The Fog - James Herbert [127]
He had come to regard it almost as a living, thinking thing. Ryker had called it a monster. It seemed apt. The feeling that it was protesting in some way against this violation against it still persisted but, of course, it was only the high-pitched humming of the machinery, the quivering stiffness of the steel tubing combining with his imagination that produced and heightened the effect. At least, that was what he told himself.
The urge to go closer to the source was becoming stronger and several times during that long three minutes he found himself staring blankly into the bright mass. At last, with a sigh of relief, he switched off the machine, pushed another button to effectively seal the container, then detached the tubing, leaving it lying limply along the ground. He stood up and once again looked into the radiance. Perhaps he should get a closer look at it. Perhaps behind the veiling mists that swirled in front of it he would find some clue to its beginnings; some idea of its structure he could inform Ryker of, who would perhaps recognize a vital factor in the progress of his theory. He was immune, after all; it wouldn’t harm him.
He began to walk towards it.
A gloved hand clamped down heavily on his shoulder when he had only gone ten yards, spinning him round roughly.
‘What do you think you are doing?’ Ryker demanded to know, his body heaving with the exertion of running in the cumbersome suit.
Holman could only stare at the darkened visor.
‘I could barely make out your figure through the fog,’ Ryker went on, ‘and when it disappeared altogether, I knew something was wrong. It has been a long time since I have run so fast. Now tell me: what are you up to?’
Holman rubbed a hand across his forehead. ‘Christ,’ he said, ‘I don’t know. I was walking into it. I just had a compulsion to get nearer to it.’
‘Yes,’ said Ryker slowly and thoughtfully. ‘Well, do not look at it again. Turn your back on it and let us return to the machine. Did you complete your task?’
‘Y-yes. Yes, it should be full. But you shouldn’t be this close – your suit may not be enough protection.’
‘I know, I know, but you had to be stopped. Come along, let us get away from here.’
They collected the machine and made their way back to the tunnel’s entrance, much to the relief of the two soldiers who had been growing more anxious by the minute.
‘Everything okay, sir?’ enquired the Captain, stepping forward to take the machine.
‘Everything is fine,’ Ryker told him. ‘Now, we will not waste any more time; we must seal the tunnel entrance immediately. Take the container back out of harm’s way – we will worry about loading it on to the vehicle later, when our next job is done.’ He looked up at the arch of the tunnel and smiled inside his helmet.
‘It is very fortunate that they thought of building another tunnel. Captain Peters and I will take explosives through the southbound passage and plant them at the other end. We must seal both openings at the same time so that the mycoplasma will be trapped; we will time our blasts so they occur simultaneously.’
They went over to the vehicle and the Sergeant began to unload three cases of explosives. ‘This will be more than enough,