Part III: The Flooding of Fredrick Street - Chapter 20

20

"Initiate the flood protocol." 

And the phone clicked dead. Peter sat there for a moment in a daze, cramped in a tiny store cupboard in darkness with his headphones playing the sound of a dead telephone line into his ears. He had listened intently, as Dr. Wyatt spoke to a man on the phone, informing him that they'd lost another participant. He had listened as the man on the other end of the phone toyed with her (or at least that's how it sounded to Peter) as she defended the project. That didn't matter to the man though. He wanted it pulled, the results they wanted were not forthcoming and it may be best to put an end to it. He had listened, when the man on the other end of the phone, Mr. Wells, had uttered those words.

"Initiate the flood protocol." 

The words echoed in his ears. They were going to flood the place, and everyone inside. That would explain the water in the walls, thought Peter, as his mind whirred, trying to piece together everything he had heard and make some sense of it. 

He had bugged the phones in the offices of the project's leaders a few months ago, namely Dr Wyatt and Ray (Tom was gone by the time he had his brain wave) and the conversations were mostly banal. But this was far from it. This - they wanted to flood the place. They were going to kill everyone, wipe the board clean and start again. 

"Pick those you view as essential personnel."

Anger started to boil deep within Peter then, as the jigsaw started to take shape. They were going to turn this place into a well, water filled to the top. Worst of all, it didn't fully surprise Peter. He almost expected this kind of stunt to be pulled. 

I have assurances, he thought. Remembering.

There was not a chance in hell he was going to let these people get away with any more than they'd already had.

Slowly, and quietly, he slid the headphones behind the ventilation shaft at the base of the cupboard and slipped back into the corridor, busy with people in white coats and suits, oblivious as to the danger they faced. 

Unless they were essential personnel, he thought, another bubble of anger. Was he not essential personnel? Was Colin?

Colin.

He had been right, in many ways. Peter spared a thought for his friend, knowing then in that moment that he would never him again. Whatever had happened to him and what was about to happen, they had shared their last lunch together. It was thoughts of Colin, and the phone call, that spurred him on; he was filled now with a hot-boiled rage.

Initiate Flood protocol. He couldn't share shake those words, how callously they had been spoken. It didn't take a genius to figure out what he'd meant by it. They were essentially in an underground aquarium. A stationary submarine, goldfish in a fish bowl. The walls were either rigged with explosives, and they would self detonate and flood the complex and those with it, or the walls would simply come apart. 

And they would. He'd make sure of it. Just not on their timescale.

He turned sharply down the corridor and moved toward his destination. As he did, a nursery rhyme from his childhood came back to him:

Ring-a-ring o' roses,

A pocket full of posies,

A-tishoo! A-tishoo!

We all fall down.

Peter moved throughout the Complex with ease, flashing his badge at the security and the turnstiles, moving into the depths of the building. Eventually, he found the porter's supply closet. There was a myriad of tools located within, but he would only need a few. Putting on his tool belt he left the closet and made his way to the tank room. 

Issie was running through the halls of the Complex breathless, heading for the tank room. With the words of Harold Wells still swimming around in her head, she had brought up the Complex's CCTV monitors on her computer screen. She watched them all, all these people they had recruited. Most of them were young who wanted to carve out a legacy for themselves and do something that would be talked about in this generation and the ones to follow. Some of them, she understood, were ex-military with a few ex-cons thrown in for good measure. Her eye hovered over each and every one of them. 

Pick those you need. 

She never for a second thought this would cost anything more than time and money; certainly not lives.

Tom, please. If you've got a plan, make sure it's a good one, she thought. 

When Ray had told her, her first reaction was anger. She angry. That Tom hadn't included her in his plans. That he had left her to deal with everything. That he had made it feel like he was abandoning her and their life together. 

Like he was abandoning the memory of Cassie. 

It was the memory of Cassie that eventually let the anger subside; she'd had enough anger to last her a lifetime and she didn't want it to mar her life anymore. She knew when she saw Tom she would forgive him.  

Her phone vibrated on the desk, bringing her back to the present. It was Ray. 

We're here.

She surveyed the CCTV quickly and that was when she spotted him. Tom.  Standing outside the entrance to the hut, he was thinner than he'd been when he left, with a thick unkempt beard.  Issie often had the monitor opened on this screen, on this entrance, just in case he returned. She stared, her heart pounding in her chest. She watched as Tom smiled, and Ray put a bag over his head before bundling him through the door. She was on her feet then and was running to the tank room. They didn't have much time. If they detected Tom was here, the hour's grace Harold had given them was gone. 

