Chapter 8 #2
“I think this may be useful,” Hallie said, the journal in her hands.
She turned to the last page. The date and time were carefully printed, and the start of the entry was in the same clear handwriting, but then it deteriorated rapidly.
She frowned, trying to puzzle her way through it.
The first few sentences were very clear.
The radio is still not working and Waller is still missing. Rhodda looked at it and said it’s been tampered with. Donall told her not to be so stupid. But Rhodda is not stupid and I could tell from her face that she was worried. There’s someone at the gate.
The word gate was almost unreadable, and after that Hallie frowned at the page. The rapid, scrawled writing seemed to be conveying something important and urgent, but she couldn’t make sense of it until a few lines later.
They’re here. We have to go.
Hallie went back to the beginning of the text and read through more slowly, trying to pull out all the meaning.
She didn’t recognise the names Rhodda or Donall, but she assumed that Waller was Waller Howther, the liaison to the Conclave.
And possibly the corpse she and Girard had found the day before.
“What is it?” Girard asked.
Hallie looked up with a start. She’d been so absorbed in trying to work out the words she’d almost forgotten he was there.
“Everything in here is beautifully written until this last entry. Begins normal. Well, almost normal. It says that Waller is still missing, which suggests he’d been gone for a few days.
But then it deteriorates and I can’t read it until the last line.
They’re here. We have to go.” Saying the words sent a chill across her skin. “It says the radio is broken, though.”
“That’s true,” Girard confirmed, glancing back to the machine.
Hallie saw that he’d managed to get the housing off, exposing the inner workings.
The mechanics of it made no sense to her eyes, but there was a length of metal sticking up in the middle of it, which she didn’t think was supposed to be there.
“Someone sabotaged the radio?” Her brows shot up.
“That’s what it looks like,” Girard confirmed. “Can I take a look? Apparently I have terrible handwriting, so I have some experience of trying to put together words.”
“Of course,” Hallie said, handing the journal over and moving across the room to take a closer look at the radio.
She tucked her hands behind her back to resist the temptation to poke or prod inside the machine, worried that she might do even more damage.
Then she realised she probably couldn’t have made it worse.
Not only was there a length of metal stuck in the works, there was a gap in the mechanics which she didn’t think should be there.
“This was four days ago,” Girard commented from behind her.
“The day after the last contact?” Hallie turned back to him. He didn’t look up from the page, expression focused as he tried to work through the scrawled writing.
“Yes. I think it’s saying something about gunners at the gate.
But that’s about all I can make out, and I can’t even be sure of that.
” Girard flipped back through previous pages, frowning down at the past few entries, crease between his brows deepening.
“No mention of gunners or anything that looks like that word. I’d like to read this through more carefully, though. ”
“Gunners,” Hallie repeated, another chill crossing her skin. “And then, what, everyone just up and left? I mean, it would explain the mouldy food and why there’s no one here.”
“And from the way it’s written, it’s clear that the person doing the writing knew who the gunners were,” Girard added.
“Can we fix the radio?” Hallie asked. She’d caught a glimpse through the doors to the dining area and had seen the bodies of several creatures.
Combined with the words in the journal, she had a growing sense of unease at their isolation and just how vulnerable they were.
Just the two of them, a pair of handguns, and some hastily gathered makeshift weapons, which had helped against the warrimel, but the journal had mentioned gunners.
She and Girard weren’t equipped to deal with some unknown but potentially hostile group on the island, possibly holding the people who had lived in this settlement.
Her mind spun, trying to make sense of all the pieces she had available, but nothing was fitting together. She needed more information.
“No, I don’t think so,” Girard said. He closed the journal and tucked it into a jacket pocket, zipping it closed.
He came to stand next to Hallie. “We could take the bit of pipe out, of course, but then there’s that gap.
I think it’s where the amplifier should go.
” He shook his head with a rueful smile at her look of surprise.
“No, I don’t know much about how the thing works, but I do know there’s an amplifier involved somewhere and that looks to be about the right size and shape for it.
For a radio like this, it’s a complicated component. ”
“Would they have a spare?” Hallie wondered, looking at the overflowing shelves.
“They might. It would be sensible to have some back-up components just in case,” Girard agreed. He put his hand on the pocket where he’d stored the journal. “It doesn’t seem like they had any time to make a repair, so if there was a spare, it should still be here.”
“Oh, wait, there are inventories in the ledgers,” Hallie said, as he made his way across to the shelves. “The missing bit - the amplifier? - might be mentioned in there.”
“Worth a look, but it depends how they’ve listed it. If it’s by the manufacturer or shop code then it might be hard to find.” Girard’s voice was slightly muffled as he knelt by the lowest shelf, opening up a large cardboard box.
“Good point,” Hallie said, but she sat back down, picking up the nearest inventory book, scanning through the entries while Girard continued his search.
A little while later she and Girard made low sounds of discovery at almost the same time.
“Did you find it?” Hallie asked, putting a finger on the line she’d just been reading and turning to Girard. He was about halfway along the shelves, investigating what looked like a small wooden crate.
