Project - 16 (17 page)

“
I'm sorry,” she said. “I was out of line.”

“
You understand?” he asked. She nodded but I was at a loss to
understand how some paper had convinced her so easily.

“
I don't!” I said, putting my hand in the air. “You're
convinced after that?”

“
Yeah, sadly, I am. I didn't want to be but the stuff makes
sense. All the codes, the encryption data - even the names, they
all check out. But how did you get this information? It's beyond
top secret.”

“
That, I do not know. That is beyond my humble trade. This
packet was given to me by General Ibromavich himself for just this
reason. It was to be used to convince any American I could find
that there was a clear and present danger in this country and it
had to be dealt with.”

“
That was a hell of a risk. You could be shot for having
this,” she said, sitting down on the grass.

“
If it's top secret, how do you know about it?” I asked
her.

“
I don't - but I was special forces and I was trained to
recognise Intel in the field, ours or the enemy's. If it was ours I
was to retrieve it, if it was theirs I was to steal it. In order to
do that I had to know access codes, encryption keys, that kind of
thing. There wouldn't be stacks of papers with 'TOP SECRET' stamped
on them - there'd be laptops and tablets and they'd be protected
with software. It was my job to hack it and find out. That's why I
know this is legitimate.”

“
Okay,” I said. “So they ordered drugs to use as an antidote.
That's one answer. The other way they could use them?”

“
It's possible they might wish to develop it further. From
what we could gather, the virus was in its test phase and not yet
operational. They may be looking to continue the work using these
ingredients to create something else.”

“
So this third party could be a scientist of some kind,” said
Riley. “He or she could be trying to get Saska and Alex to continue
with the work.”

“
Or prepare for his arrival,” I added.

“
But we don't know who he is,” said Piotr. “Or what his
intentions might be.”

“
That's nothing new,” I said and got back on my feet. “Let's
carry on. The more I think about it, the harder it
gets.”

We walked on, each lost in their own thoughts as the evening
came down around us. We camped east of an old industrial estate now
overgrown with bind weed and tall, thick carpets of grass that
garnished the rusting heaps of truck bodies that lay strewn around
the fading, prefab buildings. We kept our distance, choosing to bed
down in a belt of wild woodland beside a moss covered motorway.
Piotr had only a tarp and a bivy bag to sleep in, explaining that
to him this weather was almost tropical and he had little need of
anything else. Riley set up her tent closer to my hammock with the
entrance facing me. She sat in front of it with her stove, boiling
up an MRE - tuna pasta this time.

I had some more of the game Piotr had brought with him and I
offered him one of my own meals which he accepted
gladly.

“
I sometimes forget what vegetables taste like,” he said as he
ate. “I had berries and nuts in the taiga along with deer but it
only goes so far in keeping you alive. What did your Papa used to
say?”

“
Don't just survive, thrive, I think.”

“
That's the one. It's not just about surviving out here, or
anywhere, it's about thriving in that environment, conquering it,
making it subject to our will.”

“
Or at least thriving together with the environment. A
symbiosis of sorts,” I added.

“
You could look at it like that,” he said. Riley ate her food
in silence, looking at each of us as we spoke. She hadn't said much
since she'd read those papers and I had the feeling she was trying
to come to terms with her own feelings on the matter. I couldn't
relate to her struggle - after all, I owed no loyalty to any
country or body of representatives. I was the last Englishman
alive. I guess I only answered to myself.

“
When I was a boy, my own Papa took me out into the wilderness
and showed me how to hunt rabbits using a snare. I remember my
first one, days and days of teaching and I still hadn't managed it.
Then, before we're about to go home, my tiny wire finally traps
something. When I got up that morning there it was - fat and ready
for winter but very much dead. I skinned it, ate its flesh and made
its fur into a hat for my baby brother. I was very proud that day.
I had begun to do what my ancestors had done, I was conquering
nature as mankind was meant to.”

“
Why must we conquer it?” I asked though from past experience
I knew that this was only the prelude to a long debate that Piotr
had wanted from the start. In truth, the Russian was a lonely man,
often hunting for years at a time, alone, without another soul to
talk to and he and my Dad had gone on for hour after hour on some
topic. This was just such a topic and he was trying to snare me
too.

“
It's natural to dominate, to thrive through the conflict,” he
replied. “It's what puts us at the top of the food
chain.”

“
But our role at the top should surely be to ensure our
dominance through careful, respectful use of...”

At some point in the conversation Riley cooked her desert -
lemon sponge pudding - and ate it inside her tent, half-zipping the
door shut before finally drifting off to sleep. But Piotr and I
continued in more of a whisper though with the same zeal he'd
always had.

When the morning came I realised that I'd woken later than
usual and the sun was already up. I smelled coffee and saw that
Riley had a cup in her hand and was sipping at it whilst waiting
for her breakfast to heat up. My stove was where I'd left it and so
I reached over and set some water boiling.

“
Tired?” she asked.

“
Kind of,” I replied.

“
You two sure can talk.”

“
We don't often get so deep and meaningful,” I said, not
wanting to leave the warmth of the hammock but knowing that I
needed to relieve myself. “How was your pudding?”

“
Fantastic as always So much lemony-goodness.”

She paced the camp, taking gentle sips from her cup as she
tried to warm herself. I could see the tension in her shoulders -
she still hadn't come to terms with it all. I couldn't blame
her.

“
Good morning!” said Piotr, emerging from under his shelter.
“Still warm here I see.”

“
Speak for yourself,” said Riley. “I'm freezing my fucking ass
off here.”

“
Where is the tea?” he asked.

