showed up in the corridors like they had been invited, like someone let them in. They second wave smashed their way inside. They crashed the party. They wanted some of the action, and that’s when the fires began.’
‘We should lower the platform lift,’ said Punch. ‘Some of the other guys might have survived.’
Jane checked her watch.
‘It’s been nearly two hours. If anyone stayed aboard Hyperion, hid or something, they burned. The ship was gutted, top to bottom. And if they made it over the side, they died of exposure. Face it. We are the only ones left.’
‘Yeah.’
‘And you know what? A little part of me is glad. Happy families. But look around. Whole lot of empty chairs. Whole lot of dead guys. Four of us left. Are we just going to sit around all nice and cosy and watch each other die?’
‘It might be better if they didn’t make it,’ said Ghost. ‘Nail. Better if he doesn’t show up again.’
‘Why’s that?’ asked Sian.
‘I’m pretty sure he killed Mal.’
‘You’re kidding me.’
‘There was some kind of argument, some kind of confrontation.’
‘Jesus.’
‘He might not even be Nail Harper. He might be using a stolen name.’
‘Christ.’
‘Nothing we could prove.’
‘What happened? What was it all about?’
‘There was some dealing going on. Murky shit. Even if he made it off Hyperion, he’s too dangerous to allow back on the rig. I vote we pull up the drawbridge. Fuck him.’
‘That’s pretty harsh,’ said Sian.
‘Come on,’ said Jane. ‘Is there anyone in this room who isn’t glad he’s gone?’
Jane sealed the blast door that connected the accommodation block to the rest of the rig. She ripped the switch panel from the wall with a knife.
The rig was now a fortress. Accommodation Module A was their castle keep. Even if anyone managed to climb aboard Rampart they would freeze in unheated rooms and passageways.
‘It’s minus fifty out on the island,’ said Ghost. ‘Insane windchill. No one could survive more than a couple of minutes.’
‘Let’s be double-sure. Just for the next day or two, so we can sleep safe in our beds. Touch the wires and the door opens, all right? Otherwise it stays closed.’
‘We should have stayed here all along. My idea to move to Hyperion.’
‘It’s all right.’
‘It’s not all right. People died.’
‘I crashed the fucking ship into the island, so we’ve both got blood on our hands. But no more grenades, okay? No more booby traps. We’ve had enough excitement.’
‘None left. We used them up.’
‘The fire probably took care of most of them,’ said Ghost. ‘The infected. Everyone aboard the ship is toast. Couple of hundred left on the ice. They won’t last. Nothing can survive that intense cold for long.’
‘Great. But our ride home just went up in smoke.’
‘I’m heading downstairs for a while,’ said Ghost. ‘I need a bit of quiet time.’
Jane returned to the canteen. She sipped tea.
‘How’s Ghost doing?’ asked Punch.
‘He’ll get his shit together soon enough. He’s a practical guy.
Not the kind to sit and mope. He wants to get out of here as much as any of us.’
‘So what now?’
‘We leave,’ said Jane. ‘We’ve wasted too much time pursuing abortive schemes. No more home-made rafts. No more sit-and- wait. We cook up a solid strategy right here, right now. Seriously. We’ve spent all our time reacting to events. Fuck that.’
‘We should head for Canada,’ said Punch. ‘Fetch the snowmobiles from the bunker. Load up and run for it before the sea melts. Yeah, I know. It’s an old idea. You’ve heard it before. But I still say it’s our best shot. It’s mid-winter. The sea is cold as it is going to get. If we are going to travel, if we are going to make use of the ice, we’d better do it now.’
‘We would never make it,’ said Jane. ‘Not all four of us. Too much kit to haul. Food, clothes, tents. Besides, what if the sea didn’t completely freeze this winter? Global warming. I doubt we have a clear run to Canada, even now. We need to do better. We need a fighting chance.’
‘So what’s on your mind?’
‘Get your coats. It’s easier if I show you.’
Jane led Punch and Sian to a gantry overlooking the corner of the rig. Fog-shrouded walkways. Pipework and decking slick with ice.
They stood shivering in the darkness. Jane shone a heavy spotlight downward at one of the massive cables that anchored the refinery to the seabed.
‘What if we detach the cables and float the refinery free?’ said Jane. ‘We already lost one of the cables when Hyperion collided with the refinery. Three left.’
‘How do you plan on doing that?’ asked Punch. ‘Each weighs the same as a battleship. You need monster equipment to manipulate them.’
‘There’s no way on earth we could cut the cable. It would take an atom bomb. But look at the coupling. That’s the weak point.
It’s anchored by a four-tonne pin. If we could kick the pin out of its socket then the cable would drop and Rampart would drift free.’
‘Be my guest.’
‘That stuff from the seismic research station. The explosives. There should still be a bunch of C4 left, yes? Couple of cases at least. Ghost hid it in the bunker. We could pack a big wad of plastic round each pin and touch it off. Fire the pin clean out of the coupling. It would be our last roll of the dice, but worth a try.’
‘Yeah. Fuck it. Let’s go out with a bang.’
Jane went looking for Ghost. She found him on C deck, the lowest level of the accommodation block. Dark, low ceilings. Pipes and discarded tools. The kind of place a grease monkey like Ghost would instinctively make his den.
Ghost was stripped to the waist. He stood over a table. He was strapping a couple of SCUBA tanks together.
Jane kissed him between the shoulder blades. She put an arm round his waist.
‘You okay?’
‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Just got a little frustrated at myself. I got seduced by Hyperion. The luxury. You were right all along. We should have stayed here. Kept focused.’
‘I’ve got a plan. Fetch explosives from the bunker. Blow the lock-pins and release the tethers. Float our way out of here. What do you think?’
‘I think you’re stronger than me, and smarter than me, and if you want to give it a shot then I am along for the ride.’
‘Cool.’
‘So you want to head back to the island?’
‘One last time.’
‘Then I’ve got something that may help.’ He shouldered the SCUBA tanks. ‘Let’s go up to the helipad. I want to show you something.’
The helipad. Big as a basketball court. A big red H lit by a ring of floodlights. Ghost wheeled an office chair to the centre of the H and draped a parka over it. He helped Jane strap the SCUBA tanks to her back. Thick hose led to a spray gun.
‘Diesel pressurised with nitrogen,’ said Ghost. ‘Press that button on the barrel. That’s a butane lighter from
