Combustion Page 11

  Kilroy wanted to post it online and send it to all the news outlets before the Swarm was released but Bunsen overruled him, explaining that the threat needed to be real and obvious or it would have no power. Bunsen did, however, promise to release it before Phase Three, and he expects Kilroy to remind him of that as soon as he returns from dealing with Alvy.

  Bunsen takes in the burning city and draws a deep breath, steels himself for what comes next.

  Phase Three.

  He moves towards the Tyrannosaur, which is parked nearby. The irony is that everything he has done today is to free mankind from its reliance on fossil fuels by forcing it to develop clean energy alternatives, and yet his primary mode of transportation is an Erickson Air-Crane, the thirstiest, dirtiest, most inefficient and polluting helicopter to ever grace the skies. Oh well. After today it will never fly again.

  He climbs into the cockpit beside Enrico, buckles up and pulls on the headset. In a flash the giant chopper lifts into the sky and Bunsen takes in the hundreds of smoke spires that dot Los Angeles and snake towards the heavens.

  Phase Two has laid this city low.

  Phase Three will change this planet forever.

  *

  21

  Judd, Corey and Spike run hard, keep to the edge of the freeway in case they need to use the cement retaining wall as cover.

  The destruction is overwhelming, the sound of distant explosions constant. The lanes are littered with abandoned or burning vehicles, but few people. Traffic is almost non-existent: the odd car or bike races past with a purple exhaust, but that’s it. It seems most people have had the good sense to get off the road.

  They skirt a line of smoking wrecks and Judd glances behind him, can’t see any sign of Ponytail or his silver Prius. Maybe the old guy didn’t survive the plane crash, or maybe he just cut his losses and went home. Here’s hoping.

  Judd pulls in a deep breath and looks across at Corey, who, in spite of all the running they’ve done, doesn’t seem to have cracked a sweat. Judd tries not to breathe too deeply as he speaks: ‘You know, when I was a kid I thought LA would be great if it wasn’t for all the cars. Now I’m not so sure.’

  ‘You lived here?’

  ‘Not for long. We spent a year here in the eighties. My dad was in the army so we moved around a bit, up and down the west coast mainly.’

  ‘I moved with my dad too.’

  ‘Really? Where did you guys live?’

  ‘Started out in Adelaide, in South Australia. Biggest move was to Broome, over in the west. Then up to Darwin for a while. Ended up in the Alice eventually.’

  ‘Why’d you move so much?’

  ‘He was a heli-musterer so he had to go where the work was.’

  ‘How’d you find it? Gotta say I didn’t love it myself. As soon as I’d settle somewhere, make some friends, we’d be up and going again. Pissed me off for years.’

  Corey takes it in with a nod. ‘Yeah. We were never in one place for very long.’

  They run on in silence. Corey doesn’t tell Judd the reason his father was always looking for work was because he was a shocking drunk. Once he was hired it was only a matter of time before he’d be found inebriated on the job (not a good look for somebody who flies helicopters for a living) and would be let go. The poor bastard just never got over the death of his wife, something Corey completely understood. Once he lost his pilot’s licence it only took a year before he drank himself into the grave. He was fifty-two.

  Corey never speaks about it, his mother’s death or his father’s truncated life afterwards. Of all the people he’s ever known, Judd is the one person he’s come closest to telling - just a moment ago, as they ran along this freeway. The Yank knows everything else about Corey’s life, knows he can communicate with the bloody dog for heaven’s sake, so why doesn’t he just tell him about his parents? He thinks about it and realises he knows the answer: he wants at least one part of his life to be unaffected by it.

  Spike barks.

  Corey glances at Judd. ‘He wants to know how much further. The question had a lot more uppity attitude than I can convey.’

  ‘A while. Never done it on foot before —’ Judd stops running. Corey and Spike pull up too.

  ‘What?’

  Judd points. ‘And might not have to.’ Across the road is an SUV, a large, black Cadillac Escalade, jammed between a cement dividing wall and a truck. On the SUV’s roof are strapped two mountain bikes. ‘We use those we’ll be there in twenty minutes.’ Judd sets off for the SUV. Corey and Spike follow.

