The Fog - James Herbert [124]
‘It’s all right,’ said Holman wearily, ‘it’s me, Holman.’ He stopped nevertheless.
Another grey-suited figure was now climbing from the car. ‘Yes, Captain, it’s Holman. Put your gun down.’
‘Sorry, sir,’ the man holding the gun said, ‘but I’m a bit jumpy after what we’ve seen coming here.’
‘It’s okay,’ said Holman, ‘I know what you mean.’
The second figure pushed by the Captain and advanced on Holman. ‘Well done, Mr Holman,’ said a voice, familiar although distorted by the helmet’s speaker. ‘Let us hope we are in time to carry out your plan, eh?’
He recognized the slight German accent. ‘Professor Ryker?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ came the reply. ‘I decided to see the mutation firsthand before we sealed it off. Once it is trapped, the fog itself should be easy to disperse. Later, we will be able to drill holes and draw the mycoplasma off into containers. It should in itself provide us with enough vaccine to cure a large majority of the people we catch in time. But first, I must have that sample for I’m afraid we still do not know exactly what the mutation is.’
‘But you must have some idea by now,’ said Holman.
‘Brain cells perhaps, broken down, crystallized in some way, infected with the mycoplasma, multiplying, somehow feeding on impurities and carbon dioxide from the air. Yes, we have some idea,’ said Ryker, ‘but that is not enough. We still need the thing itself. And soon, if it is to be of any use.’ He pointed towards the vehicle he’d just arrived in. ‘Now please, let us go to this place, this tunnel. We must not waste any more time.’
He walked back to the vehicle, pulling Holman gently by the arm along with him. ‘This is Captain Peters, our explosives expert,’ he said as they passed the figure still clutching the gun.
‘Sir,’ the Captain said to Holman, ‘you didn’t say what had happened to Mason when you reported back.’
Holman pointed towards the two dead figures lying beside the bus across the road. ‘One of them’s Mason. He was injured in the crash and ran into a mob. They kicked him to death.’
He thought he heard the Captain cursing softly as he climbed into the vehicle. Inside, he was surprised to find the figure of another man, also clad in the usual grotesque garb.
‘This is Sergeant Stanton,’ the Captain introduced him as he squeezed in behind Holman. The Sergeant’s helmet nodded towards him.
‘Did you find room for the explosives?’ Holman asked, quite seriously. The small cabin was fairly cramped with all four of them, especially with the other three’s suits making their bodies even more bulky.
‘I think you’ll find we have enough sir,’ the Sergeant replied, equally seriously. They had all seen enough distressing sights that day to dismiss any joviality they might normally have. ‘Blasting gelatine we brought. Enough to blow up the ’ouses of Parly. You’re sitting on most of it!’
Holman shifted in his seat uncomfortably.
‘Don’t worry, sir,’ the Captain said, ‘it’s quite safe for the moment.’
‘So long as nobody bashes into us,’ Stanton remarked dryly.
‘Yes,’ agreed the Captain. ‘I think it might be better if Mr Holman drives providing he feels up to it; he’ll have a clearer view than any of us. We daren’t take off these helmets now that the door has been opened.’
Holman struggled forward into the driver’s seat and the Sergeant squeezed back into the place he had vacated.
‘Of course, we still do not know if these suits are strong enough to resist the mycoplasma,’ said Ryker. ‘At least not near its centre, in its purest form. That is why it is still you, Mr Holman, who will have to draw off the sample.’
As Holman shuddered, Ryker went on reassuringly, ‘Don’t worry, my friend. You will not have to go too near, we have long tubing which you will only have to direct into the nucleus. And one of us will come as far as possible with you to see that you come to no harm.’
The vehicle moved on and once again the four men were subjected to the wretched