LITMIR.BIZ

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Pat replied, thumbing back. “He helped me out of it.” She motioned for Peel to come forwards now and he did so, but kept his hands where they were, holding his axe, in spite of the fact those laser dots had found his body. “I can vouch for him.”

      There was a long pause, during which Peel almost bolted. Then the voice came again: “Proceed!”

      Pat began to walk forwards, toward that solid wall of rock in front of her, still beckoning him to follow. Frowning, he did so, wondering what they were going to do when they eventually reached it. Then he took another step and suddenly it all vanished, replaced by a black hole in the surface. The entranceway to a cave.

      “Wha...?” He looked over at Pat, who couldn’t help smirking. Peel stepped back again, and all he could see was the rockface. Forwards another step and the opening returned. “A projection,” he stated, and she nodded, pointing up ahead.

      They entered the cave, which seemed to go back much further than the rocks would allow, dipping slightly Peel thought. Until they came upon an archway and a set of metal doors.

      “This is all a bit James Bond, isn’t it?” he said to nobody in particular.

      “Who?”

      “Never mind.” The doors opened then and he started.

      “Come on,” Pat told him, taking his hand again and leading him inside. But not far, as another set of closed doors were blocking their progress this time. Then the ones behind them suddenly closed again. A bright white light illuminated the space, a room of about twenty foot square, polished surfaces surrounding them, throwing back their reflections whichever way they turned. If the dots and the voice outside, the projection, had been the first line of defence, this was surely the next: a way of wheedling out anyone pretending to be something they weren’t. Peel looked up and spotted a camera in the corner, observing it all.

      There was a jolt, and he felt his stomach lurching. Though he had no other way of proving it, Peel knew they were descending; realised this was some kind of lift they were in rather than a porch or a room.

      Down they went, and down. Deeper and deeper until he thought they were never going to stop. When they eventually did, the doors in front still didn’t open. Instead, a blue light replaced the white one, which scanned them both from top to bottom.

      When it was done, a more normal light returned and a different voice—a woman’s voice—said: “Please place all weaponry in the opening provided.”

      Peel looked about him, but couldn’t see anything. Then a flap dropped to his right, which looked like it should lead to a laundry chute. Pat placed her knife in there, the only weapon she was carrying, then waited for Peel to put his axe inside. Sighing, he did so reluctantly, and folded his arms—waiting with her.

      “All weaponry!” the voice clarified, and it was then he knew the scan had been some kind of X-ray. Peel fished about under his coat, taking out a couple of pistols, then produced a series of his own knives from about his person—including one strapped to his calf. He put each one in turn into the hole.

      “Cleared,” said the voice.

      It was only now that the other set of doors in front of them opened up into a sealed off corridor. At the far end Peel saw what looked like two cannons mounted on the wall, which followed their progress as they walked down towards yet another set of doors: one in front and one off to the side.

      “Don’t take any chances, do they?” said Peel.

      “I’m sorry,” replied his companion in an apologetic tone.

      “No need. I like that. You let your guard down, take your eye off things for even a moment ... And, well, you’re inclined to lose it.” He reached up to tap his eye-patch and the cannon on his side shifted position, locking on with a cocking sound.

      “No sudden movements please,” the female voice warned.

      “You could have told me that before,” Peel shouted up to her.

      When they reached the end of the corridor, the door slid open on Peel’s side. “You need to go through there now,” she told him. “I’ll see you in a little while.”

      “Why, what’s going to happen to me?” asked Peel, but already she’d stepped through the door which had opened in front and closed almost immediately behind her. He shrugged. “In for a penny ...”

      After he stepped through his own doorway Peel was greeted by yet more guns, this time wielded by two burly men in uniform. “Howdy,” he said, nodding to each in turn, but they said nothing back. With his rifle, one of the soldiers motioned for Peel to start walking and he was taken to a small room then told to strip. “Hey now, come on. Leave a guy with some dignity, yeah?”

      The soldier’s answer to that was to raise his rifle slightly and repeat the ‘request’. Sighing, Peel began to undress, starting with his hat. “Aren’t you two even going to turn your backs for Heaven’s sake?” They didn’t, but one held out a clear plastic bag for him to put his clothes into.

      When he was completely naked—they insisted he had to take everything off, including his boxers and even his eye-patch—he stood there covering his modesty with his hands, shivering, and both of them left, the door closing behind them. Seconds later he felt a drop of water from above. Peel looked up, saw another. Then another. A shower cranked up then, the water it sprayed him with freezing cold. He shuddered, but once he’d gotten over the initial shock actually started to enjoy the sensation; the liquid running down him, dripping off him. Peel couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually had a shower. Probably in some flea-bitten hotel somewhere while he’d been chasing down yet another flea-bitten hound.

      Nowadays, if you even had water you preserved it. You lived off it. Although perhaps it was recycled here? It was quite a set-up after all.

      The water stopped abruptly then, interrupting his thoughts, and in its place air was now blowing into the room. It was like a giant hand-drier they used to have in public toilets, and in seconds he was no longer wet at all.

      More doors opened up, on a larger room in front of him. A woman was standing in the middle. She was quite striking, her auburn hair tied back in a ponytail, and she was wearing a white coat. On the table next to her were various medical instruments, some of which looked more like torture devices. Peel’s hands instinctively covered himself up again.

      She gave a small laugh. “I assure you, there’s nothing down there I haven’t seen before, Mr ...”

      He could feel his cheeks burning red. “P-Peel,” he told her. “Just Peel.”

      “I’m Dr Kingsley. Now, it probably doesn’t need saying, but there are guards just outside who’d be in here like a shot if you caused me any trouble. But you don’t look the type to me.” She grinned, then said: “So, come along now, Mr ... Come along, Peel, don’t be shy. Let’s have a good look at you, shall we?” And that’s exactly what she did. During the course of the next hour or more, there wasn’t an inch of him she hadn’t had a ‘good look at’ by the time she was finished. He hadn’t been poked and prodded like that since his medical to get into the police force.

      “How did this happen?” Dr Kingsley asked at last, pointing to the empty socket where his right eye had once been.

      “How do you think? Fighting one of those fu ... those mutts out there.”

      “It took the eye out?”

      Peel shook his head; he knew what she was driving at. If the wolf had clawed out his eye, it could well have infected him with the virus that had turned all the others. “Evasive manoeuvres,” was all he’d say.

      She nodded. “Well, I’m pleased to inform you you’re in pretty good nick, Peel, all things considered. Almost finished now—we just need to get your bloods done. Make doubly sure there isn’t anything nasty lurking.” Dr Kingsley took out a needle.

      “There isn’t,” he assured her. “And I gave at the office.”

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