The Fog - James Herbert [105]
He knew the bridge was nearby and prayed that the government vehicle would be there waiting for him. His chest heaving, he reached the corner where the road branched off along the Embankment. My God, he suddenly thought, on which side would the vehicle be? Could it be on this corner, just out of sight in the mist, or would it be on the other side, the bridge corner? Without hesitating, he ran off the kerb and into the road, hoping his judgement was correct. He didn’t much like the idea of dashing around in the fog trying to locate the car with the crowd of lunatics so close on his heels.
He reached the island in the middle of the road and kept going, trusting luck and his instinct for survival to pull him through. To have stopped to look around would have been more than pointless; it would have meant his death.
And then, two bright circles lit up before him, behind the circles, the shadowy shape of an odd-looking machine. He heard the roar of its engine and suddenly it was coming towards him. It must be the one! It had to be.
But to his dismay, it curved around him, gathering speed, going past. With a sickening feeling, he realized the driver’s intention. The heavy, bulky vehicle ploughed into the following pack of bodies, sending them flying, crushing some beneath its broad wheels, scattering the luckier ones. Then it reversed and came back towards Holman. It didn’t have the appearance of having speed, but the tyres screeched as they tried to grip the ground when the driver braked. He had to move fast to avoid being run down himself.
A small door at its side sprang open and a strange metallic voice said: ‘Sorry, sir. But you’re a bit more important than those people at the moment. I had to do it, it was your only chance. Now please get in, we haven’t got much time!’
Crouching low, he clambered into the vehicle and was confronted by a heavily garbed figure, the suit similar to those worn by the men in Winchester, but much bulkier and more clumsy looking. The man wore a large helmet and Holman failed to see his eyes through the dark, narrow visor. The metallic voice came from a small mouthpiece positioned in the centre of his helmet.
‘Close the door, sir. We don’t want any of those lunatics or any more of the fog getting in.’
Holman did as he was told and turned to face the figure again.
‘Where are you taking me?’ he asked.
‘You’ll see, sir,’ came the reply. ‘My name is Mason – can’t really shake hands, these gloves don’t allow for it. I must say, you had me worried. I’ve been waiting ages.’
‘I had a few problems on the way,’ said Holman dryly, slumping back breathlessly in his seat. ‘Where are we going?’
‘Just a moment, sir. Must let them know I’ve picked you up.’ He pressed a switch and spoke without the use of a hand speaker, reporting that his mission had so far been successful and they would soon be returning to base. He turned back to Holman.
‘Now, sir. I’d like you to drive. These vehicles aren’t really meant for travelling in thick fog as you can see by the tiny apertures. And my wearing this suit doesn’t help much, either. Had a devil of a time reaching this spot even though I wasn’t wearing a helmet then. Now that I’ve had the door open, I daren’t risk taking it off again because some of the fog is bound to have got in.’
‘The suit’s lead-lined?’
‘Yes, sir. That’s what makes it so bloody cumbersome. Meant to be protection against radiation, y’see. The whole car is.’
‘Radiation?’
‘Yes. We call it the Devastation Vehicle. You’ll find out why, later.’
Glancing around, Holman saw it was fitted with a mass of instruments, gauges and switches.
‘I’m not sure I can drive it,’ he said.
‘Oh, don’t let all those gadgets put you off,’ Mason assured