“I’ve found where it should be,” he answered. “You?”
“I found mention of a box of spare parts, and if I’m reading this right, it includes an amplifier,” Hallie said.
“Just the one?” Girard asked.
“I think so.” Hallie got up, taking the ledger over to him, and pointed out the entry she’d found. He scanned the list, which had made almost no sense to her. She had a faint idea what a fan belt was, and, glancing inside the box Girard had been inspecting, recognised some of the items there.
“Yes, that’s the right list, and this is the right box,” Girard confirmed. “Someone has taken the spare amplifier as well.”
“So, there’s no way to fix the radio,” Hallie concluded.
She frowned across the room at the inner workings of the radio, mind turning over what they’d learned so far.
“Pulling out the amplifier and taking the spare seems calculated. Someone, or possibly more than one person, who knew what they were doing. It doesn’t fit with shoving a bit of metal inside.
The damage there seems more impulsive. Less calculated. ”
“I agree,” Girard said. He put the box back on the shelf. “It wouldn’t take any skill to pull out the amplifier, but taking the spare took knowledge.”
“Someone reasonably familiar with the parts available, and the device itself,” Hallie speculated.
She glanced down at the ledger she was still holding.
“Everything is neatly and meticulously recorded. The people who were living here also worked together to get the wall put up, the ditch dug. They’d tried making individual homes.
They were working on making a field for planting.
Planning ahead. It doesn’t fit with sabotaging the island’s only means of outside communication.
” A shiver ran over her skin. She might have spent her life isolated in one city, but that city was part of a network of trading ports around the world, and with the limited news that had filtered into low city, she’d always felt a thin thread of connection to the rest of the world.
The closest she had come to this kind of isolation had been the short time she’d spent at Cotovatre’s house, when bad weather had blocked the train - their only means to get back to the city - from moving, and the only outside communication she’d been aware of had been a single device, either a radio or satellite phone.
But she’d been surrounded by Cotovatre’s household, who were prepared for the isolation and the weather, and collectively had the skills necessary to thrive.
The people who’d lived in this settlement seemed to have been barely surviving.
They’d retreated into a common bunk house, abandoning their partly-built homes.
And the field that they had been working on wasn’t ready for use, not yet.
A great deal more work was required. They weren’t in a position to cut themselves off from outside help.
“No,” Girard agreed. He gave her a hard, steady look. “We’ve got some choices.”
“Find somewhere to hole up until the director sends back-up,” Hallie said slowly, “or see what else we can find out.” A shiver crossed her skin. “I don’t think I could deal with another swarm. They got right into this building, even with all the blocks we put in place.”
“I know,” Girard said. He put a hand on her arm, briefly, as if he needed the contact to reassure himself that they were both in one piece.
“I think if there were more people here, we’d have been fine.
A few more people with heavy sticks and we’d have been able to keep them outside. But there’s just us.”
“So we can’t stay here,” Hallie concluded. “We need to move somewhere else. Try for higher ground to see if the radio phone will work?”
“That’s one option, yes. Although the warrimel could follow us and climb trees, if we stay in their territory.”
“This place has only been settled, what, a year? Two?” Hallie looked around. “But the main settlement has been there for close to two decades.”
“So they almost certainly don’t have warrimel in that area.
” Girard nodded, following her train of thought.
“Good. That will be one less thing to worry about, at least. I’d like to head for the settlement, see if we can learn anything more on the way, but only go in there if it seems safe.
I want to know what happened to the people who lived here, what happened to Waller Howther, and who these gunners are. ”
“Lots of questions,” Hallie said, with a brief grin. She had the same questions - and others - buzzing in her own mind.
Girard grinned back, then sobered again. “We can try the radio phone again on the way.”
“Or there’s always the old house up on the hill,” Hallie said, remembering the glimpse she’d caught from the helicopter.
“It didn’t look that far from the first settlement.
If it’s empty, it would be somewhere to stop until we know what’s going on, or Peredur can send more people.
” As much as she didn’t like the idea of hiding, she had to be practical about how much she could manage just then.
“Alright. So let’s head towards the main settlement and see what we can learn on the way and if we can make contact with the director.
We can reassess on the way and camp out near the main settlement if we need to - we should be out of the warrimel territory by then.
” Girard said. He hesitated, expression serious as he looked at her. “It’s going to be a few hours’ walk.”
Hallie remembered the flight over the island and the brief glimpse she’d caught of what she assumed was the main settlement, on the coast, with a couple of boats in the water.
She hadn’t been able to judge distances from the helicopter, having no idea how fast it was flying, but a few hours’ walk fit with her overall impression of the island which was that it was far larger, and richer in natural resources, than she had ever imagined, when she’d heard people in low city talking about Paradise.
“I’ll manage,” Hallie assured him, understanding his unspoken question. She’d collapsed the night before, after all. She grimaced. “I might be very slow, but I’ll manage. It would help if I could get my pack to sit more comfortably, though.”
Girard’s expression lightened a fraction. “I can help with that. Let’s get some more food then set out.”