“
There,” I said, pointing to his pack. “Whatever you
brought.”

“
I thought someone might have started boiling water,” he said,
bending down slowly to open up his back pack. “I am an old man. I
need caring for.”

Eventually I dragged myself out of the hammock but it took
the smell of coffee to do it. Riley had already packed her kit away
and was sat with the comms relay in her hand, trying to check for a
signal.

“
Any joy?” I asked as I ate my breakfast.

“
No, still nothing,” she replied. “It doesn't look good. I had
3 satellites. Now I have none and even this thing has started to
fail. It's picking up interference of some sort.”

“
What is going on?” asked Piotr.

“
We were supposed to hear from the US but we've had nothing
from them on the comms kit Riley brought with her,” I
said.

Piotr shrugged. “I have no news for you I'm afraid. I was on
a boat most of the way here and we had no radio contact. I know as
much as you about what is happening at home. I did hear about the
trouble, the riots, but nothing more.”

“
I know, it's okay,” said Riley, packing the tablet away. “I
just hoped to hear something. We still need to find Alex and Saska
regardless of what's happening back home.”

We packed away and set off about mid-morning just as the grey
clouds began rolling in from the south. I could almost taste the
rain in the air and I quickly put on my poncho just as the heavens
opened in a dreadful storm. The sky darkened and even in the
woodland it was difficult to see more than a few feet in front of
our faces.

“
Ah yes, we are in England!” cried Piotr over the din of the
downpour. “I almost forgot.”

“
Some people have a nice walk, some people get wet,” said
Riley. “But it's starting to piss me off now.”

“
All you two do is complain,” I said, laughing. “It's
beautiful out there - look at that wasteland coming to
life!”

They turned away and Riley flipped me the finger. I laughed
but I knew what she meant. The rain, the constant dampness, it was
demoralising and we began to long for the house which didn't turn
up for another two days - our progress being slowed by the floods
that soon rose up from the riverbanks. Twice we had to wade
knee-deep through streams that had become violent torrents of water
and being wet had now become the norm. My legs often itched with it
and sleeping was almost pointless. Even my dry clothes I carried
had managed to get wet despite my best efforts.

When we arrived home, perhaps in the first few days of
January now that I thought about it, we saw the cleared patch of
land and the huts and the house and we all sighed with relief. I
was happy to see the place and eager to change into dry clothes. We
were tired, exhausted and keen to refuel before heading back out
again.

“
Nothings changed,” said Piotr. “I thought that when I came
here looking for you.”

“
There was no reason to change it,” I replied, unlocking the
front door. “The only thing different is the garden where I grow my
veg. I’ve planted more durable crops given the change in the
weather.”

“
This change is that obvious?” said Piotr.

“
Yeah. The winters have been getting colder, the summers far
wetter. I’ve started concentrating on onions, potatoes, that kind
of thing. Stuff I can store easily and that don't require much
maintenance.”

Riley took off her shoes and carried her kit upstairs without
saying a word. She looked shattered. Piotr followed me into the
kitchen, leaving a trail of muddy footprints behind him.

“
I love the outdoors but you can't beat a warm hearth and a
cup of tea,” he said, dumping his pack on the floor. He took the
kettle and filled it with water from the barrel before sitting it
on the stove I was trying to light. After a few attempts it burst
into life. Piotr found two cups and a tea pot and measured out some
tea leaves he'd brought in a small sack. “Some caravan tea for you.
One day I will bring you a samovar and show you how to use it
properly.”

“
You always make it sound like a threat more than a promise,”
I replied.

I put some biscuits I'd made on the table and went upstairs
to change whilst the pot brewed. When I came back down, Piotr was
sat with his pack open, taking out steaks of game he'd cooked,
piling them on the table. He threw them into the fire and watched
them burn.

“
Such a shame,” he said. “But they won't keep any longer and I
think they've collected enough dirt from my pack.”

“
I've plenty of dried stuff in the pantry,” I said. He got up
and poured a measure of tea into the bottom of his cup and added
some hot water to it from a second kettle he'd put on the stove.
Then he added honey from a jar I'd put out there, some of Dad's
preserve, and stirred it carefully with a spoon. He poured a cup
for me and I took it, put it on a tray with some of the biscuits
and went up to Riley's room. I knocked on the door twice but there
was no answer. I pushed it open slightly and saw that she was led
across her bed in her underwear, snoring softly with the blankets
at her feet.

I set the tray on the table and pulled the bedding over her
sleeping form. Then I gently nudged her until her eyes opened. She
stared at me, then jerked into life.

“
I must have dozed off,” she said.

“
I made you some tea. You'd better drink it before you go back
to sleep. We got pretty cold out there,” I said, gathering her wet
clothes up from off the floor. “I'll hang these up in the drying
room.”

“
Hmm,” was all she said as she added sugar to the cup.
“Miller?”

“
Yeah?”

“
Do you trust him? The Russian?”

“
Yeah, I do.”

“
Good enough for me.” I turned and left, pulling the door shut
behind me.

“
She's very pretty,” said Piotr as I passed him on my way to
the drying room. He'd poured another cup and offered it to me. I
sat down, tired and ready for my own bed, and nodded a thanks to
him from across the table. His keen eyes surveyed me and he broke
into a chuckle. “Who'd make this up, eh? Three nations in the same
house and not trying to kill each other for a change. It's very
funny.” He'd switched to his native language now and I almost
hadn't noticed, automatically giving my reply in
Russian.

“
Why are you here, Piotr?” I asked. Fatigue was now a fog that
hung over my skull, seeping into the flesh of my scalp and crawling
down my neck.