The Fog - James Herbert [134]
He slumped down against the wall which sloped down towards the tunnel. ‘Have you planted the explosives yet?’ he asked, trying to make his words intelligible through gasping breath.
‘Yes, I’ve done that. As much as I could beneath each gas holder. They’re made of steel those things, but they’ll crack like eggs with the amount of gelignite I’ve used. I’m going to set the timer for five minutes which will give us plenty of time to get back into that tunnel. We’re going to need all the shelter we can get.’ Before Holman could tell him of the mob in the tunnel, the Captain went on, ‘Here comes Ryker now. He was just getting a last look at the bloody thing while I was setting up the wires here. I think he’s still in a state of shock, you know. One minute he’s quite rational, the next he seems to go off into – my God! He isn’t wearing his helmet!’
Holman heard the Captain calling out Professor Ryker’s name, then the radio went dead. He raised himself and looked over the top of the wedge-shaped wall, narrow at his end, but deep by the tunnel’s exit. He could just about make out the huge structures of the gasworks through the fog which, he noticed, was thinning out considerably.
‘Peters, Peters!’ he shouted into the receiver. ‘What’s happening? For Christ’s sake answer!’
He was still shouting into the speaker when he realized it was answering. Again, it was the Captain’s voice, but his words sounded even more distant. The brisk, military coolness had gone, and the words carried an edge of panic to them. ‘H-he’s taken the detonator box from me. He’s become infected by the fog, I’m sure and yet . . .’ The voice struggled to control itself, ‘He seemed quite rational. He said we couldn’t wait for five minutes, the risk of the nucleus moving away was too great – it had to be destroyed now while we had the chance. I refused, but h-he pushed me back and grabbed the box. I didn’t dare struggle with him in case the mechanism was jolted and it went off there and then. He’s – he’s walking back now, into the fog, into the nucleus! Holman, wherever you are now, try and find shelter. Get into the tunnel if you can. I’m coming out! I’m beside the vehicle – I may just have a chance!’ Static, then silence.
Holman knew better than to try to call the Captain again; the poor bastard needed all the time he could get! He looked towards the vast refinery, shaking at the thought of what was about to happen and then he thought he saw movement. He couldn’t be sure because of the drifting fog, but yes, it looked like the Devastation Vehicle! He might just make it!
Then two things happened at the same time: the mob poured from the tunnel below, carrying what looked like a bloodied naked carcass above their heads, and as he turned their way, a searing flash, followed by a deafening explosion and then in turn followed by a thunderous whoosh of exploding gas, rocked the very earth.
Holman curled up into a tight ball trying to make himself as small as possible. He could feel the hot air burning into his back, his hair crackling as it was singed from his scalp; he thought his eardrums would burst with the noise, he could feel the trickle of blood as it ran from his nose. The roar seemed to be going on forever, the concrete was cracking beneath him. Although he could not hear them with his deafened ears he could feel fresh blast-waves sweeping over him, more violent tremblings of the ground, and he knew the other smaller tanks were going up one by one. He was afraid to look even had it been possible, for he knew the world above him was now a blazing inferno and if he raised himself, the heat would scorch his eyes. He was luckier than most of the people below at the tunnel’s exit; he was tight up against the solid wall which was reinforced by the width of the road running along its top, but they, although sheltered from the worst of the blast, were relatively exposed. Many were burnt to death instantly by the scorching blast of dry air; others were swept back into the tunnel, the bodies shattered by fragments of