovered their connection, she would be the prime suspect. Sean was right. They couldn’t arrive at the Retreat with a dead body on board.
‘Okay.’ She nodded at Sean. ‘Let’s dump the dead weight.’
Sarah threw up her hands. ‘I want no part in this.’
‘No one says anything about it,’ Meg said. ‘That’s the deal.’
Sean worked the hatch open quickly, finding the lock and releasing it with a click. Meg got the impression he was no stranger to breaking into things. Karl and Max carried the body over and laid it next to the hatch. Meg tried not to look at Paul’s face.
‘Everyone step back,’ Sean said. ‘It’s going to be windy and cold, and you don’t want to fall through.’
The rest of the group moved away.
‘On three,’ Sean said to Meg. ‘One, two, three –’
Together, they lifted the metal trapdoor. It fell back with a clang. Immediately, a gust of freezing air and snow blizzarded into the car. The roar of the wind was deafening. It had felt cool before. Any remaining warmth was now evaporating.
‘We need to do this quickly!’ Meg shouted to Sean over the wind.
He nodded and dropped the knife out of the hatch. It disappeared in an instant.
He turned to the body. ‘Ready?’
It was on the tip of Meg’s tongue to say yes when, suddenly, she thought of something. She grabbed Sean’s arm.
‘Wait!’
‘What?’
‘We haven’t searched him.’
‘For what?’
‘I don’t know.’
He gave her a look of exasperation but nodded.
‘Make it quick. We’re losing heat fast.’
She leaned over the body, patting it down, stuffing her hands in pockets. She didn’t know what she was searching for. In fact, she thought she was going to come up short when her fingers closed over a small piece of card.
She pulled it out. An old photo.
‘Can that wait?’ Sean yelled.
‘Yeah, sure.’
She stuffed the photo in her pocket. They rolled the body to the edge of the hatch. Their eyes met. Meg nodded. They shoved the body overboard and watched as it was swallowed by the hungry storm, within seconds just a black speck against the white.
Meg stared after it, the wind making her eyes tear. And then a sudden gust of wind rocked the cable car. She fell backwards. Another gust rocked it back the other way. She felt herself slide towards the hatch, feet kicking into open air. Sean caught her arm, hauling her back. Behind them, someone screamed. And then, it all happened quickly. As the cable car swayed, Max grabbed a handrail, but Karl staggered forward, off balance. Sarah moved towards him; arms outstretched. Her fingertips touched his back … and with one shove, she sent him toppling head first out of the open hatch.
Carter
You weren’t supposed to leave the bodies. It was one of the rules. The risk, however small, of a sixth-degree infection.
The virus was primarily airborne. The problem was that there were many variants. Blood, faeces, bodily fluids, tissue, bone marrow. All channels for infection. Even cooked meat had been proven to harbour traces of the particularly unpleasant Choler variant.
Carter stared at Jackson’s body. He hadn’t been prepared to drag a live Jackson back to the Retreat so he sure as hell wasn’t going to drag a dead one. Not with the dusk dropping faster than a teenage boy’s pants at third base and the snow falling harder every second. And not with the howl of the wind disguising any other sounds.
Of course, the storm would help. Jackson would be buried within minutes. No one would know, and by the time his body was found – if it was found – it would be so decomposed there’d be no way of telling how he’d died.
Carter would have permitted himself a small smile if his face hadn’t already been frozen into a rictus grin. He put his head down and pushed on up the slope.
The first sign that something was not good, not yet bad – that would come – but definitely not good was when Carter finally reached the top of the ski run. Ahead of him, he could see the electric security fence that bordered the Retreat. Outside, to his right, sheltered among the pine trees, was the incinerator. Hidden from view, for obvious reasons.
But it was the Retreat that had caught his attention and caused the breath to snag in his throat. The large picture window was dark. Carter frowned. He could see other lights on, dotted around the building. But no lights in the main living area.
That was odd. Mostly, the lights were left on all the time. Unlike most urban conurbations, they didn’t need to be too careful with their power. Their electricity was supplied by a combination of two massive wind turbines further up the mountain and solar panels. A battery stored the energy and supplied the Retreat at a constant rate when required.
At least, it was supposed to.
Over the last few weeks, Welland had noticed a problem. The battery was leaking energy. This meant that its supply was inconsistent, causing power spikes and outages. The back-up generator could compensate, but they only had a limited supply of propane … plus, there was that lag between the power cutting and the generator kicking in.
Welland had seemed at a loss as to how to fix the problem. Generators and heating were not Miles’s speciality. Science and medicine were. As Welland was fond of saying, ‘Doctors can perform brain surgery, but they still need someone to keep the lights on while they do it.’ Carter had to give him that one.
He advanced slowly towards the Retreat. That dark expanse of glass gave him a bad feeling. Fortunately, as he neared the gate, he could still hear the low hum of the electric fence. He fumbled off one glove to punch in his code, pulling it hastily back on as his fingers tingled with cold. The gate buzzed and he pushed it open, dragging the groceries behind him. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled, as they always did. Crossing the boundary, from danger to safety. Lowering your defences. A final moment of vulnerability before the gate clicked back shut and he was secure.