  They approach the vehicle and Judd sees it. ‘Oh, come on!’ The engine runs and the exhaust is light purple. Inside, a guy is slumped over the steering wheel, quite clearly dead.

  Corey turns to leave. ‘Oh well, we tried. Let’s get out of here before it blows.’

  ‘No. We switch off the engine.’ Judd moves to the rear passenger doorhandle, the only one he has access to, and pulls on it. Locked.

  ‘Like I said, we tried.’ Corey turns to leave.

  ‘Wait.’ Judd’s hands face each other and turn, like he’s working an invisible Rubik’s cube.

  Spike barks.

  Corey nods. ‘Yeah, I see it.’

  ‘See what?’

  ‘You’re doing that Rubik’s cube thing with your hands again.’

  ‘It helps me think - we can break the window!’ Judd steps forward and hits the rear windscreen with his fist.

  Whack. It bounces off, painfully. He wrings his hand. ‘Well, that’s not going to work.’ He searches the road, finds a piece of the SUV’s bumper bar, picks it up, feels its weight, swings it at the rear window.

  Whack. It bounces off. He tries again. No joy. ‘Come on!’

  Corey stares at the exhaust, concerned. ‘Mate, it’s getting darker.’

  ‘I can do this!’ Judd swings the bumper at the window again. It bounces off, barely leaves a mark. ‘If we can get them it’ll save us hours and we won’t be wandering around like sitting ducks on the road —’

  Corey’s not convinced. ‘Just step away from the vehicle.’

  Judd drops the bumper and clambers onto the Escalade’s roof.

  ‘That is the opposite of stepping away!’

  Judd goes to work on the clamps that hold the bikes’ rear wheels to the roof racks.

  Corey’s eyes move to the tail pipe. ‘The exhaust is really dark.’

  Judd’s having trouble undoing the first clamp. ‘Tell me when I need to get down.’

  ‘Now! Now is that time. Right now.’ Corey’s eyes are locked on the puffing exhaust. It’s dark purple.

  Judd’s frustrated. The clamp will not come off. ‘I just can’t - this thing - it won’t come loose.’

  Corey looks at what he’s doing. ‘Don’t pull it, push it.’

  ‘That’s not going to work —’ Click. The clamp unfastens. ‘Oh, good tip.’ Judd moves to the second rear wheel. Click. He then turns to the front wheels.

  Corey stares at the exhaust. ‘Must go faster!’ He backs away from the vehicle. ‘It’s turning black!’

  Click. Click. Judd unfastens both front tyres then flings one bike off the roof. It bounces on its tyres and Corey grabs it as Judd jumps down with the second bike and runs hard -

  Boom. The Escalade detonates.

  The blast hits them like a hammer, the heatwave extraordinary. Corey can hear the hair singe on the back of his head as the wall of flame reaches out for them - then dissipates. They both stay upright, but only because they have the bikes as support. Judd turns to Corey with a smile. ‘See? No problem.’

  Corey’s furious. ‘What the hell are you doing?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Do you have a bloody death wish?’

  ‘I got the bikes, didn’t I?’

  ‘Yeah, and nearly - rolled them, to our deaths.’

  Judd looks at him. ‘That doesn’t make sense.’

  ‘It sounded better when I was thinking it —’

  Judd hears a noise over the crackl
e and pop of the burning SUV. It’s a high-pitched whir. It is distant but grows louder. Judd turns and scans the freeway, then sees it through the flames. A car swerves through the wrecks and races towards them. It whirs because it’s a hybrid. A Prius.

  A silver Prius hybrid.

  ‘Ponytail.’

  Corey’s not happy to see it. ‘Oh, come on!’

  The car will arrive in twenty seconds.

  Spike barks.

  ‘Yes, he really is a mofo.’

  Judd glances at the mountain bike he holds. ‘See? Aren’t you happy I got these things now?’ He pushes the bike, skips once, throws his leg over the seat, finds the pedals and rides away. ‘Follow me.’

  Corey push-runs his bike behind him.

  Judd glances back. ‘What are you doing? Get on.’

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘What’s wrong? Is it broken?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Then what?’

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘That’s not an answer —’

  ‘Ride a bike! I can’t ride a bike.’