*

Bursting into the tank room, it was busy with workers. Some were checking vitals and statistics, the incident earlier today meant the remaining four were under constant observation. There was someone draining the tank of the participant they had lost, with a cleaner standing by; there was no sign of Jessica or that she had ever been in there. Looking around, she couldn't see Ray or Tom until she heard a voice over the speakers. It was Ray. 

"Please vacate the tank room and return to your residence, immediately. Thank you."

Spinning round, she brushed past a porter entering the room, knocking a few of his tools off his belt. Apologising, not stopping to pick up the fallen tools, she bounded upstairs to the observation deck as the room started to empty. 

Ray was repeating his announcement as the room below was almost clear. But he was alone. There was no sign of Tom. She scanned the room quickly, trying to speak, but she was out of breath. Eventually she formed the words. "Where is he?"

Ray had the ghost of a smile on his lips as he pointed down below, to the room she had only seconds ago left.

Standing there, behind the control centre, surveying the screens, was Tom. Or at least she assumed it was him, because her eyes were too blurred with tears to properly make him out. She pushed the intercom, not knowing whether to curse him or tell him how much she missed him.

"Tom."

He stopped, turned slowly, and looked up at her. His mouth split into a wide smile. He was crying too. 

"Issie. I..I just...—"

"It's OK. I know." She found herself laughing. They both were, although at what, they couldn't say. It was like someone had told a joke that only they had heard and understood the punchline too.

"You've got a beard," she said.

He rubbed it, smiling sheepishly. "You like?"

"It has its charms."

"You look.....you look amazing."

She laughed herself. "I know that too."

Tom nodded his head, smiling. Ray nudged Issie out of the way and spoke into the intercom. 

"Guys, I love a teary reunion as much as the next person, but we're kind of on the clock here. We've got stuff to do. Can we just, you know, pause this for a little longer?"

They both nodded. Issie spoke into the intercom.

"Tom, we don't have much time. I tried to keep things going but it's over. They're going to initiate flood protocol."

Tom nodded, rubbing his neck. "Well that doesn't give us much time."

"Can you still do it?" asked Ray.

"We need to act fast. Issie, how long?"

"Harold said 1 hour. If they detect you're here, or if something is wrong? I think they'll trigger it immediately."

Tom rubbed his hands together. "OK then. I better get to work. Quietly does it, eh?" 

Issie pushed the button again, and was surprised to hear her voice waver, fighting the tears. "Did you see her again, Tom? Did you see Cassie?"

Tom stared up at her. She searched his face and the answer was plain to see. 

"I did. But it wasn't her, Issie. It didn't.....it wasn't...." He trailed off, the rest of it passing silently between them. 

That was when the alarm started to sound and the end, began. 

Transcript of Interview with Sarah Barr. August 30, 2015. Conducted by J.P. McNair.

Sarah seems almost pleased to see me when I meet her a few days after we first spoke and after my interview with Ray Samson. 

We have some tea, talk about the weather. She seems more relaxed. 

You look happier.

"I just feel like I'm finally getting this all off my chest. Like a weight's been lifted, you know? How did you get on with the slippery Ray Samson? Find him OK?"

I did. Thank you.

"He seem pleased to see you?"

Not at first. He came around. He passes on his best.

She snorted. "I bet he does. Did he tell you his story? Answer your questions?"

He did.

"Good. Doubt you'll ever see him again."

I think you might be right, he never left me a forwarding address for a copy of the book.

She smiled then fixed me with a stare, sighing. "I guess you're here to talk about the end, then. She looked nervous again, but resolute.

I am. What can you remember about it?

"I remember that it was quick. And that it was painful. Not physically but, that realisation that everything wasn't real. That was what hurt the most. We'd spent such a long time in that world."

I could see that we were coming to a difficult part, it was etched all over her face.

Was it saying goodbye, to that world, that hurt the most?

She nodded. I could see she was crying a little now, her eyes welling up and tears rolling down her cheek.

She wiped them away, shaking her head. "I'm sorry."

It's fine. Take your time.

She nodded. "Saying goodbye was difficult. But how we got back, that was even worse."