Chapter 10

Connor Temple stared blankly at the back of the seat in front of him. Had his mind been able to register anything other than the searing pain of realising that the woman he loved was dead or dying, then he might have been surprised to be confronted with a transport vehicle that looked as though it had emerged straight from the reels of one of his favourite sci-fi movies. Perhaps he would have offered some resistance when the strangers emerged from the transport and began hustling his team up the ramp into the hovering van. He might even have noted with interest the differences between the strangers and his own people.

Instead, he had allowed himself to be led into the rear of the hovercraft like a blind man, heedless of the world around him. He had offered no complaint when strange hands guided him into a high backed chair and strapped him in securely. He had barely registered the increase in pressure pushing him back into the chair as the hovercraft zoomed off, retracing its approach like a crayfish in retreat. He didn't even notice the sonic boom as the craft hit the speed of sound. He simply sat there, unseeing, unhearing, thinking only of Abby and how he might possibly save her. If he could save her.

He ignored the curious murmuring going on around him. He ignored Peta's gentle enquiry, asking if he was okay. It wasn't so much a question as an attempt at conversation. A way of getting him to talk about why he was not okay. But that wasn't something he could do. Not right now.

He barely registered the air being expelled sharply from his lungs as the hovercraft came to a sudden halt. Mechanically, he released the catch on the safety harness and followed the others out of the hovercraft into the dull light of the underground hangar. Without bothering to look around him, he followed the group out of the hangar and up a flight of dimly lit stairs, ignoring the strange hand that sometimes reached out to steady him when his foot missed a step.

Wordlessly, he allowed himself to be led away from the rest of his team, ignoring Peta's worried stare as a stranger gently blocked her way. He took little notice of the wider corridor he was being led down, one stranger on either side of him, their hands gently, but firmly, on his upper arms. He didn't spot the light gradually getting brighter until a door in front of him opened and he was guided through into a room bathed in blinding light.

The physical pain of the bright light searing through into his retinas shook Connor out of his numb trance and he raised a hand to his eyes, shielding them from the unidentified light source. As the glare began to clear he started to make out the shape of figures standing in the room before him. One figure, notably shorter than the rest, raised a hand and the lights dimmed slightly. Connor's eyes watered and he pressed the heels of his hands into them, breathing rapidly like someone newly awakened from a dream.

When his breathing slowed and the pain subsided, Connor lowered his hands, wiping them in the same motion. He blinked a few times, focussing on the floor before trying anything so complicated as a face. When he did look up, the face he saw made him frown in confusion, then in anger.

"You!" Connor spat, Helen's smiling countenance now filling his view. "Is this your doing then? Wipe out humanity? Clear the way for real animals?"

Helen laughed and smiled benignly.

"No, this wasn't my doing," she replied. "I did what I could to try and stop it, but, apparently, I don't have the right gifts."

"What do you mean?"

"Do you know where you are, Connor?"

"Just a shot in the dark, here, but I'm guessing we're not in the past."

"Correct."

"And? Knowing we're in the future hardly changes anything."

"Doesn't it?" Helen turned and walked around the room. "Look around you, Connor, and what do you see? A dead world? Not entirely."

"Hardly the green and pleasant land we left behind though, is it? But never mind: humans are still around so anything can happen. Right?"

"More to the point, what hasn't happened?"

Connor frowned at Helen, wondering what she was getting at. Surely Cutter would have been better placed to answer her infuriating riddles. Finally, he worked it out.

"We're still here. We didn't die out."

"Right again. Keep going."

"If we didn't die out, then that has to mean the virus didn't kill everyone."

"Good. Now what does that mean?"

"That it wasn't as dangerous as we thought, or that we managed to isolate it until it burned itself out. Ran out of hosts."

"Not quite," Helen stopped walking and turned to face Connor. "The historical records of this place are excellent," she said. "They give the detailed story of how, on the very same day you walked through that little anomaly of yours, a mystery virus, originating in London, began to sweep its way across what was then England, shortly followed by the rest of the world. The virus was swift and deadly. Almost everyone exposed to the virus died within one single day of catching it."

Connor paled at the renewed image of Abby dying from this mystery illness, beyond his reach and without even knowing just how much he loved her. Suddenly a word sprung out at him, like a beacon of hope on a stormy night.

"Almost," he said, grasping at the word like a drowning man grasps at a straw. "You said Almost everyone died."

Helen nodded like a teacher proud that her student has finally learnt the lesson in front of him.