  Judd is dumbfounded. ‘You’re thirty years old. Didn’t you learn when you were a kid?’

  ‘You don’t ride a bike if you have your own helicopter!’

  ‘Why didn’t you say something?’

  ‘I was hoping you’d teach me.’

  The Prius whirs.

  They turn.

  It’s just ten seconds away.

  Judd looks back at Corey. ‘First lesson! Throw your leg over the seat, sit down and put your feet on the pedals.’

  Corey doesn’t need to be told twice. He pushes off, throws his leg over the seat, sits and finds the pedals with his feet - then topples over. ‘Christ!’

  Spike barks.

  ‘I’d like to see you do it.’ Corey pushes off again - and stays upright this time. ‘Yes!’ Cocky, he looks over at Judd, then realises the astronaut is riding beside him and holding his bike’s seat to keep him upright. ‘Oh.’

  ‘Second lesson! When you pedal, push down hard to stay balanced.’ Corey does it and they pick up speed. Judd turns them towards the wreck of a semitrailer twenty metres away. If they can reach it, it might offer them some cover. If. Spike gallops ahead.

  Tyres screech. Judd looks back, sees the Prius swerve around the burning SUV and head straight towards them.

  *

  Kilroy watches the two men on bikes. Interestingly, one doesn’t seem to know how to ride and is held steady by the other - not something you see very often. They furiously pedal towards a wrecked semitrailer because, Kilroy guesses, they think it will offer them some cover.

  It won’t. He mashes the pedal and the Prius surges forward. With the car running on battery power its acceleration is swift, much better than with the petrol engine.

  *

  The wreck is close, but is it close enough? Corey hears the thrum of the hybrid engine behind him. He glances back.

  The car is three metres away! Jeez! Fear twists in his chest. Who’d have thought a Prius could be so menacing?

  Judd yanks him right, pulls him behind the wreck as the Prius whips past. Its bumper grazes Corey’s back tyre and the bike wobbles violently, but he pushes hard on the pedals and keeps balance.

  ‘The gap in the wall!’ Judd nods at the right side of the freeway. There’s a narrow service gap in the cement retaining wall three lanes away, wide enough for a bike but too small for a car.

  Corey ups his pace. ‘Okay. I got this.’

  ‘You sure?’

  ‘Bloody oath.’

  ‘I have no idea what that means.’

  ‘It means you can let go now.’

  Judd lets go and aims for the gap, the Australian follows and Spike bounds ahead of them both.

  The Prius’s tyres screech on the bitumen, but Corey has no idea where the car is. He’s too focused on getting to that gap -

  Wham. ‘Jeez!’ Corey looks back. The Prius’s nose has slammed into his rear wheel. The bike shudders, wobbles violently, but he hangs on and keeps it upright.

  The gap in the wall is close. The dog bounds through it, then Judd follows. They disappear from view.

  Wham. The Prius hits Corey’s rear wheel again, but this time it propels the bike forward and he spears through the gap to safety.

  Or not.

  ‘Sweet Jesus!’

  The ground drops away like it’s the Grand Canyon and suddenly Corey’s airborne, ten metres above a steep, grassy hill, his bike’s gears clicking as it freewheels through space.

  He has time to turn and watch the Prius slam into the cement retaining wall. Then he looks forward to see where he’s headed. The hill is thirty metres long and ends abruptly at a steep dropoff to another road three metres below.

  Spike slides down the hill and reaches the drop off. Hard as he tries he can’t stop himself from sliding over the edge, so he jumps and lands nimbly on the road below. Next, Judd lands his bike just before the dropoff, then, like one of those Red Bull stunt rider guys, jumps again and lands safely on the road too.

  As Corey’s bike arcs through the air he realises he’s not travelling fast enough to land beyond the dropoff and not slow enough to land before it. That big nudge from the Prius has increased his pace just enough so the bike comes down right on top of the dropoff, after which it will flip or snap or do God knows what.

  He pulls back on the handlebars and tries to alter the bike’s trajectory.

  It doesn’t work.

  He then pedals hard, thinks that might increase his speed.

  It just looks silly.

  Now what?

  He lets go of the bike and watches it fly away as he falls to earth.