Of course, the fences and gate were only an illusion. In reality, Carter knew he was in as much danger inside as out there. Just different enemies. While he remained useful to Miles, he was safe. But Welland would love an excuse to throw him under a bus (or off the nearest mountaintop). The feeling was mutual. Caren tolerated him, and while Carter liked Julia and regarded Nate as a friend, the fact was they were all survivors here. And survival was a solitary business.
Carter approached the front door, tapped in a second code and let himself in, dragging the groceries into the huge entrance hallway. The door swung shut heavily behind him. He pulled off his gloves and looked around, listening.
Everything sounded quiet. Too quiet? The alarm wasn’t sounding, which was good, he guessed. He glanced towards the darkened spiral stairway which led to the main living area. If no one was up there, he wouldn’t expect to hear any noise. But still, that silence.
And what about Dexter?
While not the world’s most alert guard dog – he had been known to sleep through the alarms – he usually noted Carter’s absence and came bounding down to greet him on his return.
Instead, silence.
Carter lugged the supplies over to the storeroom, unhitched the bag from the skis and shoved it inside. He’d unpack it later. Then he propped the skis in the rack, pulled off his gloves and boots and peeled off his snowsuit. Beneath, he wore a sweatshirt, jeans and thick socks. He could feel the warmth from the underfloor heating immediately start to permeate up through his feet.
The door to the pool and spa was ahead of him. To his right, the storeroom and utility room, which housed the fuse boxes and system controls for the Retreat. The elevators and stairs were on his left. Carter walked towards them and then paused. No one was going to be sitting around in a dark living room. He turned back and walked over to the door which led to the spa and pool. He pushed it open. It was heavy and soundproofed, like all the doors in the Retreat.
He walked into the open-plan changing area. Benches lined one side and lockers the other. There was a small dressing area in the centre with mirrors and hairdryers. To his left, a frosted-glass door led to the showers and toilets. To his right, a small corridor led to the pool.
The changing area was empty. Carter pulled out his gun and tentatively checked the showers and toilets, pushing open the cubicle doors one by one with his foot. No one home, not even a floater.
He crept back into the changing rooms. He could hear the faint sound of water lapping from the pool. He walked down the short corridor. At the end, small sprays shot water into a shower tray. Carter peeled off his socks and stuffed them in his pocket, then splashed through and out into the pool area.
The humid air shrink-wrapped itself to his skin. The smell of chlorine made his eyes sting. The lighting here was dim. Uplighters were arranged around the stone walls. Loungers lined the sides. At the far end, another picture window mirrored the views of the living area upstairs. The pool itself was half Olympic length, but narrower. Underwater lighting lent it a beautiful azure tone.
A body lay at the bottom.
Long dreadlocks floated up like seaweed. Drifting in a cloud of red.
‘Fuck.’
Carter moved forward, needing to be sure, even though there was really only one person it could be. No mistaking that hair.
Julia.
Cool, hipster Julia. They hadn’t been close, but he’d liked her. Found her company easy. And now she was dead.
He swallowed, trying to keep calm. How? Why?
Fuck. He needed to find Miles. He turned and headed back through the changing rooms, pushing open the door into the hallway. The door to the utility room opened.
Carter spun around, gun raised, finger tensed on the trigger.
Welland wobbled out, nodding away to whatever was playing on the headphones clamped over his ears. He looked up and spotted Carter.
‘SHIT!’ His eyes widened. ‘Why the fuck are you pointing a gun at me?’
‘What were you doing in there?’
‘Trying to sort out the power.’
Carter stared at him. Hair yanked back in a ponytail, sweat patches under the arms of his T-shirt, belly only just contained by the stained fabric. But no bloodstains.
He lowered the gun. ‘What the hell’s going on?’
‘You tell me. The power went out again. When it came back on, only half the systems were running. Miles sent me down here to see if I could fix it.’
Which he obviously hadn’t.
‘How long have you been in there?’
‘About an hour. I think the lights to Main 1 might have fused, but fuck knows where the spare fuses are. I’m gonna have to try and re-route some of the power –’
‘Julia is dead.’
‘What?’
‘Julia is dead. In the swimming pool.’
Welland continued to stare at him, mouth hanging open like someone had unhinged his jaw.
‘I don’t – Julia?’
Carter nodded.
‘Drowned?’
Carter thought about that cloud of red.
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Fuck.’
‘Where was everyone when you came down here to look at the power?’
‘Er … Nate was making something to eat. Julia was watching TV. I don’t know where Caren was … or Jackson.’
‘Jackson is gone.’
‘Gone?’
‘He left.’
‘When? Where did he go?’
‘Who knows? He’s probably already wolf meat.’
Welland blinked at him. Like someone had put him on power-saving mode.
‘Where’s Miles?’ Carter asked more urgently. Now was not the time to discuss Jackson. Not yet, anyway.
‘He went down to the basement, to check everything was secure.’
Carter felt his throat constrict. ‘How long was the lag this time, Welland?’
Welland blinked again. Then his large face crumpled. ‘I told him. I told him it was getting worse, man.’
‘How long?’