"In every population of every species there is variation," she said. "Those species that reproduce sexually, whose offspring are formed from a mixture of two parents' genetic material, show greater variety. That variety leads to random immunity to new forms of disease. Perhaps one in every million, or ten million even, might be immune, but in a species whose numbers are in the billions, that is still enough to survive. Those who survive to reproduce will pass that immunity on to at least most of their offspring. Gradually the species will evolve and the threat will pass."

"And Abby?" Connor asked, desperate for his hopes to be vindicated. "Was she immune? Did she survive?"

"She caught the virus, Connor. Just like almost everyone else around her. Whether she survives, however, is now up to you."

XXXX

Becker rubbed a hand across his eyes. The gentle sounds of people moving in their sleep reassured him that all hell had not yet broken loose. What then had woken him? It was still dark. No faint dawn light filtered through the entrance of the cave. He cast a glance in the direction of the fire. It was still burning. The guard watching over it was the second of the two to whom he had given the duty, proving that it was now well into the small hours of the morning. The guard was sitting still, his breathing regular. Becker wondered if he was asleep. He could hardly blame him if he was. They were all exhausted.

So what had woken him? Any noise from the fire would surely have roused the guard. Becker rolled over and spotted what was missing. He stretched a hand out to the empty blanket by his side. Kate. Where had she gone? He lifted himself up onto his elbows and scanned the cave, all that he could see of it. She wasn't inside. He looked behind him. Surely she wouldn't have gone further into the cave on her own and without a light. Outside then. He dragged himself to his feet, picking up the blanket and wrapping it round his shoulders against the night chill. Carefully avoiding stepping on anyone, he picked his way through the sleeping bodies to the edge of the cave.

The shape of the cave and the overhanging entrance made it difficult to see exactly what was outside the cave until he was almost at the very mouth of it. Stepping out into the clear starlight he saw her, sitting a few feet away with her back to the rock wall, staring up at the sky. For a moment he just watched her, taking in her appearance. The black curls hung loosely down across her shoulders. The light, summer jacket she had on was pulled tightly round her torso, covering almost all of the colourful halter neck underneath. Her legs were bare from half-way down the calf, where her pedal-pusher trousers stopped short. In the dim light of the moon and stars, they looked pale, almost deathly white. Her bare toes moved in her sandals and he realised he was staring.

She heard him as he walked towards her and looked round. He hadn't made any attempt to hide his approach, but when she spotted him he froze, feeling ridiculously guilty, like an intruder to a private conversation. Kate smiled and he relaxed, crossing the rest of the distance between them and sitting down by her side. He wrapped the blanket around Kate's shoulders, using the movement as a childish excuse to drape his arm around her protectively.

He half expected her to pull away from him, but, to his relief and surprise, she leant into him instead, resting her head on his shoulder.

"It's so beautiful out here," Kate murmured softly.

"Dangerous though," Becker whispered. He was having to make a conscious effort not to lean down to those wild curls.

"I was looking for the plough," said Kate. "You know: the constellation. Wherever I was in the northern hemisphere, or most of it anyway, I could always find the plough and that would tell me that I was still here. Still at home. Wherever home was, it was always under that same sky."

"Did you find it?"

"I think so," Kate raised an arm out of the blanket and pointed at a patch of unfamiliar sky. "Over there. Do you see them?"

Becker squinted in the direction she indicated, ignoring the fact that this brought his head much closer to hers.

"What am I looking for," he breathed.

"You see that bright star there," Kate pointed and Becker nodded, still not sure where he was supposed to be looking. Kate carried on. "There's a jagged line that runs right from there, almost like a lightning strike."

"I see it," Becker nodded. "It doesn't look much like I remember it."

"It won't do. Not yet, anyway. Not for another couple of hundred million years."

"It's still the same stars, though," said Becker, sensing the sadness in Kate's voice. "The same moon, the same sky and, in the morning, the same sun."

"Just not the same world," Kate shrugged turning to face him and catching his face close to hers. Her sudden intake of breath brought Becker's attention back from the stars to Kate's face, now so close to his it took everything he had to stop himself closing the gap between them.

Once again, she surprised him by not pulling away. Instead, they remained frozen, their only movements coming from their eyes as they flitted across each others faces, looking for the slightest sign. As if drawn by an inexorable force, like two stars colliding under the weight of each other's gravity, their lips met. The first kiss was soft, tentative, still unsure of its welcome. The second was longer, slower, savouring every moment. The third kiss was deeper. All the passion, the fury, the grief, the frustration, the relief and all the other mixed up emotions of the past day went into that kiss. When they finally broke apart, they were breathing heavily. Kate rested her forehead against Becker's.

"You still owe me that dinner you know," she said.