Doctor Who_ Beyond the Sun - Matthew Jones [83]
He peeled himself out of the remains of his frock and reached for the charcoal fatigues. He was totally naked, his backside freezing against the cold plastic of the navigator’s seat.
‘Hey,’ he exclaimed, searching through the pile of clothes. ‘Don’t these uniforms come with jockstraps?’
He noticed Tameka glance down at his crotch as she drove. ‘Honey, trust me, you don’t need one.’
They abandoned the vehicle on the edge of the city and made their way back into the centre as the morning light crept slowly over the jumble of buildings.
They didn’t see any sign of the Sunless or collaborators, but Ursulans in red-striped uniforms were starting to fill the streets by the time they reached the dormitory where Michael lived.
Bernice first sensed something was wrong when she saw the bedding strewn in the corridor outside the rooms. The whole building appeared to be deserted. Emile didn’t appear to have noticed anything, chattering on about something inane. Tameka knew something was different.
They exchanged worried glances as they stepped into the room.
Bernice’s first thought was that it had been snowing in the room. It took her a few seconds to realize that it was the stuffing from the mattress. All the furniture had been savagely ripped apart.
The chairs and tables had been broken into sticks of wood.
There were red stains in the white cotton stuffing. Smears on the walls.
Blood.
Emile’s voice died away. Bernice swallowed, barely feeling the pain in her throat.
She found Errol lying half under his bed. There was a long pencil-thin gash in one of his arms.
The wound was dark against the pale brown skin under his forearm. It was a few inches long, running from his wrist up to his elbow. Bernice stared at it, unable to make sense of it for a moment.
And then she realized the wound was where the intravenous life-support equipment had been linked to his veins. Someone had torn the needle from his arm, ripping out part of the vein as they had done so.
Errol was lying on his back, his eyes closed. He looked peaceful. She caressed his head. The stubble where he hadn’t shaved grazed her fingers. The pockmarks on the side of his face looked deeper than ever. She couldn’t see any other signs of injury, but judging by his cool temperature he was a few hours dead.
Tameka found the doctor half under a mattress. There was blood on the front of Jock’s uniform.
His eyes were wide open, his mouth lipstick-red with blood. There was a small hole in the centre of his chest. Bernice traced the edge of the ragged wound. Not a knife attack. Something blunt.
And then she knew.
A finger.
‘The Sunless did this,’ she said very softly.
She was vaguely aware of Emile turning away.
‘Scott,’ Tameka whispered urgently, ‘he isn’t here.’
Michael was also missing. There was no sign him. Of either of them.
CONVERSATIONS WITH THE ENEMY
Kitzinger’s respirator had finally given up on her, so she was forced to use Aric’s to continue her work. He wouldn’t be needing it any more. The first time she had fingered his mask she had seen that there was a tiny crack in the durable plastic, like a thick dark hair. She could feel it threaten to widen and split whenever she pulled it over her face. Every time she put the mask on she was reminded of Aric and the way she had chided him for his careless attitude to the equipment.
It had been six days since Aric had been murdered. Much to her surprise, Nikolas hadn’t ordered her to be beaten. He’d just told her to go back to the hut and continue working. And she had obeyed without question, without a word.
Kitzinger was sitting at her terminal, chewing slowly on her rations when she heard Nikolas arriving. Without thinking, she tucked the parcel of food away in a pocket of her thick clothes, fearful of having it taken from her. She caught herself doing this. Once she would have felt angry
– now she was infinitely weary.
She watched his shadow in the airlock. He hadn’t visited her since the abortive escape attempt.
Perhaps he had come to administer her punishment. Perhaps he had finally come to kill