‘Eight seconds.’
Eight seconds and the automatic locks in the basement released.
‘Jesus Christ.’ Carter ran a hand through his hair. ‘And did you see Miles come back from the basement?’
‘No, man. He told me to get down here right away and try to fix the problem.’
Oh, they needed to fix the problem. Question was – just how big of a problem did they have?
‘We need to find the others,’ Carter said.
Welland nodded, lip and chins wobbling.
‘Have you seen Dexter?’
Welland shook his head.
Carter glared at him. ‘And take those fucking headphones off.’
They walked across the hallway. Welland headed for the elevators. Carter caught his arm. ‘We take the stairs.’
‘Why?’
‘Because we don’t want to announce our arrival.’
Although, Carter thought as they started to climb the spiral, open-plan stairway, if anyone was up there, they had undoubtedly already heard them by now. He stared up. Darkness enveloped the top. He pulled out his torch.
‘You got a torch?’ he whispered over his shoulder to Welland.
‘Yeah.’ Rustling, grunting and a sudden blinding beam of light that illuminated the whole stairway.
‘For fuck’s sake,’ Carter hissed. ‘Keep the beam low.’
‘Oh. Okay.’
The light dimmed. Carter sighed. They might as well have congoed to the top and set off some fireworks.
They finally reached the living area. Outside, the storm howled and raged, audible even through the triple glazing. Huge wads of snow clung to the glass, almost obliterating the outside world, cocooning them inside a tomb of white.
The rest of the room was eerily quiet. Carter shone his torch around.
‘Man, I don’t like this,’ Welland murmured.
‘Really?’ Carter replied. ‘I’m having a fucking ball.’
The torch illuminated small patches of the room, made unfamiliar by the darkness. But Carter could see that the seating area looked as if it had been hastily vacated. Mugs of coffee sat on the table, half finished. An ashtray contained a partially smoked joint.
‘There’s no one here,’ Welland whined. ‘Can we just –’
A moan. From their left. The kitchen. Carter flicked his torch over. The worktops were a mess. Spilled food, vegetable cuttings everywhere. Which, to be fair, was usually how Nate prepared food.
Carter walked quickly over, Welland a panting, sweating shadow behind him. As they rounded the large island, Carter pointed his torch down. Nate lay on the floor, half curled on his side. His white T-shirt was stained maroon with blood.
Carter crouched down. ‘Nate?’
Another groan, but one eye flickered open. Thank fuck.
‘Hey, man. It’s Carter.’
‘Cuh-ter?’ Nate mumbled. It looked like a tooth had gone.
‘What happened?’
Nate struggled to sit up, wincing in pain. There was more blood on the floor beneath him. Carter put a hand around his friend’s shoulders.
‘Welland,’ he instructed. ‘Get him some water.’
Welland hustled to the sink and clattered about clumsily, coming back with a glass of water, which he slopped everywhere. He handed it to Carter, who placed it to Nate’s lips. Nate half drank and half dribbled water down his top. Carter gently took the glass back off him.
‘Can you remember what happened?’ he asked.
Nate frowned. ‘I was making some food … and –’
‘The power went out,’ Welland interrupted. ‘That’s when Miles sent me down to the utility room to check what was going on.’
‘Thanks, I got that,’ Carter snapped. He focussed his attention on Nate. ‘What happened to you?’
Nate blinked slowly. Carter didn’t like it. He glanced back at the bloody T-shirt.
‘I’m just going to lift your top, okay?’
Nate continued to stare at him blankly. Carter pulled up the damp cotton. Nate’s torso looked unblemished. No visible wounds. Maybe the blood was from the missing tooth. But that was a lot of blood on the floor.
‘I was making some food –’ Nate slurred.
‘And Julia?’ Carter prompted.
‘Julia …’ Nate squinted, like it hurt to force the words out.
C’mon, man, Carter thought.
‘Candles,’ Nate said triumphantly, like he’d just solved the meaning of the universe. ‘She went … for candles.’
Candles. Right. So that explained why Julia had gone downstairs, but not how she had ended up dead in the pool.
‘Did you see her?’ Carter asked Welland.
Welland shook his head. ‘No. You’re not gonna pin this on me.’
‘Julia –’ Nate said again.
‘Julia’s dead,’ Carter said, seeing no point in sugar-coating it. ‘I found her in the pool. Looked like she’d been stabbed.’
Nate rubbed at his eyes. ‘Julia.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Carter sighed.
He knew that Nate and Julia had been friendly. Maybe more than friendly on occasion.
‘Nate,’ he said. ‘We need to find who did this. Did you see who attacked you?’
‘I was –’ Nate paused. Then he leaned forward and threw up, coffee and bile splattering the floor.
Carter jumped up, dodging the spray.
‘Christ, man!’ Welland cried. ‘What the fuck is wrong with him?’
Nate remained, half bent over, drool hanging from his lips.
‘I don’t know. Maybe he has concussion,’ Carter said as the bitter smell of sick rose into his nostrils. ‘We need to get him somewhere safe, then find out what the hell is going on.’ He bent and helped Nate to his feet. ‘And we need some fucking light,’ he added to Welland.