  The bike lands right on the dropoff and violently flips onto the road as expected. A split second later Corey slams into the hill, back first.

  Crunch. His head thumps the ground and rattles his teeth. Jeez-it-hurts! He slides towards the edge, snatches at the ground to stop himself going over -

  Slam. He catches hold of a clump of grass and jerks to a halt, right at the edge. He takes a deep breath. His head vibrates like a tuning fork and his back aches from the impact but he’s in one piece. Groggy, he looks over the edge at Judd and Spike on the road below. ‘I really didn’t enjoy that —’

  ‘Move!’ Judd frantically points back up the hill.

  ‘Huh?’ Corey turns to see the slab of cement retaining wall the Prius hit slide down the slope - directly towards him. ‘Oh, man!’ He pulls himself up, but he’s slow. His back screams and his head feels light and he slumps back down to the grass.

  Spike barks.

  ‘I’m trying!’

  The cement slab picks up speed. It’s the size of a single bed and must weigh a tonne.

  Judd watches it. ‘Get up, man!’

  ‘I said I’m trying!’ Corey wobbles to his feet and the slab’s right there. He jumps awkwardly and it thunders under him, flips off the edge and shatters on the road below.

  Corey crumples to the grass. ‘Jesuschweppes.’

  ‘Come on. We gotta go!’ Judd’s voice is low but firm, his eyes pinned to the Prius at the top of the hill.

  Corey raises his head, concerned. ‘Is Ponytail coming?’

  ‘Not yet, but I don’t want to be here when he does.’

  ‘Can you see him?’

  ‘No, that’s why I want to get going! Hurry up.’

  Corey slides over the edge and drops down to the road as Judd quickly picks up his bike. It’s scratched and dinged and the seat is skew-whiff but otherwise appears functional. He straightens the seat and presents it to the Australian. ‘She’ll be all right.’

  ‘It’s “she’ll be right” -’

  ‘Just get on the friggin’ bike.’

  Corey does it. ‘I’m really getting the hang of this —’ The bike instantly keels over and Judd catches him. Corey takes a moment to compose himself. ‘Maybe I should walk.’

  Judd’s eyes flick back to the Prius. ‘We don’t hav
e that much time. Come on.’ The astronaut grabs his own bike and they ride away. Corey wobbles violently.

  Spike follows, lets out a sharp bark.

  ‘I’ll put training wheels on you if you don’t zip it.’ Corey picks up speed then finds his balance.

  They ride on.

  Judd looks back at the Prius one more time, sees no sign of Ponytail, then pulls the iPhone from his rear pocket, swipes it open and dials Rhonda. He’s hoping word of what’s happened in Los Angeles has reached her flight and it’s been diverted to another city, which hopefully isn’t experiencing the same problems. Her phone rings and rings - then goes through to voicemail.

  ‘Damn it.’ He hangs up, prays she’s okay.

  *

  22

  The Southwest Boeing 737 rips across the deep blue empyrean at forty-one thousand feet.

  Rhonda Jacolby sips a bottle of water and reads the Atlantis 4 screenplay on her iPad. She laughs then shakes her head, incredulous: ‘Fuckin’ Hollywood.’ She turns to Severson to discuss the outrageous liberties the screenwriter has taken with their story, but, with his headphones and eye mask on and his mouth half open, he’s clearly asleep. She turns and looks out the window -

  ‘What the hell?’ She leans forward and focuses on the turbofan attached to the aircraft’s wing. The exhaust has a light purple tint to it. She works the touchscreen of the entertainment unit built into the headrest of the seat in front of her then swipes through the various menus until she pulls up four windows that show different views of the aircraft’s exterior, including the engines. Yes, a light purple exhaust billows from both engines.

  She elbows Severson. ‘Wake up.’

  He turns away, unhappy at being disrupted. ‘Sleeping.’

  She elbows him again. ‘Now, Buttercup.’

  ‘Be nice. I saved your life six months ago.’

  Rhonda grits her teeth. The fact that it was Severson, of all people, who saved her and Judd and Corey outside the Imax Theatre is a source of deep annoyance to her. She sends in another elbow. ‘You need to see this.’